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"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."
The priest waited silently while Ray put his thoughts in order. He hated doing this. Priests always made him nervous, making him worry they were going to start screaming at him the minute he started listing sins. His voice shook a little as he went on. "I've betrayed a friend, broken promises, hurt people I love."
"How long has it been since your last confession, son?"
Ray wondered why that mattered. "Easter." He'd taken Ma to Mass.
"And these are your most grievous sins in the time since?"
"I'm a cop, Father. If I told you everything, we'd be here all day. This is the stuff that's been keeping me up at night, y'know?"
The priest sighed and shifted, the movements looking scattered through the dense screen separating them. "These are hardly sins that will keep you from the arms of God. How will penance give you peace of mind, when your relationships with others trouble you?"
"So you're saying I should skip the Hail Marys and make nice instead?"
"Never let it be said that I discourage someone from prayer...but sometimes guidance best comes from the world around us, and from our hearts and minds, than from the Holy Spirit."
Ray blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "This is the thing, Father. I'm supposed to go on a retreat with my friend, but I can't even bring myself to talk to him about this thing between us."
"This retreat...is it into nature?"
"As natural as Canada is, I guess."
"Sometimes God is closest to us outside of a church, as with Saint Anthony. Go with your friend and let your hermitage heal you both. That is my advice."
Ray sat back and rolled his eyes. From the sound of things, this guy had been taking too much from an old copy of the Hand Guide to Vague and Mysterious Confessional Responses and needed to get an update. He gave the priest his thanks and left.
As he went home for dinner, he realized that while he still didn't have a clue what to say to Fraser, the old man was probably right—dealing with things in the wild, where there were no distractions and your life depended on everyone getting along, might just be the best thing for him and Fraser.
The next day they headed out for Canada. While at the tiny airstrip he embarrassed Fraser, made the other Canadian there hate him outright, and even cringed inwardly at his own childish behavior. But the worse things got, the more he fell back on his loud mouth to release his tension.
Eventually it got a little better. Despite the plane crash, wandering lost in the wilderness, getting shot at by a convict, and trying to survive with nothing but a breath mint, Ray pulled through. He helped Fraser and didn't abandon him, as much as the ghost of his father wished it. But they still didn't get to hash out what had been on Ray's mind.
After they went over the waterfall and had to set about making a new raft, they had some quiet time to work. It was then that Ray saw his chance. Finishing his dinner of berries and bark tea, he leaned back against a log and looked across the fire at Fraser. Despite everything they'd been through, Fraser looked peaceful, his skin free of worry lines and glowing in the firelight, the face of a new man. Ray wondered how much of a chunk Victoria had to have taken out of him for Fraser to not be the same person anymore.
Ray sighed. "Benny. We gotta talk."
Fraser looked up from braiding cedar roots. He set the makeshift rope aside. "About what happened with Victoria, I presume."
"Yeah."
Fraser's features darkened, his brow twisting. "I apologize again, Ray, for—"
"That's not it." Ray ran his hand over his head, surprised for the thousandth time that week at feeling velvety bristles rather than combed hair. "We're partners, Benny. I don't care if it's not official and you're Canadian instead of American. We help each other out; bring in more perps than I've caught by myself in twice the time since I've known you. You've even taken care of my family."
Fraser watched him, looking sad and scared, trying to hide it. Ray was too used to seeing him look that way for the past four months to be fooled by Fraser's attempts at a mask, because the signs slipped through; the gaze that occasionally went blank when he was distracted with his own thoughts, the mouth without trace of its usual friendly cant. Here were the fragments that Victoria had left. The firelight hadn’t erased them after all.
"And partners take care of each other," Ray continued heavily. He saw a flash of misery on Fraser's face and held up his hand. "That's where I failed you. I've been trying to figure out a way to tell you all this time that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I failed you as a partner, and as a friend." He cleared his throat and looked into the fire, dropping his hand.
"Ray," Fraser said, using his chastising tone, "If anyone has failed their friend and partner, it is me—"
"You did your part, yeah." By Fraser's expression, the trace of heat in his voice had been noted. "But I had a feeling about Victoria from the beginning. She changed you completely in less than two days. Maybe she seduced you, preyed on your weaknesses, brainwashed you, even—I don't know. I know that I sensed it and should've done something. I owed that to you, and I let you down."
Fraser wasn't ready to give up his hair shirt. "I made my own decisions. I've accepted the consequences of my actions."
