Trouble	 Trouble

 by BJCochran

  

 

 Disclaimer: Only spoilers are small ones for Burning Down the House. 

 Author's Notes: Ray is undercover when he meets an odd and interesting
man. 

 Story Notes: Only spoilers are small ones for Burning Down the House

 

 

 Trouble by BJCochran September, 2003 

 (dS, F/K, NC17) 

 >>><<< 

 Sometimes Ray Kowalski wondered how shitty jobs could get even shittier,
but there always seemed to be no level of shit high enough. He was leaning
against the bar, lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth, double vodka
sloshing around in a glass of ice. He'd been undercover in this scummy bar
for a couple of weeks with no end in sight. Something had to give. 

 And something just walked in the front door. 

 Ah, Christ. Ray pushed himself up from his slouch. If this guy wasn't a
cop, he'd eat his hat. Well, the guy's hat. Some kind of cowboy hat from
silent cowboy movies held tightly in front of the guy's package. You
noticed that being a regular in a rough gay bar deep in the stockyards. 

 Yeah, shitty cover. Having to be a super-butch gay tough, looking to
muscle in on some drug connection. Same shit, different assignment. His
mother would be so proud. 

 This guy walks right up to the bar and orders pop. Root beer. Ray didn't
even know they served root beer, and he'd been here for weeks now.
Frankie, the bartender with too much kohl around his eyes, was checking
out the newcomer, but good. Ray took a minute to take it in, too. The
lumberjack gig was a good one. Red and black buffalo plaid over a beat up
white sweater, tight-assed jeans showing off a tight ass. And hiking
boots. This guy was either into the act or he really wasn't from around
here. 

 "It's not polite to stare," the lumberjack said, without even looking at
him. 

 "I ain't polite," Ray said, a little edge in his voice. He squinted into
the eyes that were now scrutinizing him. Kinda blue. Kinda deep. Ah, shit,
just a damn complication. 

 The eyes took him in. Ray picked the ragged, all-in-black look. Washed
out black tee shirt, baggy black jeans, motor cycle boots that never saw a
polish rag - just kick the mud off after it dried. His leather jacket was
even torn on the shoulder. Came from the Goodwill that way. 

 Boy, did the look go over with the boys in the band. It said: I'm gay and
I'm bad, so fuck off. They flocked to him like flies on bruised fruit. Ray
smirked at his own joke. 

 "So, you're not so polite, either," Ray challenged the stranger. 

 "Just returning the favor." The man had a small smile on his lips, bigger
one in his eyes. Uh, oh. This one was going to be trouble. 

 His cock was telling him just that. The little jump it did right now
kinda scared him. He was straight, okay, not very bent. But, he was
married. His wedding ring was in the little pocket of his jeans. Sure, it
wasn't the best marriage right now. He was deep undercover and his wife
was just hired into the State's Attorney's office - they didn't see each
other much and when they did, it was like they weren't in the same zip
code. 

 So, the burning just south of his gut was a surprise and it wasn't. He
was lonely, he was horny and he was, by reason of his dumb ass assignment,
hip deep in other horny, lonely men. And, this pretty one was staring at
him, obviously hungry. 

 Perversely, Ray turned from the lumberjack and tossed back his vodka,
chewing on the ice. Leaning into the bar, he weighed his options. Leaving
wasn't one of them, he had a meet set up. Brushing the guy off, yep, he
had that down pat, but this guy had something the other bozos that came on
to him didn't; and he just didn't mean the clear skin. What did that leave
him, snappy patter? Or a blow job in the john. 

 Ray looked sideways at the guy to find him aping him, chewing ice thing.
Then his tongue came out to lick his bottom lip. Ray'd seen a lot of
come-ons recently, but this one - it was good. He squirmed in his seat to
get his dick comfortable. Then he realized that his dick wasn't gonna be
comfortable unless he did something to help it along. 

 "Is this a place you frequent regularly?" 

 Ray squinted as he translated. "Do I come here often?" That's what he
said, right? 

 Paul Bunyan nodded. 

 "I come here enough. Get work here." 

 Now he was being squinted at. Piss on that, he thought as he reached for
his vodka again. "Are you a prostitute?" 

 Ray nearly swallowed an ice cube. "Hell, no. What the hell is the matter
with you?" he spat. 

 The guy blushed like a little boy. God, Ray might be pissed at him for
his bonehead assumption, but he couldn't look any hotter. Mr. Dick was
noticing again. 

