Constable Renfield Turnbull walked from the supply closet toward his
desk with a box og light bulbs in his hand   

Constable Renfield Turnbull walked from the supply closet toward his desk,
a box of light bulbs in his hand. 'So that's why his desk lamp is not on'
thought his nominal superior, Constable Benton Fraser. Knowing his
ineptness and fearing an accident, Fraser asked, "Do you need any help
changing that light bulb, Turnbull?" 

"Ah, Constable Fraser! Thank you kindly, no, I believe I can handle this
one, but I may need your help with the one in the hallway by the Queen's
bedroom." 

"Of course, Turnbull." 

Their commanding officer, Inspector Margaret Thatcher, happened to pass by
at that very moment. She stopped and looked disgustedly at her
subordinates. "How many Mounties does it take to replace a simple light
bulb?" she snipped. 

"I don't know, Sir? How many?" asked Fraser, a grin on his beautiful face.


"It was a rhetorical question, Fraser. Quit grinning at me like a fool,
will you?" 

"Oh, sorry. I thought you were about to tell us a joke, Sir." 

"What? Don't be ridiculous, Fraser! And Turnbull, for god's sake be
careful with that lamp. It is consulate property, after all." With that,
Thatcher stormed into her office, slamming the door behind her. 

Fraser looked after her, shrugged, then moved to stand beside Turnbull's
desk. "Here, constable, I'll hold the lamp for you." 

"Thank you, sir. By the way, sir, do you know how many psychologists it
takes to change a light bulb?" 

"Ah no, I don't, Turnbull." 

"Only one, but the light bulb has got to really want to change." Turnbull
replied, head tilted toward his fellow constable as if imparting a great
secret. Fraser just stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.
Turnbull flushed happily, and grinned. They finished changing the bulb and
each went back to his duties. 

Later that morning Fraser was going to the employee lounge for a cup of
bark tea when he encountered Turnbull wrestling with a ladder. "Here, let
me help you with that, Turnbull. Where were you going with this?" 

"Upstairs, to change the light bulb by the Queens bedroom. I told you
about it." 

"Yes, so you did. Do you have the new bulb with you?" 

A look of consternation crossed Turnbull's handsome face. "I'll be right
back." 

"Just meet me upstairs, Turnbull." Fraser carried the ladder upstairs and
set it up below the dark fixture, just as Turnbull arrived with a pair of
fresh bulbs. Fraser watched, bemused, as Turnbull put the socket end of
one bulb into his mouth. Bemusement turned to astonishment when the bulb
lit up, then started blinking in time with a tune Turnbull was humming.
Fraser laughed delightedly, and Turnbull stopped playing with the light
bulb, grinning self-consciously.  

"How did you do that?" Fraser asked, still chuckling. 

Turnbull removed the penny from his mouth and held it up for Fraser to
see. "It's a little trick I use to entertain children. I just felt like
having some fun." 

"No reason a Mountie can't enjoy his work, Turnbull. Now, if you'll hand
me that other bulb..." 

"No, I'll do it." Turnbull climbed up to take the cover off the fixture
and remove the old bulb. The ladder shifted suddenly, and Fraser grabbed
at Turnbull to steady him. He gasped as his hands closed on the other
man's muscular thighs.	

"Is everything alright, Constable Fraser?" 

"Oh yes, Turnbull. It's just...well, I noticed...you have...very sturdy
legs." Fraser couldn't help wondering if the gluteus muscles were as well
developed. 

"Why, thank you, Constable. Of course, as a Mountie it is my duty to keep
in shape. As you do, yourself. You have a very fine shape, also, sir. I
mean, you are in very fine shape. Sir." 

"Yes, well. Ahem! If you're quite finished, come down from there, and I'll
put the ladder away." 

