Author's Notes: Thanks to fromward for beta-help and to tx_tart and __fallen for audiencing!

Story Notes: Written for svmadelyn's fabulous Multi-fandom Kink and Cliche Challenge, with the prompts: Kink: biting to leave marks; Cliche: Undercover Lover.

Ray leaned in close to the mirror and drew the eyeliner over the rim of his left eyelid. Music thrummed through the wall from the living room, and he cracked a grin. "I can't believe we're doing this."

"Ray--"

"No, Frase. I did this on vice a couple of times, it's no biggie. I just never imagined having to go out like this with you."

"Oh," Fraser answered after a slight hesitation.

Ray stopped. "Aw shit, you know I didn't mean it like that."

"No, it's all right, Ray," he said in a short, clipped voice. "I quite understand." Ray sighed. Fraser didn't get it at all.

But did it matter? It was already ten thirty and they were crammed into Ray's tiny bathroom, getting ready to head down to the club where their boy was dancing tonight. Ray had bought Fraser a new shirt for the occasion. Navy blue, long-sleeved, understated, but it fit him so well, it worked. Did damned fine things for his shoulders and chest, too. He'd rubbed some gel into Fraser's hair, too, half-joking, but not really. He looked good. Really good.

Not that he'd say so. At the beginning, middle, and end of the day, they were partners. It didn't matter if Fraser found him attractive. It didn't matter if Ray'd had a hard-on for him for over a year now. It didn't matter if it had been buddy-breathing or a kiss or something in between. They'd drilled it into them hard: You did not fraternize with a partner, no matter how much you might want to. 'Course they'd been talking about men partnered with women, and sexual harassment suits had been the main point of the lectures, but still.

"We're going to be late, Ray," Fraser said. Ray could see him in the mirror behind him, leaning against the wall, watching.

"Uh-huh." Ray finished with his eyeliner. Kid had said the crowd ran the gamut, but he still worried about looking his age. He wasn't twenty anymore.

"You look fine," Fraser said quietly.

Ray snorted softly and said, "Yeah, whatever. I look old."

That got him a frown. "Do I look old?" Fraser stepped away from the wall, was standing right behind Ray, studying their paired reflections in the mirror. Fraser was more gorgeous than ever, his dark hair all disheveled, and the knit shirt was tight enough to show just how cut his chest and arms were. Next to him, Ray was a mess of blond spikes and black eyeliner. Maybe he should change shirts--the black was kind of stark. Still, he liked the look of the two of them framed in the mirror together.

Ray swallowed and shook his head. Fraser didn't look old, no way. And just because he didn't let himself, didn't mean he didn't, uh, entertain certain fantasies.

Fraser smiled and brushed an invisible piece of lint from Ray's shoulder. "Black suits you," he murmured.

"Uh, thanks," he answered, trying not to blush, and then he stopped. He got serious, nodding sharply in reply. "Yeah, it's good to get into character first. It's good."

"I agree, Ray," Fraser said after a short pause.

"So, the plan. What's our plan here?"

Fraser frowned. "It's only surveillance. We only have to watch and wait for Alderman Lopez's nephew's stalker to appear. And apprehend him, of course, if he's foolish enough to do so."

"Frase."

"What?"

"You think you have it bad with women flinging themselves at you, you got no idea what it's going to be like if these guys think you're out to get laid. No idea."

Fraser pursed his lips and took a couple of steps back, propping himself in the open doorway. "You realize, Ray, that I am a grown man?"

"Aw, jeez." Ray wheeled on him. "Fraser! You don't--"

Fraser raised his hands, trademark stubborn look in his eye. "I think I can handle it."

Ray sighed. Mountie wanted to get himself in hot water? And how was that different from any other day of the week? One day he'd learn not to be surprised. One day.




*

The drive was quiet. Ray punched listlessly at the radio dial, trying to get into the mood, but nothing fit. He felt like Joe Strummer, not this techno shit. But the job was the job, and tonight they had to be on the ball. Creepy anonymous emails had escalated to creepy anonymous phone calls to creepy threatening phone calls and notes in the kid's university mailbox until Maria Rodriguez, Alderman Tony Lopez's divorced younger sister, had gotten the whole story out of her twenty-year-old son and called her brother for help. Tony, of course, had called a certain high-level friend at CPD, and now, here they were, assigned to spend the next three to five hours staking out a go-go dancer in a gay dance club. With, as Welsh put it, utmost discretion.

