Benton Fraser (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dogsled) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thelockbox2014-07-06 10:57 pm
dogsled) wrote in thelockbox2014-07-06 10:57 pm
Benton Fraser | Due South
 BENTON FRASER。 | |
"You know, Fraser, when they offered me this assignment, they made it sound kind of normal. They say, 'Hey, Ray, here's a chance to start over, ditch the past.' 'What's the catch?' I say. 'Oh, your partner's Canadian.' Canadian? I got nothing against Canadians, except for the time when they won the World Series, which I'm willing to overlook. But at no time did they say, 'you'll be working with a Mountie who's got a wolf that's a florist'" |
NEW READ JOURNAL CREDIT |
no subject
[ Contented Mountie noises are us. His hands had at last relaxed in Ray's hair, not knotted nearly as tightly as before. As Ray sank down beside him, his right arm slithered lower, taking Ray's weight across it as his partner pressed in against his neck. His other still pawed gently at the long, gel free strands, letting the sensation of them tumbling through his fingers distract him from actual thinking.
Fraser was truly exhausted, but he knew he'd sleep the sleep of the dead if he let himself go, and they couldn't afford to lose the entire afternoon. Instead he lifted his head and tried to pay a little more attention to the world around him. He was lying in Ray's bed, staring at Ray's ceiling, surrounded by Ray's furniture. He hadn't come more than six steps into his apartment before, certainly hadn't moved through the door to invade his bedroom; he'd never been in this room, and he would have never have laid himself out on Ray's bed even if he had. It was an entirely new perspective to have, to be surrounded by everything that was Ray, and somehow feel like he belonged there too. He was a part of it now, a belonging of Ray's, a something just like the trinkets on the shelf.
That feeling made him very happy, very warm and happy and sleepy and--
His eyes had shut. He snapped them open again sharply and huffed as he heaved himself up onto one arm, bringing the other down to settle on Ray's ribcage. No more headpetting here. But he leant in and mouthed a wet kiss to the sandpaper of Ray's chin, and tried to get a better look in his eyes. ]
I'm going to set your alarm clock. Why don't you get out of those clothes?
[ Movement was the only way to stave off unconsciousness, and Fraser forced his limbs to cooperate, jerking them in sharp movements that forced his blood to pump back into his extremities, his heart to work a little harder. It was resisting biological chemistry to fight through it, but Fraser was the king of resisting biological urges. He made it to the edge of the bed and fussed with Ray's alarm clock, then set it back on the nightstand and started going through the bedside cabinet, shooting a glance back across at Ray after barely a moment. ]
I've found your handcuff keys.
[ He produced them, dangling from the end of his little finger, then dropped them back into the drawer, shuffling through empty gum packets and the like. There was indeed a tube of lubricant, as expected, and Fraser palmed it before closing the drawer, returning to Ray's side with a stick of gum, which he waved in front of his partner's nose. ]
For the taste.
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He's sure he feels Fraser drifting asleep against him, but then the Mountie's up on one arm and pressing his lips to Ray's jaw, receiving a hum of appreciation that might just be agreement to whatever he's talking about too. Alarm clock or something. Yeah, yeah. Snuggling for the rest of the week would surely be a better option than being rudely awoken by some digital clock beeping away at them. But hey, the suggestion about clothing isn't so bad.
With a grunt of effort Ray lazily sits himself back up, making very little show of dragging that t-shirt over his head, tossing it off to the side with an ease that suggests he does it far too often, and then dropping his hands to his jeans. He flops back onto the bed as he fiddles with the button and zipper, half an eye on whatever Fraser's doing, before successfully wriggling out and kicking the denim aside. And then he flops again, laying in nondescript underwear as stares at his partner rifling through keys and packets and God knows what else. Ray can't even remember what he's got in there, but the handcuff keys are useful to know. He should probably put them back in his pocket, or his holster, or somewhere where he might remember them.
He doesn't spot the crafty little palm away, blinking over at Benton as he finally moves back towards him with an offered gift which Ray takes with a low grunt of gratitude. Not that he desperately needs to be rid of that taste, he'll be washing all over again before they leave this apartment, but gum is gum and he can't deny having something for his jaw to work on. Orally fixated. Psychologists might have a thing or two to say about that, but whatever, screw them, let him chew his gum.
Unsurprisingly the wrapper gets tossed into the middle of nowhere, not caring where it lands.]
How long we got before the beeper goes off?
[Please say twelve hours. He doesn't wanna go back to work anyway.]
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It was still only a quarter to eleven - not even lunchtime - but they hadn't slept more than three hours the night before. It was enough of a deficit to make Fraser sincerely doubt his ability to wake himself up, and he was usually so good at that. Bone exhaustion got deep in him--when he was out, he could be out for almost twenty-four hours without warning. It had happened before. If it happened today, they'd miss their window. They might even spook Lucca. ]
Five hours fourteen minutes.
[ Fraser lingered back slightly when he made it to Ray's side. The previous evening he hadn't even gotten Ray entirely out of his clothes, and here he was down to his underwear, sprawled spidery-limbered across his bed. He ducked close, deliberately lapping the sugary sweet salt taste from Ray's lips - hardly even a kiss - before he was ducking out of range again. His own breeches went the rest of the way off the bed then, discarded with as little care. He had other things but wrinkles on his mind.
Given an eternity, he could kiss this body under him to pieces, but it wouldn't get him what he wanted. Fraser's motivations had been set in stone since three that morning, and now--now now now. This was his opportunity, his moment. Fraser slyly shifted across the bed, climbing over Ray to straddle his hips, his weight distributed to either side of him in the arch of the strong running muscles across the top and inside of his thighs.
He scooped Ray's hands up off the bed, bringing them to his legs and holding them flat there - instructing him to stay - as he flexed, pushing his heels back, his hips down, so that the muscle tightened and pulled under his fingers, and then relaxing again just as deliberately. Twice, he did this, before he let go of Ray's hands and scooped the tube of lubricant up from where he'd tucked it against Ray's hip. Exhausted he might be. Drained. Spent. But Mounties were like bowling pins; you knocked them over and they sprang right back up, good to go.
