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'"

NEW READ JOURNAL CREDIT

Comments

[dogsled]

[ It was always important to listen when Ray spoke, because he so rarely went out of his way to do it that Fraser marked it when it happened. He always had something explicit to say, some point that needed to be put across no matter what, and because he often struggled with finding the right words, it was important to let the process develop at its own pace, no matter how excruciating it was to wait.

Fraser listened well, usually speaking. He kept his head down and waited until Ray was finished before correcting him. This time, he listened harder than usual: a combination of personal involvement, knowing it was important and his being impossibly wired, and therefore more prone than usual to let his attention wander. It wasn't really his fault. This sort of thing happened to him so rarely, so much love and physicality, that if he let his attention drift he'd forget that days were separated into hours, never mind his plans and responsibilities. He could forget even himself.

As Ray finished speaking, Fraser exhaled, let it wash over him. It was how he felt about it, as odd as that sounded. He'd always considered himself to be straight, but there was something about this man, his partner; something in the way they clicked, first, and then in time he'd begun to realise he was distracted by the physical things: by the shape of his ear or the bones of his wrist or the particular iron curve of his bicep where it hit the angle of his tattoo. He'd become so drawn to him physically he'd genuinely become less able to touch, although he'd found himself pressing closer into Ray's space as though it were natural. But he hadn't been able to comfort him the way he'd wanted to, had drawn back most physicality of his own for fear that if he put his hands on Ray he might somehow transmit that emotion through him, give himself away long before he even realised there was something to give.

And then they'd gone to Canada, slept inches from each other, huddled for warmth, woke up and ate and walked and talked and slept together all over again, day after day. There had been no hiding from physicality there, and he'd grown so much more comfortable with it since. It was still different, though, a whole lot of different when Ray wrapped his arms around his waist. So different from the hand touching his chest to stop him, or squeezing his shoulders, or clutching his arm. So different from Ray clapping a hand over his mouth, because with his glasses on he'd managed to spot a rabbit that Fraser had missed, and they hadn't eaten for a day and a half, feeding the last of their rations to the dogs.

Like it or not, they'd relied on each other for survival, and coming back, not having that, was like being ripped away from a limb, with no understanding of how to function without it. This physicality, the expression of emotion they both had for each other that had crept in pitilessly when they least expected it, couldn't be measured on any kind of natural scale. Fraser could accept that they both exclusively liked women, and that they both liked, loved and wanted each other despite that. Strange as it might seem, it worked for them. Ray missed him when he wasn't there, and Fraser couldn't imagine Chicago or Canada without him.

They both wanted this, wanted it with each other, and okay, so Fraser was less inhibited, bolder by far about trying new things: human bodies were largely interchangeable. But he was also sense fixated - fixated particularly upon Ray - and this was a body he'd dreamed of touching, tasting, smelling, of pressing his ear against his chest as he talked, or his cheek against Ray's throat, feeling the vibration of a moan through his skin. He wanted to experience all of it, and he did need the warning: he needed it because without it this would be frantic, dramatic, overwhelming, and Ray needed him to go slow. He needed to be eased into it.

At the end of the day he hadn't thought about another woman that way in years. Francesca had all but thrown herself at him, and had his mind lingered on the curve of her breast? On the way her mouth shaped around words? On the way her eyelashes brushed her cheek when she laughed?

He exhaled again, forcing himself to cool down, and when his eyes opened he looked up, found Ray's eyes a half inch or so above his own. He could do this. He could do this for Ray; ease him into it even though he wanted to pour his everything into it at once, show him just how long, and what it meant, and how he felt. ]

You don't have to spend another night alone, Ray. [ He promised, even though he didn't know if he could fulfill it. As an officer of the RCMP Robert Fraser had abandoned his family for months at a time, and his son wasn't much better. But Benton hoped, truly hoped, that he wouldn't be as selfish as his father, that he'd learned from all his mistakes, and being so long and often away from home was one of them.

He leaned in and brushed a kiss to Ray's mouth, then reached back around his back to gently urge his partner to let go. ]

Put on some music, then sit over on the couch. [ He indicated the loveseat, covered in furs. He'd admired the position in the room from the moment they'd stepped inside an hour ago, but now it seemed like the most comfortable, homely place they could possibly be. If he could be reminded of Canada, of the north, in a place as alien as this hotel room, it'd be there. ] Trust me, Ray.

