The Man Who Has Everything	The Due South Fiction Archive Entry    
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      	  The Man Who Has Everything 
 by Berty  

 Disclaimer: They belong to the Pauls and Alliance. Not me. Sadly.

 Author's Notes: Written for my lovely Pepe for her birthday.

 Story Notes: Unadulterated fuzziness! Schmoop. Use of the word
"snuggled". Approach with caution.

 

 

 The first indications that Ray had remembered his birthday were the
chilli-pepper lights hung around the window. 

 His window. 

 Of his little house. 

 At the end of a long, rough, unmade track, about 3 kilometres out of Fort
Murray, his posting since he'd returned from the States eighteen months
ago.

 Nowhere near the Chicago apartment of a certain detective of his
acquaintance, which was the last place he'd seen such idiosyncratic
illumination.

 Yes, the lights gave it away. Well, the lights and the unknown red SUV
parked outside in the snow.

 When Fraser opened the door, Dief exploded out of his RCMP issue SUV,
prancing and whimpering in his excitement.

 So that confirmed it then. Chilli-pepper lights, red SUV and a shameless
wolf who was as excited about the prospect of donuts as he was about
seeing their friend so unexpectedly. He ran back and forth between the
house and Fraser like a demented puppy, yelping and sending up puffs of
snow.

 Fraser climbed the couple of steps to his front door, already smiling in
anticipation of Ray's, "Jeezus Fraser, it's cold up here."

 The door burst open before Fraser could reach it and light and warmth
spilled from the doorway along with the smell of cooking, and one hundred
and eighty centimetres of not even slightly Italian detective.

 "Fraser!"

 And he was engulfed in a rib-cracking hug that smelled of coffee, hair
gel and happiness. 

 When Ray had finished hugging (although Fraser could have stood much,
much more of that), slapping his back and grinning, he finally said "Happy
Birthday, buddy!"

 "It's..." Fraser cleared his throat of the suspicious tight feeling that
had gathered there. "It's good to see you, Ray."

 "Surprised?"

 "You could say that, yes," Fraser nodded, still smiling so widely it made
his cheeks ache. "It seems like only yesterday that I waved you off."

 "That was seven weeks ago, Frase. Miss me?" 

 Ray's smile was sly and he looked up at him from beneath lowered
eyelashes making the back of Fraser's neck get hot under his parka. "Every
day," he replied truthfully, but softened the impact of his words with a
slap of his own to Ray's sweater-padded shoulder.

 Ray's smile faltered for just a second before he recovered. He reached
down to where Dief was dancing circles around his socked feet and gave the
wolf a friendly scratch. "Hey, Furface. They're on the counter, but you
can only have two. And leave the chocolate ones for Fraser. They're for
dessert."

 "Dessert?"

 "Yeah. I cooked. C'mon in. Jeez, it's freezing up here." 

 Fraser didn't think his grin could get any bigger, but Ray's customary
complaint somehow squeezed another millimetre into it. He'd begun every
morning on the quest and ended every night with those exact words, but
somehow Fraser had never tired of hearing them.

 From the look of the house, Ray must have arrived shortly after his own
departure that morning. The kitchen was a mess, his jacket was abandoned
on the couch and his bags were dumped inside the door, contents spilling
haphazardly onto the floor. Fraser pretended that he wasn't thrilled to
see that Ray had brought three large holdalls with him. Surely that meant
he would be staying for a little while?

 Ray had been up to stay with him four times since their quest had ended,
but this was the first time that he had come unannounced. Fraser had only
made it down to Chicago once in the same amount of time, a fact that made
him feel guilty, but that Ray didn't seem at all put out about.

 The kitchen table was laid already with mismatched cutlery and plates. A
lit candle stood on a saucer between the place settings, and off to the
side a small pile of brightly wrapped packages and envelopes awaited his
attention.

 "I can't believe you did this," Fraser said, hanging up his coat and
feeling ridiculously touched by Ray's kindness.

