Harry Dresden - Wizard
Lost Items. Found. Paranormal. Investigations.
Consulting. Advice. Reasonable Rates.
No Love Potions, Endless Purses, Parties, or Other Entertainment
“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” I read the sign again, frowning. Until we arrived here, I'd had no idea where Fraser was dragging me. Was he serious? A Wizard? In Chicago?
“Ray, please,” he hisses, obviously concerned that this wizard at the other side of the door would hear us.
“Fraser,” I use my reasonable voice – as unpractised as it might be – “that’s humbug. Wizards just don’t exist.”
“Really Ray, I don't see how you can refuse to consider such matters after our experience with Gerome Laferette and Jasper Gutman?”
“That was different.”
“How was it different, Ray?”
“It was about Voodoo, Fraser,” I growl, barely able to control my anger, “That was about bad Mojo and not you courting everybody to death!”
“Ray, as you well know, Voodoo …,” I push the door open cutting him off, cuz I’m so not ready to hear one of Fraser’s lectures, I might even go ballistic hearing one. Or I might hit him cuz that’s what I’ve wanted to do since this whole Thatcher-Frannie-Elaine-Turnbull-and whoever else thing started.
So, I yank the door open just to escape Fraser and end up face to face with a really tall guy. I’m certain Fraser would describe him as a 6'8" tall, slender man with dark hair, Ray, and dark eyes. Right.
I’m about to interrupt what sounds like an ongoing argument on the other side of my office door – I am trying to run a business here! – when it opens right into my face and I stare at an angry looking guy with spikey blond hair, blue eyes and way too much attitude.
A cop, obviously; and no, I didn’t read his mind or anything because that’s not what magic is about. The guy is wearing a shoulder holster under his blue hoodie that pretty much gives his identity away. No magic, just keen perception.
“Hey,” he greets, rolling his shoulders.
Right behind him enters another man who makes me step back a little, literally.
The second guy seems a bit taller than the first one but it could be his straight posture that makes him look that way. Pale skin, dark hair. Intense blue-grey eyes. Funny looking hat in one hand.
“Good morning,” he greets politely. “Mr. Dresden, I presume,” he’s looking directly at me, right into my eyes and it takes me a second to look away, to break eye contact. Because meeting someone’s gaze would give me a peek into their soul which might be advantageous in my line of business but it’s not a one way street. I can see their innermost as they see mine in return – the things I had done, the things I’m willing to do, the things I’m capable of doing. Most people who do look go really pale, one woman passed out even. I don’t know precisely what they do see, I just know they aren't happy about it afterward. I'm not sure it's something want to know about myself.
“Good morning, Gentlemen,” I welcome them, attending not to look into their eyes directly.
“My name is Constable Bent …,” the man with the hat starts but the other one interrupts him immediately, grinning at me. Not politely but expectant like I’m about to perform a trick, and that pisses me off. I’ve had enough of that crap those last two weeks with people inviting me to birthday parties or requesting potions to win a lover – there was that one woman who was really persistent to get a love spell; I am a wizard not a magician or a witch!
“Hold it, Fraser, he probably knows that already.”
“Ray, Mr. Dresden is a wizard, not …”
“… a fortune teller,” I add, glad that at least the dark haired man, Fraser, seems to know the difference.
“Ray, please …,” Fraser rubs his eyebrow, obviously a sign of discomfort. “As I was saying, my name is Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father, and for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture I have remained, attached as liaison with the Canadian Consulate.”
“Vecchio, Detective Ray Vecchio.”
So, I was right. A cop. And cops usually don’t react well where the supernatural is involved. They just don’t believe in vampire attacks, troll marauding or faery abductions, even if it happens right under their noses. That makes me wonder what brought those two cops to my door.
As if I would believe that. Wizards don’t exist, at least not in the real world. Maybe in England with that Potter guy - Harry Potter and isn’t that a coincidence? Two Harry’s, both wizards. Huh.