Fraser wasn't quite good to go, but he didn't have to be. Not really. He was upright, though, and that was a huge bonus. ]
Ray. [ He said, and there was a breathy element to the sound of his voice, something not at all sleepy; the total opposite in fact. He let the tube touch plastic smooth and cold against Ray's side as he drew it into view. ] I'm going to do something now, Ray, that I've only ever done...privately. That is--by myself, for myself. I don't want you to be concerned. In fact, I enjoy it. Rather a lot. [ He licked his lips, opened the cap on the bottle and raised it almost in a toast to the man beneath him. ] If anything I hope that you will, perhaps, think of me doing this alone without you--alone in my cabin, in front of a warm fire, the wind howling outside the window. Just me and my hands.
Just watch. Listen.
[ He was nervous despite his bravado. Ray knew him, knew him well enough to know that, surely? Fraser the living contradiction, who sucked cock like a vacuum pump but trembled under the weight of his own exposure. And yet this was what he wanted: voyeurism; Ray watching him and seeing back through into those private moments where Fraser had thought himself entirely alone, where he'd brought himself pleasure in the low glow of the dying firelight. The gesture was that he was giving all of it - all those moments in their entirety; the privacy; the shame; the secrecy - to his partner.
And if Ray had been falling to sleep, maybe he might pay a little more attention now. Fraser kept his gaze fixed down as he squeezed lube out into his palm, a practiced one-handed working of his fingers smoothing it over them while he dropped the bottle at Ray's other hip. His center of gravity shifted forward, and he sat up a little higher across Ray's hips. ]
Are you--are you watching?
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Five hours to do what they want. He could go with that. He could definitely support it over going back to the office to try and awkwardly keep his hard on from rubbing in his jeans, because there's no fucking way he could sit in that office today while Fraser was anywhere near him. At least here they could get it out of their system, or even just curl up against each other and drift into sleep without concerning themselves with hiding anything from anyone.
He hums a soft exhale as Fraser leans in for an all too brief lick against his lips, before ducking out of sight again, and while Ray could have sat up and turned his gaze, he's happy to lay there and wait. Let the Mountie do his thing, he'd be back eventually. Ray didn't even have to wait long, the weight on his bed indicating Fraser's return, and then immediately there's a Mountie straddling his lap, bare and flushed and looking far too gorgeous. Kowalski grins lazily, even as his hands are moved up to rest and loosely grip at Fraser's thighs, and he stares, because how can he not when he's got a view like that?
The couple of shifts against him get a few short puffs of breath in reply, the drop of hips getting far too close to his arousal to be at all fair. He'd voice his complaint, but then Fraser's speaking, breathy and far too sultry for Ray to ignore, especially as that tube comes into view.
Fraser wants to show his private moments to Ray. His very private moments. It's obvious enough what he's hinting at, Kowalski would have to be a moron not to catch on, but he can't even begin the picture just what this will lead to. Just how does a lone Mountie entertain himself when alone in a cabin?
Benton didn't have to worry about not having Ray's attention. He had all of it, unblinking as Ray very slowly ran his tongue against the bottom of his own lip, barely daring to even move in case he somehow disturbed what was about to happen.]
I'm watchin'. Listenin'. [Barely above a whisper, baited breath.]
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But attractive? Attractive was an altogether different question.
Attraction - real attraction, rather than the flimsy kind - was something that had to bear out all his idiosyncrasies and irritating bad habits. It had to like the scar on his jaw as much as the jaw itself, and the story behind it just as much. Ray knew a lot of Fraser's stories, and since this morning had been introduced in full to every one of his scars. But attraction wasn't just tolerance--he needed to be wanted too, appreciated. He wanted Ray, whom he hadn't been sure yesterday would ever even be interested, to want him and want his body. To find him beautiful and love him. And maybe he was asking a lot.
For his own part he wanted and loved. The slender, muscular body in the soft bed beneath him, long limbs and hard bone, battered skin, the scars on Ray's knuckles, the one on his temple - barely visible any more - were all signs of a life lived and fought for. There was sunshine in every inch of Ray's body, such that he could flatten his palms against him and soak in the heat of hundreds of summer days.
No, he wasn't conventionally beautiful, not in the bibliographical sense--but what did books know, really? A book couldn't possibly describe the pink slither of Ray's tongue as it chased across his own bottom lip, an unselfconscious motor response to the fact that he was salivating. It couldn't capture the way his breathing seemed to still as though he were in danger of disturbing the air and somehow shattering the mood, and how that made a flush crawl up the outside of his neck, or the way his abandoned erection, nudged by moving fabric as Fraser tilted his hips, arched so invitingly against the inside of his underwear, like a Christmas gift yet to be unwrapped.
Books couldn't capture his attraction to Ray Kowalski. In fact quite likely they were no use at all, except that in Fraser's case it was books that had taught him to do this. All alone in the dark, long lonely days with no other human contact and nothing better to do with his time than discover every inch of his own body. The books hadn't told him exactly how to reach that spot, but Fraser had been nothing if not persistent. He'd known for sure the moment he found it, though for one terrifying moment the intense pleasure had been so painful he'd thought for sure he'd broken something.
Still fixing his partner's gaze, leaning just a little further over him to compensate for the change in his own center of gravity as he straightened his back, he reached both of his own hands around himself, pawing, stroking, his face a picture of concentration. And then he held his breath, eyes fluttering almost closed, the muscles in his legs tensing under Ray's palms as he pressed one finger inside. He didn't breathe straight away; his teeth dug down into his bottom lip, and his brow furrowed just a touch more as he wriggled his finger in just as deep as he could, but it was never far enough, not with one, his other digits folded up against his palm but none the less making the angle impossible.
His hand stilled, delicately, slowly, as though breathing out the tension from the full length of his body, he expelled a shattered breath, focus returning to his faraway eyes. Ray was still underneath him--lovely Ray; patient, beautiful Ray, whom he trusted implicitly. Ray, waiting on baited breath for this, just as Fraser had instructed. ]
Hands. [ He whispered, and his eyes flickered down to them. ] You can...you can touch my hands, if you like. [ It wasn't as though Ray could see, and he did so badly want this to be an all encompassing experience. He waited, untensing again, forcing his body to relax as he slid his hand back, nudging the tip of his second finger in against the first, but not yet pressing it past muscle. He waited for Ray--waited for Ray, and then... Only then. ]
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Ray knew Fraser was attractive and that's all he needed his mind to register. He was attracted to the Mountie despite all his stubbornness and contrary ways, despite the arguments and impossible expectations. He was attracted to Fraser because of those as well as despite them. Benton was ridiculously good looking and just a little too perfect until one dug into his flaws, and Ray was happy to deal with it all, annoyances and all.
