Whatever I want
kristiinthedark 1) expressed interest in something like this way back in April, 2) had a birthday last month, and 3) is awesome and wonderful every damn day.
So here, finally, is Porn for Kristi. ♥
(ETA: Now with title!) Whatever I want, F/K, R, 1900 words or so. Many, many thanks to nos4a2no9, who handled a not-easy beta job with characteristic grace, brains, and perseverance, and is responsible for fixing many bloopers, but is in no way responsible for how I kept fiddling with the damn thing right up to posting.
Fraser's tongue is in Ray's mouth and Fraser's hands are on his ass and he's humping Fraser's leg and those muffled sounds he's making are him trying to say "Hey, cut it out!"
He must be insane.
He is completely insane. He pulls his mouth away and pushes hard, sending Fraser staggering back a couple of steps, then crosses his arms. It's not easy to look menacing with the office door holding him up and a hard-on the size of Texas trying to get back to Fraser, but he gives it his best shot.
"You said whatever I want. That's what I want."
"Ray," Fraser says, and he is completely one-hundred-percent certifiable, because Fraser can say his name in a million and three different ways, and that is the very best, Ray's favorite, the one that makes his balls ache just hearing it.
"Do it," Ray says, putting every bit of authority and badassedness he has into the words. Fraser blinks and licks his lip, fast and sloppy, looking like he'd prefer to be sucking Ray's dick than doing anything else in the world.
Ray is not well in the head. He glowers at Fraser until Fraser's shoulders slump and the snap crackle boom electricity between them shifts and Ray can catch his breath and adjust his dick.
Fraser gives this big, martyred sigh and starts unbuttoning the few buttons Ray missed during their grope session against the door. He shrugs out of his shirt and drapes it over the spare chair, then crouches to work on his boots. His undershirt pulls across his shoulders and Ray can't believe anybody can be that hot while untying shoelaces.
The boots end up tidily side by side under the chair, socks tucked safe inside, and Fraser strips off his undershirt and lays it on the chair, and then he's standing there barefoot and bare chested, his thick dick pressing against his jeans.
Ray's fingers tighten on his biceps, just enough to hurt. He can do patient. He has self-control.
Granted, Ray hasn't exercised a lot of self-control with Fraser so far, and when Fraser hesitates with his hands on his fly, he's probably waiting for Ray to throw him to the ground and fuck him blind like any sane person would. Ray doesn't.
Another sigh, and Fraser is opening his jeans and pushing them down his legs, then stepping out of them and folding them on the same chair.
Fraser looks really good in boxers. He looks even better when his dick is hard and pushing against the fabric and Ray maybe whimpers a little when Fraser pulls the waistband out and over and down and then every gorgeous inch of naked, hard, and horny Benton Fraser is standing there in the middle of the room. Folding his underwear.
Ray's snicker turns into a strangled choke when Fraser puts his neatly folded boxers down and faces him, standing easily at parade rest, his dick curving up into the air and an unnaturally calm expression on his face.
"Yngh," Ray says, then clears his throat and tries again. "Yeah. Now the rest."
Fraser has to crouch down to open his trunk, and Ray keeps staring at his ass then flicking his eyes away, like checking out that poster illustrating Canada's various climate regions is what he really wants to be doing right now.
When Fraser straightens up again, he has them, those damn red one-piece long underwear things. Whatever you call them.
"Yeah," Ray says again, because he is the king of hot bedroom banter.
"Indeed," Fraser replies, cool as a cucumber as he pulls the long underwear on, working his arms through the sleeves and buttoning the front.
Finally, Fraser is standing there, big and red, his dick tenting those should-not-be-hot pajamas of his, looking back at Ray with his head cocked to the side. "I feel a bit silly, Ray," he says, and Ray nods stupidly before he catches himself and shakes his head. "No, um, you look fine, Fraser. Really. Just, you know, go ahead."
"Well then." Fraser steps towards him, one hand outstretched, and Ray's dick and his brain and his hand get their wiring confused, because he reaches out and pulls Fraser's hand to his groin, letting Fraser feel how hard he is for him, until Fraser reaches past with his other hand to flick off the overhead light.
"We could postpone--" Fraser starts, breathless and close, his fingers tracing the length of Ray's dick, but Ray says, "No," the word sharp and raw in his mouth. "Tonight. Now."
Fraser's hand lingers, giving Ray's dick one last stroke before backing off, leaving him hard and fully dressed and still probably not entirely well-balanced, propped against the office door.
After switching on the desk lamp, Fraser opens the cot and spreads out his bedroll, then makes himself comfortable on top, his arms folded across his chest.
