Disclaimers: Sex. Hot, sweaty, bloody, kinky sex. I don't own them - if I did, they would probably suffer even more abuse. And I'm beginning to suspect blondes really do have more fun.

No spoilers, no series. Just sex.

Rating: NC-17 (as though that hasn't been made abundantly clear by now.)

Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski

This one is for Mistress LaTonya for her wonderful idea and for Anagi for giving me such lovely material to work with.

"Uppercut"

Barbara J. Webb

"You need to learn to duck faster, Ray."

"I'm fine; I'm good." The way Ray winced and gasped as Fraser blotted at the open cut above Ray's eye belied his assertion, and Ray was only vaguely aware of the fact that he was shifting his weight back and forth, practically humming with energy "Never felt - ow! That hurts."

"My apologies." From behind Ray, where he had been standing in order to take full advantage of the lighted bathroom mirror in cleaning the various cuts and bruises Ray had sustained in his particularly vicious round of boxing that morning, Fraser kissed lightly at the sore spot. "Is that better?"

Ray batted at him, making faces at Fraser in the reflective surface. "Would ya' just stop? I'll be okay - don't need you to fuss over me." Not that Ray wanted Fraser to stop. But what he wanted, what he wanted Fraser to do - it was better to just tell Fraser to stop.

Fraser returned to dotting at the wounds, applying a bit more pressure than before. "I am *not* fussing. Improperly cleaned cuts can develop infection-"

"Hey! You don't need to get vicious."

"- and lead to unattractive scarring." Fraser stroked his fingers across the curve of Ray's cheekbone, skating lightly over the cut there. "You don't want that."

"What, wouldn't I be pretty enough for you, Frase?"

Wrapping his arms around Ray's shoulders, Fraser stroked his lips tenderly over the cut on Ray's cheek. It stung, but it was a good kind of sting - any time Fraser touched him it was good. Especially when Fraser - "Oh Ray, Ray *Ray* - you know better."

"Maybe I do an maybe I don't. You gonna prove it to me?" Ray's voice dripped with lascivious intent, as he leaned back against the broad, solid Mountie, causing Fraser's arms to tighten.

"Later." Taking Ray's chin, Fraser firmly turned Ray's face back forward so he could see it easily in the mirror. "After I finish this."

Kowalski sighed and rolled his eyes, but didn't argue, knowing it to be a lost cause. Fraser would have his way, and this time, it wasn't worth the argument to prove otherwise.

"It's almost as though you enjoy being beaten up."

The statement seemed more Fraser talking to himself than anything particularly directed at Ray, but Ray couldn't keep from answering. "Maybe I just like coming home and havin' you clean me up."

"I thought you didn't like my fussing."

"Maybe you don't do it right."

"How would you prefer I did it?"

Now Ray wished he'd just kept his mouth shut. "Nuthin. Never mind. Wouldja just finish already?" There was no way he could admit to Fraser what he wanted, what he thought about - fantasized about - while he was taking punishment in the ring. Visions of coming home, of Fraser looking at him, dragging him close -

"Did I say something wrong, Ray?"

"No, Frase. You're fine. Just - you know, I'm getting tired of standing here." And Fraser wasn't helping. Standing that close, leaning down close over Ray's shoulder where he'd fallen against the rope - scraping the skin raw enough to draw blood, so close....

When Fraser actually kissed the spot, Ray wasn't expecting it, wasn't ready for it, couldn't hold back a ragged gasp. "I'm sorry, Ray, did I hurt you?"

"No, no you're fine." Better than fine. Fraser had almost - had practically - had all but....

And then Fraser was cleaning it with the washcloth, gently probing at it to clean away the dirt. So careful - Fraser was always so damned careful, and it was driving Ray crazy. It was bleeding again, now that Fraser had wiped away the dirt-covered scab, and tingly with pain, and Fraser was leaning down close over it once more -

Ray couldn't help himself. "Do that again."

Fraser's eyes met Ray's in the mirror. He looked surprised, although Ray wasn't sure if it was from the request or the harshness of Ray's whisper. "Do which?"

"Kiss it again - that spot." Ray squeezed his eyes shut; even that much of an admission seemed dangerous. What if Fraser figured out what he really wanted - thought it was sick, thought Ray was sick?

What if Fraser answered Ray's request, kissed the spot lightly, lingeringly, and Ray opened his eyes just in time to see Fraser lift his head and lick the blood from his lips? It seemed that was the question Ray was going to have to answer, since that was the option Fraser had chosen to take. "Is that better?" Fraser asked mildly.

There were not words - at least not words Ray knew - that could express how better that was. "Yeah, Frase, that's better."

Then Fraser was bending down to do it again, this time pressing a bit harder with his lips, running them along the length of the wound. Amazing, miraculous - this man couldn't be real. Ray could hardly breathe. The heat, the sting, the simple fact of what Fraser was tasting....

Ray did stop breathing with he felt Fraser's tongue probing at the edge of the cut. It was almost like Fraser could read his mind. Not that Fraser probably needed to be reading his mind, the way his fingers were clenched against the sink, the way he was pressing back against Fraser, the way he was moaning under his breath, the way his dick was obviously trying to get free of the confines of his jeans. No, Ray's body was speaking for itself just fine, even if Ray's brain couldn't manage a coherent sentence.

