TITLE: EXCITABLE
AUTHOR: Shrift
E-MAIL: darth_shrift@yahoo.com
RATING: Gosh, I think it turned NC-17 on me...My Ray Muse decided to be a slut. Potty-mouths abound. BF/RK slash.
SPOILERS: Not really. It's a PWP.
SUMMARY: RayK. Fraser. Couch. Smut.
FEEDBACK: LoCs are lovely. Constructive criticism is welcome. Flame me and I might pop ya in the head.
DISCLAIMER: Alliance and Paul Haggis (et al.) hold all the good cards. I'm just a joker that likes to play with someone else's deck.
NOTES: I watched "Hawk and a Handsaw" the other day, and Fraser's comment that Dief is fascinated by blonds because he never saw blond hair as a cub immediately made me think of Kowalski. It's almost Pavlovian.

Superlative beta by Mia, with help from Rowan, Sylvie and Mary. My flakiness is the reason for any remaining mistakes.

"Frase, he's doing it again."

Fraser turned around at the kitchen sink, the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. "He is doing what -- oh, dear."

"It. He's doing it, Fraser," Ray said. He craned his neck over the back of the couch to glare at his partner. "What's his problem?" Ray blinked. Nobody but Fraser would look that good upside down.

Fraser dried his hands on a dish towel and entered the living room, coming to stand behind Ray. "Well, Ray, as I said before, the village where Diefenbaker grew up--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Ray waggled his hand at ear-level to silence Fraser, sitting forward again to return Dief's stare. The wolf thumped his tail on the couch cushion. "Dief's got a thing for blonds. I get that. I'm good with that. But c'mon, Fraser, he's been doing this for months."

And it was starting to creep him out. Ray almost preferred Dief treating him like an appetizer to this staring-schtick. He grimaced at the fur-face and propped his elbows on his knees.

"Admittedly, Diefenbaker has in the past only exhibited this type of transfixion with blonde-haired females, but I suspect his fascination has something to do with..."

"With what?"

Fraser paused, scratching his temple. "Well, Ray, your hair is..."

"Blond," Ray supplied. He jigged his foot. "And?"

"Blond," Fraser said, "and rather excitable."

Ray abandoned his staring contest with the wolf and turned around on the couch, knees digging into the cushions. Fraser's crotch was at eye-level, only a few feet away. Ray tried not to be too obvious about staring. It wasn't his fault that the Mountie had shown up wearing jeans, although, to be fair, Fraser was kind of unaware of what his body in those tight jeans did to Ray. No reason why he should. Ray hadn't exactly figured out how to insert the phrase, 'And oh, yeah, by the way, Fraser, I've got a not-exactly-theoretical two-directional swing to my samba,' into their normal conversation.

Yeah, like their normal conversation was remotely normal.

"How can hair be excitable, Fraser?"

Fraser took a step toward Ray. "It does have a tendency to stand straight up, Ray."

Yeah, Ray thought, and there's other parts of my body that have that tendency around you, Mountie.

Straight up. Straight Mountie. Damned shame.

Ray folded his arms across the back of the couch, propping his chin on his forearm. He peered up at Fraser, lips pursed. "Great. That's great. Really butters my muffins. You feed me tofu for dinner, your deaf half-wolf won't stop looking at me and you think I got hair with a...a nerve disorder or something."

I wouldn't put it quite like that, Ray."

"'Course not," Ray said, lifting his head. "You'd say the same thing, only more polite and with a couple of big words that only those nine year old geniuses on spelling bees know."

"I doubt those are the only people with extensive vocabularies," Fraser said. He took another step closer to the couch. "And I believe it was the restaurant personnel who mistakenly gave you the tofu rather than chicken in your Pad Thai, as I did not have occasion to visit the restaurant's kitchen between the time you telephoned and the arrival of our food delivery."

Ray's smirk faded when Fraser's eyes momentarily focused behind and to the left of Ray's shoulder. "The wolf's still staring at me."

"That would be a correct assumption, Ray."

"Can't you make him stop?"

Fraser gave a little head shake. "I'm afraid that's impossible."

Ray grunted and sat down sideways, one foot on the floor, one leg curled beneath him. He shot the wolf sitting on the couch next to him a disgusted look. "Do you mind?" Diefenbaker gave a little yip, and then Ray had a lap full of wolf. "Gah! Wolf breath!"

"Diefenbaker," Fraser chastised, circling around the couch. Dief gave another yip, his paws on Ray's shoulders. "I'm terribly sorry, Ray. Dief likes you and simply wishes to express his affection."

