Title: Unfinished Business

Author: necessary angel

Pairing: BF/RK

Rating: NC17 for m/m slash and bad words

Spoilers: For Asylum

Disclaimer: Alliance still hasn't released them so they are not mine.

Feedback: All comments welcome at necessary_angel@yahoo.com

Notes: My contribution to the sex after an episode challenge <g>. This is sort of a companion piece to Repatriation but this stands on its own pretty well.

Diolch yn fawr to Megan for beta and this one is for her.

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Unfinished Business

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"So ya escaped Boffin Island?" Ray is already turning away, moving back into his apartment.

"Baffin."

Fraser shuts the door and follows his partner. Almost every light in the apartment is switched on and there is music, as usual; pleasant, guitar-based, nothing he has heard Ray play on his previous visits.

"What?"

"Baffin Island. Inspector Thatcher was satisfied with my report, so I'm going to remain in Chicago."

"Baffin, right. That's good." Ray's voice is very neutral but Fraser is watching for the twitch of the beautifully cut mouth.

"I didn't realize that you meant you would be cooking when you suggested dinner, Ray."

Perhaps the open curiosity in his voice borders on rude, but the smells drifting from the small kitchen area, and Ray's easy movements as he stirs the contents of a saucepan, are too much of a surprise for Fraser to hide.

"I ain't any great shakes in the kitchen, Fraze, but I won't poison ya."

"Oh, Ray, that's not what I meant at all...."

"I knew that. I couldn't face more take-out tonight and...I hope chili is okay?"

A proper smile this time.

"More than fine. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Nope, put yer feet up and chill."

Fraser carefully removes his leather jacket and takes a seat on the couch. It is almost too warm in the apartment for his taste, much warmer than usual, but the warmth is strangely relaxing, and he leaves his sweater on. Ray cooking is not the only strange thing in the apartment, but he can't trace the other source of his slight unease so readily.

"It's tidy."

Ray hands him a mug of tea, his face creased in a knowing smile. He'd obviously been watching Fraser's sweep of the room.

"What is?"

Fraser hadn't really noticed the state of his surroundings. Another quick look; it is cluttered, but tidy. No open CD cases or piles of magazines or books on the coffee table. The desk is completely free of its usual scattering of papers. By Ray's normal standards, the apartment is positively spick and span.

"Cahill and his goons paid a visit so I had ta straighten up a little."

"I see."

The slight tension in his partner's shoulders as he walks back to kitchen makes Fraser look at him more closely. He has never seen Ray completely relaxed, and his partner had been unusually tense during his stay at the Consulate. Understandably so, but Ray is even more tightly wound tonight.

Fraser sips his tea cautiously. Cinnamon, vanilla and what tastes like honey. Perfect for drinking after what had been an unusually cold day, at least by Chicago standards. The steely bitter wind had even bitten through Fraser's layers. Most days, he enjoys the cold that sends everyone else scurrying for shelter. Winter in Chicago could almost feel like home, but today had made even him long for Spring.

Ray is very quiet tonight and very still. Fraser can't ever remember seeing his partner so... contained. His hair is carefully spiked and he is dressed in jeans and a Bulls T-shirt that look relatively crease-free. Fraser studies him as unobtrusively as he can, but nothing is showing in the mercurial eyes, which are grey and curiously flat. It could be the glare of the light that makes it hard to tell what Ray is thinking, but Fraser doesn't take any comfort from that idea. Fraser forces himself to look away; Ray is jumpy enough to find even his covert examination bothersome.

An invitation to join the rest of the Detectives from the 27^th Precinct in celebrating Ray's release would have been no surprise but this was... disconcerting. He had welcomed the chance to escape the confines of the Consulate, which had seemed very dark and quiet once the aftershocks of Mr. Cahill's arrest had died down. Now he was here... the nerves he had managed to calm during the long walk to Ray's apartment were clawing at his stomach once more. Ray's enforced stay on Canadian soil had changed things. Fraser's hand tightens its grip on the mug and he struggles to find some air in the room.

"Dinner'll be a while."

"It smells very good, Ray." Fraser hadn't heard him approach, but Ray doesn't seem to have noticed his start of surprise.

His partner drops down on the couch next to him, a steaming mug of coffee in one long-fingered hand.

"I'm justly famous for my chili."

On any other occasion, the lighthearted wryness would have made Fraser smile, but all he hears is the faint flatness underlying the self-mockery.

"Ray." Fraser puts his mug down and digs a knuckle into his left eyebrow. "Why did you invite me to dinner tonight?" It isn't what he wants to ask, not at all what he needs to know. It is, however, the most acceptable start.

"So I could inflict my chili on ya."

The coffee mug is carefully placed next to his own mug. Too carefully. The deliberate movement is far too at odds with the quipped reply.

"Ray." Fraser breathes deeply for a moment, abruptly unsure of whether he really wishes to know Ray's motivations.

"Fraze." A harder edge to the glibness now, an edge Fraser has never heard used on him.

"I, er..."

"Fuck it."

A mutter Fraser is sure he wasn't meant to hear. Ray is moving next him, a hand on his shoulder demanding he looks at his partner.

Nothing flat and banked down in the blue-green and gold eyes now. Ruefulness, amusement, and something else that makes Fraser feel as if he just stepped into free fall. A hand on the side of his face, the hand that been holding the hot mug judging by the burn of it against his skin.

"Unfinished business, Ben." Not much louder than a whisper, but Fraser feels every syllable hammer into his brain.

"Unfinished business?" The last 's' trailing flickers of sensation across his lips as Ray's mouth settles against his own.

Fraser stiffens slightly just for the first heartbeat or two, and then moves into the kiss. Coffee, heat, but it is the sweetness underneath that is making him dizzy, that and the supple flicker of Ray's tongue against his teeth.

