Notes: I've been thinking about this for a while, probably since the third
or fourth time I watched Mountie & Soul (and yes, I have watched M&S more
than four times - your point?). I've always felt like Fraser was holding
back in the sparring scene, that the only reason he doesn't cut loose is
because he doesn't want to do anything that might embarrass Ray on Ray's
turf. In boxing, as in everything else with these two, I think things are
completely different when they're alone.

Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski

Disclaimers, et al.: Alliance allegedly owns them. What-the-fuck-ever. If
they were mine, I'd let them go at each other until they both fell down.
Rated NC-17 for boy/boy smut, boxing kink and some dirty words. As this story

involves boxing, it also involves some bloodletting. If none of
these things turn your crank, walk on. Minor spoilers for Mountie & Soul, but
really, blink and you'll miss them. If you find a plot in this, you're
reading a different story with the same title.

Thanks to the wondrous and Most Excellent Kasha for smart, warm and helpful

Feedback deeply wanted and hungrily slurped at

For Anagi, and for Erica and Te, both of whom share my abiding love for the
sweet science that is Mountie & Soul ...


by LaT

As he steps into the gym, it immediately occurs to Fraser that he recognizes
the song playing on the portable stereo sitting ringside as the one from
Ray's birthday party. It is not difficult to find Ray. They are, after all,
the only two people here and it is after-hours.

Weaving and bobbing in time to the infectious and guitar-driven beat of the
music, Ray attacks the speed-bag with relish. His focus is so sharp he
doesn't hear Fraser enter the gym. After locking the door, Fraser takes full
advantage of Ray's concentration, and for several minutes just ... observes.

Ray moves in a circle around the speed-bag, his fists a blur as he keeps the
hanging pouch in perpetual motion. He is not wearing gloves; instead, he
bare-knuckles leather Fraser knows is worn but still stiff and unforgiving to
the touch. The fact that Ray's hands are unprotected pleases Fraser, and his
tongue rhythmically strokes the roof of his mouth as he imagines licking his
partner's reddened, aching knuckles to soothe them. The strangely sensuous
hunger Ray evokes in him only increases as he takes in the layer of sweat
covering Ray's skin.

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. RAY." Fraser is certain that when he does this, Ray
hears his name the first time it is spoken, and only refrains from answering
because he wants Fraser to yell. For his part, Fraser is only happy to

"Fraser!" Ray is "up" tonight, Fraser can see this in the ready flash of
smile, in the quickness of step as the other man crosses the distance between
them in long, graceful strides.

//I could eat you alive//, Fraser thinks when Ray stops right in front of
him. He reaches out, slides his fingers over Ray's upper arm and across his
tattoo. With his thumb, he traces the outline of the design, wonders, as he
occasionally does, whether or not Ray enjoyed the sting of getting it.

He pulls his hand away slowly, brings fingers moist with Ray's sweat to his
lips and sucks each one clean before speaking.

"So, we're sparring, I take it?" Fraser is not unmindful of the way Ray's
eyes track the movement of his fingers.

"Yes, Fraser, we are sparring. And I mean *sparring*. None of that standin'
around like a Mountie the way you did last time."

"But, I *am* a ..."

"Fraser, don't make me haveta kill you. You know what I mean. It's not
exercise, it's not *boxing*, if all we do is dance around each other in
circles. If I wanted to dance with you, I'd ask you to dance. I want you to
hit me whenever you can. 'Cause I'm sure as hell gonna be tryin' to hit you."

Ray leans in for a kiss after this little speech, but Fraser ducks back and
away at the last minute, throwing Ray off-balance. He makes no effort to
steady his partner, and simply chuckles to himself when he hears Ray's
mumbled "bastard."

Fraser deposits his leather jacket on a nearby chair and strips out of his
sweats. He likes the way Ray watches him, likes the unmistakable leer even
more. Ray fiddles with the stereo as he watches Fraser and the song starts
again. He tosses gloves to Fraser, then asks,

"Do you need to warm up?"

"Ah, no. I walked here, so ... I'm fairly limber."

"Yeah, you are," Ray says as he fastens his gloves, and Fraser doesn't miss
the hint of suggestiveness in Ray's tone.

Once they are both properly equipped, they begin circling each other in the
ring, bouncing and two-stepping as they each do their own mental preparation.
Fraser notices the music has changed. There is still quickness to the beat,
but this song is more bass-heavy and throbbing than the first. It makes him
smile to think that Ray prepared a soundtrack for them.

"Okay, Fraser. It's all aboard for funtime. Let's get ready to *rumble*."

"Right you are, Ray." He starts to say something else, but the words are cut
off by the sudden and unexpected uppercut that forces him back a few steps.
He wasn't ready, didn't think Ray was really ready, and his partner took

//He's been ... practicing//, Fraser thinks as he regains his composure. The
last time they ever tried this, he discombobulated Ray with one punch.
Fraser feels his blood start to hum when he realizes Ray has been practicing
for *this*. For a rematch. For *him*.

