thelockbox | Benton Fraser

Benton Fraser | Due South

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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[Oh, he picks up on the careful teasing. It's oddly reassuring to hear Fraser be something other than his overly polite self, and it makes Ray smile ever so lightly into the the embrace. Now that they're standing there, hold still in place, their warmth doesn't feel so distracting any more. Even Fraser's careful shifts and brushes against him feel less uncomfortable. It really is amazing what dancing can do for the sake of his sanity, to calm his nerves and allow him to lose himself.

He huffs out an amused exhale against Fraser's skin before finally drawing back just enough to spare a glance to his partner. It's a tough question to decipher, but the meaning is easy enough to know.

Ray ducks his head out of sight again to ponder over his reply, not entirely sure on his response.]

I uh. I can show you. Show you what you gotta do. What to expect, yeah?

How I should act?

[ It takes him a moment to wrap his head around it; he has to reflect on the entire conversation, in fact, but when he meets Ray's eyes, thoughts processed, he thinks he understands. Ray will show him how to play his role, then tomorrow night when they took this to the club, Ray might perhaps be more ready to take the lead.

This was the only way that Ray could say it that wasn't so blatantly obvious. The only way he could hand over the wheel without taking his hands off it. ]

I understand, Ray.

[ And Fraser leans back into the space, and in a low timbre he enunciates his way through the languishing melody of the ook pik waltz, guiding Ray in slow, careful steps. Leading, rhythm and steady calm, spoken words murmured into the break in the melody: ]

I'm going to kiss you again, Ray. [ More soft humming. ] Don't be afraid. [ And more; ] This time, I would very much like it-- [ Too many words, but their feet are light, so soundless across the floorboards that they may as well be dancing on air. He finished the refrain, brought them back down to earth and bumped his nose against Ray's. ] --if you were to kiss me back.

[ Like so. His kiss is just as tender as before, but this time Fraser lingers, waiting for the reciprocation he'd asked for. ]

[If nothing else, Ray can rely on Fraser to almost always understand where he's coming from. Even without words, they tend to somehow get one another's plans. Ray wasn't exactly clear on his meaning, but Fraser still understood, still got the passing over of the lead without Ray ever actually having to admit it with proper words.

He could dominate, sure. Ray's displayed that in the past without question, in fact, his whole bravado tended to rest on being the over confident 'alpha' male, squaring off with fist fights and countering every little issue he could with loud arguments. But with the intimacy as it was, with Fraser being... Fraser, and the vague awkwardness that still lingers in Ray's conscience, it's difficult for him to really let go when he's uncertain. And around Fraser it's so easy to just do what he says.

The distraction of the humming keeps his mind in check, keeps him from over thinking it all too much because yes, Ray Kowalski does over think just occasionally.]

Yeah. Okay.

[This time he's ready for it, with ample warning and the relaxing thrum of a waltz still stuck in his head and leading his feet. He's used to this sort of embrace, of kissing while dancing, losing himself to the rhythm and feel, and as Fraser's lips brush against his he's ready to react. His head tilts for a better angle, lets the linger happen for just a moment longer before pressing into the kiss, mouth parting just slightly. There's still that distant reminder that this is Fraser in a back office of the consulate, and it niggles just enough to keep Ray in line.]

[ Fraser can almost feel him over-thinking it, and while he's confident he's settled much of it with the waltz, there's that distant uncertainty in the kiss that he can't quite put his finger on, but which he would guess was related to the fact that they were close friends, and this sort of intimacy wasn't something either of them really knew how to work with.

Well...that wasn't totally true. Fraser knew what to do. Okay, he knew the basics. The rest he'd work out as they went along.

He knows it's too easy. That a kiss can be a kiss but that it's also so much more than that, and he can pretend otherwise but...well, here they are. Kissing. Intimately. In his office. He should pinch himself just to make sure he's not dreaming. Ray's mouth was pliant, but more importantly Fraser was suddenly aware of his partner's coordination, the way Ray's body shifted in perfect rhythm without disturbing the kiss, the fact that he didn't fumble or stumble even for a second. He was almost a different man like this; the man that Fraser had seen hinted at beneath the chaotic surface. A beautiful soul of a man, and this a side of him that few people ever saw. Felt. Kissed.

