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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[kickem]

[Performance anxiety might leave Ray's excitement a little uneventful, but he can certainly feel Fraser's arousal against him, even through two layers of denim. He cant blame the Mountie for it, not when he's the one rolling his hips so effectively, but this was all a true test of friendship. A true buddy is one that can trigger an arousal and still look the other in the eye the next day. Hopefully.

For now Ray doesn't have to keep eye contact, not with his head lowered and his breath huffing out warmly against Fraser's skin. This can just be their moment without all the awkwardness attached to it. Just two guys getting a bit of entertainment from the company of one another's bodies. Nothing to do with the other people in the room urging them on.

Fraser's urging something about truth and Stan, who might have not entirely been listening for a second there, merely grunts out a quiet;] I know.

[It's the Italian that gets his attention back once more, causing eyes to roll as Ray's hand slips free of Fraser's allowing himself to sit slightly more upright once again.]

You want believable? Go get some cheap $20 an hour hooker and throw in a bed with me. People might fuckin' fall for that but they ain't ever gonna believe this guy let it outta his pants. He's like a fuckin' nun, okay? No one is gonna fall for it.

[dogsled]

[ Fraser was very careful to control his breathing, but only because that was all he had any control over. His arousal, and the racing of his heart, the way his emotions struggled to deal with the closeness of his partner--they were all uneasy things outside of his control, and no matter how good Ray was at this, it was going to change things.

God, it was going to change everything.

He shivered as Ray pulled back, looking only the more uncomfortable by the second, and he groaned, only letting Ray's hand go under duress, biting his own trembling lip. Sweat was beading on his forehead from concentration, and from the flush that had crawled up his neck. Not good not good. ]

Unnn--huh, Ray, please. I don't want him to hurt you. Just do whatever he asks. I-- [ He twisted slightly, his unhappiness evident. ] You're my partner. I'll do anything to protect you. So long as we make it out of this alive, nothing else matters. Okay?

[bluntobject]

[ Ray stood. Fraser was making this job so very difficult for him, but that was sort of the damn point, wasn't it? Make it uncomfortable for Ray and maybe he'd quit it and let them go, not make them go through with this. But that wasn't the way it was going to be. He was Armando Langoustini, he made his decisions and his rules and that was the end of it. His word was law, and his strength was in it too. The respect of the men around him came from knowing that he would never back down, and that he could kill in a heartbeat.

Ray came around the bed abruptly, circling like a cat to come into the view of the camera. He moved his right hand to Kowalski's shoulder, ran it just a little higher to his neck, and then leaned in, pressing into his space. ]

You wanna know what could ruin your life more than a little buggery between friends? Getting ass-fucked by the mob. Forget being dismissed, forget docked to half-pay. There wouldn't be anyone left who could stand to look you in the eye.

[ His breath fell against Ray's lips, as close as he was. But there were guns trained on him, like the weapon in his left hand, nudging against Ray's ribs. ]

But hey. Your choice, right? Who cares what he wants.

[kickem]

[Ignoring Fraser wasn't entirely hard, not when Ray had been teaching himself how to do so for a good year now, but it's still difficult to completely block out the trembling but excited body beneath him. Part of Fraser wanted this. There was something deep down stirring up that arousal and those quiet moans, something more than just not being used to personal touches.

Ray might have even pondered on it further were it not for the fact that the head guy was getting out of his seat for this occasion. So maybe answering back wasn't the way to play this, but Stan always had to try. Pushing boundaries was what he did, even if it did mean the possibility of a punch to the face or a gun in his ribs.

The closeness does get him turning his gaze away though, submitting to the invasion of his space with averted eyes and a clenched jaw. No one would be able to look Ray in the eye, just like he couldn't look now. It'd be an embarrassment beyond just rutting with a partner, impersonal and haunting. Everyone would know and he'd never forget it.]

Yeah. Yeah, all right. We got this. [Muttered through gritted teeth as his averted gaze only briefly flickers back to Fraser.]

Just uh... we're new to this, yeah? Just take it easy.

[There's the slow movement of a hand, the one at Fraser's chest trailing fingers lower until it settles between the two of them, right at the button of the Mountie's jeans. But that's it, nothing more and no sudden movements until he knows that gun won't be accidentally setting off against his chest.]

[bluntobject]

[ Ray knew what it would be like. He remembered similar kinds of humiliation being meted out on his peers when he was back in school, tracking in the heels of thugs and trying to keep his own head down so it didn't happen to him. Now he was the one in command, and his replacement just melted under the contact, submitted desperately like he could avoid it if Ray chose to go that way.

Eyes were averted, a head was ducked away. Poor guy. This wasn't what he'd signed on for, but hey, Ray knew that if he was in the same position he'd make the same choice. Between him and Fraser - some mob guy and Fraser - there really was only one way to go, and it wasn't going to be easy but at least they were facing it together.

The other thing. Well the other thing could fuck him up. At least he and Fraser would stay strong together, support each other. A shared experience.

He watched Ray's hand drop, and only then Ray patted Kowalski's cheek condescendingly. ]

Good boy.

