Entry tags:
Fic: Beg Me For It
Title: Beg Me For It
Fandom: due South
Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: light D/s, spanking, bondage, dirty talk
Word count: 12,000
Summary: Fraser loses his memory and loses control.
Notes: For![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
helens78. Thanks to burningchaos for the beta.
It's been four days since the accident, and Ray is waking up in the chair again. The chair is close to Fraser's hospital bed, close enough that Ray can reach out and touch Fraser if he needs to. He doesn't, though.
Fraser never sleeps this soundly, at least he never did Before. Ray watches him for a few long minutes, watches the way his chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths. His eyes move beneath their lids and Ray wonders what he dreams about now. He hopes, in a way he's never hoped before, that Fraser is dreaming of him.
Ray slips out of the room silently, then rides the elevator down to the cafeteria. He gets coffee for himself and hot water for Fraser. He's brought Fraser's twig-tea from the apartment, and when he comes back to fix it, Fraser wakes up.
“Where-” Fraser says, confused and distant. He looks around the room and then focuses on Ray. “Who-”
It hurts every time.
“Your name is Benton Fraser, you had an accident four days ago, and you're in the hospital,” Ray says by rote. “I'm Ray, your partner.”
“I don't remember,” Fraser says, and it's the same as it's been for four days. He sleeps, then he wakes up with no memory. “Partner?”
Ray swallows. “Yeah. I'm a cop and you're a Mountie. We work together here in Chicago.”
Fraser is tense, like he always is, looking like he's about to jump out of his skin. He doesn't like being out of control like this, and Ray knows him well enough to understand. He just hasn't figured out how to make Fraser feel steadier yet.
“I made you some tea,” Ray says. “It's your favorite. Some kind of bark.”
Fraser takes the styrofoam cup gingerly, then takes a cautious sip. “Slippery elm,” he says after he's tasted it. He always knows this, but Ray always tests him.
“Yeah,” Ray says, and sits back in his chair with his coffee. The clock says it's eight in the morning, which is much later than Fraser would wake Before.
“You said I'm a member of the RCMP,” Fraser states. “What am I doing in Chicago?”
Ray never wants to give the whole story, because those are Fraser's lines. Instead, he says, “You're attached to the Canadian consulate here.”
There are things Fraser just knows and there are things Ray has to tell him. Then there are the in-between facts, hints Ray gives him and Fraser picks up on. Fraser knows his tea and he knows what a Mountie is. He can talk about hockey as a game, but he doesn't know specifics about teams.
Most days, he figures out the fact that Ray is his best friend as well as his partner without prompting.
“And we're... partners?” Fraser says. “Are we close?”
But maybe today he won't.
“Yeah, Frase. We're good friends,” Ray says.
Fraser nods, taking this in. He looks around the hospital room and sighs. “How long do I have to stay here?”
He always asks that before asking about his condition. Like he doesn't care what's wrong, as long as he can get out of his tiny room and into the sunlight.
“We can go outside for a walk,” Ray says. “And then we'll talk about it.”
*
The air is as fresh as it gets in Chicago, and the sun is shining. It's a beautiful day, but Ray is more focused on Fraser than the weather. They walk along a concrete path until they come to a big cast iron bench. Ray sits and nods for Fraser to sit with him.
“You fell off a roof,” Ray says. “It's a miracle you didn't break your neck. You've got a few bruises, but physically, you're fine.”
“What was I doing on a roof?” Fraser asks. “And why can't I remember?”
“We were in pursuit of a murder suspect,” Ray explains. “You followed him upstairs and he jumped from one roof to the other. You kept following, but at the last minute you slipped and fell. You hit your head.” It's a fucking miracle that's all he hurt.
Ray pulls out his pack of cigarettes. He quit before this happened, but once Fraser woke up on the first day with no memories of his life, Ray stormed out and went straight to a convenience store and bought a pack of lights.
Fraser watches him as he lights up, eyes steady and familiar. “I have amnesia?”
“Yeah. You wake up every day not remembering,” Ray says.
“So I can't retain anything. That's... troubling,” Fraser says quietly.
“But you have a good chance of getting better, the doc said,” Ray says. It's not quite comforting enough, but it's the only thing he has to hold on to. “And it's not even been a week yet.”
“Four days,” Fraser says. He shakes his head and looks lost. Ray can't get used to that on Fraser's face.
Fraser runs fingers through his hair, feeling his scalp. There's a bump there, Ray knows, and Fraser finds it soon enough, wincing as he does. “No concussion?”
Ray breathes out. They've had this conversation three times now, and it's getting old.
Maybe tomorrow things will be different.
*
Ray goes home and gets a shower and fresh clothes. He hates leaving Fraser's side, doesn't want to not be there if he wakes in the middle of the night.
It's been a week. Seven full days, and Fraser's still not remembered anything. Still wakes not knowing who Ray is, no matter what Ray's told him the day before. Or the day before that.
Clean again, Ray drives over to Frannie's to pick up Dief. There's a clear policy of no pets in the hospital, but at this point Ray thinks the hospital can just suck on it. He's sick of the place, and Dief has been asking for Fraser. Whining, really, and looking as forlorn as a half-wolf can.
So it's with Dief that he slips back into Fraser's room, and Dief goes straight over to the bed and puts his paws up on it, resting his head on Fraser's leg.
Fraser wakes up and absently scratches behind Dief's ears. “And who are you?”
Ray sighs. Deep down, he'd been hoping Dief would spark something in Fraser's brain, a memory or familiarity or something. But it's not happening; Fraser is looking from the dog to Ray in confusion.
“Your name is Benton Fraser, and you had an accident. You're in the hospital. I'm Ray, your partner,” Ray says, his voice flatter than usual. “You have amnesia, which is why you don't remember anything.”
Dief makes a low noise and noses Fraser's blanket.
“Sorry, boy,” Ray says. “This is Diefenbaker, your … friend. He's a deaf half-wolf.”
Fraser pets Dief for a few long moments, then asks, “Partner?”
Ray explains, again, just like he has for the past week. The hope he had earlier is gone. He wonders if it will ever again be like Before. The doctors are still optimistic, and that's all that keeps Ray going.
*
“You're going home today,” Ray says two days later after he's explained the who, why, and where again.
“To the consulate?” Fraser asks.
“Nah, you don't need to be there. You're coming home with me,” Ray says.
Fraser looks like he's going to say no, but Ray holds his hand up to stop him.
“I don't want to hear your gentlemanly protests, Frase,” Ray says. “I've worked it out with everyone already.”
“All right,” Fraser says with a sigh.
“Love it when you agree with me,” Ray says with a smile. It's weak, but it's there. He's anxious to get away from the hospital, and he's sure if Fraser could remember, he would be, too.
*
Fraser takes the bed and Ray takes the couch. Dief curls up beside the bed; he seems to want to stay close. Ray would stay close, too, if he could. But the couch is better than the chair in the hospital, much more comfortable, and he gets the first good sleep he's had in nine days.
He wakes before Fraser, when the sun is just starting to shine through the blinds, and stretches. He pads on bare feet to the kitchen where he starts making breakfast.
Pancakes are easy, and he makes some big ones along with some silver dollar-sized ones. Dief likes either, but Fraser has always loved plate-sized pancakes with real maple syrup. The doctors said to introduce Fraser to familiar things, and Ray has a long mental list. Pancakes are somewhere in the middle.
The smells of cooking must've woken Fraser, because he's standing in the doorway when Ray looks up. Diefenbaker is by his side, sniffing happily.
“Good morning,” Ray says. “Your name is Benton Fraser, and you had an accident. You have amnesia.”
“I remember, Ray,” Fraser says softly.
Ray freezes, his hand wrapped gripping the spatula tight. Then he launches himself into Fraser's chest, arms tight around his middle. “That's fucking great. That's just fucking... amazing, Jesus Christ, I can't tell you-”
“Not everything,” Fraser says, a little strangled because Ray's hugging him so tightly. “Just yesterday and last night.”
Ray lets go and looks at Fraser's face, sees his own disappointment mirrored there. “Oh. Well. It's something, though, isn't it? No more groundhog day.”
“Groundhog... day?” Fraser asks slowly.
“No more waking up and doing it all over again every day, I mean,” Ray says. “This is still good news. This is... I'm going to call the doc and let her know.” But he can't, because a giant pancake is starting to burn and he has to scrape it off the bottom of the skillet.
He doesn't care, though. Fraser is getting better, and that's all that matters in the world.
He calls the doctor after they have breakfast. She hmms and mmms a lot, but in an enthusiastic way. She wants to see Fraser later in the day for some more tests – which Ray thinks there's been enough of but Fraser okays it, probably because he doesn't remember most of the tests he's endured.
Ray gets off the phone and smiles at Fraser. “You're gonna get better soon, I just know it. More better. You know what I mean.”
“I appreciate the faith you have in me, Ray,” Fraser says. “This must be difficult for you.”
Ray waves that thought away. “You'd do the same for me,” he says, and knows it's true. Fraser would do anything for him, give him the shirt off his back or the hat off his head. But Fraser's shirts are just worn plaid right now, and he doesn't wear the hat.
“You think much of me,” Fraser says.
Ray pours himself a cup of coffee and nods. “You're the best guy I know,” he admits softly. Maybe it's too much to say, because Fraser will probably – hopefully – remember this conversation tomorrow. But it's the truth, and Ray stands by it.
Fraser sits at the bar in the kitchen while Ray makes him tea. Ray can feel Fraser's eyes watching his movements as he goes through the familiar motions. But Fraser says nothing, seeming to be in deep thought. It makes sense to Ray – he'd probably have a lot of thinking to do, too, in Fraser's situation.
He finishes the tea and sets it in front of Fraser, smiling at him. “One bark tea comin' atcha.”
“Thank you, Ray. I could have made it myself, though. There's no need for you to-”
“You're my guest,” Ray says. “And maybe I like taking care of you.”
Fraser gets a distant, thinking look on his face again, like he's taking that in and rolling it around in his mind. “I don't like the way I feel.”
Ray pauses with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth, then sets it down. “Want to tell me about it?” he asks. Fraser doesn't normally talk about his feelings, but Ray wants to know.
“I feel out of control,” Fraser says. “Not knowing what happened before, not remembering, it's a little like treading on thin ice while blindfolded.”
Ray doesn't know what to say to that. He wants to reassure Fraser, tell him he'll help him through this, that he'll always be there. Except he can't count on this version of Fraser knowing that. The words stick in his throat, and he just takes a bitter sip of coffee and nods in understanding.
*
After the tests, Ray and Fraser climb back into the car. Ray's got an idea, though, something on his mental list of familiar things.
“Want to go by the station?” he asks. “Might jog something in that head of yours.”
But Fraser shakes his head. “I'd rather just go back,” he says. “Perhaps we could watch a film.”
Ray switches mental gears – he's good at that – and gives Fraser a nod. “Yeah, and I've got hockey on tape if you want. You won't remember it, so...”
Fraser smiles faintly. “Ah, so there's an up side to amnesia.”
“Sure there is, Frase,” Ray says, grinning back. The smile is strained but genuine. “You should make a list of things you want to try for the 'first time'.”
Ray pulls out of his parking space and heads out onto the road. When he looks back at Fraser, he has a thoughtful, quiet look on his face.
*
Ray's watched this hockey game twice, once when it aired and then a day later with Fraser. Somehow, though, it's brand new to him this time around. Probably because it's brand new to Fraser.
They sit side by side on the couch, arms touching now and then, and Ray's popped some popcorn so their hands bump when they go for the treat at the same time. It's distracting and at the same time comforting.
Fraser sits forward, his legs spreading wider, his eyes glued to the television. It's a riveting game, and Ray can't help but think of the first time they watched it together. It was after a long day of work and Ray was tired but relaxed. They shared a couple of beers and cheered along together for the Blackhawks. Fraser was just as warm then as he is now, knee pressing against Ray's, sending a thrill of excitement through him.
He's resigned himself to wanting Fraser and never having him. There's no problem there. But lately, with them sleeping under the same roof and Fraser borrowing his oversized sweats when he gets out of the shower, it hits a little closer. He's thinking about impossible things again, things he's tried over the years to repress.
He looks over at Fraser, and Fraser smiles. Yeah, Ray is used to wanting the impossible.
*
The next day, Fraser still remembers. Ray grins at him and does a little dance around the kitchen. Fraser watches him with an amused smile.
“I'm still not completely well,” Fraser points out, like he needs to.
“I know,” Ray says. “But you're on the road, Frase, you're on the road.”
Fraser smiles. “I suppose I am.”
Ray scoops up some scrambled eggs with the spatula and deposits them on a plate.
“I want to ask you something,” Fraser says, taking his plate with, “Thank you, kindly.”
“Anything,” Ray says, plating up his own food. “I guess you want to know the whole story of how you got to Chicago?” He's heard the story time and time again, so he can probably recite it in his sleep.
“That's not what I want to ask you,” Fraser says quietly, “though I would like to know.”
Ray shelves the speech and sits down with his plate of eggs and toast, then turns his full attention to Fraser. “C'mon, ask away. What do you want to know?”
He's not prepared for the quiet, “Are we lovers, Ray?”
Ray chokes on air so hard his eyes water. “What?”
“Ah. I can see from your reaction that we are not,” Fraser says.
“Jesus. What made you think that?” Ray asks.
Fraser doesn't answer right away. He takes a sip of his tea (Earl Grey this time, not slippery bark stuff) and looks contemplative. “You've been very accommodating and caring, Ray. You've opened up your home to me and you've been especially patient with my condition.”
“Yeah, well, we're partners. We're buddies, Frase. That's what buddies do for each other,” Ray says, babbling his explanation.
“Your treatment of me led me to believe there was more than just a friendship tying us together,” Fraser states softly.
“We've been through a lot together,” Ray says. “We're close, best friends to the end.”
But Fraser doesn't seem content to leave it at that. “And you've never wanted more?”
“What is this, the fucking Spanish inquisition?” Ray says, desperate to change the topic.
“Are you going to answer me?” Fraser asks.
Ray swallows hard. “You're straight, Fraser. And I'm a cop.” It's a perfectly valid answer.
“You sound sure of my sexual orientation, but I can tell you I am decidedly not heterosexual,” Fraser says, just like that. Like it's no big deal.
“You don't even remember!” Ray says, nearly frantic now.
“There are some things a person just knows,” Fraser says resolutely.
Ray has to get some distance between them, so he gets up and starts to pace. Fraser watches him with a worried look.
“We never talked about it,” Ray says. He wishes his apartment was a little bigger so he had more room to walk. He turns, walks towards Fraser, then turns and walks back again across the living room.
Fraser gets up from his stool and comes closer. No, that's no good, Ray needs space if he's going to talk about this. But Fraser's moving in on him, into his personal bubble, reaching up and grabbing Ray's shoulders to keep him from pacing some more.
