International Relations    Rated R for explicit m/m content. The usual
disclaimers - characters and situations belong to the producers of Due
South and no copyright infringment is intended. 

 I confess that there are bits that read a little like a tourist brochure,
but I live in Ottawa. Beaver tails do actually exist, by the way, exactly
as described, and the Peace Tower is no longer covered by scaffolding. 

 There is a part 2 (or 3 or more) to this, but unfinished and I thought I
should post another story before all my half finished stories take up all
my disk space. Comments can be sent to: ar895@freenet.carleton.ca 

  International Relations 

 "Look, I'm a cop." Ray Vecchio tried to explain patiently, keeping his
Italian temper firmly in check. "I have a license to carry a piece." He
displayed his badge and the accompanying paperwork which gave him
permission to carry a gun across state lines. 

 "I'm sorry, sir." The customs official was calm and polite. "You do not
have a license to carry a handgun in Canada. I'm afraid you will have to
leave it here and retrieve it upon your return to the United States." 

 "I'm supposed to just leave it here?" Ray sounded disgusted. 

 "Yes, sir." The customs official replied very politely. Ray ground his
teeth. Was the whole damn country as polite and stiff as Fraser? 

 "Look, I have worked in close cooperation with the RCMP for the past two
years..." 

 "I'm sorry, sir, but without a firearms acquisition certificate, you
cannot bring a handgun into Canada." 

 "Fine. Where can I buy one, then?" 

 "Handguns are illegal in Canada, unless you possess a.." 

 "Firearms acquisition certificate." Ray finished, with heavy sarcasm. He
rolled his eyes in exasperation. So did the woman waiting behind him. 

 "Are you going to be much longer?" She asked him politely. 

 "No." He snapped at her, then turned back to the official. "If I leave
the piece here, what guarantees do I have that I can pick it up again on
the way back?" 

 The official ripped off a filled out form and smiled sunnily at him. 

 "Just keep this and present it at the customs office on your way back. If
you are departing from Ottawa International Airport, it will be waiting
for you. If you depart at a different airport, speak the customs officials
there and they will arrange for your property to be returned to you upon
proper identification." 

 Ray looked that the neatly filled out form and sighed. Through his
friendship with Fraser, he knew it was hopeless to argue with a Canadian
bureaucrat. 

 He tucked the paper into his passport and picked up his bags. 

 Once he had checked into the hotel, unwillingly impressed with the castle
like structure of the Chateau Laurier, he took a walk. According to his
map, the Parliament Buildings were just beside the hotel and, according to
his information, Fraser was assigned to Parliament Hill. 

 Summer in Ottawa was warmer than he expected. And the city was more
beautiful than he dreamed, despite all the tourist pictures he had seen at
the Canadian Consulate in Chicago. Chicago had pretty tourist pictures,
too, but the reality was dirtier. Ottawa was neat and tidy. Ray shivered.
He felt like he might break something if he didn't walk exactly on the
sidewalk. Maybe that's why Canadians were so polite; the damn capital city
was as neat and old fashioned as your grandmother's parlour. 

 The houses of Parliament were NeoGothic structures, all stone and tiny
deep set windows. The main tower was covered in scaffolding, marring the
impressiveness, but the fountain with a flame on top of it caught Ray's
attention. 

 The Centennial Flame was big enough to sit on the edges. Ray sat and
stared at the bronze shields of a couple of the provinces through the
water. Coins of various sizes twinkled in the sun. Ray noticed a sign and
gave a rueful grin. 

 "All coins in this fountain are removed daily and donated to charity." 

 Ray looked up at the sound of martial music and his eyes widened. A whole
parade of red coated men marched up past his hotel, came in through the
front gate. The crowds of people around his lined themselves up at the
edge of the lawn to the right of the fountain, letting the men through. 

 Ray watched the Changing of the Guard ceremony with detached interest.
The uniforms were wrong to be Mounties, and it wasn't as impressive as the
RCMP Musical Ride impromptu demonstration he'd seen, but it was still
pretty potent, if you liked that sort of thing. 

 After the ceremony ended, Ray walked into the main tower and stopped
dead. Beautiful, he thought. The main lobby was all rich wood and marble
columns. The round desk was manned by an 

 older man, slightly overweight, who reminded him of Lieutenant Welsh. 