"Of course, sir." Turnbull climbed down the ladder, Fraser supporting him
the entire way. Once safely standing on the floor, Turnbull turned to face
Fraser, who still had his hands on Turnbull's waist. Fraser's gesture of
support thus became almost an embrace. Both men flushed. Fraser dropped
his cerulean eyes and took a step back, releasing his hold on his fellow
constable. Turnbull fled down the hallway, Fraser watching him go with a
vague worry that he might soon be facing a sexual harassment charge. He
and Turnbull would have to talk. 

The two constables and the inspector sat at the tiny table in the employee
lounge having their lunch. Turnbull and Fraser spent the entire meal
trading 'how manyfill in the blankdoes it take to change a light bulb'
jokes, while Inspector Thatcher grew quieter and more grim. Finally,
Turnbull looked at Fraser and asked, "Do you know how many surrealists it
takes to change a light bulb, Constable Fraser?" 

"No, Turnbull, I don't. How many surrealists does it take to change a
light bulb?" Fraser replied, already laughing. 

"Three. One to get the giraffe..." 

"Arhhhhgh! I can't take this anymore!" Thatcher exploded, then visibly
calmed herself. Once she had regained control, she again addressed her
subordinates. "I have to go out this afternoon, gentlemen. I should be
back by the time your shifts end. Do try to have regained your decorum by
then. You are Mounties, after all." With that, she swept from the room. 

As soon as she was gone, both men exploded into gales of laughter. 

About an hour after lunch Fraser was doing paperwork at his desk when he
realized that he could not continue without a file that he had earlier
seen on Turnbull's desk. He could have used the intercom to ask Turnbull
to bring him the file, but decided to stretch his legs instead. As he
reached the other constable's desk Fraser found the man just about to put
the file he needed back into the file cabinet. "Ah, Turnbull, wait! I need
that file." 

"This file?" Turnbull held the manila folder up questioningly. 

"Yes, that file. If you would be so good as to hand it to me?" 

An impish grin spread across Turnbull's face. "Come and get it!" With
that, he sprinted down the hallway. 

"Why, that scamp!" Fraser said to no one. "Turnbull, come back here!" he
shouted and ran off after the taller man. He caught a glimpse of red serge
making a left at a crossing hallway, and pelted after, laughing merrily. 

A moment later he caught another glimpse of his quarry. The route Turnbull
was taking would leas him either to the rear exit or, if he chose to make
the opposite turning, into a hallway that was accessible through the
photocopy room. Fraser turned back the three or four steps necessary and
cut through the copy room, intending to get ahead of Turnbull. Bursting
through the opposite door, Fraser barely managed to catch Turnbull's arm
as he sprinted past. Both men came to a halt, panting and grinning at each
other. 

When he could get breath enough to talk Fraser commented "Oh my, Turnbull.
You're really fast! I had expected to get well ahead of you." 

 "That was an excellent strategy, Constable Fraser. I didn't think about
the copy room having doors onto both hallways. Here's your file, sir." He
winked as he handed the folder to Fraser. Fraser took the folder, threw
his other arm around Turnbull's shoulder, marveling at how very tall the
other Mountie was. They walked back to their duties, laughing and chatting
together. 

When Fraser went for another cup of tea he discovered Turnbull at the sink
filling a water pistol. Another one, already loaded with water, lay on the
counter. "What's this, Turnbull?" 

"Oh, sir! I'm planning to go to the park after work to play with some of
the children. They are such fun, and they seem to like me." 

"Well, you're a very likeable fellow." 

"You think so?" 

"Why yes, Turnbull, I do." Fraser smiled warmly. Suddenly feeling
childlike himself, Fraser snatched up the water pistol off the counter,
'shot' Turnbull with it, then ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He
soon heard Turnbull in hot pursuit, but he had managed to get out of
sight.	

The two constables stalked each other through the empty consulate, firing
their water pistols whenever one caught sight of the other, then ducking
away.  

