This story is slash, containing characters who (sadly) do not belong to me and both happen to be men who want to have sex with each other. I'm not writing this for any gain other than my own personal amusement. This story is rated NC-17.

What follows is the fifth installment in the "One Ray, Two Ray, Old Ray, New Ray" (with all due deference to Dr. Suess) which will have something in it to please or offend everyone, including Fraser/Kowalski pairings, Fraser/Vecchio, and even Vecchio/Kowalski. You have been warned.

This story is a direct sequel to "Liquor, Guns, and Ammo."

any comments, suggestions, or complaints can be sent to me at magik@socketis.net

"Reflections... -- #1: Trust and Loyalty" by Barbara J. Webb

From a hospital bed, 12:30 AM:

It's late, Ray, and I wonder where you are. Are you still working on the case? I think I remember you here saying it was over, that you caught the man who shot me, but that could have been a dream. These drugs - no, I'm fairly certain that was real.

I wish you were here, but then I always wish you were here. It's selfish of me, I know, but I can't seem to be able to help myself from wanting that. I've resigned myself to never having it - at least, not for a while - but I can't keep myself from wishing, dreaming, thinking.

You're probably out with that other detective - the one you told me about, although I'm not sure you ever mentioned his name. Maybe you did, and I was too drugged to remember. I wasn't to drugged to recognize that tone in your voice; I wonder if he realizes he's about to be hunted. I wish you luck; there's no reason both of us should be alone tonight.

Someday, maybe. I've heard you say a hundred times you're too young to settle down, you're not ready for a serious commitment. There's still too much to explore. And I'll be here, beside you, forever patiently waiting - I'll wait forever if I have to - until you're ready. When you've decided you want love, I'll be here to offer it. Until then, I wait, alone in the darkness, wondering what it would really be like to kiss you, to hold you, to be with you - and if that other detective is finding out right now.

Ray, my friend, my partner, my love, whenever you're ready, I'll be here. Until then, I'll still be here, beside you forever.

As soon as they let me out of this bed.

From the Vecchio residence, 2:03, AM:

I'll call you. So easy to say, and then leave. So what if he looked upset? So what if he knew what I meant by that?

Why didn't I mean what I meant by that? Why'd I have to go on and promise him? What was I on? I've done it a million times, and sure, most of the time, they know exactly what it means when you say that.

But he looked so...hurt. Like I'd kicked Dief or something. What was I supposed to do?

Oh, face it, the kid got to you. Gorgeous face, sweet smile, sob story, all on top of a brave front, a fearless outlook, and a heart so good it's almost shiny. You sure seem to go for that type these days.

On the surface, you wouldn't think he'd remind me of Fraser. Light to Fraser's dark, inarticulate to Fraser's eloquence, jittery and high strung to Fraser's basic calm, but deep down they're not so different. Both vibrant, both at the same time resiliently strong as touchingly vulnerable. Both passionate in their duties and their pleasures - not that I would know anything about Fraser's pleasures.

So I said I'd call. Is it just because he reminds me of the Mountie? Maybe. Don't think so. I do honestly like the kid; he's a good cop, and a nice guy. Bit of a smart-ass, maybe, and seems to have a problem with authority, but then, who am I to judge? And maybe, if he manages to work of the edge of this Fraser-lust, then who's it gonna hurt?

Benny, Benny, Benny. I'd trade in a dozen Kowalski's for you any day of the week, but that doesn't seem likely any time soon. Ice Prince from the north. Why is it we can share everything else, and not this? Is it me, or is it you, or is it us?

At least we're partners. For now, that's all I really need to make me happy. Well, that and a hot piece of tail every now and again.

Yeah, Benny, I'm going to call him. He's too cute on his own merits, and so much what I need to get you out of my head. Or even in my head. Dammit. None of this makes any sense.

But I'm going to call him.

Tomorrow.

From a motel bed, 3:56 AM:

He's not going to call. I know that. I know that. I know that. It's almost 4 am, I can't sleep, and my turtle is staring at me. Probably knows I'm a loser. Even my turtle doesn't want me anymore. It's sad when you sink so low even a turtle doesn't like you.