 "They're not all from me, Fraser. Don't get excited," Ray said as he
stirred something that made Fraser's stomach growl. His words were
dismissive, but he looked pleased all the same.

 "But you being here and the food and the lights..."

 Ray looked up and his face creased into a cheeky grin. "They look kinda
good there, don't they?" he asked.

 "Yes indeed. I can't imagine why I didn't notice something like that was
missing from my decorating scheme," Fraser mused seriously, looking at the
quirky, kitsch illumination.

 "You're a funny man, Fraser. That never changes," Ray told him,
punctuating his words with flourishes of his dripping spoon. He tasted
what was left on it, nodded and put it down. "Why don't you go and get
washed up? It's almost ready."

 "Alright," Fraser smiled, and walked towards his bedroom only to be
halted in his steps almost immediately by a hand on his chest. He looked
at Ray questioningly. His friend's face was suddenly intense and
undecided.

 "Ray?" Fraser asked gently.

 Ray looked at him steadily for a second more, then leaned in and kissed
him. Softly. Slowly. So sweetly, Fraser had to swallow down a groan of
delight. Ray was taking his time, slipping his hand behind Fraser's neck,
coaxing his lips apart and touching delicately at his tongue. Instantly,
Fraser could feel himself drifting down into that warm, unnamed place
inside that only Ray's touch seemed give him.

 "Happy Birthday, Benton," Ray murmured as he pulled back and stepped out
of Fraser's way.

 Fraser didn't know what to say. "Thank you," sounded pathetic. "I hope
so," sounded worse, and "It is now," sounded as if he were expecting more.
And while more would certainly be up there on his wish-list, it had never
been like that between them. 

 There were no promises, no rules and no pattern to their friendship.
Sometimes Ray slept in Fraser's bed when he came to stay; sometimes he
slept on the couch. Sometimes Ray kissed him goodbye; sometimes he got a
handshake and a hug. Fraser was too proud to ask what it all meant and too
afraid to ask for more in case it was all withdrawn instead. He had
learned to accept what he was given; even be thankful for it. As long as
Ray kept coming, he told himself, he was content.

 Ray had never kissed him like that so early in a visit though. Usually
they danced around each other for a day or so, avoiding sensitive subjects
like where to store Ray's clothes - in Fraser's room meant they would be
sleeping together, stored in the corner, still in the bag, meant the
couch.

 Fraser always waited for Ray's lead before he assumed anything. Once
permission was given, all bets were off and he felt free to be as
demanding and forward as he pleased, but always the first indication had
to be Ray's - even if it were just an obvious glance or that smug
half-smile that got Fraser's blood pumping like nothing else he'd ever
known.

 Thankfully Ray moved back into the little kitchen area and starting to do
something complex with oven mitts and a spatula, which spared Fraser the
task of having to find a suitable response.

 His bedroom seemed cold after the warmth of the main room. Fraser wasn't
sure if that was because of the stove and the cooking or Ray's presence.
He clicked on the bathroom light and felt a stupid smile slide across his
face in response to the toothbrush next to his own and the glob of blue
that had collected on the basin under the open tube of hair gel. 

 God, it was good to see Ray again.

 He washed his hands and face quickly, changed into jeans and a sweatshirt
and tried to ignore the effect Ray's unexpected kiss had had on him. It
had been seven long weeks since he had flown home from his last visit and
Fraser's body seemed to want to make up for every single second he'd been
without him.

 As he checked his hair in the mirror, Fraser noticed Ray's duffel at the
end of his bed. That was a good sign that things were going to go his way.
Four bags - he'd never brought that many before. And one of them at the
end of his bed - a very good sign. And something else; Ray's electronic
alarm clock perched on the table beside the bed, across from his own
simple metal alarm. That was new. Ray had never brought his clock with him
before. Maybe he had an early flight to catch?

