New F/K Story: All the Space, and Time (NC-17) - Part 2
Title: All the Space, and Time
Author: arrow00
Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 15,422 total
Warnings: Reference to non-con event (Fraser/Victoria). Could be triggery due to this. There are, however, no graphic descriptions.
Categories: FT, post-CoTW, angst up the ass
Beta: The fabulous nos4a2no9
A/N: This really is secretlybronte's fault for having that writing party and nos4a2no9's too for being so goddamned supportive and encouraging.
[This is Part 2. Part 1 is HERE.]
All the Space, and Time (Part 2)
The next few nights they were on stakeout, watching the domicile of one Thomas Lasorda and waiting for him to appear so they might arrest him for the illegal sale of pornography. It wasn't the selling of pornography that was illegal, Ray explained, but rather that these were pirated copies, duplicated without permission.
The FBI was very concerned, Ray continued, his face twisting in a grin that made Fraser want to do something entirely inappropriate for a work environment.
Unfortunately, with his duties at the Consulate and the two of them on stakeout in the evenings, there was no opportunity for Fraser to indulge in his desires, so he consoled himself by working out in detail exactly what he would do to Ray, given the chance, and in which position, and precisely how he would bring Ray to orgasm with his mouth and hands, and-Oh, dear.
Fraser took his Stetson from the dashboard and placed it in his lap.
"Got a little problem there, Frase?" Ray's glee was hardly covered by the mocking tone.
"Not at all, Ray," Fraser said as calmly as he could manage. "Oh, look, isn't that Mr. Lasorda?"
Indeed, with impeccable timing, Mr. Lasorda had made his appearance, in the company of what appeared to be a scandalously clad minor but turned out to be a Little Person, male, wearing a pink spangled dress and high-heel pumps. A feather boa completed the ensemble.
After Mr. Lasorda had been read his rights and taken to booking, Ray dictated the report. Fraser insisted on doing the typing in order to save time.
"What's your hurry?" Ray said, lounging one hip against the desk, close by Fraser's right hand.
Fraser chose not to respond, but later, once they were in Ray's apartment and he had Ray's narrow hips caught in his hands, he punished Ray for his teasing by trying the new trick he'd planned, swallowing around Ray while holding him deep in his throat.
Ray's whimpers were exactly as helpless and arousing as Fraser had hoped.
Afterward, Ray staggered away from the door, where Fraser had held him pinned, and made his way to his overstuffed sofa to fall flat on his back, one knee bent against the side. "You're a very bad Mountie," Ray said. "Come on over here."
Fraser delayed to remove his jacket and boots, and then walked over, his socks sliding on the wooden floor. He was tremendously aroused, but even as he approached, he felt the same uncertainty attack him, and his momentum fell asymptotically until he was hovering by the foot of the couch.
Ray shifted until he was squeezed against the sofa back, leaving a row of space in front of him. "Lie down, okay? Right here." Ray patted the cushion in front of him.
Fraser obeyed. To balk seemed unforgiveable, after the license Ray had granted him with his own body. The freedom to touch-Fraser's fears had begun to seem selfish. And Ray's relief and eagerness when Fraser settled on the couch, his back to Ray's front, seemed to emphasize the point.
"This okay?" Ray whispered, his hand sliding over Fraser's waist to press against his stomach.
Fraser swallowed harshly and nodded. His excitement had faded somewhat for not knowing what Ray's expectations were. What he wanted. Whether Fraser would be able to give it to him.
"Go ahead and do your thing," Ray said softly, encouragingly, and nuzzled the back of Fraser's neck.
"Oh," Fraser said in a small voice, because this was-the luxury of space and understanding. Ray was pressed against him, all along his back, like a shield of warmth, and Ray's mouth was moving tenderly on his neck, his hand set firmly against Fraser's stomach, but not trapping him. All of what he wanted, having Ray so close, but nothing intrusive or jarring.
Fraser unbuttoned his jeans, and Ray rewarded him with a kiss just below his hairline. Shivering a little, Fraser unzipped and pushed open his pants, then reached into the slot of his boxers and pulled himself out
The air was cool on the heat of his erection. Fraser pushed down his foreskin to feel it even better on his sensitive crown, and worried his thumb at the junction, that precise point where all sensation was the most vivid. He felt Ray's forearm flex where it crossed his own, and Fraser froze momentarily, feeling exposed.
But Ray did nothing but press a little more firmly on Fraser's abdomen, as if encouraging him with an innocuous touch.
Of course. Of course Ray would do nothing-he wouldn't harm Fraser, he wouldn't do anything to cause him discomfort, and this continuing trepidation was childish to the extreme. Self-indulgent.
Fraser forced himself to begin stroking himself, out in the open where the occasional drift of air added to the good sensations gathering in his cock. In addition, there was the press of Ray along his back, knees nudging the back of his thighs, and Ray's warm hand on his belly, moving with Fraser's increasing breaths. And Ray's lips and mouth on the sensitive back of his neck, nuzzling and licking-
After only a few minutes Fraser was once again trembling in the grips of his orgasm, this time with Ray's vocal encouragement in his ear-"Yeah, Fraser. Feels good, doesn't it? Let it go, c'mon, c'mon..."
When Fraser at last relaxed with a sigh, he was immediately aware that his emissions had spattered all over his stomach, some landing on Ray's hand. Dazed, Fraser took Ray's wrist and brought his hand up to lick it clean.
"Oh, man," Ray groaned softly. He pushed his hips forward a little and his groin pressed against Fraser's buttocks. Awkwardly, Fraser twisted his upper torso so he could give Ray a brief kiss.
"Thank you," Fraser whispered, knowing somehow that Ray would understand what a gift this was, to have this much-so much more than he could have imagined, just a few short months ago.
///
They continued their sporadic forays on the couch during evenings when work didn't interfere. Fraser grew more adventurous in exploring Ray's naked skin-the soft seam where his legs met his groin; his small, bronze nipples that seemed to appreciate Fraser's attentions; the smooth skin just beneath his balls where pressure from Fraser's fingers seemed to make Ray insane.
And Fraser no longer balked at being touched at his waist while he masturbated, even when Ray's hand slipped below his shirt and reached skin, fondling his abdomen in the same rhythm as he stroked himself, fingers dipping into his belly button. Then one night Ray wanted to hold his hand over Fraser's. It was erotic-having Ray's hand there, so close to his cock but not touching, squeezing Fraser's hand tighter around himself. He climaxed quickly that night.
It was obvious what Ray would push for next, and Fraser wasn't, he thought, very comfortable with the notion. He tried to give Ray as much pleasure as possible the following evening they were together, worshipping him where he sat in a kitchen chair and using his mouth and fingers until Ray begged him to end it, to bring him to completion. When Fraser was finished, Ray looked destroyed, shirt hanging off, his hair standing sideways and his lower lip red where he'd bitten at it. However, Ray didn't fall asleep as Fraser had hoped; instead, he rose stiffly from his seat and pulled Fraser up and into a kiss that made Fraser's toes curl.
Then he shucked off his jeans, leaving himself in his boxers, and sat Fraser down on the couch first, then pushed him down until he lay flat.
"Ray." Fraser struggled to sit up again. Ray let him after a moment, looking a little annoyed. "Not like this, please," Fraser said. "I need to sit up," he explained. His face felt flushed, but not with arousal.
"Okay," Ray said. "But then let me-" He slipped one leg around Fraser's back, until he could straddle him from behind. Then he pulled Fraser against him so they could use the couch back for support.
If Ray's legs were spread surprisingly wide, he made no comment about discomfort, and Fraser rested against him, feeling easy. This was simply a variation of their usual position, and this way he could run his palm up and down Ray's thigh and ruffle the blond hairs growing there.
