When Lightning Strikes Twice 
by JR  (JRR42@yahoo.com)

Warnings:  I've been told that knowledge of Due South is
*NOT*  necessary, but is nevertheless helpful.

Disclaimer:   Jim, Blair, and all the Sentinel folks belong to UPN
and Pet Fly Productions and are used without their permission. 
Ben, Ray, and everybody else from the Due South universe are
the property of Alliance. 

Oh boy, where to start.  Thanks to Heather, Regina, and Sammy
for beta reading.  And to Lisa Martin for the nitpicking, and
Eriker for the moral support.  Many thanks for the wonderful
suggestions and encouragement.

********************************************

Late Summer 1988 -- Northwest Territories

	He always liked summertime.  The all-too-brief respite
from the ferociousness of long, Arctic winters reminded him of
happier times -- of going to the lakeside with his mother for
picnics, or of his father; camping out with him solely for fun,
rather than as an exercise in survival training.  Of course, those
times had ended with the death of his mother when he was 
barely six.

	It was after her passing that the R.C.M.P. became the
focal point of his life.  Everything he said, did, experienced, or
learned was done in an effort to live up to the legend that was his
father, and by default, make him the best Mountie he could
possibly be.   It was his life's goal.

	So what if his people skills weren't his strongest point? 
After seven years on the force, his survival and tracking skills
were second only to one, his own father, not that it mattered
overly much to him.  No, what mattered the most was that he
had a job he loved, lived for in fact, and that he was good at it.

	He was weary when he finally hiked back into the Inuit
village near the R.C.M.P. outpost he was working out of by
himself for the time being. Stuart Gayle, the other Mountie
assigned to the station had been recalled to Moose Jaw several
weeks ago, and Gayle's replacement wasn't expected for 
another month.   Not that he minded, he always did prefer to
work alone.   

	Now he was tired.  The pair of poachers that he had been
tracking had led him on a two week chase.  Towns were few and
far between in this area, even more so than in most of the
desolate Northwest Territories; so it took him a week to bring
back the poachers to the closest R.C.M.P. substation, and
then another two days to make it back to the Inuit village he
needed to pass through to reach his assigned outpost.

	He hadn't made it halfway through the six buildings that
comprised the heart of downtown when he saw a young Inuit girl
come running from the direction of the cliffs over the river. 
Instinctively, he knew something was amiss, and shifting his
rucksack more firmly against his shoulder, he called out to her to
get her attention.   Scared out of her mind and completely out 
of breath from running, he was barely able to discern the cause of
her frantic state.

	When she finally managed to gasp out her story, his own
blood ran cold.  Despite his own exhausted state, his legs worked
furiously as he ran for the cliffs; calling out over his shoulder for
the girl to bring the village medicine woman back with her.  The
cliffs were twenty meters high at their lowest point, and the river
below was extremely swift moving.

	There was a cluster of people leaning over a small girl at
the edge of the treeline.  He recognized the child almost
immediately, a precocious eight year old named Mary.  Twice he
had assisted in searching to find her when she had wandered
away from the village, once in the middle of a hellacious blizzard. 
He was present when her mother gave her a fierce talking down
for her irresponsible actions, but secretly he admired her bravery for
being able to survive out in the elements better than some of his
fellow Mounties.  

	Most of the faces that greeted him were familiar, but
there were three that were not.  White men were somewhat
uncommon in the area, and introductions were hastily made
while he was given a more complete briefing on what had
occurred before his arrival.   In truth, he had totally forgotten
about the group of American anthropologists coming to the
village.

	Dr. Taylor, the leader of the group, explained that the
children brought his group up to show them the view from the
cliffs.  No one noticed how close Mary was to the edge until
some loose rocks under her feet caused her to slip over the side,
landing on a rather precarious, highly unstable ledge.  One of the
American students, apparently the smallest in stature of those 
assembled, managed to lower himself over by hooking all of their
belts together to form a rather tenuous safety harness.  The
American was able to get Mary back up safely, but before he
could pull himself up as well, the jury-rigged harness snapped,
sending the student careening into the river below.   He was
quickly swept down-river, the current dragging him faster than
help could follow.