[kickem]

[Fraser listens. It's good that he does, and that he's learnt to let Ray say his piece when it's something from the heart. It's not easy for Ray to talk actual feelings, not when this is all a completely new concept for him and he hadn't had a chance to even sort out his own thoughts on the matter. He spoke as the words came to him, straight from the heart. Of love and wanting to be together, and if that's what his instincts were saying, then they can't be wrong.

Who cares if this is with a guy? Fraser's not like most guys, and virtually everyone who knew the two of them knew they had some sort of special relationship going on long before today. They were practically inseparable as it was, so this wouldn't be any different for them both, not really. Especially not if they do retreat back to Canada for an extended stay, maybe go to Fraser's cabin, maybe find new adventures to do, meet old friends. It's all pretty appealing, even with the memories of hardships.

Fraser makes a statement Ray's not entirely sure either of them will ever be able to keep to, but the sentiment is sweet enough, proof that the Mountie cares enough to want to be with him. Ray doesn't even mind if they spend time away, not if he's got the knowledge that they'll be back together again. It's the not knowing that he hated when heading back to Chicago. Not knowing if that Canada adventure had been the last time the two of them would be as close as that. Not knowing if they were just going back to the daily grind for the rest of their partnership. Now they both knew where they stood, that they were both willing to share more than just their time at work together, and that alone meant enough to Ray.

He smiles into the kiss, smirking like an idiot even as he's urged away. Standing there the rest of the night was pretty appealing as it is, but he can't really deny the suggestion of music, which he moves to carry out immediately. The music system is found with ease (you can't really miss it, even with all the pretentious decorating) and he quickly fiddles with a few buttons until he realises there's a playlist there. A 'wedding' playlist. Perfect for newly wed couples, a mix of carefully chosen classical tunes, slow dance tracks and generic things you'd hear for first dances and 'our song' choices. It'll do, rather than risk the crap that's on the radio, and then Ray moves back towards the loveseat, dropping himself into the furs and slumping into it.]

If this is gonna end in a lap dance, Frase, I left my ones in my wallet.

[dogsled]

[ Fraser has a vague idea how this is going to go. Ray asked for slow, and that's what he intends to give him. Slow and a little experimental, but not asking him to commit to anything more than he had demonstrated he wanted so far. Sure, Fraser had made an offer downstairs that really broke the bank as far as rushing to the last possible base went, but then part of that had been the novelty of curling the F word around his tongue in a room full of people. That was uninhibited for Fraser; that was practically extraterrestrial.

So, although he was more than ready to do that if Ray seemed willing, present circumstances made it unlikely. Ray loved him, he liked kissing him, but as he'd pointed out quite succinctly he had no general overriding interest in male genitalia. Lips were different, and easy. Sure, there were subtle differences between kissing a man and a woman, but most of those Fraser thought he was probably strange for picking up, the more angular jaw, the larger lung capacity, lips thinner, tongue wider, teeth set slightly differently. There was the hint of Ray's stubble, too, whereas Fraser made that easier still by being meticulous with his grooming habits, no hair left behind.

So kissing was easy, and touching clearly wasn't a problem, Ray had been quite willing under his own hands, let them wander up his sides and across his back and into his hair. Those were harder to mistake: Fraser's hands were rough and larger, and he knew Ray had acknowledged that much to himself in some respect already. He'd liked it, too, when Fraser had resisted against him in the elevator, when he'd ground his body against him in the kiss from before, one arm pinned above his head, and his shame about being seen kissing a man had evaporated into a sort of greedy smugness that Fraser found incredibly attractive even despite himself. Maybe that was the alcohol again, but the idea of being found in the elevator with Ray sucking on his tongue was thrilling. The story would have made it down to Stella by now, hushed, almost inarticulate murmurs of Your ex-husband! and I always knew there had to be something wrong with that Mountie. That sounded about right. Was that what he wanted? A reputation? Something to dull the bright honest goodness that everyone projected onto him?

So he considered Ray, and for a moment he really did consider giving him a lap dance for specifically those reasons, but he figured that given the day they'd had, breaking into hotel rooms and carving giant wooden penises and crying behind churches, it really would be one step too far beyond the ordinary, even for him.