"You should take your pants off," Ray said. There was a question mark in his voice. Everything they said at these times were questions and answers; requests and acceptance, or directives and demurrals. It gave their talk a clinical quality that Fraser didn't like. It didn't feel like romance so much as a negotiation.
Not that they were romantic partners. At least, not in the traditional sense. Not yet. Because of these negotiations, and their necessity, everything hung undecided between them, and it was all Fraser's fault, really. He could hardly believe Ray bothered to come back each time.
Yet here he was, rubbing his hand on Fraser's jean-clad leg, patiently waiting as he had been.
"All right," Fraser said, a frog in his throat. He stood and did it quickly, before his emotions could rebel. He pushed off his jeans and boots, leaving him in his white socks and white briefs and Henley.
It was adequate. He was dressed enough; only his legs were bare. There was no reason to protest it.
He turned, and Ray gave him a smile. "You look goofy with your socks on."
Fraser crossed his arms. "My feet are cold."
"Yeah, right. Pull the other one." He stuck his leg out at Fraser, and Fraser laughed a little and grabbed it, pulling until Ray was nearly falling off the couch.
"Okay, okay! Uncle!" Ray yelled, in danger of landing his rear end on the carpet. Fraser released him, smiling in satisfaction, but during the moment of inattention, Ray lunged and wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him down.
They landed in an approximation of their earlier position, only Fraser was on one hip between Ray's legs, and Ray was too close to the edge of the couch. Together they squirmed back, and Fraser turned his head for a kiss.
He liked kissing Ray like this, liked feeling the sideways slip of their mouths at such an odd angle. But really, he liked kissing Ray any way he could.
After a while his neck grew a kink, and he turned forward again. This seemed to be Ray's signal to run his hand under the hem of Fraser's shirt to pet his stomach and sides. Fraser felt goose bumps rise on his skin, and his nipples hardened to points.
"We call this 'second base,'" Ray said, his hands going higher than usual, his right fingertips brushing against Fraser's nipple. It was a sweet sensation, but Fraser halted the progress of Ray's left hand before it could reach its destination, knowing what Ray would find. Even if he probably wouldn't feel the scar that distorted Fraser's nipple, Fraser didn't want to take the chance.
"It's all right," Ray said with resignation, a tone Fraser recognized from too many instances during the past weeks. His conscience warred with his discomfort until he released the pressure on Ray's hand. But Ray had already moved on, and was slipping his fingers under the band of Fraser's boxers.
Fraser's erection, which had flagged somewhat during their scuffle, renewed itself. Slowly, Fraser reached into his boxers and pulled himself out, in effect offering himself to Ray's touch.
"Yeah," Ray said, his breath brushing against Fraser's cheek. Fraser looked down in time to see Ray's hand approach and join his. Ray's thumb came over the top and rubbed gently at the foreskin covering the head of his penis.
Fraser shuddered.
"Let go," Ray said, and after a moment's hesitation, Fraser pulled his hand away. He gripped Ray's thigh instead, determined not to interfere.
And then Ray took hold of him fully, his long fingers wrapping all the way around, and Fraser let out a short moan, pitiful in volume, because it felt so good to have Ray touching him, to have Ray's hand on him, gentle but strong. So much better than his own hand, his own touch. It was like flying.
At the same time, it felt a little like falling.
Ray stroked him as if he knew exactly what to do, as if he'd been watching closely all this time, because the rhythm was ideal, his grip confident and true, and the motion comfortingly familiar. Fraser sagged backward, letting Ray take his weight, and pushed up with his hips into the perfect strokes.
He carefully watched Ray's hand moving on him, watched the flex of Ray's forearm, a beautiful, erotic vision. It took only a few minutes for Fraser to rise to climax, and he squeezed Ray's leg as he came, as his cock spurted thick fluid over his belly and rucked up shirt, over Ray's hand.
"Dear God," Fraser muttered, shaken and disturbed by the intensity. A dull pain beat at the walls of his chest, and his stomach tightened with a sense of nausea.
Ray nudged him sideways, until he was resting at an angle against the side of the sofa, still within the circle of Ray's arm. When Ray bent to kiss him, Fraser kissed him back numbly, trying to respond.
Only a fool would ruin such a perfect moment.
///
The next day, Fraser woke from a disturbing dream, his body humming with alarm. As the morning passed, he was unable to shake the emotion; he felt disconnected, the freefall sensation returning, and when Ray called to ask him and Dief out for a picnic, Fraser made a feeble excuse and declined.
It turned out he was a fool after all-the week that followed proved it. Every time he reached for the phone, he found himself calling for Dief, instead, and taking him out for one long run after another, to Dief's vocal complaints. Even as Fraser told himself he was being childish and more than a little irrational, he couldn't make himself stop. When he tried to approach the problem logically, his mind veered away as quickly as his body.
He felt as if he had no control over either.
///
Fraser still showed up at the 27th for liaising, of course. And Ray-Ray seemed willing to give him the needed space, though at what cost, Fraser was afraid to consider. But outwardly Ray treated him the same, with casual grins and playful punches. If his face fell at the end of the day when Fraser told him he wanted to walk home, the stab of guilt Fraser felt was no more than he deserved.
The next week their assignment was Lily Kurana, an exotic dancer of some repute, who required protection against a murderous stalker. Fraser could see Welsh's surprise when Ray failed to protest vociferously against doing the protection detail; usually he considered such an assignment "baby-sitting" and not real detective work.
She was very beautiful, though, and there had already been one attempt on her life. Fraser consoled himself that the detail would be brief-the stalker's identity had already been determined, and it would simply be a matter of catching him at home or in the attempt.
"This, my dear lady, is what I call breakfast," Ray said as he entered the bullpen with Ms. Kurana by his side. "Boston Cream doughnuts and hazelnut coffee. Only the finest for our very important person."
"Thank you so much, Detective Kowalski. But you'll be the ruin of my career." She patted her hips. From what Fraser could tell from his vantage point, they were bony enough to cut paper. She might benefit from a doughnut or two.
He was immediately ashamed of his train of thought, and bent his head back to the list of contacts he was supposed to be calling. So far none of them had had a clue as to Dennis Dellmeyer's whereabouts.
"Oh, I don't think so," Ray said appreciatively. "In my opinion, a doughnut couldn't find a happier place to die."
Fraser winced and picked up the phone.
///
They were forced to attend Ms. Kurana's performances, a duty that Ray complained about not in the slightest.
Fraser had to admit she was quite beautiful, with an honest sexuality about her that made him envious. She was comfortable in her skin, in being the object of desire. In spite of the somewhat seedy circumstances of the club, she glowed purely, and the people around her responded to her confidence.
Including Ray, who flushed beautifully and stared into his soda. It was painful to watch, and Fraser would have bowed out of his part of the detail if he could. Instead, the next day he put the best face on it he could and re-dialed his list of contacts.
This time, he detected a faintly nervous tone coming from Mr. Fannini, owner and proprietor of Fanni's Adult Film Emporium. Fraser pressed him until he broke out, "He'll kill me if it gets back to him. That Denny is a creepola, a real whack-job."
"It's our hope he'll serve time for attempted murder, Mr. Fannini. I assure you we won't reveal our source."
"Mister Fannini. That's a good one. No one's called me that since Miss Stewman in seventh grade."
"Where did you see Dennis last?" Fraser asked patiently.
"Not me, but Manny said he saw Denny catching the triple-X marathon over at the Bijiou Theater."
"Excellent. Thank you kindly, Mr. Fannini."
When Fraser hung up the phone, Ray's attention was focused on him directly for the first time in days. The look reminded Fraser of nothing more than Diefenbaker when Fraser was about to throw him a haunch of caribou.
"We got him, Fraser?"
