I confess that there are bits that read a little like a tourist brochure, but I live in Ottawa. Beaver tails do actually exist, by the way, exactly as described, and the Peace Tower is no longer covered by scaffolding.
There is a part 2 (or 3 or more) to this, but unfinished and I thought I should post another story before all my half finished stories take up all my disk space. Comments can be sent to: ar895@freenet.carleton.ca
"Look, I'm a cop." Ray Vecchio tried to explain patiently, keeping his Italian temper firmly in check. "I have a license to carry a piece." He displayed his badge and the accompanying paperwork which gave him permission to carry a gun across state lines.
"I'm sorry, sir." The customs official was calm and polite. "You do not have a license to carry a handgun in Canada. I'm afraid you will have to leave it here and retrieve it upon your return to the United States."
"I'm supposed to just leave it here?" Ray sounded disgusted.
"Yes, sir." The customs official replied very politely. Ray ground his teeth. Was the whole damn country as polite and stiff as Fraser?
"Look, I have worked in close cooperation with the RCMP for the past two years..."
"I'm sorry, sir, but without a firearms acquisition certificate, you cannot bring a handgun into Canada."
"Fine. Where can I buy one, then?"
"Handguns are illegal in Canada, unless you possess a.."
"Firearms acquisition certificate." Ray finished, with heavy sarcasm. He rolled his eyes in exasperation. So did the woman waiting behind him.
"Are you going to be much longer?" She asked him politely.
"No." He snapped at her, then turned back to the official. "If I leave the piece here, what guarantees do I have that I can pick it up again on the way back?"
The official ripped off a filled out form and smiled sunnily at him.
"Just keep this and present it at the customs office on your way back. If you are departing from Ottawa International Airport, it will be waiting for you. If you depart at a different airport, speak the customs officials there and they will arrange for your property to be returned to you upon proper identification."
Ray looked that the neatly filled out form and sighed. Through his friendship with Fraser, he knew it was hopeless to argue with a Canadian bureaucrat.
He tucked the paper into his passport and picked up his bags.
Once he had checked into the hotel, unwillingly impressed with the castle like structure of the Chateau Laurier, he took a walk. According to his map, the Parliament Buildings were just beside the hotel and, according to his information, Fraser was assigned to Parliament Hill.
Summer in Ottawa was warmer than he expected. And the city was more beautiful than he dreamed, despite all the tourist pictures he had seen at the Canadian Consulate in Chicago. Chicago had pretty tourist pictures, too, but the reality was dirtier. Ottawa was neat and tidy. Ray shivered. He felt like he might break something if he didn't walk exactly on the sidewalk. Maybe that's why Canadians were so polite; the damn capital city was as neat and old fashioned as your grandmother's parlour.
The houses of Parliament were NeoGothic structures, all stone and tiny deep set windows. The main tower was covered in scaffolding, marring the impressiveness, but the fountain with a flame on top of it caught Ray's attention.
The Centennial Flame was big enough to sit on the edges. Ray sat and stared at the bronze shields of a couple of the provinces through the water. Coins of various sizes twinkled in the sun. Ray noticed a sign and gave a rueful grin.
"All coins in this fountain are removed daily and donated to charity."
Ray looked up at the sound of martial music and his eyes widened. A whole parade of red coated men marched up past his hotel, came in through the front gate. The crowds of people around his lined themselves up at the edge of the lawn to the right of the fountain, letting the men through.
Ray watched the Changing of the Guard ceremony with detached interest. The uniforms were wrong to be Mounties, and it wasn't as impressive as the RCMP Musical Ride impromptu demonstration he'd seen, but it was still pretty potent, if you liked that sort of thing.
After the ceremony ended, Ray walked into the main tower and stopped dead. Beautiful, he thought. The main lobby was all rich wood and marble columns. The round desk was manned by an
older man, slightly overweight, who reminded him of Lieutenant Welsh.
"Excuse me." Ray caught his attention. He seemed to be friendly, but monumentally indifferent to the importance of his job. In the back of his mind, Ray wondered where the security guards were. This was the freaking seat of government.
