|
A scratch at the wolf's ears, a glance over at Fraser, who
was shaking like he'd never felt cold before. A little Chicago
wind; you'd think a Mountie would be able to handle it. Jesus,
Fraser, I love you. Mr. Smooth inside the station house,
talking to the lieutenant, getting Ray out of the jam he was in for
use of excessive force because of that damned gag; now look at him.
Ah, geez, Benny, don't let this be it for us. Face frozen
in misery. Hands shaking in the heater's blast.
Ray paused, hand poised to throw the Riv into drive. Geez,
he was tired of being angry; he was tired of feeling hurt. He
wanted something: comfort, some feeling that it wasn't over.
Something that felt normal.
"You know," he said, "it's gotten so that when you're in
the car I just can't drive any more unless you've got your hand
right there." He pointed to his right thigh.
Fraser hesitated. "I don't deserve it," he said faintly.
"Maybe not, but I do--especially for keeping that bitch out
of the morgue. So would you?"
A pause; then Fraser reached out and placed a warm, broad
hand just where Ray had pointed.
"Oh, yeah--that's just it," Ray breathed. And it
was it; it was one of the things he'd ached for, one of
those little dumb things you missed when you didn't get it. His
mouth relaxed into a smile. Things were starting to feel back to
normal. They weren't normal, but they were starting to feel
that way.
He glanced over at Fraser, who was looking shyly at him;
the Mountie turned quickly to stare out the passenger's window, his
free hand wiping quickly at his eyes.
They rode in silence for a minute.
"I betrayed you." Fraser's voice was shaky.
"Look, you did the best you could." His voice sounded
harsh to him; did it sound harsh to Fraser? He didn't want to
sound vindictive--or did he?
"I shouldn't have given up; or I should have gotten myself
arrested, like--"
"Yeah, and I'd still be in jail: do you know how many guys
there I'd've killed for looking at you wrong?"
"I can defend myself, Ray." Now, that
sounded like the old Mountie.
"Yeah, you can defend yourself. I know you can
defend yourself. I been watching you defend yourself for the last
two-three years. Except where dark-haired women are involved, you
can defend yourself really well. But, see, somebody even
thinks about trying to hurt you, I got to rip their guts
out. Just the way I'm built."
A pause. "But, mostly, I shouldn't have gone with--with
her." Fraser whispered so low, his words were barely
audible.
That was the gist of it; that was the thing
that mattered. That was what Ray's heart had been screaming
with every beat since he'd realized Fraser was gone.
"Well, she's really something--our Victoria. I probably
would've gone with her myself."
"No, you wouldn't."
"Well, no, I wouldn't. But I'd've thought about
it."
Would he really? Would he have thought about going away
with somebody and leaving Fraser? If it was Irene? Oh, god, he
hoped the answer would have been "no." Benny deserved better than
the taste of ashes in his mouth.
"No, you wouldn't, Ray," Fraser said gently, sadly.
Ray pulled the Riv into its usual spot near the apartment
and killed the engine. "No, I wouldn't, Benny," he agreed, facing
Fraser squarely.
They stared at each other in the darkness. Then Ray
grabbed Fraser's jaw and pulled him closer. And took firm
possession of Fraser's mouth with his own, crushing his lips
against the Mountie's in a way that made quite clear who he
belonged to.
When they pulled out of the kiss, Fraser was shaking. But
Ray's mind was suddenly clear. They were going to get through
this; it wasn't going to be fun, but they were going to get through
this tonight, get it all out and talked about tonight.
Or it was over.
It took practically no time to get to the apartment:
probably something to do with how Ray kept his hand at Fraser's
back, moving him right along.
That dark place in Ray's soul was beckoning him; he
clenched his fist against the urge to hurt where he'd loved, to
just strip Benny and use him, show him who was boss, show him what
it felt like to be so hurt, use a belt on him, punish him. Benny
must have sensed that urge, because he didn't even look around,
didn't protest as he was pushed into the apartment.
