Disclaimer: Ben and Ray belong to Alliance, I just love them and enjoy playing with them.
For Sue, who unintentionally inspired this story.
The image was forever imprinted on his mind, the way she stood there on top of that train. Proud, determined, distinguished, her chest rising and falling in quick gasps, out of breath from running and some other reason they could both sense in the crisp, cold air. Resplendent in that arresting Mountie uniform.
*Red suits you*.
The words were simple, the feelings behind them were not. There was no way he could ignore what he was feeling, his heart speeding out of control much like the runaway train they were standing on. Her stance made her seem so sure of herself, but there was a flicker of insecurity in those brown, smouldering eyes. He took one step closer, then another, until their chests were practically touching. Sensual red lips parted slightly as if in invitation, asking him, begging him to be kissed. He couldn't deny that silent plea, couldn't deny the stirrings of desire she aroused.
Their heads came together like one, lips touching first hesitantly, a kiss that grew deeper and more intense with every passing second. Tongues dancing together in perfect unison, an arm curled around her slender figure, feeling a reciprocal hand at the back of his neck. She felt so good in his arms. He pulled her closer, the soft moan of pleasure deep in her throat adding fuel to the fire.
He wondered briefly if they could. Here. Just like that. Then decided to throw caution to the wind, a hand finding its way to the bright, polished buttons of her uniform, skilful fingers flicking them open with practised ease. Alabaster skin revealed itself where the buttons were opened, the same beautiful soft curves the hairpin had fallen into, the same fragrance he had inhaled when retrieving it. Their lips still locked together, he found his way inside the uniform, feeling her meld into him even more as his hand caressed the peachy soft flesh.
"Fraser!" she moaned, her breath intense and hot against his mouth as his thumb rubbed gently against a hard nipple. His other hand was tangled in the thick mop of silky soft brown hair, pressing her to him, moulding her mouth into his as waves of desire crashed into him with ever growing force.
He wanted her. Needed her. Would take her right here and right now if she didn't stop him soon, even on top of a speeding train, with terrorists running around and a crew of sleeping Mounties underneath them. They weren't real. They didn't belong to this world. In this world only he and her existed. Nothing else, except the hunger threatening to overwhelm him.
Her uniform jacket was completely unbuttoned now and would have revealed everything if he hadn't pressed her to him with all his force, hard nipples pressing against his chest through the fabric of her bra. When did his own jacket get unbuttoned? That had escaped his attention somehow. One hand was still in her hair, the other on a naked back, feeling her shudder and tremble at his touch. This was so good. This was heaven. He cradled her neck as he released her lips, gazing into those stunned, brown pools. They were both breathing hard, both way past the point of no return. There was only one way to go from here. Forward.
Manicured fingers dug into his hair, dragging his head down and his mouth back onto hers. He went down willingly, needing the fire that she provided. His hand fumbled at her back for the clasp of her bra, stunned to find that there wasn't one. What had happened to her bra? There was none. Only a smooth, slender back. Too slender. Something wasn't quite right here. His hands sneaked up her back again, towards a neck, a slender, shapely, incredibly long neck. Where was the thick brown hair that should be there? All he could feel was soft fuzz on the back of her neck. His hand glided further up, still nothing but soft fur, a soft pelt, almost as if her head had been shaved?
*Breathe dammit, Benton!*, he told himself harshly, *concentrate on what you're doing!* Maybe if he could feel the velvety flesh of her breast again. For some mysterious reason the feeling of her hard nipples against his chest had also disappeared. His hand trailed a path from the slender back to the smooth surface of her flat stomach, up a hairy chest?! That definitely wasn't right! But that's what he felt, hard nipples like little islands between soft, course tufts of hair. What the *hell* was going on?!
He tore his lips from the ones they were attached to, and found himself
gazing, gasping for much needed breath, into sparkling, bright, utterly irresistible green pools of light. His heart stopped beating at the familiar sight of the breathtaking, incomparable beam of sunshine that was the most beautiful smile anyone had ever laid eyes on.
"Oh god, Benny," a voice whispered, husky with wild desire and more arousing than he could ever have dreamed.
