Free Parking	  FREE PARKINGby Ethan Nelson 

CLASSIFICATION: Rated NC-17 for m/m smut, coarse language, and brutal
medieval warfare. 

THE STANDARD DISCLAIMER: Due South and the characters of Ray Vecchio and
Benton Fraser are the property of Alliance Productions. No copyright
infringement is intended and no money is being made from their use.
Monopoly is, I believe, the property of Parker Brothers. Susan Aglukark
appears (unfortunately) courtesy of EMI records. kd lang appears wherever
the hell I want her to. Because (everybody now!) *It's fanfic and you can
do whatever you want.* 

WARNINGS AND WHAT-NOT ALL: This story contains scenes of consentual sex
between two men. If this is not your thing, you just ain't got that swing.
Uh, no, you should be hitting that shiny little "back" button right about
now. (Give me a break. I drink a *lot* of coffee.) Ahem. Special thanks to
Penguin Books, whose Italian phrase book contained so little in the way of
dirty words that I had to make a special effort to create them. This story
also contains copious naughty words (in English,) as well as derogatory
references to such things and luminaries as Susan Aglukark, purple
snowshoes, haggis, Nana Mouskouri, The Stuttering Foundation of America,
Jerry Lewis, David Hasselhoff, the Korean language in general, its
prevalence in the rules of board games in particular, Jehovah's Witnesses,
and The Home Shopping Network. If you feel a more than platonic love for
any of these topics, I simply can't recommend that you read this without
first surrendering your firearms to the proper authorities. Rapt praise
and cruel taunts are welcome at orlando@telusplanet.net. 

Something about the moonlight reminded Ray of the bottom of the ocean.
This far north, it was brighter than it ever was in the city, a brilliant
silvery blue not quite intense enough to create shadows. The stars were
brighter, too, and there were more of them, enough that he was able to
pick out one or two constellations, even if he couldn't name them. 

Though there was no wind to speak of, it was bitterly cold outside. Ray
was well-padded for this adventure; he felt the temperature in his face
mainly, but this was a cold that never touched him in Chicago. It burned
down his throat, it turned his breath to ice on his eyelashes, and the
puffs of breaths themselves hung suspended in the air like miniature
clouds. 

Deep in the forest, the only sound was the muffled whisper of his
movements through the snow as he stumbled along in his snowshoes. Well,
that and the occasional pleased cackle from Ben, whose own passage was
silent, though he winked in and out of Ray's sight. 

Ray had to admit he was enjoying himself, in spite of his best efforts to
the contrary. The activity was just vigorous enough to keep him warm, and
just ridiculous enough that he didn't mind his clumsiness; he fell at
five-minute intervals, and almost invariably lost sight of the Mountie
before he was up and moving again. After the first half hour, he'd almost
forgotten the threat of wolves and bears that Ben had warned him of on
their way out the cabin door. Almost. 

If his feet began to feel a little leaden, well, there was always Ben to
think about instead. Ben was in his glory here, gliding smoothly over snow
drifts that threw Ray into a roll, stepping nimbly around branches that
slapped the detective full in the face. For once, Ben was content with
silence, and Ray let him have his day. 

He looked up, and froze. The sky was so clear, so perfect. Though only in
its first quarter, Ray could see the whole of the moon, shadowed, but
complete. The stars seemed to go on forever. Sighing, he took a step, and
promptly hooked the front of one snowshoe into the back of the other. He
pitched forward into the snow once again, almost without protest. 

By the time he'd hauled himself to his feet again, Ben was gone. Ray's
eyes strained in the darkness. He held his breath, listening for even a
trace of his friend. He grinned. If Ben *had* been attacked by a bear,
he'd probably spend his final moments screamingout instruction for Ray to
avoid a similar fate. 

The silence was absolute. Ray felt like he was stuck in a vacuum of cold.
He couldn't call out. To do so was to admit he'd fallen again, to admit he
was lost, to admit -- God forbid-- that he was even a little concerned
about that. Failing that, Ben would be mortally insulted that Ray had so
little faith in him. *Damn.* There was no trail to follow (or none that he
could see) and all he had to go on was a remembered smack upside the head
and a forced promise to stay where he was if he ever got lost. 

*I'm never going to hear the end of this. He's going to use this to win
arguments until Uncle Dario is taking bets on the four horses of the
Apocalypse.* 

 

Steeling himself, Ray began to walk again. He had no idea where he was
going or where he'd come from, but he knew Ben would never leave him like
this, not even as a joke. He was bound to run into the Mountie at some
point. He only hoped it happened before he lost his footing and tumbled
into a ravine. 

The cold and the quiet didn't appeal to him now. In spite of the hour, the
altitude, and the workout, he wondered if his fatigue didn't mean he was
freezing to death. It would be a terrible thing, to die alone here. So
quietly, and with no witnesses. His body might never be found; his mother
would suffer the indignity of flinging herself on an empty casket. 

Somehow he knew a solitary demise would appeal to his missing friend. If
Ray was an elephant, Ben was a cat, sneaking off to die peacefully beneath
somebody else's porch. Ben might not understand that Ray didn't want to go
that way. Ben might be halfway back to the cabin by now, convinced this
was the only way Ray would ever learn. Ben-- 

"Ray?" 

Though he said it quietly, Ray jumped, and would have fallen again if Ben
hadn't been there with a steadying hand. He stared at his friend. Cold
became him; Ray was surprised he hadn't noticed that before. His cheeks
were nicely pink, his eyes bright. He looked... exhilarated. 

"Sorry, Ray, I didn't mean to scare you." 

"Ah, don't worry about it, Fraser. I mean, I'm gonna be on a pacemaker for
the rest of my life, but they're a real babe magnet." 

Ben took a step back and looked him over. "You're covered in snow." 

"I got caught in a freak flurry a little ways back. I never saw nothing
like that before in my life." 

He shook his head. "Are you ready to head back?" 

"Are you?" 

"Well, if you'd like to continue, Ray--" 

"That's not what I'm asking, Benny." 

"I could go all night, really, if you wanted--" 

"Benny." 

He smiled. "What?" 

"Do me a favor. Take a stand, just this once. Do you want to stay out, or
not?" 

"Well, I *am* starting to feel a little cold." 

"All right. We go back." Ben turned. "Uh-uh. You lead again." 

"Wouldn't you prefer--" 

"No. You go first. Just-- sing 'Kumbaya' or something every once in a
while so I know where you are, all right?" 

