Blowup

by Muriel Perun

In a dented white station wagon, the three men rode in silence through a bleak, snowbound landscape. The driver, a large man in a flannel shirt and down jacket with a belly hanging over his jeans, sported close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair under a baseball cap and a mustache that grew down over his lip. He shifted around in his seat, scratching and glancing at the lean man next to him. He'd rather be talking about anything at all than driving up this arrow-straight road sharing an uneasy silence with two strangers. He'd picked up these hitchhikers because he was bored, but his every attempt at conversation had been met with a few taciturn replies and then silence.

Something bad had happened to these guys, and the driver would very much have liked to know what it was. The thin, bald guy's car had exploded, he knew that much, but when the Mountie tried to tell him about it, the thin guy told him to shut up. Said it with authority, too. When the driver had insisted on hearing the story, the guy had pulled out his badge and said he was a cop, and when he said to shut up, he meant shut up. The driver frowned to himself. It was still a free country, last he'd heard, but he didn't say nothing because the cop had a gun, for all he knew.

In his rear-view mirror, he could see the Mountie in his blue uniform coat. Funny thing, he didn't look as dirty as the other guy. And he had spent the whole hour and then some they'd been in the car staring at the other guy, who didn't even notice. Strange guys. They had told him that their dog was a wolf, too. At first that made him uneasy, but then he figured they were pulling his leg, because the most aggressive thing it had done was whine for fries when they'd gone to a drive-through for a burger. Since then it had just slept on the seat.

So, okay, he'd drive them to where the140 cut out due west. It wouldn't be long now. Then he could get this scary guy out of his front seat and breathe a little easier. To tell the truth, this guy, cop or not, made him kind of nervous. He looked like he might do something violent any second. Doris was always telling him not to pick up hitchhikers. Damned if she wasn't right again.

Ray stared out the windshield, letting his body sway to the irregular rhythm of the potholed road. His clothes were dull with filth and a streak of ash painted his jawline, already gray with stubble. He had deep circles under his eyes. The sun was setting, making a pink and golden patch at the horizon, reminding Ray of the explosion that replayed itself in his head every time he closed his eyes.

The driver stopped the car in a spot that didn't look any different from hundreds of other spots they'd passed over the last hundred miles.

"This is where I start headin' west," he drawled. "Turnoff's just up ahead."

Squinting against the light Ray could see the freeway bridge with cars shooting along it like little silver blurs. He sighed in frustration, missing the feel of the Riv under his hands. Stuck here in the snowy plains, hitchhiking, at the mercy of other drivers, Ray felt like an amputee. With the Riv's passing, he had lost part of himself.

In the back seat, the Mountie was already preparing to get out. "Thank you kindly," he said heartily. Ray turned around and glared at him.

"There a hotel around here?" he asked the driver, hunching his shoulders against the blast of cold air Fraser had just let into the car.

"Up past the interchange about a mile," the driver said, chewing his greasy gray mustache impatiently.

"Any chance you could drive us there?" Ray asked unpleasantly, as if it was his right.

"Ray," Fraser protested, "this kind gentleman has already--"

Something inside Ray seemed to burst. Hot lava rose from his chest towards his brain. He'd had just about enough of the Mountie for one day. Fraser gave consideration to the lowest idiot, but not to Ray. Ray had to sacrifice everything: his comfort, his right to speak his mind, even his car. He'd had to shoot his own car. What else did Fraser want from him? The sunset had faded, leaving a dim grayness at the horizon, but Ray was still seeing everything through a reddish haze. "Shut up, Fraser," he snapped. "Look, I know it's out of your way, but couldn't you just--"

"Nope," the man said, grinning nervously. "I got to get home. End o' the line."

Ray got out of the car so fast that he was slamming the door while Fraser was still retrieving his hat.

Fraser caught the door and held it open. "Thank you again for the ride," he said. "And I do apologize for my friend's rudeness." Pushing his companion away, Ray slammed the door on Fraser's last words and the car sped away, spewing dirty slush against Ray's ankles.