Or what if he does call? I told myself I wasn't going to do this anymore, not with men. But then, that was easy when I was with-

Oh god, oh god, oh god, I don't want to think about her. I miss her so much. Why'd she have to leave me? Why'd she have to-

No, Ray, pull it together. Think of something else, anything else. Vecchio's hand on my-

But that felt so good. An he thinks I'm a good cop. He doesn't think I'm a loser. Or maybe he does. That's why he just said he'd call, stead of staying.

Or maybe he just had to get home. Don't be paranoid.

Well, if he doesn't know yet, he'll figure it out sooner or later. I couldn't fool Stella, not forever. He'll figure it out, and then-

Well, he can't leave me if he doesn't call. And maybe if he does, I won't answer.

Or maybe I will. It felt so good - he said I was pretty.

Stella didn't think so.

But he did.

Or maybe he was just saying that. It's so dark in here. And empty. Just me an the turtle. What am I supposed to do, all by myself? What if he calls?

My toes hurt. Feet're asleep. He's not going to call. I'm all alone. An it's dark.

I miss her.

* * * * *

The second hand on the wall clock moved incredibly slowly. Detective Kowalski had learned this, as would any good detective, through observation. Since 8 that morning, when he'd dragged in on only a few hours of sleep, he'd been alternating his undivided attention between the clock on the wall and the phone on his desk.

And it was now nearing five. Kowalski had wasted an entire day, so now, not only was he going to be lonely, he was going to be behind. His own fault for believing, for trusting, for hoping.

Well, it didn't matter. Ray had left the office yesterday with the full expectation of being alone, and probably would again tomorrow, so what difference did it make if he did so today as well? No difference at all. Every day was a party for detective Ray Kowalski.

He almost had his key in the door of his car when his cellular phone rang inside his jacket. He dropped the keys - almost dropped the phone in his surprise. "Kowalski."

"Hello, Raymond. You busy?" For some reason, that voice was the most beautiful sound Ray had ever heard in his life.

"No. I mean, I was just leaving so, well, no."

A chuckle on the other end of the phone. "Well, look, I checked with a few contacts and found a building with an open apartment - got a really nice landlady. It seemed only fair, what with you letting me help you with the case and all, thought I'd help you find a place. She said, if we wanted, we could go look at it tonight."

"Yeah!" Ray took a deep breath, trying not to sound too eager. "I mean, sure,

I guess."

"Great. I'll pick you up from your motel in 30 minutes." There was a beep of the call being ended.

"I'll be there," Ray said into the silent line.

* * * * *

When the knock came on his motel door almost exactly 30 minutes later, Ray had the door open and his lips on Vecchio's before the detective from the 27^th could so much as open his mouth. Vecchio kissed him back, long enough to convince Ray he was happy to be there, then put his hands up to break the kiss, pushing Ray back.

"Whoa there, Raymond, slow down a minute. Let a guy breathe." Ray stepped back, letting Vecchio smooth down his suit jacket. "Are you always in this much of a hurry?"

Ray could feel his face burning, suddenly uncomfortable. "No...I, uh - look, whadda you mean-"

A hand on his shoulder and Vecchio's easy smile brought him back to some semblance of calm. "Calm down there, Kowalski. We have the entire evening in front of us: no need to act like a couple gropey teenagers, trying to cop a feel before the parents get home, right?"

"You think I'm acting like a teenager?" Knocking Vecchio's hand from his shoulder, Ray turned away. "You know what, I don't need this-"

"Are you always this irritable?" Vecchio's voice was light, as though he were asking Ray if he knew the time. "Because if this is simply a bad time, I can come back." Warm hands began massaging Ray's shoulders, pulling him gently back against Vecchio's chest. "You're so tense, Raymond. Breathe some, and relax, okay?"

This was not going at all the way Ray had been envisioning in his head the past half hour. "Sorry. I know, you were just...a joke. It's just-"

"Yeah, I know." Vecchio's arms moved forward to encircle Ray's chest. "But you gotta lighten up, okay?"

Ray turned back to face him and Vecchio let go. "So we gonna go look at this apartment of yours?"

"Yeah." Vecchio held the door for Kowalski. "Let's go."

