"Why be difficult, when with a little extra effort you can make yourself absolutely impossible."

A CERTAIN SMILE III

"Ray, are you actually awake down there?"

As I look down the length of my body all I can see of Ray is his hair, and even I, a Mountie, cannot tell if the person the hair belongs to is actually conscious. Being Ray, probably not. He doesn't like waking up and maintains that if he does it very slowly it doesn't hurt as much. Sometimes I do wonder about his outlook on life.

"Ray!" I try again. "I have to get to work. I told you that I have to be there early."

"It's not early," he grunts. "What it is is late night. There's a difference." He shifts slightly against me and I feel his warm breath against my stomach. "Nobody should wake up at this time of day. It's... it's ungodly."

"Well you're not really awake," I say reasonably, "So if you'd just like to take your semi sleeping self off me then I can start my day."

With a less than good tempered grunt he does what I ask him to do and I am able to slide out of bed.

By the time I have showered and dressed, he has fallen fast asleep again, looking like some kind of fallen angel as he lies sprawled across the bed and I feel my breath catch. To have been so lucky ...

I lean down and kiss his cheek and then his shoulder and he smiles in his sleep, turning towards me almost automatically. His wrists are marked from last night's activities and although I can't help feeling guilty that I hurt him, I know that he would dismiss my worry with a laugh and some glib remark.

"Ray, I have to go now," I say softly. "Come to the Consulate so that we can go for lunch, all right?"

He doesn't respond, but this method usually works with him; he takes more into his subconscious mind than a lot of people. He's an intuitive man rather than a logical one. It's one of the reasons I love him as much as I do.

There may even be a bounce in my step as I set out for the Consulate.

Turnbull is slightly less flustered today. I assume this is because Ray isn't upsetting his metabolism by his mere presence.

"Is everything organised for the reception tonight?" I ask him and he nods enthusiastically.

"Oh yes sir. The champagne is in the fridge, along with the salmon mousse. In a little while the caterers will be arriving with the rest of the food although I have to say that I feel I could do just as well...."

"Yes Turnbull, thank you," I interrupt. He has an ability to blither matched only by my own.

"Yes sir," he says again.

"Have you collected the Inspector's dress yet?" I ask, watching as he goes pale, putting a hand up to his mouth.

"It's all right," I hasten to reassure him, "It's not even 8.30 yet. The cleaner's won't be open."

I turn away into my office, unable to hide a smirk. Sometimes I think Ray's bad manners are rubbing off on me.

I have tried to explain to Ray about the Queen's Birthday, but I can never tell if he is genuinely confused or deliberately obtuse.

"Well why does she have two birthdays?" he asks. "Is she really only 35 and she's just ageing twice as fast as anybody else? Kinda like a leap year in reverse?"

It's logic like that which makes you doubt your own sanity sometimes.

Unfortunately the reception we have each year on this day involves a lot of work as we are graced with dignitaries from across America and Canada; security alone is a headache as each intelligence force tries to gain the upper hand. In the end they all come under our jurisdiction so there is little point to all this in-fighting and bickering.

My desk seems to have vanished under a pile of files. I recognise some of them as those which I knocked over yesterday when Turnbull tried to avoid Ray. Unfortunately most of them are necessary for the reception so I am unable to put any of them away. Picking the first one up I sit at my desk and start to work.

At 12.30 Ray appears in the doorway of my office, a welcome break from the seemingly endless paperwork. He's wearing one of my shirts to make sure his wrists are covered, and he looks completely swamped in it. Every time I see him, I want him. Every time.

"Hey," he says, wandering over to perch on the edge of my desk. "The security's getting real tight out there. I had to promise the guy lurking by the bushes a blowjob before he let me in."

"Ray!" He's got me again and he grins at me.

"Ray," I say again, in a different tone of voice. "You shouldn't say that kind of thing. You know how ... touchy security guards can be."

"Well that's the point Frase," he says. "The touchy part."

I give up. He wins.

He gets up and comes around the desk to stand behind me. I lean back briefly into his warmth and solidity, but then sit forward again in case somebody walks in. He briefly rubs a hand across my shoulders, then leans forward, reading the file lying open on my desk. However I still have some sense of propriety and close it, sliding it away from me.

"Wanna eat?" he says, straightening up, not in the least offended.

"That sounds like a good idea," I say. "I could do with a walk as well. Sitting here all day has made me stiffen up ...." As soon as I say it, I know it's a mistake, and the evil grin Ray turns on me only helps confirm it.

Turnbull is sitting to attention and very obviously ignores us as we leave, making Ray snort. I don't know where this playful mood came from, but I'm very glad it made an appearance.

