Delayed Gratification Challenge by LizzyPaul
Sneaking this in quick!
Title: Just What the Doctor Ordered
Author: LizzyPaul
Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 2000ish
Summary: Ray is chaffing under the doctor’s instructions against “strenuous activity.”
“You are a pain in my ass, Fraser,” Ray said. He thought about what he’d just said, and frowned. “Or not a pain in my ass, really.”
Fraser looked contrite. Ray didn’t buy it for a second. “I’m sorry, Ray,” he offered.
“It’s been two weeks--”
“Twelve days,” Fraser corrected.
Ray scowled up at his partner. It was hard, giving good glare when his face was pressed up against Fraser’s wide, red-clad chest, with Fraser’s arm firm around his shoulders, but Ray persevered. “I think I know how long it’s been since we fucked, Frase.”
Fraser gave a soft little sigh, so soft that Ray probably wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t been plastered against him. It wasn’t Fraser’s annoyed “if you say one more word, you’re eating pemmican for a month” sigh, it wasn’t his “my partner is a complete dumbshit but I’ll humor him” sigh, and it wasn’t even his “I left Canada for this?” sigh. But Ray knew the sigh well, it was the sigh that said “being so much smarter than everyone else is a terrible burden, but I must bear it” as clearly as if Fraser had spoken the words aloud.
Not that Fraser would ever say something like that. Or even allow himself to think it, really. But sighs were allowed, and Ray had learned to decode them years ago.
“Twelve days ago, you impetuously followed me into the men’s bathroom at--”
“Impetuous my ass!” Ray protested. He tried to shift away, but Fraser’s arm held him tight, and he really didn’t care enough to struggle. “You were wound tighter than a...a...goddamn tight thing and you were about to snap, and I didn’t want you to cause an inter-fucking-national incident! Again.”
“Nevertheless,” Fraser said, his voice calm, “twelve days ago--”
“Twelve days ago, you gave my dick a couple pulls and then I blew you on the bathroom floor. That’s not sex, Fraser, that’s stress relief.”
“I think not, Ray,” he answered, primly.
“I can’t go two weeks without sex. I can’t go twelve days. I’m going crazy, Frase, I’m going out of my mind, here, and if you don’t fuck me, I think I’m going to explode or something.”
“No one ever died from delayed gratification,” Fraser answered.
“I’ll be the first, then.” Ray knew he sounded pathetic, but he felt pathetic. Every time he moved, his shoulder hurt, and on top of that, the need to come had become a constant itch under his skin. Frannie had called him “fidgety” today, like he was a fucking five year old who had forgotten his ADD medication. He didn’t need a pill, damnit, he needed Fraser, but his partner had been doing his best impression of a fifty-year-old nun for the last two weeks.
“It’s just another week,” Fraser said, patiently. “The doctor wants you to wait three weeks before you attempt any strenuous activity, and that includes sexual intercourse.”
“Doctors are full of shit, and you know it.”
“I’m not going to risk it, Ray.” Ray heard the finality in his tone, and the irritation underneath. He’d pushed about as far as he could go without making Fraser actively annoyed.
“You’re full of shit.”
“Yes, Ray.”
Ray stared at the TV. Fraser had turned it to some stupid nature documentary, of course, while Ray had been floating on two vicodin (and the shot of scotch he’d grabbed while Fraser was in the bathroom). One the screen, a deer was being covered by a larger buck, while the narrator intoned about the miracle of life. All Ray knew was that fucking everyone was getting laid except for him.
*~*~*
The alarm had barely squawked before Fraser smacked it off and rolled on top of Ray. “Hello, Ray,” he said, trying to sound seductive.
Ray blinked up at him, with that endearing way he had before his brain fully woke up. He grunted something that could have been “good morning,” or, alternatively, “give me money.” Fraser chose to go with the first interpretation. He smiled down at his partner.
“Good morning to you, Ray,” he said. Fraser was sure that he looked ridiculous, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.
“Fraser?”
“Hmmm?” Ray’s body was still lax from sleep, and Fraser settled down more firmly against him.
“What’ya doin’?” Ray’s voice was slurred with sleep, but his eyes were starting to sharpen. He glanced to the bedside table. “It’s five-fuck-AM! What the fuck are we doing up at five fucking AM?”
“Fucking?” Fraser drawled. He managed-barely-to keep from stuttering over the obscenity. He couldn’t keep his cheeks from warming.
Ray blinked at him.
“It’s Friday, Ray.”
Ray still wasn’t getting it.
