Disclaimer: I disclaim all knowledge . . .oh, wait, sorry, wrong speech <g> Yeah, ok, they belong to Alliance . . . not for profit, no infringement intended.

Author's Notes: This is my very first slash story, so any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated!!aoudafogg@yahoo.com . . . Thank you to all the people on the Serge list for their encouragement!! Finally, many thanks to C for the wonderful beta.

Story Notes: One side note . . . I know, I know, Fraser's using an official phone that could be monitored, but this plot bunny wouldn't go away . . . besides, it's fic, right?! :)

"Canadian Consulate, Constable Fraser, here. May I help you?" Technically the Consulate was closed, but it was always possible someone could be having an emergency, and since he was just sitting here waiting in the empty building, Fraser answered the phone, hoping it wasn't something that would keep him occupied for long. He and Ray were going out tonight, although Ray wouldn't tell him where.

"Yeah, sure, why not." The brash voice shot across the wire. "Ah, who's Canada's largest trading partner?"

"Well, sir, that would be the United States, which accounts for 77% of our imports and 84% of our exports."

"Huh. Who know?"

"Well, sir, apparently, I did."

"Good point."

"Thank you, sir; is there something else I could help you with?"

"Yep. What're you wearing?"

"Excuse me?"

"What're you wearing? You know, clothes. You still dressed like a Mountie stop light, or'd you change for the evening - you know, you could have a hot date or something."

"I don't normally talk about personal matters, sir, but for the sake of clarity, I do, in fact, have a social engagement this evening, and I am, in fact, wearing blue jeans and a green Henley."

There was silence for a moment.

"That really cool one with the three buttons I bought you last month?"

"Yes, sir."

There was more silence on the line. Fraser knew Ray was remembering what had happened the night he had modeled the shirt for his blond-haired partner. He wasn't sure Ray's couch would ever be the same.

"I like it when you call me 'sir.'"

"Yes, sir, I know." Fraser let his voice drop to a more husky whisper.

Another moment of silence, this one started by a quick intake of breath and a quick, whispered, "damn!" Then Ray's warm voice came back in his ear, the words tinged with gravely huskiness.

"Ben, buddy, I can't wait to get you home to show you how much I like it." He cleared his throat. "But that's why I'm calling. Huey and Dewey came in with a new lead on the Rusheister case, and Welsh issued one of his sweeping edict things that everyone's gotta stay until we pin it down some more, so I gotta push our dinner back a bit. I'm really sorry, Fraze."

"That's quite alright, Ray." Fraser worked hard to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Duty must come first. Do you have an estimate of how long you might be?"

Ray made an exclamation of disgust. "Not really, but I'll be there as soon as I possibly can."

"Certainly, Ray. In fact, I can use this time in good stead to complete work that I would have otherwise done tomorrow."

"Good plan, Fraze; maybe if I do good, Welsh'll cut me some slack and we can have a whole bunch of time off tomorrow."

Smiling at the idea and the possibilities it brought to mind, Fraser began to say goodbye, only to be forestalled by Ray saying something else.

"Hey, could you do something for me?"

"Of course, Ray. Name it."

"You in your office?"

"Yes."

"Open your closet door."

"Wha-Alright, Ray, it's open, but may I ask why you would need me to do that?"

"Yep, you can ask."

How was it that even after all this time with Ray, he still fell for that joke? "Thank you. Why did you need me to open the closet door?"

"Tell you in a minute. You sitting down in your chair?"

"I am now. Ray, is something wrong? Do you need to tell me something?"

"What? Oh, you mean me asking you to sit. Nah, everything's good. So, you're sitting. Greatness. Now, turn your chair and look at the mirror on the back of the door."

'I need a haircut,' was the first thought the popped into Fraser's head, but curiosity erased it quickly. Especially when Ray's voice got throaty again.

"So, the Consulate's deserted, right?"

"Yes, everyone else has gone home for the night. Ray, how does that possibly relate to me opening the closet door or me facing the mirror?"

"Doesn't really. It relates to what I'm going to ask you to do next."