"We indeed got him, Ray. Mr. Dellmeyer is apparently attending the cinema."
"The cine-mah?"
"Yes, at the Bijiou Theater on North Wells."
"Oh. He's watching porn."
"So it would appear, Ray."
"Well, let's just see if we can arrange to pay Denny a social visit."
It took very little effort to convince Detectives Huey and Dewey to watch over Ms. Kurana temporarily while Fraser and Ray went to the Bijiou.
The endgame was something of an anti-climax, since they discovered Mr. Dellmeyer asleep in a theater seat with his pants open and his penis inserted through the bottom of a popcorn bucket. As a result, his attempt to escape was largely unsuccessful. In fact, they would have caught him instantly if Ray hadn't tripped over his own feet in laughter.
Ray escorted Mr. Dellmeyer out into the lobby with his hands cuffed behind his back and the unfortunate popcorn bucket still in place.
"Shouldn't we allow him to, er-" Fraser waved his hands.
"Nope," Ray said, pushing Dennis along smartly.
The charges were attempted murder and public indecency. And littering.
///
Afterward, Fraser was forced to watch Ms. Kurana bestow her grateful thanks all over Ray's cheeks and lips. He looked a little stunned when Fraser dragged him firmly away with lipstick marks on his face.
"You seemed quite taken with Ms. Kurana," Fraser said, admittedly a little tightly, as Ray drove him home from the precinct.
"She was very friendly," Ray said. There was a half-smile twisting his lips.
Fraser looked away.
"You got something to say?"
"No, Ray." Fraser scrubbed his eyebrow. "Well, yes. Aren't we-?"
"Aren't we what, Fraser?" Ray said evenly.
Fraser considered his word choice. 'Exclusive' seemed a little presumptive. On the other hand- "Aren't we seeing each other?" he asked in a rush.
"I thought so. See, that's what I thought, Fraser, except I haven't been seeing much of you lately."
"Ah."
"Yeah. 'Ah.'"
Fraser put his hand on Ray's leg. "I'm sorry about-I had some difficulties, for a short while there. I needed...time."
"And I gave it to you, didn't I?" Thankfully, Ray didn't shift away.
"God, yes. I'm very sorry-"
"I know, Frase. And it's okay. But, thing is, what now?"
"Well, I thought...perhaps I can see you tonight?"
Ray made an obvious show of pondering Fraser's offer. "Could be. Would that be the naked type seeing?"
Fraser felt his neck heat. "If you like."
"Oh, I like. I like."
"Good, then."
"Good."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Of course, when they got to Fraser's apartment, Dief insisted on being walked immediately. And then there was dinner to arrange, and French fries to be protected from Dief's insistent muzzle. It was comforting, and familiar, but afterward, once Dief was ensconced by the sofa watching an appallingly bad sitcom, Ray changed their usual routine.
Instead of letting Fraser approach him, Ray pushed Fraser toward the bedroom, a look of determination on his face.
"Ray?"
"I've been thinking about what you said, about seeing each other," Ray said, stopping by the side of the bed. "Seems to me the seeing's mostly been on one side."
"Ray." Fraser trapped Ray's hands just as they caught the bottom of his Henley.
Ray went still and stared at him, head tilted slightly to the side. "We haven't talked about this. We didn't need to, I figured, because you've been coming around, and because I know you don't like talking about things. But I have to tell you, Frase, it's starting to bug me-it's starting to hurt."
"Ray, I said I'm sorry I-"
"No. No, let me say this. This I have to say, then you can-" Ray jerked his chin, "-do what you gotta do. Even if it means-even if. So, here's the thing." Ray's fists clenched under Fraser's hands. "I know she hurt you. I get that you need to...to be in control of things. But me, I need something, too."
Fraser's throat was dry as he swallowed. "What do you need, Ray?"
"Don't get me wrong-I like what you do for me. I like it a lot. But this one-sided thing, this thing where you get to make me feel good but you won't let yourself take anything from me-it makes me feel like a user. It makes me feel like a crappy lover. It makes me think-" Ray stopped and his eyes dropped, the corners turned down. "You don't need me back-for anything."
"I do, Ray," Fraser said automatically, urgently, his heart racing with panic. "I do need this. I need you."
But Ray didn't look reassured. He grimaced and said, "Then the only thing I can figure is you don't trust me not to hurt you. Like her."
"Oh, God," Fraser whispered, suddenly revolted at himself, at his selfishness. Ray looked-the expression was pain, not patience. His body spoke of yearning, not of desire. Making him feel pleasure wouldn't erase it, no matter how many times Fraser touched him with care and passion. None of that could cure this.
He'd been wrong. So terribly wrong.
"It isn't that I don't trust you, Ray. Not at all." But Fraser was helpless to explain the whiteout of panic that sometimes struck him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ray." Somehow his arms went up and he was hugging Ray, holding him. And he realized he hadn't done this-held Ray, just held him-since their first night.
"You hear what I'm saying?" Ray said shakily, and Fraser nodded, his cheek rubbing against Ray's hair.
"What do you need me to do?" Fraser whispered hoarsely.
Ray pushed him back. "Nothing. You have to do nothing. Let me, for once."
"That's not-I need to know specifics-" There was a pitiful whine to Fraser's voice, and he shut his mouth abruptly.
Ray smiled sadly, but didn't respond.
"Never mind, Ray. Forget I said anything."
"I plan to. Now, let's try this again." Ray reached for the bottom of Fraser's shirt, and this time Fraser forced himself to lift his arms, to let Ray tug it over his head.
Ray's eyes dropped down, and immediately veered to the left side of Fraser's chest, to where Fraser knew the scar, so obviously a set of teeth marks, cut across his nipple.
Fraser didn't cover it with his hand. He didn't turn away. But the effort to do neither made his whole body tremble in revolt. He was still shaking with the effort when Ray raised his hands and put them on Fraser's chest, brushing down with his palms until they covered both nipples.
"I hate her, you know that?" Ray said conversationally.
Fraser couldn't respond.
"Not just because of what she did, but because she did anything at all but love you like she should've. She was purely nuts, Fraser."
"You don't know-"
"Nuts." Ray moved his hands, sliding them down over Fraser's stomach, eyes staring at the same spot. "I'm all for digging her up and killing her all over again."
"All right. All right, Ray," Fraser said quietly, because Ray's hands were trembling, clenched into fists at Fraser's waist.
Ray looked up, blue eyes gone steel gray. "I'm going to make you feel good," he said fiercely, "I'm going to make you feel so good you forget your own fucking name."
And then Ray kissed him, mouth hot and pushy, lips and tongue soft and mobile and speaking of Ray's determination, of a passion so strong that Fraser felt a little dizzy, hardly able to kiss back at all.
Before he knew it he was stretched on his bed with Ray above him, still kissing him, his live-wire weight twisting on top of Fraser's body. His fierceness was always something Fraser had loved, had held so dear, and though it was directed at an unseen enemy, the love that caused it was for Fraser-it was his. He hadn't understood. He hadn't realized-stupid, really, because when was Ray ever patient? But all these weeks Ray had made himself wait, held himself back, willing to suppress his own need to the point of pain. All for him.
Ray was kissing his way downward now, and Fraser felt a momentary pang of visceral disgust when Ray's lips brushed his damaged nipple. He wanted to push Ray's head away, but instead let his hands lay limply by his sides. He had promised.
Sensation was deadened-the nerves were damaged. But they sparked a little anyway, under Ray's lips, under the firm stroke of his tongue. Still, Fraser was relieved when Ray switched to the other side. His attentions there were all pleasure, and Fraser gasped and arched his back to get more. His hand rose to stroke through Ray's spiky hair, trying to express his gratitude.