“It’s been three weeks, today.”
Three weeks since he heard the shot. Three weeks since Ray’s agonized scream. Three weeks since the blood. The blurry ambulance ride. The chaos of the emergency room. The oppressiveness of the hospital, the rush of doctors, the press of people, the antiseptic smell, the sounds of beeps and hums and clicks. The fear. Three weeks.
Ray’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Oh,” he said. His voice was flat, almost angry, without a hint of the eagerness Fraser had been expecting. “Is that all?” Ray yawned. “Get off me, Frase. I want to sleep another couple of hours before we go in. Today’s gonna suck, I can feel it.”
Fraser’s mouth dropped open.
“But...but Ray...it’s been...”
“Three weeks, yeah, I heard you.” Ray scowled at him. “So now you’re in the mood, huh? Well, I’m not your little wind up doll, Fraser. You can’t just expect me to dance when you finally decide to start up the music.”
“That’s not how I see you at all, Ray!” Fraser protested. His low-key seduction was quickly spiraling out of control. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Frase,” Ray said. Fraser closed his eyes, starting to relax, and then Ray added, “I’m just not in the mood.”
Fraser’s eyes snapped open. “Not...not in the...”
“I’ve got a headache,” Ray said, with a vicious smile.
“You--”
Ray gave a hard push, and Fraser rolled willingly off of him and onto his back. “’m going back to sleep, Fraser,” Ray said. “Wake me when it’s go time.”
Fraser waited. Surely Ray was just pulling his chain. There was no way, not after his constant pestering since they’d returned home from the hospital-and the last night in the hospital, come to think of it-that Ray was truly going to refuse him. Ray could try to play uninterested, but he had little skill denying his own desires, and Fraser was nothing if not patient. In just a moment, Ray would reach over the space between them and pull Fraser back to him...
Ray snorted.
Startled, Fraser turned to face him, in time to see Ray’s eyes flutter shut. He rolled onto his stomach, curling around his pillow, his sleep matted hair sticking out every which way.
“Ray,” Fraser began sternly, tiring of this game. “You’ve had your fun. We don’t have all morning; Lieutenant Welsh asked for us to arrive--”
Ray mumbled something unintelligible into his pillow and snuggled deeper under the covers.
Well.
Fraser stared up at the watermarked ceiling. The stain Ray affectionately called “Janet Reno” still looked like a musk-ox to him. He glanced back over at Ray, who showed no signs of stirring.
And he was so tired of cold showers.
*~*~*
From the bedroom, Ray could hear Fraser moving around the apartment in a bizarre, sex-denied stages of grief. Denial had ended when Fraser had rolled out of bed, but had quickly moved on to anger as he slammed around the bathroom. Ray had faked sleep when Fraser poked his head back into the bedroom with his lame attempt at bargaining: “Ray? Ray? Ray? Do you want to take a shower with me, Ray? I’ll wash your hair...” The sounds of Fraser showering and pleasuring himself-even when he tried to keep it quiet, Ray knew what that little gasp meant-were depressing as fuck, especially because Ray knew Fraser masturbated like he showered: quickly, efficiently, and with little attention paid to the sensual details. Sad.
But by the time Ray made it out to the kitchen, it was clear that Fraser had moved on to acceptance. There was a steaming cup of coffee at his place at the table, chocolate floating on the top, and a big bowl of oatmeal, as well. Oatmeal wasn’t anything Ray got excited about, as a rule, except when Fraser made it special. And he had: Ray could see that it was practically swimming in butter, the brown sugar piled high, streams of maple syrup clearly visible. “Thanks, Frase,” he said sincerely. “This looks good.”
Good enough to feel a little guilty, really. Not guilty enough to apologize, though...Fraser had been an asshole, no question, he was just getting a little of his own back. And if Fraser wanted to bribe him back into his bed, well, Fraser was welcome to try it. He wouldn’t mind being the seduced, for once.
Fraser didn’t look up from his own bowl, his head bowed, his eyes lowered and unreadable. “I’m sorry, Ray.”
Well, shit. Trust Fraser to get all serious and ruin his fun.
“I didn’t mean for you to feel as though I was manipulating you,” Fraser was continuing, oblivious to Ray’s guilt.
“I know, Fraser, it’s fine, don’t--”
“I thought you were going to die,” Fraser said. His voice was quiet, focused. He reached out a hand across the table and grabbed Ray’s arm. “I thought you were going to die, and it would have been all my fault. I didn’t want to do anything to endanger you further.”