Ray waits. And waits. And snaps, "Fraser!"
"Oh, sorry. I usually spend some time thinking before I, you know." Fraser gestures downwards.
Ray closes his eyes. "Okay, sure. But maybe for tonight's exercise you could do your thinking out loud?"
Fraser starts talking, the words coming slowly at first, then spilling out of him like they're under pressure, "Ray's mouth is beautiful, his expressions beautiful. Even when he's impossible and stubborn," here Fraser flicks his eyes towards Ray, then looks back up at the ceiling before Ray can glare at him, "I want to see his face change with orgasm. Take him, pin his wrists, hold him down and make him feel me. Make him lose his words, and--his scowl, and then relax into that, that smile." Fraser's breath is shaky now and he reaches down to rub his dick through the pajamas. "I--I want him, want to thrust into him, pin his hips down and hold him there for m--Ray?"
Ray swallows. And then he swallows again. "Yeah?" he manages.
"You don't mind--I mean it is rather objectifying to say these things out loud--"
"I'm good. Just having a hard time not going over and sitting on your dick. Nothing to worry about."
"Oh." Fraser is quiet for a few moments before he starts up again. This time he's unbuttoning as he talks, his fingers moving quickly. "Take him in my mouth or--I want to feel him. Push in--and his, his--and--" Fraser's hand finds his dick and sets to, no pause, no teasing, just jerking himself off to his words. Ray is going to die here, stroke out on Fraser's office floor. "--his cock. His cock and the way he moves. Beautiful, in bed he's beautiful."
Ray's dick is rock solid and suffering, trapped in his pants, across the room from Fraser, but he keeps his arms folded tight and doesn't even let himself unzip. If he moves one muscle he'll end up on that cot and that is not the plan. Watching is the plan. "Sit up. Sit up, Fraser."
Fraser sits up like a jack-in-the-box, like he's been fighting gravity by not sitting up. His eyes are bright and his face is flushed and Ray cuts him off before he can say anything, because he can't say no to Fraser if Fraser asks him right now. "Do it sitting up. So I can see."
Just one quick frown and then Fraser--thank god--obeys. Shifting back until his back rests against the wall, he bends his knees and spreads his thighs so Ray can see everything. Almost everything. There's too much red pajama in the way, so Ray gestures with his hands, making pushing motions and saying, "Can't see."
Fraser pulls his arms out of the long underwear and shoves the top half down low around his hips, and that's better: his chest and shoulders bare, his dick standing up against his stomach, his hand curled lazily around it, moving lightly up and down as he watches Ray watch him.
Ray nods, a sharp jerk of his chin, and Fraser starts moving for real, pulling his dick with long, steady strokes. His other hand moves to cup his balls and Fraser's on display for him, spread out and open and naked and it's all for him.
Fraser keeps watching Ray, his mouth opening again and again like he's going to say something but all Ray hears is the husk of their breathing and the slap-slip of Fraser's hand moving. Ray stares: it's so much like he'd imagined, the play of the muscles in Fraser's arm, the flush on his cheeks and chest, his dick thick and sturdy as he rocks up into his hand, but it's here and now and it's real, and Fraser is so much more than he'd thought.
There's a sheen of sweat on Fraser now, and he glistens in the light from the desk lamp as his hand moves faster and his chest heaves and Ray smiles--he has to, it's incredible. Fraser's hand tightens, stops, and he gasps, "Oh," in a surprised voice as he lets his eyes fall closed, tilts his head back and lets go, his muscles tense and shaking, come splashing on his stomach and chest.
Ray is halfway across the room, hands jerking at his zipper, before Fraser's finished. He shoves Fraser sideways, down on the cot, and lands on top of him, his dick just making it out of his pants in time.
He pushes hard against Fraser's hip, sliding in come and sweat and catching on dry skin. The cot shakes under them, but Ray doesn't care, because he is gone, helplessly rubbing off on Fraser. Fraser half sits up, his hands sliding under Ray's shirt, his hot mouth finding Ray's throat. Ray rocks his hips forward and forward and comes like the bottom drops out of the world and he's in free fall and only Fraser, spread out half-naked and panting beneath him, holds him to Earth. So he holds on to Fraser and Fraser holds on to him and then he rests his cheek against Fraser's forehead as all the blown-apart parts of him try to find their way together again.
"That was a good fantasy, Ray." Fraser says, his voice just a little hoarser than normal.
"Ngh," Ray agrees. Then, generously, "Yours too."
Fraser relaxes back onto the bedroll, and Ray follows, snaking an arm across Fraser's chest. And, okay, the plan did not include falling asleep mostly-dressed on Fraser's piece of shit, too small cot and drooling all over his shoulder, but Ray is a man who knows how to improvise.
