This is a PWP featuring the characters Benton Fraser and Ray Kowalski from the television series Due South. No spoilers I can think of, but it does assume an existing sexual relationship between them. No redeeming social value either, just good clean smut.
Rated NC-17 for graphic sexuality (M/M). If you're considered a minor in your community please do not read this . If you're narrow-minded, easily offended, or have something against Chicago Flatfoots (flatfeet?) with Experimental Hair, you may want to take a pass as well. Characters property of Alliance, yadda, yadda, yadda. Everything else is my own smutty intellectual property.
Thanks to Judi H. for a truly inspirational picture, and to Betty and AuKestrel for beta.
c. 1999, Kellie Matthews
"Hey, Huey!" Ray yelled, waving the file he'd snagged off the other man's desk. "I got the Morelli file."
Huey waved distractedly back, returning to his phone call as Ray headed for his desk, with Fraser right behind him. He'd just sat down when Fraser spoke.
"You know, Ray, that's generally considered to be rather rude."
Ray looked up, wondering what Fraser was chiding him about this time. "What is, Frase?"
"Taking things without asking, not to mention interrupting his conversation."
Ray rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mom." Fraser had been kind of pissy for days now and it was starting to wear. Well, as pissy as he ever got. Which translated to excessively fussy. Which really got on Ray's nerves.
"It only takes a moment to be considerate," Ben said earnestly.
"Yeah, yeah," Ray grumbled, wondering why people always said 'not to mention' and then turned around and mentioned it. Whatever 'it' was.
Fraser sighed faintly. Ray felt a flush in his face, and scowled. Fraser was the only person who could make him feel like a naughty eight-year-old. Okay, almost the only person, besides his mom, his dad, and Stella. Jesus. What the hell did that mean?
"Okay, fine," he muttered. "I'm sorry. I'll apologize to Huey tomorrow, okay?"
Fraser looked pleased, and nodded. Ray settled back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk, then caught Fraser's frown and quickly shifted them off again. It was getting to where he couldn't even be comfortable at his own desk. This was not good, not right. But there wasn't anything he could do about it. Somehow he didn't think complaining about Fraser telling him he was uncouth was going to carry much weight.
He wondered if Fraser ever did anything that could be considered even slightly rude. He couldn't think of a single incident. Not even in bed. Well, except maybe that time at the Consulate when he'd made that comment about using the can, or rather, 'taking the opportunity to urinate' but even that hadn't really been rude, just . . . blunt. That realization irked him. It challenged him. And Ray never could resist a challenge.
He flipped through the file he held, not seeing it, mostly thinking. How the hell was he going to get Benton Fraser, Mr. Perfect Mountie, to do something rude? What sorts of rude things were there that were pretty hard not to do? Well, there was always. . . what had Fraser called it. . . oh yeah, flatulence. Except from what he could tell, Fraser had a cast-iron stomach and could eat pretty much anything without effect. Even the chili his mom had made from her Arizona recipe. So that was out. Damn. He'd have to work on it. There had to be something.
He jumped, startled, and looked up. "Hunh?"
"You're holding the file upside down."
He looked down. Fraser was right. Somehow he managed to keep his face solemn. "Yeah, it's a new technique. Learned it at a symposium. Subconscious information absorption."
Fraser's lips twitched. Ray felt his own mouth curve a little in response.
"That's a very interesting method," Fraser said smoothly. "Perhaps you could give me instruction on it some time, in a spirit of, ah. . ." his voice lowered slightly, roughened, ". . . interdepartmental cooperation, as it were."
Interdepartmental cooperation? Now why did that sound so damned suggestive all the sudden? Oh yeah, Ray thought, he could use a little of that himself. He looked up at Fraser and winked. "Sure thing, Frase. I'll just interdepartmentally cooperate my ass off. Anytime. Anyplace. You name it, I'm there."
Color flooded Fraser's face and his hand lifted, tugging at the stiff collar of his tunic as he cracked his neck sharply. Ray grinned. Gotcha. He glanced at his watch. Forty-six minutes past quitting time?? He was aghast. How had it gotten so late without him noticing? What the hell were they still doing in the bullpen on their first free night in a week? He shot to his feet, rubbing his neck.
"Hey, time to head for home, Fraser. Want a ride?"
"That would be very kind . . ." Fraser began.
"Great." Ray cut him off. "What'cha standing around for then? Let's go."
Ray headed for the doors, reached out to open one a fraction of a second behind Fraser's identical gesture, and managed to smack his hand into the opening door, not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to sting. "Ow! Watch it there, Fraser."
