Author's website: http://www.fanfiction.net/~kuonji

Disclaimer: I own the world and everything/everyone in it. If you wish to dispute this, please talk to my lawyer. <g>

Author's Notes: Many thanks to Speranza for her lovely lovely stories that were responsible for dragging me into the DS fandom in the first place. Special thanks to her for allowing me to post this little fic.

Story Notes: No spoilers, really, but this is based on a piece of Speranza's fic, "A Moment of Insight", which can be found at http://trickster.org/speranza/Moment.html. It's a beautifully dramatic and intelligent story, so if you haven't read it, please do. (I've posted the bit relevant to this fic at the end of the page.) Note: If you do wish to archive this fic, please let me know at kuonji14@gmail.com

        Ray Kowalski woke to a delicious sensation, namely, a pair of hands wandering in lazy tracks up his bare body, tracing teasing lines up his sides, skimming across his ribs, making their way up under his arms.  He stretched his hands up to allow the wonderful touch to continue upwards.  Wouldn't want to derail that particular train, no sirree.
        "G'mornin'," he mumbled, not up to the effort of full conscious speech yet.  But he smiled and waited to be kissed awake.
        Only, the kiss never came.  And the hands had stopped their sensuous journey and were -- fidgeting up around his wrists with something.  Something kinda ticklish, a little scratchy.  And now that Ray thought about it, it felt really exactly like--
        Ray jerked his eyes open and stared up at the headboard where he could see an upside down and sideways Benton Fraser finishing a meticulous knot around Ray's wrists, binding him firm to the headboard.
        "Wha...?"
        Fraser turned to him and smiled cheerily, dusting off his hands in a precise satisfied manner.  "Good morning, Ray."
        "Wha...  Wha's goin' on here?" he managed, tugging at the bonds with still slightly sleep-fogged muscle coordination.
        "Oh, I thought we'd do something special today," Fraser grinned, returning to the side of the bed to sit next to his lover.  "That is, if it's all right with you," he added, looking just a bit doubtful.
        "Uh..."  Ray struggled for an answer.  He glanced up at the head of the bed.  The few occasions when Fraser initiated something adventurous in bed, it invariably turned out electrifying, and it wasn't exactly the first time Ray had found himself tied down for the activity either.  But there was something about Fraser's attitude this morning that seemed... well, somehow off for sex.
        Finally, though, the look of his lover's fast crumpling face spurred him to open his mouth again.  I mean, what would Fraser ever do to hurt him, right?  And some things should never be missed just because they were unexpected.  "Sure.  Okay.  Go for it, Frase."
        The reaction was immediate -- an ear-splitting grin that on anyone else but his Mountie would have made him wonder if he'd just been snowed.
        "Wonderful!  Wonderful, yes."  Fraser hummed softly to himself as he reached in his back pocket and pulled out his Swiss army knife.
        "Uh, Fraser...?"
        "Wonderful, wonderful..." Fraser continued to say.  He popped open a large, rather wicked looking blade in a motion almost sinister, and he leaned toward Ray.  "Now just hold still," he said, extending the knife just a little bit too close for comfort.
        "Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," Ray blurted.  "Get that thing away from me, what are you--  What are you doing?"  Because Fraser had laid the knife handle delicately on top of Ray's stomach and turned away to pick up something from the floor out of Ray's line of sight.  Ray stared wildly between Fraser and the knife balanced on his bare skin.  "Uh... uh, Frase?  I might be, you know, having second thoughts about this now."