 "Excuse me." Ray caught his attention. He seemed to be friendly, but
monumentally indifferent to the importance of his job. In the back of his
mind, Ray wondered where the security guards were. This was the freaking
seat of government. 

 "Can I 'elp you?" The man had a heavy French accent. 

 "Yeah. I'm looking for a friend of mine. Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP.
So far as I know, he's assigned to Parliament." 

 The man leaned back in his chair and pulled out a big binder and flipped
through it. Ray tried to read the papers upside down, but couldn't quite
see it. 

 "Constable Fraser." The man's finger stopped halfway down a page. "'e's
on duty right now. East Bloc." The man put the book away and pointed. 

 "Thanks." Ray said, suppressing the urge to say "thank you kindly". 

 East Bloc was more difficult to get into. Unlike Centre Bloc, this
building was not open to the public. Although it looked easy enough the
just walk in, everybody had identification tags on long bathroom chains. 

 Ray spotted a stiff Mountie statue just down the hall and grinned. Benny.
He turned to the woman in dress reds just inside the door. 

 "Hi." Ray smiled at her and she smiled back. "I'd like to talk to that
officer right there. He's an old friend of mine." 

 The woman's eyes widened and a weird expression crossed her face. 

 "You're a friend of Constable Fraser?" She sounded very surprised, then
snapped back into professional mode, glancing at her watch. "I cannot let
you into the building without proper authorization, but shift change is in
about five minutes. I'll tell him you're here. And you are...?" 

 Ray went back outside into the sunshine without giving his name. Let
Benny wrack his brains to figure out who it was. 

 Fraser stood at attention easily. It was cool in the building. He had
only five more minutes and then he'd be off for three days. He suppressed
a sigh and carefully did not shift from one foot to another. 

 When he was transferred out of Chicago, he had been delighted. A chance
to go home, especially to go to such a plum assignment as guarding the
Hill, was a major step forward in his career. As well, the relief of being
in a country with sensible monetary units, decent health plans and sane
gun control laws was considerable. Ottawa, while not the Territories, was
still Canada. Still home. 

 Now, after four months of being home, doing essentially the same thing he
had done at the Consulate on a much bigger scale, he was still having
problems adjusting. 

 The problem of Diefenbaker was easily solved. Ottawa would not allow a
wolf as a pet, but he simply told the licensing bureau that Dief was a
dog. He was shocked and disturbed how easily the lie came to his lips and
how lightly that lie sat on his conscience. He had gotten away from
Chicago a little too late. 

 Finding a place to live was also easily solved. The RCMP gave him a
relatively generous moving allowance, so he found an inexpensive place
after waiting until the university students moved home for the summer. It
was the third floor over a shop, right in the Market area. Of course the
nightclubs and the prostitutes on the corner were a bit hard to get used
to, but after Chicago, not a problem. 

 The problem was adjusting to being alone again. He had no family, no
friends in Ottawa, no family or friends anywhere. He had no one at all,
except Ray Vecchio, back in Chicago. Although he made acquaintances
easily, there was no one here who filled the niche in his life that Ray
had. Ray was his first real, close friend. Time off was simply a reminder
of that hole in his life and he dreaded the next few days. 

 Ray leaned against the building, chatting amiably with the woman who came
out of the building, stood next to him and lit a cigarette with a sigh of
relief. 

 "We can't smoke in the buildings." She explained, at his quizzical look.
"It's great in the summer, but come winter..." She shook her head in
painful memory. 

 Ray straightened as Fraser emerged from the door, glancing around. 

 "Hey, Fraser." Ray said laconically, hiding the delight he felt at seeing
the familiar figure. He had missed Fraser in the last few months. He had a
lot of family and friends around him, but Fraser was more than that.
Fraser needed him more than anyone else ever had and Ray was a sucker for
anyone who needed him. 

 "Ray?" Fraser swallowed, his blue eyes wide with surprise. "What are you
doing here?" 

 "Well, you kept telling me how beautiful it is in Canada, and I didn't
exactly have time to play tourist last time I was here, so I thought I'd
come up here on my vacation, check out the sights." 

 "Oh." Fraser couldn't think of anything else to say. 

 

 "You were right. As usual." Ray continued. "It's a little tame, but I
could use that right about now." 

 "I thought you liked excitement." Fraser commented, as they began to
walk, Ray following Fraser's lead. 

