Due South - Fraser/Kowalski
Fandom - Due South - Fraser/Kowalski
Title - Bruises, Bandaged
Rating - NC17
Size - 14k
Summary - Post CotW cabin porn
My prompt was - Possessiveness.
Warnings - None really. Very, very minor RayK h/c
Authors Notes - Thanks to brooklinegirl and lynnmonster for beta. I wrote and edited most of this while heavily medicated, so any mistakes are my own, and not the fault of these two kick-ass ladies.
ETA - I failed to mention my thanks to the lovely Ms. dsudis for poking and prodding me until this idea popped out. You're wonderful, babe. *twirls you*
Bruises, Bandaged
Fraser dips the edge of the washcloth into a bowl of warm water, and tilts Ray's head so it leans back against the kitchen chair. The cut over Ray's right eye is about two inches long, but thankfully not deep, and Fraser determines that he can simply clean it out and bandage it up and Ray will be fine. It certainly isn't deep enough to require stitches, which is good. With the way the snow is falling it would have taken them well over two hours to get to the doctor's office in town, and their only other option would have been for Fraser to stitch Ray up himself.
Ray flinches as Fraser dabs the wet rag against his skin then twists his head away when Fraser goes to dab the cut again.
"Jesus," Ray mutters. He looks up at Fraser and narrows his eyes. "Can you be a little nicer, for Christ's sake?"
"I'm being as nice as I can," Fraser answers, his voice curt. "Now sit still."
Ray's foot taps impatiently on the floor and he blows out a breath as Fraser wets the washcloth again and presses it against Ray's forehead.
"Leave that there," Fraser tells him. He turns around and goes to the bathroom, pulling a tin of ointment and a roll of bandages from the cabinet. One inch lower and he'd be barreling his way through the snow right now, on his way to the nearest hospital, because Ray could quite possibly have lost an eye. One inch lower and God knows if Ray would have been able to make his way back home from the woods. And if he couldn't, and Fraser didn't know where to start looking for him, and he was stuck out there all night, hurt and alone -
Fraser bangs the cabinet shut and flicks off the bathroom light. When he gets back to the kitchen Ray is sitting forward, holding the washcloth against the entire right side of his face, and glaring from his other eye.
"I didn't say to move," Fraser says, pushing Ray back down by the shoulder. He dumps the bandages and ointment onto the table, the tin banging against the hard wood and rolling off and onto the floor. "Goddammit," Fraser mutters, bending down pick it up.
"Geez, Fraser. What is your-"
"I don't have a problem, if that's what you were going to ask," Fraser snaps, pulling the washcloth from Ray's hand. The cut is just a little puffy and swollen, the skin all around it a bright red. "If anyone seems to have a problem--" Fraser mutters as he twists off the cap of the ointment.
"Whoa, wait a minute there," Ray says. He stands up quickly, knocking his chair back. Fraser tries to push down on his shoulder again, but Ray wrestles out from under his hand.
"I didn't say to stand up," Fraser warns.
"Yeah? Well, I didn't ask."
Fraser grits his teeth. "No, I guess you didn't. Though I didn't ask to be bandaging you up tonight either, now did I?"
"Who the hell said you have to?" Ray snarls. "God, I was just--"
"You were just what?" Fraser questions. "I'd really love to know. Were you just -- I don't know. Bored with two eyes, perhaps? Decided to see how fun it would be to operate with just one? Or wait. I know. You figured since there wasn't anything good on the television tonight, that we'd spend some quality time together, bandaging your wounds and arguing."
Ray opens his mouth, and Fraser braces himself for the protest that he knows is coming, but then Ray seems to just - give up. He snaps his mouth shut, and shakes his head. "No, you know what? I'm not doing this with you," he says, and leaves the kitchen.
Fraser stands by himself, and a few minutes later he hears the television click on in the living room. He curls his fingers into the washcloth he still has in his hand, then tosses it disgustedly into the bowl, not even caring when it splashes water across the entire top of the table.
God, sometimes Ray just doesn't understand. He hasn't lived his life like Fraser has, and he doesn't know the things Fraser knows. He doesn't fear things - not at all, it seems - and Fraser knows, better than others, that there are things you have to fear.