Fraser soon ran out of water but, immensely enjoying the game, he
continued to stalk Turnbull. He was passing through an unused office,
thinking he had spotted his quarry ahead, when he suddenly found himself
tackled from behind. The empty water pistol went flying as Fraser landed
on his hands and knees; Turnbull draped across his back, arms locked
around Fraser's waist. Fraser's breath caught. 

"Are you all right, Constable Fraser? I didn't injure you, did I?
Sometimes I forget how much bigger I am than others." 

"No, I'm fine, Turnbull. In fact, you feel...quite nice there." Oh dear,
Fraser, he thought, you really do want trouble, don't you? 

"Constable Fraser...Benton...may I say how nice you feel, as well?"
Turnbull flushed fire-red, amazed at himself for speaking that way to his
fellow RCMP officer. He prepared himself for Fraser's certainly angry
retort. 

Looking at the embarrassed man over his shoulder, Fraser asked, "Do you
really mean that, Turn...er, Renfield?"  

For answer, Turnbull kissed him awkwardly, which was due as much to their
physical position as to any ineptness on Turnbull's part. The kiss was
gentle, almost chaste, but before it was over Fraser's breathing was
ragged, and his cock was stirring to life, echoed by Turnbull's, pressed
to the seat of Fraser's pants. 

"We haven't much time, Renfield. The Inspector will return soon. Help me
out of my tunic, will you?" 

"Your...tunic?" Turnbull wanted nothing more than to keep Fraser in his
arms for as long as possible, but the unexpectedness of Fraser's obvious
interest in the same thing startled him. 

"I'm wearing suspenders, Renfield. My tunic will have to be removed. Yours
can simply be pulled aside." As he spoke Fraser straightened his back to
stand on his knees, Turnbull perforce straightening with him. Fraser half
turned to capture the other Mountie's mouth with his own, and began to
open his tunic's buttons. Turnbull's large square hands went to work on
Fraser's Sam Browne with surprising agility, then got to work on the lower
buttons of Fraser's tunic. Once they had the tunic completely open Fraser
broke the kiss long enough to lift his lanyard over his head. Turnbull
peeled the tunic from Fraser's body and laid it carefully aside. He lifted
his hands to Benton's shoulders, massaging them deeply as he inched the
suspender straps off. An appreciative groan from Fraser made Turnbull
postpone his lust to ease some of the tension from his soon-to-be lovers'
back. 

Fraser arched his back like a cat, and Turnbull almost thought he could
hear the man purring, but then Fraser's lust got the better of him. He
reached behind himself to give the erection he could feel pressing into
his backside a firm squeeze, saying "I need this inside me, Renfield.
Perhaps we can continue the massage another time." 

"As you wish, sir!" Turnbull replied, voice husky with desire. Kissing
Fraser in the sensitive spot where neck meets shoulder, Turnbull completed
lowering the man's suspenders, then reached to unfasten the jodhpurs,
while Fraser fumbled with his zipper. He pushed Fraser's jodhpurs and
starched boxers to his knees, then placed one huge hand in the middle of
his back and pushed gently. Fraser, rarely slow on the uptake, bent over
and rested his hands on the floor. Turnbull grabbed Fraser's hips and
ground his still-clothed groin into Fraser's naked ass, eliciting groans
and moans of pleasure and frustration from both men. 

After a few moments of this delicious torture Turnbull fished inside his
clothing, drew out his hard, dripping cock, and placed the weeping tip at
the puckered opening he longed to invade. Fraser moaned and thrust himself
back. "Patience, my friend," Turnbull laughed. "You're not ready for this
yet." Turnbull let his cock slip along the crack of Fraser's ass while his
knees edged Fraser's further apart. He then slipped his cock between
Fraser's legs, to rub along Fraser's own erection. Fraser started to
shake, from desire and frustration. Turnbull absently caressed the small
of Fraser's back as he reached into a pouch on his Sam Browne and removed
a packet of salve from his first aid kit. He handed Fraser the packet,
saying, "Here, open this."  