Ben woke, drenched in sweat, the covers kicked from the bed in his sleep. This was the fourth night in a row that he'd woken up like this, disoriented, confused, not sure where exactly he was or what had happened. Until it all came flooding back. The dreams. The weird, bizarre dreams that never made any sense. They always started out the same way and almost always continued along the same line. But tonight had been different. Tonight something had happened that had never happened before. Tonight, for the first time, the image of Meg Thatcher hadn't melted into Victoria Metcalf the way it had for the previous three nights. Tonight it had melted into... "Oh my god..." he whispered softly. This could not be happening. He couldn't have had an erotic dream about... Could he? He was feeling hot and that wasn't just his temperature. His breathing was fast and shallow and... He gasped in shock. He was as hard as he could ever remember. Not even in the last few days when he'd dreamed of making love to Meg, to Victoria, when things had got way out of control, had he ever woken up in this state. About to explode.
He couldn't stop his hand from moving down, it was a matter of life and death. He sucked in a shaky breath at the first touch through the soft tissue of his red longjohns. He couldn't remember waking up like this since he was sixteen and his grandmother had caught him. It wasn't an experience he'd been very anxious to repeat, the lesson she'd taught him then one that had been instilled into him with fear and shame. The shame came back full force as trembling fingers unbuttoned the longjohns all the way down, but not the fear. It wasn't like he never jerked off or anything, he just still couldn't do it without remembering his grandmother's punishment. But this. This he'd never felt. This tightness in his balls, this heat, need, feeling like he was about to explode. With a deep breath he shook the last feelings of shame away and stroked himself, first slow and gently, soon growing into urgent need.
"Please, please," he muttered softly under his breath, shutting his eyes tight as he stroked himself into a frenzy, praying that those eyes to appear in his fevered imagination would be any eyes other than those green ones which he knew would appear the moment his closed. Willing his mind to conjure up blood-red painted fingernails that worked their magic on his straining organ knowing that the image his mind would visualise would be one of long, slender, lovely hands. No red, lipsticked lips, but that full, generous mouth on his. A softly whispered breath, "Benny".
He threw his head back, the imagined sound of that voice saying his name in that soft, impassioned tone sending him over the edge, crying out loud as he came with a stunning force. Heavenly waves of pleasure shot through his frame, his body shaking with the intensity, as he let himself drift away on the current. It was heaven. Magic. But the moment sanity returned, the smile of bliss on his face was immediately replaced by a frown of guilt. And concern. Guilt for jerking off with the image of his best friend before his eyes. Concern for exactly the same reason.
Woken by the frenzied movements on his friend's bed, Diefenbaker raised his head slowly, and when no further movement followed, he casually straightened and walked towards the bed leisurely. Maybe it meant Fraser was finally going to get out of bed and get Dief his breakfast. When he put his muzzle on the bed and saw the proof of what his nostrils had already informed him, he gave his packmate a disapproving glare. These practises were best enjoyed with another individual, there wasn't much to it on your own.
Ben wasn't in the mood for that look and pushed the annoying wolf away from the bed, picked up the sheet from the ground and without a further word cleaned himself with it. Flinging the sheet onto the dirty washing with what very much felt like disdain, he reluctantly started on breakfast, that was Dief's. He wasn't feeling particularly hungry himself, besides his stomach was completely clenched up with remorse and guilt.
His mind went over it again and again as he took his morning shower in the communal bathroom. How could he face Ray when he came to pick him up within an hour? How could he still look his friend in the eye after what he'd just done? Surely he would sink right through the earth or something? Maybe Ray would take one look at him and guess the whole sordid affair! Scrubbing at
himself with feverish energy he hoped to scrub off the guilt and shameful filth as well.
After all, it was ridiculous, wasn't it? Why would he have erotic fantasies about Ray? Not once in his life had he ever been attracted to another man! Why would he start now? And with his best friend of all people? He thought it over carefully as he scrubbed himself vigorously. He'd kissed Meg Thatcher on top of that train, that was true. It had also been very pleasant, but nothing really more than that. He thought he'd explained those last few nightmares away, the reason for Meg to transform into Victoria. Maybe unconsciously he was feeling as though being attracted to Meg was some strange form of being unfaithful to Victoria. He knew it didn't make any sense, but then nightmares very rarely did.