Fraser turned half an inch of height into a mile, inclined the kiss so that Ray's face was turned upward, putting him in his place. There was a roughness there, raw power restrained, as Fraser's teeth caught against Ray's bottom lip, barely there as he sought the opportunity to deepen the kiss still further. When he did, Ray's mouth was his dominion, and Fraser didn't hesitate, lashing his tongue against Ray's own, all but counting each of his teeth in turn. There was no holding back. ]

[In some ways Ray isn't surprised at just how well they soon sync up, bodies moving together without mistakes made. He is surprised that Fraser has some semblance of rhythm considering his previous displays but he doesn't have much time to think on it considering the current situation.

As the kiss opens up, the movement from Ray's dancing comes to a slow stop, his previously leading hand clasping onto Fraser's slowly lowering itself. Once his focus is drawn towards those lips it's difficult to focus on much else, and it's definitely not easy to draw attention away from just how swiftly Fraser ramps it up.

Tender and lingering soon becomes raw and unrefined, overpowering even in the brief display shown. Fraser uses his height to his advantage and Ray really can't criticise him for that, can't even do much beyond relent against the force of it all.

While Fraser's witnessing a calmer more co-ordinated side of Ray, Ray's witnessing virtually the opposite from his partner, rough and overbearing and very un-Canadian. And yet it's something he knew had always been there, even witnessed the briefest flash of something on the rare times Fraser displayed annoyance, anger or even attraction. It's the wild spirit for a man of the wild, untamed but very well restrained.

The ownership over his mouth manages to get a soft moan from him, almost bordering on a whine as presses his own tongue into the fray, battling back without trying to press any advantage. He may decide to argue, in time, but for now he'll see just how much Fraser knows of all of this.]

[ As Ray stills, so does Fraser. He's far too occupied to even consider trying to split his attention to urging the dance on again. Much too busy.

From Fraser pours raw, almost unrefined passion, urged on by Ray's tender moan, by the clash of a tongue against his own, albeit only one that challenged his advantage without actually having the fight to press it. Where the first kiss had been the first round in a boxing match, testing, this kiss was the second round in turn. Ray let the blows come, and both of them had the quiet understanding that they could both do real harm if they really wanted to.

Wild passion was what lurked at Fraser's core. Serenity at Ray's. Well--Serenity broken by pleasure, or surprise, or...whatever that sound meant. Fraser couldn't be sure. Maybe because he hadn't ever heard it before. The tongue lashing had to stop, but only because he was panting, and only because in a single step - while his usual control had been slipping - Fraser had pushed Ray back the one step between himself and Fraser's desk, and the phone had rattled from the impact enough to make a startled ringing sound. His hands unwound, settling on the edge of the desk, and the kiss hung in place but a breath apart, while Fraser tried to stop some of the spinning in his head. Maybe...maybe he wanted this far too much. They should slow down. He was forgetting his mission.

There were a thousand good reasons.

He licked his lips, suddenly more nervous than he cared to admit. ] Something like that?

[If this were a boxing match, it's hard to tell who's winning. Fraser certainly has the advantage- one they'd both agreed on- but Ray most certainly wouldn't call himself a loser in all of this. This was impossible not to enjoy in some sense of the word.

He's almost to the point of making complaint the instant Fraser withdraws but the shove of weight stops him, his previously well balanced stance becoming a clumsy stumble as he can do little more than let gravity take it's course. The desk does break his fall, but it's so solid that it gives no resistance to the weight of the both of them slamming into it. Naturally Ray takes almost the entirety of the force, grunting out a hefty exhale and struggling to gather air back into his lungs. The distraction of Fraser makes it all the more bearable, and with his closeness of them both still there it settles Ray to get his breath coming back steady and deep.

When there is a pause for reflection, he loses himself to staring up at his partner, his own expression curious as he tries to read into the emotion on Benton's features.

He gets the dilemma they're both facing, and just how far this could go, but in true Ray fashion he decides to finally sweep too much of the logic aside and listen to his currently rapidly beating heart.]

That's about it, yeah. [Exhaled out.]

More to it than that though.

[With a sudden case of noodle limbs, Ray's arms slip away from Fraser, using the moment to attempt and awkward shrug out of his hoody in the confined space he has.]

