Secrets In Your Eyes
Secrets In Your Eyes
Chapter 8
Chapter Wordcount: 4251
“You know you don’t have to stay here right?” Ray asked him, for what must have been the twelfth time.
“Yes Ray,” he answered, again, with a smile.
For the most part the station was empty, running a skeleton crew overnight for New Years. It never failed, something always happened with all the drinking and fireworks and partying. But it was normally the beat cops that took the brunt of the abuse, so only Ray, of course Fraser, Welsh and a few other people were there, in case anything too crazy happened.
They had half-heartedly been playing poker, using paperclips and rubber bands instead of chips and after Fraser won a couple games they started playing go fish and war and whatever else they could remember enough of the rules for.
The fireworks were already popping outside, muted inside the walls and there had been a couple people brought in in cuffs from getting out of hand while partying, but it had been relatively quiet.
Around eleven Tayla came strutting in, backpack on and a huge tray balanced on her hand.
“What are you doing here?” Ray asked in surprised, putting down his cards, game forgotten.
Fraser shot to his feet to take the pan from her hand.
“Thanks hun,” she mumbled, turning to Ray, “You thought I’d leave you boys here alone?”
She put her backpack down on the chair Fraser had been sitting in and unzipped it, pulling out several containers, all filled with food. The pan Fraser had set down containing a pasta dish filled with meat and cheese. The last container she pulled out was a Tupperware filled with her crack cookies which Ray made a grab for but she snatched back and handed to Fraser for safe keeping.
She even had a green glass bottle shoved into the mesh drink pocket on the side of the bag.
“That better not be what I think it is,” Welsh growled from his office door.
“What?! It’s cider!” she grinned, even though it was blatantly not cider.
“Crack it open,” he smirked, headed to the lunch room to get paper cups for everybody.
Fraser and Ray shot each other a look and grinned.
“Couldn’t let my boys be bored and alone on New Years,” she grinned, sitting down and propping her feet up as everybody plated up their food.
They just shook their heads and got their own helpings.
***
Everybody had paper cups full of not cider as they counted down at midnight, making a toast and cheering.
Ray grabbed her and kissed her on the forehead, she laughed before pushing him away, finishing off her drink.
Fraser sipped his own drink and met her eyes shyly and she couldn’t help the flush that crept up her neck. He glanced around nervously, finding most everyone occupied for the moment, he leaned in and kissed her softly.
She closed her eyes and leaned against him, hand squeezing around his arm and shared a small smile with him as he pulled away, blushing.
She smirked before Welsh, laughing off to the side with Ray, loudly asked if there was more ‘cider.’
She laughed, finally breaking eye contact with Benton and grabbed the bottle for another round.
He watched her, unable to wipe the grin from his face and cleared his throat and tugged at his ear when he realized Ray was watching him like a hawk.
Ray just laughed, grinning at him and Fraser couldn’t help but smile back at his friend.
***
They swung by Tayla’s to pick up Diefenbaker and Jolene, where they had enjoyed free run of her house, away from the fireworks, and Tayla drove them all back to Fraser’s small apartment.
The dogs made a beeline to the radiator, flopping down in front of its warmth and quickly fell asleep. Fraser chuckled at them as he hung up he and Tayla’s jackets, it was well past midnight now and neither animal had been happy about their routine being upset.
Perhaps it had been the cup full of champagne he had indulged in at the station, his system had never been given the chance to build up a tolerance to alcohol, but he felt charged in a way and knew he wouldn’t be able to drop off to sleep as quickly as their furry companions.
Tayla, who had imbibed far more champagne, although her system most certainly had a tolerance, he had seen her drink Ray under the table more than once, must have felt the same, as she busied herself with putting her bag in the corner and retreated to his bathroom to change.
He took the opportunity to shed his outer layers, down to his undershirt and sat to remove his boots. He gazed around his apartment as he methodically unlaced his boots and had to smile at the small ways Tayla had touched his home. Her shoes left by the door. Her bag in the corner. Jolene snoring next to Diefenbaker. The star projector lamp she had gifted him with still sitting in a place of honor on his dresser.
He was pulled away from his musing when she brushed her hand across his shoulders as she came back out of the bathroom, a worn pair of cotton shorts riding low on her hips and a white tank top that honestly didn’t do much to conceal what was underneath.
He watched her crawl onto his bed, nestled into his blanket and he smiled at her at how comfortable she seemed to be in his space.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said softly, trading his jeans for a pair of RCMP sweatpants before crawling in next to her.
She rolled her eyes at him but pulled him over to her, hooking one leg over his and returning his kiss.
He let his hand run down the length of her thigh, squeezing the muscle and she sighed softly.
He pulled away from her, shifting to the end of the bed and kneeling on the floor at the foot. She propped herself up on her elbow and was watching him with questions in her eyes.
