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ds_flashfictionTitle: Louder Than Words
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
arrow00
Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Rating: NC-17
Wordount: 4,135
Notes: Many, many thanks to betasj_s_cavalcante and the_antichris. Any remaining errors are purely my own.
This is my first flash fic challenge entry, so apologies if the buttons are inadequate and the word count somewhat bloated.
Louder Than Words
Byarrow00
Fraser watched as Ray subdued the perpetrator by cuffing him roughly to the chain-link fence the man had just tried to escape over. Confident Ray had the situation in hand, Fraser turned and crouched by Suzette, who was shaking but seemed otherwise unharmed. He was in the process of unbuttoning his coat to offer it to her when a clank, rattle and darkly muttered curse had Fraser spinning back to see Ray clutching the collar of the man's jacket and drawing back his fist.
In one smooth motion, Fraser was holding Ray's wrist in a hard grip and wrapping his other arm around Ray's chest.
"Ray, Ray." Fraser felt Ray flex his arm, and tightened his hand, providing the resistance he knew Ray needed at that moment.
"Get the fuck offa me," Ray growled furiously. "Gonna kill this motherfu—"
"That is precisely why I cannot." Fraser pulled Ray up and away from Bradburn, wanting to get the man out of Ray's line of sight. Ray struggled against him, and Fraser used his full weight to haul him away down the alley. If Ray needed a fight, it was Fraser he would fight with—at least he would not be apt to press charges or accuse his partner of police brutality.
Fraser was surprised by the sudden surge of strength in the wiry form as Ray spun, breaking his grasp and hurling him bodily against the brick wall. Fraser hunched at the impact, trying to keep his head from striking the wall, and then Ray slammed into him. Fraser's arm smacked hard against the brick, a sudden starburst of heat radiating from his elbow and forcing a grunt of pain to escape him. He steeled himself for another blow, but when he looked up, Ray was staring at him with suddenly clear eyes, remorse on his face. Ray's head dropped, and Fraser lifted his good hand to grasp Ray's shoulder.
"Better call it in," Ray said after a moment. He handed Fraser his phone, and turned toward Suzette.
As Fraser dialed the precinct, he saw Ray offer her his jacket, his voice now soft with concern.
>>><<<
The two blue and white squad cars rolled silently away, their bubble lights blinking red against the walls of the alleyway. Fraser absently rubbed his injured elbow, and his eyes sought Ray, who was watching the retreating cars.
Ray turned to Fraser and shrugged. "She'll be okay. We caught him in time. And she comes from tough stock." His tone was wry, but his blue eyes were shadowed. Not quite in time, those eyes were saying. Not in time enough to protect Stella's younger sister from the series of typed threats that had instilled so much fear, and not before the stalking had almost reached its full, ugly culmination.
Fraser thought of Suzette, her blonde hair tangled and dirty from the grip of her would-be rapist's hands, and he swallowed back bile. She must have been terrified. She would do well to seek professional counseling after her trauma.
For Ray, there was only Fraser to offer comfort, and he felt inadequate to the task. When had he ever known the right thing to say, the right gesture to make, when it came to serious matters of emotion and need? He was ill trained in that area.
"I guess I'd better call Stella, tell her to meet Suzette at the hospital." Ray sounded exhausted and still angry.
"She'll be fine, Ray," Fraser said helplessly.
"Yeah. Fine." Ray turned away, flipping open his phone, and Fraser leaned against the alley wall and buttoned his peacoat to the top, grateful for the heavy wool protecting him from the chill stone. He tried not to listen to the strained conversation, but couldn't help overhearing scattered phrases. "She's gonna be fine...we tried...no, he never came back to the apartment...damn it, Stella, there was nothing else we coulda done!"
Ray snapped his phone closed but still stood with his back to Fraser, his narrow shoulders hunched. After a while, Fraser cleared his throat. "We should return to the station to write up our report..."
"Yeah. Yeah." Ray jolted into motion, striding toward the GTO, and Fraser wearily pushed himself away from the wall to follow.
>>><<<
The bullpen was almost empty. Fraser kept his coat on, feeling slightly uneasy as he sat sideways by Ray's desk. Ray jittered between the desk and the filing cabinet, stopping to type, then jumping up to get a cup of coffee before sitting down to peck out some more of the report. He mumbled phrases out loud, as if to himself, but nodded silently when Fraser offered corrections or additional details.
He didn't look at Fraser once, and Fraser started to feel cold, despite the heavy wool of his coat. He hadn't really realized how much he'd come to depend on Ray's almost constant, darting glances. Now Fraser was locked out of Ray's regard, thanks to his interference at the scene. And, of course, because they had not been quite in time.
That the victim was Stella's sister, of course, only made it a hundred times worse. Ray was still obviously enamored of his ex-wife. And of course she would blame Ray for failing to protect Suzette entirely, even though the true guilt lay with the perpetrator.
The printer rattled beside Fraser's elbow, startling him. He turned and retrieved the printed sheets, reading through the report before handing it over to Ray. Fraser carefully did not mention the three typos he'd found, or the improper use of the word "contingency."
Ray's pen scratched against the bottom sheet, and then he stood and tromped off to Welsh's office, Fraser assumed to drop the report in Welsh's inbox. Fraser rose and automatically looked for Diefenbaker. But Dief was at the Consulate, still recovering from a bout of food poisoning. Apparently even wolves could not eat from garbage bins with impunity.
Turning his hat in his hands, Fraser hesitated before settling it upon his head. He wasn't sure if Ray would suffer his presence any longer that evening, but he was unwilling to let his partner go home alone in such a bleak emotional state.