“I think we should talk about it now,” Fraser says in a tone that brooks no fucking arguments.
Ray swallows. His throat is tight and heat is creeping through his arms where Fraser is holding him.
“We were never … lovers,” Ray says quietly, looking at Fraser full on so he can see the truth in his eyes. Not for lack of wanting.
Fraser nods and keeps holding Ray in place. His fingers tighten and loosen in turns, but he doesn't let go. Ray finds his breath coming faster and faster.
“But it's something you've thought about,” Fraser says. Just as bold as you please.
Maybe if Ray doesn't say anything, this whole conversation will melt away and they can go back to the status quo. So he stays silent. He wishes he could look away from Fraser's eyes, but they're like magnets drawing him in.
And then Fraser is moving his hands up over Ray's shoulders. They slide slowly up his neck until warm fingers are cupping Ray's face. Fraser's never touched him like this before, and it makes Ray's breathing come even faster. He's wondering if he's going to have an asthma attack or something.
“What-” Ray manages, but then Fraser cuts him off with the press of his lips.
Kissing, that's what this is. Gentle but insistent, and Fraser's still cupping his face, grounding him, maybe keeping him still so he can't get away.
The thought of Fraser holding him still in other contexts goes straight to his dick. Fraser hasn't even introduced tongue into the equation yet, and Ray's already hard.
Then they're going at it for real, tongues slicking against each other, and Ray steps closer and wraps his arms around Fraser's neck. It's like he can't help but move in close, like Fraser's magnetic all over, not just his eyes. He's warm and hard in all the right places, his chest and thighs and Ray's not the only one whose dick is getting in on the fun.
Fraser notices, of course, and presses against him more fully, so his cock is against Ray's just so, giving Ray friction if he wants it. And he wants it.
He moans and rolls his hips so that his dick rubs against Fraser's. It's insane, his mind is telling him, absolutely bugfuck insane, but... oh, what a good feeling insanity is.
“I want you,” Fraser says, almost a growl against Ray's mouth.
And Ray no longer cares what the fuck Fraser remembers or not. The tone of Fraser's voice brooks no arguments, and Ray's tugging Fraser into the bedroom eagerly. Years of wanting and wishing and needing are crashing down around him, telling him yes, now, more, more.
“What do you want, Frase?” Ray asks between searing kisses. They're on the bed now, Fraser lying on top of him, his weight and heat turning Ray on even more. “I'll give you anything.”
Fraser doesn't answer right away. He worries Ray's bottom lip between his perfect teeth, making Ray moan, low and needy. So Ray just goes with it, lets Fraser do whatever he wants.
Then he remembers, “You want to be in control?” He shifts under Fraser, spreads out as much as he can under his weight, and says, “You can have it. I'll give it up, do whatever you want.”
Fraser gasps and then kisses Ray again, his tongue hard and sweeping against Ray's. “I want that. Yes. If you're willing.”
Ray's so willing he feels like he might pop off just talking about it. “I'm all yours,” he says, a promise and a prayer all at once.
He makes a noise of protest when Fraser moves off and stands beside the bed, but then Fraser says, “Take off your clothes,” and Ray's moving before he finishes the sentence. He peels his shirt off over his head and wriggles out of his jeans and underwear, suddenly glad he's not wearing socks because there's no sexy way to get out of those.
Fraser watches until Ray's naked and stretched out again, then he pops the button on his fly with a flick of his wrist. Just the button, not the rest, and he's still fully clothed while Ray's completely bare, and it just feels right. Like Ray's the one who needs to be naked for Fraser, not the other way around.
Fraser looks at him for a long moment, just like he's soaking in the sight of Ray. It makes Ray feel good – he knows he's got a good body, and now it's all for Fraser. “Like what you see?” he asks.
“Smug,” Fraser says with a smile. He walks closer to the bed and sits down, then nods to the space between his legs. “Come here.”
Ray scrambles to obey, moving off the bed and onto the floor. The thin carpet is hard on his knees but he doesn't care. He puts his hands on Fraser's thighs and wants so badly to lean in, but he stays as still as he can, waiting for Fraser to tell him what to do.
“Unzip me,” Fraser says.
“Yessir,” Ray says in a rush, leaning in to do just that.
“You don't have to call me sir,” Fraser says. He slips a hand into Ray's hair and Ray has to bite his lip to keep from groaning. He never wants Fraser to stop touching him.
“Yes, Fraser,” Ray says softly. “Is that good?”
“Very good, Ray,” Fraser praises. It makes Ray feel warm and happy inside. “Take me out, now.”
Ray pushes down the waistband of Fraser's underwear and pulls out his cock. It's thick and long, shiny-hard, and wet at the tip already. Ray's mouth waters at the sight of it.
Fraser keeps petting Ray's hair softly, like he's a beloved dog. That's not far off the mark, really – Ray feels like he's going to start panting and whining any minute now.
“Lick,” Fraser says.
Ray does. He flattens his tongue and licks from the root to the tip, gathering precome in his mouth when he gets to the top. It tastes smooth and salty, and Ray wants more.
“Good. Now take the head into your mouth. Slowly,” Fraser says.
Ray doesn't want to go slowly, but he answers with a quiet, “Yes, Fraser.” He wraps his lips around the spongy tip, sucking lightly. It's not enough, he wants it all, wants to practically choke on this big cock while Fraser fucks his face. But he goes slowly and looks up at Fraser with eager, needy eyes.
The only sound Fraser makes is the soft hitching of his breath.
Ray sucks the head of Fraser's cock, working his mouth around it gently. He keeps sucking and sucking, because Fraser hasn't told him to do otherwise, and Ray is good, Ray is obedient. He doesn't want this to end, so he'll be as good as he can for Fraser.
And Fraser seems to realize Ray needs to hear it, because he says, “Good, you're so good for me,” while petting Ray's hair, and the words and action make Ray's eyes fall closed in gratitude.
“A little more,” Fraser says, and Ray thinks finally, finally.
Slowly, Ray goes down, taking more of Fraser's cock into his mouth. Fraser only lets him get so far, though, because he's got both hands in Ray's hair now, keeping him right where he wants him.
Ray shivers and his cock twitches against his belly, standing straight and proud, leaking a little at the tip already.
“Now use your tongue,” Fraser orders.
Ray moves his tongue, flat against the underside of Fraser's cock, and Fraser pulls him down further so that he takes more of him. Fraser's heavy on his tongue, and so, so hard. Ray has to remember to breathe slowly through his nose. He hasn't done this in a long, long time, not since right after he and Stella separated and Ray went out to get laid with any and everyone. But it's just like riding a fucking bike, only much better, and the actions come back to him easily.
He works his tongue against Fraser's cock some more, until Fraser pulls Ray's head back off his dick. Ray lets out a tiny, disappointed noise. He wants more, so much more.
“Patience, Ray,” Fraser murmurs, petting his hair. “Tell me what you want.”
He wants Ray to form sentences? That might be going too far. Ray's gagging for it, breathing fast, his whole body tense from want.
“I want-” Ray says, and he has to clear his throat and try again. “I want you to fuck my mouth, Fraser.”
“Ask me nicely,” Fraser says, his eyes dark and intent now.
“Please,” Ray whispers, and Fraser shakes his head, cutting him off.
“Say it aloud,” Fraser orders.
Ray's hands tense on Fraser's thighs and he takes a deep breath. Then he says, “Please, Fraser, please fuck my mouth.”
Fraser's hands are big and capable as they guide Ray's head back down. His cock pushes into Ray's mouth, thick and rock hard. Ray closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling, his hands gripping Fraser's thighs for balance. Then Fraser rocks his hips and every thought in Ray's head goes flying.
He's doing it, he's fucking Ray's mouth with slow, even thrusts that go straight to Ray's cock.
“You want to touch yourself, don't you?” Fraser says, tightening his hands in Ray's hair and thrusting again.
Ray moans, the sound coming from somewhere deep, wanting friction and just more. He's almost out of his head with it, and Fraser just keeps pushing deeper, deeper, until he hits the back of Ray's throat. It's uncomfortable and thrilling at the same time, just what Ray wants.
“Wrap your hand around your cock,” Fraser instructs, and boy, Ray likes it when dirty words like 'fuck' and 'cock' come out of that perfect mouth.
Ray moans gratefully, then reaches down and lets his fingers curl around his dick. He squeezes the base so he won't come then and there.
“Open your eyes and look at me, Ray,” Fraser says, and Ray wasn't even aware they were closed.
He looks up at Fraser. Fraser is intense and controlled, every bit of him focused on Ray. That kind of concentration is pure Fraser, and it's more than a little hot. Ray moans around the cock in his mouth, then again when Fraser thrusts into his throat.
He's glad he's had practice at this, or he'd be choking right about now. But that thought is good, too, makes him have to squeeze his dick again before it gets too happy.
“Stroke yourself, Ray. Long and slow,” Fraser says.
His own hand has never felt this good. The rough slide of the pads of his fingers over the hard, eager flesh of his sensitive cock is heaven.
“Don't come, though,” Fraser says, and the sound of the words is gentle but absolute law. “You don't come until I say.”
Then he's thrusting faster, further, and Ray is forced to take it. Ray loves it, loves the fact that Fraser is making him do it, that he has nowhere to go but further down on Fraser's cock.
The head of Fraser's cock is in his throat, and Fraser says, “Swallow.”
Ray does. He almost chokes, but then he's swallowing around the tip of Fraser's cock. That makes Fraser moan and pull him in, closer, closer, until Ray's nose is nestled against short, curly hair that smells like Fraser Concentrate, clean and manly and so, so hot.
Then Fraser is coming without warning, spurting thickly down Ray's throat.
Ray has to close his eyes tight and focus on swallowing, focus on squeezing tight around the base of his cock so he doesn't come. Fraser hasn't given permission yet.
It takes Fraser some long moments before he says, “Good. Very good, Ray.”
Ray smiles up at him, strained but happy, his hand still on his cock.
“Come up here,” Fraser says, sitting back a little further and tapping his thigh. “Sit on my lap.”
Ray knows he could protest, but he doesn't want to; he wants to obey. He gives Fraser a dubious look, though, before moving up and into his lap.
Fraser manhandles Ray into position, until Ray's back is pressed against Fraser's chest, hands at his sides. His hands move over Ray's shoulders, down his arms, then back up to touch his chest. It's like Fraser's hands are everywhere all at once, smoothing over his skin possessively.
He pinches Ray's nipples, rolls them between his fingertips until Ray is arching into the touch and moaning. He's sensitive there, feels every touch like it's on his cock.
Fraser kisses his shoulder and then moves his hand down to cup Ray's balls. “Tell me what you're feeling,” he says.
“Oh, fuck,” Ray says, just now realizing that he hasn't been talking because Fraser didn't tell him to. “Your hands are so good.”
“Keep going, Ray,” Fraser says, rolling Ray's balls between his fingers.
“So fucking hot, want you so bad, I'm leaking all over for you,” Ray babbles, shifting on Fraser's lap, needing friction so bad now it hurts. Fraser's jeans are rough against his ass, the fly open and the zipper digging into soft skin.
“I see,” Fraser says, and finally touches Ray's cock.
Ray whimpers at the first meeting of callused fingers to his dick, at the way they move up and down the shaft, teasing lightly.
“Do you want to come, Ray?” Fraser asks, his voice completely nonchalant.
“Please, Fraser. Please, I need to come, make me come for you...” Ray pleads. Fraser's working his whole hand around Ray's cock now, slow and steady.
“You're so pretty when you beg,” Fraser says low in Ray's ear.
Ray jerks his hips, pushing into Fraser's hand, but Fraser smacks his hip and says, “No. Let me.”
The sound of the smack is louder than the words, and Ray can feel his skin stinging with it. It's a warm feeling, not at all unpleasant, and it makes Ray go still and more obedient.
“Good,” Fraser says. “You're being so good for me.”
Then Fraser is stroking faster and scraping his teeth against Ray's shoulder, and Ray is tense and ready to pop at any moment. But not yet, he can't yet. Fraser has to say he can.
“You're being so good,” Fraser says again, then bites down on the skin he's been kissing. Ray cries out, desperate and nearly broken.
“Please, please, please,” Ray chants, trying so hard to stay still.
Fraser twists his hand, stroking over the head of Ray's cock and back down again, then says, “Come on, Ray. Come for me.”
Ray jerks and comes hard before Fraser is finished talking. Fraser strokes him through it until Ray's too sensitive to take anymore. Fraser just knows when it's too much, like he's living inside Ray's body.
Ray pants harshly, head resting back against Fraser's shoulder. Fraser pets him, his hands moving over Ray's stomach and chest. Ray feels boneless and dazed in a way he's never felt before.
But Fraser takes care of him and pulls him down to lie on the bed, cuddling him close against his chest. He pets his hair and says, “Good, you're so good,” and a warmth that has nothing to do with afterglow moves through Ray's body.
If he wasn't in love with Fraser Before, he is now.
*
When Ray wakes up, he sees that Fraser is already awake and watching him. It would be creepy on someone else, but Fraser is Fraser, and Ray takes him however he is. He wonders, for a moment, if Fraser remembers anything else. After all, he got better after he moved in with Ray after the hospital, so maybe fabulous, mind-blowing sex has jogged something in his brain.
“I keep getting flashes,” Fraser says, and he must be reading Ray's mind. “I see you and me, and my uniform, and a man I call Dad.”
Ray tries to process this. He grins and says, “You're remembering!”
“A bit, yes. But not full memories, just images,” Fraser says.
“But that's still good,” Ray says. “Like I said, you're on the road.”
Fraser kisses him then, full and hard on the lips. Then he says, “Do you want to take a shower while I make breakfast?”
“Sure thing.” Ray's feeling shy all of a sudden, lying naked in bed with a fully clothed Fraser. But Fraser likes the way he looks and Ray knows he's nothing you'd kick out of bed for eating crackers, so he rolls out of bed and walks proudly to the bathroom. He feels Fraser's eyes on him until he shuts the door behind him.
Breakfast is waiting for him when he gets out – a cheese omelet with asparagus on the side. Where Fraser found the asparagus, Ray doesn't know. Probably somewhere in the freezer, but he would have had to search for awhile to find anything edible in there.
A cup of coffee and his plate are sitting at the bar, and Ray slides onto the stool and smiles at Fraser. “This looks amazing,” he says. “Thanks.”
“You're very welcome, Ray,” Fraser says.
Ray digs into his omelet and moans. It's delicious. “Guess you remember how to cook.”
“Some tasks seem to come to me quite easily,” Fraser says, leaning over the bar and watching Ray. His expression is hard to decipher.
“So these flashes you've been getting,” Ray says, “what are they like?”
“Pictures, mostly,” Fraser says thoughtfully. “Some sounds and words. Smells and tastes that take me by surprise.”
