Author's website: http://www.mrks.org/~starfish

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Alliance/Atlantis, not me.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Kellie, Colleen, Carla and AuK for beta-help. Otsoko checked my French.

Story Notes: This was supposed to be a PWP, sparked by a single image in my mind. Oddly, that image never made it into the story. Further proof that I have no idea what I'm doing.
Soundtrack: Mind (Vibrolux); Ordinary Day, Consequence Free, Sea of No Cares (Great Big Sea); Kiss You 'Til You Weep (Paul Gross)

The warm-up band had already started by the time they bought their tickets, got their hands stamped, and made their way up the stairs into the crowded foyer. The mix of people was about what Ray had expected -- gays, straights, and in-betweens. No flaming queens, no leather-daddies, no bull-dykes -- these were people you'd pass on the street and not think twice about, kind of like Ray himself.

As soon as Ray had found out where the concert was, he'd tried to clue Fraser in on the probable mix of clientele, but he'd just gotten that patient look that meant "Thank you kindly, but I'm not as dumb as people think, Ray," and that was it. But as far as Fraser was concerned, they were only there to see the band, anyway. No reason for him to know Ray had once been a regular here, way back when.

They squirmed their way over to the bar -- well, Ray squirmed, Fraser just somehow walked through spaces between people, murmuring "excuse me" occasionally. The beer selection was surprisingly broad. After giving it some actual thought, Ray chose a microbrew he'd tried before and liked. He was stunned when Fraser said "Make that two, please," and put a ten between the puddles on the bar.

"Fraser --?"

Fraser leaned closer and spoke into Ray's ear. His warm breath tickled a bit, and Ray barely managed to concentrate on the words over the tingles he was suddenly feeling in his stomach and other places further south.

"I have found that if I'm holding a beverage, I'm somewhat less likely to be the target of unwanted attentions."

Ray goggled. "You do this a lot?" he finally managed to squeak out.

Fraser just smiled an odd smile and took his change from the bartender with a "Thank you kindly."

Ray was not going to let this one go. "Fraser, what's going on? How often do you come here?"

"Oh, I've never been to this particular establishment before, Ray. It's quite nice, though, isn't it? I especially like the black-and-white floor tiles. They add a very Art-Deco look, don't you think?"

And from any other guy, Ray would have taken that for some kind of put-down -- like he'd been found out and was being subtly needled. But this was Fraser -- he probably was just admiring the decor.

"This band's not bad, Ray -- perhaps we should go in and find a table."

Ray shook himself. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let's go. After you." He followed behind Fraser, carefully not checking out his partner's ass in those tight jeans, and somehow Fraser's magic worked again, the crowd parted before them, and they were inside the main room.

It was even more crowded inside, and the knots of people standing on the dance floor made Ray think they were out of luck in the table department, but he scanned around the place anyway. Fraser was doing the same, and he shrugged when his search evidently proved fruitless. He had turned to face Ray, and was opening his mouth to say something when he jumped a little and whirled back around. A tall, twenty-something blonde woman behind him blushed, and Ray heard Fraser say, "I'm sorry, but I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

Mountie got his ass grabbed, thought Ray. Somehow it didn't seem right that Fraser wasn't flustered yet. Not that Ray wanted him to feel uncomfortable, exactly. Well, maybe a little. Might be nice to see just a minor losing-of-the-cool.

Fraser turned back around and leaned closer again. "It seems we're too late for a table, Ray. I think I see some space over to the right, though. We probably should get out of the doorway."

Ray's eyes narrowed. "You okay, Fraser?"

"Of course, why shouldn't I be?"

Ray let the smirk he'd been holding in show on his face. "That blonde chickie didn't really think you were someone else."

Fraser sighed. "Yes, I'm aware of that, Ray. But it seemed a little rude to say 'kindly don't grab me like that'."

"How 'bout, 'Hands off my ass, honey!' Or would that be uncouth too?"

Fraser's smile made Ray's toes curl. "Perhaps a trifle uncouth, yes. But an apt sentiment, nonetheless. Now, if you'd care to follow me?"

Ray tried to keep up as Fraser led the way to a small open space, but he'd hesitated a moment too long so the Fraser Effect didn't work for him and he had to dodge a few flying elbows. By the time he got to where Fraser was standing, there'd been another 'incident'.

This time it was a skinny red-headed college boy, who was obviously so drunk already he didn't realize how far out of his league he was. As Ray arrived, Fraser was saying loudly, "Thank you, that's very flattering, but as I said, I'm here with someone."

Ray took the cue and wrapped a possessive arm around Fraser's waist. "Buzz off," he said to the kid. "He's with me."

Fraser whipped his head around to goggle at Ray, nose-to-nose. Ray tried to make his eyes say, "Play along, dumb-ass;" only more politely, of course. What seemed like two years later, Fraser caught on and looped his arm over Ray's shoulders. Then he turned his head back to smile at his erstwhile suitor. The kid stared for a minute longer, then stumbled away, shaking his head. Ray leaned closer and spoke directly into Fraser's ear. "Can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?"

Fraser laughed. "Evidently not."

Ray considered this answer and posed another question. "You gonna tell me why you're not freaking out?"