Then why now Ray? Why? Why? The question just refused to leave his mind. He'd ridden off with Meg on his horse, had turned around to see where Ray was and... Had seen him standing on top of that train! That was it! It was so clear and it made so much sense that he could almost shout with relief. That was it! The last image he'd had of Ray that day was of him standing on top of that train, exactly there where he'd shared that passionate kiss with Thatcher. That was it! Somehow his subconscious had linked those two images together and had him kissing Ray passionately. It made total and utter sense now! There was nothing to panic about! Nothing at all!
By the time Ray had arrived to drive him to the Consulate like every other morning, he was washed and clean, and back to the proper and prim icon of the Mountie he was supposed to be. His theory had holes big enough to drive a truck through, he knew that, but it was the only one he could live with. The only one that would enable him to walk down to the Riv, sit down in that seat and look Ray in the eye without completely dying of acute guilt and shame.
"Morning, Benny," was the cheerful call that greeted him as he let Dief jump in the backseat and slid into the passenger seat himself. It was the same greeting he heard every morning, but it was the first time that it did these crazy things to his insides. Why now?
"Hey, you okay?" Ray was looking at him with concern when no answer was forthcoming. "What? Did you have a bad dream or something?"
That one was too close for comfort and Ben resolutely refused to meet those worried green eyes. Actually he hadn't been able to meet those eyes once. "Yes, something actually!" His voice sounded unnecessarily harsh, he noticed with a wince. "Sorry," he apologised almost immediately. "I just didn't sleep very well last night."
"Yeah, I can tell." Ray grinned sheepishly. "You don't have bags under your eyes, but genuine suitcases!" He chuckled softly as he turned the key in the ignition and manoeuvred the Riv back into traffic, but Ben couldn't miss the sound of concern underneath the apparent indifference. One upon a time he would have called Ray shallow and indifferent, but that was a first impression that could never fool him now. Ray did care, more than he would ever dare to show. That same, uneasy sensation was stirring in the pit of his stomach again and he fought it down with all his might. This was not fair to Ray. He had no right to do this. But do what? What was he doing?
He'd been staring at his hands in his lap since he got in the car, but now his eyes were sneaking sideways towards the person sitting next to him. Ray's attention was fully focused on the traffic and he wasn't paying any notice to him. It gave him the opportunity to observe him more or less unnoticed. What had changed since yesterday? Why was he suddenly feeling so uneasy around the man who was his best friend in the whole world, the one person he could joke around and goof off with without feeling the slightest bit of embarrassment or guilt. What had changed? What had happened?
He noticed the slender hands around the wheel, guiding the car through the Chicago streets, if maybe a little too fast, still with an uncanny accuracy and ability. It was a talent, driving, one that he possessed himself, but would never master the way Ray did. It had never even occurred to him before to notice it, let alone admire it. But he did. He studied those long, elegant fingers, wondering what they would feel like caressing his own skin. The moment the thought entered his mind he shuddered slightly. What was the matter with him today? What was he doing imagining things like that about Ray?
His eyes wandered back towards the slim figure sitting next to him. What was Ray like as a lover? Without a doubt as elegant in bed as out of it! He gasped at the thought, but the next moment he could see it, as clear as a movie playing before his eyes. Ray, naked, slender hips moving in a slow, building rhythm, pounding into some nameless, faceless bimbo, her sharp
nails digging into him, scratching the length of his back. Did he whisper endearments in Italian? He could hear the husky gasps. Ti amo! Ti voglio! Tanto bene! Tanto bene! A beat. Then a smothered, O MIO DIO!!
He found himself panting for breath, the arousal of this morning slamming into him full force again! God, what was he doing? What was happening? Did Ray say something?
"BENNY!"
"What?!" He looked around dazed, startling out of his daydream and taking a steadying deep breath. The car was standing still, outside the Consulate, and Ray was looking straight at him, his clear, green eyes full of concern and alarm. There was no way he could ignore the growing hardness in his pants and there was no way he could leave the car without Ray noticing it too. He should be feeling horribly embarrassed, but somehow he was only aware of those green eyes boring into his, so worried, so concerned.
"Benny, you look positively awful!"
He knew that he did, but he really didn't need Ray to remind him. "Okay, okay, so I look awful! You've already said that! Can we move on please?" And with an annoyed sigh, he opened the car door, stepped out and stalked into the Consulate, aware of the startled look on the man he left behind.
