Tue Nov 27, 2001 3:03 pm
Rating: R, I suppose
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Spoilers: none, unless I missed one.
Notes: This is a post-COTW story, originally posted in three parts, but each part was small and it's really a single "first time" story so I bunged `em all together. I've managed to incorporate some of the most common dS cliches -- for fun at home, see how many you can find!
Warnings and Disclaimers: The usual - unowned but not unloved, yadda, yadda, yadda. If they get dirty or overheated, I'll hose 'em off before I put 'em up. Anything more than a friendly handshake is at your own risk, folks, just like real life.
Feedback: yes, please, particularly if you can think of a better title. Comments to mhhealey @ iastate.edu
Home Port
by Mary Healey
Fraser sank into the warm familiarity of his Rays' friendship, treasuring it, storing up the camaraderie and closeness against an eventual return to the silence colder than the Territories, and the isolation of his new post.
"More pizza, Frase?" The Rays, Vecchio and Kowalski, had been trading Mountie stories all evening, each one more outrageous than the last. Fraser was content to listen, rousing himself only long enough to answer a direct question or correct a particularly flamboyant exaggeration. His silence wasn't noteworthy, he often retreated into quiet observation in their company. Despite their initial wariness, it hadn't taken long for the two detectives to find common cause in their Mountie memories, and that mutual experience laid the foundation for a working relationship both close and closeknit. The chance to share Fraser's company for an evening was a rare and special treat, the first time either man had seen the Canadian in almost a year.
"No, thank you, Ray. I'm quite sated."
"Too bad Dief isn't here. He'd take care of the leftovers, box and all." Fraser winced, and both Rays laughed. "Yeah, yeah, Dief's getting soft. Heard it before, Benny."
Ray Vecchio, draped bonelessly across the Kowalski couch, looked across at Fraser's cross-legged form and grinned. "That reminds me. I thought you liked teaching at Depot? What made you transfer into something with all this travel anyway? A sudden urge to see the world, or at least the world's airports?"
"No, nothing like that. There were some complaints, and my superiors felt
I was better suited to extradition duties. It's not difficult work, really, mostly paperwork and escort detail, and it suits me to spend fewer days in the office. The administrative skills I picked up while I was at the Consulate here have come in quite useful."
"Hey, Ray, did I tell you what happened after those Federal bozos tried to get me killed in Florida and I had to hide out?" Florida was a slow-healing bruise in the detectives' personal relationship, but the off-limits area was slowly shrinking. Two sets of blue eyes, eyebrows raised quizzically, met green.
"Yeah, I spent 3 months in that wreck of a cabin while Fraser was going nuts trying to figure out how to get me a Canadian cover without going through official channels. He gets half the Inuit population in the Territories brainstorming for us, and you know what he comes up with?"
Alarmed, Fraser's voice pitched a bit higher than normal. "Ah, Ray, that's not . . ., well, that is, do you really want to tell that story?"
Vecchio moved one shoulder, too replete with pizza and companionship to shrug fully. "Sure. I mean, why not? You came up with the perfect cover. I mean, it's the last thing anybody'd connect with us, right?"
"Well, for the cover to be effective, it would have to be believable . . ."
"Sure, but when you tell people stuff like that, they aren't likely to examine it real closely, y'know. I mean, who'd want to disprove it?"
The other Ray followed their exchange with interest and bewilderment. "Disprove what? C'mon, lemme in on the joke."
"Fraser was gonna set it up for me to come live with him. As his lover, if you can believe it. I mean, is that like the very last place you'd look for me, or what?" Ray beamed, the perfect absurdity of the plan obviously tickled him tremendously. Fraser blushed a shade between beet and cherry and found something terribly interesting inscribed on his cuticles.
"So what happened?"
Fraser spoke rapidly, giving the languid Italian no opening. "It came to nothing. Everything was settled when Ray got the all-clear from a contact with the FBI and he was able to return to Chicago directly. A better resolution all around, wouldn't you agree?"
"So where did that leave you, Frase?" Kowalski glowered at his partner suspiciously. "Waiting around for a 'boyfriend' that never shows?"
"Nah, Kowalski, he didn't tell anybody who he was bringing in, didja Benny? A figure of mystery, that was me. And he probably got a million women offering to console him after I got home, right?" Ray's smile was amused and impatient, he knew his Mountie friend so well.
