Disclaimer: the characters are not mine - God gave rock and roll to you

Author's Notes: Yet another entry in the Naive Fraser challenge - tinriddick tempted me by dangling an idea out there I couldn't resist: a story written around the tempo of "Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin' ” by Journey, one of my all-time faves. I have some very fond memories of this song.

Story Notes:

Ray pushed the coffee table out of the way while Fraser cleared the dishes. Diefenbaker climbed into the armchair to watch the proceedings - Fraser suspected he'd be hearing about this for weeks.

"The whole thing about dancing, Frase, is you gotta turn your head off, and let your body handle things." Ray rolled up the rug, uncovering the pattern sets on the floor. "Now we won't use these tonight - you ain't ready for those."

Fraser thanked God for small favors. He wasn't ready for any of this. "Ray, I'm sorry, but I don't see the need-"

"Trust me, buddy, I've seen the need. No way you go under at the club without being ID'd. And I have a need to have you there. I don't trust anyone else to watch my back." He beckoned Fraser forward with a flick of his hand. "Now, I'm playing some stuff with a good beat, just follow that."

The music started to play and Ray started to dance. Fraser didn't start anything. He didn't know how.

It took a chorus before Ray realized Fraser was still standing at attention in the middle of his living room. "What's wrong, Fraser?"

"Wouldn't it be easier for me to tend bar?"

Ray laughed. "Yeah right, I wanna see your face the first time someone orders a Virgin Screw. Come on, just move your hips." Ray demonstrated with a swivel. "Nothing fancy."

Fraser tried it - he looked like he needed a chiropractor. "No, no, no. Loosen your spine up. It bends in more than one direction." Ray did another move, leading Fraser to conclude his partner didn't have a spine at all.

The mountie tried it again. And again. And again. Ray played faster tempos, jazz, rumbas, sambas, tangos - he even gave disco a try (although he would deny with his last breath that disco had ever been played on his stereo). Finally Fraser just stood there, frustrated and a bit embarrassed.

"All right, Frase, take a break. I'm gonna rethink this a bit." Ray went to the kitchen and got Fraser a glass of water and himself a beer. Handing the glass over, he took a long swallow from the bottle.

"The music is wrong."

"Oh, no, Ray, the music is quite enjoyable. I find the lyrics interesting, and the orchestration in the last number-"

"See, that's the problem. You're listening to the music."

"But, Ray-"

Ray started searching his CD collection. "Dancers don't listen to music. See, you're a singer so you listen, but me, I dance and I feel it - the beat, the rhythm, the pulse." Ray moved from shelf to shelf, obviously with a goal in mind. "Hah! I knew it was here somewhere." He opened the jewel case and replaced one CD with another. "Now normally, I wouldn't pull out the heavy guns this soon, but you can trust me that there isn't a man alive who can't move to this one."

Ray pushed play and cranked the volume up enough to drive Dief into the bedroom. The apartment vibrated with a drum beat that instantly had the blonde moving in a way that Fraser could only describe as - as - well, he couldn't describe it. He didn't use that kind of language. "Ray! What is this?!"

Ray kept moving in the most suggestive manner. "This, my friend, is music to l-u-u-v by." He did a slight knee bend/swivel/something that had Fraser flushing to his toes. "Now, Rolling Stone once said that anything by Johnny Mathis was guaranteed to make a woman swoon, but believe me, this one beats him all to hell."

Ray moved to stand behind Fraser and placed his hands on the mountie's waist. "Can you feel the beat, Frase?" A jerky nod. "Good. I want you to move your hips, OK? Right, left, right, left... Good, good. now pretend you're drawing a figure eight with `em."

The refrain pulsed through his brain. What were they saying - Nah, nah Na-nah nah nah...

Ray picked that up immediately. "No, No, No. Stop thinking. Just feel." And suddenly he felt it. Ray was pressed tight against his back, one hand on his hips, gripping him tightly, the other slid hotly over his ribs until it came to rest on his stomach. Fraser's hips moved as Ray's did, although he had no earthly idea what was controlling them - certainly it wasn't him. "Yeah, feel it. Can you feel it?"

He felt something. A hot, throbbing something. "Yes, oh yes, Ray!"

"There you go, Frase, dance for me." Ray's breath was warm in his ear. Ray's cock was hard against his backside. The CD must have been set on repeat. Fraser could feel the drums start that rhythm again as their hips began to grind against each other.

"Ray..." A groan, a plea.

"Yea, come on..." The button and zipper to his jeans seemed to melt away. One minute they were fastened, the next they were gone, leaving an easy trail for Ray's hand.

"Ray, please..." His head fell back on Ray's shoulder. He didn't know what he was asking for. Fortunately for him, Ray did.

"I got you, Benton." Dear god, yes, Ray had him. Had a hand inside his boxers, gripping his leaking cock, stroking it up and down to the beat of this wonderfully terrifying song. Touching, squeezing. "Got you, got you."

He didn't know what to do with his hands. He finally reached behind him and grabbed onto Ray's hips, holding tight as the music pounded through him. "Oh, my God, Ray!"

"Yeah, go for it, Frase, now, now!" As though he had a choice.

"Yes, Na-ah-h-h!" He filled Ray's hand with come, felt Ray's cock throb in release behind him. He didn't fall so much as collapse onto the floor, aftershocks pulsing to the song.

Ray reached over to turn off the stereo. Neither said much right away. Fraser couldn't, and Ray had no need too. But finally, "you dance quite well, Ray."

"I dance even better naked."

End Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin' by chesamus: chesamus@charter.net

Author and story notes above.