thelockbox | Benton Fraser

What. [ He assumes Ray is going to say 'What?' so he plunges onward irregardless. ] Francium isn't a person, Ray.

[ Right, but it's irrelevant to his point (which if he doesn't get to some time soon Ray is going to kick him in the head, right?) so he gets on with it. ]

The point I'm trying to make is that in nature as in all things, opposites attract. You and I, for example. Your qualities obfuscate my flaws, and vice versa.

[ He's still talking about being partners, right? ]

Whatever. [Who. What. Same difference. He supposes he deserves this for repeating the word 'chemistry' near a Canadian.

As Canadian as Fraser's being, Ray actually gets the general gist of what's being said. Just occasionally he can speak the language of these crazy Northerners.]

Obfuscate. Yeah. Yeah, like uh. Cancel it out or somethin'. Opposites attract. I get that. I'm all over that. [Animated enough that he has to tug his blanket back around him after a few agreeing jabs of his fingers.] Chemistry. Mmf, that's what I'm talkin' about.

[ The smile is all in his eyes, but the truth is that the fond edge of it reaches his lips this time, as Ray all but bounces off the ground in his agreement. It's subtle, but then it always is, and he's always pleased when they actually understand each other; especially since sometimes it seems to him he should have a dictionary of phrases on hand in order to school Ray anew on the basics. Then, sometimes, he'll come out and understand a word like 'obfuscate', and Fraser will question if that time when he's misconstrued some basic expression really happened at all, and whether it was just some effort to mess with him on a deeper level. ]

Case in point. [ He says, about the bouncing. ]

So you see, Ray, the success of our partnership is no mere accident. We were - in effect - made for each other.

[ Honestly it's still questionable whether he knows where this conversation has gone since it started. ]

[It's not hard for Ray to spot the slight smile of Fraser's, even if it's minute by most standards, and if his buddy is happy then he's happy. Usually. At least in this scenario he is.]

Things are warmin' up, Fraser.

[That might be in reference to the temperature, or something very different.]

You keepin' them clothes on?

[ He'd noticed the same thing, though of course more in regard to the temperature in the tent than anything else. The fire would last at least another hour without fresh wood, due to the careful choice of timber Benton had made, picking out dense black locust instead of pine.

But...he was getting away from himself.

Was he keeping his clothes on? ]

I suppose it would be a relief to get some air. That is if you don't mind, Ray?

[ It would be nice to take a break from the uniform even for a little while. It itched. It itched worse after not being able to wash it for three weeks. ]

Fraser, I'm sittin' here in my underpants. I don't think I got any right to judge a guy.

[He's not even feeling quite so awkward about being barely dressed any more, especially not when wrapping in a blanket and relatively warm with the current fire scenario.

Even better that he gets the possible viewing pleasure of an undressing Mountie. ... Not that he's into that or anything.]

Unless your version of gettin' air is openin' up the tent. I am not okay with that in any way.

I shall endeavor to keep the outside outside, Ray.

[ And that was already quite elementary. In any case Fraser's first act is to shed his boots, his red tunic, belt and lanyard already set aside, and the hat on top because it was rude to wear it indoors--even when indoors was technically outdoors.

After the boots came the socks, which would be unpleasant to put back on, and were knotted together and hidden amongst the pile of clothing. Unclipping the straps from across his shoulders was by far the greatest relief so far. Even as carefully adjusted as Fraser kept them, they still bit into his shoulders with time, rubbing the skin pink and angry. And then, finally, he lost the shirt, leaving him in nothing but the blue and yellow traditional breeches of the RCMP. They were, in fact, the most uncomfortable thing about the whole getup, but one thing at a time--he dug his fingers into his shoulder, rubbing at the knot that hard formed there for most of a second before casting an odd, curious glance at Ray. ]

Did I miss something?

[Ray does his best not to stare too much, but it's hard not to when there's not much else to look at. His gaze alternates between the the fire and the Mountie, although distinctly lingering on the latter. Getting Fraser out the uniform was always a bonus, even more so when the tunic came off to show the muscle beneath. Ray was muscled too, sure, but it was lithe and slight when compared to the broadness of Benton.

He blinks away as he realises he's been staring just a bit too long, but then he's right back to looking as the question comes. It would appear Fraser's playing the clueless card again.]