"Can I 'elp you?" The man had a heavy French accent.
"Yeah. I'm looking for a friend of mine. Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP. So far as I know, he's assigned to Parliament."
The man leaned back in his chair and pulled out a big binder and flipped through it. Ray tried to read the papers upside down, but couldn't quite see it.
"Constable Fraser." The man's finger stopped halfway down a page. "'e's on duty right now. East Bloc." The man put the book away and pointed.
"Thanks." Ray said, suppressing the urge to say "thank you kindly".
East Bloc was more difficult to get into. Unlike Centre Bloc, this building was not open to the public. Although it looked easy enough the just walk in, everybody had identification tags on long bathroom chains.
Ray spotted a stiff Mountie statue just down the hall and grinned. Benny. He turned to the woman in dress reds just inside the door.
"Hi." Ray smiled at her and she smiled back. "I'd like to talk to that officer right there. He's an old friend of mine."
The woman's eyes widened and a weird expression crossed her face.
"You're a friend of Constable Fraser?" She sounded very surprised, then snapped back into professional mode, glancing at her watch. "I cannot let you into the building without proper authorization, but shift change is in about five minutes. I'll tell him you're here. And you are...?"
Ray went back outside into the sunshine without giving his name. Let Benny wrack his brains to figure out who it was.
Fraser stood at attention easily. It was cool in the building. He had only five more minutes and then he'd be off for three days. He suppressed a sigh and carefully did not shift from one foot to another.
When he was transferred out of Chicago, he had been delighted. A chance to go home, especially to go to such a plum assignment as guarding the Hill, was a major step forward in his career. As well, the relief of being in a country with sensible monetary units, decent health plans and sane gun control laws was considerable. Ottawa, while not the Territories, was still Canada. Still home.
Now, after four months of being home, doing essentially the same thing he had done at the Consulate on a much bigger scale, he was still having problems adjusting.
The problem of Diefenbaker was easily solved. Ottawa would not allow a wolf as a pet, but he simply told the licensing bureau that Dief was a dog. He was shocked and disturbed how easily the lie came to his lips and how lightly that lie sat on his conscience. He had gotten away from Chicago a little too late.
Finding a place to live was also easily solved. The RCMP gave him a relatively generous moving allowance, so he found an inexpensive place after waiting until the university students moved home for the summer. It was the third floor over a shop, right in the Market area. Of course the nightclubs and the prostitutes on the corner were a bit hard to get used to, but after Chicago, not a problem.
The problem was adjusting to being alone again. He had no family, no friends in Ottawa, no family or friends anywhere. He had no one at all, except Ray Vecchio, back in Chicago. Although he made acquaintances easily, there was no one here who filled the niche in his life that Ray had. Ray was his first real, close friend. Time off was simply a reminder of that hole in his life and he dreaded the next few days.
Ray leaned against the building, chatting amiably with the woman who came out of the building, stood next to him and lit a cigarette with a sigh of relief.
"We can't smoke in the buildings." She explained, at his quizzical look. "It's great in the summer, but come winter..." She shook her head in painful memory.
Ray straightened as Fraser emerged from the door, glancing around.
"Hey, Fraser." Ray said laconically, hiding the delight he felt at seeing the familiar figure. He had missed Fraser in the last few months. He had a lot of family and friends around him, but Fraser was more than that. Fraser needed him more than anyone else ever had and Ray was a sucker for anyone who needed him.
"Ray?" Fraser swallowed, his blue eyes wide with surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, you kept telling me how beautiful it is in Canada, and I didn't exactly have time to play tourist last time I was here, so I thought I'd come up here on my vacation, check out the sights."
"Oh." Fraser couldn't think of anything else to say.
"You were right. As usual." Ray continued. "It's a little tame, but I could use that right about now."
"I thought you liked excitement." Fraser commented, as they began to walk, Ray following Fraser's lead.
"Not this time." Ray replied grimly and began to tell Fraser all about the last case he'd solved, a particularly nasty drug dealer's attempt to take over the high school trade.
