The Birdcage The Birdcage (c) 1996, JoAnne Soper-Cook "It's been three days, I think you can stop laughing now." Benton Fraser cast an acerbic glance across at his partner and friend, Ray Vecchio. "For God's sake, it wasn't *that* funny." "Oh come off it, Benny!" Ray grinned at him. "The sight of you in a dress is something I am never gonna forget!" He paused long enough to shovel a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "Nice legs, though, Benny...wax job?" "Stop it. Just stop it right *now*!" Ben hissed at him, as close to anger as Ray had ever seen; nearly outside the scope of Fraser's usual personality. "Besides, the movie is going to start." "Yeah, I can see why you dragged me to see this one!" Vecchio decided at last to relent, and lapsed into silence with the advent of the opening scenes. The Robin Williams movie was not the kind of thing that Ray normally liked, but at Fraser's urging he'd decided to go along. The whole drag thing seemed to have captivated Fraser lately, although Ray couldn't figure out why. Having to wear those damned pantyhose day in and day out wouldn't exactly make it an attractive option. It was funny, though... Ray turned in the darkness to gaze at Fraser for a moment; the tall Canadian was immersed in the comedy on the screen and didn't notice. Seeing Benny dressed like that was weird; it made Ray think of things he didn't normally think of, indeed things that he wouldn't in his wildest dreams ever consider... Of course, from a purely platonic point of view, he realised that Benny was a handsome man; that was impossible to miss, given how the entire female population of the Northern Hemisphere literally tossed their panties in his face.... *So why was I looking at him?* The thought flittered across the surface of his mind, disappearing before he could grab it. "Ray?" "Huh?!" "Are you alright?" Fraser's tone was as solictitious as always. "You're missing the best part of the film." "Yeah. Right. Heh heh." Ray managed a strangled kind of laugh, turned his attention to the screen. This was just too close for comfort; could Benny have known what he'd been thinking just now? It wasn't just Fraser in a dress, Ray finally decided. Fraser didn't really make that pretty a woman: his shoulders were too broad, his frame too large for him to pass in that guise. He looked a helluva lot better as a man. So why had seeing him in drag affected Ray so much? Was it just the strangeness of seeing his perfectly-vanilla friend tarted up like that, or did Benny's female guise hint to Ray of possibilities previously unexplored? Maybe some hidden part of his mind whispered that if Fraser was willing to try *that*, he might be willing to try other things... And what would that be like? Ray had always considered himself an open-minded man; hell, in high school he'd done his share of experimenting, just like everybody did, strayed a little over to the other side of the road, so to speak... It's not like that, he thought. That's not it at all. "Ray, you nearly missed that red light!" Fraser's fingers dug into the Riviera's dashboard, clamped down. "What is wrong with you?" "Nothing. There is nothing wrong with me." Ray braked hard to make the next light; the Riviera shuddered to a stop. His palms were sweating, slippery on the wheel; what the hell was going *on*?! "Ray. Stop the car." Fraser's tone was unmistakeable. "Now." "Oh, back off, Fraser! Whatta ya gonna do, give me a ticket?!" "Ray---" Fraser reached across and snatched the keys out of the ignition, held them dangling from his fingers in front of Ray's astonished eyes. "--I can't believe you *did* that!" "Ray, we have to talk---" "Gimme the keys!" "Ray---" "Gimme the goddamn keys!" "Ray---" "We are parked at a fucking intersection, now give me the goddamned keys!" Ray roared, suddenly and irrationally furious. "Then find somewhere else to park!" Fraser slapped the keys at him across the seat. For a long moment, the two men stared at each other; then a cacophany of car horns squealed behind them as the light overhead changed from red to green. Ray put the car into gear and pulled away, drove until he found a deserted park off a side-street. He turned off the car and the two men sat in silence, listening to the ticking of the radiator as it cooled. "What's going on with you, Benny? Huh?" Ray turned to face his friend. "Is it me teasing you about the drag thing, is that it?" His copper-coloured eyes held Fraser's gaze, abruptly flickered away. "I'm sorry, okay? Sometimes I go too far, making fun of things I don't understand---" "That's not it." Fraser laid a hand on Ray's arm. "Could we get out and walk for a bit?" Ray nodded, slipped out from behind the wheel. The night was unseasonably warm for this early in the year, and it was pleasant to be outside, strolling with nowhere in particular to go. "I've been having running dreams again." Fraser slipped his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, took up position beside Ray, matching his stride to Ray's slow stroll. "Running dreams. You told me about that before." "I always have these running dreams when I'm trying to avoid something; when I should be facing something but I'm not." "Come on, Benny---I don't think dreams are any kind of relevant indicator of---" "On the contrary, Ray; there is much evidence to suggest that dreams are an important indicator of a person's mental state. For example, were I to suggest to you that---" "Would you give it up with the lecture already?!" For some reason, Ray was held in the grip of a sudden, unreasoning anger, coupled with frustration. "You do this every time, just circling around the goddamn thing rather than