Fraser and Ray had done it before. They had done it everywhere. They had done it in Ray's car, parked in the back alley behind the Consulate (and that had been dumb, that had been really dumb and dangerous, but there had been no stopping it at the time. Not one chance of stopping it, not once Fraser had his hands down Ray's pants and his mouth against Ray's neck). They had done it in the foyer of the Consulate the very next night (Ray had shown up to talk, just to talk, he didn't know where they stood, he didn't want this to get weird. He didn't have very much to lose in his life. He couldn't lose Fraser), and then they had done it behind the closed doors of the disused office where Fraser slept (once Fraser had, gasping, pulled Ray up from his knees, Ray still swallowing, and kissed him, and kissed him, and then tugged him down the hall).

They had done it on Ray's couch in his living room (with the lights off, the TV flickering in the background, and Fraser panting, "Yes, God, Ray, yes," against the side of Ray's face as Ray sprawled on top of him, helplessly kissing Fraser's cheek, his eye, his neck). They had done it in the supply closet at the precinct (which was dumber than the alley, even, so fucking dumb that Ray's face got hot just thinking about the sheer number of people who could have at any point walked in, none of whom he'd ever, ever want to see his cock).

They'd done it any time they'd managed to get even a second alone, and for two adult, single guys, you wouldn't think that would be complicated, you'd think that would be a lot of times, but just - well, they didn't fuck around at work much, because that made things tough, made it really tough to concentrate on police-type stuff when you are thinking about getting jerked off in the men's room (something which Fraser had done, just that one time, but holy God, holy God, had it been hot. So seriously hot, crowded into that one stall and not even the handicapped one at that, Fraser's hot, hot hand cupped around the back of Ray's neck, both of them with their heads bent looking down at Fraser's huge, competent hand sliding and stroking, jerking Ray off so good and hot that it had only taken Ray about a minute and a half to come, leaning forward to bite against Fraser's shoulder to muffle the moan. He figured he was the only one who had really noticed the teeth marks there for the rest of the day).

But that's all they had had, really, these quick, desperate, panting sessions of the most mind-blowing sex he'd ever imagined. And it was greatness, it was seriously wonderful, he wasn't complaining. And neither was Fraser, who was going around looking happier and just more relaxed than Ray had ever seen him in pretty much ever. But it wasn't like either of them had that much free time in the world, at least not together. And what with Fraser not having his own place and Ray working a million hours a week, and neither of them ever, ever having the same days off, they'd been doing that quick, gasping, hot hot sex thing for about three weeks now and never once gotten any closer to a bed than, say, Ray's couch. Or the backseat of the GTO that one time (when he had parked to drop Fraser off, just to drop him off, that was all, but Fraser was kissing him and kissing him, and finally Ray shoved Fraser away, somehow shakily got the car into drive, swung around to park in the deeper shadows under a broken streetlight and dragged Fraser by the shirt over into the backseat with him).

Never a bed. Never a planned, on purpose thing, not entirely, not really.

Though that made it sound bad. It wasn't like it was nothing; it wasn't like it was just sex. They'd talked, they had - well, sort of. Afterwards. Fraser's breath steadying out against Ray's neck, Fraser's head heavy on his shoulder as they lay at an awkward angle on his couch. "Well, that was - " Ray blinked up into the dim light, the TV still flickering in the background. He wasn't sure what that was.

"Amazing," Fraser mumbled against his neck. "That was amazing." He pulled his head up, gave Ray a sloppy, off-center kiss on the lips. "Is this - are you - ?" Fraser had a sleepy, worried tone to his voice, and Ray dragged his hand through Fraser's hair, pressed his lips against Fraser's forehead, as he said, "It is, yeah. And - I am. I'm good. This is - we're good, Fraser, right?"

"Oh God, yes," Fraser muttered fervently against Ray's chest, and Ray felt his lips spread into a stupid grin. They were good, they were on the same page here.

