Fic: Restless (Fraser/RayK, NC-17)
This is for the Slashy Smut challenge over at sschallenge. Enjoy!
Title: Restless (part 1 of 2)
Author: Moosesal
LJ Name: moosesal
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski
Playing card activity: double stroke
Playing card URL: Not work safe!! http://invisible-cities.net/images/gsc/slash/18.jpg
Other cards: Links are NOT WORK SAFE. I also had ‘sofa suck’ (http://invisible-cities.net/images/gsc/slash/49.jpg) which I’ve sort of worked in and ‘reachover rim’ (http://invisible-cities.net/images/gsc/slash/33.jpg) which may figure in to the second part of this.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: I hate summaries, they give too much away. So here it is: Fraser and Ray go on a stakeout. Fraser and Ray talk. Eventually there is sex. Set sometime between "Bounty Hunter" and "Call of the Wild". You can place it in there wherever your heart desires.
Note: Many thanks to my amazing and wonderful beta, silvertedy. Whatever would I do without her?
“Frase?”
“Yes, Ray?”
“Did you mean it? That day in the crypt?”
“Did I mean what, Ray?”
“You really think I’m attractive?”
“Very much so.”
Ray smiled to himself as he directed his eyes back toward the factory loading dock. They’d only been staking it out for an hour, but it felt like days. He leaned back in his seat and wished he were in his own car, or even Vecchio’s Riv, instead of the pool car they were using. He couldn't be himself here -- who could put the moves on a guy while sitting in a beige sedan?
He kept his focus on the loading dock when he asked his next question. “Did you and that bounty hunter chick . . .”
“I beg your pardon?”
Ray could feel Fraser’s stare piercing into the back of his head, so he swiveled to face him. “Janet?”
“I’m aware of who you’re referring to, Ray. I was just trying to clarify what it was you’re asking.” Fraser cracked his neck and faced forward again, staring out the windshield, refusing to meet Ray’s eyes.
“Did you two . . . you know.” Sex and Fraser went together great in Ray’s head, but putting the images into words? Especially when the someone with Fraser wasn’t himself? Not working so well.
“Ah.” Fraser nodded as though he only now understood, which Ray would have considered ridiculous from anyone else. But from Fraser, it was frighteningly possible that he actually hadn’t been sure what Ray was asking. “I’m sorry, Ray, but that would be telling.”
“Uh, yeah, Frase. That’s kinda the point of asking. So you’ll tell me the answer.”
Fraser turned back to face him. When he spoke, however, his gaze shifted to a spot just over Ray’s shoulder. “We . . . there was a kiss.” He chewed his lip and Ray waited. “I thought perhaps . . .”
“Perhaps there’d be more? . . . What? She turn you down, buddy?” Ray couldn’t imagine why anyone would turn down Fraser. Women usually fell all over him.
“I thought perhaps . . . she and I would be a good match. We have shared interests, shared experiences. . . . But something was missing. She didn’t . . .”
Fraser trailed off and his gaze shifted to meet Ray’s.
“It’s okay, Frase. I’m not gonna tell anyone.”
Fraser nodded. “She didn’t make my heart race. We were good in theory, but . . .”
“No spark?”
“No. No spark,” Fraser nodded once then looked out the front window again. Ray followed suit.
They sat like that for at least half an hour, watching the factory in comfortable silence before Fraser spoke again. “Ray.”
“Yeah, Frase?” He met his partner’s look.
“Have you ever . . . sparked with someone?”
“Sparked? Oh, yeah,” he grinned at his memories of sparking. Stella had been the big fireworks explosion in his life, of course. But a new little spark that had been firing up his engine had him holding out hope for another.
The silence returned as they both pretended to watch the factory. Ray’s mind was racing with memories of smiles and soft, casual touches that always made his stomach flip-flop. Sparkage? Absolutely. On his end anyway.
“Hey, Frase?” Ray felt Fraser turn to face him even though he kept his eyes directed straight ahead.
“Yes, Ray?”
“Have you ever . . .” He couldn’t finish. He just didn’t know what he’d do if Fraser said no. And, to be honest, he had even less of an idea of what he’d do if he said yes.
“Have I ever what, Ray?” His voice was soft, soothing, and for a second Ray thought maybe he could ask. Maybe it would be okay -- even if Fraser said no, never had and never would. But then memories of Jimmy Kaczorowski behind the gym all those years ago came rushing back and he chickened out.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
They sat silent and motionless again, but Ray could feel Fraser still watching him. Studying him. Seeing into him. Ray began to fidget. Then, just as his knee started to bounce, he froze because Fraser was saying, “Yes, Ray,” even though he hadn’t asked his question.
He looked at him, but Fraser was watching the factory again. Yes? Yes, what?
“Yes, what, Fraser?” He tried to keep his voice calm, but it came out gruff, a challenge when that wasn’t his intention at all, but fuck if Fraser didn’t know how to push his buttons.
“Yes . . . I have.”
“Have what?” Now he was raising his voice, and he winced and pulled back and hoped Fraser understood that he wasn’t really upset. “I didn’t ask anything,” he sighed. Fraser was so hard to figure out sometimes and it was frustrating. No way he could have known what Ray was going to say. Could he have? Maybe he could’ve. Fuck. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d communicated without words. They did it all the time on case work.
“You were going to ask if I’ve ever . . .” Fraser shifted and brought his eyes to meet Ray’s. Staring straight through him again, unnerving him, and still managing to spark Ray’s engine. “. . . if I’ve ever been with a man.”
He had known what Ray had wanted to ask. He had heard his unspoken message. Now Ray was too stunned to turn away, but too scared to look at Fraser directly. Fortunately, Fraser broke away to study whatever interesting object could be seen just over Ray’s left shoulder. Perhaps he was seeing the little devil perched there who’d pushed Ray to start this conversation. Ray shook his head at the thought, but Fraser must have seen it, because suddenly he was speaking again, looking Ray in the eye.
“It was at Depot. I was young. Nineteen. I thought . . . well, . . . I was in love. He -- he wasn’t.” Fraser swallowed and studied his hands in his lap. “And you, Ray?”
Ray didn’t know what to say. “Uh, yeah . . . well. I wasn’t in love. And he definitely wasn’t in love. It was just one time.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to block out the memory. “A hand job followed by a left hook. He had second thoughts, and I had a bruised jaw.”
The silence lasted no more than a few seconds, but it felt like forever.
“I’m sorry.” Fraser's words were so soft that Ray barely heard them, barely heard the genuine sympathy in Fraser's voice.
Silence again. Ray’s hands were sweating. He wiped them on the cloth seat and wished he were better with words.
