Talking to the Dog X: You CAN Get There From Here	   Talking to the
Dog X: You CAN Get There From Here

 by Blue Champagne

  

 

 Disclaimer: Don't own anything, no money, just keeping sane. Sort of.

 Author's Notes: Thanks to those who have found these stories fun enough
to keep kicking me 'til I finished the series.

 Story Notes: Uh, some anachronism. But we've seen the anachronism I mean
already in previous stories.

 This story is a sequel to: Talking to the Dog IX: Stand up and Take It 

 

 Talking to the Dog X: You CAN Get There From Here  I just wanted to let
it be generally known: Yeah, I know all about the timescale between the
Canadian two-people law and the show. I Do Not Care. I am giving this one
thing (like the anachronistic jokes in the anti-RPS) a big
lazy-storyteller bump with the hip right off the barge. I hope this is
understood and forgiven. If not, well, I'm not getting paid for this, you
know?  

 "Fraser?" Ray glanced around the little park gazebo. He'd expected Fraser
and the furface to be meeting him for some fresh air, when Fraser had left
the message on his voice mail; maybe a walk and then get some dinner, back
to his place--hey, take-out, get back to his place that much faster, just
get to his place tonight for godssakes-- 

 He turned at the sound of a car slowing and pulling to the curb across
the sidewalk and strip of grass from where the little park gazebo stood,
and blinked at the sight of a limo pulling up. He grinned. The driver
hopped out, tipped his hat while opening the back door, and Ray hopped in,
directly into the arms of a smiling Fraser--knocking him on his back in
the broad seat, actually, since he stumbled a bit over the floor's edge.
The driver just flipped the edge of Ray's cashmere coat into the car and
shut the door behind them, then got back into the driver's compartment. 

 "Hi," Ray laughed down into Fraser's smiling face, as the car pulled away
from the curb. "Window tint, good. Dief elsewhere, good. I'll assume you
made sure we can trust the driver. You really think we're safe this time?"


 "Where's your cell phone?" 

 "Uh--" Ray pulled it out of his pocket and rapidly divested it of its
batteries, which he stuffed back into the pocket along with the phone. "I
forgot it." 

 "Oh, dear. Well, such things--mmmph--mmm..." 

 They squirmed into each other, lying on the seat with Fraser holding Ray
between his knees; it was pretty easy because Fraser was in something Ray
had never seen him in--a pair of nearly transparent jeans and a white
t-shirt with his leather jacket. Even in Chicago, it was hard to keep
Fraser from layering on clothes, but for the moment he seemed to feel they
needed all the help they could get toward nudity. When Fraser released his
mouth, Ray wondered "We doing it in the car?" 

 "No, we are not doing it in the car; we're going to the
Hollison-Carmichael." 

 "Woo-woo. Nice room?" 

 "Very nice room." 

 "I am helping pay, aren't I?" 

 "No, you aren't. Before you protest, I should mention I'm worth well over
one hundred thousand dollars in immediate liquid funds." 

 Ray spasmed and nearly spat right on Fraser. "What?!" 

 "That's Canadian dollars, of course." 

 "What--how--" 

 "A great deal of money was deposited in my father's name, in various bank
accounts. I was given access to the account numbers in an attempt to
convince me that he'd accepted bribes--" 

 "Yeah, I knew that, I just didn't think--I mean--" 

 "--and when he died, and I investigated after Gerard and his complicitors
had been imprisoned, I found that when the bankers were notified of my
existence as sole heir, the money simply came to me. I would have more,
but I gave a large portion of it to Maggie when I found out she..." 

 "Existed." 

 "Yes. I tried to give it all to her, but she wouldn't accept it; she felt
we should split it." 

 "Still, the, uh...it seems like it oughtta..." 

 "Yes, I did investigate and inquire, as I said; but it wasn't as though
the men who set my father up and had him killed could get the money back,
as if they deserved it--nor, as it turned out, was it traceable beyond
their own previous ownership of it. Wherever they got it, they'd covered
their tracks too deeply to follow...and they were reticent on the subject.
Downright obfuscatory, in fact." 

 "I just bet." Ray was listening, but it was getting more difficult as his
pants strained under the onslaught; he began pushing Fraser's jacket off.
Fraser didn't exactly fight him, but he wasn't really helping, either,
just trying to keep hold of Ray. 

 He continued "As for what you're thinking right now, namely about the way
I live, I can understand that one wouldn't think of me having large
quantities of money. I don't either, really. Think of me that way, that
is. I was raised to value frugality by people who valued it of necessity;
librarians seldom grow rich, especially travelling librarians in the
Territories. Also, on average, I spend, including all my current bills,
only about half of each of my paychecks; the rest is banked. The RCMP pays
a decent living wage, Ray; I just don't spend much of it." 

 "You're a man of simple needs, that's for sure," Ray said, still shaking
his head. "Wow. I never thought about...uh, that. Where that money went,
or where most of your pay goes, since you don't exactly throw it around
all over the place. Not even any rent and bills, right now. And never have
had much that way, from what I understand." 

 "No. Never have. My greatest expense at the moment is charitable
contributions of various kinds, to organizations, individuals, and
families--my first large contribution was toward the families affected by
the faulty dam's flooding. My father had died trying to help them, and,
considering the help I received at the hands of one of their
people...I...owed them. So in any case, don't worry about the cost for
this, Ray. This time, nobody is going to find us." 

 "Or stop us." 

 "Or that." 

 "Unless we don't back off a little right now oh God. Frase. Stop the
humping. Stop the humping. Mmm--oh, Jesus--" 

 "You stop the humping, I'm on the bottom, here." 

 Ray rolled off onto the floor of the limo, then climbed onto the seat
opposite Fraser. "Hey, this thing has a bar. Want anything?" 

 "Yes, something cold would help. What with rush-hour traffic, the size of
the car, the hotel's location..." 

 "We could be in here for a few, yeah. Where's our furry buddy?" 

 "Rejoicing, in his own way, with Turnbull and a friend of his--I believe
that fellow with the well-stocked kitchen, in which Turnbull prepared
lunch for Francesca one afternoon?" 

 "Yeah. So he's bumming eats." 

 "Yes, and wishing us godspeed, no doubt." 

 Ray laughed, handing Fraser a glass of the champagne he'd found on ice in
the bar. "Ordinarily I'd say no to drugs, here, considering what we're
headed for, but I'm gonna pop off in my pants if I don't get some kind of
help. This stuff should slow me down a little." 

 "Me as well." Fraser sipped. 

 "God, don't lick your lips like that." 

 "I'll try, but it's somewhat habitual, as you know." 

 Ray took in the picture of Fraser, having finally discarded the jacket,
in his aforenoticed outfit, rumpled from their abbreviated make-out
session, taking another cautious sip from the glass. The shifting light
from the tinted windows played across him, virtually nothing of his
natural strength and loveliness hidden by it. "You are so fucking
beautiful right now." 

 Fraser pinked, looking at him, then away. "I wish you could see the look
on your face, Ray, and for God's sake stay on that side of the car. I'm
just not as strong as I try to seem." 

 "Yeah. Yeah. Drink our drinks. Look out the window. Talk about something.
What about dinner? We getting dinner with our night at the fancy hotel?" 

 "Oh, yes. I didn't know if you'd want it before...well, later, or
exactly, um, when, so we'll just order when we're hungry. Are you hungry?
You did just get off work." 

 "I could eat, yeah, if you're offering." 

 "Open that other door there--yes." 

 "Ooh, and fancy munchies. You spared no expense here." 

 "I didn't want to take any chances. No one and nothing is getting in or
out of this car until we've arrived at the hotel. Including phone
signals." 

 Ray snickered and bit into a stuffed mushroom. "Mm." He chewed and
swallowed. "Nummy." He took a sip of champagne, went for a pate-piled
little toast triangle and crunched down. 

 Fraser reached for a small fruit-kebab. "We'll also be having breakfast
in the room. Not continental." 

 "We're gonna get fat in one weekend. In bed?" 

 "If you like. I was thinking maybe the bath. The suite has a Jacuzzi." 

 "I think I may just love you." 

 "I think you'd better, after all this trouble." 

 "Did you remember, um, in case we wanna..." 

 "Covered, Ray. I've got the room key, and already up there are your
shaving kit, changes of clothes, and, um, other sundries." 

 "'Sundries'. That's cute." Ray smiled. 

 "I remembered to pack both kinds of your hair gel. For the back and
sides." 

 "That's it. Marry me." 

 "I'll be happy to, Ray, although at this point I don't want there to be a
single secret left for the wedding night." 

 "Fuck, no."  

 Ray didn't know how the hell he made it all the way to the hotel without
denuding Fraser, but they made it, made it to the room, made it through
the door, made with locking the door, and then Ray shoved Fraser against
said door, set his hands in the neck of the T-shirt, and yanked. Shirt
destroyed, and finally, finally, that beautiful pale chest, warm firm
palmfuls under his hands. 

 Unfortunately, Fraser now had the giggles. "Have you been reading
Francesca's novels?" 

 "Shut up." He squeezed Fraser close and bit the side of his neck, almost
really hard, which cut that case of the giggles right off at the knees. 

 "Oh--" Fraser dumped his jacket and the remains of his shirt, and began
to pull frantically at Ray's coat; Ray let him get the thing off before
going back to what he was doing, and then Fraser set one hand in the back
of Ray's t-shirt and jerked. R-r-r-r-ip. 

 "Oh God." Ray began trying to climb Fraser, with little frantic humps and
whimpers, and Fraser managed to walk them back toward the giant bed that
turned out to be a leetle too far away, and they toppled sllllooowly to
the rug instead. 

 "Shit," Ray muttered, still glomming. He was working on Fraser's jeans
now. "Can you--little--further--" 

 Scooting frantically on his back, Fraser panted "Grab the edge, grab the
edge--okay, no, the spread, get a handful, pull us up--" 

 "Erf--" 

 "Ow! Teeth!" 

 "Sorry--here--" they rolled onto the bed and Fraser kneesnap-kneesnap
kicked his hiking boots off and across the room, as per usual unimpeded by
laces. Ray schlooked Fraser's jeans and boxers down and off so hard they
made it nearly as far as the boots had. Ray instantly dove on the only
thing, stuffed mushrooms aside, he'd really been wanting in his mouth for
weeks. 

 "AH!" Fraser nearly hit the ceiling. "Ray! Ah, God,
wait--get--Ray--pants, damn it, get over here--" 

 Ray couldn't entirely stop what he was doing, it was just too much to
expect, but he did manage not to kill Fraser with his knees or anything as
he got rotated around on the bed and Fraser, with about two powerful
yanks, got him bootless, sockless, pantless and shortless. Somewhere in
his hormone-drenched brain, realizing that only his unbreakable anchor on
Fraser's cock had likely kept him from flying off somewhere as a result of
this process, Ray felt a vague concern that the backwash might have sucked
off something important, but that worry was eliminated when he felt the
best thing he'd ever felt in his life, that being Benton Fraser's tongue
going to work on his poor suffering I've-been-hard-since-the-planet-cooled
cock. 

 And Fraser's hands, almost equally dexterous and limber appendages, going
to work elsewhere, all over him down there, and Ray knew he was still
whimpering and he could only hope that his extreme enthusiasm was helping
make up for the lack of finesse he was probably showing, because Fraser's
natural talent was just not to be compared to and he didn't want to give
back any less, here. Of course, that buzzing in Fraser's mouth and
therefore all around Ray's cock, that was making him struggle like hell
not to bite down on the column of Fraser-scented flesh in his own mouth,
was probably answering good-sex whimpers, so that must mean his own mouth
and hands were doing okay--he hoped, he hoped, jeez he hoped, because they
were coming up on the main event here, Fraser could not keep his ass on
the bed and Ray had stopped trying to make him, he was just riding with
it, and Fraser had hold of his hips now and seemed to be trying to exert
some kind of force, keeping Ray from perforating the back of his throat he
supposed, and God, and God, and God, and GOD-- 

 He couldn't stop, he couldn't pull his ass loose, he couldn't make Fraser
let go, and then it was too late, Fraser was working his sweet spot
somehow and he was convulsing so hard he was pretty sure he did hit
Fraser's cock with his teeth at least once, and it was hard to scream with
your mouth that full but it was definitely possible as proven right here
right now by his own vocal cords yes yes GOD please yes YES yes YES oh,
oh, ohhhhyessss... 

 He came around panting, let Fraser's cock slip from his lips a moment,
and graveled "Fra...okay?" 

 "Ray," Fraser responded, and Ray recognized that tone, that "please I'm
practically COMING here!!" tone, and he realquickfast schlurked up
Fraser's cock again and that seemed to be enough, that seemed to do it,
there Fraser went, yelling and moaning and Christ, jerking and bouncing
all over the bed, Ray barely managed to hold him through it, weight on his
hands on Fraser's smooth hipbones. 