	A quick examination of Mary showed she had broken her
collar bone and was still in shock from the earlier events.  The
medicine woman arrived with several of the tribal elders half-way
through his examination of the girl, so he let her take over caring
for the child while he calculated the best way to go after the
student.  Hastily, he gathered all the information he could on the
young man.   In his most calming tone, he reassured the
American professor as he double-checked the contents of his 
rucksack.  

	"I'll bring him back," he said succinctly before swiftly
setting off towards the trail that led to the river's edge.  

************

	It took two hours of hiking before he found his first trace
of the student, a scrap of red flannel caught in a felled log that
crossed the river.  As he neared the dead-wood, a familiar scent
tickled his nose.  The copper-tanged scent of blood was faint, but
unmistakable.  Climbing out on the log carefully, he examined the
scene.  The blood was on top of the log, which meant the student
was still alive and more importantly *conscious*.  From the
looks of things, the student most likely tried to use the tree to
climb out, but the current must have swept him away again
before he could get a good hold.  

	However, the blood was dried, which meant the current
had carried the American downstream even faster than he had
previously calculated.  That was bad.  Hypothermia was still a
risk if the student remained in the water for too long a period of
time.   If the cold overtook the American before he was able
to exit the water, the student would have probably drowned quite
some time ago.

	Sighing to himself, he did his best to shrug off his own
exhaustion and set off again.

*******************
	
	Ten minutes later, the scent of smoke began to tickle his
nose, only to get stronger as he jogged along the river bank.   He
continued for another kilometer or so before the knot that always
seemed to settle in his stomach when he knew someone was in
danger finally began to ease a bit.  Shaking his head in wonder,
he made his way towards the steadily burning fire.

	The red-flannel covered figure was lying as close to the
fire as it could get without being scorched.  He was careful to
call out as he approached the student, so as not to startle the
shivering American.  Despite his good intentions, the younger
man still jumped at the unexpected sound of another voice before
turning to face the visitor.  Frightened azure-blue eyes grew
impossibly wide as the student warily watched him cross the
remaining distance between them.

	"I'm with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, I'm here
to help you," he said as he squatted down by the huddled figure.  

	"Royal Can...y-y-you're a M-m-mountie?  C-c-c-ool," the
student managed to stutter in between the chattering of his teeth.

	"Are you all right, Blair?" he asked, recalling the name
the Professor had mentioned back at the cliffs.  The student was
too shocky to notice that he had just been called by name. 
Instead, he simply watched as his rescuer opened his pack and
began pulling out supplies.

	"I f-fell in th-the r-r-river..."  Tears; either of
embarrassment, frustration, fear, or more likely a combination of
all three, welled up in those mesmerizing eyes.

	Nodding gravely, the older man found the first aid kit in
the bottom of his bag.   "I know, I heard when I returned to the
village.  Have you sustained any other injuries besides those on
your hands?"  It was difficult to differentiate the slight shake of
the young man's head from the shivers wracking his thin frame.  
"I have some dry clothes here.  Why don't you pull off those wet
ones and let me check you over while you're stripped down. 
You're probably hypothermic, so we need to get you warm as
expediently as possible." 

	"I t-tried t-t-to get w-warm as q-quickly as I-I could,
b-but it t-t-took so long t-to b-build the fire," the student
explained as he made a few clumsy attempts to unbutton his
flannel coat.  Noting the younger man's difficulty, he reached out
and took over the task with his usual efficiency.  Once the jacket
and two additional layers of thick flannel shirts were removed, he
reached down to unfasten the leather belt holding up the denim 
jeans.  A quick glance upwards caught the wayward student
blushing a bright shade of red, 'probably over the prospect of
being undressed like a child,' he thought as his hands moved to
unbutton the jeans.

	"I have to admit that I'm impressed that you were able to
get a  fire started at all.  It's not as easy a task as it looks to be, in
spite of what they write in books.  Most people from urban areas
tend to romanticize wilderness survival, unfortunately 
overlooking the true skill it takes to survive out of doors..." He
continued his monologue as he stripped the young American
down to his briefs, hoping that the constant sound of his voice
would keep the student distracted from the hands gently running
over his body as they searched for possible internal damage and
broken bones.   The American's skin was like ice, a fact that
worried him more so than the livid purple contusions that were
already plainly visible along the young man's right side.  