"Nothing that you did deserved getting shot in the back! By ME!" Ray got up to pace beside the fire, hugging himself through his fleece vest. "Jesus Christ, Fraser, you almost died. It's my bullet in your back." What if my bullet had killed you?
Fraser stood up, his body leaning toward Ray. "And in more ways than one, you saved me, Ray. You saved me after that shot and took me to the hospital. But with it, you also saved me from myself."
"From her." Ray's voice was not yet back to steady. He rubbed his arms, feeling cold.
"From me." Fraser moved over to stand in Ray's path. "I'm grateful to you. I'm indebted to you. You don't owe me an apology."
Ray didn't say anything, but sat down miserably as Fraser began braiding again. As far as he was concerned, the conversation hadn't relieved guilt at all, on either side.
By the next morning they had enough lashings to rebuild the raft. Fraser asked him to look for more provisions in the woods to replace what they'd lost in the waterfall, so Ray took off to scrounge for food and dry wood. After a ten-minute walk, Ray shouted for Fraser.
"What is it?" Fraser was breathless from running, reminding Ray that they were both still recuperating from hospital stays. Feeling his own mortality, Ray pointed through the trees.
A cabin was barely visible fifty yards ahead. Cut tree limbs and natural shrubbery camouflaged the wood exterior, but as they moved closer, details emerged. The roof was thick with moss, indicating that the structure was not new. The driveway was clear, so someone had been using it regularly enough that weeds could not grow back. On the far side as they circled around, they found tarps covering what appeared to be woodpiles and barrels lining the front steps and small porch.
Fraser moved forward and lifted one of the camo-colored tarps, fully exposing the rusty barrels beneath. He tapped the side of one and listened to its echo, then pulled out his knife and began scraping at the dirt and rust sealing the lid. After a few minutes, Ray was able to give him a hand pulling it open. "Oh, shit," he said when they looked inside.
"Indeed."
That Fraser supported his curse might have been surprising, if Ray hadn't been absorbed with the boxes labeled “Dynamite” half filling the barrel.
The sound of a gun chamber being loaded distracted them. Ray froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing up at the sound of a voice. "Yep. Shit's exactly what you boys are in."
The man didn't introduce himself, but he was clearly American, judging by his accent and behavior. He didn't say much, but did ask for their identification. The fact that both Ray and Fraser were law enforcement officers didn't seem to reassure him.
Gesturing with the barrel of his rifle, the man commanded them both inside the cabin. Rather than enter, he stopped at the threshold and said, "You wait here until I'm ready for you. I can blow those barrels from a quarter mile, so don't try anything funny." Not waiting for argument, he slammed the door. His clunking boot-falls signaled his movement across the porch and the gravel drive, then faded into the silent woods.
"Was there a telephone that you saw?" Fraser asked, immediately moving to the window. He looked out but shook his head in disappointment at not being able to see their captor. Ray glanced around.
"No. Not even a radio. Jesus, what are all these, chemicals?"
White gallon jugs lined the walls on shelves, and a workbench was strewn with colored wiring, pliers, wire strippers, soldering irons, and a variety of other equipment for harnessing electrical currents.
Fraser came over to him and looked at the jugs. "I’m afraid so. Combining these can result in dynamic reactions, even explosions. That worktable is apparently where he creates his detonation mechanisms. Notice all the time pieces?" He pointed to a box of clocks under the table. "He seems to be wholly preoccupied with making bombs."
Ray moaned and backed away from the worktable. "Mother Mary...how do we always get into this kind of crap? Let's get out of here!"
Fraser looked out the window. "He's back. I suggest we don't attempt to overpower him until we know what kind of incendiary devices he—"
The door opened just as Fraser cut himself off. The man entered and motioned at Ray. "You first, then the Mountie."
Ray glanced nervously at Fraser, then led the way back outside.
He and Fraser were taken to a cleared field within sight of the cabin, although “cleared” would be a generous description. It looked as though someone had been blowing things up for quite a long time in the little open area. Shredded trees, disrupted dirt, and deep holes made the field a mess. But the most peculiar feature was a grid made of low strings on stakes, sectioning off the entire field. The man gestured with his rifle for Ray to stand in one square at a corner of the grid, then led Fraser over to the opposite corner. When they were in position, he stepped out of the grid and stood between them, then turned back to Ray. "You got a computer, cop?"