Ray shook him loose. “Okay, let’s get a couple things straight, here,” he said, his tone sharp and annoyed. “One, I followed you down that ally because we’re partners and that’s what partners do, so get the rest of that dumb shit out of your head, okay? You’re not God, Fraser, and you sure as hell aren’t my mother, and there’s only one person responsible for me and that’s me, you got that?”
“I got it, Ray,” Fraser answered, softly.
“And doctors are fuckheads, Frase, you know that. They knew I wasn’t gonna croak if you gave me head last week, but they had to cover their asses in case I did.”
“Ray, I don’t think--”
“Shut up, Fraser.” Fraser fell silent, and lowered his eyes. Ray stared at him for a moment, and then, finally, admitted, “And I was just fucking with you, anyway.”
That got Fraser to look up, and Ray watched, amused, as emotions flickered across the Mountie’s face. Surprise, anger, irritation, and, finally, amusement.
“I see,” was all he said.
Ray walked around the table, sparing a sad glance at the oatmeal that was going cold. Oh well. Maybe he could charm Fraser into making more later. He stepped into Fraser’s personal space, but didn’t touch him. Yet.
“You gonna punish me?” he leered. ‘
A smile flitted across Fraser’s face, but he quickly controlled it and looked stern. “I think not.”
“What?” Fraser didn’t look like he was angry with him, but Ray couldn’t understand why both of them still had their clothes on. Three weeks. “I thought you weren’t mad!”
“Oh, I’m not, Ray,” Fraser answered, and he wasn’t even trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. “But we’re going to be late for work as it is.”
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “Fraser,” he growled warningly.
Fraser shook his head. “We agreed from the start that our relationship would not interfere in our job performance,” he said. “The citizens of Chicago depend upon our protection.” He paused, and then added, “Which was why I attempted to wake you earlier this morning,” because Fraser could never resist an ‘I told you so’.
Ray looked at the clock, and then back at the resolve on Fraser’s face, and realized that no, he wasn’t getting laid anytime soon, because Karma was a fucking bitch.
Fraser leaned down and gave Ray and quick kiss on the forehead. “Don’t forget your coat, again,” he told him, as though it were any other morning. “With your injury, your immune system is compromised, and I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
Ray scowled and moved out of his reach. “I’m gonna kick you in the head,” he promised.
“Understood, Ray.”
THE END
Title: Just What the Doctor Ordered
Author: LizzyPaul
Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 2000ish
Summary: Ray is chaffing under the doctor’s instructions against “strenuous activity.”
“You are a pain in my ass, Fraser,” Ray said. He thought about what he’d just said, and frowned. “Or not a pain in my ass, really.”
Fraser looked contrite. Ray didn’t buy it for a second. “I’m sorry, Ray,” he offered.
“It’s been two weeks--”
“Twelve days,” Fraser corrected.
Ray scowled up at his partner. It was hard, giving good glare when his face was pressed up against Fraser’s wide, red-clad chest, with Fraser’s arm firm around his shoulders, but Ray persevered. “I think I know how long it’s been since we fucked, Frase.”
Fraser gave a soft little sigh, so soft that Ray probably wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t been plastered against him. It wasn’t Fraser’s annoyed “if you say one more word, you’re eating pemmican for a month” sigh, it wasn’t his “my partner is a complete dumbshit but I’ll humor him” sigh, and it wasn’t even his “I left Canada for this?” sigh. But Ray knew the sigh well, it was the sigh that said “being so much smarter than everyone else is a terrible burden, but I must bear it” as clearly as if Fraser had spoken the words aloud.
Not that Fraser would ever say something like that. Or even allow himself to think it, really. But sighs were allowed, and Ray had learned to decode them years ago.
“Twelve days ago, you impetuously followed me into the men’s bathroom at--”
“Impetuous my ass!” Ray protested. He tried to shift away, but Fraser’s arm held him tight, and he really didn’t care enough to struggle. “You were wound tighter than a...a...goddamn tight thing and you were about to snap, and I didn’t want you to cause an inter-fucking-national incident! Again.”
“Nevertheless,” Fraser said, his voice calm, “twelve days ago--”
“Twelve days ago, you gave my dick a couple pulls and then I blew you on the bathroom floor. That’s not sex, Fraser, that’s stress relief.”
“I think not, Ray,” he answered, primly.
“I can’t go two weeks without sex. I can’t go twelve days. I’m going crazy, Frase, I’m going out of my mind, here, and if you don’t fuck me, I think I’m going to explode or something.”
“No one ever died from delayed gratification,” Fraser answered.
