Date: Thursday, February 03, 200012:28 AM

From: LaToot@aol.com

Notes: I've been thinking about thissince the first time I ever saw Mountie on the Bounty. Fraser isso damn *sexy* when he leaps up on those barrels, catches the gunand fires it at Wallace with that "I win" smirk that*I* want to climb right down his throat. I refuse to believe thatRay doesn't have the same reaction.

Disclaimers, et al.: They belong toAlliance. What-the-fuck-EVER. If they were *mine*, I'd let themplay Pirates for as long as they wanted to, complete with thosegroovy curving swords, and maybe an earring for Ray. Rated NC-17for quick, hot, dirty smut involving two *very* pretty men. Thisis set during that time interval between Wallace's capture andthe tag during Mountie on the Bounty, and there are spoilershere, but if you blink, you'll miss them.

Thanks to Audra for sitting andlistening to the whole damn thing. And to Te, who made thecomment that inspired it all.

Feedback should be waterproofed andshipped to LaToot@aol.com.

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Rearrangement byLaT February 2000

I never knew gunpowder could smellso ... *sexy*. But it does. On him. Just makes me want to pullhim to me and bury my nose there, at the spot just above thatstiff collar and below his jaw, right *there*, and breathe indeep. Breathe in Fraser, and yeah, I know he fired the gun withhis hand and not his neck, but that smell is all over him. I justknow it is, because I'm standing right next to him and I cansmell it. Potassium nitrate, charcoal, sulfur, Fraser. Even in aborrowed uniform he still smells like him, and how he's managingthat is beyond me, because I'm almost certain *I* reek, betweensea water, being in that sub and wearing someone else's clothes.

But Fraser smells like Fraser ...and something else. Like leather and cedar, kind of spicy, kindof creamy -- which is how he always smells -- but with this extralayer and bite of gunpowder. Powder from a gun fired with asharpshooter's aim and confidence, and I know that that's why it smells so good on him. It's not the gunpowder as much as it isthat the smell's on him because of the way he fired the gun.Wallace didn't stand a fucking chance. I almost felt sorry forthe guy because I knew that, knew he didn't have any idea whatwas about to hit him. But I did.

Fraser leapt up on those barrelslike he does it every day. Just hopped right on up, easy as youplease, like there was nothing at all to getting himself fourfeet off the ground in the blink of an eye. 'Hopped' isn't reallythe right word, though, because it was too smooth, too fluid eventhough it was fast. It was like he was *flowing* and I knew, evenbefore the gun left my hand, that he'd be right where he neededto be to catch it. And I knew that he'd catch it, and that whenhe fired it, he wouldn't miss, and that Wallace would be aliveonly because Fraser didn't *want* him to be dead.

So the gunpowder on him smells good,sexy. It smells like power, like confidence, like that 'I *know*I'm bad-ass' vibe Fraser has when ... well, when he's beingbad-ass, which doesn't happen enough. Yeah, Fraser can stare downa guy with a gun pointed at his head and he'll jump out a windowin a heartbeat to stop someone from breaking the law, but hemanages to be *polite* about it. Like the bad guy should justgive up the gun because it's the courteous thing to do, or returnthe stolen loot because it's rude not to. Fraser never reallylets himself ... *get off* on being a good cop.

But he did today. Standing up onthose barrels, all beautiful and proud as we drifted into Canada,just *waiting* for my gun to drop into his hand, then flowinginto position to shoot. Picked Wallace's diving masks off one,two, three, like he could've done it with his eyes closed andhalf-asleep to boot.

And the way it happened ... justthinking about it gives me goosebumps, but the good kind. Eventhe Stella and I never ... *connected* ... like Fraser and I didtoday. With Stella and me, everything (well, almost everything)was always talked out, and it's not that talking's bad, it's just... there was never a moment when we both just *knew*, withouteven saying anything, that we were on the same page.

Fraser and me, a few minutes ago?That was incredible, especially since we'd been kind of at eachother's throats the past few weeks. Hell, a little over 72 hoursago, I punched him. Popped him a good one right in that pretty,exasperating mouth of his, and if there was only one thing Icould undo about this whole thing it would be that. The rest ofit could stay, even the almost drowning part, but I'd erase mehitting him faster than you can say ''White Out.'