"Understood." 

They walked in silence for a while. Whether reassured by Ben's proximity
or bolstered by the thought of shedding a few layers of clothing, Ray was
more graceful on the way back, tripping only occasionally and falling not
at all. 

The lyrics to 'Kumbaya' were apparently too complicated for the Mountie,
who chose instead to regale Ray with stories of his youth and obscure
details about the region. Ray contributed as much as he could, but there
was only so much he could say about the bull moose before he *wanted* to
freeze to death. 

"Hey, Benny." 

"What, Ray?" 

"I want to tell you the Inuit story about the priest, the travelling
salesman, and the farmer's daughter." 

By the time they made it to Ben's cabin, Ray had found his second wind. He
fairly bounded up to the stoop, unhampered by his snowshoes, the stiffness
in his joints, or one of Ben's weird stories about lichen. He was about to
fling himself through the cabin door when Ben touched his shoulder. 

"Ray." 

The detective met his eyes and drew a breath. Ben wore an enigmatic smile,
a promising smile, and he was... *was* he leaning closer? It was a
surprisingly intimate gesture, for Ben. *All =right!= He's going in!* Ray
licked his lips, and immediately wished he hadn't. They froze as soon as
his tongue deserted them. Ben was so close, though... if he was just a
little more on the ball, *his* mouth could fight the good fight. It was
the least he could do. 

"Take the snowshoes off, Ray," Ben said. "You don't want to track all that
snow inside." 

Ray made a show of looking down at himself. He'd shed some of the snow
he'd accumulated, but he was still quite a sight. "Benny, I don't want to
desecrate your home or nothing, but I am *not* stripping naked out here,
all right?" 

"That won't be necessary, Ray," Ben assured him. "Just the snowshoes.
Maybe your parka." 

Ray watched with amusement as Ben moved a more than ample distance from
him to remove his own gear. Preoccupied as he was, he didn't seem to
notice Ray's scrutiny. Ben did everything with such capability and
determination. It made Ray wonder sometimes if that easy confidence could
be put to better use. Those hands could tie knots that hadn't been
invented yet. They'd probably make short work of Ray's button-fly jeans,
for example. Ray snorted. Ben could probably get Ray's pants off with his
hands tied behind his back. Preferably with his teeth. *One of these
days...* 

Sighing, he bent his head to regard his feet. Snow and ice crusted his
legs right up to the knee. His boots were more implied by their shape than


visible. He bent to brush off as much of the snow as he could. And noticed
something he hadn't seen before. "Oh my *God.*" 

Ben was back at his side instantly, his face a mask of concern. "What is
it, Ray?" 

"These... are *purple.*" 

The Mountie blinked. "So?" 

"So purple is a fruity color, Benny, that's so. What color are yours?" 

He winced. "They're red, Ray." 

"How come you get to have red, and I get stuck with the fruity color?" 

"Oh, for God's sake, Ray. The purple ones are lighter, that's all. It's an
easier weight for a novice." 

"For a *girl,*" he said petulantly. 

"As it happens, they're generally preferred by women, yes. Just take them
off." He stomped back to his side of the stoop, muttering under his
breath. 

Ray grinned in the darkness, listening to his friend grumble on about how
they were thousands of kilometres from anyone Ray even knew, for the love
of Pete. Ray knelt to remove the snowshoes, less offended by the color now
that he'd passed that tidbit on to his friend. Even now, mere minutes away
from warmth and comfort, his hand couldn't master the clasps. He fumbled
them, and tightened the straps when he should have loosened them, and
finally tumbled over to land on his ass. *Great. Just great. There goes
any shred of credibility I ever had.* "Uh... Benny?" 

"What is it now?" 

Ray closed his eyes briefly. "I can't get them off." 

He watched Ben turn and take in the situation. This time the Mountie made
no move to assist him. "Statistically speaking," he said,
"Snowshoe-related deaths are very rare. Certainly there *have* been cases,
but none to my recall in which the color of the snowshoes played a role.
Though there *was* one incident in Hay River--" 

"Benny." 

"At any rate, Ray, the Inuit believe it's an honor for a man to die with
his snowshoes on. It's a symbol of his dedication to the wild--" 

"*Benny.*" 

Ben sighed. "Stand up, Ray." 

"If I could do that, don't you think I would have?" Ben was silent.
"Forget it. Just help me up, all right?" 

He gripped Ray's hand and pulled him to his feet. "Don't move," he said.
With that, he bent over Ray's leg and began fumbling with the straps
himself. Ray smiled in consummate pleasure. With every backward movement,
Ben's arm rubbed provocatively against Ray's groin. "Ice has formed over
the straps," Ben said. 

"Take your time, Benny," Ray said. "I have faith in you." Ben took him at
his word and began diligently peelingaway the ice. Ray snorted. *You're a
pig, Raimondo.* Through the many layers of Ray's clothing, Ben would never
feel his erection, and that was a lucky thing. Probably. *Jesus Christ. A
little mountain air, some bad coffee, a nice smile, and suddenly I'm
Chester the Molester.* 

No amount of guilt was significant enough to induce Ray to stop Ben from
his task, however. Some small, more optimistic part of Ray's mind mumbled
that Ben was taking longer than he had to to get the job done. And that
would make sense, in a weird, twisted, Ben Fraser way. Ray couldn't think
of a lot of people who would engage in a passive-aggressive seduction on
the stoop of their cabins in sub-zero temperatures, but if anybody did, it
would be Ben. 

Of course, Ben wasn't really the seducing type, either. Ben would ask
permission before he kissed someone. If you wanted Ben's hand in your lap,
you'd have to put it there. If you wanted him to squeeze, you'd have to
tell him so. Ray stifled a sigh. The tornado technique was more a Vecchio
thing. Vecchios flirted. They used innuendo. Ben knew better than anybody
how that went. If Frannie didn't have his name tattooed on her ass by now,
it was only because it was too expensive to have it done in color. 

"Got one," Ben said. "Step out, Ray." Ray did, and Ben moved around him to
start in on the other snowshoe. Now Ray had the benefit of Ben's left arm
instead. 

It was an insult to Ben's dignity to think he could be had so cheaply.
That had been Frannie's mistake, Ray decided. Ben was old-fashioned. He
was weird. He was the biggest prude Ray had ever seen in his life. You
couldn't just drop your pants and let nature take its course with Ben. No
lines, no roses, no meaningful eye contact. If a guy wanted to get
anywhere with Ben, he had to be subtle. You couldn't woo. You couldn't
court. For the first time in his life, Ray was employing a certain amount
of patience. He was willing to wait, if the payoff was big enough. 