“Would you . . .” Want to fuck me, Fraser? Geez, Kowalski. It’s amazing anyone ever wanted you with a smooth line like that.
“Would I what, Ray?”
Ray looked up. What the hell? He was in this deep, he might as well keep going. “Would you ever--”
“Fall in love again?” Fraser finished the sentence with words Ray only realized he’d meant to use after hearing them leave Fraser’s lips.
Ray nodded.
“I already have.” Ray couldn't have heard right. Surely he was imagining things. Fraser's words couldn't possibly mean what he wanted them to mean. He realized that they were staring at each other. No longer taking turns looking away, averting their eyes out the window or over a shoulder. He shifted on the seat, moving towards Fraser, turning not just his head this time, but his entire body.
“Can I--”
“Please, Ray.”
And then Ray’s hand was on Fraser’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss that deepened until Ray had to pull away for breath, panting, gasping, his eyes wide. He wanted to say something, but Fraser’s mouth was on his again. And his hands were on Ray’s hips, pulling him closer.
Stakeout be damned, Ray wasn’t going to say no to whatever it was that Fraser was offering. He let himself be pulled across the bench seat to straddle Fraser’s lap, the back of his head pressed against the roof of the car, smashing his carefully spiked hair. Fuck the hair. He grinned and went willingly.
Ray felt fingertips squeezing his hips and groaned. Fraser’s thumbs caressed the crease along his upper thigh and he whimpered against his mouth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so turned on. He thought he could sit there kissing Fraser forever. Geez. I’m turning into a chick. Gettin’ all sappy.
Ray dropped his hands from Fraser’s head to his shoulders to his chest and then snaked one down between their bodies to cup him through his pants. He was grateful for the casual clothes. He laughed at the memory of putting on Turnbull’s uniform, knowing that there was no way he’d be able to figure out how to get through all that stuff in his current state. Jeans were good. He had jeans of his own. They were much easier to deal with.
“What?” Fraser muttered against his lips.
“Nothing. Just happy you’re not in uniform.”
Fraser looked puzzled. “You don’t like the red?”
“No, no. Red suits you.” Boy, did red suit him. And wasn’t that a conversation that could wait for another time, because right now Ray really didn’t want to explain how that uniform figured into several of his favorite fantasies. “The uniform suits you. I just don’t think I could manage all those belts and buttons right now.”
“Ah.” Fraser grinned and it was the sexiest thing Ray’d ever seen. Next to him grinning in uniform, of course. Yep, he was definitely getting girly.
“Do you --” his hand squeezed gently as he searched for nice words, polite words. The kind of words Fraser deserved.
“Yes, Ray.” Fraser nipped Ray’s jaw and ran his tongue around the edge of his ear and then down his throat; Ray heard himself groaning and felt himself flush with excitement as well as embarrassment. He wondered if he’d been this vocal with Stella. He couldn’t remember, and he really didn’t think now was the time to be thinking about his ex-wife. He’d much rather be distracted by Fraser’s thumbs moving up and down, so close but not quite where he really wanted them.
Ray reached for the button on Fraser’s jeans and the thumbs stopped moving. Fraser grew completely still. And silent. “Breathe, Fraser. You gotta breathe.” He kissed Fraser’s lips, cheeks, jaw, neck, while murmuring to him to relax and breathe.
“Ray,” he whispered as he finally exhaled. “Ray. . . Ray. . . Ray.” He brought a hand up to Ray’s chest and pushed him back a bit. “Ray, stop.” Fraser was staring over his shoulder again. Fuck.
Stop? Fraser wanted him to stop now? Now that they were finally doing something more together than grabbing dinner or catching bad guys? “What? What did I do?”
“Our suspect.” Fraser nodded at a man approaching the factory.
“Fuck.” Ray started to move, before Fraser stopped him, fingers digging into his hips again. “Fraser?”
For a minute, Ray thought Fraser was going to surprise him by blowing off the case, but he simply reached up to cup Ray’s cheek and kiss him quickly.
“We’ll finish this later,” Ray said as he crawled over to climb out his own door, making sure Fraser got a clear view of his ass on the way. As he slipped out of the car, he heard Fraser clear his throat and he smiled. Later, indeed.
***
Later, of course, didn’t quite work. That would have been too easy, and neither Ray nor Fraser had yet figured out how to do anything the easy way. At least not the first time around.
While it took them only a few minutes to get inside the factory and apprehend their suspect, they waited more than half an hour for the black and white that took the guy back to the precinct. Then they spent another four hours booking the guy and questioning him. By the time they were able to head out of the two-seven, the sun was creeping over the horizon and they were both exhausted.
They sat in the car for a few minutes, watching the changing light as the sun rose through the dense cityscape. Finally, Ray turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking space. He wanted to take Fraser home with him, but suspected he had consular duties waiting for him.
Ray stopped at the exit from the parking lot, not yet ready to make the turn. He glanced over at Fraser. “I guess I should drop you at the consulate, huh?”
Fraser chewed his lip and gave a quick nod. “I’m sorry, Ray. I have sentry duty this morning.” He turned to look out his side window, and Ray reached for his arm.
“Hey.” Fraser turned back at his touch and Ray smiled. I am such a chick. “I’ll drop you off and come back this evening.” Fraser nodded and looked out the front window again. “I’m not sure I’m up for more than sleeping right now anyway.” He was trying to keep things light, relaxed. But then Fraser got a pained expression on his face and mumbled something so low Ray couldn’t hear it. “What?”
“I said . . . I'd like to watch you sleep.”
Ray grinned and pulled out onto the street. “Tonight, Frase,” he promised. "Tonight.”
***
Ray Kowalski was restless. After dropping Fraser off at the consulate -- without a good-bye kiss, since Inspector Thatcher had pulled up right behind them -- he’d gone home for a couple of hours. He’d slept heavily, dreamlessly, and when he’d woken up, he hadn't needed his usual cup of coffee. He was bouncing -- he was going to see Fraser later. They were finally going to . . . well, they were going to do something. He wasn’t sure exactly what yet, but things would be done.
At the station, Ray couldn't focus. He’d tried putting himself in “Detective Vecchio”-mode so he could complete his report on the previous night’s bust, but all he could think about was the way Fraser had kissed him -- hungry, passionate -- and the way he’d gripped his hips, pulling their bodies close. Ray didn’t want to think about Fraser doing those things with Vecchio, so instead he just tried to be a good cop; Vecchio-mode went out the window.