 Ray was dishing food onto the plates as Fraser rejoined him. "This looks
wonderful," he declared, sitting down while Ray continued to pile his
plate high. And it was. Ray had even cooked vegetables, which Fraser had
been informed early in their working relationship, were actually against
Ray's religious beliefs. ("If God had intended us to eat broccoli, Fraser,
he'd have made it less slimy and more like Oreos.")

 "So it should. I had to sell a kidney for these steaks in McHale. Have
these people never heard of beef?"

 "McHale?" That was completely the wrong direction. "Where did you fly
into?"

 "Didn't. I drove." A smug little smile came with that revelation. 

 "So that's your...?"

 "Tank? Yeah, it's mine. I didn't think the GTO would appreciate the
weather up here. My Dad would have killed me if I'd brought it up. So I
sold it."

 "You  sold your car?"

 "Yeah. S'okay though," Ray replied, finally sitting down behind his own
pile of food. "Sold it to a connoisseur. Someone who appreciates classics.
Yeah, Vecchio'll look after it."

 "Vecchio? Ray Vecchio?"

 "Knew you'd like that bit," Ray grinned, stabbing at his dinner hungrily.
He took a huge forkful of potato and shovelled it in. "Stella liked it
too," he smirked insincerely around his mouthful. "But the goat, she's a
city girl. I love her, but she couldn't cut it up here."

 This made no sense. Ray had sold his beloved car to buy something more
practical for a road trip up to Canada? What could he possibly be...?

 "That one's from the style-pig and Stella," Ray said, interrupting
Fraser's confused thoughts, and indicating a tastefully wrapped parcel
with his knife.

 Fraser took a bite of his steak - which was excellent - and reached for
the parcel. Inside, after careful unwrapping, he found a humorous birthday
card involving a deer, and a cashmere scarf in the exact red of his dress
uniform - the one that had languished in the back of his closet since he'd
arrived here. 

 "Smart," Ray said admiringly, reaching over to rub the softness of the
wool. "I might have to borrow that." He let Fraser take another few bites
of his food, which were wasted really, as he couldn't taste a thing, so
powerfully moved was he by the simple sight of Ray's fingers stroking over
the scarlet material. It was ridiculous. Being a year older seemed to have
run amuck with his hormones.

 Fraser forced himself to concentrate on his dinner and Ray accepted his
fulsome compliments on the meal with good grace, and then handed him
another package. 

 "This one's from Frannie and the baby."

 And so their meal continued. Fraser received a book on DNA analysis from
Elaine, an "I heart Chicago" t-shirt from Francesca and a bottle of
something he'd never drink from Lieutenant Walsh. Ray said he might have
to borrow that too.

 When his cards were lined up beside those of Buck Frobisher, his sister
and his detachment on the mantle, and his gifts were piled up beside him
on the table, Fraser could hardly recognise his quiet little home. All the
exotic items that Ray had brought with him gave a festive appearance,
although Christmas was still three weeks away.

 Dief was wrestling with the ribbons from Francesca's wrapping, scattering
pieces of coloured paper to the four corners of the room. Everywhere
Fraser looked was touched with Ray's presence; his culinary excesses on
the kitchen counter, his boots under the rocking chair, his smile on the
opposite side of the table. Such a domestic scene was beyond Fraser's
experience. And it obviously showed.

 "You okay over there, buddy?" Ray asked him, tilting his head so the
flame of the candle glowed on the silver streaks in his hair, making them
gold.

 "I'm fine, thank you, Ray."

 Ray smiled in a way that let Fraser know that he saw right through him,
but he didn't call him on it, and cleared away their plates, forcing
Fraser to remain seated.

 "So, forty, huh? That's pretty serious," Ray began, dropping the donut
box (missing three donuts, Fraser noticed) onto the table in front of him
and re-filling his glass with milk.

 "Careful there, Ray. I seem to recall that in a scant four months you too
will reach this milestone on life's highway, " Fraser said, and eased a
chocolate sprinkle donut out of its sticky box.

 "Yeah, yeah." Ray rolled his eyes. "So you're not... like... freaking out
or anything?"

