hackthis_archive | due South

silverakira requested more Fireman!Ray; I said 'I'm trying, but Fraser's being a prude!' I don't think Fraser liked being called a prude. At any rate, this is for

silverakira and

estrella30.

C'Mon Baby, Light My Fire

Part I

Fraser read somewhere that fifty percent of sex has to do with anticipation and only twenty-five percent has to do with actual performance. Of course, he also read somewhere that life is ninety percent what happens to you and ten percent how you react. It’s entirely possible that he’s confused the numbers somewhat. Whatever the case may be, the numbers don’t quite add up to why he’s standing on the sidewalk outside Ray’s firehouse rubbing his eyebrow and cracking his neck.

They’re simply having dinner together; it’s not as though dinner itself is a phenomenon Fraser’s unacquainted with. It’s not as though he doesn’t eat it everyday, and it’s not as though it’s the first time he’s had dinner with Ray either. It’s not a date; it’s certainly nothing to be nervous or anxious about. Anxiety is just a psychological reaction anyway, and Fraser can certainly control his mind. He cannot, however, control Diefenbaker, and if Dief snorts one more time, Fraser is going to do something drastic. He’s not certain what, but he’ll think of something.

“I hardly think that’s an appropriate question to ask Ray,” Fraser snaps when Dief yips twice and gives him a short woof.

“And I am not certainly going to ask him that.” Fraser can’t help being slightly scandalized by Dief’s line of questioning, but he smiles broadly as a passing pedestrian makes a broad detour around him.

Lowering his voice, Fraser leans downward. “What Ray wears underneath his uniform is no one’s business but his own, and I’ll thank you to stop being a Nosy Rosie about it. You know what curiosity did to the cat.”

Dief barks and Fraser frowns. “No, satisfaction did not bring it back – I don’t know where you got that idea from.

Where Fraser’s expecting a short bark instead there’s clearing of a throat, followed by a low chuckle, and it’s very rare that Fraser is taken off guard, but when he looks upward and sees Ray, out of uniform, he wonders if perhaps the ground wouldn’t mind opening and swallowing him whole. Although the likelihood of an earthquake occurring in Chicago is very miniscule because it doesn’t sit on any fault lines or edges of tectonic plates, Fraser has had stranger things happen.

“Ray,” he says brightly, straightening up and hoping his previous conversation has gone unnoticed. Ray’s hair shines under the bright sun and Fraser has to squint slightly from the glare. “We were just talking about you.”

“Uh huh,” Ray says, crouching down and scratching behind Dief’s ears. Ray’s smile is sharp and white, and it makes Fraser’s stomach gurgle. Or that could simply be hunger. Fraser hopes it’s just hunger; he doesn’t think lust makes ones’ stomach gurgle, but he could be wrong. “I hope you weren’t sayin’ anythin’ bad about me to him.”

“I would never –“ Fraser begins at the same time that Dief yips, and it takes Fraser a minute to realize that Ray isn’t addressing him.

“Yeah, I won’t forget about the donuts, fur ball,” Ray says, standing up as Dief whines.

It’s on the tip of Fraser’s tongue to chastise Dief for begging, but he thinks better of it when he glances at Ray, who’s rocking back and forth in scuffed black motorcycle boots, and wearing a gray sweater that looks very soft. And well made. Fraser wonders if it’s Scottish wool or American made. Ray seems very much like a Made in America sort of man; Fraser likes that about him.

Fraser clears his throat when Ray cocks his head to the side as though waiting on something. Or someone.

“Shall we?” Fraser says, reaching up to take off his Stetson to gesture, before realizing that it’s back at the Consulate because he’s in civilian clothing.

“Sure thing, just one quick question first?”

Fraser folds his hands together and tries to make his face as blank as possible. He can’t imagine what Ray would want to ask him, at least in broad daylight, although the possibilities make his ears burn. Which is quite possibly what Ray wants since a moment ago he was smirking but now looks as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

Fraser will not follow the mouth train of thought though, it’s completely beneath him. Instead he licks his bottom lip. “Anything, just ask.”

“Is it cool if Dief stays here tonight? Ruby, our dog, has been acting really – well, bitchy, since the last time he was here, and we think she, you know, needs some company.”

Fraser blinks. “You think she’s in heat?”

The blank look on Ray’s face becomes something much more predatorial as he steps forward, into Fraser’s personal space. “Well, if she’s not, I am -- you gonna take me home instead?”