"Yeah," Ray answered warily.
"I bet city asslickers like you spend everyone’s tax dollars as lazy as you possibly can, playing on your goddamn computers instead of catching criminals. You ever play Minesweeper?"
For a moment Ray didn’t understand, and he struggled to pair the concepts of mine detection and computers. Then it hit him, and he couldn’t respond for the fear and anger that suddenly coursed through him. But something must have shown on his face, because the man began to laugh uproariously.
"What's he mean, Ray?"
Fraser's worried tone kicked Ray's brain into gear. "It's a game. A strategy game.”
The man was doubled over, laughing so hard he was now just wheezing silently. Ray tried to ignore him, focusing on Fraser’s worried face. “It comes on computers, like Solitaire. You have to click on boxes and see if there's a mine there. If there's just a number, that means how many mines are in the surrounding boxes, and then you mark which boxes you think are rigged with these little flags. If you blow a mine, you're dead. Dammit!" he yelled at the man, who was still laughing. "You sick son of a bitch! You think this is fun?"
The man pulled out a filthy handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “Sure seems fun to me,” he chortled. Ray’s ground his teeth until they squeaked. "I'll give the number clues to you," the man continued. "You're standing on a 'one' right now."
He tossed a bundle in Ray's direction. When it landed near his feet, he realized it was a bunch of small red flags, identical to the ones in the game. What a freak.
"What if I don't play?"
The man pointed at Fraser. "I'll shoot him while you watch. Then you. If you win, you both live. You have one hour."
Ray stared at the bundle of flags and swore quietly to himself. But as soon as the man had given them a time limit, a clock had started in Ray’s head. He was aware of every second ticking by...seconds that put Fraser’s life closer to danger. He had no choice. He had to play along. His heart was pounding and his entire body shaking, but he had to focus. He had to save Fraser.
At least the beginning square was easy to work from; he only had to decide between three unknown "boxes" instead of eight. He set a flag down in one square with a large bunch of shrubbery that might have hidden a mine, then stepped into the square diagonal from his starting position; one closer to Fraser. When his legs didn't blow off, he blew out a breath and wiped away the sweat that had beaded on his face.
He stepped through two more squares, clear fields of passage that the man allowed him. Then the man said, "Two," and Ray stopped. He put down two flags and stepped into another square.
"Four."
Oh, shit. Only one of those previous two flags was in the surrounding eight squares. That meant finding three bombs in seven squares. Simple statistics were great only when you weren't in danger of killing yourself and your partner.
He started to set a flag down, glancing at Fraser as he did so. Fraser scratched his eyebrow. Ray froze, watching Fraser out of the corner of his eye.
Fraser scratched again.
Ray shifted to the right and hovered the flag over a different square. Fraser lowered his hand.
Ray stuck the flag in the ground. Watching Ray's progress, the stranger grunted, not pleased.
For the next forty-five minutes, Ray edged across the field. Despite an ever-threatening wave of panic, he remembered the strategy of the game, and Fraser's silent communication helped him play it. But it didn't help that the man said Ray had to find all ten bombs in a field of thirty squares.
He had identified seven possible mine locations and made it across the field, but now he was stuck. Every way he tried to get into Fraser's corner was likely blocked, if Ray's guesses with the flags were correct—which meant that the man had caged Fraser in on purpose. Ray put three more flags down and straightened, meeting the stranger's glare with one of his own. All traces of amusement were gone from the man's face.
"Let him go."
"Go on and get him. Go into his corner. You're not done with the game." He hefted his rifle to indicate what he would do if Ray didn't obey.
"You blocked him in, you son of a bitch!"
The man laughed again. Ray turned his back in disgust.
Fraser was watching him with an odd expression, almost puppyish. Seeing it made Ray's heart heavy. He'd failed. In less than fifteen minutes, a shot would pierce Fraser's body, likely killing him instantly, or injuring him badly enough that he'd bleed out, right here on this decimated field with a lunatic watching them, waiting to kill Ray with a second shot. He gasped for breath, the panic setting in.
"Jump to me, Ray."
"I...I don't know if I can make it." Each grid section was about a yard square, and if he tripped on that string or something, it’d be over in one quick, messy blast.
"I'll steady you."
Ray took a breath, backed up, then leaped across the square yard of dirt with the last bit of desperation left in him. Fraser stopped his momentum by catching him in a hug, clinging fiercely for a few seconds before releasing him with a giant grin.
