Work Text:
Benton Fraser stepped onto the escalator marked baggage claim. Behind him, Ray Kowalski was keeping up a steady pace of conversation, mostly with himself.
"This place is packed to the heels," Ray said.
"Gills," Fraser offered. He was hardly listening, his brain elsewhere.
"Yeah, gills. I mean, how many people want to go to Florida in June? Don't they know how hot and humid it is? Why couldn't Stella and Ray have picked somewhere else? You know what's beautiful this time of year? Siberia."
They reached the bottom, and Fraser stepped off. He scanned the sea of people, searching the faces for something familiar.
Ray was close behind, looking over Fraser's shoulder. "You remember which carousel is ours?"
"Three."
"Maybe they're waiting there."
Fraser looked over at Ray. His friend knew how to read him, even when he desperately wished he wouldn't.
Ray grabbed Fraser's elbow. "Come on, I think I see where we're going."
The Orlando airport was full of tourists, all flocking to the theme park of their choosing. There were little girls in princess dresses and exhausted parents trailing along behind them, alongside retirees coming to bask in the sunshine.
Fraser had never been so far south. Frankly, he'd never thought of traveling so far from home, but from the moment the invitation arrived, he knew he would make the trip.
"I think I see our bags." Ray darted forward.
Fraser followed at a distance, letting people cross before him. He could see Ray retrieving their things, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He'd been full of nervous energy leading up to the trip. More than once, Fraser had found Ray pacing in the middle of the night. Fraser was certain this would not be an easy visit for either of them.
An automatic door opened, allowing a wave of sticky, humid air to enter the baggage claim. As Fraser glanced over, he felt his breath hitch in his throat.
It was Ray Vecchio and his soon-to-be wife, Stella Kowalski.
Vecchio looked stunning, a linen suit draped just so over his frame, the light beige color complementing his tan skin. He put a hand up and pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. It was an effortless movement, something so trivial no one else would have bothered to notice. But Fraser noticed. Always had.
Stella noticed him first. She put a hand up, "Fraser!"
Putting on a brave face, Fraser raised his own hand in return. "Good Morning."
Vecchio turned his eyes to Fraser, and for a moment, Fraser felt as though he could not breathe. It had been eighteen months since they had last seen each other. They had been long months, with only the occasional letter to punctuate the silence.
"Benny," Vecchio said with a warmth that shot straight down Fraser's spine.
Kowalski appeared at Fraser's side. "Stella!" he dropped Fraser's bag to the ground and hurried over to his ex-wife.
Fraser collected his bag and forced himself to smile. "Ray," he said, his voice catching in his throat.
Vecchio threw open his arms, and Fraser stepped into his embrace. Vecchio smelled of the same cologne, a musk that, while artificial, was so undeniablely him. Fraser pulled his head back, cognizant of the fact that his hug had lasted perhaps a moment longer than was strictly necessary.
"Look at you! You've still got those movie star good looks," Vecchio said. Fraser noticed that Vecchio had not released him yet. Instead, he held Fraser in place, taking a long look at him. He was appraising his old friend as one might do with show livestock.
"Time has been good to you as well," Fraser said earnestly.
Ray released him, and Fraser's heart dropped. To cover up for his imbalance, Fraser looked to Stella. "Good morning, I'm sorry to have roused you so early."
"It's nothing," Stella said. "The sunrise looked beautiful as we drove in." She was wearing a stylish outfit, and her hair had recently been dyed blonde. It was obvious how relaxed she was, the way she smiled with such ease.
"Speaking of the morning, anywhere good around here to get something to eat?" Kowalski asked. He'd been talking about food since they had taken off from New York on a red-eye flight. If he didn't eat soon, Fraser feared the consequences.
Vecchio beamed, "There's a great little place on the way to the hotel."
The hotel, a sleek modern place if the brochure was anything to believe, had been booked for the wedding. Stella had written a lengthy letter explaining that although she and Vecchio lived not far away, they were choosing to spend the night before the wedding in the hotel with the rest of the bridal party.