Vecchio insisted on driving, but that didn't bother Ray too much - Vecchio had a pretty cool car. As they were driving, Vecchio idly slid a finger up and down the outer seam of Ray's jeans. "You always dress like this?"

"Like what? What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Just seems a bit casual, is all." The finger moved up until Vecchio's palm was rubbing the top of Ray's thigh. "Don't worry about it."

"You always go around insultin' people like this?"

Vecchio looked genuinely surprised as he glance at Ray. "Have I insulted you, Kowalski?" He seemed honestly interested in the answer to the question.

Now Ray felt a bit silly. Maybe he had been overreacting a little. "Guess not." Reaching down to put his hand over Vecchio's, he tried to find a smile.

"Besides, the look suits you. Rumpled, but extremely fuckable."

"Rumpled?" A flair of anger briefly fought with a flair of laughter, but the engaging smile on Vecchio's face gave laughter the hands-down advantage. "I, um, okay."

It was so difficult to know how to react to Vecchio. When Stella said things like that, what she meant was, 'go change your clothes before you embarrass me in public.' But Vecchio didn't seem to actually care - more like he was just commenting on his surroundings. 'Sun's shining, nice breeze, and kind of rumpled cop.' It had been so long since Ray had just - well, just hung out with anyone but Stella, he'd forgotten that maybe not everything his companion said was not necessarily meant to be a criticism.

Ray had forgotten that some people had senses of humor.

And Vecchio seemed so laid back, like nothing really bothered him. And he thought Ray was attractive - he wanted Ray - he'd called. "So, this place, what's it like?"

"Nothing fancy. One bedroom, kinda small kitchen. But like I said, nice landlady, and it's got a nice big living room. Just the thing for a swinging bachelor like yourself." Vecchio pulled the car to the side of the street and parked. "Here we are."

Vecchio had been right about the landlady - she was a nice older woman who chatted endlessly about her granddaughter as they climbed the stairs to the empty apartment. Occasionally, she would slip in a question about Ray, himself. What did he do for a living? Would he be living here by himself? Any pets? Did he like peanut butter cookies? He answered as best he could - a cop, yes, a turtle, and yes.

Up the stairs and down the hall - she opened the door for them, then explained she had to get back down to her place - she was waiting for a call from her son. "Just lock the door when you're done looking around, and stop back in my place to tell me what you think, and have a couple cookies."

When she left, Vecchio closed the door. "So, what do you think?"

"S'okay." Ray made a quick circle of the place - everything seemed to be in order. Garbage disposal in the sink, running water in the bathroom, refrigerator doors opened and closed, there were windows. "Yeah, I guess it's okay."

Vecchio came over to stand next to him, casually draping an arm around Ray's shoulders. "What's wrong, Kowalski? You don't sound excited."

Ray shrugged. "I don't know. I guess, you know, this is so...."

"Permanent?" Ray nodded miserably. "Yeah, I know."

Putting his arm around Vecchio's waist, Ray leaned in closer to the older detective. "It's just, you know, she was all I had, an now she's gone." He wasn't sure if this was entirely okay, talking about Stella with his new - was Vecchio his boyfriend? But he needed so desperately to talk to someone about her.

And Vecchio didn't pull away, or look upset. If anything, he tightened his arm around Ray's shoulder. "As long as you're in that motel, it isn't really real. Once you move in, it's really over. Yeah, I know." Vecchio put his hand on Ray's chest, tweaking Ray's right nipple with his thumb, through the t-shirt. "You know what you need?"

"Whassat?" Ray could feel his nipple standing up - what was it about this man that his slightest touch could make him so instantly horny?

"Some new memories - something to think about when you're in here." Vecchio tightened the arm he had around Ray's neck, pulling him around to face the detective, chest to chest, nose to nose. "A new start. Some place where she's never been - some place where, when you think about being fondled and stroked, other people come to mind."

Kowalski wasn't sure if Vecchio was saying what it sounded like he was saying. "Like, whadda you mean?"

Vecchio simply grinned, then jerked Ray against him in a kiss, his arm unhooking from Ray's neck and moving down his back, burrowing into his jeans. Kowalski was shocked. What if the landlady came back; what if someone walked by and heard them; what if-

What if he let Vecchio fuck him right here on the bare wooden floor? "But it's not my place yet."