It was, Ray mused, all part of life at the two-seven, since nothing like this ever went down back at the one-nine. And this time, it wasn't even the Mountie's fault.




*

The bass pounded and multicolored lights swirled and flashed over the dancers. Light panels glowed on the walls, abstract neon flickered. Everything--walls, ceiling, floor--everything but the gold-sparkled bar was painted black. Even the tables and chairs were black.

Antonio was up on his high, red-lit platform, shaking his round, vinyl-covered ass some eight feet above the dance floor. Other than the hotpants, he wore only a rolled bandana tied around his throat. That was the signal they'd arranged. If anyone creepy got to him before they spotted him, he'd take off the bandana and make as big a scene as he could. Not much else they could do, but there wasn't much else they could do in a place like this.

Fraser'd already chatted up the bouncers. Ray had covered the bar staff and management. Fraser was supposed to be working the other dancers as they took their breaks, but mostly he was fighting off an army of horny guys. Occasionally the two of them made eye contact across the dance floor. Last time, Ray winked at him over the rim of his tonic and lime. Fraser's eyes flashed and he got his stubborn look back on his face. It was cute.

Now Ray was dancing again. It felt good, it felt great. He'd missed this, just moving his body in a sea of other bodies and getting lost in the rhythm. His shirt hung open, dripping. The whole place smelled of musk and smoke and sweat, except for the john, which smelled of piss and vomit, just like any men's room in any bar anywhere.

It was hard to get used to at first, feeling hands on him, guys dancing up behind him. But he was with the program: if he pushed back, let them grind, then it was an invitation maybe to do more. It was happening all around him. Some hooking up, some not. Ray was okay with just dancing, though. He had a go-go boy to keep an eye on. Not to mention Fraser.




*

Friday turned out to be a wash. Sort of.

Ray'd been propositioned more times than he could count, which did great things for his ego until he stopped to think about how many of the guys had been rolling on E and nuzzling anything and everything with a pulse. Not even close to his scene, not really--not that he had much of a scene these days--but the contact was nice.

Fraser hadn't had it much better. Probably worse, since he wasn't comfortable on the dance floor. He'd finally loosened up some after a couple of hours of watching. Some of the guys out there were really crappy dancers. Ray'd pointed some out, made fun of them a little, and then choked on his surprise when Fraser'd grabbed him and yanked him toward the back.

The back corridor was dim and dank and full of guys making out. The PA was right next to the entrance to the hallway, so it was too loud to hear anything. All anyone could do was feel.

And then Fraser was close up in his personal space, hands on his ribs, and Fraser's mouth was against his ear, saying, low and urgent, "Teach me. Here, now," and he did a little hip roll that just brushed against the front of Ray's pants.

And it took Ray's breath away, but at the same time, on some level, Ray got it. Some things you could only do in the moment, in the right setting, and no way could Fraser let himself go enough to dance in Ray's living room, but fuck, he sure was getting the idea here.

"Teach me," Fraser mouthed, eyes full of something Ray had spent ages not letting himself think about.

The beat of the house music pulsed in Ray's belly and his toes and his cock, and Fraser was crowding him, swaying with the incessant thump of the bass. Ray lifted his arms over his head and met his hip roll, pushed him back a little so he could move his feet, and put a little shoulder into it along with his hips.

"Feel that?" Ray said after a few moments, lips right against Fraser's skin.

"God, Ray." Ray more felt the words than heard them, and then Fraser was pushing his whole body forward, was grinding into him, was cupping the back of Ray's head and was kissing him. Hard. Hot. Like the bulge in his jeans. And it was good, really fucking good, but fuck. Antonio. They were on a case. And this was his partner. And they were on a case. Even if a bouncer was supposed to be keeping his eye on him, too.