*
So here, finally, is Porn for Kristi. ♥
(ETA: Now with title!) Whatever I want, F/K, R, 1900 words or so. Many, many thanks to nos4a2no9, who handled a not-easy beta job with characteristic grace, brains, and perseverance, and is responsible for fixing many bloopers, but is in no way responsible for how I kept fiddling with the damn thing right up to posting.
Fraser's tongue is in Ray's mouth and Fraser's hands are on his ass and he's humping Fraser's leg and those muffled sounds he's making are him trying to say "Hey, cut it out!"
He must be insane.
He is completely insane. He pulls his mouth away and pushes hard, sending Fraser staggering back a couple of steps, then crosses his arms. It's not easy to look menacing with the office door holding him up and a hard-on the size of Texas trying to get back to Fraser, but he gives it his best shot.
"You said whatever I want. That's what I want."
"Ray," Fraser says, and he is completely one-hundred-percent certifiable, because Fraser can say his name in a million and three different ways, and that is the very best, Ray's favorite, the one that makes his balls ache just hearing it.
"Do it," Ray says, putting every bit of authority and badassedness he has into the words. Fraser blinks and licks his lip, fast and sloppy, looking like he'd prefer to be sucking Ray's dick than doing anything else in the world.
Ray is not well in the head. He glowers at Fraser until Fraser's shoulders slump and the snap crackle boom electricity between them shifts and Ray can catch his breath and adjust his dick.
Fraser gives this big, martyred sigh and starts unbuttoning the few buttons Ray missed during their grope session against the door. He shrugs out of his shirt and drapes it over the spare chair, then crouches to work on his boots. His undershirt pulls across his shoulders and Ray can't believe anybody can be that hot while untying shoelaces.
The boots end up tidily side by side under the chair, socks tucked safe inside, and Fraser strips off his undershirt and lays it on the chair, and then he's standing there barefoot and bare chested, his thick dick pressing against his jeans.
Ray's fingers tighten on his biceps, just enough to hurt. He can do patient. He has self-control.
Granted, Ray hasn't exercised a lot of self-control with Fraser so far, and when Fraser hesitates with his hands on his fly, he's probably waiting for Ray to throw him to the ground and fuck him blind like any sane person would. Ray doesn't.
Another sigh, and Fraser is opening his jeans and pushing them down his legs, then stepping out of them and folding them on the same chair.
Fraser looks really good in boxers. He looks even better when his dick is hard and pushing against the fabric and Ray maybe whimpers a little when Fraser pulls the waistband out and over and down and then every gorgeous inch of naked, hard, and horny Benton Fraser is standing there in the middle of the room. Folding his underwear.
Ray's snicker turns into a strangled choke when Fraser puts his neatly folded boxers down and faces him, standing easily at parade rest, his dick curving up into the air and an unnaturally calm expression on his face.
"Yngh," Ray says, then clears his throat and tries again. "Yeah. Now the rest."
Fraser has to crouch down to open his trunk, and Ray keeps staring at his ass then flicking his eyes away, like checking out that poster illustrating Canada's various climate regions is what he really wants to be doing right now.
When Fraser straightens up again, he has them, those damn red one-piece long underwear things. Whatever you call them.
"Yeah," Ray says again, because he is the king of hot bedroom banter.
"Indeed," Fraser replies, cool as a cucumber as he pulls the long underwear on, working his arms through the sleeves and buttoning the front.
Finally, Fraser is standing there, big and red, his dick tenting those should-not-be-hot pajamas of his, looking back at Ray with his head cocked to the side. "I feel a bit silly, Ray," he says, and Ray nods stupidly before he catches himself and shakes his head. "No, um, you look fine, Fraser. Really. Just, you know, go ahead."
"Well then." Fraser steps towards him, one hand outstretched, and Ray's dick and his brain and his hand get their wiring confused, because he reaches out and pulls Fraser's hand to his groin, letting Fraser feel how hard he is for him, until Fraser reaches past with his other hand to flick off the overhead light.
"We could postpone--" Fraser starts, breathless and close, his fingers tracing the length of Ray's dick, but Ray says, "No," the word sharp and raw in his mouth. "Tonight. Now."
Fraser's hand lingers, giving Ray's dick one last stroke before backing off, leaving him hard and fully dressed and still probably not entirely well-balanced, propped against the office door.
After switching on the desk lamp, Fraser opens the cot and spreads out his bedroll, then makes himself comfortable on top, his arms folded across his chest.
Ray waits. And waits. And snaps, "Fraser!"