"Ha! Weren't expectin' that, were ya?" Ray looks pleased, but Fraser thinks
it's not possible that Ray knows or understands how good he just made Fraser

He takes his own advantage, uses Ray's gleeful smugness against him to strike
the other man's jaw. It knocks Ray back into the ropes. This time, unlike
the last, Fraser doesn't move to steady Ray or to ascertain that he is all
right. Ray actually snarls before using the ropes to propel himself forward,
then spins and ducks to avoid Fraser's advance. Oh yes, *now* they are both
fully ready.

The music is faster now, and Fraser and Ray come together in the center of
the ring in a flurry of ducks, twists and punches. Ray has definitely been
practicing. He uses his lithe, agile form beautifully, landing blows by
stretching in ways that Fraser, for all his natural grace, cannot quite match.

Fraser, however, has and uses the benefit of weight. He is heavier than Ray,
his punches land with more force than Ray's, and he gets in twice as many
because his have a tendency to throw Ray off-balance.

But Ray hits often and well, each blow reverberating through Fraser to his
bones. He knows that the rush he feels each time Ray strikes him has nothing
to do with adrenaline and everything to do with arousal. They are both
soaked with sweat, he can smell himself mingled with the scent of Ray and oh
God, he just wants more.

They break, briefly, for water. There is something Fraser wants, but he is
hesitant to ask for it, worried it might be too much.

"Uh, Fraser?" Ray's eyes are wide, his breath comes in pants, and his hair
is damp enough that some of the spikes have fallen. He shifts from one foot
to the other and it occurs to Fraser that he has a request of his own.

"What is it, Ray?"

"Uh ... I was ... wonderin' if we could, um, lose the gloves."

The humming in his blood gets louder and Fraser is genuinely stunned to
realize that they both want the same thing - the undiluted force of bare
knuckles colliding with skin. He answers by using his teeth to undo the
Velcro fastenings of first one, then the other of his gloves, keeps his eyes
on Ray the whole time. He reaches for Ray's gloves, undoes them the same way,
pulls them off and tosses them out of the ring.

Ray responds by pulling his tank top off with one fluid tug, then dispenses
with Fraser's in similar fashion. Fraser is unable to stop himself and leans
in to Ray, slicks his tongue over one sweat-soaked shoulder, up the side of
Ray's neck, then over those pretty, pretty lips before slipping it inside.
Ray kisses back hard, their tongues wrestling with each other, jockeying for
position. Soon, too soon, Ray's hands are pushing him away.

He steps back. Ray is right, it isn't quite time for that, but any
disappointment Fraser feels is forgotten when he remembers that this round
will be fought sans gloves. Without his shirt, Ray is even more beautiful,
and all that smooth, pale skin makes Fraser's fingers tingle. They haven't
discussed how long they will go, but Fraser knows it's only a matter of time
before the erection he's kept at bay through sheer force of will gets the
better of him.

He isn't able to duck quickly enough to avoid the fist that connects with his
cheekbone after Ray figures out that he was just ... staring. Without the
buffer of a glove, the pain is immediate and clarified in its sharpness. He
*will* bruise and that thought only makes him smile.

They circle each other again, bobbing, weaving, hitting, and hitting *hard*.
More than once Ray's fist connects with Fraser's chest in a way that makes
him inhale deeply to regain his bearings, and of course, he gives as good as
he gets. He feigns //well, not entirely// fascination with the line of Ray's
collarbone to bring his partner in closer, then strikes out twice against
Ray's jaw. He has just enough time to congratulate himself on the second
punch, before Ray responds in kind, finding Fraser's jaw for the first one,
then landing higher the second time, on the corner of the mouth. Fraser
knows, even before his tongue slides out for confirmation, that Ray has made
him bleed.

Ray drawing blood first loosens something in Fraser. He punches lower the
next time, to the gut, and when Ray doubles over enough that Fraser doesn't
have to reach very far, he strikes Ray on the browbone, opening a cut from
which blood instantly springs.

"Son-of-a-bitch," Ray growls before hitting Fraser in the chest, a blow that
would knock a less solidly built man down. Fraser doesn't have time to
imagine what that bruise will look like because he's too busy knocking Ray
against the ropes. Ray bounces forward into him, causing them both to
stumble, and they tangle in a sweaty, messy embrace, trying to steady each
other. Sharp, stinging pain at his shoulder and Fraser knows without looking
that Ray is biting him.

He reaches for Ray's head, grabs a handful of the damp, blond hair and tugs
hard. Ray lets go, allows his head to be pulled back. His lips looks redder
than usual and Fraser hopes that the kiss he knows is coming is tinged with
blood. It is, and while it's good, so very, very, good, it's not quite what
Fraser wants and he catches Ray's fuller lower lip between his teeth and

//Much better//, he thinks as he laps at the salt-coppery redness rising from
Ray's mouth, and he kisses Ray again, lets the other man taste himself. Ray
wriggles out of Fraser's arms, flashes a lethal smile and punches Fraser
right in the mouth. One of his knuckles collides with a pointed and slightly
crooked incisor, and the skin over the bone splits neatly, blood blooming
like a rose.