But images of Fraser were still invading his thoughts. He’d been thinking about Fraser since that very first day he’d looked up to see him just back from the Territories. He’d been looking for Vecchio, of course, but what he’d found instead was an armful of Kowalski-as-Vecchio. Neither of them had been prepared for what that moment would mean.
Spark. That had been it for Ray. That one moment had changed his life.
“Vecchio!” He was startled by Welsh’s booming voice and looked up to see his lieutenant frowning from his office door. “Go home and get some more sleep. It’s not like you’re getting anything done here.”
Ray didn’t hesitate. Grabbing his jacket and keys, he flew out the door. He’d head over to the consulate and wait for Fraser. He hoped they could pick up where they’d left off. Except not in the car. At least not in the car with it parked outside the Canadian consulate. Ray figured that even if the Ice Queen didn’t have a problem with Fraser and Ray being . . . more than just cop buddies, she wouldn’t want them advertising it in front of her building. On the street. Possibly with Fraser in uniform.
Mmm. The uniform. Ray was in the car and driving before he even realized it.
***
Ray had narrowly avoided rear-ending three different cars on his way over, but he made it. He sat outside the consulate waiting for Fraser, fingers tapping the steering wheel and knee bouncing to music he wasn’t really hearing. Turnbull was on sentry duty now, which meant that Fraser was most likely typing up reports or out picking up Thatcher’s dry cleaning.
Ray was oblivious to the people strolling by; his eyes were trained on the consulate’s front door. But then a young guy wearing a “Yanni Live” sweatshirt passed him and for the first time all day his thoughts were distracted from Fraser.
Yanni Live? Who the hell buys a concert shirt from a Yanni show? Ray figured that had to earn a person negative points for street cred. Hell, the guy was just asking for a beating. Yanni?? Ray’s own tastes were pretty broad, but he drew the line at John Tesh and Yanni. There were just some things he couldn’t accept.
At some point during his mental rant against craptastic music, Ray missed Fraser exiting the building and walking over to the car where he leaned down and smiled through the passenger-side window. He was wearing street clothes again -- jeans, Henley, leather jacket -- and Ray thought that maybe the uniform wasn’t his favorite look after all. He swallowed and began fidgeting as Fraser opened the door and slipped in next to him. “Good evening, Ray.”
Ray frequently wondered if Fraser was really as oblivious to the way people ogled him as he seemed. But as he shifted in his seat to adjust his suddenly tight pants, Fraser’s grin widened and Ray knew he wasn’t oblivious right now.
“Hey, Frase,” he finally managed to get past the strangled feeling in his throat. He was surprisingly nervous. Surprising to him anyway. It was like those dates with Stella back in high school -- before they started having sex -- when he was ready and she wasn’t and he was afraid he’d push her too far and she’d dump him but he couldn’t help that he wanted her so much. That had been twenty year ago, but it felt like yesterday. And his dick was definitely acting like he was back in high school.
“Ray?” He came back to himself to find Fraser looking at him, clearly concerned. “Is everything okay?”
He nodded, transfixed by the inviting lips before him.
“Why don’t we get some dinner?”
Ray wondered how it was that Fraser always managed to come up with solutions to his problems. Dinner was good. He could do dinner. It would give them a chance to talk. He could relax. He could get rid of the tent in his trousers before he embarrassed himself. Yeah, he could do dinner. “Sure,” he nodded. “Where to?”
“How about that Thai place near your apartment?”
***
Dinner was good. Ray relaxed. They talked about the case. Ray asked about Fraser’s day and found out he’d had a chance to sleep for a few hours that afternoon. Inspector Thatcher had actually done something nice for a change, sending Turnbull out to relieve Fraser and giving him the afternoon off. They suspected Welsh had called her, but had no proof. And, of course, she’d seen Ray dropping him off that morning.
As dinner wound down, it was Fraser’s turn to start nervously fidgeting. Not like Ray had been, of course. Most people wouldn’t even have noticed the way he straightened his napkin, the silverware, the salt and pepper shakers. But Ray wasn’t most people.
“Fraser? You alright?”
“Ray --” he hesitated, his eyes flitting around the room, gauging where people were sitting in relation to them, deciding how free he was to speak.
“What?”
“Do you --” he swallowed. “What I mean is, is this --” He motioned between the two of them. “Do you --”
Ray smiled because it was somehow comforting that it was Fraser having trouble with words for a change. “Yeah, I do. Come on, let’s go home.”
“Home?”
Ray rolled his eyes. “My place.” He pointed at Fraser. “You,” thumb to his chest, “and me.”
***
The ride to his apartment was silent and still except for Ray’s tapping to the music on the radio. He was too busy thinking about Fraser and sex and Fraser to carry on a conversation. He parked the car and they walked up to his door with little fanfare, but when he tried to put his key into his door lock, his hands were shaking.
Fraser’s hand came up to still his and help him open the door. “It’s okay to be nervous, Ray. If you don’t want --”
“I want. Believe me, I want. That’s the problem.”
Fraser looked confused -- eyebrows up, head cocked slightly to the left. “I'm sorry, Ray. I thought --”
“I’m not nervous about doing this. I’m nervous about coming in my pants before we even start.”
Fraser’s eyebrows climbed higher.
“It's been awhile. And then all the way here I was thinking about everything we could be doing and . . .”
Fraser smiled and relaxed and pushed Ray backwards through the now open door.
“. . . I just made myself more and more crazy and now we’re mphh --”
Ray’s words were cut off by Fraser’s mouth on his own. Firm, sure lips dancing with his; tongue begging entry and being accepted. Ray sighed into Fraser’s mouth and backed further into the room until he fell onto the couch. Fraser fell with him, and Ray realized his hands were everywhere, pulling at clothes and pushing against skin and muscle. Ray arched into his touch at the same time that his mind told him to pull back, to slow down. “Frase,” he put a hand to his chest and pushed up. “Give me a sec.”
“No.” Fraser’s mouth dropped to his neck while his hands rucked his shirt up his chest.
“No?” Fraser’s hands and mouth were hot against his skin, burning him as he begged for more.
“Don’t hold back, Ray. Let go.”
Ray felt soft lips on a nipple as a hand unfastened his pants. That was all he needed. Head thrown back, one hand holding Fraser’s mouth to his chest, Ray twitched against the pressure of Fraser’s hand on his zipper and came in his jeans. His voice was shaky as he gasped Fraser’s name and struggled for breath. He felt the release through his entire body, and as he came down from his orgasm he relaxed into the sofa and fell asleep.
***
He wasn’t sure how long he slept, but Ray woke to the feel of a warm, wet mouth on his half-erect dick. As he became more aware of his surroundings he realized he was naked -- Thank you, Fraser! -- and so was his partner. About half a second later, he realized he’d selfishly fallen asleep before making sure Fraser had enjoyed himself as much as Ray had. And a second after that he blushed at the memory of coming in his pants like a horny teenager.