	"I-I used m-my g-glasses to r-refract th-the sunl-light t-to
st-start th-the f-fire. Th-they w-were in m-my p-pock-ket."  The
student admitted quietly, fishing a pair of badly cracked
wire-rims from the buttoned pocket of his flannel coat.  Glancing
down, he caught sight of a bruise that matched the shape of the
frames.   Given the velocity the young man had hit the water
with, it wasn't surprising that the optics had shattered on impact.

	He was impressed by the younger man's actions and said
so, laughing quietly to himself when the American admitted that
he had seen it done once on a television show.  "Well, as far as I
can tell, you haven't broken anything, but there are already some
rather nasty bruises forming from your impact with the water.  I
must say, you were lucky."

	"I d-don't f-feel so l-lucky," Blair managed to chuckle as
he slipped into the dry clothes he was handed.  The student was
still shaking too badly to work the buttons and zippers, so once
again, he reached over and completed the task for him.  The
wiry, waif-like figure of the American was lost in the sea of
fabric in his jeans and longjohns.  The professor back at the
village mentioned that the student was nineteen, but the young
man could have easily be mistaken for a sixteen year old.  Only
the dark mat of hair that covered his chest and the already dense
layer of stubble covering the lower half of his face gave any
indication of his true age.  

	Yet, it wasn't just the innocence he saw in the student's
face that struck him so.  Those wide, frightened eyes stirred
something in him, something that he couldn't put a name to;  yet
he felt all of his protective instincts rise to the fore.  When the
young man's voice broke into his thoughts, hestarted in surprise.
"I-I f-forgot t-to ask, h-how is M-Mary?"

	"She broke her collar bone, but other than that, she's
going to be fine."  He responded with a genuine smile, touched
by the younger man's concern for the girl.  Looking up at the
weakening sun, he realized it would be dark soon.  Blair was still
a little shocky from his ordeal, not to mention border-line
hypothermic.  Either way, it was obvious that the younger man
was in no condition to attempt the hike back to the village that
night.  Unfastening his bed roll, he spread the pallet on the
ground near the fire.  "Why don't you get in there and we'll see if
we can't get you warmed up."

	Groaning from the effort, the American did as he was
told, burying himself up to his nose in the warmth of the blanket. 
The older man heard the student's stomach rumble softly, so he
reached into his bag once more, frowning at the lack of
immediate provisions.  No matter, this area was crawling with
game, so they wouldn't go hungry. 

	"Here, eat this.  Make sure you drink plenty of water
afterwards."

	"What is it?" the younger man asked warily.

	"It's pemmican.  It expands when consumed with water,
filling the stomach so you won't feel as hungry.  When you're
done, I'll bandage your hands, then I'll go see about finding some
dinner."

	"'Finding dinner?'  What exactly do you have in mind?" 
The tone of caution in the younger man's voice was
unmistakable, even around the stuttering and chewing.

	"Well, it will depend on what the most expedient food
source is at the moment.  I am licensed to catch salmon from this
river, and I do have a small trapping net with me.  Or, if you
prefer, there is plenty of small game available nearby, which I am
also licensed to hunt."

	"Small game?" the younger man asked in between
swallows of water.

	"Perhaps now would be a good time to tend to your
hands," he suggested as he reached for the antibiotic salve and
bandages before returning to the earlier question. "Rabbits,
squirrels, and the like.  This area is also teaming with caribou,
but I would prefer not to kill so large an animal when most of the
meat will only go to waste.  After all, there are only two of us 
and we have no way of preserving it for the trip back to the
village." 

	"Wouldn't it be easier just to catch some fish?"  The
younger man was looking more and more squeamish as the
conversation progressed.  The older man had to stifle a smile. 
How like an American to get unsettled by the thought of actually
killing for food.   Where exactly did they think the meat in their
stores came from in the first place?  The cow fairy?

