Work Text:
One Of These Days
Pairing/warning: Slash (Fraser/Kowalski), no sex, some angst, rated
NC-17.
If you don't like slash, you'd best turn back now.
This is a sequel to Okay All Right. Ray tries to get Fraser to see why he might like it when Fraser occasionally gets wild and takes charge.
Note: in this story, F's "home" is still the Consulate. But instead of sleeping on the floor in a bedroll or on a cot, he has an extra-long twin bed.
Great thanks go to Maxine for beta-ing.
One Of These Days
We didn't talk about it. And he hasn't done it again. It's been... well, back to the usual. Me gettin' him hot under the collar 'til our clothes are comin' off. Me playin' with him and gettin' him excited and dick-hungry. Me suckin' him off, gettin' him so worked up he forgets to stroke or suck me. Not that that's bad -- it's great, an' I ain't complainin'. I just... thought something had changed there, somehow. He got bolder. I liked it. I want him to do it again. But it only happened that one time.
"Hello, Ray," he says, suddenly standing before my desk.
Can he tell how fuzzy I feel inside when I see him? I mean, I'd never tell him I felt fuzzy. But... it's the best way to describe the kind of happy feeling I get from him. When I see that red uniform and his dark hair and blue eyes and pale skin. And his smile.
"Hey, Frase, take a load off," I say, standing and pointing at the chair. The chair where he always sits. "What's up?"
"Nothing, just, ah, you know, stopping by after work," he says, smiling. He might be blushing -- his cheeks are kinda rosy.
"Yeah, yeah, sure," I say. "Ya wanna get something to... eat?" I drag out the last word suggestively.
Predictable as clockwork, he blushes.
"Yes, Ray, that would be nice," he manages to say aloud. His embarrassment isn't embarrassment as much as it is a kind of embarrassed pride, I think.
"Yes, Frase, I think you're right," I say, trying to provoke him by talking formal like he does. "I think we might actually go to a real restaurant, and sit down and eat a meal that's not take out. What do you think?"
His eyes widen but then he looks pleasantly surprised. "Why, certainly, Ray. That sounds wonderful."
"Yer sure you won't miss the... take out on the couch?" I add, quiet-like.
Like clockwork, he blushes again. This one more fiery. He tugs at that high collar. "No, no... I mean, yes, yes, of course. But-- but--"
I grin and sit back down and wave off his responses. "Nevermind. I'm just kidding around."
"Oh," he says cautiously. "So then... we're not going out to a restaurant?"
"Oh, no -- we can definitely do that, if you want, Frase," I tell him.
"I'd very much like that, Ray."
"Good."
"Good."
"Lemme get my coat."
* * *
It's after dinner and he's quiet and thoughtful in the car on the way back to my place. Maybe it's just the post-food coma.
"You still awake there, buddy?" I say from across the front seat.
"Oh, yes," he says, snapping to attention.
"Nah, I didn't mean ya had to 'hop to it'. I just meant... you still wanna come over?"
"Of course, Ray, I..."
"Well, I don't wanna impose. You always come over -- almost always. I thought, if you want, we could... you know, I could come to the Consulate." Remembering what happened there the last time. Hoping he'll do it again.
"Oh, n-- well, well... but it is quite a narrow bed, Ray," he deflects. "Not very comfortable for the two of us to sleep in."
"Who said we'd be sleeping?" I push a little. He blushes, a-course.
"Well, I-- I didn't mean--"
" 'S okay, Frase, I'm just teasin' ya." I smile back at the road.
"Oh." He sits quiet a minute. "You're just teasing?"
"Yep. I was just teasin'."
"Well, so you're saying you do want to sleep on that bed?"
"No, no, no -- I mean, yeah, sure, I can sleep on it. I just meant... meant that..."
"Meant... what?" he asks, now looking pretty confused. I can never tell sometimes if he's really that clueless or if he's fakin' it.
"Ya know. Like, um, we can have 'the usual' there, sometimes. It's not, um, I know it's not fair, me expectin' you to always come over to my place, 'specially when you've got to start early in the morning."
"Well, in point of fact, we have a good deal more privacy at your apartment..."
"You've got a key to your room, Frase. We lock it from the inside, right?"
"Yes."
"So... the Consulate okay?" I ask him, all hopeful.