There was a muffled pop, and pressure on his waist from Ray's hand, and suddenly Fraser's fly was open and Ray was unzipping him. Raising himself to his knees, Ray gave him a look and then lifted Fraser's boxers and pants up and started pushing them down. After a moment, Fraser lifted his hips to assist, and Ray dragged them off altogether.
Fraser was naked, on his back.
But this wasn't his cot, and this wasn't the Consulate, and this was Ray staring down at him, taking him in. For the first time that evening Fraser felt arousal stirring, on the strength of Ray's eyes, on the need there, and the pleased surprise behind it.
"You're something else," Ray said.
A slight blush burned across Fraser's chest.
"I mean, I knew it, but it sure is nice to see." Ray slung himself down beside Fraser and trailed his fingers up Fraser's thigh, a tingling tease. When his hand closed on Fraser's half-erect cock, it felt like electricity striking. He hardened swiftly, and Ray gave a pleased chuckle, stroking him slowly.
"I'm gonna suck you so good, Fraser."
No.
Fraser's blood froze, desire fleeing as swiftly as it had come. Ray was already kissing his way down Fraser's sternum, but he must have felt the change, because he lifted his head, looking worried. His hand still rested on Fraser's cock, soft now, shrinking in alarm.
She had spoken to him only once before the end. She had called him a bastard, but her eyes had begged him to make her stop, even though he couldn't. He'd been helpless, bound, drugged, and when her teeth had closed on him there, the pain and fear had unmanned him, had forced him to cry out at last.
"She b-bit me. She bit me," Fraser said, his voice too high, pleading Ray for understanding.
"I know," Ray said, sounding worried and confused. He brushed a finger across Fraser's damaged nipple.
"No. No." Fraser swallowed. "Not just there."
Ray's mouth opened silently. "Oh, no." His face twisted. "Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ," he whispered hoarsely, and Fraser saw the violence rising in his eyes. He grabbed Ray's wrist just before he tried to swing away, knowing Ray's next move would be to punch the wall or something equally self-damaging.
She shouldn't be allowed to do any more damage. She was dead.
Ray struggled against him in silence.
"She's dead," Fraser reminded him, holding firm. "Punching the wall won't do any good."
Ray stared at him, and in that moment Fraser felt something change within him, as if he'd needed the reminder himself.
"But she's still hurting you," Ray said, proving he was as smart as he was ever pretending not to be.
"We won't let her." With a deep breath, Fraser lay back down and brought Ray's hand back to his groin. He held himself still, waiting, and finally Ray settled back down beside him.
His kiss this time was gentle, not fierce. Tentative. "I thought I could fix it," Ray whispered brokenly against his lips.
"You can. You will," Fraser promised, determined that it be the truth. He nudged Ray with his cheek. "Go ahead. Please."
But Ray just kissed him again, for a long time, sly-tongued and tender. A better wisdom, Fraser thought, because after a while he found his breath going short, and his penis grew erect cradled within Ray's hand. He was feeling it-arousal, inspired by Ray's mouth and Ray's touch, and that was a good thing, a natural thing. It was all right to let Ray make him feel this way.
Finally Ray moved, the spikes of his hair brushing against Fraser's throat, against his chest, as Ray mouthed his way downward. He was rubbing his palm against Fraser's cock, massaging up and down. Ray paused to lick his palm, and when his hand returned it moved easily, bringing more pleasure with each stroke.
Ray paused, suspended over Fraser's groin, and stared down. Then Ray pushed down his foreskin, and Fraser knew the moment Ray had found the scar-Ray traced it gently with his thumb, his brow drawn into a frown.
Don't. Fraser wanted to say. Don't give it power. But here, again, Ray was wise, because he bent and licked at the scar first, with just the tip of his tongue.
Ray's mouth. This is Ray's mouth, Fraser reminded himself, and truly it was nothing like before, because Ray's hand was exceedingly gentle, cupping him in place, and the soft flat of his tongue felt like heaven. Fraser watched the whole time as Ray's pink tongue licked and licked. Then Ray sucked with his lips just under the head, right at the junction that gave Fraser so much pleasure. With his other hand, Ray stroked his shaft from below, but at no point did he take more than the very tip of Fraser's cock into his mouth, and Fraser felt himself relaxing, his fists releasing from their aching clench at his sides.
Ray began stroking him faster, his mouth still sucking at the cap of Fraser's cock, tongue flicking into the slit at the top, and with a low cry Fraser came unexpectedly, with a sharp relief that it was over, it was done, and he throbbed again in Ray's hand, and his semen painted Ray's lips.
We did it, was Fraser's illogical thought, because really all he'd done was lie there, but that was what Ray had requested of him. And it was done.
Ray released him and shifted up to join him on the pillow. Fraser turned toward him and licked at Ray's lips, tasting himself for the first time in longer than he could remember.
"Thank you," Ray said, breaking the kiss. "That's what I-thanks."
"What about you?" Fraser said. "Shall I-?" Ray was still fully dressed-the incongruity of it struck Fraser only now. He was naked and Ray was clothed. Fraser couldn't even tell if he was aroused.
"Not this time. I got what I wanted." Ray's eyes were dark and unhappy.
"But I want to-"
"No. Shh. Listen," Ray said. He pulled Fraser into a hug, and Fraser obliged, wrapping his arm around Ray's back, warm under his T-shirt. "It's going to take me a little while to stop being so damned angry," Ray said. "Right now, I don't feel like coming. I feel like killing someone."
"All right, Ray." Fraser felt helpless to fix it. "I wish I could help."
Ray gave a wry laugh. "Now you know what it feels like."
He did. Fraser understood, finally. "She hurt us both."
"Yeah, that's the point of it, exactly. She hurt us both."
"But not anymore."
"No, not anymore."
Ray pulled away long enough to shed his shoes and pants and T-shirt, and then returned to slip into Fraser's arms.
Fraser held on tight. In all the times they'd been together, they'd never slept together like this, close and entwined. Ray had been determined to give Fraser all the space and time he needed to recover. Too determined, perhaps, and Fraser was grateful for it. But that time had passed, and now he had no need of space.
Between them, he found he wanted none at all.
///
Epilogue
There was a note stuck to the handset of Fraser's new phone.
The phone was a gift from Ray. He'd insisted on purchasing it in exchange for the apartment key Fraser had removed from his hat one evening and awkwardly handed over.
The invasions commenced almost immediately. Fraser was no longer surprised to come home to constant changes and additions. The cheap shower curtain was replaced with one depicting Steve McQueen in Bullit. A small tank appeared with a tadpole swimming inside. A coffeemaker grew in the kitchen, with a bag of M&Ms leaning beside it.
Fraser's favorite was the new couch pillows, which on more than one occasion were used to cushion Ray's knees as he pleasured Fraser. Their repertoire of lovemaking had expanded somewhat, but Ray seemed to like this act more than anything else-would spend long minutes loving Fraser with his mouth, eyes closed dreamily as he sucked and sucked.
Fraser had to admit he was fond of it, as well. But more, he liked throwing the pillows on the floor and taking Ray there, spreading open his long legs and leaning over for kisses while he moved within Ray's warm, tight grasp. Fraser still couldn't believe how much Ray seemed to enjoy it, but the sounds he always made-
Fraser shook his head; visions of their lovemaking were becoming a terminal distraction. He walked over to the phone and plucked up the note.
Fraser-
I've programmed in Vecchio's new number. He and Stel have moved to the Keys.
I think they're wasting away in Margaritaville.
You promised you'd call, remember? Don't make a liar out of you.
-R
Fraser blew out a sigh. Truly, it had been a long time since he'd spoken to his old partner and beloved friend. There was really no reason not to make the call right now. No reason at all.
Taking a deep breath, Fraser picked up the phone.
.......................
