We've been discussing what type of music the guys listen to, and *they* wanted to go back to bed. This is what happens when I listen to them. A sequel of sorts, I suppose, to "Duet." And thank you kindly to Audra, for such good, quick beta work.

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah, they belong to Alliance. Fine. But they've made no effort to cut short their visit with me.

NC-17, Fraser/Kowalski, M/M interaction ensues; absolutely no spoilers whatsoever -- not a single piece of canon was harmed in the making of this story. Archiving's fine, just ask first. Feedback wanted and will be slurped with gusto at LaToot@aol.com

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Harmony
by LaT

"Why don't you have anything in your hands?," I say as Fraser walks over to me.

I wasn't ready to go straight home at the end of my shift, so the two of us have been wonderin' around the Virgin Megastore for the past half hour. It's been a long, long time since I bought myself any new CDs and I got some catchin' up to do. Lauryn Hill. Sarah McLachlan's new one, which is actually old enough now I don't think it can technically count as new. A couple more classic Miles Davis, to go along with "Kind of Blue" and "Birth of the Cool." Whatever else floats me.

I'm feelin' flush, feelin' good. I've finally found my groove at the station, and I've been in it for a while. Welsh, the Duck Brothers and everyone else, they seem to know that I really am a good cop, and not just pretendin' to be a good cop. I don't feel that sick, dull ache any more when I think of Stella, although she still treats me kind of crappy when we run into each other. My parents are in the same state and actually *not* drivin' me nuts. I even think my dad's made some peace with the fact that I'm a cop.

Best of all, I've got Fraser. It took a while. Lots of mixed messages, missed signals, miscommunication. Ben's brilliant, I'm sure of it, but when it comes to issues of the heart, he can be slow on the uptake. It doesn't matter any more though 'cause he finally caught up to me. And to himself.

I look at him. One of the coolest things about Fraser is that he's clueless about how sexy he is. He's sexy as hell, but he's got no idea, so it's easier to appreciate in him. Today he's wearing the brown uniform -- what I call the 'street' uniform -- instead of the red serge. I know it's practically illegal or somethin' to say this, but I like the brown uniform better than the serge. The serge gets attention, no doubt, and he does look good in it, but the brown? He looks even sharper. Sleeker. Hotter. It's also easier to get him out of the brown than the serge. Gettin' Fraser out of his clothes is one of my favorite hobbies.

"Purchasing compact discs is a fruitless endeavor for me Ray, because, as you know, I don't own a compact disc player." He nails me with his eyes as he says this. Those deep, sweet eyes. So very honest, so very warm, so very blue, and, right now, so very twinkly. He's in a mood, I can tell. Playful. I *love* it when he's playful.

"No, but *I* do, ya wise-ass, so pick out some music. My treat."

"Ray..."

"Fraser, do not argue with me about this. You won't win. I have half the store in my hands and you got nothin'. As you would say, 'that won't do.' "

I give him my "I've made up my mind" face, even though I know it's not likely to get me anywhere. Fraser pretty much defines 'stubborn.' I do too, sometimes, but I get bored quicker than he does with havin' to be right. This is also the reason Stella won most of our fights.

"Now, Ray, that's just silly. You obviously do not have half the store in your hands. You would need hundreds of hands to do that and it's clear you only have two." He doesn't smile, but I know him well enough to hear the laughter in his voice and read the light in his eyes.

"Fraser, you're ruinin' my good mood," I say, even though he's actually makin' it better by twinklin' at me like that. "One CD. Just let me buy you one CD. I'm feelin'...magnificent. No. I mean mag...mag..." I know the word and if I wasn't actually *trying* to talk to Fraser in his language, I could spit it out.

"Magnanimous," he offers, oh-so-helpfully, cockin' an eyebrow. The twinkle's turned into a full-fledged gleam and he's this close to laughin', if not at me, then near me.

"Exactly. I'm feelin' magnanimous and if you don't let me buy you at least one CD, I'll..."

"Kick me in the head?" The famous Mountie control is workin' *overtime* to keep him from cracking up in front of the Jamiroquai display. "Well, Ray, since you've framed the argument that way, by all means, buy me a CD."

