Identity and Boldly Blessed Attraction (III)
Title: Identity and Boldly Blessed Attraction (III): Fraser & Ray
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: NC-17 (clothes come off)
Size: about 10,500 words
Summary: Three undercover gigs. Disco. A lot of dead gay men. More disco. Fraser behaving very out of character. Ray being dazed and confused. And Welsh….What the fuck is wrong with Welsh?
Identity and Boldly Blessed Attraction (III)
12. I’ve been waiting for you
It was… not good. Tony was gone, and that should have been a relief to Ray, but it wasn’t. Fraser was back, but he was… he was hurt. Ray’s hunches told him so within two tenths of a second.
Fraser was very silent on the way to the station where they parked the Chevy and picked up the Chrysler. (Luckily, Dewey hadn’t nicked it.) When Ray suggested they’d grab a bite somewhere, Fraser said, “It’s rather late, Ray. Would you please give me a lift to the Consulate?”
And that was bad. Very bad. Ray didn’t drive fast to the Consulate (Fraser didn’t even seem to notice that he had suddenly started respecting traffic rules) but he got there anyway.
He hadn’t been able to take Tony a second longer, and he had made that very clear to Fraser, but he sure as hell couldn’t take this either. He couldn’t let Fraser step out the car. Not like this.
“What’s wrong, Fraser? You’ve barely said anything since-”
Oh. Okay. What little brain Ray had had done the math now, and Ray said, “Why do you want so much to be Tony, Fraser?”
“Because Tony is unafraid of showing his needs, and confident that he will get what he wants.”
Meaning, of course, that Fraser wasn’t. So Ray asked, “What do you want, Fraser?”
And Fraser said, “Ray….”
That reply could mean a few different things. It could mean Fraser thought it wasn’t germane or prudent to ask a question like that. It could mean Fraser was thinking of a way to put something he found very difficult to say. It could also be a direct answer to a direct question.
There was a silence. Then Ray’s heart started beating again (fast) and there was an ear numbing squealing of hunches inside Ray’s head. ‘He wants you!’ they screamed, and, ‘There’s no way to do this without taking a risk!’ and, ‘There is no risk, because he wants you. Fraser wants you!’
There was sort of an argument, because Ray’s brain put in that taking the risk could be dangerous to the partnership; it could take the spark out of it, or worse, end it. But it was not much of a fight. Only one brain, and not really a great one, against tons of hunches. Kinda pathetic.
“Get out the car, Fraser,” Ray said. “Get Dief, a toothbrush, and whatever else you need in the morning. You’re coming with me.”
And, okay, then he got shit scared. Because Fraser could reply something like, “I do not understand and therefore will not follow your silly suggestion, Ray. In fact, I take an offence to your invitation. We’ll talk about this some other time. Goodnight.”
But Fraser didn’t say that. He said, “Wait here, Ray. I’ll be right back.”
And he was. With Dief and a bag.
The ride to Ray’s apartment was awkward. Fraser didn’t seem hurt anymore, but now he was tense. (As if Ray wasn’t.) Dief made no effort to lighten up the atmosphere either. Nobody said anything.
At the apartment building, Fraser told Diefenbaker to go walk himself. Then they were alone, climbing the stairs in silence.
As he closed the door of his apartment, Ray tried to catch Fraser’s eye, but the Mountie was goddamn skittish. So, the dirty work? Ray’s to do. Obviously.
He said, “There’s no way to do this carefully, and seeing as you agreed to come with me, I’ll be blunt. Do you want me, Fraser?”
Neck crack plus lip lick. So that was clear enough. Now what?
Fraser was so fucking nervous. Ray had never seen a straighter back, or a more determined avoiding of his stare. He almost regretted it that Tony wasn’t there. Tony would have answered the question immediately saying something like, “Do you even have to ask?” And then he’d have wrapped his arms around Ray (Lee) and kissed him senseless.
But Fraser wasn’t Tony (and Ray was grateful-he really was). Fraser wasn’t confident; he feared rejection, even now. Ray had read somewhere that people who were geniuses also tended to be insane. So, okay, no touches yet. Words. Fraser was more comfortable with words.
“When did you first realize you wanted me?” He said it quietly, praying Fraser would remember that not answering a question was an impolite thing to do.
“Strictly speaking, I realized, I knew, on the second night we were looking for the person responsible for the killings of six homosexual men,” Fraser said. He even looked at Ray. For about a millisecond.
“When you kissed me.” Risky, yeah, but Ray needed to get this straight (pun not intended, thank you kindly).
“Yes… yes.” The Mountie’s back got straighter still, and from the sound of it, Ray thought that Fraser was trying to break his own neck. “The… the first night was a prelude to it, I believe.”
Earlobe tug. Then Fraser seemed to remember that Mounties were in fact brave people. “I had never been in such an establishment, but I found that I liked it tremendously. I liked being there with you.”
“Being there with me,” Ray said slowly. “We hardly saw each other that night, Fraser. You were too busy making new friends, if I recall correctly.”
“Yes. But I was very much aware of the fact that you were watching me while I was taught how to dance.”
“You mean you were showing off for me?”
“I tried, yes. I felt… excited. And invincible.”
“Because I was watching,” Ray said, stunned.
“Yes. And I felt great anticipation the second night. I enjoyed our dancing very much. You are a very good dancer, Ray.”
Fraser seemed to wait for something. Maybe he expected Ray to say stuff that would allow Fraser to not say the next words. But Ray wasn’t playing along. Instead, he counted the seconds of silence. He came to six. Then Fraser couldn’t take it anymore.
“I truly didn’t expect that the need would occur to hold you, Ray.” Was it just Ray or was Fraser feeling guilty about something? “But when it did, it felt wonderful. I wanted….” Pause and eyebrow rub. “I was thinking of our cover, Ray. I didn’t mean to take advantage of you. But I needed to know.”
“Needed to know what, Fraser?”
“How to label my feelings,” Fraser said in a very low voice.
“Tell me about your feelings.” Was that a sappy line? Yes, that was a sappy line. But Fraser wasn’t exactly Mr. Macho, so it might work.
It did.
“I think it started the day we met, Ray. It was highly unsettling for me to find you at the police precinct instead of Ray Vecchio. To find him gone was….”
“Was what, Fraser?”
“It upset me. I’m afraid I was angry.”
“’S no real surprise, Fraser,” Ray said. “You came back from vacation, your house had been burnt down, your partner had left you-”
“Ray Vecchio didn’t leave me. He was assigned to an important undercover operation.”
“You didn’t know that at first. You expected him to be there and he wasn’t. ‘Course you were angry.”
“Well… yes. With you as well, Ray. I found your presence highly disturbing. You kept insisting that you were Ray Vecchio and I….” Fraser sighed. “I confess that I sometimes feel I have reason to doubt my mental sanity.”
“That why you collected all the evidence to prove that I wasn’t Vecchio?”
“Partly, yes.”
“You’re unhinged, Fraser.” Ray hoped he’d hit the right reassuring tone. “But you’re not crazy.”
“I hope so, Ray.” Fraser didn’t seem convinced.
“So you behaved like a madman because you were afraid you were insane?”
“That is part of it, Ray. I also felt I had to prove something to you. I wanted to let you know that you couldn’t rattle me. That I was in control of my emotions, not you. I wanted to conquer you.”
Jesus. When the Mountie went to confession, he went to confession. It was kinda hot.
“I only realized that I was behaving selfishly and that I was doing you wrong when I talked to Lieutenant Welsh after you and I apprehended Mrs. Garbo. He told me to give you a fair chance.”
Welsh? Had Fraser just followed Welsh’s orders?
“Your smile when I asked if you would like to have dinner with me was the most blinding I had ever seen on anybody’s face. I felt very guilty towards Ray Vecchio. And I have since, until recently.”
Ray swallowed. Guilty towards Vecchio? Oh, no. Oh, god, please no.
“Why, Fraser?” Jesus, Kowalski, speak up.
“He was my best friend for three years, Ray. I counted it a blessing to have a friend like him,” Fraser said. “But soon after you and I met, I realized that the urge to count one’s blessings only emerges when one has unwelcome feelings one needs to repress.” He looked at Ray for a full second. “I became aware that I had stopped reminding myself of the good things in my life when I met you, that I had been lonely in Chicago in spite of my friendship with Ray Vecchio, and that I wasn’t anymore. You alleviated my loneliness, Ray.”
An image popped up in Ray’s head of a very muscled heavyweight Ray Kowalski. Elevating the Mountie’s loneliness was a mighty big thing to achieve.
“I was a different man around you than I was with Ray Vecchio,” Fraser continued. “With you I was actually happy. And I felt disloyal to Ray because of it. I didn’t understand why it was so different with you, but as time passed, I felt that it wasn’t enough. Only I didn’t know how to define ‘enough’.”
Fraser’s voice was soft but steady and from the look in his eyes, Ray knew that the Mountie had decided to speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and that his story wasn’t finished yet.
“After we first kissed, I knew that I loved you. I wanted to let you know that I was available if you wanted me, but I didn’t know how. I’m not very good at expressing my feelings, Ray.”
‘You’re doing a fine job right now, buddy,’ Ray thought.
“But I was hopeful,” Fraser resumed. “The way you responded to the kiss…. I thought that if I was patient…. But then Lieutenant Welsh requested our help in the solving of deaths of those young boys, and you suggested we should separate.”
“Only to solve the case, Fraser,” Ray said.
“Yes, but you also suggested that Ben would cheat on Stan.”
That was still bugging the Mountie? Jeez, talking about identifying with your character.
“I missed you, Ray,” Fraser said. “But when at the end of the second night we had enough evidence to hand the case back to detectives Moses and Lester and we met in the car, it seemed you couldn’t bear to look at me. You hardly said a word during the remainder of the night.”
Ray saw Fraser relive the scene. Painfully.
“I didn’t know what to do. When I tried to talk to you over the phone the next day, you declined my invitation for dinner.” Fraser blinked. “I thought Stan had fallen out of love with Ben.”
Fuck. That was the biggest metamorph Ray had ever heard. This was all about Stan and Ben? Yeah, sure, Frase.
“That’s why you told me you didn’t want to be Ben anymore,” he said.
“I thought I’d lost you, Ray,” Fraser said softly. “And Ben is not the person to address matters of the heart with any degree of confidence that his endeavors will have the desired result.”
“But Tony is,” Ray suggested.
“Ye-es.” Eyebrow rub. “To be honest, being Tony is rather tiresome, Ray.”
Yeah, Ray could imagine. Being with Tony was pretty exhausting too.
“Worn yourself out, Fraser?”
“Well, acting like Tony was completely new to me, Ray, and although quite exhilarating, I also found it frightening. Tony is very powerful, and holding him in check was a strenuous task. I’m afraid I failed it. He….” Fraser paused.
“Got the better of you?” Ray said.
“Yes. I’m very sorry, Ray. I didn’t mean to be so overbearing.” Lip lick, eyebrow rub. “But being close to you, touching you, kissing you made me want…. It made me want to feel you, Ray. It made me want to make love to you.”
Oh, Jesus. Fraser sure knew how to turn a confession into a turn-on.
“Do you want to touch me now?” Ray asked.
“Yes, Ray. God, yes, Ray,” Fraser sighed.
The kiss was great. It wasn’t as claiming as Tony’s kisses were, and that was fine with Ray. He could participate in this soft but thorough and totally dedicated lick-suck-nibbling. He didn’t need to just let it happen. And he didn’t have to pretend. He could run his tongue over Fraser’s crooked tooth, enjoying the fact that it was truly Fraser he was kissing, not somebody else.
“Ray,” Fraser sighed into his mouth. “Ray. I never thought…. After Victoria I didn’t think I would ever again feel such strong desire for anyone. I thought that part of me had died. But you healed me, Ray. I don’t know how you accomplished it, but you’ve made me whole. Stay with me, Ray. Please. I need you.”
And that was a little scary, ‘cause a Mountie’s need was a mighty big thing to fulfill. Usually it was very well hidden behind Serges and Mountie Masks, but Ray was no fool. If you looked past the Mountie and saw the man, you couldn’t miss the thing there that could only be spelled N-E-E-D. And Ray wasn’t sure even if he gave everything he got that it would be enough.
But then he became aware of how they were standing. Of Fraser’s arms around him, of big, warm hands stroking his back. Of Fraser’s incredibly beautiful face. The face he knew so well. And he thought, ‘What the heck.’ Life was a risky thing, and love was yet a whole lot riskier. Besides, Ray was a pretty needy guy himself. It wasn’t that he was really sure he wouldn’t lose his sense of being if he lost Fraser.
“Ray,” Fraser said softly, “I’d better go and open the door for Diefenbaker. He is probably waiting outside.”
13. Me and I
“I believe he does, yes,” Ray heard Fraser say in the hallway. To Diefenbaker, no doubt.
“Yes, of course I am elated.
“If I smell funny, and no, I don’t intend to admit that I do, it is because I am in love.
“Yes, saying that I am ‘in heat’ with Ray is also a manner of phrasing it, but a crude one. I am in love with him, Diefenbaker, and before you dismiss falling in love as one of those pathetic human events that would never occur to anyone in full possession of his mental faculties, let me tell you that I don’t believe for a second your own infatuation with Ray to be purely donut induced.”
Ray didn’t believe that Diefenbaker was in love with him. Or that Dief was actually talking to Fraser. Fraser was doing that projecting thing, where people attributed their own feelings to others. He probably had since the day he and Diefenbaker met. Ray hoped he had. To sorta split yourself in two seemed a good way to ease the loneliness.
And wasn’t everybody suffering from a split identity anyway? Ray sure was, if the inner voices screaming for his attention all the time were anything to go by.