The North is a very unforgiving place. Mistakes which would be just mistakes in other places can be deadly where they live. Ray has done so well in the two years since they decided to leave Chicago for good that Fraser just can't wrap his mind around possibly losing him to something so stupid - so foolish - as going hunting in the woods and blinding himself on a tree branch. Which was very nearly what Ray had done.
The important thing, Fraser knows, is that Ray wasn't badly hurt. But Fraser is getting tired of depending on luck. He wants Ray to be with him, and be safe, and not take stupid chances. He wants to not spend as much time as he does making antibiotic ointment and bandaging Ray up. He wants Ray to know just how much he really means to him - how it humbles him, every day, to know that Ray has made his choice and that his choice is Fraser.
Fraser smoothes his thumb over the tin of ointment he still has in his hand, and tries to muster up the energy to go out to the living room and talk to Ray. It shouldn't be this hard - going out there and talking to him -- but he can hear time ticking by on the clock, and as much as he'd like to, he just can't seem to get his feet to move.
He's still standing there, unmoving, when Ray walks back into the kitchen, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. He leans his shoulder against the doorframe and looks at Fraser steadily. Fraser stands silently. He has no idea how to even begin.
"Hey," Ray says roughly.
Just say something, Fraser scolds himself. It will do absolutely no good to just stand here and stare at him.
"Look," Ray says, pushing off the doorway and coming into the kitchen. "I didn't mean--"
"No, Ray, it was my fault," Fraser interrupts, finally able to speak. "My behavior was appalling, and I - well - I just hope you can forgive me."
Ray watches him, and then the edges of his mouth twitch in the beginnings of a smile. "Yeah, whatever. It's okay." He nods at the tin Fraser still has in his hand. "You want to put that junk on me or something?"
Fraser glances down and then nods. "Yes, it's good for -" he clears his throat. "It will prevent infection."
Ray is still standing in the doorway, and when Fraser walks over, he leans his back against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. "You want me to sit down?"
"No, you're fine where you are," Fraser says, stepping right in front of Ray. They are almost exactly the same height, and Fraser tries to concentrate on getting his fingers to work -- unscrew the cap, dip his finger into the ointment, place the tin on the counter - rather than how close he is to Ray, or how close Ray's mouth is, when all he wants to do is kiss him.
Ray leans his head back against the wall, and Fraser lightly dabs his finger on the far edge of Ray's bruise, smoothing the cool gel across the angry red cut. This will leave a scar for sure, and Fraser has to wonder what Ray will remember every time he looks at it. Getting hurt in the woods hunting for dinner, or coming home and having Fraser fight with him about it.
"I'm sorry," Fraser says quietly, dropping his eyes and concentrating fully on scooping up more ointment with his finger. "I just worry."
"I know you do," Ray answers, and when Fraser looks up at him his eyes are so clear and blue. "I figured that out."
"I just - it's dangerous out there, and sometimes I don't think you realize--"
"But I do realize, Frase," Ray interrupts, wrapping his fingers around Fraser's wrist. He reaches over and grabs a towel off the top of the counter and wipes Fraser's hand, cleaning it off. "I know it's dangerous out there and I know I've gotta be careful. But you can't - I can't just sit here all day and not do anything. I'm not like, the little woman, sitting home, making stew and knitting booties, or some shit."
"I know that." Fraser leans in and rests his hand on Ray's hip. He loves Ray's body - everything about it. The way the ribs he used to be able to count back in Chicago are now hidden under Ray's slightly thickening middle. The way Ray just gave up shaving in the winter, letting the dark blond hair on his face grow into a full, soft beard. The way Ray still looks at Fraser, like he is Ray's best friend and lover and partner all at once.
"I just - I think about things," Fraser says, still feeling unsettled. "I think about you going out and getting hurt and not being able to make it back. I think about me not being able to find you. And I just - I don't--"
Ray kisses him, hard and fierce, and Fraser moans against his mouth and reaches up to twist his fingers in Ray's hair. The strands are soft between his fingers, and then Ray's hands are on his face, holding him still while his tongue enters Fraser's mouth.
Fraser gasps - it amazes him that it's still like this with the two of them, even after all this time, and as he kisses Ray back, all he can think is how much he needs Ray, and wants him, until he's saying it, gasping it against Ray's mouth.