 They were boneless, dead, beyond dead, decomposing, happy, sore-jawed,
more happy, and Ray came to again with his head resting on Fraser's thigh
and Fraser's voice in his ears, a little raspy, a little whispery, saying
"Ray...Ray. I love this end of you, I really do, but I need to talk to
your face for a moment." 

 "Uh..." Ray tried once, nope, twice, that got it, heaving his weight to
the side so that he rolled off onto the bed, and he crawled around on his
elbows and Fraser helped pull him up to lie with him. They were both a bit
come- smeared, and took a moment to wipe at each other's faces and mouths,
kissing around the wiping, making do, since there wasn't a single item of
clothing close enough to use to mop with, and the bedspread was out for
that Fraser would have a fit later, and they were not gonna be moving for
a few minutes. 

 "We didn't, uh," Fraser graveled, "the, um. Condom talk. We didn't." 

 "I know, I thought, when it was too late, I thought...didn't want you to
swallow, well fuck, yes I did, but you know..." 

 "Um. Yeah. Uh...you think...much risk?" 

 "Us? No." 

 "Still. Better. Until, um. Later. Get tested." 

 "Yeah, we'll do that. The rubber thing. 'Til later. Test, rubbers,
retest. The safe drill." 

 "I'm sorry. I'm the one who said I had it covered." 

 "I didn't give you a chance to get to them, wherever you have them
stashed around here. But I don't think we should be letting it keep us up
that we swallowed, here. You and me, well, we're not much in getting
around--I mean sexwise--to put it mildly." 

 "I used protection with..." 

 "Yeah, Victoria, she came prepared to down to the last degree; no reason
she'd've neglected that. Covering her own ass--sorry, Frase. But it stands
to reason." 

 "Yeah. Um, and I know you were faithful, and have no reason to believe
Stella was otherwise, and..." 

 "Have dismal stats in the sex department." 

 "My turn to apologize." 

 "S'allright. Anyway, we're both likely okay, but I'm not risking your
life over it, so where are the things? Should use 'em too when...when
I...wow...when my jaw gets better..." 

 "My throat is..." Fraser cleared his throat, shortened whatever he'd been
going to say to "Me, too. They're in the bedside table, that side. Along
with, ahm." 

 "More 'sundries'." 

 "Mm-hm. Limited to Astroglide brand liquid, in this case." 

 "That's fine, that's good, that's more than enough for me, Fraser, just
to finally touch you, the hell with toys and crap. I've never even done
the butt-fuck thing with a guy, just assplay..." 

 "I have, a few times. I'll tell..." he cleared his throat, but not with
nerves, for once. "If you're curious. It's...it can be truly amazing." 

 Fraser had squeezed him close on "just to finally touch you", and he
responded in kind. "Mm. Yeah, I am, but later. No big. 'Sides, we maybe
try it ourselves, I'll see what it's like first-hand. Or first something,
heh heh. Inner seventh-grader talking to me, here..." 

 He felt Fraser smile against his temple at the silliness, and sighed in
contentment. 

 They lay a moment, and then Fraser said "I think some refreshment would
be nice." 

 "Little something to kill the taste?" 

 "Yes," Fraser said, smirking a little as he kissed Ray's temple and
cheekbone and forehead. "I find it's...much like milk. One of my favorite
beverages, but after it's been drunk, it doesn't wear well in the mouth
for too long." 

 "Got you. I can move. Where's the...ah." Ray spotted the room's private
bar-fridge in the corner by the desk and the windows. "Be right back." 

 He got up to get them some drinks, and Fraser got the sheets folded down
and met up with him in the bathroom, where they had both gone for towels.
They grinned at each other to see they'd both grabbed a washcloth for
immediate wetting and use and some extra towelage for fetching out to the
bed with them. 

 Back in bed, Ray searched for the TV remote, found it, and said, at
Fraser's look of puzzlement, "Don't worry, I'm not more interested in the
TV than I am in you, I'm just looking for some nice background stuff, or
something to watch while we, you know, recuperate. It's what, six-thirty?
We've got a long night ahead of us." 

 Fraser smiled, apparently in simple pleasure at the thought, and squeezed
Ray, pulling him in, without totally ruining Ray's attempts to find the
schedule channel. He found it and said "There it is...where's the
in-room...anything look good to you?" 

 "I haven't seen 'The L-Word,'" Fraser said. 

 "I have, but cool, I can point stuff out for you." Ray clicked on the
movie. 

 "I'd appreciate that." 

 "It's pretty much supposed to be QAF for lesbians. Their quote culture
unquote, as opposed to the guy-culture. The diesel dyke is pretty much a
joke--they couldn't show what any of the standard stereotypical categories
really might look like; they wanted to make it play for a wide American
audience--read 'straight'--so the actors are all what straight culture
would think of as your standard pretty women, with a few token alterations
to make it obvious which stereotype they're supposed to be." 

 "It's true that the American viewing audience is far more limited in what
they're willing to accept in women's' appearances than Mens'," Fraser
mused. "Far more so than the rest of the English-speaking world, which
more values evident character, and the unusual and interesting, and of
course prefers artistic verisimilitude in characterization to whatever
might be the current fashion in sexual attractiveness. Male actors can be
cast with far more latitude in their appearances to fit the character
they're portraying. Women must, first and foremost, fit that fluctuating
standard of physical desirability, even if that standard is entirely
incompatible with the appropriate appearance that would ground and convey
the character being portrayed. Only then is proper appearance for the
character considered." 

 "Yeah. Women just ain't allowed to be anything but skinny and pretty in
the states, not even for whatchacallit, verisimilitude's sake," Ray said
as they sipped screwdrivers--orange juice for Fraser and Wyborowa for Ray.
Fraser's was extremely light on vodka; so was Ray's, but only because, as
he'd noted, they had a long and hopefully really porno-heaven-type evening
ahead of them. Tonight was a night to indulge, but whiskey dick was one
thing he wasn't gonna even consider. Plus he wanted to enjoy tomorrow
before check-out time, too. 

 Speaking of which. As they watched the hotel's movie intro thing, he
asked "How long have we got in the morning, Fraser? Ten, eleven, isn't
it?" 

 "No, Ray, I reserved two nights, so we may leave as late in the afternoon
as we like, or on Sunday morning." 

 "You--we both gotta work Monday, gotta get back, but you're paying for a
whole extra day--meals and stuff--?" at Fraser's nod, he continued "--in
this suite, just so we can lollygag in the morning?" 

 "That's right." Fraser gave what must have been the only fatuous smile
Ray had ever seen on his face. 

 "You hedonist. I love you." 

 "I love you too," Fraser chuckled. "I dipped quite extensively into my
accounts, Ray, don't worry. I did want to go out tomorrow sometime not too
late--I'd like to take you on a shopping trip, and some stores close
earlier on weekends, and a few don't open on Sundays." 

 "Mall stays open later on--you ain't talking about the mall.
You're...talking about stores that can afford to do things like not be
open on a weekend day." 

 "I...I had the idea..." Fraser shifted a little, looking away, joggling
the ice in his drink, when Ray turned in the half-circle of his arm
against the pillows to look more directly at him. "You're...fond of
jewelry, ornamentation. Tattoos," he added, leaning down to kiss Ray's
real fast, almost embarrassed. "I'd like to take you to...whatever store
you'd like, or stores, downtown, and buy you something special. That you'd
like to wear, something fun for you, I mean. It needn't reflect our
relationship or anything like that. Your ears are pierced; perhaps you'd
like a set of tasteful diamonds to wear in them on special occasions.
Or--the things you wear tend to be distinctive, unique. We could have a
ring made to order for you, if you'd like one. I didn't know if you'd want
another bracelet, fond as you are of the one you have...to make a long
story short, anything you want. I wanted you to choose, though, rather
than my just...handing you something. That would make you feel beholden,
as though you should wear it just to please me. I wanted to be certain it
would be something you would have chosen anyway. Something you wouldn't
have spent the money on for yourself, but...would enjoy the same as if you
had." 

 At this shyly delivered speech, Ray nearly dropped his drink from
nerveless fingers. "Frase...I love you, but that's too much. I mean, I'm
still getting used to you being a tycoon, though I don't know what I was
thinking, really, you had to have money someplace, you've got a
living-wage job and about no expenses. But it's just too much--" 

 "I'm a long way from a tycoon; 'definitely comfortable' is about as far
as one could go, and that's only because my needs--and wants--are very
simple, and I prefer to let any money not involved in various retirement
plans simply generate interest, which I then give away." 

 "Saves you a little on taxes, anyway." 

 "Yes, it does, and in any event it seems a fitting purpose for money
intended to be used the way that money was...and no doubt procured just as
unscrupulously. That is, failing its return to any rightful
owners--assuming there were any, the way high-level finance can be--it
appeals to my sense of justice that it should be turned to doing active
good. Um, in any case...I knew you might react this way to my idea,
but--my first priority, in terms of money, has always been charity. You're
my first priority now. That's what I want. That's the way I want it, Ray.
You aren't taking advantage of me. Don't we know each other well enough?
Aren't we close enough? I swear, I will never hold my giving you something
expensive over your head. Did you ever do that with Stella?" 

 Ray prepared to take umbrage, and Fraser cut him off at the pass, saying
"Exactly. You would never do that. Neither would I. This is my choice, and
I know it's not something you would ever have asked for. It's for me, Ray.
It would make me very happy to spend some of that money giving you
something that will bring you pleasure; something just for you. That you
get to choose." 

 "I just wanna give you...something back..." Ray was at a loss. He knew
Fraser would never expect anything back; would he understand that this
impulse didn't come from a need to even things up, to keep them on an
equal footing financially in their friendship? That it came from somewhere
else entirely? 

 Fraser met his happy, sad, confused eyes and smiled. "I'd feel the same
way. I understand, so I won't say 'just being with you is a gift,'
because, while true--in ways I can't even begin to express--that wouldn't
satisfy me in your place, either. So I'll just say this--we have a long
time ahead of us, even if neither of us are exactly young any more.
There'll be plenty of time for you to go out of your way for me, in ways
far more meaningful than a simple...celebratory gift, bought with money
that I have plenty of." 

 "Yeah. Okay, but I don't think I should come ahead of charity. I don't
wanna come before your yearly gift to the Boy's and Girls club or whoever,
or some homeless guy with no coat that you meet on the way to work--just
so I can have a new set of winter floor mats for the goat or whatever. I
know most of the people you help, you help because they got nobody, no one
to care, and the system won't help 'em even, and I don't wanna get in the
way of that--I mean, I got a sense of justice about where the best place
to put money like that might be, too. Put me just under charity?" 

 Fraser smiled at him like he was the moon and the stars. "Of course, Ray,
I thought that might be what you'd want. I'd have done it just to please
you, but I respect your sense of justice, too." 

 "Just outta curiosity, are you even on the list?" 

 "Oh, yes. Quite high. In the top ten, at the very least. Perhaps even the
top five." 

 "Where anybody else'd put themselves at the top." He laughed. "I bet
you're after Maggie." 

 "I would be if she'd let me be, but she has quite a bit of money of her
own, now, as I mentioned--possibly more than I have, depending on how
she's chosen to distribute it, and the methods she uses for generating
more with the capital, to create a steady supply to give to those in need.
If I tried to make her a financial priority, she'd probably just retaliate
by making me one back. Like me, her duty and those she loves are far more
important to her than material gain, provided her genuine needs in that
department--which are, if anything, even more simple than mine--" 

 "Extremely hard to believe alert happening, here." 

 "--are minimally satisfied." 

 "I love her, you know." 

 Fraser smiled. "I know. I love her, too." 

 "Well, she's your sister, but I love her 'cause she's so much like you,
if for no other reason." 

 "I'm appropriately flattered. Maggie is...let's just say I'm...very proud
to be her brother. She's a credit to her mother and to herself, and even,
in a way, to my father, since any similarity between us would have to be
through him. Though I suppose the...nature of our upbringings wasn't that
different in terms of the need for thrift, hard work and resourcefulness.
So--" Fraser returned his eyes, all big and blue, to Ray's face, and the
conversation to the previous subject. "--you'll let me? Buy you some nice
jewelry to wear? When you want to?" 

 Ray smiled, and he realized his eyes were filling, sentimental dork that
he was. Fraser looked as anxious as a child, all excitement, eager to
please. He never bought people things; he always made his own gifts for
people, and this was likely as much a novel, fun thing for Fraser's own
sake as for Ray's. He really wanted Ray to like this idea. Ray's heart
almost broke with the artless sweetness of it, but he bit most of it back
to keep from seeming patronizing to Fraser. 

 "I'd be proud to accept your jewelry present, Frase. Fucking proud and
happy and I'll wear it always thinking of you, whatever it turns out
being. I will be having a shitty day, and I will look at this present or
notice it in my ear or whatever the hell, and I will think, I am a lucky,
lucky man, and smile." 

