hh_mirror | Open RP: Ray and Fraser fall into the common room.

Well, that answered that, Fraser thought, and that was probably going to be his last coherent thought for the night; the moment Ray's tongue touched him the world went blurred and white-hot, and the only thing he could think was Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, over and over, not the way he usually said it to get his attention but like a mantra, a poem. "Ray," he moaned, a single stanza. His hands had fallen to the sheets when Ray had moved away, but one lifted again, twisting through the soft blonde spikes.

Oh God, it felt so good to have something like this again. To be able to enjoy this again. Every nerve was awake, every inch of him alive and aware of Ray's presence and desperately wanting more. Fraser knew that even his iron control wasn't going to last long like this, and for the first time in ages he just didn't care. Ray had always been able to make him lose it anyway -- he was one of the only people who could -- and this was much nicer than another fight. Much nicer.

Score. Win! Hey, I think he likes it! Hey Mikey! Ray just grins to himself and butts his head up into Fraser's hand. Stroking is very very welcome, oh yes, and twisting and touching. It'd been years since he'd been around a guy, but really he's got the parts and tackle pretty much down to a science. Y'know, he knew what he liked and it was always a damn fine start.

He wrapped his fingers around the base of Fraser's cock and gave it another lick or two, swirling his tongue around the head before finally getting to the good bit, taking it into his mouth with a leisurely bob of his head. Any other time he's impatient as hell. This? This could go on for hours.

It really couldn't, and if Ray tried he was going to have one frustrated Mountie on his hands, but right now Fraser was gone. He hadn't realized it would be this good; either Ray had more experience than he thought, or a secretly amazing memory. Or maybe it was just that all the talking he did had had a positive effect -- in which case Fraser could only hope that years of Inuit stories had paid off in kind. Whatever it was, he was finding his mind thoroughly blown.

He struggled to keep still, something which was easy on an eleven-day stakeout but apparently incredibly difficult with Ray between his legs. The slow pace was really kind of maddening, and it would be so easy to rock up into that wet heat, to grab Ray's head and pull him down; but the last thing in the world he wanted was to hurt Ray, and that worry kept him just barely in check. Still, his fingers tightened in Ray's hair, his free hand fisting in the sheets. He moaned again, his breaths coming ragged and deep, shuddering in his chest.

Probably bad to mention to Fraser that Ray remembered how to do this thanks in part to the ladies who had obliged him in the last few years. Heh. Probably very bad.

To be honest, he was going slow in part because he wanted to make Fraser snap -- man, that control can only last so long, right? -- and, well, in part because this was seriously Unfamiliar Territory and he was damn sure he didn't know how to, y'know, do everything. He pulled back with a wet pop as his fingers took over, stroking a little faster now.

"Good?" The question was entirely teasing, and his head dropped down to tongue the sensitive skin low on his stomach, the crease where body met thigh. Oo, was he starting to sweat? Score again! He tilted his head to bite and suck a little mark on the inside of Fraser's thigh before moving back up again.

Fraser made a little sound of dismay as Ray pulled away, leaning his weight onto his elbow so he could halfway sit up and look at him. Was he--? He hissed out in pleasure as Ray nipped at his thigh, biting the inside of lip, but his eyes narrowed warily.

Sliding his hand lower on Ray's head, he gripped tight and pulled, hauling him upwards. "Ray," he growled softly, his eyes locked on the detective's, "I think you might be teasing me." And by 'think,' he meant that he knew full well that was what was going on. That was going to have to stop, of course. "That's not buddies," he murmured, dipping down to suck hard at a spot along his collarbone.

He shifted to lie back again, his hand wrapping around the one Ray had on him, pushing, urging it to move faster. No more teasing -- not from Ray, at least. Now, to get him back... Fraser licked at the delicate skin beneath Ray's jaw, the hand in his hair sliding down to his chest, rubbing over a nipple. "Ray," he breathed into his ear, almost a whimper -- he was guessing he'd like that.

... did he just get manhandled? Oh man. Ray kept a leg deliberately cocked so he could rub the bulge in his jeans against Fraser's hip, just a nice little rock. "Fraser. Do I look like a man who'd be teasing you?" Which, y'know, the answer was entirely yes, but whatever. He got a growl and that meant as far as he was concerned? He'd won. Ray won, bwahah.

