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Home for Christmas
for ultra_chrome
Author's Notes: Many thanks to purpig21 and missapocalyptic!
Home for Christmas
Benton is sitting in the heavy wooden rocking chair, his great-grandfather built many years ago, in front of the fire place, a heavy book on his small knees. He's not supposed to make sense of the words in that book; he's just four years old after all. But he doesn't have to know the words; he knows the book by heart. His Mom reads it to him when she tucks him in for the night, sitting on his bedside, her light, bright voice filling his room.
Like now.
Benton can hear his Mom's laugher from the kitchen; his father must have said something funny to make her sound like that. Not that his Mom doesn't laugh when she's alone with him, but it sounds different with his father around - happier, lighter, more heartfelt.
He wishes his father would always be with them, but he also knows that his father has his duties as an officer of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and Benton's proud of him; he's going to fill his shoes when he's grown up. He thinks his father would like that.
His mother laughs again, followed by whispered words by his father Benton can't quite catch. He sighs happily, gets even more comfortable in his chair, a warming quilt around his narrow shoulders.
Benton loves Christmas.
Not because of the presents which are to be expected. He doesn't care much about material things, he prefers the presence of his father, who always comes home for Christmas, much more than words can say. His family is together, healthy and happy - that's what makes Christmas special for Benton. You just can't compare that to anything one might give you wrapped in paper.
The air is filled with the delicious smell of his Mom's home cooking; it's almost time to set the table now. But perhaps he has time for one more page. He turns a page, looks at the picture intensely, and tries to remember what his Mom has told him about the story at this particular moment. He almost can picture it in his mind, his Mom is a good story teller and ...
"I'm running out of time," his father's words don't make any sense; he's supposed to ask him to set the table, to be a good boy and help his mother.
Benton blinks and single tear drops down on the book on his knees, a book that isn't all that heavy anymore, a book that in fact became quite small as he grew older.
Yes, he is sitting in his great-grandfather's rocking chair; he's even in his father's cabin but not in the Northwest Territories, his home, but in the Canadian Consulate in Chicago, in his closet, where his father has taken residence.
Benton is not a boy anymore but a grown man, and his Mom has been dead for over thirty years. Christmas has never been the same after her death - the happiness has disappeared from his life, and so has his father. He might be in the same room now, but he has been dead for quite some time now as well and he, as always, has duties to attend to. Duties that became more important than his own son. Benton has learnt to accept that, accept his loneliness.
"Merry Christmas, son," his father says before he opens the cabin door. Cold air is flooding in - Benton can picture the beautiful landscape of his beloved home but doesn't dare to look, not at the land or his father. His talent to shield his emotions fails him today and he doesn't want his father to see his vulnerability. He wouldn't understand, would perhaps accuse him of being maudlin, even of losing his edge.
"Merry Christmas," Benton whispers, not certain if his father has even heard his words over the loudly blowing wind outside.
The cabin door closes and Benton is alone, it's almost like then - the rocking chair, the fire burning, the book. He could try to pretend his parents are in the kitchen... but no, it would never be like that again. His Mom is dead, his father is dead - and Benton is alone. On Christmas.
Perhaps he should have taken Inspector Thatcher's offer for a vacation, to be home at least, but he didn't even consider that possibility. True, he would be home and Diefenbaker would be by his side instead of at the Vecchio house with Ante. But everything else would be the same. He would still be alone which, truth to be told, is mainly his own fault. Ray had invited him to his home, to "spend some quality time", with him. But Benton had refused, pretending to have duties to fulfil.
If he isn't careful he will turn into his father. Perhaps he already is, unable to have a loving relationship with another human being, just a person based on duties.
Benton holds onto the book on his lap, his knuckles turning white.
He still remembers the loving voice of his Mom, his parents as they were then, and he wishes something similar for himself.
That's one of the reason's he is sitting in his father's cabin rather than in Ray's home. He grew too dependent on Ray's company, his quick mind, his energy, his smile.
Benton didn't know how it happens but he fell in love with his partner, his friend.
He was grateful to learn that he's still able to feel love, that warm feeling deep down in one's stomach. Butterflies.
Benton had feared that after Victoria a part of him had died, but no, he feels strongly for Ray. Stronger than for anyone before, except his Mom. He cherishes that feeling; though he does not always welcome it, because it means that he has to hide, to lie even, but it makes him human after all.
