** * ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** *

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Alliance Productions and possibly to other entities as well. This is an amateur work of fanfiction that is in no way an infringement upon existing copyrights.

Pairing: A Due South story featuring RayK/Fraser (slash)

Warnings: NC-17 for sex, bad language, and the perversion (only mentioned).

Authors’ Notes: LynnZo started it, AnneZo fixt it. Nuff said.

Summary: PWP, really, the guys find something more interesting to do with their evening than work.

Posted 8/1/04, 5,112 words.

Contact information:

--LynnZo’s LiveJournal is: <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/lynnzo"> http://www.livejournal.com/users/lynnzo"</a>

--Lynnzo's other fiction can be found here: <a href="http://trickster.org/annezo/lynnzo">http://trickster.org/annezo/lynnzo</a>

--Your comments are welcome, We can be reached at LynnZo@yahoo.com and AnneZo@fastmail.fm

(LynnZo would like to inform the reader that she neither requests nor expects feedback for this story, since she doesn't feel it's the best thing she ever did.)

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

The Perv Upstairs

By LynnZo with AnneZo

"Where'd you get all these books, anyhow?"

"From the Public Library, Ray, I find the librarians there most helpful. Indeed, once I had the opportunity to explain the restrictions my grandparents had been under—"

I propped my head on my hand and sighed. Now I'd done it. Fraser was off on one of his Frozen North stories, and if I didn’t get him stopped, quick, we'd still be here in an hour.

So I interrupted ruthlessly. That's me. Ruthless Guy. Tough, inside and out.

Anyhow, it was the only way to stop Fraser once he got into the flow of one of his Wild Blue Yonder stories.

I grabbed a book, and waved it at him. "Look. This one says ‘property of Whistler Studios.’ That ain’t no library book."

"—but it is, Ray," said Fraser, switching subjects mid-sentence. I'm surprised he don't sprain his brain, doing that. Somehow he manages to be both the most single-minded guy I've ever met and able to change tracks faster and more totally than anyone I've ever known.

"You see, Whistler Studios graciously donated many of their research materials to the Los Angeles Public Library in the 1960s. This book is on permanent loan, which gives individuals like us access to its contents through the process of inter-library transfer."

And damned if Fraser didn’t just look happy as a clam about the public library system. Who gets excited about libraries? Only my partner.

I sighed again. Fraser was still talking. Of course.

"Really, Ray, it’s a wonderful example of private enterprise cooperating with...."

Blah, blah, blah. Enough was enough, so I interrupted again. Sometimes if I did it often enough, I actually got him to the point before I felt like clobbering him.

"You’re telling me this book is from the 60s? We’re sitting here at 9:00 o’clock on a Friday night, trying to solve a forgery case, using a library book from the 60s? That's what you're telling me?"

I tried a groan, but that wasn’t expressive enough so I banged my head against the table. Not too hard to start with, 'cause there was plenty of evening left, and Fraser would probably spend most of it talking.

Fraser always got there in the end but sometimes it was worth a minor concussion not to hear how he did it.

Might have helped more if I didn't get dust in my nose. Wham! Bam! Achoo! Why do sneezes come in threes?

And then I had to deal with Fraser, offering me a neatly pressed and folded handkerchief, for God’s sake, and who uses handkerchiefs anymore?! I was about to get on his case about it, 'cause it's my job to make him into a normal human being and anyhow, any port in a storm and any distraction to avoid a lecture, when my brain went back two steps.

Dust. Since when was anything in Fraser’s apartment dusty?

I took a look at the kitchen table full of library books. There it was, a little pile of what coulda been sawdust but was probably plaster from the cheap ceilings. I thought Chicago cops had it bad until I found out what Fraser got paid. I was living in the Taj Mahal compared to the dumps Fraser could afford.

The sawdust, or plaster, was a little scattered now cause I'd picked up the book, not to mention the sneezing, but it was definitely there. I wondered if my face looked as surprised as Fraser's.

"Buzz, buzz," I said quietly, not even trying to make it real like Fraser’d done. City boys don't do bug noises. I didn’t need to anyway, Fraser was already glancing up without making it obvious, and nodding. We'd been here before.