He hesitates, and I'm wonderin' why, when he says, "Yes, Ray, all right."
* * *
So we stroll into his room and I take off my jacket, throw it on the desk. I know, I know, I should just bring it up. Converse. Communicate. But... well, Stella always said I had a problem with it and I guess I do. Uncommunicative. I don't mean to be.
But I guess I better get over that quick. Sure don't want things with Frase to wind up like they did with Stel'. That would royally suck. I can't let that happen.
He's takin' off his Serge. God, every time he gets outta that thing... I'm like one-a-them dogs that drools, only for me it's not an alarm bell, it's that Velcro sound when he opens that high collar. Man. It's so bad, sometimes that's all it takes for me to get hard. If I'm not hard already... which I usually am.
Normally, I'd "help" him outta that coat. But not tonight. Nope. I will say somethin', but I gotta work up to it. In the meantime, maybe he'll figure it out if I'm not molestin' him, if I'm not "helping" him outta his clothes. Maybe he'll figure out that I wish he'd help me outta my clothes. Wish he'd start something.
I don't sit down on the bed. I stand up against the closed door to the room, put my hands in my pockets, and don't undress. I just watch him take the Serge, put it on a hanger, fuss with it a few minutes, getting little fuzzies off of it.
Then he kinda realizes it's gotten quiet and he turns around, lookin' at me from half in and half out of the closet, his hand still on the Serge.
"Ray?" He cocks his head to one side and blinks at me.
"Yeah?"
"You're... I thought you wanted to come here?" Sounds unsure, face questioning.
"Oh, I did. And do. I'm glad I'm here," I say and mean it. And give him a smile so he won't worry.
He smiles back, briefly, and kinda confused. You think he's faking it sometimes, that clueless look. And sometimes I think he is... but not right now.
He gives the Serge one last pat, and then steps out of the closet and shuts the door. He turns to me.
"Won't you, ah, have a seat, Ray?" All formal-like and polite.
"Sure, Frase, thanks for the invitation," I say. I'm being an ass. I should tell him what the hell's going on in my head. But I just... not yet. I can't. I'm workin' up to it.
I walk over to the bed and sit down, since it's the only place to sit.
He looks at me, cocks his head. I'm not making a move to take my clothes off.
"Are you feeling well, Ray?" he asks, slipping out of his suspenders.
"Feeling fine, Frase, just fine," I smile.
"You are?"
"Yeah. Why, do I seem like I'm sick or somethin'?"
"No, no, just..." he trails off uncertain-like. "Nevermind."
"Okee-doke," I say.
I kick off my shoes. But that's it. I'm still just sittin' here. He's stripping out of his uniform pants. That yellow stripe down the side -- it's flashy but it's cool. Cooler than our uniforms were when I was in the blues.
He folds the pants and puts them in his dirty clothes pile. Neurotic, that's my Frase. I'd just drop 'em on the floor and throw myself at him. But... that's not him. Is he too old to change his spots? The other night, I thought... maybe not. But maybe he is.
Now he turns around, hands on his hips. He's in his Henley and boxers. I'm fully clothed.
"Ray, what is the matter with you?"
"Nothing. What makes you think there's something wrong?" I ask him.
"Well, you're... still clothed. You're uncharacteristically patient and quiet. Surprisingly, you're simply waiting and watching me disrobe, instead of attacking me and practically forcibly removing my clothes in that ardent way you usually do. It's fairly impossible not to notice that you're behaving differently."
"Behaving differently... yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."
"Why?"
"Frase, you remember the last time we were here?"
He pauses, thinks back. "Yes..." uncertainly.
"Remember how you acted?" I ask quiet, but I can't help smiling.
"I..." he thinks back again, and then I can tell right away when it hits him, cuz his face pinks and his expression kinda closes up. "Yes. I'm sorry about that." He turns away, pulling his Henley off over his head.
"You're sorry?" I'm kinda surprised. "Why?"
"I... shouldn't have... behaved the way I did that day." Puts the Henley, folded, on the "dirty clothes" pile. But he won't look at me.
"What was wrong with it? I thought it was ...nice," I tell him quietly.
He turns sharply as if to say something, but his mouth just opens and closes. Finally he speaks. Quiet and low.
"It wasn't right."
"Right? You think it wasn't right, what you did the last time we were here?" I ask him slowly.
