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     �	  Blowup 
 by Muriel Perun  

 

 Blowup

 by Muriel Perun

 In a dented white station wagon, the three men rode in silence through a
bleak, snowbound landscape. The driver, a large man in a flannel shirt and
down jacket with a belly hanging over his jeans, sported close-cropped
salt-and-pepper hair under a baseball cap and a mustache that grew down
over his lip. He shifted around in his seat, scratching and glancing at
the lean man next to him. He'd rather be talking about anything at all
than driving up this arrow-straight road sharing an uneasy silence with
two strangers. He'd picked up these hitchhikers because he was bored, but
his every attempt at conversation had been met with a few taciturn replies
and then silence. 

 Something bad had happened to these guys, and the driver would very much
have liked to know what it was. The thin, bald guy's car had exploded, he
knew that much, but when the Mountie tried to tell him about it, the thin
guy told him to shut up. Said it with authority, too. When the driver had
insisted on hearing the story, the guy had pulled out his badge and said
he was a cop, and when he said to shut up, he meant shut up. The driver
frowned to himself. It was still a free country, last he'd heard, but he
didn't say nothing because the cop had a gun, for all he knew.

 In his rear-view mirror, he could see the Mountie in his blue uniform
coat. Funny thing, he didn't look as dirty as the other guy. And he had
spent the whole hour and then some they'd been in the car staring at the
other guy, who didn't even notice. Strange guys. They had told him that
their dog was a wolf, too. At first that made him uneasy, but then he
figured they were pulling his leg, because the most aggressive thing it
had done was whine for fries when they'd gone to a drive-through for a
burger. Since then it had just slept on the seat.

 So, okay, he'd drive them to where the140 cut out due west. It wouldn't
be long now. Then he could get this scary guy out of his front seat and
breathe a little easier. To tell the truth, this guy, cop or not, made him
kind of nervous. He looked like he might do something violent any second.
Doris was always telling him not to pick up hitchhikers. Damned if she
wasn't right again.

 Ray stared out the windshield, letting his body sway to the irregular
rhythm of the potholed road. His clothes were dull with filth and a streak
of ash painted his jawline, already gray with stubble. He had deep circles
under his eyes. The sun was setting, making a pink and golden patch at the
horizon, reminding Ray of the explosion that replayed itself in his head
every time he closed his eyes.

 The driver stopped the car in a spot that didn't look any different from
hundreds of other spots they'd passed over the last hundred miles. 

 "This is where I start headin' west," he drawled. "Turnoff's just up
ahead."

 Squinting against the light Ray could see the freeway bridge with cars
shooting along it like little silver blurs. He sighed in frustration,
missing the feel of the Riv under his hands. Stuck here in the snowy
plains, hitchhiking, at the mercy of other drivers, Ray felt like an
amputee. With the Riv's passing, he had lost part of himself.

 In the back seat, the Mountie was already preparing to get out. "Thank
you kindly," he said heartily. Ray turned around and glared at him.

 "There a hotel around here?" he asked the driver, hunching his shoulders
against the blast of cold air Fraser had just let into the car.

 "Up past the interchange about a mile," the driver said, chewing his
greasy gray mustache impatiently.

 "Any chance you could drive us there?" Ray asked unpleasantly, as if it
was his right. 

 "Ray," Fraser protested, "this kind gentleman has already--"

 Something inside Ray seemed to burst. Hot lava rose from his chest
towards his brain. He'd had just about enough of the Mountie for one day.
Fraser gave consideration to the lowest idiot, but not to Ray. Ray had to
sacrifice everything: his comfort, his right to speak his mind, even his
car. He'd had to shoot his own car. What else did Fraser want from him?
The sunset had faded, leaving a dim grayness at the horizon, but Ray was
still seeing everything through a reddish haze. "Shut up, Fraser," he
snapped. "Look, I know it's out of your way, but couldn't you just--"

 "Nope," the man said, grinning nervously. "I got to get home. End o' the
line."

 Ray got out of the car so fast that he was slamming the door while Fraser
was still retrieving his hat. 