Ray breaks the kiss far too soon, and Fraser can't stop the soft vocalization that follows Ray's mouth away from him.

"Fuck." Another murmur that Fraser is sure he is not meant to notice.

Ray is on his feet now, pacing. "Look, Fraze, I..."

"Ben."

"What?"

Ray's reply comes out a startled yelp, and Fraser is smiling. The bubble of joy in his throat won't let him do anything else.

"You called me Ben. I liked it and I liked ...what followed."

"Ya liked it?"

Ray's smile is as bright as the one Fraser received the first time he used this man's name voluntarily.

Fraser stands and moves as close to Ray as he can, close enough to see his partner's eyes dilate and hear the skip in his breathing.

"I liked it."

His hand sliding across the ever-present rasp of stubble and into the much softer spikes of Ray's hair curls little hooks into his spine, and Fraser needs to taste him again. Less coffee, more heat, and still as lethally sweet. Fraser has a hazy random thought about stable blood sugar before Ray's arms wrap around him and he gives up on even random thoughts.

Ray's face is flushed and his T-shirt rumpled before either of them pulls back. Fraser is certain that he is just as rumpled; he can still feel the press of Ray's fingers against his spine even though the fingers in question are rubbing over the other man's neck and face.

"That didn't really need an answer, Ben." Ray's hand is back on Fraser's shoulder, the tight grip anchoring him against the dizzy swirl of his stomach. "This does though - do you want to move this on?"

"To the bedroom." Fraser places a finger over the red curve of Ray's mouth as it opens. "That didn't need an answer either."

"Understood."

The rasp in Ray's voice is too raw to pull it off completely but the cadence is close enough to make Fraser chuckle. Ray's thin fingers wind through his own and the impulse to laugh is crushed out. Holding hands is not something he is used to, and the feel of Ray's callused fingers against his skin seems both unreal and far too intimate.

Fraser is more than glad when Ray gently frees his hand once they reach the bedroom. The pull in his stomach eases and is then forgotten as Ray draws his T-shirt over his head. The flex of the long muscles in Ray's back makes Fraser's jeans uncomfortably tight.

A slightly doubtful look over a curved shoulder "C'mon, Ben, yer getting behind here."

"Right you are, Ray."

Fraser closes his eyes; if he doesn't watch he might be able to do this without embarrassing himself. It helps, and he manages to remove his sweater without indulging himself with just looking. Nimble fingers brush against his own as he unbuttons his shirt, and he looks into a smiling face and uncertain eyes.

"Ya wear so many layers that I figgered ya could do with a hand." Again the smile is more smoke than fire.

"I could, but I need this more."

A faint gasp of what can only be surprise that Fraser doesn't allow to escape to the air.

Ray isn't distracted from his self-appointed task despite his eager response, and Fraser is somewhat dazed to find his shirt missing and his jeans undone when he lifts his head away to breathe.

"And the rest of it." Ray's smile is all fire this time as he tugs at the hem of Fraser's vest.

His vision is blocked by the soft cotton when Ray's hand dips into the loosened waistband of his jeans and brushes lightly over the aching head of Fraser's cock.

He has been aroused for what seems like hours and that teasing touch is enough to blast through the last of his diffidence.

Something that he might have heard from Dief breaks out of his throat, and he sheds the rest of his clothes and pulls Ray down onto the bed.

"That's more like it, Ben. Just let me. " A quick devastating wriggle from the lean body beneath him and suddenly there is nothing but skin touching him.

Another growl, Fraser doesn't even pretend that it is anything but, and his hands are on that pale gold skin, tracing, molding, trying to press the feel and line of Ray into his own fingerprints.

The track of his nails across the tight twist of Ray's nipples sends the long back into an arch that Fraser knows he will never see enough of. His teeth against the same skin provoke a groan and Ray's fingers tugging against his hair.

"I just wanna..."

A quick twist and flip and Ray's weight is against him, fleetingly before his partner shifts and moves so that he can wrap long fingers around the straining length of Fraser's erection.

"Ray. Oh, that's ..."

Fraser barely has time to settle into the rhythm of the slow pump and slide before Ray's mouth is over him. Fraser closes his eyes, but the image of Ray's lips stretched around him is burnt into his mind. The tight pull of Ray's mouth and the twitch of his throat muscles against him tinges the image red and pushes the hooks deeper into his brain.

"Stop." Fraser grits his teeth against the need pushing at his spine and makes himself say it.

Another quick swirl and dip of that tantalizing tongue.

"What?"

"I need...I.... You. Against. Me." Fraser finds the words from the wreck of his mind and it is enough.

Ray's long body settles over him. Lighter but the weight is just right. Fraser's hands drag over the compact lines of Ray's back and grasp the lean hips tight against him.

Ray grins, stark and bright, and Fraser shudders.

The roll and press of those lean hips and the drag of Ray's heated swollen cock next to his is almost incidental beside the black burn of Ray's eyes and that feral display of teeth.

And then Fraser is there, spilling heat between their bodies, another noise rolling out of his distressed throat.

Ray's hips thrust once, twice more and he gives a little choked groan, his neck arching back, too high for Fraser to bite.

His partner collapses down next to him, one hand curved over Fraser's chest, and there is nothing except the harsh rush of their breathing in the room.

Fraser feels his heart rate begin to slow to something approaching normal, and he can raise his head. Ray's eyes are closed, though he isn't asleep.

"Ray."

"Hmm."

"The chili."

"It'll be fine." Eyes still firmly closed, but the hand is tracing random patterns over Fraser's chest.

"Really?"

"Takes a long time to cook." Ray's eyes are open now and the grin is back. Mischief and challenge in every line of his face. "We've time for a shower?"

End