Author's disclaimer: They belong to Alliance

Author's notes: Part 3, then. Thanks to all the usual suspects, as well as to C, who pawed at the computer until this was done! Enjoy.

Otters for me; plaudits for everyone else.

THE ROAD HOME

Ray woke early the next morning and lay still in bed, trying to work out what was different. Oh yeah, he was warm. And Fraser was lying spooned against him, breathing deeply and steadily. That was good, that was right. He had done The Right Thing the previous night, asking Fraser to come over and talk a bit. He had cried like a woman in the other man's arms, but that had been okay too.

He shifted onto his back to try and see Fraser without disturbing him, but when he met those deep blue eyes staring at him he realised that Fraser hadn't been asleep anyway.

"Um hi?" Ray tried tentatively. "Happy to be here?"

Fraser smiled. "Hi," he answered. "Incredibly."

"Good."

They lay in silence for a minute, staring at each other, not sure what to do next. Finally Fraser raised his hand and cupped Ray's face. He felt the involuntary flinch away, quickly stilled, and inside he mourned for something which had been lost.

"Ray..." Fraser began, but Ray shook his head.

"No, don't," he said. "I don't wanna start prodding at it, okay?" He pulled away from Fraser and climbed out of bed, wincing as injured muscles protested.

"Fuck!" He sat down on the edge of the mattress and put his hands in the small of his back, arching his body to try and ease some of the soreness.

Fraser sat up and put his hands on Ray's shoulders, slowly rubbing at the soreness. Ray pulled away with an apologetic smile and pointed towards the bathroom.

He locked the door and leaned against it, his head in his hands. He could do this; he could. He had allowed Fraser back into their bed; it wasn't fair that he wouldn't let the Mountie touch him. He knew; he absolutely * knew * that Fraser wouldn't hurt him, but it wasn't Fraser he felt when those hands touched him. Now that he had started to acknowledge what had happened to him there wasn't enough room in his head for all the disgust and self loathing.

When Ray emerged from the bathroom, Fraser had made the coffee and left it standing on the counter in the kitchen. He was standing by the window looking out at the street.

"Hey," said Ray quietly, coming up behind him and putting his arms around his Mountie. He rested his head against Fraser's broad back.

"I'm sorry," Ray said quietly. "I'll be okay."

Fraser turned round and hugged Ray, briefly but hard.

"And I'll be here," he answered.

Ray walked into the kitchen and picked up his coffee while Fraser went into the bathroom. He pulled himself up onto the counter and stared into the cup, not drinking. He felt like he was being haunted by what had happened to him; every time he looked at Fraser or touched him, or was touched, it was as if a shadow descended on him, whispering in his ear, telling him how dirty and evil he was to have let this happen to him.

He needed Fraser's light and he didn't know how to get it back.

When Fraser came out of the bathroom he was already in his dress uniform; his barrier against the harsh reality of the world. Ray was sitting on the kitchen counter, coffee held carelessly in one hand. Fraser could see that he hadn't drunk any of it.

"Ray, I have to get to work," said Fraser. "Will you be all right here or would it be better if you came to the Consulate, or perhaps even called in at the precinct?"

Ray's head shot up. "God, I'm not going there!" he said. Then with a visible effort he calmed down and from somewhere found an almost natural smile. "Nah, I'll be fine here." Then he betrayed himself by asking, over casually, "When'll you be back?"

"As soon as I can," answered Fraser. "If it's okay with you I'm going to request a couple of days off so that I can be here with you." He paused. "Would you like me to leave Dief here?"

Ray smiled, and this time it was more genuine. "That'd be nice. I'd like that."

"Well I'll see you in a few hours, okay?" Fraser took a step towards the smaller man, but stopped when Ray's body tensed briefly.

With as warm a smile as he could manage under the circumstances, Fraser left the apartment.