By the time they finished discussing the case and discussing Fraser's new job, they'd arrived at Fraser's flat.
"It isn't much." Fraser said apologetically. "And it isn't in the best neighbourhood."
"It isn't exactly a slum, Benny." Ray looked around. The neighbourhood was a little run down, but clean. "Your place in Chicago was worse."
"This is as close to slums as Ottawa gets, Ray."
Ray rolled his eyes and followed Fraser up the stairs.
The apartment was bigger than the one in Chicago, but equally sparsely furnished. Ray would have made an acerbic comment, but he was knocked down by a large white furry being, who licked his face with glee.
"Diefenbaker, get off me." Ray pushed at the delighted wolf with an expression of disgust. "You're getting hairs all over my clothes."
Diefenbaker, whether through deafness or through ignoring Ray, continued to wag his tail and lick Ray's face.
"Diefenbaker. This sort of behaviour is inappropriate for a wolf. Now, I realize that you are pleased to see a familiar face..." Fraser lectured in his pedantic, reasonable tone. Diefenbaker ignored him. Ray pushed the dog away, got up and grabbed Dief's collar and forced him to sit.
"Sit." Ray ordered. Diefenbaker did so, his tongue lolling out, silently begging for a treat that he knew Ray would have. "Later." Ray promised, out of the corner of his mouth and Dief, slightly disappointed, got up and padded back to his comfortable position on the sofa.
Ray brushed at his clothes ineffectually until Fraser produced a clothes brush.
"Thanks."
A silence fell as neither man could think of anything to say. It grew positively awkward. When Fraser cleared his throat, it sounded like an earthquake.
"Where are you staying, Ray?"
"At the Chateau Laurier." Ray grinned, equilibrium returning. "I decided to go first class this time. The place has luxury coming outta the walls, Benny. Ever stayed there?"
"No. I have had afternoon tea there, though."
"I think I'll pass on that. Which remind me, I haven't eaten lunch yet. Wanna go grab some?"
"Sure. Where?"
"You know the city, Benny. Any good Italian places around here?"
Fraser frowned. He wasn't much of a restaurant goer. He didn't like eating alone in a public place, especially after Ray had educated his palate about restaurants.
"I don't eat out much, Ray." Fraser said regretfully. "I'm not familiar with the eating establishments of this area. However, the Market area has a good reputation for restaurants."
"Fine. We can just walk along until we find some place that looks good."
Ray waited while Fraser changed out of his uniform, chatting at Dief. For some reason, it felt good to talk, even to a deaf wolf. Seeing Fraser was fun, but not quite the go-out-for-a-few- beers encounter he was expecting. It was sheer delight and an odd sort of hollow feeling that he couldn't quite identify. It was far more awkward than he was prepared for, so he ignored the feeling and chattered to Dief.
The chatter died away when he saw Fraser emerge from the bedroom, carrying a gun.
"A gun, Benny?"
"I am required to carry a gun while in uniform." Fraser expertly unloaded the gun and unlocked a small strongbox by the table. "I am also required to store it safely while off duty." He put the gun into the box and locked it, slipping the key into the pocket of a very nice pair of dress slacks. Ray realised, with a start, that Fraser, rather than wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, was wearing an outfit very similar to his own. Dress pants, silk shirt and Italian shoes. It looked good.
"Nice outfit."
"Thanks, Ray." Fraser smiled. "It's too hot for denim."
Dief came out into the hall with them as a matter of course and waited while Fraser locked his door.
"You're locking your door?" Ray asked in disbelief. "You never locked your door in Chicago."
"I never had a loaded gun in Chicago." Fraser reminded him. "Or a lock."
Over lunch, the awkwardness disappeared. As they ate, they fell into the pattern of good natured bickering that characterised their relationship over the last two years. Ray filled Fraser in on the various adventures of the vast Vecchio clan and the cases with the 27th precinct. Fraser interjected comments and corrections in grammar with predictable annoying
accuracy. He even managed to insert an Inuit story, causing the man at the next table, Inuit himself, to turn to look at them strangely.
"How long are you staying, Ray?"
