Written 15 November 2002
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People don't understand him. They look at him and they see what they want to see. They don't realise what a great person he is - he's funny, and kind, and sexy. Real smart. Sort of freaky. Loves funny movies and cartoons, eating in bed, and kissing. All they see is the uniform, the polite manners and the pretty face.
He's so much more, though. More than they'll ever know or realise.
I don't think Vecchio even understood him. And they were tight, real tight. Sometimes I don't like that too much, but it's the way it is and I gotta accept it. I do, really. It's okay. It doesn't bother me like it used to. Guess I just got used to Vecchio even though I didn't want to.
That, and after ten years with Ben, I'm sure he'll never stop loving me.
I understand Fraser.
He gives all these little clues that you have to figure out. Like, at night when he turns to me and nuzzles my neck, I know he wants to take me hard. When he brushes tiny kisses across my shoulders, that means slow and gentle, face to face. Either way is good for me. I like being what he needs. What he wants. He's what I want. What I need.
More clues - when he gets up out of bed and stares in the mirror for a long, long time, he's worried I'll stop loving him - he's looking at himself, wondering what I see when I look at him.
Breakfast clues - toast means he's worried about something at work. Muffins means he's not.
Lunch clues - "Come to the consulate for lunch" means I'm gonna get laid, and "I thought we could pick up some wine after work" means I'm gonna get laid, and "Let's have soup," means he's got a lot on his mind.
Dinner clues - when he cooks, he's happy. When he comes in, sits on the couch and stares at the TV, he's not.
But I can read those clues, those and lots more. I love him. Simple as that.
Never thought I'd find `the one', you know? I mean, I wanted love - hell, I loved Stella so much it hurt. I adored and worshiped her. And I thought she was the one. But when she left me, I thought life was over. Never thought anyone would ever love me again, that I could ever love again, and I realised she wasn't the one for me after all.
That realisation hurt. But life goes on.
Then comes Benton Fraser into my life, a constable in the RCMP. And I realise that he's the one for me. He's a man, which is nuts - I never looked at any other man ever. I'm crazy. Kooky. Falling in love with my male partner is anything but sane. But he turned me inside out and upside down and made me crazy - still does - and I fell for him. Fell hard and deep. Christ. Could I be any more fucked? But you know the funny thing?
The funny thing is that I never felt really a lot of conflict about it. I loved him, I kept my mouth shut about it, and lived my life as his best friend. No sense in freaking him out or whatever. I thought I was lucky to have him as a friend.
And it just happened. Just one day, he told me he loved me too.
One day, we were working on the car and he bumped me with his hip. I looked at him, he smiled and said, "I love you, Ray."
Talk about shock. But it was great. I just grinned back and told him I loved him too. It just worked. We've been together ever since.
And now, here it is, our tenth anniversary. He just called and told me he's on his way home and I've got dinner just about ready.
It's gonna be a great night.
"Oh God, yeah," I moan as he grips my hips and pushes into me.
His teeth fasten on my shoulder, holding me in place, and I'm moaning and shaking and so fucking hard I don't even know my name.
It's been good - he played with my body for-fucking-ever, driving me crazy, and he gave me about a zillion of those mind-melting kisses that he's capable of. But I love this part too - the getting close and personal part, the connecting part. Not that I don't love kissing and touching him because I do, but I love him being inside me. I feel so close to him when he's inside me, holding me.
When I reach down to take my dick in hand, he bites down a little harder and I whimper, swivelling my hips, trying to get him even deeper inside me.
"Ben..." I don't care how pathetic I sound. I want him.
"Gonna fuck you Ray," he mutters which just turns me on even more. When he talks dirty, God! "Let me in, Ray. Let me fuck you."
"Fuck me, dammit!" I push back against him and I can feel his smile against my neck. Smug bastard. He knows I want him, knows he's the only one who can give me what I need. I reach around behind me and run my hand across any part of him I can reach. He's shaved. Feels good, all that smooth skin. It's also hot as hell - who'd ever think Mister Proper Mountie Man loves to have me shave him smooth?
When I go down on him when he's shaved like that, I can come just from touching that smooth, sweet skin under my hands while he's filling my mouth with his cock.
He moves a little, sliding his cock in and out of me in shallow little strokes. "You like that?" His breath is hot in my ear but I shiver anyway. He pulls his cock out until he's just barely inside me and I'm dying here.
"No. Yes," I whisper. "Harder." His hands tighten on me and he pushes into me, giving me all of him in one stroke, a sweet burn that I feel down to my toes. "God yeah," I pant as he's riding me hard, as his fingers tighten on my body.
He's muttering as he fucks me, and that turns me on too. "Love you, so damn good, love this."
His hand reaches around and he rubs my belly for a brief second, just a caress, before he reaches down and starts to jack me off. I feel like I'm on fire, like his cock and hand are connected - I almost can't breathe, but it's good, it's great and I'm moaning non-stop as I push into his hand and back onto his cock. He stiffens and moans a little and even though I know he's coming, I'm still moving on him and his hand tightens around me.
"Fuck," he utters as I come and I'm too wiped to figure out why at first. Then, as he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, he explains, "Wanted to last longer." It's good though. And I hope he knows that I like it like this. I tell him often enough.
I laugh a little and he kisses my shoulders before he pulls out of me, lying down on his side of the bed. He tugs me into his arms and hugs me tight for a minute before he starts tickling me, but I know his ticklish spots too.
We're covered in come and laughing and just holding each other tight when he kisses me right below my ear and says, "I'm the luckiest man alive."
I'm speechless. I mean, I never expected Ben to say that. I know I'm lucky. I mean, he's just... he's everything I ever wanted. And he thinks he's the lucky one? He doesn't usually talk about his feelings, he doesn't dissect them or offer them up for discussion. Like I said, he gives clues. It's up to me to decipher them. And I do. It's not so hard.
I look up at him, and his face is serene. He sees the question in my eyes, though, and he answers it, even though I can't ask - I can't ask why he feels that way even though I want to hear the reason. Weird, I know. "You give me everything I could ever want, you know. You understand me like no one else ever has." He hugs me tight and kisses me again. "Besides, who else would subscribe to extended cable so I could have Cartoon Network and the Comedy Channel? It must be love."
I laugh and hug him back. Yeah, he's right - it must be love. "I love you, Fraser."
"And I you, Ray." He looks at me, his smile in his eyes, and I get this clue, too.
I understand what the look in his eyes is saying - he's saying I'm it for him, he's it for me, we're forever.
Yeah. I like the way that sounds.
Understanding Fraser isn't hard at all - at least not for me.