hackthis_archive | dS - The Best Inuit Story Ever

I blame

china_shop and so should you. I mean who knew the Inuit got down like that?

due South
Ray K/Fraser

The Best Inuit Story Ever

1.

It started with the story about the strap-on dildo.

Actually, no, it started before that, with the hot car. Yeah, Ray totally could see how this was all the fault of Freddy Ramirez for being stupid enough to drive a stolen car, first thing in the morning, right through downtown, when Ray had just picked up Fraser from the consulate, but hadn't quite had enough coffee yet.

Ray was never any good without his coffee, everybody knew that. Fraser knew it. Stella knew it. Everybody in his world knew that Ray Kowalski needed at least three cups of coffee to be tolerable first thing in the morning, but nobody had told Freddy Ramirez -- not that Ray had known it was Freddy at the time, but that wasn't the point.

The point was that Ray was cranky 'cause he'd only had two cups of coffee 'cause he'd run out of M&Ms, and Fraser must've known that because he was just sitting next to Ray, playing with his hat with his really long fingers and big hands and not licking things or talking about the Inuit or anything else distracting and annoying.

Not that Ray was staring at Fraser’s hat or his hands or anything, no, 'cause he was driving and that would be a distraction. And then he might've almost crashed the car or something. Plus, it wasn't like Ray couldn’t look at Fraser's hands or arms and legs and face whenever he wanted. Except there was this thin pink line on Fraser's ring finger that looked like a paper cut, and Ray hadn't thought that Mounties ever got things like that. Ray got'em all the time, and he let everyone know it, but Fraser -- who knew the Tin Mountie could be hurt too, and so maybe Ray was a little more into Fraser's hands than he should've been.

And it was kinda hard to focus on driving with Fraser’s fingers looking so... so like everybody else’s. Plus, Dief was whining in the backseat, and Ray had wanted donuts too, but Fraser had been all Nutritional Mountie about it -- and then there'd been the yelling.

"Ray! The light!"

And Ray'd slammed on his brakes, just missing the car in front of him, and Fraser had started in about safe driving and paying attention, and Ray wasn't into hearing about that, so he'd tuned Fraser out by paying attention to Fraser’s mouth moving, and the road, and the car in front of him. Which didn't have any tags.

Or a model name on the back.

Or even a friggin’ keyhole for the trunk.

Actually there was a lock, which looked like it'd been popped open with a screwdriver, and yeah, Ray knew a hot car when he saw it. So, he followed it, ‘cause he was a cop and that’s what good cops did. They followed their hunches, and Ray had a hunch.

2.

About fifteen hours later, Ray still had a hunch, but he also had an empty stomach. He’d had his third cup of coffee, and his fourth and his fifth... and he was really wired. He needed to take a leak, and get out of the GTO and walk for about three days. He had a restless half-deaf, half-wolf in his back seat, and a twitchy Mountie next to him. If you could count Fraser telling his third caribou story of the night ‘twitchy’, which Ray did.

It was almost one in the morning, and the moon was waxing or something, according to Fraser, who'd taken to spinning his hat with his fingers. It didn’t help that Ray wasn’t paying attention to the warehouse where Freddy Ramirez had taken the car, instead he was paying attention to the way the paper cut on Fraser’s hand kept disappearing under the brim of his hat.

He couldn’t go on like this.

They’d followed Freddy to the warehouse, and Fraser had kept watch while Ray called Welsh. The lieu had given them twenty-four hours to come up with something, because Ray’s hunch was no match for a desk full of paperwork; and so they’d sat, and watched, and Fraser’d told Ray Inuit stories, and Ray’d fallen asleep, but only a for a few minutes. He’d been hypnotized by Fraser rubbing his eyebrow with his finger; it wasn’t his fault.

Eventually the Chuckleheads had come to take over, and Ray’d thought he and Frase would go eat then, but Fraser had to go to the consulate and then Ray had to go to the two-seven, and somehow he’d wound up back on stakeout without having eaten at all. It wasn’t right. It was just all wrong, because Fraser smelled good, and Ray hadn’t eaten and Ray was hungry.

His stomach had started growling, which had somehow set off the fur ball, but then Fraser had produced sandwiches from somewhere and Ray could’ve kissed him for that -- which apparently he’d said out loud, because Fraser had gotten real red, real quick. Ray’d just clapped Fraser on the shoulder and laughed it off, but his fingers had twitched when he touched Fraser, and his hand had stayed there a second too long.

It would’ve been great if Ray could stop thinking about Fraser’s fingers, and touching Fraser, and them being stuck in the GTO, and Dief being in the backseat, and Stella and his dad and if he’d remembered to feed Speedy that morning, but he’d had six cups of coffee and his brain was very into the go-go-go thing. It wasn’t so much into the focusing thing.

It didn’t help that Fraser was telling him another damn Inuit story about some old lady whose son was a hunter who traveled a lot; who cared if the son traveled and what did that have to do with her daughter-in-law? Didn’t most in-laws not get along at all? Stella’s parents had hated him, even though his mom loved Stella, and who cared about making a fake penis out of seal bone and skins?

Ray’s train of thought went right off the tracks as Fraser kept talking in his deep, soothing voice.

“Wait, back it up. What did you just say to me?” Ray could feel the tendons in his neck tightening as he shook his head and focused on Fraser.

Fraser licked his lower lip. “I was just telling you an old Inuit story about an elderly woman and her daughter-in-law.”

“What’s that got to do with, you know, what you said?”

