Author's website: http://www.trickster.org/kass/

Disclaimer: Boys are theirs, words are mine.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Sihaya Black for beta.

Story Notes: Written in response to the "darkness" challenge at livejournal community ds_flashfiction.

Like everything else, the moon is different up North.

The first time the moon swelled to full Ray couldn't fall asleep, because even through their heavy-duty tent the light was bright. He could've read a book by the light of that moon reflected on endless snow. He didn't have one, so he just lay there and watched the light on Fraser's closed eyes, watched Fraser's chest rise and fall, and thought Damn, Kowalski, you've got it bad.

But he got used to the moon. Got to where he could sleep through it. And then its light started dwindling, and then came their first completely pitch-black night, what Fraser called moon-dark. And yeah, there were more stars up North than in Chicago -- more stars than he'd seen camping anywhere he'd ever been -- but the night was darker than dark. That night he couldn't watch Fraser sleep.

That night he had the weird feeling Fraser was watching him.

Which was crazy, because it was way too dark to see, but in the impossible blackness of the night crazy things seemed real. And Ray lay there, trying to breathe like he was sleeping, listening to Fraser who he was pretty sure was also trying to breathe like he was sleeping, and he wondered what Fraser was thinking about.

After a long time, Ray rolled to one side and tried to press the button that would light up the face of his digital watch in blue, so he could see what time it was. No dice: whatever electronic gel was in there had apparently frozen to death.

"It's two-fifteen," came Fraser's voice, quietly.

Ray jumped in his sleeping bag and knocked into Fraser's bag, which was right alongside his but he tried to be careful to keep some distance: the temptation to reach over and touch was bad enough as it was. "Jeez!"

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you."

"Nah, 's fine. Thanks for the time." Ray closed his mouth and wondered how Fraser had known what he was doing. How Fraser had known what time it was, for that matter.

He thought about asking, but didn't. The answer would probably be some crazy Inuit story involving frozen caribou.

"Thank you for the time," Fraser replied, and it took Ray a second to realize that Fraser was repeating his words back to him.

"Hmm?"

"For...taking the time to do this with me," Fraser clarified.

Ray grinned up at the ceiling of the tent in the dark. "Wouldn't have missed it," he said, and the craziest thing was, it was true. Cold, dark, freezing his nuts off, lying on a sleeping bag in the snow and he was still happy as a clam in mud. Because Fraser was there.

"It means a great deal to me. Your...friendship means a great deal to me."

Ray's sleeping bag was still scooted up alongside Fraser's, which was a pleasant source of warmth, but it meant that when Ray shivered Fraser felt the motion.

"Ray! Are you too cold?" Solicitous as always.

Shit. The shiver wasn't cold: it was horny. It was his out-of-control libido turning "your...friendship means a great deal to me" into something it wasn't. But how was he supposed to explain that?

Next thing he knew, Fraser's bag was rustling and then hands were groping at the zipper to his own bag. "Hey! Fraser, what're you --"

"The cold can be quite dangerous, especially in sleep." As he talked, Fraser was unzipping Ray's bag, letting in cold air, and Ray couldn't stifle a yelp. "This will help."

Ray heard the sound of zipper again, and then registered other legs alongside his own. Oh God: their sleeping bags.

"Fraser, you can't -- you don't -- " Ray was fumbling for words. "I wasn't cold."

"You were shivering," Fraser pointed out, logically. Ray was about to come up with a logical reason for why this was a first-class, Grade A Bad Idea when Fraser's arms slid around him and they were spooned together like lovers.

Ray closed his eyes, not that it mattered in the total darkness, and couldn't help shivering again. Christ, but Fraser felt good like that. Long legs against his, strong chest against his back. And to have arms around him again...

"See? Isn't this better?" Fraser's voice was right in his ear, he could feel Fraser's breath warm against his neck, and that did it: Ray was hard as a rock.

This was some new kind of torture. And clearly it was only a matter of time before Fraser figured him out. Ray racked his brains to come up with a believable reason for why sharing a sleeping bag with his partner was sparking this kind of diamond-cutter.

"Better. Yeah." God: even his voice sounded stiff.

There was a pause.