“We need to get you around to meet everyone, and to some familiar places,” Ray says. “Frannie stopped coming to the hospital when you didn't know her, it made her cry and you just...” Got upset, felt guilty, became detached and removed from everyone. “It was better that she stop coming.”
“I did wonder why no one but you came to the hospital,” Fraser says slowly.
“Whoa, no, they came, Fraser. They came in droves the first two days. You've got a lot of friends, people who care about you,” Ray says. “But they were so eager for you to remember that it kinda bummed you out and the doc said no more visitors for awhile. Said it was making you worse.”
“But you continued to come,” Fraser says, a question in his voice.
“Yeah, they woulda had to drive me out at gunpoint,” Ray mumbles.
Fraser smiles. “Thank you, Ray.”
Diefenbaker pads into the kitchen and whines for food. Ray rolls his eyes and gives him a bite of his omelet, which he takes as his right.
“Do you remember Dief?” Ray asks. “Any flashes of him?”
“Some,” Fraser says. “Enough to know we've been through much together.”
Ray takes that in. “You've saved each other's lives a few times.”
Fraser closes his eyes and frowns like he's thinking hard about something. “I know you and I have been through similar situations.”
“Yeah, you've saved my skin and I've saved yours. We're partners, it's what we do,” Ray says.
“More than partners,” Fraser says, opening his eyes and smiling. “I remember last night clearly.”
Ray puts down his fork and flushes. “Yeah. More than partners, Frase.”
Then, as if they haven't just been talking about mind-blowing sex, Fraser says, “We should go to the grocer's.”
“I haven't really had the chance to shop lately,” Ray says.
“Understandable,” Fraser says. “But perhaps we should add it to the list of places to go today, along with the consulate and the police station.”
“And the laundromat,” Ray adds. “All my clothes are dirty except what I'm wearing.”
“Very well. Have I been to your laundromat, Ray?”
“A few times,” Ray says. Yeah, they've been pretty domestic together. They've washed their clothes in the same load sometimes, saving time and energy. They've folded warm-from-the-dryer plainclothes side by side more than once.
“You look as if you're thinking of something pleasant,” Fraser says.
“I do?” Ray says. He smiles. “Just thinking about laundry.”
*
The day that follows is hectic, and Ray wonders if Fraser is feeling overwhelmed. He kicks himself for letting Fraser do everything at once, because by the time they leave the station, Fraser is looking worn.
“Where are we going next?” Fraser asks, but Ray shakes his head.
“Groceries and laundry can wait.”
“But, Ray-”
“Don't want to hear it,” Ray says. He wants Fraser home, in a familiar place, where no one is jumping all over him and asking him if he remembers yet. He wants to take care of him. “Maybe we can go out and do things late afternoon.”
Ray drives them back home, talking about trivial things like the broccoli and dog food they'll buy at the store, and how they forgot to bring the laundry detergent anyway.
Fraser seems to know what Ray's doing and offers him a tense smile. He looks tightly wound and relieved to be stepping back into the apartment.
Dief jumps up on the couch and closes his eyes, his way of giving Ray and Fraser permission – or the suggestion – to go back into the bedroom and relax. Ray tugs Fraser by the hand into the room and pulls his shirt off over his head.
“What do you need, Fraser?” he asks, ready to drop to his knees at a moment's notice, or to just curl up with Fraser on the bed and take a well-deserved nap.
Fraser's face loses some of its hard lines and he steps close, running his hands up Ray's arms and shoulders. He cups Ray's face and just looks at him, his eyes soft and relieved.
“Anything you need,” Ray says, hearing his voice go breathy.
Fraser takes a step back and drops his hands. “Take off the rest.”
Ray does, toeing off his shoes and skimming out of his jeans. He's standing there, still and quiet in only his briefs and socks. He doesn't move to take them off.
“Are you disobeying on purpose, Ray?” Fraser says.
Ray flushes. He is, a little. He wants to push back, see how far Fraser will take this.
Fraser sits on the bed and watches him, a question in his eyes. Then he pats his knee and says, “I think you need to be punished for that.”
Ray licks his lips as his cock jumps beneath the thin fabric of his underwear. “Yes, Fraser,” he says, moving to sit on Fraser's lap.
“No. Over my knee,” Fraser says, and Ray flushes more. Fraser's going to spank him, punish him for not obeying. A deep-down part of him already knew this, but now it's much more real.
It's awkward at first, a position he's never been in, but finally Ray settles his body ass-up over Fraser's lap. He feels hands on him then, Fraser pushing his underwear down to bare his unmarked ass.
Ray's cock twitches, hardening even more.
“I expect you to count,” Fraser says, and Ray doesn't know what he means until his ass is stinging with the first blow. Fraser isn't shy about it, or gentle. The sound of the slap is loud and it fucking hurts. “Count.”
“One,” Ray whispers. He doesn't know how many he's earned, what numbers he'll have to say, but he does know he can keep up. He has to. Fraser has ordered him to.
Another slap lands firmly on his ass, this one seeming even harder than the last. Ray's skin burns now, and Fraser's spanking in the same spot.
“Aloud this time,” Fraser orders, and Ray speaks up and says the number clearly.
His cock is trapped against Fraser's thigh. Ray wriggles and rocks, but Fraser stops him with another slap.
“Don't move,” Fraser says. “Just count.” He slaps again, and it's really starting to hurt.
“Three,” Ray says. Then after the next, “Four.”
Ray is embarrassed that he's getting off on this so hard. The pain is starting to flow through his body like lava. It's so hot, he's hot everywhere, but he has to focus on counting. He doesn't want to disappoint Fraser again. He doesn't want Fraser to stop.
Fraser spanks faster, harder. Ray blinks back the wetness that's appeared in his eyes. He counts, his voice thick. His ass is on fire. His whole body is straining; his fingertips are splayed out on the carpet, the backs of his legs are stretched to accommodate the position.
“Twelve,” Ray cries out brokenly. At least he thinks it's been twelve. He feels like he's floating outside his body. Fraser is there, anchoring him, but Ray's no longer aware of his surroundings.
He hears, “Good, so good for me, Ray.” Fraser's voice, so beloved, and Ray's being moved, soft bedding under him.
“Fraser,” Ray mumbles, moving towards that voice.
“Don't move. I'll take care of you, Ray.”
His ass is sore, sensitive to the touch, but something is moving over it slowly, soothing away the pain. Something wet and warm – Fraser's tongue?
Slowly, Ray comes back to himself. He's lying face first on the bed now, completely naked, and Fraser is behind him licking patterns on his ass. Fraser's hands are at his hips, holding him possessively.
“Whatcha doin'?” Ray asks, just a murmur against his pillow.
“Whatever I want, Ray,” Fraser answers. He's in total control. His hands slide in to run over Ray's ass, and then he spreads the cheeks, exposing Ray completely.
Embarrassment makes Ray flush some more, heat flowing down his body. But when Fraser tongues over his asshole, he jumps and squeaks. “Fraser!”
“Do you want me to stop?” Fraser asks, and Ray's suddenly aware that they haven't talked about boundaries or safewords.
But deep down, Ray knows he doesn't want Fraser to stop. He trusts him completely. He's put his life in Fraser's hands so many times, what is his body in comparison to that?
“Please,” Ray says, wriggling back, bending his knees enough that his ass is high in the air. “Keep going, Fraser. Please.”
“Your skin is red now,” Fraser murmurs, then bites lightly on a sensitive spot. “Beautiful.”
“Fuck,” Ray moans, jerking against the sensation.
Then Fraser's mouth is back to the center, moving over Ray's hole, tongue licking in tight circles around it.
He's never felt something so erotic in his life. He's already radiating heat from the spanking, but the touch of Fraser's tongue to his asshole brings a different kind, white-hot sparks that go straight to his already leaking cock. Ray writhes on the bed – forward for friction and then back for more of Fraser's mouth. Fraser must be feeling indulgent now because he allows the movements.
Fraser pushes his tongue in slowly and Ray gasps. Not because he wasn't expecting it, but because it feels so fucking good. Fraser does it again, in and out, fucking Ray with his tongue. Ray's not sure what needs more attention, his ass or his now-throbbing dick.
One of the hands spreading Ray apart moves, and Ray's about to protest when he feels one thick finger breach him. It's slick with spit but it's still a tight squeeze. He clenches around it first, then remembers how to push back and take something in. He does, and the finger slips in further, twisting and pushing inside him.
Ray lets out a low moan of appreciation, rocking back on the intrusion. It's been so long since anything's been in his ass, months since he's taken his own fingers inside him. It burns in a pleasant way, and Ray is eager for more.
“Gonna fuck me, Frase?” he gasps, feeling another finger move at his entrance.
Fraser is silent for a moment, intent on working Ray open. Then he says, “I haven't decided yet. I might. Would you like that, Ray? Would you like me to fuck you with my cock?”
Ray moans, long and low. He wants it more than anything he's ever wanted. “Please,” he begs, his breath coming fast and shallow now as two fingers work him open.
“Do you have something?” Fraser asks, and for about half a minute Ray has no idea what he's talking about. He's too far gone, rocking back on Fraser's fingers and rocking forward so his dick rubs off against the sheets.
“Yeah,” Ray finally says. He bought the good stuff awhile back, just for himself. “In the night table.”
He whimpers in disappointment when Fraser pulls out and moves over to the side table. But Fraser opens the drawer and pulls out a bottle of massage oil while Ray watches, and then he can't think of anything but fucking.
“Condoms?” Fraser asks, and Ray nearly groans. He doesn't have any.
“Got tested three months ago,” Ray tells him. “I'm clean.”
“But we don't know that I am,” Fraser says. “I can't remember. And I'm not putting you at risk.”
Ray groans and rolls over on his back, hand moving over his cock slowly. He doesn't even realize he's jerking off at first, but then he does and snatches his hand away again. Fraser didn't give permission for that.
“I trust you,” Ray says, but Fraser shakes his head.
“I'll run out and get some,” he says, then goes over to the closet. Ray doesn't know what he's doing, is utterly fucking perplexed when Fraser pulls out two dress ties.
But then Fraser is tying Ray's wrists to the headboard in neat, tight knots. “I want you to stay right here and wait for me.”
Ray's been tied up before, but never left alone after. Feelings of insecurity well up in him. Fear, too, but just a little. Fraser runs a hand through Ray's hair, gentle as can be, and says, “Be good for me, and I'll take care of you when I get back.”
Ray nods soundlessly. He trusts Fraser. Fraser will be right back, and then everything will be fine.
Fraser leans down and kisses him softly, lingering at Ray's lips. Then he pulls away and is gone.
The bindings are tight, and Ray closes his eyes and imagines Fraser over him, doing whatever he wants while Ray's tied up. His imagination gets the better of him, and his cock jerks, eager for any touch at all. But Ray can't touch. It's frustrating and oh so hot at the same time. He wonders what it would be like to have Fraser blindfold him, too – darkness, his arms stretched wide in their bindings, unable to touch or see.
He's getting himself even more worked up this way, and Fraser seems to be taking his own sweet time. Ray turns his head and opens his eyes, and sees from the clock on the bedside table that it's only been ten minutes. Ten long minutes, in which he's done nothing to abate his erection. It would be easier if he just went soft, but Fraser's tied him so tight that the burn of the fabric on Ray's skin is enough to keep him turned on. Then he's thinking about other bindings, of rope and leather and maybe something around his cock so he can't come, not until Fraser wants him to.
His cock jumps at the thought of a ring and leaks all over his belly. He's a fucking mess, straining and shifting, humping air now and then in futile little thrusts.
He closes his eyes again and counts, just like he counted when Fraser spanked him. And that thought goes to his dick, too, and he rubs his sore ass against the sheets for the sense memory.
Memory, oh fuck. What if Fraser forgets and leaves him like this? What if-
The horrific thoughts are cut off by the sound of Fraser stamping his feet and closing the door behind him. Relief runs through Ray like cool water.
Seeing Fraser again is like seeing him for the first time. He's a handsome savior come to rescue him.
“So good to see you back, you just don't know,” Ray babbles when Fraser walks slowly over to the bed. “Untie me?”
“I don't think so, Ray,” Fraser says. “Not yet, at any rate.”
And then Fraser is sitting on the edge of the bed and unlacing his boots just as leisurely as he pleases.
“You get the rubbers?” Ray asks anxiously.
“Yes, and also some water based lubricant,” Fraser says. So proper, even when talking about lube.
Fraser stands after he's taken off his boots and socks, then unbuttons his flannel shirt slowly. He's turned so that Ray can watch, so he can see every inch of skin as it's uncovered. For all the time Fraser stays covered up, his skin is still a smooth golden. It looks delicious, like something Ray could spend all night touching and kissing. But he can't move, isn't permitted to, so he can only look.
“Tell me what you're thinking, Ray,” Fraser says.
Ray licks his lips, watching Fraser remove his shirt. He's nicely muscled, thick but not too thick, and his skin makes Ray's mouth go dry. “I'm thinking how good you look,” Ray says.
Fraser smiles and looks up and down Ray's body. “I'm nothing compared to you.” He pops open the button on his jeans, then unzips. He's not wearing any underwear today. His cock works itself free and bobs proudly, hard and shiny.
Ray swallows. “I hope that's all for me.”
Fraser skims his jeans off, down athletic, lightly furred legs. He steps out of them. All of this is done slow, too slow. Teasing and almost coy. Ray wants Fraser's cock now.
“Be patient,” Fraser says, like Ray hasn't already been patient enough.
“You read my mind,” Ray says. “You do that a lot, lately.”
“One only has to look at you to see what you are thinking,” Fraser says, dropping a bottle of lube and a condom to the bed. Ray flushes. He's still leaking against his belly, sticky-slick on his skin.
“C'mon and fuck me before I die of waiting, Frase,” he whines, and Fraser has the audacity to shake his head. Fraser's in complete control, and Ray has to live with that.
Then Fraser is moving onto the bed, and Ray is breathless in anticipation. Fraser touches Ray's legs first, kneeling between them and running his hands up Ray's thighs. Up, up, so slow it feels like sexual torture, until Fraser's thumbs are pressed against his balls.
Ray spreads his legs and tries not to beg again.
“I want to fuck you like this,” Fraser says, grabbing the extra pillow from the bed. “Lift your hips.”
Ray obeys and Fraser stuffs the pillow beneath him. It makes the angle easier, Ray knows, and he's in love with Fraser for thinking of such a small thing.
He's in love with Fraser, period.
Fraser moves Ray's legs around until they're how he wants them, knees up, ass presented. Then Fraser grabs the lube and slicks his fingers, still too slow for Ray's taste.
Two fingers, slick and warm, push inside him. Ray breathes deeply and pushes back, taking them deep. Fraser twists them, then crooks them against Ray's prostate unerringly.
