The door to the small apartment flung open and the two men burst in kissing each other passionately. Ray Vecchio and Benton Fraser hurled themselves onto the narrow bed, the more slender man on the bottom, crushed by his lover's weight.

As with most brand new lovers, they had neither the patience nor the wits to remove their clothing. The Mountie did manage to remove his stetson, but that really doesn't count now, does it?

Ray seized his lover's body and as he let go of his partner's hand, he grasped the thick pelt of dark hair. Ray pulled on him, grabbing the rough material of the red uniform, filling his fingers with the broad hard body as if he was climbing a steep mountain. The Canadian thrust against him and Ray screamed his name again and again.

The cop buried his face in his lover's neck, his open mouth panting against pale skin, and Ray wrapped him with his legs, splitting his pants along the seam.

Ray's eyes now popped out of his head as he realized what he had done to his precious Armani, but at the last moment erupting shudders ran the entire length of his body, and he became unbalanced, tossed and thrown backward in pleasure. He came hard.

When the Italian opened his eyes, Benny was right above him, staring at him with infinite sadness. A sort of red shame ran over the poor Mountie.

"Oh, Ray. I'm so sorry about your suit."

The cop looked over himself and his semen-soaked, tattered Italian threads. "So much for that," he said.

"I'm truly sorry."

"It's okay, Benny, my love. It was only my fourth suit this week."

-The End-