"Perhaps we should get something to eat. It's been a long day," Fraser offered tentatively.
"No, I gotta—" Ray's voice cut off, and Fraser turned to regard him. He waited patiently, silently communicating his support, until Ray's head dipped in a nod.
"Yeah, I guess. How about we order something in at my place?" Ray sounded almost apologetic.
"Of course, Ray." Fraser hid his relief and nodded at the door. "Shall we?"
>>><<<
At Ray's apartment, Fraser hovered in the doorway momentarily before removing his coat. He left his brown uniform jacket on, despite the way the heavy material brushed irritatingly against his sore elbow.
Ray pulled off his jacket and gun harness and immediately went to the kitchen. Shortly thereafter, Fraser heard the unmistakable sound of a teakettle being filled and set upon the stove. He smiled slightly and sat down at the cutaway to watch Ray's quick hands. Ray leaned over and yanked open the refrigerator to pull out a beer, which he opened with a deft twist before tossing the cap into the garbage can. Then he settled against the counter in an easy slouch, and Fraser had to raise his eyes quickly away from Ray's crotch, and the way the spread of his legs tightened the worn denim at his groin.
Ray's face was in shadow, his blond hair catching the light behind him above the stove. But Fraser could feel his eyes on him for the first time since they'd shared a glance before going after Bradburn.
Fraser heard a soft snort, and then Ray said, "Still all buttoned up, there, Frase. You cold or something?"
"A little." It wasn't really a lie.
"Maybe the tea'll help," Ray said, sounding warmer. He spun and went digging in the cabinet, his voice muffled. "I got that Earl stuff, or chamomile."
"Chamomile, if you please, Ray."
Ray nodded and twitched. "Why don't you hit the sofa? I'll be there in a minute."
Fraser took it as a dismissal. He knew he watched Ray too closely sometimes, but he couldn't help his fascination. The man was an enigma, for all he appeared to wear every emotion blazoned on his t-shirt. Or on his skin, in the form of various tattoos. Ray was...reaction in motion, quicksilver in mood and blunt in speech, even when it came to matters of the heart.
He'd once even wept in Fraser's presence, an act of emotional courage that had awed Fraser at the time, even as he struggled to find the right gesture to comfort his friend.
Fraser sat on the couch as ordered, and Ray soon appeared with the requisite cup of tea. He set it on the coffee table before sitting beside Fraser to give him a puzzled look.
"Still all buttoned up, huh?" He made a feint toward Fraser's collar and Fraser eeled away in alarm.
Ray's grin was feral. Fraser looked away from the odd glint in his eye. "What are you doing—?"
"Just wanted to see—you're so damned proper, Fraser. Always doing the right thing. Like pulling me off that bastard, Bradburn. Always go straight by the goddamn book, ain't that right?"
There was a strange note discernable in Ray's voice. Fraser knew at least part of it was residual anger at him for holding Ray back.
"Ray, you told me how much you care for Suzette, but surely you must realize I was only—" Fraser halted abruptly when Ray leaned closer on the couch, his eyes still on Fraser's collar for some reason. Fraser could smell Ray's unique, musky scent, and his heart gave a pulse of warning.
"Buttoned up," Ray said softly, looming closer still, "And buttoned down so tight—"
Fraser broke in hastily, "You know, Ray, before zippers were first invented by Whitcomb Judson and then later refined by Gideon Sundback, buttons were the primary means for fastening almost everything...from clothing, to tents, even shoes—"
"Sheesh. Give it a rest, Fraser." Ray leaned back again, and reached for his beer, taking a sip before continuing, "'Course I care about her. Suzette, man, she was nice to me even after the divorce. Let myself lose touch with her just because seeing her reminded me of too damned much. But she was like a kid sister, you know?"
Fraser nodded sympathetically and took a gulp of his tea, trying to regain his composure. For a moment it had almost seemed like Ray wanted something from him. Something improbable. Fraser watched in his peripheral vision as Ray slouched back and rubbed at his face with his free hand. He looked...tired and heartsick.
"Ray—" Fraser cleared his throat. "Is there something I can do to help you right now?"
Ray shrugged and gave a shaky sigh.
With a pang, Fraser remembered that moment in the car after the Botrelle case, when he'd felt so connected to Ray, though the touch itself had been tenuous. Feeling completely daring, Fraser put down his tea and lifted his arm along the couch to rest his palm on the back of Ray's neck, curling his thumb and fingers gently around. To his surprise, Ray tilted his head backward, trapping Fraser's hand against the sofa. Ray sighed again, and this time the sound held pleasure.
Fraser swallowed heavily but left his hand there, squeezing lightly. Ray tensed and turned suddenly to face him.
"Yeah. Okay. Listen," Ray said, but then froze up, staring across at him, a frown between his beautiful, expressive eyes. A handful of heartbeats passed, and then another, their eyes locked. "Listen," Ray said again, whispering.
He moved closer, his face filling Fraser's vision. This isn't possible, Fraser thought.
"Ray?" His voice squeaked embarrassingly.
"I threw you against the wall," Ray said, his voice almost conversational. "I fucking slammed you against it, and you let me. You let me because I needed it, ain't that right?"
"You were understandably upset—"
Ray shook his head. His eyes dropped. "You can hide a lot of things—behind words, behind this—" Ray touched Fraser's uniform over his chest, "—but not actions, Fraser. You ever notice that? You can't hide actions. They mean what they mean."