How could he possibly deny the man on top of him, opening up his very soul as he put his finely built body on display and showed a private side of him that no one had seen before? There was no possible way he could, not now. He wouldn't want to even if he could.
Ray certainly watched, every bit of his attention locked on his partner above him, attention flicking occasionally down between those solid thighs, although more avidly watching the twist of expressions that danced across Fraser's features. Kowalski's own expression had barely changed, wavering somewhere between rapt awe and pure admiration, lips just slightly parted and brows creased upwards.]
Yeah.
[He grunts out when prompted, sliding one hand from it's grip of muscle to reach cautiously around and blindly fumble for the positioning of Fraser's hands. His fingers crept and explored carefully, not wishing to intrude on this private matter despite so desperately wanting to learn every little shift involved in it. He finds Fraser's own digits and settles at his knuckles, using his fingers as a gauge to judge just what goes where and how many, because God he really needs to know this, he needs to feel each digit press in as he watches Benton's face. It's only once he's settled there that he feels that second finger pressing in and even he can't help a hiss of breath on his next exhale.]
Oh, fuck... [Whispered, but even then he bites down on his bottom lip, trying to silence himself from anything further. He's watching. Watching from the other side of the window as Fraser pleasures himself in the lonely warmth of the cabin.]
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Good. Perfect. He braced himself with an inhale and pushed inside, two fingers now, his eyes fluttering closed, lips parting in utter silence. It was a moan without the moan, an 'Oh' in the curl of his lips, a flash of teeth as Fraser beamed with unbridled joy for the space of a fraction of a second. And then his mouth was closed, his eyes were open - albeit barely - lashes dewy, almost brushing their moisture against his burning cheeks.
Ray got a syllable then. Past muscle, he pushed his fingers in deeper, and he exhaled the all too familiar: ]
Hmm.
[ Only it wasn't quite like any hm that had come before. It was deep and thoughtful, yes, but satisfied, engaged, wanton. Two fingers was shallower than one, but that was okay, they were doing their job, stretching him wide, driving Ray crazy, putting him right there in this moment and in the hundreds of other times he'd done this over the years--every one of them.
His lips quirk again, almost as though he can't help himself. Ray swore, white teeth sinking into his abused bottom lip, and as his own unpredictable smile softened, it transformed into something of a challenge: watch this! He pushed forward and up with his hips, tightening around himself, before deliberately pushing back again, letting Ray feel as tension first expelled him before he nudged deeper again. His own arousal was starting to come around, although god knew what he hoped to get out of it. Ray would probably come on command if he told him to. ]
Easy. Easy, Ray. Relax. I need you, so please--
[ His other hand slid across the back of Ray's, reaching around his fingers to manually redirect his own third finger, tucking it awkwardly against the first two. He felt rubbery, soft, as relaxed as he'd ever been--trancelike and happy. This was easy; maybe even too easy. Tightening around both hands, lending his own digits further rigidity, strength, he pushed inside again, not hesitating this time because he could reach in deeper than before, curling his fingers with expertise against his prostrate. But more importantly there were Ray's fingers--Ray's fingers touching him as he pushed in knuckle deep. Somehow the foreign element of his partner's fingertips was almost as good as his own hand, the pleasure sparkling like champagne bubbles effervescing deep inside him. He groaned, ducking his chin toward his chest, head bowing toward Ray.
Too soft, too rubbery. No burn--God, he wanted the burn. Needed the burn. He wanted to feel it, to carry it around with him for days like the cuts and bruises to his back, his wrists. ]
Another! [ For that single word he almost sounded angry. But then his eyes were open and he was pleading, staring up at him urgently. ] Oh God, Ray, I need... [ Please understand. ]
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It was those little flashes of teeth that really did it, the smiles that showed Fraser was getting more than just pleasure from this, that he actually enjoyed every second of it. Ray smiled too, a brief show of teeth that linger only for a few seconds before drifting back into that fascinated gape, his fingers feeling for every little twitch behind Fraser's own hand movements. By the time Fraser's rolling his hips up and out and then pressing back down, Ray's pretty much decided he needs to be on the receiving end of that. He needs it, even if he's coming straight off the bat. Even if he has to wait until next time. He needs that expert little hip shift on his cock.]
Okay. Okay, I'm good. I got this.
[A very vague agreement, but he's pretty sure he can last until Benton's ready. Maybe. Possibly. Although he can't promise anything considering what he's witnessing right now. Especially not as Fraser's other hand comes back into play, brushing against Ray's and aiding in a push forward of a third fucking finger and oh God, how has the Mountie not last it yet? Kowalski was practically melted into the sheets and he wasn't even doing anything and yet Fraser? Fraser was still curling and reaching and pushing against himself.
There might just be a crack in that armour though as that chin of Benton's tucks in and he's throwing orders and begs right alongside one another. It takes Ray a few seconds to process the words, but even without them he can hear the tone behind them and see that pleading crease of eyebrows.]
Jesus, Fraser. You--
[But no. Fuck it. He won't even argue this. Can't. Fraser knows what he wants and what he can take.
With steady exhale to keep his nerves in check, Ray does as he's asked, hand creeping just a little bit closer towards Fraser's fingers. His index finger circles carefully at first, slicking itself up against the left behind lubricant, but it's a perfunctory gesture, done out of a general necessity rather than any aim to tease. Seconds later that slicked up flinger is aligning down the back of Fraser's knuckles to join his fingers and, with his other fingers now tucked against his palm, pushes forward against the relaxed muscle. He works it in smoothly, a steady push in as he keeps his eyes locked on his partner and only daring to lick his lips as he pushes in to the knuckle.]
That uh. You like that? Y'want more, huh?
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Yes, yes, yes. He was doing it. Ray's finger curled against him, against flesh stretched wide around his own three broad fingers, and Fraser shuddered, hips sinking down half an inch as his own strength briefly failed him. It wasn't his hand, and no matter the pleasure he could bring to himself, it was nothing to having Ray's hands on him--to having Ray's hands on him there, engaging in this intimacy, becoming complicit to it.