I can't, of course, but the thing wejust did with my gun almost makes up for it. It's kind of funny,too, because there was a time, right after I met Fraser and onenight while watching 'Star Wars,' that I thought that if I knewanyone who could turn out to be a Jedi Knight, it would be him.It's d-u-m dumb, I know, but just watching my gun soaring throughthe air, going right *to him* like he was guiding it orsomething, made me happy and light-headed and proud andturned-on, all at once.

It was that teamwork thing, thatpartnership thing that I was starting to think we'd forgotten howto do. I told Fraser, the first day I met him, that we were aduet, but the past few weeks, we weren't playing anything right.It was like, I said "flat," he said "sharp."I'd say "allegro," he'd say "andante," and nomatter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get us in tune with eachother.

But today? Almost perfect harmonyand when I threw him my gun it *was* perfect. Now, we're standingside by side, and the bad guy's going down for a long, long time,and Fraser's giving off this scent and this heat that's damn neardriving me out of my mind.

He hands me the gun and I want togive it back to him. Tell him he can hold it because we're inCanada now, and I never understood what it meant to really be onFraser's turf until just this moment. But, he's pulling Wallaceout of the tank, and it makes more sense for me to actually help.Baby Mounties are coming down from the ceiling, rappelling in thesame way Fraser and I did, and he hands Wallace off to one ofthem, gives me a little smile, and jumps down off the platform.

"Where ya going, Fraser?"I ask, and I know we're still going to have to work on thetalking part. Because as much fun as it is sometimes to pretendthere really is something like the Force, not talking will onlyput us right back where we were the other day by the lake.

"The other charges should bedisconnected, Ray. Just to be safe."

And he's off, across the floor ofthe hold and he still seems to be *flowing*. Fraser always walkslike he knows where he's going, even when he doesn't, and thereare times when it annoys the hell out of me. Now isn't one ofthose times. I stay on the platform a few minutes longer, just soI can watch him *move*.

I spent the better part of theafternoon surrounded by people wearing the same uniform Fraser'sgot on right now. Not a one of them wears it like he does. Not aone of them makes it look even half as *good*.

He glides (there's really nothingelse I can call it) between two barrels where he's found anothercharge and even when he crouches to disconnect the thing, it'sall easy, slinky grace. He's alone back there in the barrels. Thejunior Mounties have rounded up the rest of Wallace's crew and everybody's heading topside. And I know enough of myself to knowthat I've been wanting to kiss Fraser since we crossed into theDominion of Canada. I jump down off the platform and I wonder ifI could find him just by smell, then I remember that I'm not himor Dief, and I do the next best thing.

"Fraser?"

"Over here, Ray."

I've had a thing for his voice sincethe very first day. I even decided once, while listening to someseven hundred year long story about the use of the fork inancient China or something, that if honey made a sound, it wouldsound like Fraser.

"I think this is the lastone," he says, pulling the wire from a charge when I findhim. He just drops both of them on the floor and stares at me.And he looks pleased and proud, incredibly beautiful and, yeah,just a little bit smug.

"You did good," I tellhim, and I know, I just *know* he's going to tell me that it's"did well," just as surely as I know that when he does,I'm going to let it slide. Because Fraser doesn't know it yet,but I'm about to kiss him. Kiss him good *and* well, and let thedamn chips fall where they will.

It seems I'm not the only one whocan surprise because he smiles, gives me the full-on twinkle andjust says,

"No, *we* did good."

And that does it. I knew when hebreathed for me that I wouldn't take my transfer and if he reactsbadly to what I'm about to do, I can always change my mind again.I don't even give him a chance to guess what's going to happen. Ijust reach out, take that gorgeous face between my hands, pullhim to me, and lay one on him.

Soft, soft lips. Even softer thanthey look. Like silk, like satin, like a dozen other things youwant to wrap around yourself just because you can. It feels likeforever and not long enough at the same time, and a part of mestarts to panic when I realize Fraser hasn't actually *moved*,and I'm ready to pull away when I feel it.