Ray caught the door just as he was about to slam it, and
closed it gently. He pressed his forehead to the door for a
minute, palms caressing the wood, closing the door also on that
place inside him, locking it tight before he turned. No more urge.
It was still there, just a step out of reach, but it didn't possess
him.
He looked at Benny, who was looking back with that
straight-backed, stiff-upper-lipped Mountie-sentry look.
Then Ray turned back again and opened the door at the
patient scratching on the other side. "Sorry, Dief," he said as
the wolf came in. High drama with equal parts of comedy: story
of his life.
When Ray turned, Fraser was moving around in the kitchen,
putting out food for Dief. "His water dish is out on the fire
escape," Ray said. Feed the wolf, water the wolf, and hump the
memory of Victoria out of the Mountie. Or something. Just another
evening on West Racine.
Fraser was shaking again; Ray took the water dish from him
and filled it himself, setting it down carefully on the floor.
"You all set there?" he said to Dief. "You got everything you
need, there? Another roll? A mint, maybe?"
Sarcasm only went so far when it was aimed at the wrong
animal. Fraser had gone into the dining area, to the window there,
a dim form against the window frame, as far from the bed as he
could get.
Ray looked around the apartment. Lights on? Lights off?
He found the lantern and lit it, heart lifting at the light's cozy
glow. Oh, yes, perfect lighting was very important at the sour end
of a relationship.
He carried the lantern into the dining area. Fraser had
his arms wrapped around himself, shivering like he was cold. Ray
set the lamp on the table and sat down, studying Fraser's
reflection in the dark window as Fraser studied his. Oh, geez, he
wanted to just hug Fraser, hold him, have it over, have it never
have happened. God, he was tired.
Silence, broken by the sputtering of the lamp, by Dief
crunching on dog biscuits.
"I don't ever want to feel as bad as I have felt for the
last couple weeks," Ray finally said. Oh, geez, where had that
quaver in his voice come from? Fraser folded in on himself, face
twisted in anguish. "And I don't ever want to feel as alone as I
felt when you left me."
Fraser was swallowing tears; Ray had seen that look before.
"I--" He turned to face Ray, arms folded around himself, tears
spilling down his cheeks. "--Everything I did just didn't seem to
work. I just couldn't-- Everything was just getting worse and
worse. It was like some nightmare that just kept going on and on
and on." He wiped his face with his hands.
"So you left and went with her." Oh, this had to
be what the knife felt like when it slid into your heart.
And that had to be what it looked like: Fraser shaking,
sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, face stiff with pain.
"She said if I did she'd--call the officials, get you out--"
"Oh, we been here before--Victoria and her phone calls!
She promised last time she wouldn't call IA if you did what she
asked, and we both know how that came out!"
"I would have made her call."
Ray believed him--it shone in his eyes. And Benny really
believed that that phone call would have made a difference, gotten
Ray out of jail. Forgetting that honesty had never been Victoria's
strong suit, that she would have found some way to cancel out what
she'd done and just shove the knife in deeper, twist it.
Forgetting all that. Or ignoring it.
"But that's not the only reason," Ray said sadly.
Shame crossed Fraser's face. He looked at the floor.
"Did you sleep with her?" Ray asked.
"Not--not really."
"How do you not really sleep with somebody? Either you
fucked her or you didn't!"
"I--she--tried. It didn't--" Amazing how red Fraser's
face could get.
Ray's bark of a laugh seemed to echo in the room. Ah, god,
life could be just plain ridiculous sometimes! He found himself
leaning back, laughing gently.
"Apparently, my body was--more loyal than--"
"I get the picture. I just hope to god you changed the
sheets."
He looked down at Fraser looking up at him, huddled so
alone there by the wall. God, he was tired. Tired of feeling bad,
tired of Victoria-- He wanted to be held, to have those strong
arms wrapped around him, holding him warm and safe. He wanted it
over, behind them.