        Humming again, Fraser reappeared with a large-- What was that?  A cake?  Yes, a cake, and placed it next to Ray on the bed.  He picked up the knife and cut a delicate piece from the large confectionary.  "Hold still, Ray.  I want to do this right," he cautioned, before proceeding to smear the piece of cake evenly on top of Ray's chest.  Which really would have been strange in itself (food fantasies not being that high on Ray's list -- or Fraser's, as far as he knew) even without the sharp edge to the knife playing havoc on his nerves and Ray's suspicions that the song Fraser was humming bore some resemblance to the theme of a bad slash-hack film he'd seen as a teenager.
        But hey, okay, Fraser was, contrary to what some of his actions might imply, a properly sane individual with quite a bit of common sense and -- whoa! watch where that knife's going! -- fine motor skills.  Certainly, Ray had never had cause to doubt him before.  Well, okay, not much anyway.  And Fraser would never hurt him.  He was sure of that.  Pretty sure.  Mostly sure.  Even if he was humming weird songs and being entirely too... cheery this morning.
        Ray held his breath, watching the gradual growth of his sticky overcoat, half busting to ask Fraser if he'd eaten anything funny for breakfast and half afraid to throw off his lover's obvious concentration.
        Finally, Fraser sat back and regarded Ray with an analytical tilt of his head.  Ray was now covered from shoulders to elbows to mid-thigh with a half-inch-high layer of cake.  Fraser nodded, seeming satisfied, and grinned widely in that alarming way he'd been sporting all morning.  "All done, Ray!" he announced.
        "Uh, that's great, Frase.  Really," Ray said, squirming a bit.  He tried to think of something properly encouraging to say and failed.  Maybe he'd find this a little more exciting if Fraser didn't keep grinning and humming to himself like he was freakin high on something.
        "It's carrot cake, you know," Fraser said, laying his thumb aside his nose in a conspiratorial manner.  Ray smiled weakly back but secretly he was wishing to hell he knew what they were conspiring at.
        "Carrot?" he repeated gamely.
        "Yes, carrot," Fraser said, nodding, again in that hushed, confederate way.
        "Uh, okay, so... now what?" Ray prompted.  Fraser grinned as if he had just said something truly brilliant.
        "Now comes the good part," he announced, collecting plate and knife and swooping them off to the side table with a vast show of energy.  He stood, making as if to leave.  "Are you ready?" he asked.
        Ready?  What on Earth for?  Whatever you do, Frase, don't you dare leave me here like this, he thought.  He felt like one of those kids in that one fairy tale that were turned into gingerbread people by a witch.  Although the good news was, he supposed, that it would take a while for him to starve seeing as he could reach quite a bit of himself and his edible coating if he were to draw his legs up...
        "Ray, really, you must participate a bit more."  Ray's eyes snapped to the half-exasperated, half-irritated face of his lover.  "You can't expect me to do all this without any form of encouragement on your side whatsoever.  I mean, dear God, do you think it was easy to set this up--"
        "Okay, okay, sorry, go ahead."
        "--just so you could lay there and stare at me like you have no idea what we're doing here.  And--"
        "I said, okay!"
        "--honestly, it was quite a bit more work than I realized and I would appreciate a bit of, well, appreciation for my efforts seeing as this was your idea in the first place."
        "I said I'm ready, okay?  Jesus, just do it already!" Ray shouted, before rewinding what Fraser had just said and thinking, What? This is my idea?  But it was already too late for that because Fraser, after that speech of his, would undoubtedly not be happy to answer questions at this point, and more importantly, he was already walking away again, presumably intent on doing whatever it was Ray had allegedly at some point proposed he do.
        What the frick is going on here? he groaned to himself, just before giving himself whiplash as he craned around to stare at the closet door through which his lover had just disappeared.  "Fraser?" he called, incredulity and suspicion of a practical joke heavy on his mind.  Fraser had a mean poker face and a heavy streak of sarcasm that most people wouldn't expect, to look at him.  He tried to think if he had done anything recently that was bad enough for Fraser to want payback.