He smirked, flushed with an unfamiliar mix of anxiousness and exhilaration and cupped the heel of her foot in the palm of his hand, pressing deep into her arch with his thumb.
She hummed, smiled at him and shifted to a more comfortable position.
He gave each foot fair attention, his courage and pride being bolstered by the soft, contented smile she watched him with. He moved up to slide his thumbs up the sides of her calves, she hadn’t lost any of the muscle she had built from years of horseback riding. She moaned softly as he dug his fingers into her skin. He eased the pressure, slipping his fingers into the soft skin behind her knees, hesitated a moment and worked his way further up still, stopping himself at halfway up her thighs.
She used the grip of his hands to anchor herself and sat up in front of him, tugging her tank top up over her head.
He held her eyes, resisting the urge to look down at where she had bared herself. She grinned and leaned forward, slipping her fingers through where his hair held a slight curl where it met his neck, and kissed him softly. He closed his eyes and let himself fall into her, tangling one hand in her own hair and letting the other rest gently against her side, her skin flushed and warm under his touch.
He could feel her smile against his lips as she tugged on his arms, pulling him back onto the bed and resting over her. He braced himself on his knees and hands, shifting his weight when she took hold of his own shirt, pulling it over his head. He finally allowed himself to look, watching the way his hand slipped up her side, feeling the expanse of her ribs as she inhaled, framing her breast in the curve of his thumb and fingers. Her hand slipped across the side of his neck, down to his chest, fingertips coming to rest soft against the odd shaped scar from his childhood. He kissed her again before whispering against her lips to roll over. She grinned at him, amused, but just as caught up in their energy as he was and shifted to her stomach as he leaned back to give her the room to move.
His knees were sunk into the mattress, bracketing her hips and he let his hand rest warm and heavy above the waistband of her shorts.
She had two tattoos that rested like wings on her shoulders. He had seen glimpses whenever she wore a tank top but he had only ever been able to see the edges of the dark Celtic style swirls against her skin, never the full picture. He couldn’t quite explain how he felt, seeing the stylized wolf and horse spread across her skin. He leaned forward, tracing the ink with his fingertips.
“I got ‘em when I was eighteen,” she offered quietly, tilting her head so she could just barely meet his eyes from her position.
“They’re beautiful,” he whispered quietly, placing a kiss on the bare skin between the two images. Forcing himself to not get lost in thought over the designs at the moment and slipped his hand down to dig his thumb into the muscle next to her shoulder blade.
He had done this before, relaxed her with his touch, although never with her bared to him like now. But he knew she preferred a deeper, stronger pressure. He had been worried the very first time he had massaged her shoulders and she had asked for more and more pressure, concerned he would hurt her. She had assured him she would let him know if she met her limit and he felt the way her muscles relaxed under his hands and learned where she carried her tension and how to dig it out with deep kneads and slides of his thumb.
She sighed under his hands and he could see this slight smile to her mouth as she closed her eyes and relaxed under him. He grinned, unable to stop himself and slid the heel of his hand down the side of her spine, amused at how she seemed to not be able to decide whether to melt under the pressure or arch up into his touch.
She was boneless under his hands, comfortable and content. Had it not been for the slow back and forth of her thumb against his knee, where she had rested her hand against him, he would have thought she had fallen asleep. He was not, however, under any misconception that she hadn’t felt his arousal from where he sat astride her legs. His well-worn sweatpants didn’t offer much concealment, but he also wasn’t particularly trying to hide it from her.
He shifted his weight back enough so she could roll over and he felt the flush creep across his chest as she looked up at him.
She just smiled softly, pulling him down to kiss her with one hand, and letting her other trail up his arm and over his shoulder in a gentle approximation of the massage he had just given her.
He allowed himself to reach for her finally, the swell of her breast fitting into his palm, felt her arch into the touch.
He realized in rush, how content he was himself. Excited for sure, anxious perhaps, but neither nervous nor afraid.
Even at their best, there had always been a cold undercurrent of worry and guilt with Victoria. He had tried to tell himself that love could conquer. That they could build something stable. But despite their blinding chemistry, they had been opposites from the beginning, criminal and cop. That dichotomy tainting the whole sordid relationship from the start.
Victoria had crashed through his walls, intent on her own goals, manipulative ones in the end. Tayla however had systematically worn them down. Somehow always knowing when to push past his bouts of panic, past his comfort zone, and when instead to sit in silence next to him, comforting him with just her presence and steadfast support.
He had given his trust to Victoria against his better instincts, blinded by his heart. But he and Tayla had entrusted their scars to each other and found nothing but safety from the other. This, now, was something he could have never had had with Victoria.
He didn’t doubt that he had loved her, in every way he had known how at the time.
But he had fallen in love with Tayla. He understood the difference now.
Her fingertips brushed against the waxy skin of the scar that sat low on his back, a bullet buried somewhere underneath, hesitated for a moment, as if she was just accepting that it was there, and then continued on, slipping just underneath the elastic of his waistband.