"I'm terribly sorry, Ray. If you'll let me . . ."
With a look of concern, he took Ray's hand, lifted it, examining his fingers. Ray was instantly distracted by the feeling of Fraser's hand against his own. For a moment his touch was firm and impersonal, but then his thumb stroked across Ray's palm as he turned the injury toward the light to examine it more closely. The caress went straight to Ray's groin, and he had to suppress a shiver. Disconcerted, he snatched his hand back, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Fortunately no one seemed to have, and his jacket was long enough to hide his sudden erection.
"It's fine, it's nothin'," he muttered, pushing on through the door, in the lead once more.
Reaching the car, he pulled out his keys to unlock the passenger door and promptly dropped them. He leaned over to pick them up and smacked his head into Fraser's as the other man bent to retrieve them too. The hat fell off, and Ray managed to catch it before it hit the ground. They both straightened, Ray holding the hat in one hand, rubbing his head with the other. Ben held his keys, and his hair was sticking up all funny from the way the hat had come off. Ray grinned.
"Leave the experimental hair to me, Fraser. It doesn't suit you," he said, reaching over to smooth down the errant strands. A tingle started in his fingertips, suffused his palm, traveled up his arm and in short order seemed to be spreading over his entire body. He started to lean forward, to seal his mouth over those luscious lips . . . not in the parking lot, idiot. Not in the damned parking lot. Quickly he removed his hand from the soft, dark waves of Fraser's hair and snatched his keys from Fraser's hand, thrusting the Stetson at his partner.
"Here. I saved The Hat, sacredness intact an' all."
A smile, a real smile, curved Fraser's mouth as he accepted the hat back. "Thank you kindly, Ray."
The tingle turned into spring thaw, and Ray forced himself to look away. "No problem." He turned and unlocked the door with fingers that shook a little, then opened the door, smacking himself in the knee as he did. He winced, but managed not to yelp. Diefenbaker jumped into the car and squeezed between the seats into the back.
"Are you all right, Ray?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Frase. Just, um, just. . . hungry."
There was a moment of silence, then Fraser spoke, a definite smile in his voice. "As am I Ray. Very hungry. In fact, I feel as if I haven't eaten in days. I could, as the saying goes, eat a horse."
Ray almost laughed out loud. Hey, that was verging on rude right there. Now there was something he hadn't tried. Could he get Mr. Straightlaced to talk dirty? Ray grinned. "So, wanna come back to my place for . . . dinner?"
"Yes, Ray. I'd like that very much," Fraser said without hesitation, his voice low, husky.
"Get in the car, Mountie," Ray ordered, just as huskily.
"Understood," Fraser said, obediently sliding into the seat.
Ray grinned as he closed the door. Maybe they ought to abstain for a week more often, if it affected Fraser like this. Heck, maybe that was why he'd been so snarky lately. Apparently even SuperMountie was prey to sexual frustration. Wonders never ceased.
* * *
"Oh God, Ben!" Ray moaned, writhing under the determined assault of that butter-wouldn't-melt-in-it mouth. Wet, sleek tongue traveled around the edge of his ear, descended to suck at the lobe. Really, the man had an unnatural fixation with his ears, but he could do the most amazing things to them. Before he met Fraser, he would never have believed he could get this aroused just from having his ears licked and sucked.
"Ray," Fraser breathed into his ear, soft, warm, low. "I want you."
Ray shivered, and almost gave in. Then he remembered. He was still on a quest. "What do you want, Ben?"
There was a pause. That response apparently wasn't in the script. Still, Fraser was good at improvisation. "I want to make love with you."
Another pause. "I want to . . . ah . . . take you in my mouth."
"Take what part of me in your mouth?"
"Your . . . your . . ."
"Cock, Ben? Is that what you want? You want to suck my cock?"
Ben moaned, buried his face against Ray's shoulder, and nodded.
Ray was torn between laughter and arousal. "Tell me."
"I want to . . ."
"You want to suck my cock."
Quiet again. Finally, "Ray, I can't . . ."
"You can. Tell me. It turns me on. I want to hear you say it."
Pause. "It excites you?"
"Oh." Another pause. After a moment Ben's hand slid down Ray's chest to cup the hard thrust of his penis as his head lifted from the curve of his shoulder, lips brushing Ray's ear again, tongue stealing out to flicker wetly against the convolutions as he drew in a breath, then spoke. "Ray, I want to suck your cock," he whispered, sultry, and low.
Under that warm, broad hand his penis jerked with reaction. He sensed that Ben was processing his reaction, felt that tongue slide over his ear again, then in that same sultry whisper he was talking.