Ray's move to push Fraser away earned him a look that was part glare, part confusion. A look he didn't think anyone could ever duplicate.
“I'm sorry I fell asleep. I should have --” Fraser reached up and touched his fingers to Ray's lips, silencing him. Ray questioned him with his eyes.
“I enjoyed watching you come, Ray,” he smiled and moved up his body, sliding his hot, hard flesh against Ray's.
“But I didn't . . . I mean, I left you --”
Fraser blushed and cleared his throat. “You weren't . . . um . . . you weren't exactly alone in your pleasure.”
“Huh?”
Fraser ground their bodies together, sliding his cock alongside Ray's. He could feel that they were both hard again, but he was hoping he could last a bit longer this time around.
“When you called out my name?” Fraser closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “My name on your lips, the look on your face . . . you weren't alone, Ray.”
Ray groaned and arched against Fraser as his words broke through his addled brain. “Fuck, Fraser.” And suddenly he was back in teenage hormone land.
“Mmm, if that's what you want.” He captured Ray's mouth in a deep kiss then pulled back and slid down Ray's body. “But first I want to taste more of you.” And he did.
Ray's eyes rolled back in his head when Fraser took him all the way to the root. He could hear himself panting and he thought maybe he wasn't going to last very long this time either. No one had ever used their mouth on him the way Fraser was using his now. Where had he learned to do this? Surely this wasn't part of the usual Mountie training. Or was it? Tempt criminals with the uniform then blow their brains out? It had potential.
“Frase,” he twisted his fingers in his hair and pulled him away. “Stop or you're gonna make me come.”
Fraser cocked one eyebrow and said, “That's the point, Ray,” in that voice he used to explain evidence or his theory about a crime. Ray just rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, I get that, buddy. I do. It's just . . . you keep doing me and . . . I want -- I want to return the favor.” He let one hand trace down Fraser's neck to his chest and pushed him back until he was kneeling between Ray's legs. Ray slid from the couch and nudged Fraser until he turned and sat in the middle of the sofa, legs spread. Ray dropped to the floor to kneel between his legs and found himself face-to-groin with Fraser's more than impressive erection.
He swallowed his nervousness and focused on the thought of swallowing Fraser instead. He'd never done this before, but he'd watched plenty of porn and he'd certainly thought about it often enough.
“Ray?” He looked up into Fraser’s eyes. “You don't have to do this.”
“I want to . . . I'm just --”
“Nervous?”
Ray nodded.
“Come up here.” He gripped Ray's biceps and guided him back up onto the sofa and astride his lap. “Why don't we pick up where we left off last night?”
Ray swallowed again and looked down Fraser's smooth chest to his hard stomach and then down to his lap where their bodies touched, their cocks side-by-side. Looking back up into Fraser's open face, he leaned in for a kiss.
Kissing he could do. Kissing was good. He was good at kissing. And so was Fraser. He never would have expected that, but he should have. Fraser was good at everything.
Ray's eyes fell closed as he sank into the kiss and into Fraser. He leaned closer and dropped his mouth to Fraser's jaw. He nipped his way to Fraser's ear and then groaned as he felt a strong hand wrap around his cock. When that hand started to move, he groaned again and dropped his head to Fraser's shoulder.
On each stroke he felt not only Fraser's hand, but also the movement of their cocks sliding together. He'd wrapped his hand around both of them and was slowly jacking them off together. Fraser kissed his neck and shoulder, and Ray lifted his head again and smiled shyly.
“Feels good,” he whispered as he moved to recapture Fraser's mouth. He slid one hand down to join Fraser's and twined his free hand in his hair as he deepened the kiss. He sucked Fraser's tongue into his mouth and bit at his lower lip, breathing his sweet breath.
Ray let his hand fall to Fraser's chest. His fingers flitted over the smooth skin and then over a nipple, and he smiled at the gasp he felt against his cheek. He circled the nipple with a fingertip and then pinched lightly, a moan his reward. Fraser arched into his touch, and Ray grinned as he squeezed again. “You like that?”
“Ray,” Fraser gasped. “Ray.” His hand moved faster, and Ray moved with him. The look on Fraser's face was pure bliss and then it grew tight, tense. His eyes squeezed closed and his head fell back as his breath came faster. “Ray,” he groaned, his voice gruff. And then he was shaking and exploding warm and wet over their hands and Ray felt his own climax approaching. There was a spark at the base of his spine and heat spiraled out from his core and he was coming all over them.
“Fuck, Fraser,” he panted and pulled Fraser's face back to his. He placed soft kisses on his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks. Their hands stilled but were still entwined. He thought once again that he was turning into a chick, but this time he decided he just didn't fucking care. This felt too good, too right.
Ray was tempted to collapse against Fraser and go back to sleep, but he didn't think he really wanted the experience of waking up stuck together like this. Plus the couch wasn't all that comfortable and if he stayed where he was much longer, his knees were going to kill him in the morning.
“Come on,” Ray jerked his head toward the hallway. “How about a shower?”
Fraser looked like he was about to say no in favor of passing out on the couch, but he managed to nod and shift with Ray as he rose and dragged him into the bathroom.
***
Ray woke the next morning to the smell of coffee and blinked in confusion. He looked around the room and tried to figure out where he was. And when he was. Stella had taken the fancy coffee pot when they divorced, not that he'd ever figured out how to work the thing anyhow.
“Good morning.”
He looked up to see Fraser leaning against the doorframe -- jeans unbuttoned, chest and feet bare -- holding a cup of coffee. Ray couldn't figure out what he wanted first: coffee or Fraser.
Fraser must have read his mind because he grinned and walked over with the coffee. Placing the mug on the nightstand, he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in for a soft kiss before pulling back. He rubbed his thumb over his eyebrow and cleared his throat and Ray's heart raced with fear. This was that moment when he got punched in the face. “I have to go, Ray. Diefenbaker's been alone since you picked me up last night. If I'd known how hard it would be to leave this morning, I would have brought him along.”
Ray's eyes closed against the coming rejection and then realized what Fraser had said. He looked up and smiled. “Go take care of fur face. I'll see you later?”
Fraser leaned in for another kiss. “If I don't make it to the station by two, pick me up at the consulate at six?”
“Yeah.”
Fraser rose and finished dressing while Ray lounged against the headboard to sip his coffee and watch the show. He wondered briefly if they had time for a quickie, but wasn't sure he'd be able to let him go once they got started. Besides, Fraser wasn't the only one who had to get to work.