Part II
They fell across the bed in a muddled heap, lips snatching, tongues entwining, sucking the very breath out of each other. His fingers caught in the thick mass of curly dark hair as he covered her entire body with his own. She felt so wonderful, so soft, his hand snaked down and under her sweater. She threw her head back into the pillow when he found the hardening bud of her nipple, her small, firm breast filling his hand as if they were made to measure. In one swift movement, her sweater was pulled over her head, her tight slacks dragged down over her hips, her beautiful, dark eyes huge in wanton desire. She dragged his head down to fit his lips back onto hers. He hardly objected, as his trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Their lips parted for the slightest second and she smiled at him, those red lips swollen from their passionate kisses, making his heart beat even faster. He shifted his weight and slid down, his mouth finding the soft skin of her breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth, the low moan that escaped her added incentive. Her nails dug into his hair and clutched him to her as he moved sides, his fingers caressing the silky smooth skin of her thighs.
"Victoria," he managed to utter in a ragged whisper, his whole body shaking with his need for her. He tried to slide further down, but she wouldn't allow it, dragging him back up by his hair and none too gently at that.
"Ben!" That beautiful voice that had kept him warm when they both should have frozen to death. Hard, forceful, demanding. The next moment their mouths were tearing at each other again.
Her hands moved across his naked back, caressing the round cheeks of his buttocks through his jeans. He bit her lip and arched in response to the wandering hands, which slid to the front and the hard bulge straining against the zipper. There was a strange, choked sound as she felt his response, pressing into her hands with ever growing urgency and need. Her deft and knowledgeable fingers soon had him free and she slid his jeans off his butt, the soft touch of her fingertips against his bare flesh sending tremors of delight through him. Without wasting a moment she wrapped her long, lovely legs around him and pulled him into her. With a strangled sob he buried himself deep into that warm, moist heaven, his eyes closing reflexively.
He had to remind himself to breathe; this felt so good. This was what he'd needed all along, what he'd craved for from the first moment he saw her exotic beauty. He could feel her contract around him, her feet planted firmly against his ass, her fingernails digging into his back. Breathing slowly, regaining his heartbeat, he opened his eyes and froze.
The elegant, slender figure pinned down beneath him, a look of unadulterated bliss and wild abandon colouring extraordinary features, was far removed from the round, feminine curves of Victoria. His head tilted back, that long, wonderful neck was exposed, a wanton invitation for his lips. Moving forward almost against his own volition, he didn't seem to wonder about the physical impossibility of the situation, only aware of the most excruciating pain in his heart and maybe more accurately in his groin. His lips touched the rough surface of that swanlike neck, tasting the wondrous texture for the first time and realising that he liked it, liked it a lot, suckling it with enthusiasm.
"Benny."
That soft whisper again and it cut through him like a knife. With a will of its own his hips reared back and slammed back into his dream lover with full force, tearing an appreciative moan from the other man's lips. It
seemed so easy, so natural. So he did it again! And again!
"Oh yeah, Mr. Mountie Man!"
And again.
""Ride forever!"
He didn't need anything more, exploding until spots appeared in front of his eyes and his ears roared. The green light in those beautiful eyes was blinding, the hum in his ears deafening...
This time when he shot out of his nightmare he was drenched by more than just sweat, noticing the wet patch in his longjohns with astonishment and shame. He couldn't remember having a wet dream since his teenage years, another source of reprimands from his grandmother, recalling the degrading way he'd had to strip his bed and had consequently kept it hidden from her after that first time.
He knew the reason for his reaction, closing his eyes in resigned horror. Ray Vecchio. There was no way he could deny it now. And there was no way he could face him now, not after this. Checking the alarm clock on his fathers footlocker, he saw it was only five in the morning. Plenty of time to get himself ready and out of here before Ray showed up for their daily carpool. He knew it was the cowardly thing to do, but today he didn't particularly feel like being brave.
For the fifth day in a row he left the house without breakfast, his stomach not quite up to it. Walking his usual brisk walk would get him at the Consulate in seven minutes and way too early to start his shift, so he did something he did very rarely. He dawdled. He never dawdled, one of the greatest sins on his grandmother's very long list. But he needed the time to think, to let the crisp morning air fill his head and clear it out. A little concerned and wary Diefenbaker drudged along, only stopping occasionally to sniff at a few street corners.