And then Ray was back to staring, his eyes now expectant.
Fraser took a deep breath and lifted his chin. "For example?" Terrified, but feeling an exhilarating rightness, he tugged lightly on Ray's neck, pulling him closer.
Ray's grin made it worth it. That, and the sudden press of his lips against Fraser's, Ray's body pushing close and warm against his side. Not possible, and yet completely real, the taste of Ray in his mouth, and the hand that was suddenly tugging at the buttons on his jacket, unfastening them with untidy haste. Fraser heard a snap of thread and the clatter as at least one of the buttons popped off and hit the floor.
Fraser didn't care. His own hand was still on the back of Ray's neck, fingers squeezing restlessly as he pulled Ray closer, deeper, into the incredible kiss Ray was bestowing.
So hungry. Ray kissed the way he drove: fast, and with a deft competency that belied the risk, the heady danger of it. Ray's mouth was dangerous.
Fraser groaned, and Ray lifted his head, his eyes wild.
"Got some other slamming I want to do to you." Rough and eager.
Fraser shut his eyes, his heart jumping. "I—" His throat closed.
Ray pulled back. "Hey, you can say no if you want—"
"I don't," Fraser broke in shakily. "I don't want to say no."
"Greatness." Then Ray was yanking at Fraser's tie, loosening it to get at his shirt buttons, making a tangle of things because Fraser couldn't stop himself from pulling Ray in for more of the hot kisses that were melting his spine and hardening his groin. Ray made a frustrated sound and stood, hauling Fraser dazedly to his feet.
"Ray?" Dizzy.
"You got too many buttons," Ray complained. "Could you," he gestured wildly, "get out of it yourself?" He then stripped off his t-shirt in one quick move. The sight of his bare chest, dusted lightly with hair, rippling with lean muscle, made Fraser choke. He felt as if he were at the end of a long tunnel, with Ray at the other side, telescoping away. Fraser's hands were cold, and he tucked them under his arms.
"Wait, please, Ray." Panic threaded through his stomach.
Ray tilted his head, then shook it, looking a little frustrated. But his eyes were soft as he stepped forward. "Hey." Ray's hands rose to cup his face, to slide back until his thumbs rested on Fraser's cheeks and his fingers threaded through his hair. Ray tilted Fraser's head forward to meet his. "We're okay. It's okay," Ray whispered, his breath brushing across Fraser's nose.
Tentatively, Fraser let his hands rest on the soft flesh just under Ray's ribcage. Fraser nodded, his forehead moving against Ray's, but he felt Ray's chuckle of disbelief blowing against his face.
"Say it like you mean it."
Fraser wasn't sure he did. Such closeness pushed the boundaries of his sanity. He was entirely familiar with wanting, but hardly at all with getting. And Ray was too easy about this, and too eager. Didn't he understand? Didn't the man who was still obsessed with his ex-wife two years after their divorce understand how dangerous this was?
But no—Fraser realized the danger was only to him. Not to Ray, whose heart was already spoken for. Only to him, and he could bear the consequences in exchange for this moment, and the ones to follow.
Fraser dropped his hands and stepped back, removing his strap and belt, shrugging out his jacket and loosening his tie to pull it over his head. Ray flashed him a bright grin and toed off his shoes. Making short work of his shirt, suspenders, and undershirt, Fraser continued disrobing until his chest was bared. He paused when he saw Ray had divested himself of his pants and was clad only in briefs. They were long, hugging the muscles of Ray's thighs. A spot of dampness had darkened the gray to slate at the tip of the heavy outline of Ray's penis.
Fraser swallowed, appallingly nervous. His forbidden dreams hadn't allowed for the hard reality of Ray's erection, the damp proof of his desire.
Apparently for him.
Ray's husky voice was further proof. "Get out of those pants, huh?" he said, and Fraser struggled to comply, his fingers tripping over the fastening of his pants. He finally succeeded, only to discover he'd forgotten his shoes, and he made an awkward mess of untangling himself until he was stripped down to his boxers.
He raised his head, prepared to meet a mocking glance, but Ray's eyes were fixed raptly on Fraser's groin. Fraser suppressed a ridiculous urge to cover himself with his hands.
"Bed? Okay?" Ray sounded breathless.
Fraser nodded and followed, his eyes drawn to the taut flexing of Ray's buttocks as he led the way to the bedroom and flicked on the lights. Ray paused at the bed to take Fraser's arm and give him one quick, hot kiss of promise before pushing him down.
Fraser sank onto his side, but Ray overwhelmed him almost immediately, crawling over him like a monkey up a ladder to match their groins together. At the first sensation of Ray's hardness pressing against him, Fraser arched his back, clamping his lips closed on a groan of pleasure. He let his arms fall back over his head, surrendering.
But Ray stopped thrusting, and Fraser opened his eyes to see Ray's face drawn tight with dismay.
Wrong. What did I do wrong?
"Fraser—" Ray cut himself off and reached up to take Fraser's forearm, tugging it across his chest. Fraser felt the tingling drift of Ray's fingertips approaching his sore elbow.
"It's nothing." Fraser tried to pull his arm away, but Ray's grasp tightened. In the context of being nearly naked beneath Ray's warm weight, the hard grip felt forbidden, exciting.
"You didn't even touch Bradburn. Was that from...did I do that to you?"
When Fraser didn't answer, Ray's frown intensified. Then he bent his head and laid a fluttering kiss, gentle as a moth's wing, on Fraser's bruised elbow.