The four of them piled into Stella's sensible sedan. Vecchio sat shotgun, Kowalski and Fraser in the back. The luggage had been banished to the trunk.
"How's the planning going?" Kowalski asked, leaning forward in his seat.
Vecchio looked over his shoulder, "Not much left to plan at this point. It's mostly about getting dressed and showing up at the correct time."
"Well, what about your bachelor party?" Kowalski asked. "I know you said Fraser didn't have to do it, even though he's the best man. Who'd you get to do it? Or were you doing it yourself?"
Stella laughed. Tossing her hair back, she said, "You haven't even told them the best part!"
Looking sheepish, Vecchio said, "Frannie took over planning."
Kowalski's jaw dropped. "No way. You had your sister plan your last night of freedom? Don't tell me she's coming too."
Vecchio shook his head. "She likes planning things, but she's not invited. I told her this was a guys' night and she was going to have to respect that."
Fraser had his eyes fixed on Vecchio's neck, right where it met his shoulder. The collar of Vecchio's shirt hung just a touch too large, revealing the pale skin normally hidden below.
"Frannie planned the bachelorette too," Stella said. "And part of the wedding. You know, if she put her mind to it, she'd be a great party planner."
"She's something," Vecchio said. He looked over his shoulder to Fraser and winked. It made Fraser's stomach do flips, a blush rising to his cheeks.
"Your mother in town?" Kowalski asked Stella.
She nodded her head. "She and my father arrived last night. My mother is over the moon about the wedding. You'd think I'd never been married before. But god, my mother immediately began criticizing my choices. My dress is too plain, I'm not wearing my grandmother's jewelry, and we didn't invite enough people. It's a mess!"
As they drove, Stella continued to vent her woes about her upcoming nuptials. Fraser noticed that Vecchio had gone quiet, a satisfied smile on his face. Kowalski, meanwhile, was chattering up a storm. He knew all of Stella's family and friends and was demanding updates on each and every individual.
They arrived at the hotel, and Fraser was grateful to be out of the car. He'd been mostly silent, only offering up the bare minimum as his thoughts were elsewhere, somewhere in the place right where Vecchio's tan faded into light skin.
"Let's get you checked in," Vecchio said. "Stella and I have separate rooms tonight. You know what they say, it's bad luck to see your bride on the day of the wedding. Which means tonight the three of us are all on the same floor." He gestured between the men. "Stella's already up in the honeymoon suite."
Check-in went smoothly, and the four rode up the elevator together. Fraser felt a wave of jet lag. It had been quite a journey from the remote town he and Kowalski were living in to get down to sunny Florida. It had started with a dog sled before the series of flights. They'd been in the limbo of travel for nearly two full days.
Next to him, Kowalski yawned. "I'm ready to hit the hay. I need a nap," he said. "What about you, Frase?"
Fraser nodded, "Yes, I could use some rest."
"Take all the time you need," Vecchio said. "We've got dinner at six. I'm running out to pick up my tux before then."
"Do you have the address?" Fraser asked.
"It's the steakhouse right across the street. Duke's. It'll be us three, some of the guys from the old precinct, and then my brother-in-law. Not a huge group, but I'm sure we can get up to some trouble," Vecchio said.
"Trouble in my middle name," Kowalski said, a mischievous smile on his face. Stella was the only one to laugh.
The three men said their goodbyes to Stella, exiting on their floor. The hotel had been kind enough to put their rooms close to one another.
Kowalski yawned again. "When I get into the room, I'm turning the A/C up and going right to sleep."
"Fraser got you used to the tundra already?" Vecchio joke.
"Beats the heck of the humidity."
Vecchio slowed. "This is my room. Ray, I think you're across the hall. And then you're next to him." He passed out their room keys.
"Thank you," Fraser said as his fingers brushed against Vecchio's hand.
"Sleep well," Vecchio said to Kowalski. "And I'll try to stop by your room before dinner. I want to make sure you know the schedule for tomorrow. Wouldn't want anything to get lost in translation."
"Of course," Fraser nodded.
