“In nature there are
neither rewards nor punishments—there are consequences.”
—Robert Green Ingersoll
Epilogue – Travelers
“We are all travellers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend.”
—Robert Louis Stevenson
The snow fell thickly, wetly blanketing the two men. They crouched
motionless, the only trace of their passing two sets of footprints in an
endless expanse of white. Fraser signaled to his left, and Ray rose and cut
across the small indentation that was a stream in the spring. Now it was a
small dimple in the landscape, hardly recognizable. Keeping low, Ray circled
for almost half a mile and then crouched again, waiting. He could see the
caribou herd—only ten or fifteen; they must have split off from the larger
herd that had passed by earlier that week. He waited a few more minutes,
then stood and walked slowly toward the herd, waving his arms. The nearest
caribou looked startled and then leapt away—toward Fraser and his rifle.
Caribou could easily outrun them both and could detect their approach well
before they were in gunshot range. Driving them toward the shooter was often
the only way to bring one down.
Ray quickly followed,
sliding after the running herd. His face was safely wrapped in one of
Ilene's scarves, but the cold air made breathing difficult. He slowed to a
trudge, walking now in the hoof prints the herd had left behind. As he
crested the hill, he heard a deep rumbling sound and cocked his head to
listen. The first caribou almost ran him down and he threw himself out of
the way of the thundering hooves. As the herd retraced their steps, Ray
watched stunned as the smallest and youngest calf flashed by with two wolves
in tow. Reaching the flat meadow, the herd veered and picked up speed,
leaving the wolves behind. They came to a panting halt and the smaller, gray
one looked accusingly over its shoulder at him. “Hey,” he muttered back.
“It's not my fault you didn't signal.” The larger one bristled at his words,
only to take flight again at the sound of Fraser's approaching boots.
Fraser looked more amused
than irritated. His face was bare, although even he wore a wool cap in this
type of weather. He had covered his rifle in the blanket to keep it from
locking up in the winter air. He moved with economy, sidestepping down the
hill and across the small stream without any sign of effort.
“Well, looks like we weren't
the only ones who were hungry today.”
“That's the third pair,
isn't it? Not the same ones from last week?” Ray pulled his jacket tighter
against the cold. Fraser reached out and adjusted a scarf that had slipped
from Ray's neck.
“Yes, different ones. A
mating pair, I'd say. Very young, though, if they didn't bother to check for
competitors before committing themselves.”
Ray nodded, feeling the air
invade his lungs. Out here you couldn't waste any energy. Looking at
Fraser's broad shoulders, Ray again recognized how lucky they were to have
his strength and skill. And that his recovery had been almost complete.
“Let's head back.” The sun,
weak to start with, seemed ready to give up its final gasp of light to the
arctic dark. “I doubt the herd will be back this way again.”
“Could you blame them?
Hardly a moment of peace, between us and the wolves.” Fraser moved ahead,
breaking the path. They'd spend hours like that—walking through the woods,
checking traps, hunting, and talking. Ray stepped neatly in Fraser's tracks,
marveling at how much better a woodsman he'd become over this last winter.
It felt good to be doing his fair share of the hunting. It didn't matter how
many times Fraser pointed out they had different skills; he still needed to
spend this time alone with Fraser. Watching his partner crest another hill,
each movement like a dancer's, gliding over the white spaces, he felt he
could never spend enough time with Fraser.
It was almost dark by the
time they reached their cabin. Wood smoke hung heavily in the air and added
another layer of darkness against the setting sun. They stood watching the
light die between the trees in silence.
“How long are they?” Ray
asked quietly.
“The days? No more than a
few hours. It'll be totally dark soon.”
Ray shivered. He hated the
cold, endless nights. It felt as though the life had leached out of the
world and only their dreams were left to wander the earth. He checked his
words of complaint and bent his head, tacitly yielding Fraser the last word.
Fraser sighed and turned to
enter the cabin. He started to bend down and unlace his shoes but Ray
reached out and gripped his hand. Their fingers hung there, locked in a
struggle, until Ray relaxed and let his fall. He knelt down and began gently
untying Fraser's laces. Fraser's gloved fingers softly reached out to stroke
his head. Shuddering, Ray felt a different kind of chill trace its way
against his body. His mouth was bone-dry.
Then he was done and stood,
kicking off his own boots. Fraser's eyes were ghostly and enormous. They
pulled him along until he found himself, still shivering, in their cabin.
The stove had been lit and someone had placed their dinner on the table. Ray
didn't feel very hungry.
Fraser stood in the center
of the room, watching Ray as he picked up the casserole lid, replaced it,
removed his jacket, and fiddled with the stove. It was like being stalked.
The feeling was not unpleasant. Ray circled the room and then stopped, not
knowing where else to turn.
Looking at Fraser, with his
windburned face and lean frame, he realized it wasn't so much that he didn't
know where else to go. It was more that he had nowhere else that he wanted
to go.
He waited for Fraser to make
the first move. But Fraser's face was calm, smooth, and measuring. “Benny,”
Ray finally asked, “remember when you were hurt, I used to say there were
some decisions that could wait until you were better?”
Fraser's expression took on
wariness. “I remember. You also said you had finally decided to let me be
right.”
Ray smiled nervously. “Well,
yeah, that hasn't changed. But I think I already made a decision.”
Fraser's wariness was gone,
replaced by something more vulnerable. “And you're afraid I won't like it?”
“I don't know,” Ray
breathed, almost to himself, and stepped close to Fraser. He put his hands
against Fraser's shoulders and angled his head and kissed the corner of
Fraser's jaw, drawing his cheek across Fraser's face, then stood back.
Fraser had gone motionless. “But I finally figured out what I want to do.”