Ray makes him human, his honest words, his touches. No one ever has touched him quite that easily after his Mom's death and Benton knows for all his solidity that each human being needs a human touch every now and then, the feeling that someone cares for you.
And Ray does care for him, he's is certain of that if nothing else.
Benton doesn't dare to hope that Ray would return his love one day - Ray was married for a long time and it might not even be possible for Ray to fall in love with someone of the same sex.
It's just in times like this that even the thought of Ray not loving him becomes almost unbearable.
Perhaps it's the season - Christmas has become almost as commercialised as Valentines Day: loving couples and happy families are promoted everywhere you look. Makes you realise with a vengeance what is missing in your own life.
Benton sighs deeply and tries to concentrate on the book on his lap again.
Charles Dickens - A Christmas Carol.
But instead of happy memories of his Mom filling his mind, it's the sadness of Ebenezer Scrooge that's getting to him, making his heart heavy and his eyes fill with water.
He's sinking, deeper and deeper into his own body, into his loneliness, that he barely feels the other presence in the room, the touch of a warm hand on his face.
Benton freezes shortly, caught defenceless, vulnerable. But he knows that touch, has dreamed, even longed for it.
Ray.
He doesn't know how Ray had found him inside his closet, what Ray might even think about him sitting in a room inside his closet, not to mention the tears on his face. It doesn't really matter because Ray has found him, Ray pulls him not just out off his chair but out of his sadness and close to his body, holding him tight, his hands in his hair, soothing him.
Ray, Benton wants to say but looking up into Ray's eyes makes him hesitate.
Love, Ray's eyes speak of love and Benton holds on even tighter, feels Ray's hot breath against his neck, Ray's soft lips on his ear.
Suddenly the small world he was living in grows wider and wider with every second, with Ray's lips on the corner of his mouth, Ray's hands in his hair. It bursts with Ray's mouth on his.
Ray's tongue licks his bottom lip tenderly, asking permission and Benton opens up, not just to Ray's tongue but to Ray himself, granting him entrance and Ray makes use of it, kissing him hot and deep, his hands slipping underneath Benton's henley, caressing his skin.
Benton answers in kind until Ray breaks their kiss and steps back, asking for more than just permission to kiss but to make love to him.
Yes. Of course.
Benton doesn't have to say it out loud, he wants to... articulate his want, but it seems like a spell they are under, no words are needed, and Ray leads him to his father's bed, a bed Benton has never noticed before in the cabin, and lays him down.
Ray undresses before lying down beside Benton, kissing Benton's lips while his hands push up his Henley, pulls it off over Benton's head just to start kissing him all over again.
Ray's lips on his, Ray's hands roaming all over his body, making him moan deep in his throat - the only sound besides the fire crackling and their heavy breathing.
Hands on his trousers, unbuttoning, pushing off his pants and underwear, Ray's eyes never leaving his, still checking if he's alright with what they are doing.
Yes! Yes! Please!
Benton desperately reaches for Ray, pulls him in for a fierce kiss, their tongues touching.
But Ray takes control again, gentling their kiss, holding him down while he kisses his neck and shoulder, his chest.
Hands on Benton's waist, Ray lifting his body over his, hovering there for a second before he lowers himself on him, their erections touching.
More moans fill the air with their bodies moving, their hands holding each other close, their mouths kissing each piece of skin they can reach, marking, biting.
Making love had never been this easy, this satisfying - Ray's hands cherishing his body, while Ray's kisses his mouth, his face.
Benton is moaning constantly now, his right hand with Ray's on their cocks, pressing them together while he holds Ray's head against his neck, feels Ray's teeth marking him there, his hot, heavy breath against his skin.
His climax almost takes Benton by surprise, his body going lax, spilling hot semen all over his belly and Ray's hand.
Ray's kissing his wet temple gently, pushes a strand of hair off his forehead while he's still moving against Benton's sated body until he reaches his own orgasm.
"Merry Christmas, Benton," Ray whispers against Benton's lips, kissing him softly before he rests his head on Benton's shoulder, drifting peacefully off to sleep.
"Merry Christmas, Ray," Benton smiles, petting Ray's hair gently.
He might not be at home but home he is with Ray sleeping by his side, and perhaps there will be a time spent in a cabin like this but further north.
The End
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