And Fraser's eyes, when he pulled away, were black with lust. It was nuts. It was gorgeous. But it wasn't something they could deal with now, and watching Fraser come back to reality was the worst feeling Ray'd had in a long, long time. That light going out, those walls coming back up. And Ray put his hand over Fraser's mouth and shouted into his ear, "If you fucking apologize I will pop you right here." He pulled away and waited for Fraser's nod. It took a second, but it came. Then Ray nodded back, adjusted his dick in his pants, and jerked his chin back toward the dance floor.

They went.




*

It was half past four. They'd delivered Antonio safely home, half-scared, half-relieved. In his last message, the stalker had said he'd be there this weekend, watching him shake his pretty ass for the fags. Lucky for them, Antonio only danced Fridays and Saturdays.

"Come home with me," Ray said, pulling away from the curb.

"Ray..." Fraser was doing the shy thing, and really, he wasn't surprised. "I was out of line."

"No way, Frase. Don't do this. Didn't I say I wasn't going to let you do this?"

"We might have endangered the boy's life, Ray!"

"A couple of minutes of dancing didn't endanger anything." Fraser swallowed and stared out the window, which, yeah. He knew that look. But it was a momentary slip. It wasn't the end of the world.

"Look, you've got to get some sleep," Ray pressed. "We've got to do this all again tomorrow. I mean tonight, I guess. And we both know you're not going to get to sleep any at the Consulate." There. Logic. Defeat that, Mountie.

Fraser sighed.

"Tell me I'm right." Ray shot him a grin and turned left at the light, toward home.

A weak smile touched Fraser's lips. "You're right, Ray."

"You can have the couch. There's practically a Fraser-shaped dent in it already."

"I don't mean to impose--"

"Don't make me hit you."

"Understood, Ray."




*

Ray slept until one thirty, when the smell of coffee lulled him out of dreams full of half-naked dancing boys. Men. Guys. With guy smells and guy angles and guy hardness. And then there was a wolf muzzle shoved in his face as Fraser knocked on his half-open door.

"Coffee," Fraser said, setting it on the chest of drawers just inside the door before escaping back into the hallway. "Dief! Let Ray get dressed."

Dief whined and Ray scratched his ears, laughing sleepily. "He's okay. Besides, I don't think he can read your lips from all the way out there, Frase."

The wolf at least was a decent cure for his morning hard-on.




*

They didn't say anything else about it. Ray kept waiting for a good time and Fraser kept babbling about proposed changes in the requirements for enlisting in the RCMP, which was apparently causing some sort of stir somewhere in the Great White North, so Ray let him blather on.

But he bought him dinner after they'd turned Dief over to Turnbull.

Fraser protested when, on impulse, Ray grabbed the check. It wasn't his turn, after all. But Ray just smiled and said, "I got it."

Fraser blinked once, looked down, and looked back up a moment later, and said, "All right," so softly that it was almost a whisper.




*

"So tonight, you want we should keep the same plan or you wanna shake things up a little?"

"Shake things up how?" Fraser asked. They were getting ready again. Eyeliner, gel, brown pants and a funky green-gold acetate shirt Ray'd seen in a window once and went back for later. Fraser was in jeans and a tight, faded red t-shirt that he kept tugging at. It was actually one of Ray's old ones, but Ray hadn't told him that.

"Well, how were you with peeling guys off you all night last night?"

Fraser shrugged, blushing a little. "I'm sure it could've been worse."

"Here, sit down," Ray said, pointing at the closed toilet seat. He squeezed a little hair gel into his palm and rubbed it through Fraser's hair. It wasn't really long enough for spikes, but it held the mussed, just-fucked look really well.

"Hang on," Ray said, "close your eyes." He smudged the eyeliner quickly over Fraser's eyes.

"I know how to do it, Ray."

"Mm-hmm, sure you do. Humor me, okay?"

"As you wish."

"Look up." Fraser obeyed, blue eyes stark, trusting, against the black kohl, and Ray bit his tongue, willing the tightness in his groin to go away, and finished touching up the corners of Fraser's eyes. There. God, good enough to eat.