"Okay!" Ben stood. "You're free," he smiled. 

"Thanks," Ray said. "Now can we go inside before I expire?" 

"Of course, Ray." Ben opened the door and let Ray enter first. 

He stood in the dark while Ben lit the lantern. "How long is it going to
take to warm up in here?" 

"Half an hour at most, I should think. It would help if you took your
clothes off." 

 

Ray's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?" 

"They're icy, Ray. It's going to be awfully cold when it melts." 

Ray retreated to the other side of the cabin and started stripping off his
gear. Ben's back was turned to him as the Mountie followed suit, giving
Ray another opportunity to admire his friend. By the time he was done, Ben
was down to a set of thick, form-fitting black long johns and a big pair
of socks. Ray had barely gotten his snow suit off in the interim. As he
watched, Ben hung his clothes and started a fire. When the first of the
flames began to rise, the Mountie turned and gaped at him. 

"Ray." 

"What?" 

"You took your hat off, didn't you? While we were walking." 

"I was getting hot." Ben just stared at him. "What?" he said, alarmed. 

"I think you've got a bit of frostbite." 

"Oh my *God.* What does that mean?" 

"It's hard to say," Ben said, examining Ray with concern. "In more severe
cases, the affected area becomes infected, turns black, and--" 

"How bad is it?" 

The Mountie came closer. "Come into the light, Ray." 

"Come into the light, he says," Ray grumbled, stepping toward his friend.
"You know, in some parts of the world, it's just there, Fraser. Some
people don't have a special part of the house where you--" 

"Oh dear," he frowned. 

"What?" 

Ben's face took on a stoic expression. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry
about." 

"*What?*" Ray snatched the lantern from its perch on Ben's table and
sprinted to the small mirror that hung unobtrusively from one wall of the
cabin. It was just... Ray. His face was a little pink, maybe his ears were
slightly closer to red. He rotated his head every which way to get a
better look. Ben's hands on his ears almost startled him into dropping the
lantern. *That's a lovely headline, Vecchio: Crazed Mountie and Mentally
Challenged Chicago Detective Die in Oil Fire.* "Fraser, what the *hell*
are you doing?" 

"Your ears, Ray," he murmured in one. 

Ray shivered. "What about them?" 

"The lobes," he said, squeezing them gently. His mouth was inches away
from Ray's neck. "They're a little swollen already. It could be nothing.
We'll have to wait till morning to be sure." 

The detective shook him off. Suddenly the idea of having Ben touching him
this way lost its appeal. "Oh, Christ, Fraser, are you telling me my
*ears* are going to turn black?" 

"I'm only saying they might, Ray," he assured him. 

"Well, thanks for clarifying that. That's definitely the thought I want to
sleep on." 

"We can get you some antibiotics." 

"Forget it." He turned from Ben and began viciously tugging off the rest
of his gear. 

"Would you like something to drink?" 

He snorted. "You got any moose juice?" 

"No," Ben said, his voice muffled as he rifled through his cupboards, "but
I *do* have some cognac, I think. I think a hot toddy might be in order,
don't you?" 

Ray gaped. "This from the man who shuns mouthwash and cough syrup because
of the alcohol content?" 

"This is different, Ray. Ah," he said, turning with the bottle in his
hand. "What do you say?" 

"What the hell," Ray said. "It'll be worth it for the sake of
anthropology, if nothing else." 

Stripped down to his own long johns and socks, Ray was beginning to feel
the cold now, the fire still building strength. He wrapped himself in
Ben's quilt and sat down on the bed. Dief had already claimed his place by
the fire, the same place Ray and Ben would later argue over. *Shame. It
could be both of us. Or neither...* Ben was busily boiling water, setting
out cups, and arranging what looked like a hell of a lot of stuff Ray
hoped was not going in his mug. When everything was tidied and retidied to
the farthest extreme possible, Ben turned and blessed Ray with his most
winning smile. 

"Would you like to listen to some music?" 

Ray collapsed on the bed. "Yeah, sure, Benny. We'll send out smoke signals
to that guy from the jug band on the other side of the forest and have
ourselves a hoedown right here in the cabin." 

Ben shook his head. "We're not totally primitive, Ray. I bought a small
portable stereo." 

He grinned. "When you could have donated that money to the Stuttering
Foundation of America?" 

The Mountie flushed guiltily. "I bought some recordings, too." 

"Oh my God. Do you have any idea how many Hail Marys you get for that?" 

"If you're just going to make remarks--" 

"No, no. Benny, come on, I'm sorry. Put something on." *I like Nana
Mouskouri just as much as the next guy.* 

Ben produced the stereo and bent over it, supplying Ray with another
tantalizing view of his perfectly rounded ass. *Go on, Raimondo. Reach
out, squeeze...* A moment later, the cabin was filled with vibrant guitar
and some crazy woman singing in a language Ray had never heard before in
his 

life. *That's not Nana Mouskouri, anyway.* 

"What the hell is *that?*" 

Ben looked up from his portable stereo, surprised. "It's Susan Aglukark,
Ray. She's very popular here." 

"What is that, like the French loving Jerry Lewis?" 

"Ray--" 

"Or the Germans loving David Hasselhoff?" Ray grinned, warming to the
topic now. 

"I can turn it off if it's disturbing to you." 

"Naw, Benny, that's okay. I was just teasing." The shrill whistling of
Ben's kettle cut off whatever the Mountie was about to say. For the next
several moments, he busied himself with preparing the toddies. Ray was
struck by an idea and began digging around in his bags. "Hey, Benny, you
want to play Monopoly?" 

"I'm sorry?" 

"Monopoly," he repeated, extracting the box from his bag. "Brought it from
home." 

"What on earth for?" 

Ray scowled at him. "I am not *whittling* all night, Benny." 

"I thought we could... talk." 

"So we'll talk while we play. What's the problem?" 

"I've never played," Ben said, eying the box warily. 

"So I'll kick your ass while we talk," Ray grinned. "I don't got a problem
with that." 

Ben handed him a mug. "I suppose there's no harm in it." 

"It's just a game, Fraser. No fatalities yet. Maybe a couple of
divorces--" 

"That's not true, Ray." 

He sniffed his toddy. *That's better than I expected.* "What's in here,
anyway?" 