"Oh, man!" Ray cried, shaking one foot and then the other. "These are new shoes, too. What a moron."

"Ray, he drove us a hundred miles closer to Chicago."

"Great. That's just great. Obviously I owe him my life, because now we're stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere--as opposed to the other middle of fucking nowhere from a hundred miles ago--and it's dark, and I've got wet feet again, for chrissakes, and there's supposed to be a hotel a mile up the road. Maybe, if that guy wasn't just yanking our chain. And would you stop apologizing for me? I hate it when you do that."

Fraser's eyes widened a little. "But you were rude."

"Rude? Dammit, Benny, I'm just sticking up for our rights. You'd let everyone walk all over you if I--" Diefenbaker let out a short yelp, and for once Ray understood exactly what he meant. "We've got a mile to walk," he said, turning his back on Fraser and starting off. "I don't have the energy for this."

But in truth, although he was tired, he still had a great deal of energy. He felt like a ball of fire, full of jangling nerves and sparks and little bursts of hot lava. After a full day of humiliations, large and small, Ray was furious. He felt like kicking every rock and pole in his path. He wanted to get his hands around the Mountie's throat and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze. And then he wanted to bang that thick skull against a brick wall until he--

"Ray," came a conciliatory voice from behind him. Ray hunched his shoulders and walked a little faster.

About a mile and a half beyond the interchange they finally came upon a low building with a row of worn doors and a neon sign. "Vacancy," it said.

"Look," Fraser said encouragingly. "He was telling the truth."

"I wonder." Ray stopped at the edge of the empty parking lot and shook his head. "See, this can't be happening, because I've known for the last couple of hours that this is the worst day of my life and that I am doomed to sleep in a snowdrift or under a truck or something. Well, no, I can't sleep under a truck, can I, because the way this day is going, I'll get my ass run over. So it's a snowdrift for me. There's a nice filthy one over there. I think I'll just go and curl up and catch my death of pneumonia, okay? And probably typhus, too, and--"

"Ray, you're exaggerating," Fraser said sternly.

"No, Fraser, I'm accepting my fate. Why should I fight it anymore? I've been fighting all day, and I keep digging myself in deeper and deeper. If it's my fate to die out here on the freakin' prairie, why should I fight it?"

"You never stop fighting, Ray," Fraser said quietly. "That's one of your most interesting qualities."

Ray went silent for a moment. He sighed and turned to look at Diefenbaker. "All right, furball, your job is to stay out of sight until we check in. We'll sneak you in later, got it?" Dief whuffed and trotted off behind the motel. "Good, because I'm not sure they'll let us in anyway."

"Why not?" Fraser asked, blinking innocently.

Ray looked down at himself and glanced back at Fraser. "Because I've got mud on my coat, mud on my pants, mud on my shoes, and mud in my hair. Hell, I've probably got mud in my underwear. And, to top it off, Fraser, I'm wearing red sneakers--red ones, because they couldn't possibly have any other color in my size, right?--that I got in a goddamn drug store. I look like a wino, Fraser. Maybe you ought to check us in."

Fraser looked uncomfortable. "Uh, Ray, there's a problem with that."

"What?" Ray shouted. "What's the problem? Something might go right today? I might not have to sleep in a snowdrift?"

Fraser stood up very straight. "I would of course be honor-bound to reveal that we will have a wolf staying in our room."

"Oh, for chrissakes," Ray muttered. "Stay here. Don't move." He walked towards the motel office with Fraser trailing slowly behind.

Ray allowed himself a cautious smile as he unlocked the door to the last unit in the row. "Hey, they ain't too picky in this joint. Score one for us." Stopping in the doorway he seemed to have second thoughts. "Of course, if they'd let us in, this must be an awful crappy place. Maybe there's bedbugs. Do you think there's bedbugs, Fraser? Because if there are..."