The talking in the hallway continued. Apparently, Diefenbaker needed reassurance that things wouldn’t change much. Ray heard something about the unbreakable bond between Man and Wolf. And something about donuts.
“No, you can’t sleep in his bed,” Fraser murmured. “That will be my prerogative. I hope.” He murmured some more, but Ray couldn’t make out what he was saying.
He suspected that Fraser was nervous. It was one thing to sleep in Ray’s bed; to have sex in it was something entirely different. And it sure as hell was possible-Ray quickly readjusted his cock in his pants-to want something desperately and to be shit scared of it at the same time.
He decided to put on some music while he waited for Fraser to be ready to take the next step, and chose Abba. Yeah, they were sap, but they’d followed him through the emotional process of the last few weeks and it was only fair to let them celebrate their romantic victory.
After the separation from Stella, he had bought the CD because of the separation songs on it. He had played them often, feeling like Stella was singing ‘Knowing Me, Knowing You’ to him, wishing she’d sing ‘One of Us’. But the song that got to him the most was ‘The Winner Takes It All’.
He had felt like Stella was a winner. Not that he thought she enjoyed filing for divorce, or anything, but she wanted out and she got out; he wanted her to stay and he got nothing.
The song always used to get him fucking sad. And angry. But not with Stella.
He had never been angry with Stella, not really. He was good at emotions, and anger sure was one of his best buddies, but not when it came to Stella. Stella had never brought out the Lee in him. She had made him feel sad, insecure, and on the fucking verge of panic, but never angry.
When Ray had been listening to ‘The Winner’, it was Agneta who used to get him mad. She didn’t fight for the guy who was leaving her; she didn’t beg him to stay. She just resigned, and at the end of the song, she was thinking more of the guy’s feelings than her own, apologizing for making him feel guilty because she looked so devastated. In that trembling voice. Ray couldn’t stand that voice. It was the voice of a loser, and it had made him want to clock Agneta. He wanted to yell at her to fight goddammit! Sometimes he did. Most of the times he cried.
For some sick reason, he had played the song very often. Until at some point it didn’t make him cry or get him mad anymore. From that time on, it had just been a fucking sentimental thing.
Ray pushed the ‘random song’ button, hoping his CD player wouldn’t pick ‘The Winner Takes It All’. Luckily, it didn’t. It chose ‘Gimme, Gimme, Gimme’, and Ray thought, ‘Yeah, come on, Fraser.’
The door opened and Ray instantly got licked all over. By Diefenbaker. Yuck.
He tugged at the collar of his shirt to swipe the spit from his face, and while he was busy doing that, he felt Fraser’s warm hands on his naked back.
“I have spoken to Diefenbaker and he approves of the turn our relationship has taken, Ray.”
Ding-ding-ding! Ray’s metamorph meter said. Fraser was ready. Oh, yeah.
They kissed again. Ray found he really liked kissing Fraser. It got him hot. And hard, ‘course.
Diefenbaker huffed.
“I think he is a jealous,” Fraser whispered. “Perhaps we should turn on your television to provide him with some distraction.”
Ray cut off Agneta and Frida’s demand for a man after midnight, got the tube on Discovery Channel and turned off the sound-Dief was deaf anyway. He even turned the set a little to give the guy some privacy.
Then he started kissing Fraser again, thinking it was real greatness. Thinking it wasn’t enough. Thinking bedroom.
Thinking names.
“What do I call you?” he asked. “I can’t call you Fraser when we are lovers.” It was kinda like déjà vu all over again.
But Fraser said, “You can’t?”
“It’s your surname.”
“Yes. It is.”
Pause.
“What?”
“I haven’t thought of myself otherwise than as ‘Fraser’ for the last twenty years, Ray,” Fraser said. “After my grandmother died, nobody called me ‘Ben’ or ‘Benton’ anymore. Well, my father….”
Ray concentrated on hearing what Fraser had to say about his dad, ‘cause he knew the guy was dead for a couple of years now, but Fraser just made a ‘doesn’t need exploring at this juncture’ gesture with his hand, and said, “I don’t like those names. ‘Benton’ refers too much to being lonely, otherworldly and invisible, and ‘Ben’ is only a little bit better.”
Jesus. Ray thought of himself as ‘Kowalski’ sometimes, but only when he had done something stupid or when he needed to get a grip. The rest of the time he was ‘Ray’ and Ray was an okay guy. That Fraser had thought of himself as ‘Fraser’ for twenty fucking years was sorta sad.
“Ray Vecchio called me ‘Benny’ sometimes,” Fraser was saying.
“Benny!” Ray said disgusted.
“He meant well, Ray. I suppose he did it to make me fit in more in Chicago, to Americanize me so to speak.”
“He had no business doing that,” Ray stated. “You’re not American, Fraser. You’re Canadian.”
“I don’t think Ray Vecchio ever forgot that, Ray.”
Maybe he didn’t. But Ray didn’t like talking about Vecchio. He didn’t like thinking about Vecchio.
He had seen Vecchio’s case reports. They were good. Vecchio didn’t use metamorphs, it wasn’t like he was writing detective stories or anything, he just stuck to the facts, but he could write. Ray bet that Welsh often told him, “Detective Vecchio, that’s a mighty fine case report you turned in this morning. And I’d like to take this opportunity to congratulate you on its timeliness.”
To Ray the Lieu said stuff like, “Detective, something strange has happened. I’m missing twenty-four of your case reports. I’m sure they have been on my desk, ‘cause you promised to turn them in this morning, but they have all gone. Solve this case for me please. By noon.”
When Ray handed over an occasional case report, Welsh sometimes said, “Detective, it is shockingly obvious that Constable Fraser wasn’t holding your hand when you wrote this.” Yeah, like Ray could have typed one word when Fraser was holding his hand.
Something else that bugged Ray about Vecchio’s reports was the way they mentioned Fraser. There was a lot of ‘Constable Fraser said’ and ‘Constable Fraser did’ and ‘Constable Fraser suspected’ in them, and much more ‘us’ and ‘we’ than ‘me’ and ‘I’.
Vecchio obviously liked and admired Fraser, and Ray didn’t like that. Part of him knew damn well he shouldn’t feel this way. If it hadn’t been for Vecchio, Fraser would have been far more lonely his first three years in Chicago. Vecchio had gotten Fraser a permit for Diefenbaker. Vecchio had been Fraser’s ‘best friend’ for all those years (dammit). Ray knew he should be grateful that Vecchio had been there when Fraser needed a friend, but he wasn’t. His name wasn’t fucking Agneta, he wasn’t altitustic, and he just didn’t like the idea that Vecchio had been Fraser’s first.
Ray wasn’t thinking that Fraser’s hard-on was meant for Vecchio, not really anyway, but he knew that if Vecchio ever came back and started to call Fraser ‘Benny’ he’d kick the guy in the head something fierce.
Fraser sorta read his mind. “I was never in love with Ray Vecchio, Ray,” he said. “I didn’t particularly like it when he called me ‘Benny’ although I appreciated the gesture. I like it when you call me ‘Frase’, Ray.”
“Yeah, Frase?” Ray smiled. He took his time to taste Fraser’s mouth. It had been five whole minutes since their last kiss.
“I like it when you call me Ray,” he said. “Six times in a row.”
“Ray,” Fraser murmured against his lips. “Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray.”
“Yeah,” Ray sighed. “And if you ever call me Stan-”
“You’ll kick me in the head,” Fraser said solemnly. “And so you should, Ray.” His face got a horrified expression. “Stan!” He shuddered excessively.
Ray wanted to protest, ‘cause, hey, it wasn’t that bad a name, but Fraser laughed. Out loud. It got Ray all fuzzy feeling.
He wasn’t a little bit in love.
14. Rock me
He knew he had to pop the question sometime soon. When he felt Fraser’s hands under his shirt and Fraser’s thumb started stroking his nipple, Ray said as casually as he could, “I have a bed, you know. It’s unmade so it’s a mess. Do you want to come and see if we can mess it up some more?”
“Yes,” Fraser replied, kinda hoarse. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”
Ray hadn’t lied; the bed was a mess. But Fraser didn’t even blink. Maybe he was happy to see a real bed for a change so he didn’t mind the rumpled and not very clean sheets. Fraser didn’t own a real bed and slept on a cot in his office at the Consulate, after all.
The bed was a mess, but it was a double. Ray got it from the divorce while Stella got the friends. He didn’t mind really-they were hers more than his anyway-but it bugged him that she hadn’t even wanted the bed. Like she didn’t want to be reminded of the time they spent in it together.
“Ray.”
Fraser’s hands moved under Ray’s shirt again, pulling it over his head. There was a gasp. Mountie eyes were looking, looking, at him.
“God, Ray, you are… so beautiful.”
Ray was wrapped in strong Mountie arms. There was soft suckling on his collarbone, which made it difficult to concentrate on the buttons of Fraser’s shirt. Ray managed to undo them, though.
Shirt onto the floor, t-shirt too.
Oh, Jesus, Fraser.
Ray could hardly muster the guts, but when he did, it was weirdly unweird to touch Fraser’s chest. So smooth. So hard. So hot.
“Fraser,” he said. “Frase.”
Then they were in a hurry. Ray finished stripping first. That was kinda surprising with the famous Mountie efficiency and all, because it wasn’t that Fraser took the time to fold his clothes or anything. Maybe he thought he had an advantage this way, a better look or something.
From the bed, Ray had no complaints in the view department himself. Fraser was perfect, every inch of him. Ray felt especially fascinated by those eight inches attached to his lower region. Okay, maybe not exactly eight, but they were gorgeous anyway. And standing to attention like a good Mountie.
‘Gimme,’ Ray thought, stretching out his arm.
Fraser took his hand, placed it next to Ray’s head on the pillow and went for Ray’s mouth.
The kiss was greatness, but it wasn’t enough. The gorgeous body of a naked Mountie one foot away from him was not Ray’s ultimate idea of fun.
He spread his arms. “C’mere.”
Fraser’s weight pressing him down was different in a way he didn’t expect. The feeling of Fraser’s chest under his fingers should have told him something about differences maybe, but he’d thought (as far as he was still capable of thinking) that sex with Fraser would basically be the same as it was with Stella. Not in detail, obviously, but the general idea of it.
It wasn’t. Fraser felt completely different. He wasn’t as soft as Stella, and he didn’t feel fragile. His skin felt different too.
The unexpectedness of it was a shock, but Ray recovered quickly. Reality was different from what he’d figured, but that didn’t mean there was anything wrong with it. ‘Cause there wasn’t. Holding Fraser was hot. And that rocking thing that Fraser was doing with his hips was hot too.
At some point it stopped. Fraser looked at Ray and said that he wanted to ‘savor’ him.
Ray knew instantly he’d learnt a new dirty word. He had thought he knew them all (the English ones, that is) but he had been wrong. He knew this was going to be good. Whatever Fraser had in mind, it was going to be good.
Wrong again.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like what Fraser was doing, but being driven out of your mind isn’t exactly comfortable. And that was what was happening. Fraser applied his lips, teeth and tongue to every inch of Ray’s body, every fucking inch-except his cock. It was hot. God, it was hot. It got Ray glowing inside (and on the outside as well, he was sure of it) and very, very hard. His cock was aching and dripping, but Fraser didn’t let him come. The bastard didn’t let him come. And that was not good.
“Fraser, please, touch me.”
“I am touching you, Ray,” Fraser said, barely interrupting suckling Ray’s hip.
“You’re torturing me.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No!”
The licking continued. Everywhere on Ray’s body, except there.
Seeing Fraser lick things always gave Ray a jolt of… something. He’d thought it was disgust, but maybe it was envy. Because this was hot. Fucking hot. If only Fraser would touch him.
But he didn’t. He was making sounds like he liked this. Like doing this was a big turn on for him.
Hearing Fraser’s grunts sure was for Ray. His blood was over two hundred degrees now, and all of it was pooled where Fraser wasn’t touching him. He wanted to explode. He really wanted to, but Fraser just didn’t give him what he needed.
“Fraser. Frase, I need….”
At the first touch of Fraser’s tongue on his shaft, Ray came hard. Long spurts of cum sprayed his belly, his chest, some specks even reached his chin.
As well as his inner thigh. Huh?
He opened his eyes to look at Fraser’s face. Then he looked lower. Jesus.
“You came? From doing that to me?”
“Yes,” Fraser said hoarsely. He blinked a few times. “Ray, you have no idea how enticing you look when you are aroused. Of the sounds you make, especially when you reach orgasm.”
Oh. Okay. It was a little weird. But if you couldn’t take a little weird you were better off dead anyway. Ray had no complaints about the orgasm.
He had some about the way he got it though. There had to be other, more normal ways to get off. (Yeah, like Ray knew what was considered normal in gay sex.)
There were. An hour after Fraser first said hello to Ray’s dick, he’d lost all fear of it. To cut a long story short, Ray came in Fraser’s mouth while Fraser came in Ray’s. It was your basic sixty-nine, perfectly normal. Yeah, okay, Ray had to use his lips and his tongue a little differently from what he was used to, and it tasted weird, sorta like he was tasting himself, but he was a flexible guy, so it was fine. In fact, it was great.
At three A.M., Ray came in Fraser’s ass while Fraser came in Ray’s hand. That didn’t happen just so. There was a lead-up.
Ray was spooning behind Fraser, almost asleep. His cock was pressed against Fraser’s lower back, and it was still semi hard. It hadn’t gone completely soft during the entire night, even after coming twice. Maybe that was because Ray hadn’t been with somebody for so long. Or maybe it had something to do with Fraser.
He was stroking the upper part of Fraser’s back. So smooth. Smoother even than Stella’s. It could have been a feminine back if it wasn’t so broad and muscled.