"Until July 3." Ray wiped his lips with a napkin. "Frannie'll kill me if I'm not there for the Vecchio fourth of July picnic, but I want to see how you Canucks do your national holiday. Y'know, maybe pick up some ideas."
"You've picked a good time to be here." Fraser replied. "The Queen is coming to Ottawa for Canada Day."
"The Queen?" Ray blinked. "The Queen of England?"
"She's also Queen of Canada, Ray." Fraser sat back and gave an accurate, if slightly abbreviated, rundown on the structure of the Commonwealth and the connection with the Dominion of Canada. Ray, with a tolerant smile, listened.
"You haven't changed much, have you, Benny?" He said, after Fraser paused for breath. "Still overanswering every question. Must be a Canadian thing."
"You haven't changed much, either, Ray." Fraser retorted. "Still unwilling to broaden your general knowledge."
"Hey, I listened, didn't I?"
"With the same glazed look in your eyes you used to get."
"What's with the clothes, Benny?" Ray asked suddenly. "You look like you've been out shopping with me. I thought jeans and flannel were the national dress."
Fraser didn't answer right away. He needed some new clothes when he settled in and, instead of buying his usual sturdy, rugged attire, he had gone to a fashionable men's clothing store. He remembered wondering if Ray would approve of the clothes, instinctively buying styles Ray would like and would buy for himself. Despite the differences in body type, Ray's taste suited Fraser. Fraser did not know why he had bought them, or why Ray's approval mattered.
"Ray, Ottawa is a major urban center." Fraser finally replied. "A little conservative, perhaps, but not entirely behind the times in regards to fashion."
Ray glanced around him, noting the range of styles from elegant designer clothes to kids in grunge, agreed and made a mental note to stop teasing Fraser about his country's dullness. From the long pause, it was obviously a sensitive point.
After lunch, they walked through the Market. In the farmer's market, Dief suddenly stopped and whined.
"Hooker's All Canadian Beaver Tails." Ray read off the sign. "Benny, what is that?"
"A beaver tail is a pastry. It's whole wheat raised dough, stretched out flat and fried in hot oil, then brushed with melted butter. It comes with cinnamon sugar, jam, lemon and cinnamon sugar or garlic and cream cheese. It's not good for you, Diefenbaker." Dief whined again, with a hopeful look at Ray.
"Why's it called a beaver tail? Sounds like something you'd read in a porn mag."
"Because they look like the tail of a beaver. Well, no, they don't exactly. A beaver's tail is actually much thicker and more consistent in shape than a fried pastry..."
"Never mind." Ray interrupted him and bought a cinnamon sugar pastry. It was huge, bigger than his two hands together, and hot, so he juggled it a bit to tear off a piece and gave it to Dief. Dief wolfed it down and begged for more.
"No way, pal." Ray replied, with a mouthful of hot pastry. "This is delicious. If you want more, buy your own."
Dief's ears drooped. He looked very upset until a pretty girl bent to scratch his ears and fed him the last bit of hers.
"Diefenbaker." Fraser's voice took on that prim note that indicated exasperation. "You shouldn't beg for junk food from people off the street. Besides, I really do not want you making friends with prostitutes. It's unbecoming."
"She's a hooker?" Ray asked, glancing at the girl. "This the red light district?"
"So to speak. The city council has been trying to get the girls off the streets by blocking the way for customers to drive in this area, but they haven't been successful. Then again, this area has been the red light district since the founding of Ottawa, way back when it was Bytown..."
Ray left Fraser to the history lesson and examined the stalls down the block. He bought a set of earrings for Frannie and a scarf for his mother. Fraser, realising that he'd lost his audience, followed.
By the time the sun was starting to set, Ray was exhausted. They had seen most of the sights of the downtown area, including several hours in the Museum of Civilisation. Ray was pleasantly surprised by the Museum. It wasn't just filled with stuffy old display cases, but had several interesting interactive exhibits. He enjoyed the tour far more than he expected to and it wasn't until they were sitting outside one of the pubs, drinking beer, than he had time to think about the odd awkwardness that had been springing up between the two friends.