“I’ll be the first, then.” Ray knew he sounded pathetic, but he felt pathetic. Every time he moved, his shoulder hurt, and on top of that, the need to come had become a constant itch under his skin. Frannie had called him “fidgety” today, like he was a fucking five year old who had forgotten his ADD medication. He didn’t need a pill, damnit, he needed Fraser, but his partner had been doing his best impression of a fifty-year-old nun for the last two weeks.
“It’s just another week,” Fraser said, patiently. “The doctor wants you to wait three weeks before you attempt any strenuous activity, and that includes sexual intercourse.”
“Doctors are full of shit, and you know it.”
“I’m not going to risk it, Ray.” Ray heard the finality in his tone, and the irritation underneath. He’d pushed about as far as he could go without making Fraser actively annoyed.
“You’re full of shit.”
“Yes, Ray.”
Ray stared at the TV. Fraser had turned it to some stupid nature documentary, of course, while Ray had been floating on two vicodin (and the shot of scotch he’d grabbed while Fraser was in the bathroom). One the screen, a deer was being covered by a larger buck, while the narrator intoned about the miracle of life. All Ray knew was that fucking everyone was getting laid except for him.
*~*~*
The alarm had barely squawked before Fraser smacked it off and rolled on top of Ray. “Hello, Ray,” he said, trying to sound seductive.
Ray blinked up at him, with that endearing way he had before his brain fully woke up. He grunted something that could have been “good morning,” or, alternatively, “give me money.” Fraser chose to go with the first interpretation. He smiled down at his partner.
“Good morning to you, Ray,” he said. Fraser was sure that he looked ridiculous, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.
“Fraser?”
“Hmmm?” Ray’s body was still lax from sleep, and Fraser settled down more firmly against him.
“What’ya doin’?” Ray’s voice was slurred with sleep, but his eyes were starting to sharpen. He glanced to the bedside table. “It’s five-fuck-AM! What the fuck are we doing up at five fucking AM?”
“Fucking?” Fraser drawled. He managed-barely-to keep from stuttering over the obscenity. He couldn’t keep his cheeks from warming.
Ray blinked at him.
“It’s Friday, Ray.”
Ray still wasn’t getting it.
“It’s been three weeks, today.”
Three weeks since he heard the shot. Three weeks since Ray’s agonized scream. Three weeks since the blood. The blurry ambulance ride. The chaos of the emergency room. The oppressiveness of the hospital, the rush of doctors, the press of people, the antiseptic smell, the sounds of beeps and hums and clicks. The fear. Three weeks.
Ray’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Oh,” he said. His voice was flat, almost angry, without a hint of the eagerness Fraser had been expecting. “Is that all?” Ray yawned. “Get off me, Frase. I want to sleep another couple of hours before we go in. Today’s gonna suck, I can feel it.”
Fraser’s mouth dropped open.
“But...but Ray...it’s been...”
“Three weeks, yeah, I heard you.” Ray scowled at him. “So now you’re in the mood, huh? Well, I’m not your little wind up doll, Fraser. You can’t just expect me to dance when you finally decide to start up the music.”
“That’s not how I see you at all, Ray!” Fraser protested. His low-key seduction was quickly spiraling out of control. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Frase,” Ray said. Fraser closed his eyes, starting to relax, and then Ray added, “I’m just not in the mood.”
Fraser’s eyes snapped open. “Not...not in the...”
“I’ve got a headache,” Ray said, with a vicious smile.
“You--”
Ray gave a hard push, and Fraser rolled willingly off of him and onto his back. “’m going back to sleep, Fraser,” Ray said. “Wake me when it’s go time.”
Fraser waited. Surely Ray was just pulling his chain. There was no way, not after his constant pestering since they’d returned home from the hospital-and the last night in the hospital, come to think of it-that Ray was truly going to refuse him. Ray could try to play uninterested, but he had little skill denying his own desires, and Fraser was nothing if not patient. In just a moment, Ray would reach over the space between them and pull Fraser back to him...
Ray snorted.
Startled, Fraser turned to face him, in time to see Ray’s eyes flutter shut. He rolled onto his stomach, curling around his pillow, his sleep matted hair sticking out every which way.
“Ray,” Fraser began sternly, tiring of this game. “You’ve had your fun. We don’t have all morning; Lieutenant Welsh asked for us to arrive--”
Ray mumbled something unintelligible into his pillow and snuggled deeper under the covers.
Well.