And he wasn't doing this. He wasn't doing this. He was just torturing himself. Maybe even torturing Fraser, too, which was just wrong, but he couldn't help it. It was the case, the club, the fucking dancing and sweat and smell of all those guys on the make. "I'm just saying, maybe tonight we could..." Ray trailed off, feeling dumb. This wasn't a conversation they should be having with Fraser sitting on his toilet with Ray doing his makeup. And damn it, doing this, especially on the job...this was going to get them in a world of trouble, unless...

"We could what?" Fraser asked.

"Never mind." Ray went back to the sink to clean the smudged eyeliner off his fingers.

"You said you wanted to shake things up. How, Ray?" Fraser was on his feet, but not crowding him this time. Not like last night, when he'd been openly flirting. Getting into character. Maybe. At first. Except that was before the kiss.

Ray swallowed hard, and then mumbled at the mirror, "You have any idea how we drew this gig, Frase?"

Fraser knit his brows. "I hadn't presumed there was any subtextual--" He stopped. "No, I'm afraid I didn't give it any thought."

"Well, I have, and either Welsh has a sicker sense of humor than usual, or he thinks we're...or I'm the only jackass--"

"Or he knew someone of your exceptional skill at undercover work would do a fine job on this particular case."

Ray snorted and shot back in a harsh voice, "You really put a spin on things, you know that?"

"I know what I believe, Ray."

And now he was close, hand on his shoulder, and Ray let out a long, slow breath under the touch. This was too much, too confusing. They were going to work here, not...out.

"Last night worked out okay, right?" Ray said. "But we spend too much time together, we blow our cover, guys wonder why we're sticking around instead of, uh, getting a room or whatever. It's a place to hook up, you know? Not to hang out for five hours."

"Yes," Fraser said and squeezed his shoulder. "You're quite right."

"Good," Ray said. "Okay, that's good."

"Good," Fraser agreed, and let go.




*

Saturday was a different sort of crowd. A wider mix of people and flat-out more of them. There were even a few women, some together and others clearly only there to dance without being hit on. With so many people, it was harder to watch both Antonio and the crowd, so it was good they hadn't changed the plan. Thank god Ray hadn't let himself suggest that they go as a couple, as if they were on a date or something. He wouldn't been able to pay attention to anything, case or no case.

He was managing, barely. It was good the crowd was so thick. It helped keep his mind occupied. God knows why he'd thought it would be a good idea to stick Fraser in one of his own shirts, except he'd wanted to see it on him, all tight across the chest and biceps, the red so faded it was almost pink. Like Fraser's mouth.

At least it made him easy to find across the dance floor.

Antonio was on the same platform tonight. Black vinyl hotpants again, barefoot, otherwise naked except for the bandana. He was an attractive enough guy. Black sheep of the family, supposedly, if you believed Lopez. The alderman had spouted a bunch of BS about supporting the queer community and all, but Ray'd heard him yelling at his sister and her yelling right back that her boy could do whatever he damned well chose to with his life and it wasn't his fault if somebody took an unhealthy interest in him. Woman had spunk, that was for sure.

Ray let himself dance. It helped him not think about Fraser, since there were hot guys all around him, occasionally throwing themselves at him before they realized he wasn't biting. In another context, he might feel bad, but not tonight. Besides, it was still early yet, not even midnight, and dancing was fun. It was good to move his body, even if he was a little sore from dancing so much the night before. And this was so much better than stake-outs in the car, sprawled behind the steering wheel waiting for a perp to finally fucking move.

Odds were the guy wouldn't even show. Antonio didn't have a clue who it was. Lots of guys flirted with him. No enemies. No exes with grudges. The phone calls were all from random pay phones. The emails were from anonymous accounts and sent from crowded public libraries without security cameras. It could've been somebody's twisted idea of a joke. But it could also be real, so here they were. Him and Fraser.

Fraser, who'd come back from his latest round of the place and was dancing toward him now, something between a prowl and a grind, the tight shirt leaving nothing to the imagination. Ray turned sideways, putting half an arm's distance between himself and the skinny redhead (helluva mouth, but too young and way too glazed) behind him. And then Fraser was moving into Ray's space, putting his hands on his hips and moving him backwards, mouth open, breathing against his cheek.