Ray's whole body jerks at the action and he gasps loudly. “Fraser,” he moans, absolutely helpless.
“I'm not going to fuck you until you beg me for it,” Fraser says, slowly adding a third finger. It's a tight squeeze, and Ray has to remember to breathe, breathe. “And you will beg.”
Fraser sounds so confident, so in charge, and it makes Ray make a noise like a whimper.
“Please,” Ray says, almost a whisper.
Fraser pumps his fingers in and out slowly, stretching Ray's ass wider. “Please what, Ray? Speak up if you want something.”
“Fuck, want you,” Ray says, a little louder, rocking back on Fraser's fingers. “Want you to fuck me.”
“What happened to 'please'?” Fraser asks, his voice warm and amused. He twists his fingers again, which is more of a stretch with three. Ray writhes against it and pants harshly.
“Please fuck me,” Ray says, unable to hold off anymore. He looks up at Fraser in desperation. “Please, please, I need your cock.”
Then Fraser is pulling his fingers out, slow so it doesn't hurt, and he's rolling on the condom. He slicks it up once it's on, then moves into position. He wraps his hand around his cock and rubs the head over Ray's waiting hole.
“Please,” Ray says brokenly.
“You're so good,” Fraser says, pushing in so that the head is in. Then he grips Ray's hips and presses in more, slow and steady, until he's buried inside of Ray.
Ray's eyes are watering again, and he blinks back the wetness there. His heart feels so big, like it might break at any moment. He tries to remember how to breathe, but his breath comes out in shallow little pants.
“You feel amazing,” Fraser says, his voice strained with pleasure.
“Frase, c'mon, I won't break,” Ray says. “Fuck me like you want to.”
Then Fraser is saying, “Ray,” and pulling out, almost all the way, and then thrusting in with all his might.
The headboard bangs against the wall and Ray cries out at the same time, “Fraser!”
Fraser is fucking Ray hard now, no more slow and steady involved. He thrusts, muscles working, hips jerking, and Ray takes it happily. He clenches around Fraser's cock and is rewarded with another call of his name, and Fraser's hands are vice-tight on his hips. He'll probably be bruised later, but that's just a bonus, just another fucking high point to the day. He wants to be bruised, wants Fraser's marks all over him.
Ray wants Fraser to own him, and that's exactly what he's doing with his cock.
“Don't come,” Fraser says, voice far beyond strained now. “Not until I say.”
Ray whimpers, so close, and he can't even touch himself to stop it. But Fraser seems to know what he needs, reaches up and squeezes tight around the base of Ray's cock.
“I should get you a ring,” Fraser pants out, and Ray's nodding erratically at the suggestion. “Would you like that, Ray? Not being able to come, perhaps I'd make you wear it for hours once you're used to it.”
Ray's wondering how Fraser can continue to talk. His own voice has fled, and all he can do is nod some more, wanting whatever Fraser wants to do to him. He'd take anything, do anything, as long as Fraser keeps him.
Fraser loses his stride, thrusting erratically, desperate now. He jerks in hard, so hard Ray sees starbursts in front of his eyes, and then stills deep inside him, coming with a strangled noise. Ray is panting hard, struggling not to come. He tries to think of something unsexy, but his thoughts keep coming back to Fraser – the way he feels inside him, his hands, his mouth, the sound of his voice and the noises he made when he came.
Fraser stays in that position for a long moment, his cock pulsing inside Ray, and then he's slipping out and Ray mourns the loss.
Then Fraser is easing Ray's legs down and shifting so that his breath is hot and damp just where Ray needs it.
“Please,” Ray whispers, and then Fraser is licking him from root to tip, tongue flat against his cock. It's almost enough, he just needs a little more and he'll be done for.
“You can come when you need to, now,” Fraser says, and with that permission granted, proceeds to swallow Ray down.
Suction and heat make Ray cry out, he's so sensitive now to every bit of it, and all it takes is one more moment of it and then Ray is coming hard in Fraser's amazing mouth.
Ray is only vaguely aware of his hands being untied, but then he's moved into Fraser's arms, boneless and insensate. He dozes lightly, only peripherally feeling Fraser's hands petting him.
He might murmur something before moving into a deeper level of sleep. If he does, there's no answer that he hears.
*
When he wakes, it's to the sound of water running in the bathroom. Fraser is taking a shower.
Ray stretches, his sore body protesting the move. It's no longer light outside, and when he glances at the clock he sees that it's past seven. He feels good despite being sore. Being well-used by Fraser is a nice thing to be.
Fraser comes out wearing a towel around his waist. He looks at Ray and smiles warmly. “Ah, you're awake.”
Ray kicks the sheet off his legs and stretches again, this time just to show off. He isn't disappointed; Fraser's eyes narrow and darken as he takes in Ray's body. Ray looks down and fingers the bruises at his hips. He presses against them, just for the sensation of pain and pleasure, and moans softly.
Fraser watches with a glint in his eyes. “You like pain,” he says quietly. “Is that something you want me to give you?”
Ray swallows, not knowing what he's gotten himself into now. “No, nothing like that. I mean, a little. I like a little pain, you know?” he says, wondering where this babble came from.
“Ah. Like when I spanked you before,” Fraser says.
Ray blushes and grins. “Just like that.”
“So you really do enjoy what we do,” Fraser says softly, almost as if to himself. “I was afraid you were only going along for my benefit.”
Ray sits up in the bed and opens his arms wide. “C'mere, Frase.”
And Fraser does, he drops his towel and moves into Ray's waiting arms. It's the other way around now, it seems, and Ray's the one petting Fraser.
“I want nothing more than to remember Before,” Fraser says quietly. It comes out muffled; his face is pressed into Ray's neck.
“You will,” Ray says simply.
“In the shower, I remembered more, but it's not enough,” Fraser says. “It's never enough, just flashes of what's happened in my life but never the full story.”
“Let me tell you a couple of stories,” Ray says, settling back against his pillow. He holds Fraser close to him and begins to tell him about his father.
After awhile, Fraser says, “This sounds familiar.”
“It ought to, it happened to you,” Ray says. “Let me finish...”
Hours later, Fraser has fallen asleep and Ray's throat is sore from talking. Fraser's eyelids flicker as he dreams, and Ray hopes and prays that he's dreaming memories again.
And Ray hopes and prays that Fraser will still want him once he remembers his life Before. It's a silly fear, he tells himself, but the fact is that they never once got together until Fraser got amnesia. Ray isn't a genius, but it doesn't take one to figure out that Fraser's lost a lot of his inhibitions along with his memories. Will he get them back once he's better? He can't imagine Fraser throwing him out of his life entirely, but yeah, he can hear him saying, “Yes, well, at this place and time I cannot see that we have any kind of future together.” Or something even more Fraser-like that says the same thing. It would be proper and polite, but just another blow-off. And it would hurt, like losing Stella hurt. Like he lost a piece of his soul to Fraser and can't get it back.
Don't leave, he thinks loud in his head. Then he drifts off into a fitful sleep.
*
The day Fraser gets his memory back is a Wednesday, weeks later, and Ray is at work when it happens. The way Fraser describes it, later, is that all the flashes just came together in a rush, like pieces of a puzzle, fitting themselves against each other in one big flash, and then Fraser knew everything.
But he doesn't tell Ray right away.
Ray comes home from work grimy and in need of a shower. Fraser looks anxious when he sees him, so he gives him a hug despite his dirtiness.
“Gonna take a shower, okay?” Ray says.
“May I join you?” Fraser asks, more hesitant than Ray is used to.
Ray smiles. “Of course. Don't even have to ask.”
He starts the water running hot in the shower, then moves to strip off his grimy clothes. But Fraser is there immediately, doing it for him. His hands run over Ray's body gently as he pulls the clothes away, almost reverent in his touches.
Ray knows something is up, but he doesn't say anything. He knows that sometimes you have to pull things out of Fraser like teeth and then other times you have to wait him out. This time, he thinks, is one of the latter.
Fraser strips quickly once Ray's naked, and they get into the shower. Once again, Fraser's hands are on Ray, gentle and caring.
“Long day at work?” Fraser asks. He slides soapy hands over Ray's shoulders, kneading the muscles there.
Ray sighs and leans back into Fraser's touch. “You could say that.”
“Tell me about it,” Fraser says kindly, and Ray does.
He tells him about the stench of one apartment he had to visit, the state of the kids there and how he had to call Child Protection, the cracked-out mother who didn't seem to care.
Ray talks about the kids' faces, and their dirty clothes, and talks and talks some more until he's talked out.
Fraser wraps his arms around Ray and moves him under the spray so that the hot water beats down soothingly on his skin.
“Do you want children, Ray?” Fraser asks.
Ray smiles. He wanted kids for a long time, with Stella, and that's one of the reasons they broke up. He still wants that, to be a dad, but he's not sure if his life is taking him there.
“Is that a yes?” Fraser asks.
“It's a maybe,” Ray says seriously. “Why'd you ask?”
“Because of the way you described the children you met today,” Fraser says. “You sounded-”
“Angry?” Ray cuts in. “That's how I felt. If someone has kids, they have a duty to take care of them.”
“I was going to say wistful,” Fraser says.
“I've got dreams, Frase, and all of them...” he trails off. He's venturing into sappy territory, which is right up there with the L-word.
“Yes, Ray? All of them what, exactly?” Fraser asks softly.
Ray rests back against Fraser and sighs. “All of them involve you.”
Fraser swallows audibly. “There are many things I cannot give you,” he says. “Children are one.”
“Don't do this, Fraser, I mean it,” Ray says, straightening and turning around to face him. “You give me everything I could hope for. You're the best man I know, and I'm fucking proud to be with you. I'm blessed by you. Fucking... blessed.” It's the closest he's come to saying outright that he loves him. It's thrilling and scary and just feels right.
But maybe it's not quite what Fraser needed to hear. His face is closed off, unreachable. “I'm not as good as you seem to think. I make mistakes, Ray. I make whopping, unforgivable mistakes.”
Oh, this is about Victoria, Ray thinks, and then, But he doesn't remember... Ray gets out of the shower and grabs a towel, then throws one at Fraser. He waits until Fraser turns the water off and begins to dry himself before saying, “When the fuck were you gonna tell me you remembered?”
Fraser stills his movements and hangs his head.
“When?” Ray asks again. “Tonight? Tomorrow? Next fucking year?”
“I had planned to tell you soon,” Fraser says quietly. “I wouldn't keep that from you for long, Ray.”
Ray runs a hand through his short, wet hair. “So all this... you're going to leave me, aren't you?”
He fucking knew it. He knew it weeks ago, that this couldn't last. Not once Fraser got his memories back. He knew it was coming, tried to hold his heart together in preparation for it, but now it feels as if Fraser's punched a hole right through it.
“I don't want to,” is the pained answer. Fraser's head is still hanging, and water is dripping down the front of him from his hair.
Ray swallows the lump in his throat and says, “Then fucking don't.” He moves to take Fraser's towel from his hands, runs it over his hair briskly.
“I'm not who you think I am,” Fraser says softly. “I'm not this superhero you paint in your stories. I'm not as good as you believe me to be.”
“You think I don't see your flaws?” Ray says with a snort.
“Tell me, then,” Fraser says, practically begging now. Ray hears the unsaid Show me you know me.
“You're stubborn and thick-headed,” Ray says shortly. “You ignore others' feelings if they make you uncomfortable instead of dealing with them head on. You're polite to a fault, usually when you're trying to avoid dealing with something. You make decisions with your head more than your heart, but when your heart is involved you make mistakes.”
“Ray...”
“You think that leaving me will be better for me in the long run,” Ray continues. “You think I'll find a nice girl and a house with a white picket fence – that's what those questions about the kids were, am I right?”
“Yes, but Ray...” Fraser says, but Ray goes on.
“You risk your life too much, jumping into danger like you aren't worthy of... of living, and it's a thrill, I know, you love it, but Fraser you fell off a building. You were lucky just to lose your memories, you could've lost a limb or your fucking life.”
“Ray!” Fraser finally yells, shaking Ray by the shoulders. “I believe you. You know me.”
“Damned straight I know you,” Ray says, glad that Fraser is touching him again, no matter the reason why or how.
“But answer me, Ray,” Fraser says firmly, his voice the same as when he's giving Ray orders in the bedroom. It's a no-nonsense voice, and Ray listens carefully. “Do you really want me to stay? Knowing the things you know about me, knowing I remember?”
“Don't be fucking stupid, Fraser,” Ray says. “Of course I still want you to stay. I'm the one trying to talk you outta leaving, remember?”
Fraser nods shortly, then gathers Ray in his arms. He's still mostly wet, and his skin is getting cold, but Ray doesn't care.
Fraser's not going anywhere.
“Dry off the rest of the way,” Ray murmurs, kissing Fraser's cool shoulder. “Before you catch pneumonia.”
“Actually, Ray, people can't 'catch' pneumonia from water. It's actually caused by bacteria or a virus in the-”
“Fraser, I don't need a medical lesson right now,” Ray says, but he can feel himself grinning from ear to ear.
“Air,” Fraser finishes, and then kisses Ray's smile. It's a sweet, light kiss that promises much more. That, and the cold draft, makes Ray shiver.
“Bed?” Ray asks.
“I suppose you're tired after your long day,” Fraser deadpans. Ray's got to learn how to do that.
He laughs and tugs Fraser along to bed. The two of them fall to the mattress and immediately begin kissing and touching each other. Ray's cold skin is warmed by Fraser's mouth and hands, and the whispered, “Get on your knees for me, Ray,” goes straight to his cock.
All Ray's fears melt away when he sees Fraser's eyes, full of warmth and happiness. Fraser's not going anywhere. And if he tries, well, Ray will be there to set him straight.
End
Fandom: due South
Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: light D/s, spanking, bondage, dirty talk
Word count: 12,000
Summary: Fraser loses his memory and loses control.
Notes: For
helens78. Thanks to burningchaos for the beta. It's been four days since the accident, and Ray is waking up in the chair again. The chair is close to Fraser's hospital bed, close enough that Ray can reach out and touch Fraser if he needs to. He doesn't, though.
Fraser never sleeps this soundly, at least he never did Before. Ray watches him for a few long minutes, watches the way his chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths. His eyes move beneath their lids and Ray wonders what he dreams about now. He hopes, in a way he's never hoped before, that Fraser is dreaming of him.
Ray slips out of the room silently, then rides the elevator down to the cafeteria. He gets coffee for himself and hot water for Fraser. He's brought Fraser's twig-tea from the apartment, and when he comes back to fix it, Fraser wakes up.
“Where-” Fraser says, confused and distant. He looks around the room and then focuses on Ray. “Who-”
It hurts every time.
“Your name is Benton Fraser, you had an accident four days ago, and you're in the hospital,” Ray says by rote. “I'm Ray, your partner.”