"Do you want me to stop, Raymond?" Vecchio relaxed his hold, pulled back half an inch. "If you're afraid of getting caught-"

"I'm not scared of anything." Ray grabbed Vecchio's arms and pulled him back into the kiss.

They fell to the floor, Kowalski banging his elbow against the hard wood. Locked in the kiss, they rolled back and forth - first Ray on top, then Vecchio, then side by side, then Ray on top again. Vecchio had a hold of his hips, was rubbing their groins together. "So, what do you want, Raymond?"

It sent a shiver down Ray's back when Vecchio called him Raymond. He wasn't sure why - maybe because no one had ever called him that before. With his parents, it was always Stan or Stanley, and with everyone else, it was Ray. But never Raymond.

It took him a second to process the question. "What do you mean?"

"It's not that tough a question - I've seen you field harder ones." Vecchio let go of Ray, putting his hands under his head and relaxing. Ray still couldn't figure out how the guy could do that - just all of a sudden relax in the middle of sex. "What do you want?"

"I dunno. I mean, you know, sex, I guess."

Vecchio rolled his eyes, but the gesture seemed almost affectionate. "What do you like?"

"I dunno. Never thought about it, I guess. You know, you just do it." Kowalski wiggled his hips demonstratively. "What's there to think about?"

With a gentle laugh, Vecchio flipped Ray over, rolling on top of him. "Just do it, huh?" His hands were under Ray's shirt, all over his chest, warm and hard and turning Ray on even more. "Okay, Raymond. We'll just do it."

Vecchio had one leg between Ray's, and Ray could feel Vecchio's hardness pressing against his as Vecchio rubbed slowly up and down. "Yeah, oh yeah, yeah, yeah," Kowalski chanted, his eyes half closed against the onslaught of sensations. He closed then all the way as Vecchio began nibbling at his collarbone, tilting up to suck briefly at his earlobe, then back to his neck.

Stella had never been like this. With Stella, Ray was expected to be the aggressor, to do the all the work. But this man, Vecchio, he didn't seem to know that rule as he alternated between letting Ray have his way, and then simply taking what he wanted at that moment. It made Ray's head whirl.

There was a rustling noise, and Vecchio was squirming against him. When Ray opened his eyes, Vecchio's lower half was lacking clothes. Vecchio had moved his head down, and bit one of Ray's nipples through the t-shirt, then sucked gently. The cotton felt rough and warm with Vecchio's mouth over it. Lower down, Vecchio was unzipping Kowalski's jeans.

Ray had his fingers in the sparse hair on Vecchio's head, down his back, over his shoulders. The cool of the wooden floor was suddenly against his ass, as Vecchio removed all his restrictive clothing. Then Vecchio's head was between Ray's legs - definitely not Stella - his warm mouth against Ray's balls a startling contrast to the chill of the hardwood. Ray could only close his eyes, wrap his legs around Vecchio, stretch his arms over his head, at the wonderful feeling of Vecchio's tongue running around his asshole, and then up into it. His heels were digging into Vecchio's back, his straining hips lifting off the floor.

A strong hand on his stomach pushed him back down, as Vecchio moved up. The head of Vecchio's cock rested against the entrance to Ray's body, already slick with whatever that stuff was Vecchio carried with him. Ray was so ready - ready to be taken, ready to be fucked, ready to be wanted. He moved against Vecchio, "C'mon, do it."

Vecchio didn't hesitate. He pushed into Ray, filling him with those extraordinary feelings of pleasure and possession. No one had ever done this to Ray before - the experimental encounters in junior high and early high school had always been simple groping, or the occasional oral encounters. No one had ever-

It felt so good to Ray - Vecchio wanted him. He felt connected to Ray, unified in their pleasure, two parts that together were better than they were separately. This was what it was supposed to be like.

And when he came it was like fireworks. Vecchio was still moving inside him, and that was okay too. Ray kept moving with him, and tried squeezing those muscles. Vecchio groaned, and Ray could feel the warm stickiness of Vecchio cuming inside him.

"So, you like the place?" Vecchio whispered in his ear, once his breathing had returned to normal.

"Yeah, it's nice. I think I'll take it."