The man was swearing and thrashing behind them. When Ray turned back, he was shocked to see the man actually jumping and stomping in an impotent display of rage. He stared, amazed, until Fraser called out, "Are you certain it's wise to be doing that with mines in this loose soil? I'm not sure, but the slightest vibration might—"
BOOM.
The best Ray could figure was that the mines were too weak, or maybe had been planted too deep. The explosion of dirt knocked him and Fraser off their feet and set off the other mines, but, not having been standing directly on one, neither of them was hurt. When they'd stood and brushed themselves off, they saw the man running for his cabin, yelling incoherently. He was only a few hundred feet from the porch.
"Let's get out of here," Ray said.
Fraser wasn't listening. He began running toward the cabin, leaving Ray to catch up.
They were maybe one hundred feet from the cabin when another explosion, this one much bigger, threw them off their feet again. For some reason the barrels of dynamite were exploding violently outside the house, consuming the American, the heat waves making it impossible for Ray and Fraser to get any farther. Ray stumbled back and tripped on a shattered tree trunk, heard the hollow sound of wood hitting bone, and blacked out.
Ray woke up and immediately said, “Oh Jesus.” He hurt. He hurt all over. He hurt too much to open his eyes or sit up. He couldn’t remember hurting this much all at once.
He tried to collect himself, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from whimpering at his throbbing head. The smoke of burning wood and chemicals stung his nose, and the ground was unsettled and uncomfortable beneath him. Flames crackled nearby, the sound dulled by ringing in his ears. Then he heard Fraser's voice, very close.
"Thank goodness. Ray? Can you hear me? Ray, you're all right. Can you find him another blanket, please?"
Ray opened his eyes. He could see Fraser sitting beside him and had the sense of many people around them. He tried to raise his head, but a wave of pain and Fraser's hand on his chest made him drop back.
"Try to rest. We'll be helped out of here soon. It's a good sign that you regained consciousness. You've been unconscious for almost two hours."
Jesus...two hours? "What happened?" Ray examined Fraser's dirt-streaked face.
"The fireball from the second explosion was noticed by the search planes, and those pilots directed emergency officials here to help us. We'll be taken to a hospital or a motel, depending on which we have a greater need for."
"You're okay?"
Fraser beamed. "A few contusions and bruises, that's all. You should rest.” The smile disappeared, and Fraser was left looking ill and angry. “That man's sick idea of amusement has stressed you beyond bearing." His hand trembled briefly on Ray's chest.
While Ray was looking at him, Fraser was distracted by someone coming back with a blanket, and accepted it to spread it over Ray. In the moments that Fraser's hand was off him, Ray realized how utterly comforting that touch was. He relaxed when Fraser put his hand back. Reaching out from under the blanket, he grabbed Fraser's fingers and held them against his chest.
"I'd do anything like that for you again, no matter if I'm saving my own ass or not. You know that?" Ray felt like he was babbling, but also that he needed to say this one thing before he didn't get another chance.
"I know, Ray." Fraser's voice was very quiet; meaningful.
"That's what you mean to me. What being partners is." With that off his chest, Ray felt like he could breathe more easily. He squeezed Fraser's hand in his.
"Partners. Yes, Ray." Fraser sounded ironic. But before Ray could ask him about his tone, a man approached them with a medical kit in hand.
The EMT's check found that they were dehydrated, and he also didn't like that they had both sustained head wounds that had rendered them unconscious. But since they passed the tests for a concussion, he released them with only some bandages for their scrapes and a bottle of aspirin. It turned out that Ray wasn’t seriously hurt; just sore from being knocked off his feet. Fraser had looked so relieved at the news that Ray was afraid he was going to pass out.
Even after being medically cleared, they hung around for a little longer, trying to get some answers for what had happened. They were able to find out that the man’s name had been Tyler Swout, that he had been a police expert in a bomb squad before becoming disgusted with his job and moving to the Canadian wilderness, and that he probably had not set off the final explosion on purpose. The dynamite in the barrels was old and unstable, and the mere vibration from his running had been the catalyst for the explosion.
With all their questions answered, they gave in to Ray’s urge to leave the cabin site. Some EMTs offered them a ride to a small bed & breakfast nearby, since they weren’t in dire need of more medical attention.