2008.08.25
Go back to Part 1, or read the prequel, A Small Mercy
Author: arrow00
Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 15,422 total
Warnings: Reference to non-con event (Fraser/Victoria). Could be triggery due to this. There are, however, no graphic descriptions.
Categories: FT, post-CoTW, angst up the ass
Beta: The fabulous nos4a2no9
A/N: This really is secretlybronte's fault for having that writing party and nos4a2no9's too for being so goddamned supportive and encouraging.
[This is Part 2. Part 1 is HERE.]
All the Space, and Time (Part 2)
The next few nights they were on stakeout, watching the domicile of one Thomas Lasorda and waiting for him to appear so they might arrest him for the illegal sale of pornography. It wasn't the selling of pornography that was illegal, Ray explained, but rather that these were pirated copies, duplicated without permission.
The FBI was very concerned, Ray continued, his face twisting in a grin that made Fraser want to do something entirely inappropriate for a work environment.
Unfortunately, with his duties at the Consulate and the two of them on stakeout in the evenings, there was no opportunity for Fraser to indulge in his desires, so he consoled himself by working out in detail exactly what he would do to Ray, given the chance, and in which position, and precisely how he would bring Ray to orgasm with his mouth and hands, and-Oh, dear.
Fraser took his Stetson from the dashboard and placed it in his lap.
"Got a little problem there, Frase?" Ray's glee was hardly covered by the mocking tone.
"Not at all, Ray," Fraser said as calmly as he could manage. "Oh, look, isn't that Mr. Lasorda?"
Indeed, with impeccable timing, Mr. Lasorda had made his appearance, in the company of what appeared to be a scandalously clad minor but turned out to be a Little Person, male, wearing a pink spangled dress and high-heel pumps. A feather boa completed the ensemble.
After Mr. Lasorda had been read his rights and taken to booking, Ray dictated the report. Fraser insisted on doing the typing in order to save time.
"What's your hurry?" Ray said, lounging one hip against the desk, close by Fraser's right hand.
Fraser chose not to respond, but later, once they were in Ray's apartment and he had Ray's narrow hips caught in his hands, he punished Ray for his teasing by trying the new trick he'd planned, swallowing around Ray while holding him deep in his throat.
Ray's whimpers were exactly as helpless and arousing as Fraser had hoped.
Afterward, Ray staggered away from the door, where Fraser had held him pinned, and made his way to his overstuffed sofa to fall flat on his back, one knee bent against the side. "You're a very bad Mountie," Ray said. "Come on over here."
Fraser delayed to remove his jacket and boots, and then walked over, his socks sliding on the wooden floor. He was tremendously aroused, but even as he approached, he felt the same uncertainty attack him, and his momentum fell asymptotically until he was hovering by the foot of the couch.
Ray shifted until he was squeezed against the sofa back, leaving a row of space in front of him. "Lie down, okay? Right here." Ray patted the cushion in front of him.
Fraser obeyed. To balk seemed unforgiveable, after the license Ray had granted him with his own body. The freedom to touch-Fraser's fears had begun to seem selfish. And Ray's relief and eagerness when Fraser settled on the couch, his back to Ray's front, seemed to emphasize the point.
"This okay?" Ray whispered, his hand sliding over Fraser's waist to press against his stomach.
Fraser swallowed harshly and nodded. His excitement had faded somewhat for not knowing what Ray's expectations were. What he wanted. Whether Fraser would be able to give it to him.
"Go ahead and do your thing," Ray said softly, encouragingly, and nuzzled the back of Fraser's neck.
"Oh," Fraser said in a small voice, because this was-the luxury of space and understanding. Ray was pressed against him, all along his back, like a shield of warmth, and Ray's mouth was moving tenderly on his neck, his hand set firmly against Fraser's stomach, but not trapping him. All of what he wanted, having Ray so close, but nothing intrusive or jarring.
Fraser unbuttoned his jeans, and Ray rewarded him with a kiss just below his hairline. Shivering a little, Fraser unzipped and pushed open his pants, then reached into the slot of his boxers and pulled himself out
The air was cool on the heat of his erection. Fraser pushed down his foreskin to feel it even better on his sensitive crown, and worried his thumb at the junction, that precise point where all sensation was the most vivid. He felt Ray's forearm flex where it crossed his own, and Fraser froze momentarily, feeling exposed.
But Ray did nothing but press a little more firmly on Fraser's abdomen, as if encouraging him with an innocuous touch.
Of course. Of course Ray would do nothing-he wouldn't harm Fraser, he wouldn't do anything to cause him discomfort, and this continuing trepidation was childish to the extreme. Self-indulgent.
Fraser forced himself to begin stroking himself, out in the open where the occasional drift of air added to the good sensations gathering in his cock. In addition, there was the press of Ray along his back, knees nudging the back of his thighs, and Ray's warm hand on his belly, moving with Fraser's increasing breaths. And Ray's lips and mouth on the sensitive back of his neck, nuzzling and licking-
After only a few minutes Fraser was once again trembling in the grips of his orgasm, this time with Ray's vocal encouragement in his ear-"Yeah, Fraser. Feels good, doesn't it? Let it go, c'mon, c'mon..."
When Fraser at last relaxed with a sigh, he was immediately aware that his emissions had spattered all over his stomach, some landing on Ray's hand. Dazed, Fraser took Ray's wrist and brought his hand up to lick it clean.
"Oh, man," Ray groaned softly. He pushed his hips forward a little and his groin pressed against Fraser's buttocks. Awkwardly, Fraser twisted his upper torso so he could give Ray a brief kiss.
"Thank you," Fraser whispered, knowing somehow that Ray would understand what a gift this was, to have this much-so much more than he could have imagined, just a few short months ago.
///
They continued their sporadic forays on the couch during evenings when work didn't interfere. Fraser grew more adventurous in exploring Ray's naked skin-the soft seam where his legs met his groin; his small, bronze nipples that seemed to appreciate Fraser's attentions; the smooth skin just beneath his balls where pressure from Fraser's fingers seemed to make Ray insane.
And Fraser no longer balked at being touched at his waist while he masturbated, even when Ray's hand slipped below his shirt and reached skin, fondling his abdomen in the same rhythm as he stroked himself, fingers dipping into his belly button. Then one night Ray wanted to hold his hand over Fraser's. It was erotic-having Ray's hand there, so close to his cock but not touching, squeezing Fraser's hand tighter around himself. He climaxed quickly that night.
It was obvious what Ray would push for next, and Fraser wasn't, he thought, very comfortable with the notion. He tried to give Ray as much pleasure as possible the following evening they were together, worshipping him where he sat in a kitchen chair and using his mouth and fingers until Ray begged him to end it, to bring him to completion. When Fraser was finished, Ray looked destroyed, shirt hanging off, his hair standing sideways and his lower lip red where he'd bitten at it. However, Ray didn't fall asleep as Fraser had hoped; instead, he rose stiffly from his seat and pulled Fraser up and into a kiss that made Fraser's toes curl.
Then he shucked off his jeans, leaving himself in his boxers, and sat Fraser down on the couch first, then pushed him down until he lay flat.
"Ray." Fraser struggled to sit up again. Ray let him after a moment, looking a little annoyed. "Not like this, please," Fraser said. "I need to sit up," he explained. His face felt flushed, but not with arousal.
"Okay," Ray said. "But then let me-" He slipped one leg around Fraser's back, until he could straddle him from behind. Then he pulled Fraser against him so they could use the couch back for support.
If Ray's legs were spread surprisingly wide, he made no comment about discomfort, and Fraser rested against him, feeling easy. This was simply a variation of their usual position, and this way he could run his palm up and down Ray's thigh and ruffle the blond hairs growing there.
