Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/ladyanasslashsite/

Disclaimer: Copyright to Alliance.

Author's Notes: I once had a guy do this to me and after I was scraped off the floor, I thought of how nice it would be if it happened to our boys! I wrote this circa 8/2002. (Hmmm, I hope I have improved in my writing since then! :::giggle:::)

Story Notes: I can't keep track of all the spoilers I use!

"Lotion"
by LadyAna

~~"To hurry implies wishing to be elsewhere."~~

HonkHonk!

"Benny! What has you so wound up?!"

The detective placed his hands on his hips while awaiting his answer. The movement revealed the dark forest green suit that he wore under his coat, making the lapels crinkle at the middle.

"What? You mean me, Ray? I'm fine."

Despite his plea that everything was in the norm, the Mountie continued to rush around the room in a hurry, doing his best impression of a chicken sans head. Although his movements could not truly be considered frantic, he was moving as fast as humanly possible. He methodically busied himself with shaving, dressing and tying his lanyard at record speed. The Italian was surprised to not hear the wind swish around him as the Mountie darted by to retrieve a comb. The entire scene was disturbing enough, but Ray had to admit watching Benny rake that straight razor over his face like a feather was extremely unnerving.

The Detective was aware this evening was important to his friend, even though he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why. It was his duty to escort the Inspector to a diplomatic function in a great attempt to once again show the other party goers that all Canadians were just as wonderful and attractive as this Mountie could be. Ray snorted at how Thatcher treated his partner. He was little more to her than an errand boy and the object of a perfectly useless infatuation. And great arm candy for night's like tonight. It tore Ray apart just seeing this man, who was so noble, so good - and the Italian's best friend - being in a near panic for that bitch. Vecchio's eyes nearly left their sockets upon witnessing Fraser lace up his boots as if he were the Bionic Man with two mechanical arms.

"Benny, calm down before I faint just watching you!"

"I'm sorry, Ray." Fraser apologized. His voice was wavering slightly from his polishing his boots for the tenth time while they were still on his feet. "It's just the Inspector is waiting for me in the Consulate car downstairs and I am running a tad late."

Honk, Honk!

"So I hear!" Ray retorted.

It was Meg, impatiently sounding the horn on the Consulate car, three stories below. The ridiculous image came to him of her stuffed into some tight dress, leaning over the front seat to slap the horn on the steering wheel. Especially since the woman was perfectly capable of driving herself, but that's what tonight was all about now, was it? Finally, the Canadian's words fully filtered through to the Detective. "You? You're late?! How on Earth did that happen?"

"Well, as I explained rather hastily on the way here, Constable Turnbull was helping out in the kitchen, preparing the menu for tonight's guests when there was a mishap in the kitchen."

"Oh yeah, you did mention that. The noodle incident." Ray recalled while grimacing.

Honk, Honk!

"Yes, well, I had to retrieve my other uniform from here and prepare myself for tonight. The problem being the Inspector was expecting to arrive at eight post meridian and that will not happen, I'm afraid. Unless I hurry."

Benny stopped, his face draining of blood, but it was quickly replaced by one of relief. He all but launched himself at his closet.

"What now?!" Ray pleaded, almost as exasperated as his partner at seeing the man so distraught at a simple party and that woman's opinion.

"It's okay, Ray." came the muffled reply from inside the closet. "I used my Stetson to put out the fire at the Consulate earlier, but I have a backup."

"A backup?! You call your other hat a backup?! Fraser, I call this a backup, not one of my ties."

The Mountie ducked his now hat-clad head out long enough to see Ray lift a dark green Armani pant leg, revealing the gun strapped to his ankle. He knew if he responded to Ray's comment it would take way too much time and he had to leave now!

"Please, Ray. Hand me that bottle of lotion off the dresser."

It was a duel request. One not spoken, but implied. One that silently stated he appreciated Ray's concern, that he knew he shouldn't be so worked up over an occasion meant to bring enjoyment and would Ray please hand him the bottle so that he could do his job, as much nonsense as it was? Ray studied his fraught friend momentarily and did what he always did. He gave in.

Honk, Honk!

"Sure Benny."

Silence descended on the two men. The Canadian began to deposit a small dollop into his palm. It was at that exact moment Inspector Thatcher's temper went nuclear.

HONK, HONKKKK!!!!

The pressure on the bottle jumped tenfold, squirting a huge glob into his palm. He gaped at the copious amount for a fraction of a second, then began rubbing it frantically all over his hands.

"What's with the peachy stuff?" Ray inquired with a wave towards the bottle.

Fraser held up his hands like a surgeon. To his dismay, they were coated with a thick white film.