They split up, and Fraser found his room, 714, and opened the door. It was a basic hotel room, but the bed looked inviting enough. He turned the television on and set the volume low. It was a local news broadcast, and Fraser hoped to catch the weather report. Although the wedding was scheduled for a ballroom space, Fraser knew that Stella was hoping to take photos in the hotel's garden.
He unpacked his things and sat down on the bed. Exhaustion was creeping up on him. He lay back against the headboard and folded his arms across his stomach. He'd just rest a moment, he thought.
Fraser cracked an eye open. He'd fallen asleep, and there was now an urgent knocking on the door. Struggling to his feet, Fraser went to the sound.
"Jeez, I thought I was going to have to call the fire department. You sleep like the dead." Ray Kowalski slipped in as Fraser cracked open the door. "It's a good thing I came to check on you, because you're like five thirty. You would have missed dinner."
"Five thirty!" Fraser looked down at his watch, confirming the time. "Oh dear, I still have to get ready." He rushed over to the closet, pulling out his things. "I need to shower."
Ray flopped onto the bed. "Be my guest. I'll wait here."
Taking his things into the small bathroom, Fraser hurried to get into the shower. With the quick, efficient movement, Fraser stripped out of his clothes and climbed into the still-warming shower. There was hot water in the apartment Ray and Fraser shared, but the water pressure at the hotel was something else. Fraser stopped for a moment, enjoying the sensation. Dimly over the water, Fraser could hear Ray flipping through the television channels. It was something akin to how they lived at home. Pushing away the thoughts, Fraser worked methodically, cleaning himself head-to-toe.
When he was done, he stepped out and found that the bathroom was full of steam. Taking the towel, he carefully cleaned a spot on the mirror. He looked at himself for a moment. He needed a haircut, having let his hair grow just beyond regulation length over the last few weeks. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to style it back. It was helpless.
Fraser turned his attention back to the task at hand and got himself ready.
Opening the door, Fraser found Ray standing in front of the television, arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Is something the matter?" Fraser asked.
Ray looked away from the television, "Oklahoma just scored a run. College softball."
"I understand," he said, even though he didn't precisely understand.
"You look fancy."
Fraser looked down at himself. He'd worn a button-up dress shirt with a pair of slacks that had been carefully packed so as not to crease. He had to admit, it was somewhat more formal than Ray's polo and khakis. "I wasn't sure of the dress code. I have a coat hanging up."
Ray smiled. "He'll appreciate that. I know he'll dress up too."
They walked down to the lobby together, finding Welsh and Huey in the hotel bar. Welsh was nursing a double pour of a dark liquid, while Huey had settled on a dark beer.
"You know, the minute I got this invite, I knew I'd be seeing you two," Welsh said by way of greeting. "I said, Vecchio's only got one friend in the world, and that friend has his own best friend who happens to be the bride's ex-husband. The four of you make a hell of a family."
Huey laughed. "Come here to get her back, Kowalski?"
Ray shook his head. "I think I've finally learned my lesson."
"Is Dewey with you?" Fraser asked.
"He's talking to the concierge. He's looking for something a little more exciting to cap off the night," Huey said.
A moment later, Dewey arrived, clutching a piece of paper. "I got the name of a club down the road."
"Vecchio is going to flip if it's a strip club," Kowalski said, trying to peek over Dewey's shoulder at the paper in his hand.
Dewey scoffed. "I knew that. No, this is a nightclub. The kind of place where we might be able to dance with some ladies."
Dancing with ladies was the last thing Fraser wanted to do in the world, but he had to admit that most of the present company would enjoy such an activity. Even Ray Vecchio most likely would.
Welsh drained the last of his drink. "Alright, everyone shut up, I see Vecchio coming."
Fraser looked back at the entrance of the bar. There was Vecchio approaching. He had a sports coat draped over his shoulder. He was wearing a maroon silk shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show his chest hair. Quickly, Fraser looked away.
"Tony bailed. Something about getting invited to a poker game by some guys he met at Disney World. Come on," Vecchio said. He jerked his head toward the door. "Reservation's in ten."
