Benton Fraser | Due South

[dogsled]

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'"

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[bluntobject]

[ Everything about this; from Ray reciprocating, wrapping fingers around his own, to Fraser thrusting it felt deeper by the second, was starting to pull him apart at all the edges. It didn't help that he'd been the first person in the room to get hard when he'd realised where this was heading - that look on Fraser's face what felt like a million years ago, but which now he'd recognise anywhere for the naked lust it was - and he'd been the first, not counting Fraser's thumb running down the seam of Kowalski's fly, to get a single hand, a perfect pair of hands, in fact, on his cock.

He was near bursting point, far beyond saving, far beyond sense. Fraser and Stanley had no idea. He'd been fantasising about this for four years, he didn't have the wherewithal to channel anything but pure satisfaction, to feel anything but brutal pleasure. Because finally, finally here he was, Fraser inside of him - and wasn't that crazy in itself, because in his dreams it had always been the other way around, he'd never even dared to submit to a fantasy where Fraser could have the sexual appetite necessary to so much as entertain anything like this - and the world was still turning on its axis, but now it felt like it was turning just for him.

If only he'd realised it long ago. Maybe he'd have insisted - after Fraser spent another two weeks in hospital after their adventure - on going back to Canada after all. They'd never gone back together to rebuild that cabin; in the end Fraser must have done it himself. Or maybe he never had. Maybemaybemaybe. Either way, it was time wasted. Time they could have been making love in front of a log fire, before Vegas had taken him away and fucked with his head.

But it was good that Vegas had done that, in terms of the now, because he liked Fraser, sure, but he liked Kowalski too. It was like having the best of both worlds; soft, strong Mountie and hard, knife-edge American cop. And maybe Kowalski got the same deal, but Fraser--Fraser got his partners, and apparently that was like winning two gold medals and one of those weird arm badges he liked so much, because Fraser...Ray wasn't sure he'd ever been happier, more content, more eager to do anything than he'd been when he'd leant in and kissed Stanley on the mouth.

It had genuinely blown him away how much love Fraser could pour into a single action.

He wanted to soak it in forever, but the rough, nail sharp scraping and squeezing he was getting from Stanley wasn't doing shit to hold him back now, in fact it felt really good, pain on top of pleasure, and he could dig his nails in until they bled and it still wouldn't stop him now. Fraser felt like he was trying to fuck both of them at once, and it was all just too much--too much. He yelled, inadvertently jerking his head off Ray's shoulder at the last second to get in more air and crying out loud into his ear, and then he was jerking between them, spilling himself in time with each of Fraser's relentless thrusts, his knuckles knotting and twisting as he fought the urge to tug and squeeze whatever he could out of himself. It wouldn't do Ray much good. Instead he let him go, reaching down lower to knead his own balls, shuddering as he spilled even more of his seed onto Stanley's belly, and by then he was panting and boneless, only Fraser's strength and continued thrusting and the two bodies sandwiching against him keeping him upright, keeping him in play. He felt like a ragdoll, but it was a very sexually satisfied kind of ragdollyness, and that made it just fine, thank you very much. His head was swimming too much to complain right now. ]

[kickem]

[He can tell Vecchio is coming apart with every thrust and jerk of Fraser's hips, and he can't even blame him for it. Even with another body between him and the Mountie, Stanley can feel almost the full force of every shove, can feel the entirety of his partner's power when desperation and lust take over. It's all muscle, but he already knew Fraser was nothing but refined power, like some sort of high end sports car, sleek and beautiful but all power underneath it's exterior. Fraser's that asshole who can hang off his fingers for hours on end, and it shows in just how capable he is of supporting Vecchio's weight while still pushing onwards.

They play to their strengths, and that's good for Stan. Fraser knows just what both of his partners are capable of and they both know the same for him. Granted, Ray and Ray haven't quite got a read on one another just yet, not to the extent where they can silently signal their intentions, but that's no issue. Communication was the key in intercourse, after all, and Kowalski was fine with verbally trying to boss around the guy he'd pretended to be for so long. He may be the newcomer in all of this, but he liked to think he knew a thing or two about his Mountie, even if they were going to have to share every now and then.

