Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/a_kite_fic/

Disclaimer: Due South and its characters do not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended, and I make no money from this.

Author's Notes: A slightly different version of this story appeared in the zine, Body Heat 2. My thanks to Bast for publishing the story and to BJ Cochran and KarenS for beta reading the orginal.

Story Notes:

"So maybe I don't feel like dealing with a 'Honker from Yonkers' right now. You know, maybe we ought to rethink this whole liaising thing? 'Cause right now, it ain't working, Frase."

"Perhaps you're right, Ray. I'll be going now. If you need me, I'll be at my post at the consulate." Fraser donned his hat and left the squad room.

Ray sank down in his chair and raked his fingers through his hair. *What a fucked up day,* he thought. First this guy from New Yahk, accent so thick you could hardly understand him. Then you go and run your partner off. Great going, Kowalski. Maybe you can call up Stella and try to smooth talk her into letting you into her sack, one more time, for old time's sake. Yeah, like that's gonna work. Shit!

Fuck, what the hell had he done? What the hell kind of day was this anyway? One that defied all the bad karma record books, anyway. A tee-totally fucked up day.

Ray sighed and thought back. It had started out so nice too. Him, Fraser, eating after an all night stakeout. Nice place too. A good part of the precinct. The coffee tasted good. Not like mud, anyway. The eggs cooked just the way he liked them. Just the way he'd ordered. Extraordinary.

Fraser sitting across from him. Looking as fresh as when he'd come to the 2-7 after serving all day at the consulate. Not a hair outta place, not a wrinkle in the Serge - damn the man looked good.

Ray was tired, totally exhausted, but he couldn't help but stare. Gawd, it was awful. Wanting to put the moves on your partner. Knowing that he'd blush and oh-so-very politely turn your ass down cold. Man, it sucked.

Then the voice, "Ray, Ray, Ray, RAY!"

Forced from his reverie, he'd responded, "What? What the hell is it now, Fraser?"

"There's a hold-up in progress. I thought perhaps you'd like to do something about that."

"Oh. Shit!" There WAS a robbery in progress. A man in a ski mask at the register, waving a gun, shouting unintelligible words. The Honker from Yonkers. "Chicago P.D.! Hold it right there, man. You're under arrest!"

They'd had him cold. The guy surrendered his gun, laid down on the floor until the squad car came. Everything.

And now. Now the fucking honker was walking. Stupid, Ray now realized. He'd been completely stupid and blamed Fraser for it. Blamed Fraser because he hadn't said anything. How was that for buddies, huh? Not buddies at all. Was it Fraser's fault that he didn't read the Honker his rights?

Ray sighed, a big, deep one. He stood up and shouldered on his jacket. *Better go make it up with him,* he thought. He went downstairs and got in the GTO. He drove slow, slow like Fraser would drive, if he were driving. Didn't want to miss the guy, and he was walking. Walking, who the hell walked in Chicago? Fraser. That's who. Fraser and his damned wolf. Walked all the time - that was something.

Ray shook his head and out of the corner of his eye, spotted him. Down a fucking alley. Jesus! Okay, if you had to walk, anyone with sense would know not to cut down an alley. In Chicago. In this part of town. Jesus!

Yeah, here we go again. Ray stopped the car in the middle of the street and jumped out, just in time to see two hoods sail out from behind a dumpster and onto Fraser, who had the nerve to look surprised. And sexy. Unlike the punk who was slowly throttling him. Ray sighed and waded in....

Back to the station again. Damn, Ray was tired. Getting loopy now. Punks booked, well and done. He'd Mirandaed the hell out of them. This time Ray insisted on giving Fraser a ride. Adamant about it, in fact. If he didn't get some sleep soon, no telling what might happen. Couldn't let the Mountie out on his own. Not again, not after apologizing for his earlier abruptness.

Ray got Fraser back to the consulate that night. He didn't make it out himself, though. Got Fraser to the door, all the way to his office-slash-bedroom and his knees gave out. Hell of a thing, really.

As calm and as nice as can be, Fraser hauled Ray up and kissed him. Right square on the mouth. No, uh--disseminating that, nor the gentle hands that undressed him and put Ray to bed in his own cot. Choosing instead, to find his bedroll and camp out on the limited floor space beside his partner.