The group filed out of the hotel lobby together. Kowalski made pleasant conversation with Dewey and Huey while Welsh grilled Vecchio on the seat arrangements for the next day. Fraser kept to himself, letting the talk flow around him.
The steakhouse, which was directly across the street as promised, was an upscale establishment. A stern matre'd met them at the door and escorted them to a large table in the back. The walls were covered in a luxurious wallpaper punctuated by tasteful paintings of landed gentry and their horses. It looked positively strange compared to the picture of Orlando in Fraser's mind.
Suddenly, Fraser realized Kowalski was talking to him. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," he said with some shame.
"You want to sit next to Vecchio?" Kowalski pointed to a seat.
"Oh, um," Fraser hesitated, but as he took stock of the table, he noticed the other seats were already taken. "Yes." Shuffling around to the other side, he took the spot to Vecchio's right.
"Thought you'd forgotten about me," Vecchio said as Fraser sat. He had a half-smile on his face.
"I would never forget about you, Ray. Especially not before such an important day." In truth, the wedding had been on his mind nearly constantly for the last few weeks. Ever since he and Kowalski had walked out of the travel agent's office, he had begun to think of his friend.
The waiter approached the table. "Good evening. Would the table prefer still or sparkling water tonight?"
"Still," Huey said quickly.
Dewey spoke up first. "Actually, we'll start with a couple of bottles of wine."
"Of course, sir, I will have my sommelier come by the table and provide our wine pairings."
The moment the waiter was out of earshot, Huey turned to Vecchio. "So how's this work tonight. We each paying our own way?"
"Dinner tonight is on the Senior Florida Bowling League. We booked a big tournament," Vecchio said, a grin spreading across his face.
A murmur of pleasure went around the table.
The sommelier came to the table a moment later, interrupting Welsh's animated story of a violent murder. A wine list was produced, and the drinkers at the table picked two bottles of a robust red.
As appetizer salads arrived at the table, and the wine began to flow, the level of discussion rose. Vecchio deftly answered the aggressive interrogation he was subjected to by the Chicago contingent. Yes, he likes running the bowling alley. No, he wasn't spending every day on the beach. No, it wasn't sunny every day— just nearly every day.
Plates were cleared, and the steaks hit the table. The group was split on the question of quantity versus quality, with some preferring to maximize the amount of meat they were enjoying. Another bottle of wine arrived at the table.
Fraser tried to join in, making the occasional comment, but found he was not as skilled at socializing as he'd once been in life.
Vecchio drained the last of his glass. "Dessert?"
"Absolutely!" Kowalski said with a child-like glee.
Dewey stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Actually, I've got dessert all planned."
Vecchio's eyebrows shot up. "What are you getting at?"
In a stage whisper, Dewey looked around at the others and said, "Wait until you see his reaction." Drawing himself up to full height, in a booming voice, he said, "Ray Vecchio, I am taking you to a strip club."
Instantly, Vecchio's face fell into his hands. "No, no, no."
"Yes, yes, yes," Dewey said. "We are all going down the street, and you are going to meet the fine ladies of Twin Palms Club!"
"You dog," Kowalski swatted Dewey. "You said it was a nightclub!"
Dewey had a maniacal grin. "I lied. Sometimes cops do that."
Fraser put a hand on Vecchio's shoulder. "Would you prefer we go back to the hotel?"
"Oh come on, Big Red, you like ladies, don't you? Let's go out to the club, we'll have a couple of drinks, and Vecchio here will see the last pair of tits he'll ever see in his life."
Welsh stood up. "As your superior, I will leave this all to you. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," they all chorused.
"Okay, fine, one drink," Vecchio said, standing up. He picked up the bottle of wine from the table and downed the last inch of it.
Twin Palms Club was actually two blocks away. Fraser was surprised how warm it still was even though the sun had set. He fell to the back of the pack, but a moment later, he wasn't alone.
"You having a good time?" Vecchio had slowed to match Fraser's pace.