"You should take your pants off," Ray said. There was a question mark in his voice. Everything they said at these times were questions and answers; requests and acceptance, or directives and demurrals. It gave their talk a clinical quality that Fraser didn't like. It didn't feel like romance so much as a negotiation.
Not that they were romantic partners. At least, not in the traditional sense. Not yet. Because of these negotiations, and their necessity, everything hung undecided between them, and it was all Fraser's fault, really. He could hardly believe Ray bothered to come back each time.
Yet here he was, rubbing his hand on Fraser's jean-clad leg, patiently waiting as he had been.
"All right," Fraser said, a frog in his throat. He stood and did it quickly, before his emotions could rebel. He pushed off his jeans and boots, leaving him in his white socks and white briefs and Henley.
It was adequate. He was dressed enough; only his legs were bare. There was no reason to protest it.
He turned, and Ray gave him a smile. "You look goofy with your socks on."
Fraser crossed his arms. "My feet are cold."
"Yeah, right. Pull the other one." He stuck his leg out at Fraser, and Fraser laughed a little and grabbed it, pulling until Ray was nearly falling off the couch.
"Okay, okay! Uncle!" Ray yelled, in danger of landing his rear end on the carpet. Fraser released him, smiling in satisfaction, but during the moment of inattention, Ray lunged and wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him down.
They landed in an approximation of their earlier position, only Fraser was on one hip between Ray's legs, and Ray was too close to the edge of the couch. Together they squirmed back, and Fraser turned his head for a kiss.
He liked kissing Ray like this, liked feeling the sideways slip of their mouths at such an odd angle. But really, he liked kissing Ray any way he could.
After a while his neck grew a kink, and he turned forward again. This seemed to be Ray's signal to run his hand under the hem of Fraser's shirt to pet his stomach and sides. Fraser felt goose bumps rise on his skin, and his nipples hardened to points.
"We call this 'second base,'" Ray said, his hands going higher than usual, his right fingertips brushing against Fraser's nipple. It was a sweet sensation, but Fraser halted the progress of Ray's left hand before it could reach its destination, knowing what Ray would find. Even if he probably wouldn't feel the scar that distorted Fraser's nipple, Fraser didn't want to take the chance.
"It's all right," Ray said with resignation, a tone Fraser recognized from too many instances during the past weeks. His conscience warred with his discomfort until he released the pressure on Ray's hand. But Ray had already moved on, and was slipping his fingers under the band of Fraser's boxers.
Fraser's erection, which had flagged somewhat during their scuffle, renewed itself. Slowly, Fraser reached into his boxers and pulled himself out, in effect offering himself to Ray's touch.
"Yeah," Ray said, his breath brushing against Fraser's cheek. Fraser looked down in time to see Ray's hand approach and join his. Ray's thumb came over the top and rubbed gently at the foreskin covering the head of his penis.
Fraser shuddered.
"Let go," Ray said, and after a moment's hesitation, Fraser pulled his hand away. He gripped Ray's thigh instead, determined not to interfere.
And then Ray took hold of him fully, his long fingers wrapping all the way around, and Fraser let out a short moan, pitiful in volume, because it felt so good to have Ray touching him, to have Ray's hand on him, gentle but strong. So much better than his own hand, his own touch. It was like flying.
At the same time, it felt a little like falling.
Ray stroked him as if he knew exactly what to do, as if he'd been watching closely all this time, because the rhythm was ideal, his grip confident and true, and the motion comfortingly familiar. Fraser sagged backward, letting Ray take his weight, and pushed up with his hips into the perfect strokes.
He carefully watched Ray's hand moving on him, watched the flex of Ray's forearm, a beautiful, erotic vision. It took only a few minutes for Fraser to rise to climax, and he squeezed Ray's leg as he came, as his cock spurted thick fluid over his belly and rucked up shirt, over Ray's hand.
"Dear God," Fraser muttered, shaken and disturbed by the intensity. A dull pain beat at the walls of his chest, and his stomach tightened with a sense of nausea.
Ray nudged him sideways, until he was resting at an angle against the side of the sofa, still within the circle of Ray's arm. When Ray bent to kiss him, Fraser kissed him back numbly, trying to respond.
Only a fool would ruin such a perfect moment.
///
The next day, Fraser woke from a disturbing dream, his body humming with alarm. As the morning passed, he was unable to shake the emotion; he felt disconnected, the freefall sensation returning, and when Ray called to ask him and Dief out for a picnic, Fraser made a feeble excuse and declined.
It turned out he was a fool after all-the week that followed proved it. Every time he reached for the phone, he found himself calling for Dief, instead, and taking him out for one long run after another, to Dief's vocal complaints. Even as Fraser told himself he was being childish and more than a little irrational, he couldn't make himself stop. When he tried to approach the problem logically, his mind veered away as quickly as his body.
He felt as if he had no control over either.
///
Fraser still showed up at the 27th for liaising, of course. And Ray-Ray seemed willing to give him the needed space, though at what cost, Fraser was afraid to consider. But outwardly Ray treated him the same, with casual grins and playful punches. If his face fell at the end of the day when Fraser told him he wanted to walk home, the stab of guilt Fraser felt was no more than he deserved.
The next week their assignment was Lily Kurana, an exotic dancer of some repute, who required protection against a murderous stalker. Fraser could see Welsh's surprise when Ray failed to protest vociferously against doing the protection detail; usually he considered such an assignment "baby-sitting" and not real detective work.
She was very beautiful, though, and there had already been one attempt on her life. Fraser consoled himself that the detail would be brief-the stalker's identity had already been determined, and it would simply be a matter of catching him at home or in the attempt.
"This, my dear lady, is what I call breakfast," Ray said as he entered the bullpen with Ms. Kurana by his side. "Boston Cream doughnuts and hazelnut coffee. Only the finest for our very important person."
"Thank you so much, Detective Kowalski. But you'll be the ruin of my career." She patted her hips. From what Fraser could tell from his vantage point, they were bony enough to cut paper. She might benefit from a doughnut or two.
He was immediately ashamed of his train of thought, and bent his head back to the list of contacts he was supposed to be calling. So far none of them had had a clue as to Dennis Dellmeyer's whereabouts.
"Oh, I don't think so," Ray said appreciatively. "In my opinion, a doughnut couldn't find a happier place to die."
Fraser winced and picked up the phone.
///
They were forced to attend Ms. Kurana's performances, a duty that Ray complained about not in the slightest.
Fraser had to admit she was quite beautiful, with an honest sexuality about her that made him envious. She was comfortable in her skin, in being the object of desire. In spite of the somewhat seedy circumstances of the club, she glowed purely, and the people around her responded to her confidence.
Including Ray, who flushed beautifully and stared into his soda. It was painful to watch, and Fraser would have bowed out of his part of the detail if he could. Instead, the next day he put the best face on it he could and re-dialed his list of contacts.
This time, he detected a faintly nervous tone coming from Mr. Fannini, owner and proprietor of Fanni's Adult Film Emporium. Fraser pressed him until he broke out, "He'll kill me if it gets back to him. That Denny is a creepola, a real whack-job."
"It's our hope he'll serve time for attempted murder, Mr. Fannini. I assure you we won't reveal our source."
"Mister Fannini. That's a good one. No one's called me that since Miss Stewman in seventh grade."
"Where did you see Dennis last?" Fraser asked patiently.
"Not me, but Manny said he saw Denny catching the triple-X marathon over at the Bijiou Theater."
"Excellent. Thank you kindly, Mr. Fannini."
When Fraser hung up the phone, Ray's attention was focused on him directly for the first time in days. The look reminded Fraser of nothing more than Diefenbaker when Fraser was about to throw him a haunch of caribou.
"We got him, Fraser?"
"We indeed got him, Ray. Mr. Dellmeyer is apparently attending the cinema."