Fraser gave me a significant look and rolled his eyes towards the bedroom. That's non-verbal communication. It's a partner thing.

I slid outta my chair, being casual in case the watcher was on duty. I was happy to take the other room. 'Fraser-clean' or not, in this place the kitchen had to have cockroaches. Fraser was welcome to them.

First thing was line-of-sight. Jeez, Fraser’s apartment was overlooked by about a million windows. No privacy in this neighborhood.

I was doing "casual" around the room, working it for whoever was watching, pulling the blankets Fraser used as curtains across the windows like it was a normal thing to do.

Nuthin’ to see here, just a coupla guys, going to bed now, nighty-night time.

When I realized what that sounded like, I cracked myself up. But quietly. I didn't want to wind up explaining that one to Fraser.

It was easier once I got the windows covered, and in quick succession I checked the walls, ceiling, floor, and light bulbs (all two of them), and came up clean. No holes, no bugs.

Just the one, then.

For once I was grateful that Fraser’s shitty apartment didn’t have a bathroom, just the big room I thought of as the bedroom, and the kitchen. By the time I'd finished, Fraser had too, and I gave him an "all clean in here" kinda look as he came into the room.

Fraser kept coming, and I gave ground. I was thinking, yeah, get away from the kitchen, away from the bug, but I was surprised into an, "Umph!" when Fraser crowded me right up to the edge of the cot he had instead of a real bed.

The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back with Fraser climbing on top of me. Huh?

For a wild moment, I thought that maybe Fraser’d been having some of the same private thoughts as me, but that was impossible. This was Fraser. I tried, I really tried, to keep my thoughts pure and all cop-like when he made himself at home on top of me and started whispering in my ear.

"I’m terribly sorry, Ray."

Wasn’t that just like Fraser, to climb up on top of a guy and then start apologizing?

"I'm sorry, but this is the only place in the apartment with an obstructed light of sight from the kitchen. There’s just the one, Ray, and I can see all the way through to the apartment above. I think we must have returned before they expected us and interrupted them before they could install the camera."

"Yeah, right, Fraser, like anyone who lives in this slum is just gonna have buckets of spy cameras just laying around." I was generating a lot of extra heat all of a sudden. A little mad might help me keep my head together. "Did you ever think, maybe, it’s just a peep hole?"

"A peep hole?" Fraser’s voice was blank, like he’d never heard of it before, but my instincts were screaming at me. We weren't working on anything that would get any kind of attention from anybody high-tech.

I’d only been to this dump Fraser called home a few times. He'd rented it the month before, right after we got back from doing the Frozen North thing, saying he wanted more space than he’d had living in his office. I’ve heard stories about the place he had on Racine, and from what I could tell, this place is no better. It was the kind of place a cop would expect to find peep holes and worse.

"Yeah, a peep hole. Just for looking, you know?"

Fraser was still giving me blank. He’s Mr. Clean, even if he is living on Perv Street. I sighed again; I was doing a lot of that lately.

I was definitely not noticing how it pushed my chest up against Fraser’s in a really nice way, and then I had to tell certain parts of my anatomy to calm down.

Who was I to be calling Fraser’s neighbors pervs, when there I was, stretched out with the guy on his bed, with my own pervy thing going?

I tried banging my head up and down on the pillow, but that actually felt good, suggestive like, so I had to stop.

I am so fucked. When they offered me my own life back, and my own name, I thought it’d all make sense again. And now, here I was with a peep hole in the kitchen and getting sweaty over Mr. Clean, the only guy in Chicago too dumb to know you don't crawl on top of another guy unless you got intentions.

You see, I got a vacation, and I got to keep Fraser, and we were tight, tighter than ever, since we didn't have to lie to nobody no more, and it was cool.

And then I'd got something new. I got this something else to deal with.

This something else that had hated Fraser getting his own place, that wanted him with me, 24/7. This something that really liked having him stretched out on top of me.

I had intentions. Except you don’t blindside your partner like that.

In the meantime, my problem was...growing. Think. Gotta think. Gotta shake it off.