As soon as the door closed, Ray threw the cup against the far wall, spattering the walls and furnishings with cold coffee. Dief huffed and took himself into the bedroom, letting his packmate work out his anger.

"Fuck!" Ray said aloud. "You stupid, useless fucking fuckhead!" He pushed himself off the counter and walked over to the stereo, switching on the CD player, not caring what was on, as long as it was loud enough to drown out his thoughts. He lay on the couch, where he had spent so much of the past few days and buried his head in one of the cushions.

He surprised himself when he started to cry.

When Fraser arrived at the Consulate, he wasn't at all surprised to be dragged into a discussion on the minutiae of Consulate life. He was finding these conversations more and more inane and was beginning to realise that Ray was right when he said that Thatcher only started them so that she could have Fraser standing in front of her, practically at her mercy.

"So do we agree that to store the records in year order would be far more sensible than alphabetically?" Thatcher asked, gazing fixedly at Fraser in a way he had always found most disconcerting.

"Well..." The orderly part of Fraser's mind wanted to argue with Thatcher's new found system, but the part of him which wanted to be with Ray won out. "Yes Sir, I think that is an inspired idea. Perhaps we could set Turnbull do doing just that later today?"

"Why not now?" asked the Inspector.

"Well because at the moment he is on guard duty." Fraser paused. "Sir I would respectfully like to request a few days' leave, beginning well as soon as possible."

"Why? What do you have to do that is more important than your work here?"

"As you know Sir, Ray has been under the weather for a few days now. I would like to be with him until he's recovered."

The Inspector frowned, then quickly altered her expression; hours in front of the mirror had shown her how unattractive that expression was. She didn't approve of Fraser's relationship with the dumb Detective, but she had been surprised by just how stubborn Fraser could be over this.

"How long do you intend to take?" she asked instead.

"Initially I would like three days. It may be more, depending on how Ray progresses." Fraser answered.

"Oh very well," snapped Thatcher, knowing that she couldn't win this Fraser was owed far too much time. "Just make sure your desk is clear before you leave."

"Yes Sir. Thank you." Breathing a sigh of relief, Fraser made his escape.

Much to the Mountie's frustration it was still over four hours before he was able to get away from the Consulate.

He changed out of his serge in his office, putting on jeans and a soft shirt. He wanted Ray to realise that they were officially on vacation. Even if it could only be for a few days, Ray came first in everything, with no work and no foolish 'duty' to get in the way.

He walked out of the Consulate with a light step and turned towards the apartment. He still wasn't sure if it was 'their' apartment again; that would be up to Ray.

He heard the music before he was anywhere near the apartment door. Loud, thumping music; Ray's 'black days' music. He had told Fraser that sometimes he needed music just to stop himself from thinking. Fraser sighed and briefly rested his head against the apartment door before letting himself in.

The sight that met his eyes made him want to bolt the door against the world and never let Ray get into any situation where he could be hurt ever again.

Ray lay on the couch, asleep. Even from where Fraser stood, he could see that the other man had been crying. And although he was lying still his sleep wasn't restful, Fraser could tell from the expression on Ray's face. His eyes were screwed tightly shut and his hands were curled into fists. Fraser wanted him back from that place he was in; he didn't want Ray to hurt any more.

Fraser turned the music off and approached the couch.

"Ray?" he said softly. "Ray, are you okay?" He put a gentle hand on Ray's shoulder, bracing himself for the reaction he knew he would get.

He was surprised that when Ray opened his eyes there was no fear or hurt in them. Just loss and defeat and despair. He didn't pull away from Fraser's hand but nor did he push up into the embrace in the way he always used to.

"Ray?" Fraser repeated. Ray shook his head and turned his face away.

"Why are you here, Fraser?" he asked, low and lost. "Why are you with me? You should just get out now before I drag you down into this pit with me."

Fraser slowly began to move his hand on Ray's shoulder, trying to soothe him with a touch.

"I'm here because I love you and because I want to help you get better," he said softly. "Please let me help you."

