Notes: Written for inuvikdotcom. Thanks to isiscolo for making me suck less, and to JB80 for making the boys suck more.
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The worst thing about the north is that a guy can't even smoke a goddamn cigarette without getting jumped all over.
Well, ok, no. The worst thing about the north is the fucking cold. The smoking thing is second worst.
They've been in town maybe three hours before they get tossed out of this shitty little place that passes for a restaurant, just for smoking in the bar. It's a bar, for Christ's sake�it's made for smoking. "Hey," Billy says as he lights up again, "don't look at me. It was your idea to come here."
And it was, too. Three weeks ago, Billy got this letter. His uncle Bill, the one he was named after, had died and left everything to Billy. No kids, no friends, just himself and a dog and a one-room cabin where you probably had to piss out in the snow, all the way up here in Northern Buttfuck, Canada. So now Billy's got a cabin, and he just wants to sell it off, but Joe figures what the hell, right? Might as well see the goddamn thing before he sells it to some moose trapper. "Let's go up there," Joe says, like a fucking idiot. "Let's check out your inheritance."
He was surprised Billy didn't laugh in his face. Or punch him. Now, thinking about it, they probably both would have been better off if he had.
So two days and way too many hours on a plane later, here they are, standing on this porch in the dark after getting yelled at by some goddamn hick restaurant owner not to smoke inside, like they could possibly make the place any less classy by smoking in there. Joe's standing by the railing, and he can feel Billy's this is all your fault look on the back of his neck without turning around. "Don't even," he says to the snow. Billy doesn't say anything behind him, but Joe can hear the slow deliberate drag he takes on his cigarette. "He was your fucking uncle, man."
"Fuck you," Billy says calmly, like he's saying it's snowing or something equally obvious.
They stand there smoking for a few more minutes, watching the snow fall. At least the sex will be good. The sex is always good when they're pissed at each other. But they could have had good sex just as easily back in Vancouver, and Joe's ready to kick himself for dragging them up here. Just what he needs. A vacation in the goddamn frozen north with a guy who won't even talk to him.
Joe turns his head and sees this Mountie walking down the street towards them, the only person they've seen since they've been out here. This is the north, right? People are supposed to be used to the snow, they're supposed to be out in it all the time, hell, they're supposed to fucking love it. And sure, it's late, it's dark, but there are streetlights, and everyone in town can't be in bed by now, can they? But no one's on the road, or walking around town, just this Mountie, and he's coming straight at Billy and Joe.
"Heads up," Joe mutters over his shoulder, and then the Mountie's right in front of them, peering up at them from under his hat.
"I'm sorry, sir," he says, and really, who looks at Joe and thinks sir? "But the Inuvik bylaws strictly prohibit the smoking of cigarettes in any public place." He gestures back towards Billy, where there's a sign tacked up on the wall, reading This is a smoke free environment. No smoking. Billy's leaning against it.
The Mountie's eyes stop on Billy for just a second too long. Joe glances over his shoulder to see Billy watching him back, not moving from against the sign. Billy's got that interested look on his face, his I'm checking you out and I want you to know it look. Joe turns back to the Mountie, and yeah, ok, the guy's attractive enough. Too pretty, maybe, but Billy goes for that type sometimes. Too fucking perfect, too�all shiny buttons and straight posture and carefully polite expression. This is a guy who needs to be messed up a little, needs to be fucked with. Joe grins to himself. Maybe it's going to be possible to have some fun up here after all.
"See something you like?" Joe asks the Mountie, and tosses his cigarette over the railing to land in the snow by the guy's boots. The Mountie immediately leans over to pick it up, and walks over to the edge of the balcony to put it into the trash can. It's too dark to tell whether he's shooting Joe a dirty look from over there, but Joe's pretty sure that he is.
"Joe," Billy says behind him, quiet, too low to be heard by the guy over the wind. Joe looks over his shoulder to grin at him.
"What, you've got something better to be doing?" he asks, and Billy shakes his head in that way he's got, the one that tells Joe you're an asshole, but I'm going to go along with it anyway, because that's what we do. "Ever done a Mountie before?" he asks, but the guy's back before Billy can answer.