Well, if you're gonna make it even stevens then uh... [A nod of his head towards those breeches as he shifts his weight just a little closer.]

[ There's still more staring than he's used to. More staring than 'we're in the wilderness and there's nothing else to look at' staring and more than 'did you just grow an extra head or is it just me' staring. He notes his own breathing - paced - and Ray's - somewhat unsteady - and resists the urge to lick his lips, dry as they are from...yes, it must just be the temperature. ]

Naturally.

Doesn't sound nervous at all. Nope. He's done this plenty of times--the stripping thing. That's not even counting the quick changes he'd made in the back of the Buick. But this is very different, and he does sound nervous, because as clueless as he's playing there's the rest of the conversation, and Ray leaning closer, and there's no way to wriggle out of breeches in a close, tight environment that isn't a little embarrassing when it comes right down to it. But he does at least try. At least in his case he's not flopping like a beached whale. It's a step up. ]

Yeah, so uh.

[As unaware as Ray can be, even he can sense a tenseness in the air. Like an unspoken change that he's not quite sure of and has very little understanding about.

He knows how relationships work, enough so that he managed to marry once upon a time, but this isn't like dating a hot chick and taking her home. Especially not the 'hot chick' part of it. Ray's got a usual type, and his type is attractive, blonde and female.

And yet despite all that, he's leaning forward enough to get on all fours and reach a hand for the clothing, giving an aiding tug as he moves in close.]

You mean that? That made-for-each-other stuff?

[Give him another minute and he might actually listen to his instincts.]

[ Helpful. And close. And the 'Thank you kindly', the first one for way too long, freezes on his lips as Ray speaks. Fraser swallows--it's only reasonable, he thinks, to be at least a little apprehensive.

Maybe it's the wilderness. That's it. Or maybe it's the fact that he's home again after so long, and being here with Ray feels comfortable, more comfortable than he's felt being anywhere with anyone. Everything about this always seems to have to be so difficult, but for once - just for once - he allows himself to reach out to touch without fear of evaporation--his own or Ray's. Just the tips of his fingers settle over the inkmarks printed into skin, as though expecting that he might feel a difference, some callous of scar tissue perhaps.

Instead Ray is just warm. His breath catches in his chest, and his answer is a touch sluggish and lacks the usual confident quality. ]

Incontrovertibly. [ Because nothing says 'yes' like six syllables. ]

[There's something to certainly be said for the environment. For the open, icy wilds of Canada. While Fraser's comfort levels for his home country rise, Ray's left living a totally new and different life. His reliance on his friend has increased ten fold, as has his trust, aware as he is that he'd be screwed out here without Fraser by his side. Maybe, just maybe, he likes that concept; the idea of having someone looking out for him. It's been a long time since he last had that.]

That is so dumb. [He decides, although his tone sounds amused, perhaps even flattered, rather than any traces of usual annoyance.

The feather light touch breaks his attention for a second, eyes flicking down to the trailing fingers. When he does look back to Fraser, the stare doesn't last long, his eyes slipping shut as he leans forward.

It's probably not one of Ray's brighter ideas but he's going with his instinct on this, thoughts mentally shoved aside as lips connect unsteadily to form a not-so-graceful kiss. But it lingers. Possibly because he's not entirely sure whether he dares to draw away and let Benton speak.]

[ Benton helps.

It's not that Ray's heart is in the wrong place, it's that with his eyes shut and the distance and angle all wrong one thing leads to another and their noses bump together before Fraser, catching on, corrects him, his free hand - the one not doing all the work in keeping his back off the ground and therefore preserving the relatively neutral territory of semi-uprightness - settling against Ray's jaw instead.

At least for the first time he kisses with the absolute nature of his being--it's polite, compromising, gentle. It lingers where Ray lingers and offers when he asks, and it's probably dumb, he thinks distantly, so much that burbled words of agreement make it as far as the shape of a syllable before he banishes them away.

It's probably better that he doesn't get to talk, come to think of it. Better for everyone involved. Or at least he thinks so. Shifting the effort to his shoulder he gains five degrees of height, enough to turn light and lingering into something that demands reciprocation. It's by no means crushing, but urgent; a kiss from a man who, by years of experience, usually resolves matters in such a way as he gets his man. This time literally. ]

[Help. Help is good.