"Exactly so. In any case, I was transferred a month or two afterward and it would have been much more difficult to maintain our fictional relationship."
"Speaking of 'difficult to maintain', you know what parts for a Riv are going for these days? It's a crime, I tell ya, ..." Ray Kowalski rolled his eyes as the other Ray began minutely detailing the trials and tribulations of classic-car maintenance. And Fraser slowly started to breathe again, carefully unclenching his left fist and releasing the tension cramping his neck.
Hours later, Fraser was roused from a desultory contemplation on the nature of friendship by Vecchio's offer to ferry him back to his hotel. The Consulate, actually, because some paperwork had gone missing unexpectedly and the hotel reservations had been misplaced.
"No, thank you, Ray. If you don't mind, I think I'll stay here for a little bit and then walk to the Consulate."
"Benny, it's late and you've got to be up early. I'll give you a ride, it'll be faster."
Fraser glanced at his two friends, unwilling to end the evening. "No, I'll be fine. I want to finish my tea, then I'll have a nice, brisk walk to clear my head and that'll put me to sleep directly. There is, apparently, some possibility of delay tomorrow. Perhaps we could meet for an early lunch? I'll know more of my plans then."
Ray shook his head, defeated, gave Fraser a warm handclasp and a gentle pat on the cheek. "Sure, buddy. Give me a call tomorrow and we'll get it figured out." And he was gone, a hole in the air that suddenly corresponded precisely with a hole in Fraser's heart.
It hit him all at once, and just that fast.
He nearly cried out, the effort to remain adult and indifferent a physical blow. One friend gone, the other soon after. And nothing to look forward for except a bleak repetition of the past year's disappointments, insults, and small cruelties. A burden he'd put down, just for the evening, and was unable to resume. Fraser knew he'd plummeted into the hard darkness, but was helpless to reverse the slide. Too soon. Too soon for the comforts of friendship to be abandoned to the demands of duty. He swayed, turned blindly toward the last bit of warmth in the world and grasped it desperately.
"Frase? What ya doin, buddy?" Kowalski's voice was concerned and just riding the edge of panic.
"Please, Ray." Save me. Help me. Let me.
"What, Frase? Are you okay? You need to sit down or something?" Ray had had a satisfying evening, keeping pace story for story with Vecchio's most extreme Mountie-isms, but 'how Fraser died in my apartment' was not a story he was willing to live just yet. "You need a doctor? Lemme get the phone."
Strong fingers gripped him immobile. "No. No doctor. No questions. Just ... please, Ray. Stand here for a minute and let me hold you. I need, oh, God, I'm sorry. Ray, I'm sorry, I can't seem to let go."
Oh, man. Mountie meltdown. Ray fought his own claustrophobia, the feeling that the other man was taking air directly from his lungs, and cautiously slid his arms around the desperate figure vibrating against him.
"Whatever you need, Frase. I'm here for ya."
They stood like that for long minutes. Ray tried to ask what was wrong, but Fraser merely shook his head and clutched harder. Once the initial strangeness wore off and he was somewhat assured that Fraser wasn't dying, Ray relaxed but made no effort to disengage the embrace. Eyes closed, Fraser continued to shake silently, neither letting go nor changing his hold, taking deep slow breaths, inhaling Ray's scent.
Ray's mind wandered, the dust and the dirty dishes in the sink less worrisome than the man in his arms but subjects more easily resolved. He didn't notice when Fraser's breathing changed, but a mouth on his neck and the shifting hardness against his hip hurriedly recaptured his attention.
It was clear to a startled Ray that the Canadian had finally lost it. Ray was pressed firmly against the hall closet, the tiny knobs a literal pain in the side. Fraser shoved one strong thigh between Ray's legs, but released his shoulders, laying one hand against the door on either side of Ray's face. Breathing was easier, but the change did little to resolve the situation. With some awkwardness, Ray knew he could free himself. The question was, should he?
As Ray internally debated the advantages of a swift retreat, Fraser rocked his groin over Ray's sharp hip. Raggedly at first, shaking and hesitant, then stronger when Ray remained quiescent. This was not a scheduled stop on this route, that's for sure. Ray braced himself to avoid being knocked sideways, and held fast, but otherwise made no move to help or hinder.
