A Winter's Rose

"Which she hasn't been getting," Ray was beginning to follow Jack's logic. Maybe the fellow wasn't crazy after all.

"Bingo." Jack looked at Ray, his expression a little wary. "I'm sure you understand our job," he said abruptly.

Ray raised a brow at the apparent change of subject. "Spirit of Winter, helping humans keep faith until Spring, et cetera, et cetera."

"Right. Well, during the Holidays, my boss, whom you know happens to be Rose's father, gives us a special case, someone that needs an extra boost. Last half century or so, we've taken to calling the client our yearly Wonderful Lifer." Jack gave an answering sardonic grin to Ray's snort of laughter. "You know how it is.....well, maybe not, you've never married, no?"

"No." Clearly, that was all Ray had to say about the subject.

Jack shrugged and continued. "We have our share of mortal lovers, in the course of our jobs.....no big deal, you know?"

Ray did. Immortals didn't have many hang-ups about sex in general, and most enjoyed relations with mortals when the mood stuck. Rose was unusually attuned to mortal emotions, and as a result was much choosier, Jack explained. In response, Jack had also kept his sexual adventures in context of his duty since his marriage.

"Sure, we enjoy it when the opportunity is there," Jack said, his crooked smile flashing. "But, well...."

"You're saying you two have remained faithful to each other as far as the Immortal community goes." Ray summed up, deciding Jack could use a break. The demand to sleep with his wife was beginning to make sense. "And you're asking me to change that?"

"Yeah, I am," Jack said simply, seeming almost relieved now that the cards were on the table. "You're a Lord of Summer, Callie recommended you, and Rose needs the magical connection. You can get it through other ways, of course, but Rose doesn't have that kind of time. Sex is fastest and surest."

"Assuming she even likes me."

"She will," Jack said positively. "I do. You in?"

Ray stared at the other man for a long moment, his face expressionless. Then he chuckled.

"Ra, Sun Lord and gigolo. Who would have thought? Do I have time to pack?"

***

Rose was thinking about their latest holiday client as she glided around the outdoor ice rink, her feet on autopilot. It was past eleven on Christmas Eve and she was the lone skater, the gleaming ice illuminated only by a few street lights made to resemble old-fashioned gas lanterns. She didn't mind; in fact, she preferred simple moonlight, but George, the owner of the resort, had insisted on leaving some of the lamps on after granting her permission to use the rink after hours. She was high from having completed their assignment, and this was a victory celebration of sorts. She couldn't wait to tell Jack when he got back from whatever mysterious errand he was on.

George -- the unwitting object of her and Jack's concern - was now on his way to full recovery from the depression and apathy he had sunk into after his wife and parent's deaths. Not that she blamed the poor man; there's only so much misery a mortal can take, she thought sympathetically. Rose had taught his daughter to skate -- well, really she only got George to see the astonishing talent emerging from the adorable six-year-old charmer. A few hints here and there, the tiniest bit of a magical push in the right direction, and a sorrowing widower on the brink of emotional and financial ruin had found his way back to the path of security again. Father and daughter had rebonded, and the resort was saved. Rose felt so good about her part in it that she had needed some quiet time to think and ice to move on and bleed off some energy. She had received more than a few interested looks from mortals as she prettily asked George if it were all right to skate this late; she knew from long experience it was best to absent herself. Right now she might as well be dumping buckets of pheromones at her feet.

As she lapped the ice, she reflected on how cleverly she had managed their client. George now had an investor in the resort, one who was willing to be a silent partner. Rose smirked to herself. Jack will grumble and tease her about being a bleeding heart for mortals, but he'll be pleased to help George and Molly for the next ten years. She had arranged for one of her father's associates to act as go-between so George wouldn't suspect she was behind the sudden windfall. It was going to be worth every penny, that she was absolutely certain of. Rose had already glimpsed a brilliant future for both the Waltons.

Smiling with satisfaction, Rose gradually felt the rhythm of the ice take over, letting the music she seemed to always carry in her head come forward and guide her body. She spun and leaped effortlessly, the familiar exhilaration taking hold. Skating always felt like a heady combination of dancing and flying, the thin silver blades on her boots her only tether to earth. It was the one time she truly felt like the Winter Sprite she was. She detested skiing, even though Jack, who probably skied before he could walk, earnestly said she was a natural. He teased her about falling into snow drifts, but it was merely a joke between them -- she rarely fell, and could tackle almost as difficult of mountains as her husband could. She just didn't like being surrounded by so much snow.