"I see."

"Oooh, I love it when you go all Mountie on me. So, here's what I want you to do next: take off your pants."

It felt like every single muscle in his body had seized up at once. "I beg your pardon?"

"Ya' heard me - drop trou, shuck the pants, disrobe the lower part of your body." The unmistakable efforts to smother laughter made some of the words difficult to understand.

"You want me to-" He couldn't finish the sentence. "I couldn't, Ray!"

"Ah, come on, Ben, please? For me? I've been thinking about you all day, and if I can't be there with you, this is the second best thing."

Struck by a horrifying thought, Fraser asked hurriedly, "Ray? Where are you?"

"Relax, Benton, I'm not in the bullpen - I'm out on a stakeout, alone in my car, using my own cell phone. And I'm missing you. Now, come on. Lose the pants. Please."

"But, but, why?"

"Cuz it'll make me hot and gimme something to think about while I sit in front of a building where nothing is going to happen, instead of thinking about the fact that I could be playing footsie with you under the table while you make me eat something weird I've never even heard of."

"So we were going to a nice restaurant."

"Yep, and don't change the subject."

"But-"

"Please."

Never able to resist that tone on Ray's voice, Fraser watched himself in the mirror as he stood up, the receiver propped between his cheek and shoulder, and unbuttoned his jeans. The soft sound of them settling around his feet sounded extremely loud in the stillness.

"Hey, was that the chair creaking?"

"Yes, Ray. I had to stand to lower my pants."

"Ah, gotcha, ok, but leave them pooled at your feet."

"If you insist. May I sit down now?"

"Oh, yeah, babe, you sure can. You just sitting there in your boxers?"

"Yes, but I must protest, Ray. This is hardly proper, and I don't really see-"

"But you will if you just gimme a chance. Look, gimme two minutes, and if you really don't like it, we'll stop, ok?"

Fraser reluctantly agreed - after all, wasn't Ray always urging him break out of the mold? Well, this certainly was out of his norm!

"So, uh, what kinda underwear you got on?"

"Boxers, Ray; you know that's the only kind I wear."

Fraser swore he could hear Ray rolling his eyes.

"I mean, describe 'em to me? They got a pattern? I'm not there, buddy. You gotta fill in the blanks for me."

"Ah. Well, they are the cream ones with the red, vertical stripes. They hit me about mid-thigh."

"I like your thighs. Is the flap open? Is it gaping?"

"Actually, the hem of my shirt is covering it."

"Well, that's gotta change, doesn't it?"

"I've folded it back, Ray, and the, ah, opening is now," deep breath, "open."

"Oh, yeah. What can you see?"

"I-I-mostly hair, not very much skin, but if I move . . . the feel of the cloth rubbing against the hair feels good, Ray, but not as good as your hand, your touch."

"Wish I was there so I could run my fingers through that hair, Ben, so you gotta do it for me."

Caught up in what was happening in spite of himself, Fraser lowered the hand not holding the phone, and closing his eyes, he pictured the image of Ray touching him juxtaposed with the image Ray sitting in his car directing him to do this. He gasped as his hair brushed the tips of his fingers, and then further along his fingers. "I can feel the heat of my skin though the hair, Ray."

"Your eyes open?"

"No-o."

"Open 'em." Ray's breathing was audible now. "I want you to be able to see. Need you to be my eyes."

Fraser's eyes locked on the mirror, on the small movements of his hand carding through the thatch of hair, of his hand sliding deeper, contacting flesh.

"You found skin, didn't you, buddy?" Ray asked when he heard a quiet gasp. Ray shifted in his seat at the small affirmative noise, trying to make more room for the burgeoning hard on in his pants, but not wanting to touch his crotch yet, not wanting to speed things along too quickly.

"You hard, Ben? I'm hard, sitting here, listening to you, knowing you're touching yourself for me."