His jacket removed, leaving him in just his tight white shirt and jeans now, he crossed the room, fetching the rest of the bottle of champagne from where they'd left it and carrying it over to the couch. He set it on the coffee table beside Huey and Dewey's 'gift', then ignored it completely, clambering up beside Ray and folding in against his side, his knees together and resting on Ray's right thigh, one arm sliding under his back, the other high across his chest.

Just for a second or so to get his bearings, Fraser pressed his nose into the crook of his partner's neck, then he raised his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of Ray's mouth, inviting him into another embrace, this one softer, slower, the kind of kiss that would stay willing for hours. And why not? They had nowhere else to be. There were no expectations, but if their touches wandered so they wandered. This close, whatever happened didn't have to be anything but a natural evolution of intimacy, and maybe Ray didn't have to pay too much attention to the fact that his body wasn't a woman's body, would grow to love it as much as he loved Fraser himself.

[kickem]

[So they were taking it slow. Ray could deal with that. He could deal with the kissing and the fondling like he was back in his pre-teen high school days where exploration was enough. He almost misses that. Those days as a teen where you were just satisfied so long as you got to see skin or to put your tongue in someone else's mouth.

There was something about this with Fraser that sparked a sense of that, like it was something new and exciting, that he didn't have to prove himself or try and be someone he's not. Fraser had seen it all already, he'd already been witness to Ray stripped bare, physically and metaphorically. This was a guy who didn't care about how well built you were, whether there was a full six pack, or how big you were packing. After being on the singles shelf for far too long, feeling judged and criticized every time he attempted to make a move on any one, this just felt like such a relief. He should have been doing it long ago.

Fraser did all the right things. Settled himself in close, took a gradual path to Ray's lips, and kept the kiss lingering and inviting. Without any need for persuasion, Ray's responding, curling in against the Mountie as he twists in his seat and curling his calf around Fraser's legs. He didn't mind closeness. He was clingy enough as it was, and now that he had the encouragement there was nothing stopping him from wanting this affection.

His kiss is responsive but not forceful, enjoying the moment without trying to hurry it. He's got an arm moving up the back of the seat to prop him in place while the other curls around Fraser's waist. He could settle himself there for the rest of the night quite easily, but there's one question tugging at the back of his mind that he can't quite settle. Something that he has to ask, barely pulling away, muttered against his partners lips.]

Would you uh, would you have done this with Vecchio? I mean if he hadn't gone with Stella and stuff. I heard it mighta been a thing.

[Or more that he'd taken what Welsh had said to mean that he was the second choice. Maybe that's okay though. He could deal with being second best.]

[dogsled]

[ This was everything good about the world. The soft music broke the necessity for words, prevented the awkwardness of wet kissing noises from seeming too jarring, and better still Ray curled tenderly against him reciprocating that closeness, the steady speed and slow kisses. It reminded Fraser, too, of being a very young man, of learning to kiss with whomsoever would have him in those brief months before reprimand made them something forbidden and adult.

It bore no resemblance, either, to the nights he'd spent curled into Victoria, making love so slowly and for so long that he'd slept most of the day away. This was the first time he'd been denied by a snowstorm; exploration and love, passion and longing, a partnership expanded to know more rather than two bodies sliding into each other for warmth.

When Ray pulled back away from the kiss, it was only the barest space, so that Fraser could still feel his breath against his mouth. He let himself capture that space again briefly, a kiss of reassurance as he thought of the words that could best answer the question. He only needed a second. ]

If he'd wanted it, I might have, for the sake of our partnership. I might have even adjusted to our being more than friends. [ He rubbed a circle against Ray's sternum as he spoke. ] But Ray was never anything but meticulously straight, and quite besides that, Ray, not at all my type, as difficult as that might be to believe.

[ He reaches his hand higher brushing just the tips of his fingers over Ray's moist lower lip, and then he closed the distance again, kissed his mouth over his fingers, broke it again. ]

He's irritating, uncompromising, occasionally selfish, often arrogant, ceaselessly unwilling. I love him dearly, he's saved our lives more times than I can count, and he's nothing if not my best friend - reason enough to forgive him his flaws - but he's not you. Our relationship is incomparable to what we have.