He nods, his lips pressed into a line.
"So..." I stumble along. This isn't going how I wanted it to go. Too much talk, not enough action. But, we are talking about Fraser. "So what wasn't right about it?"
"I..." he starts, and then clears his throat. "I'm sorry I behaved that way over Detective Patterson."
"I wasn't talking about that, Frase. That was way before we got here, anyways."
"But--" he cuts himself off. "I shouldn't have reacted that way. It was immature and ...unnecessary."
"Okay," I say. "But, hey, I could see why you'd-a been worrying. He's a cute kid an' all. I think he's got a crush on me or somethin'... but that's all besides the point."
Now he's looking worried again.
"Fraser, look, I'm talking about what we did in bed here. Not how you acted at the precinct. So, uh, which one are you talkin' about not being right?"
"I... That is..." He stops.
"Fraser, come 'ere." I hold out my hand to him.
He takes my hand and sits down on the bed next to me... me fully clothed, him in his boxers and t-shirt and he looks so fine, I really don't think I'm gonna be able to keep my hands off him. Who in their right mind could?
"Look," I say. "Okay, I get that you think you behaved badly at the precinct. Okay, fine, so you maybe did. Big deal. Water under the bridge. It's past, done, over with. Okay? Now." I squeeze his hand, which I'm still holding. "Were you talkin' about the way you acted at the precinct, or the way you blew me off that night, or the way you acted when I got here?"
"I..." he hesitates, and then takes a deep breath. "Ray, do we really have to discuss this now?"
Okay, that's it. Now he's tryin' to avoid it!
"Yes, Frase, we do," I say stubbornly.
It suddenly occurs to me: I just pulled a major switcheroo in my life here. It used to be Stella tryin' ta get me to talk, and me trying not to... and all of a sudden, I'm tryin' ta get Frase to talk, and he's tryin' not to. It's weird. I wonder if Stella was this frustrated with me. No wonder she was such a bitch. This is like pulling teeth...
"All right," he replies, looking guilty. "Actually, I felt my behavior in all three... areas... was wrong."
"Well, I'm tellin' ya yer excused from whatcha did at the precinct, from blowin' me off, and from ravishing me. Okay?"
"All right..." he replies doubtfully.
"And, Frase..." I don't know if I can spit this out, but I'm gonna try.
"Yes?"
"I liked the way you were actin' when I got here. I liked how you... ravished me. Took me." I can feel my cheeks getting hot, but at the same time, I can't help smiling. It was so great....
He turns about fifty different shades of red. Then he finally replies.
"How can you, Ray?" Weird. Like he's ashamed but accusing me of something bad at the same time. Fraser, my man, you're a wildly bizarre man... not always in the best way.
"How can I? How can I? Frase, try to think about how things usually go. What do we do? Where do we go? And who does all the doing?" Oh, shit. That came out faster than I meant it to, and now I've probably hurt his feelings.
"What... what do you mean?" he asks, his face taking on a frozen look. Oh, great, Kowalski, now you've really fucked it up. Shit!
"Okay, okay, wait. Um, let me put it this way... No, no, wait. Okay, how about this: You tell me what we do. Like, step by step, what do we usually do when the work day is over, okay?"
"You want a play by play of our evenings? Starting on what date?"
"No particular date! Just... just the average evening where we get together and do 'the usual'. What happens, usually? Step by step."
He gives me a look like I'm completely unhinged, but decides to humor me.
"All right, Ray. Usually you pick me up from the Consulate here, after our work days are over. Then, usually, we drive to your apartment. And usually order some food for delivery. While we wait for the food to be delivered, I either walk Diefenbaker, or..." he blushes. "Or you, uh, help me out of my clothes and... proceed to, ah, demonstrate your feelings for me physically. You're very physically affectionate, Ray, you do realize that, don't you?" he says, interrupting himself. I just nod, trying to get him to move along to the next thing.
"All right. Then, if your... physical affection hasn't quite... drained me, we usually get interrupted by the arrival of the food. Then, we eat our dinner. Then, after dinner, if I haven't taken Diefenbaker for his walk, I do. There's a dumpster at the end of the alley three blocks from here--"
"I don't need a play by play of the wolf's walk, Frase," I say, holding up my hand.
