Ghost of a Chance	Ghost of a Chance by Y S McCool

 Author's webpage: http://members.xoom.com/ymccool/

  

 Disclaimer: These characters belong to
 Alliance Television, no copyright
 infringement is intended. 

 Pairing: Fraser/Vecchio
 Rating: NC-17
 Category: First times, PWP
 Author Name : Y S McCool
 Author E-Mail : ysmccool@flashmail.com
 Episode Related : Victoria's Secret,
 Letting Go
 Date: December 18, 1999 

 Ghost of a Chance
 By Y S McCool 

 The stakeout had lasted four days, which was exactly three days, fourteen
hours
 too long. Even Fraser had run out of
 Inuit stories to alleviate the boredom of sitting in the tiny little
apartment,
 watching another tiny little apartment
 across the courtyard, and listening to
 the rain. The endless, ceaseless, "Lord, take me now!" rain. 

 Ray had decided that he could distinguish seven distinct types of rain of
the last four days--[1] there was the unrepentant, unrelenting downpour
that makes it
 impossible to drive or even to just walk across the street to the diner;
[2] the sudden storm surge where the rain
 actually falls sideways; [3] the
 merciless and steady rainfall that isn't so intense you can't travel but
you are unable to go *anywhere* and arrive with a single dry area on your
body; [4] the
 good sleeping rain sound of fat drops
 broken up with occasional thunder; [5]
 the "it might end tonight" patter; [6]
 the light sprinkling so you'll come out and get really wet when it
returns to 1, 2, or 3; and [7] the just enough to keep everything soggy,
smelly, and miserable precipitation. 

 It was so humid in the badly ventilated room that poor Diefenbaker spent
most of his time begging a toweling from anyone who had the strength to
oblige. 

 The problem with this kind of boredom was that it inevitably led to
mistakes. Ray would remember that later. Actually,
 later it would eat at him. But right
 now, he was bored. 

 The man they were watching was sitting on four cases of high powered
rifles,
 ninety-two boxes of ammunition, and nine SAMS. All had been lifted from a
 Canadian fort at the cost of six lives, including two of his partners. 

 Fraser, Vecchio, Huey, and Turnbull had tracked the man, Wendall
Brunkett, and
 the weapons to this location. They had been prevented from apprehending
him
 because several agencies, both Canadian and American, hoped to catch some
bigger fish. The authorities were hoping that Brunkett would lead them to
the people
 who had given Brunkett and his two
 colleagues the security codes that had
 allowed them access to the weapons in the first place. 

 Vecchio wanted those people too, but he would rather have Brunkett safely
behind bars instead of waiting and hoping their bird in the hand would
lead to the birds still hiding in the bush--to stretch a
 metaphor. 

 Another problem with this kind of boredom was that you could end up with
your foot in your mouth long before you realized
 you were talking. "Benny, you're a
 straightforward kind of guy. I mean,
 when it suits you." 

 Fraser set down the chess piece he was
 polishing. The Mountie had decided to
 spend some time teaching Ray to play
 chess. Actually, Ray knew how to play
 chess, he just wasn't that good at some of the strategy. But it would be
time
 spent sitting close to Benny when he
 could concentrate on something other than the narrow bed, Fraser's lips,
and the
 image of the larger man buck naked. 

 "What's that suppose to mean, Ray?" Ben asked with that "ever so slightly
 offended" tone only the Mountie could
 pull off. 

 "I mean, you glance off things when it
 could hurt people's feelings or make them very uncomfortable. I meant it
well,"
 Ray explained. 

 "Oh," Ben responded. "I guess I'm
 straightforward then." 

 "Right," Ray agreed. "So, if you had
 something to say to someone, and you've been... internalizing on it for
several days. How would you bring it up?" 

 "That depends, Ray." Fraser placed the bishop piece on its proper square,
and
 then reached for one of the black
 knights. The tiny black figure was
 astride a horse, not unlike a member of the Musical Ride, but without a
battle
 lance. The Mountie cleaned it carefully. "What is it I have to say?" 