 Fraser's own smile bloomed like the sun for a moment, then was checked a
bit as he hemmed a little and looked away again, saying "You can wear it
with whatever discretion you feel you need to, of course. If, for
instance, you didn't think it was a good idea to wear it to work, I
wouldn't be offended. Just...whatever. Whatever you think. I want it to
make you happy, not feel obligated." 

 Ray was shaking his head, eyes closed, half in wonder and half in
negation. "Fraser, Frase, Frase--don't worry about that. Whatever it is,
whatever it cost--if anybody asks me where it came from, I'll tell 'em my
partner gave it to me 'cause it was something I'd never have bought for
myself, and isn't it beautiful? And they better say yes, because I got
taste. In everything." 

 They were both hovering dangerously near losing it, losing it in sheer
gooey sweet affection, and Ray didn't want that, it'd make Fraser
uncomfortable, the poor big lump. Keep telling yourself that, he thought,
and nearly broke out in laughter at himself. Okay, so he was a guy. He
smiled and had a big slug of his drink, nearly dripping a little in the
process. 

 "Ray! Careful. How much vodka is in that, anyway?" 

 "Not much, about like yours. Okay, present settled. We got a poorly-cast
movie to watch. Here we are--" Ray was resettling himself in the bed with
Fraser. Naked in bed with Fraser and a weekend in a fancy hotel with a
gazillion pay channels and movies, this was the fucking life. "This
scene's funny--these two are trying to get the blonde pregnant, and she
finds out her temperature's up..."  

 They paid attention to the movie and to each other in about equal
amounts; since Ray had seen it, he was able to catch Fraser up on anything
they missed when they got distracted by each other's unclad persons,
though Ray didn't want to really totally go for it again 'til he'd had a
chance to work up a bigger head of steam. 

 That happened a lot later, after dinner, while they were in the Jacuzzi,
and they'd been kicking back there for a while, letting dinner settle. It
wasn't too hot, in deference to their belly-stuffed state, and to Fraser's
danger of melting into Jacuzzi soup, but it was warm and comfortable and
the jets felt great on Ray's sex-strained muscles, though he had to scoot
down pretty far because those muscles were in his head and neck, mostly. 

 Even Fraser seemed to be getting a lot out of it, his head resting on a
bath pillow in one of the depressions that were part of the underwater
built-in couches. His hair was all plastered down, but, true to form,
still looked perfect, thick wet curls lying evenly over his head. Ray knew
his own hair was probably pretty damn amusing--he'd gone, with absolutely
no protests from Fraser, into the shower to get his hair gel out; in fact,
Fraser had joined him in there, to get them both clean so they wouldn't
muddy the water that was intended for relaxation, not bathing per
se--Fraser had been prepared to do a whole speech on Japanese communal
bathing customs before Ray managed to convince him he already knew a good
deal about them; really, he just knew what everybody knew, which was that
you got clean before you got in any kind of communal tubs. He just didn't
really need the whole history of the art of the bath in Japan right now. 

 They had had fun washing each other, playful and tender as the last time
they'd shared a shower, with a little sex play, a little warm caressing.
Now they were just kicking back and enjoying the hot tub experience. Ray
had decided that strawberries and champagne were de rigeur; Fraser had
been amused and agreed with Ray that they were both going to get fat
before they got out of this hotel suite. "Alcoholic drinks of any kind are
very high-calorie--alcohol is, speaking in terms of nutritive value, a
complex sugar, and a very concentrated one--and champagne especially will
put us in danger of serious hangovers, if what I'm told on the subject is
true." 

 "It's traditional, I told you. Champagne and strawberries in the
recreational bath. Well, with it, I mean. Though I've heard stories that
make you think they had to take another bath afterward to get the first
one off. Here, have a strawberry." 

 "I don't need mine dipped in sugar, thank you, Ray." 

 "One won't hurt you. You can have the rest plain." 

 "In that case..." Fraser opened his mouth and Ray deposited the
pre-trimmed strawberry on Fraser's tongue, which caressed Ray's finger on
the way to drawing the berry into his mouth. He bit and chewed, eyes
closed, tasting the sweetness, and licked juice from his lips. 

 "Okay, I'm going to have to fuck you again now." 

 "Good." Fraser smiled, a sweet relaxed smile that Ray wished he could see
on him every day. 

 "You're sure nobody knows where we are?" 

 "Nobody. Even Dief refused to hear. He closed his eyes and sang la-la-la
when I tried to tell him where I could be found. I tried to tell him that
no one would listen to him anyway, if someone should begin a search for
me, when he reminded me of Turnbull." 

 "Who may wish us well, but who has a sense of duty that's right up there
with yours. Dief was right." 

 "I suppose he was, at that." 

 "Who's running things, with you here having a blast and Meg up in
snowland?" 

 "I will be, come Monday, with Turnbull's help, naturally. He's got the
beeper for the moment. We'll do fine, judging by the schedule for the
upcoming week or two, though I've already put in the request papers for a
temporary constable to help back Turnbull up. We don't want to be caught
shorthanded if there's an emergency." 

 "Already put in the request?" 

 "Getting someone here could--will--take time and effort. Canceling the
request, that would go through at once." 

 "Gotcha." Ray had a strawberry. "I may have to get this cable music
thing." They were listening to something sort of new-agey that Fraser had
picked. Ray admitted he liked the melodious harps and chimes and soft,
skin-drum and deep-but-soft wood-bole drum percussion. "What are we
listening to, anyway?" 

 "I don't know what this piece is. But this channel hasn't been a
disappointment. You like it?" 

 "Yeah. It's laid-back without being batshit-boring, and I like that it's
all acoustic and stuff. No synths faking Peruvian flutes or anything. More
champagne?" 

 "No, thank you. I'm not as used to it as you are." 

 "Good point." Ray sipped the last of what was in his own glass, detached
himself from his couch and floated over to Fraser, settling over him,
straddling. "Ever had sex in the water?" He grinned. 

 "No, actually. I never had the opportunity where the water was warm
enough to consider it." 

 "It's not like dry land. You have to be kind of careful. And we can't
really finish in here...we're doing the rubber thing. But we can still
have a little fun. That's supposed to be way low-risk." 

 "Yeah," Fraser sighed, touching Ray gently, "so I understand." He ran his
fingers lightly on Ray's skin, flat to keep from skipping and dragging. He
paused to slip a hand between his legs and caress around in there for a
bit, light touches, some rolling and massaging, and Ray moaned and let his
eyes close; then Fraser let his hands move down to Ray's thighs, squeezing
the quadriceps, letting his thumbs sink into the muscles inside his
thighs, sensitive areas exposed by Ray's spraddle-legged position. "I want
you to know," he murmured, his face and voice full of wondering sincerity,
"that we could be sitting in a condemned building, and I would still find
being able to touch you like this the most privileged feeling in the
world." 

 Fraser could practically live in a condemned building, but Ray took it in
the spirit it was intended and said "Ditto. Privileged...I can't see you
like this and not feel that." He leaned forward for some serious kissing
with this serious privilege in his life, and he got it, with interest. 

 Moving close. Gentle squeezing, arms, legs, asses, thighs. Careful
handfuls of chest and belly. And cocks, finally, prompting moans and
hip-rolling, Ray's weight carried easily on Fraser's lap in the support of
the water. 

 "Just...squeeze, kinda massage...ohh...like that, can't really...jack
it..." 

 "Yes...I believe...oh, God. Like that. Like that...just like...mm. Mm.
Oh. Oh, oh, oh--" 

 "God, oh Jesus--out you go," Ray said desperately, finding purchase for
his feet so he could help lift Fraser out, but Fraser speedily got with
the program and pretty soon they were rolling on the bathroom floor and
Ray was trying to get them the rest of the way up. "C'mon, bed, I wanna,
there's stuff I wanna, with that lube you got, we kinda need it anyway
being this fresh-washed..." 

 "A point," Fraser said, but it obviously cost him something; his cock was
straining, and would have been quite red--well, it was, it was just that
he was pink all over from the heat anyway, but the fact that he was damn
near hurting was plain. 

 "Sorry, I didn't mean to whoa, that'll slow you down," Ray said as he
opened the bathroom door and admitted a rush of comparatively cool, dry
air that helped hold the proceedings up a bit. "Grab more towels." 

 "Yes. Towels." 

 Ray took a towel and rubbed at Fraser's hair, then his, while Fraser got
the hotel bathrobes on them, that being the fastest way to soak as much
water off as much of them at once; they kind of wriggled around inside the
robes, carefully, and mopped their legs and feet real quick, leaving the
Jacuzzi and the icebucket of champagne and other assorted paraphernalia to
themselves for the moment, as they grabbed more towels and headed for the
bedroom. 

 A few multipurposely-precautionary towels got thrown across the bed,
along with the bathrobes, damp sides up, as Ray crawled rapidly for the
drawer Fraser had indicated earlier. "In here?" 

 "In there." 

 "Mm, here we go...here." Ray turned with lube and condoms and said "May
I?" 

 Fraser looked a little embarrassed, with his little smile, but came back
gamely "Be my guest." 

 Ray dabbed a bit of lube, then tore a packet open and rolled the rubber
down on Fraser's erection, unable to resist the impulse to hold it gently
in both hands a moment, then slicked a little more on, though the rubbers
had spermicidal lubricant in any case. "Wanna do me?" 

 "Um, sure. I guess we don't know yet how this is going to go?" 

 "Never hurts to be prepared." 

 "Very true. Maybe I'm starting to sink in at last." 

 "Lord spare us, watch with the pun potential." They snickered, but Ray's
was cut short as Fraser's quick, gentle efficiency at the condom-applying
procedure made him sigh. "Ooh. I like that. Watching you do that." 

 "Then I like it, too." He pulled Ray close, on their knees, and fully
against him, body-to-body, for some kissing before he asked "You had
something in mind, it sounded like, in the bathroom." 

 "Yeah. I never...you know, I said I never done the full on--um, I only
know dirty words for this stuff, Fraser..." 

 Fraser smiled and chuckled at him. "Use them, I'll live. It is difficult
to have such a conversation entirely without them." 

 "Butt-fucking, never done it. But I've done assplay, and I like that. You
like that?" 

 "I do sometimes, yes--in fact, I've had orgasms from it. But, er, not
when I've eaten heavily recently. Um, it just...feels odd..." 

 "I get you. Your gut's kind of busy. But it takes mine a while to get
moving on dinner, so...if you want, I mean, I don't want to...be too
pushy, here..." 

 "Lie down," Fraser invited softly, "on your back...and let me in here..."
he moved between Ray's legs and Ray lifted them, wrapped them loosely
around Fraser, reached down and gently pushed the wet dark mass of
Fraser's hair back from his face, stroking caressingly until it was all
smoothed back, while he squeezed lightly with his legs, a gentle embrace,
pulling Fraser a little closer. 

 He asked "You ever--boy, this sounds rude all of a sudden. Never did to
me, before. You are rubbing off on me, har-de-har. Ever fuck ass?" 

 "Yes," Fraser said, smiling at how Ray was now smirking at himself. "It
was a long time ago, but I know what I'm doing there, don't worry. Is that
what you want? Or...maybe just a little..." 

 "Yeah, start slow. If I want...maybe we could put me on my side or
something. But this feels good." He squeezed Fraser in his legs again. 

 "I feel...strangely sheltered by it," Fraser murmured, moving one of
Ray's legs to rest with the knee bent comfortably over his shoulder, the
other still around his waist. He lowered himself a little more, letting
Ray's legs slide with the movement, to pull Ray close and kiss him, their
erections pressing and brushing between them. 

 "Goopy already," Ray smiled. "Glad you got a big bottle. This stuff
dries..." 

 "Yes, but we have more than adequate washing facilities," Fraser replied,
and he said it with such a straight face that Ray blinked and had to
remind himself that Fraser was turned on and a bit blanked out, or he'd've
remembered that he wasn't in North Bumblefuck and that wasn't much of an
issue, or even Ray's point or anything. "Perhaps we'll try gel next time."


 "That's pretty extreme," Ray said, "goes best with toys, me and Stel
found. We're good for now with this." 

 Fraser's head had come up, his eyes widening, and Ray realized he'd never
mentioned that he and Stel had tried toys, but apparently his partner
decided to let it drop for now. 

 "Here, then," Fraser said softly, wetting the fingers of his right hand
with the slick fluid and closing the little nozzle on the bottle, dropping
it next to them and moving, in the embrace of Ray's legs, to lie with his
head at about waist level on Ray--and suddenly ducked down to nuzzle at
his damp balls, inhaling through nose and mouth. 

 "Mm..." Ray reached up to pull a pillow over, so he could let his head
fall back on it and still see a little, though he had to perform the
operation through a shiver. Fraser was kissing now, just loving around,
sort of, at the base of his cock, his balls, the sensitive join of inner
thigh to torso. He placed his thumb behind Ray's balls, rubbed up and down
for a moment...and pushed. 

 "Oh! Jesus! Oh, you hit it, Jesus, right there, right there..." 