It took seconds or days, and then Fraser was twisting his fingers down into a V, making a gap into which the fourth could slide more easily. Muscle screamed complaint, and Fraser made a guttural sound like he was dying--it vibrated in his chest, because his mouth never so much as opened. It was finally enough; finally good, finally perfect, and Fraser absconded into that airborne world, hips moving forward, his back arching as he raised himself up and backward, pushing down again, thrusting up with his hand, taking Ray with him.
The full length of his chest, abdominals, pectorals, diaphragm, ribcage; everything jumped as he sobbed in a staggered inhale, and then his head was rolling left to right across his back and he was...crying through his death throes - something - because it was almost inhuman the sounds he made, muscles clenching around his hand, around Ray's. Another downward thrust; he struggled to inhale again, and Fraser seemed to come round, his head lolling across his right shoulder, hanging there for a few seconds before he managed to get his eyes back on Ray.
They weren't his eyes any more. There was hardly any blue left in them at all. They stared lust drowned oily black holes down at the man beneath him as he panted. ]
Do it. [ He whispered, begged, urged. ] Do it, Ray. Do it. Do it right now. Right now. I'll do the rest. Let me do the rest. Ray. Rayrayray. [ All the words felt good on his mouth. He really was as high as a kite. ]
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And God, there was a lot of it, those eyes staring back at him like soul consuming dark pits, making it virtually impossible for Ray to look away. Fraser could see in side of him, was on him, was clenching tight muscle against him and fuck, if Ray could get this much pleasure from using a single finger, he's not sure how he'll manage when it comes to his cock. But it needs to happen. Has to. Fraser needs something more than a few thick fingers stretching him out and Stanley needs so desperately to give his arousal some form of release.
Still, his finger curls and strokes and works in unison with the hand against him, even as his other hand reaches for that discarded tube of lubricant. Multi-tasking had never quite been his forte, but for today he'd certainly try, one hand distracted by constant ministrations as the other tries the tested method of one-handedly squeezing out a liberal amount from the tube, dropping it aside and reaching between them to handle his own dick.
His lashes flutter the second he feels the warmth of his own hand, gaze still locked on his partner even when viewed through half-lidded eyes. By his own hand he could get himself off in moments, especially like this, but he didn't want that. He needed to be careful, efficient in his touches rather than lingering, fingers curling and shifting only for the sake of giving himself a proper coating against the whole length. A loose grip still encircles the base even as he finally nods to Fraser, his voice barely above a soft groan as he speaks.]
M'ready. Fraser. I need you.
[He'll do as much or as little as his partner needs, already lining up unconsciously despite the fingers still in place.]
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There was no going back, no doing it again, no replicating that invulnerable moment where Ray filled him for the first time. But it couldn't be said that they'd rushed into it, that both of them hadn't been willing. He'd never felt quite like this before, as though no part of him were really touching the ground any more. He'd never seen Ray look the way he did right now, drenched in sweat and hot with need, his blue eyes smouldering under burnished eyelashes, all but quivering under his own touch like a tripwire in a light wind, an explosion inevitable.
Fraser drank the moment in as though through a haze, and later he would be able to remember it, to bring it to mind much more clearly, but right now--right now the only thing he cared for was that tripwire, and that any resultant cataclysm occur inside. He felt like he'd been waiting for it his entire life.
Alone in the dark with nothing but his hands, panting and trembling as he drove himself toward that edge, wishing - wishing - wanting someone or something better to fill that space, fill every inch of it the way his clawing, awkward hands could not, touch that secret place inside of him with resounding purpose.
And here was Ray; beloved Ray. His Ray. Needing him. Willing him to do it.
His hands slipped free, took Ray's with them, and Fraser fell half an inch almost with the shock of it before he got his bearings again. Ray was there, helping, and that was good because Fraser's coordination for such things had evaporated. His hands managed to find Ray's shoulders, gripping tight enough to bruise, and then he was pushing his hips back, embracing the tip of Ray's cock where he'd nudged it into place, rolling rolling rolling his hips backward and swallowing it down with the most remarkable, buttery ease.
Relief; blessed, beautiful relief. This was it - the moment - and it was painless and slippery and perfect. Ray fit like the final puzzle piece into a hole he'd been trying to fill for years. Fraser pulled himself all the way back to arm's length, seated back over Ray's hips, and as he looked down at his lover some of the focus seemed to come back to his gaze. He saw him, and he smiled--a sultry, lazy and contented smile. A cat's got the cream smile.
And then he made that long slow shift forward and back, the same one as he'd made for Ray before, and Ray's erection slipped past muscle - out, back in again - and glittering friction, the brush of the head of Ray's cock against that spot inside of him--oh, they were flying again! He could lose himself in this feeling and never come back out. ]
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Fraser's too damn irresistible like this. He's too damn irresistible every day, and if today has been anything to go by, the two of them are going to struggle to work alongside one another in any normal capacity for some time. Maybe they just needed to get all this out of their systems. It was the honeymoon period of needing to try every thing as soon as possible, and looking at one another was just sparking too many thoughts at the moment. They just needed to know that everything would come in time and that working together didn't mean they couldn't spend out of office hours catching up on other things.
Or they could just escape on lunch breaks and spend far too long writhing around in bed together, much like right now. The only reason they'll even get away with this is because of tonight. Welsh will allow the afternoon off if it means them getting their guy this evening. But right now work could go fuck itself, Ray had Fraser. Ray had Fraser on top of him, gasping and panting and staring down with wild, urgent eyes.
Their fingers withdrew together, and Kowalski's hands came to settle at his partner's hips in a loose grip, resting there rather than making any attempt to control. Fraser wanted to do this, and so he could be the one to set the pace, no matter how excruciatingly slow or fast it may be for Ray. The grip at his own shoulders was a reassurance, giving him something to press up against whenever he needed to arch or squirm. Even the bruising fingers digging into his skin was appreciated, causing a soft huff of a groan that quickly escalated into something more as Fraser's hips rolled down down down, taking him in with a comfortable ease.
Ray's throaty moan was enough to display his feelings on the matter, his attention briefly locked on the sight of his dick disappearing inside Fraser, and then he's looking back to his friend in quiet amazement. Jesus fuck, this was happening. This was actually...]
Nggh, fuck, Fraser. You're so fuckin' amazing. So, so...
