brooklinegirl@rcn.com
NC-17
4/2004
Originally started as a response to the Porn Challenge over at ds Flashfic. Self-indulgent making-out-on-the-couch porn
Written especially for byob_kenobi, who is going through a hell of a lot right now. I figured judicious applications of porn were called for. I meant it to be dirty porn, Byob, but they got all in love on me. Sorry...
Huge thanks to my lovely and talented betas SnowFlake (who got me off the holodeck *g*) and Lynnmonster (who came to my rescue for a last-minute beta, and to whom I still owe a birthday fic, and she'll get it, as soon as I finish messing with the damn transitions). Special thanks to Heuradys, who came up with the title to this without knowing a damn thing about it. She's magic.
It's Due South, it's Fraser/Kowalski, it's NC-17...
It's all about the sex, isn't it? I guess that's what it looks like, the way Fraser and me go at it. I have to make myself stop kissing him in order to pull my t-shirt off. It sticks to my sweaty skin and I guess Fraser is as impatient as me because suddenly his hands are there, helping me. We're just desperate for it. We got no excuse, except that it took so damn long for us to figure out where we stood. Before I figured out that he wanted me like I wanted him. But even so, it's not like that time was wasted. Even if we never got here (and that would have been a damn shame, but still…), being friends like that with Fraser was really something. I knew it then, when it was going on, and I know it now, when we're way more than friends. Wouldn't give up that time for anything, but I gotta say…
I'm really glad we found this. Found our way here. And it's not just the sex. I mean, god, don't get me wrong, the sex is great, it's greatness, but it's more than that. I love this. Christ, it sort of blows my mind, how much I love this - feels like a too much, too soon thing. I don't want to be lying my ass off here the way I was with Stella in the beginning. I don't have to; I know that. Fraser's here because he wants to be here, because he wants to be with me, and I like that, I like that a lot. That's cool, that's beyond cool, and fuck, I just love this.
"Ray." Fraser's voice is harsh with need, deeper than usual, and I'm brought abruptly back to the present. He's slouched back on the couch under me. His legs are spread wide and he's got his hands, those fucking big hands, holding onto my hips and tugging me down towards him. He's looking up at me, his hair a mess and his eyes shiny with need, and I love seeing him like this, seeing him open and fucking corrupted like this.
He lost his jacket the second we walked in the door, and I got his tie off, his shirt open, managed to push it half off his shoulders before I got distracted by his neck. I guess I kind of lost track of things after that.
"Tell me what you want, Fraser." It's supposed to come out as a tease, supposed to be funny, but I guess my voice ain't up to cooperating. Because all it really sounds like is fucking desperate and wanting. Like him telling me what he wants will pretty much cover what I want here. Which is, I guess, kinda true. Kinda really true. Kinda like, okay, Frase, I'll do anything, anything you want, because just being here with you, with your hands on me anywhere, is enough. More than enough. Hell, it's more than I ever really thought would ever happen.
I don’t know how I got here, but I don't ever want to leave, okay?
Fraser likes that desperate voice, I think. 'Cause his hands tighten up on my hips, and he takes this kind of hitching breath, like there's not enough air in the room. Then he's yanking me down closer, kissing me hard, fierce, dirty. I shudder against him. Then he moves his hands to my shoulders, and pulls back just enough so that I can't get close enough to kiss him.
I feel needy, whiney. I actually reach out with my tongue, trying to lick at his lips, but his hands hold me back. My chest is tight. He's right; there's not enough air here. My hands are on him, desperate too, clutching at his shoulders, his arms, wanting more, more, more. I can feel his breath warm against my skin and I think I whimper.
He's got his eyes open, looking at me, all heated and wanting. "I want…" He stops, swallows, runs his hands down my sides, slides his fingers around the edge of my jeans, dipping in, not far enough, when he gets to the back. "I want you to…" Now he drops his hands back to my hips and pull me towards him, and I can't help it, I moan shamelessly. "Here on the couch…" His voice is breathless and he licks his lips. "Until…"
I know what he means. He doesn’t have to say it. Until we can’t take it anymore. Until it’s too much for us. Look at us, making out on the couch like we’re teenagers, like we can’t even hold back enough to make it to the bedroom. Making out like it’s the backseat of the car and all we want is to be closer. Trying to fucking crawl inside each other.
He licks me, my lips, my neck, like he's just tasting me. And this is good, so fucking good, but all I want right now is to kiss him, press my tongue in his mouth. He’s holding me back like it’s too much, like just me kissing him would be enough to push him over the edge. Maybe he's right. Because I want to push him like that, send him spiraling.