Ray may manage the smooth operator act with the ladies back home, but when cramped in a tent with some seriously awkward and unexplained feelings, he's less suave gentleman and more fumbling teen. The fact Fraser helps at all does bring a whole new burst of questions that would be asked were lips not already occupied. It really is for the best that they both just keep quiet for the moment.

The initial politeness that comes is appreciated. It gives Ray something familiar of Fraser even when stemming from a totally new experience. Although as much as he likes the politeness, he likes the shift up to urgent even more, something he matches just fine; their usual bickering but just a bit more intimate. Other than a shaky start his return stays true to form as well; pushy, demanding and maybe just a little desperate, only getting more so as rejection becomes less likely. And of course if Fraser demands reciprocation, Ray is going to give it, his jaw slackening just enough to let his tongue push forward.

His own hand is keeping him propped up enough to prevent flopping onto Fraser, his other lifting blindly to rest at his partner's shoulder, fingers curling into the muscle there.]

[ And in that, at least, he's not shy. Fraser knows how to lose himself in a kiss, knows how to pour his whole heart into it once he reaches that point, knows how to forget the world exists and fall into that one moment. He angles deeper into the kiss, receptive and demanding as Ray is receptive and demanding, tongue clashing against Ray's, inviting him to deepen the kiss further.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it; they wouldn't be where they were if he hadn't thought about it. But these sorts of feelings were among the myriad things Benton restrained himself from expressing, so that when at last they were sprung free there was a certain energy, a discernible change in the atmosphere that even Ray had managed to pick up on. His hand smoothed flat against Ray's neck, fingertips against the pulse at the base of his skull. He could feel Ray's pulse racing, but where he'd hoped that it might ground him to reality it did much the opposite instead; his head span. ]

Ray. [ It was breathless, a warning, a muttered something panted into the space between kisses. But even as the word reached his own ears he worried it might spook his partner, send him backing away. This was usually the time in the kiss, after all, where someone interrupted, and he didn't much want to be the responsible party just because his ability to stay upright was rapidly becoming the opposite. Urgently he tightened his grip, determined not to let go, even as exerted muscle trembled under Ray's hand. ]

[Not thinking is something Ray's very very familiar with and it aids him perfectly in the scenario they've found themselves in. He shoves aside his thoughts in favour of those fabled instincts of his, every single part of him focused on lips and touch and building desires.

All that pent up energy comes off him in waves. Those muscles shivering against Fraser have nothing to do with the cold, and when combined with a quickened pulse and heaving chest, his eagerness is more than apparent. Ray throws himself entirely into it; he's always been an all or nothing kind of guy. There's even a sense of physically throwing himself into it too, his weight pushing heavily against Fraser, the hand at his shoulder shoving and kneading, unconsciously working at that knot against the muscle while he uses the grip for leverage.

The voice does bring some reality back to him, as reluctant as he is to acknowledge anything beyond what's between them. But just as he starts to consider how much of a bad idea this might be, he feels Fraser's grip tighten, a silent stay despite the interruption. He does halt though, long enough to pant out a few heavy breaths but keeping close enough that their lips have barely parted. And there's juuust enough time to reply with a low:] Shut up, Fraser. [There's some agitation behind it, enough that a threat of punching or kicking would usually follow it, but rather than waste more breath on such an obvious warning, he instead makes it decidedly more difficult for Fraser to even consider a reply. With his head tilting enough to gain a better angle, he forces his tongue forward, wrestling against his partner's like he's daring him to argue.]

[ Understood.

He didn't get to say it, but there was no doubt he understood. Ray didn't so much want him to shut up as he needed him to, and for the time being at least he intended to do his best to obey. Aided, of course, by Ray's instinctive persistence, because as per usual he had dozens of blurted questions that could tumble into any spaces left between them.

Fraser didn't fight it. The pressure of Ray's pinioning against him could have been fought if he'd wanted the upper hand, he had the strength to make just such a play. Still, the kneading to his shoulder softened the knot, releasing some of the tension that was keeping them upright. Biting down on a whimper - biting down hard - he at last let their combined weight drop him on his back, bringing Ray with him. There was a kind of surrender there, a stetson tip to the sweeping force of a Chicago cop that more than once Fraser had watched unleash himself in the past. Fraser knew when he had to just let the whirlwind fly, and he trusted him inherently. (Although there had been that brief moment with the lighter where he'd had to question his leaps of faith.)