Ray slid off the chair and dropped to his knees in front
of Fraser, close enough that Fraser couldn't move away. Something
was wrong in his chest; it all hurt.
"You hurt me more than I could possibly have imagined I
could be hurt," he said quietly. The blue eyes filled with tears
again but held his. "You hurt me more than I ever thought anybody
could ever hurt another human being." Fraser's soft mouth
tightened; he swallowed hard. "But something won't let me let you
go. Do you want to go?"
"No." The voice was as tiny as the word.
"Are you sure? Because I gotta know, Benny. I gave
up everything for you. If you don't want what I got for you, you
just say it. We'll end this."
"No!" The tears were falling now, dripping unheeded off
Fraser's chin. Ah, god, his own eyes were blurring.
"I want you, Benny. God--I need you, Benny! I have
never needed anybody as much as I need you; you're my only chance
at happiness." Something crawled down his cheek; he brushed at it,
but it wasn't a fly. "You're the only reason I breathe; you're the
reason my heart beats. Oh, god, Benny, even when you were twisting
the knife, even when you were going off with her, if you
were alive, that was all I asked. That was all I wanted: you
alive. Even if you were with her." He brushed more of the
not-flies off his cheeks.
"Ray." A whisper.
They were close enough to breathe each other's breath,
close enough to hear each other's hearts.
"You alive is all I ask," Ray went on. "You don't have to
be with me--you can be with--" He gestured to include the
universe. "But I gotta know. I gotta be sure this is what you
want. I gotta be certain you won't break my heart again. She's
still alive, Benny; if she's what you want, you just let me know.
If there's somebody else you think you want, you just say the
word." His hands had found the wall on either side of Fraser's
head.
"Ray." Whispered.
Something was dripping onto his knees: Fraser's tears or
his, he wasn't sure. "Just answer me: is this what you really,
really want. Because I gotta know. Is it? Is it, Benny? Is it?"
"Yes." Passion in a whisper; tenderness in a tear-filled
gaze.
"You're really sure."
"Yes."
"Then I think you better kiss me."
Oh, this was the sweetness of a reprieve from death; this
tear-flavored kiss held the secret at the heart of the universe;
for this empires went to war. Ray gave himself to the heat of
Benny's mouth, to the sound of his blood singing in his ears, to
the throb of a heart suddenly alive again. Benny, oh, Benny, a
mouth sweet as wine, skin soft as a sun-warmed peach, heart
thundering like an echo of his own. Oh, Benny, the roof of your
mouth is like honey, and your heart is loud as trumpets in my ears.
Benny, I would sack cities for you, die sweet if your name was my
last breath.
A snuffle and a cold, wet nose on his cheek jerked him out
of the kiss.
They were halfway to horizontal, Benny's head cradled in
his two hands. Dief woofed happily into Ray's face; he'd been
eating dog food. Benny started to laugh.
Ah, god, this was his life: grand passion punctuated by
low comedy. Ray laughed, dropping Benny, sobbing for breath.
Laughing was, well, good for you, wasn't it? At least it felt that
way. This might be a little too much, though. He crawled to sit
against the wall, feeling his way: he was laughing so hard his
eyes were squeezed shut. He sat there and gave himself up to
hysterical laughter, wiping tears, fighting for breath.
And, ah, geez, every minute he felt better, cleaner,
clearer of everything that had happened. He felt his heart
cleansing itself of jail, of Victoria, of Benny's abandonment.
When he finally came out of it, he felt as clear and strong as if
the whole thing hadn't happened.
Dief had lain down across Ray's shins. Geez, that wolf was
heavy. He reached over to ruffle Dief's fur. Fraser leaned back
against the wall beside him, shoulder to shoulder. From where they
sat, Ray could see the end of the bed; Fraser seemed to be staring
at it.
"I think--" Fraser cleared his throat. "I think I
couldn't believe I could be so wrong about a person
I--someone I--loved."