He trailed his own hand down the softness of her stomach and hooked his fingers into the hem of her shorts, tugging them gently before finally pulling away from their kiss to shift back. He couldn’t help the blush that burned up his neck, but she was just as flushed as he was and covered her face with her hands, laughing at herself and he chuckled himself, kissing the hollow of her hip as he pulled them off her legs.
He stood nervously at the end of the bed for a moment before shedding his own pants, crawling back over her, letting her pull him towards her with her hands and the warmth of her legs wrapping around his hips.
Kissing was easy, they had perfected that over the months before ever making it to this point, but it also gave him the convenient reason to close his eyes. He kept them closed after she broke their kiss. He could feel himself trembling, no doubt she could as well. Finally he opened them when she laid her hand against his cheek.
She smiled, glanced away, giving proof to her own shyness and then took his hand and placed it on her chest, holding it there until the rapid beat of her heart registered against his palm.
“I’m kinda freaking out too,” she grinned, soft and amused.
He chuckled, nodded and dropped his head.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t,” she smiled, meeting his eyes when he looked back up at her.
He kissed her again, not lingering long, moving on to drag his lips down her neck, encouraged by the soft sound she made, choked in her throat. He inhaled deep, swore he could smell the heat of her skin, let his tongue drag across her collar bone, kissed the hollow of her throat, sucking just enough to see the skin flush from the blood brought to the surface. He glanced up at her, his nerves jittering under his skin and shifted again, leaving a trail of warmth across the swell of her breast before gently pulling her nipple into the heat of his mouth.
Her hand immediately shifted from his shoulder to the crown of his head, her fingers trying to find purchase in his short hair and he rested his opposite hand on her ribcage, feeling the sharp inhale she made when he lapped against the sensitive spot.
“Jesus…” she breathed.
He sighed against her, never breaking his hold and swirled his tongue again, suckling softly and mentally cataloguing her reactions, what she seemed to enjoy.
She was clearly appreciating his attention, which he tried not to be too prideful about, but she wasn’t completely lost. She had felt the weight of his arousal and the sticky wetness that had gathered at the tip brush against her leg when he had shifted his weight. He had tried to maneuver himself away, focused on her for the moment, but she had simply hooked one leg over his hip, shifting her other over and eased his weight down into a soft pressure upon her thigh.
He was the one that took the ragged breath then, finally breaking the connection he held with his mouth and rocked his forehead against her collarbone, stuttered hitch to his hips pressing himself into her warm skin, spreading a sticky trail across the top of her thigh and onto the swell of her hip.
He blinked against his eyelashes sticking together and looked back up at her, moving to kiss her softly before shifting, sliding himself towards the foot of the bed again, leaving a trail of gentle kisses down her side.
His heart was thumping wildly against his ribcage as he leaned forward and licked a path over her hip, cleaning himself from her skin.
“Fuck…” she hissed and a shiver rolled down his spine.
He glanced up at her for just a moment before finally allowing himself to taste her. He splayed his hand wide over her hip when she arched up against his tongue, a whine strangled in her throat.
She grabbed his hand where it rested on her hip and threaded her fingers through his. He took his time exploring with soft pressure, dipping his tongue into her. Her fingers squeezed around his when he gently suckled on her clit, her grasp telling him when where his attention was most appreciated.
She tugged on his hand and he pulled away, tongue sweeping over the wetness on his lips. He couldn’t help but grin, returning to the head of the bed to kiss her again, moaning when he realized she was tasting herself in this kiss.
She reached down and took him in her hand, stroking him slowly, the slip of his foreskin a new sensation to her. He braced his arms on either side of her head and gently rested his weight against her, letting her guide him, breaking their kiss to groan as he finally slid inside her.
She breathed his name, curling her fingers through his hair. He rested his forehead against her own and kissed her.
“I love you,” he said quietly, chest tight with emotion.
He could feel her smile against his lips, “I love you too,” she whispered.
He could feel the soft skin of her thigh brushing against his side where she cradled him against her body and he lost himself in the rhythm between them.
***
Fraser woke warm and contented. Tayla’s head resting in the crook of his arm, pressed against his side. It only took him a moment to realize what woke him. Her hand was making slow strokes lower and lower on his stomach, nails lightly dragging over the hollow of his hip, sparking his nerve endings like electricity.
He hummed, letting his hand run down her side and felt her smile against his chest. His concentration was ripped apart when she took him into her hand and slid her tongue over his nipple at the same time.
“Tayla…”
She hushed him, sitting up and sliding her leg over him, trailing kisses over his chest before sitting back onto his thighs. His chest was flushed red, self-conscious under her gaze, but it’s not as if he could deny he enjoyed her attention, the heavy weight of it obvious in the warmth of her palm.