"Right. Well... all right, we... partake of the food and then we... we watch television if we aren't already. Or... we adjourn to the bedroom. Whichever it is, eventually you help me out of my clothes completely. And then you take off yours or, or, I help you take them off... Isn't this far enough, Ray? I mean, we both know what happens next," he says, looking worried and uncomfortable.
"Yer doing great, Frase. Keep going," I say. But I squeeze his hand again and put my other hand on top of it.
"All right... you, you help me out of my clothes and remove your own, and lay me down and generally either finish, ah, what you were doing before the arrival of the food interrupted us, or you... start something new. Generally you, you bring me... off first, and I reciprocate after my... orgasm. Or sometimes we--"
"Okay, Frase. What's the main theme happening through the whole evening?"
"The main theme?" He blushes again. "Ah, you're, you're... very ardent, as I said, Ray. Very physically affectionate." His voice takes on a wistful tone. "It's ...very nice," he adds, his voice getting husky.
Oh, damn it! He's makin' me want him so bad! We're never gonna get this straightened out, at this rate! Because now I can't help myself and I gotta hug him.
"Yeah, Frase," I say, squeezing him to me, "I know I'm very physically affectionate. I'd have to be out of my mind not to be, with you."
"Thank you, Ray," he says, sounding pleased. I close my eyes, feeling his compact and muscled body in my arms, pressed gently up against my chest. Christ, I'm hard already. It never takes much with him.
"But... Frase... there's something else about the whole thing, more than me being physically affectionate. Do you notice any other patterns?" I pull back and ask him.
"That... that you're somewhat ...well, it isn't really fully descriptive, but, for lack of a better term... 'aggressive'."
"Okay, okay. Right," I say, and let him go and pull away a bit, holding him by his shoulders. "Okay, let's not call it... 'aggressive'. Let's just say... I'm ...I ...get the ball rolling."
"All right," he agrees. "Yes. You get the ...ball rolling." Smiles a little, like he gets that it's almost a dirty pun, and then he blushes. My innocent wild Mountie Benton.
"Yeah... so... the theme is, what, then?"
"The theme?"
"The main theme, the, uh, main pattern of how things go between us," I repeat patiently.
"Oh. Oh, well, I think we could say that the main theme is that you get the ball rolling."
"Okay, right. That's... that's my point, Frase," I say. I've gotten this far... I'll keep going. "I get the ball rolling. Almost all the time, I get the ball rolling. At my place. I take off your clothes. I go down on you. I throw you in the sack. I'm doing... well, not exactly everything. But almost everything. D'ya, ya get what I'm saying here, Frase?" I ask him, hoping he doesn't take it the wrong way.
"I..." he trails off, mulling it over, and then gives me a doubtful look. "You're saying you do everything? That I do nothing?"
"Not... nothing," I hedge. "But... mostly I do everything. Right? I... act, and you react. I'm, uh, I'm more active... you're kinda passive. Wouldn't you say that's pretty, um, pretty accurate?"
"I... suppose so," he says, and drops his eyes.
"Not that I don't love it, Frase! I love it, I do! I never want to stop being able to touch you, kiss you, do everything to you. I need to. I have to. I love that you let me and the way you respond... I know you love it too." He blushes but with a little smile.
I take a breath and plunge on. "But, but... just once in a while, I'd like it if you could do all that with me. I'd like it if... I guess if you made some effort, and I was the one that just got to lay back and take it. D'ya know what I'm saying?" I ask him, desperate to make him understand without hurting his feelings.
He sighs a big sigh. "Yes, Ray. I think I do understand. I... know what you're talking about. I ...I'm not as demonstrative as you are. I'm not... so comfortable with offering physical affection."
"Yeah, Frase, I know," I say, and squeeze his hand again. "I know you don't... reach out a lot. I just... wish you would, sometimes. Sometimes, I get this feeling, I'm 'making' you do everything... like if I wasn't here pesterin' you, you might not've been led down this little path of... of..."
"Of..."
"Of having sex with your partner every night after work."
"Oh." He pauses. "But... Ray..." he continues shyly, "I... rather like it. It's nothing you make me do... I fully and happily receive your affections!"
