Pairing: Benny/Ray V.

Categories: Humor, PWP.

Rating: PG-13 for shameless double entendres and innuendos.

Warning: Do not read this story at the monitor while eating or drinking.

Notice: No fruits were harmed in the production of this story. Okay, they were bruised a little. No cream pies were thrown, but cream was licked off.

Blame: Blame having to come up with clever little topics for chat. Blame chat itself, especially Sunday's February the 4th chat! Blame Bas for the new name for smut (You'll see). :) Blame Cheryl for absolutely loving the next-to-last line.

Disclaimer: Alliance owns 'em. I just tug on their chains once in awhile and give 'em a good spanking.

Comments welcome on and off-list. E-mail: jeanniemarie@sprintmail.com.

February 7, 2001

Does this butter your muffin?

*"Hey, Benny."

"Hello, Ray." Benton Fraser smiled at his friend as the Italian cop breezed into his apartment on a Saturday night.

"So, what's cookin'?"

"Beef stew and biscuits," Benny answered, remembering to use the American word for the fluffy accompaniment to his simple dish.

"Cool. I always love your soups and stews."

Pleased, Benny stirred the pot on the stove. "Sit down, Ray, and make yourself comfortable."

Dief settled at Ray's feet as the American sat at the scarred wooden table. Benny dished out the stew and set out a basket of hot, piping biscuits. Ray loved the meal and complimented his lover on its heartiness and flavor.

"I'm glad you like it, Ray. Especially the biscuits. I tried to make them light and fluffy."

"Oh, yeah, Benny." Ray slathered the biscuit with butter. "I love to butter your buns." Benny choked on his stew and Ray casually thumped him on the back. "Gotta watch it there, luv.

Stuff goes down the wrong pipe and you're hackin' all night."

"Um...(cough, cough)...you're right...Ray."

"Good."

They ate in silence for a few minutes more, then Ray asked, "Benny, are you planning on cooking Ma's recipe tomorrow for Sunday dinner?"

"Yes, Ray. I thought I'd give it a try."

"Good." Ray bit into the buttered biscuit. "You're the meatball in my sauce."

More coughing, more thumping. Benny looked over at Ray, who appeared concerned.

"You just gotta watch it, Benny. You're gonna end up passed out on the floor if you don't."

"Y...Yes, Ray."

Benny took a sip of tea, his cheeks hot. He cautiously said, "I'm also planning on that other recipe your mother taught me for next week."

"Oh, yeah! Well, Bennyluv, you're definitely the stuffing in my tortellini."

An explosion of coughing this time, Ray performing his thumping chore. Benny looked up at him and then carefully said, "Yes, Ray, as you are the beef in my jerky."

Emerald eyes sparkled. "Yeah, Benny. You're the pemmi in my can."

Benny winced. Then an evil gleam came into his sapphire eyes. "Ray, I must say, I love to be the juice in your peaches."

This time Ray coughed and Benny got to thump.

Dief watched them with pricked ears.

"Yeah, well, Benny, you're the strawberry in my jam."

Benny nodded solemnly. "I, too, love buttering your buns, Ray. Hot cross buns."

"Mmm." Ray leaned back lazily. "Honeybuns."

"Yummybuns."

Ray chuckled. "Benny, you're the jelly in my doughnut, and I love to suck out your filling."

Dief turned his attention to Ray at the word 'doughnut'.

"Likewise, Ray. I like to bite into your cruller."

A flush appeared on Ray's olive skin. He muttered something that sounded like, "I can't believe it. Doughnut smut," and took a sip of water.

"Benny, you're the cherry on my cake."

"Mmm. Ray, I'm thinking ethnic dishes. I have a certain fondness for...Italian sausages."

Ray coughed, his eyes momentarily growing wide, then he smiled. "Benny baby, you can be the Mac in my cheese anytime."

"Mmm. Ray, beloved, you are the olive in my oil."

Ray groaned, then leaned forward with bright eyes. "The maple in your syrup?"

Benny nodded. "The cream in my coffee."

"The spoon in your tea?"

"The straw in my soda."

"The sugar in my spice."

"The honey in my comb."

"The beef in my stew."

"The chocolate sauce on my banana."

Ray let out a whimper. "The whipped cream on my nuts?"

Benny flushed. "Yes, whipped cream."

"Beat it 'til it gets stiff peaks?"

Benny moaned. "Yes, until it quivers."

A long, elegant, sock-clad floot touched Benny between the legs under the table. He shifted as he moaned again.

"The icing on my cake?" Ray asked.

"The batter in my bowl."

They rose from the table, coming together in a clinch. They started to edge their way to the bedroom.

"Mmm, the chocolate in my sauce," Ray murmured.

"The pepper in my mint," Benny gasped.

"Oh, yeahhh."

They disappeared into the bedroom, Dief sitting on his haunches, his tongue hanging out.

Words drifted out to the kitchen, though Dief couldn't hear them, because he was deaf. Wasn't he?

"Yeah, mmm, nice, stiff peaks, Benny."

Strangled noise.

"Yeah, and the nice, succulent, meaty balls...whoa!"

"Your peaches...are perfectly...hand-sized, Ray. I can't wait...to add...the cream."

"Oh, gawd!"

Springs squeaking.

Moaning.

Groaning.

Rustling of sheets.

"Mmm, you are the ice cream in my cone, Bennyluv."

"Oh! Oh! Ray! You are...the sword...in my...scabbard!"

"Yeah, I am kinda sheathed, aren't I?" Chuckle. "Benny, you are one delicious sandwich spread."

"Mmm...oh! Ahh."

"Boy, do I love tossing your ingredients."

More springs squeaking at a rapid pace.

"R...Ray..."

"Yes, Bennyluv?"

"You are the candle in my pumpkin!"

Dief howled.*