"Ah, well, the cream is a necessity, I'm afraid. It seems my hands are quite dry from years of working in the Territories and when I greet guests tonight, it is imperative my skin be soft-"

"What?!" Ray interrupted, his hands flying up and around. "That crazy woman is making you use this stuff because you did you job, your real job up north?! That's nuts! Besides, what difference does it make if you're going to wear those little white gloves?"

Honk, Honk!!

Fraser let his eyes flit quickly around the apartment to find something to wipe his hands. The kitchen towel was ideal, but probably smelled of food and dishwater. He looked over at Dief, who's golden eyes threatened Fraser to not even consider his white fur(as if he truly would). He had to remember what Ray had said to him, then think of a response. His heart was pounding and he was beginning to sweat.

"Uh, well, yes, I will wear them, Ray, but not when I'm serving the drinks."

"Bartender!? They have you playing bartender?! I don't believe this! Benny, when are you going to stand up for yourself?!"

The next thing Fraser knew was Ray was before him demanding something, as usual, in his typical loud fashion, the Italian's hands more expressive than ever. Seeing a way out, the Mountie grabbed was what in front of him, which happened to be Ray, and began distributing the excessive stickiness onto Ray's hands. All the Detective could do was gape.

"Benny! What the Hell are you doing?!"

"I'm sorry, Ray." Fraser said, letting his fingers interlace and release Rays repeatedly. "I must leave, but I had on too much...and you...were...right there..."

The Mountie's voice trailed off, the full impact of the situation washing over him. Strong capable digits that once touched the purest snow caressed soft city hands, making the lightly greasy concoction soak into warm, ethnic skin. And was Ray allowing it, letting it happen. That simple knowledge added to the spice of the moment, feeding the spark he'd created in this simple, most basic act. It was highly, undeniably erotic.

Smoothly up, over the tanned back, through the web of the index, slide around the ring finger, gently gripping fleshy pads and ending up at the thumb. He had to ask, as much as he did not want to, as much as it seemed mutual. His river blue eyes floated closed, reveling in the forbidden, the lustful sounds of the peach extract echoing in the bare room, the olfactory senses reeling, the completely unexpected arousal that made the blood roar in his ears and the pulling, draining flush in his groin. Their eyes met, the blue sea locking with the green ocean on fire. It made his hardness twitch, his soul shuddering.

"Am I offending you?" he croaked out. "Do you want me to stop?"

Ray's face was deadly serious, save for the lusty stew of emotions in his eyes.

"No." It was the most demure acquiescence Fraser had ever heard. "Here..let me."

Vecchio asserted himself in the thrilling, perverse application, raising his hands so that just their fingertips were touching, the only barrier the concentrated liquid. He dipped up over to the backs of Fraser's hands, then encased them in his nervous, sweaty palms, the cream caking under their nails. He started a milking, a pumping that was rhythmic and slow, the slick oozing spurring them on.

Both men, in awe of the sinful carnal sensation, traced faint scars, laced with mild curiosity to their origin, and calluses were given extra attention to erase their roughness and, of course, the cause of all this. Alternating, pliant, loosely their hands intertwined, stroking one another's simultaneously. Shocking jolts of excitement coursed throughout Fraser's body and he had to fight to keep himself calm. It was better than pure maple syrup. The slightest moan escaped his lips and he froze.

He opened his eyes to see his best friend smiling knowingly, the ultimately sexy massage slowing only a tad. Ray was also ravaged by the luscious act, shivering, breathing hard and restraining the urge to stop - or go further. Vecchio stroked his partner, clutched at the over-sensitized area, tightened and forcibly splaying the fingers. The thick richness reminded Fraser of something else white and sticky. Another groan.

"You like that?" Ray whispered.

It was futile to refuse, to lie so boldly. It was his duty to be honest, to be honorable in his words and deeds, to uphold all that was noble and right. He smiled decadently at the twin indulgence, to be so correct and proper and so fucking lascivious all at once. Fraser was never so exuberant to tell the truth in all his life.

"Yes." he growled, the tone a telltale one. Not a threat, but a promise of things to come.

Ray was unfazed. It was more like motivated, encouraged.

"I'm glad." he stated, his own features foretelling the future, of the plans that would forever include the Mountie.

Fraser leaned in, his erection painfully pressing against the material of the jodhpurs, but he didn't care. It was matching, mirroring the hardness of his counterpart. Ray met him half way, their lips lightly, briefly meeting. Their hands, now glistening, held each other tight.

"May I see you later tonight?" Fraser inquired.

"Of course." Ray responded.

"I must leave."

"I know."

All former urgency was gone, having been replaced by a new need, another form of desperation. The both of them would now endure the opposite torture. He would plead for time to pass quickly, instead of praying for it to halt. The Mountie left his partner at the apartment, knowing he would be there when he got back. He obtained his little white cloth gloves and headed for the door, completely oblivious to the sound of the shrieking horn three flights down. END

End "Lotion" by LadyAna: LadyAna5@aol.com

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