Loving Him

A RayK/Ben love story



Copyright July 2001 Bast

This work is not to be reproduced in any way or archived anywhere without the express written permission of the author.

Love him. Forever. The words roll around in my head as I watch Ray sleep.

He's sprawled all over our bed, one of his hands on my pillow, his fingers twitching in his sleep.

I missed him terribly even though I was only gone for ten hours. His affection towards me has spoiled me completely, but that's not a bad thing. No, not a bad thing at all.

Turning away from the one person in my life that I thought I would never have, I shed my clothing and head towards the bathroom.

We moved here twelve years ago when Ray fell so ill that I feared he wouldn't live.

I will never forget how thick and laboured his breathing sounded, how… helpless I felt. We were kilometres away from any physician. Even had one been nearby, I couldn't take him out on the sled ill like that, he would never have survived the journey.

I thought that each breath would be his last, and he told me, while half-delirious, he thought he would die.

I shudder as I remember the wild look in his eyes as he lay there, shivering uncontrollably, the fever coursing through his veins.

I remember how he took my hand in his and told me he loved me more than anything else in the world, and that he should tell me goodbye because he wasn't sure how long he could hold on. I remember his voice, hoarse and weak, telling me he loved me.

I shiver as I step under the warm spray. The tremors run through my body… I must be beyond exhaustion to be thinking these morbid thoughts. He's fine. He's in our bed, asleep, as he should be.

I remember….

I remember holding him close, rocking him, begging him not to leave me alone. I remember the tears that ran down my cheeks as I begged him not to die, not to leave me alone as everyone else in my life had.

He didn't.

I'm still not certain why or how he survived. I am just thankful he did. Perhaps, he knew how much I needed him.

While he lay in our bed recovering, I spoke to him of my plans to move us back to the States, to a warmer climate. He was not pleased, to say the least. He wanted to stay in my homeland, wanted us to live as we had, but I insisted. I was not going to lose him because of the climate. I would not.

We had to be closer to a physician. What if he fell ill again? I could not bear to lose him.

He complained a great deal and became very angry with me. We fought bitterly over it during his convalescence.

One day, we were fighting yet again and I walked out of our cabin to stop the fight. I was tired of fighting, tired of the hurtful words that we shared. When I didn't return immediately, he, in his words, freaked the fuck out, and left the warmth of our shelter to find me, to apologise, to tell me he loved me even though we fought.

It began to snow again, and he became disoriented.

I came so close to losing him again. I will never forget trudging back to our cabin and finding him sitting in the snow, shaking from the cold and the return of the fever.

However, some things never change. His first words to me were, "I ain't leaving."

A wry grin splits my face as I step from the shower and towel off. Stubborn, that's my Ray.

Stubborn, and impossible, and a hundred other things that make up the wonderful, frustrating man that I share my life with.

He told me that night, as he was wrapped up in blankets, me holding him tight, his breath rattling in his lungs, that he was happy here and wanted to stay. That he needed to stay. He needed me. His voice was quiet and his hand clutched mine tightly. We ended up sitting in silence for hours while I pondered what to do.

Living where we lived was not acceptable, was not conductive to Ray being safe, to… Ray staying alive.

So… we talked, we compromised. I took a posting further south, he let me fuss over him and coddle him – and we didn't leave Canada.

I drop the damp towel across the shower rod in the bathroom and go back to stand next to our bed, wanting to watch him sleep again.

"Done obsessing over me?" Ray's voice startles me, and I jump slightly before grinning down at my mate.

"Never," I whisper, sliding in our bed, wrapping my body around him. With a sigh of contentment, I stroke his hair and say, "I love you, Ray."

"I love you too, Ben," he mumbles, stroking my stomach as he lays his head on my chest. "Oh yeah." Ray pushes himself upright and squints at the small table that holds our lamp as well as Ray's assorted papers, mostly schematics and illegible – to me – notes about parts that need to be ordered for the small repair jobs he does for people. He finally sighs and turns on the lamp. "Here." He shoves an envelope at me, and I look at it with a frown.

"Quit wrinklin' up that forehead of yours, Ben, and read it," Ray says nonchalantly. It's an act. He doesn't want to know what Ray Vecchio has to say, he doesn't want or like Ray Vecchio writing me, but he accepts it.

I slip my arm around him and open the envelope slowly, my mind on another time, another place, when he let me know that he was jealous of the man he once pretended to be.

I remember his hot breath on my face, the bleak desperation and sadness in his eyes, the way he hissed the words at me. "I don't like him, Frase. I don't want anyone to have you but me. I love ya, and can't nobody love ya like I do!"

We weren't even lovers then. I remember staring after him, watching as he stomped away, his posture screaming, "I'm gonna kick someone in the head!".

How could he have said those words so easily?

"'Cuz I love ya," Ray says quietly, hugging me.

"Understood," I smile and turn my attention to the letter. I scan it quickly, then set it aside. I will answer it later, and I won't upset Ray further by spending an undue amount of time on it.

"You done already? You didn't have to hurry on my account," he grumbles.

I just smile at him and cover his mouth with mine. He melts into the kiss, throwing himself wholeheartedly into it as he does everything else.

As I roll over on top of him I realise the air is a tad chilly, and I break our kiss to murmur, "Are you cold?"

"Are you a freak, Fraser?" Ray stares up at me indignantly. "I got a 190 pound Mountie on top of me. A nice, warm Mountie!"

The worry in my eyes must have shown through because he sighed. "Go turn up the heat, then get back here! I want you to keep me warm!"

I hesitate for a moment, then kiss him again, deciding that yes, I can keep him warm.

"Mmmm," he moans into my mouth.