 "It would be of a personal nature," Ray explained. 

 "How personal?" Fraser asked as the
 knight took up its duty post. 

 "Very personal." 

 "How personal is 'very personal', Ray?" Fraser picked up the second black
knight, distinguished from the first by being
 left- instead of right-handed. 

 "Personal, as in I want to kiss your
 lips, slip you some tongue, and hold you tightly in my arms. That kind of
 personal." Ray waited to see if the
 Mountie would get on the clue bus. 

 "That is personal," Benton agreed,
 letting the clue bus glide past him. He placed the knight in the Queen's
Rook
 position. 

 Ray corrected the placement. "So, we
 agree on how personal the statement is. How would you bring it up?" 

 Fraser noted how Vecchio had corrected
 the positioning of the chess piece. "I thought you didn't know how to
play
 chess, Ray," he stated suspiciously,
 smoothly changing the subject. 

 "Knowing which little guy goes where is not the same as knowing how to
play,
 Benny," Ray stated firmly. "Now how
 would you bring it up?" Vecchio asked,
 returning to the main subject. 

 "How well do I know this person I want to kiss?" Ben asked. 

 "Very well. But not so well that you
 already know their answer. There have
 been hints that a kiss might be well
 received, but nothing really concrete." 

 "Well, Ray, honestly I can't speak for
 this mythical person, but for my part, I would think that anyone would
be...
 pleased with an offer of a kiss from
 you." 

 Ray grinned. "Really?" 

 "Very much so," Ben said quickly. He
 plunked down six more unpolished pieces, and quickly busied himself
putting them in place. The wrong place. 

 Ray noted the blush rising up the larger man's cheeks and the slight
tremble to
 his hands. He placed his hand over Ben's and guided the pieces into their
correct locations. As he did so, Ray began to
 trace his finger along the inside edge of Ben's index finger. It was a
move even this Mountie couldn't mistake. 

 Ben looked at Ray through his thick,
 black lashes. "Do you have something to say?" 

 "I want to kiss you, Ben. Would that be alright?" 

 Fraser nodded. Ray stood up and walked around the table. Ben leaned his
head
 back and closed his eyes. Vecchio
 covered Fraser's mouth with his own and their lips touched briefly. 

 Then Ben pulled away. "Someone's
 coming." 

 Talk about bad timing. But they had
 time. A lot of time. Besides, if Ray
 didn't get some food in him he might be forced to take a nibble out of
Fraser. 

 The door opened, after the appropriate
 knock had been given, and Constable
 Turnbull arrived with food, drinks,
 books, and Agents Wiley and Strickland. 

 Ray was glad to see the food, he was even glad to see Turnbull because he
had the food, but he could have gone the rest of his life without seeing
the two DEA
 agents again. 

 Efrem Wiley gave Ray the creeps, plain
 and simple. Vecchio liked to think he
 could at least pretend to get along with everyone, but Wiley just seemed
to rub
 him the wrong way. 

 As for Maggie Strickland, Ray just
 couldn't get over the fact that she was twisted. She did things, petty
things, mostly to Turnbull, who was easily
 flustered. So petty that even Fraser,
 the absolute Lord of Getting Along with All of God's Creatures, seemed to
spurn her. 

 While Turnbull was setting out the
 coffee, the good stuff straight from the Consulate, Strickland nearly
tripped the man. Okay, so Turnbull could trip over his own shadow
sometimes, but this was
 deliberate and nasty. Ray had been
 looking forward to that coffee for hours, and he wasn't going to let it
fall onto the floor. 

 Ray caught the tray and righted it, which set Turnbull off in a flurry of
 apologies. "I'm so sorry, Detective
 Vecchio." 

 "It wasn't your fault, Turnbull," Ray
 assured his friend. He caught the eye of Strickland. "I'm sure Agent
Strickland will be much more careful from now on. She should watch
herself." 