        Fraser poked his head out.  "What?" he asked.
        "I, uh..."  Ray trailed off at Fraser's slightly irritated look.  He certainly didn't look like he was trying anything.  And hell, who would go to this amount of trouble for a joke?  "Uh, thanks...?" he finished.  It was a lame save, but the immediate reappearance of the happy-on-crack Fraser seemed encouraging.  Maybe.
        "You're very welcome, Ray," he returned, and started humming "I Feel Good" with oddly moose-like sound effects in place of the guitar riffs as he retreated into the closet and slid the door shut.  Which would be really rather cute if his maniacal smile hadn't set Ray's teeth on edge.
        Something was definitely strange here.  Ray flopped his head back, staring at the cabin ceiling to help him think.
        Carrot cake.  Closet.
        Closet.  Carrot cake.
        For some strange reason, that seemed to ring a bell in Ray's head.  Something in his retired-but-not-dead detective's brain was clacking away.  He pulled absently at the strips of rawhide that bound his wrists to the headboard as he wracked his brains for that one clue he was missing.
        Carrot.  Cake.  Closet.
        And then he got it.  Iowa.  Davenport!  *"I'm willing to engage at whatever level you feel comfortable."*  And his jaw dropped open in horror as he swiveled strained neck muscles towards the closet door--
        --just as a giant pink and white bunny with drunkenly flopping ears leaped out of it and yelled, "Here I come, Ray!" and bounced towards him with a maniacally grinning Fraser beaming out of where the mouth was.
        "Oh my God!" Ray yelled, cringing away from the garish polyester leporine.
        "Oh, I know this must be exciting for you, Ray.  Just imagine, one of your first fantasies of us come to life!"
        "You freak!  Oh fuck, I married a freak!"
        "Now, now, don't get too excited.  I haven't started with the licking yet."
        "You really are from Mars!  Get away from me!"
        "Nice and slow, I remember you said."
        "It was a freakin joke, you moron!  I can't believe--"
        "No, no, Ray, it's quite all right.  I understand that everyone has these repressed urges inside of them, things they feel are wrong, socially unacceptable."
        "Shut up, shut up, shut up.  You win, okay?  You win."
        "I've done quite a bit of reading about it, you know.  Please don't feel embarrassed with me, Ray.  Because--"
        "I'm not joking here, Fraser.  Quit it."
        "Because I'm really finding this amazingly arousing myself."
        Ray's eyes felt like they were going to fall out of his head.  "Okay, Fraser.  You're scaring me now," he said.  "This stops right now," he demanded, giving a pointed tug at his bonds.  "This is it.  I am officially off the wagon.  Let me off this ride."
        And Fraser froze at the edge of the bed, the crestfallen look on his face so heartbreaking that Ray almost was tempted to let him go ahead after all.  But... really, no way was he going to let himself be fucked by a giant rabbit.  "No," he said firmly.
        "Well, all right then," Fraser sighed.  He reached out, untying Ray easily enough in spite of his fur-covered hands.  "I suppose we could just try one of the others," he said, drawing off the head of his bunny costume and making his way dejectedly back towards the closet.
        Ray massaged his wrists, feeling vaguely like a heel, because Fraser must've gone through a lot of effort, it was true.  But really, thank God that was the end of that.  Back to regular vanilla screwing for a while, please.  Thank you very much.  What idiot ever decided you needed role-playing, anyway?  Some idiot with no skills, that's who.  And let me tell you, Ray Kowalski had skills like you would never believe.  He could take your regular roll in the hay and make you see fuckin' stars.  Ray Kowalski did not need no stinking role-playing here.
        Waitaminute.  Others...?
        "Fraser!"