"Right!" I think I've got it, and seize on it. "That's how I felt last time we were here. You like it, right?" He nods. "Okay, well, think how you like that, how you like me to, to, peel yer clothes off and kiss you and stuff, and, and that's how I felt the last time we were here. Because it was, like, so unusual of you... and I liked it! A lot! I more than liked it, I loved it! It was ...so good, Frase," I tell him, trying to get a grip. Talking slower again.
"It was really, really good. To let you have your, uh, way with me, for once. I felt like I could ...I dunno, sounds stupid, but, I felt like I finally could give something back to you like you give me. I guess I always feel like you give me yourself, all of yourself, and, and, I just take. Last time we were here, I got to give myself to you, all of myself. And you got to take."
His eyes have grown steadily bigger the entire time I've been speaking, until he looks a little embarrassed and crestfallen at the end.
"But, Ray, it's not the... not the fact that I took, but... but the way in which I took. Which is... wrong. I feel."
"But why do you feel that way?" I ask him, disappointed. "Did you think I didn't like it?"
He half nods. I can barely restrain myself from knocking some sense into that thick Mountie head.
"Why on earth would you think I didn't like it? What about me kissin' you like I was insane, cuz I was insane, cuz you were drivin' me insane in the best possible way? What about me moaning all over the place? What about how I didn't even touch myself, you didn't touch me, and I came, just from you bein' inside me? Jeeze, Frase, those are all real big freakin' signs that not only did I like it, I loved it, and I would love to have more!" I burst out.
"You... shouldn't." He looks away, shakes his head. What a thing to say! That's the last thing on earth I'm expecting him to say.
"Shouldn't?" I ask him, dumbfounded. "Shouldn't? Who are you to tell me what I should and shouldn't like?" Now I'm getting angry. Oh, damn it! I didn't want it to turn into this. I was better off not trying to communicate. Not if it's always gonna wind up in an argument! And Stella wonders why I started shutting up!
"I didn't mean--" he begins, apologetic, but it's too late. Now I'm kinda upset.
"What didn't you mean? You meant it. So I guess that means that even if I want something, something I like, like it as much as you do or you would, because you think I shouldn't like it, you're not gonna give it to me? Is that what that means?"
"No, no, Ray, you've got it all wrong, that isn't what I meant--"
"You sure I'm the one who got it all wrong?" I demand.
"Ray--"
"Oh, ferget it, Frase," I say, throwing myself backward to lie flat on the bed. Of course I hit my head on the wall and yell. But I don't sit up.
Shouldn't? Shouldn't like it? And why the hell not?
He leans over me. "Are you all right, Ray?"
"I'm fine, Frase. I just hit my head."
"That's why I'm asking if you're all right."
"Yes, Frase, I am all right."
I pout. And won't look at him.
He hesitates, then speaks. "I... I'm sorry, Ray. I admit my views on... on certain things are probably a good deal more ...limited than yours may be. I didn't mean to ...imply some moral defect on your part."
Moral defect. "Gee, thanks, Frase, I feel better already!" I snarl.
He winces again. "I didn't mean..."
"You're weird, ya know that? You are really weird," I begin. I can feel the anger pushing up through my chest while I lay here and look at the ceiling and purposely don't look at him because if I do, I might wanna punch him in the head again, and I don't wanna do that.
"I don't get you. Is it just certain things, or is it the whole shebang that you can't do?" My teeth are gritted. "Do you make me do everything 'cause you think that everything we do, just 'cause we're two men, is 'morally defective'? That if you don't go after things, if you don't start things, if you don't get the ball rolling, if you just let me make the moves, and I'm the aggressive one, that somehow it's my fault you like it with a man, and that makes it more okay that we do it at all -- 'cause you can blame me? Or is it only certain things you won't go after, or you only go after once in a blue moon, 'cause you think those things are... perverse, that if you do them, you're a perv, you're bad, you got 'moral defects'?"
Outta the corner of my eye, I can tell he's turning paler. Oh well. Eh, just blew it again, Kowalski. You suck. But I'd rather know right now if he thinks what we're doing is wrong and we shouldn't be doing it. I can't live with this-- I can't do anything with him if that's how he really feels. I'd rather do nothing with him than have all the unbelievable, great sex in the world, and feel like I'm a pervert corrupting the innocent Mountie.
"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray."
"What?" I snap.
He leans over me, blocking my view of the ceiling on purpose, so I have to look at him.
"No, that's not what I think," he says quietly, looking concerned and sad.