Edited 2014-07-16 23:58 (UTC)

[ For one brief, terrifying moment, Fraser thought that perhaps Ray was about to try to wriggle his way to freedom. His instinct was to let him, shocked more at himself after all for the sudden burst of unrelenting, unfamiliar passion. It took him the space of a staggered heartbeat - too long - to realize that Ray wasn't going anywhere. All he was trying to do was get out of his clothes.

Nothing wrong with that, right?

No. No, he was missing something here. Control; he was supposed to have control. And there was nothing controlling about letting Ray squirm his way out of his clothing of his own account. Fraser only hesitated for a moment longer, and then he was tilting himself back upright--albeit reticently, he'd been quite happy where he was. ]

Stop.

[ The word - the order - felt strange in his mouth, especially considering how badly he suddenly wanted - needed - Ray to do anything but stop.

But there was more to it than this...this very real risk of simply pouring frantic energy into each other like teenagers in the dark. It wasn't why they were here, and Fraser would find it hard to justify himself if they didn't achieve any of the goals they'd set out for. Maybe this was the real problem with the way he lived his life. So much passion pent up like this wasn't good for a person. His mouth felt dry, his breathing was anything but even, but he drew himself back enough that Ray would be able to sit back up should he want to. Or need to.

A deep breath. Another. Fraser counted all the way down from ten, then gave the slightest nod of his head. ]

Okay. Now you can take it off. [ Was that enough? He amended it: ] Slowly.

[The order comes out sharp. Sharp enough to have Ray halting mid squirm, frozen to the spot with one arm twisted awkwardly half out of a sleeve as he stares at Fraser with a light frown of questioning. At first he wonders if something happened, if perhaps there was an urgent need for Ray to keep his jacket on, or for him to stop squirming for fear of breaking something, but when nothing further comes for some time, he's just left there guessing, unmoving.

And then he gets it, a sudden realisation as Fraser sits back that the halting was part of it all. Part of this 'practice' they had going on. Communication was important, he considers, as is doing as he's told, but that may be a little more difficult. Ray's not used to getting permission for things, especially not dressing or undressing himself.]

Fraser-- [He starts with an eye roll as the verbal 'order' comes but catches himself the moment the name leaves his lips. It's either this or him trying to give the orders and he's not really sure what the better choice is right now. So he'll play along, the pause they've had bringing back some of that cockiness as he starts up his actions again. With the added space he's now got he can arch himself upwards and easily allow the garment to slip from his shoulders and down his back. The gun holster at his shoulder is snapped off quickly, dropped aside easily and then his hands drift down the flat of his own torso, crossing over one another as he reaches the hem of his t-shirt. And then he pauses, head tilted downwards as his eyes flick up to Fraser, all blue eyed and sultry as his lips curl up into a roguish little smile, mischievous and cocky and only broken by him tugging the shirt upwards and off, ruffling his hair on the way.]

[ Fraser should have been warned. Someone should have warned him that Americans could do this very well. In the Yukon, getting in and out of clothes was all about haste and practicality. Stopping to actually absorb the show didn't occur to people when it was ten degrees below. Ray, on the other hand--Ray knew what he was doing, and Fraser was by no means ready for what the demonstration would do to him.

It was true. If they did this in the club and somehow Ray was able to be submissive in a public venue, Fraser would ruin the whole thing in short shrift, either by being too conservative or else melting under the power of a single lascivious look.

Or in this case a grin.

Maybe it was because Ray had caught him looking. From the start he hadn't been able to take his eyes off him, and even though at one point he deftly reached out to push Ray's gunbelt - and his own, similarly discarded - into the top drawer of his desk, Fraser hadn't so much as glanced down to do it. His cheeks were flushed, lips already bruising from the kiss, slightly parted, and as Ray's hands flattened against his abs it took everything in his power not to reach out. The cocky smile was his final breaking point. Instinctively Fraser laid his hand in the very center of Ray's bare chest, as though he could somehow hold the effect Ray was having on him down.

It didn't work. The bare skin under his hand was hot, and Fraser's hand crept higher, and a moment later he was leaning over him again, skin almost touching skin, his face tilted back slightly away from Ray's. It was fortunate he'd come up with this part ten minutes before. Without his predisposition to plan in advance, Fraser would be speechless now, and Ray and his mischievous grin would have won. ]

We're going to play a game, Ray. [ His hand moved back down again. Fraser was almost close enough to kiss him. Almost. ] The rules are very simple. I ask you a trivia question about myself, and for every right answer you give me--well, you'll see. Do you want to play? Of course you do.