"I want to feel you in my mouth, thick, and hard, skin like hot silk. I want to smell you. I want to taste you."
Whoa. Ray had to bite his tongue, hard, to keep from coming right then, even though Ben had yet to even really stroke him. Script now rewritten. How far would he take it? He was about to speak when Ben's mouth moved from his ear, came down over his. Not kissing. Talking. Against his lips.
"I want to feel your mouth on me, on my cock."
Ray thought he might faint. That mouth, saying those things. The hell with rude. He didn't care, just wanted more of this. He wondered dizzily if anyone ever got off just from being talked to. Ben's hand abandoned Ray's cock, found one of his hands, curved around it, moved it down to his groin, urging his fingers around his own penis.
"I want to watch you."
Wait. That wasn't in Ray's script. He opened his eyes, looked into Ben's eyes, the pupils so dilated there was only a faint ring of smoky blue around them. His lips were parted, his breathing quick, almost panting.
"You want to watch me what?"
Ben's hand urged his into a long, slow stroke, dark lashes shuttering suddenly-shy eyes. "I want to watch you touch yourself. . . pleasure yourself." His voice was a whisper again, no longer sultry, longing.
Wow. Fraser had jerk-off fantasies? Who knew? Ray felt his mouth curving in a grin. "Yeah?" He took the initiative, starting a leisurely rhythm. "Like this?"
He could almost feel Ben's gaze on him, felt the tremor in the hand that still covered his. "Yes. Almost."
"What would make it better?"
Ben closed his eyes. "If you . . . knelt. So I could. . . ." he stopped mid-sentence, and a blush darkened that snow-pale skin.
Ray could think of a lot of things he 'could,' and not one of them sounded bad to him. He let go of himself and rolled to his knees on the rumpled bed, sitting back on his haunches, thighs spread wide to improve the view. He wrapped his fingers around his cock again, teased himself with half-strokes and a thumb across the head.
Ben nodded, gaze fixed avidly on his hand, on his dick, tongue flickering across his lower lip, then curling upward to swipe across upper. Very nice. Made Ray think of that tongue on his cock, like it always did. Made him think about those so-sweet lips on him, the wet heat of that mouth surrounding him. He stroked a little faster, wishing he could do both-- touch himself for Ben, and have that mouth on him too. Oh wait. . . maybe he could.
"You still want to taste?" he asked, a little shocked at the ragged sound of his own voice.
Ben shivered visibly. "Yes."
"Go for it," Ray said, sliding his hand down to the base, leaving room.
Ben licked his lips again, considered the situation. He reached behind Ray to grab a pillow which he bunched between Ray's thighs, then he was on his back there, head and shoulders raised by the pillow, head tilted back, mouth open, looking like something out of a porn flick, insanely erotic. How the hell was this supposed to work, though? He'd expected Ben on his front, not his back, and actively participating, not just lying there. Like this he'd have to . . . oh. Oooh. Like that? Really?
Ray shifted forward a little, used a little pressure to angle himself down, felt good actually. Ben tilted his head back a little more, and then he was there, the ultra-sensitive crown of his cock grazing that flat, wet tongue, which curled upward to lick him in a way that made him shudder. Oh yeah. Yeah this would work. Good thing he was pretty long or it wouldn't. He stroked again. Again. Ben's eyes were open, watching him from just inches away, mouth and tongue working him on every downstroke. Ben shifted a little, lifting a hand over his head, cupping Ray's balls, playing with them. Ray moaned, closing his eyes, pumping himself harder, his hand tight around his cock, forgetting to angle down. He gasped at the touch of hot, wet tongue on his balls, at fingers sliding back between his cheeks to tease him there. He moaned, fisting fast now, so close . . . so close. . . .
"Ray . . ." husky, throaty voice, vibrating maddeningly against aroused flesh. "I want you to come in my m . . . ."
An animalistic groan tore from his throat as he lost it then, the feel of Ben's voice and the shock of that request sending him over the edge. He heard himself whimpering as the liquid pleasure rose through him and escaped in thick streams, and he tried to do what Ben had asked, but he missed with at least half of it. Geez, he could tell it had been a week since he'd come, from the amount of it on Ben's face. Chin. Lips. Tongue. Cheek. The damned stuff was everywhere. Still panting a little, he sheepishly grabbed the corner of a sheet and went to wipe away the ropy strings of come, only to have Ben grab his wrist in one hand, preventing it. He licked his lips, curling his tongue to cup the thick whiteness, then lifting to scrape against his teeth, as if testing the texture as well as the taste. Then he swallowed.