 "Forget about it," Ray said. "I ain't a hired fuck, I'm just a - a
business man. This is my office." Vague? Hell, yeah. But, he had a cover
to maintain. Who knows who was listening in on this conversation. 

 Everybody it seemed to be listening in on this conversation. Some were
leering, some were salivating, and Emil was putting on fresh lip gloss.
Christ, this one was gonna get eaten alive. 

 "I - I got a place pretty close." 

 A fine brow shot up. Then he blinked. Then he twisted his neck with an
awful crunch. "Close?" 

 "A few blocks. I got my ride here. We can pick up some - brews." Ray
looked at the glass of root beer rolling between the guy's hands and
almost laughed. "Or not." 

 There was silence. Like he was thinking about a way to say no. Ray got
that. This guy was pretty darn squeaky clean, and Ray, hell, he was kind
of scummy. That was the gig. But, well, he wasn't very GQ when he was out
in the open. Part of the trouble with his wife. Didn't live up to the
husband she had planned for in her career goals. 

 It took a few moments for Ray to realize his cell phone was ringing. He
nearly shit. This woodsman made him forget why the hell he was here.
"Yeah?" he shouted into it, angry for his lapse. 

 "This Alphonse D'Mato?" 

 "You tell me." Ray looked at his boots. 

 "Listen smart guy, The Man can't make the meeting tonight." 

 "And the reason is?" 

 "None of your business." 

 "When will he get out?" Ray knew the code: the only reason a meet didn't
happen was jail. 

 "We'll be in touch, D'Mato." And the line went dead. 

 Well, damn. Ray shut the phone resisting the temptation to call his lieu
to get the skinny on what's up with Benito "The Man" Cappoblanco. Was he
in for the night or did someone else drop him for good? Not that he cared
is the scum sucker was off the streets for a long time, that was way good.
It's just that he didn't know if he wanted to rush back to his real life.
It wasn't the best real life anymore. 

 "So, you're free?" 

 Buffalo Bob. Right. Ray looked into the guy's eyes, looking at something.
He didn't know what it was, but it felt right. "I'm free. Pitter patter,
let's get at her." 

 Turning his hat over, the guy pulled a folded bill from the band inside.
It was odd. Colored. Counterfeit? 

 "It's Canadian," Frankie Kohl-man said, opening it, frown creasing his
forehead. 

 "So am I," Lumber Jack said, standing up and placing his funny hat on his
head. 

 Ray looked at Frankie and shrugged. He threw a couple of greenbacks on
the bar and pushed away from it to follow the guy out the front door.
There were a couple of wolf whistles and nasty ass remarks sent his way.
This was the first time in the weeks he'd been haunting this shit hole
that he'd left with anyone. 

 First time he'd ever been interested. 

 He left with sign language thrown over his shoulder. Lumber Jack was
waiting for him. "Hey, my name is - " he paused a beat, making up his
mind, "Alphonse D'Mato, but, well, you can understand why I go by Ray."
The guy frowned. "You gotta problem with that?" he asked. 

 "No," he said, "I have a colleague with the same name." 

 "Uh huh" Ray snugged into his jacket. Winter was cold and the windy city
was windy tonight. "My ride's this way." 

 They walked together in silence. "You got a name?" Ray finally asked. "Or
something I can call you. You know, if you're worried about your rep or
something." Ray had no delusions about how he must look to this guy. 

 "Benton Fraser," the guy said stopping dead to put out a hand for a
shake. Ray looked at the hand, and up at the guy, not getting it. He took
the offered hand. 

 "Benton Fraser, huh?" Ray said. He shook the firm hand. "Any relation to
Duddly Do Right?" 

 "No," Benton Fraser said, solemnly, "Nell." 

 Ray blinked. Blinked again and a smile broke out. "Joke. Good joke. I get
it." He moved the few feet to the old Chevy pick-up he'd drawn from
impound. It was that or the Plymouth Reliant. He was no way a Mopar man,
and certainly not lame Mopar crap like that. Without no choice, he went
with the full butch fag thing and copped the keys to the truck. 

 He followed Fraser to the passenger side door. Instead of unlocking the
door, he spun the guy and pressed him back into it. Taller than him,
outweighing him too, Ray wasn't scared of the guy. The guy should be
scared of him. Fraser tried to push Ray off him, but he wasn't going no
where. He pushed his hips up and into the object of his now raging lust.
He felt an answering dick meeting his thrusts. 