"The cine-mah?"
"Yes, at the Bijiou Theater on North Wells."
"Oh. He's watching porn."
"So it would appear, Ray."
"Well, let's just see if we can arrange to pay Denny a social visit."
It took very little effort to convince Detectives Huey and Dewey to watch over Ms. Kurana temporarily while Fraser and Ray went to the Bijiou.
The endgame was something of an anti-climax, since they discovered Mr. Dellmeyer asleep in a theater seat with his pants open and his penis inserted through the bottom of a popcorn bucket. As a result, his attempt to escape was largely unsuccessful. In fact, they would have caught him instantly if Ray hadn't tripped over his own feet in laughter.
Ray escorted Mr. Dellmeyer out into the lobby with his hands cuffed behind his back and the unfortunate popcorn bucket still in place.
"Shouldn't we allow him to, er-" Fraser waved his hands.
"Nope," Ray said, pushing Dennis along smartly.
The charges were attempted murder and public indecency. And littering.
///
Afterward, Fraser was forced to watch Ms. Kurana bestow her grateful thanks all over Ray's cheeks and lips. He looked a little stunned when Fraser dragged him firmly away with lipstick marks on his face.
"You seemed quite taken with Ms. Kurana," Fraser said, admittedly a little tightly, as Ray drove him home from the precinct.
"She was very friendly," Ray said. There was a half-smile twisting his lips.
Fraser looked away.
"You got something to say?"
"No, Ray." Fraser scrubbed his eyebrow. "Well, yes. Aren't we-?"
"Aren't we what, Fraser?" Ray said evenly.
Fraser considered his word choice. 'Exclusive' seemed a little presumptive. On the other hand- "Aren't we seeing each other?" he asked in a rush.
"I thought so. See, that's what I thought, Fraser, except I haven't been seeing much of you lately."
"Ah."
"Yeah. 'Ah.'"
Fraser put his hand on Ray's leg. "I'm sorry about-I had some difficulties, for a short while there. I needed...time."
"And I gave it to you, didn't I?" Thankfully, Ray didn't shift away.
"God, yes. I'm very sorry-"
"I know, Frase. And it's okay. But, thing is, what now?"
"Well, I thought...perhaps I can see you tonight?"
Ray made an obvious show of pondering Fraser's offer. "Could be. Would that be the naked type seeing?"
Fraser felt his neck heat. "If you like."
"Oh, I like. I like."
"Good, then."
"Good."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Of course, when they got to Fraser's apartment, Dief insisted on being walked immediately. And then there was dinner to arrange, and French fries to be protected from Dief's insistent muzzle. It was comforting, and familiar, but afterward, once Dief was ensconced by the sofa watching an appallingly bad sitcom, Ray changed their usual routine.
Instead of letting Fraser approach him, Ray pushed Fraser toward the bedroom, a look of determination on his face.
"Ray?"
"I've been thinking about what you said, about seeing each other," Ray said, stopping by the side of the bed. "Seems to me the seeing's mostly been on one side."
"Ray." Fraser trapped Ray's hands just as they caught the bottom of his Henley.
Ray went still and stared at him, head tilted slightly to the side. "We haven't talked about this. We didn't need to, I figured, because you've been coming around, and because I know you don't like talking about things. But I have to tell you, Frase, it's starting to bug me-it's starting to hurt."
"Ray, I said I'm sorry I-"
"No. No, let me say this. This I have to say, then you can-" Ray jerked his chin, "-do what you gotta do. Even if it means-even if. So, here's the thing." Ray's fists clenched under Fraser's hands. "I know she hurt you. I get that you need to...to be in control of things. But me, I need something, too."
Fraser's throat was dry as he swallowed. "What do you need, Ray?"
"Don't get me wrong-I like what you do for me. I like it a lot. But this one-sided thing, this thing where you get to make me feel good but you won't let yourself take anything from me-it makes me feel like a user. It makes me feel like a crappy lover. It makes me think-" Ray stopped and his eyes dropped, the corners turned down. "You don't need me back-for anything."
"I do, Ray," Fraser said automatically, urgently, his heart racing with panic. "I do need this. I need you."
But Ray didn't look reassured. He grimaced and said, "Then the only thing I can figure is you don't trust me not to hurt you. Like her."
"Oh, God," Fraser whispered, suddenly revolted at himself, at his selfishness. Ray looked-the expression was pain, not patience. His body spoke of yearning, not of desire. Making him feel pleasure wouldn't erase it, no matter how many times Fraser touched him with care and passion. None of that could cure this.
He'd been wrong. So terribly wrong.
"It isn't that I don't trust you, Ray. Not at all." But Fraser was helpless to explain the whiteout of panic that sometimes struck him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ray." Somehow his arms went up and he was hugging Ray, holding him. And he realized he hadn't done this-held Ray, just held him-since their first night.
"You hear what I'm saying?" Ray said shakily, and Fraser nodded, his cheek rubbing against Ray's hair.
"What do you need me to do?" Fraser whispered hoarsely.
Ray pushed him back. "Nothing. You have to do nothing. Let me, for once."
"That's not-I need to know specifics-" There was a pitiful whine to Fraser's voice, and he shut his mouth abruptly.
Ray smiled sadly, but didn't respond.
"Never mind, Ray. Forget I said anything."
"I plan to. Now, let's try this again." Ray reached for the bottom of Fraser's shirt, and this time Fraser forced himself to lift his arms, to let Ray tug it over his head.
Ray's eyes dropped down, and immediately veered to the left side of Fraser's chest, to where Fraser knew the scar, so obviously a set of teeth marks, cut across his nipple.
Fraser didn't cover it with his hand. He didn't turn away. But the effort to do neither made his whole body tremble in revolt. He was still shaking with the effort when Ray raised his hands and put them on Fraser's chest, brushing down with his palms until they covered both nipples.
"I hate her, you know that?" Ray said conversationally.
Fraser couldn't respond.
"Not just because of what she did, but because she did anything at all but love you like she should've. She was purely nuts, Fraser."
"You don't know-"
"Nuts." Ray moved his hands, sliding them down over Fraser's stomach, eyes staring at the same spot. "I'm all for digging her up and killing her all over again."
"All right. All right, Ray," Fraser said quietly, because Ray's hands were trembling, clenched into fists at Fraser's waist.
Ray looked up, blue eyes gone steel gray. "I'm going to make you feel good," he said fiercely, "I'm going to make you feel so good you forget your own fucking name."
And then Ray kissed him, mouth hot and pushy, lips and tongue soft and mobile and speaking of Ray's determination, of a passion so strong that Fraser felt a little dizzy, hardly able to kiss back at all.
Before he knew it he was stretched on his bed with Ray above him, still kissing him, his live-wire weight twisting on top of Fraser's body. His fierceness was always something Fraser had loved, had held so dear, and though it was directed at an unseen enemy, the love that caused it was for Fraser-it was his. He hadn't understood. He hadn't realized-stupid, really, because when was Ray ever patient? But all these weeks Ray had made himself wait, held himself back, willing to suppress his own need to the point of pain. All for him.
Ray was kissing his way downward now, and Fraser felt a momentary pang of visceral disgust when Ray's lips brushed his damaged nipple. He wanted to push Ray's head away, but instead let his hands lay limply by his sides. He had promised.
Sensation was deadened-the nerves were damaged. But they sparked a little anyway, under Ray's lips, under the firm stroke of his tongue. Still, Fraser was relieved when Ray switched to the other side. His attentions there were all pleasure, and Fraser gasped and arched his back to get more. His hand rose to stroke through Ray's spiky hair, trying to express his gratitude.