I’m still thinking about England and Hogwarts, so I don’t quite catch Fraser’s question but it’s like a ZING! going through this office and that Potter guy is blithering away about … magic of all things. An atmosphere of intimacy is building around them, excluding me of their conversation.
Okay, maybe I’m paranoid by now and it’s nothing intimate about it at all but it pisses me off anyway. Even more so when they move to sit in front of a wooden desk, occupying the only two chairs in the room, leaving me to stand by the wall.
It ain't the first time I've felt like this in the last ten days, left out, excluded, like I'm not even in the room. It's getting to me. Enough is enough!
Usually Fraser does not ignore me; I’m not used to being ignored by him. I’m his friend, his partner – I come FIRST!
It’s like someone flipped a switch and now he is noticing all these people around him who want a piece of him, his attention, his … whatever, and he’s giving it to them, no oblivion anywhere. He goes all Canadian and super-polite – certainly, Ray, you don’t want me to hurt their feelings.
What about my feelings? I got pretty hurt lately.
“Hey, Potter!” I yell annoyed, stepping in between 'em to break the spell they seem to be under.
“Ray!” Fraser sounds scandalized and tugs at his collar, which without the uniform loses most of it's usual effect.
What did just happen here?
It’s like Fraser and I were the only two people in this room for a moment, no pissed off Detective in sight.
Certainly Fraser is an interesting person with strong charisma but there has to be something else happening here. I rarely connect on a human level so easily because it would mean to let my guard down, to give in to emotions. Emotions which can lead to joy but destruction as well - emotions of a human being create magic, its awareness, its intelligence, its life. Losing control can be fatal; I learned that the hard way.
I stand up and step back from Fraser to get some distance between us, not just in space, but in mind.
Vecchio looks like he would very much like to drag me away bodily.
This … pull towards Fraser could have a natural cause; he obviously is not just a good looking guy, but intelligent and mindful as well. But something about the whole thing doesn’t feel right and it’s not just me denying my attraction.
“Mr. Dresden …”
“Please, Harry,” I interrupt unintentionally, and Vecchio tenses up like he’s about to hit something or better yet someone, me in particular.
“Harry,” Fraser looks at Vecchio warningly but the Detective just doesn’t want to relax and I’m wondering what it’s like for him to be in Fraser’s presence all the time. On the other hand, Vecchio doesn’t seem to be affected by Fraser at all. He’s standing close like he’s trying to protect him but he doesn’t seem to be drawn to him. Not like I was a second ago and obviously each person they pass. “Lieutenant Murphy recommended you when …”
“Murph?” I’m surprised, it's not everyone who would admit knowing Karrin Murphy, director of Special Investigations – a de facto appointee of the Police Commissioner to investigate any crimes dubbed unusual.
“He was out with her yesterday,” Vecchio grins now, obviously picking up on my interest on the subject. Something has to be wrong here because … because … Murph …
“Murph doesn’t date.”
“Oh yeah, she does.”
“Ray, please!” Fraser rubs his eyebrow, blushing slightly. “Harry, I assure you, we just had a nice dinner and …”
Dinner the way Fraser says the word, would require a dress and Murph doesn’t do dress. At least as much as she doesn’t do dates but here you go.
“That’s not important right now; the important thing is that Lieutenant Murphy recommended your expertise of which I’m obviously in need of, because I can’t help myself to…” he clears his throat in embarrassment. “I seem to be unable to … I can’t …”
“Someone bats an eye and he’s off and running to make them happy,” I stop Fraser’s blithering; we would never get to the end of it. “We had to stop 4 times from the parking lot to your door, 4 fuckin’ times,” I repeat for good measure. “Ice-cream,” I roll my eye in annoyance, “for that blond little girl downstairs.”
“Ray, please, she was merely interested in my hat – an unusual garment for Chicago, you have to admit.”
“Ha, you didn’t see the way she licked it, Fraser!” I glare at him to stop his answer cuz I freakin’ know that the girl had to be 8 years old or something.