"So what time will all this be over?" he asks as we sit in a local coffee shop. "It'd better not be real late, or I may just have to come get you and drag you from the Consulate out onto the mean streets of Chicago."

"Much as I would like to be able to tell you, I really don't know," I say. "Last year had a decidedly Bacchanalian flavour to it and wasn't over until the early hours."

"Baccy ..? Oh okay," he says. "Lots of drink then? Drunken important people?"

"Yes, basically," I nod.

"So d'you get any time off between now and the start of the orgy?" he asks.

"No, you know I don't," I answer. "I shouldn't really be out of the Consulate now."

He leans back in his seat, stretching, and rests one hand on his stomach, rubbing slowly. My eyes are drawn to that hand and when he slides it between the buttons of his my shirt to rest on his warm flesh, my eyes practically start to water.

"No time at all?" he says, low and dangerous. I tear my eyes away from his hand and look at him.

"Ray, stop," I say. "I can't do this and you know I can't. Stop torturing me."

"Don't wanna," he says, sticking out that delightfully pouty lower lip. "I like torturing you. Like doing lots of other things to you as well. D'you know what I want to do now?"

"Yes, I think I do," I say before he starts giving me the details.

He shifts a little in his seat, smiling at me. Five seconds later I jump so hard that the coffee cups rattle.

"Ray!" I hiss. "Stop it!"

His foot, shoeless, has landed in my lap. Slowly, grinning at me, he begins to rub his foot across my crotch.

"Stop it!" I say again.

"Lost the use of your arms?" he says conversationally. "Notice that you haven't pushed me off you."

I can feel my body beginning to respond to the pressure of his foot against me. But it's not just that; he's here and that's enough. All that attention focused on me leaves me helpless.

I put a hand on his foot, but I don't move it. Almost involuntarily I push into the pressure, moving my body against him. We look at each other in silence and I very nearly whimper as he picks up his cup and takes a mouthful of coffee, carefully licking his lips.

"Ray..." I meant it as forceful. A complete failure.

He puts the cup down and leans across the table to me, his foot still rubbing slowly.

"Come on Fraser," he says. "I know you what you want to do to me. You want to bend me over this table and fuck me until I can hardly breathe. I want that too. But we can't, so let me do this. Please just let me do this for you."

My body begins to arch towards him, and it takes every bit of willpower I possess to reach down and push his foot away.

"We can't," I say breathlessly. "I want to, you know I do. But we can't."

He puts his foot back on me, grinning again, and again I push it down. He gives in with a laugh, and both of us stand, ready to leave. We smile at each other as we each have to adjust our clothing.

"You wait, Benton Fraser," says Ray.

The reception is going quite smoothly, I think. The British Ambassador is a little the worse for wear, but he is being politely ignored by most people.

Turnbull seems a little what's the word Ray would use? Hyper. In fact he's bouncing off the walls. I have a terrible feeling someone has been plying him with caffeine. I find him deep in conversation with the drunken British Ambassador. God help me.

"So I told him about the Horseguards on Parade, but do you know, I don't think he was very impressed." Turnbull looks forlornly at the Ambassador. "Have you ever seen the Horseguards on Parade?"

"Allergic to horses," answers the Ambassador. "Don't like either end and don't trust the middle very much either. Any more champagne?"

"I'd love to meet the Queen," says Turnbull. "She seems such a nice old lady. It's not her fault, you know."

"What isn't?" The Ambassador's attention seems to have been briefly caught. Turnbull leans forward.

"Cricket," says Turnbull as if he was delivering the secret of existence. "Goes on for days, never starts, never finishes. It's not her fault."

Time to interrupt.

"Turnbull," I say, moving forward and taking his arm. "I think it's time we had a cup of bark tea, don't you?" I nod politely at the Ambassador before steering Turnbull towards the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen Turnbull goes into full domestic mode, clucking in distress as he sees the chaos the caterers have left behind.

"Oh dear, oh dear," he sighs, reaching for his rubber gloves. "This will never do. No, not at all."

At this moment, Ray chooses to arrive. He looks ... stunning in his dark suit. Seeing my reaction he raises his eyebrows and looks down self consciously.

"Well they wouldn't let me in if I looked like I usually do," he said. "As it was that guy lurking in the bushes..."

"No Ray!" I say. "Don't start that again."

"Ah Detective Vecchio!" says Turnbull breezily from the sink. "So glad you could come..." He turns around and his mouth drops open. "Oh my."

"Oh your what?" asks Ray.

"Word," Turnbull finishes faintly. "Oh my word."

Ray shakes his head, dismissing Turnbull as a lost cause. He turns to me.

"Long now?" he asks. "I've been * real * patient tonight Fraser."