Fraser looked almost nervous for a second, then he smiled and looked down at the floor. "Perhaps later. If you still want an explanation. Listen to the music, Ray."

And what that was supposed to mean Ray had no clue. Fraser's arm stayed on his shoulders, making them feel warm and wonderful, so he left his own arm where it was until the song was over and they needed to applaud. When the next song started, Fraser made no move to touch him again, probably feeling the display had served its purpose. Ray's shoulders felt cold.

Three songs and most of his beer later, Ray was starting to get the happy, hip-twitchy, wanna-dance feeling he remembered from long-ago visits to that bar and others like it. He'd been watching Fraser covertly, looking at the relaxed smile he seldom saw in the real world, and wondering if he'd ever see more of it. Or maybe, he thought, this is Bizarro-Fraser, and he'll disappear again after tonight. He finished his beer in one long series of swallows, and then stood, dangling the empty bottle from his fingers, and bouncing a bit in time with the music, until the set was over.

Fraser nudged him as the band began to leave the stage, his voice seeming loud in the sudden absence of sound. "Would you like another beer, Ray?"

Ray looked toward the bar, but as he'd expected it was mobbed with people taking advantage of the break in the music. "Yeah, but I'll wait a minute for the crowd to die out."

"All right. Unless -- well, perhaps I'm presuming a bit, but -- I've only taken a couple of sips of mine. It seems a shame to waste it."

The tingles were back now. Did Fraser know -- could he possibly have any clue what that kind of sharing meant? Two guys, drinking out of the same bottle . . . ? Ray considered for a minute, then shrugged. Whether Fraser knew or not, it didn't really matter. Ray was more than willing to take whatever was being offered. Even if it was only one slightly used beer.

They exchanged bottles, fingers briefly touching, and Ray looked again at the familiar face of his friend. His formerly-presumed-to-be-straight friend, who was far too much at ease in a semi-gay bar, getting his ass fondled -- "Hey!"

But Fraser was already handling it again, gracefully, politely. "I'm terribly sorry, but I'm afraid -"

Ray had to interrupt. Rude or not, there was only so much of this he was willing to put up with. Goddamn clueless jerks, thinking just because a guy's good-looking it means he's public property. Maybe if he made it loud enough, he'd only need to say it once. "Listen, honey, hands off. He's taken."

The crowd in the immediate vicinity turned as one to stare. The actual offender, another blond, turned red and seemed about to argue the point. Ray turned up the attitude a notch, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and the guy backed down, slinking off to troll somewhere else.

Somebody in the soundbooth finally caught a clue, and canned pseudo-disco-pop began to play from the overhead speakers. Ray used his Cop Stare on the surrounding faces until they turned away again, then he looked over at his partner.

"Sorry about that, Frase, I was just . . . " Ray shrugged, unable to say exactly what he'd been doing, but knowing he'd gone too far with whatever it was. Staking his claim? Marking his territory? Not cool. Not cool at all. He had no more rights to Fraser than that kid had.

But Fraser, oddly enough, didn't seem to mind. He looked thoughtfully at Ray for a second, then seemed to come to a decision. He gave a jerk of his head to the side and turned to walk towards the back corner of the dance floor, where the steps to the upper level formed a kind of shallow alcove. He reached the corner and stopped, turning to face Ray and leaning back into the wall with one leg bent. There was a hopeful smile on his face, and he looked so much like last month's cover-boy that Ray's mouth went dry. He hastily took a swallow of beer and walked to where his partner stood. Leaned. Posed. What the fuck?

It just wasn't fair. Not only was Fraser still completely un-flustered, things had gotten to the point where Ray was. More than flustered, in fact. Confused. Perplexed. Bewitched, bothered and bewildered. Ray leaned against the wall to Fraser's left and took another long drink from his beer. Their beer. Jesus.

Fraser stooped over to put the empty bottle he'd been holding carefully on the floor beside him. When he straightened back up again, he asked, "Are you all right, Ray?"

Ray laughed, or tried to. "I was thinking of asking you the same question, Fraser. 'Cause you're acting kind of -" He stopped, searching for the right word, hand flapping in the air.

"Human?" Fraser said with a quirked eyebrow.

"Oh, no, don't start with that. If anybody knows you're 'human,' it's me. I was thinking more along the lines of 'check under the cot for a pod.' " Ray shook his head, dropping the question of just exactly how Fraser was acting in favor of another one. "You sure you want to stick around? These bozos are only gonna get drunker and more obnoxious as the night goes on."

"I'm aware of that, hence my strategic retreat to a more defensible position." Fraser grinned, an honest-to-God smirk of a grin, and continued. "I'm not leaving, Ray. I've been looking forward to this concert all week. They rarely tour in the US, and it's been far too long since I've heard them live."

"Yeah, okay. Tell me again I'm going to like them?"

"Well, I can't promise anything, but I think you'll like them."

A strange impulse overcame Ray's better judgment, and he said, "I drove almost an hour to get us here, Fraser. You gonna make it up to me if I don't?"

Fraser looked surprised for just a second, and then the odd smile from earlier was back. "I can try."