Fraser’s blushing deeply and clears his throat; I’m wondering what that wizard guy is thinking about all this. ‘Course he doesn’t know Fraser, doesn’t know that usually Fraser gets all oblivious about stuff like that.
Something just dawns on me here – their back and forth makes it pretty clear that those two are very close to each other. Apparently their relationship just isn’t affected by the spell which has been cast with the intention to make Fraser fall in love with someone.
Sloppy work here, performed by an amateur, no doubt. Because she or he couldn’t have meant for Fraser to court all the people who show even minute interest in him.
Not researched very well either, because if someone’s heart is already taken, no spell in the world can overcome such a strong emotion. Don’t get me wrong, magic can change a person, you can even gain power over a person – I’ve seen it done - but not by a spell or anyone with small power. You need a wizard for that, a wizard like me and I would never do anything like it. If the White Council picked up on it, I'd be dead in a heartbeat.
“A love spell then,” I say.
“I’m afraid so,” Fraser sighs, looking apologetically at Vecchio like he is quietly accepting the blame for someone being so desperate for his attention that they would go to such an extreme as to cast a spell on him.
Vecchio looks more annoyed than angry now, still keeping an eye on me like I’m going to jump his friend at any second.
“Can you unjinx him or somethin’?” He asks hopefully, forgetting for a moment that he doesn’t believe in magic.
“I probably can, yes.”
“Great! Greatness!” He’s leaning against the wall, arms folded like he’s waiting for me to cast a spell and make it all go away.
Sorry, Vecchio, but it doesn’t work like this.
“I need some information first,” I say, taking a seat behind my desk and grabbing a piece of paper. “Oh, by the way I charge fifty dollars an hour, plus expenses.”
“That’s quite alright,” Fraser takes some money from his hat, colourful and not American.
“Canadian,” Vecchio grins when he sees my surprised face but reaches into his own wallet and pulls out a bill, American, to pay for my services.
“Thank you kindly, Ray.”
“Okay,” I take a breath, “do you know anyone who would work magic to get their way?”
“No.” - “The whole freakin’ city,” both men answer simultaneously.
“That’s just silly, Ray.”
“No, Fraser, it’s not!”
“Please,” I sigh, “it has to be someone close, someone who would be able to … let’s say, take a strand of hair, skin, or even blood.”
“Frannie,” Vecchio bursts out. “I seen her, hanging around your neck two weeks ago. I should have known!”
“Ray, Francesca is a reasonable woman, she would never …”
“She was the one half naked at your front door, right?”
“Yes, Ray, but …”
“Francesca Vecchio, write that down,” Vecchio asks. “V E C C H I O!”
“Is she …,” I’m about to ask but Vecchio is on a role here.
“My sister, yeah.”
“Does she have any experience with spells, did she ever perform one or knows someone who does?”
“Oh dear,” Fraser whispers. “The Laferette case, Ray. Francesca was under the impression the station house was cursed by Momma Lola. Detective Dewey and Huey helped to perform a spell, which was interrupted by Leftenant Welsh, but nonetheless she had opportunity.”
“And motive,” Vecchio adds.
“Yes, and motive.”
I dunno how these things are supposed to work but I thought it would be more like spells and potions, candles or wands and not anything like police work, asking for opportunity and motive. Nothing really magical about it.
I just hope this guy is good cuz Fraser could lose his job over this – he’s suspended already. The Ice-Queen was not very happy about Fraser’s behaviour lately, a disgrace to the uniform, she called him.
Of course, Fraser became a disgrace after he went out with her and obviously everyone else, including Turnbull. Thatcher was not amused. So, he’s not allowed to wear the uniform for now. That might be good cuz the red serge draws even more attention than the man alone.
Even Diefenbaker refuses to be seen with Fraser in his current state - according to Fraser they had an argument about their places within the pack. The half-wolf’s at my apartment now, sulking, certainly talking with the turtle about human behaviour.
