maskormenacelogs | you can't go around it, you have to go through it

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you can't go around it, you have to go through it

WHO: Ray & Benton
WHERE: Canada
WHEN: Nooowww
WHAT: being canadian???
WARNINGS: graphic adult themes

Half the time, Ray had to wonder if, well, half the time they spent waiting around for their next trip up to Canada. If days were just spent waiting for the next opportunity to make a break for it. Not that their life outside of Canada was all too bad, it just wasn't what they wanted out of their days spent together and no amount of refusing to voice that out loud was going to change exactly what it was. They weren't rooted and it was infuriating - they weren't in the right place to plant their feet - but they made do, just like they were doing now.

Another short trip up to give North more chances to run through the actual snow this time, to be hooked up to a harness and trail it around, to pull and see how far he could go. Or maybe it was just an excuse to rent a cabin and stare into each individual sunset that hit across the scenery, glinting off the snow, making it all a scene from a fucking Canadian storybook. It all made so much sense sometimes, and then none at all, especially when Ray was reminded of the fact that they couldn't stay where they so rightly belonged.

The evening had finally curled back into the cabin, North exhausted and sprawled out by the fire with Dief watching nearby, sitting all too interested in the little one's occasional twitching. But Ray's interests lay elsewhere, nearly everything cleared up (Ray did the dishes, as usual) and cleaned and tucked away for their few last nights in the little place, their remnants of dinner stashed away save for a mug of tea gone nearly lukewarm. Ray finally found himself lounging on the only couch the place had to offer - one of the few places to sit down and stretch out - watching Ben from over the back and thanking whatever holy entity that was listening for the simple things this had to offer.

"You bout done yet?"

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Fraser loved Canada, and would have retreated with him up to the great north to disappear if he thought they could get away with it. But they were Registered, they were heroes, and they had a job to do, were considered Americans even if Ben had fought to regain his citizenship--dual citizenship, supposedly.

It didn't help, when it still meant never straying across the border for very long at a time. They went for long enough, he supposed; long enough to spend time training both Ray and the dogs on the sled, hiring a team and adding Diefenbaker and North to the pack. North was still a long legged puppy, really, and he didn't pull but he loved running. Ray, on the other hand, had spent large swathes of the summer learning to drive a team of dogs, and now that they were on snow, he got to prove his skills, learning a new balance on the different surface, and how to use his brake to pull tighter turns.

Ray was getting used to the cold, too, enjoying it. Fraser thrived on the cold already, but to be fair the last time they'd been up here, Ray hadn't quite been ready. It was different now. It was getting into Ray's bones, and Ray was getting right into his.

Sometimes, their engagement still didn't seem real. It was an amazing thing. It made every day exciting.

Ben was down to a single layer, crouching down in front of the wood fire to load it while Ray stretched out and lazed on the couch. Everything was warm and toasty, and as Fraser filled the fire and closed the door, he called back: "I'm coming," and followed up by doing just that, coming to stand over the back of the couch.

"I don't suppose you plan to make any room for me?"

"Not unless you wanna fight for it."

Ray watched as Fraser made his way back over, a grin slowly curling from ear to ear. He reached his own level of exhaustion most days as well, working over the snow and trying to figure out how to train on it compared to running on summer ground. It was an entirely different experience and if it wasn't work, then corralling all the dogs was in its own way. North was a handful all to himself but handling that many dogs took a certain amount of constant effort and if North wasn't the one sprawled out in wriggly puppy sleep, then it was Ray who was knocked out by the time the sun had disappeared.

Not budging an inch as Fraser stood closer beside the couch, Ray just gave him a winning smile, all too keen on an evening where he wasn't toast, spent with a toasty Fraser. Couldn't get much better than the opportunities that were presenting themselves and all Ray wanted to do sometimes was soak in what they had. What they were. What they were going to become as the days drawled on. Because they were this, all of it, every ounce of who they were was every piece of what made them whole and sometimes Ray still couldn't get over the fact that Ben was his.

But now Fraser had to deal with sharing the couch.

It was just one of those nights. Cabin filled with warmth, Ray still fizzing over from the day at hand. How could a guy complain.

"And don't even ask me which half you'd get."

It wasn't exhaustion, of course, that Fraser had on his mind. All he wanted was to curl up in the warmth with the man that he loved, and today was no different to yesterday, or the day before, for that sentiment. Whether they were bedding down in the snow, curled up in a hole that they'd dug out with giant bear paws, or inside a warm cabin with the snow beating down outside, or in a shabby little De Chima apartment, all that mattered was that Ray was there, and that Ray loved him.

But fighting for the couch, when it was more than clear that Ray wanted him down on it just as much as Fraser wanted a spot to himself? Well. He wasn't such a chump--he knew full well it was an excuse to wrestle, for Ray to get hot under the collar without even having to try very hard.

So Fraser ignored the challenge, and came around the corner of the couch, sitting at the end of it, or at least perching on the arm near Ray's feet.

"That's fine," he replied, calmly. "I can sit just here."