He covered it with kisses, thinking about the things that had happened today (or strictly speaking yesterday), how great it had all turned out. How happy he was. And how much in love.
“Mmm,” Fraser said. He wasn’t asleep.
Ray stroked Fraser’s spine, and then his right cheek. Great cheek. Ray kneaded it a little. He dipped his fingers in the crease of Fraser’s ass, for no other reason than to better feel the shape of the cheek. He felt the entrance and rubbed it with a fingertip, with no specific intention, just because it was there.
Fraser sighed, and Ray didn’t have bat ears but he recognized a longing sigh when he heard one. So he rubbed again. Fraser squirmed a little. Ray pressed inside. Yeah, Fraser liked that.
He wanted more of that.
Ray wet his finger and pressed in again. Carefully, because he didn’t want to hurt Fraser, but judging from the Mountie’s sigh, he wasn’t.
Fraser pressed back on his finger. Ray slowly moved in deeper until he felt something there.
“Oh… Ray… yes!”
God, Fraser liked that.
Ray rubbed the little nub some more and Fraser started to make noises and rocked his hips.
“More,” he hissed.
Ray spit on his fingers and added first one, then another, slowly stretching Fraser, realizing in a daze that Fraser really liked to be finger fucked.
“Ray,” Fraser breathed. “Ray. Please.”
Ray had never heard that tone before (Stella wasn’t the begging type) but he knew what it meant.
Oh, Jesus.
“Fraser. I don’t have any….” He couldn’t say it. The mixture of fear, regret, and yeah, relief that he felt made it impossible to say it.
“I have.”
What?
Fraser eased off Ray’s fingers and got off the bed. Ray watched him leave the room and return with the bag he had brought. Standing in the doorway-beautiful, and perfect, and hard-Fraser threw two packages onto the bed.
The gesture reminded Ray very much of Tony. ‘It is what I want; it is what you’re going to give to me,’ it said.
Ray looked at the things Fraser had brought. The box was still sealed, but the tube was dented.
Ray swallowed. He closed his eyes but opened them quickly again. The image of Fraser prying himself open, touching himself… inside… with thick, slick fingers while he was thinking of Ray was a bit… much.
Fraser got on the bed. Ray sought his mouth first. Frenzied and a little desperate. He needed the guarantee from Fraser’s lips that if they did this, they’d survive it.
“Ray, it will be all right,” Fraser said. “Please.” He rolled on his side, his back to Ray.
Ray took the lube, telling himself he could do this. He could do this for Fraser.
With the help of lots of lube, he used his fingers to get Fraser all slick and silky inside.
“Ray. Now,” Fraser said.
Getting the condom on wasn’t easy. Ray was nervous. It seemed he had forgotten how to put one on and his cock didn’t seem to like the idea of being wrapped.
But he managed, ‘cause Fraser was lying there, all slick and hot and silky inside, and wanting this.
He positioned himself behind Fraser, trying to press in. First, he thought it wouldn’t work, it was just too tight, but then, miraculously, Fraser seemed to open up for him.
Oh, Jesus. The grip on Ray’s cock was hot. And tight.
“Ray.” Fraser shifted a little and Ray felt his dickhead touch the nub. “Ray!”
God. Okay, like this. Fraser wanted it like this.
Ray pushed his hips forward.
“Ungh.”
Yeah, good angle. He reached around to put his fingers around Fraser’s cock. Fraser pushed into his grip and then back on Ray’s dick.
It was hot. Oh, Jesus it was so hot. The squeezing of Fraser’s ass around Ray’s shaft. Being inside Fraser like this. Fraser enjoying it so much. The noises he was making.
Fraser craned his neck for a kiss. Ray didn’t still his hips. He didn’t still his hand. But he dove into Fraser’s mouth. ‘I love you,’ he thought. ‘I love you. I love you.’
Then Fraser said, “Aaahhh,” and his butt gave Ray’s cock a very good squeeze. Ray’s hand got all warm and wet. He came. Inside Fraser. Jesus.
When his heartbeat was sorta normal again, he felt he had tons of questions to ask Fraser, but they were all kinda vague and his not exactly bat ears picked up the soft sounds of snoring, so he pulled out and left it at that.
15. Giving a little bit more
Ray was having a nightmare. A wolf-no family of Diefenbaker, more the Little Red Riding Hood kind-was on top of him, holding him down. It wanted to throttle him or wolf him down, or kill him in some other way.
After the panic woke him, it took a second before Ray realized that it wasn’t a wolf. It was Fraser. Ray tried to push him away, but it was no use.
Ray was crazy in love with Fraser and all, but he wasn’t unhinged and he got his priorities straight (sorta). When he’d be dead, it wouldn’t be half as much fun to love Fraser as it was when he was alive. He needed to breathe, goddammit.
“Fraser. Fraser, wake up. The Ice Queen is standing in the doorway watching us.”
Yeah, Ray was crazy in love, but he was also kinda pissed because of the nightmare.
“That’s just silly, Ray.” Very clear voice. No half sleep confusion for Fraser. Yeah, figured.
Fraser rolled over but he didn’t let go of Ray, so a second later Ray was on top. Crazy in love but goddamn tired. Fraser’s hands were roaming his back and his ass-and those were no sleepy caresses, those were very deliberate strokes.
God, no.
“Lemme sleep,” Ray muttered. “I can still have thirty eight minutes sleep.”
“You set the alarm clock at seven?” Fraser asked. “Why?”
Jesus. A conversation. Before six thirty. Was the Mountie unhinged or something?
Ray sighed and opened his eyes. He knew he was no match for Fraser at this time of night.
“I set the alarm clock early ‘cause you didn’t bring your Serge and we have to get you back to the Consulate in time for work,” he said. “We don’t need to piss off the Ice Queen more than she already is when she finds out you didn’t spend the night at the Consulate like a good Mountie.”
“Ah.”
Fraser’s strokes were real nice, but Ray was real tired and he was wondering if they couldn’t do this some other time. Like tonight, or something.
His cock-which was nuzzled by Fraser’s hard-on-knew the answer to that one, and the answer was no. ‘You don’t need sleep,’ it said.
‘Shut up,’ Ray returned.
His cock didn’t listen. ‘I got myself an Insatiable Sex Mountie and I’m going to enjoy it,’ it told Ray. ‘You shut up.’
Ray wanted to protest, but Fraser rolled him on his side and started to stroke his dick in a really great way.
‘At least Fraser loves me,’ Ray’s cock said.
It was a whiny little bastard, but it had a point. If it could sue Ray for gross negligence, it would have a case. Ray hadn’t paid any attention to it for over two years (loving attention, that is. Ray’s dick had sometimes taken care of itself at night when Ray was asleep, but the relationship had suffered).
Jerking off had been too painful at first; yearning for Stella hurt enough as it was, and not doing it had become a habit. For a week or two, Ray had wanted to masturbate, but all he could think of was Fraser. And you just couldn’t use Fraser in a sexual fantasy, Ray knew that much. He could have cheated by thinking of Tony, but he didn’t want Tony. He wanted Fraser, goddammit.
But the Mountie was like that thing they said of snow sometimes; he was pristine. So you’d need permission to use Fraser in a fantasy while jerking off. From the Canadian Consulate, most likely. Which meant there had to be forms filled out. In triplicate. Authorized by the Ice Queen. They would say something like, ‘X is granted permission to exercise thoughts of Constable B. Fraser in any position or state of undress that may further the cause of reaching orgasm’. Ray wasn’t sure about the exact way Thatcher would put it-he wasn’t very good at Ice-Queen speak-and he’d never know of course, ‘cause she kept those forms safely locked in the top drawer of her desk. All assigned to her own name.
“Ray.” Fraser was making a trail of kisses from Ray’s temple, over his jaw to his chin, and Ray tensed. He didn’t want a mouth to mouth kiss. He hadn’t brushed his teeth last night and he thought kissing Fraser like that would be kinda gross. Fraser’s lips moved lower, over Ray’s throat and Adams apple to the hollow between his collarbones.
Ah, god. Ray sorta lost track of his thoughts. That was good, ‘course, ‘cause thinking about bad breath was never fun, and thinking about the Ice Queen while you were in bed with Fraser was not buddies, obviously.
“I left the Inspector a note last night,” Fraser said. “Requesting her permission to have the morning off.”
Huh? Jeez, Ray wished Fraser would make a choice, and either continue ‘sploring Ray’s nipple with the tip of his tongue in a really great way or say stuff that rattled a guy.
“Just like that?” he said, after taking of couple of slow breaths. “You felt you could leave without actually knowing she would be okay with it?”
“She probably wouldn’t.”
“And yet you took the morning off?” Man. The Mountie was really amazing sometimes. “Fraser, that’s sorta what normal people would do.”
“Why, thank you, Ray,” Fraser said. He sounded real pleased. It was cute, but it sorta spoiled the coolness effect.
Okay, maybe not completely. Fraser had bought the condoms. And the lube. And he hadn’t requested, he had taken the morning off. That was all kinda cool.
‘Hey, cool guy,’ Ray thought, looking at Fraser’s beautiful, beautiful face. He really wanted to kiss that mouth. “Got to brush my teeth,” he declared.
“I think it’s prudent that I join you,” Fraser said.
It was homey, standing at the bathroom sink together. It reminded Ray of Stella for a moment, but he shook the thought of her quickly.
Looking at Fraser’s face in the mirror instead of directly felt kinda flirty. Fraser’s eyes were smiling at him, like he felt it too. Ray noticed that Fraser’s face was skewed, a tiny bit.
When he was six, he once saw his father’s face in the mirror. It was a shock to see how crooked it was-and that he’d never even noticed it before. “Dad!” he’d exclaimed. “Your face is skewed.”
His father wasn’t upset. “Everybody’s face is asymmetrical, son,” he said.
Ray had known his father was pulling his leg, ‘cause ‘asymmetrical’ obviously wasn’t a real word, and his own face was perfectly normal, not skewed at all.
“Fraser, your face is skewed,” he said, playing the game he and his brother Marlon had invented when they were kids. It was called guess-what-I’m-saying-while-I’m-brushing-my-teeth.
Fraser spit out the toothpaste, rinsed his mouth and said, “The human face is, as a rule, asymmetrical, Ray.” He smiled. “And I find yours the most beautiful I have ever seen.”
So, okay, the Mountie had bat ears with benefits. No big deal, Ray was too old to play guess-what-I’m-saying-while-I’m-brushing-my-teeth anyway.
He rinsed and dried his mouth. Fraser was kissing the nape of his neck. The hairs there liked that a lot, they kinda got hard from it.
Ray turned. ‘Missed you,’ he thought while his tongue sought Fraser’s. This was nice. He liked this. He liked feeling Fraser growing harder against his belly. Or against his hard-on, more like.
“Let’s get back to bed,” Ray said. “I only have to start at noon.”
“I know.”
“You know? How?”
“Well, your working schedule is on top of the pile on your desk almost permanently, Ray. I have no scruples looking at it from time to time, because, as your partner, it is germane for me to know when you are on duty.”
Ray knew scruples. Well, he knew the word. Working with Mr. Scruples himself and not knowing what the word meant was impossible. Fraser was always very helpful in explaining any word worth over fifty bucks. He thought it was only germane, or something.
Ray thought it was germane that they went back to bed. Fraser was all over that. His hands were all over Ray, doing stuff that got Ray glowing like a torch; his cock sure felt like one.
‘You need to get fucked,’ it said.
Fraser’s hand was doing great things to Ray’s sac. His fingers moved lower, rubbing the hole there. Oh, yeah. That was nice. Real nice.
Ray felt a jolt of anticipation watching Fraser wet his finger-his tongue swiping the entire length of it.
God. It felt good. Ray squirmed a little, to give Fraser better access to the spot inside. Oh! Oh, Jesus.
Ray was in a hurry all of a sudden. If this was how it felt with fingers, he wanted to know how it felt with a dick. He wanted to feel it. He had a pretty good clue already what a dick could do there. Fraser’s reactions last night had been pretty telling.
“Ray,” Fraser said. “Ray, do you want…?”
Ray reached for the lube. “Yeah,” he said. “Hurry.”
Of course, Fraser’s bat ears shut down right that minute. He didn’t hurry. He started to lube Ray up very slowly, rubbing in gentle circles, only lightly caressing the nub inside, taking his time to get the lube where he wanted it before he got a new blob and started all over again.
It was good. It was great. It was hot. But it wasn’t enough.
“FraserFraserfuckmegoddammitplease,” Ray breathed.
“Yes,” Fraser said, reaching for a condom.
Ray pulled his knees up to his shoulders. Fraser was holding his gaze while he aimed and pressed inside.
Jesus. Big dick. It hurt.
“Relax, Ray,” Fraser said. Ooh, dark voice.
What it said seemed to make sense, and Ray tried. Better. Much better. Fraser could press all the way in. Then he started to rock his hips.
God. Oh, god.
Ray had been on his back before. He’d had somebody else being in charge of the fuck. Stella was good at taking the lead in bed. (Stella was good at taking the lead, period.) But he had never been penetrated.
Now he was, and, god, it was greatness. To be ‘filled’ like this… It added new meaning to the word ‘close’.
“I love you.”
Fraser made a weird sound. He closed his eyes, stopped rocking his hips, and went very still for a couple of seconds.
Jesus.
“Does it make you come when I say that?”
“Yes,” Fraser said. “It almost did.”
Jesus. Ray put his hand on the nape of Fraser’s neck and kissed the Mountie with everything he had.
Fraser made that weird sound again. “Ray… if you… I don’t think I can….”
“Doesn’t matter, Frase,” Ray said. “Just do it.”
When Fraser started moving again, his hips weren’t rocking, they were thrusting.
