Knockout, by LaT  Disclaimers: On this whole 'Alliance owns them' thing,
all I have to say is this -- it's just important that *Alliance* believes
that.
 Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
 Synopsis: Takes place right after the events in Mountie & Soul. Fraser
and Kowalski leave the gym, have some dinner and...bond. Yeah, that's it.
They bond. If you want *plot*, watch the episode. 
 Archiving: Hexwood & Serge; anywhere else, please ask first.

 NC-17 (quelle surprise) for m/m interaction and naughty words. If boy on
boy doesn't do it for you, walk on. Feedback deeply wanted and greedily
slurped at LaToot@aol.com
 
 Thanks to the lovely Meg B. and Te for beta.

 Knockout
 by LaT

 

 Ray set his dinner plate on the coffee table with a small grunt. Fraser
looked at him. 

 "Are you all right, Ray?" He tried to keep his voice neutral, but when it
came to his partner, neutrality didn't really seem to be an option for
him. 

 "I'm okay. Just a little stiff." Ray wondered if the RCMP taught classes
in perfecting the Earnest Look that Fraser was currently giving him.
Probably. Although Ray was certain it didn't look nearly as good on anyone
as it did on Fraser. Then again, Ray suspected there was very little that
looked as good on other people as it did on Fraser. He thought it made
sense to say something soon, before just looking back at Fraser turned
into outright staring at Fraser. 

 "It's just...been a while since I *really* boxed." 

 "That's understandable, Ray. Perhaps if you boxed more often...you'd
respond better physically." Fraser was fascinated by the way Ray's eyes
seemed blue, then green, then blue again, depending on his mood, or the
angle at which he tilted his head. At the moment, they were a vibrant,
lovely blue. 

 "I responded fine, Fraser." 

 "Of course you did. You responded very admirably." 

 "I thought Mounties didn't lie." 

 "Well, prevarication is generally discouraged, but there are situations
in which doing so on a minute scale is acceptable if it will spare
unnecessary..." 

 "In other words, you'd tell a little white lie about my boxing to keep
from gettin' popped in the head?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Why didn't you just say that?" 

 "I thought I just did." 

 "No, you started talkin' about preventive medicine or whatever that is
you just said." 

 "Prevari..." 

 "Do not interrupt me when I'm on a roll, Fraser." 

 "Understood." 

 "See, the way I see it, you had two chances and you blew both of 'em. You
coulda just said, from the get-go, 'Ray, you sucked,' or, after committin'
to engagin' in a minute bit of prevarication, stuck with it and said
somethin' like, 'Mounties *don't* lie Ray, and you were really great
today.' " 

 Fraser pondered that oddly coherent jumble of words for a moment, as well
as the barely-there smile that was doing such nice things to Ray's mouth.
He nodded, as if Ray had said something deeply profound, before speaking.
When he did, it was in his Tone of Seriousness. 

 "Ray?" 

 "Yes, Fraser?" 

 "You sucked." 

 Ray's eyes widened. He was just surprised enough that he had no witty
comeback to that. He said the next best thing. 

 "Yeah...I was pretty bad, wasn't I?" 

 "Appalling." 

 "Shitty." 

 "Awful." 

 "Okay, that's enough." He had started laughing, and as much as he was
enjoying Fraser, he could only take so much of being the butt of any joke.
And he wanted to do more with Fraser than laugh. A lot more. 

 They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Then Ray decided to
clear the table and found reaching for his plate to be a little harder
than setting it down had been. He really was stiff. Not so much sore, but
more like his arms had been replaced with strung-together bricks. He let
out another grunt. 

 "Let me." Fraser was up in an instant, clearing the dishes. As he rinsed
them, he tried to think of something he could do to make Ray feel better.
An idea came to him instantly. He pushed it away, but it wouldn't leave
him alone. He warred with himself for several seconds, then decided that
it really was about helping Ray, and Ray didn't have to say yes. He
cleared his throat before speaking. He tried once more for neutrality and,
miraculously, given what he was suggesting, found it. 

 "You know, Ray, if you'd like, I...could give you a massage." 

 Ray silently counted to ten before answering, hoping the delay meant his
voice would sound normal when he did. //When in doubt, flippancy works.// 

 "Don't tell me that's standard Mountie training." 

 "Very well. I won't." 

 "You've gotta be kiddin'." 

 "You asked me not to comment on it, Ray. I take it that you're not
interested in..." 

 "I didn't say that, Fraser." 

 "Oh." 

 "So...where do you wanna do it?" 

 Fraser actually missed a beat before answering that question. "Well,
ah...here is acceptable," he said, indicating the sofa, "but," and his
mouth was several steps ahead of his mind, "the bed might be more
conducive." //Oh. Damn.// 

 Ray stood so quickly he almost tripped. "Conducive. Is that one of those
words like germane or pugilism?" 

 "Easier, Ray. It means 'easier'. It might be easier to do it...this...ah,
//there is simply no way this sentence is going to sound like anything
other than an entendre of some kind// on the bed." 

 To his credit, Ray clamped down hard on the smile he *wanted* to give
Fraser, and led the way to the bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed
to take off his boots, but Fraser was quicker. 