Fraser pushed past him and pulled back the sheets. "The linens look clean," he remarked.

"Yeah, but with bedbugs you can't tell. You know, the sheets can look great, but the bedbugs live in the mattress, so you never know until they're crawling all over you." He stood a moment, thinking. "All right, Fraser, you sleep here. I'm going back out to that snowdrift. At least there can't be anything in there big enough to crawl on me. Just bacteria. And...oh shit." Dief bumped his leg in passing around him through the door. "Jeez, Dief, you scared me." Distracted from his obsessions, Ray shut the door and locked all the locks provided, looking at them skeptically.

"What the hell," he muttered. "If we get mugged, I can shoot somebody. I've been dying to shoot somebody." He went over to the bedside table and emptied his pockets methodically: wallet, keys, change, phone, handcuffs, gun. He stared at the cigarette lighter for a second before putting it down gently beside the other things.

"You're out of bullets," Fraser observed.

"Yeah, I'm out of bullets, and my spare gun was in the"--he hesitated and then plunged on--"in the Riv, and do you have to remind me what I spent my last bullet on?"

"Sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to," Fraser said, walking towards the bathroom.

"Oh, no you don't!" Ray yelled, heading Fraser off at the bathroom door. "I'm having a shower first, before all the hot water is gone."

"All right, Ray," Fraser said mildly, "but do you mind if I..." He made a vague gesture with one hand.

"Yeah, sure, Fraser. Go ahead," Ray said, embarrassed. Sometimes he forgot that Fraser had to pee like any other mortal man.

With closed eyes, Ray stood under the jet of lukewarm water. It had been hot for about two minutes, and that was about five minutes ago. Although he had finished washing, he was reluctant to go back out to the other room and face Fraser again. This was the first time he'd been alone all day and he wanted to drag it out a little. The sparse stream from the "water-saver" nozzle was biting into his scalp, but he welcomed the pain as an antidote to the unremitting anger that had been washing through his body for hours. If he could just relax and let the post-crisis numbness set in, maybe he could sleep. And Ray wanted badly to sleep. If only the hot water had lasted longer, he could have begun to unwind and wash the day out of his system as the dirt sloughed off his body. Now he was getting cold. He pushed the handle in viciously and started at the retort of the water hammer.

There were only two small towels, the really thin kind that soak through in a second. They could have been the size of a postage stamp for all the good they did. He rubbed his skin vigorously, trying to warm up. His clothes were sitting on the floor in a heap. There was really nothing he could do about them. His pants were caked with mud that was flaking off on the bathmat. Maybe in the morning when they were completely dry he could shake more of it off. Ray picked up his boxers with distaste. At least they weren't muddy, but that's all he could say for them. He slipped them on, suppressing a shudder. His skin was all gooseflesh from the cold. Sighing, he put on his sleeveless undershirt despite the mud stain down the center of the chest.

Goddamn Fraser, anyway. How could he have done this? How did he get Ray to follow him down the road to disaster time after time? Ray hated himself. His life didn't use to be like this, did it? He should have said no this morning and just let Fraser drive the Riv. It wasn't as if something worse could have happened to it. He ought to be in Florida right now. Ray threw his used towel down into the corner. He didn't know what he was going to do, but this time he wasn't letting Fraser get away with it.

Ray came out of the bathroom forcefully, banging the door against the wall. "Well, I'm still wearing dirty clothes, and the water was cold, but at least there was soap," he commented. "Now it's time for the next thing to go wrong."

Wearing white boxers and a sleeveless T-shirt that looked immaculate, Fraser was sitting up in bed reading Gideon's Bible. The very sight of Fraser looking so perfect made Ray feel antsy, but the room was too small for prowling. He sat on the single chair in the room and put his feet on the bed. "There's no TV in this dump."

"There's probably nothing on."

"Yeah, nothing but the news," Ray said moodily. "You think they have the story by now? `Cop Blows Up Own Car.' How the hell am I gonna explain this at the precinct? They're never gonna let me forget it."