"Ray?"

"Yeah, Fraser?" Maybe if he could bring the snark, he could keep things under control.

"You seem...uncomfortable."

"I do?"

"You're rigid."

Oh God, oh shit, he knows. Panic flooded Ray's brain.

"You need to relax if you're going to warm up," Fraser continued, and Ray realized with a rush of relief that Fraser was talking about his spine, about his posture, not about...the other thing.

Ray took a deep breath and tried to relax.

And Fraser's arms loosened. "I...it wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable," he said, very quietly. "I apologise. Truly, my intentions were honourable."

"No, no, it's cool, I know." Rushing to get the words out, because jeez, the last thing in the world he wanted was to make Fraser feel guilty for his own damn sins. "You're the most honourable guy I know."

I'm the one with dishonourable intentions, Ray thought.

But at least they were both wearing longjohns: that would help. Help conceal his aching, longing body from Fraser. They covered neck to toe, which he'd thought was pretty goofy-looking in the supply store in Yellowknife, but now it made a lot more sense.

Like the butt-flap. His inner twelve-year-old had thought those were pretty funny. But they made sense, out here. When you were camping in the snow, you didn't want to drop trou when Nature called.

For that matter, the butt-flap could come in pretty handy now. Fraser could just reach between them, unfasten a pair of buttons, lube his fingers up and...

Ray squirmed despite himself. Stop thinking about what you want Fraser to do to you when you're sharing a gaddamned sleeping bag!

"Ray! You're still cold!"

"No, I wasn't shivering, I--"

And that was as far as Ray got before Fraser's hands somehow multiplied in the dark and were rubbing his chest. Hard.

"Fraser! What're you--"

"We've got to warm you up," briskly. "The cold can be dangerous."

Fraser's hands were skating over his chest and arms, and Ray was wriggling to get the hell away because his body, the traitor, was not getting with the program his brain had set, which was all systems down. His body was more like all systems go.

And between the rubbing, and the squirming, somehow Fraser's hand skated over Ray's erection, right through the soft fabric of his longjohns, and Ray couldn't help a gasp.

Abruptly all motion in their sleeping bag stopped.

"...Ray?"

Fraser sounded uncertain now.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit. It was over. It was all over. "It's not -- I mean, I --"

"You're...lonely," Fraser offered quietly. "It's been almost a month since you've had other human companionship; your body is merely...hungry."

A lump rose in Ray's throat. Fraser was giving him an out. But somehow, in the pitch dark of the moonless Arctic night, Ray couldn't lie to him. Not about this.

"Nah. It's you. It's always been you."

There was silence.

"Fraser, I'm sorry -- I swear to God, my intentions were -- I mean, I wasn't gonna do anything, I--"

"How long has this...been going on?" Fraser's voice too low to read.

"A while." Miserably. God: he'd ruined everything.

And suddenly Fraser's body was plastered against his back, arms sliding back around his chest.

"I wish I'd known," Fraser murmured just behind his ear.

What the...?

And then Fraser's mouth was exploring the back of his neck, little half-biting kisses that made Ray's whole body weak.

His hands were lingering on Ray's chest, zeroing right in on his nipples through the union suit, each brush of thumb like fire.

"Fraser!" Ray was on the verge of moaning already, but somehow he held it back. "What are you --"

"I'm trying to seduce you. If you can't tell, I must be out of practise." His voice was snippy, but coloured with affection.

Ray felt his heart melting along with the rest of his body. "You don't have to," he started, one last-ditch effort to be -- like Fraser -- honourable.

"I want to." Fraser's voice seemed to have dropped an octave, which was maybe the sexiest thing Ray had ever heard.

Another kiss to the back of his neck and this time Ray couldn't help the moan. Fraser hummed approvingly and pressed harder against him and holy shit, Fraser was hard too.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to."

Ray was entirely boneless, a singing instrument beneath Fraser's fingers.

And when Fraser unbuttoned the critical two buttons over his dick, and slipped a warm, capable hand inside, against the unbelievable pitch-blackness of the tent Ray could have sworn he saw stars.

(1574 words)

End Darkness, Darkness by Kass: kass@trickster.org

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