Ray insisted on one more kiss then fell deeply, profoundly asleep. The next morning, before any of the others arrived, Ray woke - woke and found himself drawn from the cot. From the cot, and down to the bedroll. Found himself unable to resist climbing under the blankets with Fraser. He wasn't naked under there, damn it all. Fraser had those long johns on - the red ones. The ones with closures at the front and the back. Great. Greatness. This was do-able. Just unsnap the snaps.

Ray didn't wait for Fraser to wake up. He didn't wait for anything. He unsnapped what needed to be and went to town. He pulled the big, uncut Mountie cock into his mouth and sucked. In no time at all - really, no absofuckinglutely time at all, Fraser's cock was hard. Hard and pushing. Pushing in and out of Ray's mouth.

Hands with hard fingers in his hair, holding his head just so. Grunts and moans galore came from that oh-so-pure Fraser mouth. It turned Ray on. Seriously. Fraser arched up, fucked his mouth, groaned like nobody's business as he emptied his balls.

Ray was ready. Ready for it all. All the Fraser-come he could get. He swallowed and swallowed and flicked his tongue for all it was worth, trying to get every drop.

The hands in his hair were impatient. Pulling him up. Off Fraser's cock and up further. Hands on his shoulders, his waist, then his hips, pulling him up until the Mountie could engulf Ray's dick - take him in the hot furnace of his mouth. One good long suck. Two. It was all over. Ray came, and it was so fucking good. Ray shook and shuddered, then crashed on the floor beside his partner.

A whine from the corner. Diefenbaker. Damn! Ray had forgotten all about the wolf - the wolf that had just watched him suck Fraser off and get sucked off in return - the wolf that now expected to be walked. It was oh-dark-thirty. Time for all good Mounties and their half-wolves to be out walking. And Fraser - Fraser was down for the count.

Ray sighed, got up and found his clothes. Folded there on the desk, neatly. No need to go stumbling around trying to find them all and maybe wake Fraser. A look downward had Ray feeling all mushy inside. Damn. The man looked like an angel. A slightly debauched one, but an angel still. He'd done that. Debauched Fraser. He wanted nothing more than to lie back down and do him again.

Another whine from Dief. *Okay, okay,* Ray thought. Brain get back on track. Walk the dog. Dief needs to pee. Out the front door of the consulate. Man, oh man, is it cold this morning! The chill woke Ray up better than coffee would.

Mission accomplished. Wolf walked, and he was all happy and frisky now. Ray was quite frisky himself, despite having had very little sleep. No, he didn't have time. Ray shook thoughts of getting frisky with Fraser out of his head. He needed to go home. Have a wash and some clean clothes. Go to work.

Ray got down in Diefenbaker's face. Made sure the wolf could see his lips. "Quiet now. Don't go waking Fraser up until he has to be up. Understand?" Damn, he was talking to the wolf like he expected an answer.

He got a soft yip in response from Dief. Hell, maybe the wolf did understand. Ray stood up and stretched. *One more peek,* he decided as he pushed the door to Fraser's office open. Oh yeah. Great. Greatness. Fraser lay in the exact same position as before. Only, now he had a smile on his face. "Sweet dreams, Frase," he whispered as he let himself out.

Consequences. That was what being an adult was all about. Facing the consequences of your actions and dealing with them. Ray put the phone down with a sigh. No Fraser today. Turnbull had just informed him that the Ice Queen had him on sentry duty. He hadn't had that dubious honor in weeks - not since the last time Thatcher got mad at him. Turnbull relayed it all in scandalized sotto voice. Constable Fraser had failed to report for duty on time. The inspector went to investigate and found him still sleeping.

*Damn,* Ray thought. Never rely on a wolf to do a man's job. He should have woke Fraser himself. He'd have to have words with Dief. Ray snorted. Yeah, that's good Kowalski. See where talking to the wolf got you this time? Hell, he really needed Fraser's input on this new case too. Better go over to the Consulate and make nice with Thatcher, see if he could get his partner sprung. Ray picked up the file and signed out.

The only reaction that Fraser gave upon his arrival at the consulate was a slight widening of the eyes. Ray nodded and went straight in. He could hear Thatcher bellowing at Turnbull from the foyer. Oh jeez, the woman was on the rampage today. Time to put on the charm.

The yelling stopped when he knocked on Meg Thatcher's office door. The door opened so quickly that Ray took a step back. "Detective Vecchio. To what do we owe this visit?" The Inspector's words sounded polite, but the intent was more 'what are you doing here?' And the look she gave him? So deadly that Ray was almost intimidated enough to back up again, but he held his ground.