 Fraser caught the door and held it open. "Thank you again for the ride,"
he said. "And I do apologize for my friend's rudeness." Pushing his
companion away, Ray slammed the door on Fraser's last words and the car
sped away, spewing dirty slush against Ray's ankles.

 "Oh, man!" Ray cried, shaking one foot and then the other. "These are new
shoes, too. What a moron." 

 "Ray, he drove us a hundred miles closer to Chicago."

 "Great. That's just great. Obviously I owe him my life, because now we're
stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere--as opposed to the other middle of
fucking nowhere from a hundred miles ago--and it's dark, and I've got wet
feet again, for chrissakes, and there's supposed to be a hotel a mile up
the road. Maybe, if that guy wasn't just yanking our chain. And would you
stop apologizing for me? I hate it when you do that."

 Fraser's eyes widened a little. "But you were rude."

 "Rude? Dammit, Benny, I'm just sticking up for our rights. You'd let
everyone walk all over you if I--" Diefenbaker let out a short yelp, and
for once Ray understood exactly what he meant. "We've got a mile to walk,"
he said, turning his back on Fraser and starting off. "I don't have the
energy for this."

 But in truth, although he was tired, he still had a great deal of energy.
He felt like a ball of fire, full of jangling nerves and sparks and little
bursts of hot lava. After a full day of humiliations, large and small, Ray
was furious. He felt like kicking every rock and pole in his path. He
wanted to get his hands around the Mountie's throat and squeeze and
squeeze and squeeze. And then he wanted to bang that thick skull against a
brick wall until he--

 "Ray," came a conciliatory voice from behind him. Ray hunched his
shoulders and walked a little faster.

 About a mile and a half beyond the interchange they finally came upon a
low building with a row of worn doors and a neon sign. "Vacancy," it said.

 "Look," Fraser said encouragingly. "He was telling the truth."

 "I wonder." Ray stopped at the edge of the empty parking lot and shook
his head. "See, this can't be happening, because I've known for the last
couple of hours that this is the worst day of my life and that I am doomed
to sleep in a snowdrift or under a truck or something. Well, no, I can't
sleep under a truck, can I, because the way this day is going, I'll get my
ass run over. So it's a snowdrift for me. There's a nice filthy one over
there. I think I'll just go and curl up and catch my death of pneumonia,
okay? And probably typhus, too, and--"

 "Ray, you're exaggerating," Fraser said sternly.

 "No, Fraser, I'm accepting my fate. Why should I fight it anymore? I've
been fighting all day, and I keep digging myself in deeper and deeper. If
it's my fate to die out here on the freakin' prairie, why should I fight
it?"

 "You never stop fighting, Ray," Fraser said quietly. "That's one of your
most interesting qualities."

 Ray went silent for a moment. He sighed and turned to look at
Diefenbaker. "All right, furball, your job is to stay out of sight until
we check in. We'll sneak you in later, got it?" Dief whuffed and trotted
off behind the motel. "Good, because I'm not sure they'll let us in
anyway."

 "Why not?" Fraser asked, blinking innocently.

 Ray looked down at himself and glanced back at Fraser. "Because I've got
mud on my coat, mud on my pants, mud on my shoes, and mud in my hair.
Hell, I've probably got mud in my underwear. And, to top it off, Fraser,
I'm wearing red sneakers--red ones, because they couldn't possibly have
any other color in my size, right?--that I got in a goddamn drug store. I
look like a wino, Fraser. Maybe you ought to check us in."

 Fraser looked uncomfortable. "Uh, Ray, there's a problem with that."

 "What?" Ray shouted. "What's the problem? Something might go right today?
I might not have to sleep in a snowdrift?"

 Fraser stood up very straight. "I would of course be honor-bound to
reveal that we will have a wolf staying in our room."

 "Oh, for chrissakes," Ray muttered. "Stay here. Don't move." He walked
towards the motel office with Fraser trailing slowly behind.

 Ray allowed himself a cautious smile as he unlocked the door to the last
unit in the row. "Hey, they ain't too picky in this joint. Score one for
us." Stopping in the doorway he seemed to have second thoughts. "Of
course, if they'd let us in, this must be an awful crappy place. Maybe
there's bedbugs. Do you think there's bedbugs, Fraser? Because if there
are..."