Here was true danger. Fraser twisted his wrist, freeing his arm from Ray's grasp, and wrapped it around Ray's back. Ray took the hint and started thrusting again, his thigh between Fraser's and his hip rubbing against the most male part of him, that rigid part that needed, so much, the pressure of Ray's heat. Fraser tilted his hips and thrust in counterpoint until they were writhing against each other sinuously. Ray groaned in Fraser's ear, ducking his head to tongue Fraser's neck and nip the skin there. Fraser buried his nose in Ray's hair and licked the curve just behind his ear.
Fraser's excitement was growing, spiraling within him, when suddenly Ray yanked himself away, leaning on one arm to slither out of his briefs, his blue eyes a challenge. Fraser rolled away to tug down his boxers, his face heating.
It heated further when he kicked them off only to find Ray snugged up behind him, Ray's penis poking hot and stiff between his thighs. Fraser stiffened, his legs closing involuntarily, and Ray groaned in appreciation, pulling him closer until his back rested against Ray's chest. Then Ray rocked against him, his erection pressing up behind Fraser's testicles. It was erotic, thrilling.
Ray looped his hand around to caress Fraser's nipples, and Fraser was suddenly reminded of Victoria riding him, her nails cruel on his chest. But Ray's fingers, though calloused, were gentle, teasing without pain. And then his hand slid down to grip the shaft of Fraser's penis.
Fraser jerked, hearing Ray echo his groan against his neck. Ray pumped him hard and tight, and every stroke pushed his balls downward to meet Ray's slick erection. They rocked together now, and Fraser's heart beat faster as his climax approached. He held his breath when it came, lost in the sensation of Ray's calloused hand and the tightening, crawling sensation in his testicles. He gasped out loud when he ejaculated at last, wetness spattering his stomach, the pleasure heating his groin and chest and face. Vaguely, he heard Ray's encouraging whisper as he continued to milk Fraser with his hand.
Fraser slumped backward, still conscious of the rhythm of Ray's thrusts. Ray reached lower between Fraser's legs, cupping him to push his hardened length against Fraser's sac. Then he pulled all the way back, the tip of his penis grazing briefly against Fraser's anus before he thrust forward again. Fraser shivered and tightened his thighs, reaching over his shoulder to grip the back of Ray's neck, and then Ray moaned loudly and came, spurting his seed between Fraser's legs.
Eventually, Ray let out a deep sigh but didn't pull away, instead sliding his damp hand up to Fraser's chest, pulling him into a half-embrace. Fraser let himself drift, his body lax with repletion. Ray chuckled softly in his ear, the tone slightly disbelieving.
"You seem pretty relaxed, there, Frase."
Fraser wanted to run away from the knowing sound of that voice, but he forced himself to turn over, grimacing at the slippery wetness between his thighs. Ray pulled back to give him room to maneuver, and then they were lying facing each other across the new distance.
Fraser wasn't sure what expression he had been expecting to find, but Ray's eyes were uncommonly vulnerable and uncertain. His gaze drawn to Ray's parted lips, Fraser leaned forward spontaneously for a kiss. It only occurred to him after he'd done it that Ray might not want that, now that the intercourse, as such, was over.
But Ray just smiled, looking bemused. Then his face grew serious once again.
"Fraser."
Fraser nodded and felt his face stiffen. Here it was, then.
"Listen," Ray whispered. And then said nothing, once again. And his eyes darted away.
Fraser swallowed heavily, disgusted with himself for his disappointment. Surely, he'd known going in that Ray was still scarred by losing the woman he'd loved most of his life. The woman he perhaps still loved with the same intensity. There might not be room for Fraser in that wild heart.
And, of course, Fraser had walls around his own heart, a cabin built to keep out the cold, until the cold got in anyway and he'd been trapped inside along with it. No one had ever warned him that could happen. His father had taught him well to survive alone, but he'd never mentioned the danger of surviving too well.
So, they were on two sides of the wall. Never to meet. Except they had, just for a short while, in this bed. Was it so improbable to think it could happen again?
He moved his stiff lips, forced himself to speak. "Ray."
Ray's eyes dropped to meet his, and suddenly it was easy, much easier than Fraser had reason to expect. He remembered his body banging against the hard brick, and he thought he understood. Ray already knew, after all.
"I know I'm not—this isn't what you...really need. But perhaps it can be enough, for now—at least, until you—"
"Shut up." Ray's voice was fierce, angry.
Fraser pulled back in alarm, but Ray reached out, his hand catching at the back of Fraser's neck, fingers twisting in his hair. Ray gave him a shake.
"Don't you talk about yourself like that. Don't you ever—you're enough. You're more than enough, you hear me? You're...everything."
Fraser's breath was shocked from his chest. "Everything?" His brain buzzed, and he felt his neck go hot under Ray's hand. To be everything to Ray—
"You better believe it," Ray said, softly shaking him again. Then his mouth twisted in a wry grin. He made a tsking sound.
"All that hard work, completely ruined." His fingers relaxed their tight grip in Fraser's hair, gentling to rub his neck. "Gonna have to loosen you up all over again."
Fraser felt a twitch at his groin, an impossible quickening. He found himself smiling. "If you wish—"
"Oh, I wish. There's plenty I wish. I mean, I got a whole agenda here, Fraser. Whaddaya say we get started?" Ray rolled forward to kiss him again, his tongue sly against Fraser's lips. Fraser answered by letting Ray in.
The kiss was different this time, lacking the same urgency, but more open, somehow, as with a hand opened in offering. Offering without words. Offering everything.