Ray went on the offense then. Or defense, depending on how you looked at it. "Please, excuse the interruption," he said as he crowded through the door and into the office. "Constable," he looked at Turnbull, "if you please. I'd like a moment to speak with the Inspector privately."

The look of gratitude he got from the hapless Turnbull bolstered Ray's determination. He gave his fellow blond a wink while the Ice Queen's back was turned as he passed going to the door. Thatcher moved to the more imposing position behind her desk.

Meg Thatcher narrowed her eyes as she watched Turnbull close the door behind himself. She didn't like this new Vecchio. She didn't like his easy ways or the way he'd eased himself a niche in Fraser's life - a much bigger place than the old Ray Vecchio had held. And Fraser... she didn't like all the time that Fraser spent in the company of this man. This Vecchio's lack of discipline was rubbing off on her subordinate. That's what she told herself anyway. She refused to give credence to the thought that jealousy had anything to do with her attitude toward the man.

Ray caught that glint in her eyes and wasn't fooled a second. He had her number all right and had seen her in action. Her and her pull-you-close-then-push-you-away bullshit. He knew that game from Stella and until now hadn't had a reasonable excuse to call her on it. None of his business right? After last night, it was his concern, but he had to do this right, in a way that wouldn't affect Fraser. Those consequences again.

Grovel. He could do groveling. Had plenty of practice at it. He'd take a leaf from Fraser's book. Be proper, be polite and slam that smarmy look right off the bitch's face.

She was talking again. "Detective, I do hope you'll be brief. As you can see, we're quite busy here today."

It was all Ray could do not to roll his eyes. Oh yeah, so busy that you have your best man out front playing statue. Instead, he bowed his head slightly and apologized. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be as brief as possible. Sorry to have to interrupt."

Thatcher went on as if he hadn't spoken, "With Constable Fraser gone all day yesterday, things have gotten behind. What is it that I can help you with today?"

Polite and icy, Ray didn't call her the Ice Queen for nothing.

*Keep your head down, Kowalski,* he told himself. Make nice with the lady. "Yes, ma'am. You're right. I do seem to have been monopolizing Fraser's time lately. If you'll forgive me for saying, if he wasn't such a good, uh, everything really, I wouldn't need his help so often."

The inspector preened a bit at the compliment to her charge, but wasn't going to let this one go. Not yet. "Yes, yes. Fraser is quite effective, I realize. Yet, he is a member of my staff and as such, his duties here have priority. His failure to report on time this morning is a prime example of that." Seeing Fraser still asleep at 8:30 AM had been a shock. The utter contentment and look of satiation on his face had been a bigger one.

Ray chanced a peek up from his subservient stance and saw Thatcher's eyes narrow again. Uh oh. Lowering his head even more, Ray replied, "Yes ma'am. That was my fault."

A small gasp escaped her. How had this man caused that? Fraser had been sleeping on the floor when she walked into his office this morning, but what did that have to do with Detective Vecchio? "How?" she managed to croak out. Then she cleared her throat and tried again. "How was it your fault, Detective? A man Constable Fraser's age should be able to get himself up on time. Don't you think?"

"Aw, jeez, give the man a break every once in a while, will you? He was on a stakeout all the night before, almost got beat up yesterday." Oops. "Sorry, ma'am. All my fault. I should have woke Fraser up when I left this morning."

Confirmation. It took the wind right out of Meg Thatcher's sails. That this man, Fraser's partner, would stand in front of her and take responsibility for everything to save Fraser from her wrath. Confirmation that he indeed spent the night in Fraser's office. Whether they did anything unseemly or not ceased to be an issue. She knew that she'd never be to Fraser what this man was to him. A partner. A true friend, sexual proclivities aside. Though she'd pay to see it. Meg had to bite the inside of her cheek to get that picture out of her mind.

As a true professional, she found her voice and spoke. "Perhaps I can overlook an occasional lapse. Provided, of course, Detective, that I extract a promise from you to watch out for Constable Fraser. He does seem to attract trouble."

Ray looked up and smiled. "Oh, yes ma'am. I'm all over that. You've got it, no problem."

"Well, then, it seems our business is concluded. If you will go on back to Constable Fraser's office, he'll be with you momentarily." Thatcher got up, and Ray politely opened the door for her, bowing her through. He didn't know what melted the Ice Queen, but gift horses and all. You didn't question things like that. Go with the flow and thank your lucky stars.

