(Sundae) Disclaimers: Alas, they belong not to me, but to *them*. I have nothing anyone could possibly want, therefore suing would be pointless. (Not to mention expensive!) I'm just borrowing them, and may, or may *not* return RayK when I've finished with them Ratings and warnings: NC-17 for RayK/Benton Fraser male/male intimacy. If the thought of two men having passionate, loving sex, or Benton Fraser and Ray Kowalski in a permanent, committed relationship does not turn your crank, I suggest you pass on this one. Also, remember that this is a work of *fiction* and although the characters are not dealing with the issues of safe sex herein, this in *no* way condones the practice of unsafe sex in Real Life! Remember please: Use it or lose it!!! Author's Note: Often stories are born of so many inspirations. At times we can spend days agonizing, tossing ideas around our heads, and struggling with concepts. Then on those other rarer occasions... whoops! Something comes flying out of our mouths like... "However.. A Chicago Flatfoot, some Hershey's squeezable chocolate syrup, and a Mountie that *loves* to taste things... *that* I can see..." and lo, a story is easily, and quite painlessly born. This story is dedicated to my Serge Listsibs, who everyday offer nothing but support and inspiration. This one is for *family* TYK to: Krista Finnie, for putting up with me, and my all day long DS ramblings (as usual), and to Kellie Matthews, for her encouragement and instigation J This story has not yet been Beta'd so any foobars contained herein are solely the author's own dern fault! This story takes place at some unspecified point after Mountie On The Bounty. Sundae by Andre Your love is better than ice cream Better then anything else that I've tried Your love is better then ice cream everyone here knows how to cry It's a long way down It's a long way down It's a long way down To the place where we started from * Sarah MacLachlan "Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray? Are you ready for desert?" Startled back into the present by the rich, warm timbres of his lover's voice, Stanley Raymond Kowalski glanced up from his now empty plate, mercurial blue eyes fixing firmly on Constable Benton Fraser's face. The Mountie, he noted, had a somewhat smug smile plastered across his lovely face, the variety that usually sent warning bells ringing immediately in the blond detective's head. "Frase, yer gonna spoil me here. First ya clean up my kitchen, then ya cook me dinner, and now ya got desert too?" He couldn't help but grin. Fraser had become so much more to him than a partner. So much more than a friend. Somehow, it seemed that the ruggedly handsome Canadian had wormed his way past his heart, and into his very soul itself, touching him on levels that Stella had never even come close to discovering. "Well, Ray, as you know, Proper Preparation Preven..." "Prevents Poor Performance, I know, I know." Ray finished the thought for him, quickly cutting him off with several wild gesticulations of his finely boned hands. He'd heard it all before. Too many times to even count. Typical Fraser, reverting to that ever present Mountie training to explain away anything under the sun. Unable to resist, Ray's tongue flickered out, tracing quickly over his full lower lip, before teasing suggestively, "Then again, Frase, I ain't heard ya complainin' about *my* performance." A telltale blush crept up Fraser's face at the innuendo. "Right you are... I... ah... " he began to stammer, his color rising to a hue rather complimentary to the serge he commonly wore. After nervously smoothing one eyebrow down with his finger, he finally managed to choke out, "Ray, I find... that is to say... well, I find that you are most satisfactory in that regard." A wheaten colored brow shot up into the edgy detective's hairline, as he slithered out of his seat, sauntering around the table behind his seated lover in a near predatory fashion. Gently placing an elegant hand on the taut, flannel-clad shoulder in front of him, he leaned in, whispering huskily into the silky black hair behind Fraser's ear, "'Most satisfactory in *that* regard'? Whazzat supposed ta mean, Ben?" His breathy words were rewarded by a subtle shiver creeping up the painfully shy Constable's spine. "'Cuz yer *more* than satisfactory, lover. Yer *hot*. Like a wild animal, and I *love* that." He was a complete sucker for making the normally erudite and verbose Mountie go all tongue tied. Head falling forward, in order to hide the growing flush rushing to his cheeks, Fraser somehow managed to reply, "Ray, please!" Fraser found it disconcerting, at the very least, to be so unsure of his own