“I don't remember,” Fraser says, and it's the same as it's been for four days. He sleeps, then he wakes up with no memory. “Partner?”
Ray swallows. “Yeah. I'm a cop and you're a Mountie. We work together here in Chicago.”
Fraser is tense, like he always is, looking like he's about to jump out of his skin. He doesn't like being out of control like this, and Ray knows him well enough to understand. He just hasn't figured out how to make Fraser feel steadier yet.
“I made you some tea,” Ray says. “It's your favorite. Some kind of bark.”
Fraser takes the styrofoam cup gingerly, then takes a cautious sip. “Slippery elm,” he says after he's tasted it. He always knows this, but Ray always tests him.
“Yeah,” Ray says, and sits back in his chair with his coffee. The clock says it's eight in the morning, which is much later than Fraser would wake Before.
“You said I'm a member of the RCMP,” Fraser states. “What am I doing in Chicago?”
Ray never wants to give the whole story, because those are Fraser's lines. Instead, he says, “You're attached to the Canadian consulate here.”
There are things Fraser just knows and there are things Ray has to tell him. Then there are the in-between facts, hints Ray gives him and Fraser picks up on. Fraser knows his tea and he knows what a Mountie is. He can talk about hockey as a game, but he doesn't know specifics about teams.
Most days, he figures out the fact that Ray is his best friend as well as his partner without prompting.
“And we're... partners?” Fraser says. “Are we close?”
But maybe today he won't.
“Yeah, Frase. We're good friends,” Ray says.
Fraser nods, taking this in. He looks around the hospital room and sighs. “How long do I have to stay here?”
He always asks that before asking about his condition. Like he doesn't care what's wrong, as long as he can get out of his tiny room and into the sunlight.
“We can go outside for a walk,” Ray says. “And then we'll talk about it.”
*
The air is as fresh as it gets in Chicago, and the sun is shining. It's a beautiful day, but Ray is more focused on Fraser than the weather. They walk along a concrete path until they come to a big cast iron bench. Ray sits and nods for Fraser to sit with him.
“You fell off a roof,” Ray says. “It's a miracle you didn't break your neck. You've got a few bruises, but physically, you're fine.”
“What was I doing on a roof?” Fraser asks. “And why can't I remember?”
“We were in pursuit of a murder suspect,” Ray explains. “You followed him upstairs and he jumped from one roof to the other. You kept following, but at the last minute you slipped and fell. You hit your head.” It's a fucking miracle that's all he hurt.
Ray pulls out his pack of cigarettes. He quit before this happened, but once Fraser woke up on the first day with no memories of his life, Ray stormed out and went straight to a convenience store and bought a pack of lights.
Fraser watches him as he lights up, eyes steady and familiar. “I have amnesia?”
“Yeah. You wake up every day not remembering,” Ray says.
“So I can't retain anything. That's... troubling,” Fraser says quietly.
“But you have a good chance of getting better, the doc said,” Ray says. It's not quite comforting enough, but it's the only thing he has to hold on to. “And it's not even been a week yet.”
“Four days,” Fraser says. He shakes his head and looks lost. Ray can't get used to that on Fraser's face.
Fraser runs fingers through his hair, feeling his scalp. There's a bump there, Ray knows, and Fraser finds it soon enough, wincing as he does. “No concussion?”
Ray breathes out. They've had this conversation three times now, and it's getting old.
Maybe tomorrow things will be different.
*
Ray goes home and gets a shower and fresh clothes. He hates leaving Fraser's side, doesn't want to not be there if he wakes in the middle of the night.
It's been a week. Seven full days, and Fraser's still not remembered anything. Still wakes not knowing who Ray is, no matter what Ray's told him the day before. Or the day before that.
Clean again, Ray drives over to Frannie's to pick up Dief. There's a clear policy of no pets in the hospital, but at this point Ray thinks the hospital can just suck on it. He's sick of the place, and Dief has been asking for Fraser. Whining, really, and looking as forlorn as a half-wolf can.
So it's with Dief that he slips back into Fraser's room, and Dief goes straight over to the bed and puts his paws up on it, resting his head on Fraser's leg.
Fraser wakes up and absently scratches behind Dief's ears. “And who are you?”
Ray sighs. Deep down, he'd been hoping Dief would spark something in Fraser's brain, a memory or familiarity or something. But it's not happening; Fraser is looking from the dog to Ray in confusion.
“Your name is Benton Fraser, and you had an accident. You're in the hospital. I'm Ray, your partner,” Ray says, his voice flatter than usual. “You have amnesia, which is why you don't remember anything.”
Dief makes a low noise and noses Fraser's blanket.
“Sorry, boy,” Ray says. “This is Diefenbaker, your … friend. He's a deaf half-wolf.”
Fraser pets Dief for a few long moments, then asks, “Partner?”
Ray explains, again, just like he has for the past week. The hope he had earlier is gone. He wonders if it will ever again be like Before. The doctors are still optimistic, and that's all that keeps Ray going.
*
“You're going home today,” Ray says two days later after he's explained the who, why, and where again.
“To the consulate?” Fraser asks.
“Nah, you don't need to be there. You're coming home with me,” Ray says.
Fraser looks like he's going to say no, but Ray holds his hand up to stop him.
“I don't want to hear your gentlemanly protests, Frase,” Ray says. “I've worked it out with everyone already.”
“All right,” Fraser says with a sigh.
“Love it when you agree with me,” Ray says with a smile. It's weak, but it's there. He's anxious to get away from the hospital, and he's sure if Fraser could remember, he would be, too.
*
Fraser takes the bed and Ray takes the couch. Dief curls up beside the bed; he seems to want to stay close. Ray would stay close, too, if he could. But the couch is better than the chair in the hospital, much more comfortable, and he gets the first good sleep he's had in nine days.
He wakes before Fraser, when the sun is just starting to shine through the blinds, and stretches. He pads on bare feet to the kitchen where he starts making breakfast.
Pancakes are easy, and he makes some big ones along with some silver dollar-sized ones. Dief likes either, but Fraser has always loved plate-sized pancakes with real maple syrup. The doctors said to introduce Fraser to familiar things, and Ray has a long mental list. Pancakes are somewhere in the middle.
The smells of cooking must've woken Fraser, because he's standing in the doorway when Ray looks up. Diefenbaker is by his side, sniffing happily.
“Good morning,” Ray says. “Your name is Benton Fraser, and you had an accident. You have amnesia.”
“I remember, Ray,” Fraser says softly.
Ray freezes, his hand wrapped gripping the spatula tight. Then he launches himself into Fraser's chest, arms tight around his middle. “That's fucking great. That's just fucking... amazing, Jesus Christ, I can't tell you-”
“Not everything,” Fraser says, a little strangled because Ray's hugging him so tightly. “Just yesterday and last night.”
Ray lets go and looks at Fraser's face, sees his own disappointment mirrored there. “Oh. Well. It's something, though, isn't it? No more groundhog day.”
“Groundhog... day?” Fraser asks slowly.
“No more waking up and doing it all over again every day, I mean,” Ray says. “This is still good news. This is... I'm going to call the doc and let her know.” But he can't, because a giant pancake is starting to burn and he has to scrape it off the bottom of the skillet.
He doesn't care, though. Fraser is getting better, and that's all that matters in the world.
He calls the doctor after they have breakfast. She hmms and mmms a lot, but in an enthusiastic way. She wants to see Fraser later in the day for some more tests – which Ray thinks there's been enough of but Fraser okays it, probably because he doesn't remember most of the tests he's endured.
Ray gets off the phone and smiles at Fraser. “You're gonna get better soon, I just know it. More better. You know what I mean.”
“I appreciate the faith you have in me, Ray,” Fraser says. “This must be difficult for you.”
Ray waves that thought away. “You'd do the same for me,” he says, and knows it's true. Fraser would do anything for him, give him the shirt off his back or the hat off his head. But Fraser's shirts are just worn plaid right now, and he doesn't wear the hat.
“You think much of me,” Fraser says.
Ray pours himself a cup of coffee and nods. “You're the best guy I know,” he admits softly. Maybe it's too much to say, because Fraser will probably – hopefully – remember this conversation tomorrow. But it's the truth, and Ray stands by it.
Fraser sits at the bar in the kitchen while Ray makes him tea. Ray can feel Fraser's eyes watching his movements as he goes through the familiar motions. But Fraser says nothing, seeming to be in deep thought. It makes sense to Ray – he'd probably have a lot of thinking to do, too, in Fraser's situation.
He finishes the tea and sets it in front of Fraser, smiling at him. “One bark tea comin' atcha.”
“Thank you, Ray. I could have made it myself, though. There's no need for you to-”
“You're my guest,” Ray says. “And maybe I like taking care of you.”
Fraser gets a distant, thinking look on his face again, like he's taking that in and rolling it around in his mind. “I don't like the way I feel.”
Ray pauses with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth, then sets it down. “Want to tell me about it?” he asks. Fraser doesn't normally talk about his feelings, but Ray wants to know.
“I feel out of control,” Fraser says. “Not knowing what happened before, not remembering, it's a little like treading on thin ice while blindfolded.”
Ray doesn't know what to say to that. He wants to reassure Fraser, tell him he'll help him through this, that he'll always be there. Except he can't count on this version of Fraser knowing that. The words stick in his throat, and he just takes a bitter sip of coffee and nods in understanding.
*
After the tests, Ray and Fraser climb back into the car. Ray's got an idea, though, something on his mental list of familiar things.
“Want to go by the station?” he asks. “Might jog something in that head of yours.”
But Fraser shakes his head. “I'd rather just go back,” he says. “Perhaps we could watch a film.”
Ray switches mental gears – he's good at that – and gives Fraser a nod. “Yeah, and I've got hockey on tape if you want. You won't remember it, so...”
Fraser smiles faintly. “Ah, so there's an up side to amnesia.”
“Sure there is, Frase,” Ray says, grinning back. The smile is strained but genuine. “You should make a list of things you want to try for the 'first time'.”
Ray pulls out of his parking space and heads out onto the road. When he looks back at Fraser, he has a thoughtful, quiet look on his face.
*
Ray's watched this hockey game twice, once when it aired and then a day later with Fraser. Somehow, though, it's brand new to him this time around. Probably because it's brand new to Fraser.
They sit side by side on the couch, arms touching now and then, and Ray's popped some popcorn so their hands bump when they go for the treat at the same time. It's distracting and at the same time comforting.
Fraser sits forward, his legs spreading wider, his eyes glued to the television. It's a riveting game, and Ray can't help but think of the first time they watched it together. It was after a long day of work and Ray was tired but relaxed. They shared a couple of beers and cheered along together for the Blackhawks. Fraser was just as warm then as he is now, knee pressing against Ray's, sending a thrill of excitement through him.
He's resigned himself to wanting Fraser and never having him. There's no problem there. But lately, with them sleeping under the same roof and Fraser borrowing his oversized sweats when he gets out of the shower, it hits a little closer. He's thinking about impossible things again, things he's tried over the years to repress.
He looks over at Fraser, and Fraser smiles. Yeah, Ray is used to wanting the impossible.
*
The next day, Fraser still remembers. Ray grins at him and does a little dance around the kitchen. Fraser watches him with an amused smile.
“I'm still not completely well,” Fraser points out, like he needs to.
“I know,” Ray says. “But you're on the road, Frase, you're on the road.”
Fraser smiles. “I suppose I am.”
Ray scoops up some scrambled eggs with the spatula and deposits them on a plate.
“I want to ask you something,” Fraser says, taking his plate with, “Thank you, kindly.”
“Anything,” Ray says, plating up his own food. “I guess you want to know the whole story of how you got to Chicago?” He's heard the story time and time again, so he can probably recite it in his sleep.
“That's not what I want to ask you,” Fraser says quietly, “though I would like to know.”
Ray shelves the speech and sits down with his plate of eggs and toast, then turns his full attention to Fraser. “C'mon, ask away. What do you want to know?”
He's not prepared for the quiet, “Are we lovers, Ray?”
Ray chokes on air so hard his eyes water. “What?”
“Ah. I can see from your reaction that we are not,” Fraser says.
“Jesus. What made you think that?” Ray asks.
Fraser doesn't answer right away. He takes a sip of his tea (Earl Grey this time, not slippery bark stuff) and looks contemplative. “You've been very accommodating and caring, Ray. You've opened up your home to me and you've been especially patient with my condition.”
“Yeah, well, we're partners. We're buddies, Frase. That's what buddies do for each other,” Ray says, babbling his explanation.
“Your treatment of me led me to believe there was more than just a friendship tying us together,” Fraser states softly.
“We've been through a lot together,” Ray says. “We're close, best friends to the end.”
But Fraser doesn't seem content to leave it at that. “And you've never wanted more?”
“What is this, the fucking Spanish inquisition?” Ray says, desperate to change the topic.
“Are you going to answer me?” Fraser asks.
Ray swallows hard. “You're straight, Fraser. And I'm a cop.” It's a perfectly valid answer.
“You sound sure of my sexual orientation, but I can tell you I am decidedly not heterosexual,” Fraser says, just like that. Like it's no big deal.
“You don't even remember!” Ray says, nearly frantic now.
“There are some things a person just knows,” Fraser says resolutely.
Ray has to get some distance between them, so he gets up and starts to pace. Fraser watches him with a worried look.
“We never talked about it,” Ray says. He wishes his apartment was a little bigger so he had more room to walk. He turns, walks towards Fraser, then turns and walks back again across the living room.
Fraser gets up from his stool and comes closer. No, that's no good, Ray needs space if he's going to talk about this. But Fraser's moving in on him, into his personal bubble, reaching up and grabbing Ray's shoulders to keep him from pacing some more.
“I think we should talk about it now,” Fraser says in a tone that brooks no fucking arguments.
Ray swallows. His throat is tight and heat is creeping through his arms where Fraser is holding him.
“We were never … lovers,” Ray says quietly, looking at Fraser full on so he can see the truth in his eyes. Not for lack of wanting.
Fraser nods and keeps holding Ray in place. His fingers tighten and loosen in turns, but he doesn't let go. Ray finds his breath coming faster and faster.
“But it's something you've thought about,” Fraser says. Just as bold as you please.
Maybe if Ray doesn't say anything, this whole conversation will melt away and they can go back to the status quo. So he stays silent. He wishes he could look away from Fraser's eyes, but they're like magnets drawing him in.
And then Fraser is moving his hands up over Ray's shoulders. They slide slowly up his neck until warm fingers are cupping Ray's face. Fraser's never touched him like this before, and it makes Ray's breathing come even faster. He's wondering if he's going to have an asthma attack or something.
“What-” Ray manages, but then Fraser cuts him off with the press of his lips.
Kissing, that's what this is. Gentle but insistent, and Fraser's still cupping his face, grounding him, maybe keeping him still so he can't get away.