TBC...
Title: Restless (part 1 of 2)
Author: Moosesal
LJ Name: moosesal
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski
Playing card activity: double stroke
Playing card URL: Not work safe!! http://invisible-cities.net/images/gsc/slash/18.jpg
Other cards: Links are NOT WORK SAFE. I also had ‘sofa suck’ (http://invisible-cities.net/images/gsc/slash/49.jpg) which I’ve sort of worked in and ‘reachover rim’ (http://invisible-cities.net/images/gsc/slash/33.jpg) which may figure in to the second part of this.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: I hate summaries, they give too much away. So here it is: Fraser and Ray go on a stakeout. Fraser and Ray talk. Eventually there is sex. Set sometime between "Bounty Hunter" and "Call of the Wild". You can place it in there wherever your heart desires.
Note: Many thanks to my amazing and wonderful beta, silvertedy. Whatever would I do without her?
“Frase?”
“Yes, Ray?”
“Did you mean it? That day in the crypt?”
“Did I mean what, Ray?”
“You really think I’m attractive?”
“Very much so.”
Ray smiled to himself as he directed his eyes back toward the factory loading dock. They’d only been staking it out for an hour, but it felt like days. He leaned back in his seat and wished he were in his own car, or even Vecchio’s Riv, instead of the pool car they were using. He couldn't be himself here -- who could put the moves on a guy while sitting in a beige sedan?
He kept his focus on the loading dock when he asked his next question. “Did you and that bounty hunter chick . . .”
“I beg your pardon?”
Ray could feel Fraser’s stare piercing into the back of his head, so he swiveled to face him. “Janet?”
“I’m aware of who you’re referring to, Ray. I was just trying to clarify what it was you’re asking.” Fraser cracked his neck and faced forward again, staring out the windshield, refusing to meet Ray’s eyes.
“Did you two . . . you know.” Sex and Fraser went together great in Ray’s head, but putting the images into words? Especially when the someone with Fraser wasn’t himself? Not working so well.
“Ah.” Fraser nodded as though he only now understood, which Ray would have considered ridiculous from anyone else. But from Fraser, it was frighteningly possible that he actually hadn’t been sure what Ray was asking. “I’m sorry, Ray, but that would be telling.”
“Uh, yeah, Frase. That’s kinda the point of asking. So you’ll tell me the answer.”
Fraser turned back to face him. When he spoke, however, his gaze shifted to a spot just over Ray’s shoulder. “We . . . there was a kiss.” He chewed his lip and Ray waited. “I thought perhaps . . .”
“Perhaps there’d be more? . . . What? She turn you down, buddy?” Ray couldn’t imagine why anyone would turn down Fraser. Women usually fell all over him.
“I thought perhaps . . . she and I would be a good match. We have shared interests, shared experiences. . . . But something was missing. She didn’t . . .”
Fraser trailed off and his gaze shifted to meet Ray’s.
“It’s okay, Frase. I’m not gonna tell anyone.”
Fraser nodded. “She didn’t make my heart race. We were good in theory, but . . .”
“No spark?”
“No. No spark,” Fraser nodded once then looked out the front window again. Ray followed suit.
They sat like that for at least half an hour, watching the factory in comfortable silence before Fraser spoke again. “Ray.”
“Yeah, Frase?” He met his partner’s look.
“Have you ever . . . sparked with someone?”
“Sparked? Oh, yeah,” he grinned at his memories of sparking. Stella had been the big fireworks explosion in his life, of course. But a new little spark that had been firing up his engine had him holding out hope for another.
The silence returned as they both pretended to watch the factory. Ray’s mind was racing with memories of smiles and soft, casual touches that always made his stomach flip-flop. Sparkage? Absolutely. On his end anyway.
“Hey, Frase?” Ray felt Fraser turn to face him even though he kept his eyes directed straight ahead.
“Yes, Ray?”
“Have you ever . . .” He couldn’t finish. He just didn’t know what he’d do if Fraser said no. And, to be honest, he had even less of an idea of what he’d do if he said yes.
“Have I ever what, Ray?” His voice was soft, soothing, and for a second Ray thought maybe he could ask. Maybe it would be okay -- even if Fraser said no, never had and never would. But then memories of Jimmy Kaczorowski behind the gym all those years ago came rushing back and he chickened out.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
They sat silent and motionless again, but Ray could feel Fraser still watching him. Studying him. Seeing into him. Ray began to fidget. Then, just as his knee started to bounce, he froze because Fraser was saying, “Yes, Ray,” even though he hadn’t asked his question.
He looked at him, but Fraser was watching the factory again. Yes? Yes, what?
“Yes, what, Fraser?” He tried to keep his voice calm, but it came out gruff, a challenge when that wasn’t his intention at all, but fuck if Fraser didn’t know how to push his buttons.
“Yes . . . I have.”
“Have what?” Now he was raising his voice, and he winced and pulled back and hoped Fraser understood that he wasn’t really upset. “I didn’t ask anything,” he sighed. Fraser was so hard to figure out sometimes and it was frustrating. No way he could have known what Ray was going to say. Could he have? Maybe he could’ve. Fuck. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d communicated without words. They did it all the time on case work.
“You were going to ask if I’ve ever . . .” Fraser shifted and brought his eyes to meet Ray’s. Staring straight through him again, unnerving him, and still managing to spark Ray’s engine. “. . . if I’ve ever been with a man.”
He had known what Ray had wanted to ask. He had heard his unspoken message. Now Ray was too stunned to turn away, but too scared to look at Fraser directly. Fortunately, Fraser broke away to study whatever interesting object could be seen just over Ray’s left shoulder. Perhaps he was seeing the little devil perched there who’d pushed Ray to start this conversation. Ray shook his head at the thought, but Fraser must have seen it, because suddenly he was speaking again, looking Ray in the eye.
“It was at Depot. I was young. Nineteen. I thought . . . well, . . . I was in love. He -- he wasn’t.” Fraser swallowed and studied his hands in his lap. “And you, Ray?”
Ray didn’t know what to say. “Uh, yeah . . . well. I wasn’t in love. And he definitely wasn’t in love. It was just one time.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to block out the memory. “A hand job followed by a left hook. He had second thoughts, and I had a bruised jaw.”
The silence lasted no more than a few seconds, but it felt like forever.
“I’m sorry.” Fraser's words were so soft that Ray barely heard them, barely heard the genuine sympathy in Fraser's voice.
Silence again. Ray’s hands were sweating. He wiped them on the cloth seat and wished he were better with words.