Gently at first, we rock together, then he wraps his legs around mine, letting me know that tonight he wants this, wants us to be joined together.

He finds intercourse painful at times, so we normally do not engage in that activity, choosing instead to satisfy our needs and desires in other ways.

I have never been happier in my life.

Sharing our love, no matter how it is given or taken, is a source of great joy to me. And, I would like to think, to him also.

I lick the underside of his jaw, smiling against his skin as he begins to writhe under me.

"Ben?" his voice is shaky and I immediately stop.

"Yes, Ray?"

"Hurry the fuck up, already!" he hisses, and I can do nothing but obey.

My hands fumble with the lube that he's shoving at me, having grabbed it off the table. "Oh dear." It falls on the floor, and I retrieve it. His hands are grasping, pulling at me. "Ray, slow down."

"Bennnnn….." he groans, his fingers digging into my skin.

"Slow down, or –" I grunt as I lever off of him, pulling my skin away from his, fumbling with the cap of the bottle in my hand.

"Or? Or what? God, you're slow," he mutters shifting to his side, trembling. I, of course, worry that the trembling is from cold, but as I reach for the blanket, he says flatly, "Don't. I'll pop ya in the head."

"I merely wanted to –"

He turns back to look at me, and his face softens. "Ben, make love with me, please? I'm fine."

I nod tersely, and begin to prepare him, gently and carefully. I could never forgive myself if I hurt him.

He's moving on my fingers, and I slick the slightly cold gel over my penis before moving to lie behind him. Kissing his shoulder, I guide myself into him slowly, giving him plenty of time to adjust to me.

By the time I'm fully inside, we're both shaking.

"Ben," he says roughly, and I begin to move, spooned around him, holding him tight in my arms.

"I love you," I whisper into his ear. "I love you."

"I love you," he says quietly, lacing our fingers together over his heart as we make love slowly, gently, sweetly.

He moves his hand across and up and down his penis, his breathing becoming laboured, and I groan, my orgasm filling him as I kiss his back and shoulders and neck. He tenses, his orgasm silent, and we snuggle together, saying nothing at first.

Making love with Ray is almost the best thing in my life.

We've been together for fifteen years, and I know that we'll never be apart.

His strong, wiry body hasn't changed. He's still got spiked hair – granted, the blond is going grey, but so is my once dark hair. He's still beautiful in my eyes. He cannot help that his lungs are irreparably damaged and he must stay warm.

"You think too much, Ben," Ray mumbles. He's slipping back into sleep, and I smile, kissing him once again. As I start to shift away from him, he grabs me tight. "No. Stay."

I do.

Three Days Later

I'm standing at the sink, bandaging Ray's hand from where a wrench slipped and skinned his knuckles, and look worriedly at him.

"Quit it, Fraser," he grates out.

Oh dear. He's angry, and that's not –

"Stop lookin' like I kicked ya," Ray snarls at me and I smile at him, suddenly aware of how I can take his bad humour away. I'll tell him a story.

"You sound very much like a –"

"I don't want to hear it," he warns me, but he's smiling nonetheless.

"– wolf who has –" He takes my mouth, hard. I relish it. His tongue slides across mine, sending heat throughout my body as I walk backwards, his hands tight on my arms. I bump into the kitchen table, which stops our progress, and he grunts, pushing his pelvis against mine.

This wasn't quite what I had in mind, but I'm not complaining.

My erection hardens even more as he continues to thrust against me and I gasp. He relaxes his hold on me, kissing his way over to my ear. He says quite softly, "I wanna make love with you, Ben. Can I?"

I nod. He smiles at me and takes my hand, leading me to our bedroom.

Really, it's as if my brain has gone… elsewhere – oh… we're by our bed, and he's undressing me, mumbling to himself like he always does. "So wonderful, so beautiful and handsome and good and all mine," over and over. His words inflame my desire even more.

Before I can wrap my mind around it, we're in our bed, naked, his hands roaming my body, the gauze I used to wrap his wound tickling me.

His mouth is bestowing kisses up and down my chest, and pleasure spirals through me. I whimper, cupping the back of his head with my hand.

Ray lifts his head and smiles at me, whispering, "I love ya, Ben. Forever, ya know that?"

"Yes, Ray, I too," I say solemnly, pulling him up to me, kissing him, tasting him, feeling my heart swell even more with love for this man, my mate.

He rises off of me, grabbing the lube and warming it in his hands before touching me. Smiling down at me, he says, "You're the best thing in the world, Ben."

I shake my head and smile at him. He understands the look on my face; he's seen it all these years.

As his fingers breech me, I groan, spreading my legs even wider for him. I love this. I love the feel of him touching me, pressing into me, loving me.

By the time his penis finally penetrates me, I can barely breathe. I want this so badly. I always do. He loves this about me, and I love giving this to him.

He's staring down into my face and he's holding my waist as he loves me. I look into his eyes and am lost, as always. I love him.

The look of love in his eyes is enough to make me orgasm, and I do. He follows soon behind me, gasping my name as he presses into me, holding me tightly.

He's shaking as he pulls out of me and moves into my arms to cuddle close. He's always been a cuddler, and I smile and kiss the top of his head. Strangely enough, even though I was uneasy with people touching me when I met him, the first time he touched me – a hug – I began to crave his touches. I always relished his touches when I was merely his friend, and I still do.

"You was never just my friend, you freak," he whispers against my chest, a smile in his voice. "I was always thinking of how to getcha in bed."

"Understood," I say solemnly and then we laugh together, my arms tightening around him.

I love him, and while making love with Ray is almost the best thing in my life, loving him is the best thing in my life.

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