Between times, when they weren't (naked. Hot. Sweaty. Biting.) doing it, it was just-normal. They were just them, and that wasn't a bad thing to be at all. As a matter of fact (and okay, it wasn't until after they had already been fucking for a week or so that Ray realized that what they did in between times - what they had been doing, all along - was, in point of fact, dating), it wasn't any different from the way it had been. They still talked (about cases, about the guys at the station, about Turnbull's latest fiasco, about hockey and music and beer), they still hung out more than, maybe, most partners did, and they still touched. (That hadn't stopped. Ray had figured it would maybe stop, but no, it hadn't, and so long as he didn't over-think things, it wasn't strange or awkward or any different than it had been. Fraser's hand on his back, his fingers brushing the nape of Ray's neck over his t-shirt. Ray's arm slung around Fraser's shoulders, tugging him close as they headed out of the station. Fraser beckoning him over, making him lean close, close, close to him over the desk as he muttered some detail of the case hotly in Ray's ear.)

Ray tried not to over-think things, because it wasn't any different, this was how they were. (Gay.) No one in the station even turned their head at all the touching (gay), the ducking into the supply closet (gay), the going to the bathroom together (gay, gay, gay).

Had Ray just - missed it? Had he turned gay without paying attention? Fuck, had he always been gay without even noticing?

Jeez, you'd think his mom, at least, would have said something.

It just - he'd always liked guys, okay? That wasn't anything new or different. It's just that, there was liking guys, and keeping it below the radar, not making it any big (gay) thing. And then there was sharing a bathroom stall with your partner and no one blinking an eye.

It should have been weird. Ray spent a lot of time telling himself that. It should have been weird, but it just - wasn't.

It was him and Fraser, and you know what? They were good at being them, good at, yeah, setting them up and knocking them down, and if suddenly they found a outlet for all that build-up between them (the outlet being sex in Ray's car, in the consulate, in Ray's foyer and on Ray's couch and once even in the bathroom of the bar that, until this point, had been just the location of beer and hockey games), well, that wasn't that bad, was it? No one noticed, no one cared. It didn't change anything, it didn't make anything different. They were just as close (all right, gay) as they had been before.

And they weren't ignoring it, no way they could ignore it, just - you couldn't, you just couldn't, talk about sex 24-7, even if you were a guy, a very, very tough, manly-type guy. It was good, it was easy, to fall back into their regular patterns of partnership, easy to let Fraser to be the one to work things out through percentages and polls and logic, and for Ray himself to be the one to work things out through luck and paranoia and instinct. To let Fraser do the typing thing and Ray do the coffee thing. To let Fraser to be the one to lead the way leaping off roofs and cars and boats, and have Ray be the one cursing and calling in back-up and then jumping in right after him because he was just that stupid.

It was a pattern they had and it hadn't changed since day one, and it worked - sort of. Mostly. Fraser was sometimes just plain wrong, and Ray wasn't going to lie about that. Ray was wrong too, sometimes - less often than Fraser, but, whatever, there it was. They went back and forth sometimes, fighting like some white-trash couple in a trailer park, but no one blinked a freaking eye at that, either, and Ray figured, Christ, if you had the reputation, might as well live it.

That might have been the night he blew Fraser in the hallway outside his apartment, under the burned-out light bulb. After Fraser had been picking a fight with him, and Ray figured the only way to get him to shut the hell up was to suck his brains out through his cock. Which worked mostly - though, Fraser being Fraser, he never shut up, just quieted down, panting, "Ray, just - you -" as Ray sucked him off best as he knew how and hoped like hell old Mrs. Milner had gone to bed early.

So, yeah. Ray had come to terms with the whole gay thing, mostly.

That wasn't the big deal. Gay, sure, and the fact that nobody was apparently noticing anything different? Well, fuck it, one less thing to worry about. It was all good, it really was, and then there was the conference in Philly. It was this whole thing about Sharing Across International Justice Systems or whatever, and Welsh figured it fit them to a T. (And besides, Welsh had a guy who managed to track down one case of Jack Daniels Special Reserve in the States and was willing to give him a deal on it besides, so long as he didn't have to worry about transportation issues.) So Ray got a speech from Welsh behind closed doors about two birds, one stone, and long story short, he and Fraser were given the bum's rush out the door to Philly to a conference that started at the ass-crack of dawn Saturday morning.

The drive down wasn't bad at all. They started out pretty early in the morning. ("Five?" suggested Fraser. Ray rolled his eyes. "Nine," he said firmly. In the end, they settled on seven.)

Ray wouldn't give up the wheel the whole way. ("Stubborn," Fraser said the third time he offered to take the wheel, and Ray refused, gulping more coffee and not taking his eyes off the road. "Obdurate, even."

Ray had the window open a crack, the cool spring air coming in keeping him alert. "What's obdurate mean?"

