New due South Fic! "Illuminated" (Fraser/Kowalski, R)
Title: Illuminated
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: R for sexytimes
Summary: Just some fluffy Saturday night ponderings
The first time Benton Fraser made love with Ray Kowalski, Ben asked Ray to leave the lights off.
He didn’t quite know why he’d made the request. He wasn’t a shy man, and he’d been eager to see pleasure flooding Ray’s face as he climaxed. But instead Ben had asked that they make love in the dark.
The darkness covered his trembling, shifting limbs like a cool sheet, and the security of it had made him feel bold. He’d arched under Ray’s touch and bared his body, splayed his legs, and moaned like a wanton. He’d kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, unwilling to risk meeting Ray’s eyes, fearful that the desperate need he felt wouldn’t be reflected there.
His heart had been racing and he couldn’t seem to get enough air, but he’d closed his eyes and imagined that he and Ray were swimming together in a deep, dark ocean. It had eased the nervous tension that fluttered in his belly, and made it possible for Ben to touch Ray’s face, his throat, his penis.
Pretend that you are running out of air, he’d told himself. Because Ben knew that he was always more confident in a situation that involved risk of certain death.
Afterward, lying beside Ray as sweat cooled on their bodies, Ben had felt a flood of gratitude so sharp, so sudden and powerful, that he knew he could never put the emotion into words. As Ray caressed his chest, his calloused hand making soothing back and forth sweeps, Ben closed his eyes. Touch. Ray’s caress was willing, eager, and his touch made Fraser shake. Finally, a hand that was not his own, or the hand of some disinterested stranger.
He marveled at the unearned privilege of a human hand on his body, and began to hope. There was so much affection and tenderness in Ray’s touch that Ben couldn’t stop himself from thinking that perhaps, maybe, this time…
After that, Ben always insisted on keeping the lights off. It helped him focus on the sensation of Ray’s hands moving on him, and on the sound of Ray’s voice. Ray talked constantly, his voice filling the lonely silence of the night, and Ben found the sound to be tremendously reassuring. He rarely allowed himself to listen to the words, particularly in the midst of coitus, because Ray’s rusty, husky voice and his obscene suggestions, his low-voiced profanities, made Ben flush and grow hotter, harder, and spill with very little encouragement. When that happened, Ray grinned at him in the dark, his hand wrapped around Ben’s softening penis, and said, “Didn’t know you liked dirty talk, Frase.”
Ben hadn’t known it either.
“Were you always-” he started to ask late one night, but the question died on his lips. They were lying together on the floor of his office. He’d hastily spread a wool blanket beneath them to spare the carpet, and Ben resisted the urge to shift against the rough itch of the wool. Ray’s head was pillowed on his chest, and he didn’t want to disturb Ray. Not now. Not when this meant something.
Ray nibbled sleeping at Ben’s shoulder, his lips barely more than a suggestion of pressure on Ben’s skin. “Always what, Fraser?”
“Always-” So generous. So trusting. So flexible in your desires. “Always like this?”
“Queer, you mean?” Ray said promptly, and Ben nodded, because he couldn’t quite trust himself not to ask a thousand pointless questions.
After a moment’s silence Ray said, “Yeah. I guess so.” There was the sound of a sigh in the dark, and Ray shifted into a more comfortable position with his head resting on Ben’s belly. “I figured out I was bi a long, long time ago.”
Ben blinked at the word. Bisexual. Was that what Ray was?
“How did you know?”
He felt Ray’s smile against his chest. “I guess I just always knew. Got hard for guys same as I did for girls. Dated both for a while before I finally convinced Stella that we’d be good together.” Ray snorted softly at some old, private joke, and Ben felt a wave of jealousy roll through him. It crested as high as the aching sensation of gratitude he always felt when Ray touched him.
“What about you?” Ray asked, sitting up to look at him. “When did you figure out that you batted for both teams?”
When I met you, Ben wanted to say. But that wasn’t true, was it? He’d been attracted to other men as long as he could remember. Mark, Innusiq, Steve, Eric… No, Ray wasn’t the first man he’d longed to bed. Ray was simply the first man who’d been willing to reach out and meet him halfway.
“Victoria Metcalf,” he said, and her name rang out clearly in the dark. Like the peel of a far-off churchbell. Ben braced himself for the sharp burst of pain and guilt that the thought of Victoria usually inspired. But there was nothing. He felt only the sensation of Ray’s warm, nude body pressed closed to his, and the whispering sounds of the city outside.
“Only one woman for you, huh?”
Ben nodded, because he couldn’t speak.
Ray’s hand fell away, and then Ben found himself wrapped up tightly in a hug. He forced himself to relax into Ray’s embrace.
“She was an idiot, Fraser. A goddamned idiot to let you go.”
Deep inside, Ben didn’t believe it. He was responsible for what had happened during that week of madness. He’d loved one women, and he’d sent her to prison. He was the one who had let Victoria go.
