Wager

How much does this picture make you go *woobie*? This is what I think of whenever I think of "Odds."

Playing poker for air, how queer is that? It doesn't make any fucking sense, but the way Fraser says it makes Ray want to go along. He'd be a fool not to. Because Fraser doesn't loosen up like this real easy. He doesn't make anything real easy for Ray. Makes Ray work for stuff, plays it close to the vest - sort of like Denny Scarpa - and Ray thinks that should probably make him nervous. Like maybe there's a whole other level of game-playing going on here.

For all that Fraser makes out like he's Mr. Upfront-and-On-the-Level - he's not. Ray knows that much for sure because the truth is, when it comes right down to it, Fraser doesn't bluff very well. You can tell, when he goes - well, poker-faced, actually - when he draws that mask down, that something is up, something he doesn't want Ray or anyone at all to see. And hiding it takes up all his energy, every bit of it, nothing left for anything else. So suddenly it's all blank face, proper tone, big-ass words because for Fraser, that's the fallback position.

Times like this, though, it's different. It's an obvious put-on, and one he knows Ray can see past no problem. It's like Fraser's playing with Ray, and Ray's not talking about cards. It's the ignorant-Canadian front: crowded house, my ass, Ray thinks. Guy knows the whole freakin' history of poker, but all of a sudden he can't remember it's full house?

Yeah, right, Fraser.

Ray's playing his part, too, is being exasperated by the ploy, is more than willing to go along with it. Ray likes this, likes that there are things he can see about Fraser, and things Fraser can see about him, that no one else even bothers to look for.

It's just comfortable between them, and maybe that has something to do with why they stayed here, still in their dressed-up clothes, while the rest of the guys went out for beers. Not like they weren't doing manly-type stuff too - poker is manly, it's a damn manly game. And he sort of likes this thing between the two of them, just the two of them, all loosened up and relaxing together - well, Ray is loosened up: sleeves rolled up, tie loose, he's loose. Fraser's still pretty buttoned up, but that doesn't matter too much - Ray can see beyond that, see him, the real Fraser not a whole lot of people get to see.

And besides, Fraser's put-together in a whole different way than usual - that white shirt, with the tie and the suspenders and the arm-bands, so put-together it's hard for Ray to look at him for long and - yeah. That gets to Ray. Good thing they're playing for air, because Ray needs some. Needs to focus here, needs to concentrate on their manly camaraderie.

"I'll accept an I.O.U.," Fraser says, and then he runs his tongue across his lower lip, which he's been doing kind of a lot tonight. Maybe the licking has something to do with why Ray can't seem to win a single damn hand. He's a little distracted.

"An I.O.U. on air?" Ray asks, and if his voice comes out a little harsh, it's mostly because he's thinking of all the ways he could pay that I.O.U. off.

"I want you to honor your wager." Man, that sounds like a challenge if Ray ever heard one. But the thing is, Fraser's still playing up the uptight Mountie game, knowing that Ray'll get it. And Ray does get it, oh yeah, he gets it big time, but it's whole different game he wants to play with Fraser. He tries real hard to just focus here, just be a good friend and play the game right, play the right game.

"That's stupid," he says, and even he can't figure out if it's meant for Fraser or for himself. Fraser just glances up at him from his cards, and he smiles like Ray just saluted the Queen or something, his tongue swiping his lip real quick. And Ray is getting hard here, sitting so close to Fraser, his hands getting sweaty thinking about how it would feel if Fraser were licking Ray's lower lip, or upper lip, or hey, inside his mouth, maybe.

Ray takes a deep breath, to clear his head, but he gets instead a whiff of Fraser instead, who smells like aftershave, like really good, expensive aftershave.

"Being honorable isn't stupid, Ray." Fraser's looking at him and Ray is trying to scowl like he's still annoyed. Doesn't work, he guesses, because Fraser asks, "Are you all right, Ray? You look a little flushed."

"Jesus, Fraser, I'm fine." Ray throws the cards down, runs his hands through his hair. Dammit, this isn't right, this is just so not right, that he wants to get Fraser all rumpled and messy, wants to just push this, push up against Fraser and see what happens. And it's really, really not good that it's starting to seem like not such a bad idea. Just like those stupid old cartoons, like he's got someone sitting on his shoulder, whispering in his ear, come on, just try it, see what happens.