 Fraser pushed past him and pulled back the sheets. "The linens look
clean," he remarked.

 "Yeah, but with bedbugs you can't tell. You know, the sheets can look
great, but the bedbugs live in the mattress, so you never know until
they're crawling all over you." He stood a moment, thinking. "All right,
Fraser, you sleep here. I'm going back out to that snowdrift. At least
there can't be anything in there big enough to crawl on me. Just bacteria.
And...oh shit." Dief bumped his leg in passing around him through the
door. "Jeez, Dief, you scared me." Distracted from his obsessions, Ray
shut the door and locked all the locks provided, looking at them
skeptically.

 "What the hell," he muttered. "If we get mugged, I can shoot somebody.
I've been dying to shoot somebody." He went over to the bedside table and
emptied his pockets methodically: wallet, keys, change, phone, handcuffs,
gun. He stared at the cigarette lighter for a second before putting it
down gently beside the other things.

 "You're out of bullets," Fraser observed.

 "Yeah, I'm out of bullets, and my spare gun was in the"--he hesitated and
then plunged on--"in the Riv, and do you have to remind me what I spent my
last bullet on?"

 "Sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to," Fraser said, walking towards the
bathroom.

 "Oh, no you don't!" Ray yelled, heading Fraser off at the bathroom door.
"I'm having a shower first, before all the hot water is gone."

 "All right, Ray," Fraser said mildly, "but do you mind if I..." He made a
vague gesture with one hand.

 "Yeah, sure, Fraser. Go ahead," Ray said, embarrassed. Sometimes he
forgot that Fraser had to pee like any other mortal man.

 With closed eyes, Ray stood under the jet of lukewarm water. It had been
hot for about two minutes, and that was about five minutes ago. Although
he had finished washing, he was reluctant to go back out to the other room
and face Fraser again. This was the first time he'd been alone all day and
he wanted to drag it out a little. The sparse stream from the
"water-saver" nozzle was biting into his scalp, but he welcomed the pain
as an antidote to the unremitting anger that had been washing through his
body for hours. If he could just relax and let the post-crisis numbness
set in, maybe he could sleep. And Ray wanted badly to sleep. If only the
hot water had lasted longer, he could have begun to unwind and wash the
day out of his system as the dirt sloughed off his body. Now he was
getting cold. He pushed the handle in viciously and started at the retort
of the water hammer.

 There were only two small towels, the really thin kind that soak through
in a second. They could have been the size of a postage stamp for all the
good they did. He rubbed his skin vigorously, trying to warm up. His
clothes were sitting on the floor in a heap. There was really nothing he
could do about them. His pants were caked with mud that was flaking off on
the bathmat. Maybe in the morning when they were completely dry he could
shake more of it off. Ray picked up his boxers with distaste. At least
they weren't muddy, but that's all he could say for them. He slipped them
on, suppressing a shudder. His skin was all gooseflesh from the cold.
Sighing, he put on his sleeveless undershirt despite the mud stain down
the center of the chest. 

 Goddamn Fraser, anyway. How could he have done this? How did he get Ray
to follow him down the road to disaster time after time? Ray hated
himself. His life didn't use to be like this, did it? He should have said
no this morning and just let Fraser drive the Riv. It wasn't as if
something worse could have happened to it. He ought to be in Florida right
now. Ray threw his used towel down into the corner. He didn't know what he
was going to do, but this time he wasn't letting Fraser get away with it.

 Ray came out of the bathroom forcefully, banging the door against the
wall. "Well, I'm still wearing dirty clothes, and the water was cold, but
at least there was soap," he commented. "Now it's time for the next thing
to go wrong."

 Wearing white boxers and a sleeveless T-shirt that looked immaculate,
Fraser was sitting up in bed reading Gideon's Bible. The very sight of
Fraser looking so perfect made Ray feel antsy, but the room was too small
for prowling. He sat on the single chair in the room and put his feet on
the bed. "There's no TV in this dump."

 "There's probably nothing on."