 Fraser kept sinking his thumb rhythmically, right there, as his
forefinger massaged the furl of Ray's anus with slick, and his face kept
wandering the area, that tongue coming out to trace delicately at the
thigh-body join line, to lick firmly at his balls, even to trace the tip
up his condom-covered cock--Ray knew the lube didn't taste good, but
Fraser seemed to have a method for minimizing the amount on his tongue and
the taste of what he did get--to rub the back of his tongue against Ray's
sweet spot. 

 "Oh, oh, oh, God, do it, gimmie a finger, Fraser, I might squeeze on it
but just wait'll I--yeah, and then--yeah, just keep...oh...sliding it..." 

 Fraser lifted his head and used his chin to rub Ray's cockhead and a
little of the shaft in a circular motion, the lube making it easy. "Would
you like two?" he murmured, but Ray only whimpered and squeezed Fraser
with his legs again. 

 Seeming to accept the fact that Ray's brain was gone, Fraser lightly
kissed Ray's cock and pulled out the first finger a little; it slid easily
with the slick, and he pushed in with two, again easing and stroking his
way in with the rhythm of the external prostate rub, and Ray's ass
squeezing, and now also with the rocking of Ray's hips. 

 "Do two a while," Ray managed, "I like that, do two, and see if you can
find..." 

 Fraser kissed his cock again and went back down to nuzzle in Ray's lower
genitals some more, where both the freshly-washed Ray smell and taste was
undoubtedly much nicer than the rubber, though that hadn't seemed to
bother him much, either. Ray was glad, though, because he wanted to
concentrate on the prostate thing. He'd never had much chance to, before,
Stella being impatient with in-depth experimentation there, and his
experience with men having seldom been with any who were willing to spend
much time and effort. For mostly those reasons, his previous assplay
sessions had been sweetly promising, but seldom took him much farther than
promise before his dick had become a major player in the proceedings. He
wanted to see what the little ol' gland down there could do without help
from the head office. And it looked like Fraser was happy with taking the
time to show him. Not that he hadn't known Fraser would be. He knew Fraser
would be ecstatic to do anything at all that would make Ray feel good. 

 "I love you," he threw in, just because he felt like it. 

 Fraser's voice, when he spoke, was unexpectedly low and sex-raspy. "I
love you, too," he said, and stroked his fingertips across Ray's prostate,
and Ray groaned like he felt so good he wanted to fly or so bad he wanted
to die, one or the other. 

 "More, do it more, leave my cock for now--roll the rubber off, I
don't--think I'm gonna want it this time--" 

 Fraser didn't answer, but adjusted a little so he could use the hand that
wasn't inside Ray's body to loosen and roll up the rubber, careful of
catching hairs. He tossed it out of the way on the towels and leaned down
to lightly kiss Ray's cock, in the middle of the shaft. "Better?" he
whispered. 

 "Oh much, yeah," Ray moaned. "Keep...oh...unh...unh*nnh*nnhuh, mm..." he
settled into a pattern of heavy breathing as his hips rocked with the
rhythm of the stroking inside, and his legs pulled suddenly up and off
Fraser as he pulled his knees up to his shoulders, letting his arms fall
to his sides where he could grab towel in both fists, helping anchor him.
He felt Fraser move, onto his knees, sitting on his heels down there, his
right hand inside, the left wandering over Ray's body; but, as requested,
avoiding his cock. He cradled Ray's ass and helped him tilt up. 

 "Give me a pillow--thanks," he said, faint amusement at the
faster-than-light way Ray flipped a pillow down to him coloring his
arousal, as he said "Lift...good. There, relax..." and Ray's hips were
comfortably raised, and Fraser's fingers were sinking in deep now, easily,
as they stroked him. 

 "Do you want to come?" he asked, sounding almost mouth-watery, like Ray
coming would make his whole year. 

 "Oh," Ray said in a desperate tone, hearing that, and froze, and
whimpered "Stop a minute, stop, stop, stop a minute...no, leave them in,
just stop...the...yeah...I wanna try, I want to try you fucking me, but I
don't think I'm ready quite, need more stretch..." 

 "We have all the time in the world," Fraser murmured, assurance warm in
his voice, overriding his own horniness. "Another finger?" 

 "Yeah." 

 He felt Fraser applying some more slick, and pulling out a bit; no, he
wanted to whimper like a kid, no no no, put that back, but it was back in
a minute, and bigger than ever, and yi, okay, let's stick with fingers a
little longer. He felt himself squeeze on the fingers, against the
intrusion. 

 "It's all right," Fraser said. "We'll work them in slowly. Can you bear
down? It helps you open up." 

 "Yeah, I know. Lemme give it...a shot, here we...go..." 

 "That's right, breathe like that...easy...relax..." 

 Ray smiled. "I'm not a nervous virgin, but I appreciate the effort,
Frase." 

 "Just trying to help." 

 "You are. Don't stop." Ray concentrated on his breathing, bore down, and
suddenly he felt all big inside and those fingers were going right on in.
He gave an involuntary squeeze once they were there, but lightened up
easily when it didn't hurt. They were just kind of in there, big. "Maybe
if you found my oh. Oh. Oh. That's...that's good, that...helps, that..."
he began to whimper again, softly. Fraser's other hand moved on him some
more, and that was nice, too, that helped it feel more normal to have
something that large up there without trying to get it out. The toys he
and Stella had used for assplay had been finger-thick vibrators, not this
big. The big ones had been for Stella, and not for her ass. 

 "Mm, mm, mm, yeah...yeah..." 

 "Oh, yeah, Ray," Fraser whispered back as Ray's hips began to rock again.
"That's it, you like it? It's good?" 

 "Weird but good, yeah," Ray managed, but he wasn't thinking too well in
English right now and Fraser's next question, "Any pain?" was met with
only a shake of Ray's head and the continuing motion and moaning. 

 "Do you want me to try?" 

 That got Ray's attention. "Uh...try, yeah, can you stop if--" 

 "Of course I can, Ray. Don't worry about that. You were right, let's turn
you...on the pillow, there you go..." He had to remove his fingers, which
he did carefully. 

 "Feel all loose and wet back there," Ray muttered, and Fraser said, the
sympathetic smile audible in his voice, "Yes, I know the feeling." 

 They got him arranged to both their satisfaction, and Fraser moved behind
him. Ray was nervous and excited and liking this. "It's gonna hurt at
first, but don't pull out," he cautioned Fraser. 

 "I'll do just what you tell me, Ray," Fraser whispered into his ear,
kissed the ear, and added "More, less, slow, fast, stop. Say the word." 

 "I'll probably say a lot of words, they'll probably be pretty garbled,"
Ray chuckled. "Okay, let's go." 

 He felt the freshly slicked snubby end of Fraser's dick and took a deep
breath, then let it out and bore down. 

 "That's right," Fraser whispered, lifting at Ray's right butt-cheek to
facilitate entry a little, checking that the muscle of his anus was
smoothish, not clamped tight. He used both hands to hold Ray open a bit
and get the head of his cock pressed to the opening. 

 "Okay, go--" 

 Fraser pushed, and the head popped passed the sphincter. "Whoa!" 

 "Stopped," Fraser reported, like a guy in the drivers seat of a car
obeying instructions from the guy under the hood of the car they were
trying to fix, except those guys didn't (usually) sound horny. "Pain?" 

 "No," Ray said, puzzlement in his voice. "Like, not at all. Huh. Keep
going." 

 "Gladly," Fraser said, his voice shuddering, and Ray spared a thought to
how patient and gentle Fraser was being, his poor unrelieved cock
straining inside that sausage skin. Plenty of slick; the big thing in
there slid in a little more, then--out again, and Ray nearly protested,
but then Fraser was in again, a bit farther this time, and out, and in
again farther... 

 Hey, this was working. Ray felt kind of stuffed, but he wasn't hurting
at--hold it. 

 "Hold it," he said quickly. 

 Fraser froze. "Say when," he said quietly. He ran his hands gently over
Ray's body, staying away from the ass area. 

 "Pet my cock?" Ray asked in a small voice. It seemed like kind of a silly
thing to ask for after the deal he'd made about not doing the cock thing,
but he'd lost about half his hardon and it seemed like a nice way to
distract him from...mm...Fraser was stroking him with a slicked hand, and
he found himself hardening again pretty quick. "Good," he panted. "Mm,
good. Okay. Pump me, and push." 

 "Right," Fraser whispered back, and began to do just that. And he was in
some more, and some more. And Ray's hips were rocking again, and Fraser
was all the way in him, all the way, he could feel Fraser's pubic hair and
his balls and his belly and everything. 

 "Wow," he whispered. "Stuffed." 

 "Yes," Fraser gasped, "it does feel that way at--stop rocking. I'll come.
In another. Minute." 

 "Sorry," Ray said, and stilled, feeling the stroking on his cock gentling
to a light brush, the gentlest of grips around the shaft, making it easier
not to rock. 

 Oh, so good, Fraser right up against his back, kissing his neck and his
nape and shoulders and desultorily, loosely petting his chest and belly
with the arm under his waist, sliding his other hand in and around under
Ray's bent leg to get to his cock and balls, gentle touches there.
Stroking the slick, easy and careful, around where the thick part of him
was stretching Ray open, massaging very carefully there, easing. Breathing
like a steam engine, slowly blowing himself cooler, as Ray panted, too,
full of sensation, almost overwhelmed with it. 

 "Wow..." Ray's voice was faint and high and amazed even to his own ears. 

 "Yes," Fraser agreed in a voice thick with all kinds of feeling. "Yes." 

 "You good to look for the, um, thing?" Whatever it was again--Ray felt
suddenly shy. Sure, they'd been pretty relaxed, but now he had this great
big thing up his ass. Makes a person feel kind of awkward, no matter how
much you trust--even completely--the person who had it there. Ray supposed
you got used to it over time. Besides, his brain wasn't doing so good and
the word might've just been escaping him at the moment anyway. 

 "Yes," Fraser said again, but this time with a sense of purpose. He
stopped stroking with his lower arm and used it to anchor, and began to
move again, gently. "Tell me. At once. If there's pain, even a little.
Even if you don't want me to stop--just say so--but tell me. It's
important. Really not likely, but there's things that might happen--" 

 "I know. I know. I will. It's...wow. More, Fraser. And you can stop with
the cock stroking, I don't wanna come before you even find--whoa! No,
that's good--there! Good! There good, there really good good good--oh
Jesus--" 

 "Here?" Fraser began to thrust more steadily, picking up force and speed.


 "Yes, yeah, yes, unh, yes, yes, mm--" he went back to the steady whimpers
as Fraser thrust and held his hip, pumping steady now, good, good, good,
except Fraser was working kinda hard back there, and Ray-- 

 "Come on," he said, reaching over his shoulder to scrabble at Fraser,
anything he could grab, mostly his upper arm. "Roll with me, on the
pillow, want on my belly. Get between my legs when we--yeah, like that,
wanna roll over--" 

 And Fraser was rolling them over, while Ray tugged the pillow to stay
under him, Fraser slipping out a bit, no big surprise, you can't change
position without that happening no matter who you're with or what you're
doing, exactly; but he was right back in again, and looking, and Ray told
him in no uncertain terms when he'd found what he was looking for, and
they were off again, off to the races, here we go now, now we're cookin',
oh Jesus, he was beginning to really see what people saw in this-- 

 Fraser was still being careful back there, but Ray felt ready for the big
leagues, and besides, he wasn't getting as much prostate stimulation as
he'd been expecting. "You're not hitting it hard enough--go for it, I'll
tell you if it's too rough--" 

 "Right, Ray," Fraser panted, and sha*zam*, those were apparently the
magic words, because Fraser cut loose like a hot air balloon with no
sandbags. Ray's prostate was getting hit now, all right, and his cock was
getting a nice rub in the pillow, and this could go on as long as it
wanted, that was just fine with Ray, no problemo, none at all, thanks very
much Fraser. 

 Fraser was moaning almost piteously back there, but Ray was kinda
preoccupied with the novel goodness of what he was experiencing himself,
and his own moans were probably sounding pretty desperate, too, and they
moaned and gripped at each other, trying to hang on as they got wilder,
and Ray felt Fraser sliding his arms under Ray's shoulders to hold him,
hugging tight, and he braced with his own knees, and that was it, they
were going for it. 

 "I'm gonna," Ray panted, groaning, "don't stop, don't stop, don't stop--"


 Maybe not the right thing to say. Fraser made an anguished noise, and Ray
knew he'd been holding it in as long as he could, and so Ray just closed
his eyes and opened up and let it roll, let it come, let his body hitch
and his breathing catch and he keened like a mourner at an old Egyptian
funeral as he splurted all over the hotel pillow, too bad for them, and
Fraser took this as his cue to let go and do it, and man, Ray was getting
rammed, here, though maybe it wasn't that much, just he'd never...oh,
geez, the feeling of Fraser going nuts against his back--he grabbed for
something, arms, hands, held on to him, held Fraser while he went batshit,
and slowly came down. 