And Fraser gladly took.
..................
02/24/2007
Author:
arrow00Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Rating: NC-17
Wordount: 4,135
Notes: Many, many thanks to betas
j_s_cavalcante and the_antichris. Any remaining errors are purely my own.This is my first flash fic challenge entry, so apologies if the buttons are inadequate and the word count somewhat bloated.
Louder Than Words
By
arrow00Fraser watched as Ray subdued the perpetrator by cuffing him roughly to the chain-link fence the man had just tried to escape over. Confident Ray had the situation in hand, Fraser turned and crouched by Suzette, who was shaking but seemed otherwise unharmed. He was in the process of unbuttoning his coat to offer it to her when a clank, rattle and darkly muttered curse had Fraser spinning back to see Ray clutching the collar of the man's jacket and drawing back his fist.
In one smooth motion, Fraser was holding Ray's wrist in a hard grip and wrapping his other arm around Ray's chest.
"Ray, Ray." Fraser felt Ray flex his arm, and tightened his hand, providing the resistance he knew Ray needed at that moment.
"Get the fuck offa me," Ray growled furiously. "Gonna kill this motherfu—"
"That is precisely why I cannot." Fraser pulled Ray up and away from Bradburn, wanting to get the man out of Ray's line of sight. Ray struggled against him, and Fraser used his full weight to haul him away down the alley. If Ray needed a fight, it was Fraser he would fight with—at least he would not be apt to press charges or accuse his partner of police brutality.
Fraser was surprised by the sudden surge of strength in the wiry form as Ray spun, breaking his grasp and hurling him bodily against the brick wall. Fraser hunched at the impact, trying to keep his head from striking the wall, and then Ray slammed into him. Fraser's arm smacked hard against the brick, a sudden starburst of heat radiating from his elbow and forcing a grunt of pain to escape him. He steeled himself for another blow, but when he looked up, Ray was staring at him with suddenly clear eyes, remorse on his face. Ray's head dropped, and Fraser lifted his good hand to grasp Ray's shoulder.
"Better call it in," Ray said after a moment. He handed Fraser his phone, and turned toward Suzette.
As Fraser dialed the precinct, he saw Ray offer her his jacket, his voice now soft with concern.
The two blue and white squad cars rolled silently away, their bubble lights blinking red against the walls of the alleyway. Fraser absently rubbed his injured elbow, and his eyes sought Ray, who was watching the retreating cars.
Ray turned to Fraser and shrugged. "She'll be okay. We caught him in time. And she comes from tough stock." His tone was wry, but his blue eyes were shadowed. Not quite in time, those eyes were saying. Not in time enough to protect Stella's younger sister from the series of typed threats that had instilled so much fear, and not before the stalking had almost reached its full, ugly culmination.
Fraser thought of Suzette, her blonde hair tangled and dirty from the grip of her would-be rapist's hands, and he swallowed back bile. She must have been terrified. She would do well to seek professional counseling after her trauma.
For Ray, there was only Fraser to offer comfort, and he felt inadequate to the task. When had he ever known the right thing to say, the right gesture to make, when it came to serious matters of emotion and need? He was ill trained in that area.
"I guess I'd better call Stella, tell her to meet Suzette at the hospital." Ray sounded exhausted and still angry.
"She'll be fine, Ray," Fraser said helplessly.
"Yeah. Fine." Ray turned away, flipping open his phone, and Fraser leaned against the alley wall and buttoned his peacoat to the top, grateful for the heavy wool protecting him from the chill stone. He tried not to listen to the strained conversation, but couldn't help overhearing scattered phrases. "She's gonna be fine...we tried...no, he never came back to the apartment...damn it, Stella, there was nothing else we coulda done!"
Ray snapped his phone closed but still stood with his back to Fraser, his narrow shoulders hunched. After a while, Fraser cleared his throat. "We should return to the station to write up our report..."
"Yeah. Yeah." Ray jolted into motion, striding toward the GTO, and Fraser wearily pushed himself away from the wall to follow.
The bullpen was almost empty. Fraser kept his coat on, feeling slightly uneasy as he sat sideways by Ray's desk. Ray jittered between the desk and the filing cabinet, stopping to type, then jumping up to get a cup of coffee before sitting down to peck out some more of the report. He mumbled phrases out loud, as if to himself, but nodded silently when Fraser offered corrections or additional details.
He didn't look at Fraser once, and Fraser started to feel cold, despite the heavy wool of his coat. He hadn't really realized how much he'd come to depend on Ray's almost constant, darting glances. Now Fraser was locked out of Ray's regard, thanks to his interference at the scene. And, of course, because they had not been quite in time.
That the victim was Stella's sister, of course, only made it a hundred times worse. Ray was still obviously enamored of his ex-wife. And of course she would blame Ray for failing to protect Suzette entirely, even though the true guilt lay with the perpetrator.
The printer rattled beside Fraser's elbow, startling him. He turned and retrieved the printed sheets, reading through the report before handing it over to Ray. Fraser carefully did not mention the three typos he'd found, or the improper use of the word "contingency."
Ray's pen scratched against the bottom sheet, and then he stood and tromped off to Welsh's office, Fraser assumed to drop the report in Welsh's inbox. Fraser rose and automatically looked for Diefenbaker. But Dief was at the Consulate, still recovering from a bout of food poisoning. Apparently even wolves could not eat from garbage bins with impunity.
Turning his hat in his hands, Fraser hesitated before settling it upon his head. He wasn't sure if Ray would suffer his presence any longer that evening, but he was unwilling to let his partner go home alone in such a bleak emotional state.