Fraser glanced at him over the book. "You saved our lives, Ray."

Ray snorted and wrapped his arms around himself. "It's cold in here."

"Get in bed," Fraser advised.

"I'm not ready to yet." Ray stalked over to the space heater by the window and fiddled with it for a while. "Stupid piece of shit is broken." He kicked it with his bare foot and winced. "That's how these assholes make all their money. They rent you a place and then they don't turn on the heat."

"I hardly think that the proprietor of this motel is making much profit, Ray. How many people do you suppose stay here in the average week?"

"I dunno, Fraser," Ray said viciously, "probably no one. Probably just Norman Bates and his mom. Probably just idiots like us who lost their shoe in a snowdrift and blew up their own car. How often do you suppose that happens in your average week?" He was standing over Fraser now, looking down at him with clenched fists. "Of, course, that's what happened to me today, Fraser, but what happened to you? Nothing. Not a fucking thing. You don't even need a shower."

"Yes, I do," Fraser said, closing the book.

"Nothing ever happens to you, Fraser. You roll through this world like a goddamn bulletproof limo. Nothing gets to you. For once, just once, I'd like to see something get to you."

"Things get to me," Fraser said evenly. His lips were slightly parted as he watched Ray carefully. "Ray, did I ever tell you--"

"I swear to god, I'd like to--" They spoke simultaneously and then stopped.

"What would you like to do, Ray?" Fraser asked.

Ray didn't feel the cold anymore. He felt flushed and angry and hard as steel. "I'd like to beat the shit out of you, Fraser," he said softly. They looked at each other for a minute.

"No, you wouldn't," Fraser said.

"Yes, I would."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would!" Ray shouted, turning away and walking back to the foot of the bed so that Fraser couldn't see his face. In his heart, he didn't know what he wanted to do. He was so mad, he felt like lashing out with a fist to that maddeningly square jaw. But when he thought about really doing it...

There was a pause before Fraser spoke. "I understand," he said.

"No, you don't," Ray snapped.

"I think you ought to hit me if you feel like it, Ray," Fraser said.

"Like you couldn't stop me," Ray scoffed uneasily, his back still turned. Hitting Fraser wasn't what he wanted. That wasn't it at all. The picture in his mind showed something else: Fraser weak, Ray's strong hands on him. Behind him, he heard a metallic click and a familiar snap. He spun around and saw that Fraser had fastened Ray's handcuffs around one wrist and was looking at Ray intently.

"Where did you find your handcuffs, Ray?" Fraser asked conversationally, glancing down at them.

"Uh, Ian left them on the seat," Ray said, distracted. "I found them when I was looking...her over. What are you doing, Benny?"

"It's lucky you found them." As Ray watched open-mouthed, Fraser took the key and the Bible and placed them together in the nightstand drawer. Then, quite deliberately, he lay down flat on the covers, threaded the cuffs through the cheap metal headboard, and cuffed his other wrist.

"Now you can do whatever you want, Ray," Fraser said. "I can't stop you." He lay still, waiting, watching Ray's eyes. Dief got up, whined uneasily, and trotted into the bathroom, pushing the door closed behind him.

"Don't be stupid, Benny," Ray said, sitting down next to him and opening the drawer. "I couldn't--" He looked at the little silver key sitting on the Bible and discovered that he didn't want to use it yet. A stab of anxiety tightened his chest. Closing his eyes for a second, he rubbed a hand over his face. "If it wasn't for you, Benny, I could be in a club on the beach with a cold beer and a hot chick. But no. I'm starving, my car is dead, I'm in who-knows-where-the-hell, Michigan, instead of Florida, and you're making me an offer I can't refuse. And I thought this day couldn't get any worse." He chuckled humorlessly. "Maybe I'll just strangle you, Benny. I've been thinking about it all day."

"If that's what you need to do, Ray," Fraser said, looking at him steadily.