Ray quickly took another swallow of beer to combat the urge to just reach out for Fraser's shirt-collar, haul him in, and kiss that smile right off his face. That smile that almost looked like flirting, or would on anybody else but Fraser.

"My name's Ben, by the way," Fraser said.

Ray was suddenly having trouble keeping up with the conversation. "Since when?" he asked nonsensically.

Fraser shrugged. "It's my name, Ray."

"Yeah, I mean, I know since when, but why all of a sudden now?"

"I just thought -- never mind. You can call me whatever you like."

"No, that's cool, I can do Ben. I mean, I'd like to. I mean -" Ray stopped, trying to pretend he hadn't just said what he so obviously had. Then he noticed Fraser's - no, Ben's - lips twitching. "Oh, you are so busted now. After all the times you have made me explain stuff to you . . . ."

Ben looked as contrite as was possible, given that he was trying not to laugh. "I'm sorry, Ray. The naive Mountie -- it's a useful camouflage. Sometimes it's hard to remember that's not really me."

"So -- okay. Hope you don't mind if I remind you once in a while."

"No, I . . . I'm rather counting on it."

"So . . . "

"Hmm?" Ben cocked an eyebrow and waited.

"So what now?"

Ben gestured toward the stage. "Now we enjoy the concert, Ray. I think they're about to start."

The lights dimmed, and the crowd began to cheer. From the speakers came an electronic beeping that sounded a lot like Morse code to Ray, but a howl went up from the floor, and the stage lit up as the band ran onstage. Ray could barely hear them as they began to play, but the noise from the crowd quickly lessened as everyone in the place - except for Ray - started singing along. From the opening he'd been expecting some weird techno-thing, but it was anything but.

" . . . *yeah, I win now but sometimes I lose . . . I've been battered but I never bruise, it's not so bad . . . *"

Ray forget all about the Fraser-Ben conundrum in favor of the music. Oh, yeah. He could listen to this. All night. Four guys -- two guitars, a bass, and a drum Ray thought might be a bodhran, although he'd never actually seen one. Halfway through the song the rhythm guitarist switched to button accordion, and five guys directly in front of Ray started doing a whacked-out version of a reel.

He turned to Ben. "Where did you say these guys were from?" he yelled over the music.

"Newfoundland. Do you like them?"

"They're great!" Ray yelled back. "How did you know?"

"I took an opportunity to study your compact disc collection. And, well, I hoped --"

Ben's face was right there in front of him, smiling, eyes bright; and for the first time since that very first day, kissing him didn't seem like just a crazy dream that'd never come true. It seemed, in fact, more like a real possibility with every passing second. Ray had never allowed himself to think too much about doing anything like this with Fraser, but now that he was with Ben . . . Ray had a feeling if he leaned closer by about two inches, Ben would close the gap himself and they'd be . . . kissing. That's all it would take. Two inches.

And suddenly Ray could feel every drop of blood moving in his veins, every hair standing on end, every nerve ending waiting for the next touch. He loved this feeling, this wild thing that happened when it all began. That one specific moment when he knew, when all the little signals coalesced and everything changed forever. He concentrated on breathing, not sure he remembered how anymore, and watched as Ben's tongue snaked out to slick across his lower lip. And after all the times he'd seen Fraser do that and thought it looked vaguely sexy, seeing Ben do it, right in front of him -- *licking with <U>intent</U>*, Ray thought -- God, it almost sent him over the edge. In fact . . .

He reached out almost without thinking and touched Ben's lip, right where that tongue had just been. Ran a slightly callused finger over it, feeling the moisture left there. Then he did lean closer, to say in Ben's ear, "You keep doing that, we might not be staying for the rest of the concert."

Ray could smell Ben now, leather and clean laundry and some kind of pine-y shampoo and a little bit of sweat. He felt Ben's hand tentatively touch his hip. And then he heard Ben's breath catch, and then his voice.

"Understood."

And once again, something familiar was now completely different. That one word, formerly FraserSpeak for 'Okay, Ray' had turned into some kind of promise . . . or possibly a threat.

The sound of applause startled them apart, and Ray clapped automatically, after depositing his now-empty bottle on the floor next to the other one. He needed to move, to get himself under control before he just humped Ben right there up against the wall. This new, wild feeling wouldn't last and he wanted to savor it. He knew what came next would be just as mind-blowing, in another totally new and different way, but after waiting this long he wanted to enjoy every second.

The next song started, a tune Ray vaguely recognized that made his toes start to tap. The five guys who'd been dancing started again, laughing and shouting the words along with the singer. Kids, thought Ray. * They're all just kids.* But when one of them twirled closer and caught his eye, he grinned, remembering what it was like to have that much energy all the time.

"Dance?" yelled the kid, gesturing back toward his buddies.

Ray was torn. He looked at Ben, who mouthed, "Go on," at him.

He shook his head and shrugged. Ben put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him over.

"Go ahead," Ben said, and his mouth was touching Ray's ear this time, practically kissing it, but not yet, not quite yet. "I like to watch you dance."

Oh. Sure. No pressure there.