[ He left the kiss where it was. When Ray was ready, he could take it over again, but Fraser felt like he needed to leave him a chance to absorb that. ]

Maybe other people made you feel that way. Maybe he did. [ He murmured softly. ] Maybe once upon a time I might have too, but it was never a competition between the two of you. Even if it was, look at what you have, Ray. You won. You have friends and you have me, and somewhere along the way you won back your self respect, and your passion for what you do. You'd almost lost that when we first met.

I am so proud of you Ray, and so very, very much in love with you.

[kickem]

[Fraser answers truthfully, at least. But Ray should have expected that from the Mountie who could tell no lies. He's not so sure he wanted to hear the possibility of Vecchio and Fraser being a thing, but there's the admittance that he's not Benton's type, plus a whole bunch of criticism that Stanley can appreciate. It helps that these flaws on the form partner are being woven in with the occasional, reassuring kiss that's almost more distracting than the Mountie's words.

So maybe Vecchio isn't as much competition as Ray had thought, but he couldn't help feeling like second best to a guy who'd known Fraser much earlier on. Stanley had come in after that bonding had taken place, had missed Fraser's initial introduction to America, had missed helping his friend through so much of it, and missed being there for him when his father had died and his ex had screwed him over. He'd missed a lot, but he supposes he and Benton had had their own time together, had almost bonded on even ground of uncertainty. They'd certainly had some adventures together, and Vecchio could never claim to have spent months travelling alone with Fraser through the Canadian wilderness.

He had won. He didn't have Stella any more, but he had a job he'd learned to love again with a partner who made every part of it better. Life wouldn't be the same without Fraser, and Kowalski's got no clue how Vecchio can just up and leave to the other side of the country. Maybe that Italian asshole didn't appreciate what he already had any more than Stella did. They'd be good for each other.

And then Fraser's saying that 'L' word. Ray does wonder why he's not as surprised by it as he thought he would be, but it's really no different from all the times Fraser's proclaimed to be his partner and his friend. It was said with the exact same affection and Ray's pretty sure he means it. Canadian's don't lie.]

Yeah? You mean that? [So pleased and hopeful.]

I guess Vecchio doesn't know what he's missin' out on. Stella and Florida got nothin' on this. You might be a freak, Fraser, but you're my freak.

[Ray would take the freezing winter of the North over the muggy warmth of Florida any day, especially when he gets to keep Fraser and Dief by his side.

Of course he can't help but offer a flick of his tongue against Fraser's lips, a quick lick against them, just a little taunting.]

[dogsled]

Mmm.

[ It wasn't altogether clear what had made him so happy. The declaration of his being a freak, or the fact that Ray said it so possessively and with such affection that it was the equivalent of his saying "I love you too, Fraser" without actually doing so. Translating Rayspeak was important sometimes too; sometimes it didn't come out in pure English, was gently transformed or manipulated so as to better protect the speaker. This was one of those moments.

Or maybe his little "Mmm" was a sound of contentment where Ray's tongue dashed against his lips. Maybe it was a thoughtful "Mmm" that had more to do with what Fraser intended to do now that he'd been baited so beautifully.

Maybe it was all those things and more, a little nod of confirmation to the invitation that was their own happy ever after. No more Ray or Stella or Florida; but they had each other and that worked for them in a way that was closer to perfect than either of them had ever had.

For right now, it could just be the kiss. Ray's concerns had been addressed, and he was inviting Fraser back in. This moment was the one they'd been chasing up to, where wild desperate kisses in semi-public spaces finally gave way to time alone. Where they could kiss, and put their hands all over each other and let it build into whatever it wanted to become without reservation--restrained only perhaps by whatever Ray would let him have.

He slid half up into Ray's lap as he kissed him, tipping his weight forward, sliding his mouth firmly against Ray's and letting their tongues catch and slide and grind against each other. Desire stoked for the night like a fire, Fraser sought out the heat of his partner's mouth like he was coming in from a blizzard, longing for the safety and comfort of the familiar, but willing to draw it out for as long as they both could stand.

He was really kissing Ray, he thought again, with contentment this time. With the understanding that this wasn't going to go away--at least not for so long as Fraser held on as tightly as he could. Now they'd passed those barriers he could kiss Ray whenever he liked, could be kissed whenever Ray elected to do so. Their lives had changed, even if it was just in that simple physical way, and Fraser couldn't help but think it was for the better.

He felt loved. He loved. This was what living was really about.