"Perhaps we should get something to eat. It's been a long day," Fraser offered tentatively.
"No, I gotta—" Ray's voice cut off, and Fraser turned to regard him. He waited patiently, silently communicating his support, until Ray's head dipped in a nod.
"Yeah, I guess. How about we order something in at my place?" Ray sounded almost apologetic.
"Of course, Ray." Fraser hid his relief and nodded at the door. "Shall we?"
At Ray's apartment, Fraser hovered in the doorway momentarily before removing his coat. He left his brown uniform jacket on, despite the way the heavy material brushed irritatingly against his sore elbow.
Ray pulled off his jacket and gun harness and immediately went to the kitchen. Shortly thereafter, Fraser heard the unmistakable sound of a teakettle being filled and set upon the stove. He smiled slightly and sat down at the cutaway to watch Ray's quick hands. Ray leaned over and yanked open the refrigerator to pull out a beer, which he opened with a deft twist before tossing the cap into the garbage can. Then he settled against the counter in an easy slouch, and Fraser had to raise his eyes quickly away from Ray's crotch, and the way the spread of his legs tightened the worn denim at his groin.
Ray's face was in shadow, his blond hair catching the light behind him above the stove. But Fraser could feel his eyes on him for the first time since they'd shared a glance before going after Bradburn.
Fraser heard a soft snort, and then Ray said, "Still all buttoned up, there, Frase. You cold or something?"
"A little." It wasn't really a lie.
"Maybe the tea'll help," Ray said, sounding warmer. He spun and went digging in the cabinet, his voice muffled. "I got that Earl stuff, or chamomile."
"Chamomile, if you please, Ray."
Ray nodded and twitched. "Why don't you hit the sofa? I'll be there in a minute."
Fraser took it as a dismissal. He knew he watched Ray too closely sometimes, but he couldn't help his fascination. The man was an enigma, for all he appeared to wear every emotion blazoned on his t-shirt. Or on his skin, in the form of various tattoos. Ray was...reaction in motion, quicksilver in mood and blunt in speech, even when it came to matters of the heart.
He'd once even wept in Fraser's presence, an act of emotional courage that had awed Fraser at the time, even as he struggled to find the right gesture to comfort his friend.
Fraser sat on the couch as ordered, and Ray soon appeared with the requisite cup of tea. He set it on the coffee table before sitting beside Fraser to give him a puzzled look.
"Still all buttoned up, huh?" He made a feint toward Fraser's collar and Fraser eeled away in alarm.
Ray's grin was feral. Fraser looked away from the odd glint in his eye. "What are you doing—?"
"Just wanted to see—you're so damned proper, Fraser. Always doing the right thing. Like pulling me off that bastard, Bradburn. Always go straight by the goddamn book, ain't that right?"
There was a strange note discernable in Ray's voice. Fraser knew at least part of it was residual anger at him for holding Ray back.
"Ray, you told me how much you care for Suzette, but surely you must realize I was only—" Fraser halted abruptly when Ray leaned closer on the couch, his eyes still on Fraser's collar for some reason. Fraser could smell Ray's unique, musky scent, and his heart gave a pulse of warning.
"Buttoned up," Ray said softly, looming closer still, "And buttoned down so tight—"
Fraser broke in hastily, "You know, Ray, before zippers were first invented by Whitcomb Judson and then later refined by Gideon Sundback, buttons were the primary means for fastening almost everything...from clothing, to tents, even shoes—"
"Sheesh. Give it a rest, Fraser." Ray leaned back again, and reached for his beer, taking a sip before continuing, "'Course I care about her. Suzette, man, she was nice to me even after the divorce. Let myself lose touch with her just because seeing her reminded me of too damned much. But she was like a kid sister, you know?"
Fraser nodded sympathetically and took a gulp of his tea, trying to regain his composure. For a moment it had almost seemed like Ray wanted something from him. Something improbable. Fraser watched in his peripheral vision as Ray slouched back and rubbed at his face with his free hand. He looked...tired and heartsick.
"Ray—" Fraser cleared his throat. "Is there something I can do to help you right now?"
Ray shrugged and gave a shaky sigh.
With a pang, Fraser remembered that moment in the car after the Botrelle case, when he'd felt so connected to Ray, though the touch itself had been tenuous. Feeling completely daring, Fraser put down his tea and lifted his arm along the couch to rest his palm on the back of Ray's neck, curling his thumb and fingers gently around. To his surprise, Ray tilted his head backward, trapping Fraser's hand against the sofa. Ray sighed again, and this time the sound held pleasure.
Fraser swallowed heavily but left his hand there, squeezing lightly. Ray tensed and turned suddenly to face him.
"Yeah. Okay. Listen," Ray said, but then froze up, staring across at him, a frown between his beautiful, expressive eyes. A handful of heartbeats passed, and then another, their eyes locked. "Listen," Ray said again, whispering.
He moved closer, his face filling Fraser's vision. This isn't possible, Fraser thought.
"Ray?" His voice squeaked embarrassingly.
"I threw you against the wall," Ray said, his voice almost conversational. "I fucking slammed you against it, and you let me. You let me because I needed it, ain't that right?"
"You were understandably upset—"
Ray shook his head. His eyes dropped. "You can hide a lot of things—behind words, behind this—" Ray touched Fraser's uniform over his chest, "—but not actions, Fraser. You ever notice that? You can't hide actions. They mean what they mean."
And then Ray was back to staring, his eyes now expectant.
