Copyright to Alliance.
Pairing: Fraser/Vecchio
Rating: R
Summary: Fraser infiltrates a male brothel and unexpectedly goes up for auction to the highest bidder. Ray must make sure he gets the Mountie before another makes the purchase first. Author's note: You asked for it! Old story now made new, here and now. All mistakes are my own. I hope I got this right. I really hope I go this right! Tell me what you think!(be kind, my heart can only stand so much!)

"Well, I guess you're gonna' be flyin' solo."

"Don't know. I hope not. I'm here for the show."

The beefy guy nods once. "Good luck."

"You, too."

The tall, butch male leaves the area, his let-down apparent.

The other man lifted his glass casually, sipping at the tart liquid. He was grateful to discover he liked this particular flavor. It would add insult to injury to have to be here and drink gross booze. He looked around, his gaze even and steady. Relieved he saw no one he knew, he sighed and shook his head.

Benny, what have you gotten us into this time?

The Italian Detective leaned back in the lavish chair as the attractive waiter came to his table. "Would you care for some more blush wine, sir?"

Ray was careful enough to let his gaze hover over the beautiful man for just a second or two longer than totally necessary. "Yes, thank you."

He shook his head again and smiled, bringing the full glass to his lips. How on Earth did Fraser get himself in this mess? The place upstairs looked like any other night time dance club in Chicago, with a very male twist. Everyone knew it was a popular, public gay establishment. But what the average patron didn't see, what the common party-dude exist without, was the literal underground portion of male entertainment it had to offer.

It was called "Benevolent Vice." Membership was strict, but tactful. It was composed of mostly men in their thirties and up, some who had a partner or those were just looking, sometimes just for the night. Vecchio smiled, thinking of how he nearly hit the floor when the bartender flippantly ask him was this his first time at Benny V? It took him a few moments of stunned thinking to figure out the familiar name was an abbreviation!

What made this place different from the escapades upstairs was the blatant monetary exchange for physical intimacy from the staff. For a fee, any member could pair up with a "worker" for the evening. Maybe even a threesome or four, depending on the amount your wallet could hold. Cash was preferred. That way, there were no credit card receipts to trace or annoying IRS records to keep track of. And yet, it's demur position rivaled the garishness of such familiar fraternities as "Studio 54."

Score one for the understated. he thought.

It seemed like an endless place, full of rooms, corridors, stairs and a "special" basement, for the BDMS crowd. It was all dark and lushly decorated, with burgundy carpeted walls with occasional displays erotic art, deep red cloth table covers, full comfy chairs and lowly lit candles everywhere that gave off a musky, spicy scent. For those who wanted to be a little closer, there were king-sized beds on the floor close to the wall, separated by huge, thick drapes. Many massive, plush dark purple pillows supported customers on navy blue satin sheets. Various kinds of music filled the air. Mostly, it held a jazzy feel, although sometimes it was of an ethereal quality, pandering to a quiet, and yet obliging attitude. And, depending on the event, it was boosted by true dance tunes to get the audience invigorated. Truly an updated palace for Sodom and Gomorra. The pleasure-laced peace inticed and frightened him, although he had little choice in his present attendance.

Naughty-named snack foods and drinks were served on trays along with an assortment of condoms. There were smaller rooms attainable in the back, created with the same luxuriousness in mind, so the parties involved could go some place more private. Plans of a more intricate nature could, of course, be arranged in advance. Even the Detective had to admit any place with cloth, violet towels in the washrooms and rich mahogany carpets had to be higher class than the electronic noise overhead. While the screaming techno beat droned on at street level and men were giving away their bodies for free, Ray Vecchio was hobnobbing with Chicago's finest male prostitutes and their clientele.