Potter had to stop all this before Fraser is snowballed back to Canada. Without me. Or Diefenbaker.
I don’t think Fraser is in any immediate danger, at least not in lethal danger; assuming Vecchio would never hurt Fraser bodily, of course. The Detective’s mood hasn’t changed much, it’s seems to be swinging between anger and annoyance.
“Why your apartment?” Vecchio asks sceptically when I suggest they stay at my place until I’m able to break the spell his sister – if it was his sister - performed.
“My wardens are going to protect Fraser.”
“I once read in my Grandmother’s library, Ray that homes have a protection of their own,” Fraser rubs his eyebrow nervously. “I imagine the home of a wizard even more so than, say, yours.”
“You not feeling safe at my place, is that what you’re saying?”
“No, Ray, of course not. I always felt welcome and sheltered at your place.”
Before I can even think about offering a better explanation – its not only the protection my home itself is offering but Wardens I set up to make it even stronger - Vecchio is out of the door, slamming it shut behind him.
“Oh dear,” I hear Fraser whisper before he runs after his furious friend.
I grab my leather duster, blasting rod and shield bracelet on my way out, just in case this is not what it looks like right now – a spell performed by a smitten woman.
Great, now Fraser doesn’t even feel safe at my place. Greatness!
I rush down the stairs, hearing Fraser’s footsteps in the hall, following me. But I have really had enough of this. This Potter guy can take care of things now, leave me out of it.
I reach the door and am half-way to the GTO when I hear a high-pitched voice shrieking and no, no I won’t turn around.
No way! NO!
But I can’t, damn!
Fraser managed to get cornered by a group of school kids, their two chaperones and oh, I see a drag queen come running from the other side of the street.
So, I turn, of course and reach Fraser at the same time as our wizard comes out the door, and together we untangle the group, separate Fraser, who seems to be helpless to decide who he should attend to first, from them. “Thank you kindly,” Fraser whispers relieved and a feeling of guilt runs though me.
I make it just in time to see the spell at work and what seemed to be harmless at first, turns out to be pretty serious if Fraser’s face is any indication. Not to speak of Vecchio, who can barely hold back a violent outburst.
We take Fraser between us and I can see Vecchio holding him by his elbow, steering him forwards, staring daggers at everyone who’s brave enough to even try to talk to him. Fraser on the other hand is silent, face pale, wary looking but his body’s turning towards everyone who shows some interest. It’s like he has no control over it at all. He doesn’t even look like the man in my office right now - the spell is wearing him down, tearing him apart.
Fortunately my apartment is just a few blocks away – a basement apartment beneath an old house. I own both basement and subbasement, kind of neat, because I’m the only tenant living on two floors.
I lead them down the stairs to the apartment’s front door and into my not-too large studio with a kitchenette in the corner and a fireplace to one side. There’s a door leading to another room, my bedroom and bathroom, and then there’s the hinged door in the floor that goes down to the subbasement, where my lab is.
Vecchio lets go of Fraser’s arm as soon as I close the door behind us. He’s still angry, that much is obvious, but I really can’t say why exactly.
“I have to …” I point at the door again, gesturing that I really have to go now.
“Yeah,” Vecchio says monosyllabically from near the fireplace.
“Of course, thank you kindly,” an eyebrow rub from Fraser again.
Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to bring them both here after all but what’s going on between them isn’t really something I should take part in. My job is to break the spell which isn’t just harming Fraser but their friendship as well.
At least Fraser does look better; now that it's just Vecchio and me around. There is some colour on his cheeks and his eyes … his eyes are fixed on Vecchio who’s still by the fireplace, trying to get his anger in check.
Finally I get the measure of all this – Fraser’s turning to everyone but the one person he might want to turn to and not just in friendship either if I interpret that look right. And Vecchio? He’s so high on anger that he doesn’t even notice his friend reaching for him. I sigh but there isn’t much I can do for them right now but give them some privacy and my skills as a wizard.