 Slow easing of tensed muscles, relaxing to the bed. Fraser quickly,
suddenly, reaching under them and using the pillow to mop quickly at Ray,
then flipping it out from under them so they settled to the un-jismed-on
towels. Should've put a towel over the pillow, duh. Well, Fraser could,
and would probably insist, on doing wonders with warm water and a little
bottle of complimentary hotel shampoo, since Ray wasn't letting him use
his own stuff on it. 

 "I need to..." Fraser, panting, was moving to grab the base of his dick
and the condom. 

 "Yeah, go ahead, just slow...ha!" Ray couldn't control a laugh. "Does it
always make that pop when you pull it out?" 

 "A fair amount of the time, at least, yeah," Fraser told him, laughing
breathlessly, too, as he got rid of the condom and wiped up on the towels
some. "Word of warning. When you turn over--" 

 "Yeah, I've had the bye-bye lube experience before," Ray said, "though
maybe not this mu--wow." His eyes widened a little as he came to rest on
his back. 

 "This is liquid," Fraser explained. 

 "I guess. Good call on the towels." 

 "And I used rather a lot," Fraser added, coming to rest with Ray again,
wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on Ray's shoulder. 

 "Better than not enough, I suppose. You're right, there's the shower. And
maid service. We'll need more towels. God. I can't move." 

 "Me neither." 

 "You sure we should sleep like this?" 

 "Um...maybe a nap?" 

 "Nap, okay, yeah." It was doubtful either of them would sleep long, true,
what with the towels and the piled-on-each-other and the sweat and
everything. But a nap seemed called for. 

 "So did you like that?" Fraser asked, and Ray knew better than to call
him an idiot, knew he was asking for first impressions, details, if
any--that kind of thing. 

 "Takes getting used to," he admitted. "Maybe not every time or anything.
But wow." 

 "Yes, it's...very intense to me as well, though I've known some men who
were very casual about it." 

 "I wonder if we'll ever be two of 'em..." 

 "If we have as much time together as we hope, then perhaps." 

 "Yeah. Perhaps..." Ray yawned, and he thought Fraser murmured something,
and he murmured something back, but later he couldn't remember what.  

 Ray woke up with his ass stuck to the towels. Okay, lesson number one,
don't wait on the lube cleanup. Damp towel on standby, if nothing else.
His stuck-to-the-towels ass was also sore. Lesson two; even when it's
good, even when there's little or no pain, you're gonna be a little sore,
gonna be feeling it. But that was okay. He'd had "feeling it" before; it
didn't last long or ruin your day unless there was some kind of unusual
problem. Which he was detecting no sign of. 

 Lesson number three; Fraser drools if he falls asleep with his head
tilted downward into the valley created by your shoulder and your pillow,
because of his overbite forcing his mouth open. Here, at least, there was
towel backup, intended to protect their pillows from their wet hair.
"Frase, darling sweetie poop. Y'got spit on me everywhere." 

 "Hng?" 

 Ray eased around, helping support the groggy Fraser as the latter's eyes
fluttered; he smacked his lips, made a face, and wiped his chin, saying
"Bleah. Sorry." 

 "No problem. But my ass is stuck to the towels, and that is kind of--" 

 "Oh. Oh, my, I should've--I'm sorry, I'll get a washcloth." Fraser was
awake and rolled away, got to his feet and toddled for the bathroom,
rubbing his face with both hands. Ray watched that beautiful naked back go
with a sense of warm fuzzy happy luckiness. He got to see Fraser all
discombobulated like that, sweetly and finally relaxed. Not many, he'd
bet, not many. 

 Fraser was back in a moment with a washcloth and a smirk, not at Ray so
much as at the vagaries of sex. "Shall I?" 

 "I think I better handle it." Ray accepted the washcloth as Fraser lay
back down; Ray detached himself carefully from the terrycloth with the aid
of the moist washcloth. "Oooch." 

 "Really, I'm sorry, I should have thought of that, it's happened to me.
Once." 

 Ray laughed. "Yeah, I bet once." He scrubbed a bit to minimize anything
that might cause an embarrassing itch, finished mopping, looked for
somewhere to put the washcloth, and threw it across the room to land in
the bathroom somewhere. There was a plop, a plonk and a ploosh. 

 "Oops." 

 Fraser cracked up, and so did Ray, just because it was so nice to see
Fraser laugh like that. 

 "Well, I guess we're done tubbing for the evening," was his only comment,
as Ray laughed like an idiot, nodding in agreement. 

 "Yeah, I'm not getting in with that washcloth and whatever the hell it
knocked in with it. What time is it, anyway?" Ray wondered. 

 "It's...one-thirty-two," Fraser noticed, raising his eyebrows. "We slept
longer than I'd have thought." 

 "Let's face it; we're not as young as we used to be." 

 "We'd be pretty strange fellows if we weren't." 

 "Uh, I guess that's a point. Kind of a Buckaroo Banzai point, but a
point." 

 "A what?" 

 "Dumb eighties movie. I'll have to rent it for you sometime. Sleepy? Want
food? Shower? More sex?" 

 "A plethora of riches. I'm pretty happy just lying here next to you,
pedestrian as that act has become, if you think you can tolerate the
mushiness quotient of that statement." 

 "I'm happy too, but let's dump the dead towels in the hamper and get
resituated. Ready for housekeeping with breakfast. We gonna tub
breakfast?" 

 "I'll go drain the tub and see," Fraser chuckled, "and you do the bed." 

 "Yeah, I'll do that..." Chores distributed, they wandered off to pick up
after themselves a little and met back at the bed, ready to settle in for
more communal sleeping. 

 Ray noted "This bed is so big I keep feeling like I'm going to lose you.
I'm used to waking up under you. The only reason I didn't end up stretched
all over the other side is I was stuck to the towels." 

 "A rather extreme solution. I'm sure we can find a better way to keep
track of each other." Fraser opened his arms, and Ray moved into them, and
Fraser closed them around him, and Ray decided to stay there forever. 

 He wondered if he should tell Fraser of this decision, but fell asleep
still thinking about it.  

 "They're going to look at us funny," Ray said, as they entered the
downtown jewelry store--there was no display worth mentioning in the front
windows; this was the sort of store that was above such displays--that if
you expected to see plebeian displays of the merchandise in front windows,
you just didn't understand what the place was about; the kind of place
with its name visible outside the building only on subdued little
nameplates with fancy engraving by the front doors, and you'd miss 'em if
you didn't know where to look--the sorts of places Ray had never been
inside in his life. And he would have bet Fraser never had, either. 

 "Let them. When they see that high prices don't frighten us, they'll be
accommodating enough." 

 "What if I want something that turns out to be cheap?" 

 "They'll still be accommodating, because we'll look at the expensive
items as well, and make no difference between them. And we won't ask price
initially. I'll simply ask you if it's something you'd like. And I'll ask
them, first thing, if they make items to order. That will earn their
attention, I think. I'll do that while you browse." 

 Fraser's plan worked. Their usual attire had got them a few raised
eyebrows and even an anxious look or two--if only they knew how much safer
they were since Fraser had walked into their store, Ray thought with some
irony--but Fraser's forthright "Good afternoon! I wonder if someone could
help me with a special order for my friend. We'd like to see some samples
of your work--we haven't really made up our minds on an item, or items,
yet." 

 Well, they didn't exactly mobilize like a kicked anthill, but they did
begin to smile and relax, and two people, a man and a woman, detached
themselves from what they were doing and came to where Ray and Fraser were
standing by one of the counters, Ray perusing what looked like a fucking
fortune in men's jewelry with what he hoped looked like a practiced eye.
Actually, his eye was fairly practiced; in his line of work, he saw a lot
of stolen jewelry and heard a lot about its value and the reasons
therefore, so he was a long way from stone ignorant on the topic. Which
was good. Because nothing had price labels anywhere. Ray figured if you
had to ask, etc. Fraser, of course, could tell a demantoid from an emerald
from a peridot with barely a glance. He guessed if he didn't know if he
was about to ask Fraser to buy him the equivalent of the Northwest
Territories, Fraser should be able to telegraph the information to him
with no problem. Just follow Fraser's lead.  

 "I wanted to get something for you," Ben moaned softly, as the limo--yes,
limo again--pulled into traffic. 

 "Yeah, but look at that. Just look at 'em--and they even had them with
the birthstones. We didn't have to wait or anything. And I love these
things." 

 "You're not even Irish." 

 "No, but I'm Polish, and us and the Irish are about neck and neck when it
comes to being the most despised white people in Northern Europe and the
states too. I have kinship with the Irish in this way. I understand the
Irish. We're white dregs together. And you're Scottish, at least." 

 "By descent, Scots-Irish, actually," Fraser mumbled. "Black Irish on my
maternal grandmother's side." 

 "Oh, that's what you look like, then. Anyway, look at 'em. Look at 'em on
us." Ray held his hand out, then held his hand out aggravatedly, shaking
it, until Fraser sighed and held his hand out too; the matching white-gold
claddaugh rings shone in the faint light from the tinted windows. "They
look great on both of us." 

 "They weren't all that expensive..." 

 "Two of them were. With the super-deluxe birthstone sets in the crowns.
Handmade, top quality. I am happy, happy, happy with this, Frase. Unless
you don't..." 

 "I told you, Ray, I'm pleased to wear this. The symbolic representation
of marriage as an institution of friendship and personal loyalty on both,
or however many, parts, as well as simply romantic love, is something I
admire; and as you say, it is somewhat symbolic of my heritage. It's
understated, tasteful, and otherwise quite attractive; and I have no
problem with wearing a ring with you. But I wanted to get you
something...something you, and for you." 

 "This is for me." 

 Fraser pouted at the floor. 

 "Fraser. Frase. Okay. How about this is starters. Like you said, you
didn't spend as much as you were expecting to--" 

 "Hoping to. I was actually looking forward to putting a great deal of
money toward something that everyone I grew up with would have said was
entirely frivolous, and that it would have been something to...enhance
you, compliment you, and make you happy, made it all the more fun." 

 "This does compliment me, you said. And it makes me happy, incidentally,
in case you missed that." 

 Fraser ignored the last part and only said "It does, yes, it...your hands
are elegant and beautiful and the ring accentuates that, it's very
attractive. But it's too generic. I wanted you to...be you, pick
something...unique." 

 "White-gold claddaugh wedding rings with real gemstones aren't exactly
all over the place, Frase, but still, like I say--you got more to spend,
that you were planning on. You can buy me something else, too. You were
thinking maybe more than one thing anyway, right?" 

 Fraser nodded, deigning to look up from his frown at the limo floor. 

 "Then we will continue to shop. I didn't see anything there besides these
that just blew me away, but there's plenty of places to go in Chicago, for
pete's sake. You want it to be something I just lose my shorts over,
right? Something I really love? Well, we'll find something like that,
you'll buy it for me. I'll tell you something, though; I like handmade
stuff by people who work in silver and semiprecious stuff, really, more
than the kind of thing you get at Fancy-Dan Jewelry. People who make a
living with their hands, just creating and selling, they get a lot of
respect from me. It's hard as hell to make a living that way in this
uber-market economy we got, it's a lot easier to work for someone else,
like back at Fancy-Dan, and sell your art through them. And these artists
I mean, some of their best pieces cost hundreds of bucks, more than I'd
ever spend on myself for something like that. We got our fancies; we got
white gold and sapphires and diamonds. I got more money on this finger
than I got in my retirement account. Why the long face?" 

 Fraser sighed. "Because I'm behaving like a child, Ray. Pay me no mind.
I'm being...very silly." 

 "No, you're being very cute. I love you. C'mon, in half an hour, you'll
be giggly as hell we did something as teenager as go out and get matching
go-steady rings when neither of us really cares about "fidelity" like
we're a stereo or something, we care about loyalty, which is a different
thing, and these things mean that. Friendship. Loyalty. Love, in general.
But especially, a wedding ring that celebrates friendship. What could be
more perfect?" 

 Fraser reached up and touched Ray's ear, running his finger around the
shell and then stroking thumb and forefinger down the pierced lobe. "A
nice red onyx earring...with a stone, a blue topaz, to go with your
eyes..." 

 "Oh, that wouldn't cost much, compared. You really just wanna dress me
up. Admit it." 

 "You are almost painfully beautiful when you dress to compliment your
looks, but that's neither here nor there. I want you to enjoy what you
choose, Ray, more than I could ever want to pin you with dripping gauds.
And you're right." He smiled. "I do like the claddaughs. They're a
beautiful idea, and they're beautiful rings. I'm glad you chose them." 

 "You ever gonna tell me what they cost?" 

 "The both of them? Only about three thousand. The stones aren't very
large, and as I said, the medallion's sizes generally are respectable, but
tastefully understated." 

 "I knew you wouldn't want anything gaudy." 

 "That's my point exactly! You were thinking at least in part of what I
would prefer to wear when you chose these. I don't want that. I want you
to choose entirely for you." 