Right now, all of that was far out of his mind. He let Ray conquer his mouth, albeit one part of that was due to the fall clean knocking the air out of him, but where he lost ground on the kiss, the new position gave him the freedom of his hands, and he brought them to Ray's back, running his thumbs along his shoulder blades, soaking in the warmth that by now they were generating in excess regardless of the fire. At least he felt as though he were on the verge of combustion. ]

[He can practically hear the 'understood' without it ever actually being uttered. It's a predictable enough reply at this point in their partnership and it has Ray's lips curling against the kiss in the slightest of smiles, amused by the familiarity of it.

The shoving pays off, the drop causing Ray to huff heavily out of his nose as he keeps up the assault on Fraser's mouth. He senses, even feels the submit, like the many times Fraser's so patiently stood aside, hands behind his back as Ray's pushed himself forward on whatever little tangent he gets himself into. He doesn't expect or request full surrender, but he makes the most of what little he gets, aware just how much of this is give and take, of how much roles reverse at a moments notice.

It's the noises Fraser barely makes that spur Ray on, retaliating with own little groan that lingers in his throat. He drags his teeth into play, his tongue slipping back long enough for him to bite down at Benton's bottom lip, rough but not anywhere near enough to draw blood.

His shoulders roll back into the touch, shifting himself to be less beside and more on top of the Mountie.]

Ah.

[ It's more a sound than breaking the rules, a gasp startled out of him by rough teeth. It's not unexpected, not from Ray, but it is unexpected at least in so much as...well, by definition, biting really isn't something he sees coming. Even relatively gentle biting. Kisses were full of passion, yes, but always strictly (for the most part) above the belt.

Passion, yes. But practicality too.

And now he had to adapt, absorb. He'd done it since his very first meeting with Stanley Kowalski, and he did it now, took a breath to summon his ethical strength and let his meticulously blunt fingernails scrape against Ray's flanks in reciprocation. Rough, but only insomuch as the Mountie can allow himself to be; adjusting his own behavior to mirror Ray's, urging him on, and demonstrating that he could give just as good as he got. This was...different. And it had to be. In fact he'd be surprised if anything was ever really the same after this.

And for the gasp, the almost-syllable, he attempts to absolve himself by pressing back up into the kiss, taking advantage of Ray's lapse to better assault his mouth--again reflecting some of that instinctual ferocity, challenging back in their as yet wordless verbal spar. ]

[There we go, more of those sounds he likes. It's not the sort of thing he often hears from Fraser and it makes a new experience just that little fresher. If he were thinking (which is completely unlikely) he might consider how poor this idea is, but it's too late to bother with that anyway. Even if they were to both pull away right this second, it'd already be too late. Whether it's changed for better or for worse remains to be said, but at least they've got experience with settling their differences.

While Ray's distracted with being just a little smug over Fraser's reaction, he gets caught off guard by the resurgence of kissing. And then there's nails against his skin and he can't help the soft gasp against Fraser's mouth, his back and hips arching into the feel of those fingers.

The lack of clothing is a stroke of genius, especially with how quickly it's heating up around them, but it's almost overpowering to Ray at just how much stimulation he's getting. It's not only from lips and drifting fingers, but with his weight pressing down against Fraser, there's a whole lot of skin coming into contact that's putting his nerves into overdrive.

No surprises that he's making a muffled little noise.] Hngh...

[ This was the moment where it became safe to break the kiss, or at least Fraser felt it was. Ray's skin was burning hot against his own, but it was the helpless sound of pleasure gasped against his mouth that sealed the deal.

His nails dug a little deeper into Ray's hips, silent instruction to stay, to press closer, before he finally let him go. Instead he reached up, caught Ray's face gently in his cupped hand, thumb smoothing across his chin, across Ray's lips, maneuvering a breath of space between them.