He closed his eyes and breathed deep, feeling her shift her weight again and was caught wholly off guard when the warmth of her hand was replaced by the wet heat of her mouth.
He groaned, instinctively reaching towards her, catching himself before grabbing her and finally settled on cupping her cheek in his hand before tangling his fingers into her hair to hold it out of her face for her.
She glanced up at him and grinned lopsided around where she held him in her mouth and his gut clenched at the sight.
She explored his foreskin with her tongue and cupped the weight of his balls in her free hand before returning to the torturously slow in-out slide of her tongue against the underside. Just when he thought he would lose himself to her ministrations she pulled away.
He opened his eyes, breathing hard through his nose and dropped his hand from her hair to rest on her thigh where she had moved to sit up above him, positioning him against her body before sliding down slowly and burying him in her heat.
He moaned, closing his eyes against his will and gripped her thigh tighter. She leaned forward and kissed him and he smiled against her lips and reached up to once again hold her hair for her, bracing his feet and pushing up against her as she rolled her hips over him.
***
The second time he awoke it was well past dawn but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, still feeling content and comfortable, the pleasant ache of used muscles in his legs and stretching across his back.
He reached up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before trying to extract himself from Tayla without waking her up.
She sighed and shifted, stretching her arms and shoulders up over her head.
“Sorry,” he said softly, smiling at her when she rolled onto her side next to him. “Was trying not to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” she mumbled.
He pulled the blanket away from his legs and swung them over the side, cringing at the cold floor against his toes.
“I just gotta…” he paused, caught in embarrassment.
“Pee?” she chuckled.
He glanced at her sideways before looking away immediately.
She laughed, moving to sit up next to him, completely unashamed as the blanket fell away from her bare skin.
“I had your cock in my mouth earlier,” she whispered and he could feel his ears burn and face flame. “I think you can tell me you gotta piss,” she grinned, kissing him.
“Fair point,” he choked out, scratching at his eyebrow, smirking despite the heat that still scorched his cheeks.
***
She was gone from the bed when he returned and judging by the unwavering stare of Diefenbaker and Jolene she was in the kitchen making food.
He retrieved his RCMP sweatpants from where they had been discarded on the floor the night before and padded barefoot over to the kitchen, leaning his shoulder against the edge of the wall.
She had his small beat-up coffee pot burbling away and was pouring pasty white pancake mix into a skillet on the stove. He watched her in silence for a moment, she was wearing one of his flannel shirts, hanging by one or two crooked buttons over her chest and her underwear. If under oath he would have to admit that he enjoyed the view.
He stepped up behind her before he could think himself out of it and wrapped his arm around her waist, dropping a kiss to her bare shoulder where his too-large shirt was slipping off.
“Hey,” she said quietly, swaying in his embrace, leaning back and letting him support her weight.
“Hi,” he grinned, meeting her eyes.
She giggled and kissed him softly before turning her attention to the pancake in the skillet before it burned.
He reluctantly pulled away from her and moved over to the coffee pot, pouring them both cups. He watched her as he fixed her mug, cream and sugar, and thought about how fast and intense and blinding it had been with Victoria. How different it was now. He and Tayla had taken their time falling together and here she was, half naked, wearing his clothes, wandering around his home and he felt nothing but comfort with her, didn’t feel any hesitation about being able to reach out and touch her.
“What are you grinning about?” she asked, flipping another pancake as he carried her coffee over to her.
“I’m happy,” he said simply, setting it down and leaning into kiss her just because he could.
***
“Do you believe in fate?”
“Oh lord, why do I have a feeling I’m gonna regret this conversation?”
“It’s merely a question Ray.”
“Fate is not a simple question Benny.”
“Well it’s a theoretical one.”
“Fate, destiny, free-will… it’s complicated. Take you for example. Was I fated to be partners with a crazy Mountie and his deaf wolf who constantly endanger my life in the most bizarre ways? Is that some sort of cosmic punishment? Or is it just a really weird coincidence? ‘Cus with you, it’s hard to say, you always manage to get us out of whatever hijinks you get us into and I’m not sure how that’s possible unless there’s some higher power who is either horribly overworked watching out for you or just has a really strange sense of humor.”
Ray looked over to see Fraser just watching him.
“What?”
Fraser sighed and looked out the windshield again.
“Have you ever seen Tayla’s tattoos?”
Ray blinked. “Yeah…” he said slowly, caught off guard by the sudden change of subject. “Why?”
“A horse and a wolf Ray.”
“Yeah, so?”
“It’s like pieces of my life written into her skin… before I even met her,” he said quietly.
Ray grinned and reached across to squeeze Fraser’s shoulder.
“I dunno about fate Benny. Maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s a sign, maybe it’s just a coincidence. But what I do know is you and Tayla are about as perfect together as two people can be.”
Fraser looked up at him with a small smile. Ray shook his shoulder good-naturedly and returned his attention to the road.