"Okay." Whoa, that must’ve gotten a bit too loud, there, ‘cause Fraser was shushing me, a hand over my mouth, and if he didn't move it I was gonna be licking it.

I pulled back from the edge, again, and shook it off. I was doing a lot of that recently, too.

"What kind of pervert you got living upstairs, Fraser?" That was good, real professional. Nice going.

Fraser is Fraser, though. He took me seriously,

"No kind, as far as I know, Ray. That apartment’s been empty since I moved in." And just to make him a liar, a board creaked overhead.

Fraser twisted his head to look up at the ceiling, which pushed his hips into mine in a really, truly excellent movement, and I was losing it again.

I had to move, had to. I shifted my hips, and I reached down, as casually as I could. I had to adjust myself, just a quick one, or the zipper biting into my dick was gonna cut off the blood flow to my brain. Or worse.

Shit. I'd forgotten just how narrow the cot was, especially considering there were two guys trying to share it. Suddenly I was wobbling on the edge, zipper forgotten as I grabbed for the other half of the mattress...the part that didn't exist. And I was trying not to make any noise while I was trying not to fall off the damn bed, and really, if it wasn’t for the perv upstairs, it would have been really funny. Maybe.

"What are you doing, Ray?" Fraser was sounding kind of irritated, but he was also pulling me back on to the cot, back to that good place, right up against him, only this time my hand was caught between us, and so I was worse off than I was before, and I realized, once and for all, that somebody up there must just really, really hate me.

And then that was funny, too, really funny, and I had to just laugh, as quiet as I could, because somebody up there must really hate me, but he's also the perv who cuts holes in other people's ceilings just for kicks, and really, I thought, if you stopped trying to make sense of it all, it was all so much easier to deal with.

Fraser knew I was freaking, and that was freaking Fraser out, so I tried to pull myself together. I did some deep breathing to get rid of the giggles, noticing in passing that Fraser smelled really good, but not thinking about it. Not.

"Sorry, Fraser. It's just that you're kinda big, there, and I needed to breathe." It was lame, but my brain wasn't firing on all cylinders.

Turns out it was the wrong thing to say, because it made Fraser huffy. He huffs pretty easy sometimes.

"Well, really, Ray, I'm doing the best I can in a very small space, and I'm no bigger than you are." He pulled me a little tighter, to show we were lined up pretty much exactly. All the way.

And that was true, really, 'cause Fraser'd been on a diet, sorta, since we came back from the Frozen North, both already a lot more wind-burnt and a lot leaner than we'd started. He'd taken his uniforms to be altered, and when I'd called him on it, he'd said something about summer and something else about subcutaneous fat, so I'd tuned him out.

That was a subject I'd heard endlessly about, in the Frozen Up There, but I did get it that Fraser'd decided that skinnier was better for summer in Chicago.

Which, hey, I could've told him, that had been my own strategy all the time, but...whoa.

Fraser'd pulled us right together, and my hand was caught between us, just in the right place for a little discreet adjustment, but that meant the back of my hand was pushed right up against Fraser, against Fraser's....

Fraser was hard.

I swallowed against a dry throat. No way could I miss that.

No way could Fraser miss me not missing that, and suddenly that little voice was back in my head again, the one that had said, 'nothing to see, here, just a couple of guys, going to bed now,' and I felt the giggles coming back, and I knew it was just nerves, but I went with it anyway, grinning like a crazy man.

And Fraser smiled back.

He smiled back, and he didn't flinch, or jump, or hit me or anything, he was just laying there, smiling back, and I realized that Fraser -- Fraser, of all people! -- might have a little something else of his own happening, here. Maybe even some intentions.

So I kept smiling, and I went ahead and made the adjustment anyway, right up against Fraser, just to see what he'd do. I knew Fraser felt every movement as I pushed my dick aside, to where the zipper wasn't, and that was a relief, finally, but it was short-lived, because then Fraser's hand was there, too, touching his own dick through his jeans, moving it aside just like I'd done, and that was so hot, just feeling Fraser doing that, that my jeans were immediately uncomfortable again, and there was no blood flowing anywhere else in my body, any more, and I'd tangled my hand with Fraser's now, and we were doing it, we were doing it together, right through the jeans, and I closed my eyes and breathed in the Fraser-scented air between us, and I knew I was never gonna last.