He tried to guide Ray down on the couch without really forcing the matter, his free hand sliding up across his partner's side again, drawing his tongue back with such languid grace as to invite Ray to take his mouth in turn. It was give and take with Fraser--it hadn't always been that way. Ray had made him that way. ]

[kickem]

[That "Mmm" was replied back to with a low hum of his own, accepting and lightly amused because sometimes it really is best if Fraser just doesn't speak. He loves the guy, he really does, and he could admit that in more than just the platonic way now, but there were still times in their lives that the Mountie had ruined a perfectly good moment by opening his mouth and letting words fall out.

Yes, good, put that mouth to better use. Ray's already learning that it's a damn fine mouth, and a skilled one at that. Maybe it's all that licking Benton gets up to, or perhaps he's just read it from some book like he does with so many other things. Doesn't really matter so long as it's good, and Ray responds to it steadily, no rushing or pushing like they'd been doing moments before in the elevator.

Fraser was climbing into his lap, pushing into the kiss and using his weight as leverage. Ray didn't fight it, relaxing under the suggestion as he slid back into the seat, his back settling into the cushioned arm and allowing him to support his partners weight if needed. Both arms curl around Fraser's waist, loose but encouraging, hands settling at his lower back.

This he could manage. This was easy going and relaxing on his jittery, alcohol fuelled thoughts. Grappling and fighting over clothing was an all too appealing notion, but Ray's not sure if he'd lock up the second the underwear came off. No, this was better. This was more like dancing, one step at a time, building up to something beautiful.

He took the invitation of the kiss, chasing Benton's tongue with his own, curling and twisting against teeth and tongue with Ray's usual rapid sort of eagerness, even if the rest of his actions were slow and purposeful.]

[dogsled]

[ Falling into this kiss was like falling into the future. There were going to be more kisses like this--maybe not drunk ones, but more on top of more, and Fraser could embrace that. He hadn't ever really been the kind of man who thought that far ahead. He thought of cases, and occasionally of home, but only ever in a very abstract way, never in a way that took permanence and shape; a specter.

Now the future took the shape of Ray's body under his own. Of his mouth, his demanding tongue, the scrape of his teeth. It was quick and slow at once, deliberate and yet all over the place, and that was Ray through and through. Fraser sucked on his tongue, taking advantage of the moment in reflection of the way Ray had plundered his mouth as they left the elevator, and he shifted his legs and weight over, staying up in Ray's lap but now half straddling him, one knee up against his side, his other thigh between Ray's legs, his hip and Ray's hands keeping him in balance.

Oh they were dancing alright, but there were no steps, not with their feet off the ground. If angels danced, this would be how they did it. No hands and no feet, flying high on emotion and arousal. His hands rubbed up Ray's sides and crossed his chest, but there was no stopping to linger on his nipples--Fraser treated them like everything else, ran his hands across and moved on, curled into the wings of muscle of Ray's back instead.

The last time he'd tried to generate some friction between them, Ray had held him very still--vice like, even. This time he tried to be at least a little more subtle about it, languidly rocking his body against Ray's, panting sucking breaths into the kiss; slow and purposeful. It didn't demand anything more than a little bump and grind, and it was more instinct than anything else. Short of strapping Fraser down there wasn't going to be any keeping him absolutely still when it came to this. This was what all those muscles were really made for. Shifting, moving, working, rather than the constant stillness of a Mountie whose life was a parade.

A whole other side of him.

He bit Ray's bottom lip, withdrawing just for a moment, his eyelashes concealing the hunger in his eyes. ]

You can touch me too. If you want. [ It meant 'I'd like you to', but Fraser was careful to include 'If you feel like it's appropriate' in the general meaning. Just because Ray was down with the kissing didn't mean he'd necessarily want to touch, and that could be okay. This was still experimental, exploratory. ]

[kickem]

[It was still difficult for Ray to process the fact that this was actually happening. It felt like some odd dream and the alcohol wasn't exactly helping the hazy state of his mind as he settled into the embrace of the cushioned upholstery. His eyes kept drifting open during their kiss, observing the close up of his partner through half lidded eyes as if consistently checking who it was. It was Fraser. Fraser, the one who'd agreed to this, who'd accept the kissing and admitted out loud to his affection for Ray. The one person in Ray's life who'd declared any sort of love for him in years.

