This is what happens when you watch part II of MotB on tape, *right* after watching it on TNT. They're not mine, though good Goddess, I wish they were. Synopsis: Fraser is alone...in a manner of speaking.
For Andre and Te because, no, there really isn't enough masturbation
fiction out there.....
Fraser wakes from a dream of being underwater with Ray. It started out like the actual situation but veered, as dreams are often wont to do, into all together different territory.
He is naked underwater, so is Ray and they can both breathe just fine (after all it is a dream). This fact doesn't keep Fraser from swimming to Ray and wrapping himself around the pale, wet flesh -- even underwater it has the texture and richness of satin -- parting Ray's lips with his own and sliding his tongue inside. The water is cool but Ray's mouth is hot and Fraser loves the contrast and thinks it is an apt one, perfectly applied to any situation involving Ray and him.
Ray's tongue moves against his. *Slicks* is actually more what it does, a luxuriously sensual slide of wet muscle on wet muscle, a sweet pantomine of what their bodies are doing as Fraser pulls them through the water, threading his legs through Ray's so his cock is against Ray's thigh and Ray's cock is against his thigh and he kicks, strong enough for both of them. They stay locked together through some corridor of the dying ship, mouths, chests, stomachs pressed together and the *only* thing between them is the sheen of liquid, the smoothness of skin.
Fraser moans as he opens his eyes, cursing his surgically precise internal clock for pulling him from that delicious wetness. He has the day *off* and the Consulate to himself, and despite the fact that it would be perfectly acceptable to stay *asleep* to find out where on the ship he and Ray go and what they do when they get there, his mind and body are rarely so kind to him.
Fine then, if sleep is not to be the way, so be it. He gets out of his boxer-briefs easily enough, but waits, waits for a few quiet, perfect moments before touching. He needs to know first what he wants and how he wants it. He isn't sure he's interested, now that he's awake and aware, in returning to the ship. For some reason, in consciousness, he wants a Ray who will speak to him, and even in dreams, it is impossible to talk underwater.
Ray's apartment, he likes Ray's apartment, and that is a place where they *would* if he could summon the courage to tell Ray it is what he wants, has wanted, since that first day. Since that beautiful, blond head snapped up, those quick and pretty eyes fastened onto him and that mouth, good God, that *mouth* challenged him with,
"Everyone *else* here knows who I am, Fraser. Why don't *you*?"
So, they are in Ray's apartment and he and Ray are naked on Ray's bed. Fraser brushes his fingers across his lips, imagines they are Ray's, only Ray will press harder, parting his lips, sliding one, then two of those long, lovely fingers inside, and yes, Fraser will suck. Ray, no doubt, will have something to say about that,
/So, your mouth's actually good for somethin' other than sayin' words like 'germane' and 'elucidate'?/
Fraser surprises himself by laughing at this as his fingers trail lightly over his nipples. It's too *early* to be giddy with this, but then, he *is* thinking about sucking parts of Ray Kowalski's body, so giddiness is perhaps appropriate. He rolls a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, cannot help but think that Ray will *pinch*, and he enjoys this thought, and just...like...that, it is Ray pinching and Fraser moans.
He is sure that his vocal cues of appreciation will surprise Ray, /You're noisier than I thought you'd be, Fraser/, and he wonders how Ray will react when he explains how much he likes sex.
/I was sure you were like a monk or somethin', Fraser. Are you serious? You really like to fuck?/ And as he says something along those lines, Ray will, no doubt, be kissing him along his chest and stomach, slicking his tongue over that spot just below Fraser's navel, where the fingers of one of Fraser's hands press now, while the other hand continues stroking the firm little nub of flesh.
//Of course I do, Ray.// Fraser doesn't use the word 'fuck,' but he knows it and he likes what it means in its purest and original form. He is certain that Ray knows how to fuck, and does it very, very well. He is equally certain that Ray knows how to make love, and also does that expertly. Fraser is sure that doing either with Ray would make him happier than he's ever been.
Both hands are on his stomach now, and it never ceases to surprise Fraser how much he likes to be touched there. As his fingers move in lazy swirls over skin that has begun sweating, the image of Ray rubbing that softly spiky hair against his belly makes Fraser arch. //I like to very much, Ray, and I'd very much like to with you.// If only he could actually *say* it to the man...
/We'll get there, don't you worry. Right now, though, I wanna make you come with my mouth. Does that sound like a plan to you, Fraser?/
Fraser laughs out loud at this as he slides his fingers through the dark thatch of hair, shapes them into a fist and presses his knuckles to the base of his cock. //It's a very good plan, Ray.//
It seems to Fraser that Ray will stop teasing as he grips the erection. The pad of his long, slim thumb will glide across the undervein, then over the tip. Then, Ray kisses the head, clever tongue sneaking out to sample. Fraser pinches, gathers the moisture there and brings his hand to his mouth. He imagines this is Ray kissing him, letting him taste himself. His own tangy saltiness mingles with the coffee-tinged sugary-ness he believes is the primary flavor of Ray's mouth, and again, he moans, thinking the mixture of their tastes is heaven.
He closes his fist around the heavy length, and it is no longer his hand, but Ray's mouth. That wondrous mouth. Hot. Wet. Slick. He is not surprised at all that Ray can suck. He does it beautifully in between long, elegant swipes of his tongue, taking Fraser in to the root, *swallowing* around him, then applying suction that would *hurt* if it weren't somehow so gentle.
Fraser's hand moves up and down on his cock in time to the image of his partner's bobbing head. His other hand comes to rest in the space between his navel and pubic hair at the same time his phantom Ray, still sucking, brings a hand up to rest on his stomach. With the heel of his hand, Fraser presses there, as hard as he can stand it, while still fucking into his fist, but it is Ray's hand that pushes him over the edge, not his own, and, saying Ray's name, he comes, long and loud, shudders once, then lays still.
It is several minutes later when Fraser opens his eyes again, all too aware that he is alone. His tongue slips out, wets lips made dry from panting. He sits up carefully, not wishing to be dizzy. Again. He stretches languidly, thinks for a moment of actually going *back* to sleep. Then he remembers that Lt. Welsh gave Ray the day off.
He can take as long as he wants in the shower, as long as he wants getting ready. By the time he's done, it won't be too early to go find out how Ray plans to spend the day.