 "Not this time." Ray replied grimly and began to tell Fraser all about
the last case he'd solved, a particularly nasty drug dealer's attempt to
take over the high school trade. 

 By the time they finished discussing the case and discussing Fraser's new
job, they'd arrived at Fraser's flat. 

 "It isn't much." Fraser said apologetically. "And it isn't in the best
neighbourhood." 

 "It isn't exactly a slum, Benny." Ray looked around. The neighbourhood
was a little run down, but clean. "Your place in Chicago was worse." 

 "This is as close to slums as Ottawa gets, Ray." 

 Ray rolled his eyes and followed Fraser up the stairs. 

 The apartment was bigger than the one in Chicago, but equally sparsely
furnished. Ray would have made an acerbic comment, but he was knocked down
by a large white furry being, who licked his face with glee. 

 "Diefenbaker, get off me." Ray pushed at the delighted wolf with an
expression of disgust. "You're getting hairs all over my clothes." 

 Diefenbaker, whether through deafness or through ignoring Ray, continued
to wag his tail and lick Ray's face. 

 "Diefenbaker. This sort of behaviour is inappropriate for a wolf. Now, I
realize that you are pleased to see a familiar face..." Fraser lectured in
his pedantic, reasonable tone. Diefenbaker ignored him. Ray pushed the dog
away, got up and grabbed Dief's collar and forced him to sit. 

 "Sit." Ray ordered. Diefenbaker did so, his tongue lolling out, silently
begging for a treat that he knew Ray would have. "Later." Ray promised,
out of the corner of his mouth and Dief, slightly disappointed, got up and
padded back to his comfortable position on the sofa. 

 Ray brushed at his clothes ineffectually until Fraser produced a clothes
brush. 

 "Thanks." 

 A silence fell as neither man could think of anything to say. It grew
positively awkward. When Fraser cleared his throat, it sounded like an
earthquake. 

 "Where are you staying, Ray?" 

 "At the Chateau Laurier." Ray grinned, equilibrium returning. "I decided
to go first class this time. The place has luxury coming outta the walls,
Benny. Ever stayed there?" 

 "No. I have had afternoon tea there, though." 

 "I think I'll pass on that. Which remind me, I haven't eaten lunch yet.
Wanna go grab some?" 

 "Sure. Where?" 

 "You know the city, Benny. Any good Italian places around here?" 

 Fraser frowned. He wasn't much of a restaurant goer. He didn't like
eating alone in a public place, especially after Ray had educated his
palate about restaurants. 

 "I don't eat out much, Ray." Fraser said regretfully. "I'm not familiar
with the eating establishments of this area. However, the Market area has
a good reputation for restaurants." 

 "Fine. We can just walk along until we find some place that looks good." 

 Ray waited while Fraser changed out of his uniform, chatting at Dief. For
some reason, it felt good to talk, even to a deaf wolf. Seeing Fraser was
fun, but not quite the go-out-for-a-few- beers encounter he was expecting.
It was sheer delight and an odd sort of hollow feeling that he couldn't
quite identify. It was far more awkward than he was prepared for, so he
ignored the feeling and chattered to Dief. 

 The chatter died away when he saw Fraser emerge from the bedroom,
carrying a gun. 

 "A gun, Benny?" 

 "I am required to carry a gun while in uniform." Fraser expertly unloaded
the gun and unlocked a small strongbox by the table. "I am also required
to store it safely while off duty." He put the gun into the box and locked
it, slipping the key into the pocket of a very nice pair of dress slacks.
Ray realised, with a start, that Fraser, rather than wearing jeans and a
flannel shirt, was wearing an outfit very similar to his own. Dress pants,
silk shirt and Italian shoes. It looked good. 

 "Nice outfit." 

 "Thanks, Ray." Fraser smiled. "It's too hot for denim." 

 Dief came out into the hall with them as a matter of course and waited
while Fraser locked his door. 

 "You're locking your door?" Ray asked in disbelief. "You never locked
your door in Chicago." 

 "I never had a loaded gun in Chicago." Fraser reminded him. "Or a lock." 

 Over lunch, the awkwardness disappeared. As they ate, they fell into the
pattern of good natured bickering that characterised their relationship
over the last two years. Ray filled Fraser in on the various adventures of
the vast Vecchio clan and the cases with the 27th precinct. Fraser
interjected comments and corrections in grammar with predictable annoying 

 accuracy. He even managed to insert an Inuit story, causing the man at
the next table, Inuit himself, to turn to look at them strangely. 