Potter leaves us alone in his so called apartment and I take a seat at the couch where we sit in silence – Fraser’s probably thinking about a way to apologize and I’m too thick-headed to react with anything but anger.
I still can’t believe all this, any of it. A love spell, really. Even if it was a spell, it doesn’t excuse what Fraser did. He’s a Mountie for God’s sake; he shouldn’t fall for such things.
Okay, I might be unreasonable here but I feel … betrayed. He dated everyone in sight, everyone but me and you can say about me what you want but subtle I’m not. I’m lusting after him as much as anyone but he didn’t see, he just didn’t ask me out.
“You were out with Stella,” I still can’t believe it - The Mountie and The Stella. “My Stella, Fraser.” I glare at him from my side of the couch.
“Ray,” he tries to be tolerant with me here but I get that even his patience starts to run thin, “first of all, she isn’t yours. We don’t own people or animals as it might be the case with Diefenbaker and second, I was obviously under the impression that States Attorney Kowalski wanted to spend some time in my company.”
“Stella hates you, Fraser,” my finger points at him accusingly on its own account. “She fuckin’ hates your gut!”
“That’s just silly, Ray. Why …”
“Shut the hell up!”
“As you wish.” He tugs at his collar, avoiding my eyes and the silence falls around us again. It grows with each passing second ‘til it becomes that ugly thing that just forces me to speak again, to make it go away.
“You were out with that Matthews guy from the motor pool.”
“For God’s sake, Ray, we went to a sports bar for a beer,” he doesn’t even lie about it, not that we would lie but mislead or feint or … “You know, Ray,” uh-oh, his voice gets kinda patient again like he’s explaining something to a retarded or sullen kid, “it’s not like I had sexual intercourse with any of those people.”
I can’t fuckin’ believe he just said that and I jump up from the couch, pacing up and down now, my mind working so hard there has to be steam coming out of my ears.
“I don’t wanna hear it,” I yell, my hands covering my ears. For protection cuz I really don’t wanna know about Fraser and his sexual intercourse.
Oh wait, he said he hadn’t slept with any of them.
“Why?” I ask.
“Why what, Ray?”
I take a deep breath; he’s really close to getting kicked in the head here.
“Why didn’t you have sex with one of them?”
“It would appear,” his right thumb slides over one eyebrow, “… naturally I’m not … I,” he stutters and blushes, I can’t stand it. Maybe he doesn’t like sex or he doesn’t want sex, doesn’t need it. Like, at all. If that’s the case I really don’t wanna know cuz sex and I are best buddies – not that I get any lately but I definitely think about it. With Fraser. Sex with Fraser.
I back my blue beetle that correctly speaking isn’t blue at all anymore, since both doors have been replaced, one being green, the other white, and the hood of the storage trunk in front had to be replaced with a red duplicate, into a parking space at the 27th police station, Vecchio’s place of work, where I hopefully will find Francesca Vecchio with whom I would like to have a word with in private.
Love hurts and isn’t something to take easily or to force on someone who’s not willing to take it. I was in love myself – not utterly successful I might add. My very first love, Elaine, tried to kill me as part of her contract with the Summer Lady Aurora and Susan … Susan I almost lost to the Red Court. She’s a half-vampire now, struggling to not turn into one completely by taking human blood.
You see, I know what it can be like, but casting a spell wouldn’t make it better. In the end – if the spell was performed right – you will recognize that the person is not with you because he wants to be, but because you forced him to. That’s not love at all.
I walk into the 27th unnoticed by anyone because the station house resembles a mad house – a group of mimes who obviously are trying to make a statement just with their hands and bodies that requires every detective to stand in line and shout suggestions of what might be said by the mimes. Like a game of charade. There are criminals, cuffed to their chairs as well, but even those individuals are drawn into the game.
Only a cute looking woman in a scanty yellow shirt is sitting at her desk, phone receiver in hand. Francesca Vecchio, I presume.