"God, Ray," and "I love you," and "Don't ever leave me." It's not until Ray is pushing him back, and walking him through the cabin, into their tiny bedroom that he hears Ray's answer.
"I'm here," he whispers, pulling Fraser's shirt from his pants, up and over his head. It hits the floor with a soft thump, and then Ray's mouth is on his collarbone, his tongue flicking out against Fraser's skin. "I'm not going anywhere."
Fraser's skin prickles into gooseflesh, and he shivers hard. Ray looks at him, his fingers stroking against Fraser's temple, then down his cheek, until they rest against Fraser's mouth. Fraser kisses the tips of Ray's fingers and closes his eyes.
"Fraser," Ray says softly. He waits until Fraser looks at him, then he drags his fingers down Fraser's chin, over his throat, leaving them to rest against Fraser's throat. "Listen to me." Ray says seriously. "I'm not leaving, no matter what."
"I want to believe that," Fraser says quietly. Ray has his arms around him - strong arms around his chest, smoothing down his back. Ray's hands are rough and chapped from the cold, and Fraser shivers as they scratch against his skin.
Ray presses his mouth to the side of Fraser's throat. "Come here," he says thickly, pulling Fraser down onto the bed after him.
The sheets are flannel and soft, and Fraser suddenly - desperately - needs to feel Ray against him. He reaches out and unbuttons Ray's work shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and sinking his teeth into Ray's soft, warm skin. Ray moans deep in his throat, and Fraser can feel it and taste it under his lips, his tongue swiping over the skin of Ray's throat.
"God, yeah, Fraser," Ray says slowly, wrapping his arms around Fraser's shoulders, and pulling him down to lay on Ray's chest. "Tell me what you want. You can have whatever you want."
Fraser lifts his head and looks into Ray's face. Ray's eyes are dark and his expression serious. "I mean it, Fraser," he says quietly.
"You have to be more careful," Fraser stresses, his hands smoothing over Ray's skin. Ray thrusts his body up into Fraser's touch, and then they're both reaching for the button on Ray's jeans and pushing them down Ray's hips. "Promise me you'll be--"
"I'll be careful, yeah," Ray grunts, kicking his jeans to the foot of the bed. His fingers are warm and Fraser gasps as Ray pulls open his jeans and roughly shoves them down his hips, his hand already inside Fraser's boxers. "Get these off."
Fraser chuckles and kicks his jeans and boxers off as Ray smiles at him, then leans over and covers Ray's mouth, kissing him hotly. "I love you," Fraser says desperately as he pulls away. He has to be sure Ray knows this - that he understands. "That's why I get so--"
"I know. God, I - God, Fraser," Ray says roughly, shifting his body so Fraser's covering him. He thrusts up, his cock hard against Fraser's hip, and pants, "I love you so fucking much."
The lubricant is on top of the nightstand from the last time they used it, and Fraser closes his hand around it, trying to pop the cap with shaking fingers. When he manages to get it open, he drizzles some on his hand, then roughly grabs Ray's cock right around the head.
"Not yet," Fraser says, his voice thick and soft. "You wait for me."
"Okay, okay." Ray says, gasping. "Just - god - now, then."
Fraser releases him and trails his fingers down along the front of Ray's body. Ray shudders as Fraser lightly brushes his hand over Ray's erection, then down and underneath. His finger is slick, and when he presses against Ray it slips inside easily and Ray moans and squirms beneath him. "Yeah, that's good. Now. Do it now. Fraser--"
"Not yet," Fraser says roughly, sliding his finger out, then pushing in with two. Ray's body is hot and tight and squeezing all around him, and as he pushes in deeper, Ray groans, the head of his cock already wet.
Ray's not going to last much longer, Fraser knows. And the one thing he wants tonight, more than anything, is to feel Ray alive and breathing and pulsing all around him. He slowly pulls out his fingers, and then he's coating himself with lube, and moving between Ray's legs.
Fraser presses against him, his cockhead just barely slipping inside, and Ray moans loud and long, his head rolling from side to side on the pillow. "Yeah, that's good. Keep going."
"You're mine," Fraser whispers, slowly pushing inside him, and as Ray's body opens for him, he looks up at Fraser between labored breaths.
"I am, yeah." Ray's eyes flutter closed, and he reaches down, his fingers brushing over where the two of them are joined. "I keep - keep telling you that."