“Would you . . .” Want to fuck me, Fraser? Geez, Kowalski. It’s amazing anyone ever wanted you with a smooth line like that.
“Would I what, Ray?”
Ray looked up. What the hell? He was in this deep, he might as well keep going. “Would you ever--”
“Fall in love again?” Fraser finished the sentence with words Ray only realized he’d meant to use after hearing them leave Fraser’s lips.
Ray nodded.
“I already have.” Ray couldn't have heard right. Surely he was imagining things. Fraser's words couldn't possibly mean what he wanted them to mean. He realized that they were staring at each other. No longer taking turns looking away, averting their eyes out the window or over a shoulder. He shifted on the seat, moving towards Fraser, turning not just his head this time, but his entire body.
“Can I--”
“Please, Ray.”
And then Ray’s hand was on Fraser’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss that deepened until Ray had to pull away for breath, panting, gasping, his eyes wide. He wanted to say something, but Fraser’s mouth was on his again. And his hands were on Ray’s hips, pulling him closer.
Stakeout be damned, Ray wasn’t going to say no to whatever it was that Fraser was offering. He let himself be pulled across the bench seat to straddle Fraser’s lap, the back of his head pressed against the roof of the car, smashing his carefully spiked hair. Fuck the hair. He grinned and went willingly.
Ray felt fingertips squeezing his hips and groaned. Fraser’s thumbs caressed the crease along his upper thigh and he whimpered against his mouth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so turned on. He thought he could sit there kissing Fraser forever. Geez. I’m turning into a chick. Gettin’ all sappy.
Ray dropped his hands from Fraser’s head to his shoulders to his chest and then snaked one down between their bodies to cup him through his pants. He was grateful for the casual clothes. He laughed at the memory of putting on Turnbull’s uniform, knowing that there was no way he’d be able to figure out how to get through all that stuff in his current state. Jeans were good. He had jeans of his own. They were much easier to deal with.
“What?” Fraser muttered against his lips.
“Nothing. Just happy you’re not in uniform.”
Fraser looked puzzled. “You don’t like the red?”
“No, no. Red suits you.” Boy, did red suit him. And wasn’t that a conversation that could wait for another time, because right now Ray really didn’t want to explain how that uniform figured into several of his favorite fantasies. “The uniform suits you. I just don’t think I could manage all those belts and buttons right now.”
“Ah.” Fraser grinned and it was the sexiest thing Ray’d ever seen. Next to him grinning in uniform, of course. Yep, he was definitely getting girly.
“Do you --” his hand squeezed gently as he searched for nice words, polite words. The kind of words Fraser deserved.
“Yes, Ray.” Fraser nipped Ray’s jaw and ran his tongue around the edge of his ear and then down his throat; Ray heard himself groaning and felt himself flush with excitement as well as embarrassment. He wondered if he’d been this vocal with Stella. He couldn’t remember, and he really didn’t think now was the time to be thinking about his ex-wife. He’d much rather be distracted by Fraser’s thumbs moving up and down, so close but not quite where he really wanted them.
Ray reached for the button on Fraser’s jeans and the thumbs stopped moving. Fraser grew completely still. And silent. “Breathe, Fraser. You gotta breathe.” He kissed Fraser’s lips, cheeks, jaw, neck, while murmuring to him to relax and breathe.
“Ray,” he whispered as he finally exhaled. “Ray. . . Ray. . . Ray.” He brought a hand up to Ray’s chest and pushed him back a bit. “Ray, stop.” Fraser was staring over his shoulder again. Fuck.
Stop? Fraser wanted him to stop now? Now that they were finally doing something more together than grabbing dinner or catching bad guys? “What? What did I do?”
“Our suspect.” Fraser nodded at a man approaching the factory.
“Fuck.” Ray started to move, before Fraser stopped him, fingers digging into his hips again. “Fraser?”
For a minute, Ray thought Fraser was going to surprise him by blowing off the case, but he simply reached up to cup Ray’s cheek and kiss him quickly.
“We’ll finish this later,” Ray said as he crawled over to climb out his own door, making sure Fraser got a clear view of his ass on the way. As he slipped out of the car, he heard Fraser clear his throat and he smiled. Later, indeed.
***
Later, of course, didn’t quite work. That would have been too easy, and neither Ray nor Fraser had yet figured out how to do anything the easy way. At least not the first time around.
While it took them only a few minutes to get inside the factory and apprehend their suspect, they waited more than half an hour for the black and white that took the guy back to the precinct. Then they spent another four hours booking the guy and questioning him. By the time they were able to head out of the two-seven, the sun was creeping over the horizon and they were both exhausted.
They sat in the car for a few minutes, watching the changing light as the sun rose through the dense cityscape. Finally, Ray turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking space. He wanted to take Fraser home with him, but suspected he had consular duties waiting for him.
Ray stopped at the exit from the parking lot, not yet ready to make the turn. He glanced over at Fraser. “I guess I should drop you at the consulate, huh?”
Fraser chewed his lip and gave a quick nod. “I’m sorry, Ray. I have sentry duty this morning.” He turned to look out his side window, and Ray reached for his arm.
“Hey.” Fraser turned back at his touch and Ray smiled. I am such a chick. “I’ll drop you off and come back this evening.” Fraser nodded and looked out the front window again. “I’m not sure I’m up for more than sleeping right now anyway.” He was trying to keep things light, relaxed. But then Fraser got a pained expression on his face and mumbled something so low Ray couldn’t hear it. “What?”
“I said . . . I'd like to watch you sleep.”
Ray grinned and pulled out onto the street. “Tonight, Frase,” he promised. "Tonight.”
***
Ray Kowalski was restless. After dropping Fraser off at the consulate -- without a good-bye kiss, since Inspector Thatcher had pulled up right behind them -- he’d gone home for a couple of hours. He’d slept heavily, dreamlessly, and when he’d woken up, he hadn't needed his usual cup of coffee. He was bouncing -- he was going to see Fraser later. They were finally going to . . . well, they were going to do something. He wasn’t sure exactly what yet, but things would be done.
At the station, Ray couldn't focus. He’d tried putting himself in “Detective Vecchio”-mode so he could complete his report on the previous night’s bust, but all he could think about was the way Fraser had kissed him -- hungry, passionate -- and the way he’d gripped his hips, pulling their bodies close. Ray didn’t want to think about Fraser doing those things with Vecchio, so instead he just tried to be a good cop; Vecchio-mode went out the window.
But images of Fraser were still invading his thoughts. He’d been thinking about Fraser since that very first day he’d looked up to see him just back from the Territories. He’d been looking for Vecchio, of course, but what he’d found instead was an armful of Kowalski-as-Vecchio. Neither of them had been prepared for what that moment would mean.