During the ride in the aid car, Ray noticed the EMTs looking at them like they were nuts as he and Fraser talked about continuing on with their trip up to Fraser Senior's cabin. At the moment he was too tired, sore, and happy to be alive to care what other people thought. He just wanted to finish the rest of his two-week vacation in quiet and privacy.
The woman running the bed & breakfast, a gregarious single woman in her fifties, was told about their circumstances when the EMTs dropped them off. She prepared two big meals and delivered them to the small cabin they’d rented on her property. Ray ate while Fraser showered, and then they switched off. By nightfall they were both clean and well-fed, but Ray found himself still running on adrenaline. He tried to lie down and sleep, but the sound of his heart pounding louder and louder kept him awake.
Fraser turned out the light and crawled into the single queen-sized bed, keeping a few inches between them. He murmured a "good night" and adjusted his pillow. Ray shivered and clutched his own pillow, staring into the dark.
"What if I hadn't won?"
"Would you please stop doubting yourself?" Ray could hear and feel Fraser rolling over, and sensed him staring at his back. "I had complete faith in you, and you didn't let me down. You're a hero, Ray."
"I can't stop thinking about that fifth mine. I almost flagged another square and was thinking of stepping into that one. I would've been blown to smithereens, he woulda shot you, and god knows what would happen to Ma and Frannie..." He stopped and pressed his fist against his mouth, trying to keep the panicked sobs from working their way out of his chest.
Fraser's hand touched his back, rubbing through the thin silk of his thermal underwear. "It's all right. Let it out, Ray."
Ray shook his head. He couldn't. If he started to let go he wasn't sure he could stop and suck it back in, and they had to get some sleep. They were getting up early to catch another plane.
Fraser's touch wandered. "Are you sure you’re all right? Did you hurt your shoulder?" He touched the spot lightly, tracing the raised scars through the silk. Ray shook his head quickly and swallowed.
"No."
"Can I see?"
"I'm fine, Fraser."
Fraser didn't say anything for a long moment. When he spoke, he was very quiet. "You've injured that shoulder more than once in the course of saving my life, Ray. I want to know that you're all right."
Ray held his breath, considering this. Fraser's concern was valid; Ray's entire body was stiffening up from the exertion and tension of the past several days, not to mention sore from flying through the air and landing on a tree trunk. And really, it seemed that he could no longer refuse anything Fraser asked of him, no matter how inconsequential. He sat up, still facing away from his friend, and stripped the shirt over his head.
He heard Fraser sitting up behind him, and a low "hm" of concentration, or maybe worry. Cool fingertips settled on his bare skin again, pressing gently. The area was tender and inflamed, he realized as he hissed reflexively. Fraser pulled his hand away.
"You've aggravated it. Perhaps it would be better if we simply returned to Chicago. My father's cabin will wait, and you won't be able to help me build it without injuring yourself further."
"Then I'll sit around, providing emotional support," Ray muttered, balling up the silk shirt in his lap. Fraser started touching his shoulder again, and it was distracting. "We're going to finish this trip the way we wanted to, and I'm not leaving you behind."
He shivered.
"Does that hurt?"
No, Ray thought. He looked down at his lap and moved the shirt, surprised. He was hardening in his briefs, the sudden surge of arousal making him dizzy. Jesus, I am fucked up.
Fraser's fingers brushed across the dulled nerves of his scars and then across more sensitive skin.
Ray’s prick twitched. "It tickles."
"I'll stop."
"No—" Ray said before he could stop himself. He turned halfway on the bed, twisting to glance at Fraser behind him. "It's all right. This week's been weird. I'm all out of whack, and seems like my whole body's tense." Every last inch of it.
"You do seem to be very stiff.” Ray’s eyes widened at what might have been a double meaning, but Fraser’s face was inscrutable in the darkness. Ray couldn’t get anything else from his tone, either. “Perhaps massaging the muscles would help loosen them," Fraser added.
Thinking that he didn’t have much to lose, Ray balled the shirt over his tingling groin and nodded.
He lay down on his stomach, leaving the thin undershirt off but his briefs on. Fraser rustled nearby for a few seconds, and then he heard the distinctive sound of two hands rubbing together.
In a moment Fraser's fingertips touched Ray's upper back, pressing carefully around his scars, probing more firmly where it was safe. When he'd determined what part of Ray's shoulder to avoid, he began rubbing the rest of his back in earnest.