 They hung there for a few minutes, trying to figure each other out. The
little smile was back on Fraser's lips, but there was something edgier in
his eyes. A knowing, needing look. 

 Then his lips swooped at Ray taking his in a hot, hot meeting of flesh.
Tongue slashed and teeth clicked. This was good. His stubble scratched the
pretty, smooth skin as they attacked each other. Hungry. The guy was
starved and Ray never turned down a meal himself. 

 But he pushed himself off Fraser, wiping his mouth on his wrist. "You
wanna take this to my place?" The guy looked shell shocked. Ray let his
eyes wander down at the tight jeans. Beautiful. He saw the outline of what
waited for him. "Guess you do." 

 He unlocked the door and slid in over the gear box. Fraser followed him,
pulling the door shut with a resounding clunk. Onto the dash went the
funny hat, Ray looked out from under his brow, stealing a look. Hot eyes
were eating him alive. 

 Jamming his keys into the ignition and adjusting the choke on the ancient
bucket of bolts, he popped the clutched and the truck lurched forward.
Yellow lights just became incentive to accelerate faster towards his
crappy little apartment. Sliding into a parking space half block away from
the flop house he had rented, Ray was out and waiting for Fraser to join
him on the sidewalk. The light from the street light told him that Fraser
was still hot for it. 

 Oh, yeah. He was still hot. Incendiary might be a good word. "You want we
should get some liquor?" Ray tossed his head toward the all night liquor
store. "They got condoms, too," he blurted out. "In case, we, uh, need
more than the two in my wallet." 

 "I have one of my own. That should be sufficient." 

 "Yeah. Three condoms. Sufficient." Freak. "Up the steps then." 

 Three flights up. A studio/efficiency hole in the wall. Mostly just cold
water in the shower, but a decent mattress. He screamed bloody murder for
a decent mattress. If he was going to make sacrifices, he needed his
Beauty Rest, damn it. 

 The guy dogged his heels the whole way up the steps. If Ray had sneakers
on, he would have got heeled. Any other guy, any other time and Ray would
have kicked out and sent the asshole down the steps for crowding him.
Shit, he could almost feel the breath on the back of his neck. 

 But, not tonight. Tonight Ray wanted crowded. He wanted to crowd. He
cranked the sticky key in the sticky lock, and nearly knocked the door off
the hinges to get it opened. Slamming Fraser against the wall, he slammed
right up against the bigger man. His cock was harder than it'd been in a
while and he ground it deep into another such hard on. 

 A long breath pushed out of the object of his lust. A sigh maybe, like it
said, finally. Ray tilted his head up to and his lips were grabbed by a
vacuum cleaner. The guy was a kisser. And a mover. Ray's coat was almost
slipped off his shoulders. He grabbed it before it went too far, easing it
off before the gun in the lining hit the floor with a clunk. 

 Fraser pulled his mouth off of Ray's. Ray frowned up at him. "Perhaps we
should close the door." Ray blinked at Fraser, then at the gaping door.
"Yeah, sure," he said and slammed it shut. He looked back at Fraser like
he'd suddenly lost something. 

 The guy tilted his head, giving Ray a long look and slipped his own
jacket off onto the floor. Eyes never leaving Ray's, he lifted the hem of
his tattered sweater up and over his head. Then a long sleeved shirt with
buttons at the neck. Then a tee shirt. No more armor now. Just a smooth,
hard chest. 

 He was staring again. Ray grabbed the waist band of his
getting-pretty-obscene jeans to pull him into his hips. "What you looking
at?" 

 Grabbing Ray back, he pushed one hot hand under his shirt, grasping skin
between his fingers. Other hand was pushing loose jeans over boney hips to
fist tighty whities. The pull on the back of his underpants sent all kinds
of happy sensory signals to Ray's dick. He groaned from deep in his gut
and planted his lips on the tender skin of a tender neck. 

 "God," was the only sound he heard. The guy was pushing him away again.
Ray was gonna clean his clock soon if he didn't stop cutting into his lip
time. "Perhaps we should fully unclothe. Perhaps make use of the bed." 

 If Ray were the super violent type, there'd be a big hole in the plaster
by Benton Fraser's head. How can a guy with so much blood transferred from
his brain to his cock say things like, perhaps make use of the bed? Ray
didn't say a word, just toed off his boots and everything else. He reached
for his wallet to get out his two raincoats before heading over to the bed
in the dark corner of the room. 