 "And that's what I'm gonna do, comin' right up."  

 Ray had made him wait in the limo for this part. Finally he came back,
shut the door, and grimaced. 

 "All right?" 

 "No, I am not all right, I got a hole in my nipple with a gold stud
through it. But come on; we gotta find a body jewelry shop that caters to
the rich and famous, get me a barbell to wear when this thing heals up." 

 As the limo started up, Ray kept glancing over to see Fraser grinning out
the window. 

 "Finally happy, I take it?" Ray said, managing a smile. 

 "I'm ecstatic. Ray, this is definitely you. And I look forward to seeing
what you choose for a fancier nipple ring when the gold stud can be safely
removed. And I really look forward..." he looked at Ray and that tongue
came out to slick his lower lip; he didn't even finish the sentence. 

 Ray, grinning evilly, finished it for him. "To seeing what I look like in
it and nothing else." 

 "Mm," Fraser said, smiling.  

 "You think it's...y'know, too much?" 

 "I'm just the wallet here, Ray." 

 "I think it'd be perfect for you," said the woman, glancing back and
forth between the barbell nipple-ring she held in a box that, except for
being arranged a bit differently on the inside, looked just like the sort
of box one might find something like an engagement ring in. "It's white
gold, not silver; but the stones are the colors you wanted--blue topaz,
and the white is herkimer diamond." 

 "Herkimer...?" 

 "An extremely pure, jewellike clear quartz, Ray, found at the mine near
Herkimer, New York," Fraser explained. "Colorless quartz of truly
astonishing clarity." 

 "I didn't know blue topaz came that bright." 

 She made a face. "The cheap stuff doesn't. But like the quartz, the
high-quality stuff's different. Sometimes it comes in deeper blue than
aquamarine." 

 "The popularity of blue topaz came about, actually, because of the abrupt
trendiness of aquamarine jewelry some years ago, sending the price of the
stone much higher," Fraser explained, "making it practically a precious
stone itself, though 'precious' and 'semi-precious' are terms falling out
of use among gemologists. In any event, there arose, in the market, the
need for an affordable, natural, transparent blue stone to fill the
vacancy, and blue topaz, which had never been as popular as its
warmer-colored versions, satisfies the need." 

 "Dark, bright. Pretty color." 

 "Good quality. Like those little sapphires in your rings," the woman
smiled, nodding at the rings they both wore. "Those are nice, by the way."


 "We just got them," Ray smiled back. 

 "Congrats." 

 "What are the yellow stones?" Ray wondered. 

 "Citrines," Fraser said, before the woman could answer, earning himself a
mildly annoyed look from her, but he was oblivious in his enthusiasm at
Ray's fascination with the piece. "Quartz again, with iron impurities that
give it the yellow color. This, once again, is a particularly clear,
bright example--no cloudiness, and the color is very pure." 

 "This is...real nice," Ray said, his eyes still trained on the box. "How
much you want for it?" 

 "Well, for a couple of guys looking for some kind of lovey gift like you
two obviously are, and who know quality when they see it..." she
considered. "Three hundred." 

 "Done," Fraser said, pulled out a wallet from a deep pocket in his
jacket, and forked over the money. 

 She nearly dropped the box in her haste to take it; her other hand came
up and saved it. Ray had opened his mouth, but Fraser kicked him, took the
box, the hastily scribbled form receipt the woman handed him, and dragged
Ray away again, back toward the limo. 

 "Fraser, are you unhinged? I could've got her down to two. Two-fifty,
tops." 

 "I'm happy to pay three, Ray; it will look absolutely beautiful on you,"
Fraser said, "and it's far less than I was planning on spending. Besides,
part of your wish was to help support the artists who make and sell items
like this, without the benefit of an umbrella distributor. But really,
that you're happy with it is all that matters, and judging by your
absolute mesmerisation with it, you are." 

 "I am happy with it, you big--" Ray took the box from him and opened it,
looking again at the white-gold that held the citrine at one end in a
round, backless set that would let light, at the right angles, shine
through the stone, and the topaz at the other in an identical set; and the
small, glinting, brilliant-cut herkimer in little circles around each.
"Beautiful. I always wanted...you know, thought about...but I never
would've gone for it, if it hadn't been for you and your sudden
generosity. And enthusiasm for me being me." He grinned at Fraser as the
door closed behind them and the limo pulled out into the road. "I have to
tell you, though, this nipple is off limits for a while." 

 "Perfectly understandable, Ray."  

 (Six months later) 

 "So when are Frannie and Meg gonna be back again? I forget," Ray
wondered, tossing a chocolate kiss into the air. It plopped flat-side-down
onto his extended tongue and was drawn inward with a little satisfied curl
of said tongue and a lick of pale pink lips, once he had the morsel
stowed. He closed his eyes and gave a satisfied, silent suck. "Mmmm." 

 Fraser smiled. "I would venture to say...when either Lieutenant Welsh or
Superintendent Knowles has the temerity to put his foot down." 

 "I miss 'em." 

 "Lieutenant Welsh and Superintendent Knowles?" Fraser reached across Ray,
ostensibly to snuggle, but snagging the bag of chocolate kisses as soon as
he could reach their position on Ray's other side and tossing them with a
Fraser-adept wristflick to the wooden floor, such that they skidded across
the room, bumping against the doorjamb. 

 "I'm not bringing those back to you," Dief warded off Ray's coming
request, without looking up, or even opening his eyes, from where he was
lying on his back on his blanket, which was on a thick soft rag rug that
somehow found it's way into Ray's basket at the home supply--one weekend
shortly after Dief had crawled half into his lap and murmured quiet
sympathy all the way through Ray's hour-and-a-half iteration of a
particularly shit three-exploded-cases day. "Don't even ask me." 

 "Traitor. He-who-accepteth-doughnuts-without-giving-back-in-kind
traitor." 

 "It's the smell, okay? I can't take it. It reminds me of 'the incident'.
Bleagh." Dief shivered in conveyance of the concept "ick". 

 Fraser said "While I realize they're your cigarette substitute for the
aftermath of--do it again?" 

 "Good Lovin'!" Ray sang, doing sitdown hip-dancing and air-drumming,
managing to do his own backup vocals, "gimmie that good, good lovin',
(good lovin'!) all I NEED is lovin'..." 

 Grinning at him and squeezing him around the waist as Ray giggled with
appreciation of his own performance, Fraser finished "But you've had five.
That's enough for a while. I don't want you going completely insane on me
again for a bit yet. I'm not young enough to take it." 

 "How about if we toned it down a little?" Ray wondered, sliding back
under the covers all the way and tucking his head into the curve of
Fraser's neck. "No hard and fast; you want some, maybe...sllllow an'
sweet?" The chocolate kiss slid across his tongue as he said the "l". 

 Fraser sighed helplessly at the image, assisted by the chocolate changing
position in Ray's mouth. Ray was very, very good at all kinds of slow and
sweet, or perhaps it was that they had an exceptional gestalt when it came
to that..."Oh...maybe...that might be..." Fraser mmmed, wrapping Ray up
and rocking him a little as Ray cuddled, gently and amorously. The tiny
scrape of his glinting nipple ring only added to the warmth. 

 Ray suddenly raised his head. "No watching." 

 Fraser blinked in confusion until he heard Dief say "I am not watching. I
am not interested. I am full of Turnbull's Salmon Surprise Supreme. With
lemon, mmm." Dief yawned. "Anyway, if the two of you got me horny, I'd
just leave and go hump something, or find somebody else horny down the
fire escape outside. Ask Meg, she'll tell you. Her laundry hamper and I
will always have Paris." 

 "I'm not going to Canada during her honeymoon and knocking on her door to
ask her anything, unless I get there and the building's on fire and she
might want to get her and her wife's sore asses out," Ray said, getting
his face settled back into Fraser's neck. "She'd eat me alive, and in the
bad way." 

 Fraser chuckle-snorted. 

 "So, you believe Dief about Frannie and Meg now?" Ray wondered at Fraser.
"Your criteria fulfilled that they're getting it on?" 

 "Yes, the wedding satisfied me there." 

 "Me too. Sigh, that's me, always a bridesmaid," Ray fake-whimpered. 

 "The title the inspector gave to you, to Turnbull and to her cousin Bart
was that of 'gentlemen of honor'," Fraser said, smiling. "Though I think
she was being a bit generous in your case--" 

 "Asshole." 

 "--and her maids and matrons of honor didn't seem the least surprised to
be sharing that honor with you." 

 "I guess it's the only good thing about her immediate family all being
dead. Her mother couldn't faint at me standing up for her daughter." 

 "--though it will take me a bit to get over having given Francesca away."
He thought over Francesca's side of the church and its gratifying, if
unexpected, fullness, and was once again almost (appropriately enough)
religiously grateful that when it had come time for Francesca to find out
who her friends were, she'd found that, while she did predictably lose
some (whom, he reminded himself, she'd never had, if that was all it took
to lose them) she had still quite a few, from the station and many points
elsewhere. Which was very, very fortunate, considering... 

 "With Vecchio not bein' able, you know he'd have wanted it to be you,"
Ray said, and while this was true, Fraser didn't bother to answer, since
they'd already had that conversation--though in a rather stunned state on
Fraser's part, when he'd received Francesca's bouquet and card request at
the station, with her waiting around the corner--physically restrained
there by Huey and Welsh to give Fraser a chance to get his jaw closed and
muster up an appropriately humble acceptance. 

 "It was no real decision," Fraser said. "It was, as the sentiment is
often described, an honor, and I'm as happy for her as I can possibly be.
Of course, I'm also as profoundly stunned by the sheer rapidity of it all
as everyone else, but when you think about it..." 

 "...Meg is perfect for Frannie, 'cept being so cynical, at least to
Frannie--but Frannie can't live without a challenge. Frannie lives to
conquer the odds. And Meg is some way big odds. Frannie will make Meg a
romantic or die in the attempt. Although Meg is more of a romantic than I
think even you know," Ray sighed, rearranging himself against Fraser a
bit. 

 "On the contrary. I think it's one of the reasons you two became such
friends--once you had the chance to...spend time alone together, and for
her to relax with you--for the two of you to interact more intimately,"
Fraser said softly. "You are both...romantics, but try to hide it, for
your various reasons." 

 "Where you and Frannie fairly drip when you walk," Ray snickered. "Might
not be quite the same definition of romantic, but still, no hiding for
you." 

 "Hardly a complimentary image, Ray," Fraser muttered. "Not to mention
disgusting." 

 "I didn't mean it like that, yeesh. I meant it like a whattayacallit,
metaphor. But they are perfect. Meg is this studly can-do mountie, a real
hero once you get her out from behind a desk, which desk she seems to like
about as much as you do--probably why she can be such a bitch sometimes--"


 "Ray." 

 "She's my friend. She knows I don't mean it bad." 

 "That word, used that way, cannot be meant 'good'." 

 "Okay, okay, whatever. It's just...she's kind of you, almost, except for
the cynicism thing. She's even really, really beautiful," Ray added, with
a nuzzle to Fraser's ear. He felt Ray's lips form a smile as the last of
the chocolate candy was licked onto and then back off the outer shell of
the ear, which operation Fraser purred through without a single squirm,
because it tickled only just enough to be tingly-pleasant; Ray'd learned
such things quickly. Ray went on "And Frannie...she's someone Meg can
provide for, she'll have the promotions and the big house--or maybe it's
that Frannie'll have 'em--while Frannie takes care of her, in Frannie's
way. Though who's really gonna be in charge in general is gonna be
Frannie, if there is one or the other of 'em, and as traditional as
Frannie is..." 

 "I'm not arguing." 

 "But Meg's not in love with the wide open spaces. She'll wanna live where
Frannie wants to, in the city, lots of shopping, lots of culture and
stuff, lots of, you know, everything. Though they might have a little
trouble over Toronto versus Ottawa or something. Frannie's had some stuff
to say about Toronto, that one time she went, but she went with her
brother when they were kids; I bet Meg can convince her if she tries. But
anyway, they both want that. And they both want kids. I mean, I know
everybody thought it was pretty whirlwind, but me?" Ray shook his head,
affecting total nonchalance. "I wasn't surprised even a little. Just not
even. Meg saved Frannie's life, swept her off her feet..." 

 "You were too surprised. You were expecting Francesca and Turnbull to
begin a relationship of some sort." 

 "I didn't say I expected, I only said it'd be cute. And I think he'll
make a cool uncle, he already does, his sister's kids and all..." 

 There was quiet a moment. 

 "Who do you think they'll want for the father?" Ray wondered softly.
"With all due respect, Frase. I care about 'em, I'm not thinking of
placing bets here." 

 "The inspector had planned to adopt, but it...proved untenable, when she
attempted to through official channels, at the time she tried. Her rank is
officer-level, but not high enough to keep her out of the field entirely,
which would make her job a higher-risk one; and she was single, though
single women are able to have children placed with them more easily than
single men, usually." 