[Ray has to bite down against his own bottom lip hard, that smile of Fraser's almost enough to make him come on the spot. And if he hadn't struggled to hold onto it before, he certainly was by the time those hips started moving again. But Ray is nothing if not extremely determined, and for the sake of this he'll hold. Revelling in the friction of the movements, at the slick warmth and the alternating movement. Fraser was too damn perfect. Even in this, his movements seemed well practised. He even fitted around Ray far too well, like the two of them were designed to slot in together like this. To grind and writhe and arch against one another, even if Ray's doing his very best not to squirm too much (and mostly failing).
He can't be expected to stay entirely still when his whole life is perpetual motion.]
no subject
With want and love and adoration.
His head fell a few inches forward, but still Fraser didn't keep moving; he was still absorbing the moment, the feeling of completion and all it entailed, putting away the wonderful friction and pressure with the intimate personal feelings that made this so much more than just physical pleasure.
Ray--his partner, his Ray, his forever. How perfect, this moment? How underlining, how overwhelming? Draw a bubble round it, pen it in with highlighter, announce it with fireworks or a skywriter. This was the moment. The moment they'd been leading up to, the moment that changed everything.
He wanted it to last forever, just so that his poor mind had a chance to make sense of all of it. He wanted to gild it; the flexion of Ray's muscles, the hard silk of his cock, the rumble of desire in words that he wanted to hear echoing in his ears forever. But there was no stopping it, no framing it, nothing but memory with which to capture all of it, and for once in his life Fraser didn't feel his mind was up to the task. How could it capture this perfection?
And sure, this was going to be a problem; but didn't they both have vacation they could claim? No, that wouldn't be necessary. The periods of time where they actually had to do some work would punctuate their sex life rather than the other way around, and that could be for the best. As fierce as the two of them could go about these things, with all their scratching and bruising and biting, it was probably best they weren't constantly able to get their hands on each other. There might not be much of either of them left after a week of this.
Okay, okay breathe. Breathe.
Fraser shuddered, leaning forward and down, brushing the softest of kisses against Ray's swollen mouth. His own wasn't faring much better. Ray was close, and Fraser wanted him to come - he did - but he didn't have to. He licked his lips before he spoke: fortunately he was a little more coherent. The words were murmured against Ray's mouth. ]
I don't want you to hold back when you're ready to come, Ray. I'll stop you. I know how--how to stop you so that the next time you reach that plateau it'll feel like someone reached a fist inside of you and squeezed. Just trust me.
[ He pulled himself back up to a sitting position - easier now that some of his strength had returned - his hands slipping from Ray's shoulders. One settled across the back of Ray's on his hip, and the other slipped between them, reaching down to curl gently against Ray's balls, cradling delicate skin against the rough of his own palm where he could feel every twitch. Where he could respond when the time came, and force back the ebb of Ray's orgasm halfway - painfully, even - but it'd be worth it. It'd stretch this out, and he so desperately wanted Ray to last.
But not so much he wasn't going to drive him wild with it first. The effort was made by his legs, and Fraser with some miraculously unparalleled sense of balance rose and fell, thrusting up into the bare air, falling, filled, embracing Ray again with every descent. It was a burning rhythm - he wasn't ready for it yet - but it was fast in order to draw Ray to that point. Only on the other side of it could they hope to draw this out into sweat, hot panting and rumpled sheets, long languid movements as they stared into each other's eyes, and Fraser couldn't stay on the precipice of trigger awareness long enough to catch him if they started that first. ]
Let it go, Ray. I've got you.
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Fraser...
[Barely mumbled as lips lightly pressed to his, his eyes fluttering open- he can't even remember when or why he shut them. Benton's muttering something. Something that Ray can barely grasp onto beyond encouragement and the occasional word between. He could stop him? Ray's not sure anything could stop him with what he's got pent up, but he trusts his partner. This is the man that only minutes ago was pleasuring himself with far too much knowledge for it to be a one off. It might be possible. Just might.
Ray can only grunt out the slightest of acknowledgements before his partner sits up again, reaching around for a touch that has Kowalski's skin crawling, muscles tightening under the delicate but coarse grip of that hand, his balls responding to the touch, along with every other part of his body twitching wildly.
It doesn't take much from Fraser to set Stanley off again, that far too talented balance and aim (where the fuck does he learn this stuff?) and the pace of a warm, slick embrace and smooth shift upward far, far too quick to do anything but cause Ray to writhe and buck under the Mountie. His teeth dug in sharply against his lip again and his grip at Fraser's hips was white knuckled at the peak of it, the cue so perfectly obvious as everything starts to line up; the tense of muscles, the arch of his back, the tightening against the palm cradling him and, if it all wasn't obvious enough, Ray's panting groan of warning.]
Oh Gad, I'm gonna--
[Or he would, if he had his own way, because hitting that peak would feel damn nice right about now, no matter what goodness Fraser's promising. But no, this is for Fraser just as much as it was for Ray, they needed to do this together. Work together like they always do.]
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It really was something: it was like watching the man become undone, like Ray was a ragdoll and someone - Fraser - had gone at all his seams pulling stitches. Metaphorically, of course - only metaphorically, because physically Ray pulled tighter and tighter, his muscles tensing, his hands pulling hard against Fraser's hips, his entire body a twisting mass of steel and iron with a V-8 engine humming underneath it.
Ray was this incredibly force of nature every day of the week, wrapped up in focus and occasional bizarre serenity. This was his partner reduced to his constituent parts, spread out as though in prestige - the grand reveal - everything that Fraser knew about him, that it had taken so long to learn the hard way, opened up before him. Ray; beautiful, fierce, loyal, protective, challenging, conscientious, clever, false, powerful, strong, defiant, courageous, brave.
Like this, towering over him, bringing him through it--it was a power he hadn't expected. There was something seductively secret about this, like he was seeing a side of his partner that he hadn't even guessed was there, that noone had ever seen, that nobody but Fraser would ever see again. Ray was the black pearl inside the oyster shell, and Fraser had dug his fingers in and prized him open.
He was almost so distracted by the sight of him as he was thrust over that precipice that he missed the moment, but then Fraser was moving fast, viper-quick, like a sleight of hand in a game of blackjack. He twisted his wrist, snapping his fingers and palm shut tight like a clamp around the base of Ray's cock, slippery where Fraser was at the peak of the upthrust. His thumb reached back, digging hard underneath, thrusting into Ray's perineum and stabbing backward.