"I'll be a little longer yet I'm afraid," I say with real regret. "I have to get back out and .. circulate. Would you mind keeping an eye on Turnbull? He's a little well, he's had little too much caffeine I suspect."

"No probs, Frase," he says breezily. "I kinda enjoy keeping an eye on Turnbull."

I must have let my feelings show on my face because he grabs my lanyard, pulling me in for a deep, searching kiss.

"Didn't mean it. You know that, right?" he mutters as soon as he lets me go.

"I know," I answer. "I'll see you soon."

As I leave the kitchen I can't help but glance back. Ray is sitting on the kitchen table watching me go.

It's another hour before I can get away. The British Ambassador is the last to leave, still wondering where the champagne is. As I close the door and lock it, I lean my head against it briefly, tired. I'm beginning to feel very dissatisfied with my job. I long for the open spaces of my home.

Sighing, I shake my head. It won't happen, it can't happen. I won't leave without Ray, and Ray is city bred.

I make my way to the kitchen, stopping as I approach the door, listening to the conversation going on. Ray sounds ... almost panicked. Turnbull sounds as high as a kite.

"No Turnbull, you really don't want to be even thinking things like that, it's not good for you," says Ray. "C'mon, Fraser'll be back soon and he'll be mad if you haven't ... haven't finished the dishes."

"Constable Fraser hasn't been gone more than ten minutes," says Turnbull. "We have all the time we need."

"We don't need * any * time!" Ray very nearly squeaks. "Get your big, idiot, Canadian paws offa me!"

The last of that sentence is drowned in a kind of muffled gurgle, and that spurs me into action. I push open the kitchen door and am met with a sight that, perhaps later, will make me smile.

Turnbull is a big man but he never comes across as threatening. He's gentle and meek. But put him on caffeine and present him with something he wants and the darker side of his nature appears. It's a side we all have.

He's got Ray pressed against the wall, using all that superior height and weight to keep his prey where he wants it. And he's claimed Ray's mouth in a kiss, which, even from the kitchen door, looks very ... thorough.

"Constable * Turnbull *" I say, using my best 'in charge' voice. Turnbull breaks the kiss and just leans against Ray, looking as if he's turned to stone. Ray finally gets his hands where he wants them and pushes Turnbull until the bigger man moves enough for Ray to slide out from under him.

"Now Fraser ..." begins Ray, walking towards me, hands outstretched. "He's just a bit high ..."

"He kissed you!" I may splutter somewhat.

"Well yes," agreed Ray, unable to deny it. "But it was, er, a birthday kiss, that's what it was."

"What?"

"Queen's birthday, 'member? Birthday kiss." He closes his eyes and puts his hand across them. He knows a feeble excuse when he hears one.

Turnbull is still leaning against the wall and I walk towards him.

"Constable?" I say.

"Yes sir?" he says quietly, eyes still closed.

"What were you thinking of?" I demand.

"I ... I don't really know sir," he says. He finally pulls himself away from the wall and attempts to open his eyes. He looks quite startlingly green all of a sudden.

"Do you think I could be excused, sir?" he asks, and at my nod, bolts for the door, pushing Ray out of the way.

"Way to treat your date!" Ray mutters to himself, then catches my glare and smiles slightly. "Sorry,"

"It's your fault," he continues. "If you hadn't left me in the kitchen with him it would never have happened. You know he's after my body."

I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. Ray looks so innocent, standing there with his hands in his pockets and his head hanging down. Then I catch a glimpse of his eyes, peering up at me from under his eyebrows, and more than my mouth twitches. He knows exactly how to play me. I think he always has.

"Forgiven?" he asks, beginning to smile.

"Forgiven," I answer, closing the space between us and pulling him close for a kiss.

He breaks the kiss and looks at me, bringing one hand up to stroke down my face.

"Much nicer," he says. "God, I'd know you anywhere, d'you realise that? If I was blindfolded and put into a room full of people, I'd know you. Put me down in the middle of the tundra and I'd find you."

"Let this be a lesson to you Ray," I say. "If you flirt so much all the time, one day you'll get more than you bargained for."

"Yes, mom," he says sheepishly, leaning forward and licking my neck, making me shiver. "Don't wanna flirt now, anyway. Wanna go home."

"I should check on Turnbull..." I say.

"Let the Ice Queen check on Turnbull," he says, taking hold of my hand and pulling me towards the door. "That is once she's finished her high profile meeting with Sven or Stig or Steve or whoever it is. She won't even notice that you've gone, you know that. And Turnbull will be so * fucking * humiliated that he won't want to see anyone."

"Ray..."