	"Well, actually, no.  There are four rabbits just in that
brush over there.  Not to mention that net-fishing would require
me to get wet and you are currently wearing my only change of
clothing."

	"I g-guess you have a p-point there.  I'm s-sorry for
t-taking your extra clothes.  And f-for making you h-have to
c-come after me in the f-first place," he added humbly.	

	"It's my duty," he answered honestly while he moved
away to find some more wood for the already weakening fire. 
There was plenty nearby, and it wasn't long before he had the
blaze built up to his satisfaction.  The younger man hadn't left the
coccoon of the bedroll, but his eyes followed the older man,
taking note of each and every action he made.  "I'm going to go
see to dinner.  Perhaps you might try to get some rest.  You've
had a most trying day, after all.  Should you need anything, just
call out, I'll stay within hearing distance."

	Those blue eyes widened slightly at the prospect of being
left alone again, and he watched as the younger man visibly
attempted to calm himself before nodding in agreement.  He was
halfway to the treeline when he heard the student mutter to
himself.  "That's *real* good, Blair.  The guy saves you from
freezing to death and you don't even bother to ask his name."

	He never bothered to stop, instead he called out over his
shoulder. "Constable Benton Fraser.  Pleased to make your
acquaintance, Blair."
	
*********************

	Blair was asleep when he returned, so Ben took the
opportunity to study the younger man as he skinned the two
rabbits he'd caught, cooking the meat on the folding wire spit
from his rucksack.  
	
	At first glance, Blair was easy to dismiss; just like most of
the other teens he'd seen in the bigger cities -- well, if Moose Jaw
could be considered a 'big city'.   Blair was smaller and far more
scrawny than Ben had been when he was nineteen.  Then again,
Ben never would have worn two silver hoops to decorate his ear;
or sported the  haircut that was popular among younger people
these days, longer curls on the top, buzzed short on the sides and
back.

	Ben hadn't really noticed anything special about Blair
earlier, but now that he had a chance to observe the younger man
uninterrupted, he was drawn in by the unconventional beauty of
the student.  Blair was absolutely breathtaking in repose, the face
of an angel stuck on the reedy body of a teenager.   That he
found another male to be beautiful was quite shocking to the
Mountie; not that it wasn't acceptable, just that he had never
found himself attracted to another man before, especially one
that was seven years his junior and barely over the age of
consent.  Yet, there was something about this American,
something that brought out the protective instinct that had welled
up within Ben from the first moment he laid eyes on Blair. The
student's courage and resourcefulness was obvious.  Although he
would have expected the Inuit to risk their lives to save Mary, he
honestly never would have believed that an American stranger would 
do so.  And then, to survive being swept downstream for kilometers, 
and still have the presence of mind to start a fire...well, it was safe to 
say that he was more than impressed.  However, it still didn't explain 
the reason he felt so...drawn to Blair, almost like he'd found a
kindred spirit.

	Putting the thought aside for the time being, Ben was just
about to wake the younger man when Blair woke of his own
accord.  "God, that smells wonderful.  Just do me a favor, man,
and don't tell me what I'm eating.  I'd never be able to watch
another Disney flick as long as I live, okay?"

	Although he didn't quite understand the comment, Blair's
tone of voice indicated that it was supposed to be humorous, so
Ben graced him with a small smile.  Reaching for the only plate
he had with him, the Canadian removed the roasted meat from
the spit and handed Blair his hunting knife.  "I'm sorry, I don't
have a fork." 

	"That's cool," the younger man smiled with a shrug.  "I'm
so hungry I was starting to look at my pinky finger, asking
myself 'Am I gonna need that later?'"

	This time Ben did chuckle.  Now that he was a little more
rested, a tad bit warmer, and was on his way to a full belly, Blair
was able to carry most of the conversation.  In under an hour,
Ben learned a great deal about the anthropology undergrad. 
Once the younger man had offered some basic information on his
own life, he began to ask about Ben about his background.