Benny seems more relaxed on his native turf, Ray thought. Yet, he seems tense, too. One minute he's his old self and the next it's like he doesn't want to be with me. I wonder what's going on.
Ray is like a breath of fresh air, Fraser thought. I would never have believed how much I missed him. I am going to miss him even more when he goes back to Chicago. Why can't I just relax and enjoy his company?
By the time they paid their bill and got up to go, Ray was a little unsteady on his feet. Two beer - Canadian beer - on top of a long day of walking and jet lag made him sway with fatigue. His head was perfectly clear, but he walked as if he was a little tipsy.
"I'll walk you back to your hotel." Fraser offered. It was a very short walk and, once in his room, Ray tottered to one of the double beds and collapsed on his back.
"Are you all right, Ray?" Fraser asked, concerned, as he dropped the card key on the desk. "Do you need anything?"
"No." Ray replied, his eye closed. The world had, thankfully, stopped spinning and the beds were soooo comfortable. "I'm just tired. I've been on the go since six this morning. These beds are sinful."
"Sinful?"
"I think I'll tuck one of these beds in my suitcase instead of pinching towels." Ray murmured happily.
Fraser approached the bed and sat gingerly on the edge. He didn't trust soft, comfortable beds. Ray was right. It was very comfortable.
"See?" Ray didn't open his eyes.
Fraser sat there for a moment, frozen into immobility by the thoughts running through his head. Ray lay there on his back, with a slight smile on his lips, looking utterly blissful. He had his arms stretched back, his hands behind his head and his silk shirt had pulled up to reveal about half an inch of smooth bare skin. The bed was wide and Ray was slender; there was plenty of room for another person to stretch out next to him.
Fraser shook his head. He did not want to do that. He did not want to move that shirt to reveal even more of that slender body to his gaze. He was a perfectly normal, red blooded Canadian male; he did not want to lean over to kiss the lips that were smiling.
Ray watched Fraser through his lashes. That awkwardness had come back, in spades. The room was cool with the air conditioning and the one lamp that Fraser had turned on as soon as they came in did not give off much light after the bright sunshine outdoors. And Fraser was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at him with an odd expression. Ray watched as Fraser moved gently towards him, leaning over him with his lips pressed into a thin line. He was going to move, crack a joke. Instead, he waited, kept still and quiet.
The first touch of Fraser's lips on his was shockingly soft, a mere brush of skin to skin.
Fraser's body seemed to be oblivious to his mind screaming *you can't do this*. He bent over Ray, brushed a soft kiss on his lips. When Ray didn't jump away, he leaned forward and kissed him again, firmly. Ray didn't flinch; he opened his mouth and Fraser's tongue met his.
I am a normal, red blooded American male, Ray thought. So why am I doing this? Instead of jumping up and throwing this strange imitation of Fraser the hell out of his hotel room, he slowly moved his arms to embrace the other man, pulling him closer.
I have wanted to do this for so long..., Fraser thought, with a burst of astonished enlightenment. He moved to lay full length next to Ray, his lips still holding the other man's in passionate, openmouthed kisses. His body responded to the slender body next to him; he pressed himself to Ray's form, needing to touch. His hands moved, without conscious volution, to run down Ray's back, to touch the curve of his ass, to pull him close.
Ray responded to the kisses, allowing the intrusive tongue to explore his mouth, returning with explorations of his own. Part of him wondered why this, why now, but the hands on his body were warm and insistent, touching him with firm strokes.
I gotta stop this, Ray thought slowly. But do I really want to?
I have to stop, Fraser thought, confused. But I don't want to.
Fraser had kissed Ray on an odd, half understood impulse. He was sure that a simple kiss would be enough. Now he knew clearly that it was not enough and never would be. He wanted to feel Ray's naked body next to his, hear whispered words of passion, relieve the tension between them that had been building for years. With hands suddenly steady and sure, slipping between their bodies, he unbuttoned Ray's shirt and his own. Their bare chests pressed together now that the miles thick layers of thin silk were gone.