Ray noticed that Fraser's office was back to its usual neat and tidy appearance. He looked around for Diefenbaker, but the wolf must be lying low, out the way, which was good. Ray had issues with him. He waited only a few minutes and Fraser was there. Blushing, though Ray wasn't sure if the blush was for him or from something Thatcher said. He was smiling anyway. That was good right? Very good. It made Ray weak in the knees. Again. Almost as bad as last night.

"Ray?" Oops, Fraser was talking to him. Doing that thing where he called his name, over and over, louder and louder until he paid attention. It used to annoy him, but now he liked the sound of his name from the Mountie's lips.

"Sorry, Fraser." Ray blushed himself and tore his eyes away from said lips and mouth. "Did the Ice Queen get over her snit?"

"Indeed. I don't know what you said to her, but she was quite apologetic," Fraser answered. She had been contrite, in fact. Ray must have been very, very good. Yes, he was good, wasn't he? Fraser shook his head and cracked his neck. Those type of thoughts had no place here.

Uh, oh. Neck cracking. That wasn't a good sign. Fraser was nervous. Any minute now he'd do the eyebrow rubbing thing and then lip licking thing. If Fraser did the lip licking thing, Ray knew he could not be responsible for his reaction. One appearance by the pink wonder, and he'd be all over Fraser.

Ray was staring at him again. *Oh dear,* Fraser thought. How were they supposed to work together now? Ray had a file in his hand, but while Fraser's thoughts were straying into the criminal, criminals themselves were not foremost on his mind. Discipline, Benton Fraser, he told himself. It almost worked. Until Ray tossed the file onto his desk and moved closer. Much closer. Close enough to press their bodies together. Close enough for Fraser to smell that clean, enticing Ray scent, the one that drove discipline and years of restraint far away.

Ray kissed him. Ray was kissing him. Here in his office. Here where anyone could open the door. At the moment, Fraser didn't care. Wouldn't care even if his father chose to show up and make disparaging comments.

There was a knock on the door. Ray and Fraser jumped apart just as Turnbull entered trundling a teacart. The sight bordered on the ridiculous. The teacart was as small and delicate as the Constable was large and clumsy. It beat the alternative, however. They had lost many, many trays of crockery before the Inspector came upon this solution.

"Constable Fraser, Detective Vecchio, I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of preparing refreshments," Turnbull sang out in his cheerful manner. Oblivious to the tensions in the room, he continued, "Tea for you, Constable, and for you, Detective, a special treat." He poured from the insulated carafe with a flair that would do a magician proud. "Voila! Chocolate coffee. No need to add candy."

He handed the cup to Ray, beaming before he noticed the unease. Both men were shuffling their feet, and their eyes neither met his nor each other's. Turnbull's face fell. "I'm intruding. Forgive me," he said quietly before he began backing out of the room with his cart.

Fraser was the first to recover. He was embarrassed at his rudeness when the constable was merely being kind. He reached out to snag Turnbull's arm, but Ray beat him to the punch, as it were. "No, wait a minute, Turnbull. I could use your insight on this case too."

Both constables turned to stare at the Chicago cop "It's like this. The Chicago P.D. got this complaint from the Canadian government." Ray snatched the file up from the desk and opened it before continuing. "Since it concerns a Canadian company and evidence has been traced to Chicago, and me liaising with a Mountie, guess who got the case?"

The two Mounties were thoroughly intrigued. Ray looked up from the file and noted their attention. He took a slip of his coffee to build the suspense some. "Hey, this is good," he said of the coffee. "Thanks, Turnbull."

That got a grateful smile. "You're more than welcome, Detective, but perhaps you could continue?" Turnbull said eagerly.

"Oh, sure thing, Renfield," Ray replied with a wink. "Here's the deal. This Canadian Tire Company has been getting threatening letters, postmarked Chicago, and someone is counterfeiting their discount coupons. Flooding the market with these phony coupons."

Ray got no further with his explanation. The other two men were howling with laughter. Doubled over in their matching red suits just yukking it up, big time. He'd never seen Fraser laugh like that, ever. Fraser couldn't even catch his breath to tell Ray what the joke was.

They sobered up, sort of, when the Ice Queen showed up. She appeared like a bad dream in the doorway. "Gentlemen! This is the Canadian Consulate, not a - a coffee klatch."