"Cognac, hot water, cinnamon, lemon... There was a woman in Smithsburg who
was charged with second-degree assault for striking her husband in the
head with a Monopoly board." 

"What?" 

"It's true, Ray. Shortly thereafter she apparently flung the Thanksgiving
turkey out onto the lawn--" 

"Just pick a man, all right?" Ray set up the game, doling out the
appropriate amounts of money, setting up the properties. When he was done,
Ben was still looking at the assortment of players spread out on the
center of the board. "What?" 

"Well, I thought I'd wait for you to choose, Ray." 

"First rule, Benny, and pay attention, because this is the important one:
in Monopoly, it's every man for himself." 

"But Ray--" 

"Don't start with me, Fraser. Pick a man." Ben stretched out a hand, and--
predictably-- chose the guy on the horse. "Hey!" Ray cried. "*I* wanted
that one." 

Ben dropped it immediately. "I--" 

"Jesus Christ, Benny, I was only fooling. Here," he said, handing his
friend the player. "Ride forever." 

Ben shook his head. "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?" 

"Nope," he said cheerfully. After taking the car for himself, Ray tucked
the remaining players away. "I'm gonna be the banker, all right?" 

"If you say so, Ray." 

"Now we roll to see who goes first." 

"Ray, if you want to begin--" 

The detective let out an explosive sigh. "*Roll.*" 

The game underway, Ray leaned back and took a sip of his toddy. It was a
surprisingly heady concoction; Ben appeared to have poured the cognac with
a heavy hand. The detective resisted the urge to ask if Ben intended to
get him plastered and take advantage of him. He just watched his friend
reading his Community Chest card with rapt concentration, and listened to
the crazy woman singing in the background. 

"Hey, Benny?" 

"Yes, Ray?" 

"Is there any weird crap that *isn't* popular in Canada?" 

"Actually, Ray, it's funny you should mention that, because Robbie Burns
day is coming up." 

Ray was about to ask 'what the hell is that?' again, but thought better of
it. Ben's eyes gleamed with unexpressed humor. He was clearly dying to
tell this story. "What happens on Robbie Burns day?" Ray sighed. 

"Grown men dress in kilts and participate in events like caber-shooting
and haggis hurling." 

"*Haggis* hurling?" 

"Haggis, Ray," he explained patiently, "is a Scottish delicacy. The
stuffed stomach of a sheep." 

"I don't want to hear this, Benny." 

"The contest is to see who can throw it the farthest--" 

"Yeah, I can see why you'd want to get rid of it." 

"*Ray.*" 

"Sorry, Benny. Please. Go on." 

"One year when we celebrated Robbie Burns day, someone forgot to thaw out
the haggis the local women had prepared for the event." 

"I think I see where this is headed." 

"The town champion-- his name was Devon St. John-- attained such a
distance with his haggis that he struck his brother in the head from
across the playing field." 

Ray choked on his toddy. *Now is not the time, Raimondo, now is definitely
not the time.* "What--" he gasped. "What happened?" 

"Well, he was arrested, Ray. It was common knowledge that his brother had
recently broken off a liaison with his wife. Many of the locals believed
this was a calculated attempt on the man's life." 

"A vicious haggis attack?" 

 

"It's no laughing matter, Ray." 

"Oh, no, certainly not." 

Play resumed. After a few turns around the board, Ben refreshed their hot
toddies. The cabin was warm enough now for Ray to shed his quilt, but he
was loathe to do so, concerned about breaking the spell that had overtaken
him. In the firelight, Ben's skin gleamed. His eyes were fathomless. Every
move he made, every twitch, sent Ray that much closer to activating the
Vecchio Tornado Technique. He knew it couldn't get any crazier than that.
If Ben kicked him out, he had no place to go. And Ben would never do that,
which meant a *very* tense night, at the least, if Ray was unable to
restrain himself. *He put Spanish Fly in that goddamned toddy. It's
probably good for the sinuses or something.* All Ben had to do was smile
over winning twenty bucks in the beauty contest, and Ray was fully
prepared to fling the board into the fire and introduce his friend to an
altogether new definition of male bonding. 

"I landed on free parking!" 

"What does that mean, Ray?" 

He scooped up the wad of Monopoly money that had been collecting steadily
on the center of the board throughout the game. "It means I'm kicking your
*ass,* man." 

"That doesn't seem right, Ray." 

"Oh no?" 

"Well, admittedly, I'm not the expert--" 

"Hang on," Ray said mildly, opening the game box. "I've got the rules in
here somewhere." 

"If you say it's right, Ray, I'm satisfied with that. I know you wouldn't
cheat." 

Ray shook his head. *He =seems= like an intelligent guy...* "Here," he
said, handing Ben the booklet. "I don't want my integrity to come into
question." 

"Of course not, Ray. I--" he frowned. 

"What?" 

"This appears to be Japanese." 

"Korean, I think." 

His eyes narrowed. "I take it you don't have the English version?" 

"Second rule, Benny: they only ship the English rules with the Korean
version of the game." 

"Probably the wisest thing would be to contact the manufacturer, then--" 

"Except we can't do that tonight," he said patiently. 

"No." 

"Your turn," he said with an evil grin. 

Ben held his gaze for long moments, silently. Ray schooled his expression
to betray nothing but his intention to humiliate his friend as thoroughly
as possible at this game. It was petty, certainly, and meaningless into
the bargain, but here was a chance to prove once and for all that Ben
wasn't better than him at everything. Even if Ray had to excel at lying,
cheating, and general weaseldom, it had to be better than nothing. *I'm
probably a better kisser, too, but I'm willing to offer some instruction
on that one...* 

Finally Ben broke the stare and picked up the dice, rolling carefully and
letting them tumble across the board. After collecting his GO money, he
frowned at his neat stacks of money, considering. 

"What's the problem?" 

"I think... I'll buy it." 

Ray was horrified. "*Baltic?* You're buying *Baltic?*" 

"Is something wrong with that?" 

"Yeah there's something wrong with that. Nobody buys *Baltic,* Benny." 

"The price is quite reasonable, Ray." 

"Benny, it's a *board* game, all right? You don't gotta stick with the
slums." 

His face took on the stubborn, determined cast Ray knew so intimately, the
very expression he generally wore in the detective's fantasies when he
said things like *I want you to suck my cock, Ray, and that's all there is
to it.* The expression he wore in reality when he intended to do something
honorable, something his grandmother had told him about. Something, God
forbid, that his father had once mentioned over bowls of whole bran and
glasses of goat milk. "I believe I'm entitled to buy any property I land
on," he said. 