So it was an excuse. So what. Ray was full of such things - ways to finagle his way closer when Fraser least expected it (or likely saw it coming from five hundred miles away) but he couldn't help himself. He was a sucker for contact and for finding his way to sources of connection from the man he loved - the single person who made him whole in ways he couldn't even begin to explain. Even simple things did him in, like making breakfast together; things he hadn't gotten used to yet and hoped he never really would.

Breakfast, however, was hours away.

For now, after a day full of trying business and flailing puppies, he was looking for his own personal playtime, looking to rustle up some Fraser despite whatever need he might have for his own personal space. And really, Ray thought he could be monumentally convincing when put to the test, stretching out and poking at Fraser's thigh with the toes of his socks, arms stretched out behind his head, full on getting into Fraser's space for the purpose of becoming his own world's largest puppy.

"Aw, c'mon, Ben. You don't gotta stuff yourself in the corner, they make couches big enough for more than one person. You, me, one couch. Like two bugs in a snug."

Fraser was, really, just playing hard to get. He kept his face tipped up, trying to pretend that he was getting along just fine without contact with Ray, pretending, too, that the foot reaching out to poke at him wasn't distracting, and the teasing little comment, all but begging for cuddles, wasn't going to convince him of anything. But he was... He was bending a little bit, it had to be said, tipping his body very slightly toward Ray's touch, but not actually going to far as to climb up over him, no matter how inviting he was.

It wasn't that he was being stubborn, it was just his own way of being playful. He held himself in place, held his nerve, hands folded across his knees.

"I have heard that about couches, but so far it seems to me that the truth is not much like the fiction at all."

Though he did very much want his cuddles, he would play the game his own way, and see which one of them broke first.

"Yeah, well- you know what they say about the fiction of these kinds'a things. They're. Y'know. Fiction."

To a certain extent, Ray knew that Fraser was playing a game, teasing the only way he knew how and doing a rather adorable job at it. That he was playing hard to get where Ray was trying to very quietly drag Fraser ever closer. It was in his blood to get Fraser close at every given opportunity and it was in Fraser's to sit straight backed and act as if nothing could possibly get to him until he could sneak the moments in of his own choosing. And as far as Ray was concerned, Fraser would crack first. Deprived for too long, combined with just how irresistible Ray believed himself to be, Fraser would give in soon enough.

The warmth of the cabin, the warmth of cuddles and soft murmurs - they would call to Ben before he even knew what to do about it. And so Ray stopped with his gentle prodding, instead using the arm rest to stretch the arches of his feet against, rubbing his feet gently, trying to appear as soft and warm as possible.

"And reality's a whole lot better."

"Depends on the fiction, I suppose," Fraser murmured, sparing a half glance sidewards and looking over at Ray from the corner of his eye. He wasn't going to give in so easily--this was Fraser, after all, the king of the waiting game.

So he glanced, and then he tipped his face away again, twiddling his hands in his lap. The temptation was high, though--after all the hard work they'd done, and Ray's remarkable efforts - and one faceplant - over the course of the day, had earned him something in the realm of at least a cuddle.

Ray just had to earn it first. Fraser tilted his face upward. "I'm sure there's plenty of fiction concerning us canoodling by now. Some of it may even be good."

"Canoodling? Fraser, did you just- Ben. You have not been reading the canoodling fiction, have you? Please tell me you haven't. Because if they're writing about things we ain't even done yet i'm gonna make an official statement. Prime time TV."

Ray's grumling turned softer until it drifted off altogether, trying to keep the slight smirk off his features as he stared holes into Fraser's jeans. He knew the guy wasn't going to give in without some incredibly amount of cajoling, Ray just wasn't entirely sure what buttons needed to pressed and how hard. Or what was the right thing to say and what would make Ben get up and go make himself another cup of tea.

"Or, y'know, hey- maybe they've got some good ideas. Bet there's some story about how you used your skills wrestling moose to show me a thing or two. I draw the line at any moose mating calls, though."

It was amusing, Fraser thought, to think of it from that sort of perspective. Unnerving, too, that anyone would have such an interest in his sex life - and that they'd all been conspiring about it before even Fraser had known what he wanted - but it was all very harmless. Nobody had kidnapped them and tried to make them do things to each other, for example--what sort of harm could possibly be done in the name of such affection?

Stories were just that, and well...at least they were being creative, right? Inspiriting literacy?

"You do? But, Ray, you don't even know how good my moose mating calls are."

Fraser was going to win this, no less because he put his hands up to his mouth, cupped one palm and closed it with the other, opening his fingers up as he made a rather convincing - and loud - moose call.

No, no he was not going to win this, because Ray had every type of persistence up his sleeves and then some. A few years with Fraser had taught him a certain degree of stubbornness and he wasn't going to roll over and wave his little white flag just yet. If at the very least because he wanted to prove he wouldn't - that he'd fight for it, fight for Ben's affection.

And that he could still be a dick when he wanted. But more than that? It was far more amusing to play the game then to simply be steamrolled.

