[ It's beautiful; it's everything Fraser had ever wanted and more, and it's almost impossible to believe it's actually happening. Things like this just didn't. Not like this. There's too much to it; there's Ray and there's partners, and there's the marriage and there's the whole dubious question of homosexuality that Fraser had never considered for a second that any of it could actually become real, because the odds were stacked too high against him. Everything sensible said that Ray didn't go in for that sort of thing.
And yet there's the fact that close against him, pressed up against Ray Kowalski's body it's obvious at least to Fraser exactly what he wants to do to him. And none of it would be considered straight by any means.
There was just too much that had seemed so ludicrously impossible that he hadn't let his thoughts wander in that general direction. The same things that had prevented him from reaching down as they lay together in the darkness, and helping Ray out with the erection that he was trying to avoid touching him through their nightclothes, had prevented him from even broaching the subject in jest. It wasn't to be acknowledged, thought about, or done, and yet here they were, and suddenly it was open season on all the things he hadn't let himself consider. On sex and kisses and living together in the wild snowy wastes of the north. On Ray being his, and his being Ray's.
All of that he conveys into the almost kiss with uncertainty and hope and terror, increasingly soothed that Ray is hearing him too, that Ray wants it too...
The tongue is like a starter pistol. BANG. And they're off.
Fraser moves like a whippet after a hare; his body, seemingly springloaded until that very moment, expelled force through every fiber of his being, and suddenly any hesitation he had, any fear of not being wanted, not being understood, not being welcomed--had been banished to the dim and distant past. If not for the fact that Ray was already pressed back against the wall, the effort with which Fraser slammed into him might have knocked the air clean out of his lungs, but that was no contest: he wasn't exactly about to make it easy or Ray to breathe anyway.
His hand was bruising tight around Ray's wrist, his chest against Ray's chest, inhaling into his space, his other hand had at least slid sidewards and flattened itself against the wall by Ray's hip, which kept him from suffocating a bruise against his sternum. He poured himself into the kiss like bruises were the answer to all life's ills; his lips slammed hard against Ray's, his tongue snagged around Ray's tender little adventure toward his mouth and swallowed it back into the kiss, sucking hard; sucking down with it all the air out of Ray's lungs. It was a drowning kiss, an impossible kiss, bristling with all the passionate need and energy he'd kept so punishingly buried for years.
If Ray had ever wondered what animal lingered beneath the surface of Benton Fraser, now he was getting an all expenses paid tour. Refined and elegant Mountie this was not; this was the boy you brought home that you had to apologize for. Fraser was danger, the tethers of his restraints snapped, rabid and eager, and no force on earth could stop him. Except perhaps duty--but at least not yet. He had to get at least some of this out of his system first.
no subject
And yet there's the fact that close against him, pressed up against Ray Kowalski's body it's obvious at least to Fraser exactly what he wants to do to him. And none of it would be considered straight by any means.
There was just too much that had seemed so ludicrously impossible that he hadn't let his thoughts wander in that general direction. The same things that had prevented him from reaching down as they lay together in the darkness, and helping Ray out with the erection that he was trying to avoid touching him through their nightclothes, had prevented him from even broaching the subject in jest. It wasn't to be acknowledged, thought about, or done, and yet here they were, and suddenly it was open season on all the things he hadn't let himself consider. On sex and kisses and living together in the wild snowy wastes of the north. On Ray being his, and his being Ray's.
All of that he conveys into the almost kiss with uncertainty and hope and terror, increasingly soothed that Ray is hearing him too, that Ray wants it too...
The tongue is like a starter pistol. BANG. And they're off.
Fraser moves like a whippet after a hare; his body, seemingly springloaded until that very moment, expelled force through every fiber of his being, and suddenly any hesitation he had, any fear of not being wanted, not being understood, not being welcomed--had been banished to the dim and distant past. If not for the fact that Ray was already pressed back against the wall, the effort with which Fraser slammed into him might have knocked the air clean out of his lungs, but that was no contest: he wasn't exactly about to make it easy or Ray to breathe anyway.
His hand was bruising tight around Ray's wrist, his chest against Ray's chest, inhaling into his space, his other hand had at least slid sidewards and flattened itself against the wall by Ray's hip, which kept him from suffocating a bruise against his sternum. He poured himself into the kiss like bruises were the answer to all life's ills; his lips slammed hard against Ray's, his tongue snagged around Ray's tender little adventure toward his mouth and swallowed it back into the kiss, sucking hard; sucking down with it all the air out of Ray's lungs. It was a drowning kiss, an impossible kiss, bristling with all the passionate need and energy he'd kept so punishingly buried for years.
If Ray had ever wondered what animal lingered beneath the surface of Benton Fraser, now he was getting an all expenses paid tour. Refined and elegant Mountie this was not; this was the boy you brought home that you had to apologize for. Fraser was danger, the tethers of his restraints snapped, rabid and eager, and no force on earth could stop him. Except perhaps duty--but at least not yet. He had to get at least some of this out of his system first.
He felt like he'd been waiting forever. ]