RATING: NC-17; Fraser/Kowalski. If m/m interaction bothers you, walk away now.
SPOILERS: "Easy Money."
SUMMARY: Ray takes Fraser for a ride.
ARCHIVAL/DISTRIBUTION: Serge and Bindlestitch. If some kind person feels that this story is appropriate for DSX and wouldnít mind posting it, that would be great as well. Anywhere else too, as long as you ask me first.
FEEDBACK: can be sent to Viridian5@aol.com.
DISCLAIMERS: All things due South belong to Alliance no matter how much I want Ray K to belong to me. No infringement intended. Suing me would be a waste of time. Besides, Iíd just kick you in the head.
NOTES: Read-through by LaT.
Ray nearly glowed, though his radiance dimmed a little from embarrassment as he looked at me. He looked uncertain standing in the consulateís doorway, somehow very like a boy stopping by to ask me to come out to play and uncertain of the answer Iíd give. "Hey, Fraser. I wanted to introduce you to my parents, but by the time I turned around you were gone. Iím sorry I forgot about you."
I needed to clear the embarrassment away, stop the dilution of his joy. "I had some affairs to resolve with Quinn anyway."
"Still sorry. I just got so caught up with my parents being back."
"And the car."
He grinned a little more. "Yeah, the car."
"You havenít seen your parents in a long while. I couldnít begrudge you your excitement or time alone with them."
The embarrassment faded completely. "Hey, thanks." As Dief walked behind me and made a sound of derision, he asked, "Whatís up with the furry guy?"
"Heís upset that I refused to let him sample Turnbullís cooking."
"He wanted a taste."
"Nah, I mean, why did you say no?"
"Itís bad enough that he eats donuts; he hardly needs to cultivate more exotic tastes. Heís a wolf."
"You are so doggy-whipped."
I barely defeated the urge to retort, "Am not!" Instead I said, "Hardly. I didnít cave in to him."
"Except that now heís giving you the cold shoulder, and you have to pretend you donít see it. You are so whipped. Then again, if I had somebody calling me soft, Iíd be pissy too."
When Dief barked in triumph on the stairs, I turned to him and said, "You wonít be able to maintain your charade of hearing impairment if you continue this way. No, I canít believe that you read Rayís lips from that distance because your eyes simply arenít that sharp." Dief whined something highly derogatory back.
Ray leaned against the doorframe and pretended that he was coughing instead of laughing. "You guys need couplesí therapy."
"I fear that would only worsen matters. Diefenbaker would no doubt become resentful that the therapist wouldnít be able to understand him. He would then accuse me of monopolizing the time, and events would snowball from there."
Ray shook his head. "Where were we?"
"Oh yeah. The car." His bright, lazy smile made something in my chest turn over. "You wanna see it?"
Despite the spring in his step, he had a slight limp as he bounced down the steps. I should have demanded he see a doctor. After driving through the window to help rescue me, heíd landed and slid on his left leg and hip, with the motorcycle on top of it. His thick coat and heavy denim jeans may have protected him from most of the window glass, but I imagined that he must have gained a mass of bruises from the fall.
Yet he seemed looser than usual. His moods always expressed themselves directly through his body.
"Fraser, are you worrying at me?"
"Then why can I feel it?"
"I wish you would see a doctor."
Ray shrugged. "Heís just gonna give me a painkiller. I can do that myself. You coming outside?"
"Yes," I said as I did, approaching his vehicle. Illegally parked in front of the consulate, the car gleamed, jewel-like, under the streetlights. Jet-black, Ray had said. "Six coats of paint?"
"Six coats." His hand stroked the air a few centimeters above the painted surface, as if he didnít dare touch it for fear of the car popping and dissolving like a soap bubble.
Heíd seen the GTO as being symbolic of his fatherís love, and now he had it back and in good working order, all unexpected. It had to be staggering.
"You wanna go for a ride?" Ray asked.