feelings as to not be able to distinguish whether the blush was caused by embarrassment, excitement, or some indefinable mixture of the two. "What, Ben, don'tchya like hearin' 'bout whatchya do ta me? Hell, I can hardly stop thinkin' 'bout ya. Yer so much more than I ever expected..." the Chicagoan replied softly, almost reverently. And it was true. Whatever he had thought he wanted, Ray Kowalski hadn't been prepared for the raw, unfettered sensuality of the man, even if his lover couldn't manage to actually talk about it. It was a more than pleasant surprise, and, well, they could work on the talking part. The spiky blond head dipped down, trailing small nips over the Mountie's still clothed shoulder, smiling slightly at the soft moan that rumbled through his partner's chest. Okay, enough teasin,' he thought to himself, then abruptly pulled away, and returned to his seat, asking offhandedly, "So, desert?" At times Ray's changeable moods were beyond the calm Canadian's comprehension. He stole a glance over at Ray, noting the almost pouting lips, the arms crossed nonchalantly across his chest, and most importantly, the wicked gleam sparkling behind the twin blue seas of his eyes. Those eyes which telegraphed every thought, or would that be *action*, on the lithe blonde's mind. "Oh dear... I... Ray..." he simply became unable to articulate the waves of desire the glint hidden within those pale blue eyes evoked in him. "How 'bout I get us desert, Frase?" "As you wish, Ray." Suddenly Benton was quite grateful for Ray's offer, since he speculated that walking would be more then a bit difficult, just now. "Okay, Okay, hang on Frase..." Ray affirmed, then fairly danced into the kitchen, awash in his usual wealth of nervous energy. At times Fraser found himself getting tired just watching the man. The telltale gleam in Ray's eyes had plainly increased, as he returned with a bottle of chocolate sauce and a large bowl of ice cream veritably drowning in chocolate, whipped cream, and nuts. The Mountie was all but dumbfounded as Ray set down his sweet burden, then settled himself into Fraser's lap, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. It occurred to him to ask just exactly *what* his partner was doing. As he opened his mouth, however, it was immediately filled with a spoonful of ice cream dripping in chocolate sauce. Calm blue eyes questioned, as he managed to gulp down the unexpected mouthful. "Ray, It really isn't necessary to feed me.. I am perfectly capable of..." he was silenced by another mouthful of the sweet, rich confection. "Ya ever think mebbe I *wanna* do this? Feed ya?" the replying voice was husky, near breathless, Fraser noted, and for the first time since Ray had settled into his lap he looked at him. Really *looked* at him. Oh dear. He was mesmerized by the sight of delicate boned wrists, elegant hands, and artfully slender fingers deftly guiding the spoon. That hand would dip the flashing silver spoon into the ice cream, only to dredge it circularly around the side of the bowl, drowning it in the sinfully rich chocolate. That arm would move then, lifting the spoon to his lips, delicately, deliberately, as if its contents were some sort of offering. Or perhaps the mere gestures in and of themselves were the offering. He couldn't seem to quell the subtle trembling that began to course along his spine with each intimate gesture. Ray was not at all unaware of the affects his spontaneous feeding was causing. The heat rising off of the Mountie was tangible. It burnt him, sparked waves of heat from him, caused his heart to pound in his chest. Fraser's eyes had darkened, small fires of passion dancing beneath their usually placid surface. Oh yeah, this was definitely having the intended affect. At last, and all together too soon, it seemed the sundae was gone, the knowledge tugging at the corner of the detective's mobile mouth, working it into a downright lascivious grin. Somehow, Fraser managed to refocus his attention, applying his will to forming a question, "You didn't have any, Ray?" "Not yet, I'm gonna in a minute." Agile fingers quickly worked at the buttons of Fraser's flannel shirt, slipping them free. "Ray, what... why are you...?" "Don't worry, okay, Frase? I'm gonna have my sundae here." Still rather uncertain what removing his own shirt had to do with Ray making another sundae for himself, Fraser decided to 'go with the flow' as Ray would put it. Surprising even himself, he even reached up, assisting with those buttons, and before long, gentle hands were pushing the fabric back off of his shoulders. With a soft sigh, Fraser grabbed at the hem of his tee-shirt and drew it quickly over his