Squinting - more like cringing - away from the noise, Ray first checked to make sure North hadn't shot up like a rocket because of the appealing sound of wilderness, but found him still sleeping in the corner but the crackling warmth. After that was settled, Ray looked back, shaking his head in some form of amusement.

"If that's what mooses sound like when they're going at it, then sign me up, hey? Cause now i'm gonna feel like i'm missin out- you sure as hell don't sound like that in bed. It's like i'm doing something wrong or something."

Fraser glanced across at North too, but he and Diefenbaker - considering the state of his hearing - were both fast asleep. No, his moose noise fell only on one set of ears, and that was Ray, who was doing a good job of making Fraser fight for his dinner. The last comment in particular... Oh, maybe he wasn't going to win after all. Not with language like that.

"You want me to be noisy in bed? We have neighbors, Ray. Heaven knows what they'd think of us."

But there was no excuse out here in the snow, now, was there? He tipped a look over at Ray, then tipped over, propping his knee up on the corner of the couch and bending slowly forward, climbing over his legs.

"But there might be something you could do better, I suppose."

"Neighbors can kiss my ass, you know how much of a rip I give about the people we live next to. They got their own place for a reason." The words were trailed off haphazardly, as if not really spoken at all so much as simply drawn out from Ray's head and streaked across the air between them, vanishing as quickly as they'd come.

Especially since he seemed to have gotten Fraser's attention with that last bit, something that earned him a wide grin from Ray, astonishingly pleased with himself and then equally as quick to balk at the other's words.

"Hey. Hey. If there's something better I could be doing, you best get with the filing me in, cause I didn't know I was lacking on moose calls." Ray stretched out further but propped himself up on his elbows, watching Ben carefully through furrowed brows. The majority of the day had been spent chilled to the bone - or dripping sweat under too many layers - and now that he was warm he felt altogether languid, like he might melt onto the floor. Ben moving closer only warmed him that much more, feeling as if he was laying himself out to be stalked.

Fraser did creep closer, but he was careful - ever so careful - not to touch down on Ray in any place, at any point. He spread himself out like a mantis, waiting to pounce, balancing his own weight on his hands, one digging into the bend of the couch behind Ray, the other curled around the edge of the cushion. At first, his knees held him at bay, but as he stretched out, he was forced to take his weight on one foot instead.

Rolling his shoulders, Fraser let Ray look, anticipate, all the spark shining in his blue eyes.

"That's not for me to tell you, Ray. You have to work it out for yourself. I mean, you said it yourself, didn't you? You're doing something wrong if I'm not screaming the house down."

Which wasn't fair, if he'd said it in any other tone, but Fraser was playing, and this was all banter. He wasn't saying that Ray wasn't good enough for him, because, well, neither of them had known what they were doing to start with, and Fraser knew how terrifying that fear was, even now. Even when they were content and happy. So he was playing, and he made sure Ray could see that.

Right, of course Fraser had to go at this like he was climbing a rope bridge and Ray's body was the river. Of course he had to turn him into an obstacle course, as if he could turn a game into a game into a game. The crank was turning into near torture and Ray had to restrain himself from heaving a dramatic sigh and toppling the whole deck of cards. He only had so much resounding patience for this and it was making him squirm, hips wiggling, fingers strumming, feet digging into the couch cushions.

It didn't really help matters that he was insulting his wherewithal in the bedroom. Not that Ray even knew if he had any - they both only ever really experimented on each other and that was that, and he'd hoped that if he was doing something wrong Fraser would've spoken up.

Spoken up before now.

"Yeah, but you don't scream the house down 'bout anything. It could be actually falling to the ground and you'd be fit as a fiddle. Far as I know, I could be hitting all the wrong buttons and you could just be, y'know, tellin me i'm fine when we're driving off the deep end."

Ray only sounded minutely concerned, the jokey conversational tone slowly seeping out of his words as they strung along. He still sounded playful, but pleasing Fraser was a big on - a must do, if anything. And keeping him happy was always on Ray's agenda, which meant Fraser's supposed sarcasm could've really implied anything. And gave Ray even more of a case of the creepy-crawlies.

"You think you're hitting all the wrong buttons?" Fraser flicked his tongue out, just briefly, a darting tease of a tongue. The slightest shift of his knee, and suddenly his leg was flush with the inside of Ray's thigh, and Fraser sank down toward his right arm, tucked in against the couch, bending in until his bare cheek touched down on the soft, bodywarmed fabric of Ray's shoulder.

"I think I'd have said something about it before now," he purred, mimicking Ray's concerns. He pressed his face upward, sliding his nose into Ray's throat, inhaling the scent of him, warm and salty from sweating into his winter clothes. Fraser tipped his face further up, pressing the wet line of his mouth against hot skin.

"I suppose I've always felt self conscious," he murmured. Self conscious, said the man who ran about Chicago in a red suit, with a wolf.