 "How long are you staying, Ray?" 

 "Until July 3." Ray wiped his lips with a napkin. "Frannie'll kill me if
I'm not there for the Vecchio fourth of July picnic, but I want to see how
you Canucks do your national holiday. Y'know, maybe pick up some ideas." 

 "You've picked a good time to be here." Fraser replied. "The Queen is
coming to Ottawa for Canada Day." 

 "The Queen?" Ray blinked. "The Queen of England?" 

 "She's also Queen of Canada, Ray." Fraser sat back and gave an accurate,
if slightly abbreviated, rundown on the structure of the Commonwealth and
the connection with the Dominion of Canada. Ray, with a tolerant smile,
listened. 

 "You haven't changed much, have you, Benny?" He said, after Fraser paused
for breath. "Still overanswering every question. Must be a Canadian
thing." 

 "You haven't changed much, either, Ray." Fraser retorted. "Still
unwilling to broaden your general knowledge." 

 "Hey, I listened, didn't I?" 

 "With the same glazed look in your eyes you used to get." 

 "What's with the clothes, Benny?" Ray asked suddenly. "You look like
you've been out shopping with me. I thought jeans and flannel were the
national dress." 

 Fraser didn't answer right away. He needed some new clothes when he
settled in and, instead of buying his usual sturdy, rugged attire, he had
gone to a fashionable men's clothing store. He remembered wondering if Ray
would approve of the clothes, instinctively buying styles Ray would like
and would buy for himself. Despite the differences in body type, Ray's
taste suited Fraser. Fraser did not know why he had bought them, or why
Ray's approval mattered. 

 "Ray, Ottawa is a major urban center." Fraser finally replied. "A little
conservative, perhaps, but not entirely behind the times in regards to
fashion." 

 Ray glanced around him, noting the range of styles from elegant designer
clothes to kids in grunge, agreed and made a mental note to stop teasing
Fraser about his country's dullness. From the long pause, it was obviously
a sensitive point. 

 After lunch, they walked through the Market. In the farmer's market, Dief
suddenly stopped and whined. 

 "Hooker's All Canadian Beaver Tails." Ray read off the sign. "Benny, what
is that?" 

 "A beaver tail is a pastry. It's whole wheat raised dough, stretched out
flat and fried in hot oil, then brushed with melted butter. It comes with
cinnamon sugar, jam, lemon and cinnamon sugar or garlic and cream cheese.
It's not good for you, Diefenbaker." Dief whined again, with a hopeful
look at Ray. 

 "Why's it called a beaver tail? Sounds like something you'd read in a
porn mag." 

 "Because they look like the tail of a beaver. Well, no, they don't
exactly. A beaver's tail is actually much thicker and more consistent in
shape than a fried pastry..." 

 "Never mind." Ray interrupted him and bought a cinnamon sugar pastry. It
was huge, bigger than his two hands together, and hot, so he juggled it a
bit to tear off a piece and gave it to Dief. Dief wolfed it down and
begged for more. 

 "No way, pal." Ray replied, with a mouthful of hot pastry. "This is
delicious. If you want more, buy your own." 

 Dief's ears drooped. He looked very upset until a pretty girl bent to
scratch his ears and fed him the last bit of hers. 

 "Diefenbaker." Fraser's voice took on that prim note that indicated
exasperation. "You shouldn't beg for junk food from people off the street.
Besides, I really do not want you making friends with prostitutes. It's
unbecoming." 

 "She's a hooker?" Ray asked, glancing at the girl. "This the red light
district?" 

 "So to speak. The city council has been trying to get the girls off the
streets by blocking the way for customers to drive in this area, but they
haven't been successful. Then again, this area has been the red light
district since the founding of Ottawa, way back when it was Bytown..." 

 Ray left Fraser to the history lesson and examined the stalls down the
block. He bought a set of earrings for Frannie and a scarf for his mother.
Fraser, realising that he'd lost his audience, followed. 

 By the time the sun was starting to set, Ray was exhausted. They had seen
most of the sights of the downtown area, including several hours in the
Museum of Civilisation. Ray was pleasantly surprised by the Museum. It
wasn't just filled with stuffy old display cases, but had several
interesting interactive exhibits. He enjoyed the tour far more than he
expected to and it wasn't until they were sitting outside one of the pubs,
drinking beer, than he had time to think about the odd awkwardness that
had been springing up between the two friends. 