They found a roll of paper towels stashed in the kitchen cabinets and quickly cleaned up the floor and each other. Ray felt decidedly giddy about the entire thing, and Vecchio was grinning like a fiend.

For the first time, it actually sank in on Ray that there might be life after Stella.

* * * * *

"Hey, Gardino, you got those files I need?" There was no answer, and Ray actually looked up from his desk, realizing that neither Louis nor Huey were at their stations. With a deep sigh, he dropped his pen and went in search of them.

At the door to the main squad room, he almost ran into Constable Benton Fraser, who had turned around to hold the door for a secretary laden with boxes. "Benny."

Fraser turned, a beatific smile on his face. "Ray! So good to see you." His shoulder was still in an immobilizer, but the bruises on his cheek and temple were faded to almost nothing. He was dressed in street clothes, not his uniform, but that didn't fool Ray.

Taking him by his uninjured arm, Ray led him over to Ray's desk. "Benny, what are you doing here? I thought the doctors said you were supposed to stay off duty another week. Go home, enjoy your time off. Go see the aquarium or something. I know I would."

Fraser sat down in the chair next to Ray's desk. "I am off duty. I just thought I'd stop in and see if you needed any help."

"I'm fine, really. How's the arm?"

"Much better, thank you. You know, Ray," Fraser gave a little laugh. "This actually reminded me of a story-"

Ray put a hand on Fraser's arm, stopping him before he got rolling. "Come on, let's go get some lunch, okay?" Ray was ready for a break, anyway, and he was sure if Fraser hung around too long, he'd find some crusade or another that would not only go against the doctor's orders, but spoil Ray's fairly quiet week.

"Yes, of course. Lunch would be great. So anyway, this cousin of mine...."

Of course, it was never that easy. What was it about Fraser that trouble just popped up whenever he walked in the room? The fickle finger of fate wasn't even polite enough to wait until their meal had been served, so when the terrorists came into the restaurant to take hostages, he not only had a wounded Fraser to deal with, but his empty stomach as well.

And now they were tied back to back in the restaurant's walk-in refrigerator. Their assailants had frisked them all, found Ray's gun and badge, and then, when asked, Fraser had admitted to being a cop as well. "I can't believe you did that."

Behind him, Ray could feel the muscles of Fraser's back moving as he craned his head around the room. "Did what, Ray?" He had that distracted, Fraser tone that meant he had something going on in his head - probably something that was going to involve Ray getting shot at some more.

"Told them you were a Mountie."

Fraser was pulling gingerly against his bonds, trying to find a loose spot. It was making the rope dig uncomfortably into Ray's chest. "They asked, Ray, and I know you wouldn't want me to lie."

"I really hope that was supposed to be a joke, Fraser, because if you actually believe what you just said, you need help."

"Yes, I rather fear we *are* going to need help. I can't seem to work out of these ropes. They seem to be of an excellent weave which I can't help but admire, despite the obvious inconvenience that causes." He pulled forward, biting back a choked noise.

"Benny? Are you okay."

There was a moment's hesitation. "I'm fine, Ray. Yes, yes." Vecchio could hear the tension in Fraser's voice as he spoke. He tried to crane his neck around, to look at his partner. "Ray, would you mind too terribly not doing that? My shoulder...."

Instantly, Ray stopped moving. "I'm sorry. What can I do?"

"If I could just...hmm...no, that's no good. Perhaps if we...no. Can you dislocate your shoulder, Ray?"

Ray relaxed, slowly, shifting back into a more comfortable position. "No way, Benny. We're not going to try any of your insane ideas - neither of us will be dislocating any shoulders. No, we'll just sit tight here and wait for the cops." Vecchio was doubtful that Fraser would actually listen to him; the Mountie would probably have a half-baked idea ready for him before ten minutes had passed, but he might as well get his protest on record. So he tried distraction - getting Fraser talking about something else.

"What'd the Dragon Lady say about you having all this time off duty?"

"I don't think Inspector Thatcher cares very much for the situation. Our conversations have lost their usual warmth." Ray was fairly certain Fraser meant that as sarcasm. It was always so difficult to tell, and not a sentiment most people believed the Mountie capable of, but Ray knew Fraser well, and knew he wasn't quite so naive and oblivious as he seemed to be.