"It wasn't your fault you know," said Ray, still quiet. "Just because you were late doesn't mean it wouldn't have happened anyway. You don't have to stay with me out of guilt."

"It's not guilt, Ray!" Fraser said it a little more harshly than he meant. "It's not guilt," he repeated softly. He dropped to his knees by the couch. "It's love," he said simply. "It's always been love, for as long as I've known you. And more; it's friendship. Before anything else happened you were my friend. And I don't want my friend to suffer anymore."

Ray shook his head, refusing to look at Fraser. He muttered something which Fraser's sharp ears didn't hear, so the Mountie leaned forward.

"What was that Ray? What did you say?"

Ray pulled away and tried to curl himself up into a protective ball on the couch.

"I said, how can you even look at me?" said Ray, a little louder.

"It's never been a problem for me, Ray," said Fraser, and was rewarded with a snort from Ray, which could almost have been a laugh.

"I'm just so tired, Frase," said Ray. "I can't I can't think anymore, I can't see anything any more. There's just this big screen in my head an' it's all fuzzy and mixed up. Nothing makes sense. And all the time there's this big black hole that's pullin' me in, an' I can't escape. I don't even know if I want to."

"Well I want you to escape," said Fraser quietly. "I want to help you. Let me help you."

Slowly Ray uncurled and turned to look at the Mountie. He reached up a tentative hand and stroked the smooth cheek.

"I guess I'm a lucky son of a bitch then," he said.

As Fraser climbed wearily into bed that night, Ray lifted his head from the pillow and looked at the other man, not smiling. Fraser settled and Ray scooted over immediately, settling his head in its old accustomed place on the Mountie's shoulder.

Surprised, Fraser laid his hand softly on Ray's head. Ray looked up.

"Can I?" he asked. "Is this okay?"

"Of course Ray," answered Fraser. "Whatever you like."

It was sweet torment for Fraser, having that loved and desired body so close, yet being unable to do more than hold it lightly against him. He wanted to pull Ray close, kiss away all the hurt and fear and make it all right again. But he couldn't. Although Ray lay still, Fraser could feel the energy running through him and he knew that if he made a sudden move, Ray would bolt and any bridges that had been built would crumble.

"Ray?" he asked quietly. Ray grunted against his shoulder.

"Why are you so frightened of me?"

Ray looked up, startled. "I'm not," he said. "I'm not frightened of you. Why would I be?"

"Then why won't you let me touch you?" asked Fraser, wishing he had never started this.

"What do you mean? You're touching me now," said Ray.

"You know what I mean," answered Fraser. "I know that you don't want me to make love to you and I understand that, but when I touch you, or even if I just brush past you when you don't know I'm there, I feel the tension in you. Is it me? Have I done something?"

"God, no!" Ray pushed himself up on one hand so that he could see Fraser's face. "It's me. It's all me. I'm just a screw up."

"No, you're never that, Ray!" protested Fraser. "Just tell me what it is."

Ray lowered himself to the bed again so that he wouldn't have to look Fraser in the eye.

"When you came back last night," he began hesitantly, "and I cried like a little kid, I thought that maybe that would be the start of something that things would begin to get better. But I dunno, it seems to be worse now. It was horrible when I was alone, but at least I didn't * feel *, y'know? I feel all the time now, and I'm not sure I can stand it." He put a hand on Fraser's chest and began to idly stroke the smooth flesh.

"If you're alone you've only got yourself to answer to," he continued, "But I've got you and I know that I'm not treating you right. But believe me that it's never you."

He continued stroking Fraser's chest, his eyes closed. He could do this; he had to do this, to show Fraser that he loved him and to try and banish the demons that were always in his mind. He couldn't let those creeps damage the only good thing he had going.

Taking a deep breath, Ray ran his hand down Fraser's broad chest, stopping at his stomach. He looked at Fraser, who was lying still, watching Ray's every movement. Ray could feel the other man's pulse quicken and he smiled.