Fraser just looks at him for a second before saying, mildly, "All right, Ray, I was merely concerned."

"Yeah, I know, Fraser, sorry, sorry." Ray sighs. Get it together, here. "Let's get out of here. I'll let you take me out with your winnings. Come on, I owe you air, I might as well owe you dinner, too."

He shoves away from the desk and turns around to put his jacket on, because god, he's really hard now, really fucking hard just from thinking about it, just from thinking about what might happen if he did press up against Fraser, got to feel how hot and maybe how hard Fraser might be too...

He actually jumps when Fraser touches his shoulder, jumps and turns around. His heart is pounding and he's short on air again - man, he's never gonna make good on his debt at this rate.

Fraser's looking at him sort of funny - funny because he's not confused, like Ray thought he might be, or blank, with that expressionless-mask deal. He's not even still teasing Ray by with the naive Mountie act. The look he's giving Ray is just - huh - real, like it's just Fraser here, not fronting or anything. Real, and real close, and it feels like Ray's throat is closing up, like Fraser is making him - what did he say, what was that? - honor his damn wager, just by looking at him, stealing all the air he has.

Ray gets impossibly harder, is dizzy with it, with how his dick has taken over his brain, his dick, and thoughts of Fraser's tongue, and oh god, he really, really shouldn't be thinking of those two things together, no, nope, uh-uh, so not a good idea. He's already shaking with it, shaking with trying to hold himself together, but it's maybe too late, because his hand is suddenly clenched on Fraser's arm, right over that arm-band, the crisp white shirt feeling cool under his damp palm.

Fraser's not surprised. He doesn't even blink. Ray realizes that, dammit, he was right all along - Fraser's just teasing him, has been teasing him, with the innocent routine, with the ignorant routine. He's not ignorant, or innocent - he knows everything. This game they play - the back-and-forth, reading between the lines thing - Ray somehow missed a step, didn't look close enough. And Fraser not only knows what Ray's been thinking - it seems like he's been thinking the exact same thing.

Ray tries to breathe, tries to swallow. "You -" he manages to get out before his voice abandons him again.

Fraser drops his eyes, is watching Ray's mouth. God. "I thought that - perhaps -" Fraser's voice sounds a little breathless, too, like maybe he really needs that air Ray owes him. "That is - I wager -" He bends his head towards Ray, and Ray jerks away, stumbles back a step.

Fraser looks startled. "Ray? I -"

Ray holds his hand up. "Don't. Not, uh - not here, all right?" He can't even look at Fraser; if he looks at him, he's going to be kissing him, if he kisses him, he's gonna do him in the damn bullpen and that's just - "Not here."

Fraser lifts his chin, and Ray practically sees the realization of where they are and what they're doing hitting him. "Understood." He backs up carefully, sweeps his tuxedo jacket off the back of the chair, slips it on. Ray is still just standing there, hands clenched at his sides, trying to pull himself together. Fraser turns and looks at him, his eyes running down his body to where Ray is all of a sudden certain that his hard dick is really fucking obvious in the nice suit pants. Fraser jerks his gaze back up to his face, and Ray blushes, sudden and hot.

It's okay, though, because Fraser is blushing, too, and he pulls his eyes away from Ray, steps back and gestures for him to go ahead. "Shall we, ah -"

Ray gives himself a shake - get it together - and nods, not trusting his voice. Get out of the station, out to the car, it'll be all right, just keep moving, it'll be fine. Because he's an adult, he's a grown-up, not a sex-crazed teenager, and this is him and Fraser. They're together all the damn time and he manages to keep his hands to himself. So he can do this now, no problem. He can handle this.

Only it turns out he can't handle this, because after he unlocks Fraser's door, walks carefully around the GTO and slides in, closing the door behind him, he just keeps sliding, right on over to Fraser's side of the car. It's not even like he made a conscious decision - he's just there, sort of humping Fraser up against the door as he slips his tongue into Fraser's mouth.