 When he hit the bed on his back, he looked up at buck naked Adonis
staring down at him, nice sized snake in hand. Funky thing on it, like
some kind of growth. Then Ray nearly blushed when he realized he was
looking at a foreskin for the first time. "You keep that clean?" he asked,
like he asked the question before. 

 The guy actually looked insulted. "Impeccably." 

 "Figured." Ray said. It did. He brought his hand up to rub on his belly,
all seductive. "You gonna look or you gonna party?" 

 Okay. That was barely out of his mouth when his dick was being gulped
down like a fucking sucker. He nearly levitated. He knew he shouted. The
wet, hot vacuum shot sensation through him like he never felt. Holy Mary,
was this what it was supposed to feel like? He ain't never had a mouth do
that to his dick. "Yeah, oh, yeah." Those were the only words he could say
as he was worked over, up and into a frenzy. His fingers curled into the
Howdy Doody hair, messing it up, feeling the softness while he crushed it.


 He felt his ass tilted up and he went with it, putting his feet flat on
the bed to lift his ass up. Fingers were there, stroking his "t'ain't
meat". Oh, man, that was good. Then they were brushing his asshole. And
that felt good. 

 Yeah, he was a little surprised. It wasn't what he thought it would be.
It was good. Really good. He moved toward the finger even though his mind
and dick were being blown, wanting more. He got it. Millimeter by
millimeter. "Oh, God. Oh, shit." His vocabulary was increasing. 

 So was the pressure on his penis. His balls were tightening; one hand
went down to cup them, a thumb splitting them. Oh, Christ, he was close.
Just as his dick surged, Fraser pulled out, nudged his hand from his balls
and pulled them both into his mouth. 

 Ray screamed again. And came in buckets. Long, hot jets of come covered
the smooth face of his now lover. It was the most dirty, erotic thing he'd
ever seen. Rubbing a thumb threw his own jizz, he wished he could feed it
to Fraser, who looked like he wished he could taste it. Sometimes HIV
ruined a moment. But only a nanomoment coz Fraser was still hard. 

 "You gonna do me now?" Ray asked surprising himself. He was actually
asking for a dick up his ass. 

 "If you wish." He looked up at him, hopeful, soulful and with come
dripping down his face. 

 "Been a while," Ray said. It had been a while. Like never in this
lifetime. But, heck, he'd try anything once. More if he liked it. Like
that boy blowjob thing. He'd take another one of those, thank you very
much. 

 Fraser pushed himself off Ray's lap and looked around the room, squinting
into the darkness. "I got some stuff here," Ray offered, moving to
scrounge around in the night stand. He turned to see Fraser wiping his
face with the corner of the sheet. When did that get to be a turn on? 

 "It's been a while," he said as he handed the KY over. Like never. 

 Ben nodded. "For me, too." 

 "You still remember how?" Ray was trying to be flip coz it was his cherry
at stake. 

 The look he got was priceless. "Yes, I believe I remember." Snark. Snark
was good. "Turn onto your side." Ray laid down. "Facing away from me."
Okay, yeah, that would work. 

 Ray tried to focus on the reflection of the street light on the dirty
window, but the callused hand ghosting over his flank sent too many sparks
to his eyeballs. His top leg was pushed over his other, and he felt a
thumb between his cheeks heading for his already anticipating 'love bud'.
He laughed at the purpleness of his thoughts. 

 The thumb stomped. "Am I tickling?" 

 Ray's laugh was dustier. "Oh, yeahhhh. Keep tickling." 

 The thumb was slowing sinking into him. He couldn't help pushing into it,
it felt good. The thumb worked around for a while and Ray let himself be
mesmerized by the massaging sensations until the thumb was withdrawn.
"Hey," he said, starting to roll back. A firm hand stopped him and he felt
two cool, slick fingers sliding in. Pushing in. It was a little tight, he
tensed. 

 "Easy. Your doing fine." The voice was low, like he was gentling an
animal. Yeah, Ray thought, laughing again. I'm an animal. A mewling
kitten. This time Fraser made no comment. Just continued to massage until
Ray was once again a puddle on the bed. 

