Transportation Challenge: Promises to Keep

[chesamus.livejournal.com]

A sequel to Miles to Go at 2153 words written for Justacat because she said I had to :-> Strange sense of priorities and it's 16 minutes late by Central Time, but I’m spending the weekend with the boys so I don’t care! And it may be stretching the parameters a bit, but it does happen in a car...



Ray was, I believe, indulging himself in a form of retaliatory behavior I had only previously witnessed in Diefenbaker when his desire for donuts had not been met. Yes, it had been a week since we were last able to indulge ourselves in the physical expression of our love for each other, but we were traveling at the expense of the Canadian government. I would have been derelict in my duties as an officer of the law (and as a representative of a government which preached fiscal responsibility) to engage in that sort of activity while on official business.

Naturally Ray did not agree with me. I tried to reassure him with nonverbal clues, but I’m afraid he misinterpreted them as teasing. As though I would, as if I knew how. Still, it made things tense between us, a situation exacerbated by the flight delays and Ray’s incomprehensible attitude toward the airline employees.

It was hardly the fault of the stewardess that she spilled Ray’s first drink when she moved so swiftly to retrieve the napkin I dropped. And I do not for one minute believe her two coworkers intentionally ignored Ray’s request for a second or third drink and a towel while conducting their search for a pillow for my neck. Indeed, it was quite observant of them to notice the small move I had made to stretch it.

Of course, I should have consulted with Ray about the tickets before offering them to that poor man trying to get home to his mother. And the delay caused by the ferret escaping it’s cardboard shipping crate was unavoidable, although had the airline the slightest acquaintance with the physical characteristics of ferrets, particularly their teeth, it could have been prevented. I’m certain now that I’ve informed them of that potential hazard they will reassess their handling methods for these animals in the future.

And the lost luggage, well that does happen more frequently than it should - I know that I spend a great deal of time in the baggage claim offices at most airports I visit. I have always found the staff most helpful, particularly in their willingness to deliver the missing bag once it is located. Even the stewardesses were kind enough to volunteer.

So really, I don’t know why Ray complains so much about traveling or airlines. And as for teasing me to the point of acting in such an inappropriate fashion while on a public highway, forcing me to pull into the rest stop simply because he has no patience and no control - well, he shall get what he deserves, I promised him that. Perhaps not what he expects, but I know I shall enjoy it...

********
We had dropped the rental off at O’Hare (again, meeting with polite and efficient service - really, I'm past understanding why Ray growled at that young woman, simply because she was so insistent on helping with our luggage). Even though it had been more than six hours since Ray’s last drink, I obtained possession of the car keys. I know he does not enjoy others driving his beloved car, but it really was for the best - even the slightest hint of alcohol in a person’s system makes them unfit to drive, in my opinion. And Ray, not to be indiscreet, but after he, well, afterwards, he is not always as coherent as one could wish.

He didn’t agree with me.

“Benton, so help me God, if you don’t give me the keys I’ll take a cab home - alone!”

“You won’t get far in a cab, Ray.”

“You be amazed at how far I can go in a cab, Fraser.” I honestly cannot explain why it took me two years to act on that smile. Still, it served me well in this instance that I had a history of resisting it’s appeal.

“Not without your wallet.” I held it up in my right hand - the car keys were in my left.

“You picked my pocket? I can’t believe you picked my pocket! that’s not buddies, Fraser. That is so--”

“I found it on the floor of the rental car.”

“Oh, really? And just how might that have happened?”

“It fell out of your pocket when you - your jeans, they were - you had--” Oh dear, he was smiling again.

“Come on, Ben, give me the keys so we can go home. You made a promise, remember?” He held out his hand, wiggled his fingers at me.

“I’m driving, Ray.” And slid the wallet into my pocket.

I honestly cannot explain what happened next. I had opened the back door to toss in the small carryall just as Ray reached in for the keys. Perhaps training does become instinct after a time, or perhaps my subconscious finally exerted control over the situation. In any case, one moment Ray had a hand on my arm, the next moment I had the hand and its mate behind Ray’s back. Where the cuffs came from, I can’t explain either. I carry a pair on my Sam Browne, but I have no memory of removing them, only of the satisfying snick they made closing on Ray’s wrists. I pushed my hips up tight against his. It was most satisfying to feel him shudder in response.

I’ve had years of practice hiding my feelings, controlling my emotions, and all of it was for naught. The sight of Ray flat against the car, legs splayed so wantonly (when had I kicked them apart?), face lit with strange shadows cast by the barely visible overhead lights of the parking facility shattered something inside me. I pushed Ray into the back seat.

“Benton Fraser, get me the hell out of these cuffs, or I swear to God I will kick you in the head!” I dropped myself on top of him. One should never underestimate the advantage of classic American cars. The amount of legroom in the back seat makes them quite functional.

“I don’t think so, Ray. Besides, it would be most disadvantageous to make an attempt from your current position.” Indeed, it would take a marked degree of flexibility, and while Ray is a graceful man, he is not a contortionist. I reached down with one hand and loosened his right shoe. He didn’t fight me - much.