Of all the situations Fraser had coerced him into, this had to be one the Italian found to be the most challenging. For starters, it didn't have the far out oddities of looking for raw, wild horse meat or searching for homeless psychics. It was peculiar enough, however, to fit the quirky requirements of the Mountie to help somebody. Oh yes, if one sat down and analyzed the crime, the motive and the prep, it would all make sense to take the course of action they did. At least to one crazy Constable obviously with an agenda of his own.

*This could be considered expected, seeing what we've previously been through.*

Mr. Des Nuben had contacted them. He was an old friend of Robert Fraser, an openly gay politician, running for office in the states. He was being blackmailed. There were those less than thrilled with his 'choice' in lifestyle and were trying to connect the sick dots between him and a drug overdose of a young man at the club mentioned above. It was threatened the media would be informed of said events, inferring Mr. Nuben complied with the immoral indulgence that led to the awful death. Legally, Nuben had little to fear, but should some of his previous, youth-induced, sexual exploits in the Windy City be made public, any hope at being elected were impossible. The blackmailers were tracked to Chicago. The disturbing trail lead back to the gay bar overhead, with the unique brothel underneath.

*It seemed oddly appropriate the "righteous" police are truly repressed hypocrits.*

Through events Ray would rather forget, Fraser decided to intervene. Vecchio nearly had an aneurysm when the Constable suggested he could find the perpetrators if the dumb Canuck became an "employee." The Madam in charge her fleshy commodities fell for the routine, especially since it meant hiring the delectable Mountie as one of her escorts.

The avaricious look she gave Fraser highly unnerved the Detective. Ray was perched to verbally cut her up, that is, until the supposedly innocent Canadian made a sly suggestion. With an eager, yet amenable face, he overtly hinted maybe Vecchio should consider taking the position instead!. Shockingly, the headmistress said she had considered it!

Circling the gaping cop like he was Italian sausage on sale at the supermarket, she said Ray would be amazed at the number of people interested in paying for his attention. He politely refused, obviously flattered and blushing beet red. Unlike his best friend, Ray had chosen to stay on the sidelines and soon became known as someone who just enjoyed the solitude and atmosphere the place offered. Vecchio paid the dues for registration and played the part of a lonely soul in need of company.

His face grew hot even now, half due to the wine, half remembering the warmth that flushed through him at her words. It was part tranquility, partly hypnotic - two sensations this dwelling tended to evoke. And it wasn't without the full knowledge of who started it. Benny brought up the idea, having plainly stated the Detective was appealing enough to be paid for his erotic services. Despite being approached several times by various men tonight, it was difficult for the cop to believe he rated anything along such lines in the scale of attractiveness. Especially to Benny! Perhaps desperation had spiked, he ventured, to account for the repeated attempts to engage his company. Anything more might cause him to consider preposterous, impossible events.

*It's so ironic, it's sad. Can't I just do something I'd enjoy a whole lot more, like take Ian MacDonald out to lunch?*

He'd do just about anything for Benny, which, of course, was why he was here. After losing Irene and living through Victoria, it had to mean something that they were so much closer than friends. He had his own speculations, deep, scathing questions about how far his dedication to his best friend would go. How far they'd go for one another. It all seemed so impossible at first, for their relationship to become so intense, so intimate, but it had, right from the start. Ray was never good at lying to himself, so as long as he didn't think about it too long, maybe he could ignore what was his worse fear coming true.

*Twenty years after Zuko and me and I still worry about it. But I'd hardly compare Benny to him.*

At first, it was assumed it wouldn't take more than a few days for Fraser to investigated the place. Ray promised to visit in the meantime, to show his face and chat with others, just in case an emergency happened. This was so Ray could get Benny the Hell out of there in a heartbeat. Just the idea Fraser being hurt by one of the more colorful freaks, well, it was enough to make this American go undercover in said den of indulgence as a customer of paid-for male sex! The Constable agreed if something should happen with the Detective not around was not a good thing. That way, Ray wouldn't have to worry everybody seeing him as a total stranger. Now they knew his face and being spotted there was not out of the ordinary.