 The third finger brought him back into focus. Hitting the happy gland
nearly sent him off the bed. "Oh, shit. God damn," he groaned as he pushed
back looking for another hit of whatever that was. He writhed on a spit
when he got another hit. His dick was alive again, rubbing with every back
thrust he made. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he growled. This was getting to be too
much. He never felt anything like this before. Nothing. No where. No how. 

 And the fingers were gone. What the hell. 

 Oh. 

 An arm was eased around his waist and a hand splayed across his abdomen
to keep him in place as the hot, latex covered dick took its place behind
Ray. Gently, but firmly, it was inched in. He could feel the breath on his
neck, his neck hair standing on end as he was filled ever so slowly, ever
too slowly. Momentary pain at stretching gave way to increasing sensation.
Here he was, in a crappy room, nearly, sort of, face down on a mattress,
getting his butt fucked. And loving it. 

 His breath hitched with every inch forward. Fraser stopped. "Is this
painful?" He sounded concerned. 

 "Fuck no," Ray ground out. "Want it. Do it." 

 The sigh on his neck brought a long moan from Ray. Shit, this couldn't
get much better. The hand on his abdomen inched down into his pubic hair,
the slightest hint of a touch. Yeah, he was hard again. 

 The whole cock was in and Fraser was flush to his back. Sweat slick and
hot against his back. Nothing was happening. 

 "What you waiting for?" Ray pushed back. 

 "I'm waiting for control." 

 "Why?" 

 "I don't want to hurt you." 

 Ray laughed again. The stuff this guy came up with. "You think you can
hurt me?" He pushed back again, liking taunting with an ass full. 

 "If I lose control, I could." 

 "Just shut up and fuck me." 

 "As you wish." 

 Freak. But at least he pulled out and pushed back in. "Faster," Ray
demanded, getting used to the pressure and liking it. 

 He was pushed further onto his side as Fraser's leg came up over his and
the invading cock embedded even further, enabling it to hit just where Ray
wanted it. "Holy fuck," he gasped and began to meet every thrust sent his
way. "Yeahyeahyeah," was the only thing he could say now as the slick
bodies slid against each other. Fraser was no longer in control, pummeling
Ray with every thrust. Pumping his own dick, he knocked Fraser's hand so
many times he wasn't surprised when it covered his own, keeping the pace. 

 Not for long. A final squeeze, a final thrust and his balls were
tightening. He didn't come with the fierceness of the first time, but he
came good. First time he ever came with a dick pumping him from behind. He
felt his butt clutch, and heard Fraser's first bedtime groan. It was long
and low and would have been a turn on if Ray hadn't just shot his load. 

 A warm hand on his cooling, sweaty back held him still as the condom
covered dick slid, then popped out of his back door. Empty. He felt empty.


 He swallowed and turned onto his back. Looking up, he saw Fraser looking
around for somewhere to dispose of the remains. Not looking away from
Fraser, he reached for a wad of tissues from under the bed. Who knew
someone disposing of a used condom could be hot? Something told him he'd
be reevaluating this whole bisexuality thing, big time. 

 Ray took the wad from Fraser and tossed it at an already overflowing
trash can. When he looked back Fraser was leaning on an elbow staring back
at him. 

 "Can you stay?" Ray asked. Why? He had no idea. He just didn't want this
to be over. 

 It was a while before he got an answer. "For a while. I have
obligations." 

 Yeah, Ray got the obligation thing. Shit, he himself was married. Sure,
Stella had asked him for a divorce, they weren't in sync anymore, they
were turning on different worlds. The worlds just seemed to get further
apart tonight. Maybe it was time to stop fighting. "Whatever you can give
me." 

 Fraser smiled at that. "Do you mind?" He looked off toward the bathroom. 

 "Yeah, sure, go ahead. There's even a clean towel under the sink." 

 After the door was shut, Ray fished his phone out of his coat pocket. He
dialed the station house and got hold of the desk sergeant to find out
what went down with Cappoblanco. The feds had him. ATF. Crossing state
lines with contraband. No, sarge didn't know what for contraband. Didn't
matter. Ray was outta the game. Time to go home. 

 He flipped his phone shut. Figures. Fuckin' figures. Last day of school
and he finds his pot of gold. He hung his coat on the back of a chair and
picked his clothes up. The Canadian's, too. He threw his in a pile,
Fraser's on another one. Put his underwear back on. What the hell. His ass
muscles strained as he bent his knee to put a leg in. Funny how it felt
not bad, not good, just there to remind him what he'd done. 

