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Addendum
MHH
Given sufficient incentive, it was possible for a man to complete a 4-day patrol in under 84 hours. Possible for one man, anyway, as Benton Fraser proved. Without shirking even the tiniest element of his duty, Fraser tore through his assigned circuit, pressed his dogs to their limits, and startled his commanding officer into agreeing to a two-day leave of absence. Forms and reports were filled out and submitted with a speed that indicated some considerable previous experience.
Duty accomplished, Fraser practically sprinted to the cabin he'd leased since being assigned to the area nearly four years ago, and where he'd left an amused, aroused, chilled, and newly-arrived Ray Vecchio just 83.7 hours earlier. Tempted to shout "honey, I'm home!" from sheer exuberance, he decided to adopt a more taciturn approach. He let the door crash open to announce his presence, wondering what Ray would think of his display of unseemly haste.
Ray wasn't there. He wasn't in the large main room, either of the two storage rooms, or the tiny bathroom. His clothes weren't strewn across the floor, as they'd been when Fraser left, socks and gloves and scarves a multihued tumble over the spartan surface. He'd gone. There was no note.
Abruptly, the past several days caught up to him, and Fraser was exhausted. He couldn't think clearly past the fact that he was alone. Again. Ray hadn't stayed, as he said he would. He'd probably gotten fed up with the silence and the cold and realized that making a life with Fraser would just be more of the same. He may, Fraser realized, have never visited this far northern outpost of dubious civilization. It wouldn't be the first time he'd imagined the presence of a loved one when that presence was impossible.
Disappointed past expression, Fraser readied himself for bed, banked the fire, and slowly pulled the sheets around his hunched shoulders. The barest trace of Armani cologne assured him that he hadn't imagined Ray's arrival, but did little to assuage his sorrow at Ray's unwitnessed departure. Determined, he closed his eyes and willed sleep. Combined with three full days of intense physical activity, sleep obliged.
He woke to the sound of a low voice on the porch. He wasn't expecting company, but it wasn't uncommon to be called into work in an emergency, or provide assistance to one of his fellow officers. They knew his door was always unlocked. Fraser tried to ignore the voice, and hoped that, whoever they were, they would just take what they needed and leave him in peace.
The door opened and a cold draft swirled through the room. A man, from the sound of the tread, walked in and complained, "Geez, the fire's going out. Benny'll kill me if I let that happen."
If he'd thought about it, Fraser would have realized that throwing back the bedclothes and exclaiming "RAY!" in a voice loud enough to disturb the dead was probably not the most romantic tactic to employ under the circumstances. But he didn't think, and that's what he did.
Ray stumbled backwards and hit his head on the wall. He slid slowly to the floor, shaking his abused noggin on the way down. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Fraser! You nearly gave me a heart attack here! What are you doing in bed, I thought you weren't even going to be back until tomorrow?"
"I got back early." Fraser watched Ray get back to his feet, grope toward the table and sit down heavily. "I thought you'd gone."
"What?"
"I thought you'd changed your mind and gone. I didn't mean to startle you." Ray lurched to his feet again, shed half his formidable ensemble as he traversed the few feet between chair and bed, and slid awkwardly into Fraser's arms.
"You nut," he said. "I thought I'd better learn how to get around in all this snow, seeing as I'm probably going to be living here and everything. I was trying to learn how to ski out back of here. It was pretty neat, and I lost track of time. I didn't change my mind, Benny, and even if I did, I wouldn't leave without telling you. Geez, what kind of a jerk do you think I am?"
"Sorry, Ray," Fraser mumbled, grappling with the fasteners on Ray's ski pants. "I suppose I just wasn't thinking clearly."
"Damned right. Hey, leggo. What are you doing?"
"Taking your clothes off."
"By force, I see. Here, lemme do it. You'll rip it." Ray fumbled for the egress to his remaining wardrobe, distracted by Fraser's cool fingers stroking every place he'd already stripped.
"Make love to me, Ray."
"Maybe I should clean up a little, first? Skiing's sweaty work."
"Later. Make love to me now, Ray."
Ray's teeth flashed in the gloomy firelight. "Benton Fraser, Mr. Impatient. Okay, okay, lemme finish with the clothes. Anything in particular you want to try?"
Fraser lay on his back, arms behind his head. "You decide."
"Oh, geez, Benny, keep looking at me like that and it'll be over in about fifty seconds. You wouldn't happen to keep any, uh, supplies around or anything?"
"Supplies?"