Spark. That had been it for Ray. That one moment had changed his life.
“Vecchio!” He was startled by Welsh’s booming voice and looked up to see his lieutenant frowning from his office door. “Go home and get some more sleep. It’s not like you’re getting anything done here.”
Ray didn’t hesitate. Grabbing his jacket and keys, he flew out the door. He’d head over to the consulate and wait for Fraser. He hoped they could pick up where they’d left off. Except not in the car. At least not in the car with it parked outside the Canadian consulate. Ray figured that even if the Ice Queen didn’t have a problem with Fraser and Ray being . . . more than just cop buddies, she wouldn’t want them advertising it in front of her building. On the street. Possibly with Fraser in uniform.
Mmm. The uniform. Ray was in the car and driving before he even realized it.
***
Ray had narrowly avoided rear-ending three different cars on his way over, but he made it. He sat outside the consulate waiting for Fraser, fingers tapping the steering wheel and knee bouncing to music he wasn’t really hearing. Turnbull was on sentry duty now, which meant that Fraser was most likely typing up reports or out picking up Thatcher’s dry cleaning.
Ray was oblivious to the people strolling by; his eyes were trained on the consulate’s front door. But then a young guy wearing a “Yanni Live” sweatshirt passed him and for the first time all day his thoughts were distracted from Fraser.
Yanni Live? Who the hell buys a concert shirt from a Yanni show? Ray figured that had to earn a person negative points for street cred. Hell, the guy was just asking for a beating. Yanni?? Ray’s own tastes were pretty broad, but he drew the line at John Tesh and Yanni. There were just some things he couldn’t accept.
At some point during his mental rant against craptastic music, Ray missed Fraser exiting the building and walking over to the car where he leaned down and smiled through the passenger-side window. He was wearing street clothes again -- jeans, Henley, leather jacket -- and Ray thought that maybe the uniform wasn’t his favorite look after all. He swallowed and began fidgeting as Fraser opened the door and slipped in next to him. “Good evening, Ray.”
Ray frequently wondered if Fraser was really as oblivious to the way people ogled him as he seemed. But as he shifted in his seat to adjust his suddenly tight pants, Fraser’s grin widened and Ray knew he wasn’t oblivious right now.
“Hey, Frase,” he finally managed to get past the strangled feeling in his throat. He was surprisingly nervous. Surprising to him anyway. It was like those dates with Stella back in high school -- before they started having sex -- when he was ready and she wasn’t and he was afraid he’d push her too far and she’d dump him but he couldn’t help that he wanted her so much. That had been twenty year ago, but it felt like yesterday. And his dick was definitely acting like he was back in high school.
“Ray?” He came back to himself to find Fraser looking at him, clearly concerned. “Is everything okay?”
He nodded, transfixed by the inviting lips before him.
“Why don’t we get some dinner?”
Ray wondered how it was that Fraser always managed to come up with solutions to his problems. Dinner was good. He could do dinner. It would give them a chance to talk. He could relax. He could get rid of the tent in his trousers before he embarrassed himself. Yeah, he could do dinner. “Sure,” he nodded. “Where to?”
“How about that Thai place near your apartment?”
***
Dinner was good. Ray relaxed. They talked about the case. Ray asked about Fraser’s day and found out he’d had a chance to sleep for a few hours that afternoon. Inspector Thatcher had actually done something nice for a change, sending Turnbull out to relieve Fraser and giving him the afternoon off. They suspected Welsh had called her, but had no proof. And, of course, she’d seen Ray dropping him off that morning.
As dinner wound down, it was Fraser’s turn to start nervously fidgeting. Not like Ray had been, of course. Most people wouldn’t even have noticed the way he straightened his napkin, the silverware, the salt and pepper shakers. But Ray wasn’t most people.
“Fraser? You alright?”
“Ray --” he hesitated, his eyes flitting around the room, gauging where people were sitting in relation to them, deciding how free he was to speak.
“What?”
“Do you --” he swallowed. “What I mean is, is this --” He motioned between the two of them. “Do you --”
Ray smiled because it was somehow comforting that it was Fraser having trouble with words for a change. “Yeah, I do. Come on, let’s go home.”
“Home?”
Ray rolled his eyes. “My place.” He pointed at Fraser. “You,” thumb to his chest, “and me.”
***
The ride to his apartment was silent and still except for Ray’s tapping to the music on the radio. He was too busy thinking about Fraser and sex and Fraser to carry on a conversation. He parked the car and they walked up to his door with little fanfare, but when he tried to put his key into his door lock, his hands were shaking.
Fraser’s hand came up to still his and help him open the door. “It’s okay to be nervous, Ray. If you don’t want --”
“I want. Believe me, I want. That’s the problem.”
Fraser looked confused -- eyebrows up, head cocked slightly to the left. “I'm sorry, Ray. I thought --”
“I’m not nervous about doing this. I’m nervous about coming in my pants before we even start.”
Fraser’s eyebrows climbed higher.
“It's been awhile. And then all the way here I was thinking about everything we could be doing and . . .”
Fraser smiled and relaxed and pushed Ray backwards through the now open door.
“. . . I just made myself more and more crazy and now we’re mphh --”
Ray’s words were cut off by Fraser’s mouth on his own. Firm, sure lips dancing with his; tongue begging entry and being accepted. Ray sighed into Fraser’s mouth and backed further into the room until he fell onto the couch. Fraser fell with him, and Ray realized his hands were everywhere, pulling at clothes and pushing against skin and muscle. Ray arched into his touch at the same time that his mind told him to pull back, to slow down. “Frase,” he put a hand to his chest and pushed up. “Give me a sec.”
“No.” Fraser’s mouth dropped to his neck while his hands rucked his shirt up his chest.
“No?” Fraser’s hands and mouth were hot against his skin, burning him as he begged for more.
“Don’t hold back, Ray. Let go.”
Ray felt soft lips on a nipple as a hand unfastened his pants. That was all he needed. Head thrown back, one hand holding Fraser’s mouth to his chest, Ray twitched against the pressure of Fraser’s hand on his zipper and came in his jeans. His voice was shaky as he gasped Fraser’s name and struggled for breath. He felt the release through his entire body, and as he came down from his orgasm he relaxed into the sofa and fell asleep.
***
He wasn’t sure how long he slept, but Ray woke to the feel of a warm, wet mouth on his half-erect dick. As he became more aware of his surroundings he realized he was naked -- Thank you, Fraser! -- and so was his partner. About half a second later, he realized he’d selfishly fallen asleep before making sure Fraser had enjoyed himself as much as Ray had. And a second after that he blushed at the memory of coming in his pants like a horny teenager.