 "It's just a number, Ray. And they say life begins at forty."

 "Yeah, they do. Do you believe that?"

 Fraser glanced at Ray who seemed strangely intent on his answer. "Well I
understand that people often reflect on their lives at this age and
sometimes make adjustments in areas they feel they haven't succeeded in."

 "Or they have a mid-life crisis," Ray pointed out.

 "Or that, yes."

 "So you gonna go out, buy a Porsche and start picking up eighteen year
olds in bars?"

 Fraser smiled. "I don't think many opportunities for that sort of thing
exist in Fort Murray. The garage sells only Toyota, there's one bar, and
the eighteen-year-old population consists of Duncan Roberts, Isabelle
Challon - who is secretly engaged to Duncan Roberts, and Sophie Anderson's
cat. And besides, I'm pretty happy as I am, on the whole."

 "'Kay, so...the cat?"

 "Tabby, blind and incontinent. Not my type."

 "Really? Well that's interesting."

 "Is it? Why?" asked Fraser, realising he was probably feeding Ray a
straight line so he could deliver his latest insult, but he couldn't bring
himself to care. He'd missed this easy banter. And Ray was here - in his
house - warm and untidy and alive and with kisses and four bags. Fraser
could endure any amount of teasing if it meant he'd stay for a little
longer. 

 Every time Ray left it took Fraser a little longer to recover, a little
longer to remind himself that this is what he'd chosen and climb back
inside his well-ordered, sterile life.

 "Well, I haven't given you my present yet," Ray began, and that nervous
intensity was back, apparent in his twitching fingers and shifting gait.
"And I have to tell you that I had a hard time finding something for the
man who has everything he needs." Ray gestured to the room at large, but
managed to somehow convey that he meant Fraser's lifestyle - Canada, the
RCMP, snow, pemmican and a certain distance from everyone else.

 "You shouldn't have got me anything, Ray. Just your company and this
wonderful meal are enough to have made this birthday an extremely
memorable one."

 "Memorable. Yeah." Ray shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. "Well you
might think again when you find out what I've got you. Come sit on the
couch and I'll get it."

 Fraser felt an irrational sense of trepidation as he brought the last of
his donut and his glass to the couch in front of the stove and sat down.
And it was not at all allayed by Ray dragging two of his three holdalls
round to the other side of the couch and sitting down beside him.

 "So I tried to think. Maybe Benton Fraser has everything he needs. But
what does Benton Fraser want?"

 Fraser thought about quoting a Chinese proverb at Ray on the perils of
wanting, but he was infected by Ray's rising nervousness and held his
tongue. It appeared he had rehearsed this little speech before from his
delivery. Fraser tried not to dwell on what that might mean.

 "And that got me thinking some more. What do guys like us want? Now I
only have myself to base this on, but what I want is a nice meal made for
me once in a while." Ray took the last piece of donut from Fraser's
unresisting fingers and popped it into Fraser's mouth, pausing to wipe any
stray crumbs away with the rough pad of his thumb. 

 Fraser felt the brief second of connection long after it was removed -
almost like a burn. His mouth was so dry he could barely swallow the
pastry as he struggled with his body's renewed enthusiasm for Ray's
proximity. The urge to grab Ray's twitchy, constantly moving body, hold
him down and kiss him until he was finally still was overwhelming.

 But Ray wasn't finished. "I want a little music, every now and again. You
know, to dance to, or whatever."

 Ray rummaged behind the arm of the couch and came back with a stack of
CDs. He got up and walked to Fraser's bookshelves, which, Fraser realised,
had been rearranged to accommodate a very compact CD player and speakers.
Ray fiddled with this for a while and seemed delighted when the strains of
Ella Fitzgerald floated softly into the room, smooth and familiar.

 Fraser thought for one heart-stopping moment that Ray was going to take
his hand and dance with him. He didn't know if he were more horrified at
his own ineptitude or thrilled at the thought of being held by Ray
Kowalski while he danced with all the skill and grace Fraser knew he
possessed.