There was only one shot; he had to be rough, and firm, he had to catch it at the perfect moment--and God, how he hoped it worked. It was excruciating, like orgasm without release, but it was worth it; it'd be worth it. Still, he'd only ever practiced it on himself, and Ray might not be wired up that way. Oh, he hoped it worked. He wanted to draw this out, soak in the feeling of Ray inside of him, and burn this miracle of a moment into his muscle memory, install it in permanent ink on the retina of his mind's eye.
Fraser hissed, sitting back on the heal of his own hand, his eyebrows uncrossing as he watched Ray underneath him. He shivered with the need to keep moving, but all he gave Ray was the extra shift of his thumb, stroking almost apologetically where he'd dug the tip of it in before.
Slowly, unsurely, he uncurled his hand, let it drop away, and slid the few inches back down, shuddering physically as he went. His hands moved to Ray's sides, stroking up and down them reassuringly. ]
[ Softly. It was almost a question--but not quite. ] Ray.
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Still arched in a desperate attempt to try and bury himself into that warmth, Ray takes the squeeze and jab with a guttural growl, that beautiful orgasm turned into something that's almost painful for him to endure, a pleasure and pain tearing through him that's not quite enough, not without the release to follow. His body wants it so desperately that he's left making frustrated little moans as he rides out the short burst of whatever that was, and then he's left gasping pathetically. It's out of frustration that he briefly lifts his head, only to slam it back down against the soft embrace of the bed, staring up at the ceiling for just a second, teeth gritted.
But it worked. He's still rock hard and eager for more, and as Fraser slowly lowers himself back down, it doesn't feel like he's about to blow his load in an instant like it had mere moments before.
That's not to say he doesn't childishly resent that move just slightly, denying his release like that. And it's hard for him to decide which of them is being more selfish right now, but he supposes this is worth it in the long run. It better be.
He huffs out a heavy sigh as he hears his name, attention flickering back towards his partner and humming out a low noise of acknowledgement. It's impossible to stay annoyed at a sight like that. His Fraser staring back at him, quietly cautious, reassuring and entirely attentive. Fraser had done that for the both of them. To make sure they both got the full enjoyment out of this, and Ray really can't fault a guy for that sort of attention.]
M'fine. But you won't be if you do that again, I swear to God. Just... just c'mon. I'm good.
[Recovered, for the most part, he thinks, rolling his hips under Fraser experimentally and more than a little suggestively.]
Show me some of that ridin' skill, Mountie.
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Fraser had the decency to look at least a little chagrined by Ray's declaration. Don't do that again. That sounded fair. It had been...very unfair of him to do it in the first place, what with the fact that Ray had been ready, and Fraser had already come once, was already miles ahead of him on the orgasm register. He'd have to start making that up to Ray, maybe over the next few days. It was only reasonable. He found the threat kind of endearing, actually.
He liked the shift of Ray's hips even more, shuddering, scraping his nails against his partner's ribcage. In fact it felt so good, was so distracting, that it took him a second to actually register what Ray had said, the double meaning of it at least, and he shook his head in disbelief. ]
That's awful, Ray. How could you say something like that?
[ And if Ray couldn't tell by now, that was Fraser's ill sense of humor stretching its legs. It said I understand, you dog you, because it was followed up with Fraser tensing all the muscles down his back, the muscles of his legs snapping taut as he raised himself up, squeezing around Ray as he began to move again. The first few movements were deliberate, straight up with his hands balancing himself against Ray's hips, but Fraser could only pretend to be superhuman for so long. He curled forward over Ray, his forearms crossing Ray's shoulders, his elbows in the bed underneath his partner's arms, and if anything the position was even better, nudging in such a way against his prostrate that the muscle of his thighs and arms trembled visibly at the peak of every thrust.
Fraser didn't moan, but he did pant raggedly, dropping his forehead against Ray's shoulder, then mouthing wetly against his bicep, tracing down to the tattoo there with his tongue. ]
Is it--
[ He could barely even think words that didn't repeat ten times first, let alone form them into any sort of coherent question or sentence. It was the tremble that kept breaking his train of thought, seeming to go through him to the bone, frying his brain, and he had to stop for just a second, biting into a moan, just to get the rest of his words out. ]
--Worth the wait?
[ He didn't wait for an answer, just went back to his deep rolling movements, his hips moving back against Ray's, urging him to reciprocate as much as he could in return. This felt as good as he'd always imagined it would, and here he was with the man he loved, and it was slow and languishing and perfect. The air seemed to hum with the energy of it, and it seemed to Fraser that this incredible moment could last forever. All he had to do was keep moving his hips, keep breathing. ]
Touch me, Ray. [ This was never not going to be a back and forth between them, but Fraser would perpetually be polite, even if he could only form the sibilants into a never-ending hiss: ] Pleassssse.
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Fraser does at least make it up to him with the movements that follow, obvious understanding to Ray's suggestion as he flexes those muscles. Every single tightening of twist can be felt, travelling down to Ray with such accuracy that he feels like they could be one person right now. He's already perfectly used to reading his partner, anticipating every twitch and shift as something and reading into every facial movement. He knows Fraser inside and out, and this was just an extra layer to him, another level in which he could apply his understanding to, even after being constantly amazed at how far the Mountie's ability stretches. Ray doesn't even need to know where Fraser learned to ride like this, how to manipulate and arch his muscles in such a way that Ray's dick feels like it's constantly being embraced. It's impressive he can even stay upright for that long as he lifts up and down with far too much precision, and has Ray humming out a soft groan of approval.
By the time Benton's dropping to Ray's level, he's ready to embrace his partner, curling an arm loosely around his waist as he (maybe selfishly) lets the Mountie ride him solo for just a little longer, revelling in the shift of slick warmth as he lays back in the comfortable embrace of the bed. It's heaven, laying there with his friend on top of him, so attentively mouthing against skin and rolling his hips and trembling and... and moaning. God, the moaning was delightful.]
Yeah. [Ray gasps out in reply, and finally he replies in movement too, hips rolling against the bed before arching up sharply to meet with Fraser's downwards movement, the extra participation only aiding in getting him deeper. He's quick to read his partner's motion, moving at Benton's pace with a lazy roll down and jerk up with each lift and drive of thos hips against him. It's perfection. Every single bit of them working in unison and deepening their partnership beyond a doubt. This is what they should have been doing all along, reading and responding to each other while learning from arches and moans.]
Totally worth the w-wait.