I wanna kiss him and hit him. I sometimes wonder if there's somethin' wrong with me that I have these reactions to him at the same time. Not that I'd ever hit him again. I did that once, and it almost killed me. I don't ever want Ben to look at me again the way he did that day by the lake. That moment tops the list of things in my life I'd give anything to be able to take back.

I like how he's lookin' at me right now, though. He's enjoyin' himself. Enjoyin' me.

"Good. Whattya want?"

"Ah." He thinks for a minute, then the gleam in his eyes goes supernova. "Surprise me."

Before I can say anything, he turns on his heel and walks away from me, tappin' the Stetson on his leg as he goes. He looks back over his shoulder at me and smiles, headed towards another section of the store. He's giving me room to choose. To show him how well I know him with what I pick out for him.

"Son-of-a...," Fraser never really finishes an argument unless he's got the upper hand.

Another half-hour later and we're out of the store, going to pick up dinner, then head back to my place. I spent a shit-load of money, including the not one, but *three* discs I got for Fraser and I feel not one ounce of guilt.

We get to the apartment and he starts settin' up for dinner right away, after gettin' on Dief for bein' impatient and taking off his jacket. He's started leavin' extra clothes and stuff here, but part of me doesn't want him to change just yet. I like the line of the uniform pants on him, how well they fit those narrow hips and long legs. He loosens the tie, undoes the top shirt button, and with the suspenders and the rolled-up sleeves, it's all just...so. It reminds me a little of how good he looked in Huey's tux.

He still hasn't asked what I picked out for him at the store, but I'm itchin' to listen to some of my new stuff. I put in John Coltrane, Cassandra Wilson, Sarah, Miles and Lauryn, partly 'cause they're the first five I pull outta the bag and partly 'cause Ben and I both love jazz, so we might agree on at least three of 'em.

During dinner we play chess, with background music from Coltrane. Ben would probably never say it, mainly 'cause he probably thinks it'd hurt my feelings or somethin', but I know it surprises him that I'm good at chess. There's a lot he does better than I do, and there's a few things - like dancing - that I do better than him. But we're equals at chess, and I know he didn't expect that 'cause it's a logic game. I like surprisin' him. Keepin' him on his toes is fun.

He wins tonight, but I'll probably win the next time we play. I won't let him help me clear the table and load the dishwasher, so he sits at the counter and watches me. I get done and start to ask him what he wants to do next and he cracks his neck. It always throws me a little when he does it. It's a quick jerk of his head to the right and it's really, really loud. It also means that for some reason or other, he's tenser than usual.

"You want a back rub?" I offer, putting on my best look of "I really just want to help you, not get you into bed" innocence.

"That would be...very nice, Ray." Ben doesn't buy the look, but his weakness for back rubs is like my weakness for anything with lots of sugar in it.

I walk around to stand behind him. It would make more sense for him to lie down - on the sofa or the bed - but, for once, I feel like bein' patient. Waitin' for it. Lettin' him come to me. It would also be easier if he took off his shirt, but for some reason, I wanna delay the kick that always comes with puttin' my hands on that creamy skin.

I slip the suspenders down, crack my knuckles and put my hands on his shoulders. I start kneading muscle that feels like balled fists. Whenever I do this, it amazes me how tense Ben actually is. He always seems so calm, so cool and under control. Well, not *always*, but most of the time. Like everybody else, I make the mistake sometimes of thinkin' *mental* conditioning is all it takes to be that way.

Ben's hands spread out on the counter-top, palms down, as I work the knots in his shoulders out. The tips of his fingers flex and grip the surface. He likes this, but when my hands go a little lower, he lets out some low, husky moans.

I smile. I love makin' Ben incoherent. Inarticulate. When he feels so good he can't put it into words, that's when I've done my job, thank you kindly. Pressin' as hard as he can stand it, I drag the tips of my thumbs down his back, on either side of his spine. More moans, louder and longer. I make my way to the middle of his back, where a lot of the tension is. It actually takes some effort, 'cause he's so knotted up, but those noises he's makin' are startin' to get to me, and I know I haven't started sweatin' just cause I'm doin' the work.