Ray's move to push Fraser away earned him a look that was part glare, part confusion. A look he didn't think anyone could ever duplicate.
“I'm sorry I fell asleep. I should have --” Fraser reached up and touched his fingers to Ray's lips, silencing him. Ray questioned him with his eyes.
“I enjoyed watching you come, Ray,” he smiled and moved up his body, sliding his hot, hard flesh against Ray's.
“But I didn't . . . I mean, I left you --”
Fraser blushed and cleared his throat. “You weren't . . . um . . . you weren't exactly alone in your pleasure.”
“Huh?”
Fraser ground their bodies together, sliding his cock alongside Ray's. He could feel that they were both hard again, but he was hoping he could last a bit longer this time around.
“When you called out my name?” Fraser closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “My name on your lips, the look on your face . . . you weren't alone, Ray.”
Ray groaned and arched against Fraser as his words broke through his addled brain. “Fuck, Fraser.” And suddenly he was back in teenage hormone land.
“Mmm, if that's what you want.” He captured Ray's mouth in a deep kiss then pulled back and slid down Ray's body. “But first I want to taste more of you.” And he did.
Ray's eyes rolled back in his head when Fraser took him all the way to the root. He could hear himself panting and he thought maybe he wasn't going to last very long this time either. No one had ever used their mouth on him the way Fraser was using his now. Where had he learned to do this? Surely this wasn't part of the usual Mountie training. Or was it? Tempt criminals with the uniform then blow their brains out? It had potential.
“Frase,” he twisted his fingers in his hair and pulled him away. “Stop or you're gonna make me come.”
Fraser cocked one eyebrow and said, “That's the point, Ray,” in that voice he used to explain evidence or his theory about a crime. Ray just rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, I get that, buddy. I do. It's just . . . you keep doing me and . . . I want -- I want to return the favor.” He let one hand trace down Fraser's neck to his chest and pushed him back until he was kneeling between Ray's legs. Ray slid from the couch and nudged Fraser until he turned and sat in the middle of the sofa, legs spread. Ray dropped to the floor to kneel between his legs and found himself face-to-groin with Fraser's more than impressive erection.
He swallowed his nervousness and focused on the thought of swallowing Fraser instead. He'd never done this before, but he'd watched plenty of porn and he'd certainly thought about it often enough.
“Ray?” He looked up into Fraser’s eyes. “You don't have to do this.”
“I want to . . . I'm just --”
“Nervous?”
Ray nodded.
“Come up here.” He gripped Ray's biceps and guided him back up onto the sofa and astride his lap. “Why don't we pick up where we left off last night?”
Ray swallowed again and looked down Fraser's smooth chest to his hard stomach and then down to his lap where their bodies touched, their cocks side-by-side. Looking back up into Fraser's open face, he leaned in for a kiss.
Kissing he could do. Kissing was good. He was good at kissing. And so was Fraser. He never would have expected that, but he should have. Fraser was good at everything.
Ray's eyes fell closed as he sank into the kiss and into Fraser. He leaned closer and dropped his mouth to Fraser's jaw. He nipped his way to Fraser's ear and then groaned as he felt a strong hand wrap around his cock. When that hand started to move, he groaned again and dropped his head to Fraser's shoulder.
On each stroke he felt not only Fraser's hand, but also the movement of their cocks sliding together. He'd wrapped his hand around both of them and was slowly jacking them off together. Fraser kissed his neck and shoulder, and Ray lifted his head again and smiled shyly.
“Feels good,” he whispered as he moved to recapture Fraser's mouth. He slid one hand down to join Fraser's and twined his free hand in his hair as he deepened the kiss. He sucked Fraser's tongue into his mouth and bit at his lower lip, breathing his sweet breath.
Ray let his hand fall to Fraser's chest. His fingers flitted over the smooth skin and then over a nipple, and he smiled at the gasp he felt against his cheek. He circled the nipple with a fingertip and then pinched lightly, a moan his reward. Fraser arched into his touch, and Ray grinned as he squeezed again. “You like that?”
“Ray,” Fraser gasped. “Ray.” His hand moved faster, and Ray moved with him. The look on Fraser's face was pure bliss and then it grew tight, tense. His eyes squeezed closed and his head fell back as his breath came faster. “Ray,” he groaned, his voice gruff. And then he was shaking and exploding warm and wet over their hands and Ray felt his own climax approaching. There was a spark at the base of his spine and heat spiraled out from his core and he was coming all over them.
“Fuck, Fraser,” he panted and pulled Fraser's face back to his. He placed soft kisses on his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks. Their hands stilled but were still entwined. He thought once again that he was turning into a chick, but this time he decided he just didn't fucking care. This felt too good, too right.
Ray was tempted to collapse against Fraser and go back to sleep, but he didn't think he really wanted the experience of waking up stuck together like this. Plus the couch wasn't all that comfortable and if he stayed where he was much longer, his knees were going to kill him in the morning.
“Come on,” Ray jerked his head toward the hallway. “How about a shower?”
Fraser looked like he was about to say no in favor of passing out on the couch, but he managed to nod and shift with Ray as he rose and dragged him into the bathroom.
***
Ray woke the next morning to the smell of coffee and blinked in confusion. He looked around the room and tried to figure out where he was. And when he was. Stella had taken the fancy coffee pot when they divorced, not that he'd ever figured out how to work the thing anyhow.
“Good morning.”
He looked up to see Fraser leaning against the doorframe -- jeans unbuttoned, chest and feet bare -- holding a cup of coffee. Ray couldn't figure out what he wanted first: coffee or Fraser.
Fraser must have read his mind because he grinned and walked over with the coffee. Placing the mug on the nightstand, he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in for a soft kiss before pulling back. He rubbed his thumb over his eyebrow and cleared his throat and Ray's heart raced with fear. This was that moment when he got punched in the face. “I have to go, Ray. Diefenbaker's been alone since you picked me up last night. If I'd known how hard it would be to leave this morning, I would have brought him along.”
Ray's eyes closed against the coming rejection and then realized what Fraser had said. He looked up and smiled. “Go take care of fur face. I'll see you later?”
Fraser leaned in for another kiss. “If I don't make it to the station by two, pick me up at the consulate at six?”
“Yeah.”
Fraser rose and finished dressing while Ray lounged against the headboard to sip his coffee and watch the show. He wondered briefly if they had time for a quickie, but wasn't sure he'd be able to let him go once they got started. Besides, Fraser wasn't the only one who had to get to work.
TBC...