Author's Website: http://N/A

Disclaimer: I make no profit, I make no claim, just want to play with them again. They belong to other people.

Author's Notes: Somebody asked for a fic using the title for a guide for what is euphemistically referred to as a "marital aid" from a, uh, specialty website. My muse is a twisted sort, who said, "Go on. You know you want to."

Story Notes: No real spoilers, just a wee line from BDtH referred to. Un-beta read, so caveat lector, so to speak. Forgive my
science, it's been a few years since my last Biology class.

A Guide to Electric Sex

by Carmen Kildare

When Fraser first suggested the laptop, I gotta admit, I wasn't too down with it. We bring way too much frigging work home as it is, seemed kinda unhinged setting myself up so I couldn't ever get away from it. But he was, you know, all reasonable and shit and pointed out the selling features and advantages, and just plain persisted until I just plain gave up and we got the damned thing, sharesies. Sitting here, propped up against my pillows, knocking back hot chocolate spiked with the Carolan's Mum gave me at Christmas, and all without a Huey or a Dewey in sight, I see his point. I hit send, beaming the damned Dhaliwal report I've been cleaning up back into the precinct computer through the direct dial-up. Soon as it's cleared, I cut the connection, dial-up our ISP, and cruise the 'net. Ben ain't due for a bit yet, he pulled afternoon and evening duty this week, so hey, why not?

Not that I'm an Internet junkie. Mostly just cruise it for a few minutes after working, or if there's something I gotta know right now, which with Ben happens a lot more than it used to. Only have a few things in bookmarks, most of them sports or news, a couple online places for stuff, like camping gear and E-bay and stuff.

Tonight, though, I'm thinking...

Hell, not just tonight. Been thinking about all that other stuff that the Internet's got, stuff the guys in the senate keep getting their panties bunched over. Get to thinking about, you know, other kinds of online shopping.

Thing is, being a cop in this town, there ain't too many places I can walk into completely anonymously. I mean, it's a big town, but somebody always knows somebody, and next thing you know snitch A is yakking to snitch B who tells Vice Guy hey, that Kowalski guy, he likes dildos. Big ones, Mountie-red.

Yeah. Damaged but not stupid, you know? Low profile is the only way to go.

But I'm curious. I mean, me and Stella, sometimes we played. Toys are fun. Sex is supposed to be fun. Passion, romance, feeling ... but fun, too. I liked the toys and the games and the little bit of leather and the little bit of lace and the way she tasted with honey all over her. How it made her skin shine, before and after.

I think Ben, he'd taste as good with honey, and the thought of his mouth all shiny with it means I gotta shift the damned laptop or risk doing myself an injury.

So I go tooling around, finally ending up in one site recommended on a newsgroup. Some of the stuff is hot, and some of it makes me shake my head, 'cause I sure as hell just don't get it. I start making myself a mental shopping list, wondering what Frase would pick out.

Speak of the devil, the door opens, and I hear wolf-feet and Mountiefeet and they both poke their heads in the door and say hello and Ben steals a swig of my chocolate, only making a bit of a face when he tastes the Carolan's, then steals a kiss before heading into the bathroom. Dief tries to steal a swig, too, but the booze overrides the chocolate, and he grumbles at me for ruining perfectly good cocoa before heading into the kitchen to eat the kibble I set out when I got home.

"What are you doing?" and I look up, see Ben in the door, stripped down to his red woolies and looking a little messed and a little tired and a lot glad to be home. I pat the bed, and he comes over, stretches out so that his head tucks up under my shoulder and his arm slips around under my back.

"I'm training to be a perv," I tell him, and I feel his smile against my ribs.

"Master's or Doctoral programme?" he asks, butter wouldn't melt, and I pinch him, hard, but he just grins harder into my side.

"Seriously. Some weird-assed stuff out there, Benton-Buddy." I back up a few pages, show him what had me looking sideways. "I mean, what the fuck is up with that?"

He peers at the screen, sliding up a bit to get a better view. He feels good, he smells good, God, bet he tastes better. "Electrical sex devices," he says. "Ah."

I poke him. "Ah? All that gets is an 'ah'? What, is that how you Canadians keep warm out in your ice fields or something?"

He bites me, gently, makes me just shudder as teeth catch, hold, and he breathes sweet and hot on me before letting his teeth ease off. "You know damn well how we keep warm, Ray," and his voice is dark, rough. "Besides, really, isn't all sex electrical, when you get right down to it?" He takes the laptop away from me, sets it carefully on the floor. "Electrochemical, true, but electrical, all the same."

"Explain," and Jesus, is that my voice?

He scootches up, bites down gently on my collarbone. "I touch you, here," his breath on me, "and it sets your nerve endings off, your afferent neurons, and they send little chemical transmitters which bridge the synaptic gaps, presynaptic to postsynaptic, an electrical current that travels along your nervous system." His mouth traces a line, small bites and licks, up over my shoulder, around my neck, until his teeth are over my spine. My whole body is strung tight, like high-tension wire, while something from grade ten poetry about singing the body electric flashes in my brain. I get what he's saying, really get it, and goddamn why couldn't my high school Bi teacher have taught this so good, but then, don't think he was Bi enough and I start to laugh a little, only Ben's teeth get busy, moving up and down the notches of my spine until I twist and turn to give him better reach.

"Message reaches, a jolt, a spike of sensation in your spine, millivolts of pleasure moving up towards your brain." His mouth follows what he's saying, and God, I feel it, feel the electricity he's talking about, it makes every last goddamned hair on my body stand up and my dick's so hard it hurts and I'm seeing sparks behind my eyes. Every place his mouth connects it's wild, alive, crackling all over, like we're part of some sort of live connection, like he's feeding me raw energy, making me sing with it.

His mouth moves down, his hands, too, and there's shifting, there're clothes going bye-bye, but hell, he's got me plugged in, and he's whispering things like "ganglion" and "ion channels" and whatever the fuck else and then there's silence, just breathing, hard, heavy breathing and the feel of his teeth and his tongue and the thrust of his finger until the circuit locks, flares, blows apart, overloaded on Ben, on Benton and his fucking beautiful brain and his fucking beautiful mouth. A while later, I feel him over me, feel the heat and wet of him, and he leans in and kisses me and he tastes bitter and salty and a bit like copper, a bit like lightning.

Eventually, when I can breathe again, I just look at him, then say, "Forget what I ever said about your mouth and electricity, all right? I did not know whereof I spoke, okay?" and he just cracks up, giggling like an idiot into my neck. Beautiful freak.

Then he's crawling over me, hauling the laptop up, setting it on a pillow across his lap. "If I recall correctly, this site has a commendable selection of flavoured lubricants," he tells me, looking all serious at the screen, or at least as serious as anyone can manage half-out of long red woolies in a bed that looks like a tornado hit.

I just stare at him, shake my head some. "Y'know, I could pretend to be shocked, but I figured out the whole innocent routine the first time you went down on me."

He shoots me a look, his eyes bright, his mouth curling a little at the corners. "Yes, but you're especially observant, Ray. Most people, it takes two or three times, at least." I smack him on the arm, and he just grins, and that's another connection, another circuit completed, me getting him and him getting me. I get up, go get my wallet, carpe Visa, and prepare to go shopping.

But we ain't buying the little Doctor Frankenstein's lab set. Got all the electricity I can handle.

Some of the leather stuff, on the other hand. Hell, yeah.

)0(

An End.