Fraser pressed his lips together and refused to look at Ray. "Something akin to annoying and willful."

Ray grinned. "Like me."

"Like you," Fraser agreed, and kept silent, looking out the window for the next ten miles being, himself, a stubborn son of a bitch.)

They stopped twice for gas and once for lunch and got to the hotel in record time, though it was still a long-ass drive, and they were both stiff and cranky and tired. Checked in, dragged themselves and their bags up to the room. Ray had done pretty okay about not thinking about it till then, but when the door swung closed heavily behind them, his fingers twitched for a cigarette.

Sure, there were two beds - two pretty big beds, looked like queen-sized. Ray rubbed the back of his neck. Flowered bedspreads (because yeah, this wasn't gay enough as it was), pretty clean room, it was fine. Only this was like - what did they do? Ray glanced at Fraser, who was setting his rucksack down with care, neatly in the corner of the room, then sitting down on the edge of the bed, bending to untie his boots. Was it too planned out? Or was Fraser going to treat this like a work thing? Maybe it was like a work thing. Maybe they were supposed to pretend like nothing had been going on, each go to sleep in their own bed and all that.

Which didn't make any sense at all. Blowjobs in the station bathroom were okay, and hand jobs in the supply closet, and breathing down the back of Ray's neck at his desk (so that Ray had gotten hard, right there, and could feel his face getting hot, and then Fraser had just walked away, smiling a little, the bastard. Leaving Ray with a hard-on and some pretty steamy thoughts that made sure he couldn't get up from his desk for a good twenty minutes), that was all well and good, but taking advantage of the bed and privacy deal would suddenly be wrong? Fuck that. That was ridiculous. They'd been doing this for ages - the fact that Ray knew what Fraser tasted like was way more intimate than a bed and a locked door.

He watched as Fraser got to his feet, and seeing Fraser standing there in his stocking feet was suddenly more than he could stand. "Hey," he said, and it came out way too loud in the silent room. He tossed his gym bag onto the bed on the right. "This isn't half bad, huh?"

Fraser looked at one bed, then at the other, then at Ray. He cleared his throat. "The room is, yes, quite nice, Ray." He rubbed his thumb over his eyebrow and looked at the beds again.

"Right," said Ray. This was stupid. He shrugged out of his jacket, slung it over the desk chair, and planted himself in front of Fraser. "Room. Locked door. Bed." He looked over his shoulder. "Beds, even." He turned back to Fraser. "So make out with me."

Fraser blinked, and his lips curved into a small smile. "That would seem to be a good use of our time and resources."

Ray bounced a little on the balls of his feet. See? They could do this. This wasn't that different at all. He stepped forward into Fraser's space, crowding him back against the desk. "Well?"

Fraser leaned back against the desk, looking amused. He brought his hand up, ran his fingers over Ray's eyebrow, down his cheek, and Ray shivered a little. That was - weirdly hot. He leaned forward, closing his eyes, expecting Fraser to kiss him now, but instead he felt Fraser's head bend forward, his lips press against Ray's neck right above the collar of his t-shirt. "What -" Ray started, then Fraser's hands moved, running lightly over Ray's hips and nudging his t-shirt up so Fraser's fingers could rest right at the skin above his jeans.

Christ, it was like all of Ray's senses were centered on those fingers, the spots where they were resting hotly and all of that running right to his cock, which was starting to get interested in the proceedings. "Fraser," Ray managed, and Fraser, his mouth still against Ray's neck, breathed out.

"God." Ray pushed himself forward, snug up against Fraser's body, and Fraser, for all that he was moving slowly, was hard, totally hard, under those layers of jeans and flannel and starched shorts. Hard, and breathing heavy, too, and he was waiting. Ray could feel how tense he was with waiting. "Fraser, just - " Ray tilted his head and kissed Fraser with all the awkward desperation he was feeling. It was a relief just to get his tongue in Fraser's mouth. This was what they did, this was what he knew.

And it was good, it was always so fucking good with Fraser. Hot and easy and Fraser's hands had (finally) moved to clutch at his back. He pulled Fraser forward, getting really into it. How many times had he thought of having a bed to do this on, when he was falling to his sore knees to suck Fraser's cock, or hoping the shelves they were fucking up against would hold, or cursing the sofa cushions as they slid underneath them? He slid his fingers through the belt loops on Fraser's jeans and tugged him forward.