[Of course he isn't going to argue the request either, uncertain why his hands weren't already all over Fraser but fuck, he's been so solely focused on the shift of his hips, of Fraser's weight against him and, of course, that searing embrace around his dick, that maybe he'd been a little preoccupied. But those few words are enough encouragement, that hand looped around Fraser slipping just a little lower to clasp tightly against a firm cheek, while the other reaches between them. His fingers are quick to find and curl against that eager arousal, burning heat, rock solid and yet smooth at silk against his grip. And he just settles there for a second, enjoying the feel of Fraser in his grip and letting the movement of their hips do the work for him as he hands remains in position. Eventually he moves it, grip just a little tighter to give some friction while his wrist moves to work with their own thrusts, doing his best to match it all together although his coordination might be just a little off while all the blood left his brain some time earlier.]
Y'feel so good.
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Ray pressed deeper into him, then deeper again, and the boring, full, every day Chicago world dissolved, and there was just Fraser and Ray, hips and cocks and hot breath, shivering and panting and moaning. Oh yes, yes. They should have done this years ago. To think that they might have been doing this, joining together in twisting heat and muscular perfection, in pleasure and sobbing breaths--to think that they could have been doing it since they'd met... It was like he'd been deprived of oxygen, and had only just caught on. Where had this feeling been his entire life? Where had Ray been?
But that was fine. He could manage having been deprived, because it had led him here, to this moment, where he was Ray's and Ray was his, and they were discovering this whole new situation together. He'd never been with a man before, and apart from Ray Fraser didn't think that he'd ever want to be, except for the fact that physically it was more rewarding than he'd ever dreamed possible. He'd been waiting for this sensation - this exact feeling - since he was a teenaged boy, had been missing it his entire life, and now Ray completed him.
It was like losing his virginity again--or well, maybe in some ways it was? But it was more rewarding than the first time; there was no avoiding that fact. Ray meant too much to him, and so this moment - this exact moment - was his to sear permanently onto his memory. They would always be this young, this free, fit this perfectly. They would always move in time, and Ray would always purr his approval, and his hand would always close around him, rough and gentle at once. Ray's eyes would always be lidden when he raised his head, his arousal showing in every corner of his face, even from so close up. Each thrust that they made in turn transforming into a visible change in him that rippled under his skin. And he would preserve this moment too, leaning in to brush his lips wetly against Ray's, even though he was as helpless to form it into a proper kiss as he was to form actual syllables, too busy panting through it to be able to maneuver his lips into any attack angles or better still maintain a solid seal.
It was all just way beyond him; perfect Mountie or not, Fraser was gradually falling apart. He'd stopped being able to stay upright, and now he was reduced beyond speaking. Sweat clung to his forehead, hair damp, and still those persistent muscles worked, ground down and thrust up into Ray's hand, pressed down again, using every ounce of strength he had in him; the same energy and muscle power he'd use to pursue criminals repurposed to the pursuit of pleasure.
He was on fire, but if there was anything that Fraser was good at it was working beyond what others would consider to be the limits of human ability. Anyone else would have been worn out by now, but Fraser had staying power. He could probably keep this up for another half hour if he had to--okay, maybe not. But fifteen minutes? Sure, why not.
What were words good for, anyway, that he couldn't explain with his body? He thrust back harder, this time letting the shift of Ray's hips take him in as deep as he could stand. He could hear the wet slip of it, feel every inch splitting him wide, pressing deep...
And maybe he was still able to talk after all, because that sure was his voice panting "Yes, yes, yes" into Ray's mouth. ]
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Ray had never felt anything like this, like they were both made for this, to be together like this, and he doesn't even care how cliché that sounds. They fit so well together that Ray can't even remember a time when he's felt as stimulated as right now, with such a perfect friction against his surviving erection. He can honestly say he's not gay too- even in his current position- that he's never felt the slightest attraction to another man, but Fraser was a special case. Fraser was different in more ways than just being odd. He was Ray's and no one could take that away.
He tries his best to properly kiss back as Fraser leans in, to seal their lips into something a little more effective, but each time he attempts it, a downwards jerk of Fraser's hips set him off gasping and panting again and they're back to square one. Instead he keeps his lips against his partners and huffs out a distracted laugh, amused and far too aroused to care about their complete lack of coordination with something that should be so simple. He can still mouth against Fraser though, occasionally muttering something unintelligible but agreeable between flicks of his tongue and purred out groans, he even feels and hears Fraser's own attempt at speech. Yes might not be the height of conversation, but it's as sexy as anything else right now, spurring Ray on as he arches and thrusts.
It's difficult for him to keep track of time when they're like this, feeling like they've been at it for hours as he loses himself in the moment, each minute stretching out into nothing more than growls and grinding and the concentrated jerks of Ray's wrist as he distractedly tries to keep working it.
Fraser's got far too much stamina to be considered human. Ray's impressed in himself that he's even managed to keep up, but he imagines that little trick from earlier has helped with that. It helps that he's the one on his back now too, the work load far more reliant on Fraser's movements than his own, and he'll be damn surprised if the Mountie's thighs aren't burning after this, even if just a little. The bastard is far too fit for his own good, or maybe Ray just needs to start cutting down on the pizza, beer and occasional cigarette.]
Hnngh, yeah. Yeah.
[Okay, so maybe he's not much more eloquent than Fraser right now, but that's hardly a surprise.]
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It's too good: he's needed it - wanted it - for far too long, and now Ray is inside him - Ray Ray Ray - touching that spot over and over again, stroking his cock, breathing the most eloquent words against his mouth, and Fraser knows he can't stand it for much longer.
He stops, exhales slowly, inhales again and begins his rhythm once more, knotting his hands into fists in the bedsheets to either side of Ray's head and thrusting now with enough wild abandon that the headboard knocks against the wall. Somehow that drives him crazy, which is really unsurprising considering his sex in public places and submarines thing, and he only worked harder, faster, giving up on words to growl and groan and make unsettling throaty grunts that were probably less close to human than they were to the noises of various sea mammals.
And then even the noises were too hard, and he was just panting, slick and wet, soaked with sweat from all the extra exertion and trembling as though he were a sapling in a strong wind, and at last - at last - Fraser keened, a low whine that started in his belly, rose to his chest and had become a deep sonorous note by the time it emerged: Oh. His face took on the shape of it, his eyes rolled back, head twisting down into Ray's chest, and he came with such force that it almost splashed his own throat, tightly tucked in against Ray as he was. His muscles twitched and clenched, iron and steel opening and closing - tighter, tighter - and with every tightening he tried to move, until he simply couldn't, snapped so tight around Ray that it was all he could do to rock, whimpering, as the last of his orgasm spilled out of him, slower now, oozing over Ray's fingers. ]
So good, so good, so good. [ Single syllables again, panted. Murmured. Mouthfuls of skin and hot tears.
