thelockbox | Benton Fraser

[It's that looming that's off putting. It's overbearing, especially when considering Fraser's six foot frame over a currently seated Ray, but beyond shoving the Mountie out the way, there's not much he can do about it. Maybe if he threatened a head punch later...

It doesn't really help that there's talk of thighs and creepy observations about himself. At the comment of his wrist, Ray's sparing a glance down at it as if uncertain whether what Fraser says is true or not. Ray's not exactly well versed with his own body, he's too distracted by everything around him.]

Huh.

Yeah.

[Well, whaddya know. But it'll take more than that to convince him.]

Scars aren't enough, Fraser. Scars aren't gonna seal any deals. Those places are all about the, the... the kinks. They're called fetish clubs for a reason. You go in and start listin' off scars and they're gonna think you're a freak. ... More of a freak.

[ Ray starts to help. It's good--it means that they got there eventually. In any case, a little cooperation from him now would go a long way. Especially considering where this conversation was heading.

If the conversation wasn't already 'I wish I could delete this from my brain' territory for Ray to muse over later, it most certainly would be after Fraser next spoke. ]

It mentioned that in the article. David, the man we found dead on the canal boat, seems to have been what they call a submissive. Our prime suspects are his ah--dominant - a woman who calls herself Lady Snakebite, - and potentially several other members of the club.

To infiltrate, we must claim similar identities, though if you mind my saying so Ray, the theatrical name seems rather superfluous to the point. So long as the aesthetic is flawless, everything else will fall into place.

[ The point, is he ever going to get to it? ]

It's obvious which roles we should each play. Don't you agree?

[If Ray didn't already want to bleach his brain, he'll likely want to by the end of the night. It's already getting beyond disturbing, especially once Fraser starts bringing up the case details that Ray's already well aware of. He really didn't need reminding about all the submissive and dominant stuff.

He nods along to the information idly, a sense of yeahyeahyeah about him as he waits for Fraser to get to the point. The trouble is, Ray keeps on nodding right up until the end and even after the question.

And then he realises there was a question.]

...

What?

Uh, yeah. That much is obvious, Fraser. We can tick that off our list.

[Obviously it's Ray.]

Good, I'm glad we agree.

[ Obviously it's Fraser.

But misconceptions will last at least. Oh. Ten seconds longer, as Fraser keeps on top of the situation otherwise. He moves away from the desk, inadvertantly not crowding Ray any longer. While he approaches his own glossy, bare-chested reflection in the otherwise black window, he carries on speaking. ]

Naturally our innate trust for each other will go some way to ensuring the success of the operation. The rest pivots - I think quite securely - on our being comfortable in our roles. Given our respective backgrounds, giving and taking orders should be simple enough.

That said, Ray, I think we should take this opportunity to... [ He paused, looking back over his shoulder. ] Practice. [ He drew the curtains shut abruptly. After all, Ray following orders was always touch and go. Ray Kowalski did what he liked, and went where he liked when he liked. But scratch that surface and Fraser knew there was a man underneath who might even find comfort in total subjugation. Or at least--it was obvious to him. ]

[There's something that doesn't sit right with Ray, even as Fraser walks away. Maybe it's Fraser's tone, the conversation topic, the current direction they're taking, or maybe Ray's just imaging it. But something is... different.

It shouldn't be different. This should be like any other case they've ever done.

All right, so there's a few extra issues here, especially when it comes to the invasive idea of fetish clubs, but surely it can't be that much of an issue. They can still go in, do their job and forget it ever happened, right?

Ray's just... got to take control of the situation and make sure this all works out. Fraser's made for submissive, surely. He's all about the yes sir, no sir stuff...]

Practice? [The curtains closing. The words. They're enough to throw Ray off his thoughts, frowning thoughtfully to himself. A topless Mountie talking about practising in the subject of this is really not processing right in Ray's brain.]

I uh. Do you need me to go? I should uh. Probably leave you to that. [Is this some sort of weird masturbation thing? He's going to go with that.]

[ Ray, does this look like a man who is unhinged by his own sexual tension? Or even knows what sexual tension is?

Curtains drawn and checked for gaps--Fraser doesn't really want any of this getting back to Thatcher in a million years: for one thing, this is an Embassy. He could only imagine the furor if someone were to snap a photograph of the two of them...practicing.

Assuming they ever got that far. Ray looked like he was about to bolt.