God, it was good. It was so good. Ray felt it in the soles of his feet, in his balls, in his hair. A warm stream of cum wet his belly and chest even before Fraser uttered a heartfelt “Ungh!” and collapsed on top of him.
Ray held him, enjoying his aftershocks and Fraser’s, feeling Fraser’s heartbeat slow down.
It smarted when Fraser pulled out.
“Sorry.”
Ray turned and nestled himself in Fraser’s arms, telling him it didn’t matter.
‘I told you, you needed to get fucked,’ his cock said, sleepy but smug.
Ray gave it a soft squeeze. The guy was right, after all.
16. I’m not a marionette
At some point they decided that it was prudent to get out of bed (okay, it was mainly Fraser’s idea). There were showers to take and wolves to walk. According to Fraser, it was also germane to wash the sheets.
Ray said why bother, they’ll be dirty tonight anyway. Fraser was appalled by this attitude. He gave Ray a stern lecture about body fluids and general hygiene.
Ray let him yap. He didn’t need to hear this. The good thing was, ‘course, that if anyone ever asked the ‘who’s the husband, who’s the wife’ question (and at some point somebody would, he just knew it), Ray didn’t have to kick’em in the head but instead could first point at himself and then across the room.
When they hit the shower, he instantly remembered the extra benefits of soap when showering with a lover. It had been a decade or so that Stella and him last took a shower together, but he knew what the mixture of soap and a little water could do when applied to the skin the right way.
“Ray… you… what… aahh,” Fraser said.
Ray grinned. It was so simple. Just a cheap bar of soap and a little imagination.
He felt all fuzzy after showering. Being in a relationship again (a love relationship) was greatness, and being with Fraser was even greater.
Still, if there was a pop quiz and one of the questions was ‘Are there any drawbacks in being in a relationship with Fraser?’ Ray would tick the ‘yes’ box without a second’s hesitation and add a couple of exclamation marks. There was the never-ending stream of Inuit stories, the language corrections, the Ts and the Is thing, the lectures about politeness, and proper preparation, and neatness… and those were only a few random examples. He didn’t expect Fraser to stop all that just because they were lovers now. But he didn’t expect new irritations added so soon either, and he certainly didn’t expect to have a fight with Fraser the first morning of their new relationship. Honeymoons were supposed to last longer than a couple of hours.
But Fraser thought Ray should eat breakfast, and Ray, of course, thought not. Not the breakfast Fraser had in mind anyway. Ray’s idea of breakfast was a cup of coffee with six M&Ms added, stirred with the handle of a wooden spoon. That was all his stomach could take early in the day. The poor thing was a late sleeper and it generally woke up a couple of hours after the rest of Ray did. Besides that, breakfast was not a useful meal. Ray’s shooting aim (when he was wearing his glasses), his speed, and his interrogation techniques were all just as good before as they were after lunch.
Don’t want any, not gonna have any, he told Fraser.
Fraser yapped some about ‘physical health’, ‘calories’, ‘energy’, and ‘metabolism’ (and didn’t that sound gross). Ray tried to put an end to it by saying, “Stella never ate breakfast either.”
Oh, dumb move, Kowalski, dumb move. Fraser shifted into haughty mode really quick. “Skipping breakfast is a very unhealthy habit, Ray.” Yeah, that, and he never liked Stella.
Fraser announced he was going to do some grocery shopping and walk Dief.
‘Fine,’ Ray thought, and ‘Ain’t that a relief’. But he didn’t feel too good.
Fraser came back with a bag full of stuff. It contained whole wheat bread, strawberry jelly, peanut butter, chocolate spread, cheese, ham, and butter. Ray’s stomach clenched. No, it said. No way.
Without saying a word, Fraser started searching for a frying pan. The second cabinet he inspected was bull’s-eye.
The bag he had brought wasn’t empty yet; out came half a loaf of white bread, a carton of milk, eggs, powered sugar, and cinnamon. Fraser got the other stuff he needed from the cabinets and the drawers and got cooking.
After a couple of minutes, it started to smell great. Fraser got it on a plate, sprinkled it with sugar and cinnamon and said, “Eat this, Ray. Please.”
It was good. Ray’s stomach was instantly wide awake. ‘I like this,’ it said. ‘Feed me this any time of night.’
But there was a catch, Ray knew there was, and when he’d finished the toast, he said, “You’ve really set your mind to turning me into a breakfast eater, haven’t you, Fraser? You know you can’t force feed me, so you’re manipulate me into eating. You’d do anything to get your way in this. I think you’d even retort to a No Sex policy if necessary.”
Fraser replied, deadpan, “Only if you were truly starving, Ray.” He opened the fridge and closed it quickly again with a look of disgust on his face.
Yeah, it wasn’t exactly clean. But seeing as there was hardly anything in it, what was the point? Jeez. Was the Mountie trying to take over Ray’s life or something?
“Do I get to keep my M&Ms, or do they have to go as well, because you consider sugar more healthy?” he asked.
“Well, using sugar as a sweetener for your coffee would indeed be healthier, Ray,” Fraser said. “But as there is absolutely no need to lower your calorie intake, I don’t feel compelled to keep you from eating chocolate.” He placed a large bag of M&Ms next to Ray’s plate on the kitchen table.
It didn’t help. It only served to fuel Ray’s anger. All of a sudden, Lee was running through his veins something fierce.
Fraser was behaving like an arrogant, manipulative control freak and he just had no right. He was supposed to be in love for fuck’s sake. The last thing Ray needed was Fraser being perfect on top of being arrogant, manipulative, and in control.
“Why, thank you, Fraser,” he said. “That’s real big of you. And tomorrow you intend to make me eat those other things you bought. Am I right?”
“Well, I really think you should at least try some of it, Ray,” Fraser said. “You might like the chocolate spread. Personally, I would love to see you eat fried or scrambled eggs, but I’m afraid that would be a little ambitious for a breakfast neophyte like you.”
Ray had no idea what a neophyte was but it sounded nasty. Or maybe that was just the tone.
It didn’t matter. He had enough. He got up from his chair, folded his arms across his chest and said, “Fraser, look at me. This is me, the guy who fails to do the things that you think are vital in life, like obeying traffic rules, and being polite and tidy and shit; the guy who keeps doing things that you consider fatal, like violating traffic rules and drinking beer and stuff. You knew that from the start, and you fell in love with me regardless. Wanting to change me now is not buddies, Fraser.”
Fraser looked at him. “It’s only breakfast, Ray.”
“It’s not,” Ray said. “It’s a symbolic thing. You know it is.”
“I beg to differ, Ray. Breakfast is a very factual meal.”
Oh, goddammit! The Mountie really needed a kick in the head. Or two.
But it wouldn’t work shit, of course. Ray took a deep breath and said, “Fraser, listen. I want to do this. I want us to be lovers. But you have to give me some room to breathe, ‘cause I can’t and I won’t be like you.”
Fraser had a look in his eyes like he wanted to beg to differ again, so Ray said firmly, “You can’t make me make choices that aren’t my own, Fraser. That’s not how it works.”
There seemed to be some sort of struggle between Fraser’s ‘me’ and his ‘I’. Then Fraser said, “I apologize profusely, Ray. I didn’t mean to make you reconsider the turn our relationship has taken.”
The tone was huffy, and fuck it, Ray wasn’t buying.
“Cut the crap, Fraser,” he said. “I haven’t been reconsidering anything for even a second. Just back off a little, okay?”
“How am I supposed to do that, Ray?”
Oh, Jesus Christ!
“You’ve got to stop manipulating me. If you want me to do something, ask me. I’ll consider it. I might even say okay sometimes.” For good measure, and because he figured that to Fraser this wasn’t obvious, Ray added, “And if I say no, it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you.”
That one finally hit home. Hard. The expression on Fraser’s face gave Ray some insight in the workings of the Mountie’s mind, and he wasn’t entirely happy with the knowledge.
He took a step towards Fraser, who instantly wrapped his arms tightly around him and buried his face in the crook between Ray’s neck and shoulder.
‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ Ray thought, stroking Fraser’s back and hoping that the Mountie’s bat ears with benefits would pick up the thought even if he didn’t say it out loud.
After a while, Fraser seemed to relax a little. His eyes searched for Ray’s. “I’ll try,” he said. “But I fear that I am going to make mistakes. I’m afraid I will need frequent corrections.”
Yeah?
Ray grinned. “Do I detect a masochistic streak here, Fraser?”
“Oh, god, Ray, no,” Fraser said shocked. “I didn’t mean that I….”
He stopped, but from the look in his eyes, Ray thought the Mountie had an epitome, and he made a mental note to visit a certain type of shop sometime soon and get some toys.
They kissed for quite a while, nice and messy. (They had a lot of making up to do, ‘course.)
At some point Fraser said, “Ray, would you like another piece of French toast?”
Ray grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “They’re greatness, Frase.”
17. Lovers live a little longer
Ray dropped Fraser and Dief off at the Consulate. They kissed (Fraser and Ray did). Ray thought the Ice Queen would have a heart attack if she witnessed it and strangely enough, he didn’t like that idea.
When Fraser pulled back, he had a look on his face like he really didn’t want to leave the car.
“I’ll call you,” he said solemnly.
Ray grinned. Fraser always called on days they didn’t see each other, and on most of the days they did meet.
“You’d better, or I’ll lose all faith in men,” he said. “After tonight and this early morning, I’d feel real cheap if you didn’t.” Then he laughed-loud-at the question mark on Fraser’s face.
“Never mind, Fraser. I’ll be waiting by the phone.”
But he wasn’t. And Fraser didn’t call.
When Ray arrived at the station, he heard that Welsh wanted to talk to him. He expected a lecture about some case report he hadn’t even started to write, but the Lieu still hadn’t shaken that weird complimenting mode of his.
Ray didn’t really listen, he was just thinking, ‘Why? Why are you acting so fucking unWelsh-like for weeks now?’
Then the Lieutenant said, “Did you and Fraser have a talk last night?”
Ray was thinking that ‘talk’ must be a dirty word in the Lieutenant’s book, and he was about to snap, “That’s none of your business, sir,” but then he saw that the look on the Lieu’s face wasn’t one of perverse curiosity. Welsh looked concerned. And hopeful somehow.
So he thought, ‘Huh?’ and said, “Yeah. Yeah we did. Why?”
“I’m glad,” Welsh said. Then he rubbed his eyebrow.
Yeah, Welsh rubbed his eyebrow. The sight of it made Ray feel really uncomfortable.
“I hope the conversation was… insightful, Detective,” the Lieu said.
‘Do you now?’ Ray thought. “Why is that, sir?” he asked.
Welsh tugged at his earlobe. Ray thought that if he waited a minute he would see the Lieu licking his lower lip.
“I felt that your liaison with Fraser wasn’t used to its full potential,” the Lieutenant said. “Am I right to assume that the nature of your partnership has changed, Detective?”
Kicking the Lieu in the head would be perfectly justified, Ray thought. But there was something totally surreal about this whole scene. He didn’t get it.
And then he did. Finally.
“Did you act as a matchmaker, sir?” he asked.
Welsh cracked his neck. (Oh, man.)
“How much matchmaking did you do exactly?” Ray said.
“Not much.” The Lieu sounded relieved. “I only seized the opportunity when it presented itself.”
Right. Okay. Ray turned to leave the office and take some time to digest all this.
“Ray,” Welsh said, “tell Fraser there is no emergency.”
“Ray,” Fraser said. He was sitting at Ray’s desk. “I heard there was an emergency. Francesca and Detectives Huey and Dewey weren’t able to enlighten me, though. Could you please fill me in?”
“There is no emergency, Fraser,” Ray said.
“There isn’t?” Fraser seemed puzzled. “Ray, I don’t understand. When I was in Inspector Thatcher’s office, being reprimanded for taking the morning off without her permission, Lieutenant Welsh called.” He rubbed his eyebrow. (‘Don’t do that,’ Ray thought.) “Naturally, I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation. It appeared that the Inspector had called the precinct earlier because she noticed that I wasn’t at the Consulate and she worried about me.”
‘I bet she did,’ Ray thought.
“She instantly informed the Lieutenant that I had turned up again and thanked him for calling, but then it seemed that my presence at the precinct was wanted urgently. It didn’t become exactly clear why, but the Lieutenant seemed to need me desperately, so I rushed over.”
Fraser seemed a little confused, but he wasn’t at all out of breath. Man. Ray felt really proud of his boyfriend’s excess lung capacity.
“I took a taxi, Ray,” Fraser said quietly.
Oh. Right. ‘Course.
“There is no emergency,” Ray repeated. “Welsh made it up to get you here. With me. He knows about us. He sorta arranged it.”
There was a long pause. Then Fraser said slowly, “Yes, I suppose he did. If I hadn’t spent so much time in drinking establishments catering to homosexual clientele I don’t think I would have realized I was in love with you, Ray-not in the near future.”
Ray had to admit that the same went for him. But he wasn’t sure if he really liked the idea of Welsh’s meddling. Arranged marriages just weren’t romantic.
He couldn’t help glaring in the direction of the Lieu’s office, and he saw that there was a crack in the blinds.
Hokay.
“It seems that there is more to the Lieutenant than meets the eye, Ray,” Fraser said.
“Yeah, he’s nuts.” Ray didn’t like to be manipulated. Or to be peeped at for that matter.
He turned away, towards Fraser. Beautiful, brilliant, awesome Fraser. His Fraser now, in every possible way. And wasn’t he grateful for it.
He turned again and blew Welsh a kiss through the blinds.
“Ray!” Fraser said shocked. “You can’t….”
Ray shrugged. “Why not? It’s only polite to thank him, Frase.”
He smiled sweetly at his partner, his lover, his boyfriend, and got a look in return that told him they were on the exact same page.
“‘Cause we are grateful for what he did, aren’t we?” He grinned. “When all is said and done.”