This could work. There's no reason why it couldn't. The two of them had resolved and worked their way through more arguments than Ray ever could with Stella. It was communication that had worked for them so well, some sort of understanding between the two during their working partnership that had meant they could read each other even when nothing was said. Stella had always complained that Ray didn't know how to talk to her, but perhaps she just didn't know how to listen to him, how to understand and read beyond his fumbled words and fast movements. Fraser knew Ray's language and in turn Ray had learned Fraser's.

And Fraser was definitely speaking his language now. Those drifting hands and purposeful rolls into him were enough to get him panting and gasping out softly into Benton's mouth, arching just lightly under him in encouragement.

He's almost glad when Benton withdraws, humming out a low groan at the teeth at his lip but sucking in a few well needed deep breaths.

Touch Fraser. If he wanted.

Of course he wanted. It was just such an alien concept to him to be getting this close, this intimate with virtually anyone but Stella. Sure, there'd been the odd woman here and there, but this slow and steady arching and curling into one another on the couch wasn't something he got a chance to often do. Especially not with male buddies.]

Yeah.

[Because that single word can mean a million different things, but right now it's something of a hesitant agreement. Yeah, he wanted.]

Hey, uh. Can I... uh?

[One arm slides free from Fraser's waist, and yes, that is his hand drifting to the front of his partner's jeans, fingers popping the button open while his eyes meet with that hungry gaze of Benton's, a questing, curious look in his own greyblue eyes. So maybe he had just given a lecture on his general disinterest in dicks, but this was different. It was just going to be a peek. A look. Maybe a touch. And this was Fraser, not some random guy.]

[dogsled]

[ A little space; a little gap between them, that was what was needed, because then both Fraser and Ray had a chance to breathe, a chance to get the perspective on what they were doing that they both needed. For Fraser it was a chance to acknowledge that yes, Ray did want him. He wasn't breaking his gaze or seeming the least bit unwillingly, and that brought him immense comfort.

For Ray, it must have given him similar confidence. Fraser just hoped it didn't fracture, hoped he didn't get overconfident and find himself regretting it when the reality ended up being too much to handle. Like Ray had said, he wasn't in it for cocks, and like it or not that was what Fraser had. No pretty feminine curves - although there was something undeniably feminine to his face that he'd taken advantage of before - no feminine parts. Make or break.

Honestly, he'd expected hands on his chest first, something experimental, fingers in his hair--he wasn't sure. Instead Ray's arm dropped back, one hand questing down the front of his jeans, plucking open the button. He exhaled a little harder, but he didn't break Ray's gaze to look down, at least not at first.

The thing was that as much as he was afraid of what might happen if he unsettled Ray, he was as much anticipating, wanting. He wanted to be looked at, wanted to be touched, and he couldn't really fight down that desire. Certainly if they were going to go further, they had to get past this stage first. He licked his lips in earnest, his mouth wet and his lips decidedly dry, shifting his hips forward, watching Ray--watching Ray's hand. ]

Do it.

[ And if he sounded the least bit desperate it was because he was. Aching, but also needing to establish their boundaries. He needed to know one way or the other whether this would be too much, and with every second that passed the question just resounded--could Ray do this? If he couldn't do it now would he ever be able to? Could he - would he - touch him, the way Fraser desperately needed to--wanted to be touched.

He tried to resist the urge to press up into that hand again, since the first time when the instinct had caught him off guard. He didn't want to frighten him, had to hold on. He held his breath; kept holding it. ]

Do it [ Whispered. ] Please.

[kickem]

[Experimental touches should have been the next logical step. But logical and Ray never really got on anyway.

He'd touched Fraser a million times before, a friendship that had stood the test of a hundred different life threatening moments that had only brought them closer each time. There'd been plenty of touching in the last few years, of buddy embraces and helping hands and huddling close for warmth. Canada had practically been nothing but close contact, where they spent months on end barely ever apart, and Ray learnt not to give the slightest of shits at whatever Fraser had to throw at him. Get naked and roll around in the snow? Sure, sounds totally fucking logical. Strip off for hot springs and those weird ass sauna huts? Whatever, might as well. Cuddle up close for body warmth? Well, it sure is cold enough not to argue with that one. And so on it went.