This was it. More than Ray's lips crashing against his own to begin with, this was the moment where it was all laid on the line. Just for a second there was a chance to think, to make eye contact--because where Ray was all instinct, Benton had to be emotion. He didn't give himself to this unless he felt it; couldn't. He dropped his hand lower, lay it flat against the center of Ray's chest, held in questions and words, and then brushed just the briefest redeeming kiss against Ray's lips, not giving him the chance to disappear back into it, almost asking for permission to not thunder blindly onward for just a few moments.

Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it was selfish, but he'd given Ray what he needed. This was what he needed. Just a moment. Only a moment. ]

[He does what he's asked of; doesn't move when Fraser's hands lift, doesn't even force forward for a continuation of the kiss, even if he is briefly trying to lean in again before being halted by that trailing thumb. His tongue follows up it's path, wetting his bottom lip.

There's one small issue here, and that's patience. This momentary pause does give Ray a chance to catch his breath- chest heaving against the palm pressed at his ribs as he breath comes in short, sharp huffs- but it's also giving time to think and reflect. Waiting isn't really something he's too good at.

After what feels like minutes, but is more than likely little more than a few short seconds, Ray's whining out a soft noise of impatience, squirming against the Mountie beneath him.]

Fraser. I gotta... I gotta... [He's not sure what he really needs, but laying there doing nothing is going to drive him nuts.]

Edited 2014-07-10 22:39 (UTC)

[ No, waiting isn't easy for Ray at all. Benton on the other hand could stretch this moment out into an eternity. But he could do it without actually taking forever, compress those minutes into seconds, get everything he needed out of the moment. He needed it to be Ray, for Ray to actually be present, to acknowledge his own presence too, and his feelings now that the dam had been released, emotion spilling free across the ancient, dried up riverbed that was Benton Fraser.

It took mere seconds for him to find himself, and Ray's whining and squirming solidified it. Genuine amusement reached his eyes. ]

You know, Ray. [ Breaking his vow of silence. ] You really should learn to hold still.

[ It was foreshadowing. Here came the fight at last, the surge of strength that sent Ray over onto his back in the blankets instead, with Fraser looming over him, hand still on his chest. The second hand joined the first, reaching along Ray's forearms for his wrists, seeking them out so that he could pinion his weight against him. The full length of his chest and hips crushed against the slighter man, but the noises weren't gone just because the wind had changed. It was an intense feeling, and Fraser wasn't above it - he was a Mountie, not inhuman - huffing a hot breath against Ray's collarbone, then his ear, not resisting the soft groan of pleasure that rose in his throat as he rolled his hips. ]

[Ray tries to understand the waiting thing, he really does and he's definitely heard enough stories by now about Fraser's endless patience when it comes to tracking. He's understanding enough that he's not forcing anything until his partner's ready, but it doesn't mean he's going to stop squirming.]

No can do--

[He's barely even got that last word out before there's a sudden shift. It's not something he'd been expecting, especially not after such stillness from Fraser only moments before. This time it's his turn to hit the ground hard enough to wind him, but he still manages the tiniest chuckle gasped between a few sharp inhales. He doesn't even complain about the grip at his wrists, retaliating with writhing beneath the heavy weight on him, his hips lifting up against the downwards roll.

With Fraser's head placement where it is, Ray doesn't pass up the opportunity to lash out with his tongue against the curve of Benton's ear, grinning to himself with a certain kind of smugness.] Breathin' pretty hard there.

[ It's always good to catch Ray by surprise, but there's something very rewarding about the chuckle in his ear; unexpectedly rewarding. At the lick, which makes him shiver, and the accusation - no, assessment - Fraser dips back, looking Ray in the eye again. The flush of arousal has ruddied his cheeks the way the harsh northern winds can't seem to, no matter how hard they blow, and the warmth isn't reserved for him; he bleeds it into Ray, tension and heat and need. ]

I suppose you think you've worn me out already?

[ It's not really a question. Of course he's failed to see the weakness in his plans. Without actually reaching across and fishing his handcuffs out of his belt, there's no way to get the use of his own hands back while still immobilizing Ray, no way to do anything but reciprocate against the urgent shift of hips against his own, to shudder visibly with each punctuation.

And breathe a little harder. ]

Well you'll have to... Ah. [ His eyes were glazed, rarely senseless. ] What was I saying?

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