Fraser pulls back, then slowly pushes in, setting a torturously slow rhythm. "You're mine." Ray's body is moving under his, and every place their skin touches is slick with sweat. Fraser reaches up, and winds his fingers in Ray's hair, tightening his fist until Ray opens his eyes. "Look at me," Fraser whispers.
Ray blinks slowly, as if he's trying to focus and Fraser thrusts in hard, causing Ray's whole body to arch up against him. "Don't you ever leave me," Fraser says roughly, and that's it. Ray's eyes fall shut and he twists his fingers in the sheets. His body squeezes around Fraser's erection, and he's coming hard all over his stomach and chest.
Fraser's not going to last much longer than Ray; he almost never does. Especially not tonight, with Ray looking up at him again, running his fingers through the come on his stomach, and then laying his hand against Fraser's chest, just over his heart.
"I'm never leaving you," Ray whispers, and Fraser closes his eyes, picturing Ray and himself out on the porch in fifty years, rocking in their chairs talking about the good old days. One day he and Ray will laugh as they talk about the time he got mad because Ray got hurt in the woods hunting for dinner, and how that night was probably the first night Fraser really believed Ray was staying with him.
"I believe you," Fraser gasps as he comes, and he leans his forehead against Ray's chest, feeling Ray's fingers stroking his hair as he shudders through his orgasm.
Fraser stays there until the sweat on their skin begins to dry, and the chill in the cabin is more pronounced. He pulls out of Ray slowly, and Ray hisses out a sharp breath as Fraser drops down beside him.
"You better now?" Ray asks, rolling over to face him.
Fraser thinks about it, and smiles when he realizes he is. "Yes. Much."
Ray nods and moves in closer, his hand loosely circling Fraser's waist. "Good." He looks up at Fraser and scowls. "Because after all that, there's no dinner."
Fraser looks down at Ray -- at his mussed-up hair, and the puffy red cut over his eye - and he thinks back to how his life was before, and then he thinks about how it will never be that way again. And if Ray starts to wonder about Fraser's sanity when he rolls onto his back, clutching his sides and laughing until tears come to his eyes, well, then, so be it. It wouldn't be the first time.
Title - Bruises, Bandaged
Rating - NC17
Size - 14k
Summary - Post CotW cabin porn
My prompt was - Possessiveness.
Warnings - None really. Very, very minor RayK h/c
Authors Notes - Thanks to brooklinegirl and lynnmonster for beta. I wrote and edited most of this while heavily medicated, so any mistakes are my own, and not the fault of these two kick-ass ladies.
ETA - I failed to mention my thanks to the lovely Ms. dsudis for poking and prodding me until this idea popped out. You're wonderful, babe. *twirls you*
Bruises, Bandaged
Fraser dips the edge of the washcloth into a bowl of warm water, and tilts Ray's head so it leans back against the kitchen chair. The cut over Ray's right eye is about two inches long, but thankfully not deep, and Fraser determines that he can simply clean it out and bandage it up and Ray will be fine. It certainly isn't deep enough to require stitches, which is good. With the way the snow is falling it would have taken them well over two hours to get to the doctor's office in town, and their only other option would have been for Fraser to stitch Ray up himself.
Ray flinches as Fraser dabs the wet rag against his skin then twists his head away when Fraser goes to dab the cut again.
"Jesus," Ray mutters. He looks up at Fraser and narrows his eyes. "Can you be a little nicer, for Christ's sake?"
"I'm being as nice as I can," Fraser answers, his voice curt. "Now sit still."
Ray's foot taps impatiently on the floor and he blows out a breath as Fraser wets the washcloth again and presses it against Ray's forehead.
"Leave that there," Fraser tells him. He turns around and goes to the bathroom, pulling a tin of ointment and a roll of bandages from the cabinet. One inch lower and he'd be barreling his way through the snow right now, on his way to the nearest hospital, because Ray could quite possibly have lost an eye. One inch lower and God knows if Ray would have been able to make his way back home from the woods. And if he couldn't, and Fraser didn't know where to start looking for him, and he was stuck out there all night, hurt and alone -
Fraser bangs the cabinet shut and flicks off the bathroom light. When he gets back to the kitchen Ray is sitting forward, holding the washcloth against the entire right side of his face, and glaring from his other eye.