Ray glanced at the oblivious Mountie and his mouth was captured by frantic lips. A warm tongue intruded, briefly, then Fraser stilled. Fraser's eyes drifted open, making surprised contact with Ray's worried gaze. With one movement, he contemplated/discarded the bathroom door, then pushed himself away from Ray's somewhat rumpled form and grasped the handle of the egress door.
"Frase?" Ray was still more puzzled than outraged. The way he had it figured, sex was usually more fun with two participants. Being asked beforehand was also a Very Good Thing. Maybe they did stuff different in Canada, but he wasn't betting on it.
Fraser's shoulders snapped taut, but he didn't turn. Voice unsteady, he whispered, "I'm so sorry, Ray. I don't expect you to forgive me, it's too much . . . you've always been a good friend. I took advantage of that. Of you. I'm going. If you ever, well, no, I quite understand that you won't want to see me again. But if we come into contact for some reason, you needn't fear a repetition of . . . I'm so sorry." The door opened and Fraser stepped through and away, moving rapidly and alone.
Great, Ray thought. Now what?
Great, Ray thought. Now what? Oh-dark-thirty and I'm chasing a seriously unhinged Mountie through the streets of Chicago. You know a guy for years, work with him, hell, practically live in his back pocket for months, and then he uses you like a giant scratching post. On an itch he never knew Fraser needed scratched. Cripes, even Dief knew better than to go around humping people's legs like that.
Ray shook his head to clear it and peered through the clear sheen of his glasses and the tinted glint of the GTO's windshield, searching for a Mountie-sized figure in the neon-shattered darkness. He finally spotted Fraser emerging from the restroom of a corner gas station. Before his quarry could flee, he pulled the car into the lot and tried to maneuver it beside the Canadian.
Fraser looked at the car for a moment, then started to walk away.
"Oh, no, you don't! Fraser! Get in the car, we gotta talk." Not even a flicker of acknowledgement from the man pacing beside the black vehicle. "You owe me, Fraser!" The words hit the silent man visibly. With some force. He halted. "Get in the car." Slowly, Fraser complied. Ray put the GTO in gear and eased forward. "Now, what WAS that? Your idea of a friendly hug? 'Cause I'm telling ya, your idea of friendly is a little, uh, friendlier than mine."
The twitch of a smile never reached Fraser's haunted eyes. "I apologize,
Ray. It won't happen again."
"WHY, Frase? Not 'sorry' and not 'never again'. Why? You're the most totally together person I know. You busted a serious major gasket tonight, and I want to know what happened."
Sigh. Fraser pressed his thumb over his brow, and admitted, "I'm not entirely sure. A number of factors, I think. I lost myself for a while."
"Details, Frase." Ray paused to think about the evening's events. "Some of it's your job, right?"
"Oh, not directly. You remember Ray said something about the cover I tried to establish for him?"
"Your boyfriend, right?"
"Yes. Well, I didn't tell Ray because, well, because there wasn't anything he could do, but part of the groundwork for that cover story involved informing my commanding officer. To justify the change in quarters and so on. I had to come on to him."
The GTO swerved, but Ray quickly recovered. "You mean 'come out', right? You told him you were gay?"
"Yes. That's 'come out'? What's 'come o . . .', never mind, I remember." Ray could feel Fraser's blush through 3 feet of engine-warmed air.
"So, I take it the boss man wasn't altogether thrilled with the news, eh?"
"Something of the sort, yes. He made my remaining month there quite uncomfortable. It might have been easier to bear if it were true, or if
I'd had Ray to stand with me . . . I admit to a certain amount of disappointment when Ray's plans changed. In any case, he lost no time in informing others of what I'd told him in confidence. Most people were indifferent, some were supportive, but a few were disturbingly unpleasant."
Fraser sat silently for a moment, then snorted a grim laugh. "Listen to me. 'it might be easier to bear if it were true', indeed. It is true. I just hadn't put a name to my feelings yet."
Softly, Ray said, "You coulda told me. Geez, Fraser, after all we've been through, you coulda told me any of this and I'da been so there for you."
Bitterly, Fraser asked, "What was I supposed to say? 'Ray, my friend, I'm about to endanger our friendship in a wildly bizarre way?'" Ray grunted a laugh as Fraser continued. "It's difficult to work with people who are actively hostile, particularly in the survival training work I was doing. I accepted a transfer with relief, thinking that I could leave the antagonism behind."
"No go, huh?"