The words made Fraser's penis jump, pushing harder against the cotton material he had already begun to strain. He tightened the hand holding the receiver against his ear, and pressed the hand in his shorts against his stomach, using the tips of his fingers to trace the band of skin under the elastic, the groove along his hip. He wanted to touch, he wanted to be able to feel the hardening flesh, but he hadn't been given permission. He moaned a little and tried opening his legs a little to make more room, but the pants pooled around his feet hampered the move. This time he whimpered. "Please, Ray."

"Oh, yeah, yer real hard, aren't you, Ben. Take it out."

The gasped command rocked Fraser back in his chair as he hurried to comply. All thoughts about stopping this, about how this wasn't proper behavior for the consulate were completely gone, burned away by the sounds of Ray's voice.

Taking hold with an unsteady hand, Ben moved until his cock stuck out the opening in his shorts. Looking down, the skin of his hand seemed to contrast sharply with the darker pink of the shaft. "Ray, Ray." He had to swallow. "The lighter color of my shorts is making me look even darker."

"Ben." Ray drew the name out, making it more than a sigh. "Bet you're my favorite shade of red, that one that's two shades darker than the flush that moves up your chest, and your neck, all the way up to your cheeks. The one that means your nipples are hard too. Can you feel them brushing against your shirt?"

"Yes." Fraser sucked in his breath quickly as Ray's words forced him to become aware of another part of his body.

"Yeah, buddy, I can tell from your voice. And now you have your lower lip caught between your teeth, don't ya?" The image made him press the butt of his hand hard against his fly, pressing hard against the ridge in his jeans.

The rather indistinct yes in Ray's ear made him grin madly, painful as it was. Jesus, was there anyone on the planet as hot as his lover? Nope, couldn't be, cuz otherwise there'd be too many incidents of spontaneous combustion!

"Slide your fingers between the buttons of your shirt, Ben." He thought he might have heard a slight rasp of material. "Oh, yeah, that's it, right there between those buttons, get those long fingers in there." He paused to give Ben time to catch up and feel it. "Which side you on?

"Left."

"Ah, my favorite. You're sensitive on the right, but even more on the left. But you know that, don't you, lover; that's why you went right to it. So, go for it. Squeeze it."

Throaty gasp.

"All right, back it off just a bit, Ben. No coming yet. You still got your other hand on your dick?"

"Yes, yes."

"Ok, switch hands."

"But . . ."

"No buts, just keep the phone propped between your shoulder and ear and do it."

"All right, I've switched . . ."

"Your hand wet, Ben? You leaking? Hmmm?" Ray shut his eyes tight, trying to take his own advice and back things off. They were close, but he had to time this just right. Taking a deep breath, he let it hiss out between clench teeth.

He realized Ben hadn't answered. "What was that, Fraser? You leaking? Are you dripping down that beautiful head of yours? Have you dripped onto your shorts?"

Fraser looked down at himself, seeing the glistening wetness spilling out down the crown of his penis, but not seeing any on his shorts. "No, no, Ray."

"Well, we gotta do something about that, now don't we buddy?"

This time, Fraser's groan was so deep Ray felt like it made the phone in his hand vibrate. "Oh, Ben," his voice dropped again. "You're so fucking hot. You're making me want to come right now. But I'm not going to, not going to. Gonna hold on just for you, baby."

This time the only sound from the other end of the phone was a whimper.

"Don't bite through your lip, Frase. I want those lips all happy and ready for me to kiss them red. Remember how red they got last month at the lake? Nothing to this, buddy. I'm going to be all over your body like you wouldn't believe. But for now, I got something else for you to do. Put your hand right underneath the head, wrap your hand around, but not too tight." He paused just for a moment. "Got it?"

"Yes."

More of a gasp than a word, but Ray figured it worked.

"Now, just using your thumb, run it over yourself, spread that slick around evenly, Ben."

"Mmmm, Ray, please!"

"Please, what, Frase? Please let you come?" Harsh panting filled his ear and he had to bite his own lip not to match the pants with his own. "No, not quite yet, not yet, just a little longer. I want you to feel this all the way down to your toes."

"I'm there, Ray, there. I can feel you . . . your hands . . ."

