Notes: This is from a dream, partly, and was partly inspired by the 1st Season vs. 3rd Season Fraser debate. While I do groove on the slightly longer, wavier hair Fraser (or rather, Paul Gross) sported for most of 3rd Season, there is *much* to be said for that foxy buzz cut he had for most of Season 1. Of course, I found myself wondering how Kowalski would react to that super-short, pseudo-experimental hairstyle.

Pairing: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski

Disclaimers, et al.: Alliance allegedly owns them blah, blah, blah, blahdiddy, blah, blah. If they were mine, I'd ask if I could watch. Quelle surprise - this is rated NC-17 for boy-on-boy stuff and the odd bad word or two. Archiving here and Hexwood. Anywhere else, please ask first.

Spoilers: None, and if there's plot here, it'd shock the hell out of me.

Thanks to Audra and Kasha for quick, insightful beta work.

Feedback is deeply wanted and will be greedily slurped at

by LaT

Sneaking a glance across the bullpen at Fraser, it occurs to Ray - for the umpteenth time in forty-five minutes - that all he wants to do is ... stroke it. Fraser's newly short hair, that is. The fingers working on the post-arrest report positively *itched* to go snaking into the thick, ink-dark felt that covered the Mountie's head. No, not felt, but velvet. Cut just close enough to be truly military, not so close that skull could be seen, and Ray just knows from the way it looks that it's ridiculously soft to the touch. The glance turns into a full-on stare and the itching in Ray's fingers gets worse.

//It's all my own damn fault//, he thinks, as he drags his eyes back to the report and away from where Fraser stands chatting with Dewey. Waiting for Ray, he is casually dressed and looks so wonderful Ray could swallow him whole right there in the station and still be hungry for more. //I just had to give him grief about not bein' spontaneous enough, *then* I had to go make that crack about his hair.//


They'd been in the GTO, tooling around town on the single hottest day of the year, because it also happened to be Diefenbaker's day to visit the vet. Hot, it was so hot *Fraser* was in short sleeves, and it was because he looked so good that Ray was staring at him at a red light. Staring and enjoying very much the tiny beads of sweat at Fraser's temple and on his upper lip. Ray checked to make sure the light was still red, then leaned across and stroked his tongue over that sweat-soaked temple, reveling in the taste of salt and Ben.

Fraser started, a little surprised and he turned almost sharply to look at Ray.

"*What* are you doing?"

"You're sweatin'. It made me thirsty." Ray liked the flush that crept over Fraser's face at that, giving the usually pale, perfect cheeks the barest hint of pink.

"We're in traffic, Ray."


"Well, now is hardly the time for ... indulgences like that." Ray also liked the way serious heat made Fraser seriously cranky. The only thing sexier than Fraser when he was cranky was Fraser when he was coming.

"You know what your problem is, Fraser?" Ray gunned the GTO forward as the light changed.

"No, but I have every reason to believe you're about to tell me."

//Oh *yeah*//, Ray thought, //'hot and bothered' doesn't even *begin* to describe it.//

"Hardy ha-ha, wise-ass. Your problem is you got no sense of spontaneity. Sometimes, the very fact that it isn't the best moment to do somethin' is the reason to do it in the first place." As he said this, Ray put his hand on Fraser's thigh. High up on Fraser's thigh. Let his fingers drum a light tattoo against the denim.

"Now, that's just silly, Ray. It seems to me that if it isn't the right moment to engage in certain behavior, then actually engaging in that behavior makes a situation worse, not better." Fraser made no effort to remove Ray's hand; in fact, to Ray, it felt as though the Mountie made an almost imperceptible shift closer.

"And it's thinkin' things like that that's gonna keep you from ever developin' a well-honed sense of spontaneity, Ben." Ray gave a light squeeze to the thigh beneath his fingers, then pulled his hand away, making a point he knew wasn't lost on Fraser.

At the next red light, he looked over again, this time mesmerized by the curl of Fraser's hair at the nape of his neck. It seemed to Ray that if Fraser had been in uniform, his hair would come perilously close to touching his collar. Some minor Mountie scandal, that, Ray was sure, and because Ray was Ray, he couldn't resist commenting.

"Your hair's gettin' kind of long there, Frase. You sure you won't be violatin' some RCMP rule on groomin' if you show up for work like that?" //Oh. *This* should be fun.// Ray didn't even try to stop the smirk he felt coming on as he watched Fraser reach for the rear view mirror to take a look.