Ray reached behind to his waistband and unclipped his SOB holster, discreetly passing it to Ben, who palmed it and made it disappear. Then Ben gave Ray a little push and sent him out onto the dance floor. He was immediately caught up in the mix of bodies and music, and although it felt weird for just a minute, he quickly adjusted and his feet found their place in the rhythm. He was glad he'd worn his half-boots instead of his 'head-kickers', and he threw himself into the dance with his usual abandon, not caring about anything except having fun.

And every time he looked over at the corner, Ben was watching him with a smile on his lips and a hungry look in his eyes. A look that Ray hoped to hell Ben was seeing in his eyes, too.

When the song changed Ray stayed out on the floor, and their group expanded to include several more dancers. No two of them were actually doing the same steps, but it didn't seem to matter. Minor collisions were laughed off, and major ones were avoided with the combination of grace and luck God sometimes gives to the inebriated.

After four more songs, Ray was winded. He backed away from the group, laughing and fending off the reaching hands that tried to pull him back. When he reached Ben's side again, it felt so right to touch him that Ray didn't hesitate. By some miracle, the next song was a ballad, and Ray reached over, grabbed Ben's hand and pulled him away from the wall into his arms.

"Dance with me," he said, and just like that, they were dancing.

Different from Stella, of course, different body, different size, everything; and that was good. Really good, because everything was different now. Ray had no idea who was supposed to be leading, there wasn't room for much in the way of footwork anyway, so he'd instinctively gone for the classic 'high-school-prom' position - both arms wrapped around Ben's neck, the way Stella used to dance with him, back in the dead old days. He felt Ben's hands warm on his back, one at his waist and one between his shoulder blades. Big hands; strong hands. He'd watched those hands, wondered once or twice about what they'd feel like on his body. Fucking fantastic, as it turned out.

Ben was holding him close, but not too close. No lower-body contact, except for the occasional brush of a knee. That was good, that was greatness, they were on the same page with the taking-it-slow thing. Savoring the moment. Except now might be a good time . . .

They'd been just swaying back and forth, feet barely moving, foreheads touching, and Ray realized he'd closed his eyes at some point. When he opened them, Ben was looking at him with the same hunger he'd seen before. Ray pulled his head back, angled it slightly, and leaned forward two inches.

And just like he'd expected -- like he'd known -- Ben met him halfway, with a tentative pressure of his lips, a gentle, beautiful kiss that filled Ray's head and heart and soul. This was what he'd been waiting for, this moment, when the world stopped and nothing existed but the two of them . . .

This stupid fucking romantic moment, and he was almost forty and almost out of time for this sort of thing, but nobody told the man upstairs that, did they? Huge fucking cosmic joke on Ray Kowalski; can't keep it together with his childhood sweetheart, so let's line him up with another man who's also a cop and from another country and a complete and total unhinged freak besides --

And then Ben opened his mouth, and his tongue licked at Ray's lips, and that was it, he was done for. Game over. None of that other shit mattered at all. For fifteen glorious seconds Ray's hands clutched Ben's hair, and then he pulled his head back. "No," he said.

"No?" Ben echoed dumbly.

Ray looked around quickly to get his bearings and steered them back to their corner, where he propped Ben up in the corner again and dropped a quick kiss on his pout.

"No, we are not going to make out like horny teenagers in front of half the population of Oak Park. If we're going to do anything, and believe me we are, it's going to be done the right way."

"Which is?"

Ray grinned, very wickedly indeed. "I want you in my bed, Benton Fraser. Tonight, tomorrow night, the night after that. Next Tuesday, Friday the Thirteenth, Easter, Arbor Day, Christmas, New Year's, Groundhog Day -"

Ray would have gone on except for the hand across his mouth. Ben smiled as he said, "I'm going to have to insist on having Canada Day off, Ray. To rest up, and do laundry."

When Ben moved his hand away to kiss Ray again, Ray took advantage of his position and slowly brushed his crotch against Ben's, then pulled back. "We can maybe negotiate the laundry, I suppose. But I'm not real sure about days off."

"As a Canadian citizen I do have certain rights, you know."

"Mmmhmm. I think I got the number for the Consulate somewhere at home, if you want to file a complaint."

"Ah. Thank you kindly, I'll bear that in mind."

"Yeah, you do that." And that seemed to be the extent of Ray's snappy dialog for the moment. He leaned in closer to Ben's side and worked his arm around in back, hooking one finger through a belt loop. Ben draped his arm over Ray's shoulders again, and occasionally his thumb brushed across Ray's tattoo. And they stood like that, together; singing when Ben knew the words, stomping their feet and yelling instead of applauding, until the last encore was over. Ray could feel Ben warm up against his side, not moving away; finally okay to touch, to be touched. He wondered if anyone looking at them could tell how much was going on inside him.

And when the lights came up, and the band was gone, Ray reluctantly disengaged his finger from Ben's belt loop. They walked out to the parking lot side by side, hands brushing frequently, fingers twining occasionally. As they reached the GTO, parked under the furthest floodlight, Ray reached out to keep Ben from walking around to the passenger side. "Here," he said, and when Ben held out his hand, Ray dropped the keys into it.