To my surprise, Ray exceeded the posted speed limits only slightly, no doubt in deference to me. Still, we achieved the feeling of speed, flying, although it couldnít match the exhilaration driving a dogsled gave me. Yet I still felt some of that excitement, even if most of it came from Ray, partially illuminated by street lamps and his dashboard instruments, being so obviously happy beside me. The play of darkness and colored lights couldnít disguise his smile, the easy drape of his body as he drove, or the relaxed clasp of his hands, clad in leather driving gloves, on the wheel. His joy wrapped about me like a blanket.
We said little over the roar of crisp, cold wind through the open windows and the shush of the road beneath us. It felt as if we were almost weightless, suspended yet moving quickly through the dashboard-lit darkness.
As the highway took us further away from Chicago, the air smelled sweeter and the ambient light coming in through the windows changed source and color from street lights to moonlight. Eventually we left the highway completely, turning off onto a narrower road that led us deeper into more wooded areas.
"I thought wilderness gave you a skin condition," I said.
"That was me being Vecchio. Me, I got nothing against wilderness. I canít say that weíre tight exactly, but Iím acquainted with it. You mind if we stop and stretch our legs?"
"Not at all."
So we did, parking at the side of the road. While I stood, letting the night wash over me, listening to the breeze brush through the trees, I scented rain to come in the crisp, cold air. Soon but not yet. I couldnít delude myself that Iíd returned home, but this was very close.
Ray leaned against the car, arms crossed, eyes closed, face looking relaxed and young in the shadows and the blue light the full moon suffused our surroundings with, coat undone. I wanted to ruffle his hair as the wind did. I wanted to do more than that. He rested within armís reach of me.
Ray opened his eyes and caught me staring. "Fraser." His smoke and sable voice sounded warm and rich beyond imagining.
Surely I only imagined the invitation in it.
But then he moved closer and faced me, so near that our steaming breath mingled. "You think I go Evel Knievel on a motorcycle for just anyone?" he asked. Then he leaned even closer....
Far more certain now, heart pounding, I met him halfway and shivered at the brush of his lips on mine, the press of his sleek body against me, the insistent push of his obvious arousal. My fingers clenched in the soft, warm cotton of his T-shirt at the small of his back, while his gripped the back of my coat.
"Hearing him unravel on the phone, knowing he had a gun on you and Quinn, just about drove me crazy," he said. "You scare the hell out of me sometimes, you know that?"
Ray grinned and, impossibly, leaned in closer. "Well, as long as itís mutual."
I wanted him, and not simply because a large part of me feared that if I let go of him now I would never have another opportunity. It felt like Iíd wanted him forever. The very thought of having him at last made me rock against him.
I heard him swallow and felt the flutter of his lashes against the side of my face. "Backseat?" he asked huskily.
We climbed into the backseat in an ungainly tangle of limbs. Sometimes Ray seemed to be all legs, like a foal, and this was one of those times. Awkward as it made us now, the inherent possibilities in that spiked my arousal higher. In the dimness, he was dark shadow highlighted by touches of blue along his arm, his knee, and the side of his face, brow bone, cheekbone, and jaw.
I felt a blanket twisting beneath me instead of the expected expanse of leather. Apparently he felt my eyebrow rise, because he said, "You canít fault a guy for being an optimist."
"I can do as I like. Canít I?"
His answer came out more breath than voice. "Oh, yes."
We didnít fit easily on the seat, not with the way we kept moving, but even amidst the discomfort I felt comfortable with him. In any case, the close quarters only helped in these circumstances. Tangled together, blindly pulling at clothing in the dark, we kissed and rocked together, playfully struggling for dominance. Even as I felt his warm, rough fingertips slip under my shirt and ghost across my ribs, my own hands luxuriated in his soft T-shirt, the stiff denim of his jeans, and his hot, fine-grained skin. He laughed and growled at me to respect his hair as I petted it.
I tasted salt on his neck, and when I blew on his skin he shivered in a highly gratifying manner. "Sensitive," I murmured.
"Very. You got a problem with that?"
I unfastened his jeans. "Not at all." His pulse jumped beneath my lips. I took advantage of his distraction to take some control of him, lifting up his shirt and pulling at his boxers, then tonguing trails on the newly exposed skin, much hotter here than at his neck. The sounds he uttered made me ache and breathe harder. I started to suckle him.