"Fraser..." he said quietly and reached down to kiss the smooth shoulder. Fraser shivered.

"Are you sure you want to do this Ray?" he couldn't help asking, reaching down and putting his own hand over Ray's.

Ray nodded. "Yep. I'm sure. I want you to know how I feel. It's important."

Fraser reached up and took Ray's face between his hands. Slowly, carefully, he kissed Ray, ready for any protest.

Ray was silent, quiescent and Fraser took it as permission to move on. He deepened the kiss and Ray's mouth opened obediently. Pulling Ray close, Fraser ran his hands down his back, stopping at his hips. Ray squirmed against him and dragged himself away.

"No. Not there," he said.

Fraser didn't understand, but moved his hands back up to the small of Ray's back. Ray smiled and moved back into the kiss.

Ray wanted to lose himself in this man; wanted it all to go away. Surely if anybody could make that happen it would be Fraser. He moved his hand down over Fraser's stomach and rested it on the waistband of his boxers, trying to make himself go further.

"Ray..." whispered Fraser. "Anything you want. Anything."

As Fraser's strong arms wrapped around him, Ray moved his hands again, this time cupping Fraser's face, kissing him, trying to block everything out but this big, beautiful man of his.

Fraser didn't think Ray was ready for this, but whatever Ray wanted, he would have, if it was within the Mountie's power. He tried to pull him even closer, but Ray struggled out of his arms. Stroking Fraser's face with his fingers, he whispered, "Back in a minute," and climbed out of their bed.

Fraser lay on his back with his arms above his head, waiting. After a minute he realised something was wrong and went in search of Ray.

The bathroom door was closed but not locked, and Fraser walked in. Ray was on his knees, throwing up violently.

Fraser quickly got a warm cloth and knelt beside Ray, stroking his back while his partner gasped and coughed, trying to regain some control.

Finally he sat back on his heels and accepted the cloth Fraser held out to him. He looked pale and close to tears, but he wouldn't look directly at Fraser. Instead he spoke to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Frase," he said quietly. "I thought it would be okay because it's you, y'know. But it isn't. It's not you I hear or see, it's them. It's like I'm trapped in this time warp thing and every time you touch me I'm back in that alley." He looked up, tears standing out in his eyes. "Don't go; I don't want you to leave me. I was wrong to push you away."

"No Ray, I understand," said Fraser quietly. "I won't leave you; I'll be here as long as you need me, but I promise that I won't touch you."

"No! I want I * need * you to touch me," protested Ray. "Could you just, y'know, just kinda hold me? That feels right. It's always felt right." He dropped his head again. "I'm such a fuck up," he whispered.

"No, you're not," said Fraser. "Don't ever think that. We just have to get through this. We can, Ray, we can get through this."

"Are you sure?" asked Ray, defeat evident in every line of his body.

"Of course I am," answered Fraser, more confidently than he felt.

He led the other man back to bed and climbed in beside him, holding him close. Ray clung on desperately and only began to relax his grip as sleep claimed him.

"I was wondering if you'd like to get away for a few days," said Fraser carefully the next morning as Ray sat looking at his breakfast.

"Away where?" asked Ray, not looking up.

"Well, a friend of mine; an acquaintance really; well a friend of a colleague..."

"Fraser!" Ray looked up, smiling slightly, and Fraser smiled back, pleased his ploy had worked. He had lain awake the whole night trying to work out some way of getting his Ray back, and had finally decided that perhaps a complete break would be best for both of them.

"Well, he has a cabin up in the hills, only a few hours away. Well, about two hours the way you drive," he added, trying to keep the tone of the conversation light. "I was thinking that perhaps we could go up there for a while. Perhaps the change would do us both good."

"Could you get the time off?" asked Ray, before slapping himself on the forehead. "Oh of course you could; you have a year and a half due to you, don't you?"