"What's your name, Mountie boy?" Joe asks.
The guy straightens up a little, like he's in a goddamn display case. "Constable Benton Fraser," he says, and Joe smirks.
"Benton? You must have gotten the shit kicked out of you when you were in school."
"I could always hold my own in a fight," he replies, and yeah, Joe can believe that. He's not a tall guy, but he's solid, probably all muscle under that uniform. "Although there was this one time with an otter�" he begins, then shakes his head. "But that's not important."
Joe hears Billy chuckle behind him. "You got beat up by a fucking otter?" Joe asks. Only in goddamn Inuvik.
"By a boy wielding an otter, actually," he replies. "It was dead at the time," he adds quickly, as if he thinks Joe would be worried.
"Oh, well that's a relief," Joe says, and shoots a glance over his shoulder at Billy. "So you're�what? Patrolling?" he asks, waving a hand at the empty street.
The Mountie shakes his head. "I'm on my way home, actually."
"Ah, home to Mrs. Mountie and all the baby Mounties. How sweet," Joe says. The guy frowns and shifts his eyes from Joe to Billy to the snow and back again.
"I live alone," he says flatly, and Joe hides a smile.
"Poor guy," he says to Billy, all mock concern, but Billy's still looking at the Mountie, and the Mountie's looking back, and�shit. They're practically fucking each other with their eyes right here on the goddamn street. Well, ok, no. Billy's eyefucking the Mountie, and he's shifting nervously and looking embarrassed, but for just a second, there's a tiny flicker of hell yes before he puts on his polite mask again.
Billy glances over at Joe, and yeah, ok, they're doing this. It happens every so often, they'll come into a town and Joe will find a guy, maybe someone he wants to fuck with, maybe someone he just wants to fuck, and they'll do this. Billy lets him do all the work. That way he can say it was all Joe's fault in the end. Joe doesn't care. It means that every so often he gets to watch Billy fucking someone who's not some teenage groupie, and that's worth all the shit.
And tonight, he's going to watch this pretty Mountie put those lips around Billy's cock.
"So, Benton," Joe says, getting the guy to finally look away from Billy.
"Please, call me Fraser," he corrects him, and Joe smirks.
"Hell, name like Benton, who the fuck can blame you? So. Fraser. You got all kinds of crazy plans tonight? Going to go enjoy the Inuvik nightlife?"
Fraser looks off in the direction he was walking, the snow blowing into his eyes under the brim of his hat. "I was actually planning to�"
"Go home, read some books on�I don't know, moose shit or whatever it is you people care about up here, maybe jerk off, go to sleep. Something like that?"
Fraser flushes deep red at the words jerk off. "Well, I�"
"Because see," Joe turns to step down the few stairs onto the street, feeling the snow falling against the back of his neck, "we've got a better idea." He glances back at Billy, who's still leaning back against the wall of the restaurant, looking like a goddamn hooker up there in his jeans that are just a little too tight, his leather jacket that's totally wrong for this kind of cold. Fraser follows his gaze and swallows nervously. Yeah, he's not as na�ve as he looks. He knows what Joe's getting at. "What do you say?" Joe asks, stepping towards Fraser, so close they can feel each other's breath.
"I'm not�that is to say, I don't think�" Fraser begins, and Joe decides right then and there that he's sick and tired of this verbal coercion shit, and leans in to kiss the guy, hard and demanding. Fraser freezes for a moment, and Joe can feel the tension in his muscles, that fight between running away and giving in. Finally Joe feels the moment when his resolve breaks. His hand reaches up to tighten around the back of Fraser's neck, knocking his hat into the snow. He can feel Fraser's hands flailing around a little behind him before finally settling down against his shoulderblades, not pulling him in, just resting there as his lips match Joe's rhythm against them, kissing back. Christ, this guy can kiss. Wouldn't think it from looking at him, but fuck. Of course, he looks like he's goddamn perfect at everything, so why should this be any different?
When Joe finally pulls away, Fraser keeps his eyes closed. "Hey," Billy says, and he's right there beside Joe, standing on the stairs. Joe hadn't even heard him move. "I'm a fan of this whole kissing thing," he waves a hand at the two of them, "but do you think we could move it someplace a little warmer?"