Ben rubbed his thumb over the worn leather tag, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He quickly unlocked Ray's door, then walked around to his own. As Ben inserted the key into the lock, Ray leaned across the top of the car. "It's not just because of the beer," he said. "You know that, right?"

Ben nodded. "I think I do. Thank you."

Ray shook his head. "Crazy Mountie. Thanks me when I drive, thanks me when he drives . . . "

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"Get in the car."

And then Ray could see the hunger again, way back in Ben's eyes, and he wondered if it had always been there. Wondered he'd be able to see it from now on. Thought yeah, maybe. And he got in the car; heart starting to speed up, nerves on fire.

"Hey, Ben?"

Ben was checking the mirrors and adjusting the seat. "Hmm?"

"You think maybe you could, you know, approach the speed limit when we get on the highway?"

Ben smiled and started the engine. "I think that's very possible tonight, Ray. I, too, feel the need for speed."

Ray cracked up, he couldn't help it. "Hey, say it, would you? Just once?"

Ben didn't even pretend to misunderstand. "Gran Turismo Omologato."

Ray shivered at Ben's voice, which had suddenly become much deeper. "Wow. That's, uh . . . . Do more."

Ben put the car in gear and drove out of the parking lot toward the highway. "I'm afraid my Italian is mostly limited to menu selections and a rather startling range of invective, which would be highly inappropriate. But I can offer Cantonese, Inuktitut, or French."

Ray smiled, leaning his head back and watching the streetlights go past. "You pick."

"Very well . . . *'Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose.' *"

And Ray remembered that one from French I, sophomore year. He turned his head toward his partner. "You really believe that?"

Ben glanced over and smiled. "Absolutely."

And hey, that was fine with Ray. Fraser had always been the deep-thinking half of the duet, the one who reasoned everything out and told Ray why he couldn't do what he really wanted to. And now it looked like a whole new duet, Ray and Ben this time, and Ray was still not doing much of the thinking. But that was fine, just fine, because it seemed like Ben had some real good ideas for this new partnership, too.

"So . . . how long you been doing this?"

"Well, I got my license at age sixteen, Ray, but the dearth of good roads at the time made for quite a delay in -"

"Fraser - cut it out. I was talking to Ben. And not about driving."

"Ah."

"Yeah, 'ah.' I think I'll take that explanation now, if you don't mind. If nothing else, it'll help pass the time, keep me distracted so I don't just reach over and grab you."

Ben blushed and looked away for a moment, then back at the road. "Am I allowed the same privilege?"

"Absolutely."

"Thank you kindly."

Ray grinned. "You're kindly welcome. Spill."

"I'm not sure what you want to know."

"Well, for starters, how you got so blas&eacute; about having your ass grabbed."

"Blas&eacute;?"

"It's a word," Ray said defensively.

Ben smiled. "Indeed it is. The Inspector has required my attendance at a multitude of official functions. The uniform . . . seems to be a powerful attractant for even the most well-bred women."

Ray snorted. "Yeah, the Ice Queen included. Okay, now we move on to well-bred and otherwise men grabbing your ass. And the lack of freaking-out therewith."

"I don't believe I've ever 'freaked-out,' under any circumstances. And isn't it my turn?"

"Didn't know we were under Robert's Rules of Order," Ray grumbled. "Okay, fine, you take a turn."

"I suspect both of us want to know the same thing, Ray. I was quite surprised at how comfortable you were with the, shall we say atmosphere, of the club."

"Good. Means I'm doing my job."

"I'm sorry?"

"Would Ray Vecchio be comfortable with that atmosphere?"

"Oh. I take your point. No, he wouldn't be, I'm afraid. Not at all."

"Mm hmm. And who was the one tried to warn you when you said we were going there?"

"I suppose I didn't take it for first-hand knowledge."

"I have hidden depths, my friend."

"I'm beginning to suspect that."

"Good. You got an actual question coming up anytime soon?"

"Were you . . . are you . . . had you been there often?"

Ray chuckled. "Way to be subtle, there, Frase. Yeah, when me and Stell were on the outs I used to go there to dance quite a bit. I didn't need to bring a date, I could just go and have fun without . . . expectations. And to answer your second question, yeah, I guess I consider myself to be bi. When I think about it. It's not like I woke up one day and decided anything, it's just . . . with Stella, I knew. Like . . . with you." He shrugged, knowing Ben couldn't see it. "There were a few assorted people in between, but nobody serious. Does that about cover it?"

"Admirably."

"Good. My turn again. What about you?"

"I . . . yes."

"Fraser . . . "

"I'm sorry, Ray, but this is -- difficult. I'm not used to talking about such things."

Ray shook his head. "I noticed. You just froze up on me, buddy. Okay, slightly different question -- I'm not the first guy, am I?"

"In what way?"

"First guy, Fraser! First guy you kissed, first guy you danced with, first guy you wanted to get horizontal with . . . "

"Ah. No, no, and . . . er . . . no. Although . . . the dancing was in the nature of a charade, and not in any type of romantic setting, so I'm not sure if I should count it. Also, I was dressed as a woman at the time."

"Man, I thought I was gonna be the kinky one. So -- wait, what am I the first guy for?"