"Ray." Fraser's voice was rough and his eyes were vaguely unfocused as he let Ray pull him forward and push him down on the bed. "Ray," he said again, and Ray stood for a second, looking down at Fraser sprawled back on the bed, before bending down and tugging off his motorcycle boots.

"Jeez, Fraser," he said breathlessly, and climbed on top of him. No worries. No one was going to walk in, they didn't have to listen or be careful. He didn't have to be quiet, and Fraser had apparently already caught on to that, because as Ray rocked up against him with a leg between his thighs, Fraser moaned, throaty and loud. He didn't care, it didn't matter, and Ray felt excited, felt it building up inside him. He wanted to do everything, he wanted to do it all at once, and at the same time he never wanted to stop kissing Fraser. He pushed forward, kept kissing him, trying to unbutton Fraser's shirt at the same time, and finally Fraser breathed out a sigh of exasperation and pushed Ray onto his back.

Ray lay there, panting, as Fraser sat up, stripped out of his shirt, then started working on his jeans. "Yeah," Ray said breathlessly. "Good plan." He pulled off his t-shirt in one movement, then awkwardly arched back to unbutton his pants. "Smart man, Frase, I just -" He turned, then, to look at Fraser, make it funny, you know, two sex-crazed men, but Fraser had stretched out next to him, in just those white boxers. He could see all of Fraser, so much of Fraser, and there wasn't any rush, there wasn't any risk. All there was was Fraser, there beside him, stripped down and hard and a wet spot forming on the front of his boxers, and just-

Ray rolled on top of Fraser again, and he wasn't thinking, couldn't even think, just kissed him and humped up against him. Somewhere in the back of his head he could hear Fraser making small, moaning noises in the back of his throat, and when Ray opened his eyes, Fraser had his hands back on the bed, above his head, sprawled back, but tense, waiting, still, looking at Ray with a sort of expectation.

And Ray, propped there above Fraser, froze for a second, knowing he was panting down at Fraser with his mouth open, not able to do anything but that. Fraser just looked at him, soft and silent, and Ray slid his hands up Fraser's arms as Fraser watched him. Ray got his hands up to Fraser's wrists and - still unsure, still looking for a sign from Fraser that he was guessing correctly - closed his hands.

Fraser shut his eyes. This was a side of Fraser Ray hadn't seen before. He thought he knew everything about Fraser or at least enough to figure him out. They had the friendship thing and then they had the fucking thing and then they had both those things, and it worked, it totally did. Ray had figured once you started fucking this guy you'd been friends with forever, then you knew him pretty damn well, you knew him better than anybody, you knew everything about him.

Ray tightened his hands around Fraser's wrists, and Fraser moaned, rocked up against him. Ray hadn't known this. He really hadn't known this at all. He hadn't expected this at all.

He took a breath and pressed Fraser's wrists against the bed, then leaned forward and kissed him helplessly. Turning Fraser on was turning him on like crazy. He still had his jeans on, open in the front, but he couldn't stop - couldn't let go of Fraser's wrists, because Fraser liked this, Fraser really liked this. Ray felt flustered, surprised, out of his league. He knew what he was doing, of course he did, but - every other time it was quick, and quiet. This was - they had a bed, they had hours, he had Fraser pinned down and he just didn't even -

He peered down at Fraser and Fraser's eyes fluttered open. "You like this," Ray said, and he sounded half-crazy, his voice hoarse. He was hard now, seriously hard, and he couldn't, could not, stop pressing his hips forward.

Fraser's eyes were glazed. "Yes," he breathed. "Ray, just -"

And Ray didn't quite know what Fraser wanted him to do, but he was a man with ideas, okay, and he moved his head down, kissing Fraser's ear. Fraser let out a sharp giggle and pulled his head away. Ray grinned to himself and moved down to Fraser's neck. Fraser's giggle stopped with an abrupt breath, and Ray licked, then sucked, then sucked harder. Harder. Because Fraser was breathing in short, choppy breaths now, and his entire body was tense, and he was shoving his cock up against Ray, rubbing it right alongside of Ray's own, and fucking Christ, this was hot.

Ray finally, slowly, pulled his mouth off of Fraser's neck, and hell, that was going to leave a mark. "Sorry," he muttered softly, and reluctantly let go of Fraser's wrists. He shifted further down the bed, working his way down Fraser's body.