getting to the point of it! You want to tell me another Inuit story now?" Ray made a show of checking his watch, "because according to this, we're just about due for one!" Fraser swallowed hard, and something flickered in the depths of his blue eyes that Ray had never seen before. "I think I'm in big trouble, Ray." What the hell was this? "Whatta you mean? What did you do?" "Nothing." Fraser's gaze moved over Ray's face; his hand came up, grasped the other man's arm just below the elbow. "Not yet, anyway." "Jesus, you look like hell!" Ray led him over to a nearby bench, sat down beside him. This was beginning to scare him, he hadn't seen Fraser like this since Victoria--- "Victoria." Unwittingly he'd spoken the name aloud. "No." Fraser's eyes clamped shut for a moment; he raked his palm across his forehead, pressed his fingers against his lips. "I don't know what to say, I don't know how to say it---" "Say what?" Ray leaned forward and gazed into his friend's bent face. "Benny, what is it? You can talk to me...." Fraser lifted his hand and slowly slid it up the side of Ray's neck, cupping the curve of his jaw; their faces were very close together, and suddenly it was very difficult for Ray to breathe--- "I love you, Ray." Fraser's whisper drifted to him as if across a distance of miles, and then he leaned forward and closed the gap between them, pressing the hot core of his opened mouth against Ray's lips. Ray drew back in surprise but Fraser's hand was on the back of his neck, holding him; it was easy to surrender and accept it; suddenly, this was what he wanted... And Benny's mouth was so warm, so coaxing, so sensual and teasing; Ray leaned in closer and opened his mouth to his friend's eager tongue, felt heat flickering inside.... When the kiss ended, he couldn't draw away; this had to be followed to its logical conclusion, whatever that would be... Fraser was whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Ray...I'm sorry..." Don't be... anything but what you are... "I love you, Benny..." He said it: recklessly, helplessly, flinging caution to the winds... He caught the Mountie's face in his palms, turned to take his mouth again, suddenly desperate to taste that covert heat. His hands slid inside the front of Benny's jacket, moved to press against the hardness of his chest, the definitive points of his shoulders. He in turn felt eager hands sliding up his thighs, squeezing his hips, pausing to cup the bursting center of him and rub--- A moan escaped him, and he pressed it into Benny's waiting lips. His friend's mouth fastened on his lower lip, caught and sucked it, teeth lancing, suddenly dangerous, tongue flickering to ease the tiny hurt--- "Benny---" "Say it--" The Mountie's face hovered before him, something primal there that hadn't been before, something ancient and atavistic... "Benny---" "Say *it*!" Fingers tore at the buttons of his slacks, fingers slid inside to press palm against his belly-- "Say it--" "I want to---" "...what...?" "Benny---" "...you want to *what*...?" "Fuck you." "I know." Fraser's busy fingers curled around the hardened shaft of his erection and suddenly, bright stars danced behind Ray's eyelids, exquisite pain-- "Please..." "This is what the dreams were about---" Fraser's breath, hot against his ear, tongue flickering around his earlobe, trailing heat and wet down his neck. "I think we should---" "Yes." Stumbling through darkness back to the car, fumbling for the keys, tumbling inside, and reach across, oh--- can't get enough of you of you do it like that yes yes if you don't stop now i'm going to "Ray!" Fraser's fingers driving into his ribs; Fraser's hot, wet mouth against his neck; Fraser's sharp teeth nipping him, sucking--- Ray crawled across the seat to him, but the steering wheel was in the way, he couldn't get closer to Fraser but instead sprawled over him, hands grasping, greedy mouths clutching, sucking; the windows slowly steaming over as the night deepened and a subtle chill descended. Benny's hard length pressed him into the seat; Benny's legs, wrapped into his, that body clasped against him, so good, so good... "...don't hurt me..." "--never--" "Benny, I don't think we should, in the car---" "Of course---" Fraser moved away, sat staring at him for a moment while desire pumped relentlessly through his body. He leaned forward, pressed his opened mouth to Ray's neck... "But hurry---" The Riv started on the first try, and Ray gunned it; slammed the car into reverse and squealed away from the curb. It was stopping for lights, it was kissing hungrily in traffic, it was joy and lust and life and thank god thank god i found you... I never thought I would love like this again, I never thought in all my wildest dreams that it was you, you... They didn't bother turning on a light in Fraser's apartment; that would have just alerted the neighbours, Mr. Mustafi across the hall, all of Fraser's well-meaning but terminally-nosy neighbours who would doubtless be shocked and perhaps discomfited by this... Ray tossed his coat and his car keys onto the kitchen counter, moved to take Benny into his arms. "Slow..." the Mountie's whispered directive swirled between them as Ray's hands went to the buttons on Benny's shirt, slipped each small disk free of the bindings, fingered it aside. Each button, freed in this manner, revealed a tender expanse of naked skin, the tiny pulse that beat at the base of Benny's throat. Ray leaned forward and pressed his lips there, at that very hollow, felt for a moment the intimate pulse-beat flicker against the thin skin of his mouth. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, drawing the back of his fingers across Benny's cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you..." He smiled as his index finger was drawn into Benny's mouth, sucked gently, bitten and released. Fraser lifted Ray's face, leaned forward and kissed him, his opened mouth hot, wet... It was so delicious to draw it out like this, to have each moment remain impaled on its own distinct spindle of time, desire... "I always wondered, Ray." Fraser's blue eyes flickered open, lazily, his dark lashes creating shadows against his pale cheeks in the semi-darkness. "You and I..." Ray slid his hands around his friend's body, slipping inside the opened shirt slowly, his palms greedily devouring the smooth expanse of skin. "I love you, Benny. I just love you." His hands moved, and the shirt slid off the Mountie's shoulders, whispered to the floor. Ray's fingers disengaged the belt, slid the faded jeans past muscled thighs until they, too, joined the discarded shirt. "Now you," Fraser whispered--- "No, Benny." Ray turned away, clutched at Fraser's wrist. "Don't." "Why?" The Mountie pressed his fingers against Ray's mouth, kissed him softly. "I'm..." Ugly, he wanted to say; skinny and hairy and ugly and not at all like you and Jesus *Christ* why am I doing this--- "Shhh..." Fraser's caress disposed of Ray's unspoken protest, relegated it with all the other nonsense that had no place here and now. His hands were sure and deft, and moved with purpose, sliding the silk jacket off his friend's slender shoulders. The edges of the kitchen counter bit into the small of the detective's back as Fraser slid the shirt away from heated skin, pressed their bodies together. Fraser's hands slid down to cup Ray's buttocks, squeezing gently, moving up their taut contours to the curve of his lower back, fingers fanning out against the thin fabric of Ray's shirt, the waistband of his slacks. His partner raised his eyes, gazed at Fraser for a long moment in wonder and delight, shuddered as he felt Fraser's hip grind into his pelvis, moving against the turgid length of his erection. "My God I want you." Ray ran his tongue around his lips, swallowed hard. Everything within his sphere of being had suddenly become a great singing agony of desire, coupled with an unaccustomed happiness, 'he loves me.' Fraser took him by the hand and led him to the bed: the covers were thrown back, the sheets disheveled; it had the look of myriad possibilities. There was, suddenly, all the time in the world. There was time to lie, hip-to-hip, and run fingers across skin, touch the curve of a cheek, the bridge of the nose, the dimple indenting the chin. There was time to press palms against a broad chest, dip tongue into the shallow indentations of the collarbone, press lips against the flatness of another belly. Time slowed to a crawl and hung suspended, waiting for them both to arrive at where they had to go. I never knew... the smoothness of your palm against my lips the hardness of your thighs, cupped in my palms the indentation where hip meets waist, sweeping up to the planes of your flat belly They took all the time there was, exploring; this was the first time, the most important time. And kisses: long, deep, hot kisses, the smooth shape of a questing tongue, testing the necessary architecture of that other mouth, those other lips. Ray lay stretched full-length atop him, clasped in his arms, just kissing, until Fraser's skin was sheened with sweat and his thighs were sticky. He gently moved Ray off him, rolled the detective onto his back and began... He gently parted Ray's thighs, bent and pressed his mouth against the tender skin, high up against the body; swirled the tip of his tongue around and around, creating heat. He crouched low, pressed his cheek against the flatness of Ray's stomach, drew his lips back and took the head of his cock into his mouth. He felt Ray's hands on the back of his head as he moved, his lips working the taut shaft, his hands cupping his friend's heated balls. Ray bucked underneath him, working his hips, pumping up into Ben's mouth, lost in mindless ecstasy, trying not to give in, come too soon--- "Benny---" He felt the tell-tale tickle deep within his belly, the almost-imperceptible tightness that pulsed in the soles of his feet, thrilled along his legs-- "Oh--" A keen, shrilling agony of release hissed along his skin, jacknifing him backwards, snapping him like a whiplash. His back arched, forced his cock deeper into Benny's mouth. He felt the pulsing release surge through him, spilling his essence, emptying his soul; it left him panting on the ragged edge of it, and he opened his eyes long enough to see Fraser lift his head and swallow. He was cradled in those arms, held against the Mountie's chest. "Benny." "Ray." His face was caught between Benny's hand, his mouth kissed throughly, lending him the taste of himself. In a blur, he slid down Fraser's body, took him into his mouth, sucking, pulling, sliding lips and tongue up and down his friend's hard cock, tugging Fraser to the edge and gleefully making him go over, panting and writhing--- "I'm sorry that I made fun of your dress." "Nonsense, Ray; it really wasn't my colour anyway." "I always pictured you more in chartreuse." "Chartreuse, Ray?" "Yeah. You know, that whole Gloria Swanson thing would look great on you. You need to fix yourself up, spend a little money, get a good Eva Gabor wig." "Do you think Francesca would advise me on shoes?" "You could use it; I thought those pumps were pretty sad, Benny." "I was thinking of having my breasts done, Ray..." "You know what I always say, Benny." "Do tell, Ray." "Hey! Augmentation for the nation." "Now Ray, that's just silly." THE END