The thought of Fraser holding him still in other contexts goes straight to his dick. Fraser hasn't even introduced tongue into the equation yet, and Ray's already hard.
Then they're going at it for real, tongues slicking against each other, and Ray steps closer and wraps his arms around Fraser's neck. It's like he can't help but move in close, like Fraser's magnetic all over, not just his eyes. He's warm and hard in all the right places, his chest and thighs and Ray's not the only one whose dick is getting in on the fun.
Fraser notices, of course, and presses against him more fully, so his cock is against Ray's just so, giving Ray friction if he wants it. And he wants it.
He moans and rolls his hips so that his dick rubs against Fraser's. It's insane, his mind is telling him, absolutely bugfuck insane, but... oh, what a good feeling insanity is.
“I want you,” Fraser says, almost a growl against Ray's mouth.
And Ray no longer cares what the fuck Fraser remembers or not. The tone of Fraser's voice brooks no arguments, and Ray's tugging Fraser into the bedroom eagerly. Years of wanting and wishing and needing are crashing down around him, telling him yes, now, more, more.
“What do you want, Frase?” Ray asks between searing kisses. They're on the bed now, Fraser lying on top of him, his weight and heat turning Ray on even more. “I'll give you anything.”
Fraser doesn't answer right away. He worries Ray's bottom lip between his perfect teeth, making Ray moan, low and needy. So Ray just goes with it, lets Fraser do whatever he wants.
Then he remembers, “You want to be in control?” He shifts under Fraser, spreads out as much as he can under his weight, and says, “You can have it. I'll give it up, do whatever you want.”
Fraser gasps and then kisses Ray again, his tongue hard and sweeping against Ray's. “I want that. Yes. If you're willing.”
Ray's so willing he feels like he might pop off just talking about it. “I'm all yours,” he says, a promise and a prayer all at once.
He makes a noise of protest when Fraser moves off and stands beside the bed, but then Fraser says, “Take off your clothes,” and Ray's moving before he finishes the sentence. He peels his shirt off over his head and wriggles out of his jeans and underwear, suddenly glad he's not wearing socks because there's no sexy way to get out of those.
Fraser watches until Ray's naked and stretched out again, then he pops the button on his fly with a flick of his wrist. Just the button, not the rest, and he's still fully clothed while Ray's completely bare, and it just feels right. Like Ray's the one who needs to be naked for Fraser, not the other way around.
Fraser looks at him for a long moment, just like he's soaking in the sight of Ray. It makes Ray feel good – he knows he's got a good body, and now it's all for Fraser. “Like what you see?” he asks.
“Smug,” Fraser says with a smile. He walks closer to the bed and sits down, then nods to the space between his legs. “Come here.”
Ray scrambles to obey, moving off the bed and onto the floor. The thin carpet is hard on his knees but he doesn't care. He puts his hands on Fraser's thighs and wants so badly to lean in, but he stays as still as he can, waiting for Fraser to tell him what to do.
“Unzip me,” Fraser says.
“Yessir,” Ray says in a rush, leaning in to do just that.
“You don't have to call me sir,” Fraser says. He slips a hand into Ray's hair and Ray has to bite his lip to keep from groaning. He never wants Fraser to stop touching him.
“Yes, Fraser,” Ray says softly. “Is that good?”
“Very good, Ray,” Fraser praises. It makes Ray feel warm and happy inside. “Take me out, now.”
Ray pushes down the waistband of Fraser's underwear and pulls out his cock. It's thick and long, shiny-hard, and wet at the tip already. Ray's mouth waters at the sight of it.
Fraser keeps petting Ray's hair softly, like he's a beloved dog. That's not far off the mark, really – Ray feels like he's going to start panting and whining any minute now.
“Lick,” Fraser says.
Ray does. He flattens his tongue and licks from the root to the tip, gathering precome in his mouth when he gets to the top. It tastes smooth and salty, and Ray wants more.
“Good. Now take the head into your mouth. Slowly,” Fraser says.
Ray doesn't want to go slowly, but he answers with a quiet, “Yes, Fraser.” He wraps his lips around the spongy tip, sucking lightly. It's not enough, he wants it all, wants to practically choke on this big cock while Fraser fucks his face. But he goes slowly and looks up at Fraser with eager, needy eyes.
The only sound Fraser makes is the soft hitching of his breath.
Ray sucks the head of Fraser's cock, working his mouth around it gently. He keeps sucking and sucking, because Fraser hasn't told him to do otherwise, and Ray is good, Ray is obedient. He doesn't want this to end, so he'll be as good as he can for Fraser.
And Fraser seems to realize Ray needs to hear it, because he says, “Good, you're so good for me,” while petting Ray's hair, and the words and action make Ray's eyes fall closed in gratitude.
“A little more,” Fraser says, and Ray thinks finally, finally.
Slowly, Ray goes down, taking more of Fraser's cock into his mouth. Fraser only lets him get so far, though, because he's got both hands in Ray's hair now, keeping him right where he wants him.
Ray shivers and his cock twitches against his belly, standing straight and proud, leaking a little at the tip already.
“Now use your tongue,” Fraser orders.
Ray moves his tongue, flat against the underside of Fraser's cock, and Fraser pulls him down further so that he takes more of him. Fraser's heavy on his tongue, and so, so hard. Ray has to remember to breathe slowly through his nose. He hasn't done this in a long, long time, not since right after he and Stella separated and Ray went out to get laid with any and everyone. But it's just like riding a fucking bike, only much better, and the actions come back to him easily.
He works his tongue against Fraser's cock some more, until Fraser pulls Ray's head back off his dick. Ray lets out a tiny, disappointed noise. He wants more, so much more.
“Patience, Ray,” Fraser murmurs, petting his hair. “Tell me what you want.”
He wants Ray to form sentences? That might be going too far. Ray's gagging for it, breathing fast, his whole body tense from want.
“I want-” Ray says, and he has to clear his throat and try again. “I want you to fuck my mouth, Fraser.”
“Ask me nicely,” Fraser says, his eyes dark and intent now.
“Please,” Ray whispers, and Fraser shakes his head, cutting him off.
“Say it aloud,” Fraser orders.
Ray's hands tense on Fraser's thighs and he takes a deep breath. Then he says, “Please, Fraser, please fuck my mouth.”
Fraser's hands are big and capable as they guide Ray's head back down. His cock pushes into Ray's mouth, thick and rock hard. Ray closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling, his hands gripping Fraser's thighs for balance. Then Fraser rocks his hips and every thought in Ray's head goes flying.
He's doing it, he's fucking Ray's mouth with slow, even thrusts that go straight to Ray's cock.
“You want to touch yourself, don't you?” Fraser says, tightening his hands in Ray's hair and thrusting again.
Ray moans, the sound coming from somewhere deep, wanting friction and just more. He's almost out of his head with it, and Fraser just keeps pushing deeper, deeper, until he hits the back of Ray's throat. It's uncomfortable and thrilling at the same time, just what Ray wants.
“Wrap your hand around your cock,” Fraser instructs, and boy, Ray likes it when dirty words like 'fuck' and 'cock' come out of that perfect mouth.
Ray moans gratefully, then reaches down and lets his fingers curl around his dick. He squeezes the base so he won't come then and there.
“Open your eyes and look at me, Ray,” Fraser says, and Ray wasn't even aware they were closed.
He looks up at Fraser. Fraser is intense and controlled, every bit of him focused on Ray. That kind of concentration is pure Fraser, and it's more than a little hot. Ray moans around the cock in his mouth, then again when Fraser thrusts into his throat.
He's glad he's had practice at this, or he'd be choking right about now. But that thought is good, too, makes him have to squeeze his dick again before it gets too happy.
“Stroke yourself, Ray. Long and slow,” Fraser says.
His own hand has never felt this good. The rough slide of the pads of his fingers over the hard, eager flesh of his sensitive cock is heaven.
“Don't come, though,” Fraser says, and the sound of the words is gentle but absolute law. “You don't come until I say.”
Then he's thrusting faster, further, and Ray is forced to take it. Ray loves it, loves the fact that Fraser is making him do it, that he has nowhere to go but further down on Fraser's cock.
The head of Fraser's cock is in his throat, and Fraser says, “Swallow.”
Ray does. He almost chokes, but then he's swallowing around the tip of Fraser's cock. That makes Fraser moan and pull him in, closer, closer, until Ray's nose is nestled against short, curly hair that smells like Fraser Concentrate, clean and manly and so, so hot.
Then Fraser is coming without warning, spurting thickly down Ray's throat.
Ray has to close his eyes tight and focus on swallowing, focus on squeezing tight around the base of his cock so he doesn't come. Fraser hasn't given permission yet.
It takes Fraser some long moments before he says, “Good. Very good, Ray.”
Ray smiles up at him, strained but happy, his hand still on his cock.
“Come up here,” Fraser says, sitting back a little further and tapping his thigh. “Sit on my lap.”
Ray knows he could protest, but he doesn't want to; he wants to obey. He gives Fraser a dubious look, though, before moving up and into his lap.
Fraser manhandles Ray into position, until Ray's back is pressed against Fraser's chest, hands at his sides. His hands move over Ray's shoulders, down his arms, then back up to touch his chest. It's like Fraser's hands are everywhere all at once, smoothing over his skin possessively.
He pinches Ray's nipples, rolls them between his fingertips until Ray is arching into the touch and moaning. He's sensitive there, feels every touch like it's on his cock.
Fraser kisses his shoulder and then moves his hand down to cup Ray's balls. “Tell me what you're feeling,” he says.
“Oh, fuck,” Ray says, just now realizing that he hasn't been talking because Fraser didn't tell him to. “Your hands are so good.”
“Keep going, Ray,” Fraser says, rolling Ray's balls between his fingers.
“So fucking hot, want you so bad, I'm leaking all over for you,” Ray babbles, shifting on Fraser's lap, needing friction so bad now it hurts. Fraser's jeans are rough against his ass, the fly open and the zipper digging into soft skin.
“I see,” Fraser says, and finally touches Ray's cock.
Ray whimpers at the first meeting of callused fingers to his dick, at the way they move up and down the shaft, teasing lightly.
“Do you want to come, Ray?” Fraser asks, his voice completely nonchalant.
“Please, Fraser. Please, I need to come, make me come for you...” Ray pleads. Fraser's working his whole hand around Ray's cock now, slow and steady.
“You're so pretty when you beg,” Fraser says low in Ray's ear.
Ray jerks his hips, pushing into Fraser's hand, but Fraser smacks his hip and says, “No. Let me.”
The sound of the smack is louder than the words, and Ray can feel his skin stinging with it. It's a warm feeling, not at all unpleasant, and it makes Ray go still and more obedient.
“Good,” Fraser says. “You're being so good for me.”
Then Fraser is stroking faster and scraping his teeth against Ray's shoulder, and Ray is tense and ready to pop at any moment. But not yet, he can't yet. Fraser has to say he can.
“You're being so good,” Fraser says again, then bites down on the skin he's been kissing. Ray cries out, desperate and nearly broken.
“Please, please, please,” Ray chants, trying so hard to stay still.
Fraser twists his hand, stroking over the head of Ray's cock and back down again, then says, “Come on, Ray. Come for me.”
Ray jerks and comes hard before Fraser is finished talking. Fraser strokes him through it until Ray's too sensitive to take anymore. Fraser just knows when it's too much, like he's living inside Ray's body.
Ray pants harshly, head resting back against Fraser's shoulder. Fraser pets him, his hands moving over Ray's stomach and chest. Ray feels boneless and dazed in a way he's never felt before.
But Fraser takes care of him and pulls him down to lie on the bed, cuddling him close against his chest. He pets his hair and says, “Good, you're so good,” and a warmth that has nothing to do with afterglow moves through Ray's body.
If he wasn't in love with Fraser Before, he is now.
*
When Ray wakes up, he sees that Fraser is already awake and watching him. It would be creepy on someone else, but Fraser is Fraser, and Ray takes him however he is. He wonders, for a moment, if Fraser remembers anything else. After all, he got better after he moved in with Ray after the hospital, so maybe fabulous, mind-blowing sex has jogged something in his brain.
“I keep getting flashes,” Fraser says, and he must be reading Ray's mind. “I see you and me, and my uniform, and a man I call Dad.”
Ray tries to process this. He grins and says, “You're remembering!”
“A bit, yes. But not full memories, just images,” Fraser says.
“But that's still good,” Ray says. “Like I said, you're on the road.”
Fraser kisses him then, full and hard on the lips. Then he says, “Do you want to take a shower while I make breakfast?”
“Sure thing.” Ray's feeling shy all of a sudden, lying naked in bed with a fully clothed Fraser. But Fraser likes the way he looks and Ray knows he's nothing you'd kick out of bed for eating crackers, so he rolls out of bed and walks proudly to the bathroom. He feels Fraser's eyes on him until he shuts the door behind him.
Breakfast is waiting for him when he gets out – a cheese omelet with asparagus on the side. Where Fraser found the asparagus, Ray doesn't know. Probably somewhere in the freezer, but he would have had to search for awhile to find anything edible in there.
A cup of coffee and his plate are sitting at the bar, and Ray slides onto the stool and smiles at Fraser. “This looks amazing,” he says. “Thanks.”
“You're very welcome, Ray,” Fraser says.
Ray digs into his omelet and moans. It's delicious. “Guess you remember how to cook.”
“Some tasks seem to come to me quite easily,” Fraser says, leaning over the bar and watching Ray. His expression is hard to decipher.
“So these flashes you've been getting,” Ray says, “what are they like?”
“Pictures, mostly,” Fraser says thoughtfully. “Some sounds and words. Smells and tastes that take me by surprise.”
“We need to get you around to meet everyone, and to some familiar places,” Ray says. “Frannie stopped coming to the hospital when you didn't know her, it made her cry and you just...” Got upset, felt guilty, became detached and removed from everyone. “It was better that she stop coming.”
“I did wonder why no one but you came to the hospital,” Fraser says slowly.
“Whoa, no, they came, Fraser. They came in droves the first two days. You've got a lot of friends, people who care about you,” Ray says. “But they were so eager for you to remember that it kinda bummed you out and the doc said no more visitors for awhile. Said it was making you worse.”
“But you continued to come,” Fraser says, a question in his voice.
“Yeah, they woulda had to drive me out at gunpoint,” Ray mumbles.
Fraser smiles. “Thank you, Ray.”
Diefenbaker pads into the kitchen and whines for food. Ray rolls his eyes and gives him a bite of his omelet, which he takes as his right.
“Do you remember Dief?” Ray asks. “Any flashes of him?”
“Some,” Fraser says. “Enough to know we've been through much together.”
Ray takes that in. “You've saved each other's lives a few times.”