"And she was your first real love." This was okay; he
could handle this.
Fraser's face twisted with unshed tears. "Yes."
Ray reached up and gentled the back of Fraser's neck. "The
first is always the toughest to get over. It's the one that comes
right through the door of your heart, before you even know how to
keep it out. Somebody like our Victoria can do a lot of damage,
especially to somebody like you, who just hands his heart right
over to the one he loves." The tears were glistening on Fraser's
cheeks now; he had his arms wrapped around his middle, and his
fists were curling and uncurling at his sides. But he was
listening. "And you are the essence of loyalty to love. You are
the most passionate person I've ever met. Really." He leaned
close to Benny's ear to murmur, "I have the love bites to prove
it."
Fraser laughed weakly, brightening under the tears for a
warm instant. Ray felt his heart soften like hot caramel. They
could do this. It felt like having a heart operation without
anesthesia, but they could do this.
"I couldn't have loved you without that loyalty and
passion, without that feeling that you were all mine. That kind
of--abandoning yourself to love isn't something you meet all the
time in another person. Somebody who does that should be
cherished, not used, like--" Oh, he couldn't say her name any
more; the very syllables made him sick. He cradled Fraser's
tear-slick cheek in the palm of his hand.
"I just--I just don't know how I'll ever--forgive
myself." Benny's eyes were filled with exhaustion and pain. He
closed them, taking a shuddering breath. And then he settled
himself on the floor like a tired child, head on Ray's thigh,
curled up and holding himself like he was cold.
Ray looked down, listening to the shuddering breathing,
watching the clench of fists against a coldness he could only
imagine, running his hand over cheek, neck, shoulder, back,
fingering hair, smoothing a thumb over the pain-furrowed forehead.
His heart felt like raw hamburger. Some things weren't meant to
happen to a heart like Benny's; but he no longer had the energy to
get up a good fury against that woman. Things just happened,
whether they were supposed to or not. People did things to other
people. He stroked and stroked, until the shuddering sighs were
quieter.
Then he leaned down and placed his lips on Fraser's,
gently, persuasively, emphatically. Fraser gave a kind of sob and
grabbed the back of Ray's neck, deepening the kiss. It tasted of
Fraser and of tears and of sadness--and of passion and of love and
of hope.
When they broke from the kiss, they stared at each other,
breathing hard. Benny's eyes were swollen and the tears had dried
on his face, still etched with pain. But the shame was gone and
the first anguish had faded. They could do this.
Ray smiled and watched the sweet mouth curve. He bent for
another kiss and felt Fraser's hand undo the collar on Ray's tunic.
"Oh, Fraser. If I can forgive you, can't you
forgive yourself? If I can love you so much, can't you forgive
yourself?"
Fraser was getting that teary look again. Well, just kiss
it away, Benny undoing a tunic button, then another and sliding his
hand inside to stroke the undertunic. At the end of the kiss,
Benny struggled up to sit facing Ray, leaning on one hand on the
floor between Ray's thighs.
"I don't know if I really--deserve--"
"Oh, we're not going there!" Ray broke in. "No
way we're going there. What is this, some
sort of Mountie masochism? Some sort of Canadian thing? The real
reason all you guys stick around up there in the ice and snow? You
don't deserve any better?" Benny was smiling weakly back at him
now, just as he'd hoped. Ray's heart flipped over. Oh, Benny.
"You deserve, you big goombah," Ray went on. "You
deserve. You deserve the best, which in this case is a
Chicago cop with not a whole lot of hair, which is good
because, see, it's a sign of virility." Oh, look at Benny
laughing. "And, see, I got this other physical attribute
that makes up for anything I may lack in the looks department,
because, after all, 'Italian' don't rhyme with 'stallion' for
nothing."
Laughter and a long kiss, another tunic button undone.
"Benny, if I love you, you deserve to forgive yourself.