That's not... that's not buddies? Ray suppressed a sudden burst of ~~giggles~~ laughter only barely and barked out an amused sound again. Hell but he'd gotten Fraser in a state. He let him take over control of the strokes, fingers sliding faster. Everytime -- anytime -- Fraser said his name, he rocked harder against his hip. Hell. He shoulda gotten naked too. His jeans felt tighter'n usual to the twelve-trillionth degree.

Fraser was going to assume that question was rhetorical because, one, Ray very much looked like a man who would be teasing him, with that cocky grin of his; and two, Fraser was a little preoccupied at the moment. The moaning had started out as a way to get Ray's attention, but they quickly became entirely real, his breath hitching in his throat at every movement of their joined hands, of Ray's hips against his.

Yes, he decided, the jeans most definitely needed to come off. The material was rough on his sensitized skin, and he wanted to feel Ray, to touch him the way Ray was touching him. He let Ray take back over, quickly undoing the fastenings, pushing his jeans and boxers over his narrow hips. Ray was going to have to take care of the rest, but at least now he could touch him, a freedom he eagerly took advantage of.

Oh hell. Oh hell hell hell damn fuck. Fraser'd gotten un-distracted enough to get his hands all over Ray, and they were all over Ray. His hand stuttered in its stroking, and he tried to lift and kick and get his jeans down over his feet and away, away to the unimportant space outside the bed.

He made a completely incoherant sound and dropped his forehead onto Fraser's shoulder. "That's so freakin' good," he added. "You're so freakin' good." Danger, Will Robinson. Any barrier between what Ray thinks and what he says has been breeched. Babble ensues. "I got so many plans, Fraser. Things I'm gonna do with you..."

The banter and the teasing had been downright frustrating, but this particular brand of Ray-chatter was completely different. This made him go hot all over -- he'd imagined making Ray moan, but he had never imagined making him lose control like this. It brought him dangerously close to losing it himself. He rocked up into Ray's hand and shuddered at the throb of pleasure that went through him, pressing his lips to his neck, his jaw, anywhere he could find. "Don't stop," he pleaded against his skin. "Tell me."

He was close, he could feel it, but he wanted Ray with him. This was what he'd been waiting for: all that intense, live-wired energy that made up Ray Kowalski alive because of him, focused on him. He wrapped his hand around him and began to stroke quickly, trying to mimic Ray's movements (minus all the teasing from before). "Ray, please." He found his mouth and kissed him heatedly, murmuring against his lips. "Tell me everything."

"Going to get tangled up, touch parts 'a you you forgot you had." He was only too glad to oblige, words just spilling out of him, sometimes making less sense than they could. He sucked in a breath so he could manage a string of chatter, propped up on his elbow just enough so he could move. "Want to get you just like this, get all over you, and just ride you, kiss you 'til ya can't breathe."

His body gives an involuntary shudder, top to bottom, and he sets his teeth in Fraser's shoulder for a second, talking with hot bursts of breath against his skin. "Want you all done up in your uniform, zip open, doing me. Gonna get you alone and get my tongue in your mouth and hand down your pants, and not let you go 'til someone finds us."

He says more, but what it is is lost; his mouth is sealed over Fraser's and his hand is frantic now, wanting very badly for Fraser to let go.

Fraser tried to hold on -- just a little more, just a little longer -- but there was no blocking out the images that sprang to mind and that was more than he could take. Ray's voice, his fingers, his lips destroyed whatever last shreds of control Fraser had in him, and he came with a muffled cry, the sound muted by the fervent kiss he pressed to Ray's mouth.

Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray. There was no one else in the world: it was them and this bed and if he died right now he didn't think Heaven itself could be better than this moment. He clutched to Ray desperately, his hips bucking, driving against Ray's hand as his climax rocked him. Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray. He didn't even realize he was saying it aloud until he started to come down again, shuddering, gasping for breath. "Oh, God, Ray."