Ray kept still as possible - a difficult feat to be sure - though it was becoming infinitely more difficult with the way Fraser was moving about him. He was finally settling in, incrementally inching his way closer, nosing an inch at a time until Fraser was sliding in against Ray and easing his weight closer, down, comfortable and at home. Where Ray needed him to be- had wanted him to be all day. Ray exhaled with ease the second Fraser's cheek brushed his shoulder, stretching one hand out and ruffling Fraser's hair absently, the pad of his thumb brushing the shell of Fraser's ear.

As gentle as the whole moment was, Ray still snorted the second Fraser claimed he was self conscious.

"Yanno, we're out here for more than one reason. For all our reasons, Ben. Nobody around for miles, nobody to be self conscious for." Though, Ray paused for a moment, the palm of his hand smoothing down the back of Fraser's neck, fingers scratching just beneath the line of his collar. "Or are you talkin' about me. Cause if you're worried about what you're doin in front of me, then Fraser, you can give me all you got. And i'll take even more."

Fraser still wasn't sure about that. But there was no point just thinking about it. Close against Ray, and considering everything that he'd given to him thus far, promised to him, and the promises that were yet to come, it was only fair that he opened up a little, shared those bizarre insecurities with Ray that made Fraser Fraser.

He took a steadying breath, and exhaled it against Ray's throat, relaxing against him again. As tense, as nervous as he was, he could get through practically anything (except a conversation about sperm donation, actually), and this should be easy for him. It benefited Ray, after all.

"I get insecure... A little. That's all, Ray. I was always a very private person. I don't discuss my conquests, or strut about half clothed, or...or lay how I felt about someone out on the line for every member of the public to express their opinions on it. I try to be a little less with you, but it's very difficult...it's difficult to show how I feel when I'm not used to having anyone to show it to. That's all. A bad habit I've gotten into.

"But I want to."

Ray wasn't expecting much, mostly just some quiet cuddles until Fraser - perhaps - fell asleep and Ray's buzz let him linger infinitely longer. He just wanted the bulky warmth of Fraser overwhelming him, hovering over him, an insistent presence that couldn't be escaped. It was the most he ever wanted out of their trips to Canada, an escape mechanism that couldn't be found anywhere else. A real home, the real place they were meant to be, the real connection drawn between them. A busy day full to the brim with work turned into quiet, warm nights that fell in on themselves, warm and encapsulating.

The last thing Ray was expecting was Fraser to unfurl like a rope, unwinding and opening up no matter how small. Except it wasn't small at all, it was huge, and Ray looped an arm around to Fraser's back, his palm against the slight slope of his spine.

"You don't gotta up and shout about anything, Fraser. Not us, not this, not bein in bed. All I ever want is for you to be you, whatever makes you comfortable. 'Specially when it's just us- fuck everyone else and their opinions. If you want to, then you can, but if you don't, then don't. That easy. I just want you bein you, where it makes you happy."

"I know, but "me"..."

Fraser shook his head, not quite sure how to express it, but he wrapped his arms contently around Ray, letting his weight ever so slowly come to rest against his hip, his ribs. With the edge of the sofa supporting him he wouldn't be too heavy, and besides Ray was more than strong enough to hold him even if he did. That was one of the things that had tempted him into this embrace in the first place, the fact that he needed a lover who could hold their own, and Ray was just perfect for that.

"I don't know that I want to be just this "me", Ray, that I'm happy with who he is. I'm neurotic, insensitive, pushy--there are things about "me" that I would change, and that I want to change. Part of our bond as partners demands it." A pause. "My father, for example, was quite stubborn, absolutely determined to do everything himself, no matter what it was, and of course Buck--well, Buck was Buck..."

He might be yammering a little.

There was something to be said for holding his own against a lover. It was different and yet exactly like the one thing he'd grown up with. Having a partner in equal measure to a friend, but this time they were aligned in other ways - in ways he still found himself surprised by most days, loving every single time. Fraser had a weight about him that when he finally leaned in closer and settled in hotly, his presence was entirely known, inch by inch he measured up and existed. Ray wasn't gathering up a tiny body; instead he was aligned with one, an act so different than the one he spent most of his life providing.

It only took a few moments of soaking in the feel of Fraser's weight to realize he'd gone off the rambling deep end and Ray had to try to catch his breath and find a place to jump in, curling his fingers at Fraser's hip and finally sinking in.

"Hey. Hey. We're talkin about you, here. And me. And maybe you got some things we can work on - dunno how many I want you goin around trying to change, though. But you want to be louder? Then we work on you bein louder. But you're not gonna be doing everything yourself, no matter which way you try and work it. Not happening, no way no how. You cut me outta the mix and i'm cutting you out just as hard so don't even try and think you're in this alone. Cause then that puts me out in the cold."

Yammering? Who was yammering now.

Ray really did know how to speak up for himself, when it was important that he did, and Fraser was well aware of the sentiment behind every word. It wasn't about just being louder, it was about being a better person because he was with Ray, not because he needed to be changed but because...because staying the same wouldn't acknowledge the impact that this man had on his life. Truly the thing was that Fraser had spent most of his life standing still, barely accelerating, living the same day over and over again, with slight variations.