“Well, women were often left alone when their husbands went off hunting or fishing. It was necessary to their survival that --“

“That somebody make a dick out of seal parts?!” Ray couldn’t keep his voice from rising, because this was Fraser and he was telling him a dirty Inuit story. Which Ray hadn’t even thought existed. This was so weird.

“Fraser, you -- you’re -- what made you want to tell me this story, just here, tonight. All the times we’ve been on stakeouts, and you never said nothin' about no Inuit strap-ons. Have you been thinking --“ Ray’s eyes narrowed. “You been using one of those?”

Even in the darkness of the alley and the GTO, Ray could see how flushed Fraser was. “Certainly not, Ray, the hygienic implications alone are appalling, but I was simply sharing a story with you. Since you seem to find my other Inuit stories a bit dry, I thought you might enjoy something, well, different.”

Ray’s mind was running around chasing its tail at the idea of Fraser and a strap-on, and Fraser telling him about using a strap-on and Ray couldn’t make it stop. “You thought I’d like to hear dirty stories?”

Fraser swallowed.

“Not that I object or anything,” Ray carried on, shifting in the driver’s seat. “I mean a good dirty story can pass the time nicely, but the problem with’em right now is that, you know, once you tell me there’s really no place else to, uh, go with it.”

Fraser shifted in his seat, turning so that he faced Ray. “I don’t understand what you mean -- you want to physically ‘go’ somewhere, Ray?”

Ray gestured between them. “What, no, no I mean the other kinda go, you know where you, uh, get yourself all worked up and then, you know, you can’t --”

Ray made a few crude gestures, and Fraser peered at him quizzically for a moment, before his face relaxed and he nodded his head. “Ah, I see what you mean.”

Ray nodded. “Good. Greatness.” But his stomach tensed up when Fraser tilted his head to the side, and he removed his hat.

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance there.”

Ray blinked. “Be of some assistance where?”

“With the aftermath.”

“Whose math?”

Ray leaned back against the door when Fraser licked his bottom lip and inched forward. “It seems to me that it’s the job of partners to help one another when they’re in need, and I think that if you’re in need, I should help.”

Ray wondered if smoke was coming out his ears yet. Clearly it was somebody else who said, “okay.”

3.

Ray hadn’t tried to have sex in the GTO in, like, forever, for very good reasons. Namely the roof and the door and the window handle and the dashboard and every other place that wouldn’t give him enough room to get his pants down or let him get anybody flat on their backs. The bruises alone were motivation to go find a bed.

He’d had a little bit more success in the backseat, but right now Dief was there with his paws over his head, probably pretending that he was back in the wilderness where he didn’t end up trapped in a car with two horny humans.

Not that Ray was giving Dief a lot of thought with Fraser’s hand down his jeans and those thick, long, imperfect fingers wrapped around his cock, but he was having issues with the whole coherent thing since Fraser was licking his neck and jerking him off.

Ray had thought about protesting that partners didn’t have to do this for each other, and he prayed that Fraser wasn’t going on prior-partner-experience, but Fraser had kept licking his bottom lip as he moved closer, and then he’d started licking Ray and sniffing his neck. Ray just hadn’t been able to get away. Not that he’d tried real hard.

The first flicker of Fraser’s tongue against the side of his neck had pretty much turned Ray into a pile of coffee-addled goo, and it seemed stupid to fight it when Fraser’s hands were pushing his shirt up and raking his stomach with the tips of his nails.

Between the shivering and the shuddering and yanking at Fraser’s hair to kiss him properly, Ray hadn’t really given anything else much thought. Fraser’s tongue was thick in Ray’s mouth, and he tasted of bread and ham and some kind of fruit juice, and sure Ray had had fantasies about this, but none of them had anything to do with getting a hand-job during a stakeout. Not that he was complaining or anything, even though his hands couldn't stay still long enough to get inside Fraser’s stupid pumpkin pants. It had to be the coffee. The stupid six cups of coffee and M&Ms, and this was all the fault of the Inuit and Freddy Ramirez. And why Ray was thinking about Freddy frickin Ramirez when Fraser was sucking on his neck and doing that thing with his hand that had never been done to Ray’s cock before, he wasn't really sure.

It was really fucking good, and this was buddies. This was way better than buddies, and when Ray came it was like the best cup of coffee ever, like he had the beans growing out back, behind his apartment building, and somebody’d just given him a huge cup of fresh coffee, with M&Ms driven in from the Hershey plant in Pennsylvania, and now Ray was going to slather that chocolate all over Fraser and... Yeah, he came really fucking hard.

He was still panting against Fraser’s neck as he tried to take another pass at the pumpkin pants. “You gotta take these off,” he said. “They’re killin’ me, I can’t even imagine what they’re doin’ to you.”

He looked up when Fraser’s hand clamped over his wrist. “Ray, you don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to be obliged to --”

Ray frowned. “I’ll feel obliged to kick you in the head if you don’t start taking those pants off,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for months, Fraser, and no Inuit strap-on is getting there first.”

Fraser opened his mouth, closed it, and then smiled.

Ray was just leaning in for another kiss when he caught sight of movement in the warehouse across the street. Sighing, he slumped backward and hit his head on the window. “It never fails,” he said, rubbing his head. “Bad guys have the worst timing ever. The next time you want to tell me a dirty Inuit story, we’re doing it at my place.”

-end-

Improv: donut, paper cut, deep, moon, crackle

Inspired by

china_shop’s wide variety of reading material. Dedicated to

china_shop,

lyra_sena and

serialkarma.

Beta by

serialkarma