"Oh, yes, I'm having a wonderful time," Fraser lied.
Vecchio looked skeptical. "You know, I remember that case we did where we had to go trapesing through the strip clubs of Chicago."
Fraser smiled. "Yes, I remember meeting several ladies that day. And a rat."
"Don't remind me about the rat," he said fondly.
"Here we are!" Dewey shouted.
A burly bouncer at the door checked identification and collected a cover charge before letting the group in. Inside was dim, but Fraser could see there was a stage along the back wall, a bar to the left, and to the right an area marked "PRIVATE ROOMS". There were only a couple of other men in the establishment. The woman on the stage was topless, dancing to a rock song whose lyrics were a double entendre. Fraser looked away.
Another woman, in what appeared to be a bathing suit or brightly colored set of underwear, walked past the group.
"Hey," Huey said, getting her attention. "It's my buddy's bachelor party tonight, and we were looking to buy some dances."
She looked appraisingly over the group. "I'm Brandy. Let me get some of the girls from the back."
Huey turned back to the men and did a double thumbs-up. Fraser refrained from rolling his eyes, but Kowalski did not.
"Look, I'm going to sit at the bar, I see the Diamondbacks are playing," Kowalski said.
"We've got a baseball fan," Brandy said. "I'll send her out. Maybe you two could talk. Maybe you could buy her a drink."
Although a handful of cases had found Fraser in a strip club, he had never been a patron of one. When Brandy returned, she was followed by other women, all in various revealing outfits. Fraser was surprised at the heights of the heels they wore; they were all nearly or as tall as the men in their group.
"Does the bachelor have a preference?" Brandy asked the group.
"This is the bachelor," Dewey said proudly. "And I don't know what he wants, but I would love to talk to this gorgeous woman right here." He stepped toward a blonde woman.
Sheepishly, Vecchio said, "I don't have a preference."
Brandy nodded. "That's okay, honey, let me take you into a private room, and we can figure out what you want."
Fraser noticed at that moment that Dewey was discreetly handing money to all of the women present. He absently wondered if this was Dewey's wedding present.
"You're handsome," a brunette woman said as she approached Fraser. "What's your name?"
"Benton." He offered his hand.
She giggled. "Benton. Okay, sweetie. I'm Claire. Why don't we go somewhere private?"
He felt his stomach drop. He wanted to say no, but for some reason his mouth said, "Yes."
The group now paired off with the women, and they all headed toward the private room section. The rooms were small, just big enough for a few people. Fraser followed Claire into one, and looking at his seating options, he opted for a chair over the couch.
"Now, I have to give you a little heads up before this," she said. "You can't touch yourself or me. Your hands need to be where I can see them at all times. If you touch yourself or me, I will stop the dance, and the nice bouncer you met on the way in will escort you out."
Fraser blushed. "Oh, you don't have to do anything. I know you were paid by my party, but perhaps we could just… talk?"
She pouted. "Don't you want something a little more fun?"
"No, thank you." He said. "I don't know the allotted time, but perhaps we should just sit until our time is up."
"You get thirty minutes, and sure, if you want to spend it talkin,g we can, but just know, I'm not going to fall in love with you, and I'm not going to tell you about myself." She sat down on the couch. "But if you want to talk, you can tell me about yourself."
It was a reasonable request. "Where would you like to begin?"
Leaning down, she fixed her fishnets. "Start with your name. What kind of name is Benton?"
"That is an interesting story," he conceded.
He spoke unbroken about his past, his childhood, and the beginning of his time with the RCMP. Claire was a polite listener, asking questions at the appropriate times and making sympathetic noises when the story called for it.
Fraser was just beginning his move to Moose Jaw when the door swung open.
"Hey, you with the bachelor party?" It was Brandy.
"Yes," Fraser stood up. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Brandy jerked her thumb toward the room across the hall. "Come get your bachelor. He's been crying the whole time I've been dancing. He had a couple of cocktails. He's too drunk to stay here."
"Oh dear," Fraser said before turning to Claire. "If you'll excuse me."