Then there was a pillar at Ray's back and Fraser was right there, still pushing, and Ray couldn't speak, but Fraser's head dipped forward, his lips skimming Ray's cheek toward his right ear, nudging his face, and Ray caught sight of a tall guy in a white t-shirt leaning against the bar by Antonio's platform, strobes lighting him up like a beacon. His eyes were riveted on the boy.

"See him?" Fraser said against his ear, and as Ray watched, the guy tossed back his drink and moved away from the bar, toward Antonio's little tower.

"He's moving," Ray yelled, pushing Fraser off him. The guy was standing in front of Antonio now, standing still in a sea of movement, and Antonio was oblivious, still dancing, making hand signals across to the guy on the next dais. It was time for his break. That was bad. Ray weaved between dancers, still more than twenty feet away, too far to do anything. Then the song was changing, merging into something new, and Antonio shimmied to a stop, rubbed the sweat out of his eyes, and swung himself down to the gold-painted ladder on the side of the platform.

Ray dodged and pushed and cursed the guys too wasted to get out of his fucking way. Fraser followed close behind, but then cut around to the left, jumping up over the railing that edged the ramp to the bar to where there was a small aisle, a little open space. In mid-descent, Antonio turned his head at the commotion. Fraser was still too far away, but closing fast. Ray saw Antonio scream as he finally noticed the guy in the white t-shirt moving in. He fumbled at his neck with one hand, clawing off the bandana, and hurled it toward the end of the bar where the bouncer was stationed. It fell half-way as White T-shirt yanked Antonio down the last three feet of the ladder.

White T-shirt had a meaty grip around Antonio's upper arms when Fraser spun him around and shoved him hard into the steel support strut next to the ladder.

Fraser stuck his hand out for cuffs; Ray handed them over and read the guy his rights. Apparently the guy was a classmate, but one who always lurked in the back, not participating--Antonio didn't even know his name. But they'd got him, open and shut. Not a bad night, all things considered.




*

Still, it was almost four before they got out of the two-seven. With a huge yawn, Ray turned them toward the Consulate. Fraser didn't say anything until he pulled up in front of the door, but Ray cut him off as he opened his mouth. "Go get the wolf, okay?"

"Ray?"

"Or you could leave him, but this way you won't have to worry, or walk all the way back here for him in the morning."

Fraser looked at him for a moment, hair still mussed and eyeliner still smudged; then he nodded once and said, "Thank you, Ray."

Ray grinned despite himself. Like getting the wolf first was a big deal or something. Fraser smiled back, and then opened the door.




*

Dief acknowledged his water and turned his back on his food dish, curled up on the couch, and fell immediately asleep. Ray watched, shaking his head. Looked like the wolf had made his decision for him.

"I'm afraid I woke him," Fraser said, sounding amused.

"Yeah, well, he needs his beauty rest." Ray turned off the kitchen light and moved into Fraser's space. "We can't deprive him of that."

"I suppose not." Fraser turned, mouth half-open, but didn't say anything else.

Ray stepped closer, rubbed a hand down Fraser's arm, lingering at his elbow, trailing a finger slow down his forearm to his wrist. "Come on."

In the bedroom, Ray switched on the lamp and turned to Fraser. Closed the distance.

Fraser's eyes were everywhere. The bed, Ray's face, Ray's crotch, the closet. "Is this...?"

"Anything you want."

"Ray."

"Anything or nothing. You can even kick the wolf off the couch and sleep out there if you want." Ray took another step toward him and took Fraser's hand in his own, traced his fingertips over the palm. "Anything."

"You're sure? I mean I thought--but you didn't seem..." Fraser took his hand back and rubbed his eyebrow. "I don't understand what's changed, Ray."

He took a deep breath, shrugged, and smiled hopefully at Fraser. "We've been dancing around it a while now, you know," he said, and Fraser's eyes crinkled a little, relaxing a little, which was good so he went on. "When you kissed me last night, I realized something. I mean, we dance around and around it and then it's all of a sudden out in the open, and I realize, if we hadn't been on a case, partners or no, I woulda done something indecent with you right there."

Fraser blushed and Ray laid a finger on his lips before he could say a word.

