Prompt #3. Secret Lives.
Title: Old Friends.
Pairing: Fraser/Smithbauer
Rating: Very light R. Implied stuff.
Word Count: 599
Notes: I committed Smithbauer. I console myself by remembering that Fraser didn't know RayK back then. Plus, you just know something happened when Mark stayed over. Just don't tell my Grandmother I came home and wrote this after dinner at her place, okay?
Mark lay on the floor, panting. Half of him was actually on the floorboards, but after a fuck like that, he couldn’t bring himself to care. It wasn’t too cold with a warm body pressed close. Hell, he was even starting to doze.
“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?”
Mark jumped at the unexpected voice. “Huh? What time is it?”
“Nine forty-two.”
“No shit? You should’ve stayed with hockey, Ben. Stamina like that…imagine the ice time you’d get.”
He heard Ben give the slightest hint of a chuckle. “It’s not all about stamina, as you well know. Talent is a major factor.”
Mark stretched, listened for the small cracks of his frequently abused spine and decided he could stand a little more play on the boards. He rolled onto his side and ran one finger idly around Ben’s right nipple. “Yeah, well, your stick handling skills are up to the job, but then, they always were.”
It was weird, watching a grown man blush like that. Especially considering they’d just spent more than two hours discovering that they’d both picked up a few tricks over the years. “You don’t take compliments too well, do you, Ben?”
“Not when they’re undeserved.” Fraser closed his eyes and Mark wondered if his old friend was hiding. The old, ‘if I can’t see you…’ thing.
Letting his finger trail down the valley between Fraser’s pecs, Mark smiled. “The way I remember it, you gave the best hand job in the whole damn world.”
Fraser’s eyes squeezed shut even harder, wrinkling the corners, proving how many years had passed since that time. “We were just boys then, Mark.”
“Blasphemy!” Mark laughed and rolled flat onto his back. “Hockey players become men as soon as they’re old enough to lace up their skates.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was under the impression that they never grew up.”
“Yeah, well there’s still a lot of jerking off in the bathroom. So maybe you’re right, eh?”
Ben’s hand landed firmly on Mark’s stomach as he asked, “You do that? I would have thought your needs would be adequately met. You’re a good looking man and a great hockey player. I assumed you’d have any number of willing bodies.”
“More women than I can poke a stick at.” Mark laughed a little at his own joke. “Guys are harder to come by, you know. Imagine if it got out, eh? I’d be eating pucks all season and picking my teeth up off the ice.”
“I believe I’ve seen you do that once or twice, anyway.”
Mark smiled as memories of Inuvik paraded through his mind. “Remember that time you hit me from behind and I fell on my stick? Blood everywhere. That was a dirty hit, Ben. And now you’re a Mountie. Shame on you.”
There was a slight pause before Ben spoke sheepishly, “Actually, I didn’t hit you so much as I fell onto you.”
“Don’t try to make excuses. You were sore because I was two goals up.”
“No, really. My skate hit a rut and I fell. It was entirely accidental.”
Mark rolled over, grinning into Ben’s eyes. “It probably didn’t make much difference, since you were planning on hitting me anyway.”
Ben smiled right back at him. “True enough.”
“So, the cop. Is he your partner?”
Ben’s smile faded and his eyes took on a wary look. “We work together, yes.”
“You’re flying under the radar, too, eh?”
“You could say that.”
Mark leaned in closer, his lips brushing Ben’s earlobe as he murmured, “We’d better get while the getting's good, then.”
Pairing: Fraser/Smithbauer
Rating: Very light R. Implied stuff.
Word Count: 599
Notes: I committed Smithbauer. I console myself by remembering that Fraser didn't know RayK back then. Plus, you just know something happened when Mark stayed over. Just don't tell my Grandmother I came home and wrote this after dinner at her place, okay?
Mark lay on the floor, panting. Half of him was actually on the floorboards, but after a fuck like that, he couldn’t bring himself to care. It wasn’t too cold with a warm body pressed close. Hell, he was even starting to doze.
“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?”
Mark jumped at the unexpected voice. “Huh? What time is it?”
“Nine forty-two.”
“No shit? You should’ve stayed with hockey, Ben. Stamina like that…imagine the ice time you’d get.”
He heard Ben give the slightest hint of a chuckle. “It’s not all about stamina, as you well know. Talent is a major factor.”
Mark stretched, listened for the small cracks of his frequently abused spine and decided he could stand a little more play on the boards. He rolled onto his side and ran one finger idly around Ben’s right nipple. “Yeah, well, your stick handling skills are up to the job, but then, they always were.”
It was weird, watching a grown man blush like that. Especially considering they’d just spent more than two hours discovering that they’d both picked up a few tricks over the years. “You don’t take compliments too well, do you, Ben?”
“Not when they’re undeserved.” Fraser closed his eyes and Mark wondered if his old friend was hiding. The old, ‘if I can’t see you…’ thing.
Letting his finger trail down the valley between Fraser’s pecs, Mark smiled. “The way I remember it, you gave the best hand job in the whole damn world.”
Fraser’s eyes squeezed shut even harder, wrinkling the corners, proving how many years had passed since that time. “We were just boys then, Mark.”
“Blasphemy!” Mark laughed and rolled flat onto his back. “Hockey players become men as soon as they’re old enough to lace up their skates.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was under the impression that they never grew up.”
“Yeah, well there’s still a lot of jerking off in the bathroom. So maybe you’re right, eh?”
Ben’s hand landed firmly on Mark’s stomach as he asked, “You do that? I would have thought your needs would be adequately met. You’re a good looking man and a great hockey player. I assumed you’d have any number of willing bodies.”
“More women than I can poke a stick at.” Mark laughed a little at his own joke. “Guys are harder to come by, you know. Imagine if it got out, eh? I’d be eating pucks all season and picking my teeth up off the ice.”
“I believe I’ve seen you do that once or twice, anyway.”
Mark smiled as memories of Inuvik paraded through his mind. “Remember that time you hit me from behind and I fell on my stick? Blood everywhere. That was a dirty hit, Ben. And now you’re a Mountie. Shame on you.”
There was a slight pause before Ben spoke sheepishly, “Actually, I didn’t hit you so much as I fell onto you.”
“Don’t try to make excuses. You were sore because I was two goals up.”
“No, really. My skate hit a rut and I fell. It was entirely accidental.”
Mark rolled over, grinning into Ben’s eyes. “It probably didn’t make much difference, since you were planning on hitting me anyway.”
Ben smiled right back at him. “True enough.”
“So, the cop. Is he your partner?”
Ben’s smile faded and his eyes took on a wary look. “We work together, yes.”
“You’re flying under the radar, too, eh?”
“You could say that.”
Mark leaned in closer, his lips brushing Ben’s earlobe as he murmured, “We’d better get while the getting's good, then.”