"My current situation is worse yet. I thought at first that it was the hazing sometimes accorded officers new to a post, but it's not. Files go missing, travel arrangements are changed, security information is incomplete or outdated, nothing that has actually resulted in disaster thus far, but I'm constantly checking and rechecking the simplest of details. I can't trust them, Ray, and it's exhausting."
Fraser turned and reached for Ray's hand on the wheel, but let his hand drop before it made contact. "Ray. I swear all I wanted was a friend's embrace. Simple human contact, it's been so long since I've been among friends. What happened . . . surprised me. I didn't expect to be so overwhelmed. Please believe me."
"I believe ya. And I'm not that surprised, not after the stuff you've told me since." A sudden suspicion made Ray twitch the wheel again, but his voice betrayed nothing. "Frase, where's Dief?"
Great control, pressed to the limit. "Dief died just before I left Depot. He died doing his duty, as he saw it. I'd rather not talk about it right now."
"So you've been doing this all alone for a year now, huh? No wonder you came a little unstuck tonight. That'd make anybody a kinda crazed."
Fraser nodded. "Thank you, Ray. Your understanding means a lot to me."
"Hey, Frase?"
"Ray?"
"Was that just, like, all pent-up frustration stuff, cause that's okay an' everything, but was that all it was?"
"What else would it be, Ray?" Fraser's quiet voice was too regular, too careful. Trying to put the genie back in the bottle.
"Well, maybe you like me?" Ray didn't dare look away from the road.
"Of course I like you, Ray. You're one of my best friends." Ray could feel Fraser's retreat through the stillness.
"But maybe you LIKE me? More-than-just-friends like?" The wistful tone, more potent for being unconscious, snapped Fraser's head around so hard his neck cracked. He stared at Ray like he'd never seen the spiky-tonsured man beside him before. Ray smiled very gently.
"Maybe we could try it again, only I think maybe we could, like, get naked and maybe lay down? Like on a bed or something?" Ray still wouldn't look at Fraser. Fraser forgot to breathe. "I mean, you don't have to or nothing, but if you wanted to, hell, I'll give it a shot."
Wonderingly, Fraser found his voice. "After that . . . assault, after I used you so shamefully? Ray, why would you do this for me after that?"
"Hey, it's not like I never thought about it. I just figured it wasn't something that got your motor revved, so I didn't say nothing. If you wanta, it's okay. If you don't, that's okay, too." A few more blocks slid past. The charged silence eased as Fraser pondered his options.
"It won't be easy," he said at last.
"What won't, Frase?"
"You, me. Being together. Logistically, I mean."
Ray was puzzled. "That's okay. I mean, I don't know what I'm doing, either."
"No, Ray. Logistics is, well, I suppose it applies to . . . never mind. I meant, it won't be easy to arrange time together. You're based here, I'm traveling. I'm told long distance relationships are difficult to sustain."
"You're saying you can be my partner over thousands of miles and months and stuff, but you can't be my lover? That's demented, Frase." If he'd gotten into this conversation with anyone else, Ray was sure he'd have been equally deranged by now. But Fraser was different. Always different. "Look. We're not kids anymore, it's not like we're gonna be stuck together for days at a time." A quirked smile and an apologetic shrug met Fraser's shocked glance. "Well, it's true. We're grown up people, sorta, and the way I see it, the only difference between what we already got and what we're talking about is that you stay with me when you're in town and I spend my vacations with you. And we give the sex thing a try." Another shrug. "We like it, we keep it on the menu. One of us hates it, we don't go there. No harm done."
"You'd do that for me?" Why was it, Fraser wondered, that he struggled so hard all his life to do the right thing, the honorable thing, when it never worked out? And the only good that ever came to him was almost always the result of some horrific, impulsive, despicable lapse?
Ray fought tears. "Fraser, we're friends and maybe we're more than friends. I don't know for sure, I can't pretend that I know what the hell we're doing, but I'd like to find out."
"An adventure, Ray?"
"Exploration takes many forms, Fraser." Even with his eyes closed, Fraser felt the warmth of Ray's smile.
Fraser fell asleep as the black GTO purred through the neighborhoods of Chicago. Ray hadn't noticed at first, and kept talking quietly about nothing in particular. When he made a comment about the Henry Anderson and it was allowed to stand uncorrected, he looked over at the quiet man beside him and realized that sleep had drawn itself over the relaxed form.