Skating, however, was vastly different. Here, on the ice, she was at home. She felt her blades as extensions of her body, tracing patterns on the cold slickness under her feet. She sometimes improvised routines on freshly cleaned ice so that the marks of her skates drew a literal picture, chuckling to herself because few ever realized it. Now, she simply danced, letting her internal music dictate the steps. After a few minutes, she visualized a man joining her, keeping time, complimenting her turns and poses. She instinctively matched her imaginary partner's movements, the music swelling, her arms curved gracefully over her head, one leg extended behind, a ballerina on ice.

The tune ebbed and faded, and she felt the hum on her skin that told her that her husband was near. She glided to a graceful stop almost in the middle of the rink, looking up eagerly. Smiling brilliantly, bursting with the news of George and Molly, she sought Jack's gaze, but the delight froze a little on her face as she realized he was not alone. Another man was with him and she couldn't help but stare as the full force of his unfamiliar gaze struck her.

Her first thought was how entirely different two men could look that were so similar in height, build, and coloring. They each were tall and elegantly slender, wide-shouldered without being burly -- a dancer's build. Both were blond, but Jack's was nearly white, while the stranger's was warmly golden. Without realizing she was moving, she drew closer, her skates whispering across the ice. The stranger's eyes were deep summer blue, almost the color of forget-me-nots, a flower she rarely saw since she lived most of her life in winter. The purity of the color took her breath away. His hair was long, touching his shoulders, and grew in thick curly profusion, a definite contrast to Jack's short, straight, fine locks. Jack was pale, this man was deeply tanned. The blue eyes were trained on her violet ones, looking slightly stunned. Rose didn't realize she was at the edge of the ice until she had one hand extended, touching the stranger's cheek, so utterly absorbed by the lines of his face she barely noticed when Jack cleared his throat.

She wanted to look at Jack, but at that moment the stranger placed his hand over hers, turning his head so that his lips grazed her palm, making her shiver. But when Jack took her free hand to turn her to face him, the shock of electricity that snapped through her froze her on the spot. She could tell the man felt it too; his eyes grew wide, the whites showing all around. Rose heard Jack inhale sharply and that released her muscles enough to look at her husband. He had the same look of wonder and bemusement in his ice blue eyes, and something else....relief? She wasn't sure, but didn't have time to ask, because at that moment the stranger tugged her hand over his shoulder and pulled her to him.

When his lips touched hers, the warmth that flooded her body was almost orgasmic. Rose was still holding Jack's hand, and she felt it squeeze hers as she shuddered with a sudden rush of desire that nearly buckled her knees. Years of skating kept her upright, but she did sag a little against the broad chest, feeling the man's arm tighten around her waist. The other skimmed slowly up her body and paused at her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze of reassurance. Then it moved again, trailing along until it rested against her cheek, the wide palm cupping her face tenderly, almost reverently. All the while, his mouth was tasting hers, not kissing so much as savoring, and Rose was helpless against the power of that tenderness. She lost herself in the feel of him, the heat that coursed through her veins, the dizzying sensation of finally, gloriously, feeling completely warm from the inside out.

I don't even know his name was the first sane thought to hit her. Followed by I don't care.

That was enough to draw her gently way from that amazing mouth, searching the face of the stranger whom she had surrendered to without so much as a hello. The physical ache of being separated from him startled her, and she took his hand again, feeling the balance of fire and ice humming along her veins soothe her as she stood, linked between them. She looked from one face to the other, trying to sort out the storm of emotion, and sighed, biting her lip. The stranger smiled a little lopsidedly and spoke.

"Hello, Rose. I'm Ray."

His voice was as deep as Jack's, a low rumble that made her stomach flip around and her heart beat a little faster. She smiled.

"Hi Ray." It was inane, but the only thing she could come up with. Somehow, now that we've covered introductions, let's get naked seemed a bit too forward. But every cell yearned for the touch of Ray's skin on hers.