 Kneeling in front of Ray, Fraser placed one hand on his right calf, and,
gently lifting the leg, used the other to tug on the boot. He liked
feeling the hard length of muscle beneath his fingers. Ray's leanness was
deceptive. For one so wiry, he was solid and well-built. Fraser didn't
realize that he'd started kneading the muscle until Ray let out a low,
soft "hmmm." He looked up with a question on his face. 

 "Feels nice," Ray said, responding to the question Fraser hadn't asked.
Blue eyes locked onto blue-green ones and for several delicate,
tantalizing seconds, they both just stared, Ray holding perfectly still,
the only movement from Fraser the rhythmic press of his fingertips into
cotton-covered skin. It was Ray who broke the spell. 

 "You gonna take the other one?" 

 The part of Fraser's mind that could still process rational thought knew
the word "off" was missing from that sentence; it seemed to the rest of
Fraser's mind - not to mention his body - that "take" was the wrong
preceding verb...and he wasn't thinking about grammar. 

 Keeping his eyes on Ray, he reached for the other leg, taking even more
time to remove the second boot. He wanted Ray to make that sound again. He
got his wish in the form of a longer, lower, more definitive "hmmm." 

 Fraser touching him struck Ray as a very good thing indeed, but it wasn't
enough touching to satisfy. How to get more of those oh-so-capable hands?
//This is *Fraser*, Kowalski. Just...ask.// 

 "So...would takin' off my shirt be...conducive to this?" He tried not to
smile, but didn't succeed. 

 "Very." Ray was sure he'd never heard Fraser answer a question that fast
before. He was even more surprised by how fast he managed to get out of
his shirt. 

 "It might also be helpful if you laid down on your stomach." 

 //There are so many places I could go with that//, Ray thought to himself
as he fell back and twisted around so that he was in the dead center of
the bed, //but...I won't.// The pillow was cool under his cheek and he
grinned into it, plotting his next move. 

 Looking at Ray, half dressed, half undressed, Fraser told himself again
that it was just about making Ray feel better. That it had nothing to do
with what he himself wanted or needed. //If you say it enough times, you
might actually start to believe that.// He was forgetting something. He
had to look somewhere other than the pale expanse of Ray's back to
remember what. 

 "Do you have hand lotion or cream of any kind, Ray?" 

 "No, Fraser, I don't. I left my portable drug store in my other pants."
That was a lie. He had lotion, but he didn't want anything between his
skin and Fraser's. "Just use your hands." 

 "Well, it would be more..." 

 "I don't *have* anything, Fraser. Make do." 

 "As you wish." Fraser was secretly pleased. He didn't want the sensation
of touching that much of Ray diluted by anything. He took a deep breath
and placed both hands on Ray's shoulders. Warm. Ray was so warm - not
feverish - just a healthy heat that Fraser thought was perfectly correct.
So much concentrated energy would necessarily radiate heat. 

 Ray carried much of his tension in his neck and shoulders, and Fraser
actually *concentrated* on loosening the knots, starting at the nape of
Ray's neck. For his part, Ray just laid there for a while, wallowing in
the sure, firm, almost-but-not-quite-painful touch. Fraser's touch. Expert
and oh-so-very-good. He moaned his pleasure at it. 

 "You will tell me if I hurt you, won't you, Ray?" 

 "Maybe. Right now, though, it feels good." 

 "I don't want to hurt you." 

 "I'm a big boy, Fraser. If I think it hurts, I'll let you know. Ooooh..."
Fraser was working the shoulders now, and the slight sting made Ray catch
his breath. After a few more minutes, he spoke again. 

 "You know, I shoulda popped you earlier when you said my physical
condition was appalling." 

 "You *agreed* with me. If I'm not mistaken, the word *you* used was
shitty." Fraser unconsciously increased the pressure of his hands. 

 "That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about after I sparred
with Dixon." 

 "Ah." 

 "I'm in good shape. I'm just a little rusty." 

 "Well, your physical *form* is quite nice. Your physical *condition* is
another matter entirely." 

 Ray lifted his head slightly. Did Fraser just tell him he had a good
body? "Say that again...uhnnn..." 

 Fraser decided against playing dumb. "Your physical form is very nice."
His hands were in the middle of Ray's back and he wanted to touch Ray like
this as often as possible, stroking that skin, drawing out those sounds. 

 "You've noticed my physical form?" Ray white-knuckled the pillow with
both hands in an effort at self-control. Pouncing on Fraser wasn't the way
to go. There were moments when subtlety mattered. 

 "Many times." 

 "And you *like* my physical form?" 

 "It's a great form, Ray." 

 Ray bit down the urge to say 'thank you kindly.' Instead, he said, "You
don't think I'm too skinny?" 

 "No. I think you're fine." 

 Ray saw his opportunity and took it. "Remember that lingo
thing...hmmm...I was tellin' you about earlier?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Well, 'fine' is one of those lingo things." 

 "How so?" 