[ It wasn't as though Ray had a choice. That was Fraser's call to make. ]

The first one is easy. What year was I born?

Edited 2014-07-17 01:50 (UTC)

[That method was experimental on Ray's behalf, seeing just what buttons he could push while still doing as he's told. It would appear there were ways to make himself feel in control for just seconds at a time while following orders, just like in his work. This time it just meant throwing a few tempting glances and lascivious little smiles. He can work with that, and apparently it works just fine with Fraser too who certainly looks to be appreciating the show judging by the unwavering stare.

The top is tossed aside carelessly, his arms behind himself and using his elbows to prop him up just enough that when Ray leans down they're practically torso to torso. His heart thumps against the warm touch of a hand, his slim chest rising and falling under it and he briefly considers how the skin almost burns under the heat of Fraser's palm.

There's some surprise that Fraser's even able to structure proper sentences, but worse is the fact he's asking Ray to do the same. To think. Ray knows Fraser's basics, knows the file he glanced at before he met, but that seems so long ago. How Ray's meant to recall any information while laying under Fraser, let alone his own birth date, is a mystery. Oh and thanks for making decisions for him Fraser, real appreciated.]

Uh. [He stares for a moment, distracted but trying desperately to kick his brain into gear.]

Nineteen, uh. Nineteen.. sixty-- uh. [God, it's got to be around then, similar ages. He's trying desperately to recall those files.] Nineteen sixty... ?

Edited 2014-07-17 02:16 (UTC)

[ Trying to think straight is how Fraser gets out of most situations like this, and in this one all he wants is a little bit of rudimentary control, the chance to do something before his bones turn to slush from the efforts of the volcanic hot blood in his veins melting the rest of him away.

That isn't to say that Fraser intends to play fair, and as soon as Ray begins to try to speak, Fraser lowers himself several inches, pressing a kiss to the center of Ray's chest, just above his fingers. He lays his cheek down, dragging it over to the left. Nineteen sixty, Ray says. Good start. He's almost there.

And surely this one is plenty simple. Surely Ray remembers when he was born. After all it isn't much to ask that his closet friend actually remembered any of the things Fraser told him, right? Really, Kowalski! You had one job!

But Fraser waits, and nothing materialises, and his eyes flick briefly up toward his partner's again. Well okay then. If he's disappointed, Fraser doesn't show it; instead he keeps on. His mouth smooths kisses against Ray's right pectoral - Fraser's left - and his tongue lathes across Ray's nipple, no hesitation at all as hit mouth closes over it.

No hesitation when he bites, just hard enough to cause pain. ]

Sixty-two. [ And because it wasn't easy enough, apparently-- ] What's my father's name, Ray?

Edited 2014-07-17 02:42 (UTC)

[Ray's energy is definitely back in full force, jittering slightly as he lays still under Fraser, a coil of anxious nerves as his answer sits in the air. He knows it's wrong, deep down, but it's a guessing game with the space of a few years. If he actually really thought about it he might have dragged the answer up, but Fraser really isn't helping the matter with his lips.

He watches Fraser carefully and the second their eyes connect he knows he's got it wrong. Not that he has much time to worry himself over it because without warning there's teeth, and they're biting sharply around the flesh of his nipple. Ray hisses out heavily, unable to recoil beyond jerking under Fraser's weight.]

Ahh! Fraser! Wh-- [What the actual fuck. Although his rant is rather thankfully cut short as the next question comes, Ray briefly dwelling on the last answer, and he pants out heavily. That bite certainly got his blood flowing.]

Sixty-two. I meant sixty-two. I knew that. I... [Come on Ray, focus.] Gad, uh. I don't... uh... Robert!

Edited 2014-07-17 03:04 (UTC)

[ At least he'd be more careful about getting his answers right now; now that it was clear Fraser knew what to do with wrong answers after all. Fraser's bite was definitely worse than his bark, and the illusion of being the quiet, polite, gentle type worked in his favor when he did occasionally flash his teeth.

This time, Fraser lets Ray hang on the answer. It was right - and he deserved to see what getting a right answer would win him - but that didn't mean he couldn't keep him guessing, tension mounting.