I want to find out if he feels as goddamn lost in this as I do.
Feels like it should scare me, how hard all of this hit me, how this became so much, so fast. It feels like it's all of a sudden, but it's been building for years, for fucking years. And what happened was that finally, I stopped trying to guess, stopped trying to read between all the lines he gave me. I just sort of lost it, snapped, and went with what I do best and just fucking kissed him already. I was terrified out of my mind, but felt half-crazy all the damn time already because of wondering, because of wanting and not having. So when I kissed him, I gave him everything, every damn thing I had. Everything I'd been scared of and hoped for at the same time went into that kiss.
Because I think that somewhere, I thought it was going to be my one and only chance to kiss him. That I was wanting too much, asking too much. Kept seeing that look Stella used to give me, that mixture of pity and disgust, when I'd try to push things with her, to convince her we were as good together as I wanted us to be. And here I was, pushing this partnership thing - best fucking partner I ever had - and friendship thing way the fuck past the point of no return. I didn't want to be friends anymore.
I was so scared that to me that first kiss tasted like gunmetal. It felt more like drowning than the kiss on the Henry Allen.
And Fraser had stood there frozen for just a couple seconds - the longest damn couple seconds of my entire life - and then he breathed out hot against my lips: "Finally."
Just that - just "finally." I swear, I wanted to pop him one. But then - it was like he melted into me. And it was easy, it was so fucking easy, and I had to laugh, because god, god, so much time we could have spent doing this. So much fucking time.
It wasn't wasted time, though. Nope. Because man, like I said, it's all about the sex right now, and those years of waiting add up to the best fucking foreplay there ever was. And so we've been doing this - can't stop doing this, can't stop touching and tasting and kissing and fucking each other. I keep waiting for it to balance out, but it's been building between us for so damn long. I guess we've got a lot of catching up to do.
All it takes is for him to brush against me and we end up here, clothes half-off on the couch. I know the bedroom is right fucking there, but I can't wait that long, and from the way he's looking at me, all flushed and his eyes so hot, and so turned on he can't even talk - how can you blame me?
I can only thank god that he's in the brown uniform, because it takes me way too damn long to get past all the belts and buttons and fucking hooks on the red uniform. Last time I ended up coming in my pants, it took so fucking long. But now, I've got his pants open, struggling to push 'em down, slide onto my knees on the floor, trying to get him to lift his hips up, nudge his pants down.
He's not helping, he's just watching me. Seeing him there, slouched, shirt all wrinkled, it's so fucking distracting. I groan as I fumble with my own pants. I know the second I get my hands on him, we'll be gone, just gone, because he'll start moaning, and that gets to me, that turns me on more than anything else, the sounds he makes, and the breathless way he says my name.
I reach for him, can't wait any longer to get my hands on his cock. His eyes go wide, like they do every time, like he just never, never expected anything could ever feel this fucking good. And when I stroke him - yeah, there he goes, his head tilts back as he moans deep in his throat. I lean forward, lick the line of throat that he's offered me, tasting salt and heat, and he says - I love when he talks dirty - "Fuck," and then he surges forward and pushes me down to the floor. He's pushing forward, shoving his pants down some more as he gets himself centered on me so he can thrust - oh fuck. Fucking hell. Jesusjesusjesus Christ, is that good, him stroking against me.
"Fuck - Fraser - fuck -" I want him inside me so damn bad, but there'll be time for that later, because now, it's easy; now, it's simple. Now he's over me and against me, his cock hot and hard against mine. I have my hands on his ass, I'm lifting my hips to meet his, moaning real loud. I can't really breathe, but that's okay, because - god - damn - just - a little - more - right there. And I'm coming, hard, coming all over us, between us, destroyed, he's destroying me. And I don't care, I'm good with that, I'm fucking great with that. Everything I need is right here, and he can do this, break me down like this, anytime at all.
He's still moving, driving his cock against my hip where it's slick with sweat and come, and he changes his angle a little, and shuts his eyes tight, and says, "God - I - Ray," and I get to watch his sweaty, fucked-up, beautiful face as he shatters into a million pieces and comes all over me.
And I can't stop myself from mouthing at his shoulder, as he shudders one last time, the whole length of his body, before he settles against me. I taste him again and again, and I think to myself, this is it, this is it, love you so fucking much.
I don't say it, not yet. It's like a secret we're both keeping, because I know he can hear it in my lips against his shoulder, like I can hear it in his head against my neck. Mine. Mine. Love you. Mine.
Man, we're good together. We are so fucking good.
~end~