A sideways look from Ben; shy, but searing.

"Oh. Oh. You're, uh . . . you haven't . . . "

"Not . . . as such. Not with . . . a man."

Ray gulped, his heart beating loud in his ears. Not a surprise, not really, but the thought of being Ben's first rocked him. "But you, uh, want to, right? With me?"

They had stopped for a red light, and Ben looked over. In the weird lighting Ray couldn't be positive, but he thought he saw fear for just a second; then it was buried under longing and something Ray had to call sheer lust. He felt his cock getting hard, harder than it'd been in a long time, just from the look in Ben's eyes. He shifted in his seat. "Okay, that's . . . good. Wow."

The rest of the drive passed by in a blur of lights. Ray's mind kept circling back to that kiss, the kiss that promised so much more than he'd ever expected. The kiss that made him think things like 'forever' and 'always.' Which led to thoughts of all the ways he wanted to have Ben. And be had by Ben. He'd finished with way number thirty-six (Ben balls-deep inside him, stretched over the back of his love-seat) and was working on number thirty-seven (ditto, Thatcher's desk after hours) when the car stopped and the engine was turned off.

Ben's voice was loud and sudden. "We're here."

Ray jumped a little, then exhaled deeply. He unfastened his seatbelt and turned to his partner. "Thanks for the ride. You want to come in? Maybe have some coffee?" He smiled a sly smile, fluttering his eyelashes.

Ben laughed unevenly. "It's a little late for coffee. I was thinking more of . . . going to bed, myself."

Ray put out his hand and touched Ben's, which still gripped the steering wheel. "I can go with that. Maybe save the coffee for morning, you think?"

"Sounds good. Shall we?" Ben passed the keys back to Ray and they got out of the car.

They were greeted at Ray's door by a very exuberant wolf, who insisted on sniffing both of them thoroughly, before making a bee-line for the stairs to the lobby. Ray watched, amused, as Ben followed reluctantly. "Make it quick, okay, Dief? It'll be worth your while, I promise. Whoops, wait a minute -- here. Catch." He tossed his keys back to Ben, who caught them and looked perplexed. "For the door. I'm going to take a shower, and I might not hear the buzzer."

Ben looked down at the keys in his hand, then back at Ray with another one of those extremely hungry looks. He turned without a word and clattered down the stairs. Ray could hear him berating Dief in the lobby as the apartment door closed.

His first stop was the turtle-tank. "Hey, Clarence, how'd you get along with the wolf? Any trouble? Yeah, Fraser said he wouldn't bother you. Something about some old native legend, I guess. Looks like you did okay, huh?" He dropped a small treat into the tank and closed the lid.

"So how would you feel about maybe new roommates? Think that would work out? I'm considering it seriously, just so you know. Might be nice for you to have someone to talk to. You think about it and let me know."

Ray made his way to the bathroom, dancing a bit; one of the tunes the band had played seemed to be stuck on continuous replay in his head. Shower now, get clean, then when Ben got back with Dief, he'd be ready to get dirty all over again. After a moment's consideration, deciding between a fresh pair of jeans and his sweat pants, he decided to go with the natural approach. Avoid all the awkward undressing bits, and skip right to the nudity. Nudity was good. Let Ben find him in a towel, maybe. Sneaky, Raymond, very sneaky. He chuckled a bit as he flung his clothes into the hamper.

Doors open, shower on, Ray in, doors closed. Aaaahhhh. Nice. Hot water beating out all the tension he hadn't even known was there. He stretched a little, then shampooed his hair and soaped himself. As he was rinsing, he realized he was singing the chorus to the song he'd just been dancing to. What a goof, he thought. Then: Maybe I should've bought the CD while I was there.

Shower off, doors open -- wolf. Ray jumped and let out a squawk he tried to pretend he hadn't. Dief just stared.

"Jesus -- Fraser!"

Ben came running.

"Fraser, what the hell is your wolf doing?"

"Oh, dear. Dief! Dief! Dief!" Ben squatted down on the bathmat next to the wolf. "Go in the other room, please," he said. "We've talked about this." Dief grumbled, but did as he was told, and Ben stood back up and smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry, Ray, he has no manners at all."

A bead of water snaked into Ray's ear, and he shivered. "It's okay, just -" He shook his head to clear it. "Guess I'm a little antsy. Grab me a towel, would you?" Ben held one out, and Ray took it and began to dry his hair, rubbing longer than strictly necessary. While his face was covered, he tried to slow his speeding heart.

"Ray, I-"

Ray dropped the towel around his shoulders and looked at Ben's confused face. He shook his head again. "It's all right, Ben, just -- he scared the life out of me." He wiped his face, nearly calm. He tried a smile, unwound the towel from around his neck, and held it out to Ben. "Dry my back?"

Ben's smile came back out to play. He took the towel from Ray's hand, and Ray got out of the shower and turned around. The first touch of the damp terrycloth was tentative, but the pressure quickly became stronger and surer. Ray felt a hand settle on his shoulder, thumb touching the back of his neck, and he pushed back into it gently. Ben took the hint and began stroking small circles there, his other hand moving the towel ever lower toward what Ray was beginning to think of as The Promised Land. *Maybe not tonight, but soon,* he thought. Real soon.