Maybe he'd underestimated just how much he still had in him after all, but then everyone did keep telling him he was inhuman. Maybe there was some truth in it after all. ]
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This was it, this was what each and every thrust and drive had been building up to, a marathon of arching and groaning to arrive at the desperate sprint to the finish. The headboard of his bed gets a workout right alongside him and, ever as he meets up with Fraser on each drive of the hips, he can't help but briefly let his mind wander to just what his neighbours might be hearing, or even- God forbid- his landlady below. She must certainly be getting an earful of it now, and Ray can't help but huff out a low, almost-chuckle against Fraser's lips as the two of them grunt and growl right alongside each other.
As Fraser's noises falter, so do Ray's, coming down to heavy gasps for breath and slick pants against Benton's lips as his own hips arch up into that silken warmth, becoming more and more desperate with each shift. Ray's still jerking almost futilely as his partner finally hits his peak, leaning to press breathy kisses against the dark curls of hair while Benton tucks in against his chest. Ray tries to ride it out but each push gets harder and harder, Fraser clamping around him like a bear trap until he's so tightly held that he wonders if his dick will survive it.
That's all he needs to finish him off, that too tight, almost painful clench of muscle practically squeezing it out of him, wrenched forth with a throaty moan that seems to last the entirety of it. Each writhe and jerk against Fraser brings on more and for a moment Ray thinks he's on another plain of existence because it feels like his orgasm is never going to stop. His eyes turn skyward and squeeze shut, white electricity still sparking behind his eyelids, and he's left groaning out the last of it, his body barely even having the energy to see him through to the end.
The hand that'd been stroking lazily at Fraser, even after the event, finally dropped heavily to his side, followed by the rest of Ray as he sinks even further into the bed, boneless and suddenly feeling like he's weighted down with rocks.]
Wow, that... uh... yeah...
[Perhaps Fraser stopping him early hadn't been such a bad idea after all, because Ray's pretty sure that counts as one of the best orgasms of his life. He's hoping Fraser's too, judging by the mumbled approval of his partner, panted wetly against his skin. Wetter than normal, but maybe that's just saliva rather than...]
You good? [Grunted out with some level of coherence. Even half-dead from exercise he can still show concern for his partner.]
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He didn't want to move. He didn't think he could, and he didn't want to, because Ray's cock was still inside him, and he'd wanted it for so long now that the idea of pulling away was almost unbearable. At the same time they'd come hard, so much so that the stickiness was already spilled down the inside of Fraser's thighs thanks to his last few urgent thrusts, and it decorated the hot space between their bodies that Fraser couldn't find the energy to move in. There it was drying swiftly, tacky and sticky and a powerful reminder of the sex, of the almost synchronous orgasms, of the way Ray had felt when he'd released inside of him. He'd end up having to peel himself off Ray's chest.
But that would be worth it, he decided, and shifted over, tangling one leg around the back of Ray's and holding their bodies tight together as he dropped onto his side on the bed. He squeezed, as though to make Ray promise that he wasn't going to pull away, then raised his tired, tearsoaked face, reflecting his earnest joy up at Ray. ]
Never better. [ He was back to real words, it seemed, though he still looked faraway, running his now free hand up and down Ray's side, reflecting again on those last beautiful moments: Ray's gasps and pants and his last orgasmic groan as they came together, th way his body writhed and thrust as best it could, the ache in his thighs that was only now subsiding... The blankets were awkwardly tucked under them, and Fraser knew he'd have to pull off to get them, so for now he was ignoring the oncoming chill, stretching out this moment for as long as he possibly could.
He wanted to snuggle, to stay awake, but he knew he didn't have it in him. He was positively exhausted, and the day had been far too long already; the possibility of snatching a few hours sleep in Ray's arms was an invitation he simply couldn't pass on.
He scrubbed his face against Ray's pillow once, then leant up and caught his partner's lips tenderly in his own once again, his kiss like his word much more coherent now than it had been in the depths of their intercourse, if still as breathless. ]
I couldn't be happier, Ray. What about you?
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This had been something he'd been needing for so long in his life and hadn't even realised it. Finally he felt whole again, content like he hadn't felt since the early stages of his and Stella's marriage, but God he hoped this didn't go the same way. It couldn't do, not when he'd never felt so certain of anything than right now. Fraser wasn't Stella. Fraser was his best friend, work partner and everything in between. Fraser dealt with every in and out and up and down of Ray, they'd been through too much and had their relationship tested far too often to back out now.
With a content hum he lifted a heavy arm, hand seeking Fraser's cheek seconds after that kiss was brushed against his lips. He cupped lightly, thumb lifting just enough to swipe delicately at the corner of his partner's eye, catching any stray wetness that pillow scrub had missed.]
Real good. Real happy.
[And he sounds it as he leans up just enough to catch another brush of lips, all he can manage before he's having to flop back into the bed, teeth flashing into an amused smile.]
Y'know I'd cry if I had to have sex with me too.
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His mouth curled into laughter under Ray's hand, though there wasn't even a note of it. Fraser didn't have the breath to actually laugh. But he did press his smile back into Ray's shoulder, his chest, settling down against him, around him still, as he let the last of the rush subside. ]
Mmm. [ He said again. He was getting good at that noise. ] Really? [ It sounded like mmreallee-mm? ] I think you'd--like it.
[ His eyes were closed, and Fraser managed to rub his cheek a little more against Ray's skin, little jerks of his head that very quickly slowed to nothing. Even that was too much, and his head, his body felt heavy, brimming over with exhaustion. It swept in around them both, and even if Fraser knew it was just a case of his lungs having to work less hard, his body shutting down for sleep, he couldn't help but acknowledge it, recognise it briefly in one last effort to look at Ray before he let it take him. He wanted to remember him right at this moment, happy and sated under him.
He saw, and then he closed his eyes, murmured something unintelligible, and exhaustion pulled the blinds of sleep over his eyes. He dozed, then slept, breathing soft and rhythmic and content. ]