And I love you. I love you awful." Could he ever stop looking
into those tentative, loving eyes? God, he was tired. "Take me
to bed, Benny. Make me forget everything that's happened, make me
forget that woman ever existed. Burn the memory out of both of us;
let's just burn the house down and start from scratch. Show me how
much you love me. Show me how much you're willing to love me
forever."
A pause between two breaths, between two heartbeats.
"Yes, Ray," Fraser breathed.
Their mouths met, tender, exploring. Ah, just like a first
kiss. Wonderful.
That flick of tongue over lower lip when Benny pulled away.
Shy smile with a hint of spice. "Shall we make love on the table?"
The ta-- Oh, yeah, that first time, that poker game. Ray
grinned at him. "Oh, you liked that, didn't you?" Oh,
yeah, Benny really had.
Benny was grinning. "Oh, yes, Ray. I just wish I'd
known what I know now. I just wish I'd known then how much I love
you." Oh, that was the old Fraser: the fire in those blue
eyes, the throaty passion in that voice. And that was the
effect of the old Fraser: that fire igniting in Ray's groin, the
sudden struggle to get enough breath.
Take it slow; make it linger. Suck that lower lip into
your mouth, run your tongue over it before letting go to breathe.
Another tunic button undone.
"Table tomorrow," Ray said. "Bed tonight." Whisper of
Fraser's breath on his face.
"Promise?"
"Oh, yeah."
Fraser leaning in, mouth fitting to his, pushing Ray's head
back against the wall--a good, solid, loving kiss during which
Fraser's hands were busy with buttons and buckles and straps.
"You seem real interested in getting this tunic off me,"
Ray teased gently when he could breathe again.
"Well, actually, Ray, as much as I hate to mention it--red
really doesn't suit you at all." Wide Mountie eyes, with a touch
of laughter.
Ray laughed. No "Red suits you" for poor Vecchio. "Then
you better get this tunic off me pretty damn quick," he said.
"Of course, Ray."
"But first--could you get the wolf off my legs before I'm
crippled for life?"
. . .
Shoo Diefenbaker off Ray's legs, kneel to undo the knots
Ray had tied in the boot laces--whose boots were these?
Turnbull's? How had Ray gotten Turnbull's--never mind. Fraser
would have to polish them tomorrow morning, get the wolf hairs
off--oooh, that was a nasty scuff in the leather.
Hands busy with the laces, he looked at Ray. Pale,
forehead bruised, eyes puffy with exhaustion and emotion. But love
in that face that still shamed Fraser to contemplate. He bent to
his work, easing off the boots, the thick socks: Turnbull's feet
were larger than Ray's, which negated that saying about how the
size of a man's feet reflected the size of his--well, probably.
Unlikely that anyone was larger in that regard than Ray.
Fraser warmed his hands to rub the bony feet. Ray's
ecstatic groan was almost erotic, and happiness flooded through
Fraser at giving such pleasure to the man he loved so dearly. He
shifted to take Ray's feet onto his lap, undoing his tunic at the
waist to tuck one of Ray's feet in, warming against his belly,
while he worked on the other.
"What is this, some kind of Canadian foreplay?" Ray's
voice sounded sleepy with pleasure.
"Yes, in fact. Though I suppose it's a kind of foreplay
in every country where the nights get cold." Do the other
foot now.
"Well, it's definitely gonna catch on in America,
the way you do it." That smile. Those loving hazel eyes.
Wolf nose cold against Fraser's cheek, and Ray's laugh.
"Diefenbaker," Fraser said in exasperation. "Yes, I love
you, too, but you are going to have to go outside."
He escorted the wolf outside and paused to ruffle his fur.
He'd left not only Ray, but-- Fraser took the wolf's muzzle in his
hand, enunciating so the wolf could read his lips with no trouble.
"I'm glad Ray found me. I'm sorry I left you. I'll--I'll never
do it again." Never.
Seemingly satisfied, the wolf sank to the floor with a
patient sigh.