Ray, other than his response to the firm lips on his own, had lain quietly, allowing Fraser to take the lead. When he felt
the hand slip between them to begin to remove the barrier of clothes, shifted to speed the process. He still wasn't sure what prompted this, nor was he entirely sure if this was a good idea, but Fraser's hands and mouth had left him breathless. One hand was somehow tangled in Fraser's short hair, the other went to the waistband of Fraser's pants. Swiftly, he undid the catch and slipped his hand inside. Fraser gave a gratifyingly heartfelt groan as he ran his fingers along the erect cock he found. Fraser's hips began to move automatically as he grasped the hard shaft firmly. His own cock was starting to strain at the cloth of his pants and he sighed as Fraser imitated his own actions.
They finally, reluctantly, allowed their lips to part and undressed, needing to be naked with each other. Fraser kept his eyes well way from Ray's; he did not want to see whatever was there. Ray's lips were pressed into a firm, serious line and he was afraid that Ray would call a halt. It had gone too far to stop now and he reached for his friend.
Ray felt cold when they parted to undress, only to be enveloped in warm arms that held him tightly. He felt warm lips take his again and the dance of tongues continued. He felt a hard erection pushing into his groin and the slight prickle of pubic hair along his cock. His skin acquired a thin sheen of sweat and his breath came in gasps. His hands explored Fraser's body, feeling the sweet curve of his torso. The body under his hands felt hauntingly familiar; it was so similar to his own that he knew what would please this hard male flesh.
Fraser held Ray tightly for a moment, breathing in the enticing male scent of his friend, pausing to imprint the feel of this man. Then he shifted so that Ray was under him, grabbing the hands roaming over his body and pinning them over Ray's head. He held onto those hands, running kisses and caresses with his mouth over Ray's face, neck and shoulders until he finally had to let go to explore further.
Ray thought briefly about fighting for control of the encounter, but decided that he was enjoying what Fraser was doing. Benny seemed to know exactly what he wanted and the unaccustomed feeling of being seduced was wildly erotic. When Fraser's lips touched his cock, he cried out and had to force himself not to move, not to caress the head that was giving him so much pleasure. He shut his eyes tightly and concentrated on letting the pleasure flow through him.
The cock in his mouth tasted wonderful, Fraser thought. He had never even thought of sucking on a man's cock before, but now it felt right. He seemed to know instinctively when to back off, when to touch the hard shaft delicately, when to take the cock fully into his mouth and suck strongly. He simply did what he wanted himself. He could tell from Ray's constant moans and ragged thrusts that Ray was going to come soon. He sucked harder.
Ray no longer cared who's mouth was on his cock. He thrust unsteadily into the hot mouth, lifting his hips off the bed. He felt Fraser's hands on his hips, holding his down and lessening the depth of the thrusts. This slowed the orgasm to an excruciatingly long, drawn out rush of pure pleasure. He cried out on a single wordless note as he ejaculated into Fraser's mouth.
When his mouth filled with sperm, Fraser felt a rush of pure triumph at the pleasure he had given his friend. Slowly and gently, he let the softening cock out of his mouth and swallowed. Then, rather than move to concentrate on other parts of Ray's delicious body or to move toward his own pleasure, he licked carefully, gently. He knew just how sensitive that whole area could be after a shattering orgasm, so he teased Ray's balls gently with his lips and tongue and hands.
Ray was surprised that Fraser had not moved from his position between his legs, which had somehow spread wide. He had expected Fraser to move, to indicate he wanted reciprocity. Yet a gentle touch on his balls, a soft caress of his thighs continued the pleasure. The intensity of orgasm faded, replaced by the joy of being touched in areas that rarely got attention. Although much of the lust had evaporated, he was still aroused. His cock was satisfied, but his body still wanted more. He wanted to prolong the sensual and sexual feelings and Fraser was doing that. When he felt gentle fingers touch his anus he knew what Fraser wanted. He wants to fuck me, he thought in astonishment. The surprise wasn't in the request, it was in his own desire.