"Pushy Mountie," he gasped, his head thrown back against the window.
I stopped, simply keeping the welcome length of him in my mouth. I wondered if he could feel me smiling evilly.
It didnít take long for Ray to make a frustrated sound and sit up a bit. "Hey! Did I tell you to stop or that I wasnít liking it? Nope." His hands searched for me, stroking whatever they could reach. Mostly my hair and shoulders. "I donít mind pushy right now."
He bucked as I said, "If you insist," with my mouth full; rude of me, but he didnít seem to mind. I resumed my former attentions, to his very vocal approval.
"Oh. So good. Mmmm. Ohhh. Mmph!" His left leg twitched violently the moment I set my hand on his hip. "Itís fine, itís fine. No need to stop. Really. I will never let a motorcycle ride me across a floor again, I swear. I can kind of see your eyes glittering up at me in reproach and all, but itís fine." He curled his right leg over my back. "Címon. Iíll be hurting whether you suck me off or not anyway, and, hey, I really shouldnít have mentioned that, should I? Hey, sex endorphins help combat pain. Really."
Then I would help in that way. He didnít have to know that I had no intention of giving this up before I had a proper taste of him anyway. But I would be careful now and examine his leg later.
Ray sighed and his body seemed to turn to liquid as I resumed again. He gave himself over to pleasure and to me so easily and with so much trust. Concentrating on his reactions helped me control my own lust, which I didnít want to spend too quickly, though my jeans became progressively more uncomfortable by the minute.
I wished I could see him better, but the blue-shot dimness forced me to rely on other senses more, magnifying the taste and feel of him on my tongue and between my lips, the subtle texture of his skin and the pounding of his pulse beneath, the heavy scent of pine through the open window mixing with the scent of his excitement, the rushing sound of his breathing. My jaw started to ache a bit. All very real and undeniable.
I hoped to see him next time. I hoped there would be a next time.
His thighs began to tremble, making me realize that he was close but holding back. While his intention not to hurt me warmed me, I wanted to make him lose control. So I grazed my teeth along him, than swallowed him deeply.
Ray made a sound as if heíd swallowed his tongue as he thrust hard twice and climaxed in a rush. I devoured him, then licked away any remnants I could find on his panting, shuddering body.
"Wow," he gasped.
"Very succinct," I answered.
When he kissed me, his tongue flickered out to meet mine in an almost coy way, and when he set his hand at my crotch, my penis nearly leapt to meet it, as if begging to be petted. "Thatís just the way I am." He licked my lips and unfastened my jeans, to my undying relief. "Let me take care of you. What do you want?"
Everything. I wanted everything he could give me. My brain locked up.
"I could suck you pretty as you please," Ray said as he kissed and stroked me. "I could jack you hard and fast or slow and lingering. Backseat limitations and clothing removal would probably be too much trouble for anything else. Though Iíd love to have you fuck me. I bet youíd be really good."
Oh. God. I didnít want to come, not from Rayís low caressing voice and word pictures alone, but it was so difficult.... I would last three seconds.
"Your hands, your kiss. Now. Please...."
Yes, his hands. All the days Iíd spent watching his squared-off fingers curl around pens, lollipop sticks, his cell phone, his gun, and now theyíd be curled around me.... I exploded the moment he touched me and cried out his name against his lips.
Mortally embarrassed, I felt certain that Ray could feel the heat rising in my face too, but he only chuckled and kissed my brow. "Fraser, youíve just given me one of the big ego moments of my life here. Thanks, guy." Then he curled his legs up on the seat, nestled in against me, and wrapped the blanket around us. "If I find out that I walloped my head on the floor and this was all a dream, Iím gonna be pissed off."
I would think that my utter lack of endurance would reassure him of the reality of our encounter, but he seemed to be very satisfied. Satisfied that he was satisfied, I wallowed with him for a bit, nestled together under the warmth of the blanket, listening to the faintly metallic sound of the rain pattering on the roof, his hair tickling my chin, his fingers tracing patterns on my stomach.