Ben reaches his left hand around and grabs hold of my thigh, while his right hand keeps him braced against the counter. I try to act like I'm oblivious to the way he's squirmin' and moanin', but the hand on my leg won't let me. My own hands are gettin' shaky, and not just 'cause of the massage. I don't know which of us is breathin' harder.

At some point, I think Cassandra took over for Coltrane, but I don't really hear the words, just the smoky, sexy voice. Yeah, I can get laid to this. Speakin' of sexy voices...

"Ray?..." I can't even describe how much it turns my crank when he says my name like this. Part question, part moan, part sob, all hot. I hear him, but I don't answer 'cause I want him to say it again and I know when he does it'll be just a little different.

"Ray..." Less question, more moan, more sob. Still hot. If I was nice, I'd answer now, but I just slip my hands even lower, 'cause I want my name once more with feeling.

"*Ray*..." Bingo. All moan. All hot. I can't help myself though, and before sayin' anything, I drag my tongue across the back of his neck, and that grip on my leg goes iron-clad.

"Sorry, Ben. Didja want something?" I lick him again for good measure, just so he knows what *I* think his answer should be.

He turns and stands so quickly it almost knocks me down. I'm not sure who started it, but we're kissing, his tongue movin' over, under, next to mine. He tastes salty and sugary all at once, and something else I haven't figured out yet. Whatever it is, it's completely and always Ben, 'cause he tastes like it whenever I kiss him. Kissin' him is another favorite hobby of mine.

I've got my hands in his hair and he's got one of his on my ass and the other at the back of my neck, and my head's buzzin' 'cause he's started strokin' my neck while he kisses me. My cock's started throbbin'. He breaks the kiss, movin' his mouth to that spot where my neck and shoulder meet and greet, nuzzlin' my shirt out of the way to get to bare skin. His teeth are razor-sharp, but he never breaks the skin and it never really hurts. He's got a good bit of me between his teeth, massagin' the flesh with his tongue, then sucking. *Marking.* It's one of *his* hobbies.

Since I don't have his mouth, I settle for the next best thing, and start lining kisses up along his cheek and jaw. He turns his head suddenly and then his tongue's in my mouth again. Ben's cock in my mouth is really the only thing that's better than Ben's tongue in my mouth, but seein' as how we're both still dressed...

"Ben," I manage when he stops sucking long enough for me to talk.

"Ray."

"Bed."

"Of course."

We've done this before, so we know how to get to the bedroom while walkin', kissin', and gettin' each other undressed. Dief knows to stay in the living room. As we fall on the bed and each other, still flingin' clothes all over the place, I'm glad, again, that he's not wearin' the dress uniform. When the only thing standin' between me and a naked Fraser is a pair of lace-up boots, I get...cranky.

Not tonight. Ten seconds more and I've got six or so feet of the pale white satin that Ben calls skin at my fingertips. I'm on top of him, my fingers in his hair again, my mouth having trouble decidin' where on his face it wants to stop. His hands are bein' just as indecisive with me, startin' at my face, movin' to my shoulders, slidin' over my back before settlin' on my ass. He squeezes hard, grindin' me against him and holdin' me still.

I don't *want* to be still, and I start wigglin', rubbin' our cocks together and he lets out another low, husky moan.

"See," I say, tryin' to catch the moan in my mouth and failin', "this is why movin' is better than keepin' still. Moving is very, very g---," Ben's reached between us and wrapped his fingers around my cock. I shudder as he strokes the full length several times before pinchin' the head. He does it again, strokin' then pinchin', strokin' then pinchin', 'til the only movement I'm makin' is the shuddering.

Somewhere along the way he started kissin' me and the only thing that pulls my attention from what he's doin' to my cock is the pressure of his tongue tryin' to open my mouth. I help out by openin' up, but whoa, between his tongue and his hand, I suddenly feel like I can't move.

Ben, of course, takes advantage, and before I know it, I'm on my back and pinned under him. His hand's gone and I'm tempted to complain, but I know what's about to happen and that I'm gonna like it better.