 But Ray simply danced himself back to the couch, his steps confident and
assured in marked contrast to his other behaviour this evening. He sat
down again and returned to his bag.

 "I want to be able to kick-back if I feel like it. Relax. Chill," Ray
continued. He still sounded nervous but determined as he handed Fraser a
stack of videotapes, movies, sports, some newly bought and some recorded
at home with Ray's loose, unformed scrawl across the slipcases.

 Fraser wondered if now was a good time to tell Ray that he didn't own a
video recorder, but when he glanced across, he discovered that he did
indeed have one after all. Then Ray surprised him even further by placing
printed leaflets promoting several local bonspiel and a dog sledding event
on top of the cassettes.

 "Curling?" Fraser asked.

 "I've heard that that's what you call a sport up here. I'm willing to be
open minded."

 "That's... commendable, Ray," Fraser responded, wondering when he had
totally lost control of this conversation and deciding it was probably the
second he had seen the lights in the window.

 "So, good food, music, sport, movies. The Lieu has taken care of an
occasional drink. What else?" Ray grinned edgily, as if this were some
kind of bizarre quiz.

 Fraser blinked at Ray stupidly. 

 "That's right, buddy. Sex!"

 Fraser had no idea how Ray had construed "sex" from his own vacant
expression, but fumbled to put down the videos as Ray forced a bottle of
lubricant and a copy of the gay Karma Sutra into his hands. Several of the
pages contained bookmarks, Fraser noticed, feeling his ears get hot.

 He leaned forward a little, hoping that Ray would use this as an excuse
to kiss him again, but instead he was sitting back in the corner of the
couch, smiling gently and watching Fraser with a clear, unfathomable gaze.

 "That's me, Fraser. Pretty low maintenance, huh? I mean I know it's not
everybody's idea of a life, but..." he trailed off into silence, a little
frown above his eyes.

 "It sounds nice, Ray," Fraser murmured.

 "Yeah. Pretty simple list, but that's what it boils down to. That and one
last thing."

 "Which is?"

 Ray hesitated, his fingers tapping against each other in agitation. He
looked to the fire, to the window and then back to Fraser. "Someone to
share it with," he said finally.

 Fraser had to clear his throat again. Perhaps he was coming down with
something. "Someone..."

 "You."

 To give himself a moment, Fraser looked around the room again. It was as
if he had suddenly opened his eyes for the first time. There was a coffee
maker in the carnage that was his kitchen. The CD player that had
displaced his carefully alphabetised books. The ridiculous lights, which
he'd always secretly detested, but that he found to be a thing that
fitted-in here. The irritating red blink of the alarm clock. The smear of
gel in the bathroom.

 It looked...

 It looked like a home, with all the little annoyances that went with it;
disorder, lack of space, noise. Warmth, companionship, love.

 The place where Fraser lived looked like a home for the first time since
he was a child.

 "The... er... the silence thing. That's kinda scary there, Frase," Ray
said quietly. 

 Fraser turned back to find Ray craning his neck, trying to see his face.

 Once again, Ray saved Fraser the struggle to find a reply. "See, I kinda
worked out pretty early on that you didn't really need me. You know,
you're pretty self-contained, 'specially up here. But you let me stick
around. So I wondered if maybe you might just... you know... want me a
little bit. Maybe you might want me and not be able to... you know...
ask."

 Fraser was mesmerised by Ray's movements, the way his hands mimicked the
expression in his voice, the way his head bobbed as he spoke, keeping time
with his words, the way he shifted in his seat, leaning back, then
crouching forward to emphasise a point.

 "So I kept coming back and you always seemed happy to see me and you
never said no when I offered... you know... to..." More gesticulation, a
flapping gesture between the two of them that Fraser interpreted as
meaning intimacy.