The room was dark when Fraser entered. It was nearly identical to the one that Fraser had just been in, except in this one, Ray was sitting on the couch, slumped forward, his head in his hands. Fraser could see his body was shaking.
Just above a whisper, he said, "Ray."
Ray looked up. His eyes were red, and there were tears on his cheeks. "Oh. It's you."
Fraser put out his hand. "Let's go back to the hotel, you're intoxicated."
Foregoing the outstretched band, Ray stood up. Taking the first step, he stumbled, falling forward, so drunk he did not move to brace himself.
Instinctively, Fraser caught him, grabbing his shoulders and righting him. "Are you okay to walk? The hotel is a few minutes from here." He let go of Ray, testing to see if he could stand on his own. With some difficulty, Ray seemed able to do so.
"Where's my drink?" Ray asked, his speech slurring together.
"Perhaps, you should refrain from any more alcohol." Fraser put his arm around Ray and navigated them to the door. Brandy and Claire were in the hallway, looking at the two with some amusement.
Fraser put on a polite smile. "Thank you kindly for informing me of the situation. I will escort him back to the hotel."
"Too bad," Brandy said quietly to Claire. "He was kind of cute before he started crying."
Holding most of Ray's weight, he guided them toward the door. He expected to see other members of their party, but there were only strangers watching the main stage. The women would talk amongst themselves; their departure would surely get back to the others.
"You don't have to hold me," Ray said a little too loudly as they stepped out into the night air.
The bouncer was sitting on a stool reading the newspaper. He looked up at the two of them. "You need a cab?" He asked Fraser.
"Oh, no, thank you. We're staying at the hotel down the street," Fraser nodded in the general direction.
"Stay safe," the bouncer said. "It's dark out there."
"I'd rather the car hit me," Ray said to himself, his voice still raised.
With an embarrassed nod to the bouncer, they started their journey to the hotel. It was only a short walk, but it took some maneuvering with Ray slung over his shoulder, his weight pressing down on Fraser.
Periodically, Ray would look over at Fraser, studying him closely. His eyes traced over every inch of Fraser's face, looking for something. Fraser could feel his stares and kept his eyes forward, choosing not to engage. They were unusually silent.
As they crossed the street to the hotel, Ray stumbled again. Fraser moved his arm, tucking Ray tight against him. Very quietly, Ray sighed.
The lobby of the hotel was empty; a sign on the check-in desk read "Out for One Hour".
"You don't have to be so nice to everyone," Ray said with a huff.
"I think politeness is a great sign of respect toward others," he said, pressing the button for the elevator.
Ray leaned into Fraser more. "What time is it?" He sounded exhausted.
Fraser looked at his watch. "It's nine-thirty."
The elevator dinged, and the door slid open. Fraser helped Ray through the door. Once inside, Ray pulled away from Fraser, slumping against the wall. Neither said anything as the elevator ascended. Fraser was looking at Ray, who had his eyes closed, his face pressed against the cool metal wall. Ray was drunker than Fraser had ever seen him before.
Reaching their floor, Fraser offered his arm to Ray. His friend took it, wobbling with every step as they made it down the hallway toward their rooms.
"This is your room," Fraser said, gesturing toward the door.
Ray felt his right pocket, and then, clumsily, he let go of Fraser to feel his left. He frowned, a deep crease between his eyebrows.
"Is something wrong?" Fraser asked.
Ray burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "I think I left my coat with the ladies of the night."
"Oh, dear, if you wait in the lobby, I can run back and retrieve your jacket. Or we can go to the lobby and see about a replacement key. Or perhaps—" he stopped short. Ray was swaying again, trying to take an unassisted step. He pressed his lips together, suppressing a laugh.
Ray made it to Fraser's door and rapped a finger against the wood. "You got a mini bar in there?"
"Yes, but I don't know if that's a good idea." Yet for some reason, he pulled his key from his pocket, walking toward Ray.
Leaning against the doorframe, Ray said, "One drink and I'll go down to the desk. They're not even there right now."