*

Fraser’s heard, from various sources, that many different foods are often considered aphrodisiacs: oysters, cinnamon, licorice, salmon, chocolate, and strawberries. For his part, however, he’s never found himself susceptible to such things. He knows the Inuit are partial to dried caribou, though, and he’s been known to share his pemmican with people he likes, but for the most part, Fraser’s never been very interested in seduction – or in being seduced. At least Fraser didn’t think he was until he met Ray, but now he’s not so certain, because they're having dinner together, and Fraser’s mouth has been dry all evening.

He’s been sipping from his water throughout their meal, nonstop, and he still can’t seem to stop swallowing or feeling as though the room is far warmer than it has any right to be in early October.

At first, Fraser though the soup had been over-peppered, but he’s never known Mr Wong to put pepper in his wonton soup so that can’t be the cause at all, and yet, Fraser can feel himself perspiring inside his clothing, and every time Ray looks at him, the temperature inches up another notch.

It was bad enough when Ray licked his lips after the wonton soup and then held his chopsticks between his teeth so he could move his dishes around on the table. Now that he's finished his kung pao chicken, he's sitting across from Fraser and watching as Fraser finishes his Szechuan string beans, and Fraser’s finding the whole situation very stressful.

It's not that Fraser's having issues finishing his meal as much as he's having trouble focusing on finishing his meal, because Ray's sitting there, watching him eat, and it's terribly distracting. It would probably be less distracting if Ray weren’t fidgeting and tapping his fingers and shifting in his seat, but he is, and as such Ray's inability to sit still is making Fraser nervous. Or anxious. Or quite possibly aroused. It doesn't particularly help that Ray is scratching at his jaw with the ragged fingernails of his left hand and leaving faint red lines in his stubble.

Fraser's not sure if he's supposed to be excited by the traces Ray's fingernails are leaving -- but judging by the tightness of his jeans, he is, which is making him anxious; and it’s difficult to control his anxiety when Ray keeps rubbing their boots together underneath the table.

Leather rubbing against leather has never made Fraser feel this hot, and eventually, Fraser is forced to put down his chopsticks and focus on his dinner partner.

“You all done?” Ray asks, eyes wide and guileless, even as he leans forward slightly and seems to climb across the table. “You don’t gotta rush on my account.”

Ray seems extremely close and Fraser would sit back more, but there’s no further back for him to go. “I think I’ve had enough,” Fraser says, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“You sure? I wouldn’t want you to faint on me from hunger or over-exter – exhum – over doin’ it or somethin’.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Ray.”

“That’s my middle name.”

“Thoughtful is your middle name? Were your parents, by any chance, a part of the hippie movement?”

“Are you making a joke, Ben?”

“I was, I confess. I’m sorry if it was out of line.”

“No, no – I was just checking. You should joke more often; it suits you.”

It’s not Fraser’s imagination that Ray’s watching his movements very closely, and it makes him self-conscious. He rubs his eyebrow as Ray seems to move even closer. If the table were any smaller, Ray would almost be in Fraser’s lap – which is something his traitorous body seems to approve of whole-heartedly.

“Did you know that Szechuan cuisine was influenced by Buddhist missionaries traveling the Silk Route in China?” he asks distracted by Ray licking his lips and Ray blinking and Ray – just being Ray.

Over faint scent of incense and their dinner, Fraser catches a whiff of soap and burnt wood and has to bite his own tongue to keep from licking something, or someone; it’s not enough that he’s aroused and anxious.

Ray’s tapping his fingers on the table, and Fraser can’t help but notice how long Ray’s fingers are. “Uh, no, can’t say that I did."

“It’s true,” says Fraser. “Also, in the 16th Century Spanish traders introduced chilies to the Szechuan region, resulting in food such as the green beans I just had, and further more –“

“You’re kinda hot when you’re nervous, anybody ever tell you that?”

Fraser’s mouth opens and closes, but nothing seems able to come out, so instead he reaches out for his glass of water and finds his movements hampered by Ray’s hand over his.

“You ready to go now?” Ray asks – but what Fraser hears is something completely different, something to do with going home with Ray and being naked and having sex and getting extremely filthy. Fraser wonders for a moment if the bitch at the 2-7 really is in heat or if Ray just planned this all along, and then he decides that it doesn’t matter and all he can do is nod.