So, here he was, sipping blush wine and enjoying the relaxed ambiance of this brothel who practiced the world's oldest profession in reverse. If the truth be known, they would all see he wasn't here to eat or talk. He wasn't here to drink, although that was what he was doing and he wasn't here to watch the stage show that would happen very soon. That emergency he had been worried about, the one he was scared that would happen in his absence, the event Fraser assured him wouldn't transpire, was in fact occurring very soon. If anyone could tell this cop was scared out of his wits, they weren't letting on. Unfortunately, it was a solid, sad fact. Ray was terrified and he had little clue about how to calm the panic coiling in stomach and making his fingers numb around the wad of money in his pocket. The light red liquid did little to stop his hands from shaking.

Once a week, on Saturday, "Benevolent Five" held a Live Auction starting around midnight. The most delectable laborers would go up for sale to the highest bidder for the evening. The Madam had assured them the Constable would not be expected to participate, but when her best blond product fell ill, Benny had to take his place or too many questions would arise. There's nothing worse, she said, than a cat fight amongst "girlfriends" before or after a show. The Mountie, not wanting to jeopardize the case so close to being solved, managed to convince her it would be alright, as long as he could get a hold of Ray. After Fraser's frantic phone call, the Italian had to obtain money and lots of it. This normally wouldn't be a problem, to acquire said moneys from the precinct's fund meant for such endeavors, such as drug payoffs in a sting or a setup for payment in a kidnaping. And he was extremely short of funds. How the hell he was going to play this off was beyond him. Ray wasn't even sure if he could stomach seeing his partner paraded about like designer clothes on a runway. Better yet, how was Vecchio going to resist?! He gulped down the rest of the wine and motioned to the waiter.

**

Through a screw up in the paperwork, Vecchio was able to procure only about fifteen hundred dollars from the station. However, it was now about 11:30pm. He could've gotten more, but it would require contacting Lt. Welsh at home, who was probably asleep by this time. Although Harding was mostly aware of the details of the case, his patience had once again been strained by the bizarre aspects surrounding it and was offering little leeway. Ray could just imagine that conversation!

*'Oh, sorry to wake you, boss, but I need you to authorize more money to keep Benny from being sold to another man for sex.' Right, I don't think so!*

So, with his trusty ATM cards in hand, Ray withdrew several hundred dollars from several personal accounts and just prayed the amount wouldn't go too high. His plan was to "buy" Benny and spend the night in the back with the Mountie just talking, eating and napping until dawn. It would give a good appearance and then they could continue with the case that was going to be wrapped up soon anyhow. His stomach lurched as the MC, a "lady" of sorts, came onto the stage dressed in a huge yellow wig, frighteningly loud makeup and an outfit that looked like it was made of sequins. The music switched from Enya to the computerized mess known as, "Y'all Ready For This?"

"Members of 'Benny V'! It is time for the weekly 'Live For A Night' Auction! And boy, do we have some pretties for you this evening! Come on, give it up, give it up!"

The aforementioned "woman" began to fan herself and sashaying across the stage, much to Ray's fury.

Why the Hell are they playing this up?! The last thing I need is for everybody to get into the spirit!

But he quickly could see that was what the drag queens did here, they got the crowd going and the money flowed like cheap beer did upstairs. That niggling in his gut became tighter and he fought to keep down his alarm. It was silly, really. Even if he couldn't come up with enough cash, Benny would never actually commit such a wanton act with a stranger. But it worried Ray he would let Fraser down.

Yet, that didn't explain his overall sense of dread, the sensation something was very wrong about this entire idea from the beginning. Sure, he usually felt that way about most plans the Mountie encountered, but this was cutting to the quick, leaving the pulp exposed. He took another sip and set the empty glass down as the first participant walked out from the shadows. Ray noticed those patrons on the big beds near the wall were now propped up on the edge, watching the show with glee, as was everyone else.