 "Yeah, nothing but the news," Ray said moodily. "You think they have the
story by now? `Cop Blows Up Own Car.' How the hell am I gonna explain this
at the precinct? They're never gonna let me forget it."

 Fraser glanced at him over the book. "You saved our lives, Ray."

 Ray snorted and wrapped his arms around himself. "It's cold in here."

 "Get in bed," Fraser advised.

 "I'm not ready to yet." Ray stalked over to the space heater by the
window and fiddled with it for a while. "Stupid piece of shit is broken."
He kicked it with his bare foot and winced. "That's how these assholes
make all their money. They rent you a place and then they don't turn on
the heat."

 "I hardly think that the proprietor of this motel is making much profit,
Ray. How many people do you suppose stay here in the average week?"

 "I dunno, Fraser," Ray said viciously, "probably no one. Probably just
Norman Bates and his mom. Probably just idiots like us who lost their shoe
in a snowdrift and blew up their own car. How often do you suppose that
happens in your average week?" He was standing over Fraser now, looking
down at him with clenched fists. "Of, course, that's what happened to me
today, Fraser, but what happened to you? Nothing. Not a fucking thing. You
don't even need a shower."

 "Yes, I do," Fraser said, closing the book.

 "Nothing ever happens to you, Fraser. You roll through this world like a
goddamn bulletproof limo. Nothing gets to you. For once, just once, I'd
like to see something get to you." 

 "Things get to me," Fraser said evenly. His lips were slightly parted as
he watched Ray carefully. "Ray, did I ever tell you--"

 "I swear to god, I'd like to--" They spoke simultaneously and then
stopped. 

 "What would you like to do, Ray?" Fraser asked.

 Ray didn't feel the cold anymore. He felt flushed and angry and hard as
steel. "I'd like to beat the shit out of you, Fraser," he said softly.
They looked at each other for a minute.

 "No, you wouldn't," Fraser said.

 "Yes, I would."

 "No, you wouldn't."

 "Yes, I would!" Ray shouted, turning away and walking back to the foot of
the bed so that Fraser couldn't see his face. In his heart, he didn't know
what he wanted to do. He was so mad, he felt like lashing out with a fist
to that maddeningly square jaw. But when he thought about really doing
it...

 There was a pause before Fraser spoke. "I understand," he said. 

 "No, you don't," Ray snapped.

 "I think you ought to hit me if you feel like it, Ray," Fraser said.

 "Like you couldn't stop me," Ray scoffed uneasily, his back still turned.
Hitting Fraser wasn't what he wanted. That wasn't it at all. The picture
in his mind showed something else: Fraser weak, Ray's strong hands on him.
Behind him, he heard a metallic click and a familiar snap. He spun around
and saw that Fraser had fastened Ray's handcuffs around one wrist and was
looking at Ray intently. 

 "Where did you find your handcuffs, Ray?" Fraser asked conversationally,
glancing down at them.

 "Uh, Ian left them on the seat," Ray said, distracted. "I found them when
I was looking...her over. What are you doing, Benny?"

 "It's lucky you found them." As Ray watched open-mouthed, Fraser took the
key and the Bible and placed them together in the nightstand drawer. Then,
quite deliberately, he lay down flat on the covers, threaded the cuffs
through the cheap metal headboard, and cuffed his other wrist. 

 "Now you can do whatever you want, Ray," Fraser said. "I can't stop you."
He lay still, waiting, watching Ray's eyes. Dief got up, whined uneasily,
and trotted into the bathroom, pushing the door closed behind him.

 "Don't be stupid, Benny," Ray said, sitting down next to him and opening
the drawer. "I couldn't--" He looked at the little silver key sitting on
the Bible and discovered that he didn't want to use it yet. A stab of
anxiety tightened his chest. Closing his eyes for a second, he rubbed a
hand over his face. "If it wasn't for you, Benny, I could be in a club on
the beach with a cold beer and a hot chick. But no. I'm starving, my car
is dead, I'm in who-knows-where-the-hell, Michigan, instead of Florida,
and you're making me an offer I can't refuse. And I thought this day
couldn't get any worse." He chuckled humorlessly. "Maybe I'll just
strangle you, Benny. I've been thinking about it all day."