"Oh, lover, that's the sexiest thing you've ever said to me. I love that." Ray blinked rapidly, ignoring the suspicious dampness around his eyes the words had caused. "Love you, Ben. Now, I want you all comfy, lover, so one more circle around that right nipple - got it? Good. Now, take your hand out and hold onto the phone again. Don't want you to strain your neck. We've got serious plans for that neck this weekend."

"No more, Ray, please . . ."

"Don't remember you calling the shots here, bud, and I haven't said 'shoot' yet, so back it down a little. Come on, deep breaths. You can do it, hold on, soon, soon." They breathed in tandem a few times, both of them shuddering a little on the exhales, and Ray could feel his cock throb deeply, in time with his heartbeat.

Giving Fraser a few more seconds, Ray got out of his car, moving as silently as he could with a hard on the size of the Great White North down his pants. Adjusting himself made him hiss painfully, so he stopped trying and walked forward gingerly, grateful for the peacoat Fraser had given him last Christmas.

"You're still watching in that mirror in front of you, right, Ben? Can you see how red you've gotten, your cheeks and your dick? Now, keep that hand still. No moving until I say. Just hold it there, wrapped around, but not too tight. Feel the heat beneath your skin. That's the heat I feel when you're inside me. Always makes me burn. Makes me want to take you inside me until I can feel you from my hair to the soles of my feet. Love that feeling. Just the thought of it is making me harder, harder for you, and I'm already so hard I feel like I could fuck you from here. All right, buddy, I want you to start moving that hand up . . . and down. . . real slow. Keep it slow."

Savoring that image, Ray went on. "I can feel myself leaking against my shorts. They're the long briefs you like so much, Ben. The red ones. The ones you said pull across my ass." Ray made a fist to keep himself on track. "Next step, lover, next step is for you to run that thumb around the top of your cock again. I know you're even wetter for me now. Go around again. That's it. Once more. Now I want you to taste yourself, Ben."

The constant moans coming across the line convinced Ray that Fraser was so far gone it was safe to use his credit card on the door and slip into the consulate. He'd been planning this for months, trying to find the perfect time to see if this would work, if Ben would trust him enough to play a little.

As usual, Ben had exceeded his expectations.

Barely holding himself together, Ray made his way down the hallway to Fraser's office. He almost charged into the office and swallowed Ben whole, seizing his own taste of the mountie; only the knowledge that that would spoil the fun held him back. For the moment, he placated himself with the memory of Ben's taste. Musky, salty, only a little bitter. His mouth watered jealously, knowing what Ben was tasting, wanting to feel the slippery pre-come on his tongue, and to savor it against the roof of his mouth. Wild. That was it. Ben always tasted wild.

The taste slammed through Ben, knocking another series of moans out of him. He felt so close to the edge and so connected to Ray's voice, that deep voice tell him what to do next, how to touch himself for his lover, that Ben would have sworn it was Ray's thumb in his mouth, Ray's hand that was aching to wrap itself back around his cock and stroke him into oblivion. And yet, he was also aware that it was his own hand, his own actions. The duality made him arch his back against the chair and suck harder at his thumb, wishing with all his might that it was Ray.

That was how Ray found him - back arched against the chair, legs spread and splayed forward, head thrown back, moaning his need. Still speaking into the phone, Ray went back to pushing Fraser over the edge.

"Oh, yeah, baby. Swirl your tongue around your thumb again. You can bite down if you want to, lover, but not too hard. Leave a mark for me to see later." He watched his mountie do as he demanded, and bit his own thumb in sympathy and equal need.

Ben sawed his head back and forth across the back of his chair and tried to spread his legs further but the jeans still got in the way. "You can kick your jeans off your feet, Ben. I want those legs spread as wide as you can and still stay upright in the chair."

He watched the figure in the chair move almost too quickly to be believed and kick the crumpled jeans off to the corner. He wasn't able to suppress a long, heartfelt moan at the way Fraser splayed his legs. He closed his eyes against the image, but it was burned there, so he opened his eyes again and took in the sight.