And Ray kissed him on the mouth this time, firm and certain. “What do you
want?” he asked, licking up Fraser's chin to his lips. He kissed him again,
softer and slower, before standing back and looking him in the eye.
Fraser's eyes had gone very
dark, scarcely a ring of blue left. He carefully put a hand on the back of
Ray's neck and pulled him forward, off balance against his chest. His mouth
met Ray's and sucked the breath from him, Ray open-mouthed at Fraser's
sudden assertion.
They pushed against each
other and then Fraser shoved him back, releasing him. Panting, Ray stifled
his impulse to grab Fraser to force the intimacy deeper. His body strained
with the effort of waiting for Fraser's next signal. The firelight drew
contour lines on Fraser's face. He could see the fine texture of the skin on
the side that had been burned. He might have been reluctant, but Ray heard
him breathe and saw his eyes close and then open. Fraser faced him,
unsmiling, and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Ray slid his own shirt off.
Fraser walked up to him, then past him, and then around him, circling and
touching his shoulders, the back of his neck, his face. “I can manage the
rest,” Fraser's voice breathed softly in his ear. And he did, his hands
steady and careful at Ray's waist. Ray's own hands trembled over the buttons
of Fraser's pants.
Ray sat on the edge of the
bed, feeling naked and awkward. Fraser stood over him, using his fingers to
trace fine stripes down his back and then up again around his skull. The
light was dim, flickering, painting highlights on the muscles of Fraser's
chest and abdomen and down to the tight-curled hair growing over his groin.
He smelled like sweat and musk. You are mine, his gaze reminded Ray.
You have given everything to me. Ray felt the blood pound behind his
eyes.
Fraser knelt on the bed,
pushing Ray back into the soft quilt. “Lie down on your stomach,” he said.
Ray raised his eyebrows, but obeyed.
He flexed against Fraser,
enjoying the rub of skin against skin, shoulders against Fraser's chest,
hips and butt against his thighs. He tried to sink deeper into the mattress,
and then arched back again against the blanketing weight. Fraser tongued the
back of his neck and then around his throat, wet swabs that dried under
Fraser's breath to a tormenting itch all along his skin. Fraser dragged his
softly stubbled jaw along the sensitized skin and Ray rolled under him, as
if to dislodge him, but Fraser leaned more heavily into Ray's back and
nipped at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Ray sagged and moaned at
the delicate pain, turning his head to expose more of his neck to that
mouth.
With every mock twist and
arch of protested pleasure, Ray felt Fraser hard and eager against him.
Fraser shifted down his back and began licking his left shoulder blade. Ray
lay gasping for breath, letting his body refocus on nerves other than those
in his neck and ass. Fraser relaxed heavily onto him, and Ray could feel the
thudding of his heart as the twin of his own.
“What are you doing? I can
hardly feel anything there. It just tickles a bit.”
“It's the scars.” Fraser
raised his head enough to speak. “Damaged nerve endings.” He resumed the
slow, long licking.
Ray stilled at the note in
Fraser's voice, somehow yearning and triumphant both. He let himself feel
the soft wet tongue, the brush and kiss of lips at the end of every stroke,
and shivered. Fraser could see what he couldn't, the white weals and puckers
of the exit wounds, and he shivered again.
“Don't, Benny. Don't do
that.”
“Ssssh,” Fraser said. “It's
what I need.” Ray closed his eyes and let the touches wash over him. He
wanted to make it last. He would only have one chance to make love to Fraser
like this. But Fraser was clouding his mind, channeling his heat and desires
until the only things that mattered were Fraser's needs and Fraser's
desires.
He whimpered into the
pillow, and then Fraser nudged him lightly at his waist with one hand, and
he rolled over. Fraser knelt over him and kissed his mouth and eyelids, his
ears, down his throat. He fastened both hands on Ray's hips, slid them
across his shoulders and to his arms. Then he slid down Ray's chest and to
his groin. Ray shuddered, feeling fingers gripping and holding him. He
reached out one hand to touch Fraser's face, and felt it pushed gently back
onto the bed. Then the hands returned to their touching and slipped lower,
probing him, and he shut his eyes.
His breathing grew harsh and
fast, and when the fingers were pulled away he opened his eyes again. Fraser
was looking at him, dark and hungry and fierce. He nodded silently and
Fraser rolled off the bed. Fraser's own cock was hard and rigid against his
belly. His long leg muscles flexed as he crossed the room, knelt, and
returned with a bowl of water and soap. He splashed the water across Ray's
groin and then dipped the soap into the bowl. They spent a few moments
lathering each other and then Fraser reached down again and probed. Ray
arched again, this time not trying to hide his fear. Fraser stared at him
gravely and then rolled his free hand across Ray's groin. The discomfort was
masked by a surge of pleasure and he grabbed Fraser's hand and pressed down
harder. Something like a smile crossed Fraser's face and he knelt between
Ray's legs and lifted him and entered him.
The pain overwhelmed Ray and
he knew he cried out several times. He pushed against Fraser's chest and
felt Fraser slow to a trembling halt. Sweat beaded across Fraser's face and
his eyes closed at the effort and then snapped open. He began moving,
pushing deeper while rubbing Ray's cock, slowly, steadily, until the world
shrank around them, until it was a tight‑fitting skin that barely held the
two of them. Ray's thoughts were blurred and broken and he moved by
instinct, through the pain and moments of pleasure like a brewing storm. The
room darkened, the light faded until he was alone with Fraser, pinned
beneath him by bonds of obedience and love. And over Fraser's shoulder he
saw a star fall. It was he, tracing his long way home.
As they slid into sleep,
they could almost catch the whisper of their names on the wind. Outside the
wolves hunted through the dark arctic night.
The End