Well, looked like he had one down and one to go. But he'd rather have a lap full of affectionate Mountie. Bet his breath smelled better.

Ray sunk his fingers into the furry ruff at Dief's neck. "Like you too, buddy. Just keep your jaws off my turtle." Diefenbaker whuffed and leapt to the floor.

"Diefenbaker has no designs on your turtle, Ray," Fraser said, sitting down when Ray patted the couch cushion.

Ray ignored him, pulling his formerly blue T-shirt away from his body.  "Lookit. Your wolf got fur all over me." He started swiping his hands down his shirt to clear it of white hair. "I'll never get this off."

"Diefenbaker is not 'my' wolf, as I've indicated before. Allow me." Fraser reached out and began helping Ray clear himself of fur. "He accompanies me of his own free will."

Ray froze at the feel of Fraser's big, warm hand running over his chest. "Kinda like me, you mean?"

Only Ray knew it wasn't exactly free will where Fraser was concerned. When Fraser wanted or needed him to do something, Ray did it. He did it even when Fraser didn't ask him to. He couldn't help himself. Just like he couldn't help shifting a little under Fraser's hands in order to get closer, until one knee bumped against Fraser's hip and the other touched Fraser's thigh.

He'd long since moved past the point where he had to make a superficial protest when Fraser touched him. No, Ray'd gotten to the point where he craved it even more than Smarties in his coffee. Like any addict, the need to score got to be more important than keeping the addiction under wraps.

And here Ray thought he'd carried a big torch for Stella. The one he had for Fraser would make a performance arsonist wet herself.

Fraser was quiet for a moment before saying, "Upon reflection, you and Diefenbaker have quite a few things in common, number one being your appalling eating habits."

"Uh, Frase," Ray said, voice wobbly. Fraser's big, warm hand had stilled on Ray's stomach. Just above his belly button, which was just above his waist band, which was just above a very interested portion of Ray's anatomy.

"Yes, Ray?"

Ray finally looked up from Fraser's strong forearm and locked eyes with his partner. He felt light-headed, probably because all the blood in his body was either flowing to his dick or flooding his face. His skin was probably turning a color that would put Fraser's serge to shame. "Uh, nothing."

Great. Greatness. One Mountie hand on stomach equaled dumbstruck Ray. He wondered if his brain would explode if, say, Fraser started using both hands.

"There may be another reason why Diefenbaker feels compelled to stare at you, Ray," Fraser said. Voice normal. Expression giving nothing away.

But Fraser was still touching him, touching him in three places. Those three places felt all toasty and hot like he'd been standing next to a sidewalk fire in a metal trash can. Ray felt like he was vibrating, like the air felt funny, all heavy and charged. Like during the summer heat waves when Com-Ed did those rolling brown-outs. Like Fraser was going to say something and he really needed to pay attention to it.

"Yeah?" Ray could barely hear himself respond over the rushing sound in his ears. He hadn't been really turned on just by sitting next to someone since he was thirteen. And being close to Stella had been more like a tingly-warm-thing, not this dick-strangling-in-his-jeans-thing.

"I believe Diefenbaker might consider it his responsibility -- nay, his duty -- to stand watch over you when I am otherwise unavailable." Fraser broke their stare, blue eyes looking down. Like he was nervous, maybe.

"Why's that?" Ray managed to ask.

Fraser's hand flexed on his stomach and Ray's hips did a tiny, little bucking thing. He started breathing a little too fast and Ray realized dimly that he was busted, that Fraser was definitely gonna notice how his body was reacting this time. Especially since Fraser appeared to be looking at Ray's crotch.

Ray found it amazing how happy his dick was at the idea of Fraser looking at it. Almost as happy as it got when Fraser licked stuff. Ray's dick twitched and Fraser made an odd noise, almost like a gasp.

"Diefenbaker is, on selective occasion, in the habit of imitating my behavior," Fraser said, voice a little huskier than normal.

"Huh. So you're saying that you stare at me?"

Fraser cracked his neck and looked at Ray's face again. "Yes."

Ray blinked. Fraser had this look in his eyes, this kind of bewildered warmth. Ray got to see it when he did something right for once. Like holding the door open for an old lady or being polite to Frannie. It was a good look. There was emotion there, not the impenetrable expression that Fraser usually wore, sometimes even when they were alone. Ray figured he was seeing Benton Fraser, lonely guy. That Fraser was letting him see, letting him see beneath the super Mountie and the sarcastic Mountie to the real deal underneath it all.