 "But still you never asked and I just... I just wasn't sure enough,
Fraser. You never said, 'stay' or, 'don't go', and I couldn't work out if
it was something you'd take if it was offered or if it was something you
actually... wanted."

 Ray finally seemed to run out of energy. He flopped back onto the couch
and sat perfectly still, staring at the quiet fire in the stove.

 Fraser watched the ruddy light play over his face now it was passive at
last. The lines around Ray's eyes had deepened since they'd first met, his
hair, although still spiky and highlighted was receding slightly, his
ever-present stubble covered a jaw that had lost some of its definition.
Fraser knew that if Ray looked at him, he would be able to catalogue a
similar list of time's modifications.

 It was strange to see Ray unmoving. Even on the nights that he had slept
beside him, Fraser had only glimpsed moments of this kind of stillness.
Ray was a creature made for motion. Fraser had hardly ever seen a
photograph of Ray that did him justice; a single image could never capture
the grace or energy of the man.

 "This is the part where you say something, Fraser," Ray said so quietly
that a sudden snap from the fire almost drowned him out.

 Carefully, Fraser put down the book and the bottle. "I want..." 

 Ray's eyes flickered toward him, then away again, almost as if he were
afraid to look. 

 "I want to understand what this is, Ray. Are you saying...?" Fraser
tugged on his ear and licked his bottom lip, stalling for time, but Ray
said nothing - no help from that quarter this time. 

 "So my birthday present... is... you?"

 Ray hesitated, then nodded once, his whole body dipping into the motion
in that strange way he had. He still wouldn't meet Fraser's eyes. "I kept
the receipt, you know... in case you wanted to change it," he added
without a trace of humour.

 Fraser closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "What I want is for
Diefenbaker to excuse us for the next few hours, and to take you to bed
and show you what I want."

 Ray's smile was relieved and encouraging, but Fraser wasn't finished.

 "But what I need is for you to still be there tomorrow morning, and the
morning after, and all the week after that, and the following month, and
next year and the next and the next."

 His eyes wide and bright, Ray's smile seemed to defy the confines of his
face. Fraser leaned in until his lips were just a few millimetres from
Ray's, then he paused, breathing the same air, feeling the warmth there. 

 "Stay, Ray. Don't go," he murmured, feeling the words bounce back onto
his own skin. 

 "'Kay," Ray managed before Fraser closed the gap and kissed him.

 "Fraser, it's freezing out there," Ray chattered as he jumped back under
the blankets and applied his icy skin to the warmest parts of Fraser.

 "I have tried to explain to him that he's a wolf and is climate adapted
for this environment. He's an embarrassment to his species. You really
shouldn't baby him," Fraser said without any real disapproval. Despite
Ray's attempts to burrow inside his skin in an effort to warm up, he was
much too comfortable to "bitch" as Ray would have said. He didn't think he
could move even if he needed to. 

 Ray had taken the whole 'being the birthday present' thing very seriously
and made sure that Fraser had had a full demonstration of all that
entailed. He'd fallen into a deep, sweetly exhausted sleep until his wolf
had decided to catalogue his woes, right outside his... their window.

 "He was miserable out there. He would've howled all night. He's pissed
with you, by the way. I had to give him the last donut before he'd stop
looking at me like he'd been kicked or something."

 Fraser made a grunting, "don't care" noise and snuggled deeper into the
pillow.

 "It's snowing again," Ray informed him, not taking the hint.

 "Good God! Whatever next?" Fraser muttered.

 "Smartass," Ray snorted and wrapped a freezing hand around Fraser's dick.

 Fraser groaned, but it proved his point - he really couldn't move, not
even when seriously provoked.

 "It's still your birthday for..." Ray wriggled behind him, letting a
blast of cool air under the blankets. "... eleven minutes, Frase. Want to
make the most of it?"

 He ran his cold fingers up the underside of Fraser's cock in a gentle
caress and traced circles around the tip with an index finger. 

 Fraser felt the familiar warmth flare low in his belly as his cock
twitched and swelled in response. "You're going to kill me, you know," he
complained, knowing Ray would be able to hear the happiness in his voice.