Fraser and Turnbull straightened up, but giggles escaped them as they tried to explain. Fraser got out, "Counterfeit Canadian Tire money," before collapsing again. Turnbull was no help at all. He was using his handkerchief to wipe tears from his eyes.

Apparently, Thatcher got the joke. She was smiling and trying not to. It was pissing Ray off. "Someone want to clue me in on what's so funny about counterfeiting?"

"We're sorry, Ray. Of course, you wouldn't understand," Fraser got himself under control enough to speak. "The Canadian Tire Company is one of our biggest retailers. These coupons, Ray, practically every man, woman and child have stacks of Canadian Tire money lying around. It's totally ludicrous for any one to counterfeit them."

"Okay, I can get that that's a real knee-slapper to you guys, but these letters ain't funny."

The three members of the RCMP looked over photocopies of said letters and were hard pressed not to start laughing again. They looked at each other and in a single voice said, "The Loon from Saskatoon."

"You know who did this?" Ray asked, totally mystified. He knew Canadians were strange, but this took the cake and all the ice cream too.

Fraser handed the file back to Ray. "Richard Scanlan, recently of Saskatoon, Saskatchewan and a former Canadian Tire employee. He was in last week for an extension on his Visa. We were treated to a whole discourse in the same vein as these letters. Constable Turnbull coined the nickname, Loon from Saskatoon." Fraser's tone was trying for disapproving but didn't quite make it. He cleared his throat and tried again. "While Mr. Scanlan is certainly a strange duck, I have trouble believing that he is truly dangerous. Ray, there's no way by counterfeiting $.50 off coupons is he going to bring down the Canadian Tire Company or the government of Canada."

Thatcher then interjected, "Detective, if you please, may I see your file for a moment?"

"Sure." Ray gave her the file, and she turned to some forms faxed from their homeland. "As I thought, Sgt. Mallory."

"Ah!" Fraser and Turnbull said together. *Just like Tweedledee and Tweedledum,* Ray thought. Guess he was Tweedledumber then because he didn't have a clue what they were ah'ing about. It didn't look they were inclined to let him in on it either. He'd just have to ask.

"So? Are you going to tell me who this Mallory is, and if you don't mind, an address on the Loon would be very helpful."

That got their attention. Fraser responded quickly, "Oh, sorry Ray. Sgt. Mallory is a rather overzealous minor functionary at headquarters in Ottawa. Quite possibly the only person in Canada who would take something such as this seriously. As for Mr. Scanlan, I believe Constable Turnbull could get you his address."

Excited to be a part of things, Turnbull said a snappy, "Yes, sir!" He executed a perfect about face and walked straight into his teacart, sending it hurtling against the doorframe and naturally breakage ensued. Thatcher groaned. Ray stifled a snicker, and Fraser sighed and got the file himself while Turnbull cleaned up yet another mess.

+++++

Ray was tired again. The Loon from Saskatoon had been a big pain in the ass. He hadn't come quietly. Had to chase him down. Why couldn't he be a regular, polite Canadian and just shut the fuck up? He'd looked Canadian enough - a dead ringer for that geeky Harold guy on The Red Green Show, except for the mouth. The man had filthy mouth on him. Somehow you don't expect it from a man with a pocket protector.

They'd got the warrants and headed over to pick Scanlan up. He'd opened the door readily enough. Saw the Mountie in Serge, yelled, "Fuck," and slammed it in their faces. The noises from inside could only mean one thing. Ray and Fraser looked at each other and mouthed, "Window." Fortunately, the Loon lived on the first floor. No Superman moves needed. Just back out the front and there was the Loon, running like a girl down the sidewalk.

Ray called for back up before joining the chase. It was no contest. Mountie versus Loon, no doubt how that was going to come out. They'd Mirandaed him in American and Canadian, just to be on the safe side. No sliding out of it for this guy. The evidence was all there, down to having to clean the ink off his fingers before fingerprinting him.

The worst was having to listen to the Loon rant on and on about the injustices of the world, the indignity of the booking procedure and how he was going to change all that. Yeah, right buddy. Hard to do from a jail cell. It was worse than one of Fraser's Inuit stories. By the time they were done, even Fraser was looking worn around the edges, and Ray was hard put not to kick the Loon from Saskatoon in the head. It made for a long, long day.