When Fraser went back inside, Ray was sitting on the side
of the bed; the lantern had replaced the lamp on the bedside table.
He looked up, and Fraser's heart smote him at the exhaustion and
tenderness in the gaze.
Wash his hands before he put them on Ray again; his face
felt stiff with dried tears. He rinsed a wash cloth in warm water
and bathed his face, rinsed it again and carried it over to Ray.
"Oh, that feels good." Ray's face, shining from
being bathed with the cloth, smiling up at him. "What is this,
some kind of Mountie foreplay?"
"You know it is." Smile down at him, use the warm
cloth to massage the back of his neck, feel the pleasured groan
feed the fire in your groin.
"Oh, god, I dreamed of this." Ray's shuddering
breath made Fraser catch his own. "Not this exactly, but--"
He was shivering.
Fraser cradled the bristly head to him, gentling the back
of Ray's neck. His lips found Ray's bald spot, the edge of Ray's
ear. Love flooded him. Ray, alone in jail, dreaming of
tenderness. He kissed Ray's cheek, stroking Ray's spine.
Tenderness--he would get it. He kissed the other cheek. Fraser
would build a shelter of tenderness and love, weave safety around
him like a cloak, pleasure him until even the memory of pain had
been drained.
He knelt and kissed Ray's mouth, offering his lips, his
tongue. Ray's breathing deepened; his hands were on Fraser's
shoulders, but Fraser barely felt them. Feel them later; catch his
pleasure as he could, later.
Deepen the kiss until Ray is gasping. His eyes were closed
when Fraser pulled away; a half-smile brightened his flushed face.
Fraser caressed Ray's head with his hands as he caressed his cheek
with his lips; Ray's breath came in stitches in his ear. Fraser's
heart seemed to beat in time with those gasps.
Oh, the delight on Ray's face, glowing in the lamplight!
Eyes crinkling as Fraser smiled: smiles matching smiles,
heartbeats in rhythm, ragged sighs echoing.
Ray leaned for a kiss that ignited Fraser's soul.
His mouth moved across Ray's face, down the side of that
long neck. Oh, impossible to stay distant, impossible to ignore
the fire that broke from him now. His hands were engaged in
unclothing the long, sweet body, baring the sloping shoulders and
the wiry arms to be caressed with his mouth, the nipples to be
sucked into a deeper rosiness, the furry belly to be tongued. The
skin of Ray's belly throbbed with the beat of his heart.
Hands skimming the back of his neck, cradling his cheek.
He looked up into glowing hazel eyes, at a red mouth slack with
desire. Kiss the mouth.
And run hands down the heaving sides, to a waistband that
seemed to come open effortlessly. Unzip the jodhpurs.
And pause to explore with a thirsting tongue a mouth
sweeter than sugar. Listen to the gasp as your hand dips under the
waistband of the briefs, fingers tangling themselves in crisp pubic
hair, finding the base of a straining penis.
Ray's mouth on the rim of Fraser's ear, those sobbing
breaths as Fraser explored the cleavage of his buttocks, the firm
roundness of that trim bottom. His thighs clamped Fraser tight
between them.
Fraser cupped Ray's buttocks--skin soft as a peach. A
groan in his ear; fingers clutching him. Ray shifting as Fraser
slid both waistbands down, over his buttocks, down the strong legs,
to be kicked across the floor.
Strong thighs with skin like silk. Fraser's tongue slid
up the thighs to the tight scrotum as his ears revelled in the gasp
that was half joy and half desire. His fingers fumbled for the
cooling washcloth; Ray jumped when he used it on his penis.
Tip of tongue exploring the slit at the end of the hot
penis. Ray's fingers tightened in Fraser's hair. Slowly, Fraser
worked his way down the shaft, Ray's every heartbeat magnified
against his tongue.
Dimly he heard ragged groaning; Ray's fingers gripped the
back of his neck. He clutched the hard buttocks, pulling them to
the edge of the bed in his eagerness. More. He wanted more; he
wanted it all.