 How he was different. Not the guy that he woke up as this morning. He
thought about a cigarette and nixed that idea. He needed another drink,
but he'd settle for the water in the fridge. 

 He was standing there in his underwear by the fridge, guzzling bottled
water in the stark light of his shabby kitchenette when Fraser came out of
the bathroom with a thin towel wrapped around his waist. He looked for his
clothes a minute before spotting them on the chair. He frowned and Ray
kinda sagged. 

 "Your money is still in your hat." 

 Fraser blinked, then colored. "Uh, thank you." 

 Kinda pissed Ray off that he didn't trust him for a minute. But, like he
could blame the guy. "You still wanna stay." Ray didn't blame him if he
wanted to go. 

 "Yes," he said, "yes, I do." 

 Ray melted. "Okay. Great." 

 He moved toward the bed and straightened the bedding, climbing in. Fraser
turned out the light before joining Ray. It was good. Great. A warm body
nestling in behind him, arms circling him, he'd never been in this
position before. He liked it. A lot. 

 A nose was in his hair. Behind his ear. A tongue tipped his ear lobe. Ray
groaned. "I'm not sure I can get it up again, buddy." 

 "No problem, Ray. I was merely creating a sensory memory." 

 Okay. The guy was a certifiable freak. No contest. Total freak. Ray
sighed and sniggled back into Fraser's arms, letting an absent thumb
stroke back and forth on his nipple. 

 "Why'd you do it?" he asked after a while. 

 "Do what?" 

 Ray didn't answer. The guy could figure it out. 

 "This?" Finally. 

 "Yeah." The 'what's a nice guy like you, doing in a place like this?'
question. 

 There was silence for a while. Like this was a hard question. 

 "I was lonely." 

 "Uh huh." Ray laid a hand on Fraser's forearm, wanting to give a
connection, but not stop the stroking on his nipple. He was a selfish
bastard. 

 "A friend, well, old acquaintance came to town recently. I, um, almost -
" 

 The pause was long, so Ray filled in. "Fucked him?" 

 "Humiliated myself." 

 "By fucking him?" Ray could be relentless. 

 "By asking for it." 

 Okay. That was different. "He's got no idea?" 

 "About my desires? No." 

 "Huh." He needed to say something, but had nothing. 

 They were quiet another long time. The thumb on the nipple never let up.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" 

 "Doesn't feel like it." Ray paused and pushed his ass back onto a limp
lap. "Feels pretty good," he said. 

 "I'm glad." Another pause. "Ray-" Long pause. "I - we can't -" 

 "I know, Benton buddy, this was a one time thing. Just a port in the
storm. I needed something. You needed something. It's all good." 

 Although it wasn't. Ray had himself an epistle tonight, and he was
changed pretty much permanently. Now he was making the 'letting go'
speech. God, talk about jumping from the manic cliff. His mood was falling
like a rock. 

 The nose was once again buried in the hair at his neck, strong arms
nearly crushed the breath out of him. "I want - so much more." 

 Ray raised his head, moving it back to nuzzle Fraser cheek to cheek. "I
get that. Oh, I get that." Sighing he said, "Chicago's not such a big
city. We'll hook up again." Not that he believed it. It sounded good,
though. 

 Benton Fraser was shell shocked. His home had burned to the ground. Only
Dief's dish was salvageable, snug in his back pack. Everyone at the office
of the Twenty-seventh District was acting a little off. Talking in riddles
whenever he asked where Ray Vecchio was. They stared at him more oddly
than usual as he dispersed his gifts from home. He frowned into their
stares. 

 There he was, leaning over his desk. Odd. He was wearing a wrinkled sport
coat. And the cuffs of his twill trousers were frayed. 

 "Benton buddy," he said when he turned. 

 It was Ray. Alphonse D'Mato. The man he'd dreamed about for over a year.
The man that he never imagined to see again. A policeman. Ray was a
policeman. Not a sparkling, edgy, intoxicating possible drug dealer he met
and bedded in a part of town as seedy as his own. Well, former part of
town. 

 He was in a sharp, hard hug. "Ray? Ray. Ray." The last 'Ray' was a sigh. 

 "Good to see you again, old pal o'mine." Ray said at last, still holding
him by the shoulders to take in the review order. The red and black
uniform must have surprised him as much as his appearance surprised
Fraser. "Red suits you." 