 "If that's what you need to do, Ray," Fraser said, looking at him
steadily.

 Ray closed the drawer and took Fraser's neck between his hands. He could
feel the thick tendons under the smooth skin. By this time of day, Ray's
face was sandpaper, while Fraser probably could have gone another day
without shaving. He squeezed gently, watching Fraser's eyes. There was no
fear, but there was something else--a mute appeal he couldn't answer. Ray
let go of Fraser and pinched the bridge of his own nose with a thumb and
forefinger. This conversation was giving him a headache. "You always call
my bluff, Benny. How do you do that?" Once again Fraser had managed to
humiliate him. Fraser was cuffed but Ray was the one who felt frustrated
and uncertain.

 "Because I know you, Ray. So, are you ready to release me?"

 Ray looked at him sharply. "Release you? I haven't done anything yet."

 "But you know now that you don't want to strangle me," Fraser said
reasonably. "If you're finished, there's no reason to keep me bound to the
headboard."

 "You bound yourself to the headboard, Benny. I haven't decided what my
move is yet." Ray felt a nasty and bitter brew of feelings boil up inside
him. He'd wait until Fraser asked, maybe even until he begged. He'd had
enough of Fraser's bullshit logic for one day. He was tired of being the
goat. It would do his soul good to see Fraser panic a little. "Do you want
me to let you go?"

 Fraser blushed. "That's up to you."

 Ray smiled. "So, how do you like it, Benny? How do you like being
helpless for a change?" Ray enjoyed saying those words almost as much as
he liked looking at Fraser's cuffed wrists. Something dark and hot stirred
deep inside him, something stronger than the boiling vindictiveness rising
in his chest.

 "I... I don't know." Fraser's voice sounded forced, sluggish, as if he
was drunk or drugged.

 Rising from the bed, Ray pulled off his undershirt and threw it aside.
"It's hot in here." He looked down speculatively at Fraser's body.
"Starched boxers," he murmured, shaking his head. "You're a weird kind of
a guy, Benny." The boxers were starched and they were tented out in front.
Ray looked again. Fraser had an erection, and he was blushing like mad. On
his face Ray read anticipation with just enough shame and fear thrown in
to add the spice Ray needed.

 Their gazes caught and held. "Fraser," Ray said slowly, "what the hell
are you asking me to do?" 

 "Whatever you need to do, Ray." Fraser's voice broke on his name.

 The room swam in Ray's vision. He seemed to be looking at Fraser through
a veil of heat that seared right through him, making his hair stand on
end. Lurching forward, Ray pressed his lips against Fraser's, half
expecting to feel a hard, prim mouth rejecting him, but instead he felt
this yielding fire that went straight to his head. Benny's mouth was soft
and warm inside, and his tongue curled around Ray's, stroking it. Ray's
tongue dove into him, opening his mouth and probing as far as it could
reach. He took Fraser's lower lip between his teeth and sucked it, while
his hands held Fraser's face, stroked his hair, felt the flush on his
cheeks. Fraser tasted so good, Ray couldn't stand it. They broke apart,
breathing hard.

 "You like it, don't you?" Ray said with sudden, amused certainty. "You
did this because you like being helpless." With a rapid movement, he
grabbed a fistful of Fraser's hair and pulled his head back. "Listen to
me, Benny," he said, talking close to Fraser's face, "whatever happens in
this room tonight, it goes no further. No one ever hears about it,
capisce?"

 Fraser licked his reddened lips. "Understood," he whispered.

 Ray took off his shorts and climbed on the bed. His blood was boiling,
churning in his veins. Years ago, he had promised himself that he'd give
up men, that he'd stick to women for the rest of his life. But if he
didn't do this, he'd flame up, he'd die. His body would burn into ash and
there would be nothing left of him but a bare skeleton. Fraser didn't know
anything about him, really. Fraser didn't know that he'd done it with men
before, but he'd find out soon enough. Straddling Fraser's chest, Ray
pumped himself up a little. If Fraser wanted Ray to dominate him, that's
what he'd get. "Look at me, Benny. What do you want me to do with this?"

 Fraser looked at it. "It's big," he said, staring.