 

 Benny seems more relaxed on his native turf, Ray thought. Yet, he seems
tense, too. One minute he's his old self and the next it's like he doesn't
want to be with me. I wonder what's going on. 

 Ray is like a breath of fresh air, Fraser thought. I would never have
believed how much I missed him. I am going to miss him even more when he
goes back to Chicago. Why can't I just relax and enjoy his company? 

 By the time they paid their bill and got up to go, Ray was a little
unsteady on his feet. Two beer - Canadian beer - on top of a long day of
walking and jet lag made him sway with fatigue. His head was perfectly
clear, but he walked as if he was a little tipsy. 

 "I'll walk you back to your hotel." Fraser offered. It was a very short
walk and, once in his room, Ray tottered to one of the double beds and
collapsed on his back. 

 "Are you all right, Ray?" Fraser asked, concerned, as he dropped the card
key on the desk. "Do you need anything?" 

 "No." Ray replied, his eye closed. The world had, thankfully, stopped
spinning and the beds were soooo comfortable. "I'm just tired. I've been
on the go since six this morning. These beds are sinful." 

 "Sinful?" 

 "I think I'll tuck one of these beds in my suitcase instead of pinching
towels." Ray murmured happily. 

 Fraser approached the bed and sat gingerly on the edge. He didn't trust
soft, comfortable beds. Ray was right. It was very comfortable. 

 "See?" Ray didn't open his eyes. 

 Fraser sat there for a moment, frozen into immobility by the thoughts
running through his head. Ray lay there on his back, with a slight smile
on his lips, looking utterly blissful. He had his arms stretched back, his
hands behind his head and his silk shirt had pulled up to reveal about
half an inch of smooth bare skin. The bed was wide and Ray was slender;
there was plenty of room for another person to stretch out next to him. 

 Fraser shook his head. He did not want to do that. He did not want to
move that shirt to reveal even more of that slender body to his gaze. He
was a perfectly normal, red blooded Canadian male; he did not want to lean
over to kiss the lips that were smiling. 

 Ray watched Fraser through his lashes. That awkwardness had come back, in
spades. The room was cool with the air conditioning and the one lamp that
Fraser had turned on as soon as they came in did not give off much light
after the bright sunshine outdoors. And Fraser was sitting on the edge of
the bed, looking at him with an odd expression. Ray watched as Fraser
moved gently towards him, leaning over him with his lips pressed into a
thin line. He was going to move, crack a joke. Instead, he waited, kept
still and quiet. 

 The first touch of Fraser's lips on his was shockingly soft, a mere brush
of skin to skin. 

 Fraser's body seemed to be oblivious to his mind screaming *you can't do
this*. He bent over Ray, brushed a soft kiss on his lips. When Ray didn't
jump away, he leaned forward and kissed him again, firmly. Ray didn't
flinch; he opened his mouth and Fraser's tongue met his. 

 I am a normal, red blooded American male, Ray thought. So why am I doing
this? Instead of jumping up and throwing this strange imitation of Fraser
the hell out of his hotel room, he slowly moved his arms to embrace the
other man, pulling him closer. 

 I have wanted to do this for so long..., Fraser thought, with a burst of
astonished enlightenment. He moved to lay full length next to Ray, his
lips still holding the other man's in passionate, openmouthed kisses. His
body responded to the slender body next to him; he pressed himself to
Ray's form, needing to touch. His hands moved, without conscious volution,
to run down Ray's back, to touch the curve of his ass, to pull him close. 

 Ray responded to the kisses, allowing the intrusive tongue to explore his
mouth, returning with explorations of his own. Part of him wondered why
this, why now, but the hands on his body were warm and insistent, touching
him with firm strokes. 

 I gotta stop this, Ray thought slowly. But do I really want to? 

 I have to stop, Fraser thought, confused. But I don't want to. 

 Fraser had kissed Ray on an odd, half understood impulse. He was sure
that a simple kiss would be enough. Now he knew clearly that it was not
enough and never would be. He wanted to feel Ray's naked body next to his,
hear whispered words of passion, relieve the tension between them that had
been building for years. With hands suddenly steady and sure, slipping
between their bodies, he unbuttoned Ray's shirt and his own. Their bare
chests pressed together now that the miles thick layers of thin silk were
gone. 