Although times like these really made Ray question that belief. A weaponless officer faced with well armed terrorists, trying to get them to surrender - only Fraser. "She has had me doing a great deal of paperwork, which keeps me nicely occupied while I'm restricted from uniformed duty. And you, Ray, how are you getting on with your new friend?"

"My new...oh, yeah, the kid. Pretty well, actually. He's really opening up a lot; I think his ex hurt him a lot when she left, although to hear him talk about her, she just stepped off a cloud down from Heaven." Ray was beginning to shiver from the cold. He wondered how long it would be before they were rescued - if they would be rescued. "I like him. Really sweet, deep down, for all he wants to be a tough guy. We've been on a few dates, and they've gone really well. I'm helping him move in to his apartment this weekend...assuming we don't freeze to death in here."

"Can opener."

"Fraser, I sure hope you're going somewhere with that and not just flipping out on me."

Ray could feel Fraser shifting behind him and turned his head in the same direction as Fraser, so they were cheek to cheek. "I'm sorry Ray, what I meant was, there's a can opener. If we can just get over to it, we might be able to use the blade to cut the ropes."

Somewhere, there had to be a loophole. This was almost too rational an idea to have come from Fraser. "Okay," he said carefully. "Okay, let's try it."

* * * * *

"So then what happened?" Kowalski's rough chin brushed against Ray's nipple as he spoke.

Tousling the bizarre brush of hair atop Kowalski's hair, Ray continued the story, after a grunt of encouragement for the movement of Kowalski's hand along his thigh. "Well, after my idea to use the can opener, things started to go our way almost immediately. I grabbed a few of the buckets of salad dressing - Ranch, mainly, the Italian dressing there was far too good to use as a ranged weapon - and threw open the freezer door. The terrorists were startled, naturally. I threw the salad dressing at the two closest, and they were so shocked at being covered in ranch dressing, they dropped their guns." Kowalski's fingers were brushing lightly along the skin of Ray's inner thigh, and he hesitated a moment to enjoy the sensation.

"So, anyway, Fraser makes a dive for the guns. I realized, however, that the metal floor, now slick with salad dressing, would just send a guy sliding into the wall, and thus held back. Sure enough, the Mountie goes sliding past the guns and slams into the wall." Now Kowalski's fingers were tickling Ray's balls as his other hand, wedged in between Vecchio and the bed, massaged the small of his back. Kowalski had started undressing Ray at the beginning of his retelling of the day's events, and was now just playing. "Now I, on the other hand, stop and think for a moment. With my keep observational skills, I note that the shelf above the leader's head is dangerously overloaded. Thinking quickly, I grab the phone book that's in the book, and frisbee it at the shelf, which overbalances, and spills its contents. After that, it's just cleanup."

Nipping lightly at Ray's nipple, Kowalski pressed closer, so Ray could feel his hard-on. "How'd you get that bruise on your head?"

"When they were tying us up, one of the terrorists got a bit rough - no big deal. You shoulda seen what he looked like when I was done with him."

"I'll bet." Now Kowalski was sucking, swirling his tongue around the nub.

"Yeah, if Fraser hadn't been hurt, I would have waded in and had it out with them right there, but I figured that might be dangerous for him, so I let them think they had us out of the picture - gave me time to think."

Sliding down the bed, Kowalski began to lick at Vecchio's cock as though it were a popsicle stick. "Yeah, if Fraser hadn't been there to slow me down, it would have gone pretty differently. Mmm, that's nice, Raymond. But, he *was* there, so I guess things went as well as could be expected. Lower. All that really matters is everyone got out okay."

And everyone had gotten out all right, so that much was true. And Ray felt that he deserved a reward for having thrown himself into danger like that, and the adoration of his young, blonde, beauty seemed utterly appropriate. There was nothing like a nice, relaxing blowjob to top off any day.

Not, he was sure, that it would remain relaxing for long. Kowalski had almost boundless energy, and Ray was learning quickly that "calm" was not an easy demeanor for Kowalski. He was certainly one of the more exhausting companions Ray had been with for a while, but what he lacked in subtlety he more than made up for in enthusiasm. And Ray was starting to work some idea of sexual tactics and approaches into that blonde, fuzzy skull. Vecchio had to wonder about this woman, Stella, what she must be like that after however many years of marriage, Kowalski still seemed so unsure of himself in bed, so much like he had something to prove. Ah well, men.