A quick, wet little flicker over mylips. I'm a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them andBenton Fraser just licked me and trust me, when that happens,there's only one thing to do in response.

Open up, and let him inside.

So I do. Fraser's tongue is warm andslippery and it slicks over mine like we've done this before. Nohesitation at all, just hot, wet, clever movement against myteeth, inside my lip and all I can think is, what the hell tookus so long?

I don't even remember doing it, butI've got one hand in his hair and the other under his jacket,cupping a palm over that Mountie-hard ass, and you know, Frasershould come with warning labels for certain parts of his anatomy.

One of my thighs wedges itselfbetween his legs, and God help me, he's as hard as I am. I shiftus a little so I can push him against one of the barrels, breakthe kiss to press my nose to that spot right under his jaw. Nogunpowder, all Fraser, and that is just so much better than okay.

"Ray ...,"

He ... sighs my name into my ear andI don't really know how to answer that any other way than bysliding on down to my knees. I fumble with the bottom buttons ofthe jacket and somehow get the flaps to stay out of the way, undothose stupid pants that only Fraser can make look good, and thenthere's nothing between my mouth and his cock but a thin, damplayer of cotton.

"Ray ... you ... you don't...," he starts to say, but I look up at him, cut him offwith,

"Want to. Shhh ...," andwonder of fucking wonders, he *listens* to me, just closes hismouth and his eyes, lets his head drop to one side, and if Inever see him looking like this again, this one time will stillbe more than enough.

It's easy to get his cock out of hisboxers, and for a minute, I just stare at it. Like the rest ofhim, it's beautiful, and I kiss it the full length, from base toleaking, uncut tip. Lean back in a little, press my nose to thethick, soft curls at the base and even there, Fraser smells ...wonderful.

His fingers are in my hair now,stroking, petting and the only sounds he makes are soft,contented little sighs. If we weren't in the hull of a fake ghostship with half the fucking RCMP up on deck, I could really takeit slow with this, make it the best blowjob Fraser's ever livedthrough, do to him all the things that have ever made me rocketright out of my skin, but I don't have that kind of time.

I kiss the head again, and then,it's showtime. I take him in as far as he can go; it's easy torelax when you want to do it, and I think a part of me has wantedto suck Fraser since that day in the crypt. He says my nameagain, soft and quiet, almost musical, so I hum back at him,around him, and he thrusts, hitting the back of my throat. Nothard, it doesn't hurt, it's just enough to let me know I could dothat humming thing again, and I do, add a swallow, and thefingers in my hair tense and then relax. Fraser's holding back, Ican tell. Trying not to guide and if I didn't have a mouthful ofhim, I swear it would make me laugh.

He smells good, tastes even betterand I hum again, a little longer, and get a thrust and a 'Ray' atthe same time. I want to make this last, but I can't, so I startsucking for real, relax my hold on Fraser's hips to let him knowhe can push if he wants to, and just like before, even withoutwords, we get each other.

He starts seriously rocking into me,and I just stay still, taking whatever he wants to give andtrying to concentrate on how good it feels while wondering ifI'll be able to get through this without coming in my pants. Thenext time Fraser says my name it comes out harsher, with more ofan edge than before, and I know he's close. I look up at himbecause I have to *see* this, have to know if he's as beautifulwhen he comes as I think he is.

And he's watching me. Christ helpboth of us, he's *watching* me, and I have to close my eyesbecause I can't watch Fraser looking at me as he comes. There isjust no way I won't give it up if I keep my eyes open, and justas I close them he says my name in this way, in this pleading,sobbing *way*, and it's there. He shudders and my mouth issuddenly full of thick, creamy wetness and it tastes too good,tastes too *Fraser*, and I can't help it. Even with my eyesclosed I really have no choice but to come with him.

I don't even know how it happens,but Fraser ends up on the floor with me, knees scissored betweenmine and he's kissing me again, long and full and deep. I wrap myarms around him and go with it, with him, with the flow. Yeah,we've got to pull ourselves together, and eventually we've got togo up where everybody else is, but now, *right* now, I hear thislittle melody in my head, this little duet. And it's perfectly intune.

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