(END)
Click here for the Addendum.
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: NC-17 (clothes come off)
Size: about 10,500 words
Summary: Three undercover gigs. Disco. A lot of dead gay men. More disco. Fraser behaving very out of character. Ray being dazed and confused. And Welsh….What the fuck is wrong with Welsh?
Identity and Boldly Blessed Attraction (III)
12. I’ve been waiting for you
It was… not good. Tony was gone, and that should have been a relief to Ray, but it wasn’t. Fraser was back, but he was… he was hurt. Ray’s hunches told him so within two tenths of a second.
Fraser was very silent on the way to the station where they parked the Chevy and picked up the Chrysler. (Luckily, Dewey hadn’t nicked it.) When Ray suggested they’d grab a bite somewhere, Fraser said, “It’s rather late, Ray. Would you please give me a lift to the Consulate?”
And that was bad. Very bad. Ray didn’t drive fast to the Consulate (Fraser didn’t even seem to notice that he had suddenly started respecting traffic rules) but he got there anyway.
He hadn’t been able to take Tony a second longer, and he had made that very clear to Fraser, but he sure as hell couldn’t take this either. He couldn’t let Fraser step out the car. Not like this.
“What’s wrong, Fraser? You’ve barely said anything since-”
Oh. Okay. What little brain Ray had had done the math now, and Ray said, “Why do you want so much to be Tony, Fraser?”
“Because Tony is unafraid of showing his needs, and confident that he will get what he wants.”
Meaning, of course, that Fraser wasn’t. So Ray asked, “What do you want, Fraser?”
And Fraser said, “Ray….”
That reply could mean a few different things. It could mean Fraser thought it wasn’t germane or prudent to ask a question like that. It could mean Fraser was thinking of a way to put something he found very difficult to say. It could also be a direct answer to a direct question.
There was a silence. Then Ray’s heart started beating again (fast) and there was an ear numbing squealing of hunches inside Ray’s head. ‘He wants you!’ they screamed, and, ‘There’s no way to do this without taking a risk!’ and, ‘There is no risk, because he wants you. Fraser wants you!’
There was sort of an argument, because Ray’s brain put in that taking the risk could be dangerous to the partnership; it could take the spark out of it, or worse, end it. But it was not much of a fight. Only one brain, and not really a great one, against tons of hunches. Kinda pathetic.
“Get out the car, Fraser,” Ray said. “Get Dief, a toothbrush, and whatever else you need in the morning. You’re coming with me.”
And, okay, then he got shit scared. Because Fraser could reply something like, “I do not understand and therefore will not follow your silly suggestion, Ray. In fact, I take an offence to your invitation. We’ll talk about this some other time. Goodnight.”
But Fraser didn’t say that. He said, “Wait here, Ray. I’ll be right back.”
And he was. With Dief and a bag.
The ride to Ray’s apartment was awkward. Fraser didn’t seem hurt anymore, but now he was tense. (As if Ray wasn’t.) Dief made no effort to lighten up the atmosphere either. Nobody said anything.
At the apartment building, Fraser told Diefenbaker to go walk himself. Then they were alone, climbing the stairs in silence.
As he closed the door of his apartment, Ray tried to catch Fraser’s eye, but the Mountie was goddamn skittish. So, the dirty work? Ray’s to do. Obviously.
He said, “There’s no way to do this carefully, and seeing as you agreed to come with me, I’ll be blunt. Do you want me, Fraser?”
Neck crack plus lip lick. So that was clear enough. Now what?
Fraser was so fucking nervous. Ray had never seen a straighter back, or a more determined avoiding of his stare. He almost regretted it that Tony wasn’t there. Tony would have answered the question immediately saying something like, “Do you even have to ask?” And then he’d have wrapped his arms around Ray (Lee) and kissed him senseless.
But Fraser wasn’t Tony (and Ray was grateful-he really was). Fraser wasn’t confident; he feared rejection, even now. Ray had read somewhere that people who were geniuses also tended to be insane. So, okay, no touches yet. Words. Fraser was more comfortable with words.
“When did you first realize you wanted me?” He said it quietly, praying Fraser would remember that not answering a question was an impolite thing to do.
“Strictly speaking, I realized, I knew, on the second night we were looking for the person responsible for the killings of six homosexual men,” Fraser said. He even looked at Ray. For about a millisecond.
“When you kissed me.” Risky, yeah, but Ray needed to get this straight (pun not intended, thank you kindly).
“Yes… yes.” The Mountie’s back got straighter still, and from the sound of it, Ray thought that Fraser was trying to break his own neck. “The… the first night was a prelude to it, I believe.”
Earlobe tug. Then Fraser seemed to remember that Mounties were in fact brave people. “I had never been in such an establishment, but I found that I liked it tremendously. I liked being there with you.”
“Being there with me,” Ray said slowly. “We hardly saw each other that night, Fraser. You were too busy making new friends, if I recall correctly.”
“Yes. But I was very much aware of the fact that you were watching me while I was taught how to dance.”
“You mean you were showing off for me?”
“I tried, yes. I felt… excited. And invincible.”
“Because I was watching,” Ray said, stunned.
“Yes. And I felt great anticipation the second night. I enjoyed our dancing very much. You are a very good dancer, Ray.”
Fraser seemed to wait for something. Maybe he expected Ray to say stuff that would allow Fraser to not say the next words. But Ray wasn’t playing along. Instead, he counted the seconds of silence. He came to six. Then Fraser couldn’t take it anymore.
“I truly didn’t expect that the need would occur to hold you, Ray.” Was it just Ray or was Fraser feeling guilty about something? “But when it did, it felt wonderful. I wanted….” Pause and eyebrow rub. “I was thinking of our cover, Ray. I didn’t mean to take advantage of you. But I needed to know.”
“Needed to know what, Fraser?”
“How to label my feelings,” Fraser said in a very low voice.
“Tell me about your feelings.” Was that a sappy line? Yes, that was a sappy line. But Fraser wasn’t exactly Mr. Macho, so it might work.
It did.
“I think it started the day we met, Ray. It was highly unsettling for me to find you at the police precinct instead of Ray Vecchio. To find him gone was….”
“Was what, Fraser?”
“It upset me. I’m afraid I was angry.”
“’S no real surprise, Fraser,” Ray said. “You came back from vacation, your house had been burnt down, your partner had left you-”
“Ray Vecchio didn’t leave me. He was assigned to an important undercover operation.”
“You didn’t know that at first. You expected him to be there and he wasn’t. ‘Course you were angry.”
“Well… yes. With you as well, Ray. I found your presence highly disturbing. You kept insisting that you were Ray Vecchio and I….” Fraser sighed. “I confess that I sometimes feel I have reason to doubt my mental sanity.”
“That why you collected all the evidence to prove that I wasn’t Vecchio?”
“Partly, yes.”
“You’re unhinged, Fraser.” Ray hoped he’d hit the right reassuring tone. “But you’re not crazy.”
“I hope so, Ray.” Fraser didn’t seem convinced.
“So you behaved like a madman because you were afraid you were insane?”
“That is part of it, Ray. I also felt I had to prove something to you. I wanted to let you know that you couldn’t rattle me. That I was in control of my emotions, not you. I wanted to conquer you.”
Jesus. When the Mountie went to confession, he went to confession. It was kinda hot.
“I only realized that I was behaving selfishly and that I was doing you wrong when I talked to Lieutenant Welsh after you and I apprehended Mrs. Garbo. He told me to give you a fair chance.”
Welsh? Had Fraser just followed Welsh’s orders?
“Your smile when I asked if you would like to have dinner with me was the most blinding I had ever seen on anybody’s face. I felt very guilty towards Ray Vecchio. And I have since, until recently.”
Ray swallowed. Guilty towards Vecchio? Oh, no. Oh, god, please no.
“Why, Fraser?” Jesus, Kowalski, speak up.
“He was my best friend for three years, Ray. I counted it a blessing to have a friend like him,” Fraser said. “But soon after you and I met, I realized that the urge to count one’s blessings only emerges when one has unwelcome feelings one needs to repress.” He looked at Ray for a full second. “I became aware that I had stopped reminding myself of the good things in my life when I met you, that I had been lonely in Chicago in spite of my friendship with Ray Vecchio, and that I wasn’t anymore. You alleviated my loneliness, Ray.”
An image popped up in Ray’s head of a very muscled heavyweight Ray Kowalski. Elevating the Mountie’s loneliness was a mighty big thing to achieve.
“I was a different man around you than I was with Ray Vecchio,” Fraser continued. “With you I was actually happy. And I felt disloyal to Ray because of it. I didn’t understand why it was so different with you, but as time passed, I felt that it wasn’t enough. Only I didn’t know how to define ‘enough’.”
Fraser’s voice was soft but steady and from the look in his eyes, Ray knew that the Mountie had decided to speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and that his story wasn’t finished yet.
“After we first kissed, I knew that I loved you. I wanted to let you know that I was available if you wanted me, but I didn’t know how. I’m not very good at expressing my feelings, Ray.”
‘You’re doing a fine job right now, buddy,’ Ray thought.
“But I was hopeful,” Fraser resumed. “The way you responded to the kiss…. I thought that if I was patient…. But then Lieutenant Welsh requested our help in the solving of deaths of those young boys, and you suggested we should separate.”
“Only to solve the case, Fraser,” Ray said.
“Yes, but you also suggested that Ben would cheat on Stan.”
That was still bugging the Mountie? Jeez, talking about identifying with your character.
“I missed you, Ray,” Fraser said. “But when at the end of the second night we had enough evidence to hand the case back to detectives Moses and Lester and we met in the car, it seemed you couldn’t bear to look at me. You hardly said a word during the remainder of the night.”
Ray saw Fraser relive the scene. Painfully.
“I didn’t know what to do. When I tried to talk to you over the phone the next day, you declined my invitation for dinner.” Fraser blinked. “I thought Stan had fallen out of love with Ben.”
Fuck. That was the biggest metamorph Ray had ever heard. This was all about Stan and Ben? Yeah, sure, Frase.
“That’s why you told me you didn’t want to be Ben anymore,” he said.
“I thought I’d lost you, Ray,” Fraser said softly. “And Ben is not the person to address matters of the heart with any degree of confidence that his endeavors will have the desired result.”
“But Tony is,” Ray suggested.
“Ye-es.” Eyebrow rub. “To be honest, being Tony is rather tiresome, Ray.”
Yeah, Ray could imagine. Being with Tony was pretty exhausting too.
“Worn yourself out, Fraser?”
“Well, acting like Tony was completely new to me, Ray, and although quite exhilarating, I also found it frightening. Tony is very powerful, and holding him in check was a strenuous task. I’m afraid I failed it. He….” Fraser paused.
“Got the better of you?” Ray said.
“Yes. I’m very sorry, Ray. I didn’t mean to be so overbearing.” Lip lick, eyebrow rub. “But being close to you, touching you, kissing you made me want…. It made me want to feel you, Ray. It made me want to make love to you.”
Oh, Jesus. Fraser sure knew how to turn a confession into a turn-on.
“Do you want to touch me now?” Ray asked.
“Yes, Ray. God, yes, Ray,” Fraser sighed.
The kiss was great. It wasn’t as claiming as Tony’s kisses were, and that was fine with Ray. He could participate in this soft but thorough and totally dedicated lick-suck-nibbling. He didn’t need to just let it happen. And he didn’t have to pretend. He could run his tongue over Fraser’s crooked tooth, enjoying the fact that it was truly Fraser he was kissing, not somebody else.
“Ray,” Fraser sighed into his mouth. “Ray. I never thought…. After Victoria I didn’t think I would ever again feel such strong desire for anyone. I thought that part of me had died. But you healed me, Ray. I don’t know how you accomplished it, but you’ve made me whole. Stay with me, Ray. Please. I need you.”
And that was a little scary, ‘cause a Mountie’s need was a mighty big thing to fulfill. Usually it was very well hidden behind Serges and Mountie Masks, but Ray was no fool. If you looked past the Mountie and saw the man, you couldn’t miss the thing there that could only be spelled N-E-E-D. And Ray wasn’t sure even if he gave everything he got that it would be enough.
But then he became aware of how they were standing. Of Fraser’s arms around him, of big, warm hands stroking his back. Of Fraser’s incredibly beautiful face. The face he knew so well. And he thought, ‘What the heck.’ Life was a risky thing, and love was yet a whole lot riskier. Besides, Ray was a pretty needy guy himself. It wasn’t that he was really sure he wouldn’t lose his sense of being if he lost Fraser.
“Ray,” Fraser said softly, “I’d better go and open the door for Diefenbaker. He is probably waiting outside.”
13. Me and I
“I believe he does, yes,” Ray heard Fraser say in the hallway. To Diefenbaker, no doubt.
“Yes, of course I am elated.
“If I smell funny, and no, I don’t intend to admit that I do, it is because I am in love.
“Yes, saying that I am ‘in heat’ with Ray is also a manner of phrasing it, but a crude one. I am in love with him, Diefenbaker, and before you dismiss falling in love as one of those pathetic human events that would never occur to anyone in full possession of his mental faculties, let me tell you that I don’t believe for a second your own infatuation with Ray to be purely donut induced.”
Ray didn’t believe that Diefenbaker was in love with him. Or that Dief was actually talking to Fraser. Fraser was doing that projecting thing, where people attributed their own feelings to others. He probably had since the day he and Diefenbaker met. Ray hoped he had. To sorta split yourself in two seemed a good way to ease the loneliness.
And wasn’t everybody suffering from a split identity anyway? Ray sure was, if the inner voices screaming for his attention all the time were anything to go by.
The talking in the hallway continued. Apparently, Diefenbaker needed reassurance that things wouldn’t change much. Ray heard something about the unbreakable bond between Man and Wolf. And something about donuts.