He kisses me one more time, long and wild, then shimmies down in the direction of my cock. I think Cassandra's still singin', but Ben's got a nipple between his teeth and his tongue, so I'm not really keepin' up with the CD. He moves to the other nipple and yeah, the whimpering's coming from me. Then, he's movin' much, much lower.

I open my eyes to watch him. Focused, as always. Intense, as ever. Beautiful, like nobody's business. He starts with my balls, swirlin' his tongue over and around them several times, before sending the tip into that space where they connect to my cock. He presses there hard with his tongue, usin' it like the muscle it is, movin' it back and forth. Then he starts lickin' the underside of my shaft, tickles the head with his tongue-tip, gives lots of good, long swipes to the upper-side. I think I must've said somethin' 'cause he stops and glances up at me, smilin' wickedly and lookin' hot as shit.

"I'm sorry, Ray. Did you want something?"

Bastard. I know I haven't said this out loud 'cause he doesn't tell me I'm bein' rude. I can't think of a single smart-ass thing to say, so I just shake my head 'no.'

He looks at my cock, then at me. "Are you sure?"

"I'm...pretty sure if you don't finish what you started, I really will kick you in the head." Nothin' like lust to help a man find his voice.

"Understood." He chuckles a little. Then it's show time.

Even Stella's mouth didn't feel this good. Hot, wet and oh God, impossibly deep, his mouth takes my cock to the hilt and holds it. For seconds, minutes, I don't know. He raises his head, and I grit my teeth, all set to warn him what'll happen if he stops again, when he takes me in and starts up for real. I try not to guide 'cause Ben knows what he's doing, but my hips don't care. Somehow, we're both movin' and he lets me go for a while, then decides only one of us can lead, and it's not gonna be me.

His hands on my hips, he holds me still and sets a rhythm that just, that just...I don't know what I'm tryin' to say. I don't know anything except that mouth's on my cock and it's hot and fast and bottomless and wet and everything else it's supposed to be and oh, so goddamned much more. Ben holds me firm, won't let me buck like I need to, then I feel everything tighten and I'm dizzy and rushing and coming and why the hell am I seein' spots?....

Minutes - maybe - later, I start feeling like me again. My eyes are closed, but I feel Ben lickin' me clean, lazy and slow, sorta like the way Dief licks my hands sometimes. Hmmm. I put my fingers in his hair, press them against his head, and guide him up my body. I taste myself on his lips and tongue, feel my breathing slow even more against his skin as we kiss. I'm not ready to talk yet, and I haven't stopped tinglin', but I do know Ben's still hard. His cock's between us and the head's soaking wet. I'm together enough to push against him, lettin' him know I want him to lift up so I can move. He does and I twist beneath him 'til I'm on my stomach, then I bring my knees up and deliberately rock back into him.

Ben doesn't usually need any actual direction when it comes to sex, and now's no different. He wraps one arm around me, and reaches for the drawer in the bedside table for the lube. At the same time, he's lickin' the back of my neck and nippin' at my shoulders. I smile into the pillow, once again amused by how much he's really got in common with that wolf.

The arm around me disappears for a minute and I brace myself on my hands. It sounds like Sarah's taken over for Cassandra, and she's singin' somethin' about 'sweet surrender'. I am all over that. I try and make out some of the other words, but...oh...Ben's touchin' me now, strokin' me gently, gettin' me ready. His hand is slick and cool. I open my mouth to tell him I like it, but...God...uh...one finger, two fingers, long fingers, smooth fingers...

He does me this way for a few minutes, fucking me with his fingers, lickin' and kissin' my neck and shoulders, then he kisses me on the head and asks. "Ready?"

Like I'd tell him even if I wasn't. I can only nod, afraid that even a simple 'yes' might trip me up and then...slight, quick burn, and he's there. He goes slow at first, easin' himself in, then holdin' still to let me get used to him.

True to earlier form, he wants to lead and I go with the flow 'cause somehow, within minutes, he's gonna shift once, *once*, and he'll find that angle that sends me reelin'. He does it every time. I don't know how, he just *does*. Must be that heightened sense of...aaah...there...it...is.