There was a muffled pop, and pressure on his waist from Ray's hand, and suddenly Fraser's fly was open and Ray was unzipping him. Raising himself to his knees, Ray gave him a look and then lifted Fraser's boxers and pants up and started pushing them down. After a moment, Fraser lifted his hips to assist, and Ray dragged them off altogether.
Fraser was naked, on his back.
But this wasn't his cot, and this wasn't the Consulate, and this was Ray staring down at him, taking him in. For the first time that evening Fraser felt arousal stirring, on the strength of Ray's eyes, on the need there, and the pleased surprise behind it.
"You're something else," Ray said.
A slight blush burned across Fraser's chest.
"I mean, I knew it, but it sure is nice to see." Ray slung himself down beside Fraser and trailed his fingers up Fraser's thigh, a tingling tease. When his hand closed on Fraser's half-erect cock, it felt like electricity striking. He hardened swiftly, and Ray gave a pleased chuckle, stroking him slowly.
"I'm gonna suck you so good, Fraser."
No.
Fraser's blood froze, desire fleeing as swiftly as it had come. Ray was already kissing his way down Fraser's sternum, but he must have felt the change, because he lifted his head, looking worried. His hand still rested on Fraser's cock, soft now, shrinking in alarm.
She had spoken to him only once before the end. She had called him a bastard, but her eyes had begged him to make her stop, even though he couldn't. He'd been helpless, bound, drugged, and when her teeth had closed on him there, the pain and fear had unmanned him, had forced him to cry out at last.
"She b-bit me. She bit me," Fraser said, his voice too high, pleading Ray for understanding.
"I know," Ray said, sounding worried and confused. He brushed a finger across Fraser's damaged nipple.
"No. No." Fraser swallowed. "Not just there."
Ray's mouth opened silently. "Oh, no." His face twisted. "Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ," he whispered hoarsely, and Fraser saw the violence rising in his eyes. He grabbed Ray's wrist just before he tried to swing away, knowing Ray's next move would be to punch the wall or something equally self-damaging.
She shouldn't be allowed to do any more damage. She was dead.
Ray struggled against him in silence.
"She's dead," Fraser reminded him, holding firm. "Punching the wall won't do any good."
Ray stared at him, and in that moment Fraser felt something change within him, as if he'd needed the reminder himself.
"But she's still hurting you," Ray said, proving he was as smart as he was ever pretending not to be.
"We won't let her." With a deep breath, Fraser lay back down and brought Ray's hand back to his groin. He held himself still, waiting, and finally Ray settled back down beside him.
His kiss this time was gentle, not fierce. Tentative. "I thought I could fix it," Ray whispered brokenly against his lips.
"You can. You will," Fraser promised, determined that it be the truth. He nudged Ray with his cheek. "Go ahead. Please."
But Ray just kissed him again, for a long time, sly-tongued and tender. A better wisdom, Fraser thought, because after a while he found his breath going short, and his penis grew erect cradled within Ray's hand. He was feeling it-arousal, inspired by Ray's mouth and Ray's touch, and that was a good thing, a natural thing. It was all right to let Ray make him feel this way.
Finally Ray moved, the spikes of his hair brushing against Fraser's throat, against his chest, as Ray mouthed his way downward. He was rubbing his palm against Fraser's cock, massaging up and down. Ray paused to lick his palm, and when his hand returned it moved easily, bringing more pleasure with each stroke.
Ray paused, suspended over Fraser's groin, and stared down. Then Ray pushed down his foreskin, and Fraser knew the moment Ray had found the scar-Ray traced it gently with his thumb, his brow drawn into a frown.
Don't. Fraser wanted to say. Don't give it power. But here, again, Ray was wise, because he bent and licked at the scar first, with just the tip of his tongue.
Ray's mouth. This is Ray's mouth, Fraser reminded himself, and truly it was nothing like before, because Ray's hand was exceedingly gentle, cupping him in place, and the soft flat of his tongue felt like heaven. Fraser watched the whole time as Ray's pink tongue licked and licked. Then Ray sucked with his lips just under the head, right at the junction that gave Fraser so much pleasure. With his other hand, Ray stroked his shaft from below, but at no point did he take more than the very tip of Fraser's cock into his mouth, and Fraser felt himself relaxing, his fists releasing from their aching clench at his sides.
Ray began stroking him faster, his mouth still sucking at the cap of Fraser's cock, tongue flicking into the slit at the top, and with a low cry Fraser came unexpectedly, with a sharp relief that it was over, it was done, and he throbbed again in Ray's hand, and his semen painted Ray's lips.
We did it, was Fraser's illogical thought, because really all he'd done was lie there, but that was what Ray had requested of him. And it was done.
Ray released him and shifted up to join him on the pillow. Fraser turned toward him and licked at Ray's lips, tasting himself for the first time in longer than he could remember.
"Thank you," Ray said, breaking the kiss. "That's what I-thanks."
"What about you?" Fraser said. "Shall I-?" Ray was still fully dressed-the incongruity of it struck Fraser only now. He was naked and Ray was clothed. Fraser couldn't even tell if he was aroused.
"Not this time. I got what I wanted." Ray's eyes were dark and unhappy.
"But I want to-"
"No. Shh. Listen," Ray said. He pulled Fraser into a hug, and Fraser obliged, wrapping his arm around Ray's back, warm under his T-shirt. "It's going to take me a little while to stop being so damned angry," Ray said. "Right now, I don't feel like coming. I feel like killing someone."
"All right, Ray." Fraser felt helpless to fix it. "I wish I could help."
Ray gave a wry laugh. "Now you know what it feels like."
He did. Fraser understood, finally. "She hurt us both."
"Yeah, that's the point of it, exactly. She hurt us both."
"But not anymore."
"No, not anymore."
Ray pulled away long enough to shed his shoes and pants and T-shirt, and then returned to slip into Fraser's arms.
Fraser held on tight. In all the times they'd been together, they'd never slept together like this, close and entwined. Ray had been determined to give Fraser all the space and time he needed to recover. Too determined, perhaps, and Fraser was grateful for it. But that time had passed, and now he had no need of space.
Between them, he found he wanted none at all.
///
Epilogue
There was a note stuck to the handset of Fraser's new phone.
The phone was a gift from Ray. He'd insisted on purchasing it in exchange for the apartment key Fraser had removed from his hat one evening and awkwardly handed over.
The invasions commenced almost immediately. Fraser was no longer surprised to come home to constant changes and additions. The cheap shower curtain was replaced with one depicting Steve McQueen in Bullit. A small tank appeared with a tadpole swimming inside. A coffeemaker grew in the kitchen, with a bag of M&Ms leaning beside it.
Fraser's favorite was the new couch pillows, which on more than one occasion were used to cushion Ray's knees as he pleasured Fraser. Their repertoire of lovemaking had expanded somewhat, but Ray seemed to like this act more than anything else-would spend long minutes loving Fraser with his mouth, eyes closed dreamily as he sucked and sucked.
Fraser had to admit he was fond of it, as well. But more, he liked throwing the pillows on the floor and taking Ray there, spreading open his long legs and leaning over for kisses while he moved within Ray's warm, tight grasp. Fraser still couldn't believe how much Ray seemed to enjoy it, but the sounds he always made-
Fraser shook his head; visions of their lovemaking were becoming a terminal distraction. He walked over to the phone and plucked up the note.
Fraser-
I've programmed in Vecchio's new number. He and Stel have moved to the Keys.
I think they're wasting away in Margaritaville.
You promised you'd call, remember? Don't make a liar out of you.
-R
Fraser blew out a sigh. Truly, it had been a long time since he'd spoken to his old partner and beloved friend. There was really no reason not to make the call right now. No reason at all.
Taking a deep breath, Fraser picked up the phone.
.......................
2008.08.25
Go back to Part 1, or read the prequel, A Small Mercy