He sucked gently, repressing any urge to gag, until his
mouth could hold no more. Tongue stroking. The groaning maddened
him. His penis seemed to throb in time with Ray's heartbeat. He
tasted salt.
"Ah, god, Benny!" Ray's hips were twitching. "Oh,
Fraser, oh god Fraser. Benny."
Suck gently. Fraser slid his tongue around Ray's penis,
flicking it across the searing-hot skin as best he could, those
little flicks that made Ray tremble and gasp.
Slow. Make it last; draw all possible pleasure out of the
receptive body. Withdraw, sucking the whole way, tonguing the hot
veins, the generous crown, the weeping tip. Kiss the scrotum.
Fraser lifted his mouth to Ray's, sucking the lower lip
into his mouth. Ray's hands clutched at his tunic. Fraser slid
his lips over the soft cheek.
Fingertips gentle on either side of his face; and he opened
his eyes to hazel eyes soft with passion, a face flushed with love.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Undress. Ray's eyes followed him as Fraser stood and began
to undress himself. Standing between Ray's knees, stripping
himself and dropping the garments on the floor. Ray's gaze was
hot as the sun; Fraser warmed himself in that heat, let it stoke
the fire inside him, helpless to look away as he dropped lanyard
and holster and belt and tunic and undertunic and undershirt.
Then Ray leaned forward and tugged at the knots on Fraser's
bootlaces, his head bowed. The scar on his shoulder looked deep
in the flickering lamp light. Fraser's shaking hands touched it;
his lips kissed the back of Ray's neck as Ray fumbled with the
knots, loosened the bootlaces, smoothed his hands up the trembling
thighs. Off with the boots, the socks; and their hands met to
slide off the rest of Fraser's clothes.
Naked. Naked before Ray; naked for Ray. No light
in the room but that passionate gaze, no sound but that ragged
breathing, no focus but that body trembling for completion. Ray
opened his arms.
And Fraser was in them, mouth on mouth, heart on heart,
hips moving against moving hips. On the bed, stretched on the bed,
hands searing Fraser's skin, mouth murmuring into his ear words he
could not understand but with his thundering heart.
His own mouth skimming the musky sweetness of throat, of
belly, of thigh, of fingers, spilling words of love and betrayal,
of passion and forgiveness, of the salt of sweat and the texture
of scrotum, of the apple-sweet breath of the beloved and the honey
taste of his mouth, of the heat of passion turning all else in his
own heart to ash.
Fraser's hands roamed as they willed, stoking the fire in
his own groin; his penis skimmed the satin skin of Ray's taut
belly. Ray's hands clutched his buttocks; Ray's tongue laved his
throat.
Fraser fumbled; found what he was seeking. On his knees
over Ray's hips, he smiled at the flushed face on the pillow as he
opened the wrapper; slid his thumb down Ray's penis as he snugged
on the condom. Ray's hand reached out, clasped Fraser's penis, and
shook his head; Fraser dropped the other condom.
Oh, that avid gaze as Fraser annointed himself with the icy
jelly. Those juddering breaths as he lowered himself as slowly as
he could, again and again onto his own finger, two fingers, three.
Ray's hips raised.
Fraser reached; he guided. And, oh, he was filling himself
with that beautiful penis, completing himself with its throbbing
bulk. His hips moved until he could hold no more; he paused at
the ecstasy, watched the strained beauty of Ray's face as Fraser's
hips began their rhythm.
Ray's hands reached for him. Fraser's mouth drew him
forward as far as he could reach, to taste that smooth forehead,
those flushed cheeks; Ray's mouth on Fraser's face was as avid as
his hands on Fraser's penis, stroking, stroking. Ray's hands.
Ray's mouth. Ray.
Oh, he was nothing; he was everything. He was filling and
being filled, kissing and being kissed; he was heartbeat and
deepening groan, mouth that spoke one name over and over because
it was the sweetest word he knew.