***
Tayla's shoulder tattoos
Previous: Chapter Seven | Next: Chapter Nine
Chapter 8
Chapter Wordcount: 4251
“You know you don’t have to stay here right?” Ray asked him, for what must have been the twelfth time.
“Yes Ray,” he answered, again, with a smile.
For the most part the station was empty, running a skeleton crew overnight for New Years. It never failed, something always happened with all the drinking and fireworks and partying. But it was normally the beat cops that took the brunt of the abuse, so only Ray, of course Fraser, Welsh and a few other people were there, in case anything too crazy happened.
They had half-heartedly been playing poker, using paperclips and rubber bands instead of chips and after Fraser won a couple games they started playing go fish and war and whatever else they could remember enough of the rules for.
The fireworks were already popping outside, muted inside the walls and there had been a couple people brought in in cuffs from getting out of hand while partying, but it had been relatively quiet.
Around eleven Tayla came strutting in, backpack on and a huge tray balanced on her hand.
“What are you doing here?” Ray asked in surprised, putting down his cards, game forgotten.
Fraser shot to his feet to take the pan from her hand.
“Thanks hun,” she mumbled, turning to Ray, “You thought I’d leave you boys here alone?”
She put her backpack down on the chair Fraser had been sitting in and unzipped it, pulling out several containers, all filled with food. The pan Fraser had set down containing a pasta dish filled with meat and cheese. The last container she pulled out was a Tupperware filled with her crack cookies which Ray made a grab for but she snatched back and handed to Fraser for safe keeping.
She even had a green glass bottle shoved into the mesh drink pocket on the side of the bag.
“That better not be what I think it is,” Welsh growled from his office door.
“What?! It’s cider!” she grinned, even though it was blatantly not cider.
“Crack it open,” he smirked, headed to the lunch room to get paper cups for everybody.
Fraser and Ray shot each other a look and grinned.
“Couldn’t let my boys be bored and alone on New Years,” she grinned, sitting down and propping her feet up as everybody plated up their food.
They just shook their heads and got their own helpings.
***
Everybody had paper cups full of not cider as they counted down at midnight, making a toast and cheering.
Ray grabbed her and kissed her on the forehead, she laughed before pushing him away, finishing off her drink.
Fraser sipped his own drink and met her eyes shyly and she couldn’t help the flush that crept up her neck. He glanced around nervously, finding most everyone occupied for the moment, he leaned in and kissed her softly.
She closed her eyes and leaned against him, hand squeezing around his arm and shared a small smile with him as he pulled away, blushing.
She smirked before Welsh, laughing off to the side with Ray, loudly asked if there was more ‘cider.’
She laughed, finally breaking eye contact with Benton and grabbed the bottle for another round.
He watched her, unable to wipe the grin from his face and cleared his throat and tugged at his ear when he realized Ray was watching him like a hawk.
Ray just laughed, grinning at him and Fraser couldn’t help but smile back at his friend.
***
They swung by Tayla’s to pick up Diefenbaker and Jolene, where they had enjoyed free run of her house, away from the fireworks, and Tayla drove them all back to Fraser’s small apartment.
The dogs made a beeline to the radiator, flopping down in front of its warmth and quickly fell asleep. Fraser chuckled at them as he hung up he and Tayla’s jackets, it was well past midnight now and neither animal had been happy about their routine being upset.
Perhaps it had been the cup full of champagne he had indulged in at the station, his system had never been given the chance to build up a tolerance to alcohol, but he felt charged in a way and knew he wouldn’t be able to drop off to sleep as quickly as their furry companions.
Tayla, who had imbibed far more champagne, although her system most certainly had a tolerance, he had seen her drink Ray under the table more than once, must have felt the same, as she busied herself with putting her bag in the corner and retreated to his bathroom to change.
He took the opportunity to shed his outer layers, down to his undershirt and sat to remove his boots. He gazed around his apartment as he methodically unlaced his boots and had to smile at the small ways Tayla had touched his home. Her shoes left by the door. Her bag in the corner. Jolene snoring next to Diefenbaker. The star projector lamp she had gifted him with still sitting in a place of honor on his dresser.
He was pulled away from his musing when she brushed her hand across his shoulders as she came back out of the bathroom, a worn pair of cotton shorts riding low on her hips and a white tank top that honestly didn’t do much to conceal what was underneath.
He watched her crawl onto his bed, nestled into his blanket and he smiled at her at how comfortable she seemed to be in his space.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said softly, trading his jeans for a pair of RCMP sweatpants before crawling in next to her.
She rolled her eyes at him but pulled him over to her, hooking one leg over his and returning his kiss.
He let his hand run down the length of her thigh, squeezing the muscle and she sighed softly.
He pulled away from her, shifting to the end of the bed and kneeling on the floor at the foot. She propped herself up on her elbow and was watching him with questions in her eyes.
