by Blarney Stone
Rated Nc-17
Disclaimer: Due South belongs to Alliance, not me. no copyright
infringement is intended.
*****************************************************
Well, he got the desk anyway. In the last few months his whole
life had gone from unbelievable joy to unbearable misery, but at
least he could toss candy wrappers in the drawers of his desk
without the fear that Vecchio would come back and break his
skinny neck for messing up his stuff.
Vecchio would not be coming back to Chicago. At least, not to
work; maybe to visit the family. He didn't really know where the
two of them were planning to go. He had been too busy collecting
his things and getting the hell out of there.
He glanced through the pile of messages from Stella. None of them asked
about him, or what he had been up to during the months that he had been
gone. They all asked about Vecchio; did he know where he was, was he
all right, would he be coming back soon. He crumbled them up into
a ball and pitched them into the trash.
None of the other detectives paid any attention to him They, of
course, had no idea what had happened. They assumed that he had
just been off on another adventure with Fraser. He saw no reason
to explain anything to them. In fact, it would be a whole lot
easier to work here if nobody knew. And the job and the desk were the
only things that he had left.
Strange to think that only a few months ago, he had truly
believed that he had found what he had been looking for all his
life.
Fraser and he were waiting out a particularly nasty blizzard in a cabin
that belong to one of Fraser's weird friends, who as luck
would have it, was doing time for poaching. The cabin had a wood
burning stove and for the first time since this adventure began
he was really warm. Not that he was complaining. These were the
happiest days of his life and they were about to get happier.
Fraser spread out furs on the floor. There was no bed, but that
was okay, he was getting used to sleeping wherever and whenever
they had the oppotunity. Fraser looked at him with those innocent blue
eyes and said his name, "Ray?"
Ray knew what he wanted. He had known it since Fraser had first
suggested that they go in search of the hand of Franklin reaching for
the Beaufort sea. That had been three weeks ago. They hadn't
found any hands, but they had grown closer. Fraser had treated
him like a dog that had been kicked around too many times and had to
be slowly coaxed into trusting human contact again. They had
been sleeping together, chastely, since they had started out. He
had too quickly gotten used to sleeping wrapped in Fraser's arms, safe
from the cold, and the cruelties of life.
He walked over, and stood looking down at Fraser. "I haven't done
this before. I mean, not with another guy," he said,
not adding that he had thought about it alot, especially since
meeting a certain mountie.
Fraser took his hand and pulled him down to sit beside him.
"I know, Ray."
One hand carefully stroked his face, and Ray closed his eyes, as
Fraser leaned in for a kiss. Their lip brushed and Fraser
whispered, "You can tell me to stop if you want me to."
Not daring to open his eyes, he answered, "Don't stop, don't ever
stop."
They kissed again; Fraser's tongue gently, yet firmly demanding
entrance to his mouth. It was given. The taste of Fraser
overwhelmed him, as it had once before on a sinking freighter.
This time it was accompanied by the clean, piney scent of the
man. His arms wound around Fraser's neck and his mind screamed,
"Never, never let go."
Fraser's hands worked quickly and efficiently undoing buttons,
snaps, zippers and anything else that got in the way. As the
layers of clothes fell away, Ray finally dared to look at Fraser. His
eyes were full of passion, and determination, but still so .
.gentle. That was the word to describe him. With a small cry of
desire, he attacked Fraser's mouth, while his hands clumsily
attempted to yank the mountie's clothes off. Fraser lifted him up to
slide his pants down his thin hips, then he lowered him down
on the furs.
Watching his soon-to-be lover remove the rest of his clothes, Ray marvelled
at the well-muscled chest and thighs, and wondered, not for the first
time, why Fraser would want his undernourished
body. But he did, and that was all that mattered.
"Ray, " Fraser breathed. bending to trace a line of
kisses down his chest, moving ever lower.
As Fraser finally reached his swollen shaft, and ran his tongue
along the length of it, memories of every time that he had stood
by watching Fraser lick or put something strange into his mouth
filled his head, and he knew that this was what he had wanted
from the start.
Kissing the tip first, with a mischievious glint in his eyes,
Fraser took the shaft into his mouth, and began to suck. He was
rewarded with a strangled gasp of pleasure from his partner, who
eagerly began to thrust into that warm, wet paradise. After an
eternity, Ray cried out, "Fraser!" and climaxed.
Releasing the now limp member, Fraser laid his head on Ray's
stomach and waited for his breathing to calm. Ray stroked his
hair and finally whispered, "Do you want me to. .?"