"And I've been thinking. We can keep it on the down-low. It's private, right? What we do on our own time? And it's not like we have a regular by-the-book kind of partnership anyway." Ray rested his arms on Fraser's shoulders and looked him in the eye, waiting for him to protest. He didn't, and so Ray repeated, almost whispering, "Anything you want, Fraser. What do you want?"

Fraser opened his mouth and the look in his eyes was a little wild, a lot uncertain. Ray didn't look away, though. He wasn't going to give him an excuse. Finally Fraser whispered, "You."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Because I've been hard all night seeing you like this." Ray raked his fingers up Fraser's belly, over his chest, feeling Fraser's rough intake of breath under his hands. He petted downward, brushing the soft, no-longer-red cotton with his fingertips, feeling the firm muscle of Fraser's chest, nipples hard, heart pounding. And then he pushed up again, over Fraser's shoulders and down the backs of his arms, letting his calluses scrape a little, all the way to his palms.

It didn't take much. Ray had barely fluttered his eyelashes before Fraser had him pushed back against the bed, cradling Ray's head as he fell backwards. The kiss was as hard and desperate as before, Fraser's mouth just as hot, his tongue as needful as he licked into Ray's mouth, learning him by taste and texture, lips, teeth, tongue. It was contagious. It was amazing. Ray was scooting them back, pulling Fraser on top of him and lining them up, holding him close against him.

Finally Fraser pulled away, lips swollen and eyes dark. "I want to take your clothes off now."

Shuddering, Ray bucked against Fraser's body and started tugging at cloth.




*

So close to the edge, they both came fast--almost at first bare-skin contact. After that, Fraser set out to explore Ray's body, laying him out on the bed and tasting everything he could reach, making Ray squirm in ways he hadn't done in years. If ever.

"You taste good," Fraser murmured. He was licking Ray's ribs, just under his armpit, and Ray garbled something incoherent. He felt like he was going to explode.

Fraser licked and sucked his way down from Ray's throat to nipple to belly. Then he stopped in the crease at the top of his hip and sucked at the smooth, delicate skin. It was always more sensitive there, but this--fuck. Fraser was leaving marks. And ignoring his dick. Also ignoring Ray's chant of "Suck-me-suck-me-god-suck-me!"

Fraser moved to the other side and left a couple of more blood-bright hickeys.

"You're evil," Ray growled as Fraser batted his hand away from his dick.

"Mine," Fraser growled back, and all semblance of restraint was just fucking gone.

"Oh, fuck." So much for eyeliner. Fraser in this moment was far and away the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

"Up," Fraser said, rolling Ray's hips back and shoving a pillow underneath. Then his mouth went down, latched onto his perineum, tongue pressing, pressing. It was. It was--he was pretty sure he came, except there wasn't any mess. Fraser hummed with pleasure, making him vibrate at the very core. And then Fraser let go, turned his head, and bit. He was sucking, hard, right there at the skin just to the right of his ass. And then Fraser was doing the other side. Biting, sucking, biting. With that mouth. Fraser.

"Please," Ray whimpered. He didn't even know what he was asking for. Something. Fraser would know.

And then his mouth was there, right there, and Ray was howling and biting his own arm to stifle the noise and howling. Jesus god, Fraser's tongue, licking, circling, thrusting a little. In him. He was going to die.

And then Fraser's mouth was gone and Ray was hauling him up and kissing him wildly, like before. More than before. And then Fraser'd pushed himself up on his hands above him, was saying, "--ay-Ray, I need to ask. Can I--"

"Fuck me. You have to fuck me. Fuck me now, Fraser."

"Ray--"

"Drawer." He shot out an arm, scrabbling at the drawer of his nightstand.

Fraser stretched out and retrieved the bottle of lube and strip of condoms, worrying his lip as he tipped the bottle over his hand and pushed Ray's hips up.

"God, hurry," Ray said, pressing against Fraser's finger. "Yes, god, hurry."

And then Fraser was kissing him again, slow deep kisses as his fingers opened him, twisted, opened more.

"Please," Ray breathed. "Fuck, now."

"Almost there," Fraser said, soothing him, nipping at his lips before kissing him again, deep, promising with his mouth.