Might as well get right on with it, then. ]

For this to work, both of us have to be in the same place. It isn't the kind of thing I can practice alone.

[ Another careful step. Fraser didn't particularly want to have to chase Ray down the stairs in half his uniform. It wasn't going to look good when they woke up Turnbull where he was asleep under the stairs, and it wouldn't be any good for either of them to be interrupted by him either. ]

Lock the door, Ray. If you would.

[ And this was really the biggest problem with Fraser giving orders. Not Ray's possible disobedience, but the fact that he couldn't give any order that wasn't at once glaringly polite. They were doomed. ]

[Ray really does look like he's about to bolt. He even considers it for just a second, but soon comes to the conclusion that it'll get him no where. Maybe it'll get him out of this current situation, yes, but he'll still have the same discussion to face the next day and the next, until they can properly close this case down.

But this? This doesn't seem right. The shutting of curtains, locking of doors, being topless...

Still, Ray slowly rises to his feet and backs the short distance towards the door, only briefly decided whether to run for it now or stay and endure. He does open the door, but that's only to kick Dief out, although it would appear the wolf has enough sense to bolt out the second he has a chance. Lucky guy. But Ray does lock it after, quietly, staring at the lock for the longest time.]

Fraser. This isn't the sort of thing we should practice. This isn't like uh. like learnin' poker or, or, rememberin' book passages. This is real stuff. This is behind locked doors kinda stuff... ... other locked doors, not this locked door. I can't show you this stuff.

[Slowly looking away from the door towards the topless Mountie.] I can't teach you that submissive stuff, y'know.

[ There's a brief moment where Fraser sees the moment suspended, the door open, and Ray about to bust out as fast as his legs could take him, and then the door closes behind Dief, and the lock is turned, and Fraser listens to the sound of Diefenbaker trotting downstairs to lie on the mat by the door, where just the slightest hint of Chicago night breezes would keep him cool while he dozed.

And then Ray's speaking, and Fraser listens. Listens, and drops his chin toward his chest in silent thought, and only stirs again when Ray actually looks over toward him, face pinched into the slightest frown. ]

I didn't think you could. You forget, I happen to know you, Ray. I know that you're a man with a big heart, someone who joined the police force for much the same reason as I did--to do some good in the world. You taught yourself to dance, alone in the dark, when any other man would have exerted those efforts elsewhere. You took a bullet for me on the very first day we met, just because you could.

I know that this isn't the kind of thing you're comfortable doing, just as you know that I will go beyond the call of duty to bring to justice the person responsible for this heinous act.

I can't do this alone, Ray. I need you.

[Oh God, not this. The moment Fraser dons that expression and that tone, Ray knows a guilt trip is coming. It's quite a talent of Fraser's, using his words to tug at the heart and pull at ones conscience and even though Ray knows exactly what the Mounties doing, he still can't deny it.

It's all truth, after all.

He's dropping his chin too, eyes shutting for a moment as he exhales loudly.]

Alright.

Yeah. Yeah, we'll do this. But only to get these assholes. [It's not like he likes Fraser or anything /tsuntsun.]

So uh. I dunno. I guess you keep quiet cause I don't think subs get to talk.

[ Unlike in other circumstances Fraser doesn't even realize he's doing it for any other reason than to lay out the truth. It's just that the truth so often sounds like guilt tripping. The result is the same either way; Ray seems to at last accept his proposal, but only after keeping Fraser on ice for a few seconds longer.

Okay. Okay, this is progress.

Which is why he tilts his head abruptly at Ray's suggestion. That isn't how it works, is it? Do submissives get to make suggestions for rules? That sounds counterproductive. He blinks, twice, then takes another step forward. There's still half the room between them, but the flight risk has passed, at least for the time being. ]

I don't think that's necessary, Ray. Besides, without your commentary I suspect we'd have some difficulty making progress at all.

[This is already awful. Ray regrets everything. At least he's keeping himself sane with the vague assumption that this doesn't have to go too far, right? Maybe a few conversations and descriptions, nothing more. That should be enough to satisfy Fraser's curiosity and have them comfortable enough to do the job, surely.

Ray has to pause after Fraser's words, very visually trying to think it over. Something didn't make sense at the end there. Without his commentary? There must be some misunderstanding here.]

Nah, Fraser. Subs, like uh, submissive. Sometimes they keep quiet, yeah? So I'd be talkin', doin' all the natter, but you'd be quiet. Like uh, your normal Mountie stuff anyway. Speak when spoken to, be polite. It's easy stuff.