Ray squeezes his hand quickly. “Greatness. I’ll get the check.”

*

Aluminum siding is not the most comfortable surface ever. It’s uneven and cold, and it’s rubbing against Fraser’s back in places he would prefer it not to be rubbing, but if this is the price he must pay in order to kiss Ray then he’ll suffer through the indignity of making out in an alleyway. The alleyway was not his idea, but they passed by it en route to the car, and – and it was there.

He’s really not certain that more could be said on the matter, well, there is the matter of the cost of the siding and how well it endures Chicago winters, but he’s getting off track, and now is not really the time or the place with Ray’s fingers, dry and calloused, rubbing against his mouth rather urgently. At least Fraser thinks Ray’s rubbing them urgently, but it’s rather difficult to tell at the moment with the death grip Ray seems to have on the back of Fraser’s neck, and the way he’s urging Fraser to suck his fingers with his mouth.

Ray’s words – not Fraser’s. Fraser would think it, but not say; he’s not the most vocal lover, but Ray is rubbing against him, and forcing him against the siding. Between Ray’s wiry hardness and the aluminum’s cold presence, Fraser will take Ray any day, but the alley issue is causing him some concern.

Fraser’s not an impulsive sort of man. He’s driven and dedicated, but he doesn’t consider himself impulsive, or he didn’t until he met Ray Kowalski, Fireman, and discovered a previously unknown predilection for licking behind Ray’s ear and sucking on Ray’s fingers and using his tongue to run over the ridges in Ray’s nails to see if he can figure out what sort of fires Ray was fighting today.

Ray also needs to trim his fingernails properly, but Fraser thinks it would be in poor taste to stop licking Ray’s fingers long enough to say so. So instead he shudders as Ray whispers all sorts of dirty things in his ear, which Fraser’s not even certain are physically possible but is more than willing to try out. Or he is until there’s a clattering at the mouth of alley, and Ray pulls himself away. “Dunno where I thought we were,” he says, rubbing the back of his head ruefully. “Probably a bad idea for a Mountie to be caught making out with a fireman in Chinatown.” Ray pauses for a minute. “That sounds like the punchline of a joke Hewey and Dewey would make.”

“The Canadian government recognizes partnerships in all their guises,” says Fraser, “and I would be proud to have you as my partner.”

Ray stares at Fraser for several seconds, and Fraser blinks.

For someone who doesn’t consider himself impulsive, his mouth certainly seems to have a mind of its own. Unfortunately he can’t take back what he’s said, and all he needs now is for his father to appear and make him look even more deranged.

“I’m sorry, Ray,” he says. “We hardly know each other and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable – that is I didn’t mean to insinuate that you –“

Fraser’s apology is muffled by Ray’s hand over his mouth. “If you apologize I’ll have to kick you in the head – so how about we just do the buddy thing first and then see what happens.”

*

The cushions on Ray’s sofa smell like soot and soap and pizza, and Fraser inhales deeply as Ray sits on his haunches above him, stripping off his own shirt. Fraser’s fingers cramp with the need to touch, and he grips the cushions underneath him as Ray wriggles above him, doing the most scandalous things with his hips.

Ray’s beauty never ceases to amaze Fraser, but that is what Ray is -- a beautiful man. It’s not something Fraser feels comfortable saying aloud though, so instead he just looks his fill in the shadowy apartment, drinking in sinewy muscles and the dark blond hair scattered near the waistband of Ray’s pants, highlighted by the neon lights from the city outside.

Fraser’s hard enough to have trouble focusing on anything besides Ray tossing his shirt over his head and the blinding grin he gives Fraser before leaning in for a kiss. Ray’s mouth is wet and hot, and his tongue sweeps through Fraser’s mouth leaving behind spicy traces of dinner and sex.

They were going to the bedroom, Fraser remembers this clearly because Ray was whispering the most filthy, perverse things in his ear while he was opening the door to his apartment, and Fraser was standing there, trying not to fidget or grope Ray or anything else that might be considered inappropriate in public. And then – and then Ray opened the door and Fraser followed him in, and they decided that the bedroom was simply too far away. Which is how they wound up here, necking on the sofa like two teenagers or two men who can’t seem to keep control of their hormones.