head., drawing forth a small groan of encouragement from his lanky partner. Sliding off of Ben's lap, Ray extended a hand, "C'mere Frase..." Puzzled, Fraser rose to his feet, taking the proffered hand, and was led, curiously enough, to the couch. Ah, perhaps Ray wished to sit in a more comfortable spot. Before Fraser could sink to the couch, however, he was stopped short, gawking, as the rebellious blond suddenly worked open his jeans, and pushed them, and his boxers down over his hips to his thighs, before pulling him down onto the khaki colored couch. "Ray?" he questioned, "Just what *are* you doing?" "Just trust me here, Frase... please?" As if anyone could resist that soft plea. Very well then, he thought to himself, before joining Ray on the couch, painfully aware of Ray's still clothed state, and his own near nudity. It sent a frighteningly thrilling jolts along all of his nerve endings. It wasn't long before Ray was removing his boots, socks, and then pulling his jeans the rest of the way off. Why should it be so thrilling and shocking at the same time to sit here in the altogether like this? A palm against his sternum brought Ben back to the present, as it pushed him backwards into the couch, until he was spread out upon it. Eyes closing, he could not begin to suppress the shivers of anticipation and curiosity running rampant up the course of his spine. He almost yelped when an unfamiliar sensation touched him. His eyes flew open, shock evident in their depths, as Ray swirled and traced sticky patterns of chocolate sauce across his chest. Oh God... "Ray?" the sound was almost a yip. "Shh... Frase.. wanna have my sundae here.. my *Mountie* sundae." "Oh dear. Ray are you certain... is it usual to mix food products with... well... with... ah..." The Mountie was stammering for words, as small chocolate swirls were suddenly dribbled over and around his nipples. "With sex, ya mean?" Thankfully, his lover finished his question for him. "I dunno Frase. Just know it seemed like a good idea, so what say we just.. uh, we just go with it here?" "Right you are, Ray." A pregnant pause, "Ah... what about the mess?" "Don't be worryin' about any mess, Ben. Trust me, I'm gonna clean all o' this up." If the wicked grin plastered across Kowalski's face was any sort of indicator, it was obvious that Ray had the carry through to follow up on his intentions. Slowly, and with such intensity that it nearly thieved the Mountie's mind from him, Ray's warm, wet tongue connected with a combination of pale, creamy flesh, and rich, dark chocolate. A sharp erotic jolt slammed through Fraser as that tongue traced up his sternum, following a clearly delineated line of syrup. "Mmmm... good chocolate here, Frase... tastes *almost* as good as ya do." A soft, fleeting moan accompanied Ray's words, and again he drug his tongue over another line of chocolate, one that traveled up along the tendons of Ben's neck. Great Scott, if his partner continued to pursue this course, it was doubtful that he, Benton Fraser, would be able to exercise his near legendary Mountie control. Never in his life had he imagined any single act could be so consuming, erotic, arousing. Breathing was becoming more difficult, as Ray's tongue continued to move, tracing, darting, licking, and teasing sensitive flesh. Odd, Fraser thought to himself, it would appear I had never considered the sheer volume of nerve endings present in the human body. Now, it seemed, he could feel every one of them. They tingled and flashed with electric heat accompanying each long, sultry stroke of Ray's tongue across his chest. Kneeling on the floor next to his spread out lover, Ray began to work at his own clothing, attempting to unfasten, tug, pull, and push between each long, loving stroke of his tongue. He wasn't satisfied, until he himself was a gloriously naked as the Mountie offering stretched out across his couch. He could die happily this way, he mused. Each low moan and grunt of appreciation torn from his lover caused the short hairs along the nape of his neck to rise, sending small tremors of need and desire along the tendons of his spine. At that singular instant when Fraser thought he could simply not bear another moment of this sensual torture, that warm, eager mouth closed over one hardened nipple, ripping a low, obscene groan of wanton pleasure from the Canadian's throat. His back arched upwards, towards that tantalizing mouth that licked, nipped and sucked each sensitive nub in turn. Lavishing equal volumes of attention on each. Through a strained throat, Benton managed to force out. "God... Ray. This is... this is... I never thought anyone could... could make me feel *so* much." Fraser