It was as though Ben could read his mind. "Ray? What you asked me in the car . . . " The towel was there now, rubbing Ray's ass. "Have you ever . . . ?" Ben's voice was husky, almost whispering, like he was afraid of both possible answers. Ray winced.

"Yeah," he said, "I've done . . . a lot of stuff." The towel stopped moving for an eternal moment, then it went lower, down to his thighs. The hand left his shoulder and moved to his hip, and he heard a slight grunt. He glanced around and saw Ben kneeling behind him, drying his legs. He swallowed hard, his cock stiffening again.

"Good," Ben said firmly, and it took Ray a second to remember what they'd been talking about.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," said Ben. "Turn, please." Ray turned to face Ben, stepping back a little. Ben's eyes got big. "Oh, God, Ray -- may I . . . ?"

Ray grinned at Ben's kid-in-a-candystore look. "You 'may' do anything you want, but I think we'd be more comfortable in the bedroom."

Ben nodded, eyes still focused on Ray's erection. "Yes, of course," he said distractedly. "I just . . . ." He leaned forward slightly, dropping the towel, grasping both Ray's hips and pulling so that Ray was forced to step closer again. All Ray could do was stare down at Ben kneeling on the bathmat, looking like a wet-dream come true.

Ben's tongue came out and carefully, almost shyly touched the tip of Ray's cock. Ray made a small sound of pleasure, and Ben smiled before moving closer and taking the whole head into his mouth. One swirl of his tongue, though, and Ben backed off. Licked his lips and looked thoughtful.

"Ben? You all right?"

"Yes, I'm . . . fine."

"Listen, you don't have to -- let's slow down a little, okay? You're in high gear or something. We should take it slower, there's no rush."

Ben stood up and moved closer still. Ray's cock brushed against denim, and he shivered. Then Ben's mouth closed over his, and he was lost again. Ray's arms came up to wrap around Ben's shoulders, one hand going into Ben's soft hair and holding on for dear life.

Kissing Ben wasn't like anything he'd done before. The casual dates he'd had after the divorce hadn't generated anything like this much passion. And kissing Stella, although a very fond memory, seemed so long ago it might have happened to another person. But he knew that even with Stella, even in the early days, it had never felt like this. Because Ray was used to being the aggressive one, and . . . clearly he'd have to get over that real soon. Ben's tongue was everywhere, licking Ray's mouth, learning his taste. And all that attention focused on him, on his mouth, was an incredible thing.

When Ben pulled back, Ray leaned forward and kissed him again, gave back a little of what Ben had given him, and Ben moaned, his fingers digging into Ray's hips. They stood, swaying together there on the wet bathmat, trading kisses like that until Ray realized he was cold. He released Ben's mouth reluctantly. "Hey -- bedroom. Come on."

Ben blinked his eyes and swallowed, then nodded and let go of Ray. He smiled, his lips redder than Ray ever remembered seeing them. "You tasted like soap," he said.

"What?"

"Your . . . when I was . . . " Ben blushed, evidently without words for once.

Ray took pity on him. "I get it, it's okay. You don't have to say it."

"Good." Ben grinned. "Thank God."

"If you keep hanging around with me, you might loosen up a little."

"One can only hope."

Ray smiled wickedly. "Yeah, because I have no trouble at all saying things like 'I want to suck your cock, too, Ben.' "

Ben's eyes got wide. "Dear Lord, Ray, that's . . . ."

"Mmmmhmmm. Bedroom. Bed. Room. Now."

Ben nodded and followed Ray to the bedroom. Ray turned on the light on one nightstand and pulled down the covers on the bed, and when he turned back around, Ben was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. "You want help with that?"

"No, I -- thank you, I can manage."

Which sounded an awful lot like Fraser, and not Ben. Ray sighed. "What's wrong? You keep going away on me."

Ben looked up then, and smiled. Sadly, bravely; and Ray's brain finally got in gear. Shit. Victoria.

"Don't think about her, okay? This is just me and you. Nobody else." He took the three steps that brought him closer to Ben and covered Ben's hands with his own. "And nothing happens here that you don't want."

Ben shook his head. "It's not that, Ray. Not a lack of desire, but rather a surfeit. I want so much, and I'm . . . I was unprepared for the intensity of what I feel."

Ray nodded. "Intensity is good. I'm pretty sure I can handle all the intensity you got. But I don't share. She is not welcome in my home. Understood?"

Ben closed his eyes and nodded, dropping his chin to his chest. Ray kissed the top of his head, then brought their joined hands up to his lips. "Understood?" he asked again. "Because I've got some pretty intense feelings myself." He kissed Ben's hands, first the right, then the left. Then he released them and rested his own hands on Ben's shoulders, thumbs stroking softly over his collarbone. "And I'm scared to death of messing this up, so you gotta work with me. Okay?"

Ben took a deep breath and lifted his head. His eyes were open again, and clear. Ray thought he could see inside finally. He pulled Ben closer and kissed him lightly, softly, then deeper, putting all the love he could into it, trying to show what he couldn't say.