"Told you not to bring that jacket," Joe says, giving Fraser a push in Billy's direction. "Here, he'll keep you warm."
Fraser reaches out a hand to steady himself against the railing, blushing deep red. "Yeah?" Billy asks Fraser, "is that right?" God, the two of them look so goddamn beautiful standing there together, lit only by the lights on the porch behind them, snow falling in their hair and on their shoulders. Fraser looks around, as if checking for witnesses. They're standing inches away from each other, and then Billy leans in to press his lips to Fraser's, and there's no space between them at all. Joe can see Fraser's brief moment of resistance, the collapse of his defenses as Billy presses against him, the way his hand moves from the railing to the small of Billy's back, holding him there. He kisses Billy back hungrily, greedily, with an intensity Joe hadn't expected.
"Hmm," Billy says as he pulls away, "you're right. I am warmer." He grins at Fraser, then turns to look at Joe. "Hotel now?"
"Fuck, yeah," Joe agrees.
By the time they're outside their hotel room, Billy can't keep his hands off the Mountie. He's got him pressed up against the wall, kissing him again, long fingers tight around the guy's hips, twisting his own body against him slowly, like the most seductive dance Joe's ever seen. Joe gets distracted from opening the door and just watches for a few minutes, until Fraser moans low in his throat and Joe can't think about anything but getting them both into a bed as soon as possible.
Joe takes over once they get inside, kissing Fraser's neck, biting lightly at his earlobe, while Billy struggles with the goddamn ridiculous straps and buckles on his uniform. Finally Fraser's hands come up to push them both impatiently away. He strips away his uniform with the ease of someone who's done it a million times, his fingers quick on the metal buckles, letting the jacket fall to the floor. He looks at it for a moment, like he's thinking about picking it up or something, but then Billy makes an impatient noise and he reaches for his pants instead, undoing them, letting them and his boxers fall to the floor.
Finally, he pulls off his shirt, leaving him naked and blushing in the middle of their hotel room. Jesus, he's as fucking perfect underneath the clothes as he is with them on. Wide shoulders, soft looking skin, cock already hard from Billy rubbing up against him in the hallway. He reaches for Billy again, and Joe watches appreciatively as his hands slide up under Billy's shirt, his tanned skin contrasting sharply with the paleness of Billy's back. Billy lets Fraser pull his shirt over his head and drop it onto the floor, and then he flops back down onto the bed, pulling Fraser with him. They land awkwardly, but sort themselves out quickly, Billy's arms coming up to wrap around Fraser's neck as Fraser leans over him, pressing his lips to Billy's throat, his shoulders, his chest.
Joe never gets sick of watching Billy in bed, getting to see the way he responds instead of feeling it. He's different when they're with a girl, a little more gentle, a little more in control. With a guy he lets some of that go, and Joe stands there and watches as Billy's hips thrust up against nothing as Fraser's fingers skim lightly across his side, sees the way his head rolls back against the pillows to allow better access to his neck, watches his fingers tracing meaningless patterns across Fraser's back. Then he opens his eyes, looks at Joe.
"You just gonna watch, or what?" Billy asks. That's all the invitation Joe needs, and he moves towards the bed, taking Billy's belt in his fingers, tugging off his pants, his boxers, then his own clothes, until they're all there, naked, him and Billy and the impossibly beautiful Mountie.
"C'mere," says Billy, and then Joe's on the bed, straddling him, kneeing Fraser out of his way and pinning Billy's wrists back to the headboard. He leans down to take Billy's mouth with his, less a kiss than a declaration of ownership. He can feel Fraser watching, analyzing them with his eyes, but Joe doesn't really care, because he's got Billy pressed into the bed beneath him, skin warm and cock hard and breath already coming in short little gasps.
Billy arches his hips up to slide their cocks along each other, and Joe swallows, catches his breath. Billy does it again, the tendons in his wrists flexing under Joe's grip, and Joe thrusts back this time, forcing a tiny cry out of him. Joe looks up to see Fraser watching them, and he grins, because there's none of that cool appraisal left in his stare, just desire, and Joe can see the way his fingers are aching to touch.