I was freaking, for sure I was freaking, but I was shaking with it, too, my hips getting into it, pushing to meet Fraser's pushing back, and I had to pull it together, or Fraser'd be freaking too, and if he was freaking he might stop, and I'd never want that, and I was gasping it out before I knew it, "Never. Never," right in Fraser's ear, which didn't make any sense, really but Fraser seemed okay with it.

Really, Fraser seemed fine with it, great, even, and he wasn't freaking, he was ahead of me, because he had a hand on my button and zipper, tugging them open, pulling the fabric aside to get his hand in there. So I stopped freaking and held still a moment, and Fraser was really huffing in my ear now, panting, doing some shaking of his own up there, and he was laughing now, nerves or whatever, and he was whispering in my ear again.

"Not bigger, not so much, not bigger," and I then I was laughing again, too, and I turned my mouth and caught Fraser's lips with my own just as my own hand made it through Fraser's jeans and boxers to the hot, hot skin below.

I wanted to argue the point, I really did, to fight it out with Fraser and then maybe do some measuring to see just what was bigger where, but by then Fraser was jerking me just right, and kissing me just right, so I held on and just tried to match him, movement for movement, together.

I let Fraser's rhythm take me, let it get deeper, a little bit wilder, and the cot creaked under us, which would have been a little scary, really, if I'd cared, and I spared one passing thought to the perv upstairs who'd cut a hole in just the wrong place, hadn't he, because maybe he could hear a bit, but he sure couldn't see, and I wanted to see, I really did, so I tried to pull back a little from Fraser's mouth, to get my head around to look, and I pulled a little harder at Fraser's dick, to make up for not kissing him, to say, sorry, and Fraser cried out, and so much for keeping quiet, for looking, because Fraser's rhythm broke, and his hand tightened in just the right way on the upstroke, and I yelled a bit too, and had to push hard, hard, to get my dick through the tight fist Fraser had made, and I knew I was coming just as I felt his hot splash on my hand, the cot shaking madly beneath us.

I came back to myself to find Fraser, still puffing, breathing up all the air between us. I wasn't all that calm myself, yet, but I had to yank Fraser's chain, so I took a little shot at him, just to make sure we were still, you know, us.

"Good thing we didn't have garlic for dinner."

He laughed back, but he did move until his head was just below mine. His breath was tickling my neck now, but that was okay, because he was still there, we were here, and I was getting some air of my own, now, feeling good.

Better than good. Greatness. Somebody up there must really like me.

That was still funny and I wanted to share it with Fraser, but I was too blissed out to talk any more, so I just drifted.

After a while the fog lifted and I started thinking maybe I ought to pull myself together. We still had a perv to catch.

Fraser wasn't saying anything and he wasn't standing up but he was going to have to. I was feeling sticky and even a little cold, which didn't make any sense, laying as I was in a very small space with a very hot guy.

That was a little pervy too, and I grinned some at the idea, before I realized that pervy thoughts about Fraser were probably okay now.

I cricked my neck to look down where Fraser was, to share that with him, when cold air made me shiver, and I realized that Fraser'd unbuttoned my shirt when I wasn't paying attention, and now he was blowing on my nipples.

Little, cool streams of air, first the right, then the left, and really, if we were talking pervy here...but my nipples seemed to really, really like it, and they tightened right up, and Fraser smiled down at the left one, and bent his head to take it into his mouth.

I couldn't help it, I yelped, and bucked, and if Fraser hadn't been a solid weight on top of me, I'd probably have bucked us both right onto the floor, but Fraser had me tight, and he just smiled a wicked smile and switched sides.

It was too soon, much too soon, but I could feel my dick trying to get hard again.

"Jeez, Fraser, where did you learn that?"

I was shaking again, knew I should be still, but I couldn't, not with Fraser's mouth on me I couldn't. I got both hands free from wherever they'd been, and put them in Fraser's hair, not pushing, I hoped, just holding, feeling Fraser's head moving. Hot, then cold, then hot. Too much, too fast.