"No," Fraser said, breathlessly. "No, that's - quite all right, I -"

He stopped as Ray took the edge of Fraser's cotton boxers between his teeth and tugged on them, looking up Fraser's body with what he hoped was a gleam in his eyes.

Fraser breathed out a laugh, and Ray released the boxers, tucked his fingers into the waistband. "Off," he said seriously. "Now."

"Yes," said Fraser immediately, moving to shove them down. "You, too," he added, nodding at Ray's opened jeans, and Ray grinned, and rolled onto his back to shove his jeans and shorts down and why was the act of getting totally undressed with someone so separate and awkward? Put 'em in a closet together, and they were fine, shoving aside just enough clothing to get to the important parts, and always, always desperate for more skin.

Now they were laying out every inch of skin to be seen, and it felt sort of - strange. Uncomfortable. Unnatural.

Okay, maybe Ray'd been having too much supply-closet sex.

He kicked his jeans off and looked over at Fraser to see if he was feeling any of this awkwardness. Fraser was lying there, staring at Ray, his hand wrapped around his own cock, stroking it slowly.

Ray swallowed, suddenly unable to breathe very well. Did Fraser know what that sight was doing to him? He had to, yeah?

But Fraser seemed barely aware of it. His eyes were roaming all over Ray's body like he was the best thing he'd ever seen. Like he hadn't had sex in days, when in reality, Ray himself had given him a blowjob not 18 hours ago in the backseat of the GTO. But Fraser looked - hungry.

Ray flushed, feeling suddenly very, very naked. Sure, he was, actually, naked, but with Fraser looking at him like that, it felt kind of really obvious. Kind of really naked. Which was stupid. Because he'd had his mouth all over Fraser; he'd had his mouth everywhere. This wasn't a brand-new thing between them.

Fraser moved his hand on his cock - Ray couldn't stop looking at that, kept moving his eyes up to Fraser's, then helplessly back down to his cock - and Ray took a breath and pushed himself forward. He put one hand on the side of Fraser's face and kissed him slowly; just that, just kissed him. Fraser breathed out a sigh, and okay, Ray could do this, this was just fine. This was them.

"Fraser, c'mere," he murmured, and kept kissing Fraser, making out with him, slow, slow. This was easy now, Fraser pressing his hips up against him, making small noises in his throat. Fraser was moving his hands up now, pushing his fingers into Ray's hair, and Ray groaned. Tiny things, stupid things were getting to him here, tonight, on this hotel room bed with the cheap bedspread that was probably giving him rugburn on his knees. So much skin for him to touch, but it was Fraser's fingers in his hair that was making his head spin.

Kissing was good, it was fucking wonderful, and then it wasn't enough, wasn't anywhere near enough. Fraser felt it too - Fraser lurched up under him and flipped them - like you see in movies, but not quite as smooth as you see in movies. Close, though, and Fraser was the one who got Ray's awkwardly flailing elbow in his side. But all he said was "Oof," and then he was kissing Ray again.

Stretched back on the bed, Ray ran his hands down Fraser's back, and when he got to his ass, he didn't stop. He slid his fingers right on down, right between Fraser's cheeks, and Fraser gave this small gasp and his lips went slack against Ray's. Ray breathed in through his nose, and stroked, just a little, and Fraser gave a long, low moan.

"Fraser," Ray said, but Fraser just buried his head against Ray's shoulder, pushing his hips back.

"Fraser," Ray said more insistently, and moved his fingers away. He squeezed Fraser's ass, and gave him a shove. "Slide off, yeah?"

Fraser said, "Hmm?" His eyes looked glazed, and Ray pushed harder. Fraser blinked, then got with the program. He slid off and lay next to Ray, on his stomach. The muscles in his back were tense, and he had his head to the side, waiting.

Ray licked his lips, and moved. Lying there between Fraser's spread thighs, it was like Ray couldn't even remember being this close to someone, this freaking intimate. He had been - he had been with Fraser, even - but this was just them, open, honest, not hiding from anyone or anything at all. Nothing to be quick about, nothing to be careful about, just them.

It was freaking him out.