 "Ray," Fraser interrupted. 

 "Some people *really* should watch
 themselves," Ray continued. 

 "Ray!" Fraser shouted as he threw himself in front of Vecchio. Ray was
knocked to the floor. There was a shot--a brutally loud noise in the tiny
apartment. Benny stayed on his trajectory, but just
 crumpled to the floor. 

 Agent Strickland now had a hole in her
 coat just in front of the right pocket. Ray was on his feet and had his
gun out, but lowered it when he felt the snub nose of Wiley's pistol
against his head. 

 "Maggie, why didn't you just wait until they drank the coffee?" Wiley
asked. 

 "Because Dudley-Do-Right here never let me get near it. He's been
guarding their food and coffee like they were his
 children." The agent indicated with her head that the men should take a
chair. "And shut that dog up before I put two
 bullets between his beady little eyes." 

 "Quiet, Diefenbaker," Turnbull said
 firmly to the snarling wolf. Immediately the wolf stilled. 

 Vecchio wasn't counting on getting out of this room alive. He bent down
and
 checked Fraser. Other than a long gash on the side of his head, he seemed
 unharmed. Unfortunately, he was also
 unconscious. "Benny, can you hear me?" 

 Turnbull started to lift Fraser up to
 place him on the twin bed they had been taking turns sleeping on.
Instead, the Mountie looked his colleague over and
 immobilized his neck. The fact his
 friend had gotten hurt knocking Vecchio to safety was making Ray's
stomach twist. 

 "You're not getting in your chairs," the woman warned. 

 "I assumed you didn't really want to kill Constable Fraser," Turnbull
stated as he tucked the blankets around the
 unconscious man. 

 "I may change my mind at any second," the agent replied. Her voice was as
cold as a metal doorknob in sub-zero weather. 

 Knowing there was little he could do for Fraser, Ray took a seat.
Turnbull sat
 down in the chair next to him and
 immediately adopted this docile and meek pose. It should have waved a
flag to
 Wiley and Strickland, but it didn't. 

 Wiley pulled the cords off the curtains and came behind Turnbull to tie
the
 larger man's hands. Ray wasn't sure how he knew what the signal was, or
even when it was given, but he and Constable
 Renfield Turnbull, supposed boob of the Canadian Consulate, moved as one.


 Turnbull drove his head up under Wiley's chin. The agent's jaw made a
snapping
 noise no healthy length of bone should
 ever be subjected to. Ray lunged forward and grabbed Strickland's wrist.
He let his superior weight and his momentum
 counterbalance her better training. 

 He drove the two of them into the small kitchen table and heard her
scream as the piping hot coffee Turnbull had so
 carefully guarded made scalding contact with her back. 

 If he had just thought about it, Ray
 doubted he could have ever taken that
 steak knife and driven it into a woman's side, but he did. The blade sank
to the hilt in her flesh and her blood gushed
 over his hand. 

 Ray smashed his forearm across her throat twice before she finally let
the gun
 fall. He wrenched her gun hand behind
 her back and cuffed her wrists together. Vecchio kicked the back of her
knees and sent the agent to the floor. On the way down, her chin struck
the table and the last of the coffee poured onto her face before she went
all the way down to the cracked, yellow linoleum. 

 Vecchio turned around in time to see
 Turnbull delivering four quick, brutal
 blows to Wiley's gut before delivering
 the coup de grace to his bloodied face. If he hadn't witnessed it
himself, Ray
 would have scarcely believed it--Turnbull was dangerous. 

 Vecchio called for ambulances, then
 reported their situation to Welsh. Six of their officers arrested
Brunkett
 without a struggle. The man seemed
 shocked that his contacts hadn't
 protected him. 

 ############## 

 Ray was only half listening as Welsh
 filled him in on the results of Wiley's interrogation. It seemed Agents
 Strickland and Wiley had quite an
 operation going before the Canadians had tracked the weapons to Chicago
and
 Brunkett. 