He'd known all along, hadn't he? From the moment he'd stepped out of the Riv yesterday morning and stalked into the Consulate. And even more so after the way he'd reacted to Meg Thatcher. Or rather the way he hadn't reacted to her. He'd thought that the dream of that night had been brought on by his desire for his superior. Instead when he came face to face with her, he'd felt none of the intense desire that had slammed into him the moment he'd been in Ray's presence. That was the first indication.
The next was that he couldn't get Ray out of his mind, the thought of the way he'd woken up that morning haunting his every second of the day. He could be accused of a lot of things, but stupidity wasn't one of them, and neither was a blatant disregard for the facts. And all the facts were pointing in one direction. He was in love with Ray. And not just a little bit either.
He sighed at the hopelessness of it all. After all, it was hopeless, wasn't it. Even if Ray would understand, there was no way in hell he'd actually return the feelings, was there? Their relationship had never been anything but strictly friends. Extremely close friends, true, but still just friends. And no matter how much he might want it, he knew that there was no way he would ever get anything else. In the back of his mind, a voice screamed that he was doing his friend a great injustice, that he was underrating Ray's sincerity and integrity, but he forcefully told it to shut up! If he didn't allow himself to hope, he couldn't get disappointed either.
He briefly wondered what Ray's reaction would be when he found the note stuck to his front door saying that he'd walked to the Consulate. Probably annoyed that Fraser hadn't told him earlier and he'd driven all the way to Racine for no reason. Then he's start worrying, thinking about the way Fraser had snapped at him yesterday morning and then practically hadn't opened his mouth when he drove him home in the evening. He knew Ray cared about him and worried about him, but he couldn't face him. Not now. Not until he'd done some thinking himself.
Before he knew it he found himself in front of the Consulate, still dark and empty in the early morning. It didn't matter. Letting himself and Diefenbaker in, he locked the door behind the wolf and followed him up the grand stairs to his office. Sure enough, Thatcher had made sure that he wouldn't get bored in her absence and had dropped a whole stack of files that needed to be checked on his desk. It was the most boring task in his entire job and he disliked it with a passion, but today it might get his mind away from the turmoil raging inside.
As the fifth file landed in his OUT tray, he heard soft footsteps on the stairs, followed a few minutes later by his door flying open without warning. Surprise and horror flashed across the intruder's face when he saw the man sitting behind the desk.
"Uh... Constable Fraser, I'm... I'm..." He swallowed convulsively. "I'm sorry, Sir. I hadn't expected you in so early." His hand still on the doorknob, he stood there in the doorway, looking panicked and not really
sure whether he was coming or going. "I wouldn't... I really wouldn't barge into your office like that, Sir."
Today of all days, Ben really wasn't in the mood to deal with Turnbull. For once he wished Will Parker was on duty. The man had the emotional and conversational abilities of a hedgehog, but he was nothing if not efficient at his job. Turnbull on the other hand was a whole different kettle of fish and on top of everything else, he looked up to Fraser with a case of hero-worship bigger than Sears tower. Ben could feel a headache coming on just looking at the flushed features of the taller man.
"I just wanted to get an early start on those files Inspector Thatcher wanted me to double-check," he told Turnbull, waving a hand in the direction of his overflowing IN-tray. A frown of confusion now joined the panic on the young Mountie's face.
"But she's not coming in today..."
His voice trailed off as he realised that he had practically questioned a superior's words, but Fraser knew what he'd been thinking. Her sole reason for dumping those files on him in the first place was to make sure that Ben wasn't sitting around idly doing nothing while she wasn't in. Or worse even, traipse around town solving one of Ray's cases, although there wasn't much danger of that today. There was no need at all to come in early to start on them. They weren't even that urgent. Turnbull turned an even deeper shade of red.
"Sorry, Sir. I'll... I'll be..."
"At your desk?" Fraser finished impatiently, bending over his file again, making an abrupt but determined end to the frustrating conversation.
"Uh... yes, Sir."
The door closed with a satisfying thud. Hardly two seconds later a soft knock. With a sigh that would have made Ray proud, Ben turned towards the door again.
"Yes?"
Turnbull's face appeared between the smallest gap that would allow his head through.