"About that, yes," answered Fraser. "Well, what do you think?"

"Hmm. Wilderness," said Ray. "I dunno. Yeah I do. Let's go. It'd be nice to get away from here."

"Excellent!" said Fraser. "When would you like to go?"

"Now?" asked Ray, standing up and taking his uneaten breakfast into the kitchen.

Fraser was a little taken aback at the eagerness with which Ray had accepted the idea, but he wasn't going to fight about it.

"Very well. We'll have to pack and stock up on a few basic items, then I just have to call my friend and tell him we're going..."

Ray held up a hand. "Whoa there Frase. 'Stock up on a few basic items'. That means what exactly? Please tell me there's at least indoor plumbing?"

"There's indoor plumbing Ray," said Fraser solemnly. "And electricity. Ah no, that's a lie. Sorry, I was thinking of something else..."

Ray looked at Fraser and shook his head. "Okay," he said. "I'd better call Welsh and tell him that I won't be around so he doesn't tie himself up in knots looking for me. You call the Consulate, yeah?"

The arrangements took longer than expected, and it was early evening before they reached the cabin. It was perfect. Set up in the hills, isolated and peaceful, Ray felt the blackness recede as soon as he stepped out of the car. The air was fresh, and even surrounded by trees and wild stuff he felt safe and unthreatened for the first time in what seemed like an age.

He grinned at Fraser, and the Mountie grinned back at him, then they both started laughing for no reason. Except that they were safe, and together.

Unable to help himself, Fraser closed the gap between them and gathered Ray into a hard embrace. Ray gasped as the air was crushed out of his lungs, but returned the hug as best he could, before pulling Fraser's hair to make him let go.

"We're gonna have a good time here, Frase," he said. "Such a good time. Things'll start getting better, just wait."

Fraser smiled and released Ray, going to the car and beginning to unpack their stores. They had brought enough to keep them going for a week; Fraser didn't want to have to go into civilisation any sooner than they had to, and Ray was willing to go along with whatever Fraser wanted. He went and stood next to Fraser, arms outstretched. Fraser obediently piled them full of useful items; sleeping bags, blankets, cooking items. When he tried to add the box of food to the already overburdened detective, Ray turned away with a snort, making Fraser laugh.

They quickly packed everything away and then decided to take Dief for a walk as the light began to fail. Slowly they walked along a half seen track as the wolf ran ahead of them, delirious to be out of the city for once. Fraser put his arm gently around Ray's shoulders, holding him close and Ray returned the favour, wrapping his arm around Fraser's waist, feeling himself relaxing after having being wound up for too long.

Fraser stopped and turned to Ray, holding him close. Ray was still relaxed, at ease, so Fraser slowly moved a hand until it was cupping the back of Ray's head, then very gently kissed him. Ray willingly returned the kiss, resting his hands on Fraser's hips. It was only as Fraser's tongue licked along Ray's bottom lip, seeking entry, that Ray pulled back. He smiled at Fraser to try and take the hurt out of his action, then turned back the way they had come, going back to the cabin.

Fraser sighed and looked up at the sky, before beckoning to Dief and following Ray up the trail.

"Sure is quiet here, Frase," said Ray softly as they lay in bed. "No sirens, no shouting; some really strange screeching going on out there though. Anything to worry about?"

"Depends if you're frightened of owls, Ray," said Fraser solemnly. "I've heard they can be vicious when cornered."

"Oh hardy ha ha," said Ray sarcastically. "You're so funny sometimes." He pushed himself up until he was leaning over Fraser and kissed him, suddenly and hard. "And sometimes," he continued, "You're just fucking gorgeous."

Fraser reached up, unable to stop himself, and tangled his fingers in the short blond hair.

"Ray..." he whispered against the other man's lips. "Ray."

"S'okay, Fraser," said Ray. "Everything's okay."