So Fraser reached a hand up, and laid it on Ray's cheek, stilling his thought-to-mouth process. He peered down at him for a few moments, and then ducked in and brushed a soft kiss to his lips.

"So we agree. A little more change is just us improving on something that we already know is good, not question its present inherent value at all."

He stroked his fingers in circles, then bent in to give Ray another soft kiss. They were both a little bristly, but then they'd been working hard, and Fraser...well, Fraser really appreciated the difference; the roughness, the slight burn that kisses left behind where stubble had ground into his own. There was never any question of who he was kissing.

Ray really forgot how to shut up sometimes, when emotion took his words by the balls and ran for it, spiraling out of control until he wasn't even sure what he was saying any longer. But at least every word was built on unhindered honesty, as if the switch that went from his feelings to his mouth was connected improperly and kept him from thinking through the worlds he allowed to tumble free. Not that Ray was ashamed of himself, but sometimes he wished he had more control. But at the very least, Fraser understood the inability to shut his trap himself, only quieting when the palm settled easily on his cheek.

Staring back while Fraser looked down at him, Ray only blinked when Fraser leant in to kiss him gently, a peck of a thing that called for further quiet conversation.

"Right. Yeah. What you said. Cause Fraser, i'm not askin you to change you. Cause you're already all the things that finish me off so if you go changing-"

Fraser kept up the stroking of his fingers and Ray shut up again, stilling instead of continuing his inclination to ramble. It left room for another kiss, Ray pushing gently into it, chasing down the continued warmth of Fraser's mouth. It was like finding home again after working his ass off all day, like sinking his fingers into the very idea of ragged comfort, worn in and fit like a scruffy glove. "I'll be just as happy if you don't scream my name, Frase."

Fraser didn't know how to talk his way out of this, or anything else. He just knew that he...he wanted. He wanted to make Ray happy, and even if he was already making him happy, there was so much scope, so much opportunity, to deepen and improve their love, and as a perfectionist Fraser couldn't help but hold himself to such high standards.

But Ray always said the right thing, and when he returned the kiss, Fraser melted into it, edging into his efforts to try and convey how much he wanted. And yet there was more to it than that. Making Ray feel the way he was feeling right now, as though he'd come home? Fraser knew he was giving him that, because he felt it too. The snow beating at the glass lightly, the steady breathing of sleeping dogs, the crackle of the fire and the low, pleasant heat--Ray underneath him, warm and reassuring and all, all his--this was home.

He kissed his way away from Ray's mouth, nudged in under his jaw, and nipped at his skin, sighing against him a moment later.

"I could scream your name right now," he murmured. "Nobody will hear us out here. I could try."

Stretching out fully underneath Fraser, making himself about as comfortable as humanely possible, Ray lifted his chin to make room for Fraser before settling back in again. Something of a lazy dog himself, Ray was more than content to just be comfortable, to be home in this as much as Fraser was, to just languish in a life he didn't know he'd wanted to lead.

It felt right, all of this did, and it was hard to resist the temptation of another hard working day out here, another night like this. Fraser was warm, melting over him, feeling of a looseness they only ever achieved when they had time like this. Freedom separate from the city, from the things that tied Fraser up into knots and kept him on the end of a short leash. Because there wasn't a breath of one out here and Ray was the only one that kept tabs on the things that made Fraser whole, that made him hum with only the kind of contentment he knew to possess in a place like this. Fraser was one with everything out here - including him - and that's what cunted.

Plunging his fingers into Fraser's hair, scratching gently at his scalp, Ray snorted at the comment, full of disbelief and amusement even if Fraser was being as honest as he could be.

"Sure, but you don't got a reason for it right now. And then my ears'll just be ringing cause your idea of screaming my name is probably going in for the kill." Not that Fraser couldn't, or wouldn't do it anyway, but Ray was still tingling with amusement at the idea. "But hey, if you really want.."

Okay, so maybe he wasn't very convincing, but he tried his best. He wanted Ray to feel like he could provide all the things he needed, and if that was sex noises then Fraser could do sex noises. It wasn't like there weren't things inside him that wanted to get out, but most of the time he just tried his best to hold all those feelings down, never expose how he really felt.

And this? What they were going into? He didn't want to keep how he felt to himself, damn it all. He wanted to get how he felt right out there, where Ray could feel it too.

"I wasn't... I wasn't going to go in for the kill. Quite besides which, Ray, life is difficult enough as it is with just one deaf member of our family."

He mumbled his words into Ray's throat, but he did duck back to smirk at Ray himself, teasing obviously. His other hand slid up, tucking in under the bottom of Ray's shirt, while the one tucked up between his back and the couch worked gentle circles between his shoulderblades, both comforting and a little bit sensual.

It wasn't really sex noises that Ray wanted, at the end of the day. Not really. Not that he'd complain about Fraser shouting his head off in the bedroom, exaggerated or not. But only if it was because he was enjoying himself, not because he thought Ray needed it or something weird like that - it got all contrived when he thought about it too hard and he scrunched his nose up, trying not to imagine a Fraser who was faking it the whole way through.