Fraser stared up at the watermarked ceiling. The stain Ray affectionately called “Janet Reno” still looked like a musk-ox to him. He glanced back over at Ray, who showed no signs of stirring.
And he was so tired of cold showers.
*~*~*
From the bedroom, Ray could hear Fraser moving around the apartment in a bizarre, sex-denied stages of grief. Denial had ended when Fraser had rolled out of bed, but had quickly moved on to anger as he slammed around the bathroom. Ray had faked sleep when Fraser poked his head back into the bedroom with his lame attempt at bargaining: “Ray? Ray? Ray? Do you want to take a shower with me, Ray? I’ll wash your hair...” The sounds of Fraser showering and pleasuring himself-even when he tried to keep it quiet, Ray knew what that little gasp meant-were depressing as fuck, especially because Ray knew Fraser masturbated like he showered: quickly, efficiently, and with little attention paid to the sensual details. Sad.
But by the time Ray made it out to the kitchen, it was clear that Fraser had moved on to acceptance. There was a steaming cup of coffee at his place at the table, chocolate floating on the top, and a big bowl of oatmeal, as well. Oatmeal wasn’t anything Ray got excited about, as a rule, except when Fraser made it special. And he had: Ray could see that it was practically swimming in butter, the brown sugar piled high, streams of maple syrup clearly visible. “Thanks, Frase,” he said sincerely. “This looks good.”
Good enough to feel a little guilty, really. Not guilty enough to apologize, though...Fraser had been an asshole, no question, he was just getting a little of his own back. And if Fraser wanted to bribe him back into his bed, well, Fraser was welcome to try it. He wouldn’t mind being the seduced, for once.
Fraser didn’t look up from his own bowl, his head bowed, his eyes lowered and unreadable. “I’m sorry, Ray.”
Well, shit. Trust Fraser to get all serious and ruin his fun.
“I didn’t mean for you to feel as though I was manipulating you,” Fraser was continuing, oblivious to Ray’s guilt.
“I know, Fraser, it’s fine, don’t--”
“I thought you were going to die,” Fraser said. His voice was quiet, focused. He reached out a hand across the table and grabbed Ray’s arm. “I thought you were going to die, and it would have been all my fault. I didn’t want to do anything to endanger you further.”
Ray shook him loose. “Okay, let’s get a couple things straight, here,” he said, his tone sharp and annoyed. “One, I followed you down that ally because we’re partners and that’s what partners do, so get the rest of that dumb shit out of your head, okay? You’re not God, Fraser, and you sure as hell aren’t my mother, and there’s only one person responsible for me and that’s me, you got that?”
“I got it, Ray,” Fraser answered, softly.
“And doctors are fuckheads, Frase, you know that. They knew I wasn’t gonna croak if you gave me head last week, but they had to cover their asses in case I did.”
“Ray, I don’t think--”
“Shut up, Fraser.” Fraser fell silent, and lowered his eyes. Ray stared at him for a moment, and then, finally, admitted, “And I was just fucking with you, anyway.”
That got Fraser to look up, and Ray watched, amused, as emotions flickered across the Mountie’s face. Surprise, anger, irritation, and, finally, amusement.
“I see,” was all he said.
Ray walked around the table, sparing a sad glance at the oatmeal that was going cold. Oh well. Maybe he could charm Fraser into making more later. He stepped into Fraser’s personal space, but didn’t touch him. Yet.
“You gonna punish me?” he leered. ‘
A smile flitted across Fraser’s face, but he quickly controlled it and looked stern. “I think not.”
“What?” Fraser didn’t look like he was angry with him, but Ray couldn’t understand why both of them still had their clothes on. Three weeks. “I thought you weren’t mad!”
“Oh, I’m not, Ray,” Fraser answered, and he wasn’t even trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. “But we’re going to be late for work as it is.”
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “Fraser,” he growled warningly.
Fraser shook his head. “We agreed from the start that our relationship would not interfere in our job performance,” he said. “The citizens of Chicago depend upon our protection.” He paused, and then added, “Which was why I attempted to wake you earlier this morning,” because Fraser could never resist an ‘I told you so’.
Ray looked at the clock, and then back at the resolve on Fraser’s face, and realized that no, he wasn’t getting laid anytime soon, because Karma was a fucking bitch.
Fraser leaned down and gave Ray and quick kiss on the forehead. “Don’t forget your coat, again,” he told him, as though it were any other morning. “With your injury, your immune system is compromised, and I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
Ray scowled and moved out of his reach. “I’m gonna kick you in the head,” he promised.
“Understood, Ray.”
THE END