Not that he needed to verbally do anything right now. He was just fine where he was, even if he knew his back would be sore for days to come after quite so long slammed up against it. It was worth it, a few days of pain worth every second of this experience. Ray was never going to be able to see this room properly again without having to hold down a hard on. His career was ruined. There's no way he could be expected to come in here and interrogate, especially not alongside Fraser, when his mind was just going to slide right back to this pounding, gasping mess of limbs. God, he was going to have to learn some self-restraint and he'd never had to do that in his life.

Stanley's left to get a full earful of Ray's scream as it all finally becomes too much, gritting his teeth just slightly against the volume of it and yet taking it for the sake of the team. Sure, he can add half-deaf onto his list of injuries after this little escapade, why not? More important things to deal with right now anyway, like helping Vecchio along with this ride, fingers curling even tighter around them both as he milks out the Italian and helps himself along. With the other's hand dropping, he's left to keep the rhythm up of jerking them off while Fraser keeps up his side of the deal, a true display of team effort as they each read off one another and aid where they can.

With trying to keep that kissing going with Fraser a virtual impossibility for the moment, Stan slips his hand limply away from his partner's cheek, instead dropping to curl a tight grip around the underside of Vecchio's thigh, close to the back of his knee, helping support the boneless weight between them. By the time Ray's through, Stanley's left sticky and sweating but spurred on more than ever, letting Vecchio's spent dick loose to focus on pleasuring himself, arching up into his own hand as he quickens the pace.

He wouldn't be far behind, not when he's got the warm weight of Vecchio against him and Fraser panting ragged so close to his mouth, but right now his hazy gaze is locked on Benton, not wanting to miss a single bit of his inevitable peak. There's no way he couldn't watch his friend lose it.]

[dogsled]

[ Losing himself to this was inevitable, and as Ray began to shake apart, muscle squeezing and clamping around him, the pressure becoming almost impossible to thrust into, and Fraser began to realise just where this was all leading. The conclusion was building, one of them had lost control already, and he had to strain not to give it up right then. They were like dominoes; once one went down the next and the next would be close behind. Throughout Ray's orgasm his thrusting became a work of some effort, tight, pressing in so hard that it felt like he was trying to jam it in between two blocks of concrete snapped around him. He tried to slow down, to be gentler, if only because Ray was going to have a sore enough time of it already. Slowly, slowly--it was excruciating, right at the moment when he wanted to pour himself in it until he could break too.

But he did it. He slowed down instead of speeding up, each panting breath all but torn from his throat as though he were breathing through a sandstorm.

At last Ray began slumping a little more, relaxing again, this time just enough that Fraser could take advantage. He could use the extra friction to press on, letting it reach into him to build and burn without as much fear that he was leaving behind bruises that would take weeks to heal, or actually tearing apart tender tissue, damage he would never notice he'd inflicted until it was too late.

Yes, he was using Ray now, but so long as he kept making contented noises Fraser wouldn't mind, and besides, just over his shoulder there was his other partner, flushed and beautiful from arousal, his face a picture of desire. Later he wanted to kiss all over that face, put his hands all over the body he'd barely been allowed to touch. He wanted all the time in the world to do the things that he'd barely considered as he was rushing headlong into this. He wanted to last just a little longer--

But it was no good for Ray if he did, no good for Fraser himself. He wasn't superhuman, and this was the first satisfaction he'd had in months, the first sex he'd had in years. He wasn't cut out to carry it on forever, not when it felt as amazing as it did, and not when he had both his partners, both his Rays, pinned between him and the wall. How could he resist?

His mouth brushed a path up Ray's neck, wet slobbery kisses, and then Fraser was pressing his cheek against the side of Ray's head, pinioning against him as his body twisted and rocked, face twisting into an expression of bliss and pain at once, eyes only closed for a moment before he opened them in time for the next pulse - opened them just for Kowalski - spilling inside Ray, the sparks flashing in his eyes. He groaned, a low sound that wouldn't carry, unlike Ray's scream, but the sight of Stanley inches away from him, watching him hungrily, was enough to make him want to call their name, yell it, make the entire station hear.

They were going to lose their jobs, but given the choice it seemed like a fair exchange. ]

Ray. [ He said, exhaling as the third twitching, wringing tug of orgasm pulled him over. ] Please.