Fraser tried to control the tremble in his hands. It wasn't gentle caresses that he wanted, he wanted to fuck Ray. He wanted to bury himself inside Ray, to connect to him in a primal sense. He moved away a little and blinked when Ray suddenly rolled over onto his front, legs spread. He looked at the sleek body offering itself to him and caught his breath. His already rock
hard cock twitched. He had been leaking fluid already; now he knew that if he didn't take Ray now, he would come all over that beautiful ass.
He positioned himself carefully, spreading the cheeks of Ray's ass and touching the wet tip of his cock to the tiny hole. With very gentle pressure, he began to slid into Ray, trying not to hurt him. He had been leaking so much and Ray was so relaxed that he didn't need a lubricant; he slid in with remarkable ease.
As Ray felt a hard shaft sink into him and Fraser's weight easing over him, his eyes popped open. He had relaxed as much as he could, but he had assumed that the first moment of penetration would hurt. It didn't. It felt strange, this fullness, but he felt safe and loved, as if being protected from the coldness of the world. He remembered Angie trying to tell him once what lovemaking felt from her point of view and he had not understood what she had tried to tell him; that having him inside her was safe and warm and comforting. Now he thought he knew, as he heard Fraser's hoarse breath against his neck and Fraser's hot body sheltering him from any hint of cold.
The sensation of comfort fled when Fraser began to move. Slow thrusts in and out kindled the banked flames of lust and he felt his cock stir. The thrusts were gentle, too gentle, maddenly slow.
Fraser kissed the back of Ray's neck, nibbling on his shoulders. It felt so right, this body beneath him, the tightness gripping his cock. He slid his hands under Ray's hips, to pull him closer. He tried to go slow, to be as gentle as possible, but the sensations were just too wonderful. He needed to thrust harder. Ray's hips were moving in the same ages old rhythm and he gave up any pretence of gentleness and did what had to be done. He fucked hard and fast, seeking orgasm, needing to come deep inside this man, the man he loved.
Ray climaxed again, just as Fraser's cries rang in his ears. This time, it there was no slow build up of sexual tension; the orgasm simply happened, in time with the flood deep inside him.
Fraser pulled out quickly and turned Ray to kiss him on the lips. The kiss was almost a continuation of sex, a deep soul connecting kiss. When they broke apart, gasping, neither knew what came next.
They lay there for a while, neither willing to break the silence. After a long, long silence, Ray's eyes closed and he slept, worn out.
Fraser waited until the rhythm of Ray's breathing grew steady with sleep. Then he got up quietly and dressed. Going to the closet, he took down the extra blanket and threw it over the sleeping man and left.
Rape. The ugly word rang in Fraser's mind as he showered, safe in his own lonely apartment. By Canadian law, what he had done was rape. Ray had been drinking and was obviously quite tipsy when they got to his hotel room. Taking sexual advantage of a person under the influence of alcohol was rape.
He sat at his bare kitchen table, with his head in his hands and thought. Diefenbaker, who had ditched the pair before the museum to pursue his own interests, put his nose on Fraser's leg, asking what was wrong.
"You wouldn't understand." He told the wolf. Dief looked dubious on that point, so he continued. "I did something horrible tonight. I am a police officer, a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and I broke the law."
Dief looked unconcerned about the legalities of the situation and continued to look steadily at Fraser. Fraser got up and paced.
"I'm not sure what happened, Dief. I was so glad to see Ray. I should not have..." He broke off, fighting off the memory of the pleasure. He tried to banish the joy of exploring that slender body, the joy of kissing, the incredible responsiveness of Ray.
"No." He said aloud. "I should not have had sex with Ray."
"Why not?" a deep voice asked impatiently.
"Don't you have something better to do, Dad?"
"I'm dead. I have a lot of time on my hands." Bob Fraser's ghost replied calmly. He was dressed in summer dress uniform, a bit flashy for someone only his son could see. "Why are you worried about the legalities of this anyway? If I were you, I'd be more concerned with your friendship with the man."
"Really?"
"No, not really. I'd never have had sex with my best friend. Then again, Buck Frobisher isn't exactly the most attractive man in Canada. Never was." Fraser, Sr., folded his arms and leaned against the table. "So tell me, what prompted your walk on the wildside, son?"