"I didn't say to move," Fraser says, pushing Ray back down by the shoulder. He dumps the bandages and ointment onto the table, the tin banging against the hard wood and rolling off and onto the floor. "Goddammit," Fraser mutters, bending down pick it up.
"Geez, Fraser. What is your-"
"I don't have a problem, if that's what you were going to ask," Fraser snaps, pulling the washcloth from Ray's hand. The cut is just a little puffy and swollen, the skin all around it a bright red. "If anyone seems to have a problem--" Fraser mutters as he twists off the cap of the ointment.
"Whoa, wait a minute there," Ray says. He stands up quickly, knocking his chair back. Fraser tries to push down on his shoulder again, but Ray wrestles out from under his hand.
"I didn't say to stand up," Fraser warns.
"Yeah? Well, I didn't ask."
Fraser grits his teeth. "No, I guess you didn't. Though I didn't ask to be bandaging you up tonight either, now did I?"
"Who the hell said you have to?" Ray snarls. "God, I was just--"
"You were just what?" Fraser questions. "I'd really love to know. Were you just -- I don't know. Bored with two eyes, perhaps? Decided to see how fun it would be to operate with just one? Or wait. I know. You figured since there wasn't anything good on the television tonight, that we'd spend some quality time together, bandaging your wounds and arguing."
Ray opens his mouth, and Fraser braces himself for the protest that he knows is coming, but then Ray seems to just - give up. He snaps his mouth shut, and shakes his head. "No, you know what? I'm not doing this with you," he says, and leaves the kitchen.
Fraser stands by himself, and a few minutes later he hears the television click on in the living room. He curls his fingers into the washcloth he still has in his hand, then tosses it disgustedly into the bowl, not even caring when it splashes water across the entire top of the table.
God, sometimes Ray just doesn't understand. He hasn't lived his life like Fraser has, and he doesn't know the things Fraser knows. He doesn't fear things - not at all, it seems - and Fraser knows, better than others, that there are things you have to fear.
The North is a very unforgiving place. Mistakes which would be just mistakes in other places can be deadly where they live. Ray has done so well in the two years since they decided to leave Chicago for good that Fraser just can't wrap his mind around possibly losing him to something so stupid - so foolish - as going hunting in the woods and blinding himself on a tree branch. Which was very nearly what Ray had done.
The important thing, Fraser knows, is that Ray wasn't badly hurt. But Fraser is getting tired of depending on luck. He wants Ray to be with him, and be safe, and not take stupid chances. He wants to not spend as much time as he does making antibiotic ointment and bandaging Ray up. He wants Ray to know just how much he really means to him - how it humbles him, every day, to know that Ray has made his choice and that his choice is Fraser.
Fraser smoothes his thumb over the tin of ointment he still has in his hand, and tries to muster up the energy to go out to the living room and talk to Ray. It shouldn't be this hard - going out there and talking to him -- but he can hear time ticking by on the clock, and as much as he'd like to, he just can't seem to get his feet to move.
He's still standing there, unmoving, when Ray walks back into the kitchen, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. He leans his shoulder against the doorframe and looks at Fraser steadily. Fraser stands silently. He has no idea how to even begin.
"Hey," Ray says roughly.
Just say something, Fraser scolds himself. It will do absolutely no good to just stand here and stare at him.
"Look," Ray says, pushing off the doorway and coming into the kitchen. "I didn't mean--"
"No, Ray, it was my fault," Fraser interrupts, finally able to speak. "My behavior was appalling, and I - well - I just hope you can forgive me."
Ray watches him, and then the edges of his mouth twitch in the beginnings of a smile. "Yeah, whatever. It's okay." He nods at the tin Fraser still has in his hand. "You want to put that junk on me or something?"
Fraser glances down and then nods. "Yes, it's good for -" he clears his throat. "It will prevent infection."
Ray is still standing in the doorway, and when Fraser walks over, he leans his back against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. "You want me to sit down?"
"No, you're fine where you are," Fraser says, stepping right in front of Ray. They are almost exactly the same height, and Fraser tries to concentrate on getting his fingers to work -- unscrew the cap, dip his finger into the ointment, place the tin on the counter - rather than how close he is to Ray, or how close Ray's mouth is, when all he wants to do is kiss him.