 Ray, other than his response to the firm lips on his own, had lain
quietly, allowing Fraser to take the lead. When he felt 

 the hand slip between them to begin to remove the barrier of clothes,
shifted to speed the process. He still wasn't sure what prompted this, nor
was he entirely sure if this was a good idea, but Fraser's hands and mouth
had left him breathless. One hand was somehow tangled in Fraser's short
hair, the other went to the waistband of Fraser's pants. Swiftly, he undid
the catch and slipped his hand inside. Fraser gave a gratifyingly
heartfelt groan as he ran his fingers along the erect cock he found.
Fraser's hips began to move automatically as he grasped the hard shaft
firmly. His own cock was starting to strain at the cloth of his pants and
he sighed as Fraser imitated his own actions. 

 They finally, reluctantly, allowed their lips to part and undressed,
needing to be naked with each other. Fraser kept his eyes well way from
Ray's; he did not want to see whatever was there. Ray's lips were pressed
into a firm, serious line and he was afraid that Ray would call a halt. It
had gone too far to stop now and he reached for his friend. 

 Ray felt cold when they parted to undress, only to be enveloped in warm
arms that held him tightly. He felt warm lips take his again and the dance
of tongues continued. He felt a hard erection pushing into his groin and
the slight prickle of pubic hair along his cock. His skin acquired a thin
sheen of sweat and his breath came in gasps. His hands explored Fraser's
body, feeling the sweet curve of his torso. The body under his hands felt
hauntingly familiar; it was so similar to his own that he knew what would
please this hard male flesh. 

 Fraser held Ray tightly for a moment, breathing in the enticing male
scent of his friend, pausing to imprint the feel of this man. Then he
shifted so that Ray was under him, grabbing the hands roaming over his
body and pinning them over Ray's head. He held onto those hands, running
kisses and caresses with his mouth over Ray's face, neck and shoulders
until he finally had to let go to explore further. 

 Ray thought briefly about fighting for control of the encounter, but
decided that he was enjoying what Fraser was doing. Benny seemed to know
exactly what he wanted and the unaccustomed feeling of being seduced was
wildly erotic. When Fraser's lips touched his cock, he cried out and had
to force himself not to move, not to caress the head that was giving him
so much pleasure. He shut his eyes tightly and concentrated on letting the
pleasure flow through him. 

 The cock in his mouth tasted wonderful, Fraser thought. He had never even
thought of sucking on a man's cock before, but now it felt right. He
seemed to know instinctively when to back off, when to touch the hard
shaft delicately, when to take the cock fully into his mouth and suck
strongly. He simply did what he wanted himself. He could tell from Ray's
constant moans and ragged thrusts that Ray was going to come soon. He
sucked harder. 

 Ray no longer cared who's mouth was on his cock. He thrust unsteadily
into the hot mouth, lifting his hips off the bed. He felt Fraser's hands
on his hips, holding his down and lessening the depth of the thrusts. This
slowed the orgasm to an excruciatingly long, drawn out rush of pure
pleasure. He cried out on a single wordless note as he ejaculated into
Fraser's mouth. 

 When his mouth filled with sperm, Fraser felt a rush of pure triumph at
the pleasure he had given his friend. Slowly and gently, he let the
softening cock out of his mouth and swallowed. Then, rather than move to
concentrate on other parts of Ray's delicious body or to move toward his
own pleasure, he licked carefully, gently. He knew just how sensitive that
whole area could be after a shattering orgasm, so he teased Ray's balls
gently with his lips and tongue and hands. 

 Ray was surprised that Fraser had not moved from his position between his
legs, which had somehow spread wide. He had expected Fraser to move, to
indicate he wanted reciprocity. Yet a gentle touch on his balls, a soft
caress of his thighs continued the pleasure. The intensity of orgasm
faded, replaced by the joy of being touched in areas that rarely got
attention. Although much of the lust had evaporated, he was still aroused.
His cock was satisfied, but his body still wanted more. He wanted to
prolong the sensual and sexual feelings and Fraser was doing that. When he
felt gentle fingers touch his anus he knew what Fraser wanted. He wants to
fuck me, he thought in astonishment. The surprise wasn't in the request,
it was in his own desire. 