 "Yeah, it's big. Funny, the things you don't know about your friends in
the normal course of events. Like, is this what you Canadians do during
those long winters, Benny? Play games with handcuffs?"

 Fraser looked perplexed. "Uh, no, not that I'm--"

 Ray cut him off. "I told you to tell me where to put this."

 "Put it... Put in my..."

 "Say it, Benny."

 "Put it in my mouth," Fraser gasped.

 Ray moved forward and Fraser took him in as soon as he could reach. God,
yes, Ray thought, this was exactly what he needed. Fraser under him,
helpless. Fraser sucking his cock. A powerful feeling traveled up his
veins like molten steel. Fraser's mouth had seemed a little awkward at
first, as if maybe Ray's size was hard for him to handle, but now he was
sucking hard and doing obscene things with his tongue. Ray buried his
hands in Fraser's hair. He remembered calling it a pelt, and it was thick
enough to be one. Holding Fraser's head, Ray started fucking his mouth
slowly, deeply. Fraser was taking it, his mouth open wide, his head pinned
to the pillow by Ray's thrusts. He breathed loudly through his nose as if
he might be having trouble catching his breath. Ray didn't care. He felt
that Fraser owed him this, and it was good, so good. Suddenly Fraser
gagged, and Ray pulled back, startled.

 "I'm sorry, Ray," Fraser said. He sounded so contrite that Ray's own
apology died on his lips. Ray smiled to see that Fraser's chin shone with
saliva and Ray's juice. Moving back, Ray kneeled over him and took his
mouth again. Fraser tasted of sex now, and he moaned a little as Ray
kissed him, as if this was the thing he wanted most in the world. When Ray
broke away, Fraser lifted his head, trying to follow Ray's mouth.

 "You're gonna finish eating me, Benny," Ray said thickly. "You're gonna
suck my cock again." He moved up and rubbed it over Fraser's lips. 

 "Ray," Fraser moaned.

 "You want it back, don't you?" Ray said, stroking Fraser's hair. "Show
me." 

 Fraser's tongue darted out and licked the glistening head. He kissed it
and savored it with his lips. He mouthed Ray with an ardent appetite, a
look of eager interest on his angelic face. Fraser seemed to be drunk on
Ray's taste and scent. Almost undone, Ray slid back inside as hard as he
dared. He took Fraser by the hair again and shoved himself in a few more
times, and then he was coming, convulsing with pleasure as he watched and
felt Fraser drink him down. But Ray felt no tenderness to see Benny serve
him so humbly. Every pulse of Ray's bliss, every suck of Benny's mouth,
made Ray feel more powerful. It felt good to take what he needed from
Fraser like this. 

 When Ray withdrew, he hadn't softened much, and he knew that he wasn't
done, not by a long shot. In a few minutes he'd be ready again, and he
knew what he wanted to do about it. Sliding down, he pulled off Fraser's
shorts and lay between his thighs to swallow him whole. 

 Fraser struggled to come, but Ray made him wait. Fraser's cock was
delicious, and Ray had always loved to do this--he loved giving head and
it had always shamed him, but somehow with Fraser locked in the cuffs it
didn't matter anymore, and he could take his sweet time doing what he
wanted while Fraser moaned and cried out his name. Ray played with the
foreskin, fascinated, making Fraser buck up his hips. He bit Fraser's
thighs until Fraser made an inarticulate sound Ray had never heard from
him before. He was struggling to form words.

 "Ray, please." Fraser was begging him, and it made Ray hard just to hear
Fraser plead like that. Ray's chest swelled with the feeling that, if he
could reduce Fraser to this, he could do anything.

 "What if I leave you here like this?" Ray said meanly, teasing Fraser's
cock with light touches. "You look pretty good, Benny. What if I just
admire you for awhile? What if I never let you come?"

 "No!" Fraser was shaking his head, rattling the cuffs against the
headboard, and when Ray got up and stepped back to look at him, he saw
real fear in Fraser's eyes. "Ray!" 