He took a deep breath and went for it the way Fraser did - tongue first. Nothing said Ray didn't learn by example, and while he was never going to have Fraser's enthusiasm for all things lickable, this was one thing he had experience in that he'd bet Fraser hadn't. He ran his tongue - slow, they had time, there was way, way too much time to think about all of this - over the curve of Fraser's ass. Fraser had curves, Fraser had great curves; hell, in some places, Fraser had better curves than Stella, even. Fraser's ass was a sight to behold, and all laid out there in front of Ray, it should have been intimidating. But Ray wanted that; he wanted Fraser's ass. Hadn't realized, till he was here, till he was right here, between Fraser's legs, his tongue tracing over it, how bad he'd been wanting Fraser's ass.

It was zen, almost, how things slowed down here. Ray was still not quite comfortable - this whole thing felt too planned, too set up, like there were cameras somewhere maybe and someone curiously watching to see how gay cops spent the city's money - but Ray pushed all that away, because he had his tongue on Fraser's soft, sweet ass, and Fraser had his head buried in the pillow, his hands tight on the bedspread, his thighs tense against Ray's arms.

Ray slid one hand down Fraser's hip. "Fraser," he said, asking, or warning, or something. But Fraser only made a small noise into the pillow, and Ray's cock was hard against the covers - no matter how scared or nervous Ray was right now, his cock knew what he wanted. And Ray took another deep, deep breath, and ran his tongue over the curve of Fraser's ass, right down in between the cheeks.

Fraser took a short, sharp breath, and Ray knew, he knew, how amazing this felt the first time. Because you didn't expect it. You didn't know. You had no fucking idea.

He moved his tongue right there, and Fraser was saying something, his voice desperate, slurred with sex, "Ray, you don't have - you shouldn't - I -" Then he moaned, this long, soft moan, desperate like he couldn't help himself. Like he had no choice. And Ray felt desperate, too, dragged along by this, wanting this so badly. He licked, soft and guided and he couldn't stop, he just wanted more.

Fraser was gasping now, gasping like there wasn't air in the room, and Ray felt anxious, like he should stop, say "shh" or "quiet" or bring this down a notch. But it hit him, all in a rush, that there was nothing they had to be careful about. Not here, not now. Nothing they couldn't do. And he was hardly breathing at all as he pressed his tongue inside Fraser.

Fraser was shaking under him, shaking hard, and gasping, his hips moving under Ray's hands. Ray held him down tight, and moved his tongue.

"Ray - I - yes, Ray -" Fraser's whole body was tense under Ray's hands, under Ray's mouth, and his moans filled the room, and it didn't matter, it didn't matter at all, except for how much it was turning Ray on to hear this, feel this, taste this. He was going to make Fraser come like this, he wanted to make Fraser come like this. He found a rhythm, a slow, soft, steady rhythm, and he could feel it, he could feel how he was driving Fraser towards climax.

Fraser's words had fallen into a jumble of incoherent moans, and finally he gasped out, "Ray," and shuddered all over.

Slowly Ray pulled back, wiping the back of his wrist over his mouth. Jesus. That was hot. That was really fucking hot. This whole thing, this whole naked/bed/privacy thing, was just - yeah, something he could get used to real easy. "Better not," he murmured to himself, but fuck it, for now, he was going to revel in it.

Fraser was still spread bonelessly in front of him, the smooth length of his body laid out in front of Ray. "Fraser," Ray said, scooting forward a little between Fraser's legs. "Christ." He was so hard, here, he was so damn hard, and he had one hand on Fraser's round ass, the other hand wrapped around his own cock. "Fraser," he said again.

Fraser moved just a little, his face still mostly buried in the blanket. "Ray," he said thickly, slowly, and Ray's cock gave a throb in his hand. "Ray, fuck me."

"Jesus Christ." Ray let himself fall forward, across Fraser's back, and nudged his cock between the cheeks of Fraser's ass, against that damp heat. "Yeah. I - yeah, okay."

Ray's jeans were still flung, one leg inside out, across the foot of the bed, and Ray grabbed them, fumbled out the tube and condoms he'd grabbed last minute (better safe than sorry, and yeah, he offered his thanks up to God right now that he didn't have to be sorry).

"Ray," Fraser said again, and his voice was still blurry, but urgent, now, and he had his eyes open, was looking at Ray over his shoulder. "Now. Do it."

"Yeah, Fraser, yeah, I'm doing it, give me a second, will you?" Ray was sweating and he could hardly see straight, he was so turned on. He finally got the damn condom on and lubed, his hand shaking, spilling half of it onto Fraser's ass, but that was good, that was fine. Perfect. He wanted - he couldn't - should he - "Fraser?" he panted, uncertainly, but he couldn't stop rocking his hips forward, his cock sliding slick against Fraser's ass.