Ray sighed. "Far be it from me to tell you what to do, Benny." He plucked
the Baltic card from his stack and squinted at it. "You want to know what
the most you can make off this is?" 

"No." 

"Four hundred and fifty bucks, buddy," he said, laughing. "You want to
know what the most I can make off Atlantic is?" 

"Not particularly. Are you going to give me that card?" 

"Eleven-fifty. Jesus, Benny, I've got shirts that cost four fifty." 

"That's a needless extravagance, Ray. The card?" 

"Benny, come on, this is crazy." 

"Nevertheless, it's my decision." 

"You know what happens to people who lose big at Monopoly, Benny?" 

"Well, if we had the rules--" 

"You owe the winner for the rest of your life." 

"Owe him what?" 

"Whatever he wants," Ray said, grinning. 

"Well," said Ben, rising, "You spend a great deal of time telling me I owe
you for things, as it is. I can't see that one more thing is going to
create much of a burden." He started water for a third round of hot
toddies. "If I'm going to lose, I'd prefer to lose honorably, not by 

avarice and deceit." 

"People *win* by avarice and deceit, Benny. Nobody lost that way since
Hans Christian Anderson was still playing little Dutch boy down by the
dike." 

Ben turned away, but not in time to prevent Ray from seeing his smile.
"Did you just admit you've been cheating, Ray?" 

"Can you read Korean?" 

Ben shook his head. "You're impossible." 

"It's part of my charm." Watching Ben prepare their drinks, Ray became
aware that the unholy noise issuing forth from Ben's stereo had finally
ceased. Somewhat apprehensively, Ray said, "Why don't you put something
else on, Benny?" 

"On the stereo?" 

Ray smirked. "Didn't you pack your leather pants?" Ben froze. *Oh shit, oh
fuck... I'm drunk, I'm an idiot...* 

Ben knelt by the stereo and began fumbling through the bag that sat beside
it. After a moment the soft, lilting tones of Sarah McLachlan issued from
the stereo. Nodding to himself, Ben rose again and prepared their drinks. 

"You ever listen to any Americans, Benny?" 

"Not often, no." 

The Mountie was still unnaturally quiet. Rather than wait for him to
detail just how insulted he was, Ray bounded ahead. "Look, I didn't mean
anything." *Avarice and deceit, man...* 

"That's all right, Ray." 

He blinked. "What the hell does that mean?" 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"Is it all right that I said it, or all right that I didn't mean anything
by it?" 

"You make no sense, Ray." 

"Neither do you, buddy, neither do you." *I am asking for =coffee= the
next time he gets up. This is pathetic.* 

They played the next few rounds of the board in relative silence. Ben was
a remarkably quiet drunk, seemingly disinclined toward melancholy or
violence. He just sat, and drank, and played with Ray, calmly demanding
the worst properties available until he owned them all, like some kind of
deranged Parker Brothers slum lord. Well into his third toddy, his
features had softened into accessibility, his rigidity into some measure
of amicability. Either that, or Ray's own inebriation had made him even
more deluded than he usually was. *Who the hell looks fuckable in black
Stanfields?* 

"Oh dear," Ben said at last. 

"What?" 

Ben gave him a strange look. "I landed on Boardwalk." 

Ray shook his head. He'd been on an entirely different plane. Now that his
attention was back on the game, he could hardly believe the carnage that
lay before him. Virtually all of Ben's properties were mortgaged, Ray had
every five hundred-dollar bill available, and Ben had three lonely ones.
Boardwalk would have been a major coup even if Ben had had something left
to give him. Without a book of comprehensible rules around to contradict
his claim, Ray had placed seven hotels on the property in a fit of pure
cruelty. He picked up the card. According to his own convoluted
understanding of the game, Ben was into him for-- 

"Fourteen grand, Benny. Pay up." 

"That's preposterous." 

"Well, if we leave now, we'll hit town by tomorrow afternoon. By which
time..." He peered at the rule book. "Well, I don't know where the head
office is or when it closes, but we'll probably have to wait and call the
next day." Ben's face was full of righteous indignation. "Give it up, man.
You lose. Not only that, you lose *big.*" 

"Ray, this isn't very gracious of you." 

"I kicked your *ass!*" he laughed. "I slaughtered you! I pounded you into
the ground! I--" 

"Just a moment, Ray." 

"What?" 

"There must be something I can do to pay my debt." 

Between the hot toddies, Ben's proximity, and Ray's general outlook of the
past few months, the line between cool-headed reason and hot-blooded
insanity had stretched to near invisibility. Still, he clutched for it.
"Yeah, like what?" 

Ben's eyes met his. "I must have something you want." 

Ray grinned. "Oh, sure, Benny, you could always give me your speed-boat,
right? I've always had a soft spot for that villa in Florence." Ben stood
abruptly and crossed the cabin to the small window that faced his yard.
"Hey, I was just kidding," Ray said. "The recipe for these drinks alone
has gotta be worth fourteen grand." 

"I could teach you," Ben said faintly. "It's quite simple, really." 

Ray hauled himself to his feet, his poor beleaguered body protesting every
step of the way. He touched Ben's shoulder. "Are you all right?" 

"Of course." 

"You're acting kinda weird, you know?" 

"Ray, why did you come with me?" 

"What?" 

"Why did you come with me? You've done nothing but run the place down
since we got here, you did nothing but the same on the way. Why did you
come here?" 

"Hey, it's not every day I'm invited to spend two weeks at an exclusive
resort spot like this. No heat, no running water, no doughnut shops for--
how many miles?" 

 

"Five hundred," he said absently. "Why did you come, Ray?" The detective
looked away. Ben captured his jaw in one big hand and turned him back. Ray
was about to answer when a fragment of music broke through his thoughts.
*Everybody loves you when you're easy...* And he started to laugh again,
nervously, uncontrollably. Anything had to be better than telling Ben the
truth. *Hell, why start now?* 

Ben leaned closer, his mouth barely a breath away from Ray's now. "I don't
want you to think me too base," he murmured, "but I think it's time we
commenced negotiations." 

"Base is good," Ray squeaked. 

The Mountie smiled and closed the kiss, winding one hand around Ray's
skull and the other around his waist. Ray opened his mouth on a moan and
Ben plunged his tongue inside, winding it around Ray's own, sucking,
coaxing. No longer content to play it cool, Ray insinuated one hand
between their bodies and stroked Ben's cock through his long johns. Ben
broke away on a gasp. 