Again Fraser brushed kisses across Ray's chest, contouring muscle with his lips, tasting the salt sweat on his skin. His other hand mirrored his kisses, working his fingertips in gentle circles, and as he took Ray delicately back into his mouth, soothing the bite with the full width of his tongue, he mirrored that too, stroking with thumb and forefinger, never pulling or scratching.

This time there's no sudden stop, no eye contact, no admonishing snap of teeth. Fraser's eyes close, and he lends himself to listening; listening to Ray's heartbeat, his breath, but most importantly listening for the first moan. The moan would be his indication to stop, and with any luck Ray would pick the pattern up quickly. ]

[It's never been in question that Fraser can be quite vicious if he let himself go, at least Ray had worked that out long ago. That much become obvious from limited displays during their working partnership and now Ray's being subjected to it in full force. Granted it's only a bite, but it's surprisingly effective in getting the point across.

As is Fraser's method of rewarding.

Ray does briefly wonder if his memory has failed him yet again and he's somehow got it wrong, but after some anticipation there seems no punishment coming. In fact, after some soft ministrations and kisses, Fraser seems to ramp up his action, causing Ray to squirm under him for entirely different reasons this time. The build up of gentle touches and a warm tongue quickly gets him panting under the other, rolling his head back as he accepts it eagerly. It's not long before one of his panting exhales sound out a soft groan, encouraging and needy.]

[ It feels like it takes everything in him just to get that far. By the time he withdraws Fraser is panting too, if only because it turned out that pinning down a twisting, writhing mess of Chicago detective was harder work than it looked, and it had seemed to him almost as though Ray had rubbed himself all over both the desk and Fraser himself in the process.

Breathing hard when he breaks away after the moan, it takes everything in Fraser's brain to try and stay connected to what he's trying to achieve, only this time before he asks the question Fraser brings his feet up off the floor, heaving himself up onto the desk to hover more thoroughly over his partner.

Clear his head, try and come up with an adequate question. Don't melt into a puddle at the smoky lust in Ray's eyes. Keep it together, Fraser!

Why was his mouth constantly dry when Ray has him all but salivating to step up the frenzy? ]

As you...know, Ray-- [ Breathing is nice, breathing is good, breathing is useful. ] --Diefenbaker lost his hearing when he...jumped into the frozen ocean to save me from drowning. But what was the body of water called? [ A pause. ] No, that's too hard. Too hard. [ Fraser shuddered. If he kept on with hard questions (difficulty was relative) like that they'd never get anything done. If he could barely think, he couldn't imagine how Ray felt. ] How about just my first name? Sound good?

[And just like that Fraser stops? Hardly fair to get Ray that worked up only to draw back once he really starts to get into it. Distantly he realises that that's probably the point, but it doesn't prevent Ray from grunting out his complaint.

He would voice his annoyance but he needs to give himself a second to get his breath back, shifting the weight off his elbows to flop his weight back onto the desk. Anything that was on it has mostly been shoved off by now, so at least his spot will be somewhat comfortable, if one can count solid wood comfortable to lay on.

As the next question comes he keeps his attention on Fraser, listening carefully as he tries to let the words sink in. The first question thankfully gets passed over in favour of something much, much simpler and Ray's stating his answer smugly.]

Benton. Benny. Ben. Do I get a prize for that, Ben? [One hand reaches out towards Fraser, looping around the back of his neck, a not so subtle hint to try and get him closer once more.]

[ It's not fair at all, and Fraser accepts that. Frankly any plans that he had to draw this out have evaporated with his own need, and Ray looks so good beneath him that it's almost hard to remember his own name in the first place. Fraser is distantly aware of the fact that he's not very good at this, that the giving orders thing has been a routine of very polite and diplomatic actions punctuated at last by Fraser submitting to his own pleasure more than Ray submitting to him. But it can't be helped, and at the very least intimacy probably isn't going to be a problem. In fact Fraser was almost sure he'd still be basking in the afterglow in 20 hours time, willing to do whatsoever Ray wanted without question (a frankly awful habit he's got into, to be quite honest).

He trusted Ray. He wanted him, and when he was urged down, Fraser let his mouth fall on Ray's without hesitation, though he broke the kiss only a moment into it to breathe-- ]

Only prize-- [ Wait for it. ] --worth having.