And Fraser - God, Fraser was lapping at the cut, like some kind of cat cleaning its mate. So much for Ray's worries about what Fraser would think - Fraser seemed to be taking Ray's little kink well in stride. "Fraser...."

Then Fraser's mouth was on his, demanding, possessive. A rough kiss that made Ray think of that TV show with the vampires, where after they tasted blood it called up a demon from inside and turned them into monsters. Fraser's fingers were digging into Ray's back; his mouth claimed Ray's. On Fraser's tongue, Ray could detect the salty, coppery taste of his own blood.

Then Fraser had moved to the cut above his eye, fastening his lips over it, sucking. "Is this what you want, Ray? What you were afraid to ask for?"

Maybe Fraser could read his mind, although Ray couldn't imagine anyone being able to get any useful information from the whirling, jumbled mass of thought and sensation that was his brain right now. Or maybe Fraser could just read him, knew what he wanted, knew what he needed. "Yes, yes." It was a struggle just to get the words out, to make his throat work and his thoughts focus enough even for those simple words. "Please."

He had awoken something in Fraser. The Mountie had moved down to his collarbone, where a bruise was forming from a particularly solid hit Ray hadn't quite managed to get out from under. Fraser's mouth pressed against the bruise, causing fresh pain, and then Ray could feel Fraser's teeth, latched onto his flesh, digging in. It wasn't enough pressure to break the skin, but it sharpened the hurt, focused it, and Ray was fairly certain he'd have Fraser's teeth-marks superimposed over the dark spot at least as long as the bruise was there.

Fraser's nails were pressed against Ray's shoulderblades so hard Ray was certain he'd be able to feel them there forever. It was getting difficult to stand, on the verge of sensory overload. All he could do was cling to Fraser, trust the Mountie's heated, solid presence to support him.

With heart-stopping suddenness, Fraser changed his attack, becoming once again gentle. His lips just barely brushed over the raw spot on Ray's cheek; his hands trailed tenderly over Ray's back. He nuzzled his cheek against Ray's, his forehead against Ray's, his lips against Ray's. The sudden shift destroyed what was left of Ray's composure and he would have slid bonelessly to the floor had it not been for Fraser's arms around him. He became aware of Fraser's erection, pressing against his own, wordlessly reassuring Ray that Fraser was just as turned on by this as he.

Now Fraser was just teasing him with light touches and tender kisses. Ray moaned, pressed harder against Fraser, but Fraser pulled back just enough to keep the contact light. "Fraser, Fraser, please."

But Fraser would not be rushed. With agonizingly hesitancy, the Mountie drew his lips down Ray's neck, following the line of muscle and tendon. Ray whimpered under the touch, grinding his cock against Fraser's. That got a response: Fraser's hand slid down to Ray's ass, digging into the flesh as he pulled Ray's hips tight against Fraser's and held them there. Fraser bit at Ray's neck, chewing at the base where it joined with Ray's shoulder.

Ray's fingers fumbled at Fraser's jeans, made clumsy by the feel of Fraser's teeth on him. He pulled at the button blindly, fighting with the zipper. "Fraser, I want you so bad." He'd performed the maneuver with greater finesse in the past, but still he managed to free Fraser's cock. Fraser let out a hissing breath, pressed up against Ray's hand.

As Fraser leaned down to take one of Ray's nipples between his teeth, Ray arched back. With considerably more skill than Ray had demonstrated, Fraser unfastened Ray's jeans, pushed them, along with Ray's briefs, down to his ankles. Then his hands locked on Ray's waist and lifted him into the air, causing the clothing to fall to the ground.

Ray had just enough time to wrap his arms around Fraser's shoulders, before he was shoved back against the wall. Arching his head back, Ray gave Fraser better access to his neck while Fraser squirted several shots of lotion into his palm from the bottle on the sink. Fraser bit down as he thrust into Ray, and Ray cried out at the feel of it. The heat of it spread up through Ray; his legs clamped around Fraser's waist. "Yes, Fraser...oh God, fuck me...fuck me."

It was almost like floating, hanging in the air with nothing but Fraser's strength and the cold wall at his back to support him. The solid weight of Fraser's body pressed against him; the burning friction of Fraser's cock thrust into him; the sharp pain of Fraser's teeth spread through him.

A scream was ripped from Ray's throat as he came, and Fraser growled in animal harmony. It was the first noise Fraser had made; Ray could feel Fraser's cock inside him spasming as Fraser's own orgasm hit. Perfectly still, Fraser held Ray against the wall as the waves of pleasure subsided, then opened his clear blue eyes to gaze into Ray's.

"Are you all right?"

Ray couldn't answer, but caught Fraser in a long, lingering kiss. The Mountie lowered Ray to his feet, let him go. Unable to look away, Ray ran his hand over Fraser's chest. Fraser's own fingers trailed across Ray's skin, hesitating over the places where the marks of his teeth were still clearly visible. The feel of it made Ray shiver.

"These are probably going to bruise."

"Yeah, probably." Ray couldn't keep back a wide grin.

The smile seemed to relax Fraser, bringing forth a similar expression on his face. "You still should learn to duck."

"Why, when I got you to fuss over me? You will take care of me next time I get killed in the ring, right?"

Fraser dropped a kiss across each cut, then brushed his lips against Ray's. "Always, Ray. Always."