Ben's mouth opened under Ray's, and their tongues met in the middle, tangling together. Ray could feel Ben's hands between them, busy with the buttons of his shirt, and he smiled and broke off from the kiss. He'd let Ben move things along at his own pace, now that they were getting somewhere, now that the ghost of Victoria had been dispelled, and they were both a bit more sure of each other. Ray sat on the edge of the bed, watching Ben's flying fingers.

Ben shrugged out of his shirt, dropping it to the floor carelessly and starting on his belt in the next motion. His eyes were locked on Ray's, and he hardly seemed to blink. The tight jeans were down to his knees and then off, socks and boxers stripped off at the same time. Then he walked toward the bed -- two steps, three, four -- and he was right there, right in front of Ray; beautiful, naked, gorgeous cock waiting for Ray's mouth. And Ray was more than happy to oblige.

He spread his knees apart and pulled Ben forward by his hips. Ray's mouth was already open, and Ben's cock seemed to be a perfect fit. Salty, musky, wonderful. He felt hands grip hard on his shoulders, and a whispered, "Oh, Ray," told him Ben was more than happy to be obliged. "So . . . good," he heard, and it was as though he'd spoken himself. He kept his hands moving; up over the small of the back, down to the curve of the ass, down lower to the thighs. Back up again, to the hips, and it seemed like he'd never get enough of touching, of feeling this way. Giving like this without worrying about getting anything back. Because Ben was giving him something; his first time. And Ray wanted nothing more than to make it perfect.

Sucking and licking, tasting the salt of Ben's pre-come; hands dancing over skin he'd dreamed of forever -- Ray was as close to heaven as he'd ever expected to be. He opened his throat and buried his nose in the soft curls of hair at the base of Ben's cock. He felt Ben stiffen then, felt the hard cock get even harder, and he knew it was almost over. Quickly he pulled back until only the tip was inside his mouth, then brought his hand up between Ben's legs, fingertip pressing on that spot behind his balls.

Ben came wildly -- hands squeezing Ray's shoulders, hips bucking, incoherent cries coming from his lips. Ray rode it out, swallowing everything with pleasure and only letting go when he felt Ben's stance falter. He guided his partner onto the bed, standing up himself and lifting Ben's legs up so he could stretch out on the smooth sheets. Then he flopped down next to him, on his side, one leg and arm draped over Ben, head resting on his shoulder. He shifted a little to get comfortable, his still-hard cock pressed against Ben's thigh.

"Ray, I --"

"Shhh, it's okay."

Ben's head came off the pillow. "No, you -- you need --"

"Stubborn as ever, huh?" Ray chuckled, then stretched to kiss him. Ben turned on his side and took control of the kiss again, thrusting his tongue avidly into Ray's mouth; searching, Ray realized, for traces of his own flavor. Ray made a hungry sound, deep in his throat, which was answered by Ben.

Ray felt a warm hand cover his cock, slide and fumble and finally grasp just right and stroke, and squeeze, and pull -- and he knew it was Ben's hand doing that, Ben trying to do for Ray whatever he could without breaking off their kiss -- and he felt his own orgasm start to build. Too fast, too soon, but he couldn't stop it. He let his hips start to move, pumping into Ben's fist, coming about a minute later all over his hand and stomach. Heard his own cries, muffled by Ben's mouth on his.

Ben pulled his head back, licking his lips, looking tousled and sated, but still wild. Keeping his eyes on Ray's, he lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked Ray's come off his fingers, one by one. Then he smiled.

"Better than soap?" asked Ray.

"Much better," Ben said, then he frowned. "Ray, I -- was that --"

"Ben, don't. It was good, I promise."

"But we didn't -- I didn't --"

"But we will. We have time for everything. It's okay. Don't worry, just go with it. Trust me."

Ben nodded. "Always."

"Good. Okay, sack time now, Dief's gonna wake us up early as revenge for spending the evening alone."

"Ah, yes, you know him so well."

"Mmm."

They shifted position, Ben curling up behind Ray, both on their sides. Ray was almost asleep when he remembered that one very important question he'd had. "Ben? You awake?"

"No."

He smiled. "Liar."

"What?" He could feel Ben's smile on the skin of his back, and then a brief nip of teeth.

"Move in with me."

Ben's head came up again. "Now?"

"Tomorrow. Soon."

Ben's arms tightened around him. "You're serious?"

"Yeah."

"Then . . . well . . . yes. If we --"

"Hey, if's can wait 'til tomorrow. We'll go get keys made, maybe get Dief a water dish so he doesn't feel left out. Talk it out then, okay?"

"I -- okay. It sounds . . . " Ben sighed, deeply. "It sounds wonderful, Ray. Thank you."

"Okay," said Ray, feeling ridiculously happy. "Good. That's . . . good."

"Mmmm." Another sigh, or maybe a yawn. "Goodnight, Ray."

" 'Night."

Ray drifted off to sleep faster than he'd ever thought he would. And even his last conscious thought -- *Fuck, Frannie's gonna kill me -- * couldn't take the smile off his face.

~ end ~

End The More Things Change by Starfish: starfish@mrks.org

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