 "When you say you think someone is 'fine,' it means you think they're
good-lookin' or sexy. That they turn you on." Ray shifted slightly. His
erection was uncomfortable only because he was on his stomach. 

 "I see." Fraser thought about this as he worked out a particularly
troublesome set of knots at the base of Ray's spine. "I do." 

 "You do what?" 

 "I...think you're very fine, Ray." 

 That was all he needed. Ray rolled over so that he was facing Fraser. His
smile was downright lethal. "Show me." 

 They were kissing, suddenly. Hard, wild and deep. Ray felt Fraser's
tongue sliding over his own, gliding across his teeth. He moaned when
Fraser stopped the assault to nibble a spot on his neck. A long, lazy
stroke of that tongue soothed the newly-sensitized flesh. 

 "I was wonderin' if you'd *ever* get around to tasting me," Ray breathed
against Fraser's cheek before doing some tasting of his own. 

 Fraser lifted his head to look his partner in the eyes. "All you had to
do was ask." 

 The sharp, full laugh was cut-off by another mouth-searing kiss. Fraser
stroked Ray's cheek with the thumb of his right hand while the left undid
Ray's fly. He kept kissing Ray as he gently pulled the thick, swollen cock
free. 

 Ray arched into the warmth of Fraser's hand. The small disappointment he
felt when Fraser's mouth left his was quickly replaced by the thrill of
anticipation after Fraser made shockingly short work of his pants and
socks. 

 He started to say something but rational thought simply...stopped when he
*felt* Fraser's mouth. On him. Like *that*. He knew only sensation then,
the glide of that stunningly hot, wet touch. He heard a low, keening sound
and the basest part of his mind told him he was the one making it. 

 He recognized movement. His hips rocked into that lush heat of their own
accord; he was just along for the ride. He understood touch. His hands
were in Fraser's hair and he knew "thick" and "soft." Strong fingers
kneaded his ass and his own fingers tensed and relaxed in rhythm with them
against Fraser's head. Good, Fraser was just so good. For him. To him. He
heard himself say the other man's name before spiraling into the blackness
of his orgasm. 

 For Fraser, Ray coming was too much and not nearly enough. He swallowed
all that there was, then cursed himself for his greediness at wanting more
than Ray could possibly give. Salty and sweet all at once and he almost
laughed at the thought that it was just how Ray *should* taste. He slid
off reluctantly, resting his head against Ray's thigh. Ray's hands were in
his hair and their light, pulsing movement told him that Ray was awake.
Fraser closed his eyes, concentrating on that lulling touch. 

 After a time, there was some shifting and Ray was shaking him, getting
him to move. He was on his back, and Ray's slender, graceful hands moved
over him, snapping his suspenders once before pulling them down, pulling
the tee-shirt up, off and out of the way, unfastening the riding pants.
Ray started to yank them down, then looked at Fraser. 

 "Boots. Off. Now." 

 Fraser sat up and Ray slipped behind him as he undid the laces. He was
stopped short by the rough, wet slide of Ray's tongue over the back of his
neck and those pretty, busy fingers on his cock. 

 "There's somethin' to be said for tastin' things." The vibration of Ray's
voice on his skin made Fraser arch. "You're takin' too long with the
boots." 

 "Well...you're a bit of a distraction." Another lapping stroke, this time
across a shoulder, and both boots were rapidly dispatched. 

 "That's much, much better," Ray said as the riding pants and boxers
followed suit. 

 Fraser found himself straddled by Ray, and he thought that this was just
as it should be. Ray gripped him again. Firm, confident and just a little
rough. Yes. Still holding on, still *stroking*, Ray leaned down and kissed
him again. 

 "Whatdya want, Fraser?" His voice was soft, teasing, and to Fraser,
incredibly tender. He wanted more of this *ease* with the man, more of
this warmth, but he knew that wasn't quite what Ray meant. His partner's
touch, scent and taste were overwhelming to Fraser and he didn't trust
himself with words. 

 He pressed his fingers to Ray's lips until Ray parted them, then, he
slipped the index and middle ones inside. Ray smiled at the cue and sucked
both. Fraser groaned, pushed his fingers in deeper and wriggled against
Ray's hand. A light chuckle at that and Ray let go of his fingers, kissed
him on the forehead and simply said, as he slid down, 

 "Hang on." 

 Fraser did, for a while, but in this, as it often was in other
situations, Ray's mouth was too much. He had thought that mouth was at its
best, its most irresistible, when Ray was being insolent. Insolence paled
against this delirious pleasure. He didn't even try to thrust; Ray's
command was so utter and complete there was just no *need*. It went on,
slick and hot, until release gathered itself around him, starting at his
toes, moving upward rapidly, wrapping him up until it was all he knew
except for Ray. 

 Later, much later, there was more shifting and they were both on their
sides, Ray behind him. Long arms circled his hips, and he threaded the
fingers of his left hand through Ray's. He felt the smile against his
shoulder. 

 "You gonna stay?" 

 "Yes. I mean, I'd...like to stay." 

 "Good." 

 After a time, the absolute stillness of the weight against his back told
Fraser that Ray was down for the count. Minutes later, so was he. 

END