Fraser closes his eyes and frowns like he's thinking hard about something. “I know you and I have been through similar situations.”
“Yeah, you've saved my skin and I've saved yours. We're partners, it's what we do,” Ray says.
“More than partners,” Fraser says, opening his eyes and smiling. “I remember last night clearly.”
Ray puts down his fork and flushes. “Yeah. More than partners, Frase.”
Then, as if they haven't just been talking about mind-blowing sex, Fraser says, “We should go to the grocer's.”
“I haven't really had the chance to shop lately,” Ray says.
“Understandable,” Fraser says. “But perhaps we should add it to the list of places to go today, along with the consulate and the police station.”
“And the laundromat,” Ray adds. “All my clothes are dirty except what I'm wearing.”
“Very well. Have I been to your laundromat, Ray?”
“A few times,” Ray says. Yeah, they've been pretty domestic together. They've washed their clothes in the same load sometimes, saving time and energy. They've folded warm-from-the-dryer plainclothes side by side more than once.
“You look as if you're thinking of something pleasant,” Fraser says.
“I do?” Ray says. He smiles. “Just thinking about laundry.”
*
The day that follows is hectic, and Ray wonders if Fraser is feeling overwhelmed. He kicks himself for letting Fraser do everything at once, because by the time they leave the station, Fraser is looking worn.
“Where are we going next?” Fraser asks, but Ray shakes his head.
“Groceries and laundry can wait.”
“But, Ray-”
“Don't want to hear it,” Ray says. He wants Fraser home, in a familiar place, where no one is jumping all over him and asking him if he remembers yet. He wants to take care of him. “Maybe we can go out and do things late afternoon.”
Ray drives them back home, talking about trivial things like the broccoli and dog food they'll buy at the store, and how they forgot to bring the laundry detergent anyway.
Fraser seems to know what Ray's doing and offers him a tense smile. He looks tightly wound and relieved to be stepping back into the apartment.
Dief jumps up on the couch and closes his eyes, his way of giving Ray and Fraser permission – or the suggestion – to go back into the bedroom and relax. Ray tugs Fraser by the hand into the room and pulls his shirt off over his head.
“What do you need, Fraser?” he asks, ready to drop to his knees at a moment's notice, or to just curl up with Fraser on the bed and take a well-deserved nap.
Fraser's face loses some of its hard lines and he steps close, running his hands up Ray's arms and shoulders. He cups Ray's face and just looks at him, his eyes soft and relieved.
“Anything you need,” Ray says, hearing his voice go breathy.
Fraser takes a step back and drops his hands. “Take off the rest.”
Ray does, toeing off his shoes and skimming out of his jeans. He's standing there, still and quiet in only his briefs and socks. He doesn't move to take them off.
“Are you disobeying on purpose, Ray?” Fraser says.
Ray flushes. He is, a little. He wants to push back, see how far Fraser will take this.
Fraser sits on the bed and watches him, a question in his eyes. Then he pats his knee and says, “I think you need to be punished for that.”
Ray licks his lips as his cock jumps beneath the thin fabric of his underwear. “Yes, Fraser,” he says, moving to sit on Fraser's lap.
“No. Over my knee,” Fraser says, and Ray flushes more. Fraser's going to spank him, punish him for not obeying. A deep-down part of him already knew this, but now it's much more real.
It's awkward at first, a position he's never been in, but finally Ray settles his body ass-up over Fraser's lap. He feels hands on him then, Fraser pushing his underwear down to bare his unmarked ass.
Ray's cock twitches, hardening even more.
“I expect you to count,” Fraser says, and Ray doesn't know what he means until his ass is stinging with the first blow. Fraser isn't shy about it, or gentle. The sound of the slap is loud and it fucking hurts. “Count.”
“One,” Ray whispers. He doesn't know how many he's earned, what numbers he'll have to say, but he does know he can keep up. He has to. Fraser has ordered him to.
Another slap lands firmly on his ass, this one seeming even harder than the last. Ray's skin burns now, and Fraser's spanking in the same spot.
“Aloud this time,” Fraser orders, and Ray speaks up and says the number clearly.
His cock is trapped against Fraser's thigh. Ray wriggles and rocks, but Fraser stops him with another slap.
“Don't move,” Fraser says. “Just count.” He slaps again, and it's really starting to hurt.
“Three,” Ray says. Then after the next, “Four.”
Ray is embarrassed that he's getting off on this so hard. The pain is starting to flow through his body like lava. It's so hot, he's hot everywhere, but he has to focus on counting. He doesn't want to disappoint Fraser again. He doesn't want Fraser to stop.
Fraser spanks faster, harder. Ray blinks back the wetness that's appeared in his eyes. He counts, his voice thick. His ass is on fire. His whole body is straining; his fingertips are splayed out on the carpet, the backs of his legs are stretched to accommodate the position.
“Twelve,” Ray cries out brokenly. At least he thinks it's been twelve. He feels like he's floating outside his body. Fraser is there, anchoring him, but Ray's no longer aware of his surroundings.
He hears, “Good, so good for me, Ray.” Fraser's voice, so beloved, and Ray's being moved, soft bedding under him.
“Fraser,” Ray mumbles, moving towards that voice.
“Don't move. I'll take care of you, Ray.”
His ass is sore, sensitive to the touch, but something is moving over it slowly, soothing away the pain. Something wet and warm – Fraser's tongue?
Slowly, Ray comes back to himself. He's lying face first on the bed now, completely naked, and Fraser is behind him licking patterns on his ass. Fraser's hands are at his hips, holding him possessively.
“Whatcha doin'?” Ray asks, just a murmur against his pillow.
“Whatever I want, Ray,” Fraser answers. He's in total control. His hands slide in to run over Ray's ass, and then he spreads the cheeks, exposing Ray completely.
Embarrassment makes Ray flush some more, heat flowing down his body. But when Fraser tongues over his asshole, he jumps and squeaks. “Fraser!”
“Do you want me to stop?” Fraser asks, and Ray's suddenly aware that they haven't talked about boundaries or safewords.
But deep down, Ray knows he doesn't want Fraser to stop. He trusts him completely. He's put his life in Fraser's hands so many times, what is his body in comparison to that?
“Please,” Ray says, wriggling back, bending his knees enough that his ass is high in the air. “Keep going, Fraser. Please.”
“Your skin is red now,” Fraser murmurs, then bites lightly on a sensitive spot. “Beautiful.”
“Fuck,” Ray moans, jerking against the sensation.
Then Fraser's mouth is back to the center, moving over Ray's hole, tongue licking in tight circles around it.
He's never felt something so erotic in his life. He's already radiating heat from the spanking, but the touch of Fraser's tongue to his asshole brings a different kind, white-hot sparks that go straight to his already leaking cock. Ray writhes on the bed – forward for friction and then back for more of Fraser's mouth. Fraser must be feeling indulgent now because he allows the movements.
Fraser pushes his tongue in slowly and Ray gasps. Not because he wasn't expecting it, but because it feels so fucking good. Fraser does it again, in and out, fucking Ray with his tongue. Ray's not sure what needs more attention, his ass or his now-throbbing dick.
One of the hands spreading Ray apart moves, and Ray's about to protest when he feels one thick finger breach him. It's slick with spit but it's still a tight squeeze. He clenches around it first, then remembers how to push back and take something in. He does, and the finger slips in further, twisting and pushing inside him.
Ray lets out a low moan of appreciation, rocking back on the intrusion. It's been so long since anything's been in his ass, months since he's taken his own fingers inside him. It burns in a pleasant way, and Ray is eager for more.
“Gonna fuck me, Frase?” he gasps, feeling another finger move at his entrance.
Fraser is silent for a moment, intent on working Ray open. Then he says, “I haven't decided yet. I might. Would you like that, Ray? Would you like me to fuck you with my cock?”
Ray moans, long and low. He wants it more than anything he's ever wanted. “Please,” he begs, his breath coming fast and shallow now as two fingers work him open.
“Do you have something?” Fraser asks, and for about half a minute Ray has no idea what he's talking about. He's too far gone, rocking back on Fraser's fingers and rocking forward so his dick rubs off against the sheets.
“Yeah,” Ray finally says. He bought the good stuff awhile back, just for himself. “In the night table.”
He whimpers in disappointment when Fraser pulls out and moves over to the side table. But Fraser opens the drawer and pulls out a bottle of massage oil while Ray watches, and then he can't think of anything but fucking.
“Condoms?” Fraser asks, and Ray nearly groans. He doesn't have any.
“Got tested three months ago,” Ray tells him. “I'm clean.”
“But we don't know that I am,” Fraser says. “I can't remember. And I'm not putting you at risk.”
Ray groans and rolls over on his back, hand moving over his cock slowly. He doesn't even realize he's jerking off at first, but then he does and snatches his hand away again. Fraser didn't give permission for that.
“I trust you,” Ray says, but Fraser shakes his head.
“I'll run out and get some,” he says, then goes over to the closet. Ray doesn't know what he's doing, is utterly fucking perplexed when Fraser pulls out two dress ties.
But then Fraser is tying Ray's wrists to the headboard in neat, tight knots. “I want you to stay right here and wait for me.”
Ray's been tied up before, but never left alone after. Feelings of insecurity well up in him. Fear, too, but just a little. Fraser runs a hand through Ray's hair, gentle as can be, and says, “Be good for me, and I'll take care of you when I get back.”
Ray nods soundlessly. He trusts Fraser. Fraser will be right back, and then everything will be fine.
Fraser leans down and kisses him softly, lingering at Ray's lips. Then he pulls away and is gone.
The bindings are tight, and Ray closes his eyes and imagines Fraser over him, doing whatever he wants while Ray's tied up. His imagination gets the better of him, and his cock jerks, eager for any touch at all. But Ray can't touch. It's frustrating and oh so hot at the same time. He wonders what it would be like to have Fraser blindfold him, too – darkness, his arms stretched wide in their bindings, unable to touch or see.
He's getting himself even more worked up this way, and Fraser seems to be taking his own sweet time. Ray turns his head and opens his eyes, and sees from the clock on the bedside table that it's only been ten minutes. Ten long minutes, in which he's done nothing to abate his erection. It would be easier if he just went soft, but Fraser's tied him so tight that the burn of the fabric on Ray's skin is enough to keep him turned on. Then he's thinking about other bindings, of rope and leather and maybe something around his cock so he can't come, not until Fraser wants him to.
His cock jumps at the thought of a ring and leaks all over his belly. He's a fucking mess, straining and shifting, humping air now and then in futile little thrusts.
He closes his eyes again and counts, just like he counted when Fraser spanked him. And that thought goes to his dick, too, and he rubs his sore ass against the sheets for the sense memory.
Memory, oh fuck. What if Fraser forgets and leaves him like this? What if-
The horrific thoughts are cut off by the sound of Fraser stamping his feet and closing the door behind him. Relief runs through Ray like cool water.
Seeing Fraser again is like seeing him for the first time. He's a handsome savior come to rescue him.
“So good to see you back, you just don't know,” Ray babbles when Fraser walks slowly over to the bed. “Untie me?”
“I don't think so, Ray,” Fraser says. “Not yet, at any rate.”
And then Fraser is sitting on the edge of the bed and unlacing his boots just as leisurely as he pleases.
“You get the rubbers?” Ray asks anxiously.
“Yes, and also some water based lubricant,” Fraser says. So proper, even when talking about lube.
Fraser stands after he's taken off his boots and socks, then unbuttons his flannel shirt slowly. He's turned so that Ray can watch, so he can see every inch of skin as it's uncovered. For all the time Fraser stays covered up, his skin is still a smooth golden. It looks delicious, like something Ray could spend all night touching and kissing. But he can't move, isn't permitted to, so he can only look.
“Tell me what you're thinking, Ray,” Fraser says.
Ray licks his lips, watching Fraser remove his shirt. He's nicely muscled, thick but not too thick, and his skin makes Ray's mouth go dry. “I'm thinking how good you look,” Ray says.
Fraser smiles and looks up and down Ray's body. “I'm nothing compared to you.” He pops open the button on his jeans, then unzips. He's not wearing any underwear today. His cock works itself free and bobs proudly, hard and shiny.
Ray swallows. “I hope that's all for me.”
Fraser skims his jeans off, down athletic, lightly furred legs. He steps out of them. All of this is done slow, too slow. Teasing and almost coy. Ray wants Fraser's cock now.
“Be patient,” Fraser says, like Ray hasn't already been patient enough.
“You read my mind,” Ray says. “You do that a lot, lately.”
“One only has to look at you to see what you are thinking,” Fraser says, dropping a bottle of lube and a condom to the bed. Ray flushes. He's still leaking against his belly, sticky-slick on his skin.
“C'mon and fuck me before I die of waiting, Frase,” he whines, and Fraser has the audacity to shake his head. Fraser's in complete control, and Ray has to live with that.
Then Fraser is moving onto the bed, and Ray is breathless in anticipation. Fraser touches Ray's legs first, kneeling between them and running his hands up Ray's thighs. Up, up, so slow it feels like sexual torture, until Fraser's thumbs are pressed against his balls.
Ray spreads his legs and tries not to beg again.
“I want to fuck you like this,” Fraser says, grabbing the extra pillow from the bed. “Lift your hips.”
Ray obeys and Fraser stuffs the pillow beneath him. It makes the angle easier, Ray knows, and he's in love with Fraser for thinking of such a small thing.
He's in love with Fraser, period.
Fraser moves Ray's legs around until they're how he wants them, knees up, ass presented. Then Fraser grabs the lube and slicks his fingers, still too slow for Ray's taste.
Two fingers, slick and warm, push inside him. Ray breathes deeply and pushes back, taking them deep. Fraser twists them, then crooks them against Ray's prostate unerringly.
Ray's whole body jerks at the action and he gasps loudly. “Fraser,” he moans, absolutely helpless.
“I'm not going to fuck you until you beg me for it,” Fraser says, slowly adding a third finger. It's a tight squeeze, and Ray has to remember to breathe, breathe. “And you will beg.”
Fraser sounds so confident, so in charge, and it makes Ray make a noise like a whimper.
“Please,” Ray says, almost a whisper.
Fraser pumps his fingers in and out slowly, stretching Ray's ass wider. “Please what, Ray? Speak up if you want something.”
“Fuck, want you,” Ray says, a little louder, rocking back on Fraser's fingers. “Want you to fuck me.”
“What happened to 'please'?” Fraser asks, his voice warm and amused. He twists his fingers again, which is more of a stretch with three. Ray writhes against it and pants harshly.
“Please fuck me,” Ray says, unable to hold off anymore. He looks up at Fraser in desperation. “Please, please, I need your cock.”
Then Fraser is pulling his fingers out, slow so it doesn't hurt, and he's rolling on the condom. He slicks it up once it's on, then moves into position. He wraps his hand around his cock and rubs the head over Ray's waiting hole.