Meanwhile, Turnbull began to knead Fraser's asscheeks, slowly working his
thumbs toward the center. When the tension had gone out of Fraser's
gluteus muscles, Turnbull began tracing the cleft with a finger, lingering
over the brown pucker, Fraser's moaning driving his desire to an even
higher pitch. Finally he took the opened packet of salve from Fraser's
unresisting hand and applied half the contents to his fingers, then
slipped one inside Fraser's body. He marveled at how hot and tight Fraser
was as he worked to loosen that tightness.  

Fraser cried out once as the finger penetrated, then seemed to hold his
breath. "Benton, are you all right? I had assumed that this was not your
first time. I can go slower, if you need me to." 

"No, it's fine, Renfield," Fraser panted. "Feels good, please don't stop."
With an effort, Fraser remembered to breathe. 

Turnbull began to thrust his finger into Fraser's ass, feeling the
sphincter relax. 'Good,' he thought, 'Fraser is loosening himself for me.
It won't be long now and I can fuck him! I almost can't believe this is
happening, at long last.' Then it was Turnbull's turn to cry out, as he
felt Fraser's hand wrap around both their hard cocks then slip lower to
fondle Turnbull's balls. "Now, Renfield. Put it in me now" Fraser
commanded. Turnbull was only too willing to obey. 

Using the rest of the salve, Turnbull coated his shaft, then aimed himself
at the place where he wanted to be. Taking a firm grip on Fraser's
hipbones, he pushed until his cockhead slipped past the ring of muscle. He
didn't have long to wait before Fraser was begging him to continue. A
quick jab buried him deeper, eliciting a gasp from Fraser. Hissing,
Turnbull backed out almost completely, then thrust again. This time nearly
his whole length was buried in Fraser's ass, being scalded by the man's
intense heat. Turnbull began thrusting wildly into his fellow constable,
Fraser returning the motion with abandon. They quickly built to a fever
pitch. Turnbull vaguely regretted not taking more time to enjoy this, and
to insure the pleasure of his partner, but time was of the essence, and
somehow he was sure that there would be other opportunities for romance
and lovemaking with the beautiful man in his arms. Right now all either
man cared about was sexual gratification, and not getting caught by the
inspector's return. 

Soon Turnbull felt his orgasm building in his balls. He gave one last,
mighty shove into Fraser's ass and held on for dear life as his cock
spewed liquid fire into Fraser's guts. The sensation seared all thought
from the serge-clad man's brain. 

When he had recovered from the little death, Turnbull pulled out of
Fraser, wringing a groan of regret from the man. Sensitive to the other
constable's need, Turnbull encouraged him to lie on the floor, rolled him
over onto his back, and without warning completely engulfed Fraser's
erection with his hot, wet mouth. He sucked gently at first, then applied
a powerful suction combined with a constantly moving tongue to quickly
draw the semen from Fraser's tight balls. "Ah Turnbull, you're...you're
the best!" Fraser cried as he thrust up into the eager mouth and shot his
wad. 

After swallowing all of Fraser's spunk, including some that he licked up
after it leaked from his lips, Turnbull kissed Fraser deeply. He greedily
sucked the tongue that Fraser insinuated into his mouth.  

Turnbull groaned when Fraser reluctantly broke the kiss. "We should be
getting back to our desks, Inspector Thatcher will be returning soon." 

"Of course, Constable." Turnbull stood, then offered Fraser a hand up. 

As they straightened their clothing, Fraser added "Turnbull? Could we...do
this again, sometime? Someplace where we can take more time to enjoy one
another?" 

Turnbull beamed as he handed his new lover his tunic. "Of course, Benton.
Anytime."  

They returned to their offices, quietly and competently completing their
duties. When Margaret Thatcher returned she was gratified to find that
they had gotten past their earlier giddiness and had returned to being the
serious, respectable Mounties she knew them to be. 

  

  

finis