[ And realization strikes. They're on different pages, and for once it's Fraser who's noticed it first. There's the briefest swallow and then the usual lengthy syllable as he stalls for time as to how to address things: ]

Ah.

[ The truth was he hadn't even considered the possibility. The other way around? There was a certain amount of it that made sense, for sure. Ray wouldn't have to keep quiet, Fraser would be the disciplined and obedient one, nothing could possibly go wrong.

But it wasn't the way it had played out in his head. Because, well... He was the alpha. Wasn't he?

Out with it, then. ]

I imagined you to be the one filling that role, Ray.

[ Maybe too blunt. ]

[For a second Fraser's just getting a blank stare while Ray processes that, and then there's sharp exhale that's bordering on a laugh, head lowered and shaking as though he can't quite believe it.]

No. That is not...

That's not how it works, Fraser.

[A slight shift of his weight, arms folding as he puzzles this one out alone, coming to the greatest conclusion know the man kind.]

Okay, uh. How about this? You do what I say or I pop you in the head.

[ Did Ray actually just laugh at the idea? Which part was funny? The dominating Canadian part, or the idea of him playing submissive to Benton's whims? ]

I'm not certain that's how it works either.

[ Popping him in the head as punishment didn't really seem to fit with any of the literature he'd read so far, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was one of the kinks Ray kept talking about, though if the idea was mutual pleasure it still seemed an extreme sort of way of going about it. ]

You--ah, you'd prefer to be the one in control.

[ It said something that he wasn't pressing the 'Is that because you're afraid of losing it?' line. He wanted Ray to make the decision. Whatever they decided on, he'd have to be comfortable playing the role around other people. Perhaps it wasn't a wise idea to push him so far out of his comfort zone. ]

[Well, Ray's already decided this is dumb.

Obviously Fraser has no clue what he's talking about with all of this. Especially not if he thought he could get away with leading. What a silly idea that would be. Surely he knows that Ray's always been the boss.]

I am the one in control. You know me, Fraser, I'm the man with plans, I get things done, I take charge, I grab balls-- uh, bulls by the horns. I lead, you follow.

[It occurs to him that after this is sorted, he still has absolutely no clue what to do or how far they're meant to be taking this. For a guy with plans, Ray's very clueless on the whole matter. He knows the concept behind this bdsm stuff, just not how to teach a Mountie.]

[ Well that was definitely an awkward Freudian slip, but in any event Fraser's brain is working overtime trying to establish what he wants to do with this new turn of events. He can certainly accept it. Ray wants control, feels he's entitled to it--well then, why not let him try? Experience was the fastest route to knowledge.

Fraser licked his lips, gave himself just a moment longer to follow where the plan would lead with this adjustment, holding Ray's gaze while he made his decision.

Okay. ]

You lead, I follow. [ One measured blink. ] And you'd like me to be quiet. I can do that.

[ And as if to prove it, not another word was spoken. ]

[There you go. And this is exactly why Ray's clearly the perfect choice. His powers of persuasion are second to none when it comes to idle threats and throwing his weight around uselessly.

He allows himself a moment of smugness, smirking to himself as he witnesses Fraser fall silent, but the smugness is short lived. As expected he's left uncertain about what they've actually agreed to here, or, for that matter, what he's actually meant to do.]

So uh. Now we'd do the thing. I dunno. I guess there's all these props and and the verbal stuff. I mean, so I've heard.

You uh, you done research or somethin' on it?

[He's shuffling just a little closer, more so out of uncertainty of quite what he's supposed to be doing still.]

I mean, I know how to do it but the uh. This practice. What are we uh... practisin'...?

[ This is where it all starts to fall down around Ray's ears. Fraser obeys; obeying is the name of the game, after all, and in this case it could potentially mean the difference between winning and losing, or life and death if their suspect were to get trigger happy. He needs to do this right.

So he's practicing. Practicing being quiet.

All the response that Ray gets is the slightest tilt of his head to one side, and his eyes dancing back and forth across the other man's face. Fraser even half smiles and ducks his head at one point. It's all very charming, yes, but helpful? Probably not. But at the same time he has a lot of faith in Ray being able to find the answers by himself. He usually does.

Even if it occasionally comes at all the wrong times. His eyes narrow just briefly toward the end. Come on, Ray, you can do it. ]

[Well, it may all be very adorable were it not entirely infuriating. Ray doesn't even know what Fraser's doing at first, wound up as he is by his partner totally ignoring the questions he throws his way, but then he get its, he catches onto the whole silence thing.