Within moments, Ray was groaning softly. Fraser's technique was perfect; not so soft he would tickle Ray, not so hard as to make Ray tense up further. He could feel all the tiny muscles in his lower back relaxing as Fraser rubbed the heels of his hands over the lumbar curve. The tension drained away, and his heart rate slowed.
"Thanks, that’s good," he murmured into the pillow after a few minutes. He didn't want to make Fraser do this any longer than he was comfortable with, and he had discovered that his erection hadn't subsided. The best thing to do would be to ignore it and go to sleep, he decided.
But Fraser didn't stop. His hands moved up to Ray's neck, and one began rubbing the muscles there while the other rested on Ray's bad shoulder. Ray pressed his forehead into the pillow, extending his neck to get more of the touch. Far be it from him to stop Fraser before he wanted to stop.
"I was so frightened when you didn't wake up,” Fraser whispered.
Ray stiffened, listening closely, his cock twitching at the husky quality of Fraser’s voice.
Fraser's fingers continued rubbing his neck. "And when you were moving through that field...I could barely breathe."
I know the feeling.
The bed shifted slightly. Ray felt Fraser's breath on his scalp. "I've been wondering how long it would take for you to let me thank you. For everything you've done for me."
Ray turned his head. Fraser's breath was on his mouth now, like a welcome breeze off the lake at home. Ray wanted to open his mouth and find out what home tasted like. Instead he just said, "You don't have to thank me."
Fraser's eyes were very dark in the little light coming through the window. Ray licked his lips, and then Fraser's mouth was on his.
His mind flashed to Fraser's apartment, what seemed like so long ago now, to the reassuring kiss he'd given Fraser. He'd never been sure if Fraser had remembered that through the haze of painkillers and emotional distress. He certainly hadn't forgotten it.
Ray groaned softly and rolled the rest of the way over, not breaking the kiss. Fraser was holding himself very still, not moving his lips or deepening the kiss, but his hand pressed against Ray's neck tenderly. Then Ray had to breathe, had to make Fraser do something, so he pulled away.
"It's all right. I'm not afraid."
All his tension, his confusion about his feelings for Fraser, the residual stress from the week's events...it had vanished with that kiss. He reveled in the steady press of Fraser's palm to his throat, and lifted his chin. Fraser's eyes flicked to Ray's mouth, and he exhaled a soft sigh before resuming the kiss.
Fraser seemed to be as tentative and inexperienced as Ray. He was pretty sure Fraser hadn't ever had sex with a man, and he hadn’t either. That aside, being so intimate—and sexual—together was a huge change to their relationship. Ray had thought his growing love for Benny was just brotherly, but maybe there was something more to it. He felt like there was something more to the way he was so afraid every time Fraser risked his life; to how wonderful he felt when he and Fraser just hung out in the off-hours; to how empty he felt when he went home to a cold bed and no welcoming hug. His mind told him that it was wrong for a Catholic to feel like this about his male partner, but his heart told him that the Catholic Church didn’t have a great track record when it came to carrying out its teachings on love. It made him wonder how credible the teachings were.
Fraser was being chaste enough for both of them, anyway. He didn’t move, didn’t change the kiss at all. Ray wondered hazily if Fraser’s only sexual experience had been with Victoria, then put the thought out of his mind. He was with Fraser, here and now.
He lifted his hand and touched Fraser's fingers, drawing them down his throat to the hollow at its base. Fraser took the hint and began exploring, brushing to the side over Ray's pectorals, touching the soft skin over his ribs. Ray shivered again, the sensation driving desire through his body and making him bolder. He lifted his head off the pillow, tongue slipping between Fraser's lips. At the first touch, wet and soft and very nice, Fraser groaned and leaned back.
"What is it?" Ray whispered.
"That's making it hard for me to concentrate." Fraser sounded frustrated, and Ray liked that edge in his voice.
Ray's breathing had quickened, but this time not from panic. "Concentrate on what? It’s just kissing, Benny." He shifted, hoping to get Fraser to at least keep touching him. This was better than anything he’d yearned for in his cold bed back home, everything he hadn’t been able to name as something he wanted.
Fraser paused. "I've trained my entire life to rely on my senses to serve me when others use mechanical tools. As a result, my senses are more finely tuned than the average individual's. As I'm sure you're aware, a key part of arousal is sensing the pleasure of one's partner."
Ray suppressed a groan at Fraser's impromptu lecture. "What's your point?"
Fraser's hand began moving again. He traced lines back to the center of Ray's chest, brushing a nipple on the way. Ray gasped. His nipples were extremely sensitive.