	Never comfortable talking about himself in any detail, the
Mountie did his best deflect the questions without seeming
evasive.  However, the younger man noticed the effort and
bulldozed through Ben's carefully cultivated techniques as
though they were crepe-paper.  For some reason unknown to the
Canadian, he found himself opening up a little more than he 
had with any other person in recent memory.  It surprised him
somewhat, considering that he and this American had so little in
common, aside from being well read and having a basic
willingness to help others.  Blair was extroverted, a great
conversationalist, bounding with endless amounts of  energy and,
dare he say it, a healthy disrespect for authority in general.   
Although Ben had to admit that he was more polite and
well-mannered than most Americans he'd come across in the
past.

	The sun had completely set by the time Ben came back
from washing the plate and knife in the river.  There was a slight
chill in the air from the gentle wind sweeping down from the
Arctic, so he carefully built up the fire again before checking on
his young charge.  Once again, shivers were tearing through
Blair's slight frame, and the echoes from his chattering teeth were
loud in Ben's ears.  The student's own clothing was still soaking 
wet and he was already under the only blanket in the rucksack.

	"Still cold?" Ben asked needlessly.

	"S-s-sorry, I-I've al-lways b-been s-sens-sative t-to the
c-cold." Blair stammered.

	"What on earth possessed you to come study an Inuit
village in the Arctic Circle?"  Ben asked with an ironic chuckle.

	"I-it's a l-long st-story,"  Blair admitted sheepishly. 
"W-what are y-you d-doing?"  He asked as Ben removed his
shoes and stripped down to his white boxers before raising the
edge of the bedroll.  There was a hint of panic in his voice, tinged
with something that sounded like embarrassment.

	"You're still cold, and you are under the only blanket
we've got.  Besides, it's a known fact that sharing body heat with
another person is really the best way to warm up another
individual." Blair was staring at him as though he had just grown
another head.  "It happens quite frequently out here, there's no
need to be embarrassed."  Ben counseled.

	"O-okay, I g-guess," Blair replied after a moments
hesitation.  Ben could almost feel the heat from the blush that
crept over the younger man's features.  "Uh, d-do I-I need
t-to...um, I-I mean-n..."

	Taking pity on the younger man, Ben answered the
question Blair was struggling to ask.  "Skin to skin contact tends
to hasten the process, not to mention that you can lay the
clothing over you as an extra blanket," he suggested.  "Do you
require assistance undressing?"

	Although he didn't think it was possible, Blair blushed
even harder at his offer of help.  "N-no, I think I-I c-can handle it
this t-time."

	Blair managed to remove the jeans, but hesitated when it
came to the long-johns.  He was naked underneath the warm
material, his briefs still damp from his trip in the river.  Closing
his eyes as he steeled his resolve, the young American shimmied
the material down his legs, quickly covering himself with the
cast-offs.  

	Once he was settled, Ben slid into the bedroll and gently
nudged Blair over onto his side.  Spooning up behind the
younger man, the Canadian readjusted the long-johns to provide
the greatest amount of warmth possible.  Blair's skin was still like
ice, so the Mountie pressed his chest up against the student's bare
back, ignoring the muscles that tensed up under the contact.

	"Relax, Blair," he soothed.  "Try and get some sleep.  We
have a four hour hike ahead of us tomorrow and we should get
an early start."

	"Ok-kay.  Goodnight, C-constable," Blair offered
between shivers.

	"Goodnight, Blair."

	"C-onstable?"  The student whispered after a short time.

	"Yes, Blair?"

	"Thank you f-for c-coming after m-me.  I-I..." he trailed
off, not knowing exactly what he wanted to say.

	"You are most welcome, Blair."  Ben assured him.   

	They remained silent for awhile, neither man sleeping, but
each unable to prevent the thoughts moving rapidly through his
head.  Eventually, Blair's shivers ceased and his body began to
radiate heat of it's own.  The warmth of the presence in front of
him lulled Ben into the deep sleep that can only be borne from
exhaustion.

************************

	It had been a long time since he'd dreamed in such erotic
detail, not since Victoria.   Victoria Metcalf, the woman who had
stolen Ben Fraser's heart as easily as she robbed banks.  He'd
tracked her in a blinding blizzard, the storm nearly costing them
both their lives.  Somewhere amidst the blinding snow, he had
fallen hard for the beautiful felon.  Yet, in the end even his
feelings of love were not enough to overcome his devotion to
duty.  Once back in relative civilization, he ignored her pleas to
let her go and turned her over to the proper authorities.  