 He'd heard that before. Often. But his frank perusal caused Fraser to
warm. Ray's smile was now directed towards his face. "Wanna go for lunch?
A long lunch. You can tell me everything you've been doing. And I can tell
you everything I've been up to." 

 "That - that would be wonderful, Ray. Shall we go for Chinese or pizza?" 

 Ray's smile had a beautiful twist to it. "Pizza. Delivered. To my place."


 Benton was warm again. "That sounds marvelous, Ray." It was. Marvelous.
Unbelievable. 

 "Hey, Lieu," Ray called across the room. Lieutenant Welch looked up from
behind his desk. There was a decidedly pained look on his face. Perhaps it
had to do with the suited man hovering close to his side. "Frase and I are
heading out. Got some catching up to do." 

 "Oh, to be a fly on the wall. Get out of here. But come back. Lord knows
we wouldn't want to find out what it was like to do without you." 

 "Right. Rightski. We'll be back in a flash. Come on, Fraser." 

 Ray's apartment was different than his room down by the stockyards. It
was full of life and inklings to the character that was Ray - Vecchio.
He'd filled him in on many of the details on the trip over. Ray Kowalski
was Ray Vecchio. He was undercover. It was what he did. It was his thing.
Fraser's head was reeling. 

 Diefenbaker's, however, wasn't. He'd recognized the scent immediately
from all those months ago and was intrigued. The offer of pizza didn't
hurt, endearing Ray to Diefenbaker nearly instantly. Ray, interestingly
enough, took the wolf in stride, like he was part of the package. Which
the wolf was. 

 The sat sated, finishing their root beers, staring at each other. Root
beer. Ray had remembered. It was good. Benton couldn't look his fill at
Ray. Ray seemed to feel the same way, his stare making him uncomfortable. 

 Looking at Benton intently, he stood to take off his jacket. Then his
shirt. "We don't have time to do a whole lot. I know we just met up again.
I know I might be rushing here, but listen. I gotta touch you. Gotta have
that, you know." He paused with his hands on his belt. "Okay?" 

 As if he had to worry. Removing the review order was never very easy. It
was a ritual that Fraser had savored for the many years he had worn it. 

 However, today, it was a ritualistic nightmare. Fingers were clumsy, even
as he thanked God for the installation of Velcro in strategic spots. The
laces on the boots were, however, nearly ripped from the eyelets.
Diefenbaker huffed from his place under the window. 

 Ray watched with amusement, naked on his bed. Benton smiled his
embarrassment as he climbed onto the man that haunted his nights. He eased
himself down onto the wiry body and let himself be pulled into a full body
hug. His penis felt the hard, smooth flesh of its companion. God, this was
glorious. He breathed a lung full of the rich scent he'd remember so well.
Dipping his head, his tongue tipped the earlobe and he nearly came.
Shuddering, he pushed up to look into the pale, oddly colored eyes. He
closed his eyes as his lips settled on Ray's. They kissed a long, lovely
while, Benton savoring every flavor - pizza breath, tobacco, root beer -
before Ray pulled back. 

 "It's been a tough couple of weeks for me, Benton buddy." he said. Benton
cocked his head to wait for him to continue. "I knew it was you that
worked with Vecchio. I knew you were my partner now, my working partner
and, man, I couldn't wait. I was going crazy hoping you wanted this - this
here in the bed - as much as I did." He moved his member against Benton's,
showing what he wanted, what he needed. "This is great," he whispered. 

 Oh. God. This was glorious. Benton established the rhythm, sliding his
cock along Ray's. Ray arched into the rhythm, nearly dislodging Benton. He
wouldn't be able to do it, Benton was going no where. 

 This is what he needed. This is what he wanted. They were totally in
sync, in the groove. Shut up, he told himself. Sliding his teeth over
Ray's collar bone, he listened to Ray's litany of 'oh, fuck, oh, Christ,
oh, shit' and allowed sensation to take him away. 

 They lay sticky in each others arms. Ben held Ray close, his tongue
exploring the small pox scar on his upper arm. Tasted good. Tasted like
Ray. This Ray. His Ray. He felt loneliness slipping away, not completely.
Solitary was his way, had been since he could remember. But now, it might
not be so very alone. 

 Unaccountably, the words of Oscar Hammerstein came into his mind as he
pulled Ray to him closer still. "Somewhere in my bleak and miserable
youth, I must have done something good." 

 *End* 

End Trouble by BJCochran: bjcochran@epix.net

Author and story notes above.