At the same time, Fraser said, "I don't want to be distracted from fully experiencing you, Ray. I want to touch you, smell you, hear the sounds you make...taste you..."
Ray's cock surged, straining against the tight fabric of his briefs. He tried lifting his chest off the bed, encouraging Fraser's hand. "Whatever you want, Benny."
Fraser moved a hand down to his navel and toyed with the hair on his stomach, ruffling it. Even that felt good, even if it was just Fraser rubbing his belly. But lord, Fraser was slow. Ray wondered if he was just going to spend the whole night getting increasingly more aroused and never fulfilled. He whimpered.
Perhaps Fraser took that as a signal, because he lowered his head and brushed a kiss over Ray's mouth, then down his neck. Ray tilted his head back and sighed, his legs tightening when he felt Fraser's tongue touch his skin. Of all the things that tongue had tasted, Ray hadn't thought he would be one of them. He groaned quietly, trying to be encouraging.
Fraser made a satisfied sound and continued on, exploring Ray's chest with kisses and licks, even smelling the skin under his arms. His hums and groans grew louder and more frequent. Eventually he came to Ray's stomach and laid his cheek on Ray's abdomen, sighing. Ray was acutely aware of Fraser's proximity to his briefs. "Fraser..."
"You smell so good."
Ray's head spun at those four little words. Jesus, Fraser was smelling him, and talking about it in that low voice that just dripped sex.
Fraser lifted his head and hooked his fingers under the waistband of Ray's shorts. Ray was so aroused he didn’t give a second thought. He obligingly lifted his hips, and in one smooth motion he was naked.
He trembled when he felt the air touch his bare penis, nervousness edging in. Fraser put his hand on his hip and stroked soothingly, leaning back to look at him. Uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Ray decided to give him to the count of ten before putting his shorts back on. But at the count of five, Fraser lowered his head.
Ray tensed instantly, sucking in a breath, but Fraser only stopped inches from his hard cock...and sniffed. Inhaled deeply. Then he sighed, and his warm breath made Ray twitch. Fluid was pooling on his stomach from the head. Ray panted.
"So good," Fraser murmured and moved his hand to his groin, stroking the shaft of his cock with a fingertip, then grasping the base. He pulled gently, lifting Ray's cock away from his stomach, and bent forward to lick away the little puddle of fluid on his belly. Ray's gasp of "Oh Jesus" was mixed with Fraser's moan of contentment.
"You taste good, too."
"Fraser, you're fucking killing me h—aagh..."
Just then Fraser took the head of Ray's cock into his mouth, running his tongue around it like it was a popsicle, licking and sucking until it was clean of pre-come. He moaned again, the vibration traveling through Ray's body like electricity. Then he took Ray deeper into his mouth, sucking softly, licking everywhere, cheeks hollowed and brow furrowed with concentration. Ray felt his balls tighten and gasped, putting his hands in Fraser's hair, hissing, "Stop, stop..."
Fraser pulled away and sat back, looking concerned. "I'm sorry—"
"No, it's not you." Ray rubbed his face briskly, trying to concentrate on not coming all over himself without another touch. "Just got me wound up too tight. It's been a long time since I've had sex, Fraser. I don't know what my staying power is like."
"I don't care," Fraser replied with unabashed earnestness. "Ray, we've got the whole future ahead of us to go slowly. And practice makes perfect, after all."
There was no way Ray's brain could form any further argument with his dick throbbing. And just then Fraser lay back down between his legs, winding his arms under Ray's thighs, stroking his hips and waist while looking up at him. Ray met his gaze and nodded weakly, then held the eye contact as Fraser sucked him back into his mouth.
Christ, that's hot. Ray kept watching, propping himself up on his elbows. Fraser moved his head up and down on Ray's dick, sucking harder, cheeks and tongue flexing every time he swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth. The sensation was incredible, hot and wet and so damn soft, all that softness closing tight around him. And Fraser never broke eye contact.
The sight and feel of Fraser so eagerly doing this quickly brought Ray to the edge again. He started shaking and rocked his hips, tilting his cock into Fraser's mouth in synch, gasping for breath.
"Fraser...Benny...gonna..."
He couldn't say any more. His elbows gave out and he fell back as he released, jerking helplessly in the throes of mindless pleasure. Fraser's fingers tightened on his waist as he swallowed.