 He bent to kiss his partner lightly on the lips and forehead. "It's all
right, Benny," he said. "I'm gonna make you come, don't worry. And then
I'm gonna fuck you. I'm gonna put my cock inside you, Benny." Fraser
moaned wordlessly, but his whole body was in motion, trying to rise off
the bed, yearning towards Ray, and the heat radiated off him in waves.
"That's what I want to do to you, Benny," Ray whispered, "and you can't
stop me."

 Then Ray knelt between Fraser's legs and swallowed him again, fucking
Fraser steadily with his mouth until he felt the heat build and the
smooth, sweet flesh at the head of Fraser's cock get firm and swollen with
blood. When he came, Fraser was moving so hard the headboard was banging
against the wall. He was almost screaming with it. Ray wondered if anyone
had ever done this bondage thing for Benny before. 

 Ray let Fraser come into his mouth. He wanted to swallow it, but he
didn't. Instead he spit it into his hands and rubbed it over his cock.
Before Fraser had stopped trembling, Ray was lifting his legs to push
slick fingers inside him, massaging and stretching him. Right now, and
with no delay, Ray needed to fuck Benny.

 "Yes, Ray," Fraser said softly, his face beaming with happiness, and Ray
knew he was good, but he couldn't imagine what he was doing to make Benny
look so goddamned grateful. Maybe this was a kink that Fraser had never
been able to act out. Ray had done his share of weird stuff, but he always
felt a little contempt for people who had to be tied up to get off. But
right now he couldn't think about what twisted shit made Fraser tick, or
how Fraser had always managed to seem so innocent if he got off on stuff
like this. Inside Ray there was a car being shot with a gun, and he was
about to blow. He was going to fuck his friend as thoroughly as he knew
how and he was going to wipe the sight of that explosion off the inside of
his eyelids.

 He put his cock at Benny's hole and pushed. He entered a little and
stopped. Just from Benny's look he could tell it hurt, so he pulled out
again and pushed his fingers in there, stretching it wider. The second
time he went in easier, sliding past the muscles with a little jolt, and
Benny cried out when Ray grabbed his hips with both semen-slick hands and
slid home. They stayed that way for a moment, suspended, as Benny adjusted
to the burden of Ray's cock inside him and Ray got a grip on himself. It
had been so long since he'd fucked someone. He needed this to last.

 Pull back, slide in. Pull back, slide in. Pull back... Ray was a machine,
starting slowly until he thought Benny could take it. Shoving up the thin
undershirt, he mouthed Benny's smooth chest, pulled Benny's nipples with
his teeth and sucked them to swollen red points. Benny's legs were tight
around his back. His chest glistened with sweat and spit. 

 And his face--Ray had never seen anything so glorious as Benny's face,
flushed with surprise and pleasure, glassy eyed. Benny had no idea it
could be so good, and Ray was showing him. Ray was getting through to him.
Finally, finally. Ray was fucking Benny for all the things that Benny knew
and Ray didn't, for all the times Ray had almost died following him on
some wild goose chase, for all the humiliations, great and small. Most of
all, Ray was fucking Benny for the Riv, for that moment when Ray's shaking
hands had held the gun and his finger had pulled the trigger. This was for
the fireball that had burned up and was still burning up the last vestiges
of Ray's youth, his dead hopes and dreams, his life with Ange. Ray moved
faster, with more and more force, until his balls were slapping against
Benny's ass, the bed was slamming into the wall, until he was crying out,
coming long and hard into Benny, seeing a flash of light behind his closed
eyelids. 

 And as he lay on top of Benny, the fire went out and suddenly he was
fumbling for the key, unlocking Benny's wrists with shaking hands, kissing
the raw, red bands on the skin, rubbing them with his fingers. Ray's chest
tightened with guilt when he looked at those raw places. 

 "I'm sorry, Benny. God, I'm sorry."

 "For what, Ray?" Fraser held Ray hard around the waist and stroked his
back. 

 "I went a little overboard. You surprised me. I just didn't figure you
for a kinky kind of a guy," he said, sliding off to lie at Fraser's side.
Ray felt a slick wetness between them and realized that Fraser had come.
Without even thinking about it, without even trying, he had made Benny
come. "So, Benny, who got you into this bondage stuff? I mean, I know you
Canadians need to keep each other warm and all, but--"

 "I've never done any of those things before." Benny nuzzled his face
between Ray's neck and shoulder and breathed in deeply, as if inhaling his
scent. 