“Please,” Ray says brokenly.
“You're so good,” Fraser says, pushing in so that the head is in. Then he grips Ray's hips and presses in more, slow and steady, until he's buried inside of Ray.
Ray's eyes are watering again, and he blinks back the wetness there. His heart feels so big, like it might break at any moment. He tries to remember how to breathe, but his breath comes out in shallow little pants.
“You feel amazing,” Fraser says, his voice strained with pleasure.
“Frase, c'mon, I won't break,” Ray says. “Fuck me like you want to.”
Then Fraser is saying, “Ray,” and pulling out, almost all the way, and then thrusting in with all his might.
The headboard bangs against the wall and Ray cries out at the same time, “Fraser!”
Fraser is fucking Ray hard now, no more slow and steady involved. He thrusts, muscles working, hips jerking, and Ray takes it happily. He clenches around Fraser's cock and is rewarded with another call of his name, and Fraser's hands are vice-tight on his hips. He'll probably be bruised later, but that's just a bonus, just another fucking high point to the day. He wants to be bruised, wants Fraser's marks all over him.
Ray wants Fraser to own him, and that's exactly what he's doing with his cock.
“Don't come,” Fraser says, voice far beyond strained now. “Not until I say.”
Ray whimpers, so close, and he can't even touch himself to stop it. But Fraser seems to know what he needs, reaches up and squeezes tight around the base of Ray's cock.
“I should get you a ring,” Fraser pants out, and Ray's nodding erratically at the suggestion. “Would you like that, Ray? Not being able to come, perhaps I'd make you wear it for hours once you're used to it.”
Ray's wondering how Fraser can continue to talk. His own voice has fled, and all he can do is nod some more, wanting whatever Fraser wants to do to him. He'd take anything, do anything, as long as Fraser keeps him.
Fraser loses his stride, thrusting erratically, desperate now. He jerks in hard, so hard Ray sees starbursts in front of his eyes, and then stills deep inside him, coming with a strangled noise. Ray is panting hard, struggling not to come. He tries to think of something unsexy, but his thoughts keep coming back to Fraser – the way he feels inside him, his hands, his mouth, the sound of his voice and the noises he made when he came.
Fraser stays in that position for a long moment, his cock pulsing inside Ray, and then he's slipping out and Ray mourns the loss.
Then Fraser is easing Ray's legs down and shifting so that his breath is hot and damp just where Ray needs it.
“Please,” Ray whispers, and then Fraser is licking him from root to tip, tongue flat against his cock. It's almost enough, he just needs a little more and he'll be done for.
“You can come when you need to, now,” Fraser says, and with that permission granted, proceeds to swallow Ray down.
Suction and heat make Ray cry out, he's so sensitive now to every bit of it, and all it takes is one more moment of it and then Ray is coming hard in Fraser's amazing mouth.
Ray is only vaguely aware of his hands being untied, but then he's moved into Fraser's arms, boneless and insensate. He dozes lightly, only peripherally feeling Fraser's hands petting him.
He might murmur something before moving into a deeper level of sleep. If he does, there's no answer that he hears.
*
When he wakes, it's to the sound of water running in the bathroom. Fraser is taking a shower.
Ray stretches, his sore body protesting the move. It's no longer light outside, and when he glances at the clock he sees that it's past seven. He feels good despite being sore. Being well-used by Fraser is a nice thing to be.
Fraser comes out wearing a towel around his waist. He looks at Ray and smiles warmly. “Ah, you're awake.”
Ray kicks the sheet off his legs and stretches again, this time just to show off. He isn't disappointed; Fraser's eyes narrow and darken as he takes in Ray's body. Ray looks down and fingers the bruises at his hips. He presses against them, just for the sensation of pain and pleasure, and moans softly.
Fraser watches with a glint in his eyes. “You like pain,” he says quietly. “Is that something you want me to give you?”
Ray swallows, not knowing what he's gotten himself into now. “No, nothing like that. I mean, a little. I like a little pain, you know?” he says, wondering where this babble came from.
“Ah. Like when I spanked you before,” Fraser says.
Ray blushes and grins. “Just like that.”
“So you really do enjoy what we do,” Fraser says softly, almost as if to himself. “I was afraid you were only going along for my benefit.”
Ray sits up in the bed and opens his arms wide. “C'mere, Frase.”
And Fraser does, he drops his towel and moves into Ray's waiting arms. It's the other way around now, it seems, and Ray's the one petting Fraser.
“I want nothing more than to remember Before,” Fraser says quietly. It comes out muffled; his face is pressed into Ray's neck.
“You will,” Ray says simply.
“In the shower, I remembered more, but it's not enough,” Fraser says. “It's never enough, just flashes of what's happened in my life but never the full story.”
“Let me tell you a couple of stories,” Ray says, settling back against his pillow. He holds Fraser close to him and begins to tell him about his father.
After awhile, Fraser says, “This sounds familiar.”
“It ought to, it happened to you,” Ray says. “Let me finish...”
Hours later, Fraser has fallen asleep and Ray's throat is sore from talking. Fraser's eyelids flicker as he dreams, and Ray hopes and prays that he's dreaming memories again.
And Ray hopes and prays that Fraser will still want him once he remembers his life Before. It's a silly fear, he tells himself, but the fact is that they never once got together until Fraser got amnesia. Ray isn't a genius, but it doesn't take one to figure out that Fraser's lost a lot of his inhibitions along with his memories. Will he get them back once he's better? He can't imagine Fraser throwing him out of his life entirely, but yeah, he can hear him saying, “Yes, well, at this place and time I cannot see that we have any kind of future together.” Or something even more Fraser-like that says the same thing. It would be proper and polite, but just another blow-off. And it would hurt, like losing Stella hurt. Like he lost a piece of his soul to Fraser and can't get it back.
Don't leave, he thinks loud in his head. Then he drifts off into a fitful sleep.
*
The day Fraser gets his memory back is a Wednesday, weeks later, and Ray is at work when it happens. The way Fraser describes it, later, is that all the flashes just came together in a rush, like pieces of a puzzle, fitting themselves against each other in one big flash, and then Fraser knew everything.
But he doesn't tell Ray right away.
Ray comes home from work grimy and in need of a shower. Fraser looks anxious when he sees him, so he gives him a hug despite his dirtiness.
“Gonna take a shower, okay?” Ray says.
“May I join you?” Fraser asks, more hesitant than Ray is used to.
Ray smiles. “Of course. Don't even have to ask.”
He starts the water running hot in the shower, then moves to strip off his grimy clothes. But Fraser is there immediately, doing it for him. His hands run over Ray's body gently as he pulls the clothes away, almost reverent in his touches.
Ray knows something is up, but he doesn't say anything. He knows that sometimes you have to pull things out of Fraser like teeth and then other times you have to wait him out. This time, he thinks, is one of the latter.
Fraser strips quickly once Ray's naked, and they get into the shower. Once again, Fraser's hands are on Ray, gentle and caring.
“Long day at work?” Fraser asks. He slides soapy hands over Ray's shoulders, kneading the muscles there.
Ray sighs and leans back into Fraser's touch. “You could say that.”
“Tell me about it,” Fraser says kindly, and Ray does.
He tells him about the stench of one apartment he had to visit, the state of the kids there and how he had to call Child Protection, the cracked-out mother who didn't seem to care.
Ray talks about the kids' faces, and their dirty clothes, and talks and talks some more until he's talked out.
Fraser wraps his arms around Ray and moves him under the spray so that the hot water beats down soothingly on his skin.
“Do you want children, Ray?” Fraser asks.
Ray smiles. He wanted kids for a long time, with Stella, and that's one of the reasons they broke up. He still wants that, to be a dad, but he's not sure if his life is taking him there.
“Is that a yes?” Fraser asks.
“It's a maybe,” Ray says seriously. “Why'd you ask?”
“Because of the way you described the children you met today,” Fraser says. “You sounded-”
“Angry?” Ray cuts in. “That's how I felt. If someone has kids, they have a duty to take care of them.”
“I was going to say wistful,” Fraser says.
“I've got dreams, Frase, and all of them...” he trails off. He's venturing into sappy territory, which is right up there with the L-word.
“Yes, Ray? All of them what, exactly?” Fraser asks softly.
Ray rests back against Fraser and sighs. “All of them involve you.”
Fraser swallows audibly. “There are many things I cannot give you,” he says. “Children are one.”
“Don't do this, Fraser, I mean it,” Ray says, straightening and turning around to face him. “You give me everything I could hope for. You're the best man I know, and I'm fucking proud to be with you. I'm blessed by you. Fucking... blessed.” It's the closest he's come to saying outright that he loves him. It's thrilling and scary and just feels right.
But maybe it's not quite what Fraser needed to hear. His face is closed off, unreachable. “I'm not as good as you seem to think. I make mistakes, Ray. I make whopping, unforgivable mistakes.”
Oh, this is about Victoria, Ray thinks, and then, But he doesn't remember... Ray gets out of the shower and grabs a towel, then throws one at Fraser. He waits until Fraser turns the water off and begins to dry himself before saying, “When the fuck were you gonna tell me you remembered?”
Fraser stills his movements and hangs his head.
“When?” Ray asks again. “Tonight? Tomorrow? Next fucking year?”
“I had planned to tell you soon,” Fraser says quietly. “I wouldn't keep that from you for long, Ray.”
Ray runs a hand through his short, wet hair. “So all this... you're going to leave me, aren't you?”
He fucking knew it. He knew it weeks ago, that this couldn't last. Not once Fraser got his memories back. He knew it was coming, tried to hold his heart together in preparation for it, but now it feels as if Fraser's punched a hole right through it.
“I don't want to,” is the pained answer. Fraser's head is still hanging, and water is dripping down the front of him from his hair.
Ray swallows the lump in his throat and says, “Then fucking don't.” He moves to take Fraser's towel from his hands, runs it over his hair briskly.
“I'm not who you think I am,” Fraser says softly. “I'm not this superhero you paint in your stories. I'm not as good as you believe me to be.”
“You think I don't see your flaws?” Ray says with a snort.
“Tell me, then,” Fraser says, practically begging now. Ray hears the unsaid Show me you know me.
“You're stubborn and thick-headed,” Ray says shortly. “You ignore others' feelings if they make you uncomfortable instead of dealing with them head on. You're polite to a fault, usually when you're trying to avoid dealing with something. You make decisions with your head more than your heart, but when your heart is involved you make mistakes.”
“Ray...”
“You think that leaving me will be better for me in the long run,” Ray continues. “You think I'll find a nice girl and a house with a white picket fence – that's what those questions about the kids were, am I right?”
“Yes, but Ray...” Fraser says, but Ray goes on.
“You risk your life too much, jumping into danger like you aren't worthy of... of living, and it's a thrill, I know, you love it, but Fraser you fell off a building. You were lucky just to lose your memories, you could've lost a limb or your fucking life.”
“Ray!” Fraser finally yells, shaking Ray by the shoulders. “I believe you. You know me.”
“Damned straight I know you,” Ray says, glad that Fraser is touching him again, no matter the reason why or how.
“But answer me, Ray,” Fraser says firmly, his voice the same as when he's giving Ray orders in the bedroom. It's a no-nonsense voice, and Ray listens carefully. “Do you really want me to stay? Knowing the things you know about me, knowing I remember?”
“Don't be fucking stupid, Fraser,” Ray says. “Of course I still want you to stay. I'm the one trying to talk you outta leaving, remember?”
Fraser nods shortly, then gathers Ray in his arms. He's still mostly wet, and his skin is getting cold, but Ray doesn't care.
Fraser's not going anywhere.
“Dry off the rest of the way,” Ray murmurs, kissing Fraser's cool shoulder. “Before you catch pneumonia.”
“Actually, Ray, people can't 'catch' pneumonia from water. It's actually caused by bacteria or a virus in the-”
“Fraser, I don't need a medical lesson right now,” Ray says, but he can feel himself grinning from ear to ear.
“Air,” Fraser finishes, and then kisses Ray's smile. It's a sweet, light kiss that promises much more. That, and the cold draft, makes Ray shiver.
“Bed?” Ray asks.
“I suppose you're tired after your long day,” Fraser deadpans. Ray's got to learn how to do that.
He laughs and tugs Fraser along to bed. The two of them fall to the mattress and immediately begin kissing and touching each other. Ray's cold skin is warmed by Fraser's mouth and hands, and the whispered, “Get on your knees for me, Ray,” goes straight to his cock.
All Ray's fears melt away when he sees Fraser's eyes, full of warmth and happiness. Fraser's not going anywhere. And if he tries, well, Ray will be there to set him straight.
End
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Fraser would do anything for him, give him the shirt off his back or the hat off his head. But Fraser's shirts are just worn plaid right now, and he doesn't wear the hat.
I love how so much of the opening scenes are structures like this, the if/but of knowing Fraser but Fraser not knowing himself.
Fraser hasn't even introduced tongue into the equation yet, and Ray's already hard.
Awwwwwwww.
Then, as if they haven't just been talking about mind-blowing sex, Fraser says, “We should go to the grocer's.”
I can *hear* this so well.
MOST OF ALL! I love that Ray can so easily, so quickly, list off all of Fraser's faults. Not only does that *feel* right, it speaks of real love to me.
I really, deeply enjoyed this.
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Thanks a lot to share, i'm going to search more fics with those guys.
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thanks so much.
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But especially this one: http://www.trickster.org/speranza/Eight.html
You can find the rest of her fics on her site: http://www.trickster.org/speranza/
And here are some more recs, classics in the fandom.
http://trickster.org/res/american.html
http://www.dueslash.com/archive/196.html
http://bifictionalbedlam.slashcity.net/shrift/excitable.html
http://www.mrks.org/~starfish/par.html
http://www.mrks.org/~journey/fiction/blueprint.html
http://www.squidge.org/dsa/archive/3/crossingthe.html
http://archiveofourown.org/works/2499
http://trickster.org/res/hydra.html
http://www.squidge.org/dsa/archive/3/busted.html
http://isis.arithmancy.net/greatdivide.htm
http://trickster.org/res/adorned.html
There you go, lots and lots of reading!
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thanks to you, i'm going to save those links.
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Tons of hugs.
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I'm so happy it worked for you! I haven't been reading or writing in the fandom in awhile, so it was like starting over fresh and I was worried I wouldn't get it right.
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♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
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Thank you so much.
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http://squidge.org/dsa/archive/22/thereaching.html
And has somebody pointed you towards the famous Hockey fic yet?
http://dira.ficlaundering.com/ds/hockey/hh1.html
Enjoy!
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I was just talking the other day that it's not easy to write plausible d/s for those two. Still, you pulled it off. So many great details and so in character - I love it!
Thank you!
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The beginning scenes were heartbreaking, the middle extremely hot, and the ending lovely.
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