	That experience with Victoria was so painful, Ben spent
the last two years deftly avoiding any possible romantic
entanglements.  However, time and distance worked their magic
admirably; and finally the memories of Victoria started to ease
away until all that remained of her was a soft version of an
angel's voice, bliss of their love-making, and the dull ache of
regret over what might have been.  Oh sure, sometimes his
subconscious got the best of his iron control via his dreams, tormenting 
him with the reminders of what his flesh was missing, but never to the
point that he was currently experiencing.

	The faceless figure was so warm in his arms; twisting and
moving sensuously against his own larger form.  Tightening his
grip, he attempted to lock his dream companion in his embrace. 
As soon as his arms moved around his lover, a feeling swept over
him, one so foreign it actually took a moment to put a name to it. 
Safe.  For the first time since he was six, he felt safe
and...complete.   

	"Ohh!"  The desperate moan from his lover sent a shiver
down Fraser's body that ended directly in his groin.  The heady
scent of arousal, both his own and his companion's tempted his
olfactory sense.  Leaning his head down, his pressed his lips
against his lover's so that he could match a taste to the scent.  As
his tongue made a thorough investigation of his lover's mouth,
his hips began to slowly undulate against the solid form of his
companion, seeking the friction he needed to appease his
desire...and was startled to find himself pressed against an
unfamiliar, but easily recognizable, hardness.

	It was the beginning of his undoing.   Awareness began to
slowly returned to the Mountie, all the clues that his unconscious
mind had ignored -- the scents, the feel of stubble against his own
cheek -- started filtering into his mind.  Then he remembered,
first where he was, and secondly, who exactly it was in his arms. 
He knew what was happening was in some way wrong -- yet, at
the same time, nothing in his life had ever felt so *right* before. 
He made one last token effort to pull away from Blair, possibly
the most difficult thing he had ever tried to do; but in the end, it
was hopeless.  He could no more release the young man in his
arms than he could fly.  

	Before he could further contemplate what he was doing,
Blair, who had been none too gently rocking against Ben's larger
form, stiffened suddenly; his cry as he reached the pennacle of
ecstasy swallowed by the kiss they shared.   At the sound of
Blair's moan, Ben's slate-blue eyes opened to witness the sheer
beauty of the younger man as his face contorted in the throes of
passion.  Moved by the sight, he clung to the student as the
younger man's body writhed in orgasm.

	Gasping for breath, teal-blue eyes opened to study the
man who had inadvertently brought him to such a state.  Still
tremoring from the aftershocks, an elegant hand rose slowly to
gently caress Ben's stubble-roughened cheek.  Unknowingly, the
Mountie turned his face to increase the contact before he
remembered himself.

	"Blair...I can't...that is...I shouldn't...I'm sor..."  The
intended apology was averted by a single, bandaged finger that
moved to rest upon his kiss-swollen lips. 

	"Ssshh," Blair quieted.  They sat unmoving for long
seconds, Ben almost able to read the younger man's thoughts
through his facial expressions.  Finally, Blair spoke what was on
his mind.  "You feel it too, don't you? There's something
...between us."  

	The shocked expression on Ben's face was more than
enough to answer the whispered question.  It also scared the hell
out of him. So much for the idea that the strange attraction he
felt for the student was one sided.  He made one last attempt to
pull away, only to find himself being dragged back towards the
younger man.  Although he could have easily broken free, he let
himself be pulled closer.  Blair's small frame was certainly 
deceiving, the student was a great deal stronger than he looked.

	As Blair's lips descended upon his own, Ben found
himself once again lost in the taste of student's mouth.  His
erection, which had been slowly fading, quickly made an about
face; especially when one of Blair's hands snaked between their
bodies to caress it through the thin layer of his boxers. 
Moaning at the delicious feel of the contact, Ben gave up the
struggle against his principles and followed where the younger
man led.