She looked at Jack, trying to gauge how he was feeling, and saw a look in his eyes that warmed her as much as Ray's kiss had. Love, tenderness, bemusement, wonder, and raw desire all mixed together, with an edge that from long experience she knew promised adventure and a night that would require stamina. This flashed between them in one long, eloquent look before he shrugged and smiled that crooked tender smile that always made her melt.

"Hi Babe. I guess I don't have to introduce Ray."

"I guess not," she said a bit dazedly. "He was your errand?"

"Yeah." Jack looked faintly uncomfortable, and Rose narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why?" The question was simple, but she could see by both men's reaction that the answer would not be. She held up a hand to stop them as they drew breath. "Wait. Let's get inside first."

***

It didn't take long for her to change from skates to boots and for the trio to make their way to the suite. Rose found herself touching Ray and Jack constantly, holding their hands as they crunched through the snow to the lodge, the top of her head barely reaching their shoulders. The three were silent as they walked. The lobby was deserted and the elevator ride was brief. Soon the three of them were in the living area of the suite, a bottle of wine opened and poured, which was quite a trick as Rose wouldn't let go of either man for more than a few seconds at a time. Ray and Jack managed as a team to uncork the bottle and retrieve glasses. The thought of asking Rose to back away didn't seem to occur to either of them.

The couch wasn't big enough for all three. Rose led them to the rug in front of the fireplace, a large faux bearskin that was so soft and silky no self-respecting bear would have deigned to sport it. Rose sat gracefully, the men following suit, and she looked at Jack, who balanced his and her wine glasses in one large hand, the delicate stems held between long fingers. A deft move sat them on the hearth, Ray placing his glass nearby, and they all looked at each other. Rose took a deep breath, released their hands and kept herself from grabbing them back only by forcing herself to pick up her wine glass and drink deeply. Half the glass was downed in one long gulp, and she knew her father, a wine enthusiast, would have winced at the cavalier treatment of fine wine. Jack did wince a little, but it seemed more sympathetic than disapproving. She hopped up, grabbed a couple more bottles and a corkscrew, and brought them to the hearth. The momentary panic of being apart from Jack and Ray even that briefly faded as she again touched each in turn. Finally, she sighed and looked at her husband searchingly.

"Jack, what's going on?" she asked bluntly.

The explanation, which was delivered entirely by her husband, with Ray silently watching and sipping wine, stunned her. She stared uncomprehendingly from one to the other, too numb to really grasp it right away. One point wormed its way through, however.

"You talked to my mother about our sex life!?"

"Technically, it was about your sex life," Jack made a feeble attempt at a joke. Rose glared. "She talked to me, sweetheart," Jack looked at her pleadingly, his cheekbones stained faintly pink. "And she seems to be right. I've never seen you react to anyone so strongly before." He nodded at Ray with a small smile. Ray nodded back, and Rose sighed again.

"Okay," she said softly. "I'll give you that." She sipped her wine again, then speared her husband with a piercing look. "Are you really okay with this?"

"Baby," Jack said sincerely, "if it kept you breathing, I'd be okay with Beelzebub himself." He smiled at her, dimples flashing, and she couldn't help but grin back.

"That's not what I meant," she laughed.

"I know, sweetheart." Jack took a thoughtful sip of his wine, glancing at Ray, who raised his glass in salute before sipping himself. Jack grinned at him, and faced his wife. "I mean it," he said, his voice quiet. "Your life is worth far more than my pride. But Rose....Ray is something I didn't count on. Whatever happened at the rink is real. Ray's a brother now, something closer to both of us than I ever expected. I think Callie knew, and sent me to find him. She sure as hell knew you'd never go looking for him."

"Ray?" Rose looked at him, her violet eyes direct, a universe of unspoken questions in that one syllable. He met her stare calmly.

