Danger Games
by Sasscat Bu-to-y

This was supposed to be the easy part. Ray concentrated on winding the bandage so he wouldn't have to look at the gash on Fraser's palm. You could only catch so many knives before funking a grab... The bandage was thick and fuzzy, not at all like the smoothness of Fraser's skin when Ray's fingertips grazed against it. "You could have died, Fraser."

Concentrate on wrapping. Over, around, under, around. Loop it round the wrist for stability. He dipped his head, not quite following through on the urge to press his lips to the little hollow there. Just like every day he didn't follow through on the urge to lean over and lick the base of Fraser's throat. It would be so easy...

Over, around, under, around.

Softly Fraser said, "I know."

In the script, Fraser would have said, "That's silly, Ray; I knew you'd--" and Ray would interrupt to vent some of the adrenaline still sculpting his veins. Deprived of that option, Ray smoothed the bandage over his partner's palm.

Fraser twitched. His fingers curled, tips pushing against the curve of Ray's palm, for one jolting instant. It looked inadvertent. It *was* inadvertent; Ray knew that. Felt very vertent, though.

Could he trail his fingers up Fraser's bare arm? Slide them under the pushed-up bundle of brown serge sleeve? Lean in, tongue his way into the open collar--

What the hell did he think he would do if Fraser said yes?

This was adrenaline, making him crazy. Ray stood up, turning away from the alluring image of Fraser all settled in and homey on his couch. "You know, huh? I don't think you do. You never know. You stand there and you don't even realise how much danger you're in."

He looked back in time to see Fraser, tired, closing his eyes. "Ray, please. Do we have to...?"

Frustration shocked his system into anger. If he clocked Fraser, would that knock some sense into him? It was so, so tempting just to try it and see. "You don't even know you're in danger."

Alerted by his tone, Fraser opened his eyes. "From you?" There was a hint of disbelief not quite edited out of his voice. Not smart. Not smart at all.

"You know so much about me, Fraser, how can you not know me?" This was cold, dangerous anger; grudge anger; best-laid-plans anger. Felt like a drug, stung like a knife. The downer afterwards was going to be a killer. Like always, Ray didn't care. He gave a steel-edged grin. "I could pull my gun and you'd go to your grave swearing you were safe. Wouldn't you?" Fraser stared at him, frowning a little, and Ray let his grin drop. "*Wouldn't you?*"

Fraser gave him a measured look, long enough to assert his own claim to dominance. A look that said, 'I answer of my own free will'. "I imagine so."

Oh, that was *so* the wrong answer. Ray stepped back to give himself room, feeling the glint that must be in his eyes. He drew his gun and aimed it with both hands. "You have a gun pointed at your head. Do not pretend you're in no danger, Fraser."

Fraser almost *smiled*. There was something wild in his gaze, defiant and rebellious. Ray revelled in it. "Oh, so you're going to shoot me?"

"Do not count against it, my friend. If I don't, someone else is going to. At least this way I'll know."

"What are you trying to prove, Ray?"

"You think I like standing there, wondering if it's the day you'll be killed? Not knowing if that trigger will be pulled? There's something to be said for controlling the outcome." His palms were sticky. He could feel his hair curling out of place. Adrenaline was a man's best friend.

Fraser didn't seem to think he could do it. Or maybe he just didn't mind. "You'd scare the neighbours."

"Screw the neighbours," Ray snapped. He flicked the safety off in a deliberate movement. "This is about you, Fraser, you and the fact that you're not the Man of Steel. Say it. You know you're in danger. Say it."

Fraser stretched slightly. "I don't think so." He pushed his sleeves down and started unbuttoning his tunic.

Ray fixed his grip on the gun. "What *are* you doing?"

Fraser pulled his serge, lanyard and belt over his head and laid them beside him on the couch. "Well, if I'm *really* going to die, I may as well die in comfort."

Smug bastard. Ray went for his handcuffs with one hand, flipping the gun round to point at himself with the other. He watched in fascination as all the smugness drained out of Fraser's face. So he thought, what, that Ray would happily kill himself before harming a hair on Fraser's head? "You do recognise danger, then."

"Ray." Fraser sounded somewhere between choked and strangled. "Please. I can't-- I can't--"

God, he wanted Fraser to *beg*. Just once. Not in front of the bad guys, because as much as he wanted Fraser to recognise the danger he was constantly in, letting the bad guys know about it was wrong. But just once Fraser should have to beg.

Not like this, though. He had to beg for his own life, not Ray's. He had to want something for himself.

Ray moved forward and closed one half of the cuffs on Fraser's bandaged wrist. The half-expected twist sideways didn't come, and he let a grin flash across his lips as he finished handcuffing his partner. "Behind your back."

Fraser rocked forward, tucking his hands under his feet and behind him in one smooth motion. Its grace was obviously meant to signal how easily he could get his hands in front of himself again if he chose to.

Ray straddled his lap, digging the muzzle of the gun under Fraser's shirt, sliding it up tense skin until it rested, almost of its own accord, just under Fraser's ribcage. Fraser's eyelids fluttered, and he let out a breath that was barely an inch from a moan. God, this wasn't even *almost* sexual, it was blatant foreplay.

"You cannot pretend this is remotely safe," Ray said in a low voice. "There is *danger* here. Admit it, Fraser."