"I'm fairly certain my hair is within the boundaries of regulation length, Ray. In seventeen-and-a-half years with the RCMP, I've never been remiss in my grooming." Fraser readjusted the mirror and made a studied show of *not* looking in Ray's direction.

"Whatever you say, Fraser, whatever you say."

"What is *that* supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. If you think your hair's not too long, then it's not too long."

"Forgive me, Ray, but even if I did think there was something ... amiss with my hair, and mind you, I *don't*, I'm not sure you're the person I would consult for tonsorial advice."

"Fraser, I didn't say anything about your tonsils. We're talking about your hair and ... wait a minute. Did you just use some $20 word to tell me you don't like my *hair*?"

"I don't believe I said anything about *your* hair, specifically, Ray. I believe I opined that I wouldn't consult you for advice about *my* hair."

"You don't like my hair, Ben? Is that what you're tryin' to say in that ... that Fraser Way of yours? You don't like my hair?"

"Oh, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, *Ray*. All I am saying is that in light of the 'experimental' nature of your hair, I doubt that any suggestions from you about mine - which I tend to wear in a more conservative style - would be ... welcome."

"Trust me, Benton buddy, it'll be a cold day in hell before I ever give you ... tonsorial advice." Ray turned his eyes back to the road and made a point of not looking at Fraser.

"There's no need to be sarcastic, Ray."

"No need to be, no need ... ," //Leave it alone, Ray. Just leave it *alone*.// "Never mind. What time do we gotta pick up Dief?"

"They said they'd be done with him around 12:30." Fraser paused. At the next red light, he reached for the mirror again. When he spoke, he sounded almost sheepish to Ray.

"Do you ... really think my hair's gotten too long?"

Ray pressed his gum to the roof of his mouth to stifle the laugh. "I got no opinion on it, Fraser."

"Don't be petty. Do you think it's too long?"

Ray sighed, once again amazed and frustrated at his inability to stay even the slightest bit irritated with the man at his side for longer than the half-life of a gnat. "Do I think it's too long? No. I like it when it gets all wavy. I like the way it curls just a bit when you sweat. But honestly, a few more days without a trim and it really will touch the collar of your uniform."


"Is that an "I agree with you" hmmm or a "you have no fuckin' clue" hmmm?"

"It's just a 'hmmm,' Ray."

Ray shook his head, knowing it was useless to expect more by way of explanation.

As it happened, there was an old-school barber shop right next door to the vet's office. It was un-air-conditioned and "no dogs allowed," so Ray waited in the car with Dief after Fraser made an on-the-spot decision to get a hair cut. 'Working on his spontaneity,' he explained to Ray before going inside. When Fraser got back in the car, Ray saw just how spontaneous he had decided to be.


Classic. Clean. Too long to be peach fuzz, not long enough to be anything but arrow straight. Fraser's hair appeared to be even darker than it was before, the sheen was even higher, and oh, it just looked so goddamned *soft*.

Soft and good, it looked *good* like that. To Ray, Fraser suddenly seemed a little ... sleeker. Sharper. Incredibly, he even seemed ... sexier. //Hot as shit//, Ray thought and it was when he realized he was staring again that he spoke.

"Now, *that's* a hair cut." //And all I wanna do is pet it. Pet *you*.//

Fraser smiled. "I take it you approve?"

Ray smiled back. "Oh, Grade A seal of approval here," he said, reaching out to rub the tips of his fingers over the tiny, tantalizing spikes.

He didn't get the chance because Fraser cocked his head, got an intensely purposeful look on his face and simply said, "Purse snatcher, Ray," before bolting out of the car and across the street.


"So good, Ben. So fuckin' good." They are back in Ray's apartment, in the light coolness of the bedroom. The rest of the afternoon is stretched out for them as lazily as Dief under the window, and as soon as Ray finishes the statement, he's got Fraser's tongue in his mouth again.

Ray's hands brush along Ben's sides as he pulls his partner's tee-shirt free of his jeans, breaks the kiss long enough to pull it up and over the other man's head. His own shirt was dispatched somewhere after the front door but before the couch, and Ray takes a minute to luxuriate in the feel of skin-on-skin. He shivers just a little as Ben's tongue dances along the line of his collarbone, shivers even more when those ruthlessly efficient fingers find their way inside his pants to cup and stroke a rapidly awakening cock.