He smirked, flushed with an unfamiliar mix of anxiousness and exhilaration and cupped the heel of her foot in the palm of his hand, pressing deep into her arch with his thumb.
She hummed, smiled at him and shifted to a more comfortable position.
He gave each foot fair attention, his courage and pride being bolstered by the soft, contented smile she watched him with. He moved up to slide his thumbs up the sides of her calves, she hadn’t lost any of the muscle she had built from years of horseback riding. She moaned softly as he dug his fingers into her skin. He eased the pressure, slipping his fingers into the soft skin behind her knees, hesitated a moment and worked his way further up still, stopping himself at halfway up her thighs.
She used the grip of his hands to anchor herself and sat up in front of him, tugging her tank top up over her head.
He held her eyes, resisting the urge to look down at where she had bared herself. She grinned and leaned forward, slipping her fingers through where his hair held a slight curl where it met his neck, and kissed him softly. He closed his eyes and let himself fall into her, tangling one hand in her own hair and letting the other rest gently against her side, her skin flushed and warm under his touch.
He could feel her smile against his lips as she tugged on his arms, pulling him back onto the bed and resting over her. He braced himself on his knees and hands, shifting his weight when she took hold of his own shirt, pulling it over his head. He finally allowed himself to look, watching the way his hand slipped up her side, feeling the expanse of her ribs as she inhaled, framing her breast in the curve of his thumb and fingers. Her hand slipped across the side of his neck, down to his chest, fingertips coming to rest soft against the odd shaped scar from his childhood. He kissed her again before whispering against her lips to roll over. She grinned at him, amused, but just as caught up in their energy as he was and shifted to her stomach as he leaned back to give her the room to move.
His knees were sunk into the mattress, bracketing her hips and he let his hand rest warm and heavy above the waistband of her shorts.
She had two tattoos that rested like wings on her shoulders. He had seen glimpses whenever she wore a tank top but he had only ever been able to see the edges of the dark Celtic style swirls against her skin, never the full picture. He couldn’t quite explain how he felt, seeing the stylized wolf and horse spread across her skin. He leaned forward, tracing the ink with his fingertips.
“I got ‘em when I was eighteen,” she offered quietly, tilting her head so she could just barely meet his eyes from her position.
“They’re beautiful,” he whispered quietly, placing a kiss on the bare skin between the two images. Forcing himself to not get lost in thought over the designs at the moment and slipped his hand down to dig his thumb into the muscle next to her shoulder blade.
He had done this before, relaxed her with his touch, although never with her bared to him like now. But he knew she preferred a deeper, stronger pressure. He had been worried the very first time he had massaged her shoulders and she had asked for more and more pressure, concerned he would hurt her. She had assured him she would let him know if she met her limit and he felt the way her muscles relaxed under his hands and learned where she carried her tension and how to dig it out with deep kneads and slides of his thumb.
She sighed under his hands and he could see this slight smile to her mouth as she closed her eyes and relaxed under him. He grinned, unable to stop himself and slid the heel of his hand down the side of her spine, amused at how she seemed to not be able to decide whether to melt under the pressure or arch up into his touch.
She was boneless under his hands, comfortable and content. Had it not been for the slow back and forth of her thumb against his knee, where she had rested her hand against him, he would have thought she had fallen asleep. He was not, however, under any misconception that she hadn’t felt his arousal from where he sat astride her legs. His well-worn sweatpants didn’t offer much concealment, but he also wasn’t particularly trying to hide it from her.
He shifted his weight back enough so she could roll over and he felt the flush creep across his chest as she looked up at him.
She just smiled softly, pulling him down to kiss her with one hand, and letting her other trail up his arm and over his shoulder in a gentle approximation of the massage he had just given her.
He allowed himself to reach for her finally, the swell of her breast fitting into his palm, felt her arch into the touch.
He realized in rush, how content he was himself. Excited for sure, anxious perhaps, but neither nervous nor afraid.
Even at their best, there had always been a cold undercurrent of worry and guilt with Victoria. He had tried to tell himself that love could conquer. That they could build something stable. But despite their blinding chemistry, they had been opposites from the beginning, criminal and cop. That dichotomy tainting the whole sordid relationship from the start.
Victoria had crashed through his walls, intent on her own goals, manipulative ones in the end. Tayla however had systematically worn them down. Somehow always knowing when to push past his bouts of panic, past his comfort zone, and when instead to sit in silence next to him, comforting him with just her presence and steadfast support.
He had given his trust to Victoria against his better instincts, blinded by his heart. But he and Tayla had entrusted their scars to each other and found nothing but safety from the other. This, now, was something he could have never had had with Victoria.
He didn’t doubt that he had loved her, in every way he had known how at the time.
But he had fallen in love with Tayla. He understood the difference now.
Her fingertips brushed against the waxy skin of the scar that sat low on his back, a bullet buried somewhere underneath, hesitated for a moment, as if she was just accepting that it was there, and then continued on, slipping just underneath the elastic of his waistband.