Ah, he said subs had to be quiet so Fraser's being quiet. He gets it. Except...]

Fraser! This isn't a game. C'mon, I gotta, uh, I need...

[What he needs is help, but he can't ask help from the one guy he's just lectured about how in charge he is. So Ray supposes he should grab some ~~balls~~ bulls and starting running. There is, however, a vast amount of awkwardness that follows as he closes the final bit of distance between them, arms still folded and shoulders hunched defensively. When he does move, it's only to shift one hand, reaching out oh-so-slowly to carefully brush against that odd scar on Fraser's shoulder and then withdrawing seconds later.]

Okay, I'm done. We done? Practice over.

Edited 2014-07-16 05:18 (UTC)

[ He stays dead quiet, obedient, and sees where it leads him, and while it takes Ray just a moment too long to get it he does eventually, rallying to his own flag. After that it's time to see whether Ray getting it leads to him actually fulfilling their respective roles. Burying his own apprehension - he's let so many strangers touch him while he's playing statue that a friend touching him is nothing - Fraser submits, letting Ray come closer, reading his partner's own nerves in the angle of his body and the uncertainty of his touch against the ragged scar on his clavicle.

And then at once Ray is pulling back like the contact burned him. Pulling back, but not pulling away.

A long pause, deliberate eye contact, and now it's Fraser's turn. Fortunately he's only been given one order. Nobody told him to stand still and do nothing - that's not his job here - and when Ray seems like he's ready to bolt after all, Fraser only fills the space with quiet confidence, raising his hand to Ray's jaw and closing the distance between them to brush the sweetest of lingering kisses against his mouth. At least for that Fraser's eyes close. He'd count to three before he withdrew. Three seemed like a good, fair number. ]

[Even after he pulls away Ray can still feel the warmth of Fraser on his fingertips, burning into him. It's not even remotely the first time they've come into contact with one another, but this just feels different. This isn't two cop partners doing their normal duties, this is locked in a room with a topless Mountie trying to work out the finer points of dominance.

Usually he'd be glad to shut Fraser up for even a few minutes, but this willing silence is somehow discomforting, as if all he needs right now is the verbal approval that he just can't get.

Ray's tempted to bail out, to step back and walk away, but just as he's considering turning tail he sees the shift of Fraser's hand. Before he has time to think on it there's lips on his, soft and somehow reassuring and yet thankfully brief, his eyes slip shut for those few lingering seconds but other than that Ray doesn't react. Isn't really sure how to react beyond blinking back at Fraser after it's over, lips slightly parted. There's a logical part of him (yes, logic) that tells him how very, very bad this all is, and yet the other half would just as happily fall back into that kiss and against the supporting hand.

When he does eventually think of a reply it's with a quiet, dry voice.] ... I don't know if I can, uh.

[He's not even sure what it is he can't do. A lot of things, really.]

[ The non-reaction is one of those warning signs Fraser's attuned to look out for. It's almost as if it's Ray's pre-breakdown sign. Getting anger out of him is one thing, making him think is wonderful, and shocking him is a frequent possibility--but speechless and staring and not even vibrating isn't right, as though if Ray actually did stop moving he might cease brain function entirely. In fact, that Ray hasn't made a break for the door is almost worse than if he had. At least an attempt at escape might have been justified in this circumstance.

Fraser's hand, meanwhile, hasn't fallen away from his partner's jaw. It stays there, warm and reassuring, while Fraser brings the other up to find Ray's. It's easy enough when Ray's holding it out from his body ever so slightly, as though in touching Fraser it had acted without his permission. Very slowly, as though adjusting a rifle sight without disturbing his prey, he guided Ray's hand to his flank, where just the tips of his fingers would brush against the scar tissue on his back. Getting Ray to touch him was half the battle; in truth, the illusion of intimacy would be impossible without it.

The hand at Ray's jaw rose half an inch, smoothing Ray's flyaway hair back behind his ear, and Fraser leaned in close, brushing a kiss where his fingers had been once before, and softly breaking the rules that had been laid out for him, with the justification that if they were still undercover rather than really doing this, bending the edges of the rules might be important. He couldn't very well stay put as ordered if they had a footchase on their hands.

And Ray needed his reassurance. The silence was unsettling him, now he had it. ]

I believe you can, Ray. Trust me.

