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"Fraser, there's a dead caribou on the living room floor." Ray was aware that he was probably whining, but there were times when it was warranted. Like when there was a fucking dead caribou on the fucking living room floor on the day he got back from the big trip to see Mum and Dad. "Not that I don't love the fauna of your native realm, but it's very ugly when it's dead." Though, thank god, at least there weren't fucking caribou in the living room. Still, he had to remind himself that he couldn't kill the Mountie. The RCMP would put him on ice, and here that would just mean letting him go outside in the winter without a rope. Which he'd only done the once, so it shouldn't count. "The caribou is a majestic and beloved creature," Fraser said from the bedroom, his voice raised enough that Ray could hear him clearly. "And it was a gift." Ray sat down on the couch, which was one of his many contributions to this relationship, and spent some time staring at the pile of dead meat that had once roamed the tundra or whatever, which really summed up so much of what Fraser was bringing to the whole shebang. At least it had a sheet under it, so it wouldn't get disgusting dead caribou juice on the hardwood floor. But still, it interfered with the flow of the room, which made it a very bad thing in Ray's book. "What are we going to do with it?" Ray asked, staring directly at the open, dead eyes of the thing and repressing a shudder. Of course, he'd never noticed them to be particularly bright and thoughtful when he'd seen live ones, either. "We could open a slaughterhouse, really make all my dad's nightmares come true." He raised his voice slightly, so that Fraser would be able to hear every word. "Not like the gay thing wasn't enough, we have to add dead animals to the mix." "Now, Ray, that's just silly." Fraser's voice was way too close and Ray turned his head to see Fraser leaning against the bedroom door. "One caribou would not supply sufficient meat to establish a slaughterhouse." And if anyone ever had to ask why he was here, he could just give them a description of the way that Fraser looked right now. It wasn't just that Fraser lacked a shirt, had his shoes off, and let his hair stay rumpled. It was the fact that he had one of Ray's 'junk food' books in his hand, one finger marking a place in the pages. It was the way Fraser's other hand rested lightly on his own waist, almost rhythmically buttoning and unbuttoning the top of his jeans. It was the warm look in Fraser's eyes that said sweeter things than Fraser's smart mouth had ever managed to come up with. Most of all, it was because Ray could point to all that and say that he'd done it. No matter what his parents thought, it was something to be proud of. "We could open a petting zoo," Ray suggested, kicking his shoes off his feet. He twisted to lie down, slinging his legs over the low arm of the couch and resting the back of his head on the plush seat cushion. "A petting zoo?" Fraser's voice was slightly incredulous and Ray grinned, closing his eyes and lifting his arms up over his head, letting them rest on the other arm of the couch and then stretching out lengthwise until he heard his back pop. He heard a soft noise from Fraser's corner of the world and widened his grin. "Yeah. For the real bratty kids that pull at fur, give them something they can't hurt. Could be a potential money-maker." Ray kept his eyes closed and managed not to react when he felt a warm hand slid under his shirt. "You're right, Frase, we definitely have to keep the dead elk. It's a gold mine." "Caribou," Fraser said, and now Ray felt warm breath at his ear. Fuck but Fraser was fast and quiet. Ray hadn't been able to control his flinch and he could feel Fraser's smug satisfaction, even if he couldn't see it. Fraser started lightly petting Ray's stomach, moving his hand just enough to make Ray's dick start to wake up and pay attention. "Gosh, Teach, I didn't know we had English today," Ray said, doing his best to control his breathing. "Are we on the 'C's already?" He only just barely stifled his moan of disappointment when Fraser's hand left his skin. And then, oh yes, Fraser was climbing onto the couch, straddling Ray's body. Ray lazily opened his eyes, taking in the sight of Fraser on top of him, now completely bare-assed. He'd think that he'd died and gone to heaven, but he wasn't sure there was that much sex up there. And the legal gay sex was definitely the best part of Canada. Fraser had the same intent, certain look on his face now that Ray had seen the few times that he'd seen Fraser with a gun. Fucking sexy then and fucking sexy now. Ray licked his lips, pushing his hips up against Fraser's as hard as he could and not managing the move the bastard an inch. Fraser was using every bit of his weight and position to keep Ray still, which was profoundly unfair and wonderful. Ray was strong, but it was a wiry, nervous strength. Fraser's strength was like a fucking mountain -- only time could even hope to wear it down. The only way to move Fraser was to convince him that he wanted to move. And right now, the only thing moving was Fraser's right hand, which Fraser was currently using to pull up Ray's shirt. When Ray started to reach down to help, Fraser stopped him with one gentle touch to Ray's left wrist. Fraser pulled up Ray's shirt until the bottom seam was resting right across Ray's nipples, then he left the shirt there, idly caressing Ray's stomach with his hand. Fraser scooted back a little, still sitting on Ray's legs, but giving himself room to reach down and unbutton Ray's jeans. Then he snuck his hand under Ray's jeans, resting it softly on the thin layer of cotton that covered Ray's cock. Ray reflexively shut his eyes, rolling into Fraser's touch. He heard a low sound of pleased surprise and guessed that Fraser had noticed that Ray was wearing a pair of Fraser's own boxers. It wasn't a sappy thing, it was just because boxers were easy access and also comfy for plane rides. Fraser then proved one of Ray's points by sliding his hand inside the boxers, the familiar touch of Fraser's hand causing Ray to harden fully. Fraser always started out by touching him so very carefully, not as if he were something that could break, but as if he were something that Fraser didn't consider fully real. At some point, like right about… now, Fraser figured out that, yes, Ray was here and not disappearing into the ether any time soon, and the touches became rougher, the callused skin of Fraser's fingers pulling against the softer skin of Ray's cock. Ray was panting now, short breaths escaping him as he wriggled and shimmied against Fraser. He couldn't have opened his eyes if he'd heard a gun cocking but when Fraser slid forward slightly, bumping his cock up against Ray's, taking both of them into hand, Ray did manage to moan a soft, "Frase…" He felt Fraser's thighs tighten around his, and Fraser's soft voice penetrated through the dim haze of his impending orgasm. Fuck, it was always too fast when they'd been apart. And Fraser was talking, telling him everything that had happened while he was gone, everything that he'd missed but now he was back, now he was home and Fraser had him, and, with a quick shudder, Ray came. By the time he finally got around to opening his eyes, Fraser was lying on him. At some point, Fraser'd come, too, but Ray had been too busy to notice. He'd have to remember to catch the next time, which would probably be in a couple of hours. Fraser smiled at him, sweet and warm, stroking Ray's arm with soft, repetitive touches. "Welcome home, Ray." "Good to be home." Ray said, quirking a smile back at Fraser and then lifting his head up to press a light kiss on the corner of Fraser's mouth. Fraser returned the favor, leaning down to steal a kiss. "Good, that's good to know," Fraser murmured, shifting to kiss Ray's shoulder. Ray brought his arms down around Fraser, caressing Fraser's broad back. "So, with everything that you've been saying, you did leave something important out," Ray said. He felt Fraser still against him, as Fraser probably tried to work out what Ray might think was missing. Ray turned his head to the side, staring towards the floor of the living room. "What's with the caribou?"
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