[ And then the kiss took over; not Fraser, the kiss itself was in control, and it was wet and earnest, bleeding passion and energy, and only served as a smokescreen to Fraser deftly unbuttoning Ray's fly with one hand, pressing his hand into warmth that gusted the overwhelming scent of arousal into the superheated space between their two bodies. His fingers curled around Ray without hesitation, and Fraser gasped into the kiss, arching his own back. His booted foot slipped on the glossy surface of the desk.

Well. Ray did ask for a prize. ]

Edited 2014-07-17 04:55 (UTC)

[Ray hasn't exactly been holding up his end of the deal either, his initial promises of teaching thrown out the window almost immediately, far too distracted to give Fraser lectures on kinks. Doesn't seem like the Mountie is doing too bad anyway, he's certainly understood the basics of demands, rewards and punishments, not to mention a handy little lesson on familiarity as well. Better than Ray can manage to do in his current state of smug neediness.

He's glad for Fraser dropping into the kiss without much encouragement, Ray soon working with it after the words had been uttered. This was all definitely a prize worth having and if it had gone no further, he'd still be happy. But it does go further, and swiftly so, Fraser's hand between the two of them, working at the button and zipper of Ray's jeans and slipping within. The slightest touch has Ray arching heavily up into Fraser, working with his partner's own arch, and there's that squirming again, only tapered slightly by Ray's focus on the kiss. The light moans of breath are his appreciation, but just in case it needs it, Ray manages to gasp out some form of words against lips.] So good...

[ Distracted is good. Distracted is almost the name of the game now, because if Fraser stopped even for a second to think - assuming he could get his brain to function to do so - he'd be appalled with himself for rutting so shamelessly against Ray's hip, for every twitch and tug of his fingers, even for the hard, formless gasps of syllables panted against Ray's mouth. It's not really much of a kiss from Fraser's end by now, it's open mouthed and mostly breathing, inhales and exhales that gusted as of yet unrevealed passion straight into Ray's lungs. Not for a second does Fraser consciously think of himself, but there's enough space inside his breeches to make him painfully uncomfortable and enough desire for Ray to obscure it, a delirious mix of pleasure and pain that Fraser wouldn't think to question.

The kiss couldn't be kept up. Hell, Fraser could barely keep his head up, despite his efforts to the contrary, and when he eased back his eyes met Ray's for barely a second. Barely a second and already more than long enough. With a groan he pressed his face down into Ray's shoulder, and his blunt nails dug crescent moons in the lacquered surface beside Ray's head, muscles working, everything a riot of noise that left straight thought far behind. The Mountie was falling apart, knew it, and couldn't care less. A snowstorm raged behind his tightly closed eyes--he felt like he was shouting through it for his partner to hear him. ]

Ray!

[ Because they're not in the Consulate alone or anything... ]

Edited 2014-07-17 05:27 (UTC)

[Well, so much for not rutting around like pubescent teens, because between all the writhing and moaning, that's exactly what it's come down to. Not that Ray has any complaints, happy as he is to jerk and wriggle beneath Fraser's skilful hands, panting against his partners mouth as they both give up all attempts at a proper kiss while like this.

Ray wants to return the favour, and even with those breeches he manages to blindly fumble between them, brushing against Fraser's hand before finding the zipper and tugging it down. Trouble is, he's not even touched the Mountie and he's shouting out, so maybe, just maybe, it might be best to try and sort that out first.

Despite the heavy breathing, the groans, even the arousal, Ray manages to drag some sense back into his brain, tilting his head and lips towards Fraser's ear.]

C'mon, y'wanna wake the neighbourhood up? Just... [A soft groan to break the words up.] Tone it down before I gotta gag ya.

[The last thing he needs is anyone knocking on the door. Although he doesn't appear to make any attempt at helping Fraser with this keeping quiet thing, because once it's said he slips his own hand within, quickly making it's way to and carefully brushing fingers against Benton's arousal.]

[ As Ray speaks up, Fraser experiences a moment of surprise, a flicker of it that's there and gone in a heartbeat but is more than enough--if not to bring him crashing down to earth then certainly to slow his ascent. He didn't want to be floating around in the high atmosphere without Ray, and he realized at once that this was where he wanted to be. Right here in Chicago, not spinning in deep space or in the echoing wilderness where noone could hear him cry out.

Here. With Ray.

