- Wednesday, Ray’s living room, 7 p.m. –
Ray was fucked. There was no maybe about it. Today had been hell… only less fun.
He had done his utmost to concentrate on his behavior and he had even succeeded. …if succeeded meant that he hadn’t begged Fraser to fuck him right over his desk, then yes, Ray was one hell of a success.
In all other instances he had survived, barely. God, he hated his life.
It wasn’t even that Fraser behaved like an asshole, ‘cause he didn’t, it was just that he didn’t behave different in any way and –yes, Ray knew that this was the whole point of ‘casual’, the irony did not escape him – yet it was still getting on Ray’s nerves.
What? Had their fuck left so little impression on Fraser? He had heard Fraser beg for it; that must’ve been worth something!
God, had he been so average that Fraser didn’t even think twice about it? – Because Ray couldn’t think of anything but their night together.
At first Ray had tried to do it like Fraser; pretend it never happened.
Only, Ray had never been so good at ignoring the stuff that was bothering him. Ray Kowalski? Not a really repressed kinda guy. He had learned at the ‘in your face’ school of motivational behavior.
So after lunch he had tried to push Fraser. But when had that ever worked?
Ray sighed… he should’ve known that it was completely useless to flirt with Fraser. The Mountie had looked as if Ray had lost the rest of his bird brain somewhere between the diner where they had lunch and the witness in interrogation room #2. Or maybe he had been plain confused… with Fraser it was sometimes hard to tell.
And during that interrogation Ray had what had felt like an epiphany back then. When he told the suspect that she didn’t have to prove anything to anyone he figured that this was the solution to all of his problems, a really smooth one at that.
So he got a coffee for himself and a tea for Fraser and there was no one in the break room since it was shortly before the end of shift.
He had taken a deep breath and tried to look all understanding and magna-whatsit about it.
“Hey Frase,” he had said.
“You’ve won. It’s okay, I know.”
And Ray had felt really proud of himself for being such a damn good guy about it.
But did Fraser appreciate it? No of course not. Fraser had looked at him in that I’m-sure-this-makes-sense-on-your-little-planet-smile and said “I see.”
So Ray got all defensive and started jabbing his fingers at Fraser.
“Yeah, you know… the bet. The bet that you couldn’t do casual, I get it, alright?” Ray managed to get out.
And Fraser’s face cleared up and he had looked mighty relieved that Ray had cleared this confusion up – and that he wasn’t in fact unhinged, smiled and said “Ah, thank you, Ray.”
And nothing changed. It was almost enough for Ray to tear his own hair out.
Ray was quiet for a moment. The CD he had put on changed the track and suddenly Glenn Miller’s ‘In the Mood’ filled Ray’s living room.
He groaned. Yeah, he was in a mood alright. No reason to rub it in.
This wasn’t only complete, overpowering madness anymore; it had slowly evolved into monstrous, intolerable torture. It couldn’t get much worse, could it?
Honestly, something had to give.
- Thursday, 27th PD, the supply closet, 4.55 p.m. –
“Ray—what—?” Fraser tried to protest when Ray shoved him into the supply closet.
Ray was at the end of his rope. This had to stop. Sure, Fraser didn’t know what his damn lip licking did to Ray, and he didn’t know either what kind of reaction his focused gaze produced – and Ray was not about to tell him.
Talking was overrated. Ray tried to tell people that all the time.
And Ray had been good, exceptionally so, even. He knew that he only needed to prevail for 5 more minutes before he could escape to the relative safety of his own apartment.
He simply couldn’t. Ray was doneski and he didn’t even care anymore.
Fraser had done that lip thing again and said to him “Ray, would you mind giving me—“
And Ray’s brain had pushed into overdrive. He didn’t care that Fraser in all probability hadn’t been about to say “giving me a handjob” because he couldn’t take it anymore.
So he had tugged on Fraser’s tunic and had pulled him into the supply closet – it said a lot about Fraser and Vecchio that the few people who were present in the bullpen didn’t even bat an eye at this behavior.
As soon as the door was closed he pushed Fraser against the shelves and went straight for his lips.
Fraser lips were soft and yielding beneath his and there was no resistance when Ray pushed his tongue in.
God… he needed this. The moment his tongue touched Fraser’s he groaned into Fraser’s mouth. But that was alright because Fraser’s hands came around his back to hold him.
The kiss was frantic and Ray felt momentarily dazed by the intensity of it. He reached down to open Fraser’s pants. The rush of knowing how to get them open felt spectacular – even more so when he succeeded.
And Fraser was hard and willing and Ray… oh god, Ray tried to stay focus here but it wasn’t easy… not with Fraser biting his lip and moaning ever so softly.
Ray went for Fraser’s lips once more. He felt the tender skin give beneath his own lips and the wetness of Fraser’s tongue felt like a shock to his own heightened arousal. Fraser gasped against his lips only to push his tongue deeper into Ray’s mouth seconds later.
All the while Ray’s hand moved frantically over Fraser’s dick. There was a shudder in Fraser’s breathing and Ray was suddenly very aware that they were standing in the middle of the supply closet and that Fraser was about to come, thanks to his own efforts.
So he dropped to his knees and he couldn’t even remember the last time he had given a blow job but he wrapped his lips around Fraser’s dick and swirled his tongue around it and Fraser gave a strangled sound that might have been Ray’s name at one point.
Ray’s cheeks hollowed and he pushed his tongue roughly against the underside of Fraser’s cock and Fraser whispered “Ray” in that pitiful way and Ray knew what to expect and still he had to concentrate not to choke on Fraser’s come when he shot down his throat.
He stood up and sought Fraser’s lips again. They were warm and Ray pressed closer against Fraser, wanting Fraser to taste himself and Fraser moaned in the back of his throat.
Ray released Fraser’s lips again and panted for air… God, his own arousal was killing him.
“Ray—“ and Fraser reached for Ray’s jeans but Ray was painfully aware of where they were and this wasn’t what he wanted anyway.
“Fraser, come home with me?” he asked quietly.
Ray had suspected that Fraser might play hard to get. He had pictured Fraser acting reluctant. He had figured that the Mountie might even start discussing the moral issues of this idea.
But when he looked at Fraser he realized that the Mountie was doing his best to impersonate a deer caught in the headlights. Why would Fraser look scared?
This didn’t make any sense.