Digging into his tight jeans for money to pay his half of the bill, Kowalski's elbow hit his plate and the fort collapsed. "I don't like him looking at other guys okay? I don't care if it's on the tube or walking down the street." He fished out a $10 bill and dropped it on the table.
The two detectives rose, and headed for the door. As they climbed into the Riv, Kowalski said, "Thanks for the ride home, Vecchio. I don't know what the hell's wrong with the GTO. It just won't start."
That's what happens when someone dumps sugar in your gas tank, Ray thought. Call my car snot-green, will you? "No problem, Stanley. I'm always happy to help out another officer in need." Vecchio turned on the radio and the Stone's 'I'm Not Waiting On A Lady' filled the car.
Kowalski leaned back, his eyes closed, his fingers tapping on his knee in time to the the music. Vecchio's eyes drifted from the road to Kowalski's knee, back to the road, then to his crotch, then back to the road. This continued for the rest of the drive to Kowalski's building. No amount of threats or self-recriminations could keep his eyes or his mind off of the other detective.
Sighing gratefully, he parked in front of Kowalski's apartment building. "Well, here we are. See you tomorrow," Vecchio said cheerfully. It took all of his strength not to reach over, open the passenger door, and shove Kowalski out.
Kowalski stretched slowly, seeming to be in no hurry to get out of the car. "You want to come up for some coffee?" he asked.
"Coffee?" Vecchio's voice broke slightly.
"Yeah, you know that drink they make from beans."
"No, no. I gotta be going," Vecchio's fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly.
"C'mon, Vecchio. We can watch a game or wrestling or Walker Texas Ranger, or any other guy thing that you want to do. " He put a hand on Vecchio's shoulder and smiled. "I'm not looking forward to spending the night alone. It would be nice to have someone to talk to for awhile who's kind of in the same boat as me."
Vecchio looked at the hand on his should and at Kowalski's face. The guy has no idea that you're hot for him. He's just looking for a buddy. If you don't go up with him, he'll figure it out and then the shit will fly, Vecchio mused unhappily. "Okay for a few minutes, that's all."
They rode the elevator in silence. Kowalski led the way to his apartment with Vecchio several steps behind. Vecchio stared at the floor, trying not to think about the small, round ass right in front of him, close enough to grab.
Kowalski unlocked the door and held it open. Vecchio stepped inside, his eyes straining to see in the darkened room. He heard the sound of Kowalski locking and bolting the door.
"Hey, how about some lights, mmmph," he said as Kowalski shoved him up against a wall and kissed him roughly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he gasped.
"Come on, Vecchio. I saw how you've been looking at me all night. So, where do you want to do it, the couch or the bed?" Kowalski asked, unbuckling Vecchio's pants.
Vecchio slapped the hands away. "Wait a minute! We can't do this. We're in commited relationships."
Kowalski removed his gun and holster and dropped them on the counter. "Sometimes things happen, you know that as well as I do."
"But, but, you said you didn't even like Turnbull to look at other men!"
"Hey, I wasn't looking at you. You were looking at me," Kowalski countered, yanking his shirt over his head. "I repeat: couch or bed?"
"The couch is closer," Vecchio decided.
A trail of clothes marked their path to the couch. "Nice tattoo," Vecchio commented.
"Thanks. Where'd you get that scar?"
"Long story," Vecchio answered, pushing Kowalski down on the couch. "We're going to feel so guilty in the morning," he commented, as he threw himself on top of the other.
"Worry about that tomorrow," Kowalski said, wrapping his skinny legs around Vecchio's hips.
Vecchio kissed his neck and collarbone. He groaned as Kowalski's hands rubbed his chest, and pinched one of his nipples. Vecchio reached down and grabbed Kowalski's cock.
"Let's hurry up and get this over with. That way we'll have less to feel guilty over," Vecchio suggested.
"I don't follow you," Kowalski answered.
"Listen, I figure that if we jerk each other off and then I leave, it won't be so bad. But if we take our time and have fantastic, mind-blowing sex, then we won't be able to live with ourselves. Understand?"
"That is the stupidest thing that I've ever heard. Whether we have great sex or lousy sex, we're still having sex. If you can't deal with that, then let go of my dick, and go home," Kowalski said angrily.
Vecchio thought it over. He stood up. "You're right."
"You're leaving?" Kowalski asked, disapointment in his voice.
"Nope. I need more room to manuever." Vecchio pushed the coffee table out of the way and then, grabbing one of Kowalski's feet, yanked him off the couch and onto the floor.
"Oooff," Kowalski exclaimed.
"Prepare to scream, Stanley!"
**************************************** *******
In a hotel dining room in Toronto, Fraser and Turnbull quietly ate a late dinner. They sat in silence, surreptiously exchanging glances when they thought the other wasn't looking. Finally, Turnbull cleared his throat and said, "Inspector Fraser?"
"Yes, Constable?"
"Would you like to come up to my room, for some, uh, bark tea?"
Fraser thought this over for a minute and said, "Why, yes. I believe I would."
**************************************** *******
Back in Chicago, Kowalski had somehow ended up laying flat on his stomach, his hands handcuffed to the couch leg.
"Where is it?" Vecchio demanded.
"It should be in the drawer by the bed."
"It's not there!"
"Then I don't know where it is."
"To hell with his," Vecchio growled, racing to the refeigerator. "Ahh," he smiled, plucking a bottle of maple syrup and racing back over to Kowalski.
"What is that?" Kowalski asked, then yelped as the cold syrup was applied generously to his ass.
"Ooh, that is cold," Vecchio said as he smeered the sticky stuff on his cock. "Get ready, here I come."
**************************************** *******
Fraser and Turnbull sat on the bed. "We can't do this," Fraser said.
"I agree. Ray and Ray would be crushed if they knew that we were even contemplating such a thing," Turnbull sighed.
" I suggest we forget this incident entirely," Fraser suggested.
Turbull nodded. The two sat quietly for a moment, then Fraser shoved Turnbull back on the bed and kissed him.
**************************************** *******
"I'm losing my mind!" Vecchio hissed. Kowalski didn't answer, having already lost his mind, as he bucked furiously against Vecchio, who was thrusting into him madly, while pumping Kowalski's cock in time with each thrust.
Thrust, buck, pump, grunt; the pattern kept up until the two detectives were covered with sweat. Finally, in unison, they both screamed.
**************************************** *******
"Spoons are nice. I like spoons," Fraser thought as he licked and sucked Turnbull's cock. He groaned and shivered as the other mountie did the same to him. He stroked his subordinate's balls and winced as Turnbull's fingers dug into his thighs. Both Mountie's shuddered from head to toe, and filled each other's mouths with their hot juices
**************************************** *******
Kowalski rubbed his wrist where the handcuffs had been. "So , we don't tell anybody about this, right?"
"Right," Vecchio agreed, reaching for his boxers. "It would only hurt them if they found out."
"Yeah," Kowalski. "You want to order a pizza or something?"
**************************************** *******
Fraser dressed quickly, his face red with shame. "We must confess our sins immediately upon our return to Chicago."
"Agreed," Turnbulll said, his voice filled with guilt.
Fraser stopped mid-button. "Of course, telling would only hurt them. And since we are never going to do anything like this again. . "
"Never!"
"Perhaps the wisest thing to do would be to simply say nothing about it," He looked at Turnbull questioningly.
Turnbull nodded quickly. "I belive you're right."
"Good, good. That's what we'll do then. Goodnight, Turnbull."
"Goodnight, Fraser. Pleasant dreams."
the end
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