“What you got going on under that hat of yours, Benton? You planning on ravishing me in the parking garage?”

“I’m considering it as an option.”

I studied the situation carefully while I removed my stetson and tossed it onto the front seat. The other shoe was a bit problematic. I decided to leave it on. After all, I only needed one leg free. It took less time to unfasten his jeans, most likely because he had not refastened the top button after the incident at the rest stop. It was a matter of moments to push his clothing down far enough to liberate his right leg.

Gazing at Ray positioned so on the seat, I can only say he looked like an invitation to sin. His nipples were pushing against his shirt as though straining for air. His hair had never looked so - so extravagantly undomesticated.

“You’re gonna do it, aren’t you? You’re gonna fuck me right here in the garage.”

“Yes, Ray, I believe I am.”

“Cuz if you are, there’s lube in that bag you tossed in ahead of me.” His voice was surprisingly calm and I didn’t want calm. I brought my mouth to his chest and bit a nipple through his shirt.

“Damn, Ben, do that again.” I did, then worked on freeing enough of me from my uniform. There was no hope of getting the tunic off - I didn’t have the time or patience to make the attempt. I merely pushed it as much out of the way as possible and focused on my trousers. The design did not lend itself to this type of activity, but Ray and I had learned how to work around such limitations.

Normally Ray enjoys watching me watch him prepare himself, but with his hands secured I would have to do all the preparations this time. A shame really. Ray has marvelous hands, and seeing his fingers, slick with lubricant, as they slide inside him, knowing they are paving the way for me...

And that is when he started speaking, a verbal barrage of directives and pleadings, using language he knew I could not resist. “You’re thinking about my fingers greasing up my ass, aren’t you, Ben?”

“Oh yes, Ray.”

“Yeah, you have that look in your eye. Get the lube, Fraser, put it on your fingers and slide them in.”

I kneeled up slightly. It was awkward, this position with one knee on the floor and the other on the seat, but it allowed me to use both hands. I found the tube by feel, flipped the cap open with one hand and squeezed some out onto my fingers. Too much possibly, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I slid the first finger in.

“Oh, yeah, in and out with that thing, Ben, in and out nice and slow. God, put another one in!”

I followed his directions, adding a second finger, then a third. “Damn, yeah. Fuck me with your fingers, Ben, Stretch me out for your cock. Get me ready for your cock!”

“Ray--”

“Come on Ben do it, use your fingers, twist ‘em inside me.” He moaned his pleasure. “Man, I just love that, love the feel of you. Doesn’t matter if it’s your dick, or your fingers or your tongue - you just fit inside me. Jesus, yes! right there, Ben, right - fuck me!” He was bouncing his hips on the seat, drawing my fingers deeper inside him with every shift of his hips.

He looked stunning. I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t want him to stop speaking.

“Ray, I want to - I need--”

“You need to fuck me, Benton? You need to bury your dick inside me? I want it, Ben, I want it! Do it, do it!”

“Now Ray, now.” I quickly rubbed over my penis to coat it with lubricant. Somehow, Ray managed to shift, raise his leg over the back of the seat in front of him. He was spread wide open in front of me, my fingers still buried deep inside. I removed them slowly, then used them to guide me inside him.

I had to move. I shifted my body weight slightly forward to gain some purchase on the seat. I had no place to put my hands that would not put all my weight on Ray, nothing to brace against, no leverage. I had to move!

I withdrew, grabbed Ray by the shoulders, pulled him to an upright position on the seat, then lifted him above my lap. He wriggled, dropped down, took me inside him again. After some maneuvering, we came together as we should.

“God, Ben, I can feel all of you, all the way.” I ran my hands under his shirt along his spine and pulled him close. I used my legs to push my hips hard against him. “Ga-a-ah! Fuck, do that again, do that--”

He rocked against me as I pushed up. I pulled him tight against my chest, grabbed him by the hair and finally, finally kissed him. I could feel his groans against my lips, as he continued to move his hips. He was dancing on my lap to some rhythm only he knew. His tongue picked up the beat, taught mine to dance along side. Our moans filled the car.

I gave no thought to the sounds we were making, no thought to the consequences of discovery. My only concern was keeping the promise I had made 200 miles ago.

I let go one hand, lowered it to his lap. “Yeah, touch me, make me come. Rub it hard!”

He was so tight, so hard, so alive. “Ray, Ray, I’m - with you, Ray I want to-”

I’m ready, Ben, I’m ready, fill me up, Fill me!”

The spasms shook me, the car, possibly all of Chicago. I buried my mouth in his hair to muffle the sound of my cries, Ray almost deafened me when he screamed out his completion in my ear.

********
“You are a wild man, Benton,” Ray said as we made an attempt at moving without ruining yet another pair of uniform trousers.

“I - not like you Ray. I wish I could be as wild as you.” He loved me so freely, his words flowed about me. “Does it bother you, that I can’t say those things --”

“Nah. We’re a duet, remember. You have words for work, I have words for home.” He smiled yet again. "Love ya, Ben."

I refused to be so lost as to say the only word I needed for home was ‘Ray.’ I kissed him instead.

And I kept the car keys.