Light standard

 

Benton Fraser’s first thought was that he would die a civilian. He would die without his serge, undressed. The ice-cold muzzle, probably of a 9mm Glock, pressed into his skin just below his right ear, froze his body. His mind, thankfully, co-operated and worked at top speed. Who would be out here, on the stairs leading to Ray’s apartment, in such an early hour? The light on the landing was off, only the grey of a new morning slanting through the dirty window, making it difficult to see. He tried to squint through the corner of his eye; his facial muscles were agile, but had to give up. Moving his head, even a fraction, was not an option at this particular moment.

 

But he had other resources available, apart from out-waiting his captor. Flexing his nostrils, he let his olfactory sense take command.

 

And nearly sagged in relief. Sweat, body odours, cosmetic products, a trace of salt, everything told him this was a person often in his proximity. Ray.

 

Benton Fraser tilted his head and stretched his arm backwards, toward Ray’s body.

 

“Nono, you don’t. Keep still mister.” The muzzle of what he now knew had to be Ray’s preferred police weapon didn’t waver. A brief shuffle behind him, and he could feel the warmth of Ray’s free hand between his shoulder blades.

 

“Fraser?”

 

“Ray.” He let his head slump forward and closed his eyes, not certain he could meet Ray’s always intense gaze as yet. But he was not allowed such luxury.

 

“Frase, Fraser, look at me.” The warmth of Ray’s body had shifted from back and slightly to the right, to fully frontal. A hard finger pressed under his chin and tilted his head up. “Open your eyes buddy.”

 

He did. And instantly recoiled.

 

Ray had not been sleeping, his reddened eyes were evidence to that. The moisture around them accounted for the traces of salt he had smelled earlier. Only time would heal the tiredness he saw in those eyes, but the hurt he had spotted when he drew back from Ray; that hurt, he could address.

 

 

Having made the resolve, it all seemed to spill out of him. “Diefenbaker told me, in no uncertain terms, that I had acted like a fool, and needed to recompense for my cowardly behaviour and the unnecessary suffering I caused you.”

 

Ray moved closer, his short nose almost touching his chin, where his finger already burned against his skin. “What? What!” He looked confused…and blurred at this close range.

 

“It means I’m sorry, Ray. I beg your forgiveness.” Dear God, how to explain? He had

to use words that had never left his mouth before.

 

“I acted in a manner that in no way reflected my wants and feelings, Ray.”

 

Ray didn’t move, but whispered to him; Ray’s moist breath against his lips. “Wants? Feelings, Fraser?”

 

Was that minute glint in Ray’s eyes hope? If he would be so lucky. “Yes, Ray.” He chanced a slow move. It was so good to feel the reassuring spikes of Ray’s hair against his palm. It soothed his galloping heart.

 

“So,” Ray whispered, we’re on the same page here?”

 

 It took seconds before Fraser registered what Ray had said, the soft mouth gliding over his cheek proved too great a distraction. It wouldn’t do not to pay attention in this the most important conversation of his life. “Yes, Ray. We’re in the same sentence.”

 

Ray apparently understood this, because he walked backwards, toward his door, dragging Fraser with him. There was a brief hesitation while Ray fumbled the door open, one hand behind his back, and then they were inside. And Ray was kissing him.

 

Mumbling and kissing. “Was scared, Frase.” Ray let go of his arms and pulled at his shirt-tails. “Scared you were gone.”

 

Gone? Where did Ray believe he would travel to? “No. Ray.” It was impossible to talk without a peculiar hitch to his voice when Ray attacked his senses in such a manner. “I have no desire to be elsewhere.”

 

Ray chuckled at that, and tugged him across the floor, expertly manoeuvring around the random obstacles in their way.

 

He didn’t know he was shaking before Ray stopped undressing him, stopped tugging his jeans off. Ray sat up on the edge of the bed, Ray’s bed, which they had in an unknown manner reached. The light standard outside Ray’s window provided ample light to let him see Ray’s worried face.

 

But now that he had noticed how tense his body was, he was unable to notice anything else. His body was shaking of it’s own volition and his teeth were clattering in his mouth. How embarrassing. He kicked his jeans off the rest of the way, and tried to curl into a ball. It would reduce the heat escaping from his body’s surface.

 

“Fraser, Ben.” Ray were stroking through his hair, lying down beside him, and finally embracing him with his hard, wiry arms. Ray was a human G-clamp. He nearly snickered at that silly thought, but really, he was too distraught for levity.

 

“Okay Fraser. It’s all okay.” Ray pressed him to his side, against his warm body, and who would have imagined that Ray would be so strong? Fraser tried to open his mouth, intent on saying something, anything, but guhs were apparently all he could manage at this particular moment.

 

“No talking, Frase. Shhh. Let’s sleep.”

 

“No, Ray…I.” Finally, but obviously not enough. “Eh, Ray.” Fraser turned within Ray’s steel arms and whispered against the soft cotton covering Ray’s chest. “Now please. I’ve waited for so long.” He nudged Ray’s nipple with the tip of his tongue to underline the fact of this.

 

“Not a good idea, Fraser.” Ray loosened his grip a fraction. “We start this, I may not be able to stop.”

 

Fraser grinned into the moist fabric, his shivers making his lips vibrate against it. “That’s the idea, Ray.”

 

Ray, probably feeling his smile, hummed back and nuzzled his nose in a most disturbing way under Fraser’s ear. “Foreplay, Fraser. Dinner and wine. Ever heard of that?”

 

“Ray!” We’ve had almost a year of foreplay. That should be enough for anyone’s standard.”

 

“Yeah?” Ray’s voice was serious. “So what with the running and shaking, Fraser?”

 

“A moment of weakness. I…eh, I’m not familiar with happiness, Ray.” He hurried on before Ray could interrupt him. “A moment of introspection told me I do crave it, Ray. With you.” And he did hope Ray understood this.

 

“Frase.” Ray’s voice was raw. Perhaps a mint? Fraser groaned, why couldn’t his mind stop being so sensible?

 

“Fraser. We’re in the same book.” Ray did indeed understand.

 

 “Means I’m not leaving. No hurry.” Ray let go of him, twisted around and pulled the bedcovers over them. “Here’s the plan. You sleep now. Tomorrow I’m calling in a fucking personal day, which you will do, too.” Ray’s finger, now stabbing Fraser in his chest, told him Ray meant business.

 

“But, Ray, my du…”

 

“No, Fraser. Remember the book? It’s a happy story.”

 

Fraser hadn’t known letting someone else make a decision for him could feel so relaxing, so…liberating. He sighed and burrowed his head into Ray’s fragrant pillow, letting that be his answer. He wasn’t any good with meaningful words, anyway.

 

To his utter surprise, he felt impossibly better, when Ray sank down beside him again and snuggled close, arm and leg thrown possessively over his chest and thighs.

 

Fraser wished he could separate the words in Ray’s steady mumblings, but the sudden sleepiness permeating his mind made it impossible.

 

 Tomorrow, then.