Ray wasn't nearly so on edge, and it's a damn good thing, too, because that voice of Fraser's would set a dead man's skin skinging. Mm. He was still dragging lazy kisses along Fraser's throat as he came down, nothing overstimulating. Just a soft press of lips, and another, and again. "Some day," he promises to both himself and Fraser, "I am gonna get you to say a dirty word."

"Mm..." He sighed, stretching out beneath Ray, tracing his fingers in absent circles over his hip. "Doubtful," he replied with a grin. "But you're certainly welcome to try." Especially if 'trying' meant some of the things Ray had just been talking about... Fraser rumbled a low sound of pleasure and tipped Ray's face up, kissing him lightly.

It took him a moment for his mind to clear, but then he realized with a slight pang of guilt that Ray was still hard. Oh, dear. That would never do. He cleared his throat, pushing lightly on Ray's shoulder. "Ray? Would you mind lying on your back?" he asked, as politely as if they weren't naked and in the middle of doing assorted inappropriate things to each other.

"Mind?" Ray actually laughs, at that, and kisses Fraser one more time before rolling over onto his back on the other side of the bed. "He asks if I'd mind," he remarks to the ceiling, silly grin on his face. He wipes a hand on the bedsheet before lacing his fingers behind his head, smirking up at Fraser. "You're such a freak, Fraser." He loves the freakiness.

"Yes, Ray," Fraser replied mildly. He was going to assume Ray meant it as a compliment this time. He shifted to sit beside him, leaning over him, though he didn't do anything but look at first. Ray's clothes had been gotten off in the heat of the moment; this was the first chance Fraser had really gotten to look at him, and he wanted to take full advantage of the opportunity.

God, but Ray was stunning. Absolutely stunning, stretched out below him like this. And his. Fraser smiled and lifted a hand to trail lightly over Ray's stomach, following the path with his mouth in slow, soft, wet kisses.

Okay, nobody looks at Ray Kowalski like that. They size him up to guess if they can kick his ass, or if he's worth while or just some pansy. And they give him that 'what the hell, dude' look when he's off on some tangent. But... even Stella'd mostly give him that amused and exhasperated look. She learned him by repetition and rote, not by concentration.

Fraser was... god, so different.

He mumbled something slurred about Mounties stealing his moves as his eyes half-close, slitted just enough to keep them from rolling b ack in his head.

Fraser ignored the comment, although it was mostly true. This was... not something he had done before, for all the strange things he had put in his mouth over the years. He was definitely planning on taking at least a few of his cues from what Ray had been doing earlier -- at least, what he had noticed through the haze of 'more please' and 'oh God yes.'

Fraser took his time, not out of a desire to tease but simply to get his bearings, to make sure he was going to do this okay. Inexperienced as he was, he wanted to make sure this was as good for Ray as it had been for him. He kissed his way slowly down his stomach, lavishing attention to the area around his navel, then down to the sharp crease of his hipbone. His hands slid down to stroke his thighs, tracing thoughtful patterns along the insides as his mouth wandered.

Actually, it was probably a good thing he'd come first. Now, he could focus his attention entirely on Ray, and focus he did: he took note of everything, taste and scent and feel, the way he moved beneath him and when he did, just what he might do to make Ray writhe and sweat and break into that stream of chatter again. Finally, when he thought he'd catalogued the whole of Ray's stomach -- he wasn't done exploring by a long shot, but he felt perhaps he'd made Ray wait long enough -- he dipped his head and carefully, tentatively touched his tongue to the head of Ray's cock.

There were odd little spots, dips or scars, where Ray's skin was so, so sensitive. A kiss there and Ray sucked in air like he couldn't breathe; a touch and he made a little sound, almost complaining but absolutely not. He just had this complex network of little things, ticklish spots and tattoos, wounds of all kinds and the usual suspects.

He was already quite wound up, and by the time Fraser was done he'd been sweating for a goodly number of minutes. The lazy slouch, hands behind his head, that had only lasted a bare few moments before one hand came down to touch the side of Fraser's head, guide him right to the center of a spot that made him moan. And then the other hand came down to fist in the sheets, needing something to grip as Fraser kept up that wonderful inexorable trip downward. He'd been mostly quiet, fixated on watching through his half-closed eyes, but when Fraser finally went through the goods, his eyes snapped shut. "Son of a bitch," he said, with a hitch of delight in his voice like the Bears, Bulls, Redwings and Cubs just all won the pennant and he won the lottery.

