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]

[ 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.]