This time, when the blackness threatened, Ray tried to block it out. //Not this time// he thought. //I can't keep doing this to him.//

But Fraser sensed that something was wrong and he pulled away from Ray's kisses.

"No," he said. "It's not okay. I don't want you to do this because you think you owe me. Wait until you're sure it's what you want. I'll be here."

"It is what I want, Frase," said Ray angrily. "I owe you so much; I want to do this for you."

"You don't owe me anything," said Fraser. "Come on, just sleep now. You're tired after the journey."

Ray collapsed back onto the bed, frustrated. He turned his back on Fraser and curled into a defensive ball.

Ignoring the posture, Fraser curled himself around the tightly wound body, stroking the thin shoulders, until Ray began to relax against him.

"What if I can't, Frase?" he said softly. "What if I can't ever touch you again? I want to Christ I look at you and I want to jump your bones, but then the shadows are there again..."

Fraser gently kissed Ray's exposed ear.

"It'll be fine," he said. "You just need time to heal. That's why we're here."

Ray reached up and covered Fraser's hand where it rested against his throat.

Neither spoke as they waited for sleep.

The next day both men woke late, tangled comfortably together. Ray had relaxed in his sleep and was draped half over Fraser. Fraser, meanwhile, lay on his back, one hand resting on the back of Ray's neck.

"Morning," said Fraser as Ray lifted his head and blinked, trying to take in his surroundings.

"Hmmph," answered Ray.

"It's a beautiful day," persisted Fraser, stroking Ray's hair.

"Don't care," Ray mumbled. "It's early. The sun is looking at its watch and thinking, 'Fuck me, look at the time.'"

"Such a morning person, Ray," Fraser dropped a kiss on Ray's head and struggled out from underneath him. Ray groaned and rolled into Fraser's warmth and scent. Fraser leaned down.

"And anyway what the sun is actually thinking is 'Fuck me, I'm up before Fraser.'"

With that he went to the bathroom, leaving Ray open mouthed with shocked delight.

Half an hour and two coffees later, Ray was something approaching human.

"So what do we do today?" asked Fraser, watching Ray fondly.

"I guess we walk and sit and walk a bit more," said Ray. "There's not a lot more to do here, is there?"

"We could chop wood," Fraser suggested innocently.

"No, * you * could chop wood," answered Ray. "I could offer moral support."

"I could teach you to chop wood," persisted Fraser.

"You couldn't," said Ray, standing up taking his coffee cup to the sink. "Me and axes really don't go together."

"Have you ever tried?" asked Fraser.

"Don't need to," answered Ray. "I know. That's enough."

"Okay, we'll walk," said Fraser.

So they did. They walked for hours, talking of nothing and saying everything with their silences. Touching with their eyes and their hands as gently Fraser helped Ray to heal; helped him find laughter again, which he had lost; held him as he cried healing tears, his bruised soul finding solace with this man who lent him strength when he needed it most.

Getting back to the cabin, tired but happier than he had been in days, Ray decided he would cook, much to Fraser's concern.

"No, I can do this," insisted Ray. "Just show me where the stove is."

"You're a very funny man Ray," said Fraser. "No, really you are. In some societies you would be worshipped for that sense of humour."

When Ray put the plate in front of Fraser, the Mountie gave what could best be described as a brave smile, and dug in. It was in fact a very passable stew, and Ray crowed with laughter as Fraser's expression went through several changes finally settling on impressed.

"I never knew you could cook Ray," said Fraser at last, pushing his plate away.

"Neither did I," admitted Ray, laughing again at Fraser's face.

After clearing the dishes away, the two men sat on the couch looking into the fire. Dief, replete and pleasantly surprised at the quality of the food, lay at their feet.

Fraser lay with his head on Ray's lap as the smaller man ran his fingers through the dark hair, again and again.