was answered only by an affirmative grunt, then elegant hands were tracing lightly over his hip bones, sending further shivers of appreciation buffeting throughout his frame. Ray's mouth dropped lower, laving languidly across his ribs, seeking out and licking away any further traces of the sweet syrup. Much like himself, Ray's breathing was quickening into no more then a series of ragged pants and gasps, peppered with the occasional grunt and low, sensuous moan. Of their own volition, his hands reached down, winding their way into the deceptively soft spikes of the detective's wheaten hair, twisting and tangling the fine strands between his greedy fingers. Encouraged, Kowalski's tongue rasped lower, over the expansive plane of well-muscled abdomen, eliciting a throaty, shuddering moan from somewhere deep inside of Ben's very soul. His slightly callused fingertips walked downward, leaving small trails of fire in their wake as they explored the defined muscles of his lover's thighs and calves. He was lost... so lost and drunk in the feeling of Fraser trapped beneath him, held captive only by his mouth and fingertips. It was a rush, a heady feeling of tender power. A power he would never, *ever* abuse. His tongue painting slow, deliberate circles lower over the taut abdomen, Ray slid his eyes up, along the Mountie's form, searching for the lovely face emblazoned into his memory. His heart stopped short, his breathing suddenly ragged and strained. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight which overwhelmed his senses. Fraser's eyelashes formed dark, feathery fans, resting against the sweat damped skin of his cheeks. The chiseled and sculpted planes of Ben's face were awash with bliss, each of Ray's movements sparking ripples of emotion and pleasure, that would shift across the near-angelic features. One damp lock of hair had fallen forward onto his forehead tempting Ray to raise his fingers upwards to brush it back, and away. Never before had Ray witnessed a similar expression on the face of a lover. Not even Stella's. And he certainly had never seen Fraser this way before. This relaxed. This... hell, this at *ease*, as if he were perfectly content to surrender himself totally into the loving hands of his partner. As if -- A lump rose and lodged itself into his suddenly constricted throat -- as if trusting him with his very soul itself. It was too much, and sharp prickles stung behind his eyelids, and he gulped harshly. As if able to read his emotions through mere touch alone, Fraser was suddenly sitting, drawing him into strong, warm arms, and an even warmer lap. "Ray?" The tenderness of that voice pushed at the envelope of his emotions and a single tear glistened against his cheek, as it fell. The arms around him tightened, steadying him, healing him. "Ray... tell me? Please? What is wrong?" Ray's head shook almost violently, trying to find words. Searching frantically for a way to express the multitude of thoughts and feelings raging through him like a tempest. "Nothin'..." a small sob, a mingled sound of both raw emotion and physical pleasure escaped him, "Just... nothin's *wrong* Ben. Everythin' is *right*, so damn right..." Head nodding in comprehension, one of Fraser's hands raised to his lover's cheek, fingertips tracing and soothing over one angular cheekbone in a gesture of incredible gentleness. "Understood, Ray. I too, feel it. What you describe as 'right'." And suddenly it was he, Fraser who was gently, yet firmly pressing Ray back into the cushions of the couch. Showering soft kisses across the smooth, pale brows. Feeling them knit characteristically beneath the press of his lips. He delighted in the sensations of the small shudders rocking the wiry frame against him. Strong, capable hands embarked upon a voluptuous exploration of the golden-tinted skin beneath him. Smoothing over lean, whipcord muscles. Across the taut, slender chest and abdomen, which fluttered underneath his questing fingertips. Fanning out over lean hips, who's swagger could draw his attention and mesmerize him completely. Molding along lean thighs, then back upwards, to caress lightly over the engorged cock, hot and heavy with need. A smile curled across the Canadian's lips at the ragged moan, and arching back that greeted his caress. Eyes fluttering shut, Ray willingly surrendered himself to Ben's passion, reveling in the security and warmth of the love so unselfishly offered him. It was as if Ben's warm, gentle hands, and pure, kind heart could caress his soul, washing away years of pain and doubt, redefining him. Strengthening him. Sharp teeth nipped and worried along his jaw, as he threw his head back in rising