 In hopes of leniency, Wiley had rolled
 over on Strickland. The female had
 missed the plea party because she was
 currently having her stomach stitched
 back together. 

 The pair had been forced to wait the four days for the buyers because
Brunkett knew who the buyers were and the buyers knew who Wiley and
Strickland were. The only way they had of getting out of the
 situation was to take care of Brunkett
 after selling their clients the weapons, thus making it look like a deal
gone bad. 

 The Mounties and the Chicago PD would
 have missed the whole transaction if
 Turnbull had been less diligent in
 protecting Ray and Fraser's food and
 coffee. All they would have found would have been one dead seller, no
weapons,
 and a great deal of egg on their faces. 

 It had been about money and power. Then again, when wasn't it about money
and
 power? Various departments would fight over the details while keeping
themselves as far from blame as possible. Ray
 couldn't care less, because Fraser was
 still unconscious. 

 Welsh wound down after his report and
 just sat beside Ray to wait for the
 doctors to emerge. "It didn't look that bad," Vecchio said sadly. "He
just won't wake up." 

 "He's strong," Welsh said firmly. It was probably as close to comfort as
the man could come for another adult male. Ray didn't respond. He didn't
have anything to say. Not yet. 

 "Detective Vecchio, I'm Doctor Roberts." Ray looked at the young woman
who had
 addressed him. She was petite, AfricanAmerican, and wore long braids. 

 "Yes, Doctor?" Ray rose to meet the
 woman and hear the news he had been
 dreading. 

 "It's the bullet against his spine..."
 The rest of what she said was drowned out by the merciless beating of his
own
 heart. 

 The bullet. Ray's bullet. The bullet
 Ray had put in his friend had been
 shifted by the impact of Ben's fall. The fall he had taken to save Ray's
worthless life. 

 The doctor pushed a clipboard into his
 hands and Ray signed. There wasn't
 really a choice, was there? Ben had
 placed his life in Ray's hands. If
 Fraser was unable to make his own
 decisions, it fell to Ray to make them. 

 Doctor Roberts smiled and whipped away in a quick flap of white coat
tails. Ray
 dropped to his knees in the middle of the waiting room and began to pray.
He
 prayed like he had only prayed twice
 before. 

 "Don't take him, God. Please." 

 The next few hours passed without making any real permanent impression on
Vecchio. Just bits and pieces of those hours would come back to him when
he thought about
 them very hard. He knew Frannie had been there. He remembered Thatcher.
Turnbull had put his arm around Ray and told him that Fraser had too much
to do in life to leave yet. Welsh had told him that the office could wait.


 Then he found himself sitting beside
 Benny's hospital bed trying and failing to find a comfortable position in
the
 chair. 

 A nurse's aide named Mack came in and
 moved the other bed closer to Fraser. 
 "Hey, Officer, hop up." The kid was
 obviously South-side by his speech. "No one's getting this bed. The word
is out the guy's a hero. Admin is pissing
 itself trying to make themselves look
 good for the press." 

 Ray lurched over to the bed, fell out
 across it, and kicked off his shoes. The kid covered him up with the
standard
 issue, paper-thin blankets and then left. 

 Vecchio rolled onto his side and gazed at his friend. "Hey, Benny, you
made your point, okay? I can't lose you. Is that what you need to hear?
I'm going lay
 myself open here. I miss you. I need
 you. I want you to open those big blue eyes and talk me into getting
something on a good suit that won't come out. 
 Okay?" Ray closed his fingers around
 Fraser's strong wrist. "Please? You
 still owe me that kiss." The detective fell asleep still holding his
friend's
 hand. 

 "Son, you're not ready to follow me,"
 Fraser, Sr. chided the younger man. The two of them stood over the
sleeping
 detective. "Why don't you go back into your body and wake up? You've got
the
 Yank near the end of his rope." 

 "I know," Benton admitted. "I just... I- -" 

 "You're afraid, Son," Bob interpreted. "No shame in that." He cleared his
 throat. "You've had a rough time, Son, but you need to go back before you
 *can't* go back," Bob warned. "You're
 already cutting it close." Fraser, Sr. faded away. 