Fraser took a deep breath and lifted his chin. "For example?" Terrified, but feeling an exhilarating rightness, he tugged lightly on Ray's neck, pulling him closer.
Ray's grin made it worth it. That, and the sudden press of his lips against Fraser's, Ray's body pushing close and warm against his side. Not possible, and yet completely real, the taste of Ray in his mouth, and the hand that was suddenly tugging at the buttons on his jacket, unfastening them with untidy haste. Fraser heard a snap of thread and the clatter as at least one of the buttons popped off and hit the floor.
Fraser didn't care. His own hand was still on the back of Ray's neck, fingers squeezing restlessly as he pulled Ray closer, deeper, into the incredible kiss Ray was bestowing.
So hungry. Ray kissed the way he drove: fast, and with a deft competency that belied the risk, the heady danger of it. Ray's mouth was dangerous.
Fraser groaned, and Ray lifted his head, his eyes wild.
"Got some other slamming I want to do to you." Rough and eager.
Fraser shut his eyes, his heart jumping. "I—" His throat closed.
Ray pulled back. "Hey, you can say no if you want—"
"I don't," Fraser broke in shakily. "I don't want to say no."
"Greatness." Then Ray was yanking at Fraser's tie, loosening it to get at his shirt buttons, making a tangle of things because Fraser couldn't stop himself from pulling Ray in for more of the hot kisses that were melting his spine and hardening his groin. Ray made a frustrated sound and stood, hauling Fraser dazedly to his feet.
"Ray?" Dizzy.
"You got too many buttons," Ray complained. "Could you," he gestured wildly, "get out of it yourself?" He then stripped off his t-shirt in one quick move. The sight of his bare chest, dusted lightly with hair, rippling with lean muscle, made Fraser choke. He felt as if he were at the end of a long tunnel, with Ray at the other side, telescoping away. Fraser's hands were cold, and he tucked them under his arms.
"Wait, please, Ray." Panic threaded through his stomach.
Ray tilted his head, then shook it, looking a little frustrated. But his eyes were soft as he stepped forward. "Hey." Ray's hands rose to cup his face, to slide back until his thumbs rested on Fraser's cheeks and his fingers threaded through his hair. Ray tilted Fraser's head forward to meet his. "We're okay. It's okay," Ray whispered, his breath brushing across Fraser's nose.
Tentatively, Fraser let his hands rest on the soft flesh just under Ray's ribcage. Fraser nodded, his forehead moving against Ray's, but he felt Ray's chuckle of disbelief blowing against his face.
"Say it like you mean it."
Fraser wasn't sure he did. Such closeness pushed the boundaries of his sanity. He was entirely familiar with wanting, but hardly at all with getting. And Ray was too easy about this, and too eager. Didn't he understand? Didn't the man who was still obsessed with his ex-wife two years after their divorce understand how dangerous this was?
But no—Fraser realized the danger was only to him. Not to Ray, whose heart was already spoken for. Only to him, and he could bear the consequences in exchange for this moment, and the ones to follow.
Fraser dropped his hands and stepped back, removing his strap and belt, shrugging out his jacket and loosening his tie to pull it over his head. Ray flashed him a bright grin and toed off his shoes. Making short work of his shirt, suspenders, and undershirt, Fraser continued disrobing until his chest was bared. He paused when he saw Ray had divested himself of his pants and was clad only in briefs. They were long, hugging the muscles of Ray's thighs. A spot of dampness had darkened the gray to slate at the tip of the heavy outline of Ray's penis.
Fraser swallowed, appallingly nervous. His forbidden dreams hadn't allowed for the hard reality of Ray's erection, the damp proof of his desire.
Apparently for him.
Ray's husky voice was further proof. "Get out of those pants, huh?" he said, and Fraser struggled to comply, his fingers tripping over the fastening of his pants. He finally succeeded, only to discover he'd forgotten his shoes, and he made an awkward mess of untangling himself until he was stripped down to his boxers.
He raised his head, prepared to meet a mocking glance, but Ray's eyes were fixed raptly on Fraser's groin. Fraser suppressed a ridiculous urge to cover himself with his hands.
"Bed? Okay?" Ray sounded breathless.
Fraser nodded and followed, his eyes drawn to the taut flexing of Ray's buttocks as he led the way to the bedroom and flicked on the lights. Ray paused at the bed to take Fraser's arm and give him one quick, hot kiss of promise before pushing him down.
Fraser sank onto his side, but Ray overwhelmed him almost immediately, crawling over him like a monkey up a ladder to match their groins together. At the first sensation of Ray's hardness pressing against him, Fraser arched his back, clamping his lips closed on a groan of pleasure. He let his arms fall back over his head, surrendering.
But Ray stopped thrusting, and Fraser opened his eyes to see Ray's face drawn tight with dismay.
Wrong. What did I do wrong?
"Fraser—" Ray cut himself off and reached up to take Fraser's forearm, tugging it across his chest. Fraser felt the tingling drift of Ray's fingertips approaching his sore elbow.
"It's nothing." Fraser tried to pull his arm away, but Ray's grasp tightened. In the context of being nearly naked beneath Ray's warm weight, the hard grip felt forbidden, exciting.
"You didn't even touch Bradburn. Was that from...did I do that to you?"
When Fraser didn't answer, Ray's frown intensified. Then he bent his head and laid a fluttering kiss, gentle as a moth's wing, on Fraser's bruised elbow.