abandon. Nothing in his life had ever felt this good. This *right*. The licking and nipping inched downward, skimming over the tendons of his neck. Continuing downward again, nibbling across his sleek chest, then easing lower. His back arched upwards, shamelessly, brazenly. Fraser's mouth dragged onward, over his abdomen, a loud gasp of desire wrung from him. It was all he could do, not to lose it completely, then and there, when that hot, greedy mouth engulfed him. His hands tangled almost automatically into the silken black strands of Ben's hair. Fraser's warm, wet mouth was driving the Chicagoan almost beyond the realm of ecstasy. Sucking him down in long, smooth strokes, then pulling back, tongue circling, flicking, and exploring. Ray's hips were straining upwards, imbued with a will of their own, rocking into that consuming warmth with wanton abandon. He couldn't contain a shuddering whimper of loss as the Mountie's sensuous lips traveled lower, sucking gently at his scrotum, sending searing jolts of heat along his spine. "God, Ben... so good... so damn *good*." Kowalski's voice was little more then a husky, breathless litany of pleasure. The only answer provided was a low, possessive growl vibrating through his partner's throat, thrilling him. Driving him higher. Awash in blinding pleasure, a passionate gasp was drawn from him as one, now slick finger first probed, then pushed past the tight ring of muscle. Unable, and unwilling to stop himself, Ray lunged upwards, driving himself against that digit greedily, suffused with demanding need. He wanted, craved, so much more. Slender, yet strong, fingers kneaded over Fraser's scalp, tensing and relaxing in a seductive rhythm. I'm gonna die of wantin' here, and I do *not* care, Ray couldn't help thinking to himself. Thought quickly flew out the window, however, when a second caressing finger joined its counterpart inside of him. In a slow, deliberately sensual cadence, they stroked, explored, stretched, and stoked the rising need flaring inside of his body, and soul. Without reserve, his rocked his hips back against those fingers, demanding and pleading for more. It was granted. Ray's shivering and trembling intensified, gently tugging Fraser back up along the length of his body by two handfuls of thick, black hair. He felt as though he were falling, spiraling into a haze of naked, raw passion as firm lips claimed his own, Ben's tongue trusting lovingly into his mouth in motions that mirrored his fingers. Hands sliding down Fraser's neck to his back, Ray's shifted below him, wrapping his legs around Ben's waist, his desires made evident in that one intimate motion. He felt the slick fingers retreat, only to be replaced by his lover's thick, impossibly hard cock, gently pressing forward, inward. Without restraint he tightened the vice of his legs, pulling Ben closer against him, while rocking his hips upwards, impaling himself, a loud, throaty cry wrested from his lips. His own cry was answered by a ringing moan from his partner, the sound nearly sending him tumbling over the brink of oblivion. Quickly, they found a rhythm, moving in tandem, fused together, body, heart, and soul. Urgent now, they undulated and writhed in sinuous bliss, gasps, low moans, and hotly impassioned sighs mingling together in a cacophony of fulfillment. They hovered for long heartbeats on the cliff's edge of ecstasy, before Ray succumbed first, thrashing in his lover's tight embrace, rocked by the rushing waves of a powerful climax. It was a trigger. With a low strangled sob, Fraser followed, spiraling down into the blissful languor of orgasm, heat and light tearing up his spine. It was several long minutes before either man recovered their breathing enough to speak, so they lay, locked together in a tangled embrace, content to feel the matching rhythms of their hearts beating against one another. It was Ray who managed speech first, the sounds little more then a hushed whisper against the sweat-damp hair just behind the Mountie's ear. "Love ya, more then anythin', Ben." His arms tightened reflexively in accompaniment to his words. He could feel the lips pressed against his shoulder curl into a smile. "And I you, Ray." Fraser's voice was so thick with emotion it caused the detective's heart to constrict joyfully, as he scattered soft kisses onto the top of the head nestled against his shoulder. "I know, Ben... God I know..." And he did. He had never been more certain of a single thing in his life. "However, Ray..." Oh-oh. "I think, perhaps, next time, I would like to try a 'Chicago Flatfoot' sundae." And Ray *knew* then, that he was in trouble. -Fin- Feedback may be addressed to Andreshan@AOL.com