"Wait." 

"What?" 

"How much is worth fourteen thousand dollars, Ray?" 

"*What?*" 

"If we had some sort of base rate to start with..." 

"Believe me, Benny, it doesn't say anything in the rules about whoring
yourself to settle a Monopoly debt. Ma would have had a fit." 

"How do *you* know, Ray?" 

And how the hell was he supposed to argue that one? "I just know, all
right?" 

Ben thrust his hips sharply against Ray's. The detective went almost
cross-eyed. "Ray," Ben sighed into his ear before gently licking the
shell. "We could be in town by morning," he said, mimicking Ray's own
taunt. "Possibly we'd reach the head office by the following afternoon--" 

"Kisses are a dollar," Ray gasped. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"You heard me. Touches don't even count." 

"Oh, I have to disagree." 

"For *money,* Benny." 

"Mm-hm," he said, sliding his hands beneath Ray's boxers to cup his ass.
"And sucking..." 

"... what?" 

"Sucking," he said, louder, demonstrating on Ray's still-swollen ear lobe.


"You are *so* *drunk.*" 

"I hold my liquor better than you do," he said. 

"Well, I still kicked your ass at Monopoly." 

He favored Ray with a tolerant smile. "I think I've more than demonstrated
a willingness to meet my obligations. Now... sucking?" 

"Oh my God." 

"Ray..." Ben knelt at his feet and stripped off his socks. After shooting
him a hot glance, Ben bent further and licked Ray's ankle. 

"Clarify the location," Ray yelped. 

Ben sat back on his haunches and waited. Without his hands to steady the
detective, Ray swayed ever so slightly. "Nipples," Ben said, smiling
faintly. 

"Jesus Christ. Are you a walk-in, or am I passed out?" 

"We could still whittle, if this is too upsetting to you." 

"Fuck *that,*" Ray said. "Ten bucks." 

Ben sighed. "If you're going to lowball it, this is going to take a long
time." 

"It's my fourteen grand, and I'll spend it however I want. You want to be
out of here by lunch time, *you* take Korean the fast and fun way, all
right?" 

The Mountie hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Ray's long johns and
slowly tugged them down. "Perhaps I should write this down. It might get
confusing, after a while." 

"You move and you're a dead man, I swear to God." 

"I wouldn't concern myself with that if I were you, Ray. As long as I have
a debt to settle, I'm beholden to you. Could you--" He gestured at Ray's
shirt. Without a word, Ray tore it off and flung it across the cabin. Ben
smiled approvingly. His hands gently kneaded Ray's ass as he leaned in and
nuzzled the detective's cock through his boxers. Ray watched, caught up in
a feeling of surreality when Ben's tongue darted out and gave him a
cautious lick. "Ray, how--" 

"A hundred," he rasped. 

"That's all?" 

"Shit, half the whores in Chicago should be so lucky to get-- oh, *fuck!*"
Before he knew what was happening, his boxers were down around his ankles
and his cock was in Ben's mouth. Ben's hands cupped his balls almost
reverently, his tongue working around the head of the detective's cock.
Ray thrust deep inside, meeting almost no resistance. "Oh God, oh
*Benny...*" Ben released him suddenly, his features marred by a troubled
frown. 

"What... what..." 

"Ray, would you--" Ben broke off and turned away, shamefaced. 

"Would I what?" Ray asked softly. It took some doing to bring himself back
to even partial alertness, but he managed. Given their positions, any kind
of heartfelt discussion was going to fall more on the side of comical, but
Ray decided to give it a shot. Cupping the Mountie's jaw in his hand, he
turned Ben's face back to face his own. "Benny?" Ben still wouldn't meet
his eyes. "Come on, Benny, we're friends first, right?" 

Ben gave him a helpless, desperate look. "Say something Italian," he 

said in a low voice. 

"You want me to say something *Italian?*" Ben nodded, breaking eye contact
once again. "You pervert, Benny!" Ray knelt beside him and kissed him
before he could apologize; a slow, wet, coaxing, reassuring kiss. Ben's
eyes were dark when he pulled back, his lips red and swollen. "I don't
know any Italian, Benny." 

He looked stricken. "You don't?" 

He shook his head. "Sorry, buddy." 

"I want you to know this doesn't change how I feel about you, Ray," he
said seriously. 

"It's just as well, anyway." 

"Why is that?" 

"I'd have to add to your debt." 

"Where am I now?" 

Ray thought. "If I give you that last kiss?" Ben nodded. "You still owe me
thirteen thousand, nine hundred, and forty-eight dollars." 

His eyes widened. "But I--" 

"You didn't finish, man. I can only be so generous." 

With a strangely predatory smile, Ben gripped Ray's hips and swallowed him
whole. The sound he wrung from the detective would have been embarrassing
to Ray under any other circumstances, but all he cared about was the
sensation. Heat, suction, *Benny.* His hands in Ben's hair, Ben's hands on
his ass, the fine fuck and slide of his cock into that surprisingly mobile
mouth. *There's one Inuit story I'd be happy to hear.* No matter how hard
he thrust, how deep, how fast, Ben took it and gave it back in spades. Ray
felt a flush creeping along his skin, heat and pleasure radiating out from
his cock to suffuse him with warmth. His head fell back, his mouth fell
open, every thought flying out of his head but *Benny* and the music that
still filled the room. *Will we burn in heaven like we do down here...*
Ben slid one slick finger into Ray's ass, and the detective bucked
minutely. 

"*Si paga in piu per questo?*" 

Later, Ray would be unable to decide whether that had been the best or
worst time to surprise his friend. Ben jerked, sucking at least twice as
hard as he had been, sliding his finger deep inside Ray's ass. Ray
shouted, his body convulsed, and he came harder than he ever had in his
life, hard enough that he was vaguely concerned about losing IQ points,
hard enough that he nearly blacked out. Ben caught him just as his knees
unlocked, lowering him gently to the floor. 

"Ray?" 

Ben tugged the detective's boxers all the way off and covered him with his
quilt. Ray was boneless, speechless, panting. He felt like one big sweat
gland, maybe a little twitchy, but otherwise all right. 

"*Ray.*" 

"My fault," he said. 

"One lie leads to another, Ray." 

He groaned and rolled to his side, propping up his head with one hand.
"Why do I get the impression this situation isn't completely unfamiliar to
you?" 