Though really, the comfier Fraser got against him, the more buzzed Ray got to the whole thing. The smirk just did him in that much more, drawing a grin of Ray like a whipcrack, sinking his fingers into Fraser's neck and digging in rough for a second before drawing back into something comforting and warm, fingers slipping just past his collar.

"Don't let him hear you say that." Bad deaf joke is bad. But yet, somehow necessary. And still Ray continues, squirming up under Fraser's touch, almost fuzzy from it.

"Look, if you wanna scream in bed, you start whenever the moment grabs you. You just go for the gold and we'll suffer the consequences wherever we are. But you wanna practice here, you go for it. I got no complaints. Long as you're happy with everything." His voice dropped to momentary concern for a second and he flashed a look- "You're happy, right? Enough?"

"I'm happy with everything. More than happy enough. Better than happy."

He kept kissing, leaving little marks behind by scratching with his teeth here and there, enjoying the way that Ray shifted eagerly underneath his touches. It was nice, actually, to just do that much without having any expectations, or forcing any on Ray. Noises or no, he had this man all to himself, for eternity--or at least, until they were both thrust home, back to the lives they lived before, however those would turn out. Fraser had to hope they'd find each other there, too.

But here? Here, he was happy, and if Ray was happy too then everything was good. And if the dogs were happy then even better.

Slowly Fraser recoiled away, sitting back up and reaching down to take hold of Ray's hands, urging him to sit up.

"Kiss me," he urged.

"Better than works for me."

Ray mumbled his words halfway, almost slurring as Fraser's teeth dug gently into his skin. He was easy, really, and he knew it, but he was easy only for Fraser. A nudge here and a nudge there and Ray was melting, only encouraged that much more by a day that made him all fuzzy and blitzed now that they could relax. Fraser just had to warm up to the moment and then they were all good, Ray melty and content to take what he was given without wanting any more.

Which was maybe why he got all squirmy and discontent the second Fraser pulled away, his warmth sucked away with him. Which really, in the cabin was all kinds of imperative to keep close. He nearly automatically shivered from the leftover nip in the air but then Fraser was pulling at him, tugging to get him to sit up.

Which he did, pulling upright without a second's notice. A request from Fraser was always gold.

Slinking in closer, Ray huffed a breath before nosing in for a kiss, one that eased into gentleness before plunging into something rougher around the edges, his own chance to sink his teeth into Fraser's lower lip. Capture him all over again.

It was perfect. When Ray sat up on his urging, Fraser wrapped his arms around him, grateful for the closeness, and bent into the kiss. They were always a little gentle, and a little rough, a little stubble grinding against stubble, some teeth.

Fraser exhaled against Ray's mouth, a sharp, startled little gasp that dissolved into something closer to a sound of restrained pleasure. The feeling of arousal building inside him was very much helped by Ray's teasing urgency and closeness. Relaxing. This was good. Relaxing was nothing like relaxing, maybe, but all this tension and energy was more than enough to make him buzz with hunger for something more.

He tangled the fingers of his right hand in Ray's hair, kissed him harder, lashed his tongue against the inside of his mouth and pressed in deeper, more urgently.

There was no doubt about the question now, and less so when Fraser's fingers - still a little cold - went hunting for Ray's buttons to get him out of his shirt.

When things got out of hand they always seemed to when Ray least expected it. Maybe it was the whole wilderness thing, but the fact of the matter was, a day filled to the brim with work and flannel and messy dogs didn't seem like it'd succumb to something like this. Not something where Fraser's tongue dove into his mouth and pulled him open at the seams and definitely not something where Fraser was clamping down on minute noises that were making Ray want to groan with some kind of restrained need. He didn't want to plow through this in any way, and he wanted the moments to dwindle like none had before.

They were home. This was home. This was where they were meant to entangle and find themselves in each others arms.

Mumbling a quite note of a noise, Ray drove in deeper to the kiss, plunging forth and pushing, trying to hold on tight and capture what he could. But Fraser had the advantage from where he was sitting, hovering over Ray while he had to clamp down on his abs to keep himself upright. It was effort and Ray panted between effortless kisses, nipping at lips and digging his fingers into Fraser's waist to hold on tight. It was necessary and needy and exhaustive, plunging into the kind of love that held them together every given day.

Fraser was everything all at once and suddenly cold fingers began delving deeper and Ray shivered, chewing on his own lower lip as his mouth sought out Fraser's sweat drenched neck, scratchy from flannel and dried sweat. It was perfect and real and Ray would've wriggled out of his clothes himself if he had the vantage point to do it, instead struggling to get his fingers under Fraser's clothes in tandem, working and struggling and fighting with too many layers.

This competition he was losing, his muscles trembling, the exertion of the day pulling him down, fighting with himself to keep close to Fraser and hang on tight, clamoring into every warm kiss.