“No, you can’t sleep in his bed,” Fraser murmured. “That will be my prerogative. I hope.” He murmured some more, but Ray couldn’t make out what he was saying.
He suspected that Fraser was nervous. It was one thing to sleep in Ray’s bed; to have sex in it was something entirely different. And it sure as hell was possible-Ray quickly readjusted his cock in his pants-to want something desperately and to be shit scared of it at the same time.
He decided to put on some music while he waited for Fraser to be ready to take the next step, and chose Abba. Yeah, they were sap, but they’d followed him through the emotional process of the last few weeks and it was only fair to let them celebrate their romantic victory.
After the separation from Stella, he had bought the CD because of the separation songs on it. He had played them often, feeling like Stella was singing ‘Knowing Me, Knowing You’ to him, wishing she’d sing ‘One of Us’. But the song that got to him the most was ‘The Winner Takes It All’.
He had felt like Stella was a winner. Not that he thought she enjoyed filing for divorce, or anything, but she wanted out and she got out; he wanted her to stay and he got nothing.
The song always used to get him fucking sad. And angry. But not with Stella.
He had never been angry with Stella, not really. He was good at emotions, and anger sure was one of his best buddies, but not when it came to Stella. Stella had never brought out the Lee in him. She had made him feel sad, insecure, and on the fucking verge of panic, but never angry.
When Ray had been listening to ‘The Winner’, it was Agneta who used to get him mad. She didn’t fight for the guy who was leaving her; she didn’t beg him to stay. She just resigned, and at the end of the song, she was thinking more of the guy’s feelings than her own, apologizing for making him feel guilty because she looked so devastated. In that trembling voice. Ray couldn’t stand that voice. It was the voice of a loser, and it had made him want to clock Agneta. He wanted to yell at her to fight goddammit! Sometimes he did. Most of the times he cried.
For some sick reason, he had played the song very often. Until at some point it didn’t make him cry or get him mad anymore. From that time on, it had just been a fucking sentimental thing.
Ray pushed the ‘random song’ button, hoping his CD player wouldn’t pick ‘The Winner Takes It All’. Luckily, it didn’t. It chose ‘Gimme, Gimme, Gimme’, and Ray thought, ‘Yeah, come on, Fraser.’
The door opened and Ray instantly got licked all over. By Diefenbaker. Yuck.
He tugged at the collar of his shirt to swipe the spit from his face, and while he was busy doing that, he felt Fraser’s warm hands on his naked back.
“I have spoken to Diefenbaker and he approves of the turn our relationship has taken, Ray.”
Ding-ding-ding! Ray’s metamorph meter said. Fraser was ready. Oh, yeah.
They kissed again. Ray found he really liked kissing Fraser. It got him hot. And hard, ‘course.
Diefenbaker huffed.
“I think he is a jealous,” Fraser whispered. “Perhaps we should turn on your television to provide him with some distraction.”
Ray cut off Agneta and Frida’s demand for a man after midnight, got the tube on Discovery Channel and turned off the sound-Dief was deaf anyway. He even turned the set a little to give the guy some privacy.
Then he started kissing Fraser again, thinking it was real greatness. Thinking it wasn’t enough. Thinking bedroom.
Thinking names.
“What do I call you?” he asked. “I can’t call you Fraser when we are lovers.” It was kinda like déjà vu all over again.
But Fraser said, “You can’t?”
“It’s your surname.”
“Yes. It is.”
Pause.
“What?”
“I haven’t thought of myself otherwise than as ‘Fraser’ for the last twenty years, Ray,” Fraser said. “After my grandmother died, nobody called me ‘Ben’ or ‘Benton’ anymore. Well, my father….”
Ray concentrated on hearing what Fraser had to say about his dad, ‘cause he knew the guy was dead for a couple of years now, but Fraser just made a ‘doesn’t need exploring at this juncture’ gesture with his hand, and said, “I don’t like those names. ‘Benton’ refers too much to being lonely, otherworldly and invisible, and ‘Ben’ is only a little bit better.”
Jesus. Ray thought of himself as ‘Kowalski’ sometimes, but only when he had done something stupid or when he needed to get a grip. The rest of the time he was ‘Ray’ and Ray was an okay guy. That Fraser had thought of himself as ‘Fraser’ for twenty fucking years was sorta sad.
“Ray Vecchio called me ‘Benny’ sometimes,” Fraser was saying.
“Benny!” Ray said disgusted.
“He meant well, Ray. I suppose he did it to make me fit in more in Chicago, to Americanize me so to speak.”
“He had no business doing that,” Ray stated. “You’re not American, Fraser. You’re Canadian.”
“I don’t think Ray Vecchio ever forgot that, Ray.”
Maybe he didn’t. But Ray didn’t like talking about Vecchio. He didn’t like thinking about Vecchio.
He had seen Vecchio’s case reports. They were good. Vecchio didn’t use metamorphs, it wasn’t like he was writing detective stories or anything, he just stuck to the facts, but he could write. Ray bet that Welsh often told him, “Detective Vecchio, that’s a mighty fine case report you turned in this morning. And I’d like to take this opportunity to congratulate you on its timeliness.”
To Ray the Lieu said stuff like, “Detective, something strange has happened. I’m missing twenty-four of your case reports. I’m sure they have been on my desk, ‘cause you promised to turn them in this morning, but they have all gone. Solve this case for me please. By noon.”
When Ray handed over an occasional case report, Welsh sometimes said, “Detective, it is shockingly obvious that Constable Fraser wasn’t holding your hand when you wrote this.” Yeah, like Ray could have typed one word when Fraser was holding his hand.
Something else that bugged Ray about Vecchio’s reports was the way they mentioned Fraser. There was a lot of ‘Constable Fraser said’ and ‘Constable Fraser did’ and ‘Constable Fraser suspected’ in them, and much more ‘us’ and ‘we’ than ‘me’ and ‘I’.
Vecchio obviously liked and admired Fraser, and Ray didn’t like that. Part of him knew damn well he shouldn’t feel this way. If it hadn’t been for Vecchio, Fraser would have been far more lonely his first three years in Chicago. Vecchio had gotten Fraser a permit for Diefenbaker. Vecchio had been Fraser’s ‘best friend’ for all those years (dammit). Ray knew he should be grateful that Vecchio had been there when Fraser needed a friend, but he wasn’t. His name wasn’t fucking Agneta, he wasn’t altitustic, and he just didn’t like the idea that Vecchio had been Fraser’s first.
Ray wasn’t thinking that Fraser’s hard-on was meant for Vecchio, not really anyway, but he knew that if Vecchio ever came back and started to call Fraser ‘Benny’ he’d kick the guy in the head something fierce.
Fraser sorta read his mind. “I was never in love with Ray Vecchio, Ray,” he said. “I didn’t particularly like it when he called me ‘Benny’ although I appreciated the gesture. I like it when you call me ‘Frase’, Ray.”
“Yeah, Frase?” Ray smiled. He took his time to taste Fraser’s mouth. It had been five whole minutes since their last kiss.
“I like it when you call me Ray,” he said. “Six times in a row.”
“Ray,” Fraser murmured against his lips. “Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray.”
“Yeah,” Ray sighed. “And if you ever call me Stan-”
“You’ll kick me in the head,” Fraser said solemnly. “And so you should, Ray.” His face got a horrified expression. “Stan!” He shuddered excessively.
Ray wanted to protest, ‘cause, hey, it wasn’t that bad a name, but Fraser laughed. Out loud. It got Ray all fuzzy feeling.
He wasn’t a little bit in love.
14. Rock me
He knew he had to pop the question sometime soon. When he felt Fraser’s hands under his shirt and Fraser’s thumb started stroking his nipple, Ray said as casually as he could, “I have a bed, you know. It’s unmade so it’s a mess. Do you want to come and see if we can mess it up some more?”
“Yes,” Fraser replied, kinda hoarse. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”
Ray hadn’t lied; the bed was a mess. But Fraser didn’t even blink. Maybe he was happy to see a real bed for a change so he didn’t mind the rumpled and not very clean sheets. Fraser didn’t own a real bed and slept on a cot in his office at the Consulate, after all.
The bed was a mess, but it was a double. Ray got it from the divorce while Stella got the friends. He didn’t mind really-they were hers more than his anyway-but it bugged him that she hadn’t even wanted the bed. Like she didn’t want to be reminded of the time they spent in it together.
“Ray.”
Fraser’s hands moved under Ray’s shirt again, pulling it over his head. There was a gasp. Mountie eyes were looking, looking, at him.
“God, Ray, you are… so beautiful.”
Ray was wrapped in strong Mountie arms. There was soft suckling on his collarbone, which made it difficult to concentrate on the buttons of Fraser’s shirt. Ray managed to undo them, though.
Shirt onto the floor, t-shirt too.
Oh, Jesus, Fraser.
Ray could hardly muster the guts, but when he did, it was weirdly unweird to touch Fraser’s chest. So smooth. So hard. So hot.
“Fraser,” he said. “Frase.”
Then they were in a hurry. Ray finished stripping first. That was kinda surprising with the famous Mountie efficiency and all, because it wasn’t that Fraser took the time to fold his clothes or anything. Maybe he thought he had an advantage this way, a better look or something.
From the bed, Ray had no complaints in the view department himself. Fraser was perfect, every inch of him. Ray felt especially fascinated by those eight inches attached to his lower region. Okay, maybe not exactly eight, but they were gorgeous anyway. And standing to attention like a good Mountie.
‘Gimme,’ Ray thought, stretching out his arm.
Fraser took his hand, placed it next to Ray’s head on the pillow and went for Ray’s mouth.
The kiss was greatness, but it wasn’t enough. The gorgeous body of a naked Mountie one foot away from him was not Ray’s ultimate idea of fun.
He spread his arms. “C’mere.”
Fraser’s weight pressing him down was different in a way he didn’t expect. The feeling of Fraser’s chest under his fingers should have told him something about differences maybe, but he’d thought (as far as he was still capable of thinking) that sex with Fraser would basically be the same as it was with Stella. Not in detail, obviously, but the general idea of it.
It wasn’t. Fraser felt completely different. He wasn’t as soft as Stella, and he didn’t feel fragile. His skin felt different too.
The unexpectedness of it was a shock, but Ray recovered quickly. Reality was different from what he’d figured, but that didn’t mean there was anything wrong with it. ‘Cause there wasn’t. Holding Fraser was hot. And that rocking thing that Fraser was doing with his hips was hot too.
At some point it stopped. Fraser looked at Ray and said that he wanted to ‘savor’ him.
Ray knew instantly he’d learnt a new dirty word. He had thought he knew them all (the English ones, that is) but he had been wrong. He knew this was going to be good. Whatever Fraser had in mind, it was going to be good.
Wrong again.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like what Fraser was doing, but being driven out of your mind isn’t exactly comfortable. And that was what was happening. Fraser applied his lips, teeth and tongue to every inch of Ray’s body, every fucking inch-except his cock. It was hot. God, it was hot. It got Ray glowing inside (and on the outside as well, he was sure of it) and very, very hard. His cock was aching and dripping, but Fraser didn’t let him come. The bastard didn’t let him come. And that was not good.
“Fraser, please, touch me.”
“I am touching you, Ray,” Fraser said, barely interrupting suckling Ray’s hip.
“You’re torturing me.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No!”
The licking continued. Everywhere on Ray’s body, except there.
Seeing Fraser lick things always gave Ray a jolt of… something. He’d thought it was disgust, but maybe it was envy. Because this was hot. Fucking hot. If only Fraser would touch him.
But he didn’t. He was making sounds like he liked this. Like doing this was a big turn on for him.
Hearing Fraser’s grunts sure was for Ray. His blood was over two hundred degrees now, and all of it was pooled where Fraser wasn’t touching him. He wanted to explode. He really wanted to, but Fraser just didn’t give him what he needed.
“Fraser. Frase, I need….”
At the first touch of Fraser’s tongue on his shaft, Ray came hard. Long spurts of cum sprayed his belly, his chest, some specks even reached his chin.
As well as his inner thigh. Huh?
He opened his eyes to look at Fraser’s face. Then he looked lower. Jesus.
“You came? From doing that to me?”
“Yes,” Fraser said hoarsely. He blinked a few times. “Ray, you have no idea how enticing you look when you are aroused. Of the sounds you make, especially when you reach orgasm.”
Oh. Okay. It was a little weird. But if you couldn’t take a little weird you were better off dead anyway. Ray had no complaints about the orgasm.
He had some about the way he got it though. There had to be other, more normal ways to get off. (Yeah, like Ray knew what was considered normal in gay sex.)
There were. An hour after Fraser first said hello to Ray’s dick, he’d lost all fear of it. To cut a long story short, Ray came in Fraser’s mouth while Fraser came in Ray’s. It was your basic sixty-nine, perfectly normal. Yeah, okay, Ray had to use his lips and his tongue a little differently from what he was used to, and it tasted weird, sorta like he was tasting himself, but he was a flexible guy, so it was fine. In fact, it was great.
At three A.M., Ray came in Fraser’s ass while Fraser came in Ray’s hand. That didn’t happen just so. There was a lead-up.
Ray was spooning behind Fraser, almost asleep. His cock was pressed against Fraser’s lower back, and it was still semi hard. It hadn’t gone completely soft during the entire night, even after coming twice. Maybe that was because Ray hadn’t been with somebody for so long. Or maybe it had something to do with Fraser.
He was stroking the upper part of Fraser’s back. So smooth. Smoother even than Stella’s. It could have been a feminine back if it wasn’t so broad and muscled.
He covered it with kisses, thinking about the things that had happened today (or strictly speaking yesterday), how great it had all turned out. How happy he was. And how much in love.