Another goofy song came on, bellowing with the lame inquiry, "Are You Ready to Rumble?" The first young man to be sold was short and blond, looking like a gym nut with thickly chiseled muscles and overly tanned skin. His neck and wrists were encircled by flimsy manacles and dog collar, connected by a thin chain, obviously for show more than anything else. Vecchio giggled, thinking the man looked like a well-cooked turkey. He quickly fell silent, seeing the bid started at five hundred dollars. It rapidly grew and ended at the tidy sum of eighteen-fifty. He had more than that, but it was getting close. The next prize was similarly shackled. A big, bulky guy, more on the football player side, with a crewcut, blue eyes and a neck as thick as Ray's thigh. He would've been mesmerized by that physical oddity, but he was too busy sweating over the 2K the old guy up front just plunked down like he was swimming in cash.

He knew he looked nervous, but couldn't help it. It grew quiet for a minute and the American was honestly glad for the music to start again. At first, the song sounded familiar, but it switched, changed, was lengthened and almost altered beyond recognition. Of course, once the remixed, infectious beat made the Italian confess he wanted to get up and dance, did he recognize it as the funkiest version of "Rapture" by Blondie he'd ever heard.

He was accepting another glass of wine when Fraser came out. The moment became all blurry and surreal, killing all rational thinking, making his once-mild erection now take notes, pictures and storing it all on DVD! Benny was dressed in a red, mesh tank top that showed off his blush nipples in a naughty way. Tight, black vinyl slacks that had to restrict breathing encased the powerful legs of the Mountie and his hair was greased up and slicked back. His pale feet were bare. It didn't help that the Canadian was giving the crowd his most boyish grin. And the restraints were giving Ray ideas he'd never entertained before. Blood and panic were shooting to his groin faster than even when he was fifteen. Never again, would Vecchio be able to look at Fraser in his dress reds the same way!

Oh, shit. Oh, Hell. Oh, bloody, dear God.

Shocked, dismayed and nearly frantic, Ray searched for a way to contain his reaction. If anybody caught sight of him gaping like a scared rabbit, they might wonder what was up, especially if Ray did not play this off correctly. It was imperative he keep up the facade of a customer. He had to remain calm, like he did this all the time.

Like he wanted it. Like he...wanted Fraser.

Yes, it was official now. God hated him or the Devil was more powerful than he thought and was now laughing hysterically at him. Honest to Whoever, he'd resisted his best, thinking of having Benny like that, but he confessed it was more out of self-preservation that true denial.

He closed his horrified eyes and summoned all the strength he could find, as the bidding set out at a thousand dollars. So this was why he hated the idea of being here! He'd rather be giving away money to strangers on the street to hear Benny filibuster rather than forcing to the surface feelings he'd fought against like death for the last few months. Over the whoops and hollers of the vivacious crowd, Ray blatantly gripped his groin, moaning aloud at the ounce of relief. He sat straight up and let his body language state exactly what he was required to display.

It wasn't a difficult role to depict.

An African-American professional to the left upped the ante to twelve-hundred right away and Ray topped it with a rousing two hundred increase. Benny's eyes shot over to his partner's direction, squinted in the bright spotlight and quirked his smile a bit. Ray's stomach quivered at the sexy sight and let his gaze rake over Fraser's form not for the first time in a less than platonic manner. Arousal merged with the fright and began to take root. Once this was all over with, how he was going to retreat from all this ramped emotion, he had no idea.

"Runner!"

The shout jarred him, having come from the table to his far right. A "runner," another outrageously coifed and brightly attired transvestite took the chain and escorted the meek Mountie to the spot just yards away from Ray. The couple there has requested an up-close look at what was on the market. They surveyed the Constable in front of them skeptically and was outbid by someone in the far back. Jealousy jolted the Italian, causing him to snap off another amount, swallowing up the reserves he got from work. All that was left was his private finances. He was giddy, anxious, a bit lit and there was pure delight in his announcement, to lay demand to his claim. Oh, it felt good, it was so damned GOOD, to be able to shout to the rooftops that the Canadian was his!