Fraser leaned past Ray, unlocking the door. "I would recommend against drinking. We're expected early tomorrow."
Ray raised his hands up. "It's one drink. I'm already drunk."
Putting his weight on the handle, Fraser opened the door. He was pressed against Ray, their chests together.
Ray took a sharp breath in.
Fraser froze. He was close enough that he could see the green hue hidden on the edge of Ray's eyes. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears.
"Benny?" It was so quiet that for a moment Fraser thought it was his imagination.
"Yes, Ray?" He found he could hardly speak.
Ray blinked, his eyes searching.
Fraser wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but the only thought in his mind was the green in Ray's eyes.
Before he could process what was happening, Ray's mouth was against his, warm and hungry. Fraser melted into the touch as Ray's arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. They were lost in each other.
"Benny, please."
Without any elaboration, Fraser knew what Ray wanted, what Ray needed.
Putting his hands on Ray's hips, he steered them into the room, past the bathroom, and to the bed. Pushing Ray down to the bed, he crawled over him, covering him with his whole body. He pressed against him, and Ray groaned into his mouth. Excited, Fraser reached his hand down between them, pawing at Ray's growing erection.
Leaning over, Ray reached for the light. "I want to see you."
Mind overcome, Fraser nodded.
Ray's hands roamed over Fraser's body, up to his hair. Fraser sighed, dropping his head down to Ray's neck. He nuzzled against the soft skin, peppering him with kisses.
"You're gorgeous," Ray babbled. "You're so beautiful. I don't know how you walk around like that."
Fraser undid Ray's pants with a grunt. Now with enough room, he put his hand down Ray's boxer, cupping his cock. Ray arched up to the touch.
Ray panted, "I want you."
"I have something," Fraser said between strokes. "We can."
Smiling like a maniac, Ray nodded. "Yeah, get it."
Reluctant to leave, afraid Ray would bolt if not held down, Fraser sat back on his knees. "Stay."
Leaving Ray took all the strength in his body. This was his first opportunity, maybe his only opportunity at the kind of connection he had always craved. But Ray's grin promised he would not leave if Fraser stood up for a moment.
Releasing Ray, Fraser stood up and darted into the bathroom. Digging in his toiletry bag, he found what he was looking for, a small bottle of lube.
Ray was still on the bed, waiting expectantly for Fraser. At the sight of him, Ray's smile widened. It made Fraser's heart ache.
"You're a Boy Scout, Benny."
"Take off your clothes," Fraser said as he began to strip his own.
Ray sat up and started to unbutton his shirt. It was a slow, fumbling striptease, his motor function still impaired from the alcohol. But it was the most erotic thing Fraser had ever witnessed in his life. The reveal of skin that Fraser had coveted for years.
Shedding the last of his clothes, Fraser freed his stiff erection. "Lay back."
Doing as he was told, Ray draped himself over the bed. He looked gorgeous, all long limbs. Fraser hadn't dared to imagine this before, but still, it was better than anything he ever could have conjured in his mind.
Climbing onto the bed, Fraser slotted himself between Ray's legs. He uncapped the lube and generously applied some to his fingers. Putting his free hand on Ray's stomach, he reached down and found Ray's entrance. Circling his finger, Fraser wondered if this was a bad idea, if he'd crossed some boundary. But at that moment, Ray sighed, throwing his head back and pushing all thoughts from Fraser's mind.
"Please," Ray begged.
Fraser pressed into Ray, practically delirious with want. Methodically, he opened Ray up, watching the way he squirmed under his touch. With every movement, Ray's cock bobbed. He was leaking precum, his cock practically covered. Without a thought, Fraser leaned down and took him into his mouth.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Ray whimpered, bucking up into Fraser's mouth.
Adding another finger, Fraser tried his best to hold Ray down steady. His own cock was begging for attention, but he was lost in Ray.
Ray threw an arm over his eyes. "Benny, you have to stop, or I won't last. I want you. I'm ready."
It was all the invitation Fraser needed. With one final lick, Fraser pulled back. As gently as he could, he removed his fingers.