"God, more, Frase...I need you." And then Fraser was shifting back on his knees, ripping open the packet with his teeth and rolling the condom down. More lube. A last wriggle of fingers, and there. God, there.

"Ray." And pushed in.

Ray groaned, arching, and took a deep breath. He knew what to do, it had just been a while. A long while. After a moment he said, "Yeah, go. More."

And Fraser filled him. So deep, so full. "Yes," he moaned when he could feel Fraser's balls against his ass. "Yes, now."

And Fraser pulled back and started to move. Then there was nothing but sparkling lights and Fraser's blue-black eyes and the rhythm building, building between his ass and his cock, until his belly was wet and Fraser was pounding him hard and fast, faster. And then time went away, dilated, something, and Fraser was jerking and shuddering above him. In him.

And then collapsing on him.

It was a little while before Fraser released his death grip on Ray's body, and then Ray had him in his arms, held tight against his chest. Not letting go. No way was he letting go.

Fraser stirred after a few moments, blinking and looking dazed, and Ray met his mouth with a kiss. Gentle. Reassuring, he hoped. After all this--

"That was..."

"Yeah," Ray answered with a satisfied smile. "Absolutely."

Fraser disengaged slowly, eyes roving over Ray's body. "Are you okay?" Fraser ran a tentative hand over one of Ray's marked hips. "I hope I didn't hurt you," he said, voice kind of blurry. "I didn't mean to be quite that..."

Ray stretched. He was definitely going to feel it the next day. Or two. But he wasn't injured. "I'm good."

He was way better than good, but Fraser looked a little freaked as he nodded back. "I'm glad."

"What about you," Ray asked, rubbing a warm hand down Fraser's flank, "are you okay?"

"I think so." Except his eyes told a different story.

"Okay." And it made sense for him to be freaked, given what Ray knew of his past experience. He gave Fraser a lazy smile, trying to keep things comfortable. "Go clean up and come back, then we'll figure it out."

Fraser was back in a minute, washcloth in hand for Ray.

Ray took it, beaming. "You bring me coffee and washcloths--and make me come harder than I ever have in my life? I think I've died and gone to heaven."

"Ray." And Fraser was looking at Ray, the bed, the pile of clothing on the floor.

"Hey, come here," Ray said, drawing Fraser close. "It's okay."

"Is it? I want to think so, and it all seemed so simple in the moment, but... I've never done anything like this, Ray." He stopped and looked down at their bodies. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Never with anyone who knows me as well as you."

God, poor Fraser. Ray kissed him softly, not stopping, not pressing, waiting him out. After several moments, he murmured, "You trust me with your life, right?"

Fraser blinked, startled. "Of course, Ray."

"Trust me with your body?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"So we're partners. You're my best friend. You just fucked my brains out. We're good."

"We're good?"

Ray snorted, the beginning of a grin spreading across his face. He brushed his thumb over Fraser's cheekbone. "Did you get what you wanted?"

Fraser's eyes widened. "Oh, Ray."

Ray frowned. "Is that a yes, no, or sort of?"

Fraser's ears went pink and he murmured, "I've wanted...you, this, for a long time."

"Yeah?" Ray asked, eyes smiling.

"Very much so."

"Good. Me, too." A quick kiss on the lips and Fraser smiled back, at last, and wrapped his body closer around Ray's.

Ray shut his eyes, shifting into the embrace. It was about to be Sunday and Sundays were for resting. They could figure the rest out later. It might even be a whole lot of fun, but right now he was exhausted. They'd had a busy couple of days. He kissed Fraser's cheek and opened his eyes, whispering, "We should sleep."

Fraser smiled again, eyes bright, and squeezed him. "Soon. I want to kiss you some more first. That is, if you don't mind."

"Mmmh." As if he'd mind. And the look on Fraser's face was more hope than lust now, which...yeah. He got that...and he liked it, a lot. The idea that Fraser wanted him that much was...crazy, amazing, unbelievable.

"Yeah, okay," he said, "lemme just..." Ray reached over to flip off the bedside lamp, and then lay back, relishing the solidity of Fraser's presence, the feel of Fraser around him, throughout him, his mouth hot and steady on Ray's skin.