He let Ray guide him quite willingly, taking more of those quiet mental notes, memorizing him like a map. There was another tattoo on Ray's hip, he saw, which he was going to explore in great detail later on -- he wondered if there were others, too. He would find each one, learn them as if they were on his own body, he knew, but that would come later.

When Ray's hand knit in the sheets, Fraser moved to cover it with his own, clutching it tight, his eyes lifting to Ray's face with a small, crooked smile. This was his, this was all his; it was still hard to believe. Impossible, nearly. Returning his focus to the task at hand, he moved between Ray's legs and wrapped his other hand around him, taking him into his mouth, his tongue running experimentally up and then down again, swirling the way Ray's had on him. His movements were still slow for now, but as he grew more sure of himself they picked up speed.

Ray's hand slid over of it's own accord, and tightened around Fraser's offered grip. Holy hell, this time Fraser really was killin' him. He was just going to collapse from the inside out. Spontaneously combust.

He didn't have half the self-control Fraser did, so it was a damn good thing Fraser had a hand on him or he'd have bucked six inches off the bed. Ray hadn't had a dry spell, but he had had a dry spell of folks that thought he mattered, really. This wasn't a drunken grope. This wasn't meaningless one-time. This was first time. The mental dam broke again. "Fraser... shit, Fraser, do it again... gonna do it again and again, right? So much." His free hand came up and wrapped around a spoke in the headboard.

"God, touch me, yeah. Big hands..." his sentences were breaking up with moans.

Although Fraser was still tired out, Ray's moaning sent a shiver down his spine. No one had ever wanted him like this -- oh, he knew there were girls who tried to flirt with him, he wasn't that naive, but he doubted they really wanted him. No one had ever asked him something like that before; no one had ever bothered to make sure he would be here again. Even if it was only something said in the heat of the moment, it made something tighten in his chest.

He laced his fingers with Ray's and squeezed his hand tightly, humming a soft sound of promise. Spurred on by his pleas, by the warmth they filled him with, he picked up his pace, his fingers stroking, seeking, his tongue lathing over him. There would be time enough for exploration later, for everything else he wanted. Now, all he wanted was to give Ray everything that Ray had given him.

Ray kept up that babble, not really concious of what he was saying, not a moment later when Fraser had just worked him over and worked him up so good... "Fraser.... on the edge man..." you give a guy warning. 'cos that's buddies. "You're going to make me come..."

He makes a soft, keening sound as he tries to hold off for one more second, give Fraser a chance to pull away, before he moans out Fraser's name one more time and jerks hard, stomach clenched as he just lets go.

Possibly his brain just melted.

Fraser was grateful for the warning, but he didn't pull away. Honestly -- he had tasted everything from horsemeat to toxic waste. Did Ray really think he would mind this? He wanted this. He was thrilled when Ray moaned out his name, when he jerked beneath him.

He closed his eyes and surpressed another shiver, swallowing hard, then drew back with a sigh of absolute contentment. Continuing to stroke Ray slowly, gently as he came back down, he pressed soft kisses to his hips and stomach, murmuring his name against his skin.

... whoa shit. That? Was possibly the hottest thing he'd ever felt. No. Seriously. Ever. That sigh, and then his name? He slowly unclenched his hand from the headboard, and then used their laced-together fingers to tug Fraser upwards. "Nnn, 'mere," he insisted, almost echoing the way he'd started this.

He wrapped his free arm around Fraser and leaned in so they could murmur into each other's ears. "So, y'know those sick days of yours?" He curled closer. "Mebbe more than one."

"Mmmhmm," he agreed absently, stretching out against him with another blissed-out sigh. He slipped his arm around behind them and started toying with Ray's hair. "I have seventy-five left," he reminded him, grinning lazily. "I think that should give us ample time." Oh, he would start to get restless if he didn't work, but right now? The idea of spending seventy-five days in a bedroom with Ray sounded like the best one he'd ever had. Realistically, he thought maybe two. That was a good start.

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