Ray closed the drawer and took Fraser's neck between his hands. He could feel the thick tendons under the smooth skin. By this time of day, Ray's face was sandpaper, while Fraser probably could have gone another day without shaving. He squeezed gently, watching Fraser's eyes. There was no fear, but there was something else--a mute appeal he couldn't answer. Ray let go of Fraser and pinched the bridge of his own nose with a thumb and forefinger. This conversation was giving him a headache. "You always call my bluff, Benny. How do you do that?" Once again Fraser had managed to humiliate him. Fraser was cuffed but Ray was the one who felt frustrated and uncertain.

"Because I know you, Ray. So, are you ready to release me?"

Ray looked at him sharply. "Release you? I haven't done anything yet."

"But you know now that you don't want to strangle me," Fraser said reasonably. "If you're finished, there's no reason to keep me bound to the headboard."

"You bound yourself to the headboard, Benny. I haven't decided what my move is yet." Ray felt a nasty and bitter brew of feelings boil up inside him. He'd wait until Fraser asked, maybe even until he begged. He'd had enough of Fraser's bullshit logic for one day. He was tired of being the goat. It would do his soul good to see Fraser panic a little. "Do you want me to let you go?"

Fraser blushed. "That's up to you."

Ray smiled. "So, how do you like it, Benny? How do you like being helpless for a change?" Ray enjoyed saying those words almost as much as he liked looking at Fraser's cuffed wrists. Something dark and hot stirred deep inside him, something stronger than the boiling vindictiveness rising in his chest.

"I... I don't know." Fraser's voice sounded forced, sluggish, as if he was drunk or drugged.

Rising from the bed, Ray pulled off his undershirt and threw it aside. "It's hot in here." He looked down speculatively at Fraser's body. "Starched boxers," he murmured, shaking his head. "You're a weird kind of a guy, Benny." The boxers were starched and they were tented out in front. Ray looked again. Fraser had an erection, and he was blushing like mad. On his face Ray read anticipation with just enough shame and fear thrown in to add the spice Ray needed.

Their gazes caught and held. "Fraser," Ray said slowly, "what the hell are you asking me to do?"

"Whatever you need to do, Ray." Fraser's voice broke on his name.

The room swam in Ray's vision. He seemed to be looking at Fraser through a veil of heat that seared right through him, making his hair stand on end. Lurching forward, Ray pressed his lips against Fraser's, half expecting to feel a hard, prim mouth rejecting him, but instead he felt this yielding fire that went straight to his head. Benny's mouth was soft and warm inside, and his tongue curled around Ray's, stroking it. Ray's tongue dove into him, opening his mouth and probing as far as it could reach. He took Fraser's lower lip between his teeth and sucked it, while his hands held Fraser's face, stroked his hair, felt the flush on his cheeks. Fraser tasted so good, Ray couldn't stand it. They broke apart, breathing hard.

"You like it, don't you?" Ray said with sudden, amused certainty. "You did this because you like being helpless." With a rapid movement, he grabbed a fistful of Fraser's hair and pulled his head back. "Listen to me, Benny," he said, talking close to Fraser's face, "whatever happens in this room tonight, it goes no further. No one ever hears about it, capisce?"

Fraser licked his reddened lips. "Understood," he whispered.

Ray took off his shorts and climbed on the bed. His blood was boiling, churning in his veins. Years ago, he had promised himself that he'd give up men, that he'd stick to women for the rest of his life. But if he didn't do this, he'd flame up, he'd die. His body would burn into ash and there would be nothing left of him but a bare skeleton. Fraser didn't know anything about him, really. Fraser didn't know that he'd done it with men before, but he'd find out soon enough. Straddling Fraser's chest, Ray pumped himself up a little. If Fraser wanted Ray to dominate him, that's what he'd get. "Look at me, Benny. What do you want me to do with this?"

Fraser looked at it. "It's big," he said, staring.