"Oh, sorry. I usually spend some time thinking before I, you know." Fraser gestures downwards.
Ray closes his eyes. "Okay, sure. But maybe for tonight's exercise you could do your thinking out loud?"
Fraser starts talking, the words coming slowly at first, then spilling out of him like they're under pressure, "Ray's mouth is beautiful, his expressions beautiful. Even when he's impossible and stubborn," here Fraser flicks his eyes towards Ray, then looks back up at the ceiling before Ray can glare at him, "I want to see his face change with orgasm. Take him, pin his wrists, hold him down and make him feel me. Make him lose his words, and--his scowl, and then relax into that, that smile." Fraser's breath is shaky now and he reaches down to rub his dick through the pajamas. "I--I want him, want to thrust into him, pin his hips down and hold him there for m--Ray?"
Ray swallows. And then he swallows again. "Yeah?" he manages.
"You don't mind--I mean it is rather objectifying to say these things out loud--"
"I'm good. Just having a hard time not going over and sitting on your dick. Nothing to worry about."
"Oh." Fraser is quiet for a few moments before he starts up again. This time he's unbuttoning as he talks, his fingers moving quickly. "Take him in my mouth or--I want to feel him. Push in--and his, his--and--" Fraser's hand finds his dick and sets to, no pause, no teasing, just jerking himself off to his words. Ray is going to die here, stroke out on Fraser's office floor. "--his cock. His cock and the way he moves. Beautiful, in bed he's beautiful."
Ray's dick is rock solid and suffering, trapped in his pants, across the room from Fraser, but he keeps his arms folded tight and doesn't even let himself unzip. If he moves one muscle he'll end up on that cot and that is not the plan. Watching is the plan. "Sit up. Sit up, Fraser."
Fraser sits up like a jack-in-the-box, like he's been fighting gravity by not sitting up. His eyes are bright and his face is flushed and Ray cuts him off before he can say anything, because he can't say no to Fraser if Fraser asks him right now. "Do it sitting up. So I can see."
Just one quick frown and then Fraser--thank god--obeys. Shifting back until his back rests against the wall, he bends his knees and spreads his thighs so Ray can see everything. Almost everything. There's too much red pajama in the way, so Ray gestures with his hands, making pushing motions and saying, "Can't see."
Fraser pulls his arms out of the long underwear and shoves the top half down low around his hips, and that's better: his chest and shoulders bare, his dick standing up against his stomach, his hand curled lazily around it, moving lightly up and down as he watches Ray watch him.
Ray nods, a sharp jerk of his chin, and Fraser starts moving for real, pulling his dick with long, steady strokes. His other hand moves to cup his balls and Fraser's on display for him, spread out and open and naked and it's all for him.
Fraser keeps watching Ray, his mouth opening again and again like he's going to say something but all Ray hears is the husk of their breathing and the slap-slip of Fraser's hand moving. Ray stares: it's so much like he'd imagined, the play of the muscles in Fraser's arm, the flush on his cheeks and chest, his dick thick and sturdy as he rocks up into his hand, but it's here and now and it's real, and Fraser is so much more than he'd thought.
There's a sheen of sweat on Fraser now, and he glistens in the light from the desk lamp as his hand moves faster and his chest heaves and Ray smiles--he has to, it's incredible. Fraser's hand tightens, stops, and he gasps, "Oh," in a surprised voice as he lets his eyes fall closed, tilts his head back and lets go, his muscles tense and shaking, come splashing on his stomach and chest.
Ray is halfway across the room, hands jerking at his zipper, before Fraser's finished. He shoves Fraser sideways, down on the cot, and lands on top of him, his dick just making it out of his pants in time.
He pushes hard against Fraser's hip, sliding in come and sweat and catching on dry skin. The cot shakes under them, but Ray doesn't care, because he is gone, helplessly rubbing off on Fraser. Fraser half sits up, his hands sliding under Ray's shirt, his hot mouth finding Ray's throat. Ray rocks his hips forward and forward and comes like the bottom drops out of the world and he's in free fall and only Fraser, spread out half-naked and panting beneath him, holds him to Earth. So he holds on to Fraser and Fraser holds on to him and then he rests his cheek against Fraser's forehead as all the blown-apart parts of him try to find their way together again.
"That was a good fantasy, Ray." Fraser says, his voice just a little hoarser than normal.
"Ngh," Ray agrees. Then, generously, "Yours too."
Fraser relaxes back onto the bedroll, and Ray follows, snaking an arm across Fraser's chest. And, okay, the plan did not include falling asleep mostly-dressed on Fraser's piece of shit, too small cot and drooling all over his shoulder, but Ray is a man who knows how to improvise.
*