"Does that bother you?" 

"Oh, Benny, no. There is nothing worse than a bad blow job." Ben flushed.
Ray grinned. "Too *base?*" 

"No." 

Ray pulled himself up to a sitting position and began fussing at Ben's
clothes. When Ben yanked his shirt over his head, Ray rewarded him with a
kiss. "*Quanti?*" he murmured. Ben's eyes darkened. *Man, did I win the
lottery, or what?* "Benny..." he licked the Mountie's jaw. "*Era molti
ragazzi?*" 

Ben shuddered. "Ray, you may know Italian, but I don't." 

"Big mistake, telling me that. Now I can say whatever I want, and you're
not going to know the difference." 

"According to you, it works the same in English with me-- ah!" Ray
silenced him with a lick to his nipple. It peaked immediately, a special
effect so impressive to Ray that he tried it again on the other one. Ben
arched into his mouth, exposing his neck, offering his mouth. 

"Man, if I'd known you were this easy--" 

"How do you say that?" Ben gasped. 

"*Facile,*" he said, grinning. "You're really into that, aren't you?" He
lowered his friend to the quilt and began a slow lick down his body,
beginning with the jaw. 

"You have no idea," he gasped. "Every time you say 'parmesan' I break out
in a sweat." 

"Just me?" 

"Always you," Ben said. "Do you... oh, *Ray...*" His voice trailed off
when Ray's tongue slid into his ear. He squirmed. "Yes..." 

Ray settled himself on top of the Mountie, ostensibly to conserve their
body heat. Ben's chest, so smooth, was a perfect contrast to his own furry
one. Their hips fit perfectly, their legs tangled pleasingly, if not in
cosmic alignment. And Ben's cock, sliding against Ray's with each tiny
thrust, was quietly destroying whatever meager concentration the detective
had. "Do I what, Benny?" 

"Oh..." His hands cupped Ray's ass, encouraged a return thrust. Ray licked
his throat, bit his collar bone. "A few months ago. Your mother prepared
an elaborate dish for my birthday." 

Understanding dawned. "Ah. Rigatoni Quatro Formaggio." Ben bucked, nearly
unseating him. "Hey, take it easy, buddy, it's just a pile of 

noodles." 

The Mountie wrapped one big hand around Ray's head and drew him in for a
slow kiss, Ben's hips still undulating beneath him. Ray rumbled happily
into his mouth, his tongue memorizing every ridge and plane of Ben's
mouth, the texture of his tongue, the sharp edges of his teeth. "You must
have said it fifteen times that night, you were so impressed she'd made
it." 

Ray's eyes widened. "Oh, Benny..." 

He smiled. "That was quite a birthday." 

"Hey, if I'd known you were so kinky, I'd have spent the night singing the
highlights of 'Carmen' outside your window." 

"Someone usually does," he sighed. "Not necessarily beneath *my*
window..." 

The detective slid carefully down Ben's torso, mouthing his nipples again.
"You know, Benny, I don't think we're going to cover your debt tonight." 

"Are you tired, Ray?" 

"Naw, just realistic. I don't want to die here, man." 

"Perhaps we should discuss some sort of payment plan." 

"I warn you, Benny, I'm a big believer in interest." 

Ray plunged his tongue into Ben's navel. "Whatever you think is fair,
Ray," he moaned. 

"With that attitude, you're just *begging* somebody to screw you." 

"I thought I'd already made that statement plain." 

"We're going to have to work on your innuendo, buddy." He parted Ben's
legs and knelt between them. The Mountie's cock was thick and hard, his
erection unrelieved. "Oh, Benny..." Propped up on his elbows, Ben regarded
him through half-lidded eyes, a welcoming, knowing smile on his face. His
skin was flushed, his breath coming out of him in pants. He lay before Ray
as the detective had always imagined him, as he had never thought Ben
could ever be. A splendid, intensely sexy display of debauchery, mildly
drunk and waiting to be fucked within an inch of his life. "Are you sure?"
It sounded stupid to him already, but he couldn't have picked a better man
to be stupid with. 

"Do it. Please." 

Ray grinned. "Polite to the end, that's my Benny--" 

"Ray!" 

"*Sta' fermo,*" he murmured. He bent and applied his tongue to the crease
between Ben's leg and torso. When he rasped it along the underside of
Ben's balls, the Mountie moaned extravagantly, his hips rising from the
floor. Ray took advantage of Ben's position to hook his thumbs beneath his
lover's knees and pull his legs over his shoulders. Now he had access to
all the best parts, from head to toe. *Give me some pretzels and the
occasional sponge bath, and I'm in heaven.* "*Si puo spostare on po' piu
in la?*" 

"Ray..." 

"Don't worry about it, buddy." He nuzzled Ben's cock, mouthed his balls,
ran his tongue around the shaft, until Ben writhed beneath him, squirmed,
really, his voice grown husky, his vocabulary a thing of the past. "Hey,
Benny?" 

"Oh God, *what?*" 

"How long..?" 

"I can't think right now, I-- *Ray!*" He bucked when Ray took him into his
mouth, and the detective choked. He hadn't been expecting that of his
oh-so-considerate friend. He backed off immediately, but Ben wasn't
expecting *that,* and his cock thumped Ray in the cheek on the next
thrust, a disappointed moan already halfway formed before Ray could
protest. 

"Take it easy, man." 

"*Please.*" 

Ray squinted in the dim light from the fireplace and grabbed the bottle of
lube from its perch on the table. He shook his head, held the bottle
closer for better inspection. 

"What's the matter?" 

"I brought KY Jelly." 

"So?" 

"This... is *Astroglide.*" 

"What difference does it make?" 

"It makes a big difference, Benny, all right?" He dropped Ben's legs from
his shoulders and backed away. "You brought me here to seduce me!" 

Ben's jaw dropped. "Ray, I--" 

"It's all making sense to me now. You take me on a romantic moonlit
stroll--" 

"In the forest, at a temperature *well* below freezing--" 

"You bring me back here and get me liquored up--" 

"On something that had you checking my wall for the number for the Poison
Control Centre--" 

"You turn on some mood music--" 

"That you could barely stand--" 

"Then you *toss* yourself at me like some dime store floozy who can't even
say no to Jehovah's Witnesses on the Home Shopping Network-- *oh* I bet
you thought you were so *smooth!*" 

"Still, I notice you weren't complaining," Ben said bitterly, wrapping
himself modestly in the quilt and crossing the cabin to glare at Ray. "You
were only too happy to succumb when you thought it was your idea." 