“Miss Vecchio?” I approach her and she looks up at me, her eyes sparking with interest when she takes in my appearance. “I’m Harry Dresden.”
“Oh,” an expression of guilt on her face. “I’m sorry for the call,” she says. “I … you know, I didn’t want to upset you, I just … Are you really a wizard?”
“The only one in the phone book.”
“Yeah,” she sighs, “I noticed that but I don’t need your help anymore. You see, I found someone else and … it’s all crap,” she snuffs with disgust now. “A lot of money for nothing,” her voice is rising and she looks accusingly at me like I’m the one angling for her money.
What is she talking about?
“You don’t understand?” She stands up, bends towards me like she could bully me, hands raised. “Wizards?” She yells. “Spells? All a waste of money!”
“So, you cast a spell then.”
“’Course I did. I’m not getting any younger and Fraser, he’s just … wait, how do you know? Did you read my mind?” She seems fascinated now.
“I’m a wizard, Miss Vecchio, I can’t tell the future or past, and I certainly can’t read anyone’s mind.”
“Constable Fraser paid me a visit this morning.”
“Fraser?” She doesn’t seem to believe me. “Frase would never go to a …”
“Right. A wizard,” she laughs insecurely. “He doesn’t need any spell to … you know, at all.”
“You invaded his privacy by casting a love spell on him.”
“But it didn’t work at all,” she complains. "Not like it was supposed to anyway."
“I think someone neglected to tell you that a love spell won’t work if the person is in love already.”
“Fraser’s in love,” her eyes go wide but she doesn’t seem to be upset about the fact that her love interest might be taken already. It’s like she hadn't expected to be loved by Fraser. Like it’s all a fantasy, like a great dream that’s not supposed to come true.
“Where did you get your information from, anyway?”
Ah, the curse of technology.
“Fraser in love,” she whispers again, dreamily like she’s picturing herself dancing at his wedding already.
“You have to let go of him. Break the spell.”
“The spell? Oh, yes, of course,” she hurries out of the room faster than I expected her to be able to on her high heels.
I follow her down a small corridor, around a corner, down a pair of stairs, another corner, left this time, until she comes to a stop at an unidentified door. She gets a key out of her pocket – don’t ask me how she managed to fit it in there in the first place – and opens it to reveal a circle, drawn on the ground.
It’s a circle drawn in chalk, various items on the inside – looks like she overdid it a bit because there is a strain of dark hair, enough to cast a spell, but there is blood as well and a small doll in a Mountie uniform, something that might be a cube of ice at some point. I have to smile at her effort.
“Too much, huh?” She asks and I’m about to agree but think better of it. I really don’t want her to try something similar again. Instead I step on the chalk with my right foot, cut the circle and break the spell.
“It’s you, Ray,” Fraser suddenly says and I turn from the fireplace where I'm standing now cuz I was too cold, sitting there on the couch with Fraser.
“Me?” I ask. “What’s me, Fraser? You have to be spe … specific here cuz lots of stuff is my fault.”
“No, Ray,” he shakes his head. “I do not blame you, I …”
“What, Fraser! Spit it out!” Anger is rising, not that I was calm during any of this but if Fraser doesn’t get to the point real soon, I’m going to hit him.
But Fraser doesn’t say anything further; he just gets up and … is close now, his hand half-way to my face when I push him away. I don’t need his spell-clouded attention. Not now. Not ever! I’m not that desperate.
“Ray?” He asks; his hand still in the air.
“Just don’t,” and he seems to get it cuz he steps back a bit, looking really serious now.
“It’s you, Ray,” Fraser says again and it makes as much sense as the first time he said it. “You, Ray.”
I don’t get it, what’s me? What did I do?
“You,” and if he says it one more time I’m not responsible for my actions. But Fraser is done with talking, he’s suddenly close again, my face between his strong hands, and he kisses me. Fiercely! Like he’s trying to say with his mouth, his tongue what he’s not able to say with words.