"Ray . . ." he said, the word raw and dark. "I need to fuck you," he finished, then reached up to haul Ray down into a kiss that was slippery and salt-bitter and thick and just as shockingly seductive as the word he'd never thought to hear Fraser use. Definitely rewrote the script for him.
He kissed back, licking, bathing Ben's face with his tongue. It was his mess, after all, he might as well clean it up. At that Ben growled against him, pushing him away, rolling him onto his belly with a wrestler's practiced flip, kneeing his thighs apart and pinning him there with his hips against his ass and a hand on his neck. He heard the phone hit the floor with a rattling clang and knew Ben was scrabbling one-handed for the lubricant on the nightstand. He grinned into the sheets and shifted his thighs further apart just as a drizzle of cool wetness slid into the valley between his buttocks, followed a moment later by thick fingers massaging across the small opening there, then they were penetrating him almost roughly, working that cool slick stuff up inside him.
He groaned, half in discomfort from the abrupt insertion, half in pleasure as those fingers stroked up inside him, locating that place that felt so damned good. God, so good. He rocked back onto that incursion, taking them deeper, feeling them slide more easily into him as he relaxed and accepted them. Stroke, stretch, twist, stroke. He moaned, jerking involuntarily in response, then he managed to get his knees up under him and pushed up onto all fours, offering himself blatantly.
Growl again, and the fingers were gone. A hand gripped his hip, hard, holding him still, and the broad, blunt shaft was against him. He pushed back, welcoming the intrusion, and a dual groan split the silence as Ben breached him, forging past the tight rings of muscle at the entrance and sliding deep in a single harsh thrust. Hands on both hips now, giving more power to each thrust, nothing gentle about this time, just heat, and hardness and need. Amazingly, he was getting hard again as the constant stimulation revived his erection. Everything just felt so good, the spreading heat building, the tautness, the need growing with each stroke inside him, against that pleasure-point there.
Suddenly Ben groaned, shoving deep, like he was trying to climb all the way inside him, and his body was shaking, and there was more heat flooding up into him. Yeah. Oh yeah. He loved that feeling, the sweet power of knowing he could make Ben lose his mind with pleasure. Ben sagged against him, breathing so hard and fast it was almost sobs. Ray let his weight press both of them down, sandwiched between Mountie and mattress, happily so, his erection fading a little.
There were lips against the back of his neck then, soft, and gentle, stark contrast to the hard, harsh fucking of moments earlier. Lips that moved up his neck to his ear, licking as Ben carefully withdrew from him, one hand stroking his buttocks possessively, almost like he was saying "These are mine." Which they were. Ray had never let anyone else do the things to him that he let Ben do. Couldn't imagine ever letting anyone but Ben do them.
Then suddenly that warm weight was gone, and Ben was twisting around and slipping a hand under his hip to push him over onto his back. A hand cupped his half-hard cock, lifting it, and warm lips closed around it, sucking, tongue stroking. He sighed, languid, un-urgent pleasure permeating him. He reached down and caressed the thick sable waves of Ben's hair, slid his fingers down his cheek to his mouth, feeling the way his lips stretched around his hardening cock, the flex of jaw muscles as he opened his mouth wider to accommodate him. Nice. He made a little purring sound to let Ben know he appreciated it, even if he probably wouldn't come.
Ben echoed the sound, in his throat, his lips. Ray arched as the vibration aroused him even more. Then a hand was sliding under his ass, fingers working between his cheeks and sliding oh-so-easily up into him again, since he was still pretty opened up from being fucked half out of his mind. When those fingers curled forward to stroke his prostate, Ray gasped, shuddering a little at the intensity of the sensation. Okay, maybe he was wrong about not coming. Fingers, mouth, wow. . .
The question was hummed around him. He moaned. He had to do that to Fraser one of these times. What was he. . . oh, yeah. "I love you."
He felt the smile, and Ben looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Without releasing him from his mouth, he said something, totally unintelligible, of course, but understandable just the same. Ray's eyes squeezed closed and his head tipped back as stars exploded behind his eyelids and a slow, enervated orgasm pulsed through him. Fraser finally released him, and slid up alongside him, pulling him close. They lay that way for some time, quiet, content. Ray let the memories of the last few minutes play out, still amazed by pretty much all of it, then suddenly he grinned.
"It's not nice to talk with your mouth full."
There was a moment of silence, then he felt as well as heard the laughter rumble up from somewhere very deep inside his partner, and that mouth was on his, and definitely not talking.
* * Finis * *
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