"Love your hair, Fraser," he said quietly. "So soft." He moved his hand down to cup Fraser's face. "Love your face," he said. "So beautiful." He leaned down and the two men kissed slowly. "Love your lips," Ray continued. "And your eyes and your ears and your nose..."

"My nose?" asked Fraser.

"Shut up, I'm on a roll," said Ray. Then he stopped. "No, lost it now. That's your fault."

"Shall we go to bed?" asked Fraser softly.

Ray nodded. "Good idea."

Ray woke suddenly, startled out of a bad dream by the feeling of being alone. Fraser wasn't in their bed.

Climbing out of the bed and shivering reflexively at the chill air, Ray pulled a t-shirt on and made his way into the lounge.

"Frase?" he said quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence of the night. "Frase, are you okay?"

"I'm fine Ray," replied Fraser out of the darkness. "Go back to bed; it's cold. I'll just be a minute."

"What are you doing?" asked Ray, stepping forwards. Fraser was sitting on the couch, his back turned to the other man. "Why are you sitting in here?"

"Nothing. No reason. I was just thinking. Please go back to bed."

Ray walked around to the front of the couch and sat next to Fraser. He put a hand on the strong muscled thigh and was surprised by the tension radiating off it. He pushed his thumb into the line of muscle and began to press, trying to rub the tension away. Fraser groaned and his head dropped back.

"Please Ray..." he said.

"Please what?" asked Ray. "What is it? What's the matter? Why are you so tense?" He pulled himself up until he was kneeling on the couch next to Fraser and reached over to put a hand on either thigh. That brought Fraser's problem into direct view.

"Oh," was all Ray said.

"I'm sorry Ray," said Fraser, sounding desperate. "I'll be fine in a minute. I just need a minute."

The heat coming off Ray was incredible, and Fraser was having a tough time keeping himself from just reaching out and grabbing what he wanted.

"No, I'm sorry Fraser," whispered Ray. "I didn't realise..."

He sat back a little and regarded Fraser, head tilted to one side. "You could have just said..."

"No, I couldn't Ray. Not after what's happened to you. I wouldn't want to force myself on you."

Ray laughed. "You would never do that." He sighed and reached up with one hand, tangling his long fingers in Fraser's hair. He loved the way it curled rebelliously when it wasn't under strict orders not to move.

"I don't want to rush anything," said Fraser, unconsciously pushing into the touch. "You've been through such a lot."

"And you haven't?" answered Ray. "Remember that I said I loved you but I didn't like you?" Fraser nodded. "Well, now I like you again," Ray pushed himself off his knees and into Fraser's lap. He wriggled a bit and sniggered.

"Guess you like me, too," he said.

"Oh Ray..." Fraser put one hand on Ray's face, revelling in the familiar feel of the stubble scraping across his fingers. The other he put at the back of Ray's neck, slowly pulling him closer. Ray's eyes half closed and his lips parted; it was one of the most erotic things Fraser had seen in a long time. As their mouths met, Fraser couldn't hold back a moan, pushing harder on the back of Ray's neck, forcing him closer. He moved his other hand and wrapped it around Ray's waist pulling him nearer until Ray's hip was pressed up against Fraser's erection.

Ray suddenly began to struggle to get away and Fraser released him immediately, heart sinking. He should have known better than to push this...

But Ray simply changed position, straddling Fraser's lap and pushing the Mountie deeper into the cushions of the couch. He lifted up Fraser's hands in his own and kissed them, then put them around his own waist, inching closer still until Fraser was surrounded, almost overwhelmed by the scent of this man.

Fraser's hand slid down the small of Ray's back and curved itself around one slim buttock. Ray gasped into Fraser's mouth and moved against Fraser's cock.

Pulling free of Ray's mouth, Fraser began to trace the line of stubbled jaw, down the long arch of neck to the shoulder, biting gently.

Above him he felt Ray's arm move as the smaller man placed his hand on the back of the couch, bracing himself as he began to thrust harder. At the same time he put his other hand between them, stroking Fraser through the cotton of his boxers.