Ben's mouth is at his shoulder now, and Ray bucks against the other man when he feels the sharp graze and firm press of teeth. He understands how easily Fraser could break the skin, and continually finds himself surprised that Fraser never does. Definite sucking sensation and Ray smiles when he thinks of the mark that will be left there. //Always yours, Ben. Always.//

A growl Ray knows isn't Dief sounds in his ear, and he turns his head to rub his cheek against Fraser, brings his hand up to that hair and touches. Touches, the way he's wanted to all afternoon. It's silky under his fingers and he wants to feel it with more than just his hands.

They tumble to the bed, tangled and laughing, and it takes several odd but graceful twists from both to shed pants, socks and shoes. Fraser fastens his mouth on a part of Ray's neck that a collared shirt can effectively hide, as Ray wraps long fingers around his lover's head. The feel of the close-shorn hair under his hands is almost electric. //Electric fuzz//, he thinks randomly, and he giggles.

Of their own accord, his fingers flex, stroke and pet, over and over, and Ray hears what sounds like a purr, isn't sure if it's him or Fraser, then a series of long, low sighs. He uses his hands to pull Fraser close, drags his cheek against the side of the other man's head once more, and it is all the signal Fraser needs.

He holds himself over Ray so that only the thinnest sheet of air is between them, then turns his head far enough to stroke Ray's face with his hair, rubbing the way a cat might, in an easy, sensuous glide. Another purr and this time Ray knows it's coming from him, and it gets louder as Fraser moves down.

Ray arches when Ben reaches his chest and slides the buzz over one, then the other nipple. Back and forth between them, lazy and slow, and Ray feels the lush burn everywhere. He fists the sheets in an effort to keep his hands from interfering because, of course, Fraser knows exactly what he's doing. He criss-crosses Ray's torso in a languid nuzzle and the friction between his hair and Ray's skin is delicious.

Eyes wide open and teeth gnawing his lower lip, Ray watches, fascinated and almost painfully aroused as Fraser goes lower, over the stomach, then up and down on the inside of Ray's thigh. He looks up for a moment, his smile utterly sinful, then licks his lips in a manner that Ray knows is deliberate.

And descends.

Sweet brush of that sable-colored velvet along the underside of his cock as Ben lowers, then raises, his head, and //fuck *me*// Ray *knows* a few more strokes like this is all he needs to come. He closes his eyes, no longer able to watch *and* feel at the same time because it is all just too much.

"Oh, God ... oh, *Ben*." It is all he can manage and he's not sure but he thinks he hears a chuckle. Close, he's incredibly close, then the warm fuzz is gone from his cock, only to be replaced, seconds later, with warm tongue and even warmer mouth.

As always, Fraser sucks with expert abandon. Initially, it is enough, but then Ray thinks that full-on sensory overload is really the way to go. Through the rapidly approaching din, he finds his voice again. Makes peace with the fact that he'll only be able to use monosyllables.

"You, too, Ben."

Essentially incomprehensible, but Fraser knows exactly what he means, sliding Ray's penis out of his mouth with a wet 'pop' before unfolding himself and shifting on the bed until he is aligned with Ray's mouth the same way Ray is aligned with his.

Ray's only regret is that he can't still stroke Fraser's hair while they do this, but all regrets become fast-fading memories as soon as he feels his partner's tongue slither over him again. It reminds him that he has his own treat to savor and he takes several long licks on Fraser's cock as if it were a popsicle //it *is* hot as hell outside//, before sucking it down as far as it can go.

The higher functioning, more skilled areas of Ray's brain shut down and all that is left are the baser parts, the parts that understand the beauty of pure, unadulterated pleasure. It takes very little time for the two of them to get in synch with each other and the rhythm they find would be maddening if Ray wasn't already out of his mind.

He comes first, like he always does when they do it this way, but Fraser isn't too far behind. Ray swallows all that he can and is greedy enough to immediately want more. He feels, rather than hears, the "mmmm" Ben murmurs around his softening cock, and can't help but respond in kind. Then, that marvelous mouth is gone from him, the cock in his mouth slips away, and Ray actually ... whimpers until he feels Fraser cover him completely. He parts his lips to accommodate the insistent, demanding tongue pressing against them, opens his eyes as that tongue glides over the roof of his mouth.

"Christ, Ben," he rasps when Fraser lets him take a breath, "that was ... that was ... *fuck*." //You sure can write dialogue there, Kowalski.//

The chuckle against his temple carries with it traces of arousal and joy. "I quite agree, Ray." Another deep, messy, utterly *lovely* kiss, and then Fraser buries his face in Ray's neck. Ray nuzzles his cheek once more against the side of Fraser's head, remembers what he'd been meaning to say for most of the afternoon.



"I really dig the hair."

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