Fraser's response was to push up onto his knees. Jesus Christ. Ray groaned, and grabbed Fraser's hips, and Jesus - Jesus. He was pressing inside slowly, and Fraser just held himself there, just let him, and if that wasn't the hottest thing since - well, since he had his tongue up Fraser's ass, then Ray didn't know what was. He pressed his sweaty forehead against Fraser's back and gasped, open-mouthed, against Fraser's skin. "I - Fraser, you - "

"Yes." Fraser's voice sounded dim, hazy, like he was far away, like he was lost in this, deep inside himself. "Yes."

He held onto Fraser tight, and got lost in it, in sliding and out, in the rhythm of Fraser's moans. He held on, somehow, close, so damn close, trembling on the edge of coming, and yet not going over, not quite, not yet, not yet.

Plastered against Fraser's back - he'd driven Fraser forward, and he'd collapsed against the bed - Ray drove into him again and again. Fraser's hands were clenching and unclenching the blankets, and his hair was damp with sweat, his ass so hot and tight around Ray's cock, and he was panting desperately.

Ray didn't want to ever stop fucking Fraser. He thought dizzily, sinking in again, that he wanted to stay here forever, in this bland hotel room, with its cheap comforter and plastic lamp, and be perfectly happy, content - God, he was so hard - just to be here, fucking Fraser's ass forever.

"Ray," whispered Fraser, and reached back, tugged one of Ray's hands forward. He wrapped their fingers together, pressed their hands against the spread. "Ray," he said again, urgently, and yeah, that was it, that was - Ray held on so tight, and pressed his lips against the damp skin of Fraser's shoulder, and came, shuddering all over.

He lay panting against Fraser's back, keeping his hand wrapped around Fraser's as he caught his breath. "Frase," he mumbled, pressing a kiss to Fraser's shoulder and sighing deeply. "God, Fraser, that was -" Sex. Amazing, hot, mind-blowing sex. On a bed, being loud and sweaty and-athletic, and on a bed, and - "Yeah," he concluded.

Fraser laughed. "Agreed," he said. "It was most definitely-yes." He shifted underneath him, and both of them made a small noise as Ray slipped out. Ray blinked, and slid over to the side, feeling suddenly naked again, which was dumb. Stupid, because he'd just fucked Fraser silly, and that had been fine. He'd just had his tongue up Fraser's ass, and that had been fine, too.

He shook his head, and dealt with the condom, and when he turned back, Fraser was - yeah - grinning at him. Grinning like it was all okay, like this was just them. Just another part of that whole partners/Canadian/queer thing, and it was okay again.

Fraser's hair was all crazy, sticking up in the front in sweaty spikes, and one of his cheeks was red from where it had been pressed against the bed. He didn't look nervous, or scared, or even naked (though he was, and Ray wanted, at some point in the near future, to put his tongue on a lot more places on Fraser's body than just his ass. Though, yeah, the ass thing again would be good). He looked sleepy and sated and Ray realized they were just staring at each other like something out of a bad chick flick. He took a deep breath. "I'm hungry."

Fraser's mouth curved into a smile. "Shall we go get a burger?"

"That sounds like a good plan." Ray breathed easier; they were still them. He sat up. "I think I need a shower first."

"Perhaps." Fraser was still lying there on his stomach, cheek resting on his hands, watching Ray with a smile on his face.

Ray patted Fraser's ass. "You might need a shower, too, Frase."

"Mmm."

Fraser rolled over, and stretched. His cock was hard again. Ray licked his lips. "Maybe we should take a shower together. You know, to, uh, save time."

Fraser blinked at him slowly, his eyes soft and lidded. "Ah. That's a fine idea, Ray, and will have the additional benefit of conserving water."

"Right." Ray nodded several times, getting up and tugging at Fraser's hand to get him up. "Water-conserving-thing. That's just what I was thinking."

The shower didn't conserve very much water or time, what with Fraser teasing him so much with soapy hands and wet kisses under the hot water that it was a miracle neither one of them ended up with any broken bones. And as soon as Fraser stepped out of the tub Ray was right there, pushing Fraser against the tile wall, getting down on his knees, and blowing him right there.

Sure, there was a bed, but hell, this was for old time's sake.

~end~

---

Back to brooklinegirl's Due South Page