"That's good," he crooned into Fraser's ear. "You feel so good like that, so hard. Is it for me, Frase? Say it's for me."

"God, Ray..." Fraser was beginning to pant, sweat breaking out all over his body, not only from what Ray was doing but from the tone of his voice, the feel of his hot breath.

"Say it," Ray whispered again.

"All for you," managed Fraser. "Always." He moved his hands and grasped Ray's hips, trying to control the pace, but Ray stopped moving. His breathing was short and his eyes were bright with lust, but he stopped.

"Not there, Frase," he said in an odd tone of voice. "Don't put your hands there."

Fraser immediately reached up to stroke Ray's face, not wanting to lose what was happening. He pulled Ray's face to his, putting all his love and need into the kiss. For a moment Ray didn't react, then groaned softly and began to move again, arms tight around Fraser's neck.

Fraser's hips lifted from the couch and he cried out as he came, holding tight to Ray, anchoring them there in the cabin. Faintly he heard Ray gasping what sounded like, "God!"

As his breathing returned to normal he was able to raise his head and look at Ray who was still straddling his thighs, smug and satisfied. He looked utterly wanton.

"'Kay?" Ray whispered, stroking the sweat soaked hair away from Fraser's forehead. "You okay?" He moved slightly and laughed as Fraser moaned.

"Frase, I've gotta move. It's * unbelievably * disgusting, what I'm sitting in." He moved again and grimaced. "Come on. Shower."

Fraser had to agree that the sticky mess in his lap was quite an unpleasant sensation. He pulled off his boxers as he went into the bathroom and turned the shower on.

Turning around he saw Ray standing in the doorway, arms wrapped protectively around his thin body. There was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes as he watched Fraser.

"What's the matter?" asked Fraser. "What's wrong?"

"When I told you not to touch me," Ray said, looking at the ground. "It wasn't you..."

"I understand. It doesn't matter."

"It's just that they kinda, y'know..."

"Yes I know, Ray. I understand." He went to the slighter man and enfolded him a warm hug. "Now come and have a shower. You're cold."

Ray returned the hug and let himself be steered into the shower.

Fraser lay very still in bed, holding Ray close, listening to him breathe. He was unbelievably happy that Ray had let himself touch and be touched again. It had been a dark time for both of them, but perhaps there was a glimmer of hope now.

Without thinking, Fraser ran a hand down the length of Ray's spine. Ray arched into the touch, sleepily muttering his contentment and Fraser smiled.

"See, son?" Robert Fraser was leaning by the window, looking at the two men. "All you had to do was be there when he reached out."

"Do you have any idea how annoying it is to other people when somebody considers themselves to be right all the time?" hissed Fraser, still stroking Ray's back.

"Yes, I do," answered Fraser Sr. "I've had to put up with you, haven't I?"

"Go away dad," said Fraser. "This isn't the time or place to give me a lecture."

"Yeah, go 'way," muttered Ray sleepily. "'m tryin' to sleep."

Fraser glared at his father. "See?" he mouthed.

Robert Fraser sniffed and looked out the window.

Fraser looked down. Ray's eyes were half open.

"Who we talking to, Frase?" he asked, barely awake.

"Ourselves," said Fraser softly, still stroking. "Go to sleep."

Ray inched closer to Fraser, one arm wrapped around his waist.

"Didn't dream about them this time," he said. "That's gotta be good, huh?"

"Yes it's good. You're moving on, Ray. That's good."

"Yeah, movin' on," repeated Ray, eyes starting to close again. "You movin' on with me?"

"If you'll have me," said Fraser.

"Don't have a choice," Fraser could hardly hear Ray now as he slipped further towards sleep. "You've gotta show me what's so great about caribou. I wouldn't even * know * a caribou if it punched me, unless it introduced itself first..." His voice trailed off.

Fraser lay awake, staring into the dark.

THE END