Fraser smiled at the uncertainty in his lover's voice. Ray was
completely out of his element. He lifted up and gazed into the
other's eyes. He saw willingness there and a real desire to
please. He said, "No, Ray. That's not what I want."
First confusion, then comprehension filled Ray's eyes.
Without a word, Ray turned over onto his stomach. Fraser
whispered, "Are you sure?"
"Yes," was the barely audible reply. Warm hands and
warm kisses worked their way along his back and hips. Then a
moment of seperation, and Fraser's fingers covered in something
sticky made their way between his cheeks, and into the the tight
passage. Ray was absolutely certain that he didn't want to know
what substance Fraser was generously coating him with. Completing this
task. Fraser turned him on his side and stretched out his
body alongside him. His mouth was next to Ray's ear, whispering,
"Everything will be all right. I promise."
Ray felt an intense pressure as Fraser slowly pushed his engorged shaft
into the small opening. He bit back a cry of pain, knowing
that Fraser would stop if he thought he was hurting him. Is this
what it feels like to be a virgin?, Ray thought, and then had to
fight back the urge to giggle.
Meanwhile, Fraser's hand had found Ray's cock, and the barest
touch had caused a renewed erection. Whispering in the Inuit
language into Ray's ear, Fraser began to thrust in earnest,
working the thin body mercilessly.
The two moved together, caught in their own private world of
pleasure, until with a wordless cry from Ray and and untelligible one
from Fraser, they exploded into a million wonderful pieces.
Sometime later, as they lay stil entwined and half-asleep, Ray
said, "I love you, Fraser."
"I've always loved you Ray. I never stopped," was the
sleepy reply.
Two more glorious months were spent together, exploring every
possible way that two bodies could become one. Then one bright,
lovely summer morning. Fraser and Ray found themselves in
Moosejaw. Fraser hoped to question a local named Hatfield, who
might have some information that could help them find the remains of
Franklin.
As they made their way along the street, a familair voice sounded from
behind. "Hello Benny." Fraser stopped in his
tracks; his mouth working, but not sound coming out. Ray looked
into his eyes, and what he saw there caused his whole world to
collapse. He turned around and faced Vecchio, who looked even
sillier dressed in flannel than he did. Fraser stood rooted to
the spot unable to move.
Vecchio smiled, "Did you find it yet?"
"Find what?" Ray asked numbly.
"The bony hand of Franklin, reaching for the Beaumont
sea." Vecchio's eyes drilled a hole in Fraser's back, but
still the mountie didn't turn around.
"Beaufort," Ray said without enthusiasm.
"Benny, aren't you gonna even look at me after I've come all this
way?" Vecchio's voice took on a pleading quaity. When
he got no response, he turned his attention to Ray. "Look
Kowalski, I gotta be honest with you. I've been sleeping with
your ex. It was just a fling and it's over now. I hope you
understand."
"Yeah, oh yeah, I understand," Ray said, and he did.
All too well. "You guys probably want to talk, so I'm gonna
go grab a beer. I'll see you later Fraser." With that he
walked across the street and into a bar. After paying for his
beer, he found a seat by the window and watched the reunion take
place.
For awhile Vecchio continued to speak to Fraser's back. Then at
last the mountie faced his former partner. Ray couldn't hear what was
being said, but he didn't need to.
At last, Fraser and Vecchio parted and Fraser headed for the bar. He
sat down across from Ray and stared at his hands. "Ray,
we have to talk," he finally said.
"No we don't Fraser. I've pretty much got one this figured
out."
Fraser's eyes were filled with pain as he said, "I never
meant to hurt you."
"I know, that's just the way it works out sometimes."
He stood up. "Well, I guess I better be getting back to
Chicago. I hope they'll give me my job back."
As he walked away, Fraser called, "I'm sorry, Ray."
He turned around for one last look. "Bye Fraser."
That had been a month and a half ago. Welsh and the others had
welcomed him back. He spun them a story about how Fraser and he
had roamed the Great White North for months looking for that
stupid hand until he had had enough and returned to civilization. They
had laughed at that. He told them that Fraser wouldn't be
back any time soon; that he was too happy to be back among the
moose and the caribou. He didn't mention a word about Vecchio.
So here he was. He had his job and his desk back. He had an
ex-wife and an ex-lover who's hearts both belonged to another
man. He had lain in his bed every night since his returned and
silently said to himself that he wished he had never met that
mountie with his big blue eyes and his stupid Inuit stories, but
he knew it wasn't true.
Grabbing his jacket, he said, "I'm going for lunch, if
anybody's looking for me." But, of course, no one was.
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