 "Didn't she think you were adopted or something?" 

 "She was under the impression I had been officially adopted by my
grandparents, yes; but at, um...at a later time, after...the question over
what contribution she had in mind for me, as I hadn't been adopted, had
been explained, I told her that my father had not given up any legal
rights he held in my case. He had simply...left me to their care. So I had
none of the firsthand experience with the legal end--not that I would have
had such experience as a child, but she assumed that, like most adopted
children, I would have been at least mildly curious about the details as I
grew older. And, really...I wouldn't be able to help much with the child's
point of view of things, either. She intended to adopt a younger child,
less than two years, though she wasn't concerned about race or gender--and
I was old enough to remember my mother. The effect that losing a parent
can have on a child old enough to be fully cognizant of the fact is the
only helpful thing I could have given her in the way of greater
understanding; and in her case, that wouldn't have been necessary." 

 "I think she can forget that now. Adopting, by official government
channels, that is." 

 "I think you're probably right, sadly enough," Fraser sighed. "There are
other legal channels, naturally, and even in the states, there are legal
adoptions by gay couples--but legality or no, prejudice will exist for a
long time yet. They'll likely be bearing any children they raise, and
Francesca has desired that, in any case. Perhaps they'll go the anonymous
donor route." 

 "Frozen pops," Ray mused. "I don't see Frannie doing that. Meg, maybe,
yeah. But she'll go with what Frannie wants, since Frannie'll be doing the
bearing." 

 "Yes, I imagine the wishes of the one becoming pregnant will be
paramount. And, just between you, me and the lamppost, I also believe
Francesca will be bearing their children, though I would not count the
inspector completely out of anything." 

 "Yeah, bad idea with Meg. She'll surprise you. But Frannie did want to
start her first right away," Ray added, "she didn't exactly make a secret
of it." 

 "True." 

 "Did she really not ask you?" Ray said in a small voice. "Frannie, I
mean? Because if you wanted...Frase, I wouldn't say..." 

 "Ray, she did not ask me. If she had, I would have told you and discussed
it with you--even if I had been firm in a decision to say no, and even if
I had already done so. Francesca's business is her own, but that request
involves me in a way you should know about--her wife is my superior, and
will remain in close contact with me daily, and Francesca and...Meg are
our friends. It would have been something you needed to know--your
business, as well. But I know you realize that." Fraser raised a
challenging eyebrow. 

 "Yeah, I know that," Ray sighed. "Just insecurity rearing its head. You
know. 'The one thing I can't give you no matter how much I love you', and
all that." 

 "The one thing I can't give you, either," Fraser reminded him in a
near-whisper. 

 They were quiet for a while, as Dief snored softly. He seemed to quiet
down a bit if he slept on his left side. 

 "Francesca and the inspector may ask me, Ray," Fraser finally went on,
"as we all have a long and...rather oddly involved past, but...I...I don't
believe I personally want children," Fraser said gently, "I don't know
that I would tell them yes, dear as they are to me. I could easily love a
child, or children--I have had, and continue to have, friends who are
children, but I'm not sure I would know how to treat them like...children,
not on a daily basis, at the very young stages, where it counts the most.
You see--" 

 "Fraser. I saw you with Bruce Spender. I'm not staying Spender was a kid,
or even retarded to the level of one, but he was different, and you went
in there with such high-octane empathy he couldn't help loving you from
the first thing you said to him. Most kids don't need any more than that.
Most kids don't want any more than that--" 

 Fraser went on, talking over him, as he often did when he just had to get
something out, such that Ray was seldom offended by it any more.
Especially if Ray had interrupted in the first place. 

 "--I was never treated like a child, save by my mother, which was too
long ago to overcome the conditioning and treatment I received thereafter.
I was treated more like the lowest noncom in the chain than like a child,
once my mother died, and I say that without animosity--it's simply the
closest analogy I can think of. I followed orders or was disciplined. I
did not question, neither circumstances nor instructions, and if I did, I
did so under prescribed situational permissions designed to allow me to
increase my knowledge and understanding--without appearing to be
questioning the validity of what I was told, in any way. I did what was
expected of me, and if I dared to...wonder at anything, in any way one
might interpret that...or...or to have feelings, I was enjoined very
sharply, in different ways--usually phrased as some tired cliche--to keep
them to myself. I never was a child. Even--though this was never
explicitly stated--if I was ill, I was not to complain, but wait for
someone to notice when I was unable to perform as usual--not that I was
excused for any reason for not being able to perform as usual. In any
event, I think all that is why I don't desire children the way some people
do. I tend to treat them like...adults, but adults whom I happen to know
have no legal rights that are not administered through a proxy--whether
that proxy is trustworthy or not--and, therefore, few to no choices; and I
try to give them help, and give them choices. 

 "But the kind of...support in growth that is the standard for most...I
don't know if I could supply that. And I think that I...I would...have
difficulty giving and receiving the unbridled affection that is so
important to be able to show on a regular basis with children, to show
without even thinking about it. That sort of thing will never be natural
to me, and it would probably...probably result in another grown man, or
woman, such as myself, who was never able to...well. You understand, I'm
sure." 

 "Yeah, Frase. You mean, you learn parenting from your parents--or your
upbringing--it gets programmed, kind of, and so even with the best of
intentions...it's probably gonna be a wash, even if it doesn't show right
away." 

 Fraser nodded slowly. "So I am unlikely to make a decent father for
another couple's children--Francesca and the inspector would not want me
to remain entirely outside the child's life, I don't believe, if they
chose to ask me--knowing them--knowing them both the way I do--I think I
know that. I would be proud to donate for them if that was all they
desired--rather, perhaps, that and a favorite uncle to enjoy and help out
at need, with no terribly great impact on the most important aspects of
the child's raising; Francesca and the inspector would never deny a friend
the opportunity to know his own child, even if it weren't in the role of
father--but if it were a friend they asked, I don't think that's how
they'd want to arrange it. I think that they would want a friend to be the
child's father, for the child to know that this man was his or her father,
even if he did not live with the family, and even if they had no interest
in any sort of child support...many men are successful--by whatever
definition you choose to use for that--fathers, without living in the same
house as the child in question. 

 "But in my case, I don't think it would be in the best interests of the
child. Non-live-in fathers can still be highly attentive and influential
parents, at least the good ones. But I don't think I...I don't want to be
the sort of father I had, Ray, not an absentee father, I could never
overcome that programming you mentioned under those circumstances. I love
my father, and my grandparents, but I would never, ever forgive myself if
I...passed on the only things I was given, the only things I have to pass
to a child, in a case like that." 

 "So, you've decided you don't want kids. Okay. I want you to know--I'm
cool with that, Frase. It could never work if only one of us wanted them,
no matter how--" 

 "Ray, no--if I had a child with you...if I was with you, and it was you.
You could make the difference, I think. I could learn from you, there
would be the opportunity for that, being there, there with the child. And
where I stumbled, you could help me, keep it from being too awful an
experience to our child. You and I could supply a single framework, rather
than two separate home or parental situations, almost two separate
worlds--that can work well, but not with me. If I were with you, though,
you could support me where I lacked, before it was of any great harm to
the child. I know you want children--" 

 "Fraser, Fraser, slow down--" 

 "--and if we adopted, I would love our child with all the feeling I have.
I...would even carry and bear you a child, if I were physically capable,
if you desired it of me." 

 There was dead quiet, and then Ray said, quietly and clearly, "That
scares the shit out of me." 

 "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean--I'm sorry. Just never--" 

 "Fraser, slow down. Don't be sorry. And I don't mean the thought of you
pregnant scares me, if that were possible; you probably wouldn't do a damn
thing different except grow in the middle and stop jumping off things for
a few months. It's just...my wife didn't wanna have my baby. Now a
guy...you...feel..." 

 "Love you." 

 "You are scared shitless of fucking up as a parent, judging by the
longest speech I've heard you give since I dunno when, as scared as I've
ever seen you of anything, but you...love me enough you'd have a baby if I
wanted you to when you don't even have a serious yen for kids yourself." 

 "Well, it's not as though there's any chance of it, so don't praise me
too much." 

 "Fraser. Idiot. Listen, I know there is no way you would be like those
asshole men against choice that say, all self-righteous, from inside this
impenetrably safe fortress of it being utterly impossible that it could
ever happen to them, that if they got pregnant, they wouldn't get an
abortion. You--Benton Robert Fraser--wouldn't say 'I'd have your kid if I
could'...unless you meant it. Even as scared of fucking up as you are. And
that's...big, Frase. Real big. You know a lot about this stuff--well,
about everything, I guess. But you know what it would mean for you and
your job and your body and your life and the whole deal. If you were a
woman, I mean, the body part especially. You're thinking of me as kind of
the big parent, the more main parent, it'd be less of a halvsies thing
with us 'cause that's just how we are, but you'd still be the other
parent, and...that's...for you..." 

 There was a pause, and Fraser wondered if he'd maybe been a bit selfish
in telling Ray that particular truth. Ray didn't need to think about the
might-have-beens if Fraser had been a woman. But there was something else,
something he'd been planning on bringing up anyway, since it became
obvious to him that certain ideas were flitting through Ray's mind every
now and then. 

 "Have you thought of their asking you?" Fraser said softly. 

 Ray murmured "Thought of it, that's all. But you knew I had, or you
wouldn't have said that." 

 He lifted his head, and they lay gazing easily into each other's eyes
until it began to make them smile a little goofily. Ray said "We know each
other too well." 

 "I think it's simply that we have such a high regard for each other,"
Fraser said. "Though there's something to what you say, too. If they ask
you, Ray, they'll probably bring it up to both of us. If you want to say
yes, I will be happy. I will be. You could be the kind of father they'd
want, and it would be nothing but good for the child, I know it, and I
could be that favorite uncle, there for the children--and me--to enjoy,
but not seriously impact them. I'd be happy. For you, me, and them. So
remember that while you're thinking about it." 

 Ray smiled. "They ain't gonna ask me, Frase. They aren't gonna want a
skinny weird nearsighted hyperactive Polack kid. Your genes are the best
there are, and you do have a kinda weird history with 'em both, but
me...I'm just a friend--" he held up a hand to stop Fraser's highly
distressed rebuttal and said "Save it, Frase, we both know I'm telling the
truth from Meg and Frannie's point of view. Still, I knew you'd say that.
That you'd let me, if they asked." He paused, and wondered softly, voice
mild and curious, "Would you marry me, Frase?" 

 Fraser felt a frisson--not good, not bad, just big--and slowly turned his
gaze once again to Ray's. As they lay with eyes locked, he realized that
Ray wasn't proposing, exactly--nor was he not proposing, exactly--he was
asking about Fraser's feelings on legal marriage for himself, to Ray.
Would Fraser marry him, if it came up as an immediate consideration. What
his thoughts were on the subject. That was what Ray was wondering. 

 Fraser adjusted himself, half-sitting against his pillow, as he thought.
"If we married," he said carefully, "I would be--I mean, to satisfy my own
mind, not that you wouldn't be capable of fathoming all this yourself--"
he noticed Ray's indulgent smirk, but ignored it lest they be there all
night, and continued "--I'd be certain that you understood all the legal
ramifications. We'd probably get married in Ontario; while I would be
considered legally married, for all practical purposes, even in Chicago,
due to my current citizenship--and we'd be married legally in all Canadian
provinces that have passed the "two people to the exclusion of all others"
law, and in many European countries and smaller legal divisions all over
the world--" 

 Ray blew a sigh. "Cut to the chase, lover." 

 "--the legality of the union would--if relevant concerns should happen to
arise within the jurisdictional limits of any political entity that did
not have such a specific law--or, perhaps, where the laws were simply
unclear on the point--be contestable within those borders...just
incidentally, including the issues concerning children, and if they were,
you would not be happy about it. Also, you and I wouldn't automatically be
custodians of one another's children, with legal claim to that position,
especially if there were other claimants as well--" 

 "Our children." 

 "Not under the circumstances I'm talking about. We'd have to arrange a
legal adoption of some sort, a waiving of the rights of any other
claimant, including the court. Also, in general, as I said, in any
political entity where the marriage was questionable, our own next-of-kin
rights could be invalidated. We...would be able to be forced to testify
against each other, for example, we would not be able to make decisions
for the other should one of us become incapacitated, no automatic power of
attorney, and there are many other such points. So..." he sighed. "I'm not
calling you a fool about these things, Ray, but I know your tendency is to
think with your intuition, and while that tendency serves us both quite
well under most circumstances--even saved our lives, in more than one
case, though with no logical premise at all to fall back on...I'd...need
to know you understood the positions you would be placing yourself in, and
that you would be ready to deal--calmly--with the fact that we would not
be considered a married couple in many possible circumstances. There's
also...well. You know all that, I'm sure..." 

 "But you wanna be sure I do. Well...you wanna be sure I can deal with it.
It's okay, Fraser. I do think with my gut sometimes. You're allowed to
tell me if you're worried about something, including that." 