"What's not what you think?" I ask him. Spell it out, Frase. Tell me exactly what is and isn't morally defective, according to you.
"There's nothing wrong with any two people loving each other any way they both find mutually acceptable or pleasurable."
"Yeah..." I say. "And... ?"
"And... no, I do not think anything we've done up to this point is... is perverse or morally defective." He swallows. "Though I am aware that many people would disagree."
"That's not what I asked you," I grit.
"I... realize that." He swallows again, closes his eyes. "Yes, Ray, I do have some difficulty imagining... imagining myself behaving in a certain way. But I don't have any such difficulties with you. You -- you're you. You've always, in my mind, had that kind of ...abandon, that kind of ...freedom to 'try anything', as you once put it to me. I don't... think it's perverse. I don't think it's morally defective. In truth I envy your... the way you know what you like and pursue it and... adventure beyond what's expected." He takes a deep breath. "But admiring it in you and ...trying to foster it in myself, are two different things. I... am more inhibited."
I sigh impatiently, but he goes on. "I am; I know I am. I ...guess that certain things which seem all right for you to do, don't seem all right for me to do. I perceive myself a certain way. I... have, of necessity, had to change that perception... over time. Over time spent with you. I... my perception of myself has... seems to be almost constantly changing these days, and, and, I find it difficult to ...get my bearings within myself sometimes."
"And this is my fault, right?" I snarl. God, I wish he'd get off me.
"No, of course it's not your fault," he shakes his head.
"But you'd never woulda known any of this, you'd never-a been forced to think about all this stuff, about yourself this way, other ways, if it wasn't for me, right?"
"I suppose our connection and eventual interaction might have been... a small kernel that sprouted some of these thoughts, but--"
"Get off me, Frase." That's it. I am outta here.
"Ray, wait! Please, please let me finish--"
"No. I get yer point. I get what you mean about who's seducin' who, who's the perv, here, who's ta blame for your fag-ness. Let me up and let me outta here." I'm already pushing him outta the way.
'Course, now he decides to be stubborn. I'm pushing up against him, against his chest, and now he's holding me down. Not by the wrists or nothin', but, all the same, he's on me and he's making sure I stay put.
"You asked me a question, several questions, actually; and I am going to finish my answer. And you are going to listen, Ray, if I have to make you." he tells me firmly.
"Oh, izzat so? You and whose army, Frase? Get off me. Let me up! I don't wanna listen to your pathetic 'blame Ray' bullshit, Frase, I don't wanna listen to your sob story of how you didn't know you were capable of all this perversion 'til you met me. Get the fuck off me and let me go!" I struggle, but now he's holding me down for real.
"Ray!" He throws his entire weight on me. "Would you just be reasonable about this and let me at least finish what I was saying! I am trying to explain why things between us have forced my perceptions to change and that it is a positive thing! A good thing! That things were -- that I was -- stagnant before you!"
That makes me stop. Okay. Well, maybe. Maybe I'm not the perv and maybe he's not blaming me. But he's still leaning on me and holding me down.
Well, it is kinda nice -- I mean, it would be, if he was doin' it for a different reason and we both were naked. But he's just doin' it to talk to me, and we're not naked.
"Frase, I don't think I can stand to hear how I somehow had this... this... cosmic influence on you. I'm just a guy. Okay? I'm just a dumb cop, I dunno what the hell I'm doin' mosta the time, and I sure as hell don't know what I'm doin' with you. Now more than ever. You're confusin' the hell outta me and I can't tell if you're doin' it on purpose just to jerk my chain and get me in a whirl -- or if you just can't help it cuz you're the most frustrating freak I ever met and it's still jerkin' my chain and gettin' me in a whirl, but at least you're not doin' it on purpose."
He sighs. "Ray, you're not just a dumb cop. And as much as you may not know what you're doing, doing with me, I also don't know what I'm doing with you. But I do know -- this much I can say -- my life hasn't been the same with you in it. My life hasn't been the same since I first... felt your lips on mine. I ...know that we probably don't know what we're doing or where we're going, but for the first time in my life, I am marginally comfortable with not knowing." He pauses, then swallows and continues.