Breath in his ear, rasping, "Benny Benny Benny."
Hand pumping faster and faster. Hips beneath his hastening,
hastening.
And his own hips and his own breath and his own voice
quickened with them; he rode faster, he rode harder, catching up
with his heartbeat, catching up with those thrusts, riding hard,
riding fast, catching up, riding harder, catching up, catching up,
catching up up up up--
He felt, inside him, Ray's penis thrust once, hard; Ray's
hand clutched his thigh. A half-wordless cry that speeded his
riding.
--and--he--was--
White-hot explosion that erased time. Dimly, his voice
cried a name. Wetness poured from him.
And silence, but for tangled heartbeats.
Trembling. He was trembling. Fraser slumped forward,
feeling Ray's penis slip from his body, feeling the pang of sadness
he always knew at that loss of connection.
His mouth sought the sweat-sheened face; his hands found
the back of the sweat-slick neck. He stretched out beside Ray,
gathering him close.
"Oh, Benny."
The murmured words filled his heart. He was empty; the
explosion had burned to ashes all he had been. Burn the house
down, indeed.
He smiled as Ray's lips drank the salt from the skin of his
throat, as Ray's hands cleaned him with the cold washcloth. He
hooked the blanket with a foot and pulled it over them, reached to
turn off the lantern. Ray's arms around him were a wall of safety
and love. Fraser tucked the blanket around them and settled down
to listen to the beating of Ray's heart.
Floating. They were floating together. Nothing existed
beyond their embrace. Their heartbeats gradually slowed as one.
"Well, I feel better," Ray murmured at last.
Fraser chuckled quietly and opened his eyes. The waning
moon shone through the window. He watched it dreamily. Safe. Ray
was safe. He was here, and he was loved, and he was warm and safe
in Fraser's arms. Every muscle in Fraser's body seemed to have
relaxed.
They would start anew.
"Did you know, Ray," Fraser said, "that the first of
November was the first day of the Celtic year?"
"I did not know that." Sleepy voice, sweetly sleepy.
"Happy new year, Ray."
"Same back at ya, Benny."
Fraser watched the moon. Ray in the moonlight. He had
held Ray naked in the half light of an eclipsed moon, one night
that spring; he watched as the moonlight crept over them now.
"We get all that legal stuff wrapped up," Ray murmured, "I
want us to get away, go up to the cabin. Just get completely away
from everybody and everything. For about a month. Just us. I'll
bring that t-shirt you like so much. And if we can still walk
after a month, well, then we'll stay up there another month."
"It will have snowed by now, Ray." The lights of the
cabin, glowing in the snowy twilight like the warmth of a loving
heart; Ray's silhouette in the open door as he watched Fraser
coming home.
"I don't care." Ray's arms tightened. "All I need is
you...and a bed...and a warm, safe place. That's all I really
need."
The moonlight silvered his shoulder. "Of course, Ray."
Sleep was stealing over Fraser. He closed his eyes and
felt it conquer him.
Ray and a bed and a warm, safe place.
And a veil of snow whispering against the window, just a
breath of coldness to inspire them to seek each other's warmth.
. . .
"Now, remember--I'm here, so don't try to do it all
yourself."
"Yes, Ray."
"You're tough, Fraser, but that doesn't mean you should try
to take them all on by yourself."
"Understood, Ray."
"There's just too many of them."
"Of course, Ray."
"You ready?"
"Yes, Ray."
"On three. One, two--"
"You mean, on three? Or just after you say
'three'?"
"I mean on three."
"Because last time you meant just after you said
'three'."
"What last time? There was no last time!
I mean, on three, Fraser. Especially this time, I mean
on three."
"Understood."
"Okay. Now. One, two, three--"
Turn the knob; open the door.
Enter.
Stare down the surprised faces; focus on the one starting
a fuss; make sure they know you mean business.
"Hey, Ma! I'm home!"
THE END
A few notes on Redux
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