“Oh, the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we’ve no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow”
Ray liked it when it really snowed.
(Not that it didn’t snow like, nine months out of the year, which was too much of a good thing in Ray’s book. What with the cold and the wet and the shoveling and having to wear twice his body weight in stuff just to keep from freezing his skinny ass off, and despite Fraser’s dedicated efforts to fatten him up…)
But still, Ray liked it when it really, really snowed. The kind of snow that started in the evening after everyone was safe and snug at home, so that Fraser didn’t have to go out into the cold to track down Caleb McGinnis when he staggered off, drunk, in the wrong direction again. Snow that came down all night, for just hours and hours, so heavy and thick that by the time it finished, it felt as if the whole world was blanketed in the stuff. The kind of snow that made Fraser take one look out the window in the morning and climb back into bed, because even the stupidest criminals took a snow day occasionally and so could the most dedicated of Mounties.
Ray liked snow day mornings because Fraser took his time waking Ray up on those mornings. He’d start with slow, sweet kisses until Ray’s eyes finally opened, then he’d slide under the covers to wake up the rest of Ray’s body. Fraser would taste every inch of Ray’s skin, front and back and then sometimes the front again (and Ray took back every damn negative thing he’d ever said about Fraser’s habit of licking things, because when Ray was the target, it was the best damn thing ever). And Ray would just lie there, panting and moaning but not pushing Fraser for more – now – dammit! because there was plenty of time and Ray loved how Fraser loved getting him ready to be fucked. Of course, Proper Preparation also meant that Ray was pretty damn near incoherent by the time Fraser slid inside, giving Ray a new appreciation for slow and steady winning the race.
(Not that Ray didn’t appreciate those times when Fraser slammed him against the wall and dropped to his knees and sucked Ray off so fast and dirty that he saw stars. Or when Fraser returned from a long patrol and they were so hot and horny that they could barely get their pants open so that Ray could nail Fraser over the kitchen table. Their second table, the first not having stood up to the challenge.)
But there was something about Snow Day Sex, when they didn’t have anywhere to be and nothing that needed doing except each other. When slow kisses and languorous touches could lead to slow, steady fucking, eyes locked on each and bodies rocking slowly towards the inevitable finish. When after-breakfast/lunch kisses tasted like coffee and each other, and led to more kisses and touches on the couch under the ugly afghan from Frannie, followed by a long nap. When evenings were spent in front of the fireplace instead of the television, and watching hockey (or curling) was eschewed in favor of watching the way Fraser’s eyes darkened with lust as Ray touched and stroked and caressed him. When weary work-a-day kisses and half-awake hand-jobs could be replaced by him riding Fraser’s body for what seemed like hours before surrendering to climax, then curling up together under the covers.
The next day there would be snow to shovel and criminals to apprehend, chores to do and snowmobiles to repair. But for now that didn’t matter because it was a snow day.
And Ray liked it when it really, really, really snowed.