As Ben starts building speed, he reaches around and grabs my cock. Now, my cock doesn't seem to mind...oh, God...'cause it's acting like it forgot Ben just gave me one of the best blow jobs I've ever had not more than 30 minutes ago.

I can't keep still now and I start pumpin' into his fist. I swear Ben chuckles at this, but instead of tryin' to keep me still, he just matches his rhythm to mine, all the while still...good *God*...hittin' that sweet, sweet spot. Some day, I'll get up the nerve to ask him exactly *who* taught him to fuck like this, but for right now, I'm just gonna thank my Karmic Godmother that he's such a good learner.

We're movin' like crazy now, and I know I'm gonna come before he does. He taps that place again...oh, *fuck*...and for the second time in about an hour, I feel lightheaded and dizzy and I'm comin' and what are these goddamned spots in my eyes?

I'm still twitchin' and shudderin' when I hear him say my name as he comes.

"*RAY*..." All moan. Way loud. Very, very hot. Then, for a while, there's nothin' but blackness...

"Ray?" His voice sounds almost normal even though his face is buried in my neck. We're on our sides now, spooning.

I wiggle and twist 'til I'm facing him. The only thing more beautiful than Ben after sex is Ben during.

"Ben?"

"You never did tell me what CD you purchased for me."

"You didn't ask. And I actually got you three."

"Oh. Thank you. I assumed you would tell me."

"Now, Ben. You know what they say about why you should never 'assume' anything." I'm pretty sure he doesn't.

"Well, who are 'they', Ray?"

"You know. 'They'. That group of mystery people no one's ever seen, but who have an opinion on *everything*. 'They'. The universal 'they'. Sorta like the royal 'we', but without the fucked-up family life."

"Ah, yes. Of course. Well, what do 'they' say about why one should never assume anything?" His eyes have that twinkle, and for a minute, I've feel like I've been set up, even though *I* started this line of talk.

"You never assume things because that makes an ass out of 'u' and 'me'," I explain with a smile.

He thinks about it for a minute. "That's an appallingly bad pun."

"Yeah, it does kind of suck, doesn't it?" We both laugh.

"So. What did you choose for me?" His runs his hand down my side, keeps his eyes on my face. He's truly curious.

"Let's see. Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, also known as the 'Choral Symphony', Beethoven."

He smiles, his eyes gettin' more twinkly. "Excellent choice, Ray." I can tell he's surprised. Pleased, but surprised.

"Thank you kindly," I say with a straight face.

"What else?"

"The Brandenburg Concertos, Nos. 1 through 6, Bach."

"Another excellent choice." Surprised, and gettin' more impressed by the second.

"And last, but certainly not least, Symphony No. 1 in D, also known as the 'Titan Symphony', Moliere."

I bite my lip to keep from cracking up as he blinks once, then twice. I know, I just *know* that he's strugglin' to decide if it's rude to correct me 'cause, after all, we are talkin' about a *gift* from me to him. He's gonna talk, so it looks like concern for my cultural awareness trumps courtesy.

"Ray," he starts, and stops when I give him what I hope is the "how stupid do you think I am" look I use all the time on perps.

"What Ben?" Not lettin' up on the look.

"Never mind." He laughs then, and kisses me on the forehead. I think courtesy actually won out, but as I said, I like to keep him on his toes.

"Do you really think I don't know Mahler from the author of 'The Misanthrope'?" He looks at me and he's truly, sweetly, deeply surprised. Before he can say anything, I kiss him and add, "I told you, Ben. On the inside, I'm a poet." I lean back and close my eyes.

"Ray?"

"What?"

"Thank you."

"I do what I can."

A few seconds pass. "Ray?"

I open an eye. He can't just *sleep* like any other normal guy. "What?"

"I like your music."

"I'm glad Ben." I close the eye, hopin' he'll get the hint.

"You know, I think there are still two more discs to be played in your stereo," he says, and I feel his fingers close around my cock. Apparently, he didn't get the hint, but now, I'm mighty glad for that. I turn to him as Sarah hands the night over to Miles.

END
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Latonya

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