Yeah, all in all, Vecchio was pretty pleased with himself. Good day at work, good lay after work. Life was just all around good.

* * * * *

From the Canadian Consulate, 1:23 AM:

I missed seeing you after work today. I guess you went out with...what *is* his name? By my count, you two have been together now, not counting your police work for four days. If this relationship follows the usual path, he'll have another week of your company, and then you'll get bored, and I'll start seeing you again in the evenings.

I can't help but feel sorry for him; he doesn't know you like I do. I'm sure he adores you, and has no idea how short-lived his life with you is going to be. How many others there have been before - pretty faces who idolized and revered you, and with whom the flames burned out oh so quickly.

How many nights have I lain here, thinking about you, wondering if you would ever settle down, start looking for more than a quick...um...encounter - a week and a half and then on to the next new face? How many more nights will I lie here thinking about you, wishing I could be the next man in your life, but afraid I'd only become another disposable affair? I love you too much for that. It would hurt too much.

I wish I knew what you find in the arms of strangers that so quickly becomes elusive, that flies away with familiarity. If I knew, I could try to find a way to give it to you, even though you know me - even though we know each other so very well.

Why does love have to be so difficult?

From the right side of a hotel bed, 1:45 AM:

It's cute, watching him fall asleep. He'll be completely up, and then the energy just runs out, like someone hit a light-switch. He tries so hard to stay awake, like a little kid keeping his eyes open just a bit longer to try to see Santa, or like a puppy dog, trying so desperately to look alert when he so desperately needs a nap.

Like a kid. Well, not really. He's not that much younger than me, but he seems that way. Even though he tries to hide it, I can see the idealism in his eyes - almost as strong as the Mountie's. And he's sort of naive, too, in his way. Oh, sure, he knows the streets - maybe even as well as I do - but he still seems to believe everything works out right if you're the good guys - or at least it should. I know better. Good guys get hurt as often as bad. But it's that same faith that doing what's right is some sort of armor against the world that gives him the same recklessness, the same immediate response to run towards danger as Benny. God help Chicago if those two ever end up working together - or, at least, God help them.

Too damned adorable. He needs someone with him, to tell him he's okay. Maybe it's just the divorce, the woman who carved a chunk out of his heart, but probably he's like this all the time. He's probably happiest when he's attached to someone. And I like him enough to wish I could find him that someone. I like him enough to feel bad about it when I have to tell him I'm not the one he's looking for. He'll be upset, it's hurt, but he'll get over it. He's tough.

Not that there's any hurry. No reason not to just take things as they come. We're doing just fine.

He twitches in his sleep. I never liked restless bedmates, but it's so hard to say no to his invitation, so hard to push him away when he presses against me - definitely like a puppy, looking for warmth. Makes me want to scratch him behind the ear. But I settle for kissing him on the forehead. Even asleep, he sighs. How precious.

Pretty, high strung, Raymond. Yes, I definitely think I'll hold on to you a while longer. A little while, at least.

From the left side of a hotel bed, 2:13 AM:

Warm. He's very warm. I can feel every move he makes, against me. Wakes me up - I like it when he wakes me up - I like waking up with him there. He's really warm.

I wanna - but it's too late. Maybe in the morning. Just can't get enough of him. He's so....

Stella, I still miss you.

But you never slept next to me like this, never let me hold you, never slept so close that I could feel warm from you. Never....

Never just said it was okay. Never said it was good enough. Never looked like you were happy - always looked like you were wanting more. Why wasn't I good enough?

He never looks at me like that, like I just couldn't get it right one more time. What did I do wrong? When he touches me, when he looks at me, it's like he wants me.

I wanna kiss him. Touch him. Wake him up...I want -

Feels so good, so warm. Don't want this ever to end.

I miss you. But sometimes I think maybe you don't miss me so much.

But this feels good. Maybe this is love. Warm and happy and sleepy. Not alone, not lonely. I miss you, but maybe I can be okay without you - with him.

So warm.