“Mmm,” Fraser said. He wasn’t asleep.
Ray stroked Fraser’s spine, and then his right cheek. Great cheek. Ray kneaded it a little. He dipped his fingers in the crease of Fraser’s ass, for no other reason than to better feel the shape of the cheek. He felt the entrance and rubbed it with a fingertip, with no specific intention, just because it was there.
Fraser sighed, and Ray didn’t have bat ears but he recognized a longing sigh when he heard one. So he rubbed again. Fraser squirmed a little. Ray pressed inside. Yeah, Fraser liked that.
He wanted more of that.
Ray wet his finger and pressed in again. Carefully, because he didn’t want to hurt Fraser, but judging from the Mountie’s sigh, he wasn’t.
Fraser pressed back on his finger. Ray slowly moved in deeper until he felt something there.
“Oh… Ray… yes!”
God, Fraser liked that.
Ray rubbed the little nub some more and Fraser started to make noises and rocked his hips.
“More,” he hissed.
Ray spit on his fingers and added first one, then another, slowly stretching Fraser, realizing in a daze that Fraser really liked to be finger fucked.
“Ray,” Fraser breathed. “Ray. Please.”
Ray had never heard that tone before (Stella wasn’t the begging type) but he knew what it meant.
Oh, Jesus.
“Fraser. I don’t have any….” He couldn’t say it. The mixture of fear, regret, and yeah, relief that he felt made it impossible to say it.
“I have.”
What?
Fraser eased off Ray’s fingers and got off the bed. Ray watched him leave the room and return with the bag he had brought. Standing in the doorway-beautiful, and perfect, and hard-Fraser threw two packages onto the bed.
The gesture reminded Ray very much of Tony. ‘It is what I want; it is what you’re going to give to me,’ it said.
Ray looked at the things Fraser had brought. The box was still sealed, but the tube was dented.
Ray swallowed. He closed his eyes but opened them quickly again. The image of Fraser prying himself open, touching himself… inside… with thick, slick fingers while he was thinking of Ray was a bit… much.
Fraser got on the bed. Ray sought his mouth first. Frenzied and a little desperate. He needed the guarantee from Fraser’s lips that if they did this, they’d survive it.
“Ray, it will be all right,” Fraser said. “Please.” He rolled on his side, his back to Ray.
Ray took the lube, telling himself he could do this. He could do this for Fraser.
With the help of lots of lube, he used his fingers to get Fraser all slick and silky inside.
“Ray. Now,” Fraser said.
Getting the condom on wasn’t easy. Ray was nervous. It seemed he had forgotten how to put one on and his cock didn’t seem to like the idea of being wrapped.
But he managed, ‘cause Fraser was lying there, all slick and hot and silky inside, and wanting this.
He positioned himself behind Fraser, trying to press in. First, he thought it wouldn’t work, it was just too tight, but then, miraculously, Fraser seemed to open up for him.
Oh, Jesus. The grip on Ray’s cock was hot. And tight.
“Ray.” Fraser shifted a little and Ray felt his dickhead touch the nub. “Ray!”
God. Okay, like this. Fraser wanted it like this.
Ray pushed his hips forward.
“Ungh.”
Yeah, good angle. He reached around to put his fingers around Fraser’s cock. Fraser pushed into his grip and then back on Ray’s dick.
It was hot. Oh, Jesus it was so hot. The squeezing of Fraser’s ass around Ray’s shaft. Being inside Fraser like this. Fraser enjoying it so much. The noises he was making.
Fraser craned his neck for a kiss. Ray didn’t still his hips. He didn’t still his hand. But he dove into Fraser’s mouth. ‘I love you,’ he thought. ‘I love you. I love you.’
Then Fraser said, “Aaahhh,” and his butt gave Ray’s cock a very good squeeze. Ray’s hand got all warm and wet. He came. Inside Fraser. Jesus.
When his heartbeat was sorta normal again, he felt he had tons of questions to ask Fraser, but they were all kinda vague and his not exactly bat ears picked up the soft sounds of snoring, so he pulled out and left it at that.
15. Giving a little bit more
Ray was having a nightmare. A wolf-no family of Diefenbaker, more the Little Red Riding Hood kind-was on top of him, holding him down. It wanted to throttle him or wolf him down, or kill him in some other way.
After the panic woke him, it took a second before Ray realized that it wasn’t a wolf. It was Fraser. Ray tried to push him away, but it was no use.
Ray was crazy in love with Fraser and all, but he wasn’t unhinged and he got his priorities straight (sorta). When he’d be dead, it wouldn’t be half as much fun to love Fraser as it was when he was alive. He needed to breathe, goddammit.
“Fraser. Fraser, wake up. The Ice Queen is standing in the doorway watching us.”
Yeah, Ray was crazy in love, but he was also kinda pissed because of the nightmare.
“That’s just silly, Ray.” Very clear voice. No half sleep confusion for Fraser. Yeah, figured.
Fraser rolled over but he didn’t let go of Ray, so a second later Ray was on top. Crazy in love but goddamn tired. Fraser’s hands were roaming his back and his ass-and those were no sleepy caresses, those were very deliberate strokes.
God, no.
“Lemme sleep,” Ray muttered. “I can still have thirty eight minutes sleep.”
“You set the alarm clock at seven?” Fraser asked. “Why?”
Jesus. A conversation. Before six thirty. Was the Mountie unhinged or something?
Ray sighed and opened his eyes. He knew he was no match for Fraser at this time of night.
“I set the alarm clock early ‘cause you didn’t bring your Serge and we have to get you back to the Consulate in time for work,” he said. “We don’t need to piss off the Ice Queen more than she already is when she finds out you didn’t spend the night at the Consulate like a good Mountie.”
“Ah.”
Fraser’s strokes were real nice, but Ray was real tired and he was wondering if they couldn’t do this some other time. Like tonight, or something.
His cock-which was nuzzled by Fraser’s hard-on-knew the answer to that one, and the answer was no. ‘You don’t need sleep,’ it said.
‘Shut up,’ Ray returned.
His cock didn’t listen. ‘I got myself an Insatiable Sex Mountie and I’m going to enjoy it,’ it told Ray. ‘You shut up.’
Ray wanted to protest, but Fraser rolled him on his side and started to stroke his dick in a really great way.
‘At least Fraser loves me,’ Ray’s cock said.
It was a whiny little bastard, but it had a point. If it could sue Ray for gross negligence, it would have a case. Ray hadn’t paid any attention to it for over two years (loving attention, that is. Ray’s dick had sometimes taken care of itself at night when Ray was asleep, but the relationship had suffered).
Jerking off had been too painful at first; yearning for Stella hurt enough as it was, and not doing it had become a habit. For a week or two, Ray had wanted to masturbate, but all he could think of was Fraser. And you just couldn’t use Fraser in a sexual fantasy, Ray knew that much. He could have cheated by thinking of Tony, but he didn’t want Tony. He wanted Fraser, goddammit.
But the Mountie was like that thing they said of snow sometimes; he was pristine. So you’d need permission to use Fraser in a fantasy while jerking off. From the Canadian Consulate, most likely. Which meant there had to be forms filled out. In triplicate. Authorized by the Ice Queen. They would say something like, ‘X is granted permission to exercise thoughts of Constable B. Fraser in any position or state of undress that may further the cause of reaching orgasm’. Ray wasn’t sure about the exact way Thatcher would put it-he wasn’t very good at Ice-Queen speak-and he’d never know of course, ‘cause she kept those forms safely locked in the top drawer of her desk. All assigned to her own name.
“Ray.” Fraser was making a trail of kisses from Ray’s temple, over his jaw to his chin, and Ray tensed. He didn’t want a mouth to mouth kiss. He hadn’t brushed his teeth last night and he thought kissing Fraser like that would be kinda gross. Fraser’s lips moved lower, over Ray’s throat and Adams apple to the hollow between his collarbones.
Ah, god. Ray sorta lost track of his thoughts. That was good, ‘course, ‘cause thinking about bad breath was never fun, and thinking about the Ice Queen while you were in bed with Fraser was not buddies, obviously.
“I left the Inspector a note last night,” Fraser said. “Requesting her permission to have the morning off.”
Huh? Jeez, Ray wished Fraser would make a choice, and either continue ‘sploring Ray’s nipple with the tip of his tongue in a really great way or say stuff that rattled a guy.
“Just like that?” he said, after taking of couple of slow breaths. “You felt you could leave without actually knowing she would be okay with it?”
“She probably wouldn’t.”
“And yet you took the morning off?” Man. The Mountie was really amazing sometimes. “Fraser, that’s sorta what normal people would do.”
“Why, thank you, Ray,” Fraser said. He sounded real pleased. It was cute, but it sorta spoiled the coolness effect.
Okay, maybe not completely. Fraser had bought the condoms. And the lube. And he hadn’t requested, he had taken the morning off. That was all kinda cool.
‘Hey, cool guy,’ Ray thought, looking at Fraser’s beautiful, beautiful face. He really wanted to kiss that mouth. “Got to brush my teeth,” he declared.
“I think it’s prudent that I join you,” Fraser said.
It was homey, standing at the bathroom sink together. It reminded Ray of Stella for a moment, but he shook the thought of her quickly.
Looking at Fraser’s face in the mirror instead of directly felt kinda flirty. Fraser’s eyes were smiling at him, like he felt it too. Ray noticed that Fraser’s face was skewed, a tiny bit.
When he was six, he once saw his father’s face in the mirror. It was a shock to see how crooked it was-and that he’d never even noticed it before. “Dad!” he’d exclaimed. “Your face is skewed.”
His father wasn’t upset. “Everybody’s face is asymmetrical, son,” he said.
Ray had known his father was pulling his leg, ‘cause ‘asymmetrical’ obviously wasn’t a real word, and his own face was perfectly normal, not skewed at all.
“Fraser, your face is skewed,” he said, playing the game he and his brother Marlon had invented when they were kids. It was called guess-what-I’m-saying-while-I’m-brushing-my-teeth.
Fraser spit out the toothpaste, rinsed his mouth and said, “The human face is, as a rule, asymmetrical, Ray.” He smiled. “And I find yours the most beautiful I have ever seen.”
So, okay, the Mountie had bat ears with benefits. No big deal, Ray was too old to play guess-what-I’m-saying-while-I’m-brushing-my-teeth anyway.
He rinsed and dried his mouth. Fraser was kissing the nape of his neck. The hairs there liked that a lot, they kinda got hard from it.
Ray turned. ‘Missed you,’ he thought while his tongue sought Fraser’s. This was nice. He liked this. He liked feeling Fraser growing harder against his belly. Or against his hard-on, more like.
“Let’s get back to bed,” Ray said. “I only have to start at noon.”
“I know.”
“You know? How?”
“Well, your working schedule is on top of the pile on your desk almost permanently, Ray. I have no scruples looking at it from time to time, because, as your partner, it is germane for me to know when you are on duty.”
Ray knew scruples. Well, he knew the word. Working with Mr. Scruples himself and not knowing what the word meant was impossible. Fraser was always very helpful in explaining any word worth over fifty bucks. He thought it was only germane, or something.
Ray thought it was germane that they went back to bed. Fraser was all over that. His hands were all over Ray, doing stuff that got Ray glowing like a torch; his cock sure felt like one.
‘You need to get fucked,’ it said.
Fraser’s hand was doing great things to Ray’s sac. His fingers moved lower, rubbing the hole there. Oh, yeah. That was nice. Real nice.
Ray felt a jolt of anticipation watching Fraser wet his finger-his tongue swiping the entire length of it.
God. It felt good. Ray squirmed a little, to give Fraser better access to the spot inside. Oh! Oh, Jesus.
Ray was in a hurry all of a sudden. If this was how it felt with fingers, he wanted to know how it felt with a dick. He wanted to feel it. He had a pretty good clue already what a dick could do there. Fraser’s reactions last night had been pretty telling.
“Ray,” Fraser said. “Ray, do you want…?”
Ray reached for the lube. “Yeah,” he said. “Hurry.”
Of course, Fraser’s bat ears shut down right that minute. He didn’t hurry. He started to lube Ray up very slowly, rubbing in gentle circles, only lightly caressing the nub inside, taking his time to get the lube where he wanted it before he got a new blob and started all over again.
It was good. It was great. It was hot. But it wasn’t enough.
“FraserFraserfuckmegoddammitplease,” Ray breathed.
“Yes,” Fraser said, reaching for a condom.
Ray pulled his knees up to his shoulders. Fraser was holding his gaze while he aimed and pressed inside.
Jesus. Big dick. It hurt.
“Relax, Ray,” Fraser said. Ooh, dark voice.
What it said seemed to make sense, and Ray tried. Better. Much better. Fraser could press all the way in. Then he started to rock his hips.
God. Oh, god.
Ray had been on his back before. He’d had somebody else being in charge of the fuck. Stella was good at taking the lead in bed. (Stella was good at taking the lead, period.) But he had never been penetrated.
Now he was, and, god, it was greatness. To be ‘filled’ like this… It added new meaning to the word ‘close’.
“I love you.”
Fraser made a weird sound. He closed his eyes, stopped rocking his hips, and went very still for a couple of seconds.
Jesus.
“Does it make you come when I say that?”
“Yes,” Fraser said. “It almost did.”
Jesus. Ray put his hand on the nape of Fraser’s neck and kissed the Mountie with everything he had.
Fraser made that weird sound again. “Ray… if you… I don’t think I can….”
“Doesn’t matter, Frase,” Ray said. “Just do it.”
When Fraser started moving again, his hips weren’t rocking, they were thrusting.
God, it was good. It was so good. Ray felt it in the soles of his feet, in his balls, in his hair. A warm stream of cum wet his belly and chest even before Fraser uttered a heartfelt “Ungh!” and collapsed on top of him.