"Yeah, that's what I thought. My stuff's in my suitcase, which is apparently at this very moment traveling somewhere over the Bering Strait. If I'm lucky, it'll get here tomorrow. Well, okay, that limits the options somewhat, but maybe we should keep it simple anyway."
"Ray?"
"Yeah?"
"You talk too much." Fraser uncrossed his arms and drew Ray into a slow, deep kiss. He may lack specific experience in sexual encounters of this nature, but kissing is kissing and Fraser's oral nature made kissing an extraordinary experience for both parties. He covered them both with the blankets, and kissed Ray breathless.
He smoothed his palms over the planes of Ray's torso, leaning in to catch the scent of perspiration and sex that mingled so enticingly with Ray's other odors. He lapped gently at the sheen of sweat that shimmered in the slight trough formed by Ray's sternum. Ray lay quietly, stroking repeatedly through Fraser's thick, regulation-short hair, murmuring encouragement to his brave, intrepid explorer. Fraser touched, and smelled, and tasted his way from the short prickly fuzz on Ray's head to the longer, wiry hair that framed his sex.
Ray stopped him there, mindful of concerns beyond the moment. Fraser protested, a close-mouthed moan that had Ray's fingers and cock flexing in reaction. Ray shushed him, and brought them face to face. "My turn, Benny. Tell me if it gets to be too much."
Oh, Ray had experience! Fraser tried to pay attention, to absorb the technique, the exquisite understanding embodied in that perfect touch, but it wasn't long before he was entirely given up to the long-delayed sensation of being loved. Eyes closed, back arched, he couldn't even sustain the small, encouraging strokes he'd started on Ray's back.
Whenever he thought more pleasure impossible, Ray would find a new touch, a different rhythm, parts of his body that had longed for a loving caress and responded eagerly to the least attention. Ray lingered on those neglected places, gratifying and soothing.
After an eternity, lost in the magic Ray brought to his life and bed, reduced to incoherent whimpering to express his appreciation, Fraser felt a warm hand curl gently around his cock. He sobbed and pumped raggedly into that welcoming nest. Ray was whispering a slightly blasphemous litany of encouragement, holding Fraser's shoulders firmly with one arm. He softly played the fingers of his free hand over Benny's sex until Fraser howled and came, spilling over them both in a release, a relief, a homecoming.
Fraser relaxed suddenly, a puppet whose strings had been cut. "Benny? Benny, don't go to sleep yet. Benny, wake up."
Fraser smiled, sleepy and content. "That was amazing, Ray."
"Do you think you could give me a hand, Mr. Amazing?"
"Oh, sorry, Ray. Of course." Fraser was shamed. He'd neglected Ray, and just at the point where Ray had been so considerate and generous. He immediately grasped Ray's erect and weeping penis.
"Youch! Gently, Benny. I'm attached to that, you know."
"Sorry, Ray."
"It's okay." Ray closed his eye and let Fraser continue his interrupted probing. "Talk to me, Benny."
"About what?"
"The weather. What do you think? Tell me what you like in bed, Benny. Tell me what you liked about what we just did. Can you do that? Tell me what you'd like to do with me."
"Hmm. I'd like to kiss you again."
"Go for it."
Fraser sternly reminded himself not to get lost in their kiss. He wanted Ray to receive as much satisfactions from their bedding as he had, but he knew that his inexperience made that unlikely, this first time. 'Proper preparation prevents poor performance', he smiled to remember, but he'd settle for the simpler 'practice makes perfect', aspiring to rise as far as 'perfect practice makes perfect'.
Ray's thrusts gained strength and rhythm as they kissed. That was encouraging. Fraser tried to think about what he could say to please Ray. At least he hadn't asked him to talk dirty. "Ray," he whispered, "Everything was so good. Everywhere you touched me was perfect. I want to be as good to you as you've been to me. I want you to touch me like that forever. I want you to get your luggage, so we can do everything you've dreamed of. I want to taste you, all of you. I want to wrap your naked body in mine and drown in your eyes. I love you, Ray."
Well, he must have done something right. Just as he spoke the last 'Ray', Ray bit down on Fraser's left shoulder and, in a series of strong thrusts, ejaculated. Fraser gentled Ray through the afterglow, and was muzzily wondering about the protocol of post-coital arrangements. Sleep caught them both before he could frame the question.
The next morning, Fraser gradually became aware of a third presence in the cabin. Taking inventory, he noted he was curled protectively over Ray, who'd spooned firmly around the less deflated of the two pillows. That suited him well.
He looked up, into the surprised face of one of the most junior officers. Content, he smiled and gently shook Ray's topmost shoulder. "Constable Jeffers, have you met my friend, Ray Vecchio?"
The End
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