"No!" he says. "I want you now. I've waited all day, I've been molested by Turnbull, and now I want to take you home and make you see stars." He turns and looks at me and his stare is so provocative that I temporarily forget how to breathe.

"So do you still want to check on Turnbull?" he asks.

I reach the car before he does.

I don't know how we make it back to the apartment in one piece. It's only because it's late that we don't put more people at risk. I can't keep my hands off him; stroking his skin where I can see it, leaning over to kiss his neck and his ear, slipping my hand between the buttons of his shirt and stroking the flesh.

"Frase!" he says, laughingly trying to bat me away, keeping one eye on the road. "Stop it! If I crash the car I'll have one hell of a lot of explaining to do. For a start my dad'd kill me. Us. He'd kill us."

I sit back and look at him, flushed with excitement and lust. God I wish the apartment was closer to the Consulate!

I barely let him get the door closed before I'm on him, wrapping my arms around him as tightly as I can, kissing him so deeply that it's as if we're one person, not two. He responds enthusiastically, hands reaching up to tangle in my hair, stroking it and pulling as if he were stroking some kind of favoured pet.

Finally I have to draw back from him, and am gratified by the way he sways towards me, not wanting to break the contact. I put a hand on his face, stroking softly and he stills, looking at me.

"Take your clothes off," I whisper. "I want to see you."

He half smiles and pulls back a little bit, slowly unbuttoning his jacket and sliding it off his shoulders. Normally he would drop it onto the floor, but this time he folds it up neatly and places it on one of the chairs in the living room. Then just as slowly he begins to unbutton his dress shirt, looking at me all the time. I am so hard I ache, but I refrain from touching myself.

He leaves his shirt on when he's unbuttoned it, and rests one of his hands on his stomach, fingers pointing downwards towards the promised land.

"Don't know how to do the rest," he half whispers. "You do it for me."

I reach out and touch his naked chest, trailing my finger towards the belt of his trousers, just tucking my finger in the top and then pulling him towards me. He takes a staggering kind of half step, then moves a good deal more gracefully to cover the rest of the space between us.

I lean forward and kiss his neck, running my tongue down the tendon there, and he groans, pressing towards me.

"God, Fraser..." he moans. "Please. I've been waiting all fucking day for this."

"A little more time, Ray, that's all," I whisper to him, lips against his chest.

His hands tangle into my hair again as he tries to make me speed up, but I resist, dropping to my knees so that I can kiss his belly, running my tongue down the fine hair there. I press my lips against the bulge in his trousers and he bucks his hips towards me.

I run a hand across his hip and belly then slowly begin to unfasten the belt around his waist. Bringing the other hand up, I pull the belt off and drop it on the floor then quickly unfasten the zip of his trousers and pull them and his briefs down around his thighs.

He's as hard as me, already leaking. I can feel his thighs trembling as I hold him, sliding my hands around him so that I can pull him close to me, breathing him in, inhaling his unique scent.

"Oh Frase," he mutters. "Come on, * please *" He bucks his hips again so that his erection presses against my lips, and before I even realise what I'm doing I open my mouth and take him in. He groans loudly and moves his hips again, driving himself even further into my mouth.

I wanted to take longer over this, I wanted to make him realise how needed he is, but I should have known better. What he wants, he gets and I'm powerless to resist. Not that I want to, not really.

I suck him hard, moving my hands to the back of his thighs, feeling the muscles there tense and relax with each thrust. There is a constant trembling running through him as well and within seconds he's ramming himself into me hard, gasping out my name with each forceful thrust of his hips.

I feel his body stiffen as he comes and I gratefully swallow everything he gives me, wishing there were more. I love the taste of him, the sight of him, the smell of him.

He pulls away from me and tries to sink to his knees but gets himself tangled up in his trousers, now puddled around his ankles, and he drops to the floor in a tangle of limbs and cloth, laughing. I laugh back, unable to do anything more.

He kicks the trousers away and lies back naked and inviting.

It's the work of a moment to strip off my clothes and lie full length on him, kissing him, touching him.

He parts his legs and wraps them around my thighs, urging me closer as I begin to thrust against him, unable to help myself.

"Ray," I mutter into his ear. "Oh god, Ray..."

"It's okay," he says quietly. "Everything's okay. Come on Frase, just give it to me..."

He always gets what he wants...

As we lie there, tangled together, breathing hard, he shifts under me slightly. It takes me a moment to realise he's laughing, but when I do I pull back and look down at him.

"What?" I say, stroking the sweaty hair back from his forehead, revelling in him.

"If I get this kinda response every time, I'm gonna flirt with Turnbull more often," he says, beginning to laugh louder.

Incorrigible Ray. I shut him up the only way I know how.

The End