 Fraser tried to control the tremble in his hands. It wasn't gentle
caresses that he wanted, he wanted to fuck Ray. He wanted to bury himself
inside Ray, to connect to him in a primal sense. He moved away a little
and blinked when Ray suddenly rolled over onto his front, legs spread. He
looked at the sleek body offering itself to him and caught his breath. His
already rock 

 hard cock twitched. He had been leaking fluid already; now he knew that
if he didn't take Ray now, he would come all over that beautiful ass. 

 He positioned himself carefully, spreading the cheeks of Ray's ass and
touching the wet tip of his cock to the tiny hole. With very gentle
pressure, he began to slid into Ray, trying not to hurt him. He had been
leaking so much and Ray was so relaxed that he didn't need a lubricant; he
slid in with remarkable ease. 

 As Ray felt a hard shaft sink into him and Fraser's weight easing over
him, his eyes popped open. He had relaxed as much as he could, but he had
assumed that the first moment of penetration would hurt. It didn't. It
felt strange, this fullness, but he felt safe and loved, as if being
protected from the coldness of the world. He remembered Angie trying to
tell him once what lovemaking felt from her point of view and he had not
understood what she had tried to tell him; that having him inside her was
safe and warm and comforting. Now he thought he knew, as he heard Fraser's
hoarse breath against his neck and Fraser's hot body sheltering him from
any hint of cold. 

 The sensation of comfort fled when Fraser began to move. Slow thrusts in
and out kindled the banked flames of lust and he felt his cock stir. The
thrusts were gentle, too gentle, maddenly slow. 

 Fraser kissed the back of Ray's neck, nibbling on his shoulders. It felt
so right, this body beneath him, the tightness gripping his cock. He slid
his hands under Ray's hips, to pull him closer. He tried to go slow, to be
as gentle as possible, but the sensations were just too wonderful. He
needed to thrust harder. Ray's hips were moving in the same ages old
rhythm and he gave up any pretence of gentleness and did what had to be
done. He fucked hard and fast, seeking orgasm, needing to come deep inside
this man, the man he loved. 

 Ray climaxed again, just as Fraser's cries rang in his ears. This time,
it there was no slow build up of sexual tension; the orgasm simply
happened, in time with the flood deep inside him. 

 Fraser pulled out quickly and turned Ray to kiss him on the lips. The
kiss was almost a continuation of sex, a deep soul connecting kiss. When
they broke apart, gasping, neither knew what came next. 

 They lay there for a while, neither willing to break the silence. After a
long, long silence, Ray's eyes closed and he slept, worn out. 

 Fraser waited until the rhythm of Ray's breathing grew steady with sleep.
Then he got up quietly and dressed. Going to the closet, he took down the
extra blanket and threw it over the sleeping man and left. 

 Rape. The ugly word rang in Fraser's mind as he showered, safe in his own
lonely apartment. By Canadian law, what he had done was rape. Ray had been
drinking and was obviously quite tipsy when they got to his hotel room.
Taking sexual advantage of a person under the influence of alcohol was
rape. 

 He sat at his bare kitchen table, with his head in his hands and thought.
Diefenbaker, who had ditched the pair before the museum to pursue his own
interests, put his nose on Fraser's leg, asking what was wrong. 

 "You wouldn't understand." He told the wolf. Dief looked dubious on that
point, so he continued. "I did something horrible tonight. I am a police
officer, a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and I broke the
law." 

 Dief looked unconcerned about the legalities of the situation and
continued to look steadily at Fraser. Fraser got up and paced. 

 "I'm not sure what happened, Dief. I was so glad to see Ray. I should not
have..." He broke off, fighting off the memory of the pleasure. He tried
to banish the joy of exploring that slender body, the joy of kissing, the
incredible responsiveness of Ray. 

 "No." He said aloud. "I should not have had sex with Ray." 

 "Why not?" a deep voice asked impatiently. 

 "Don't you have something better to do, Dad?" 

 "I'm dead. I have a lot of time on my hands." Bob Fraser's ghost replied
calmly. He was dressed in summer dress uniform, a bit flashy for someone
only his son could see. "Why are you worried about the legalities of this
anyway? If I were you, I'd be more concerned with your friendship with the
man." 

 "Really?" 

 "No, not really. I'd never have had sex with my best friend. Then again,
Buck Frobisher isn't exactly the most attractive man in Canada. Never
was." Fraser, Sr., folded his arms and leaned against the table. "So tell
me, what prompted your walk on the wildside, son?" 