Ray leans his head back against the wall, and Fraser lightly dabs his finger on the far edge of Ray's bruise, smoothing the cool gel across the angry red cut. This will leave a scar for sure, and Fraser has to wonder what Ray will remember every time he looks at it. Getting hurt in the woods hunting for dinner, or coming home and having Fraser fight with him about it.
"I'm sorry," Fraser says quietly, dropping his eyes and concentrating fully on scooping up more ointment with his finger. "I just worry."
"I know you do," Ray answers, and when Fraser looks up at him his eyes are so clear and blue. "I figured that out."
"I just - it's dangerous out there, and sometimes I don't think you realize--"
"But I do realize, Frase," Ray interrupts, wrapping his fingers around Fraser's wrist. He reaches over and grabs a towel off the top of the counter and wipes Fraser's hand, cleaning it off. "I know it's dangerous out there and I know I've gotta be careful. But you can't - I can't just sit here all day and not do anything. I'm not like, the little woman, sitting home, making stew and knitting booties, or some shit."
"I know that." Fraser leans in and rests his hand on Ray's hip. He loves Ray's body - everything about it. The way the ribs he used to be able to count back in Chicago are now hidden under Ray's slightly thickening middle. The way Ray just gave up shaving in the winter, letting the dark blond hair on his face grow into a full, soft beard. The way Ray still looks at Fraser, like he is Ray's best friend and lover and partner all at once.
"I just - I think about things," Fraser says, still feeling unsettled. "I think about you going out and getting hurt and not being able to make it back. I think about me not being able to find you. And I just - I don't--"
Ray kisses him, hard and fierce, and Fraser moans against his mouth and reaches up to twist his fingers in Ray's hair. The strands are soft between his fingers, and then Ray's hands are on his face, holding him still while his tongue enters Fraser's mouth.
Fraser gasps - it amazes him that it's still like this with the two of them, even after all this time, and as he kisses Ray back, all he can think is how much he needs Ray, and wants him, until he's saying it, gasping it against Ray's mouth.
"God, Ray," and "I love you," and "Don't ever leave me." It's not until Ray is pushing him back, and walking him through the cabin, into their tiny bedroom that he hears Ray's answer.
"I'm here," he whispers, pulling Fraser's shirt from his pants, up and over his head. It hits the floor with a soft thump, and then Ray's mouth is on his collarbone, his tongue flicking out against Fraser's skin. "I'm not going anywhere."
Fraser's skin prickles into gooseflesh, and he shivers hard. Ray looks at him, his fingers stroking against Fraser's temple, then down his cheek, until they rest against Fraser's mouth. Fraser kisses the tips of Ray's fingers and closes his eyes.
"Fraser," Ray says softly. He waits until Fraser looks at him, then he drags his fingers down Fraser's chin, over his throat, leaving them to rest against Fraser's throat. "Listen to me." Ray says seriously. "I'm not leaving, no matter what."
"I want to believe that," Fraser says quietly. Ray has his arms around him - strong arms around his chest, smoothing down his back. Ray's hands are rough and chapped from the cold, and Fraser shivers as they scratch against his skin.
Ray presses his mouth to the side of Fraser's throat. "Come here," he says thickly, pulling Fraser down onto the bed after him.
The sheets are flannel and soft, and Fraser suddenly - desperately - needs to feel Ray against him. He reaches out and unbuttons Ray's work shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and sinking his teeth into Ray's soft, warm skin. Ray moans deep in his throat, and Fraser can feel it and taste it under his lips, his tongue swiping over the skin of Ray's throat.
"God, yeah, Fraser," Ray says slowly, wrapping his arms around Fraser's shoulders, and pulling him down to lay on Ray's chest. "Tell me what you want. You can have whatever you want."
Fraser lifts his head and looks into Ray's face. Ray's eyes are dark and his expression serious. "I mean it, Fraser," he says quietly.
"You have to be more careful," Fraser stresses, his hands smoothing over Ray's skin. Ray thrusts his body up into Fraser's touch, and then they're both reaching for the button on Ray's jeans and pushing them down Ray's hips. "Promise me you'll be--"
"I'll be careful, yeah," Ray grunts, kicking his jeans to the foot of the bed. His fingers are warm and Fraser gasps as Ray pulls open his jeans and roughly shoves them down his hips, his hand already inside Fraser's boxers. "Get these off."