He’s licking my bottom lip, begging for entrance but I can’t, he doesn’t know what he’s doing and I don’t want that. I turn my head away; break the kiss but Fraser’s not letting go of me. He hugs me tight, his nose behind my ear, panting.
“Please, Ray,” he whispers hoarsely. “Because of you I didn’t have sex with any of them. I did not kiss them,” to prove his point he kisses my ear, licks its shell. “Taste them, touch them.” His hands are in my hair now; he’s holding me close. “You were so angry with me, Ray. I’m sorry.”
I want to believe him, I really do but how could I?
“I want you!”
That gets me good and what am I supposed to do now, huh?
“Shut up!” I grab for his head, pushing him away a bit. “Shut up!” I pull him in for a kiss. “Shut the hell up!” And then there aren’t any words anymore cuz I’m covering Fraser’s mouth with mine, slip my tongue between his lips, into his mouth.
Fraser moans deep in his throat and I shiver all over, moaning right back at him. My hands run over his body now, his too clothed body, and I groan in frustration. I have to have skin, like now and I yank at his flannel shirt, get it out of his pants and up to his shoulder. But there’s still not skin, just a Henley.
I’m too frustrated with Fraser’s dress code that I jump in surprise when I feel Fraser’s hands under the waistband of my jeans, on my naked ass. “Ray?” He whispers in my ear, pulling me against him rhythmically.
“Don’t stop,” I groan loudly, head back, feeling his erection lined up next to mine through two sets pants and shorts.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiles, I’m sure of it. Smug bastard!
“Skin,” I groan, holding onto him. “I need to touch you all over.”
“Yes!” And he’s gone suddenly, no hands on my ass, no body pressed close to mine. Instead he grabs my hand, drags me toward what must be Harry’s bedroom, disrobing me.
I hit the bed with a thud and go down, feet still on the ground, and all I can do is watch as Fraser grabs his shirt and Henley, yanking it over his head. Pants next, then shorts and finally he’s gloriously naked, hovering over me.
“C’mere! C’mere,” I reach for him while skidding up the bed and he crawls on all fours until he’s covering me whole with his hot body.
We kiss again – sweet and wet and sloppy. Over and over again. Mouth, cheek, ear, there nothing left out while Fraser’s settled over me, his knees on each side of my thighs, thrusting against my straining cock with his own erection.
“Oh God,” I moan, holding Fraser tight to feel all of him against my now overheated skin.
“Ray,” Fraser whispers, his lips on my collarbone – a kiss, a nip, a bite and my back comes off the bed on its own account; Fraser’s hands on my lower back now to pull me closer still.
“Fuck,” I dunno where to put my hands, they slip from Fraser’s sweat-slick body, so I grab his head, hold onto his hair while he licks my nipple; drives my out of my mind with his mouth on my chest and his hips thrusting against my body .
I’m close, I’m too fuckin’ close and I haven't had much of a chance to do anything for Fraser. Next time, I promise myself, next time it’s my turn cuz one more thrust of Fraser’s maddening hip and I’m coming all over the place and … aw shit, Harry’s sheets.
“Frase,” I pull his mouth to mine in a kiss while Fraser’s still thrusting against my now flagging erection.
“Ray,” he groans and spills over my belly before he falls down on me, sated.
“Frase,” I kiss the top of his head, holding him close and his arms reach around me to hug me right back.
“You, Ray,” he says, his eyes slowly closing.
“I get it now.”
“I’m glad,” and then he’s gone; out for the count. I follow him quickly, cuz that’s what guys do – get some and sleep it off.
Mister, my 30 pound cat, greets me at the front door - almost knocks me over, actually.
There is no sound coming from my apartment just the wood cracking in the fire place – no angry shouting Vecchio or over polite Fraser.
Clothes all the way to my bedroom door and I really don’t have to look inside to know what has happened here.
I fill some food in Mister’s cup and reach for my phone then, dialling.