Author's Website: http://www.geocities.com/norseblue/main.html

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: If you recognize it, lay odds it belongs to Alliance, Paul Haggis, or Mickey Mouse. Please no lawsuits or otters (frozen, dead, or otherwise). "I Live With It Every Day” and "The Old Apartment” are used without permission and can be found on the Barenaked Ladies disc, "Born On A Pirate Ship.” Sarah McLachlan's "Ice Cream” provided the inspiration for this story; I'm sure it would warm her heart to know that. :)

Author's Notes: I have no idea where this came from. I sat down to write a nice, little introspective RayV PG-rated piece and ended up with *this*, a voyeur's look at RayV/BF. Strictly PWP.
All hail Christal, wonder beta!

Story Notes: Rating: NC-17 PWP
Date: July 2001
Archive: Anyone who wants it--just ask me first.
Spoilers: General spoilage for the first two seasons and the beginning of the third.
Series/Sequel: Nope
Feedback: Pwetty pwease?
Warnings: Oh yeah. NC-17 for slashiness. PWP, UST (sorta), Angst abounds.

             The love I put away
              Like games that children play
             The hearts you choose to break
              Like cars dumped in the lake
             The laugh lines on your face
              The life I won't embrace
                   -- S. Duffy & S. Page, "I Live With It Every Day"

The Old Apartment
by Poet

He wasn't supposed to be there. It was a crime scene, for chrissakes. He'd had to break the yellow police tape to get in--not that you could really consider this "in," not in the strictest sense of the word. He was more mixed up with the ash and rubble than actually inside anything even remotely resembling a man-made structure. Ray sat with his legs crossed and his hands resting in the black mess, taking shelter from the wind behind what was probably once a refrigerator. His coat was covered with soot smudges that he knew the drycleaner would never be able to get out. //I haven't seen him in almost 7 months, and I'm still ruining perfectly good suits for him. Maybe I should do this more often, you know, for old time's sake. Every few months I'll put on my best suit and have a good roll in the mud.// Ray looked up to where Benny's apartment had been, or at least where he thought it had been; he counted the few support beams that remained and decided he had been right.

There wasn't enough of the stairs left for him to actually make it up to 3J, so Ray would have to settle for Mrs. Farnsworth's first floor apartment. Ray closed his eyes and tried to imagine Fraser standing at his small stove, dressed in black jodhpurs, RCMP-issue boots, and a ribbed white wife-beater. He imagined him turning away from whatever he was cooking, saw Fraser leaning back with his arms crossed, giving Ray a disapproving look for something he'd said. He saw Fraser trying to hide the quirk of his lips as Ray stood and slowly ambled across the floor.

He inches closer until they are almost nose-to-nose. Ray can feel the heat from the stove pouring over him, causing beads of sweat to stand out on his brow. Or maybe it's just the heat from Benny.

Benny's breathing heavy now, too; a droplet of sweat traces its way down his cheek and catches on his upper lip. Ray focuses on the other man's lip and leans in, his chest pressing against Benny's still-crossed arms; he raises his eyes to meet his lover's a second before his tongue darts out to sweep the drop from Benny's mouth. Benny closes his eyes and gasps, his lips parting. Ray takes that as an invitation, tracing his tongue along Benny's upper lip to the corner of his mouth, where he places a light kiss. He pulls back, and Benny whimpers softly. Ray tilts his head up and kisses away the frown lines furrowing Benny's brow, while gently uncrossing his lover's arms and wrapping them around his own waist; Benny smiles softly and tightens his arms around the man he loves. Ray places a hand behind Benny's neck and brings their mouths together, lightly massaging Benny's lips with his own. Benny opens his mouth to Ray's questing tongue and whimpers again as deft fingers unfasten his suspenders and begin unbuttoning his trousers. Looping a finger through one belt loop and replacing his hand behind Benny's neck, Ray slowly backs towards the rickety bed, dragging his lover with him.

When he feels the bed bump the back of his calves, Ray turns Benny around, and pushes him into a sitting position. He kneels and slowly unties the thin laces of each boot and slides them off, removing the socks with them. Ray looks up at the feel of soft hands running over his closely shorn hair. He trails his hands up Benny's legs until they're resting at his lover's waist. He curls his fingers under the hem of the undershirt and lifts up, letting his hands slide against pale white skin, until the shirt is over Benny's head. Ray's hands skim all along the other man's chest, brushing against rose-colored nipples on their way down. An unspoken command is given and received, and Benny raises his hips, allowing Ray to slide the jodhpurs and boxer shorts down and off.

Ray returns his gaze to his lover, placing a hand on the inside of either thigh and pushing them apart, allowing him better access. He leans forward, but instead of taking Benny's cock into his mouth, he lays a kiss at the base and breathes in the scent of the other man's arousal. He flicks out his tongue, tracing across the foreskin, and gets a hiss of pleasure in return. When he reaches the tip, he opens his mouth and begins lightly sucking on the head. As his mouth moves over his lover's cock, his lips push the foreskin back and his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin. Ray's hands move up the warm thighs to Benny's hips, stilling his partner's thrusts. His mouth begins moving up and down the length of his lover's cock, finding a rhythm that would drag out the buildup to Benny's orgasm as long as possible; slow, barely making contact.

Ray's lips are scarcely touching Benny's cock, delicately brushing up and down the shaft. Subtly, Ray brings his tongue into contact, licking along the underside of his lover's cock and swirling around the head; there's a moan overhead as he probes the slit with his tongue. Ray's mouth engulfs the head, creating a tight seal, and doesn't stop advancing until his lips reach the base. The sheets are bunched up in Benny's fists and his hips begin to buck erratically. Ray pauses a moment and looks up, transfixed by his beautiful lover, pale skin flushed and sweating, rosy lips parted. There's something like wonder in Ray's eyes; the sight takes his breath away. Then Benny's urgent thrusts bring Ray back to the job at hand, and he begins to suck in earnest. When he feels his lover's body begin to tense, he tilts his head back slightly, and swallows, grateful to be able to taste Benny, his Benny, like this.

Ray rises from his position on the floor and settles himself, still fully clothed, on top of his lover. "I love you, Benny." He gets a sleepy smile and a large yawn in return. He'll be getting more later, he knows, but for now, just this is enough.

Ray stood, brushing his hands together in an attempt to dislodge some of the filth covering his palms. In the end he gave up and just shoved them into the pockets of his coat where it was warmer. He took a final look at the remains of the building that once stood at 221 West Racine, then turned to leave. Slowly, he began the 12-block walk back to the corner where the taxi had dropped him off, where the taxi would be waiting, to take him back to his hotel room and to Armando Langoustini.

Broke into the old apartment

This is where we used to live
Broken glass, broke and hungry
broken hearts and broken bones

This is where we used to live
Broke into the old apartment

Forty-two stairs from the street
Crooked landing, crooked landlord
Narrow laneway filled with crooks.

This is where we used to live.
Broke into the old apartment

Tore the phone out of the wall
Only memories, fading memories
Blending into dull tableaux

I want them back

"The Old Apartment"
Steven Page & Ed Robertson