"Can I do anything for you, Sir?"
"No, thank you, Turnbull. I'm sure Inspector Thatcher gave you quite enough work as it is."
"Yes, she did, Sir!"
Squeezing his head back through the gap, Turnbull made himself scarce. The moment the door closed behind him, Fraser threw down his pen and stopped all pretence that he was working. Double-checking these files required only about a tenth of his brain's capacity anyway, so the other nine-tenths were still completely focused on that other little problem.
He'd managed to avoid it for the time being, but he couldn't continue avoiding Ray forever, now could he? The thought had hardly formed in his head or the phone on his desk screamed for his attention. He knew without the slightest doubt who it would be and feeling his heart pound loudly in his throat, he picked up the receiver.
"Hello?" "Hi!"
The same sound he'd heard a thousand times before. Then why was it suddenly doing strange things to his heart rate?
"What's up, Fraser?"
He couldn't help but notice how he'd suddenly become Fraser instead of Benny, nor could he blame the other man for the distinct trace of anger his voice.
"Nothing's "up", Ray!" "Oh really? You look like shit! You snap my head off, that is when you're talking to me at all. And now you're avoiding me! Don't tell me nothing's up!"
"I'm not avoiding you, Ray. I couldn't sleep, so I decided to go for a walk. Clear my head." It sounded like a lame excuse even to his own ears.
"And that's another thing, this insomnia of yours! I'm the insomniac in this partnership, remember?"
Partnership? Why did that suddenly sound so damn good?
"We need to talk, Benny. I'll pick you up at noon. We can have lunch together."
Panic and delight battled for control inside Fraser's heart, but panic finally won out. If just talking to Ray on the phone had made his blood settle in his groin, he couldn't begin to imagine what the result would be of talking to him face to face.
"I'm sorry, Ray, but I can't. There's really too much work. I'm afraid I'll be forced to work through my lunch-break!"
"Of course." It sounded deflated, as if he'd already anticipated that answer, but had hoped that he'd be wrong. "What about this evening? Wanna lift home?" Fraser couldn't even detect a trace of hope in that question.
"I'm sorry. It'll be really late by the time I'm finished with all these. I don't want to keep you waiting."
"No worries, Fraser." And the connection was closed.
He sat there staring at the receiver in his hand forever, feeling like an absolute heel. He could still hear the hurt in Ray's voice, dumped on yet again. With a little too much force, he slammed the receiver down and lowered his head on his folded hands.
Part III
Slowly his eyes opened, stirred by the exquisite feeling of slow, knowledgeable hands stroking his chest, occasionally stopping by a nipple for a gentle rub. The sight that greeted his awakening eyes took his breath
away. Ray, totally naked, straddling his equally naked body, running those long, slender fingers across his fevered skin.
"So smooth. So strong." He whispered tenderly, before he bent down to touch the naked flesh with his lips, his hands sliding down Fraser's sides, caressing the soft rounds of his hips. Ben's eyes closed of their own accord, but he forced them open again. What was happening before his eyes was too good to miss.
Soft lips pressed feathery kisses all over his chest, moving higher into his neck, across his cheek. He held his breath, waiting for that first, inevitable contact. As if he knew the suspense was killing him, Ray hesitated, his face hovering just inches above Ben's, green eyes meeting blue ones. The most beautiful smile Fraser had ever seen crossed that extraordinary face, which drew closer and closer until there was no more space between them.
Their lips touched, first soft and sweet and tender, but before long, deep and wild and passionate. A low groan resounded deep in Ray's throat, as he shifted his weight and stretched those long legs to cover his lover completely with his body. The feeling of his hard cock coming into contact with his own, sent shivers of electricity running through Fraser's body. Losing himself in that magnificent kiss, he wrapped an arm around the slender back to press him closer into him. His other hand held that peach shaved skull, clutching him to him, as his tongue plundered the wondrous heaven of Ray's mouth.
It was too much too fast. He could feel himself losing it, especially with Ray moving so deliciously against him, the friction between them so delightfully distracting. His hand moved down to rest on one of those tasty, pert cheeks, trying to meld them even closer than they already were. They couldn't get any closer. Unless..
"Fraser?"