"I don't have a condom," Fraser confessed.
"Fuck me anyway," Ray said, almost begging.
Fraser was dizzy with lust. "Turn over."
Untangling their limbs, Ray turned over, bracing himself on his hands and knees.
With a few lazy strokes to himself, Fraser looked at the sight before him, desperate to memorize everything.
Eventually, want took over, and Fraser lined himself up, pushing slowly into Ray. He gritted his teeth, taking in a sharp breath. Ray was tight and hot. Fraser counted to three slowly, trying to keep himself collected.
With a whine, Ray said, "Please fuck me."
Fraser understood his need. Starting as slowly as he could bear, Fraser started to thrust. In response, Ray made the most delicious noises, barely audible moans that betrayed his feelings. It made Fraser lose his composure, fucking Ray harder and harder.
Ray reached his hand down, stroking himself. "Benny, I'm— I'm going to—" He couldn't finish the sentence.
"Do it," Fraser commanded.
Pushing himself over the edge, Ray finished himself with rough, quick tugs.
Fraser groaned, feeling Ray clench around him. His body demanded more. He gathered Ray up in his arms, holding him back against his own body, and he began to fuck with unbridled intensity. He felt the heat building in his body. Angling his body just so, buried himself as deep as he could, and he came.
"Ray," he sobbed, the feeling too intense.
"Oh god, Benny, yes, yes, yes."
His body totally spent, Fraser let go of Ray, cognizant of the fact that his fingers had been dug so tight against Ray's skin they were sure to leave marks. Slowly, he pulled out, separating the two of them.
Less than graceful, Ray lay down on his stomach, panting. "Jesus," he whispered.
With the last of his strength, Fraser got up from the bed and went to the bathroom. He found a washcloth which he wet with the lukewarm water from the sink. He roughly cleaned himself off, and then, remembering his manners, he went back into the bedroom to assist Ray.
"You don't have it," Ray started.
"I want to," Fraser said.
Ray acquiesced, letting Fraser make him spotless again, erasing almost all evidence they had been together.
"Screw the towel," Ray said. He grabbed the cloth from Fraser's hand and tossed it onto the floor. "Come get in bed."
They climbed under the quilt together, and Ray turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness. Fraser wasn't sure what to do, how to lie, what to say. But Ray answered all his silent questions, wrapping his arms around Fraser and taking his position as the big spoon.
"Relax," Ray breathed into Fraser's ear.
Following his command, Fraser tried his best to ease himself.
"Benny?" Ray's voice was timid.
"Yes, Ray?"
"Why'd you pack a bottle of lube?"
Fraser turned over, bringing them face to face. In the dark, he could only make out the shapes of Ray's face, but he could hear the concern in his voice.
"I'm not sure," Fraser said honestly. "I saw it in the bathroom the morning we left, and I felt a great urge to bring it with me."
"But you didn't bring it for him, did you?" Ray asked softly.
Fraser's heart ached. "No."
"Are you and him… are you together?"
"No."
"But he wants you to be," Ray said matter-of-factly.
Fraser said nothing, sorrow washing over him.
"It's okay," Ray said quietly. "I know what he sees in you."
"Are you getting married tomorrow?" Fraser asked, the words coming out of his mouth before he'd had time to consider them.
Ray sighed. "Caterer's already paid for."
"You don't have to," Fraser pleaded.
"What would I do?" Ray asked plainly. "I don't know how to get out of this, Benny."
Fraser wanted to sweep Ray off his feet, to take him away from all this mess. But Ray was right, there was no obvious way out. No way to be together without uprooting both their lives and those of others. "I'm sorry, Ray."
"I don't want to talk about it. Let's just go to sleep."
They were both quiet, but neither slept for some time. Fraser's thoughts were racing. He'd gotten to taste Ray, to see what he had always wanted, and in the morning, it would all be gone. The universe was cruel in ways that Fraser would never understand.
Ray shifted, and his breathing changed. He had fallen asleep.
Screwing his eyes shut, Fraser prayed the morning would never come.