"Yeah, it's big. Funny, the things you don't know about your friends in the normal course of events. Like, is this what you Canadians do during those long winters, Benny? Play games with handcuffs?"

Fraser looked perplexed. "Uh, no, not that I'm--"

Ray cut him off. "I told you to tell me where to put this."

"Put it... Put in my..."

"Say it, Benny."

"Put it in my mouth," Fraser gasped.

Ray moved forward and Fraser took him in as soon as he could reach. God, yes, Ray thought, this was exactly what he needed. Fraser under him, helpless. Fraser sucking his cock. A powerful feeling traveled up his veins like molten steel. Fraser's mouth had seemed a little awkward at first, as if maybe Ray's size was hard for him to handle, but now he was sucking hard and doing obscene things with his tongue. Ray buried his hands in Fraser's hair. He remembered calling it a pelt, and it was thick enough to be one. Holding Fraser's head, Ray started fucking his mouth slowly, deeply. Fraser was taking it, his mouth open wide, his head pinned to the pillow by Ray's thrusts. He breathed loudly through his nose as if he might be having trouble catching his breath. Ray didn't care. He felt that Fraser owed him this, and it was good, so good. Suddenly Fraser gagged, and Ray pulled back, startled.

"I'm sorry, Ray," Fraser said. He sounded so contrite that Ray's own apology died on his lips. Ray smiled to see that Fraser's chin shone with saliva and Ray's juice. Moving back, Ray kneeled over him and took his mouth again. Fraser tasted of sex now, and he moaned a little as Ray kissed him, as if this was the thing he wanted most in the world. When Ray broke away, Fraser lifted his head, trying to follow Ray's mouth.

"You're gonna finish eating me, Benny," Ray said thickly. "You're gonna suck my cock again." He moved up and rubbed it over Fraser's lips.

"Ray," Fraser moaned.

"You want it back, don't you?" Ray said, stroking Fraser's hair. "Show me."

Fraser's tongue darted out and licked the glistening head. He kissed it and savored it with his lips. He mouthed Ray with an ardent appetite, a look of eager interest on his angelic face. Fraser seemed to be drunk on Ray's taste and scent. Almost undone, Ray slid back inside as hard as he dared. He took Fraser by the hair again and shoved himself in a few more times, and then he was coming, convulsing with pleasure as he watched and felt Fraser drink him down. But Ray felt no tenderness to see Benny serve him so humbly. Every pulse of Ray's bliss, every suck of Benny's mouth, made Ray feel more powerful. It felt good to take what he needed from Fraser like this.

When Ray withdrew, he hadn't softened much, and he knew that he wasn't done, not by a long shot. In a few minutes he'd be ready again, and he knew what he wanted to do about it. Sliding down, he pulled off Fraser's shorts and lay between his thighs to swallow him whole.

Fraser struggled to come, but Ray made him wait. Fraser's cock was delicious, and Ray had always loved to do this--he loved giving head and it had always shamed him, but somehow with Fraser locked in the cuffs it didn't matter anymore, and he could take his sweet time doing what he wanted while Fraser moaned and cried out his name. Ray played with the foreskin, fascinated, making Fraser buck up his hips. He bit Fraser's thighs until Fraser made an inarticulate sound Ray had never heard from him before. He was struggling to form words.

"Ray, please." Fraser was begging him, and it made Ray hard just to hear Fraser plead like that. Ray's chest swelled with the feeling that, if he could reduce Fraser to this, he could do anything.

"What if I leave you here like this?" Ray said meanly, teasing Fraser's cock with light touches. "You look pretty good, Benny. What if I just admire you for awhile? What if I never let you come?"

"No!" Fraser was shaking his head, rattling the cuffs against the headboard, and when Ray got up and stepped back to look at him, he saw real fear in Fraser's eyes. "Ray!"