[ Please come. He didn't know how long his legs could hold, even though he made an effort to lock his knees, to somehow stay upright. But his arms were trembling, and his legs were aching, and his head still locked on Ray's shoulder, heavy and stupid. ]

[bluntobject]

[ Ray didn't know how Fraser was doing it, but he was still moving somehow, still thrusting, still upright when the bottom was dropping out of the world around him. He wasn't sure how Fraser was staying on his feet any more, because the way he moved, the fact that he was still holding Ray up as well--it was amazing, like a superhuman feat.

He groaned, still moaning as Fraser kept thrusting, from discomfort as much as still sparking pleasure. He wasn't actively hitting his prostate any more, but still every thrust jerked through him, manipulated muscle, let him feel that Fraser was still there, as if the hardness of him inside and the panting and slobbering on his neck wasn't a dead giveaway.

He could feel it as Fraser came closer and closer to that edge, and he shifted his head up as best as he could against Stanley's neck, tried to prepare himself, although he wasn't really sure any more what prepared-for-the-man-you've-had-wet-dreams-about-for-four-years-coming-inside-you looked like. How did you get ready for something like that?

Short answer, you didn't. Short answer it happened, and your life was irrevocably changed, and probably for the better. So he closed his eyes tightly and just tried to feel it, and he thought he did, thought he felt the pulse of shock before Fraser jerked up and up and let it all go inside him. There was just pressure at first, and then Fraser was pulling back to thrust up again and he recognised it as wet heat, fierce and hot inside of him.

He heard his name in his ear, but he was out of it, too out of it to realise it wasn't him that Fraser was talking to. So he held on, held on as best as he could, because any second now Fraser was going to collapse, right? And then this house of cards was coming down. Had Stanley come yet? He didn't know. He made a little mm sound and tried to halfheartedly turn his head, but what could he do, anyway? He was exhausted. ]

[kickem]

[That was all Ray had needed.

The second Fraser's eyes snapped back open and looked at him, Ray knew he was done, there's no way he could resist a gaze like that, so intense, so pleading and so beyond sexy that it was impossible not to blow his load. The words were just an added bonus, Fraser practically whimpering out his name as he rode that wave, riding into Vecchio like a wild man. Just like Stanley had promised from the start. Just like a few fantasies he'd had in the past of Fraser losing it in the moment.

It only took him a few more determined jerks of his wrist to bring himself over the edge, hips jerking up and into his grip, and against Vecchio, spilling over the both of them in such close proximity. He bucks, coming with one long groan that settles in the back of his throat, eyes still trying to stay on Fraser even as they drift out of focus. Standing has it's downsides and this was one of them, Kowalski doing his best to lock his knees and keep himself tight in against the wall in a desperate attempt to keep upright, his her jerking back to meet the solid surface and not caring one bit for the impact. It's okay, he's got a thick skull anyway, and he was far too lost in the moment to worry himself about a minor head bump.

By the time the last few pulsing waves shudder through him, he mostly gives up on the upright thing, holding little concern for where it'll take the other two if he just starts to slide down the wall, back still fully in contact and giving him a pretty controlled drift down.

The floor was good. The floor was great. It wouldn't have been a comfortable option for them to start there, but at the moment it looked just as appealing and just as comfortable as any bed. Screw the amount of bodily fluids that had been scrubbed off it, Stanley would still quite happily lay down and curl up, still with his jeans around his thighs, if he were given half the chance.

So maybe he wouldn't be much use for a while, but hey, he figures they might be able to get a little while longer before someone starts trying to get in the room. They'd staked out in an interview room for longer than this before, and no one was going to miss the three of them for a while, right?]

Nnn, fuck.

[That's his thoughts on the matter. But it sounds like a good fuck. A content sort of 'I just blew my mind and my load at the same time' kind of fuck.]

[dogsled]

[ Fraser still had it in him to do what nobody should be able to do after an orgasm like that. He helped Ray up, just enough that he could pull himself free - and wasn't that a strange feeling, stranger even then pushing inside? - but then he was free, and Fraser's hips and legs were no longer holding the bulk of Ray's weight.