A mouth on his throat brought Ray's attention back to earth. Fraser's stubble rubbed the skin of his chest to prickly sensitivity, but Ray enjoyed it too much to push him away. He opened his eyes and tilted his head down to meet Fraser's kiss, sweat and musky sex in his mouth.
"That what I taste like?"
Fraser hummed and shifted closer. He sounded like a man greatly satisfied, even though Ray could now feel his erection pressing against his hip. "You taste wonderful."
Ray rolled them slightly, bringing his hips flush against Fraser's. That feel of hardness against his belly was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. "I could find out what you taste like."
But Fraser shook his head. "Not this time. Just..." Strong hands grabbed Ray's ass and brought them still closer together. "If I may..."
Damn, that thrust felt good, Fraser's weight solid and welcome against him. Ray rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course you may."
Fraser surged against him, their mouths bumping in a clumsy kiss. Ray threaded his arms under Fraser's and hugged him tightly, hands sliding over sweaty skin, coming to rest on Fraser's pumping hips. The touch of Ray's fingers seemed to send him into a frenzy, his hips jerking frantically, and within a few seconds he groaned brokenly against Ray's lips. Ray held him as he calmed, feeling semen squish between their stomachs. They were both so slicked with sweat that it was just another delightful, sinful sensation.
Ray ran his hand down Fraser’s back and felt the bullet scar under his palm. Fraser’s chest heaved against his with deep, healthy breaths. The contrast was both saddening and reassuring. It made Ray not want to let him go, even when Fraser lifted his head from Ray's shoulder and spoke in a hoarse voice.
"I think another shower is in order."
"Yeah." He reluctantly let Fraser go, and followed closely into the tiny bathroom. Fraser reached for the light switch. In an instant, Ray thought of the bright flash and glare. When on, it would show him and Fraser standing together in a bathroom, naked and covered in fluids. He wasn't prepared to see that; not yet. His hand shot out, stopping Fraser's fingers on the switch plate. Fraser paused, his silhouette turned toward Ray.
"All right."
They left the light off and got into the tub, Ray leaning against the cold tile while Fraser tested the water. Soon water sputtered out of the shower head, and Fraser straightened.
Ray's eyes had adjusted to the dark long before, and he could make out Fraser's shape against the room. Enough moonlight was spilling through the warped glass windows to cast a bluish light over everything. In its light, he and Fraser seemed to share the same skin color. Ray didn't look so skinny with the random pudgy spots, and Fraser's many scars were invisible. To Ray's eyes, they looked equal, and perfect.
He lifted his head and saw that Fraser was watching him. His eyes were two black pools of shadow, steady and penetrating. Strengthened, Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser and brought their mouths together, sighing when the hot water warmed him.
Later, under the covers, Fraser hugged him and murmured into the nape of his neck. "You feel better, don't you?"
He did. That mine field had scared the hell out of him, threw him off balance and made him doubt himself, but this night with Fraser had restored his strength. He felt like they were back in synch, understanding each other perfectly, sensing each other's needs and desires in a way they never had before. Hell, even he hadn't known what kind of desires he had. Fraser had awakened a depth of love in him that he'd thought was only reserved for family members and his spouse...and even then, he'd never lusted after anyone like he did now.
"Are you asleep, Ray?" Fraser whispered.
Ray hugged the arm wrapped around his chest and answered the question he'd almost forgotten. "I feel great, Benny."
Fraser was silent for a long time, but Ray could tell he wanted to say something else. He gave him the time to do it, not pressing.
"I realize that this changes a great deal between us."
"Yeah, it does."
"I would understand if you wished not to continue with our relationship at this level once we return to work."
This is partners, Ray reminded himself as he rolled over. Everyone needs some reassuring sometimes.
“Benny.” Ray’s eyes were heavy with sleepiness, but he still managed to meet Fraser’s gaze. "If last week anybody'd told me I'd be having sex with you, I woulda punched 'em in the mouth." He found his voice suddenly gruff with emotion, his Chicago accent strong. "But things change, Benny. I told you already I'd do anything for you, and now I know I'd do anything with you. I love you, okay?" He saw Fraser smile in the dim blue light. "So let's get some sleep. This is who I am. I'll still be like this in the morning."
Fraser nodded, and they settled back on their respective sides of the bed. As sleep overtook Ray quickly, he felt Fraser's hand wrap around his and grip his fingers gently, reassuring.