The sound intruded on his dream and he bolted upright in bed, his breathing hard and out of control. It took a while for his eyes to adjust, but he knew that he couldn't be in danger. Dief hadn't even woken up. Of course he could have been drugged, like that time with Lacroix, but there was something else that had immediately invaded his senses. The unmistakable scent that he knew to be Ray. That and the sound which had both come from the direction of the door.
He snapped towards the door, gasping at the sight of Ray standing there, his hand still on the doorknob as he wavered between standing outside and coming in. Still half asleep, Fraser half expected to get a lecture on all the reasons why he should have a lock on that door. The fully awake part of him, which was fast becoming all of him, noticed the weariness and the hesitation on the other man's face.
"Ray? What are you doing here at...?" He looked at the alarm-clock. "Three o'clock in the morning?"
A crooked grin. "I couldn't sleep." A hesitating pause. "We need to talk, Fraser."
They did. But now, just out of a very arousing dream, was not exactly the perfect time to have a nice little chat with his dream's featuring star. On the other hand, turning away from Ray yet again, would probably damage their relationship beyond repair. And that was something that he would never allow. He'd rather confess his sordid little secret than to destroy something so beautiful. Even if that confession would mean the final blow in that destruction.
"You're right," he nodded, swinging his legs out of bed and walking closer. He could hear Ray's breath catch when his hand came into contact with Ray's arm, but he just pulled Ray further into the apartment, closed the door behind him and then released him again. Ray just stood around awkwardly as Fraser went into the kitchen, filled the kettle and put it on the stove. Then he took two mugs out of the cupboard, the jar he kept his teabags in and deposited everything, including himself, at the kitchen table.
"The kettle will boil in a minute." He added, gesturing to the chair next to him.
"You sound just like my mother," Ray grinned, as he sat down, but the tremor in his voice betrayed how uncomfortable he was still feeling. He started moving the empty mug around on the table, his thumb sliding up and down the smooth surface distracted. He didn't even seem to notice when Dief padded closer and put his muzzle flat on his thigh.
"Why are you here, Ray?" Fraser asked softly, not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.
That one-shoulder shrug. "Dunno really. I just... I dunno." He looked up at Fraser for the first time, who was taken aback by the wildness in those green eyes. That in itself wasn't what shocked him the most. What did shock him was that he recognised what haunted those beautiful eyes. He had seen it in the mirror for the last five days.
"I had the weirdest dream, Fraser."
*Oh my god. Not you too.*
That crooked grin again. "Geez, Fraser. If any of your dreams were
anything like mine, I don't blame you for snapping my head off. I think I'd be a basket case after a few nights of this as well."
Fraser didn't trust himself to speak. He knew they shared a bond, something that always seemed to go so much deeper than just ordinary friendship. But could that bond really be...
The loud shrill of the teakettle pierced through his thoughts, making them both jump nervously. Dief even deigned to look up, but he immediately put his head back in Ray's lap, purring like a kitten when Ray started running a finger across that place behind his ear that for some illusive reason never seemed to stop itching. Filling the mugs and choosing teas gave him a moment to think, but Ben still wasn't sure what to make of all this when he sat back down at the table.
"Can you tell me what you dreamed, Ray?" he asked tentatively. His eyes followed the pattern a slender finger was tracing on the surface of the table, reading the hesitation and indecision there. "Maybe you'd feel more comfortable if I told you mine first?"
Ray looked up and smiled at him gratefully. "Okay."
Taking a careful sip from the hot tea, he tried to connect the disturbing stream of memories into something that made sense, finally daring to meet his companion's eyes.
"It always starts the same way. I'm making love to a woman."
"Any particular woman?" Ray interrupted almost immediately, his voice holding a strange note of anticipation.
"Sometimes it's Victoria," he admitted. "Sometimes it's Meg."
"It's Irene," a soft voice spoke silently. "It *was* Irene."
Fraser's eyes grew wide at the revelation. Could they've really been dreaming the same thing? "But it's not?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
Ray shook his head. "No, it's not. It's..." He couldn't continue, shaking his head as if he could shake the whole matter away too. But Ben had no intention of letting him do that. Ray's words had started a blazing hope that was burning a path from his heart to his soul. Before he could say something, Ray added, "What the hell is happening, Fraser? I mean... Geez, I've never... not about..."