Before he could think about what he was offering, as if he ever had anything over than hunches to begin with, Ray said, "You ever, you know, think about, if you knew it was okay -- more than okay -- if you wanted to, you know, maybe sometime do more than look? You ever think about that?"

Fraser paused, his mouth forming an 'o'. Ray tried to figure out what to do with his hands and ended up clenching them on his thighs. What he'd said wasn't an easy thing to take back, but if Fraser wasn't down with the whole guy-on-guy deal Ray would find a way to do it. When he couldn't take the silence following what was probably a huge mistake, Ray said, "Uh, Fraser..."

Fraser interrupted him. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

Stunned, Ray pushed his luck. "Like, a lot?"

Fraser cracked his neck again. "Yes."

Ray stared back at his unmoving partner, the skin on his stomach prickling under the weight of Fraser's hand. "It's, uh, more than okay, Fraser."

"Ah," Fraser said. He still didn't move.

Right then, Fraser reminded Ray of an animal he was about to run over with his car. Fraser had gone as far as he could, and it was up to Ray to swerve.

His impatient mouth was on Fraser's before he could change his mind. Fraser's lips parted in surprise and Ray took advantage, proving that the Mountie wasn't the only one who liked to lick things. Ray was just a little more selective.

And inside Fraser's mouth, it was warm and wet and spicy from dinner. Fraser made a little, "Mmf," sound into Ray's mouth which made Ray remember that he had hands. He curled one hand around the nape of Fraser's neck and tucked two fingers of the other into a belt loop on Fraser's jeans. Ray made a little breathy sound of his own when Fraser recovered enough to join in, a breathy sound which turned into a full moan when Fraser sucked on his tongue. Ray felt Fraser's hands on his hips about a second before he found himself straddling Fraser's lap.

Oh, yeah. Good development. His hips rocked forward and Ray discovered just how happy Fraser was to see him. No, great development, he amended. Wonderful. Fan-fucking-tastic, in fact.

Fraser's warm fingers were on the skin above his waist band, burrowing under Ray's T-shirt, stroking. Ray moved both his hands to Fraser's face, feeling skin beginning to roughen with evening stubble under his palms. Ray tilted Fraser's head for better access to Fraser's mouth in order to thoroughly lick everything inside it.

And then Fraser's fingers were gone. Ray was about to protest Fraser's hands leaving his bare skin when he felt those warm hands slide down over his ass. Hands that flexed and then pulled until Ray was exactly where he wanted to be: firmly wedged between Fraser's hands and a hard place.

He was really getting into the groove of things when Ray heard a noise that he was fairly sure he and Fraser hadn't made. He arched his neck to look behind him without breaking the hips-to-shoulders press he and Fraser had going on.

"Frase, the wolf is watching," he said.

Fraser licked a tendon on the side of Ray's neck. "Is that a problem, Ray?" Fraser asked, licking the spot again.

"Well," Ray started to say. Fraser nipped the corner of Ray's jaw with his teeth. "Nope. Not at all. No problem here." Then, "Do that again."

"This?"

Ray's hips bucked for real this time. "Yeah. That."

He realized that his hands were cupping Fraser's face when there was a hell of a lot more Mountie that he hadn't touched. Ray stroked his hands over the worn flannel covering Fraser's shoulders and chest, gasping when Fraser's mouth found his collarbone. He automatically started unbuttoning the shirt and then started second-guessing himself when his wandering fingers found a ribbed undershirt.

"We good?" Ray blurted, making a disappointed sound when Fraser's tongue left his skin. Fraser looked even better in reality than he did in Ray's mental porn. Hair rumpled, mouth red, shirt gaping open. All flushed and un-Mountie like.

"Oh, yes."

"Yeah?"

Fraser's eyes narrowed a little, like they did when he got 'Okay, Mr. Instinct' pissy. "Ray."

"'Cause, I mean--"

"Ray."

"You like women, right? And--"

"Ray."

"I kinda jumped you, there, so--"

"Ray!"

"What?"

Fraser actually growled at him and grabbed Ray's hand, fitting it against the really impressive bulge in Fraser's jeans. Ray curved his palm and rubbed Fraser's hard-on through the material, the jeans warm and rough. Fraser probably starched them.

Ray watched with fascination as Fraser heaved up beneath him, mouth going slack. Eyes closed.

Okay, so maybe Fraser was good with this.

He found himself pressing his forehead to Fraser's temple, feeling Fraser's breath coming hard and fast and hot against his stubbled cheek, and saying, "What do you want, Frase? Hmm?"