Ray called Tony's from his cell on the drive home. He did not pass the consulate. Did not collect two hundred dollars. His goal was simple. Food, shower, naked Mountie in his bed. There wasn't even a token protest from Fraser. Not as much as a word about the wolf or responsibilities. Okay, so maybe they wouldn't be doing much in that bed but sleeping tonight, but there was always tomorrow. Ray was big on morning sex. He could really get behind that. Oops, must not be as tired as he thought. Little Ray was stirring.

It made for an uncomfortable walk up the stairs. Worth it though. Fraser went up the stairs first, giving Ray a good look at those muscles at work. Ray was getting punchy again. All he wanted to do was lean over and sink his teeth into a fleshy cheek. The thought made him chuckle, well giggle, really, which got him a strange look from Fraser thrown back over his shoulder. Ray just grinned and shrugged like yeah, I'm a freak, so what?

He dropped his keys a couple of times trying to get the door unlocked. Finally Fraser bent down and picked them up. Dangerous move. Ray couldn't resist. The yelp the Mountie gave out at the bite and the disapproving, "Ray!", made it worthwhile. Fraser flipped around to find his partner looking much as a naughty boy caught with his finger in the cake frosting. It was such an endearing look that Fraser had to smile.

The smile only encouraged Ray to greater scandalous behavior. Scandalous to Fraser, anyway. Kissing in a dimly lit hallway was tame to what Ray wanted to do. Fraser had other ideas though. Getting arrested for public indecency wasn't one of them. He pulled himself out of Ray's embrace, away from the other man's busy hands, and got the door unlocked.

"Inside, Ray," he insisted.

Ray shook his head to clear it and followed Fraser. "Right. Sorry, Frase. Shower first okay? I'm grungy."

Fraser could only watch in amazement as Ray babbled on as he pulled articles of clothing from his body. "Wanna join me? No, damn can't do that. Pizza, Sandor. Here's my wallet." Like it was the most natural thing in the world to stand totally naked in your living room and hand your wallet over to your partner. It was to Ray, but Fraser blushed. Under other circumstances, it might be amusing or insulting. However, at this juncture it was most disconcerting. And arousing.

Oh, dear. There was the door. Mr. Sandor was surely there with the pizza, and Ray was skittering off to the bathroom. "Get that will ya, Frase? I'll be back in a few. And if there's no pineapple, don't pay him!"

There was still a faint flush to Fraser's cheeks as he opened the door. The sound of running water could clearly be heard, and Sandor gave what appeared to Fraser as a knowing smirk. "Uh, Ray is in the shower. How much do we owe you?"

Sandor set the pizza on the bar and took in the scene. It was a telling tableau. Ray's clothing scattered on the floor, a blushing Mountie with Ray's wallet in hand, and a wet spot on the back of his pants. Not much fazed Sandor anymore. He shrugged it off and answered, "$15.95, like always, Constable."

Fraser handed him a twenty. "Thank you kindly and keep the change," Sandor was told as he was politely herded toward the door. Sounds of running water and Ray humming drifted out toward them.

"Yeah, yeah. Have a good one, Constable. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Sandor couldn't resist getting a parting shot, just to see the full blown blush come over Fraser's face. Even a bigger than normal tip wasn't incentive enough to pass that up. The Mountie practically pushed him out the door.

Fraser made tea and got a beer for Ray from the refrigerator. He turned just in time to see Ray come out of the bedroom dressed only in a towel, slung low on his hips. Nonchalantly, he walked over and opened the pizza box. "Hey, great. Just like I ordered. Pineapple and Canadian bacon. Greatness."

Fraser stood with his back against the refrigerator door, able only to move his eyes up and down Ray's lean frame. Taking in how neglected drops of water still glistened between his Ray's prominent shoulder blades. If he'd been able to do anything but look, Fraser would be over there, tasting those droplets.

Ray turned then, "What? No lecture about how it's not really Canadian bacon?" Then he noticed the Mountie's stance. Standing there, still clutching the beer bottle. "Fraser? What's wrong, buddy?"

Fraser was unable to move or speak. He was totally mesmerized.

"Well, either you're packing a bazooka in your pocket or you're real glad to see me. Since you've got no weapons permit, I'm betting on the happy to see me," Ray teased as he finished his slice of pizza and moved toward Fraser. He plucked the bottle from the nerveless fingers of his partner and set it on the counter. Exhaustion and thoughts of morning sex were totally forgotten.