But things were different now. He had a partner, a friend and an affectionate lover. His life was different, and perhaps he no longer need to live in silence and shame.
“Lots of people don’t understand it.” Ray’s voice broke into his thoughts, and it took a few moments for Ben to recall what they’d been speaking about. Even after all this time, Victoria still had the ability to consume his attention.
“Bisexuality?” Ben clarified, and Ray nodded.
“Yeah. They think it’s a switch you can just turn on and off.”
Ben refrained from asking who “they” were. Stella, perhaps. Former sexual partners of Ray’s. Or perhaps…perhaps even Ray’s parents. Had Ray ever brought a man home to meet Barbara and Damien Kowalski? Other than Ben himself, of course.
“And you can’t,” Ray continued. “There’s no damn switch. It’s just…who you fall in love with. Who you want to fuck. Makes everything easier and harder at the same time.”
Ben silently agreed. His own sorry romantic history was proof of that. He’d never been able to control his own unruly heart, either, and certainly not when it came to Ray.
And yet…and yet, even now, Ben wasn’t sure what Ray’s question and subsequent confession meant. Was he trying to prepare Ben for some future disappointment, for the inevitable moment when someone new caught Ray’s eye and he moved on, pulled away from Ben by the mysterious forces of sex, desire and chemistry? Or was this perhaps Ray’s way of explaining that he was a free spirit, and thus unable to offer his heart?
A braver man might have asked. But Ben had long ago proven himself to be a coward when it came to these intimate matters. He stroked Ray’s soft hair, and mourned his failure and his cowardice.
“Y’okay, Fraser?” Ray asked, his voice heavy with sleep. “You’re all tense. Just relax, okay?” Ray cupped Ben’s cheek and turned his head for a kiss of such tenderness that Ben had to break off or risk doing something truly undignified.
Ray looked at him for a moment, puzzled, and then hugged him again, shaking his head.
“You’re kind of an idiot too, Ben,” Ray said, his voice marbled with affection.
Ben squeezed his eyes shut, profoundly grateful for the darkness. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Ray’s compassion, or his understanding, or his forgiveness. He didn’t deserve these kisses, these caresses. He didn’t deserve Ray’s love.
But for some mysterious reason, Ray had chosen to make a gift of himself. He had reached out to Ben’s lonely, tired body and offered himself.
And while Benton Fraser might well be a coward and an idiot, he knew well enough to reach out in return.
With that thought in mind, Ben reached out and turned on the bedside light.
THE END
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: R for sexytimes
Summary: Just some fluffy Saturday night ponderings
The first time Benton Fraser made love with Ray Kowalski, Ben asked Ray to leave the lights off.
He didn’t quite know why he’d made the request. He wasn’t a shy man, and he’d been eager to see pleasure flooding Ray’s face as he climaxed. But instead Ben had asked that they make love in the dark.
The darkness covered his trembling, shifting limbs like a cool sheet, and the security of it had made him feel bold. He’d arched under Ray’s touch and bared his body, splayed his legs, and moaned like a wanton. He’d kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, unwilling to risk meeting Ray’s eyes, fearful that the desperate need he felt wouldn’t be reflected there.
His heart had been racing and he couldn’t seem to get enough air, but he’d closed his eyes and imagined that he and Ray were swimming together in a deep, dark ocean. It had eased the nervous tension that fluttered in his belly, and made it possible for Ben to touch Ray’s face, his throat, his penis.
Pretend that you are running out of air, he’d told himself. Because Ben knew that he was always more confident in a situation that involved risk of certain death.
Afterward, lying beside Ray as sweat cooled on their bodies, Ben had felt a flood of gratitude so sharp, so sudden and powerful, that he knew he could never put the emotion into words. As Ray caressed his chest, his calloused hand making soothing back and forth sweeps, Ben closed his eyes. Touch. Ray’s caress was willing, eager, and his touch made Fraser shake. Finally, a hand that was not his own, or the hand of some disinterested stranger.
He marveled at the unearned privilege of a human hand on his body, and began to hope. There was so much affection and tenderness in Ray’s touch that Ben couldn’t stop himself from thinking that perhaps, maybe, this time…
After that, Ben always insisted on keeping the lights off. It helped him focus on the sensation of Ray’s hands moving on him, and on the sound of Ray’s voice. Ray talked constantly, his voice filling the lonely silence of the night, and Ben found the sound to be tremendously reassuring. He rarely allowed himself to listen to the words, particularly in the midst of coitus, because Ray’s rusty, husky voice and his obscene suggestions, his low-voiced profanities, made Ben flush and grow hotter, harder, and spill with very little encouragement. When that happened, Ray grinned at him in the dark, his hand wrapped around Ben’s softening penis, and said, “Didn’t know you liked dirty talk, Frase.”
Ben hadn’t known it either.