He bent to kiss his partner lightly on the lips and forehead. "It's all right, Benny," he said. "I'm gonna make you come, don't worry. And then I'm gonna fuck you. I'm gonna put my cock inside you, Benny." Fraser moaned wordlessly, but his whole body was in motion, trying to rise off the bed, yearning towards Ray, and the heat radiated off him in waves. "That's what I want to do to you, Benny," Ray whispered, "and you can't stop me."

Then Ray knelt between Fraser's legs and swallowed him again, fucking Fraser steadily with his mouth until he felt the heat build and the smooth, sweet flesh at the head of Fraser's cock get firm and swollen with blood. When he came, Fraser was moving so hard the headboard was banging against the wall. He was almost screaming with it. Ray wondered if anyone had ever done this bondage thing for Benny before.

Ray let Fraser come into his mouth. He wanted to swallow it, but he didn't. Instead he spit it into his hands and rubbed it over his cock. Before Fraser had stopped trembling, Ray was lifting his legs to push slick fingers inside him, massaging and stretching him. Right now, and with no delay, Ray needed to fuck Benny.

"Yes, Ray," Fraser said softly, his face beaming with happiness, and Ray knew he was good, but he couldn't imagine what he was doing to make Benny look so goddamned grateful. Maybe this was a kink that Fraser had never been able to act out. Ray had done his share of weird stuff, but he always felt a little contempt for people who had to be tied up to get off. But right now he couldn't think about what twisted shit made Fraser tick, or how Fraser had always managed to seem so innocent if he got off on stuff like this. Inside Ray there was a car being shot with a gun, and he was about to blow. He was going to fuck his friend as thoroughly as he knew how and he was going to wipe the sight of that explosion off the inside of his eyelids.

He put his cock at Benny's hole and pushed. He entered a little and stopped. Just from Benny's look he could tell it hurt, so he pulled out again and pushed his fingers in there, stretching it wider. The second time he went in easier, sliding past the muscles with a little jolt, and Benny cried out when Ray grabbed his hips with both semen-slick hands and slid home. They stayed that way for a moment, suspended, as Benny adjusted to the burden of Ray's cock inside him and Ray got a grip on himself. It had been so long since he'd fucked someone. He needed this to last.

Pull back, slide in. Pull back, slide in. Pull back... Ray was a machine, starting slowly until he thought Benny could take it. Shoving up the thin undershirt, he mouthed Benny's smooth chest, pulled Benny's nipples with his teeth and sucked them to swollen red points. Benny's legs were tight around his back. His chest glistened with sweat and spit.

And his face--Ray had never seen anything so glorious as Benny's face, flushed with surprise and pleasure, glassy eyed. Benny had no idea it could be so good, and Ray was showing him. Ray was getting through to him. Finally, finally. Ray was fucking Benny for all the things that Benny knew and Ray didn't, for all the times Ray had almost died following him on some wild goose chase, for all the humiliations, great and small. Most of all, Ray was fucking Benny for the Riv, for that moment when Ray's shaking hands had held the gun and his finger had pulled the trigger. This was for the fireball that had burned up and was still burning up the last vestiges of Ray's youth, his dead hopes and dreams, his life with Ange. Ray moved faster, with more and more force, until his balls were slapping against Benny's ass, the bed was slamming into the wall, until he was crying out, coming long and hard into Benny, seeing a flash of light behind his closed eyelids.

And as he lay on top of Benny, the fire went out and suddenly he was fumbling for the key, unlocking Benny's wrists with shaking hands, kissing the raw, red bands on the skin, rubbing them with his fingers. Ray's chest tightened with guilt when he looked at those raw places.

"I'm sorry, Benny. God, I'm sorry."

"For what, Ray?" Fraser held Ray hard around the waist and stroked his back.

"I went a little overboard. You surprised me. I just didn't figure you for a kinky kind of a guy," he said, sliding off to lie at Fraser's side. Ray felt a slick wetness between them and realized that Fraser had come. Without even thinking about it, without even trying, he had made Benny come. "So, Benny, who got you into this bondage stuff? I mean, I know you Canadians need to keep each other warm and all, but--"

"I've never done any of those things before." Benny nuzzled his face between Ray's neck and shoulder and breathed in deeply, as if inhaling his scent.