"Neither have I," he answered softly, at once confirming what he was sure Ray already knew, that his dreams were about exactly the same thing. "I think our subconscious is trying to tell us something." He could see the hesitation and uncertainty in those haunted, green eyes, but now there was also a trace of curiosity and maybe even anticipation?
"And what do you think it's telling us?" Ray asked wearily, his whole body rigid with tension. Fraser's eyes locked onto Ray's, determined to get the message across. To his satisfaction, he saw Ray catch his breath, as the other man found it impossible to break the spell those blue eyes were casting.
"That somewhere along the line we've crossed the line of friendship?" he suggested carefully, realising only too well that he was playing with fire, and that the slightest wrong move could have his shaky house of cards tumbling in on him.
Ray seemed to be thinking it over for a moment, taking a deep gulp of rapidly chilling tea. Then his head shot up and he stared at Fraser, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. "Benny, do you...?" He couldn't finish his question, his eyes involuntarily returning to that particular point on the table top that was so fascinating.
*Do I what?* Ben thought, trying to figure out the expression on that face. *Do I want you? Do I feel attracted to you?* And then the ultimate question. *Do I love you?* He realised in a flash that the answer to all the above was *yes*.
"Do *you*?" he shot the question straight back, the intense shock clearly readable on Ray's face as his head snapped up again. A moment's hesitation and then... Ben could feel his heart melt at the breathtaking smile that suddenly crept across lips he'd dreamed about kissing.
They were moving towards each other, torturously slow, body's leaning closer, pulled together by a force beyond their control. It was just like in his dream, the slight hesitation as their faces were only inches apart. Searching the other's eyes for that sparkle that told them they were both feeling this, that they both wanted this.
And then the hesitation was gone. Lips met for the first time. The touch was so overwhelmingly sweet, and gentle, and tender. That's all it was, a delicate, almost chaste kiss. They drew back ever so slightly, eyes transmitting an unspoken message. A beat. Two. Three. As if on cue, they fell forward, mouths latching on to each other, deep, burning, passionate kisses. As one they were out of their chairs, immediately falling into the other's embrace, holding each other so tight, they could feel each other's heartbeat. A need to breathe finally tore them apart and Fraser found himself gazing into green eyes burning with desire.
"Wow!" was Ray's heartfelt comment, a sigh accompanied by a blinding smile and Fraser realised that he'd been wrong. This was nothing at all like his dream. No dream could compare to this reality.
"Thank you." It was a soft murmur, spoken with awe and genuine gratitude, but it caused a frown of incomprehension to appear on Ray's face.
"For what?"
"For being braver than I am," he immediately replied. "For coming over and talking to me, instead of keeping it bottled up inside like I did!" His hand traced a path up and down Ray's back, causing the slender man to tremble in his embrace.
"So what happens now?" Ray asked softly, sounding timid, but smiling brazenly confident. The only reply Fraser gave, was pulling him even closer and descending his lips onto Ray's.
That second kiss was almost more perfect than the first, all the pent up frustrations of the last week finding a release. He clutched onto the slender figure in his arms, feeling Ray's reaction and his own. A hand snaked underneath his jacket, slipped it off slender shoulders, let it fall to the ground. Shaky fingers fumbled with buttons, slipped inside his shirt, felt the unfamiliar sensation of chest-hair brushing against his fingertips. He was still too busy losing himself in that kiss, so maybe that could explain his daring, but soon his fingers were busy releasing a belt-buckle, pants fell down into a puddle around his legs. Ray moaned appreciatively, as he moulded their bodies close together.
"Benny," he whispered hoarsely.
His eyes snapped open and he groaned in heated frustration. This couldn't be happening! This couldn't be just another dream, could it? It had felt *so* real!
There was a movement by his side. Turning to his right, he stared into the equally bewildered eyes of Ray Vecchio, lying in his arms in all his naked splendour.
"That wasn't a dream, was it, Benny?"
With a grin of relief and happiness Fraser swept his lover into his arms, turning him over and covering him with his body. "I'll show you dream!" he leered down.
"Oh yeah, Mr. Mountie Man," Ray approved. "Ride forever."
In the corner of the room, brown, puppy-dog-eyes flew open and gazed around in confusion. Damn! Not again! Would he ever find out who that cute brown beagle was that kept plaguing his dreams?
The end.