I was planning on writing this anyway, then the Challenge was issued and I thought, "perfect." This is the companion piece to "Slick". Allegedly, they belong to Alliance, but I swear it *feels* like they're mine. Oh, and this one had a soundtrack as I wrote it: Marvin Gaye's glorious "I Want You," because I just *know* Ray listens to Marvin...
Synopsis: Ray does some thinking.
For Te, because she shares my deep, abiding love for the sub scenes
in Mountie on the Bounty....
Ray stretches gracefully as he opens his eyes. It's too damn early for the sun he thinks, before glancing at the watch on the bedside table and realizing that it's actually an hour later than he normally gets up for the day. A brief flash of panic darts through him before he remembers that Welsh gave him the day off. He yawns and tries to remember what he was dreaming about before the light shining on his face got too bright to keep ignoring.
The dream was about Fraser, and Ray isn't surprised when he realizes this. He dreams about Fraser a lot and even though the dreams often start innocently enough, they always seem to end with sex. Great sex. The kind of sex that just thinking about makes him moan out loud. In his dreams, Ray's had sex with Fraser in every conceivable place the two of them have ever been together. The bullpen at the station. The station bathroom. Welsh's office. The conference room at the Consulate. Fraser's room at the Consulate. Thatcher's office. The boxing ring at the gym. His car. Ray's pretty sure he hasn't come so much in his sleep since he was fourteen.
The setting of choice last night was the world's smallest fucking submarine. Ray has never really been claustrophobic, but that sub was so small and tight the only thing that kept him from losing it completely was the fact that because it was so small and tight, Fraser's ass was pressed against his crotch the entire time they were in it. And despite the fact that he was having his usual Fraser-induced thoughts of don't-know-if-I-should-kiss-him-or-punch-him -- and having them magnified to the Nth degree -- it felt ridiculously good. That firm, muscular ass rubbing against him and Fraser acting like he didn't notice that Ray was harder than the proverbial rock.
Not like he wouldn't have been hard even if Fraser hadn't been pressed thisclose to him for an hour and a half. Because even if there had been any space between them -- which there just *wasn't* -- it was still the sweat-soaked back of Fraser's neck he was looking at and wanting desperately to lick, and still the clean, soapy, cedar musk of Fraser he was smelling, and still Fraser's soft, thick, wavy hair he wanted to grab in his hands. There could have been a football field between them and as long as it was Fraser being Fraser and *still* managing to be sexy as hell , he'd be hard enough for it to almost hurt.
Ray stretches again and it occurs to him that he doesn't remember them actually fucking in the dream. They probably did, but his waking mind has no memory of whether his sleeping mind finished things properly. Of course, this inconclusiveness doesn't mean a damn thing to his cock, which has already begun twitching just at the thought of the back of Fraser's neck.
Oh yes, that neck does things to him, Ray thinks as his hand slides over his chest and stomach several times, moving in a vaguely circular pattern before clasping a cock that grows to maximum stiffness. In the tight, narrow space of the sub, that strip of pale, damp skin -- highlighted by the deep, deep brown of Fraser's hair and the black of the sweater he wore -- mesmerized Ray. It was smooth and creamy and he wanted nothing more than to lean in just a little and dip his tongue to it to see if it tasted as creamy as it looked.
As his right hand drags lightly across his dick, his fingertips skimming along the undervein, Ray brings the back of his left hand to his mouth, sneaks his tongue across his own skin, imagining it to be the back of Fraser's neck. Not creamy at all but instead, salty, tangy and something that Ray is sure tastes like nothing else in the world except the *rest* of Fraser's skin, and he moans against his hand, and therefore against Fraser's neck.
Ray smiles as he thinks of what Fraser would do at that, while still stroking the warm, highly sensitive skin of his cock with just the tips of his fingers. Fraser could react in one of two ways. Fraser being Fraser, he would probably ask Ray what he was doing, despite the fact that he'd *know* what Ray was doing. Ray's not really in the mood to talk, so the other reaction happens, which is that Fraser makes a sound resembling a moan and presses back against Ray even closer.
His cock jumps at the thought of Fraser somehow managing to be closer to him in the sub than he already was, and Ray likes how this Fraser responds to his bold executive decision. It's a good thing to Ray, Fraser in his lap. *On* his lap, and he wonders for a moment how anything's gonna happen while they're both dressed and just...like...that, they are naked in the sub.
*Yes*, Ray thinks as he tightens the grip he has on his dick. He's not quite fisting yet because he hasn't gotten to the point where he's ready to be inside Fraser. At the moment, he's satisfied to stroke the head and sides of his cock with enough pressure to resemble what it feels like to be rubbing himself between the cheeks of Fraser's ass. He pinches the head, thinking this is what it might feel like to just...tease that opening.
Fraser's neck is calling to him again, and this time when Ray licks, Fraser wriggles and the twitching erection in his fingers somehow gets even harder, and Ray hears two moans, his real one and the one his wickedly unashamed version of Fraser makes.
Enough play. He and Fraser are both ready and as Ray's fingers snap into an ironclad hold on his cock, he slips past the first, slightly difficult ring of muscle, and then in all the way. To the hilt. He's known lambskin leather gloves that didn't fit him as well as he imagines Fraser does. The tiny confines of the sub and their positions mean Fraser has to set the rhythm, and of course, because this is *Fraser* he's fucking, the rhythm is found and kept, perfectly.
Slow at first, and Ray takes long, lazy strokes on his length that mirror the initially languid rise and fall of Fraser's body. Fraser shifts a little and does something with his muscles that makes Ray groan, even as the fingers of one of his fists make a tightly twisting motion while moving up and down his cock. Ray can smell the thick musk of his own arousal, and finds himself wondering if Fraser smells less soapy and more cedary when he's making love.
Fraser is moving a much faster now, and Ray's hands speed up of their own accord to keep time, closing in as tight as possible without hurting. In the confines of the sub, their noises are deafening, but Ray knows the walls of his apartment are extremely thick, and he can vocalize his pleasure as loud as he wants to. Which is good, as he's getting pretty loud because Fraser does some out-of-this-world clenching thing and the last sound Ray hears before the mad, sticky rush is Fraser saying his name and himself saying Fraser's.
When the stars stop dancing behind his eyes, Ray opens them. He's almost disappointed to remember he's not really in that little sub. He looks at the thick, milky splotches on his stomach and chest and lets out another low moan as an image of Fraser licking him clean plants itself firmly in his head. He's about to see how quickly it takes to get hard again while thinking of Fraser treating him like a piece of evidence, when he hears knocking on his front door.
"This better be good," he grumbles to himself as he pulls on a pair of jeans and wipes himself off with a towel. //Fraser was about to make like I'm a giant lollipop, so somebody better have fuckin' *died* by the time I open the door.//
Ray doesn't even ask who it is before swinging the door open. He actually gets his mouth ready to make the pissy remark he composed between the bedroom and the living room when he realizes who's interrupted his fun.
Unruffled, as always. Calm, as ever. Gorgeous, like there's no tomorrow. Looking at him like he did that day in the crypt, during the Ellery stakeout, when Ray stepped around the angel statue to find him just standing there. Tiny, just-barely smile. Eyes genuinely twinkling. When he speaks, his voice has the same tone of playful softness Ray so vividly remembers.