"I don't know." Fraser said, perplexed. "I've never been... that way. I'm not interested in men."
"But you are interested in one particular man."
"It would appear so." Fraser raked one hand through his hair. "I didn't know I had feelings like that until today. I
didn't know Ray felt that way about me. I still don't. Oh, God, I've ruined our friendship."
"So find another friend." Fraser, Sr. suggested calmly. At Benton's surprised look, he added. "You don't have another close friend, do you? You're lonely and this is the one person in your life who has seen beyond the uniform and the efficient, professional exterior to find the real person, isn't it? You've never let anyone else come close to seeing how lonely you are, have you?"
"I don't need somebody to hold my hand, Dad. I'm not a child anymore."
"No, Son, you're human. I was beginning to wonder. Mind you, I am really quite disappointed that you're not willing to find love from a good woman, but at least you do have someone to care for and who cares for you. That is, as long as you can work out this new kink in your relationship." With a wry smile, Fraser, Sr., disappeared.
Fraser went back to sitting at the table with his head in his hands, trying to understand. His father was right, he was lonely. And the only person who had seen that loneliness was Ray. Everyone else seemed to be looking to be cared for. He needed to care for people, but the very act of helping made it impossible for him to accept help back. As long as the person he helped needed him, he could not ask for help, could not need them in return. Ray had refused to ask for help, refused to depend upon him to fix things. Ray was capable of taking care of himself and that made him strong in Fraser's eyes. Unlike most people, Ray did not look to him as a hero in a red serge suit, but as a real person.
As he thought, he realised that he loved Ray, that he had been awkward and miserable here in Ottawa because he missed Ray's acerbic company. He had kissed Ray out of a very real desire to be closer, and what followed was inevitable. He had greedily taken what he could, afraid to back away from Ray in case the kiss itself drove him far away. Love had made Ray desirable. Need for someone to love had made him foolish and now he would lose what mattered most to him.
Ray woke to bright light shining in his eyes. He yawned and stretched, rolling over to shut out the light. He felt very relaxed and comfortable. Then he rolled back onto his back, arms over his head. What the hell had happened last night? He would not have thought Fraser was queer, considering what an idiot he made of himself over Victoria and how badly he panted after the Dragon Lady back in Chicago. Maybe being back home had turned Fraser's head.
And even if Fraser was queer or bi, that didn't explain why he had responded. He wasn't queer. He liked women, preferably curved, feminine women. He'd been married, f'r cryin' out loud.
Of course, anyone would have responded to that terrific blow job. Gender didn't matter for something like that. But after, when Fraser...
"Who'm I tryin' to kid?" He said aloud, as he got out of bed. "I liked it. I really enjoyed fucking with Fraser." The words hung there in the quiet room. With a frown, he went to shower.
Bisexual. As he walked around in the sunshine, looking for a place that sold a breakfast at less than half a week's salary, the word echoed in his mind. Maybe that's what I am, he thought. He glanced at a very pretty boy standing on the street corner, trying to catch some early morning business, and shrugged. The kid did nothing for him.
He found a greasy spoon that served extremely good strong coffee and ordered breakfast. As he sipped at the hot, black liquid, a couple of cops came in and got served coffee without asking. He smiled to himself; trust him to find the hangout of the cops. One of them was a Mountie, in full reds. Not Fraser, he noted after a moment of panic. He didn't find the Mountie attractive, even though he was a blond version of Fraser, so it wasn't the uniform.
Maybe... just maybe... it's Fraser, Ray thought slowly. He thought back over the last two years and several innocent seeming remarks gained significance. Fraser in a dress and the light teasing after. His own reaction to the possibility that Fraser had diddled his sister. The depression and loneliness he felt what Benny had been transferred. The whole reason he came to Canada, specifically to see Benny. The uncomfortable awkwardness between them. The rightness of last night.
So I do have sexual feelings for the guy, Ray thought. What now?
(To be continued - eventually...)
--
Adrienne ar895@freenet.carleton.ca