A constant babble of "please" and "Ray," "now" and "oh!" fell from Ben's lips over and over, punctuated frequently by breathless moans and gasps. Just one last thing to do and he'd send Ben over the edge.

"All right, baby, you're doing so good, so sexy, so good. Just one last thing I want you to do and then we're gonna let you fly. Listening, lover?" Not pausing to get any sort of answer, even if Ben had been able to reply, Ray stepped a bit closer. "Push the elastic under your balls so all of you is out."

The elastic slipped quickly under Ben's balls so that for this first time his entire dick was visible, spilling out over the red stripped shorts. Glad that Fraser's eyes were closed since there would be no way he could miss Ray in the mirror now, Ray took in the sight that was at once both beautiful and obscene.

Rubbing his own cock through his pants, he instructed Fraser to stroke his dick and let him have free reign. "That's right, Ben, faster, harder. That's what you want, isn't it? Do that little twist at the top you like. That's it! Go, baby, let go. Do it. Come for me, lover, right now."

And he did.

His whole body contorting with ecstasy, Ben arched out of the chair, only his feet on the ground and his head on the back of the chair anchoring him. His come jetted out of his straining cock, splattering his shirt, spilling over his hand as he finished with a soundless scream.

Holding on with the barest of threads, Ray suddenly realized that Ben was going to slip out of the chair he'd gone so limp. Leaping forward, he ended the call with a punch of his thumb, and tossing his cell phone on the desk, caught his lover and eased him down on the floor.

Ray didn't think Fraser was even fully aware that he was there. He tended to his lover gently, letting Ben coast back down on his own, holding him for long minutes.

Finally, grabbing the pillow off the cot Ben never used any more, he cushioned Fraser's head and then slipped his shorts off. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss just above the crown of Ben's cock, not surprised to feel the man jerk a bit.

"Ray?"

The voice was hoarse and far deeper than usual.

"Yes, love, I'm here."

"Stake out?"

"Little white lie, buddy."

A small smile lurking around his lips, Fraser raised an eyebrow. "What is the phrase, Ray? Payback is a bitch?"

"Could be."

"Hmmm." Fraser grinned at him, skewing a look at Ray's crotch. "Looks like you've got a bit of a . . . situation yourself, Detective. Perhaps I could be of some assistance."

"You bet your ass, Mountie."

"Yes, that is it exactly, although I never bet, Ray." And reaching up, Ben grabbed Ray and pulled him down for a kiss. Rapidly regaining his coordination, he stripped Ray's pants off, barely giving Ray time to breath between kisses. "Where is it?"

"What?"

"The lubricant. You must have some with you."

"You think you know so much."

"Enough to know you."

"Yeah, yeah." But Ray reached into the jacket of his pocket and pulled out a small tube.

Ben made short work of the cap and soon it was Ray's moans filling the room as he watched Ben slick first him and then his own body up with the slick stuff.

"Now, Ray."

"Oh, yeah, oh, yeah." Ray couldn't formulate any other thoughts as he slid into his lover. Ben'd gotten so good at this. "So, good, Ben, you're so . . good. Love this. Love you."

"Yes, Ray, you as well." He lowered his voice as he urged his lover on and tightened his legs high around Ray's chest. "And you've gotten quite good at giving orders." He licked Ray's lips and then bit him lightly on the earlobe before whispering in his ear. "But next time I will be the one in the driver's seat."

What little control Ray had left shattered at those words and the thoughts and images they conjured and his hard thrusts began growing more and more ragged. Stroking in and out of Ben's body deeply, quickly, his breath harsh in his throat, he fought for control but lost. Slamming hard into Ben one last time, his whole body, even his little toes, went taut before he spilled deep inside his lover.

Long minutes later he came back to himself to find them both covered in the blanket, Fraser stroking his back.

They kissed and kissed again.

"Happy anniversary, Benton."

"Happy anniversary, Ray."

End Calling It by Aouda Fogg: aoudafogg@yahoo.com

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