Fraser didn't leave Ray at a disadvantage for long. The second the buttons of Ray's shirt were open, he wrapped his arms around him and gave him the support he needed, pulling the other man's body closer to his own, sharing in his own strength and heat. They'd need to share heat with all the layers coming off, create heat with their energy and exertion, so that they filled the time between this chill and the fire heating the room up enough for the post coital chill that would come with cooling sweat. Fraser was ready; he felt he'd timed his engagement perfectly, so long as there were no surprises.

His breath gusted out in a rush against Ray's, a moan that fell into the kiss, his hands rubbing down and then upward, pulling Ray's undershirt out from his waistband, only to get his slightly cold hands underneath. Usually Fraser was a furnace, but Ray was protected, built up heat underneath his many layers, and to any heat Fraser's exposed fingers would have seemed cold. They warmed quickly, but it was still a shock of a moment, as it would be when Ray's hands found his own skin.

The kiss broke, and Ray's lips found the raw skin at his throat, oversensitized from constant rubbing, a weak point for the Mountie that Ray well knew. He almost bit down on the groan he wanted to make, but caught himself, and let it fall instead. Not loud - not by any means - but louder than Fraser would usually groan. He really was trying.

There was warmth and then there was warmth, the kind that crept in under your ribs like shitty oatmeal your mother made you eat for breakfast before a Chicago white out. And then there was this kind, the kind of warm that made you feel like you'd never known anything but explicit heat, friction and endless contact. The kind that spread out through your veins and crawled under touches and, and froze the second Fraser touched him. It lasted for mere seconds, maybe a few more than that, but it made him shiver once before Ray dove back into the heat of Fraser's skin, his raw neck and sensitive edges.

Getting out of his own clothes required a certain amount of wriggling, letting go so he could peel out of his sleeves before latching on again as if Fraser might evaporate into the heat of the cabin. The whole beast of the thing was hot and Ray loved it - the self contained atmosphere, the connection that swept into the pores of the wood and held them fast to the Earth. They were grounded here, and it was only them in their actions, their bodies crushed closer inch by inch until there was no denying the lack of space between them.

Once Ray got a grip again, he wriggled his fingers up under Fraser's roasting henley, scratchy worn fabric abused by a life of justice, fingers meeting warm flesh and sinking in roughly, possessively. It was enough to leave an imprint behind, to recognize that this moment was his to find and be found and nothing was stopping Ray from silently pointing out that this was theirs. All of this was theirs. Teeth nipped at Fraser's ear, his jaw, his collar, tugging on fabric and tracing ribs before spine, shuddering pointedly at Fraser's gentle moan and grinning all too lasciviously just because it split the moment wide open and made Ray want to dive in.

Fraser was a furnace. Even more so when Ray got his hands on him, scrabbled underneath his shirt so that bare skin was his canvas. But more than that, even though Ray touched him he didn't actually make any effort to get Fraser out of his clothes, even though he was combusting underneath them. Ray was free, but Fraser was trapped, cooking from batter to Mountie waffles right there underneath Ray's hungry touches.

Panting, Fraser just groaned, all the worse from it, all the louder and more futilely. The kisses and bites weren't helping, the way that Ray seemed to catch every part of him that felt like it was linked straight down between his thighs. Just a little nibbling on his neck, and his ears, which were sensitive from years being beaten raw by the icy cold, and Fraser was as hard as rock, rearing to go, all sweat and need, erection crushed against the inside of his jeans. Denim, up here, was for inside and not out, at least in winter.

"Ray," he growled, dipping his face forward as though he could dislodge Ray from his neck and his continued assault, encourage him to just...just get him out of some of his clothes before he spontaneously set aflame. "Ray please..."

Fraser was melting right underneath his fingers and Ray could feel it. Dripping, sweat, skin, the combined efforts of arousal and warmth and home all seeping together into something deliciously intoxicating and it was the kind of erection the bore holes through fabric if you weren't fucking careful. The kind of need that was so urgent it tore into you and stole the moment as well as the air within it and while Ray loved every second of watching Fraser squirm, he wanted a firm piece of the action.

Mumbling against warm skin, his palm glossing over Fraser's sternum, Ray nodded, got himself together, realized his own cock was starting to yearn for something more severe and finally moved.

"Right. Right, I can- we- Yeah."

Peeling himself away, Ray squirmed himself back to reality until he was fighting with his own existence, struggling to peel far enough back so that he could begin the process of peeling Fraser out of his clothes. Trying to wrangle his way out of Fraser's hold, Ray made a frantic and sudden effort to rid Fraser of his multitude of layers, henley and flannel and heat, denim and zippers next, all together combined to skin here and skin there and not nearly enough of anything to get anywhere. But limbs were in the way and Ray was scattered as he always was, pulling here and tugging there, sneaking in a kiss there. It was only when he pried layers over Fraser's head that he felt like he was making process, heaving a dramatic sigh against bare shoulders and urging Fraser in closer.