I was hyperventilating, I knew it, black spots in my vision and it felt like I couldn't breathe fast enough, like there wasn't enough air again, could never be enough air, and just when I thought I'd stroke out, just explode or something, Fraser pulled back.

Not far, not leaving, but he put his chin on me and looked up at me with those wicked eyes, mouth a few safe inches from any part of my over-appreciative chest. He just stayed there a few minutes, watching with looking smug while I got my breathing back under control.

"I take it you liked that, Ray," and he pulled himself back up the cot to look right down into my face, and we were both laughing again, and Fraser was hugging me, the smooth fabric of his flannel shirt soft against my nipples, warm against my chest. This time we both sighed.

It felt nice, it felt more than nice. I wanted nothing more than to stay right there and show him how nice, but it had to be getting late, and we still had that perv to catch.

I thought Fraser might be thinking about falling asleep, and I wasn't letting that happen. I reached out and swatted the first part of him that came to hand, which turned out to be his butt, and pulled myself up into a sitting position.

My shirt was half off, my jeans were unzipped and I was just, sheesh, I was a mess, and I pulled my shirt off to wipe myself down. Only Fraser would rent a place with no bathroom.

"Fraser, it's a good thing you're not bigger than me, 'cause you're gonna have to loan me some clothes, here."

I looked at Fraser, only to see him just staring back with his mouth hanging open.

"What?"

And Fraser just blinked at me, like there was something he hadn't seen before and I looked down at myself.

"What?" I repeated.

But Fraser was smiling at me again, now, like he'd gotten to wherever he'd been going, and he pushed himself up against my sweaty, messy self and reached out for my hand with his own, and pulled, which really wasn't such a good idea on such a small cot, I thought, but Fraser was whispering in my ear again.

"Ray. Do that again." And he put my hand back on his butt.

My hand was real happy right there, squeezing Fraser's butt, but my brain couldn't catch up. First the nipple-thing and now spanking? Fraser wanted me to spank him? Just who was the perv in this relationship, anyway?

"You want me to spank you? You -- like that?"

And Fraser's eyes had gone dreamy, and he was nodding, and I was losing any interest in the perv upstairs.

"I think so, maybe," Fraser was saying. "Yes. Just a little, and then--."

And he didn't finish, but I got it. Fraser wanted me to fuck him.

Just like that, he'd come right out and asked.

And sure, I wanted to, I'd wanted to for months, in the privacy of my own fantasies, but that was fantasy, and here was Fraser, saying it right out loud, just like that!

How did we get from Mr. Clean to this, with Fraser asking me to fuck him? I knew I was freaking again or maybe still, but I couldn't leave it alone, I just couldn't. I had to know, so just I blurted it out.

"Why?"

Fraser flexed his butt against my fingers. I was still stroking Fraser's butt, I realized, and I pulled myself together, pulled my hand back, made myself stop.

"Why?" and I kept asking, because Fraser didn't look at all happy to have his butt back, and I would have laughed at that, too, but I really wanted to know.

"Why this, why now?"

"Because of what you said, Ray."

And I had to raise my eyebrows, make a big, 'what, already?' face before he'd go on. He was blushing, a little embarrassed, which was a really cute look on him, so I reached out a hand and rubbed his arm, easy, and he sighed, and started talking.

"You said, 'the pervert upstairs,' Ray," and yeah, he stuttered a little, but he got through it, and he seemed relieved, and the rest came easier. "You said, the pervert upstairs, and I wondered, what did he hope to see, what could he have been thinking, and then I thought of you covering the windows. I only cover the windows when I'm dressing. For privacy."

His breathing was getting rough again, and his arm flexed under mine, straightened, and it may have been too soon again before but Fraser was obviously getting there now, and so was I, really fast. I kept my eyes on his face until I remembered, again, it was okay now to look, and so I looked and yeah, Fraser was getting there. And he was still talking, in a rush, now.

"And I thought. Privacy. All the things I've thought about. What we would need privacy for, here, together. What a pervert might have hoped to have seen, if he'd placed his peep hole with better precision."