"It *was* my idea!" Ray paced, glaring at Ben on each return trip. Already
the heat from the fire proved less substantial than that of the quilt. Or
Ben. His erection was fading rapidly, his skin shimmering with goosebumps.
With a regretful sigh, he bent to retrieve his boxers. 

"Ray, don't." 

He snorted. "Sure. *Now* you take control." 

 

"Please. Come here." Ben held the quilt partway open. No invitation could
be more appealing than that. He stepped closer, and Ray allowed Ben to
fold him into his embrace. "Why should it matter whose idea this was?" 

"It just *does,* all right?" He grumbled against Ben's neck. "I've been
working on you for months. If I'd known all I had to do was get you
plastered and say 'Chef Boyardee'--" Ben covered his mouth. Together they
fell back against the wall, hips bumping together delightfully. Ray wound
his arms around Ben's waist and tugged him into even closer contact. 

"Ray... please..." 

"Please..?" 

"*Please,* I'm so--" he sucked in a harsh breath when Ray wrapped one hand
around his cock and began to stroke. 

"I love your hands," Ben murmured. "I've never seen anything so beautiful
in my life... oh... except your neck," he said, devouring it with his
lips. "And your buttocks--" 

"Benny, nobody says buttocks, all right?" He tried to sound irritated, but
it was beyond him. The closer Ben came to orgasm, the more he had to say
on the subject of Ray's ethereal beauty, his strength, his humanity. "Ma
always said never to trust a man who says he loves you when you're having
sex." Ben froze. "Well, she said it to Frannie, but I was in the room. You
know what I mean." 

"Most men don't say it any other time, Ray. Unless they're intoxicated." 

"We're having sex *and* we're intoxicated." 

"And..." 

"And I'm not saying it," he said, backing Ben toward the bed. "I don't
want to seem trite." 

"Perish the thought," he smiled. 

Abruptly, they came up against the bed. Ben gave him a 'what now?' smile.
"Benny?" 

"You love me?" 

"No. *Ho fame.*" He stripped Ben of the quilt and shoved him, hard. He was
on top of his friend at once, hands everywhere, mouth alternately
punishing and rewarding whatever he could find until Ben was pleading with
him almost continuously. *Faster, Ray, harder, Ray, =please...=* "Roll
over, Benny." Ray tucked a pillow beneath his hips. "Have I ever told you
what a beautiful ass you have?" 

"Not in so many words." 

He pinched it. "Nice *buttocks,* Constable." 

"Now, Inspector Thatcher--" 

"Benny!" 

He strained his neck to grin at Ray. "Have you decided which lubricant
you'll use?" 

"Oh, man, this is like some weird sex-ed video that got banned in the
south." He paused. "What did your father tell you about this?" 

His eyes darkened. "That's hardly appropriate, Ray." 

"Just checking." He left the bed and came back with Ben's Astroglide.
Parting the Mountie's cheeks, he slowly ran his tongue around Ben's
asshole. Ben jerked. "Don't tell me you haven't done that, Benny. My heart
couldn't stand the shock." 

"Only once, Ray. He didn't care for the taste." 

Ray grinned. "I'll bet he didn't last long." 

"A matter of weeks, actually." 

"Well, not everyone has your weird oral fixations." 

"I consider myself fortunate that we're so well matched." 

Ray slicked his hand and slid two fingers inside Ben. The Mountie backed
into him, welcoming and eager. "I had no idea," he muttered. "All this
time, and I had no idea." 

"It's all right, Ray," he gasped. 

"Easy for *you* to say. All this time you've been getting your rocks off
with every guy in town, and I've been asking my doctor if you can get
testicular cancer from blue balls." 

"The two conditions aren't related, Ray. In fact--" he broke off when Ray
pushed the head of his cock into his ass. "Oh... yes... the two
conditions-- *Ray.*" 

"*Mio dio,*" he whispered. "Benny... *bene...*" He folded himself over
Ben's back, gliding smoothly now, biting his lover's neck. 

"Faster, Ray. Please..." He bucked beneath the detective, pulling him even
deeper inside, urging him on. "Ray, *harder.*" 

Through his pleasure-filled haze, Ray could scarcely make out what the
hell he was talking about. And Ben would never say it. Still, his meaning
was clear enough. *Don't make love to me, =fuck= me.* He grinned and
thrust again, slowly, planting kisses between his lover's shoulder blades.
"Oh, baby..." 

"*Ray!*" 

The detective pulled almost all the way out, then thrust hard, viciously,
his hands tight on Ben's hips. 

"Yes! Ray, that's it! Yes!" 

"Oh, Benny, you really are a pervert." 

"Do it!" 

Ray thrust again, brutally, and again. He had only ever imagined fucking
someone this hard. Part of him hoped this wasn't the only way Ben liked
it, but another part was pure *yee haw!* He decided to go with that, for
the time being, thrusting again, this time so hard that Ben's hips came up
off the bed. After a few false starts, he and Ben settled into a fast,
driving rhythm. Ben's hands clutched at the sheets, hoarse cries in that
super hero voice of his pushing Ray that much farther over the edge. 

 

His orgasm took him by surprise, paralyzing him even as Ben flung himself
backward to meet Ray's thrusts. As perfectly attuned to him as ever, Ben
came just after he began, his inner muscles milking Ray for all he was
worth. He sank his teeth deep into Ben's shoulder, letting his friend take
the brunt of his cries even as Ben gave up his own. They collapsed on the
bed in a heap of limbs and a duet of exhausted gasps. 

"What the hell was *that?*" Ray said when he could keep a breath. 

"I... don't know. I quite liked it, though." 

"Mm." He pulled the quilt around them and wrapped himself around Ben's
body, burrowing his face into the Mountie's neck. Ben's arms surrounded
him automatically, as if by habit, almost. 

"We didn't agree on a price," Ben said. 

"I don't think I have enough to cover that one, Benny." 

"I meant me, Ray." 

"Whatever," he mumbled. Incredible. He was already dozing off. *I'm going
to be one big ache tomorrow, boy...* 

"Ray?" 

"Mm?" 

"Are you falling asleep?" 

"Maybe." 

He felt Ben's hand stroke his head. "We aren't having sex now." 

"I'm still not saying it, Benny." 

Ben clutched him tighter. "All right, Ray." 

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