Then remembering a promise Iíd made to myself, I pulled down his pants, which brought me no complaints, and took a small flashlight from the pocket of my coat, which confused the hell out of him at first. But Ray quickly understood and began to protest even before I began to examine his leg and take a close look at the bruises and slight swelling mottling his skin. Once I started I had to deal with his squirming and muttering as I ghosted my fingers across his hip. Though he cackled when I accused him of being a big baby. Once I decided that Iíd seen enough and heíd given himself only bruises and mild abrasions, I ceased, and he snuggled in again.
We must have slept for a while, because the next time I surfaced the muddy gray light of a rainy morning came in through the windows. My back ached, and I felt a bit sticky and grubby, but having Ray curled up against my chest beneath the blanket with me more than made up for everything.
He looked so peaceful and so heartbreakingly young and happy that I didnít wish to wake him, but his eyes soon opened nonetheless and regarded me warmly. He stretched lazily, maddeningly, then said, "Mmmmorning. Oh, damn, it is. Sorry. What time is it?"
"According to my watch, itís 10 a.m."
"Gah. We are so late. And so in the middle of nowhere."
"Then thereís no reason to hurry."
He grinned. "Who are you, and what have you done with Benton Fraser?"
It made me feel more daring then usual. "We can both take a personal day."
Ray dug out his cell phone. "Oh yeah. ĎSorry, Welsh, but yesterdayís events left me too... stiff to come in to work.í Itís even true, and in more ways than one. I can do that."
He didnít say that on the phone, but we did both call our respective superiors to give them our regrets that we wouldnít be arriving today. Lieutenant Welsh showed more understanding than Inspector Thatcher, but that failed to surprise us. Ray had the excuse of dealing with the ramifications of his vehicular creativity. When I used that phrase in front of him, he nearly choked laughing.
As we drove back to Chicago, he kept one hand on my thigh at all times.
But curiosity finally overcame me as he let me into his apartment, so I asked, "Did your parents say why they came?"
Ray grinned. "They just said they were thinking of me and wanted to see me. They missed me."
Then I wouldnít tell him. Better he think it was all their idea and not... meddling on my part. Meddling that had worked out better than I deserved.
When Iíd heard that Quinn was coming to Chicago, it intensified my interest in Rayís roots, in where heíd come from. However, my subtle attempts to gain information had mostly led to dead ends and evasions from him. I finally went to Assistant Stateís Attorney Kowalski for a phone number, and Stella had been understandably suspicious and worried that I wanted to contact Rayís parents. Unfortunately, it made her certain that something was wrong with Ray, an outcome I hadnít expected. I would have been more circumspect otherwise. I still didnít know if Iíd mollified her completely, but I did gain a contact number.
I was surprised that they lived in Arizona but continued on undaunted, having a pleasant conversation with Rayís mother, who responded to a strangerís questions with surprising warmth. She said that my call only made her more determined to see her son again, and that they would arrive soon.
At no point had I realized that Ray and his father were estranged. I nearly died as I listened to Ray speak of his fatherís disappointment in his career choice and the long silence and distance that had followed. I had no idea of how this reunion would go, if Rayís father would arrive only to make him more miserable. Thank God that my worst fears proved to be unfounded.
"Earth to Fraser. You in there?"
"Oh, my mum wants to meet you. She thought you sounded nice over the phone."
"I didnít--" All along he knew?
"I know, you didnít tell them to come, they decided on their own. But you inspired them to show up, and I wanted to say thanks. So now you do the polite thing back and say, ĎYouíre very welcome, Ray.í"
"Youíre very welcome, Ray. Iím glad to be of service."
"Mmm. Iíll keep that in mind." He leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom. "You could be of service right now, you know, since, considering my injury and all, I think I need bed rest. And lots of babying."
"I daresay that I would be arrested and jailed for doing to a baby what Iím thinking of doing to you. And rightfully so."
His slouch became more suggestive. "Oh yeah? Prove it."