 "No way, Benton. Your next forty years are mine, buddy. I need to keep
you in peak physical condition."

 "Forty years? What happens then?" Fraser laughed. "Are you going to run
off and leave me for a seventy year old?"

 "Well, if you're having trouble getting it up when you're forty, I
imagine by the time you're eighty, I'll be getting pretty desper...oof!" 

 Fraser felt he needed to demonstrate that he was experiencing no such
problem. He flipped Ray onto his stomach and pinned him there with hips
and forearms. Feeling the subtle chill of Ray's skin, Fraser covered him
with his body.

 Ray craned his neck, looking for kisses and Fraser obliged, sliding up
his back to deepen the touch of their mouths.

 Fraser was gratified, and not a little proud, to find that he did, in
fact, still have the energy to satisfy Ray. He might not be able to walk
tomorrow, but tonight he had exactly what Ray needed.

 His cock ground against Ray's lower back as he breathed in the subtle
sweat and soap scent of his neck. He took the smooth skin there between
his teeth, unable to resist the flavour of him.

 Ray hummed and pushed back against Fraser's groin, teasing and demanding.
Fraser growled quietly, biting him just a little harder. Ray stilled and
arched his neck to rub the back of his head against Fraser's, then very
deliberately lifted his hips, stretching his spine so his ass rubbed all
the way up Fraser's length. 

 Fraser growled again and bit deeper still, feeling a shudder run through
the body beneath him. But Ray didn't pause this time. Instead he got his
knees under him and pushed up, spreading himself for Fraser. Ray was ready
for him, still relaxed and open from earlier, and as Fraser angled
himself, lifting onto his hands, he slipped all the way in easily with
three long, slow thrusts. 

 Fraser stilled, and reached up to kiss the abused skin on Ray's neck,
licking the deeper coloured marks that were visible even in the darkness
of the room.

 Ray flexed, pulling himself off Fraser, then eased back, and again, and
again in a flowing movement that felt utterly perfect to Fraser.

 "Impatient," Fraser muttered against his back.

 "Born early, can't wait for anything, you know that," Ray hissed keeping
up his gentle rocking.

 "Waited long enough to tell me how you felt," Fraser said quietly,
meeting Ray's next push with one of his own.

 Ray sighed, but it sounded like pleasure, not exasperation. "I figured if
you were gonna have a mid-life crisis... oh, yeah, right there... that
I... ahh... better be here to... ughhhh... have mine with you...yeah,
that's it... that's...fuck, yeah..."

 The conversation became rather less coherent after that. 

 Fraser took up Ray's pace, rocking into him over and over, even when Ray
faltered. And when his own release was close and Ray's grunts had become
almost continuous whines, he reached round his pale hips, took his cock in
a slick palm and stripped it with the hard, sharp strokes Ray liked best
until he shuddered and came, pushing Fraser's own self-control beyond
endurance. He cried out and pushed inside Ray as deeply as he could,
holding there, clutching Ray to his chest until they both collapsed down
onto the mattress.

 When Fraser's ears stopped ringing, he thought that maybe now Ray would
sleep. Perversely, of course, he now felt wide-awake. He curled himself
more closely around his lover, getting comfortable. "Nice mid-life crisis,
Ray," he breathed into the thatch of blonde spikes he had his nose buried
in. 

 Ray grumbled something, it might have been, 'sure' or it might have been,
'shhh'.

 Fraser ignored him. "And a most inspired birthday gift. It's exactly what
I wanted." He kissed Ray's sweaty, sleepy head.

 Ray lifted a flushed, tired face from its nest of pillows with a weary
but triumphant grin. "Pretty cool, huh?" He slung a heavy arm over
Fraser's waist, pulled him closer and lay back down, eyes closed.

 "Just wait 'til you see what I got you for Christmas."

 Fin

  
  

End The Man Who Has Everything by Berty 

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