A determined, raucous interference came from some fool directly in front. A thin man with short, light brown hair and a nervous attitude stated his own superior amount. Ray fixated him with a glare that could cut diamonds. The guy was the rebellious type, who looked like he didn't understand what a dress code meant. How the Hell he got in here was a huge mistake. Fraser was back on the stage, trying to get a glimpse of his present, would-be suitor. It was with the greatest amount of satisfaction, and another surge in excitement, when Ray glibly trampled the other guy's price. But this man was tenacious and obviously a poor loser. By the look of hatred thrown over his shoulder, it was clear he wanted to physically jump Vecchio, but knew he couldn't. The dirty blonde tried to retaliate with his own new cost.

Ray looked the stage, reading his friend's reaction in dismay. Fraser was eyeing this unfamiliar admirer in wonder, pondering him, flattered that someone would fork over so much for his consideration. It sparked the Italian, the greed sharp and cutting, so much so, it had him growling! White dread pooled in his gut, fueling the aching hardness between his legs, as his lust found it's voice.

*"Runner!"*

Again, the Mountie left the stage and this time was brought over to the Detective. Ray was breathing hard by this point and realized he'd gone too far in this little game. Benny, of course, wasn't helping. His face held what had to be the best, yet falsified, display of brazen desire. Under the table, Ray clutched his cock, distended and demanding, futilely attempting to tame it. He barely heard the words of the she-male leash holder.

"You can touch the merchandise, sir. It is, after all, you're purchase."

His "brothers" began cheering him on and Ray could only manage a nod, not fully understanding.

The Constable looked helplessly to the Lady to his left, who insisted, "Oh, go on, honey! He more than wants you to!"

With that, Benny knelt in front of Ray, head bowed. And Ray nearly fainted, his jaw dropping open. The unfamiliar rush of ownership came over him, beckoned by the subjugated site. He couldn't help letting the words slip out, "Oh God, Benny."

He tried to detach himself from the act, but it was impossible. The Detective craved to feel up his would-be prize. He started to touch his imagined possession, first at the neck, then down the red, mesh covered chest and over the taut stomach. He let his hand drift back up, permitting himself the closest connection. With his heart slamming against his ribs, praying he wasn't offending Fraser, he caressed the Mountie's face. First with his thumb over a perfect cheek, then lightly skimming over the resilient pelt and finished by cupping his chin.

Vecchio bit his lip and threw out all information he had regarding the Constable, realizing Fraser was perfect for undercover work. How else could one explain the Mountie's beyond convincing pliancy to the cop's aggressive touch? The Canadian went to stand, but not a spilt second before turning his head, licking his lower lip...so, so, very close to Ray's hand.

The reaction was subliminal and yet physical, causing Ray to nearly brake the arm of the chair. The innocent signal set Vecchio on fire. Anyone looking didn't have to guess what he wanted by the simmering stare he let follow the gorgeousness that had bent his knee before him. And with the next bid, everybody knew.

"Twenty-five hundred!"

The dweeb in front of Ray held up his hands in surrender, evidently aware when he was outclassed as well as out of cash. There was a roar of applause and Ray let the wine have control for the moment. He stood, striding to the front with flair and confidence. Not looking about and assuming the appropriately arrogant march necessary, he went to claim his acquisition. It would be over in moments, so he savored the trip as he strutted to the stage and handed over almost all the money he had like it was pocket change.

But when the Queen held the chain out to him, he almost backed off, paling at the idea. Benny truly wasn't his. This was originally intended as merely show. Yet, he had little choice standing in front of everyone. Feeling a little sick, he smiled at the Lady and took hold of the leash and walked away, refusing to meet Fraser's eyes.

**