[ He dropped his own hand, letting it settle briefly on Fraser's hip - only for a second - before snatching it away again. It was probably the last contact with him he'd have, and it was a hell of a lot better than the punch to the mouth he'd given him a short while before. Removing his gun, he moved back, moved out of shot, letting the two of them have their freedom again. ]

Slowly. Gently now, Vecchio. You know you can do this.

[kickem]

[God, what he wouldn't do to punch that asshole right in the face. Bite that patronising hand that touched him. Anything that would give him some level of satisfaction that he gave as good as he was getting. But no. Even he knew what a dumb idea that would be, and for once Stan had enough self restraint to know that physical violence might not solve everything ever, especially not when his friend is at risk too.]

Yeah...

[Mumbled yet again, more to himself than anyone, his attention turning back to the Mountie beneath him and, more specifically, his hand settled at the button of those jeans. He wouldn't be able to grip reassuringly to Fraser's hand, not where he was right now, sat upright and having to sort out all this clothing removal thing (what little clothing was left). Ray would have his hands occupied, but Fraser... well...]

Uh. Hey, uh.

[His hand briefly lifts moving to the other wrist and fumbles with the beaded bracelet there. It wasn't one he removed often, so there was a few awkward seconds of wrestling with it, but then it's off and shoved in Fraser's grip with a firm nod from Ray like he's certain that will somehow solve every issue ever.

And then his fingers are drifting south again, popping open the button and dragging down the zip without a fuss and yet faltering at that point. They were partners. Nothing else mattered. That's what Fraser had said, right? So this? They could get past this. Ain't no big thang. Although maybe there is one kind of big thing that he has to contend with at he quietly peels down those jeans and, shortly after, the boxers beneath. He doesn't get far, but it's enough to reveal what's beneath, and Stan can't help but exhale out a shuddering breath that he's not even aware he'd been holding.]

Fuck...

[dogsled]

[ It was awful to watch. Ray wasn't outwardly violent, no, but the words he used, and the presence he had as he pressed closer, looming and threatening with the gun in his partner's ribs, almost close enough to kiss him but meaning to do everything but. What Ray proposed doing to him was despicable--not that it was much better what he was proposing for Ray to do to Fraser.

Still, watching Ray submit the way he did was one of the hardest things that Fraser had ever seen. Watching him peel away from the hand on his cheek like a beaten dog cowering underneath the pressure. It was almost as hard to see as Ray Vecchio becoming a monster in front of his eyes, and while he'd once loved this man like a brother, the fact was that he wasn't that man any more, and Fraser was repulsed by his touch, flinching away from it.

He couldn't look at Ray, so he looked at Stanley instead, and found that bracelet pressed firmly into his hand--an anchor point, and frankly the one part of Ray that Fraser thought that he didn't let anyone touch. It made him feel closer than ever to the man above him, which was what he needed in this moment, his breath catching as Ray obeyed his former partner's - the mobster's - instructions.

Ray's hands seemed to be steadier than Fraser expected them to be, but that wasn't a surprise. Ray had steady hands on his own weapon, and...

Fraser's breath staggered as he was exposed, half hard despite the regret and humiliation. It was still Ray that was with him, touching him, undressing him; Ray that he squeezed between his fingers, feeding each of the beads through them. ]

I'll--take that as a compliment.

[kickem]

[Ray wasn't too good at following orders, never had been, but he could when the time called for it. Welsh was one of the few who could keep Ray in check, but that was out of sheer respect. This? This wasn't respect or really a general consent to doing as he's told. This was him biding his time and keeping him and his partner safe until the time is right. If there's any opportunity to get his own back, he will without hesitation. He's just a chained dog waiting to bite, and even with the clear show of submission against that sneering asshole, Stan's still bristling with an obvious agitation, like some constant attitude problem that he can't quite keep at bay.

Whatever. He needs to refocus on something that isn't anger, because otherwise he's just going to wind himself up and do something he'll regret.

Fraser provided the perfect focal point, laying beneath Stan with ragged breath and a slight flush like he might just be enjoying some side of this. His half hard dick gave a lot of that away too, and Ray really can't help but stare for a second.]

Heh. Show-er and a grower. No fuckin' surprise there.

[What with Fraser being Mr. Perfect and all. Of course he'd be just as appealing with his clothes off.]

So uh. Can I uh. I uh gotta touch, I guess.

[He concludes, his voice kept consistently quiet like somehow the other guys and the camera in the room won't hear him if he speaks a little softer. It's flawed logic, of course, but it makes him feel just a little more secure.

What doesn't make him feel secure is having to do crap like this, but his hand still drifts after the suggestion, fingers dusting up from the waistband to drift through dark curls and then, ever so briefly, the sensitive skin of his partner's cock. This was uncharted territory, but maybe if he could just consider this as his own, then muscle memory might just take over. It's an odd angle for his hands to quite recognise it as normal, but he still manages to persuade his fingers to return, coiling a light grip around the base and settling there like he's not quite sure where to go from there.]

We good...?