It’s hard for Fraser to concentrate, however, when Ray’s naked to the waist, nipping at his jaw, and yanking at Fraser’s clothing as though it’s on fire and Fraser has to strip or perish. Judging by the tightness of his jeans, this is not as absurd as it sounds, and Ray makes an encouraging noise as Fraser runs a hand over Ray’s ribs.

“That’s it,” he says pushing Fraser’s shirt under his arms and pulling at the fly of his jeans. “C’mon, get these off.”

Ray smells like the cushions of his sofa, and Fraser can’t help sniffing Ray’s hair as he works at the fastenings of Fraser’s clothing. Ray stops with Fraser’s pants somewhere around his thighs. “Ben – are you sniffin’ me?”

Fraser colors slightly, but the room is dark, and Ray can’t see it. At least Fraser hopes that Ray can’t see it. A car passes by on the street below them, the bass from its radio causing a slight tremor through the building.

“I was just –“ Fraser’s not certain what he was going to say, but Ray’s looking at him, blue eyes bright and head cocked to one side. His neck is exposed, showing a long line of pale skin, and rather than finish his thought, Fraser leans forward and licks a long stripe up Ray’s tendon.

Ray tastes nothing like smoke, and the noise that Ray makes motivates Fraser into action. It’s not that he’s been passive in their love-making so far, but he’s been a little uncertain, and with the taste of Ray’s skin on his tongue that uncertainty has finally fallen by the wayside.

Ray chuckles to himself as Fraser sits up and pushes him back onto the sofa. “I was wonderin’ when you were gonna want to play, too.” Ray’s laugh slides into a long moan as Fraser kicks his jeans off the rest of the way and begins fumbling with the buttons of Ray’s.

“Here, lemme do it,” Ray begins, but Fraser bats his hands away, and he’s just unfastened the top-most button when Ray lunges forward and Fraser’s pushed onto his back once again. The next several seconds pass in a flurry of hard kisses and Ray extricating himself from his jeans.

“If I waited on you, I’d be waiting forever,” Ray says in between brain-shattering kisses, and Fraser very much wants to protest this haste, but instead nearly bites of his tongue when Ray insinuates his hand into the opening of his boxers and draws out his erection.

“I… didn’t… want… to rush…,” Fraser grits out as Ray rubs the head of his penis with his thumb, spreading the moisture along his length. Ray’s calluses are making Fraser’s head spin, but since turnabout is fairplay…

“Rush me” Ray says as Fraser slips a hand inside his briefs. “You can rush me all – oh, fuck.”

Fraser grins broadly as Ray stops complaining and begins thrusting into the circle of his hand. Ray’s penis is hard and hot in Fraser’s hand, and he stops briefly only to lick the flat of his hand, which makes Ray utter something completely incomprehensible as he squeezes Fraser’s dick.

Fraser arches into Ray’s hand even as he re-insinuates his hand into Ray’s briefs and carries on. Ray comes first, his back arching into a painful looking curve, but he stops himself collapsing onto Fraser just long enough to bring Fraser off as well, something for which Fraser is extremely grateful. His own orgasm is a warm release that starts in his groin, but soon radiates outwards to the tips of his toes and his fingers. It makes his eyes feel heavy and his legs weak; he would be perfectly content to stay on Ray’s sofa for the immediate, and not-so-immediate future.

Ray is nothing if not a considerate lover, but Fraser grimaces when Ray wipes his hand on Fraser’s discarded shirt; his sanitary methods still leave something to be desired, and Ray nips at his jaw when he sees the disapproving look on Fraser’s face.

“Sex is messy; get over it,” he says.

Fraser frowns. “If we had gone to the bedroom, you could’ve used Kleenex.”

“Are you complaining?” Ray’s tone is incredulous.

“I’m not complaining,” Fraser is quick to insist. “I’m just saying that perhaps there are certain activities that are better suited to the bedroom than the living room.”

Ray shakes his head and pats Fraser on the chest. “You, my friend, are a freak. I dunno where you get these ideas from, but clearly I’m going to have to help you lose ’em.”

Fraser pauses for a moment and considers Ray for several long seconds. “I can think of nothing I’d like more,” he says eventually.

-Snippet III-

Beta, hand-holding and Riccola providing by the truly fabulous

serialkarma. This wasn’t quite the porn I was looking for (what droids?) but I have never had to deal with anybody as contrary as Fraser in my life. Most people want to get laid.

Improv: straight, pepper, aluminum, water, gray