Ray advanced again, moving into Fraser's personal space. "What's the matter Frase? Cat got your tongue? Better bring it back. That tongue is mine." Ray pounced. *Much like the proverbial tongue stealing cat,* Fraser thought in the fleeting seconds before Ray's mouth sealed over his own, and Ray's hand found the bazooka in his pants. After that, the only thoughts in the Mountie's brain were 'Oh my God' and 'more'.

Nimble fingers unbuttoned his tunic and rid him of the remaining garments post haste. Ray did all the talking, when his mouth wasn't busy with other things. Ray's voice encouraged him, led him. Ray told him he was beautiful, and Ben believed it. When he turned to lead Fraser into the bedroom, Ben got his chance at those tantalizing droplets.

Ray hissed and arched his back at the sensation of Fraser's tongue on his bare skin. As the tongue moved lower, chasing an errant drop that his shudders caused to slide down his spine, Fraser caught the drop just before it ran under the towel and down the cleft of Ray's buttocks - the cleft that peeked from the edge of the towel.

Before Fraser actually knew what he was doing, he slipped to his knees and let his tongue continue its course downward, moving the towel out of his way with his chin, uncovering more of Ray's enticing rump. Ray's frantic movements woke Fraser from what he was doing. Ray was jerking, trying to free himself from the grip the Mountie had on his hips.

Fraser let go so quickly that Ray stumbled forward and fell. The Canadian mentally berated himself as he moved to help his partner up. What had he been doing? Totally out of control, acting like a mindless animal, Benton Fraser. He got to Ray and saw his shoulders shaking. His head was hanging as he crouched there on all fours. Oh my god, what had he done?

As he opened his mouth to apologize, Ray looked up. Laughing, Ray was laughing. "God, we're a pair, ain't we? The blind leading the blind." He reached a hand out for Fraser to steady him as he rose to his feet.

"Ray, are you all right? I didn't hurt you?"

"Hurt me? Hell no, Fraser. Tickle me, yes," Ray replied as he rubbed his backside to illustrate the point. "It only goes to show that there's nothing that you won't lick. Damn, give a guy a little warning next time."

"I'm sorry, Ray. Truly I am."

"No need to apologize, Benton-buddy. If you want lick my butt, I'm all over that. It's not the what that I'm objecting to, it's the where. I'm gettin' too old for sex on the floor. Come on, bedroom."

Fraser nodded. "Understood."

Ray's bed was wonderful. Firm yet yielding, just like its owner

From the damp hair on top of Ray Kowalski's head to tiny fine hairs that decorated his toes, Ray tasted wonderful, looked wonderful. Fraser started at Ray's toes, wondering if he was unhinged for finding Ray's toes absolutely perfect. They were perfect for Ray's long, slender feet. So different from his own.

"God you're killing me here, Frase. You one of those foot fetish people?" Ray moaned. "Get up here and kiss me."

Fraser moved with alacrity, but not where Ray wanted him apparently. "No, no, Ben. Ben?" Ray questioned, asking permission to use his first name.

"Ben is fine, Ray, but how do want to proceed?"

"Proceed? You sound like we're on a case here, Ben. I want you up here. On me, all over me, understand? I wanna feel all of you."

"Understood," Fraser answered, but with a bit of consternation, afraid that he'd crush the lighter man.

Seeing that trepidation on his partner's face, Ray assured him, "It's okay. You're not going to squish me. I need to feel you."

Fraser did as he was directed. Ray spread his legs, making space for him, and there they were skin to skin. And it did feel wonderful. All of it, from Ray's mouth on his neck to the smooth skin of his thighs pressed so closely to his own. Ray's hands skimmed up and down his back and further down, to rub where Ben had been bitten. Best of all, Ray's erection moved and slid against his own.

Ben tried to hold most of his weight on his knees and elbows, but it proved most difficult. Ray ceased the gentle rubbing of his buttocks and began to knead and squeeze and use his grip there to push and pull. Their cocks moved together faster and slicker.

"Come on, Ben. Do it. Do it for me. Come all over me," Ray panted in Ben's ear. The Mountie took the order to heart and did just that. He jerked and moaned and spilled all over Ray's stomach and genitals. Then Ray rolled them over and did the same.

A while later, Ray raised his head from where he was still collapsed on Fraser's chest. "Ben, you know that what I said yesterday? About the liaising thing not working?"

"Uh, huh," was Ben's sleepy reply.

"Well, I take it back. I think we've got it working fine now."

"Indeed."

End

End The Honker From Yonkers by A. Kite: AKite68163@aol.com

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