He drove around for another twenty minutes before his own weariness forced him homeward. For another few minutes, he sat and watched his partner given over to dreams. Fraser slept neatly, no lolling head or drooling lips. Right shoulder tucked tidily against the passenger door, head rested against its cushion, his limbs folded and carefully stowed away. Ray thought he looked like Dief snoozing in the Arctic snow, and if Fraser had had a tail it would have been curled over his nose.
Ray sighed and shook Fraser's unprotected shoulder. "Wake up, Frase. We're home, or near enough."
Only Fraser's eyelids shifted. He made no move to sit up. "Hmmmm?"
"Bed, Fraser. But I can't carry you."
"Hmmmm." Fraser swallowed and his eyes closed again. He nodded, slowly. "I'm up." Ray was about to shake him again when Fraser inhaled, blew the air out sharply, and shook his head to clear the sleep that still hovered like a cloud. His temple thumped against the window. "Ow." Hand to forehead, he muttered, "Just a moment." His eyes slid to meet Ray's. "I fell asleep."
Ray grinned. "You sure did. Out like a light."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. It's been one of those nights, y'know?"
Fraser hesitated, apologetic. "Ray? I'm really sleepy." Before he could continue, Ray cuffed him very lightly on the cheek.
"Frase, it's OKAY. Truth is, I'm pretty wiped out myself. We'll just go upstairs and crash. But you gotta get out of the car."
They smiled at one another, and Fraser yawned. "Thank you, Ray." He opened the car door and stretched through the opening. Ray unfolded himself from the other side, then checked the locks on the doors before catching Fraser up. Ray's hand on Fraser's back, a steadying gesture, earned him a smile and a sustained one-armed hug. They leaned on one another up the stairs, moving slowly and as quietly as exhaustion would allow. Once in the apartment, Ray steered Fraser's quickly wilting figure to the bedroom and sat him on the bed.
"C'mon, Frase, let's get those clothes off." Ray knelt down as started tugging at Fraser's left boot. Frase slid halfway off the mattress before his muscles responded. Eyes still closed, he mumbled, "I'll get it." By feel alone he toed the left boot off with his right foot, the right with his left, pressing the loosened soles against the carpeted floor. Ray picked up the boots and arranged them carefully by the doorway. When he reached for Fraser's zipper, the Canadian's eyes shot open, although he didn't move a hand to protest.
"Laundry, Fraser. I'll throw your clothes in the washer and get 'em cleaned up for the morning." Ray knew if he could smell the events of the evening on Fraser's clothing, his fellow Mounties would be even more astute.
"Hmmm," Fraser ducked his head and his eyes shut once more. "Good idea. Thank you. I'm sorry I'm such a bother."
"No bother, buddy. Friends." Ray tugged the jeans open and very carefully down, freeing one leg at a time. Then he pulled off the socks and boxers without resistance, and drew the bedsheet over Fraser's exposed hips. Shirt and undershirt followed in good order, and in a few minutes there was a bundle of dirty clothes on the floor and a nearly naked Fraser in the bed. He was still wearing his watch.
Ray thought Fraser had gone back to sleep, he'd been so silent and passive. But as he gathered up the clothes and shuffled to the door, he heard Fraser whisper, "More than friends, Ray. Hurry back."
Completely unselfconscious, or perhaps just nearly unconscious, Fraser rolled to face away from the doorway and left Ray staring at his strong, smooth shoulders. And back. And lower than back.
Galvanized, Ray almost teleported to the washer and flung the clothing and soap inside. Remembered change for the machine, thanked God no insomniac had declared wash day, and flew back up the stairs and into the bedroom. Breathless and completely awake, he set the bedside alarm to remind him to change the laundry over in an hour, and silently stripped for bed. Fraser slept.
Ray grinned and clambered onto the mattress, sliding against Fraser's oblivious and naked backside with a tiny grunt. Fraser murmured protest as Ray's cold fingers stroked gently over his nipples and searched for warm haven along his side.
"S'okay, Frase. Just me. G'night." Ray pressed a kiss onto a muscle-clad shoulderblade and tucked his arm around Fraser's middle, trying to find a comfortable spot. Marriage to Stella had accustomed him to wanting without having, the ache was familiar and bearable.
"Ray?" Eyes still closed, Fraser turned and hooked his right leg behind
Ray's left knee. And pulled. Ray found himself suddenly beached on an island of Fraser. Lazily, Fraser settled his arms around Ray and searched his face for signs of distress.