 "What have I got to go back to? What if I'm paralyzed? What then?" Benton
asked his father, but the older man was no
 longer there. 

 "Benny?" Ray asked softly. The detective was sitting up and staring, not
at Ben's body, but at where Fraser now stood. 
 "Benny, no. No! Please don't be dead." Vecchio reached out and shocked
them both by making full contact with Benton. 

 "You can feel me?" Fraser gasped. 

 "Yes," Vecchio replied as he squeezed the other man's hand. "Am I
dreaming?" 

 "In a way," Ben said calmly. 

 "What... what is this? Are you saying
 good-bye to me? Is that what you're
 doing?" Ray tugged the larger man down toward him. "Did I finally kill
you,
 Benny?" 

 "No, Ray. Please don't think that way," Fraser pleaded. "I just can't...
I
 don't want to be paralyzed." 

 "Benny, how do you know you're paralyzed? You had swelling. Swelling just
messes everything up. Gawd, man. Don't give up over swelling." 

 Ben looked deeply into the beautiful
 green eyes of his friend and watched a
 single tear roll down the Italian's face. He rarely thought of anyone
crying for
 him, certainly not his very masculine
 friend. His ghostly finger barely
 altered the path of the tear, but Fraser was fully aware of the heat of
it. 
 "Ray?" 

 "Benny, if you die you'll never touch me again." Vecchio accented this
statement by closing his eyes and rubbing his cheek against the larger
man's hand. "Don't
 you want to touch me?" he asked in his
 slightly husky voice. "Don't you?" 

 Ray could have no idea of the way he was presenting himself. He couldn't
realize that his mouth was slightly open or that his lower lip was
dragging along the back of Benton's hand. Ray could not know how beautiful
he was, or how much Fraser
 wanted to fall upon him. 

 "Ray, I don't think--" Fraser began. 

 "Don't think, Benny. For once in your
 perfect Mountie life, don't think. Feel! Feel afraid, feel joy, feel me!"
Ray
 moved Benton's hand down inside his silk shirt and placed it over his
hammering
 heart. 

 Ben cupped Ray's left breast and smiled as, simultaneously, the nipple
hardened and Ray moaned. "I feel you, Ray," the Mountie admitted. 

 "Do you, Ben?" Ray gasped. 

 Ben opened the buttons and parted the
 soft fabric of Ray's shirt and exposed
 the other man's chest. He trailed his
 fingers over both nipples, then down the ribs to rest on the light and
flat
 stomach. "What are you offering me,
 Ray?" Ben asked before he took what he
 was not entitled to have, perhaps what he wasn't even entitled to want. 

 The slender detective gulped. "Anything, everything, Benny. Just don't
leave me without even trying." 

 Fraser paused. "What if I'm unable to
 live with what I have left?" 

 Ray's eyes opened. "It would have to be damned bad for that to happen,
Benny. 
 But if it's that bad, then I'll help you end it." Vecchio drew in a
sharp,
 shuddering breath. "I'll do us both." 

 "No," Ben gasped as he threw himself
 across the other man. His hands flew
 over the yielding body of his partner as the Mountie became desperate to
feel the other man's flesh, even in this limited fashion. 

 "Ben," Ray moaned. 

 "Anything, Ray? Anything?" Ben asked as his hands roamed freely over the
body
 beneath him. Fraser easily open ray's
 buckled and zipper, he was forced to
 concentrate in order to remove the other man's pants. 

 Vecchio had long, slender, olive-hued
 legs. Ben had rarely seen Ray's legs. He certainly had never seen them
 trembling. The Mountie allowed his hands to roam. 

 Hooking his thumbs underneath Ray's
 briefs, Ben unveiled the smaller man's
 cock and balls by pulling them all the
 way off. 

 "Anything," Ray responded as he spread
 his thighs to Ben's explorations. 
 "Anything," he moaned. 