He trailed his own hand down the softness of her stomach and hooked his fingers into the hem of her shorts, tugging them gently before finally pulling away from their kiss to shift back. He couldn’t help the blush that burned up his neck, but she was just as flushed as he was and covered her face with her hands, laughing at herself and he chuckled himself, kissing the hollow of her hip as he pulled them off her legs.
He stood nervously at the end of the bed for a moment before shedding his own pants, crawling back over her, letting her pull him towards her with her hands and the warmth of her legs wrapping around his hips.
Kissing was easy, they had perfected that over the months before ever making it to this point, but it also gave him the convenient reason to close his eyes. He kept them closed after she broke their kiss. He could feel himself trembling, no doubt she could as well. Finally he opened them when she laid her hand against his cheek.
She smiled, glanced away, giving proof to her own shyness and then took his hand and placed it on her chest, holding it there until the rapid beat of her heart registered against his palm.
“I’m kinda freaking out too,” she grinned, soft and amused.
He chuckled, nodded and dropped his head.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t,” she smiled, meeting his eyes when he looked back up at her.
He kissed her again, not lingering long, moving on to drag his lips down her neck, encouraged by the soft sound she made, choked in her throat. He inhaled deep, swore he could smell the heat of her skin, let his tongue drag across her collar bone, kissed the hollow of her throat, sucking just enough to see the skin flush from the blood brought to the surface. He glanced up at her, his nerves jittering under his skin and shifted again, leaving a trail of warmth across the swell of her breast before gently pulling her nipple into the heat of his mouth.
Her hand immediately shifted from his shoulder to the crown of his head, her fingers trying to find purchase in his short hair and he rested his opposite hand on her ribcage, feeling the sharp inhale she made when he lapped against the sensitive spot.
“Jesus…” she breathed.
He sighed against her, never breaking his hold and swirled his tongue again, suckling softly and mentally cataloguing her reactions, what she seemed to enjoy.
She was clearly appreciating his attention, which he tried not to be too prideful about, but she wasn’t completely lost. She had felt the weight of his arousal and the sticky wetness that had gathered at the tip brush against her leg when he had shifted his weight. He had tried to maneuver himself away, focused on her for the moment, but she had simply hooked one leg over his hip, shifting her other over and eased his weight down into a soft pressure upon her thigh.
He was the one that took the ragged breath then, finally breaking the connection he held with his mouth and rocked his forehead against her collarbone, stuttered hitch to his hips pressing himself into her warm skin, spreading a sticky trail across the top of her thigh and onto the swell of her hip.
He blinked against his eyelashes sticking together and looked back up at her, moving to kiss her softly before shifting, sliding himself towards the foot of the bed again, leaving a trail of gentle kisses down her side.
His heart was thumping wildly against his ribcage as he leaned forward and licked a path over her hip, cleaning himself from her skin.
“Fuck…” she hissed and a shiver rolled down his spine.
He glanced up at her for just a moment before finally allowing himself to taste her. He splayed his hand wide over her hip when she arched up against his tongue, a whine strangled in her throat.
She grabbed his hand where it rested on her hip and threaded her fingers through his. He took his time exploring with soft pressure, dipping his tongue into her. Her fingers squeezed around his when he gently suckled on her clit, her grasp telling him when where his attention was most appreciated.
She tugged on his hand and he pulled away, tongue sweeping over the wetness on his lips. He couldn’t help but grin, returning to the head of the bed to kiss her again, moaning when he realized she was tasting herself in this kiss.
She reached down and took him in her hand, stroking him slowly, the slip of his foreskin a new sensation to her. He braced his arms on either side of her head and gently rested his weight against her, letting her guide him, breaking their kiss to groan as he finally slid inside her.
She breathed his name, curling her fingers through his hair. He rested his forehead against her own and kissed her.
“I love you,” he said quietly, chest tight with emotion.
He could feel her smile against his lips, “I love you too,” she whispered.
He could feel the soft skin of her thigh brushing against his side where she cradled him against her body and he lost himself in the rhythm between them.
***
Fraser woke warm and contented. Tayla’s head resting in the crook of his arm, pressed against his side. It only took him a moment to realize what woke him. Her hand was making slow strokes lower and lower on his stomach, nails lightly dragging over the hollow of his hip, sparking his nerve endings like electricity.
He hummed, letting his hand run down her side and felt her smile against his chest. His concentration was ripped apart when she took him into her hand and slid her tongue over his nipple at the same time.
“Tayla…”
She hushed him, sitting up and sliding her leg over him, trailing kisses over his chest before sitting back onto his thighs. His chest was flushed red, self-conscious under her gaze, but it’s not as if he could deny he enjoyed her attention, the heavy weight of it obvious in the warmth of her palm.
