Transportation challenge

[sihayab.livejournal.com]

A smutty morsel for chickwriter, whose trip to San Antonio was more than a little fraught. My usual thanks go to kassrachel, without whom my writing would suck, if not blow.



Canoe Canoe?


Shifting on the canoe’s hard seat, Ray squinted at the sun, already dipping behind the trees, and lifted his pole and hook out of the water. The drowned worm looked disgusting, even worse than the ones in the bottom of tequila bottles. He let the hook fall back with a plunk, because, well, the worm wasn’t doing him any good. Now, if it had had tequila around it, instead of cold, slightly scummy pond water, that would be a different thing. But it didn’t, so it wasn’t.

“If you keep taking your hook out of the water, you’ll never catch anything.” Fraser spoke in his church voice, hushed and reverent. But he looked annoyed.

Ray swished his line through the water and stretched out his legs, his feet almost touching Fraser’s. “Doesn’t matter. You’ve caught enough to feed the five thousand.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That would be wasteful.” Fraser glanced over the side of the canoe at the net holding their, well, Fraser’s catch. “There’s enough for dinner for the two of us.”

“As long as you’re cleaning and cooking them.”

“Yes, Ray, I remember your caveat about meals.”

Ray nodded. If it couldn’t be opened with a can opener, he wasn’t cooking it. “Good.” He poked a floating branch with the tip of his pole. “How much longer are we staying out here?”

“Aren’t you enjoying yourself?” Fraser sounded a little disappointed. He looked around the lake – it was really a pond with pretensions, but Ray used to come here during high school, and they always called it a lake – and then met Ray’s eyes. “It’s a lovely spot.”

Not as lovely as Fraser, out here in the outdoors. But like the worm, that thought didn’t do him any good. He’d figured Fraser needed some time away from the city, being outside, being nature guy. Camping and fishing had happened to fit their schedule and budget. Ray shrugged. “Yeah, it’s okay. Fishing’s not really my thing.”

Fraser smiled that little, teasing smile that warmed Ray’s belly and made him wonder. “Fishing, or boats?”

“Boats are fine. Boats are good.” Ray stared at the reel of his fishing pole. Should he...

“Ray? Ray? Ray?”

Ray blinked. “Yeah? What’s the matter?”

“Are you well?” Fraser frowned. “You seemed distracted for a moment.”

Distracted. Ray snorted. Yeah, you could say that.

“What is it, Ray? Is there a problem?”

“Problem? Nah.”

“Are you certain?”

Oh, what the hell. He raised his eyes. “You kissed me in a boat.”

“I...” It was Fraser’s turn to drop his eyes. His ears were pink. Sunburn? Or was he blushing? “That was buddy breathing, Ray.”

“Maybe, but it was still a kiss.” Ray knew a kiss when he got one, underwater and half-drowned or not.

Fraser stared at the bottom of the canoe. “If it was, would it change anything?”

His ears turned pinker. Must be a blush. Please, God, let it be a blush.

Time to put up or shut up, Ray. He took a deep breath. “Wouldn’t change how I feel about you. But this time I’d kiss you back.”

Fraser’s eyes lifted, and his mouth made an oh shape, but he didn’t say anything.

Ray waited, and then waited some more. He tried not to fidget. What was that legal thingy? Silence implies consent? And if Fraser had hated the idea, Ray would know. He always knew when Fraser didn’t like something.

Ray let go of his fishing pole and knelt in the inch of muddy water at the bottom of the canoe, carefully inching forward until he was right in front of Fraser. Who was still holding his fishing rod and looking shell-shocked.

Cupping his hands over Fraser’s knees, Ray leaned forward. “I want to kiss you, Fraser. Without the whole running-out-of-air-going-to-die thing.”

A soft splash as the pole hit the water, then Fraser’s arms wrapped around Ray’s shoulders, and Fraser’s knees parted. Ray snaked his arms around Fraser’s waist and tilted his head and brought their lips together.

Better. So much better than a panicky underwater press of cold, slick lips.

Ray opened his mouth, coaxing Fraser’s open as well. A warm, wet tongue met his, hands slid from his shoulder into his hair and behind his neck, and Ray plastered himself against Fraser’s chest and...

Wow.

The little Mountie had come out to play.

So Ray rubbed his hard-on against Fraser’s and swallowed Fraser’s groan. Then groaned himself as Fraser ran his hands down Ray’s back and grabbed his ass, pulling him close.

The canoe rocked, and Fraser let go. He held the sides of the canoe until it balanced, then grabbed Ray again.

“Ray, I want...” His voice broke.