Ray's heart seemed to pause in his chest. "But you... you've... had sex before, right?"

"No." Ray could feel the warmth of Benny's blush against his neck. "Well, I... I made love to a woman once."

"Oh, sweet Jesus, Benny. Jesus. Why didn't you tell me? Why the hell did you put yourself in those cuffs?" Ray asked, his voice weak and thready.

"I thought it would make you feel better," Fraser said simply.

The fire was receding from Ray's veins, and he felt as cold as this god-forsaken hotel room. No wonder Fraser's mouth had been so awkward, his ass had been so tight. What a hell of a first time. No tenderness. Anything but. "Christ, Benny, why did you let me fuck you?"

"I said I wanted you to," Fraser murmured with his lips against Ray's throat.

Ray closed his eyes. "You wanted me to take you like that, without even asking you--"

"I told you to do it."

"I was so worked up, I woulda done it anyway."

"No, you wouldn't."

Ray pulled back to look his friend in the face. "Listen, Fraser, you think you know me, but you don't. You don't know what was going through my mind. I was feeling crazy. I had murderous thoughts. I've hardly ever been that angry in my life."

"It was just a car, Ray."

"When I bought that car, I was married. I was happy. It was the car I'd always wanted. Blowing that baby up was like...well, it was like putting a gun to my head or something."

"It was your duty, Ray. You had to save Ian. He was our prisoner."

"Oh, man, I didn't give a fuck about him. I was saving you and me. I wouldn't have given the Riv's spare tire to save that creep." Fraser looked disappointed, and Ray felt the familiar twinge that look always gave him. He spoke quickly, before he could chicken out. "Look, Benny, about tonight. You don't have to pretend or be polite about it, for god's sake. I screwed up. I did something you maybe really didn't want, and if you want to deck me, or if you want to forget it ever happened, I'll understand."

Fraser looked at him blankly. Ray closed his eyes. God, why had he thought this was a good idea? How the hell could Ray have assumed that Benny was experienced, let alone kinky? What Ray had done was no way to treat a friend.

And the worst part was that Benny wanted him, and he wanted Benny. There it sat, on the table. All the sparring and arguing, that strange, combustible brew of attraction and frustration in the bond that united them, it had all led to this. All it took was one spark to cause an explosion. And if Ray had kept his wits about him, it never would have happened. It was all his fault, and he had to fix it.

Benny's hand took his shoulder, pulling him closer. "What is it, Ray?"

"I don't know. It's just... What a day." Ray let himself be drawn into a kiss. Lying there pressed against Benny's warm skin, Ray knew he couldn't let go yet. It was easy to tell himself that tonight wasn't really part of their lives, that they could deal with reality tomorrow. Ray knew that was bullshit. His cowardly heart seemed to shrink in his chest.

Ray felt Benny's smile touch his lips. "It'll be all right, Ray."

But Ray wasn't sure if it would ever be all right. He knew that he'd wake up in the morning 150 miles from Chicago, and he'd have to put those dirty clothes on and trudge through the cold with his thumb sticking out until they could get to a Greyhound station. And he knew that he'd wake up with Benny naked in his arms, and they'd make love, and then he'd have to pump up his courage and tell him they were through. Ray had started something he couldn't finish, and he felt like a class-A heel. He couldn't be Benny's Chicago lover. Only in another world where people minded their own business about other people's sex lives could Ray and Benny be together. Ray had heard a lot about tolerance and equality, but he'd never seen much evidence of that world coming. And until it did, he knew he couldn't live up to what Benny wanted from him.

A sound from the clock on the bedside table made Ray's eyes snap open. A twelve and two zeros had dropped down to replace eleven, five, nine, and, Jesus H. Christ, it was finally midnight. The worst day of Ray's life was over.