Fraser chuckles and kicks his jeans and boxers off as Ray smiles at him, then leans over and covers Ray's mouth, kissing him hotly. "I love you," Fraser says desperately as he pulls away. He has to be sure Ray knows this - that he understands. "That's why I get so--"
"I know. God, I - God, Fraser," Ray says roughly, shifting his body so Fraser's covering him. He thrusts up, his cock hard against Fraser's hip, and pants, "I love you so fucking much."
The lubricant is on top of the nightstand from the last time they used it, and Fraser closes his hand around it, trying to pop the cap with shaking fingers. When he manages to get it open, he drizzles some on his hand, then roughly grabs Ray's cock right around the head.
"Not yet," Fraser says, his voice thick and soft. "You wait for me."
"Okay, okay." Ray says, gasping. "Just - god - now, then."
Fraser releases him and trails his fingers down along the front of Ray's body. Ray shudders as Fraser lightly brushes his hand over Ray's erection, then down and underneath. His finger is slick, and when he presses against Ray it slips inside easily and Ray moans and squirms beneath him. "Yeah, that's good. Now. Do it now. Fraser--"
"Not yet," Fraser says roughly, sliding his finger out, then pushing in with two. Ray's body is hot and tight and squeezing all around him, and as he pushes in deeper, Ray groans, the head of his cock already wet.
Ray's not going to last much longer, Fraser knows. And the one thing he wants tonight, more than anything, is to feel Ray alive and breathing and pulsing all around him. He slowly pulls out his fingers, and then he's coating himself with lube, and moving between Ray's legs.
Fraser presses against him, his cockhead just barely slipping inside, and Ray moans loud and long, his head rolling from side to side on the pillow. "Yeah, that's good. Keep going."
"You're mine," Fraser whispers, slowly pushing inside him, and as Ray's body opens for him, he looks up at Fraser between labored breaths.
"I am, yeah." Ray's eyes flutter closed, and he reaches down, his fingers brushing over where the two of them are joined. "I keep - keep telling you that."
Fraser pulls back, then slowly pushes in, setting a torturously slow rhythm. "You're mine." Ray's body is moving under his, and every place their skin touches is slick with sweat. Fraser reaches up, and winds his fingers in Ray's hair, tightening his fist until Ray opens his eyes. "Look at me," Fraser whispers.
Ray blinks slowly, as if he's trying to focus and Fraser thrusts in hard, causing Ray's whole body to arch up against him. "Don't you ever leave me," Fraser says roughly, and that's it. Ray's eyes fall shut and he twists his fingers in the sheets. His body squeezes around Fraser's erection, and he's coming hard all over his stomach and chest.
Fraser's not going to last much longer than Ray; he almost never does. Especially not tonight, with Ray looking up at him again, running his fingers through the come on his stomach, and then laying his hand against Fraser's chest, just over his heart.
"I'm never leaving you," Ray whispers, and Fraser closes his eyes, picturing Ray and himself out on the porch in fifty years, rocking in their chairs talking about the good old days. One day he and Ray will laugh as they talk about the time he got mad because Ray got hurt in the woods hunting for dinner, and how that night was probably the first night Fraser really believed Ray was staying with him.
"I believe you," Fraser gasps as he comes, and he leans his forehead against Ray's chest, feeling Ray's fingers stroking his hair as he shudders through his orgasm.
Fraser stays there until the sweat on their skin begins to dry, and the chill in the cabin is more pronounced. He pulls out of Ray slowly, and Ray hisses out a sharp breath as Fraser drops down beside him.
"You better now?" Ray asks, rolling over to face him.
Fraser thinks about it, and smiles when he realizes he is. "Yes. Much."
Ray nods and moves in closer, his hand loosely circling Fraser's waist. "Good." He looks up at Fraser and scowls. "Because after all that, there's no dinner."
Fraser looks down at Ray -- at his mussed-up hair, and the puffy red cut over his eye - and he thinks back to how his life was before, and then he thinks about how it will never be that way again. And if Ray starts to wonder about Fraser's sanity when he rolls onto his back, clutching his sides and laughing until tears come to his eyes, well, then, so be it. It wouldn't be the first time.