"*Fuck*!" Ray shakes out his fist but Fraser doesn't give him any time to
truly register the pain before uppercutting him. Ray recovers quickly, weaves
out of the way of the next blow, uses his other fist to administer a punch
that results in a cut over Fraser's right eye to match the one over Ray's

Too much, it is just too much for Fraser, but desire, rather than fatigue,
brings him to the conclusion that he is done. Ray has matched him step for
step and Fraser admits to himself his own surprise at this. He assumed it
would be ... easy to dispatch Ray, to wear him down quickly, but again, as he
does more often than not, Ray exceeded and defied expectations.

They stand apart from one another now, both breathing deeply and hard. Ray
is bleeding from the cut over his eye, another on his cheek, and the bite to
his lip. His torso is dotted with faint splotches that will darken into
bruises before the night is over. He is grinning and Fraser knows the arousal
he smells is not just his own.

He looks down at himself and realizes Ray landed as may punches as he took
this round. From the sting of his own sweat, Fraser can tell that he has
cuts over one eye, under the other, in two places on his mouth, plus the bite
to his shoulder. He looks back up at Ray, and if he thought he wanted to eat
the man alive before ...

"You done, Fraser?"

"I think we should call it a draw," Fraser answers, moving in closer, the
scents of blood, sweat and something else making him slightly dizzy, telling
him there's something even better they could be doing.

"Yeah, me too," Ray nods and then nothing more is said as Fraser closes the
last few steps between them, puts his hand in the small of Ray's back, and
roughly pulls him in for another kiss. Hot, harsh and wild, and they sink to
their knees on the mat without breaking apart. Their fumbling is wet and
sticky but completely effective in removing the rest of their clothes. Fraser
lets out a small gasp when his stiff and demanding cock is freed from the
athletic supporter that made the last few minutes of their fight almost
unbearable for him.

He rolls them, once, pinning Ray beneath him, then searches out the cut over
the other man's eye with his tongue. Briefly, he wonders if it means he is
unhinged in some way because the taste of Ray's blood on his tongue only
makes him that much harder. Whatever sickness he may have, he realizes Ray
shares it when he feels a tongue lap at his bleeding shoulder, hears the
softly murmured "so good".

He rocks his hips against Ray, feels the press of the other man's hard and
weeping cock against his belly. Ray begins moving with him, and the slippery
friction between them is heady, glorious. Ray claims Fraser's mouth, spreads
his legs wider, pulls Fraser, incredibly, closer. The sharp tang of blood
underlaid with the salt-sweet of Ray's tongue makes Fraser so very, very
*hungry* and he is powerless to hold back a growl. Ray breaks the kiss to
lick at the cut under Fraser's eye, speeds the rocking of his hips just a
little, and breathes once more against Fraser's skin "so good."

//You have *no* idea//, Fraser thinks and it is the last coherent thought he
can manage because his partner is pushing him up, making him lift so that Ray
can slide down his body, licking, sucking, *biting* as he goes. It is bliss,
but Fraser wants even more and it takes the final ounce of his reason to say

He shifts above Ray until his head faces Ray's feet and vice versa, then
shifts again so they are both on their sides. He takes Ray's cock in his
mouth and seconds later feels himself swallowed as well. The salt of sweat,
warmth of skin and indefinable taste of Ray fills him and he groans around
his prize, takes the thrust it earns him with pleasure. Oh, *yesss*. The
fingers of one hand caress Ray's ass in a rhythm that matches the roll of his

Ray sucks in time with his own thrusts against Fraser's lips and for Fraser,
his whole existence comes down to feel of his mouth on Ray and Ray's mouth on
him. Suck, lick, thrust. He is close, too damn close and Ray senses it
because he slows, then completely lets go, strokes with his hand for a while
until Fraser calms.

"You're so ... eager sometimes, " Ray says softly, the words tickling the
sensitive head. "I *love* that."

Before Fraser can answer, Ray's mouth slides back over him, the wicked
suction stilling any possibility for a spoken reply. Fraser hums around Ray
in response, takes another tonsil-checking thrust in stride.

Hot and full, wet and deep, and it goes on and on, but not long enough, it is
never long enough. Pleasure gathers at the base of Fraser's spine, spreads
through him and thickens as surely as the swollen flesh he strokes with his
tongue. His hips snap wildly, once, and he is coming, then Ray is coming, and
Fraser thinks this is really the only way to drown before he can no longer
think at all.

Later, but still too soon, Ray's clever, elegant fingers poke and prod at
him, pull him away from the sleep to which he could so easily surrender.

"C'mon. Let's hit the showers and go home. My bed's more comfortable than
the mat, trust me."

Fraser is still not fully himself, but he lets Ray help him to his feet, then
pulls him into another embrace, another kiss, tastes himself mixed with the
taste of Ray and moans.

"Hey, Ben?" Ray says when Fraser stops sucking on his tongue long enough to
let him speak.

"Hmm?" He fastens his mouth to the tendon along Ray's neck and starts to

"I don't really think that was a draw."

Fraser lets go of what he holds between his tongue and teeth to look Ray in
the eyes. "Why not?"

"You came first." Ray ... dances out of Fraser's grasp, raises both arms in
mock victory and unleashes his sexiest smile. "I win."