Ray held him, enjoying his aftershocks and Fraser’s, feeling Fraser’s heartbeat slow down.
It smarted when Fraser pulled out.
“Sorry.”
Ray turned and nestled himself in Fraser’s arms, telling him it didn’t matter.
‘I told you, you needed to get fucked,’ his cock said, sleepy but smug.
Ray gave it a soft squeeze. The guy was right, after all.
16. I’m not a marionette
At some point they decided that it was prudent to get out of bed (okay, it was mainly Fraser’s idea). There were showers to take and wolves to walk. According to Fraser, it was also germane to wash the sheets.
Ray said why bother, they’ll be dirty tonight anyway. Fraser was appalled by this attitude. He gave Ray a stern lecture about body fluids and general hygiene.
Ray let him yap. He didn’t need to hear this. The good thing was, ‘course, that if anyone ever asked the ‘who’s the husband, who’s the wife’ question (and at some point somebody would, he just knew it), Ray didn’t have to kick’em in the head but instead could first point at himself and then across the room.
When they hit the shower, he instantly remembered the extra benefits of soap when showering with a lover. It had been a decade or so that Stella and him last took a shower together, but he knew what the mixture of soap and a little water could do when applied to the skin the right way.
“Ray… you… what… aahh,” Fraser said.
Ray grinned. It was so simple. Just a cheap bar of soap and a little imagination.
He felt all fuzzy after showering. Being in a relationship again (a love relationship) was greatness, and being with Fraser was even greater.
Still, if there was a pop quiz and one of the questions was ‘Are there any drawbacks in being in a relationship with Fraser?’ Ray would tick the ‘yes’ box without a second’s hesitation and add a couple of exclamation marks. There was the never-ending stream of Inuit stories, the language corrections, the Ts and the Is thing, the lectures about politeness, and proper preparation, and neatness… and those were only a few random examples. He didn’t expect Fraser to stop all that just because they were lovers now. But he didn’t expect new irritations added so soon either, and he certainly didn’t expect to have a fight with Fraser the first morning of their new relationship. Honeymoons were supposed to last longer than a couple of hours.
But Fraser thought Ray should eat breakfast, and Ray, of course, thought not. Not the breakfast Fraser had in mind anyway. Ray’s idea of breakfast was a cup of coffee with six M&Ms added, stirred with the handle of a wooden spoon. That was all his stomach could take early in the day. The poor thing was a late sleeper and it generally woke up a couple of hours after the rest of Ray did. Besides that, breakfast was not a useful meal. Ray’s shooting aim (when he was wearing his glasses), his speed, and his interrogation techniques were all just as good before as they were after lunch.
Don’t want any, not gonna have any, he told Fraser.
Fraser yapped some about ‘physical health’, ‘calories’, ‘energy’, and ‘metabolism’ (and didn’t that sound gross). Ray tried to put an end to it by saying, “Stella never ate breakfast either.”
Oh, dumb move, Kowalski, dumb move. Fraser shifted into haughty mode really quick. “Skipping breakfast is a very unhealthy habit, Ray.” Yeah, that, and he never liked Stella.
Fraser announced he was going to do some grocery shopping and walk Dief.
‘Fine,’ Ray thought, and ‘Ain’t that a relief’. But he didn’t feel too good.
Fraser came back with a bag full of stuff. It contained whole wheat bread, strawberry jelly, peanut butter, chocolate spread, cheese, ham, and butter. Ray’s stomach clenched. No, it said. No way.
Without saying a word, Fraser started searching for a frying pan. The second cabinet he inspected was bull’s-eye.
The bag he had brought wasn’t empty yet; out came half a loaf of white bread, a carton of milk, eggs, powered sugar, and cinnamon. Fraser got the other stuff he needed from the cabinets and the drawers and got cooking.
After a couple of minutes, it started to smell great. Fraser got it on a plate, sprinkled it with sugar and cinnamon and said, “Eat this, Ray. Please.”
It was good. Ray’s stomach was instantly wide awake. ‘I like this,’ it said. ‘Feed me this any time of night.’
But there was a catch, Ray knew there was, and when he’d finished the toast, he said, “You’ve really set your mind to turning me into a breakfast eater, haven’t you, Fraser? You know you can’t force feed me, so you’re manipulate me into eating. You’d do anything to get your way in this. I think you’d even retort to a No Sex policy if necessary.”
Fraser replied, deadpan, “Only if you were truly starving, Ray.” He opened the fridge and closed it quickly again with a look of disgust on his face.
Yeah, it wasn’t exactly clean. But seeing as there was hardly anything in it, what was the point? Jeez. Was the Mountie trying to take over Ray’s life or something?
“Do I get to keep my M&Ms, or do they have to go as well, because you consider sugar more healthy?” he asked.
“Well, using sugar as a sweetener for your coffee would indeed be healthier, Ray,” Fraser said. “But as there is absolutely no need to lower your calorie intake, I don’t feel compelled to keep you from eating chocolate.” He placed a large bag of M&Ms next to Ray’s plate on the kitchen table.
It didn’t help. It only served to fuel Ray’s anger. All of a sudden, Lee was running through his veins something fierce.
Fraser was behaving like an arrogant, manipulative control freak and he just had no right. He was supposed to be in love for fuck’s sake. The last thing Ray needed was Fraser being perfect on top of being arrogant, manipulative, and in control.
“Why, thank you, Fraser,” he said. “That’s real big of you. And tomorrow you intend to make me eat those other things you bought. Am I right?”
“Well, I really think you should at least try some of it, Ray,” Fraser said. “You might like the chocolate spread. Personally, I would love to see you eat fried or scrambled eggs, but I’m afraid that would be a little ambitious for a breakfast neophyte like you.”
Ray had no idea what a neophyte was but it sounded nasty. Or maybe that was just the tone.
It didn’t matter. He had enough. He got up from his chair, folded his arms across his chest and said, “Fraser, look at me. This is me, the guy who fails to do the things that you think are vital in life, like obeying traffic rules, and being polite and tidy and shit; the guy who keeps doing things that you consider fatal, like violating traffic rules and drinking beer and stuff. You knew that from the start, and you fell in love with me regardless. Wanting to change me now is not buddies, Fraser.”
Fraser looked at him. “It’s only breakfast, Ray.”
“It’s not,” Ray said. “It’s a symbolic thing. You know it is.”
“I beg to differ, Ray. Breakfast is a very factual meal.”
Oh, goddammit! The Mountie really needed a kick in the head. Or two.
But it wouldn’t work shit, of course. Ray took a deep breath and said, “Fraser, listen. I want to do this. I want us to be lovers. But you have to give me some room to breathe, ‘cause I can’t and I won’t be like you.”
Fraser had a look in his eyes like he wanted to beg to differ again, so Ray said firmly, “You can’t make me make choices that aren’t my own, Fraser. That’s not how it works.”
There seemed to be some sort of struggle between Fraser’s ‘me’ and his ‘I’. Then Fraser said, “I apologize profusely, Ray. I didn’t mean to make you reconsider the turn our relationship has taken.”
The tone was huffy, and fuck it, Ray wasn’t buying.
“Cut the crap, Fraser,” he said. “I haven’t been reconsidering anything for even a second. Just back off a little, okay?”
“How am I supposed to do that, Ray?”
Oh, Jesus Christ!
“You’ve got to stop manipulating me. If you want me to do something, ask me. I’ll consider it. I might even say okay sometimes.” For good measure, and because he figured that to Fraser this wasn’t obvious, Ray added, “And if I say no, it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you.”
That one finally hit home. Hard. The expression on Fraser’s face gave Ray some insight in the workings of the Mountie’s mind, and he wasn’t entirely happy with the knowledge.
He took a step towards Fraser, who instantly wrapped his arms tightly around him and buried his face in the crook between Ray’s neck and shoulder.
‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ Ray thought, stroking Fraser’s back and hoping that the Mountie’s bat ears with benefits would pick up the thought even if he didn’t say it out loud.
After a while, Fraser seemed to relax a little. His eyes searched for Ray’s. “I’ll try,” he said. “But I fear that I am going to make mistakes. I’m afraid I will need frequent corrections.”
Yeah?
Ray grinned. “Do I detect a masochistic streak here, Fraser?”
“Oh, god, Ray, no,” Fraser said shocked. “I didn’t mean that I….”
He stopped, but from the look in his eyes, Ray thought the Mountie had an epitome, and he made a mental note to visit a certain type of shop sometime soon and get some toys.
They kissed for quite a while, nice and messy. (They had a lot of making up to do, ‘course.)
At some point Fraser said, “Ray, would you like another piece of French toast?”
Ray grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “They’re greatness, Frase.”
17. Lovers live a little longer
Ray dropped Fraser and Dief off at the Consulate. They kissed (Fraser and Ray did). Ray thought the Ice Queen would have a heart attack if she witnessed it and strangely enough, he didn’t like that idea.
When Fraser pulled back, he had a look on his face like he really didn’t want to leave the car.
“I’ll call you,” he said solemnly.
Ray grinned. Fraser always called on days they didn’t see each other, and on most of the days they did meet.
“You’d better, or I’ll lose all faith in men,” he said. “After tonight and this early morning, I’d feel real cheap if you didn’t.” Then he laughed-loud-at the question mark on Fraser’s face.
“Never mind, Fraser. I’ll be waiting by the phone.”
But he wasn’t. And Fraser didn’t call.
When Ray arrived at the station, he heard that Welsh wanted to talk to him. He expected a lecture about some case report he hadn’t even started to write, but the Lieu still hadn’t shaken that weird complimenting mode of his.
Ray didn’t really listen, he was just thinking, ‘Why? Why are you acting so fucking unWelsh-like for weeks now?’
Then the Lieutenant said, “Did you and Fraser have a talk last night?”
Ray was thinking that ‘talk’ must be a dirty word in the Lieutenant’s book, and he was about to snap, “That’s none of your business, sir,” but then he saw that the look on the Lieu’s face wasn’t one of perverse curiosity. Welsh looked concerned. And hopeful somehow.
So he thought, ‘Huh?’ and said, “Yeah. Yeah we did. Why?”
“I’m glad,” Welsh said. Then he rubbed his eyebrow.
Yeah, Welsh rubbed his eyebrow. The sight of it made Ray feel really uncomfortable.
“I hope the conversation was… insightful, Detective,” the Lieu said.
‘Do you now?’ Ray thought. “Why is that, sir?” he asked.
Welsh tugged at his earlobe. Ray thought that if he waited a minute he would see the Lieu licking his lower lip.
“I felt that your liaison with Fraser wasn’t used to its full potential,” the Lieutenant said. “Am I right to assume that the nature of your partnership has changed, Detective?”
Kicking the Lieu in the head would be perfectly justified, Ray thought. But there was something totally surreal about this whole scene. He didn’t get it.
And then he did. Finally.
“Did you act as a matchmaker, sir?” he asked.
Welsh cracked his neck. (Oh, man.)
“How much matchmaking did you do exactly?” Ray said.
“Not much.” The Lieu sounded relieved. “I only seized the opportunity when it presented itself.”
Right. Okay. Ray turned to leave the office and take some time to digest all this.
“Ray,” Welsh said, “tell Fraser there is no emergency.”
“Ray,” Fraser said. He was sitting at Ray’s desk. “I heard there was an emergency. Francesca and Detectives Huey and Dewey weren’t able to enlighten me, though. Could you please fill me in?”
“There is no emergency, Fraser,” Ray said.
“There isn’t?” Fraser seemed puzzled. “Ray, I don’t understand. When I was in Inspector Thatcher’s office, being reprimanded for taking the morning off without her permission, Lieutenant Welsh called.” He rubbed his eyebrow. (‘Don’t do that,’ Ray thought.) “Naturally, I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation. It appeared that the Inspector had called the precinct earlier because she noticed that I wasn’t at the Consulate and she worried about me.”
‘I bet she did,’ Ray thought.
“She instantly informed the Lieutenant that I had turned up again and thanked him for calling, but then it seemed that my presence at the precinct was wanted urgently. It didn’t become exactly clear why, but the Lieutenant seemed to need me desperately, so I rushed over.”
Fraser seemed a little confused, but he wasn’t at all out of breath. Man. Ray felt really proud of his boyfriend’s excess lung capacity.
“I took a taxi, Ray,” Fraser said quietly.
Oh. Right. ‘Course.
“There is no emergency,” Ray repeated. “Welsh made it up to get you here. With me. He knows about us. He sorta arranged it.”
There was a long pause. Then Fraser said slowly, “Yes, I suppose he did. If I hadn’t spent so much time in drinking establishments catering to homosexual clientele I don’t think I would have realized I was in love with you, Ray-not in the near future.”
Ray had to admit that the same went for him. But he wasn’t sure if he really liked the idea of Welsh’s meddling. Arranged marriages just weren’t romantic.
He couldn’t help glaring in the direction of the Lieu’s office, and he saw that there was a crack in the blinds.
Hokay.
“It seems that there is more to the Lieutenant than meets the eye, Ray,” Fraser said.
“Yeah, he’s nuts.” Ray didn’t like to be manipulated. Or to be peeped at for that matter.
He turned away, towards Fraser. Beautiful, brilliant, awesome Fraser. His Fraser now, in every possible way. And wasn’t he grateful for it.
He turned again and blew Welsh a kiss through the blinds.
“Ray!” Fraser said shocked. “You can’t….”
Ray shrugged. “Why not? It’s only polite to thank him, Frase.”
He smiled sweetly at his partner, his lover, his boyfriend, and got a look in return that told him they were on the exact same page.
“‘Cause we are grateful for what he did, aren’t we?” He grinned. “When all is said and done.”
(END)
Click here for the Addendum.