“Shh.” Ray nibbled Fraser’s jaw and stroked his back. “You can have whatever you want. Just name it and it’s yours, Frase.”

Fraser laughed, a dry little sound. “We’re in a canoe, Ray. Certain activities would be contraindicated on the grounds of safety.”

“Certain...” Ray swallowed hard as Fraser’s hands slid down to his ass again.

Fraser squeezed. “Activities.”

Oh, wow. Looked like Fraser wanted this, wanted him. Wanted the whole enchilada.

Good thing he did, too. But Ray wasn’t going to wait until they paddled across the lake and hiked back to the campsite. Not now, not when Fraser was warm and willing and right in front of him.

“Ten-four, good buddy. But until then...” He palmed Fraser’s hard-on, grinning as Fraser’s startled yelp morphed into a moan. Oh, yeah. He liked that sound: the moan, not the yelp.

His fingers squeezed Fraser’s dick, but the damned denim stopped him from really getting a grip on things. So...

Fumbling for a second with the zip, Ray got it down, making sure it didn’t catch on anything important, like Fraser. Ah, yeah. Nothing like a warm palm-full of hot Fraser.

From the noises he was making, Fraser seemed to like it, too. Ray kissed his way across Fraser’s cheek and back to his mouth, like some Homer Pigeon.

Fraser felt good: smooth and soft-over-hard. Fraser tasted good: sweet, with just a hint of spice. Fraser even sounded good: kind of desperate, but really enjoying himself, too.

Ray kept his strokes smooth, even, so they wouldn’t end up in the water, and because he wanted to keep Fraser on the boil for as long as possible. Cruel? Nah.

A twist of his wrist, and Fraser’s whimper turned into a groan. Ray grinned.

Well, maybe a little.

“Ray.” Fraser panted, his hips rocking on the canoe seat. “If you don’t hurry up, I’ll...”

“Gotcha.” Ray tightened his grip and sped up the pace until Fraser gasped and warmth spilled over Ray’s hand.

Fraser breathed heavily onto Ray’s neck for a minute or two, before kissing his way back to Ray’s mouth. Ray pressed his aching dick against Fraser’s shin. Jeez, it wouldn’t take him long.

“Ray?”

“Mmmmm?” Humping, yeah. Not as good as fucking, but yeah, right there...

“Let me.”

Those were probably the only words that would’ve made him pause, twisting enough so that Fraser could unzip his fly and pull out...

Ray’s head fell back and his hands clenched the front of Fraser’s shirt as Fraser wrapped his hand around Ray’s dick and gave an experimental squeeze. Yeah. Oh, fuckin’ yeah.

He made noises that would’ve embarrassed him any other time, but Fraser understood him without words. Fraser knew that a gasp and a moan meant “do that again,” and a catch of breath right after a whimper meant “too much,” and a long, drawn out groan meant “I’m coming, hold me tight.”

And Fraser held him as Ray shuddered his way through his climax, and held him as Ray gasped for air, and still held him as Ray pressed sloppy, uncoordinated kisses to his neck and ear.

Big hands smoothed over Ray’s back and arms. “Let’s go back to the campsite. I’d rather not worry about tipping over while we’re making love.”

“Good idea.” Ray cleared his throat; his voice sounded like he’d been screaming. Or moaning a lot. He kissed Fraser quickly, then started creeping back to the front of the canoe. “Fraser, you and me, we’re like American beer.”

“Pardon?”

Ray carefully turned to face the bow and picked up his paddle. “We’re fucking close to water.”

Fraser chuckled. “Very amusing, Ray. Except that we didn’t actually...”

Yeah, they didn’t. But as soon as they were back on land, Ray would take care of that. Just watch.

The canoe glided forward as Fraser paddled, Ray adding a stroke occasionally. They landed on the tiny bit of sandy bank, and scrambled out. Fraser bent over to retrieve the net of fish, and Ray quickly adjusted himself. Jeez, what a sight, and that was with jeans on! If Ray had anything to say about it, Fraser would be out of those jeans asap.

Fraser straightened, and Ray slipped his arms around Fraser’s waist. “Actually, you’re Canadian beer,” Ray whispered in his ear. “Lots of flavor, strong, and pure.”

Fraser shivered as Ray rubbed his growing dick against Fraser’s ass. “Campsite, Ray?”

“Campsite, Fraser.” Ray slid his hands down Fraser’s belly, gliding across the bulge in the front of his jeans. “I’ve had enough of boats and water. I want to do you on dry land for once.”

“For more than once, I hope.” Fraser sounded breathless.

Ray smiled and nibbled his way along Fraser’s neck. “Oh, yeah, Fraser. For lots more. I can promise that.”