"You just gonna watch, or what?" He repeats Billy's words, and Fraser's lips curve into a tiny smile before he leans in and takes both their cocks in his hand, stroking them together before leaning in to lick the head of first Joe's, then Billy's. Joe lets Billy go and climbs back a little to allow Fraser better access, and he takes advantage of it, leaning over Billy, sucking him deep into his mouth.
"Damn," Joe whispers, watching the way his dark head moves in a strong rhythm up and down, Billy's fingers twisting their way into his hair. Who would have thought the Mountie would be an experienced cocksucker? Joe leans down while they're occupied to pull the lube out of Billy's bag, then crawls back up the bed to kiss Billy, his hand reaching down to wind his fingers between Billy's, setting the pace of Fraser's sucking. Billy kisses him back, frantic, messy, moaning into his mouth. Joe knows that moan, knows that Billy's close, but he doesn't bother to warn Fraser. Instead, he watches as Billy comes down his throat, watches the way he swallows convulsively, then licks Billy clean as if he can't get enough of the taste of him.
When Fraser crawls back up the bed, his cock is painfully hard, begging to be touched. Joe takes it in hand, strokes it a few times, and when Fraser lets his head fall back against the pillow and pushes his hips up into Joe's touch, Joe takes the opportunity to slick up his fingers and slide one into Fraser, in time to his thrusts. Fraser moans quietly and his eyes open, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he continues moving, up into Joe's hand, down onto his finger, first one, then more. Jesus. It's like living a goddamn porn. There's a hot Mountie fucking himself on Joe's hand while Billy's lying there next to them, watching the whole thing with sleepy eyes. That actually might turn Joe on more than anything else, feeling Billy's eyes on them as he leans in to lick a stripe along Fraser's cock.
Billy's still watching when Joe rolls Fraser over and pushes into him, and Billy's hand reaches over to take Fraser's cock, stroking it as Joe thrusts into him. Joe goes slow at first, then faster, harder, gripping on to the pale skin of his sides until he's sure he's leaving marks. Fraser's fucking as hard as he's being fucked, shoving his hips down into Billy's hand, back to meet Joe's strokes into him, and Joe loses some of his control, just feeling Fraser beneath him, desperate to come. "Jesus," he whispers, leaning over, pressing himself all along Fraser's back, driving into him fast, hard, and he catches sight of Billy's eyes over Fraser's shoulder and comes, crying out against Fraser's back, bracing himself on one hand as the other reaches out blindly to clutch at Billy's hip.
A few more strokes and Fraser's coming as well, trembling under him. He tightens around Joe, making him groan, and muffles his own cry against the blankets. Joe rolls off as his arm gives out and just barely keeps himself from collapsing on top of Fraser. They lie there for a few minutes, Joe's back pressed up against Billy, Fraser sprawled out on his stomach beside them. He watches Fraser lying there, his eyes open, and he can almost see the thoughts racing through his head. He has no idea what those thoughts might be, and doesn't really care, but it annoys him a little that even now after being fucked that hard and that good, the guy just can't stop thinking.
Joe isn't really surprised when Fraser climbs out of the bed and circles around it to pick up his clothes. He's a little surprised when he sees him lean over to kiss Billy, slow, deep, like a goodbye, but he decides not to say anything.
Then Fraser's standing by Joe's side of the bed, pants and shirt on, coat draped over his arm. "I�" he starts, and doesn't seem to know how to continue.
"If you say something polite and Mountielike, I'll shove your ass out the window," Joe says, and Fraser smiles a little.
"Understood," he says, which might qualify, but Joe doesn't have the energy to do any shoving right now. "I�.hope you enjoy your stay in Inuvik," he finally finishes, and Joe rolls his eyes.
"Oh, yeah, it's a real fucking paradise," he says, and he feels Billy chuckle against the back of his neck.
Fraser turns to the door. "Thank you," he says quietly as he opens it. Before Joe can say anything else, he closes the door behind him.
They leave Inuvik four days later, and never see him again.