He closed his eyes and breathed deep, feeling her shift her weight again and was caught wholly off guard when the warmth of her hand was replaced by the wet heat of her mouth.
He groaned, instinctively reaching towards her, catching himself before grabbing her and finally settled on cupping her cheek in his hand before tangling his fingers into her hair to hold it out of her face for her.
She glanced up at him and grinned lopsided around where she held him in her mouth and his gut clenched at the sight.
She explored his foreskin with her tongue and cupped the weight of his balls in her free hand before returning to the torturously slow in-out slide of her tongue against the underside. Just when he thought he would lose himself to her ministrations she pulled away.
He opened his eyes, breathing hard through his nose and dropped his hand from her hair to rest on her thigh where she had moved to sit up above him, positioning him against her body before sliding down slowly and burying him in her heat.
He moaned, closing his eyes against his will and gripped her thigh tighter. She leaned forward and kissed him and he smiled against her lips and reached up to once again hold her hair for her, bracing his feet and pushing up against her as she rolled her hips over him.
***
The second time he awoke it was well past dawn but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, still feeling content and comfortable, the pleasant ache of used muscles in his legs and stretching across his back.
He reached up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before trying to extract himself from Tayla without waking her up.
She sighed and shifted, stretching her arms and shoulders up over her head.
“Sorry,” he said softly, smiling at her when she rolled onto her side next to him. “Was trying not to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” she mumbled.
He pulled the blanket away from his legs and swung them over the side, cringing at the cold floor against his toes.
“I just gotta…” he paused, caught in embarrassment.
“Pee?” she chuckled.
He glanced at her sideways before looking away immediately.
She laughed, moving to sit up next to him, completely unashamed as the blanket fell away from her bare skin.
“I had your cock in my mouth earlier,” she whispered and he could feel his ears burn and face flame. “I think you can tell me you gotta piss,” she grinned, kissing him.
“Fair point,” he choked out, scratching at his eyebrow, smirking despite the heat that still scorched his cheeks.
***
She was gone from the bed when he returned and judging by the unwavering stare of Diefenbaker and Jolene she was in the kitchen making food.
He retrieved his RCMP sweatpants from where they had been discarded on the floor the night before and padded barefoot over to the kitchen, leaning his shoulder against the edge of the wall.
She had his small beat-up coffee pot burbling away and was pouring pasty white pancake mix into a skillet on the stove. He watched her in silence for a moment, she was wearing one of his flannel shirts, hanging by one or two crooked buttons over her chest and her underwear. If under oath he would have to admit that he enjoyed the view.
He stepped up behind her before he could think himself out of it and wrapped his arm around her waist, dropping a kiss to her bare shoulder where his too-large shirt was slipping off.
“Hey,” she said quietly, swaying in his embrace, leaning back and letting him support her weight.
“Hi,” he grinned, meeting her eyes.
She giggled and kissed him softly before turning her attention to the pancake in the skillet before it burned.
He reluctantly pulled away from her and moved over to the coffee pot, pouring them both cups. He watched her as he fixed her mug, cream and sugar, and thought about how fast and intense and blinding it had been with Victoria. How different it was now. He and Tayla had taken their time falling together and here she was, half naked, wearing his clothes, wandering around his home and he felt nothing but comfort with her, didn’t feel any hesitation about being able to reach out and touch her.
“What are you grinning about?” she asked, flipping another pancake as he carried her coffee over to her.
“I’m happy,” he said simply, setting it down and leaning into kiss her just because he could.
***
“Do you believe in fate?”
“Oh lord, why do I have a feeling I’m gonna regret this conversation?”
“It’s merely a question Ray.”
“Fate is not a simple question Benny.”
“Well it’s a theoretical one.”
“Fate, destiny, free-will… it’s complicated. Take you for example. Was I fated to be partners with a crazy Mountie and his deaf wolf who constantly endanger my life in the most bizarre ways? Is that some sort of cosmic punishment? Or is it just a really weird coincidence? ‘Cus with you, it’s hard to say, you always manage to get us out of whatever hijinks you get us into and I’m not sure how that’s possible unless there’s some higher power who is either horribly overworked watching out for you or just has a really strange sense of humor.”
Ray looked over to see Fraser just watching him.
“What?”
Fraser sighed and looked out the windshield again.
“Have you ever seen Tayla’s tattoos?”
Ray blinked. “Yeah…” he said slowly, caught off guard by the sudden change of subject. “Why?”
“A horse and a wolf Ray.”
“Yeah, so?”
“It’s like pieces of my life written into her skin… before I even met her,” he said quietly.
Ray grinned and reached across to squeeze Fraser’s shoulder.
“I dunno about fate Benny. Maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s a sign, maybe it’s just a coincidence. But what I do know is you and Tayla are about as perfect together as two people can be.”
Fraser looked up at him with a small smile. Ray shook his shoulder good-naturedly and returned his attention to the road.
***
Tayla's shoulder tattoos
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