))((

        Fraser started at the sound of his own name, almost spilling the hot water he was pouring into a tea kettle to steep for consumption with his breakfast.  He glanced instinctively toward the corner where Diefenbaker lay, gnawing on the remnants of a caribou leg bone -- his share of their kill from yesterday (if you didn't count the leftover stew that he'd quite cleverly talked Fraser out of after dinner).  Except, of course, however eloquent Diefenbaker was capable of being, actual enunciation of human speech was just a bit beyond his distinctly lupine/canine oral mechanisms.  Which only left...
        Fraser found his gaze softening as he turned his eyes onto his sleeping lover.  Ray, despite his mumbled ejaculation, was still clearly ensconced in slumber.  Ordinarily, they got up and did the morning chores together, but today being a special day, Fraser had let him sleep in while he'd fed the dogs and brought in the day's fuel and supplies alone.  If Ray's quickened breathing and slight twitches now were any indication, however, he was about to wake soon.  Smiling, Fraser set down the pot of hot water and padded softly to slide to a seat beside his lover's sleep-warm body.  Reaching out to stroke Ray's hair, he considered taking the day off to lounge in bed together.
        Without warning, Ray's eyes snapped open, and he seized Fraser's arms and flung him brutally onto the center of the bed, pinning him down by the wrists and the weight of his own body.  This would normally be a not unwelcome occurrence, except that Ray's contorted look of panicked rage was clearly devoid of the lust that customarily accompanied such actions.
        "Ray!" Fraser gasped, holding absolutely still and non-threatening, wondering what had induced his partner to attack him so savagely.  "It's me!  Benton!"
        The grip on his wrists, instead of relaxing, increased in strength.
        "Fraser, you rotten stinking bastard!  You crazy nut!"
        "What?"
        "I thought those sharks were going to eat me!  And where the hell did you get those bulls from?  We're in freakin Canada here!"
        "Yes, I've noticed that, Ray."
        "And since when does Jaws count as an 'exotic fish', anyway?  I meant, like, angelfish and clownfish and those plant things that sting you.  Sea enamel-y or something."
        "Anemone?"
        "Yeah, that!  Not sharks!"
        "I see."
        "Or bulls."
        "Ah."
        "And what the hell's up with the knife and the tying up?  I never asked for the knife and the tying up.  I know I never asked for that."
        "All right."
        "And I don't want to be a puppet, Fraser.  I swear!"
        "Okay."
        "And I don't want to have sex with the Chinese!"
        "Of course."
        "Or with bullfighters or ovens or--"
        "Ray, I don't--"
        "--puppets or fish or--"
        "--understand a word of--"
        "--with goddamn fucking demented pink and white--"
        "Ray!"
        Deciding enough was enough, Fraser twisted and, with a quick combination of push and pull, managed to flip his worked up lover around to reverse their positions.  He looked down into Ray's face, which was rapidly recovering from surprise at the switch and working back into anger.  His hot fast pulse beat inside the circles of Fraser's hands.
        "What exactly are you trying to tell me, Ray?" he asked calmly.
        Ray looked for a moment like he might explode again.  But then he lay back in a humph and raised his stubbled chin in a familiar gesture that was half humor and half abashed defiance.
        "Like I was saying.  I don't want to have sex with no goddam fucking demented pink and white rabbits.  I just want to have sex with you."
        And even though Fraser had absolutely no idea what else was going through Ray's head at the moment, he couldn't help but understand this convoluted endearment for what it was, for it was written all over Ray's expressive face.  So he bent his head down and teased a gentle kiss over his lover's lips, feeling Ray stiffen, then fall open in what seemed oddly like relief.  Just as Ray started to return the gesture in earnest, however, Fraser pulled back, keeping a firm hold on his captive to prevent Ray from following him upwards.  He smiled down at the frustrated scowl there.
        "Happy anniversary, Ray," he said, before getting back to this morning's business with gusto.

*
We spend most of the day in bed, making love. In between bouts, Ray holds me close, stroking my hair and making fun of me.

"Yeah, and you gotta wear the bullfighter uniform, Fraser. With the cape and the whole thing--cause I'm real comfortable with capes."

"Okay, so what I really want is to be smeared with carrot cake. And then you jump out of the closet. Dressed like a bunny--what, you can't* engage that? And then you lick it all off me real slow and--hey, are you mocking my needs*, here?"

"I've decided what I need this to be. A puppet show. I really need this to be a puppet show, Fraser--"

"Oh, shut up," I say finally.

"A toaster oven. No, like an aquarium, with a little treasure chest on the bottom and a lot of exotic fish. I'll be a carp. No, wait, I've really got it this time--I need our relationship to be like the Security Council of the United Nations. Where are the Chinese?"

Fortunately, by the end of the day, Ray is pretty much out of smart remarks. He's reduced to saying, "Hey--engage* this*!" at appropriate intervals, and generally, I do. *

(from "A Moment of Insight", by Speranza)

End Good Morning by Kuonji: kuonji14@gmail.com

Author and story notes above.