 "I don't know." Fraser said, perplexed. "I've never been... that way. I'm
not interested in men." 

 "But you are interested in one particular man." 

 "It would appear so." Fraser raked one hand through his hair. "I didn't
know I had feelings like that until today. I 

 didn't know Ray felt that way about me. I still don't. Oh, God, I've
ruined our friendship." 

 "So find another friend." Fraser, Sr. suggested calmly. At Benton's
surprised look, he added. "You don't have another close friend, do you?
You're lonely and this is the one person in your life who has seen beyond
the uniform and the efficient, professional exterior to find the real
person, isn't it? You've never let anyone else come close to seeing how
lonely you are, have you?" 

 "I don't need somebody to hold my hand, Dad. I'm not a child anymore." 

 "No, Son, you're human. I was beginning to wonder. Mind you, I am really
quite disappointed that you're not willing to find love from a good woman,
but at least you do have someone to care for and who cares for you. That
is, as long as you can work out this new kink in your relationship." With
a wry smile, Fraser, Sr., disappeared. 

 Fraser went back to sitting at the table with his head in his hands,
trying to understand. His father was right, he was lonely. And the only
person who had seen that loneliness was Ray. Everyone else seemed to be
looking to be cared for. He needed to care for people, but the very act of
helping made it impossible for him to accept help back. As long as the
person he helped needed him, he could not ask for help, could not need
them in return. Ray had refused to ask for help, refused to depend upon
him to fix things. Ray was capable of taking care of himself and that made
him strong in Fraser's eyes. Unlike most people, Ray did not look to him
as a hero in a red serge suit, but as a real person. 

 As he thought, he realised that he loved Ray, that he had been awkward
and miserable here in Ottawa because he missed Ray's acerbic company. He
had kissed Ray out of a very real desire to be closer, and what followed
was inevitable. He had greedily taken what he could, afraid to back away
from Ray in case the kiss itself drove him far away. Love had made Ray
desirable. Need for someone to love had made him foolish and now he would
lose what mattered most to him. 

 Ray woke to bright light shining in his eyes. He yawned and stretched,
rolling over to shut out the light. He felt very relaxed and comfortable.
Then he rolled back onto his back, arms over his head. What the hell had
happened last night? He would not have thought Fraser was queer,
considering what an idiot he made of himself over Victoria and how badly
he panted after the Dragon Lady back in Chicago. Maybe being back home had
turned Fraser's head. 

 And even if Fraser was queer or bi, that didn't explain why he had
responded. He wasn't queer. He liked women, preferably curved, feminine
women. He'd been married, f'r cryin' out loud. 

 Of course, anyone would have responded to that terrific blow job. Gender
didn't matter for something like that. But after, when Fraser... 

 "Who'm I tryin' to kid?" He said aloud, as he got out of bed. "I liked
it. I really enjoyed fucking with Fraser." The words hung there in the
quiet room. With a frown, he went to shower. 

 Bisexual. As he walked around in the sunshine, looking for a place that
sold a breakfast at less than half a week's salary, the word echoed in his
mind. Maybe that's what I am, he thought. He glanced at a very pretty boy
standing on the street corner, trying to catch some early morning
business, and shrugged. The kid did nothing for him. 

 He found a greasy spoon that served extremely good strong coffee and
ordered breakfast. As he sipped at the hot, black liquid, a couple of cops
came in and got served coffee without asking. He smiled to himself; trust
him to find the hangout of the cops. One of them was a Mountie, in full
reds. Not Fraser, he noted after a moment of panic. He didn't find the
Mountie attractive, even though he was a blond version of Fraser, so it
wasn't the uniform. 

 Maybe... just maybe... it's Fraser, Ray thought slowly. He thought back
over the last two years and several innocent seeming remarks gained
significance. Fraser in a dress and the light teasing after. His own
reaction to the possibility that Fraser had diddled his sister. The
depression and loneliness he felt what Benny had been transferred. The
whole reason he came to Canada, specifically to see Benny. The
uncomfortable awkwardness between them. The rightness of last night. 

 So I do have sexual feelings for the guy, Ray thought. What now? 

 (To be continued - eventually...) 

 -- 

 Adrienne ar895@freenet.carleton.ca 

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