 Ben had only shared his bed with three
 other men, but he found himself unable to recall them at all now that he
had Ray
 Vecchio nude and trembling. 

 Ben grabbed the smaller man's face and
 held it firmly. If he had been in his
 body, he would have left bruises. But
 Ray was not to going to offer himself to Ben just as a tease. "Ray, I
don't want just anything." He bit the other man's throat and was delighted
when Ray jumped. It pushed their groins together and Ben *felt* it, truly
felt it. "I want
 everything. Do you understand me, Ray? I want everything--your body, your
mind, your soul, and your love. Give me
 everything." Ben burned a kiss into the other man's mouth which left Ray
gasping. 

 "Everything," Ray panted. "Everything," he repeated. 

 Real world physics were no longer Ben's concern. He pushed Ray's knees up
and
 back, then plunged his cock inside the
 other man's ass. Ray arched. His
 reaction was not of man being taken
 without lubrication but of a man being
 touched in all his secret places. 

 If Ray was protesting, Ben didn't care. If Ray was begging him to slow
down, Ben didn't listen. He fucked Ray like the
 madman he knew lay just below his cool, professional exterior. His
control, his discipline, his facade of righteousness slipped away as he
pounded into the
 smaller man. 

 Ray, his beautiful Ray, was with him at last. If this was his one and
only time to have the tantalizing man, then he
 would make this the lovemaking session he had spent so many nights
dreaming. 

 "Ben, Ben, Ben," Ray chanted as he pushed up to meet Benton's thrusts. 

 Even in this ghostly form, Ray Vecchio
 was just too much man for Benton. He
 came and melted into his friend. Fraser could feel himself flow across
and into the smaller man, finally traveling out of his friend's body,
along his arm, and
 into his own body where their fingers
 met. 

 Fraser opened his eyes and stared into
 the darkened room. Carefully, he turned his head and gazed into the
adoring eyes of his friend. Ray looked oddly serene considering the fact
that his clothes
 were pushed aside so haphazardly, plus
 the fact that his thighs were spread
 wide. 

 "Ray?" he managed to croak. 

 Vecchio moved fluidly to his feet,
 pulling his clothes back together as he did. "Welcome back, Benny." The
 detective poured his friend a glass of
 water and held the straw to Fraser's
 lips. "Take a sip." 

 Benton sipped the water gratefully. 
 "Thanks, Ray." Vecchio turned on the
 light, and Ben got his first good look at his friend. Despite the
intensity of
 their first time together, Ben had not
 left the other man mauled. It was a
 relief and a disappointment. 

 If he was paralyzed, then he had failed to leave the lasting impression
that
 meant Ray would remember him, perhaps
 with fondness, perhaps with smugness for having survived Ben's
unrestrained
 passion, but, by God, Ben would be
 remembered. 

 Worst of all, Ben had lost cohesion
 before Ray could cum. That made him a
 bad lover. 

 "Ben, should I call the nurse?" Ray asked softly. 

 "No, I want to know my situation before they get here." 

 Ray didn't even ask what Ben meant. 
 Vecchio had given his word to help Ben, and Ray was a man of his word.
"Here we go." Vecchio moved the covers back. 

 Ray ran his long fingers along Ben's
 palms, and down his arms to his armpits. Ben stifled a laugh as those
teasing
 digits threatened to reduce the Mountie to girlish giggles. Down, down,
those
 hands went until he gasped as Ray held
 his cock. "I feel it," he said with
 pride. 

 "So do I," Ray smirked. "It's as big as it felt inside me." 

 "Oh, Ray, did I hurt you?" Ben sat up. He winced, but he could do it. 

 "No, Benny, you didn't hurt me. I wanted it." He suddenly chuckled. "I
mean it wasn't *really* you, just your...
 essence." He grinned. "It's funny--" 

 "What?" Ben asked, perplexed. 