Finding none, Fraser whispered, "Now what?" Ray's thoughts had scattered like a herd of cats as his erection first brushed then ground into Fraser's groin.
"Don't know", he whispered back. "But this ain't it." Fraser's arms disengaged immediately. "Nah, wait, lemme. . . hey, Frase, it's just too much pressure, 'kay? Lemme down already. The arms were good, do the arms again." Fraser's arms recircled at once, as Ray half-skidded down Fraser to the no longer cold sheets. That pinned Ray's arm underneath him and left entirely too much air between Ray's cock and anything resembling skin. Ray started to laugh helplessly.
"Ray?" Fraser sounded more puzzled than offended, which was good. Lots of people react badly to their partner getting the giggles in bed. Between the nervousness of a new experience and the lateness of the hour, Ray's brain was operating independently of his body. His body wasn't giving up the fight just yet, though.
Nor was Fraser, who rolled onto his side, carefully stroking Ray's face and shoulder. "We can stop, Ray, it's alright."
Still shaking with laughter, Ray replied, "Nah, Frase, I'm good. Really. Just need a manual'r something."
"A manual what?"
"Huh?"
"A manual what?" Fraser was off on some wild moose chase, mentally. Locking eyes with Ray, he stroked his free hand down Ray's exposed side, firmly cupped his buttock in a moving embrace, then changed direction to bring his broad fingers across the thin skin of Ray's hip and followed the crease down again to the straining flesh between them. Still pressing enough to drag the skin slightly, Fraser circled Ray's cock and slowly pulled up, base to almost-tip. Ray lost all impulse to laugh, and most of his breath disappeared, too.
Fraser asked, conversationally, "Is this the sort of manual you had in mind, Ray? Or should we look for a different one?" He opened his fingers just enough to slide downward without resistance, then tightened again in a slow drag up the shaft.
"Nah. Good. More." Ray pushed a little into Fraser's hand, the sensation wonderful and sharp. "Show ya." He mirrored the gesture on Fraser, only momentarily nonplused by the feel of foreskin. The angle was difficult, and they bumped arms a few times before Ray shoved himself backwards a few inches, giving them a bit more room to move. He tried shifting his grip, and Fraser hissed.
"Good or bad, Frase?"
Fraser's eyes unfocused briefly as he sought the answer. "Both, Ray. The hand is very nice, but you're too far away."
Ray chuckled, a low purr. "My arm don't bend right if we're closer."
"Ah. Of course." Fraser removed his hand and Ray moaned a protest. "Shh. What about . . . hmm. How do people manage this?"
"This is what I'm asking myself." With a quick lunge, Ray straddled Fraser, sitting upright. Fraser began to twist onto his back, but a hand on his shoulder stayed him. "How's this?"
"Comfortable but ineffective, I think." He flexed his hips. "Hmmm. Maybe not. You're still too far away, though."
"I'm poking into your side, Fraser, that's not far away."
"I'd like to kiss you, Ray."
"Oh. This won't work, then. Right."
They struggled onward for a bit, bumping and growling like cats in a
bag. It resembled a horrible cartoon parody; much rolling and twitching and adjusting and rooting around, then a momentary freeze as they evaluated the resultant position, then a choked laugh and a quick curse and it all started up again. Ray was finally laughing so hard he overbalanced and plopped off the bed.
"Ray. Ray. Ray! RAY!"
"Shhhh, Frase, I'm okay. It's a good thing we're buddies, y'know? 'Cause this would be humiliating with anybody else."
"Ray." Fraser's serious Mountie voice. Ray sat up.
"Yeah?"
"Ray, we need lessons. Or a good book."
"With pictures."
"Yes. I'm so sorry."
"Hey, forget that 'sorry' crap. Y'know, I thought it would be really weird with you. Well, it IS really weird, but it's a good weird."
"You said you'd given thought to us being together before?"
"Well, yeah, but I think of a lot of stuff I don't really wanna do. It's the idea that's the turn on, y'know? Not the doing part."
"Oh."
"No, not 'oh'. This is good. This is great."
"Ray, we've accomplished nothing at all."
"So what? We groped, we laughed, well, okay, I laughed - but you didn't get mad. This is the most fun I've had in bed since. . . oh, since my mom made me quit using my mattress as a trampoline. This is greatness, Fraser. The sex stuff'll happen." Ray's lips curled in a wicked little smile. "There ARE books, Fraser. With pictures. We'll get something kinda basic and study up. No big deal. Tests'll be interesting."