"I thought Jack was crazy," Ray said frankly. "But he obviously believed what he was saying. I said yes because........well, what breathing male wouldn't agree?" A dimple flashed, then his expression turned serious. "Then I saw you." He paused, taking a long swallow of wine and leisurely refilling all their glasses. "I saw your soul as you skated, and I knew I'd come home." He shook his head, unable to find better words. "When you touched us both, I knew for sure that I'd found what I'd been looking for." He set down his glass, calmly taking Jack's and Rose's drinks from them and setting them on the hearth. "I understand your confusion, Rose. I feel it too. So does Jack. But it's okay, it really is. Let me show you." With that, he took her small soft hand in his big hard one, and with a smooth motion, grasped Jack's wrist with his left hand. Jack instinctively returned the grip, and the three of them snapped upright as electricity zapped them with a force hard enough to make them gasp.

Sweet, dizzy, drowning desire hit all of them in a wave so powerful they would have staggered if they had been on their feet. As it was, Rose made a sound very like a whimper and pitched forward so abruptly that Jack and Ray barely had the presence of mind to catch her as she fell. Their locked arms caught her as each man dropped a slack hand and instinctively scooped under her torso. The result was a nearly limp Rose supported by Jack and Ray, their linked arms spanning across her rib cage, the opposite hands crossing each other at the wrist and cupping a breast each. She moaned as both men reflexively tightened their grip, meeting each other's gaze with a purely male look of understanding.

Jack gave Ray a nod, and they shifted their weight enough so that Rose rolled toward the Sun Lord. A slight flex and Rose was in Ray's arms, her mouth being devoured, his hands spanning her slender waist. Jack scooted closer, hands sliding over her ribs to cup her breasts through her sweater. She moaned into Ray's mouth, nipples tightening into hard nubs under her husband's tender touch. Ray's tongue slid sensuously along hers, teasing, stroking, gently demanding her response. Jack nibbled the back of her neck, his fingertips soft but insistent as they slipped under her sweater, skimming her skin, sending tingles down her spine. Rose moaned again, in the grip of desire so strong she felt boneless as a rag doll.

She was pulled away from Ray, her sweater being tugged over her head and cast aside, the lacy nothing of a bra swiftly unclasped and discarded. Her head fell back on Jack's shoulder as he held her, bare to the waist, hands cupping her breasts, teeth nipping her ear lobe. Ray leaned forward and captured one pert nipple between his lips, sucking gently, then stronger as she whimpered at the combined attention. She could feel waves of hot desire from both men as they left no inch of her bare skin unworshiped. A sudden surge of energy washed over her and she began to move restlessly, wanting to participate rather than simply receive. Her hands sought Ray's shirt, barely able to fumble the buttons loose, and he obligingly helped her along by ripping it open, buttons flying. Then her fingers were plunged into his hair, kneading his scalp. Her mouth was on his, sucking his tongue as she pressed against him, his warmth like a balm on her skin.

She felt a hand in her hair, stroking, playing with the long coppery locks, then twining into the mass and dragging her away from Ray. Jack was kissing her now, with an intensity that she'd never quite felt before, possessive and demanding and loving, but not jealous...it was joyous and sweet and giving. Ray was taking advantage of her distraction by deftly removing her boots and tugging down her leggings, kissing random bits of bare skin as he pulled them free. Jack held her, one hand firm on the back of her head, his tongue leisurely exploring her mouth, the other making slow sensual circles along her side, over her hip, teasing her navel and up her torso to tweak each nipple into aching hardness. She whimpered, groping for his shirt, yanking impatiently at it so she could touch the hard smooth skin underneath.

Ray had succeeded in removing her pants, and she felt him nibbling her toes, his warm wet tongue tracing the arch of her foot, sharp little nips along her calves and a startling stab of lust as he probed behind each knee. Rose twitched almost violently as Ray found a particularly sensitive spot, causing her breasts to thrust even more firmly into Jack's hands. He happily capitalized on her reaction, pinching the already pebble-hard nubs just enough to make her moan helplessly, simultaneously biting the place where her neck joined her shoulder. Rose squirmed in his lap, now clad only in a ridiculous scrap of bright red lace. He felt the moment she became aware of the more obvious evidence of his desire. She stilled for just a fraction of a moment, registering the heavy hardness of his cock thrusting against the small of her back. A dreamy smile tugged at her lips as she adjusted her squirming to stroke him with one hip. Then she gasped aloud as Ray's long clever fingers found her hot slick center, the thumb pressing against the bud of her clit, and she came, flooding his hand and moaning into Jack's mouth as he jerked her to him and kissed her at the moment of climax.