“Were you always-” he started to ask late one night, but the question died on his lips. They were lying together on the floor of his office. He’d hastily spread a wool blanket beneath them to spare the carpet, and Ben resisted the urge to shift against the rough itch of the wool. Ray’s head was pillowed on his chest, and he didn’t want to disturb Ray. Not now. Not when this meant something.
Ray nibbled sleeping at Ben’s shoulder, his lips barely more than a suggestion of pressure on Ben’s skin. “Always what, Fraser?”
“Always-” So generous. So trusting. So flexible in your desires. “Always like this?”
“Queer, you mean?” Ray said promptly, and Ben nodded, because he couldn’t quite trust himself not to ask a thousand pointless questions.
After a moment’s silence Ray said, “Yeah. I guess so.” There was the sound of a sigh in the dark, and Ray shifted into a more comfortable position with his head resting on Ben’s belly. “I figured out I was bi a long, long time ago.”
Ben blinked at the word. Bisexual. Was that what Ray was?
“How did you know?”
He felt Ray’s smile against his chest. “I guess I just always knew. Got hard for guys same as I did for girls. Dated both for a while before I finally convinced Stella that we’d be good together.” Ray snorted softly at some old, private joke, and Ben felt a wave of jealousy roll through him. It crested as high as the aching sensation of gratitude he always felt when Ray touched him.
“What about you?” Ray asked, sitting up to look at him. “When did you figure out that you batted for both teams?”
When I met you, Ben wanted to say. But that wasn’t true, was it? He’d been attracted to other men as long as he could remember. Mark, Innusiq, Steve, Eric… No, Ray wasn’t the first man he’d longed to bed. Ray was simply the first man who’d been willing to reach out and meet him halfway.
“Victoria Metcalf,” he said, and her name rang out clearly in the dark. Like the peel of a far-off churchbell. Ben braced himself for the sharp burst of pain and guilt that the thought of Victoria usually inspired. But there was nothing. He felt only the sensation of Ray’s warm, nude body pressed closed to his, and the whispering sounds of the city outside.
“Only one woman for you, huh?”
Ben nodded, because he couldn’t speak.
Ray’s hand fell away, and then Ben found himself wrapped up tightly in a hug. He forced himself to relax into Ray’s embrace.
“She was an idiot, Fraser. A goddamned idiot to let you go.”
Deep inside, Ben didn’t believe it. He was responsible for what had happened during that week of madness. He’d loved one women, and he’d sent her to prison. He was the one who had let Victoria go.
But things were different now. He had a partner, a friend and an affectionate lover. His life was different, and perhaps he no longer need to live in silence and shame.
“Lots of people don’t understand it.” Ray’s voice broke into his thoughts, and it took a few moments for Ben to recall what they’d been speaking about. Even after all this time, Victoria still had the ability to consume his attention.
“Bisexuality?” Ben clarified, and Ray nodded.
“Yeah. They think it’s a switch you can just turn on and off.”
Ben refrained from asking who “they” were. Stella, perhaps. Former sexual partners of Ray’s. Or perhaps…perhaps even Ray’s parents. Had Ray ever brought a man home to meet Barbara and Damien Kowalski? Other than Ben himself, of course.
“And you can’t,” Ray continued. “There’s no damn switch. It’s just…who you fall in love with. Who you want to fuck. Makes everything easier and harder at the same time.”
Ben silently agreed. His own sorry romantic history was proof of that. He’d never been able to control his own unruly heart, either, and certainly not when it came to Ray.
And yet…and yet, even now, Ben wasn’t sure what Ray’s question and subsequent confession meant. Was he trying to prepare Ben for some future disappointment, for the inevitable moment when someone new caught Ray’s eye and he moved on, pulled away from Ben by the mysterious forces of sex, desire and chemistry? Or was this perhaps Ray’s way of explaining that he was a free spirit, and thus unable to offer his heart?
A braver man might have asked. But Ben had long ago proven himself to be a coward when it came to these intimate matters. He stroked Ray’s soft hair, and mourned his failure and his cowardice.
“Y’okay, Fraser?” Ray asked, his voice heavy with sleep. “You’re all tense. Just relax, okay?” Ray cupped Ben’s cheek and turned his head for a kiss of such tenderness that Ben had to break off or risk doing something truly undignified.
Ray looked at him for a moment, puzzled, and then hugged him again, shaking his head.
“You’re kind of an idiot too, Ben,” Ray said, his voice marbled with affection.
Ben squeezed his eyes shut, profoundly grateful for the darkness. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Ray’s compassion, or his understanding, or his forgiveness. He didn’t deserve these kisses, these caresses. He didn’t deserve Ray’s love.
But for some mysterious reason, Ray had chosen to make a gift of himself. He had reached out to Ben’s lonely, tired body and offered himself.
And while Benton Fraser might well be a coward and an idiot, he knew well enough to reach out in return.
With that thought in mind, Ben reached out and turned on the bedside light.
THE END