	Emboldened by the Mountie's acceptance of his touch,
Blair's first hesitant strokes became firmer, more confident.  At
the same time, the student's lips left the familiar territory of Ben's
mouth and began to explore downwards.  Kisses, licks, and
tender nips were spread over the Mountie's neck, chest, and
stomach, leaving the older man wreathing under the onslaught.  

	When Blair finally reached the barrier of his lover's boxer
shorts, he hesitated in uncertainty.  The pause in sensation
allowed the Mountie a brief moment of sanity, long enough for
Ben to realize the cause of the problem.  In the end, Ben made
the decision for Blair by planting his feet on the ground and
raising his hips, allowing the younger man to remove the
offending garment.  

	The touch Ben was expecting next didn't happen. 
Instead, Blair sat back as best he could in the confines of the
bedroll, staring in wonder at his lover.  "God, you're beautiful,"
he whispered.  Blushing fiercely red, Ben shook his head to deny
the words.  "Yes, you are."

	With that said, Blair leaned forward to place a kiss on
Ben's swollen erection.  Hissing in pleasure, the older man's hips
pressed upwards, seeking more of the sweet sensation.  He didn't
have to wait long before the moist heat of Blair's tongue swept
over the head of his cock, sampling the pre-come that had
gathered at the tip.  He was wondering what the taste was 
like, when the younger man surprised him by suddenly sitting
upright.  In the pale light of the night, Ben could barely see
Blair's sudden, playful grin accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

	With a careful bit of maneuvering, Blair managed to turn
himself around in the limited space, while at the same time,
adjusting both of them so they were facing each other on their
sides.   At the sight of the younger man's renewed erection in
front of his face, Ben had no doubt exactly what the American
had in mind.  

	The scent of Blair's arousal, along with the smell of
semen, was much stronger near it's source.  As Blair's mouth
wrapped resumed it's actions along Ben's cock, the Mountie took
his own first tentative taste of the younger man.   The salty,
earthy taste of Blair exploded across his tastebuds, the
lusciousness pulling a groan from him that was mirrored by 
the young student.

	Giving.  Taking.  They explored each other carefully at
first, until the building passion escalated into reckless abandon. 
When Blair's hand reached down to caress his testicles, Ben came
with a muffled cry.  It was all the younger man needed, and
seconds later, Ben found himself rapidly swallowing the semen
from Blair's second orgasm.

	Trembling from the power of it all, they clung tightly to
each other for long minutes; each lost his own thoughts.  Finally,
Blair released his hold and carefully righted himself in the bedroll. 
Caught in a sudden feeling of uncertainty, Blair hesitated, unsure
of the protocol of the situation.

	With sudden understanding, Ben hesitantly extended his
arms, offering to hold his...lover in a cautious embrace. Blair was
asleep almost before Ben's arms tightened around him, exhausted
by the force of his recent activities.  Unfortunately, Ben wasn't so
lucky.

	Now that the mindlessness that had sprung from sexual
need was wearing off, Ben found himself uncertain over what
had just occurred.  Great Scott!  What had he been thinking,
getting involved with a person who was in his charge??  Had he
learned nothing from the whole disastrous affair with Victoria? 
At least Blair wasn't a wanted felon, as if that were some kind of
consolation.

	No, instead, Blair was a man.  Oh, he was aware of such
relationships and personally had nothing against it; but he just
never expected to find himself involved in one.   Nor had he ever
expected to feel such a connection with another living soul, male
or female.   Was it normal to feel this way about another person? 

	Searching his innermost thoughts, he turned them
towards Victoria.  No, the overwhelming passion he felt for her
was still there.  What he felt for Blair was different, not lust; but
instead a feeling of belonging, completeness the likes of which he
had never before experienced.  What did it all mean, and more
importantly, where was it coming from in the first place?  And,
God help him, did he want it to continue?

	God, he was tired.  He needed to rest, and they had a
long hike ahead of them tomorrow, plenty of time to sort out
what had just occurred here tonight.  Sighing with frustration
over his restless thoughts, Ben finally allowed himself to
succumb to sleep.  

************************
*finis*