[The stillness remains just long enough to be slightly concerning, his attention still locked entirely on Fraser, his mind still virtually incapable of processing what's happening or how to go about it. Fraser, on the other hand, doesn't appear (at least on the outside, Ray can never speak for the Mounties mental state) to be having any issues with any of this, smooth and confident and oddly knowing just how to handle the situation. Ray's left like a fish out of water that's not even bothered to squirm out it's final death wriggle. He's uncertain and totally perplexed by the idea that any of this should ever be normal behaviour. Partners can't do this. This sort of stuff makes partners into... partners.

As Ray finally tunes back into the real world, he notices his hand moving- not of it's own choice- to rest at Fraser's back, fingers curling against the curve of his spine. All Ray can think about, yet again, is the heat, the warmth that drains into his fingers as he rests them there. He barely even registers the lips against his face, but just like that and for perhaps no visual reason, Ray starts to shiver. All pent up energy, frustrations, uncertainty and every single other emotion just fighting to get out. But he's scared to use them, not when it's Fraser.]

Fraser... this is uh, this is... heh. I uh, don't think we should, uh... [This feels more than practice for a job. This is intimate. More than Ray's used to. And yet still he hasn't pulled away or resisted.] You uh. You take the wheel for a second. [It's possibly cowardice, maybe even selfishness that has him passing the buck for an undetermined amount of time, but Ray doesn't want to be held responsible for anything this might change. If their friendship screws up, Ray likes someone to blame that isn't himself. And Fraser's so easy to blame.]

[ Fraser knows he's going to be handed back control long before it happens. He'd suspected it would happen at the very moment Ray had first recoiled. At last, it seems, some of that movement comes back, enough that Fraser no longer thinks his partner is about to combust on the spot.

Ray just needs time to adjust, to decide how this is going to work, perhaps even to unjumble some of the feelings he was having about it--though the latter sometimes seemed to take time and potential heartbreak to accomplish. Where Fraser's emotions were - in general - neatly ordered and pigeonholed, Ray didn't have that benefit. Of course he also didn't know that Fraser had considered kissing him long before this point; had imagined that one of the times Ray snagged his arm and pulled him through the door into Welsh's broom cupboard second office it might have been for something other than to be overheard talking. It had, at least, occurred to him, and that gave him an uncanny advantage.

Not that Fraser hadn't carefully and adjustedly buttoned up any such thoughts years ago, without a second thought, and shelved them for the sake of professionalism.

Carefully Fraser ran his hand up along Ray's arm, then up to his shoulder. His other hand fell from Ray's cheek, swiftly but gently moving to settle featherlight at Ray's waist. Three points of a dance hold, and Ray with the last part to do. ]

Put your hand on my shoulder, and close your eyes. Tell me: Can you hear it, Ray? The music?

[ Because if he could only give Ray something familiar to focus on, he might be able to help him to find his center. ]

[Any concept of kissing before this point had never even crossed Ray's mind. Or if it had, he'd certainly buried it deep. Sure there'd been that time in the sinking ship that had caused a few alarming questions to spark in Ray's mind, but Fraser had brushed it off so casually as 'routine' that he'd pushed it no further. After that, Ray had done well in keeping any thoughts deeply closeted.

Perhaps that's part of the reason for the energy thrumming inside of him, something that's long been locked away that's finally getting it's time in the open air, although still resisted rather spectacularly by Ray.

When Fraser starts to move in a way that's familiar, Ray doesn't fight it. He lets his friend fall into what he recognises as a dance hold, and ever so slowly he responds. He keeps the hand at Fraser's back for convenience sake, fingers dusting against the vicious scar tissue, a little too low for anything deemed professional but this is just between friends. His other raises, hesitates mid-air and then makes the decision to do as instructed, resting a loose grip at Fraser's shoulder. It's all done in one movement, his eyes slipping shut as he does so and inhaling heavily. When he does exhale, it's with a slow, thoughtful hum, nodding carefully along to Fraser's words. He listens, he listens with everything he's got, focusing every point into the two of them, into the wind outside, the quiet ticking of a clock in the distance, of their breathing currently no quite in sync and their heartbeats the same. Ray can make anything into music, he can shuffle in silence when without a sound system.]

Yeah. Yeah, I got it. [And he's swaying just slightly against Fraser to his own little rhythm.]

Edited (you didn't see that typo) 2014-07-16 16:11 (UTC)

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