Here was true danger. Fraser twisted his wrist, freeing his arm from Ray's grasp, and wrapped it around Ray's back. Ray took the hint and started thrusting again, his thigh between Fraser's and his hip rubbing against the most male part of him, that rigid part that needed, so much, the pressure of Ray's heat. Fraser tilted his hips and thrust in counterpoint until they were writhing against each other sinuously. Ray groaned in Fraser's ear, ducking his head to tongue Fraser's neck and nip the skin there. Fraser buried his nose in Ray's hair and licked the curve just behind his ear.
Fraser's excitement was growing, spiraling within him, when suddenly Ray yanked himself away, leaning on one arm to slither out of his briefs, his blue eyes a challenge. Fraser rolled away to tug down his boxers, his face heating.
It heated further when he kicked them off only to find Ray snugged up behind him, Ray's penis poking hot and stiff between his thighs. Fraser stiffened, his legs closing involuntarily, and Ray groaned in appreciation, pulling him closer until his back rested against Ray's chest. Then Ray rocked against him, his erection pressing up behind Fraser's testicles. It was erotic, thrilling.
Ray looped his hand around to caress Fraser's nipples, and Fraser was suddenly reminded of Victoria riding him, her nails cruel on his chest. But Ray's fingers, though calloused, were gentle, teasing without pain. And then his hand slid down to grip the shaft of Fraser's penis.
Fraser jerked, hearing Ray echo his groan against his neck. Ray pumped him hard and tight, and every stroke pushed his balls downward to meet Ray's slick erection. They rocked together now, and Fraser's heart beat faster as his climax approached. He held his breath when it came, lost in the sensation of Ray's calloused hand and the tightening, crawling sensation in his testicles. He gasped out loud when he ejaculated at last, wetness spattering his stomach, the pleasure heating his groin and chest and face. Vaguely, he heard Ray's encouraging whisper as he continued to milk Fraser with his hand.
Fraser slumped backward, still conscious of the rhythm of Ray's thrusts. Ray reached lower between Fraser's legs, cupping him to push his hardened length against Fraser's sac. Then he pulled all the way back, the tip of his penis grazing briefly against Fraser's anus before he thrust forward again. Fraser shivered and tightened his thighs, reaching over his shoulder to grip the back of Ray's neck, and then Ray moaned loudly and came, spurting his seed between Fraser's legs.
Eventually, Ray let out a deep sigh but didn't pull away, instead sliding his damp hand up to Fraser's chest, pulling him into a half-embrace. Fraser let himself drift, his body lax with repletion. Ray chuckled softly in his ear, the tone slightly disbelieving.
"You seem pretty relaxed, there, Frase."
Fraser wanted to run away from the knowing sound of that voice, but he forced himself to turn over, grimacing at the slippery wetness between his thighs. Ray pulled back to give him room to maneuver, and then they were lying facing each other across the new distance.
Fraser wasn't sure what expression he had been expecting to find, but Ray's eyes were uncommonly vulnerable and uncertain. His gaze drawn to Ray's parted lips, Fraser leaned forward spontaneously for a kiss. It only occurred to him after he'd done it that Ray might not want that, now that the intercourse, as such, was over.
But Ray just smiled, looking bemused. Then his face grew serious once again.
"Fraser."
Fraser nodded and felt his face stiffen. Here it was, then.
"Listen," Ray whispered. And then said nothing, once again. And his eyes darted away.
Fraser swallowed heavily, disgusted with himself for his disappointment. Surely, he'd known going in that Ray was still scarred by losing the woman he'd loved most of his life. The woman he perhaps still loved with the same intensity. There might not be room for Fraser in that wild heart.
And, of course, Fraser had walls around his own heart, a cabin built to keep out the cold, until the cold got in anyway and he'd been trapped inside along with it. No one had ever warned him that could happen. His father had taught him well to survive alone, but he'd never mentioned the danger of surviving too well.
So, they were on two sides of the wall. Never to meet. Except they had, just for a short while, in this bed. Was it so improbable to think it could happen again?
He moved his stiff lips, forced himself to speak. "Ray."
Ray's eyes dropped to meet his, and suddenly it was easy, much easier than Fraser had reason to expect. He remembered his body banging against the hard brick, and he thought he understood. Ray already knew, after all.
"I know I'm not—this isn't what you...really need. But perhaps it can be enough, for now—at least, until you—"
"Shut up." Ray's voice was fierce, angry.
Fraser pulled back in alarm, but Ray reached out, his hand catching at the back of Fraser's neck, fingers twisting in his hair. Ray gave him a shake.
"Don't you talk about yourself like that. Don't you ever—you're enough. You're more than enough, you hear me? You're...everything."
Fraser's breath was shocked from his chest. "Everything?" His brain buzzed, and he felt his neck go hot under Ray's hand. To be everything to Ray—
"You better believe it," Ray said, softly shaking him again. Then his mouth twisted in a wry grin. He made a tsking sound.
"All that hard work, completely ruined." His fingers relaxed their tight grip in Fraser's hair, gentling to rub his neck. "Gonna have to loosen you up all over again."
Fraser felt a twitch at his groin, an impossible quickening. He found himself smiling. "If you wish—"
"Oh, I wish. There's plenty I wish. I mean, I got a whole agenda here, Fraser. Whaddaya say we get started?" Ray rolled forward to kiss him again, his tongue sly against Fraser's lips. Fraser answered by letting Ray in.
The kiss was different this time, lacking the same urgency, but more open, somehow, as with a hand opened in offering. Offering without words. Offering everything.
And Fraser gladly took.
..................
02/24/2007
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