 "I don't know what's more unbelievable-- the fact that I lost my
virginity to a
 ghost or that Benton Fraser loves me." 

 "Oh, Ray," Ben nearly choked up with
 regret. He had ravaged the man, taking the gift of his virginity and
abusing it. "I should have--" 

 "Taken me just like you did," Ray
 finished. He moved his hands down the
 Mountie's legs. "Can you still feel my hands?" 

 "Yes," Ben responded. "You're working
 your thumbs in little half-circles as you move down." He flinched when
the other man's fingernails scrubbed the soles of his feet. "I can feel
that too." 

 "Good," Ray said firmly as he pulled the covers back in place. He was
reaching
 for the nurses' buzzer when Ben stopped him. "What?" 

 "I want to do something before we're the center of too much attention."
Ben
 reached out, grabbed Ray's wrists, and
 pulled the other man closer. "Let me
 kiss you." 

 Ray didn't protest as their lips met. He jumped slightly when Ben pushed
his
 tongue into the smaller man's mouth. Ray took control of the kiss,
turning his
 head and devouring Ben's mouth. 

 No one had ever kissed him this well
 before. No one. Ben's toes tingled as they alternated between spreading
wide
 and clinching tight. Toe curling. He'd heard the phrase before, but had
never
 truly experienced it. 

 "Hmmm, Benny, just as good as I dreamed it would be," Ray purred. The
man's
 voice was so smoky it should have been
 banned because of the riots it could
 cause. 

 "Ray, I want to--" Ben hesitated. How
 could he tell his friend what he wanted? 

 "What do you want, Benny? You can tell me. You can tell me anything." 

 Ben looked up at Ray through his lashes and confessed. "I want to taste
you." 

 Ray shook his head. "Ben, you want to
 put the strangest things into your
 mouth." Vecchio opened his pants and
 took his semi-rigid cock out. 

 Ben actually felt his mouth water. Ray sank his fingers into Benny's hair
and
 guided himself into Ben's mouth. 

 Ray had the smoky taste of something very exotic. He was spicy and musky,
clean, and delicious. He was a singularly
 unique taste to which Ben knew he had
 become instantly addicted. 

 ~Use my mouth,~ Ben thought. ~Use it. 
 Fill it. Take it. Oh, Gawd!~ Ben's
 finger's clutched at the firm buttocks of his partner as Ray stroked in
and out of his mouth. Time was no longer important as he *reveled* in the
feel of Raymond
 Vecchio's huge cock filling his mouth so gently and so fully. 

 As Ray started to cum, Ben held on tight, sucking greedily to take every
precious drop into his mouth. 

 "Don't take this the wrong way, Benny,
 but you're a *hell* of a cocksucker," Ray whispered as he ran his fingers
through Ben's hair. 

 Panting, Ben rubbed his face against
 Ray's softening organ. "How could... How could I take that the wrong
way?" 

 Ray tilted the other man's chin up. "I guess you can't." 

 Ben placed a final kiss on Ray's cock
 before replacing it into the smaller
 man's slacks. "Can I do that often when I get out of here?" 

 Ray chuckled. "I'll *insist* on it." 
 Ray filled another cup with water and
 held it for his friend. "And Benny, when we do the horizontal mambo for
real next time, we use lube." 

 "Of course, Ray," Ben responded
 reasonably. "Real flesh requires
 lubrication." 

 "And dinner," Ray prompted. 

 "Yes, dinner would be lovely," Ben
 responded as he made himself more
 comfortable on the bed. 

 Ray reached out and stroked Fraser's
 face. "And I'd like to take you away on a trip, just the two of us. Or
maybe the three of us, with Diefenbaker. If we
 leave him with Ma, he'll weigh a couple hundred pounds by the time you
get him
 back." 

 Ben kissed the other man's palm. "I
 think he'll be fine with your family
 while we're away. I'd like for it to be just the two of us." 

 Ray leaned over and kissed Ben gently on the lips. "Sure, Benny, that'll
be just fine." 

 --The End ?--