He'd almost managed to shake his way out of delirium when Ray touched him. Everything span, and for a second that was all Fraser could feel: disorientation and the sensation of being about to pop out of his skin, and Ray's erection squeezed maybe too hard between his fingers. He bit clean into his bottom lip to keep quiet, and the pain was dazzling, spots dancing behind his tightly closed eyes. Dancing, spinning, whirling--wait, wait. Reality. Reality and Ray.

Fraser managed to peel open his eyes, force himself to unclamp his left hand, and though the effort made him shudder head to toe, he found the height to look down at Ray again, trying to negotiate a position where he could lock his shoulder and maintain it. His lips glistened red, but some of the clarity had at last come back into his eyes. Some of the recognition. ]

Ray. [ More softly this time, though he had to expel the rest of his excess energy as a gasp thereafter. ] Are you... [ He didn't even know what he was asking. Was Ray okay? Comfortable? Had Fraser hurt him? Could he keep up? ...Maybe a gag wasn't a bad idea. But he couldn't think of his questions long enough to express them; not with the state of his desire, and the idea of moving off the desk was so remote it may as well have been in Greenland. ]

Edited 2014-07-17 13:38 (UTC)

[Almost amazing how, out of the two of them, it's Fraser that's losing himself. How that glazed look and far away feel- which Ray had picked up on- was happening from the usually controlled Mountie rather than the out of control cop. But maybe that's what happens when you keep yourself locked up so tightly, when you finally open the floodgates. Ray, on the other hand, is very good at controlling the out of control. He's used to his mind racing a hundred miles an hour, used to having his emotions sizzling and his body shivering with anticipation, used to the knots of anxiety in his stomach and the flighty instincts of his body. This isn't beyond affecting him, not by any means, but there's something a little more aware about his light moans and quiet writhes.

At least Fraser's not beyond speech, if one can call those few gasped words that. But Ray gets what the Mountie means and he's nodding his distant approval. He gets what Fraser's aiming for and his answer to virtually all of it is a resounding yes.]

Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. [Huffed out with satisfaction as his hips still arch unconsciously into the touch, even that hard clamp down from earlier getting little more than a guttural growl from him. Maybe he likes that sort of thing, maybe he's just aware it's not on purpose, either way he doesn't complain.

He sees the struggle behind Fraser's eyes enough to halt the movements of his hand for a moment, still maintaining a loose grip while his other hand reaches up to cup Fraser's chin.] C'mere. Hey, hey, stay with me.

[He lifts himself enough to make contact, lips very briefly brushing against Fraser's before he diverts his attention to that abused bottom lip, sucking on it lightly as his tongue soothes against it.]

[ Maybe that's it. All these years of suppressing anything should it prove too flustering, are finally catching up to him. It isn't like he drops into bed at the end of the day and relieves any tension; Fraser is Constable Tension. Besides the regimented sleep pattern, Diefenbaker's company and the fact that summoning explicit images of anyone without their knowledge wouldn't fit into his rigid ethics code, Fraser is as close to being repressed as a man can come.

Which is why they're here, and when Ray's other hand settled on his jaw, he feels the anchor chain snap taught, reality at last halting his spinning away.

Stay with me. Who was giving the orders now?

Fraser was still just trying to concentrate on breathing; his intakes of breaths husky beyond his control, as they would be if he were climbing a mountain with a knife in his leg. There's no pain, though--there's just Ray. Ray craning his neck enough to brush a kiss to his lips, lathing against the copper taste of blood, soothing swollen flesh. Fraser moaned a low note, exhaled it against Ray's lips, gave back the inches so that his friend didn't have to crane so far to reach him.

And as the world began to slow back down to a workable pace, he stayed with Ray, and trusted himself to move his hand again; a slow, steady friction. ]

[It's clear enough from Ray's skilled hand that he knows a thing or two about how to handle a dick. He has no such code of ethics or regimented sleep patterns that prevent him from going home and keeping himself satisfied for the evening, and it's not like it's a frequent occurrence but it most certainly happens. It's a natural thing for a lonely soul.

With time Ray senses Fraser drifting back into reality, feels him bend against the touches and the half there kiss, grateful for the give he gets in having to stretch up. His muscles are already tired, his body feeling the onset of exhaustion as a constant flow of adrenaline leaves him feeling drained.]

Better. [He decides out loud, especially as that hand starts to work again, trying to keep in sync with the other.] You with me?

[Whatever little world it is that Fraser drifts off too, Ray wants to at least make sure he can come along, if not drag him back to reality.]

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