And Fraser opens up, lets him in, tastes really damn good. Ray can't stop groaning against Fraser's mouth, can't stop moving up against him. And Fraser is right there with him, right there with him, sprawled beneath him, his hands clenched on the back of Ray's suit jacket, loose and rumpled just the way Ray was imagining him earlier. Ray's got his thigh between Fraser's legs, is half on, half off the seat. But that's fine, that's so damn fine, because he can feel Fraser's dick hard against his thigh, and Fraser is moving his hips, and they're in the damn car, in the damn station parking lot and Ray thinks they should maybe - maybe -

He tears his mouth from Fraser's, and the two of them are gasping into each other's faces. Sharing air; are they even yet, he wonders? "Fraser - you - dammit, you fucking knew..."

And Fraser's nodding slow, looking at him from so close, nodding yes. "I thought - maybe, and then you were there, at the consulate, and you were -"

Jealous. Really fucking jealous, and not even trying to hide it. Ray didn't even realize that till now. Convinced himself he was just mad at Scarpa for taking advantage of Fraser. That those swift, hot jolts were anger, not - envy. He flushes now, in the dark of the car, and kisses Fraser again hotly to hide it.

Fraser pulls away this time. "Upset, you were upset, and then -"

The skylight, he jumped through the freaking skylight for Fraser. But dammit, it wasn't just him; even then, it wasn't just him. Fraser knew he'd be there, up above, somehow knew that Ray would be where he needed to be and do what he needed to do. That connection between them is so bright and sharp sometimes and he knows, it's not just him.

Fraser's just looking at him, and god, they gotta get out of here, get home, get somewhere alone, now. He takes a breath and starts to pull back, really, honest, he does. But Fraser's eyes get real dark, and he follows Ray back, pushes at Ray, presses him down, and goes for his zipper. Fraser's undoing his pants quick, quick, and he looks up at Ray for just a second, runs that tongue across his bottom lip again, then his hand is on Ray's cock. And a moment later, his mouth is on Ray's cock.

It's hot, so damn hot, sliding over his dick, hot, deep wetness and Ray is clutching at Fraser's shoulders, thrusting up. His head is pressed back against the door, his legs are spread as wide as he can get them, making room for Fraser to settle down between them and just suck and lick and god, god, it doesn't get any better than this, can't, can't possibly. He owes Fraser big-time for this, more than air or dinner, owes him his soul here, and that's okay, that's greatness...

Fraser's hand are firm on his hips, his head moving up and down real smooth in his lap, and Ray's gasping, and gasping again. He shuts his eyes tight, and gives it up, losing himself in that slick, smooth heat. He groans, and comes so hard he's shaking with it, his body arching up against Fraser. Coming in Fraser's damn mouth, and that thought makes him shake even harder.

Fraser licks his cock one last time, like he's savoring the taste of it, then looks up at Ray, his lips still wet. "God, Ray," he says, and his voice sounds wobbly, and real, and that gets to Ray more than anything else so far.

"Yeah," he breathes, as Fraser pulls back. Ray struggles to sit up, pull himself together, but once again finds himself moving forward into Fraser's space, can't stop himself from running his tongue over Fraser's lips, then between, tasting himself in Fraser's mouth. Fraser moves, his hard-on pressing against Ray's hip, and Ray moves his hand down to rest against the front of Fraser's pants. Fraser gives a soft moan.

"Listen," Ray says, resting his forehead against Fraser's. "You come back to my apartment with me, okay?" He strokes his hand over Fraser's erection, and Fraser gasps. Ray bites his lip, holding back a grin. "I wanna, uh, honor my wager."

"I think I was the one who wagered..." Fraser says.

"Yeah, but," Ray blows lightly against his lips. "I still owe you some air."

Fraser swallowed, his eyes bright. "Yes. There is, ah, that."

"And we are in the parking lot here."

Fraser's eyes go wide and startled, like he'd actually forgotten that. "Good point."

Ray grins. He scoots back to his own side of the car, taking a quick look around the (thankfully) dark and quiet parking lot. He glances over at Fraser as he starts the car. Yeah, get out of here, go home, get Fraser into his bed. All real good plans, and he'd lay down odds that Fraser would agree. That's an easy bet, and one he's pretty damn sure he's gonna win.

~end~

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