Still amused, Ray flung his hand out to snag his jeans and dragged them on. "Laundry. Be right back."
One arm crooked over his eyes, legs tangled in the sheets, Fraser listened to Ray's bare feet pad across the carpet, then slap to the apartment door. Ray puzzled him. He'd seen Ray in love, his behavior with Stella was nothing like the cheerful acceptance he'd just displayed toward Fraser. Not love, then. To Ray, love was Serious. And frequently painful, if his interactions with Stella were to be considered typical. Love hadn't done either of them much benefit, truth be told.
Maybe friends was better. Friends was safer, sturdier, stronger. Friends had held them in good stead through blizzards and stakeouts. Friends. Partners. Leading and following in equal measure, neither overshadowed by the other.
Fraser closed his eyes under his elbow and let his fingers remember the feel of Ray's skin. Of his cock, softest silk over steel. Imagined the places he hadn't been, hadn't dared go, and a moan escaped his suddenly tight throat. Touched himself, thinking Ray, wondering where Ray's clever fingers could be coaxed. Would friends touch each other so?
He stretched, hands pressed against the headboard, and arced his back sharply. A soft "oh" breathed from the doorway. He opened his eyes, still taut, and met Ray's intense gaze.
"You are SO beautiful." Ray's jeans were open, had probably been open all the way to the laundry room and back, and his right hand had disappeared below his waist.
"I was thinking the same of you", Fraser admitted as his right hand drifted down for a long, slow stroke.
"Your eyes were closed."
"I was remembering how you feel. How I feel when I'm with you." He stared a calm invitation. "I'd rather experience than imagine."
Ray sighed. "If you're gonna get any sleep, and I know what you're like without sleep, Fraser, it is not a beauteous thing, we better just give it up now. Got about two, three hours. I'll bunk on the sofa." He turned.
"Stay." The broken voice held every tear Fraser never shed. Ray couldn't deny him. Didn't want to deny him. Only a few lousy hours and they'd both be back in their solitary routines. "Please, Ray, don't go."
Ray's body responded to Fraser's plea before his brain had completely processed it. He was beside the bed, kicking out of his pants for what with any luck would be the last time before dawn. He lay down quickly, burrowing toward Fraser's warmth, and shivered as he was gathered close.
And rocked just slightly into the sweetness before him.
And was rocked back in return.
Fraser rumbled a low laugh as Ray commented drily, "Figures. NOW we find the spot. Good for you?"
"Wonderful. And you?"
"I'm good. Whadya say?"
"Eh, 'remember where we parked'?" Ray could feel Fraser's smile pressed against his cheek.
"Don't make me laugh, Frase! Do NOT make me laugh, or we'll . . . oh!" A strong backthrust drew fire along the underside of Ray's cock. His breathing lost rhythm, then synchronized to the rolling of his hips. Inhale on the backpush, exhale on the grind forward. He felt Fraser breathe in exact counterpoint.
He lost himself in the feel, in the silence, in the safety of Fraser's arms and the heat of his need. Wrapped and enraptured, he clung to his partner and let everything else burn away. Pushed and wanted and had every demand met without question.
He felt Fraser falter momentarily, then surge harder. It was enough to send liquid fire through his veins to coalesce in his groin. His whole awareness concentrated in the slide of his cock on flesh and the delicious tension a knife-edge from pain, a whisper from fulfillment. He danced there, suspended, drowning, flying, falling at last into the inevitable.
Harsh breath and soft lips greeted his return. Gentle hands cradled him and prevented his escape.
"Shhh, Ray. It's alright now. Everything's alright now." Fraser's murmured reassurances only brought Ray further awake. He opened his eyes to Fraser's somber concern and smiled into those amazing eyes. "I'd like to kiss you, Ray, if you don't mind?"
"Fraser, we're naked, we've fucked, what do you think? That I'm gonna worry about germs now?" Ray couldn't believe it. Messy and sated, or at least messy and momentarily sated, Fraser was asking permission to kiss? To open that lovely mouth and press his tongue against something other than his own lower lip? Hoo, brother.
"Oh." Soft, wet heat pulled gently at Ray's mouth, and he drifted into the sweetest kiss. Pushed without urgency, explored without haste, they kissed and touched placidly, tranquil. And fell asleep, entwined.
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