"I most certainly will not."

"Ad-mit-it," Ray gritted out, scooting forward and pressing his erection firmly against Fraser's.

Fraser practically smirked. "No."

Son of a bitch. Ray rocked his hips against him, causing another flutter of eyelids and a very Fraserish grunt. "Say it."

"Make me."

Ray dug the gun harder into Fraser's ribs. "What the hell do you think I'm doing?" Under the Henley, where Fraser couldn't hear it, he put the safety back on.

"Well, that would seem to be the question of the moment, wouldn't it?"

Only Fraser could be that arrogant. Restraining him only made it worse. Tie down every inch of him and you'd end up with something cockier than Huey and Dewey combined. Ray gave into the urge to map Fraser's throat with his tongue, rocking against him for real. "Say it, you bastard," he mumbled into warm skin. He could feel Fraser's pulse, beating under his lips.

A sound like a purr grazed Ray's ear. "'M not gonna." Fraser's breath was warm as it softly petted his own pulse point.

"Say it." He stroked Fraser's abdomen with the muzzle of the gun.

"No."

Ray lifted his head, resting his forearm on the back of the couch to take his weight as he rocked. He moved the gun downwards, dipping it inside Fraser's waistband. "Say it."

"No," Fraser repeated, eyes gleaming. They stared at each other intently, breathing hard, their only movement the rhythm of their hips thrusting together.

"I could kill you," Ray whispered fiercely.

"I know."

"Do you?"

Fraser didn't answer. He ran his tongue slowly over his bottom lip, moistening it.

Ray fixed his eyes on it. "Beg."

Fraser flicked his tongue out again, briefly, involuntarily. "No."

Ray bent his head and smoothed his own bottom lip across Fraser's. He licked Fraser's lip then pressed their mouths more firmly together. He sought Fraser's tongue with his own, pushing against it slickly in a duel matched by the movement of their hips as Fraser molded himself to him. The arm on the back of the couch shifted closer, the back of Fraser's neck now in easy reach of Ray's hand. He teased the hair at its nape with his fingers, putting the gun firmly against Fraser's side as he continued to dive into the eager kiss.

Finally he drew back, panting. "Beg."

Fraser blinked, staring up at him. His hair was damp with sweat, chest heaving at every breath. His eyes were barely focused. He opened his mouth weakly. "Ray..."

Yes, Ray whispered in his own mind, exultant. "Yeah?"

Fraser twisted sharply, pushing him off balance. "Never."

Ray felt his head hit the arm of the couch - that thing was not as padded as it looked - and managed not to lose the gun by sheer strength of will. Fraser was pulling his arms under his feet and back in front of himself; too fast for Ray, he took the gun in both hands and pressed it to Ray's neck, stretched out on top of him. "Beg," he mimicked.

"You're unhinged, Fraser," Ray gasped. "I could have pulled the trigger. Not even on purpose, I could've just..."

Fraser shook his head confidently. "You had the safety on."

"You heard it?"

"No. I know you." He smiled fondly. "Contrary to your assumptions, Ray, I do know when I'm in danger. Believe me, this wasn't one of those times."

God, how could one person be so naiive? He could have *killed* him. "Fraser, I would have--"

Fraser shook his head again, firmly. "No. You may think so, but you wouldn't have."

Gazing up at him, Ray felt himself beginning to half-believe that. Christ. How did Fraser do that to him?

Fraser offered him the gun and he put it on the floor, then ran his hand along Fraser's side on its return trip. "You're a maniac, Fraser."

"Mm-hmm." Fraser spread his arms on Ray's chest, cuffed hands in the center. "But I'm still alive." He bent his head and captured Ray's lips before Ray could make a smart comment, and kissing was better than sarcasm anyway. Ray hummed happily and rocked their hips together as best he could from underneath.

Fraser lifted up, stilling him. "Beg."

"*Bastard*." Ray flung his head back dramatically, and winced as he hit it on the arm of the couch again. "Please, Fraser."

Fraser nipped lightly at the base of his throat. Ray shivered. "*Beg*."

He would quite happily get up and leave this very minute, Ray realised, and managed to inject a note of real pleading into his voice. "Please, god, Fraser, you can *not* stop now, I'm serious here."

"Close enough." Fraser started moving against him again, licking his way towards Ray's collarbone, just under his t-shirt. Ray closed his eyes, losing himself in the sensation, fumbling with the hem of Fraser's shirt until his hands found bare skin. In long sweeps he covered Fraser's back, holding his partner close to himself.

His hands tightened on Fraser's shoulderblades, and he arched towards him, coming hard. "*Frase*--"

"'M here." Fraser kissed him lightly, panting. "I'm here."

He'd noticed. Ray let his hands just rest there, getting his breath back. "I'm sorry I killed you," he mumbled, aware there was probably an important word missing in that.

Fraser daubed his lower lip over Ray's jaw, leaving damp spots. "It's all right."

Oddly, that was the truth. "I know," Ray answered, suppressing a sleepy yawn. Adrenaline was a good buddy, but he wasn't so fond of its tendency to leave its pal exhaustion behind when it left. "Don't let me do it again."

"Mm." Fraser tucked his head into Ray's shoulder. "All right."

Coolness. Ray closed his eyes contentedly. Maybe Fraser did know when there was danger, after all.

--
The End




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