He found out immediately how boneless Ray was, and Stanley with him, and he found himself supporting their bodies and his own even more awkwardly, tilting inward so that they all slumped together at the same speed, crumpling down to the ground. It took forever, and yet wasn't soon enough, before they were all lying about each other in a legless, slippery heap. Fraser tried his best to angle his legs so as to avoid getting his own come on his breeches, but with Ray's tangled around his own it was nearly impossible. Next time--next time they had to at least get out of their clothes, this was ridiculous.

As just getting his breathing steady was hard, he decided not to bother raising his head, where it had fallen into the crook of Ray's neck. The heat rose off him, sweat evaporating, leaving his skin covered in goose pimples. Fraser shivered too, even though the cold didn't actually bother him, but in sympathy, and pressed closer, managing at last to look at his partner, to drink in the sight of him crumpled there and covered - god, covered - in semen: Ray's and Ray's. He licked his lips despite himself, then found Kowalski's eyes. Post orgasmic, shining with satisfaction--oh, he liked that look. He wanted to see it more often. ]

You...

[ He didn't know what he wanted to say, he realised, and so for a moment he just smiled, rubbing his cheek against Ray's neck, his ear contentedly. He made a soft, happy noise, then: ]

You're both terrible. [ He said, with absolute warmth. They were. ]

[bluntobject]

[ Fraser pulled out much too suddenly, Ray thought, but then he probably didn't know any better. It made him grunt softly, the sudden feeling of emptiness, the spilling of hot jism down the inside of his naked thighs--Fraser's come. God.

They didn't stay upright for much longer after that. Ray was already slithering down the wall in front of him, making life very hard, and then Fraser was guiding him down, making very little effort to do anything but collapse them in a heap of limbs and heaving naked chests and sweat and other stuff. That was fine. He liked being in a disjointed heap, there was something very fulfilling about it, after all they were all wound up in each other as it was, this was a sort of...physical expression of that.

God, God, God, he was lying here with a spent Fraser wrapped around him to keep him warm, his limp arousal - still swollen from orgasm - pressed against the hip of the man who'd stepped into his life when duty had ripped him away from it. It was mad, but he wouldn't exchange it for anything; not for the feeling he had now, all fucked to pieces and left in a broken pile. Fucked by Fraser--it was a god damn fantasy, and now here he was happy and sated, pretty sure nothing would ever feel like that again, unless maybe they did exactly that again.

Honestly, he didn't think any one of them would mind a second go. Or a third. Or an eight hundredth.

Fraser was rubbing at him like a cat. That was really nice. He could get used to that. ]

Yeah, Fraser. [ Frasier. He was tired, and it was easier to slur the name. ] Mm, terrible. But if you're real good, let Ray and I close our eyes for a minute, I promise to let you lick us clean. Whatchu say, Stanley?

[ Probably too tired to put up a fuss, right? Besides, his eyes were already close, his nose pressed into Ray's throat, his breathing steadying to a crawl. It was like the words 'close our eyes' were some sort of secret code for 'drop off instantly.' ]

[kickem]

[They're a mess of limbs, sweat and come and Stanley is totally fine with every bit of that. He doesn't even mind the weight of the others against him, leaning into Vecchio and watching Fraser with a tired affection as the Mountie nuzzled in against Ray's neck. It's not a bad view from where he is, getting a clear shot of Benton and a mostly uninterrupted view of Vecchio, both in post-orgasmic haze of content smiles and half-lidded gazes. God, it was hot. If he wasn't already spent, he'd almost consider going at it all over again.]

Not the sorta thing you should be sayin' to people after you fuck 'em, Fraser.

[Murmured with amusement, leaning just that little closer to meet the Mounties lips in a lasting but lazy kiss that's barely able to stay at head height as his head droops and his eyes flutter. He could fall asleep quite happily where he fell, come to think of it, and Vecchio's suggestion isn't sounding so bad at all.]

Mmm, lick clean.

[He agrees, words slurred with tiredness as he settles himself against Vecchio, eyes slowly closing at the mere mention of getting to rest. No one would mind them sleeping here for the next few hours, right? Door's locked. Not like anyone... could... get in...

And he's out.]