Ray drew back to see Fraser's eyelids open right up, pupils huge within a thin ring of smoky blue. "I want to fuck you, Ray."

Holy shit. Ray realized that he had a brand-spanking-new kink as he sucked on Fraser's neck and rocked against him, making the couch squeak: Fraser and fuck. Fraser saying fuck. The thought of being fucked by Fraser. He reluctantly removed his tongue from the salty-clean skin taste of Fraser's skin to say, "Then rack that bad boy and cover me."

Fraser flipped them both over. Ray's back hit the cushions, Fraser's weight resting between Ray's legs. While Ray struggled to tug off Fraser's flannel, Fraser's lips attached to Ray's like a zebra lamprey to a source of nourishment...

What?

Ray fumbled for the remote digging into his hip without breaking his lip-lock with Fraser and punched at all the buttons until he could no longer hear the TV special on the ecosystem of the Great Lakes. He'd only paused on that channel because it looked like something Fraser would want to watch.

Fraser's teeth closed hard around that bit between his shoulder and his neck, a sweet spot that sent a pulse straight to Ray's dick. All the questions he'd been meaning to ask about love and lust and like and this possibly changing things got crowded out by the thought of Fraser fucking marking him.

Oh, yeah, and that whole business about Fraser fucking him.

"Need stuff. Bedroom. Now," Ray said.

Fraser was off him and Ray felt suddenly cold until Fraser hauled him off the couch. They walked together toward the bedroom, nearly tripping because they refused to stop tasting each other. Ray rebounded lightly off the door frame to his bedroom and swung Fraser around, going blind for a moment while Fraser stripped off his T-shirt.

Socks got toed off, fingers fumbled with zippers, an in-drawn hiss when Fraser discovered the wet spot on Ray's boxer-briefs. A hoarse chuckle from Ray when he discovered Fraser's starchy white boxer shorts followed by an, "Oh, hell yeah," when the shorts came off. Ray stared at Fraser for a while, stared at his solid, male body and knew he'd have to get a good accountant for his tax forms because he'd just used up all his good luck for the year. Maybe his whole life.

And then they were on the bed and Ray's hand was in the drawer on the night table for his just-in-case supplies. He put the tube and foil package in Fraser's hand and Fraser pushed him down, his shoulder blades touching the cold covers. Fraser was big and hot and shaking a little above him, his fingers slick and stretching Ray. And it was good because Ray was shaking a little, too.

It had been a while for Ray, but damn, Fraser apparently knew what he was doing with his mouth and his hands and his thick cock. Ray's hands mapped and clutched smooth, white skin that was flushed and damp, dark hair curling at Fraser's neck. It was pleasure-pain, real and surreal at the same time.

Ray was getting fucked. By Fraser.

The thought made Ray thrust up because Fraser wasn't moving and Ray really, really wanted him to move. Fraser's fingers dug into Ray's biceps, sliding a little on damp skin, and he finally moved. Ray thought it couldn't get any better, arching up, feeling filled, Fraser hitting him right there every time. Then Fraser's hand left one of Ray's nipples and latched onto his dick.

Ray came with a harsh groan, the top of his head gone and his brains spilling out his cock. Fraser went even more wild-eyed, kept thrusting into Ray, mouth wide and panting, and came all fierce and hot in Ray's ass. And it was good, the kind of light-headed, falling-down, addiction-fed good Ray remembered getting from college when he'd wake up in the morning and smoke a cigarette before eating anything. Only a hell of a lot better.

Ray was deciding if Fraser was heavy and if he really wanted to be glued to the Mountie and if he ever needed to move again when Fraser smiled into his neck where he'd collapsed. His stubble scratched a little against Ray's sweaty skin as he shifted.

"Rack that bad boy?" Fraser said.

Ray nudged Fraser so they could spoon up on their sides, Fraser warm and solid along Ray's back. He muffled a yawn. "Shut up or I'll give you a hickey where the Ice Queen can see it."

He could feel Fraser smiling into his skin again. "Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we 'good'?"

"Oh, yeah," Ray said through a yawn. "Things are usually good when I'm yelling, 'Fuck me harder,' Benton buddy. Little rule of thumb, there."

"Ray--"

"We still partners?" Ray interrupted.

Fraser's lips were on the back of Ray's neck, body suddenly tense. "If you'll have me."

Ray closed his eyes and burrowed into his pillow. "Oh, I'll have you any way I want. Later. We're gonna sleep now. Any questions you got'll keep till tomorrow. Understand?"

Ray smiled into his pillow when he felt Fraser's arms slide around his waist, warm breath on the back of his neck. "Understood."