Fraser's eyes were dilated, and he was talking fast, between huffs of air. He was reaching for my hand and bringing it back to where it had never really wanted to leave, to his butt, and I was leaning over to kiss him again, I couldn't help it, after that, and Fraser kissed me back, messy, just like before, and between kisses he finished, sounding like a confession now.

"And I knew. What I would have wanted to see. What I want. What I don't want anyone else to see."

What can you say when a guy has the nerve to come right out and say that to you? One thing, and I said it.

"Me too, Fraser. Me too." I pulled him up, and Fraser let me, until we were sitting together, and I pushed my forehead against his again, and tried to think.

"Listen, Fraser. I want that, too," and I swallowed, hard. "Have for a while now, but we need stuff. And room to move around in, so nobody gets hurt, okay?"

And Fraser's eyes widened and he nodded.

"You're right, Ray. I hadn't thought of...supplies." He looked a little freaky himself now.

Another board creaked over our heads and we both jumped and I pulled back, not too far.

"And we got this bad guy to catch, first."

Fraser lifted his eyes from where he'd been staring at my lap. I had liked that, but I liked the flicker of returning focus in Fraser's eyes, too. It was what I thought of as his "game face" and it always got my adrenaline going.

"We do, don't we, Ray?"

"Yep. We gotta go talk to the pervert upstairs, Frase. Then we gotta arrest him. And book him. And then I figure we go back to my place."

Fraser looked surprised at this, and he still wasn't moving, so I sweetened the deal.

"I got supplies, Fraser. And a big bed," and my tone was softer now, cajoling, "Where we can get really messy."

And Fraser's face was calm, but his eyes were gone again. Thinking about getting messy. I was learning to read it in his eyes, when he was thinking about getting messy, and that was good to know. For the future.

The perv.

I pulled myself together and up, and really, for such a small cot it was really comfortable, but I got my feet under me at last and stood. I reached down to Fraser, and pulled him up, too. He pulled clean clothes out of the dresser for us both. We stayed out of the line of sight of the perv above the kitchen and I handed him the wadded-up remains of my shirt, making wiping motions.

He wiped himself down and started to change quickly. I was okay with that. The faster we got going the faster we'd get done and then--.

I timed it carefully, pretending not to stare, waited until Fraser'd pulled off his pants and was climbing into the clean ones, then I reached out to pop him one, just gently, on his butt.

Turns out, my hand had other ideas, because instead of a smack it turned into a squeeze kind of stroking thing, and I steadied Fraser with my other hand, because he seemed to like that just fine, and wobbled on his feet.

We stood there, frozen a minute, until Fraser shook it off.

"After, Ray."

Yeah, that was his game face alright.

"Yeah, Fraser, after." I started dressing too, fast. "First we handle the perv upstairs."

"I see, Ray. I understand. And then you."

I was still shoving my slightly-too-large borrowed shirt into my borrowed jeans, toeing my feet back into my sneakers, and Fraser was crowding me again, towards the door this time, towards the stairs and the bad guy upstairs, and I needed more hands.

I barely managed to swipe my badge and my gun from where I'd laid them on the dresser, but I was used to moving fast, once Fraser had his game face on. I managed it all, hopping a bit until I got my shoes settled, Fraser maybe helping a bit, tucking in the back of my shirt, maybe feeling me up a bit in the process, but my ears were working just fine, thank you, and I got it, got what Fraser'd said, and as I hopped, and tucked, and fumbled, and made it somehow to the door, which Fraser politely opened for me, I made sure he knew it.

"Whaddaya mean, me? I'm not the perv in this relationship, Fraser, not me, that's you!" I was trying for a whisper in a furious undertone. "You're the one who wanted to be spanked, here, not me!"

And that was pretty well unanswerable, I thought, and I was feeling pretty good about getting that established, right up front, until I stepped through the door and jeez!

There were people in the hallway, and they or may not have seen me doing the hopping, tucking, fumbling thing, but they'd sure heard me, because the girl was giggling, and the guy was shushing her, pulling her down the hall, and he was looking back over his shoulder at me as she fumbled with her keys a few doors down, and he was grinning -- grinning!

And I knew what the guy was grinning at.

He was grinning at the pervs down the hall.

* * * * * * *

THE END