"I am more than marginally comfortable with it. I have been learning to enjoy it. To enjoy your spontaneity. To enjoy the way that every new day can bring a new surprise into my life from you. I am trying to learn from you, Ray, truly I am." Now he's sounding a little sad and desperate. "It isn't easy, after a life of ...of ...habitually reining oneself in, to just let... let the mind drift and... and consider the possibilities. The more I do it, the more... the more limited I realize my outlook has been on many things. Probably most of all about myself."
He puts his head down on my chest and steals his arms around me so he's not holding me on the bed, he's just holding me.
Bastard. He's got me hook, line and sinker and I'm just... just... helpless.
I stroke his short, thick hair and can't help talking back. Now it's all mixed up, happy and sad. Frase, you're a freak. You... you keep opening things up inside me that I tried to close down... and it's good, but it hurts opening 'em up again.
"Frase. You... you don't hafta do anything you don't like doin' or don't feel comfortable doin'. I just was trying to get ya to see... that if you wanna, it's okay. If you wanna take me, just take me -- I'm yours. Yours for the taking. Any time. Anywhere. Any way. 'Kay? I mean, d'ya get what I'm saying?"
I take a breath and plunge on. "I don't... don't mean you gotta...take me, go after me, get aggressive, get the ball rolling. Just that... it, it felt nice. It felt like you ...you really needed and wanted me, so much you couldn't stop yourself. Nobody... nobody ever made me feel so... wanted that way. Not Stella, not anyone. I can't explain it... it's not comin' out right, somehow. It just... felt so good. Like I'm all yours. And I am all yours. But sometimes it seems like you don't really know it, don't know how much... you got me."
There. It's out. Okay. I said it. Okay, Frase, time for you to freak out again. If I don't freak out first. I can't believe I just told him all that. I must be nuts. I mean, I know he's nuts -- but what does that say about me?
"Thank you, Ray," he whispers. "Yes... I don't -- didn't -- know how much..." He trails off. "I see now that I've been making a mountain out of a molehill. I'm sorry."
Stupid Mountie. Stupid, lovely, heavy, muscled Mountie laying on my chest and just thinking about him and the things we do is makin' me hard again. I'm just so all-over-the-place today, I can't believe it. C'mon, Frase. Get the ball rolling...
But if he wants to and he doesn't, or he wants to and he can't, can't let himself... I just got an idea of something that could trigger it. Oh, yeah.
And, as usual, pretty soon, it's me, me stroking his arm, feeling the muscles, the weight of him half-on and half-off me... gettin' hard, horny, and hot.
"Frase..."
"Yes, Ray?"
Sigh. "Get up here and kiss me."
He dutifully picks his head up and moves in to kiss me, and then stops.
"What?" I ask him.
He just strokes my forehead a few times, looking into my eyes. I can't read him, right now; suddenly he went away inside -- I hate when he does that -- and he's blank, wiped the slate clean. I hope it's for a good reason, not a bad one.
"Ray. My Ray," he breathes on me. The kiss, when it finally comes, is sweet and tender.
"I am yours," I say as his lips move away. "But you should make me yours. Again and again. Whenever you can."
"I'll do my best, Ray," he says. But he's so serious, it's a real downer.
"Frase?" I ask him.
"Yes?" he says, still over me.
Real quick, I push him up off me, and over, and roll over on top of him.
"Lighten up," I say, and smile at the surprise and happiness stealing over his face. "See, you like it! You like it when I manhandle you! So why wouldn't I?" I tell him before I ravish his mouth, those perfect red lips.
"You have a point," he says, muffled, when my kiss softens.
"Uh-huh. So do you," I say, grinding our hard cocks together. I'm half-on and half-off the bed, but I don't care. He thrusts his pelvis up at mine and I crush our mouths together again.
Fraser, Fraser, Fraser. What am I gonna do with you? I guess it wouldn't all be so 'delightful', as you say, if you weren't so clueless and naive and, well, innocent. But I couldn't stand it if I felt like it was all happening because of me. You have to want it, too. That keeps me goin'. Keeps me comin' back for more. I been there, I done that one-sided love thing... where I was the one loving and she wasn't loving back, not like I loved her. I can't do it again. I gotta know you want me just as much as I want you.
You gotta show me.
But I gotta tell you. All the ways I been thinkin' you could show me, since the last time we were here at the Consulate. If only I had the nerve to say all of it...
One of these days, Frase. One of these days.
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