So Ray had seen it all, done it all. Well, almost all of it. He'd seen Fraser with his clothes off enough times now to know what to expect, and there's an unconscious knowledge of every inch of skin that he's seen. There's more than enough times that he's touched it too. Maybe not bare skin, not often, but damn he's had his hands on far too many bits of Fraser over the years, and now he's got lips to add to the list.

Dick is the next step. It has to be. He's touched and seen almost everything else, even if it'd all been strictly platonic at the time (at least he assumes it had been). Sure, he's seen it before, but it's not like he's ever stared. That's not buddies. Buddies don't take long, considering looks at each other's dicks, they just accept that it exists and it's there and that they're both naked and they get on with life. They certainly don't touch each other's dicks, not unless there's some totally life threatening reason where dicks must be touched, but that's some rule in the buddy code, Ray's sure of it.]

Y'know this is like a one way ticket to uh. To some place that's not buddies. A dick is a dick though, right?

[A reminder to himself just as much as it is to Fraser. But Fraser's already approved it, and Ray's already thought about it too much to back out now. If he backs out now he's always going to be wondering 'what if', and thinking about a guys dick forever more is probably much worse than actually going for it.

And so he goes for it, peering down between them as thumbs down the zipper and tugs at the jeans to give them both a little more working room and then, after the briefest pause for thought, tugs at those boxers too. Best to get the guy fully out of the house rather than peeking through a God damn window. And yes, Ray's looking, because he's been allowed to look.]

Heh, there he is.

[Dicks are a very mature subject for a guy like Ray.]

[dogsled]

[ There is a great deal of difference between this and well...and anything they'd done so far. Rubbing up against each other had been a stage. Shoving each other's tongues down each other's throats had been up there on the scale of challenge too. And then there was the peck on the lips Fraser had given Ray down in the ballroom, much to everyone's chagrin and some horror.

But exposing himself to him, and in particular being exposed by Ray himself, like his partner was opening him like a Christmas gift. That took a certain amount of restraint, and it was a challenge that Fraser hadn't realised would make such an impact on him when it came. It seemed like such an unremarkable thing, after all it was absolutely necessary if the two of them were going to explore any kind of sexuality in this situation--which was the plan, at least in Fraser's mind. But actually doing it...

Ray hadn't even helped him in and out of his clothes when he was running a fever, and though they'd been naked in front of each other - even with each other - before, in relieved moments where they'd found a hot spring or quick rolls in the snow, there was an unspoken rule of not looking (that Fraser had none the less broken on one or two occasions, to be fair) that held to this moment.

So he was remarkably tense as he waited, his right arm uncoiling from Ray to make space between them. He looked down into the gap, trying to keep his breathing steady as Ray's thumb worked the zipper down, and then he was rolling his hips, helping dislodge the jeans slightly, boxers slipping down his hips, his half hard erection springing free with a certainty that made Fraser hiss, turning his head into Ray's neck.

He flushed at his partner's words, ducked his forehead against Ray's throat. ]

God--I mean. I mean--that's very good, Ray. [ He shivered, licked his lips and panted into the hot gap between his own neck and Ray's collarbone. ] See...do you see anything you like?

[kickem]

[This wasn't so bad. He could do this. There was no awkwardness or anxiety behind the touches, no concerns about trying to impress or be someone he's not. Fraser already knew who Ray was and had no expectations of what he should and shouldn't be doing. They could be comfortable around one another and that meant far more to Ray than tits or good looking women.

If adjusting to dick was one of the only compromises he had to make, then things might not be so bad after all. Especially not if the mere act of exposing Fraser is enough to have him panting and stuttering over his words.

Ray can't help the low chuckle that he exhales out against Benton's ear, nuzzling in against his head to try and keep his viewing window clear. There's something about those words coming from his partner that entertains, the idea of dirty talk sounding just a little surreal coming from Fraser's lips and yet somehow that makes it all the more appealing. It's unheard of, not something anyone but him gets to hear, and that makes it damn special. Yes, he sees something he very much likes, but he saw that long before the pants came off.]

Yeah. Yeah, I can get with this.

[His hand hesitates nearby, resting at the top of Fraser's thigh as his thumb circles right near the base of that half-hard erection.]

So uh, you get this guy out much? I mean, no offence Fraze, but I'm havin' a hard time imaginin' you spankin' one out every night at the consulate.

[Because it's a totally appropriate conversation that needs to be discussed, and Ray can ask these sort of questions kthx.]