 Ray's heart seemed to pause in his chest. "But you... you've... had sex
before, right?"

 "No." Ray could feel the warmth of Benny's blush against his neck. "Well,
I... I made love to a woman once."

 "Oh, sweet Jesus, Benny. Jesus. Why didn't you tell me? Why the hell did
you put yourself in those cuffs?" Ray asked, his voice weak and thready. 

 "I thought it would make you feel better," Fraser said simply. 

 The fire was receding from Ray's veins, and he felt as cold as this
god-forsaken hotel room. No wonder Fraser's mouth had been so awkward, his
ass had been so tight. What a hell of a first time. No tenderness.
Anything but. "Christ, Benny, why did you let me fuck you?" 

 "I said I wanted you to," Fraser murmured with his lips against Ray's
throat. 

 Ray closed his eyes. "You wanted me to take you like that, without even
asking you--"

 "I told you to do it."

 "I was so worked up, I woulda done it anyway."

 "No, you wouldn't."

 Ray pulled back to look his friend in the face. "Listen, Fraser, you
think you know me, but you don't. You don't know what was going through my
mind. I was feeling crazy. I had murderous thoughts. I've hardly ever been
that angry in my life."

 "It was just a car, Ray."

 "When I bought that car, I was married. I was happy. It was the car I'd
always wanted. Blowing that baby up was like...well, it was like putting a
gun to my head or something."

 "It was your duty, Ray. You had to save Ian. He was our prisoner."

 "Oh, man, I didn't give a fuck about him. I was saving you and me. I
wouldn't have given the Riv's spare tire to save that creep." Fraser
looked disappointed, and Ray felt the familiar twinge that look always
gave him. He spoke quickly, before he could chicken out. "Look, Benny,
about tonight. You don't have to pretend or be polite about it, for god's
sake. I screwed up. I did something you maybe really didn't want, and if
you want to deck me, or if you want to forget it ever happened, I'll
understand."

 Fraser looked at him blankly. Ray closed his eyes. God, why had he
thought this was a good idea? How the hell could Ray have assumed that
Benny was experienced, let alone kinky? What Ray had done was no way to
treat a friend.

 And the worst part was that Benny wanted him, and he wanted Benny. There
it sat, on the table. All the sparring and arguing, that strange,
combustible brew of attraction and frustration in the bond that united
them, it had all led to this. All it took was one spark to cause an
explosion. And if Ray had kept his wits about him, it never would have
happened. It was all his fault, and he had to fix it.

 Benny's hand took his shoulder, pulling him closer. "What is it, Ray?"

 "I don't know. It's just... What a day." Ray let himself be drawn into a
kiss. Lying there pressed against Benny's warm skin, Ray knew he couldn't
let go yet. It was easy to tell himself that tonight wasn't really part of
their lives, that they could deal with reality tomorrow. Ray knew that was
bullshit. His cowardly heart seemed to shrink in his chest.

 Ray felt Benny's smile touch his lips. "It'll be all right, Ray."

 But Ray wasn't sure if it would ever be all right. He knew that he'd wake
up in the morning 150 miles from Chicago, and he'd have to put those dirty
clothes on and trudge through the cold with his thumb sticking out until
they could get to a Greyhound station. And he knew that he'd wake up with
Benny naked in his arms, and they'd make love, and then he'd have to pump
up his courage and tell him they were through. Ray had started something
he couldn't finish, and he felt like a class-A heel. He couldn't be
Benny's Chicago lover. Only in another world where people minded their own
business about other people's sex lives could Ray and Benny be together.
Ray had heard a lot about tolerance and equality, but he'd never seen much
evidence of that world coming. And until it did, he knew he couldn't live
up to what Benny wanted from him. 

 A sound from the clock on the bedside table made Ray's eyes snap open. A
twelve and two zeros had dropped down to replace eleven, five, nine, and,
Jesus H. Christ, it was finally midnight. The worst day of Ray's life was
over.

  
� 

End Blowup by Muriel Perun 

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