 "Well...you do know this, intellectually. I'm just afraid of how...hurt
you might be, if--okay, let's face it, when--you were confronted with it.
To many--even those to whom your sexuality or lack of it was completely
irrelevant in your relationships with them--you would cease to be Ray
Kowalski, a man like other men. You would not be human, with a past, and
likes and dislikes, and a point of view, and failings and triumphs and
lacks and surfeits, hopes and ideas, honor and generosity--all the other
things that make a person truly human. To these people, you would become
merely 'a gay'--as I say, even to many, many people who are not
particularly homophobic. Just people who don't much care one way or
another, and are seldom exposed to gay people--at least, that they're
aware of." 

 "The kind of people who think they'd--of course--know if they knew any
gays." Ray grinned. 

 "Yes, them. Which is to say, unfortunately, the vast majority of
straights. Most don't think of themselves as homophobic. They don't
realize they are prejudicially straight in their thinking, because most
don't address the question at all--they don't expect the question or the
idea ever to truly enter their lives in any way, and find only when it
does that they do not welcome it. You would be 'forcing' them to deal with
it, as something that touched their own lives, and they could easily
resent you for it. Even people who aren't homophobes, even those who
didn't fear or hate you...you'd still become, to them, 'a gay'. You
wouldn't be Ray Kowalski, the way they'd thought of him, ever again. It
wouldn't be as though they suddenly learned you were a devout Catholic or
some such. You wouldn't even be, to those who knew you less well--who knew
you hardly to speak to, say--a nameless, uncharacterized face in a crowd,
like you are now. You'd stand out--as 'a gay'. And as nothing else. And
that might make you very angry when actually confronted with it, though
not at simply being intellectually aware of the possibility." 

 The look they exchanged forwent the whole "You were right, I knew all
this" conversation. Ray just nodded a little, indicating his thoughts to
Fraser, which ran something like "Hey, I asked, go ahead and finish and
then we'll dissect it." 

 So Fraser continued "It's true this will happen in any event, to one
degree or another, here and there, all the time--even if we were to keep
our relationship as absolutely secret as possible--as it has been, to a
limited degree. But it'll be more overwhelming, the more open we are...and
by far the most open we could be would be to marry legally. Certain
people, who are willing to be 'tolerant' of gays--as long as we are
'discreet'--would object to such 'flaunting'; and there would be more
objection from people who objected to us to begin with, their previously
not having known of us at all--or not having expected we would 'flaunt' in
that manner. And their objections would grow more intense, the less
'discreet' we were. Marrying, legally, would be the ultimate idea of lack
of 'discretion' appropriate for a gay couple to keep, as far as these
people are concerned." He sighed. "Reaction could be as extreme as
physical violence, even with people who would have looked the other
way--looked the other way even if we were openly living together,
provided..." 

 "...provided they could rest in complacent certainty that we were denied
the right of legal marriage." Ray made a sound that might have been a
laugh. "You'd make sure I understood all that before you married me, huh,"
Ray said, smiling sadly. "I thought I'd have to be the one to use
Scrubbing Bubbles to get the stars out of your eyes about it. You and your
faith from hell in human nature." 

 Fraser thought about talking about the way he'd felt all his life. A
poster boy, a living example, a control sample, the upside anchor end of
the bell curve. He decided to skip most of it and just said "I've been
two-dimensional to many people since I became a mountie, Ray, just as you
have since you became a city policeman. But...with mounties, there is a
bit of romanticism that makes the discarding of the majority of one's
being somewhat greater than with typical police. Rather like that which
surrounded your Texas Rangers, that being the only example I can think of
off the top of my head." 

 "But this wouldn't be 'romanticism'. And it would be a hell of a lot more
of us discarded. As in all of us--except the fact we were gay." 

 "Yes. And it would not be an artificially positive light that what
remained of us would be seen in." 

 "Mm. I got you." Ray sighed and looked at the ceiling again. "I'd like to
marry you. I mean, it'd be nice." 

 Fraser felt the frisson again--not bad, not good, just big, and managed
"Ray..." 

 Ray looked down at him and whispered "Frase, Fraser...maybe someday, but
it's okay, I don't need that to stay with you. And I guess what I really
meant is, I'd like to have with you what the straights are allowed to have
with each other. The nice stuff, the congratulations and the good-lucks
and picking china patterns if you're into that, and everybody thinking
it's just wonderful and all..." he sighed. "Instant family-in-law, the
family gatherings. Picket fences. Anniversaries, paper, wood, ceramic,
silver, gold. Next of kin. Kids. Even legal stuff; just all the usual
straights-only rights bennies--insurance, inheritance, that stuff. You
know--I didn't mean I thought we'd actually get that if we went north and
got married. I was just thinking...nice. If we could. Not everybody wants
all that, some people go totally bleah at the idea of all that, get
married in the courthouse just for the rights bennies and won't tell
anybody what their anniversary is, but..." 

 "Yes," Fraser said, folding Ray close so Ray couldn't see that he was
tearing up. "I know you...wanted...well, all that." 

 "We all want things. We all make choices. Unfair, not right, fuck the
world and rage at fate, all the rest of it. I've done my time with that.
But I did make the choice; real love is worth a lot more than that stuff,
it's just...trappings, compared to being with the person--or people--you
really, really want to be with. An' I know you're misty, Frase, you don't
have to hide your face." But he didn't try to change their position as
Fraser curled tightly around him and held him close, face in his shoulder.
He just held on to Fraser, stroking him. 

 "It'll be easier for Frannie and Meg," he added. "Some little easier.
They're like us, no obvious mannerisms or anything, they don't stand out,"
Ray added, and Fraser smirked silently at Ray's perennial, well-meaning
thoughtlessness. "And they're women. Just, generally. The gay thing is a
little easier for women. For one thing, they can bear their own kids if
they want 'em. Frannie and Meg can, at least." 

 "Yes," Fraser said distantly. "True, I suppose." If it made Ray feel
better. If it made Fraser feel better. 

 "And...and Frannie's family will get over it someday." 

 "I don't know about that, Ray. I've known the Vecchios longer than you
have, and...well...not to judge their faith, I'd never..." 

 "Ray Vecchio, at least, will be there for her--if he's half the guy
you've told me he is--" 

 "Yes," Fraser hastened to say. "He will be shocked--but he loves her; he
won't abandon her, I know him well enough to know that. I think he'll be
more upset that it's the inspector she's married to. But I know him better
than I know any other man except you, and better than any other man at all
knows him, and he won't abandon her." Fraser wondered if he was more
interested in convincing Ray or himself. "But it was...hard for Francesca,
since Ray is gone, to have to ask me to give her away, instead of...a
cousin or uncle or her brother-in-law, since family is so important to..."


 "Fraser, I think you are the perfect person to have given Frannie away.
You haven't been able to fling her away for years, this is symbolically
perfect for the both of you--she jumps, she isn't pushed, you just gave
her a hand over the rail. And...maybe her family couldn't handle the
wedding, but they haven't all stopped speaking to her; her sister does, I
know, at least, I picked up the phone at work and lined Frannie and
somehow got in the middle of their conversation. Fraser, I...she wanted
you. I know she did. If you hadn't given her away, you'd've been in the
ceremony somehow, she'd have made you the ring-bearer or something..." he
trailed off, and Fraser knew he was realizing that his joke pointed up
that Francesca's cousins and nieces and nephews had emphatically not been
present as flower girls and ring bearers and such, but he ploughed on
ahead. "...though personally I'd've made you a flower girl. You'd've
looked beautiful in a little taffeta something. You got the legs." 

 Fraser managed a smile, flumping back against his pillow. "I think, for
Francesca, I would even have worn pantyhose again." 

 "I gotta hear more about that," Ray said, "there wasn't much in the
records and you don't seem to wanna talk about it for some reason, hm?"
Ray gave him an evil expression, wiggling his eyebrows. "The pantyhose,
maybe?" 

 Fraser made an expressive noise he'd picked up from Ray. "They pinch,
Ray. Quite...inappropriately." 

 "Inappropriate mountie. Maybe you just liked it a little too much..." 

 Fraser now gave a genuine snort. "I know women who hate pantyhose. My
sister, for example. They're impossibly fragile and hopelessly
impractical." 

 "So do I--know women who hate 'em--but I know guys that love 'em." 

 "Well, I'm not one." 

 "So you say." 

 "This is just a ploy to get me into pantyhose to 'prove' that they're not
doing anything for me, isn't it, and you'd have a camera hidden on your
person somewhere--very unsubtle of you, Ray." 

 "I gotta get my sicko jollies somehow. I married this puritan." He
smiled. "Enough close to married, even if we never do it legal. So now I
gotta trick you into meeting me at the door wrapped in saran wrap--" 

 "You know, I hear that, over and over, but unless one's a lesbian
avoiding the possibility of STD transmission, I cannot imagine any reason
anyone would find saran wrap an enjoyable sexual adjunct. I find it
annoying merely for wrapping food. It sticks to everything except what you
want it to, it would inhibit sensation--" 

 "You noticed it inhibits sensation while you were wrapping food?" 

 Fraser gave a token growl and bite to Ray's ear. 

 "Anyway, maybe it just takes practice." Ray rolled over on top of him. 

 Fraser went over back with him, pulling Ray up and getting him settled.
"You practice, and tell me how it goes." 

 "Maybe I will." 

 "If you wanted something to inhibit sensation, you could just use an
extra condom." 

 "Maybe there's something special, I'm missing out, who knows. Or maybe I
wanna inhibit sensation someplace else. Mm." He responded with a roll of
his head toward Fraser's hair, nuzzling, as Fraser licked his neck for a
while. Fraser rubbed with his cheek against the licked places to keep the
dampness from becoming uncomfortable. 

 "I think it's good it took us forever to actually come with each other,
sex wise, I mean. The shower, okay, that was sex, some other stuff was
sex, but by the coming part, we knew everything about each other already.
We were already in tune with each other." 

 "Diefenbaker was right on that point, at least, and at least for us,"
Fraser whispered. 

 "I'll never forget that conversation," Ray said, half humorously, half
grimly. 

 "You've both discussed it with me at such length I doubt I ever will,
either," Fraser said, near-disgust in his tone. "I'd thought you'd
actually had the conversation. But you both had to have it again. Several
times. With me." 

 "You help us see stuff. We were kinda high-strung while it was happening,
okay?" 

 "You were hysterical, from what Dief says." 

 "Okay, a little. A little hysterical. I get...I get a bit...anyway, he
was tryin' to keep it together, but don't let him fool you, he was
freaking in a couple spots, too." 

 "Trying to deal with you." 

 "He lies." 

 "I don't believe either of you. Rather, I believe both of you. The sign
of an intellectually mature mind is the ability to hold two conflicting
ideas within one's mind without losing balance and coherency. I am capable
of this." 

 "You just don't wanna be in the middle." 

 "I'm not in the middle." 

 "Excuse me, it was all about you and...you and..." 

 "It was about YOU and. I was incidental. I barely existed. I could have
been absolutely anyone in the same situation with Dief." 

 "Okay," Ray sighed. "Maybe so." He squeezed and massaged Fraser's ass, to
a grunt and sigh of approval from Fraser. "I love your butt." 

 "I'm so glad. Do that some more." 

 "You're not hard to distract." 

 "I'd a lot rather you paid attention to my posterior than we continued a
pointless conversation, that's all. So in this case, no, I'm not hard to
distract the way you're doing it, at least." 

 "Mr. pica*yune* today. I wonder if Frannie and Meg talk in bed so much." 

 "Ray. Inappropriate." 

 "Yeah, yeah, I forget, she's your boss." 

 "Inappropriate under any circumstances. I love you." 

 Ray kissed Fraser's ear. "I love you too. What brought that on?" 

 "Nothing. I just wanted to throw it in." 

 "Well. I'm happy to catch it, anytime." He kissed Fraser's ear again.
"You're gonna go to sleep on me." 

 "If you keep relaxing me by massaging my rump and its environs, yes,
probably, since I've come once already and I can pretty much decide
whether to get turned on again or not, at least this late in the day. Did
you want to have sex again?" 

 "Uh...we done it once, and you're right, it's late. Let's just rub
around." 

 "That sounds lovely." They began to pet and stroke and nuzzle, aimlessly,
lightly, slowly, until they started growing sleepy enough to drift slowly
off. 

 A loud zawping snore jolted them both awake. 

 "DIEF!" they chorused. 

 Dief himself jolted awake, and said "I'm rolling, I'm rolling. Left side,
got it. Geez. One little snore." 

 "They ain't so little. Be glad we don't make you go out and sleep in the
front room where the sun'll wake your ass up." 

 "Okay, I'm appropriately, humbly grateful. Shit. Demanding. Get a couple
of humans together and you pay, and pay..."  

End Talking to the Dog X: You CAN Get There From Here by Blue Champagne:
bluecham@tds.net

Author and story notes above.