Fraser just growled. It was hard to find any kind of focus as it was, and Ray's efforts were more and more clumsy as time went on, like he couldn't find the right button to spring it all open, and he was playing a game of warmer/colder with Fraser's patience. Finally, though, Ray pulled hard, and Fraser threw his body backward to get free, as Ray tugged. He fell out of them all in one go, and then with such relief to be free, he didn't need much urging at all to throw himself down and forward, crush his chest against Ray's and his mouth against Ray's lips.

He slammed him back, with a little roughness, jarring Ray against the arm of the little sofa and pressing him down against it. He'd lose his balance a little bit, having to struggle with keeping his head up or just give in and tip back--something made easier when Fraser moved his mouth further down, quickly, attacking his throat, lashing his tongue against his pulse, then dropping lower.

It was time, maybe. Fraser had ducked out of this before, but now he felt a little more comfortable in this relationship, warm and loved, then maybe... Maybe it was time to step up their intimacy. He certainly kissed across Ray's belly like he intended more than to just wind him up, though Ray had opportunity to stop him if he wasn't ready. This was about both of them, after all.

It wasn't that Ray wasn't ready for it - he'd been ready for it since, oh- since god knows when. Maybe back when Fraser had gotten plastered. He'd been left crooning his name while he squirmed about all handcuffed to his rougness, while Ray tried to assess the situation until he simply fell into it. Neither of them could decipher where the momentum had come from when Fraser had been so adamant about taking it slow. And so he'd taken it slow from there on out, all trepidation and worrying about when the next flurry of love making would come to fruition.

Grunting a bit when he was crammed backwards, stuffed into the corner and about yet more comfortable than he wanted to admit (not quite caring either way), he was happy to let Fraser jam into kisses and slip skin against skin. It all seemed right the way it was, the way they wanted it, Fraser growling until he found his throat and Ray all but groaned with it. He wanted both in and out with the way Fraser was going, dipping further down, aggressive and needy and slipping out and away from the drifting snowfall into the heat of the cabin.

Ray's fingers found Fraser's hair and grasped tight, found home within a home and slid his thumb against Fraser's temple, not knowing whether to say encouraging words or just let himself urge onward with a tipping up of his hips, need found in little whispers of yeah and grumbles of need. He was good, he was great, he was fantastic, he was right where he wanted to be, heels digging into couch cushions and wondering why it was he got so goddamn lucky this time.

Fraser was determined, this time, but it came from a much more conscious place, a place of love and adoration, a place where meaning emerged simply because they made it so. He bent lower, his mouth tracing upward, drawing just a line along the curve of Ray's abdomen. He wasn't out of shape--that couldn't be said of him, certainly because in the last few months they'd done so many energetic, exhausting things together that he'd had to build up muscle where there had been less before. Fraser was naturally thicker built, to tell the truth, but that was just nature taking its course. Ray had to really work for it to make it feasible.

When he'd reached Ray's diaphragm, Fraser began to kiss down again, and this time he pushed his hands ahead of him, to make sure there was nothing in his way between Ray's erection and his erstwhile attention. Ray's hands were already in his hair - he didn't have to ask for them - which completed the picture of bliss for Fraser, and then he was bending down the last few inches.

He took Ray in in a single, deliberate gesture, so that he didn't excite him too much. Teasing with the tip of his tongue would be a disaster, he figured, at this stage, and enveloping Ray in his warmth and just staying there meant that Ray had time to adjust. So he waited, tongue twitching very slightly against the base of his erection, his breathing steady.

It was always different - each time, every time. Not every time they fucked, because they - truth be told - hadn't been seriously intimate in far too long in Ray's books. If offered he would've tumbled in the sheets every night, squirming underneath his own skin to get more, to have more, to find intimacy in dragged out kisses that distracted Fraser from his evenings activities of, well, not romping around in bed. Ray wanted it but kept his begging under the wire, looping around his head like a broken record. God, how he wanted it, wanted to encourage Fraser towards more, wanted to play, wanted to find love hidden in the soft edges of their sheets.

And hey, okay, the couch worked too. The couch hidden under layers of home and love and need and shit, he'd take Fraser's mouth wherever he wanted it to go. He'd watched Fraser slather his tongue over too many things to count, why couldn't he earn the same intimacy? The draw of saliva down his stomach was enough to stand in this instant, somehow blasting vulnerability from nowhere at all when Fraser had hardly descended like this before, hadn't stuffed his face between his legs, hadn't explored. It's not like he felt fragile but he sure as felt fuck peeled open. A feeling that was only enunciated by the shoving of fabric and yup, there it was, his cock. Theerree it was, okay okay okay, the pulsing in his ears was going to explode his brain and whatever noises he was making were lost to him, gripping onto Fraser's hair tight until-

That would be Fraser's mouth. His mouth. Hot and earnest and gentle and fully there in a capacity that Ray couldn't explain with enunciation more than an encouraging 'fuck, yes' because geez, what more could he ask for. He could ask to not explode in two seconds flat, there was that, but as long as Fraser didn't try to go for the gold too quick they'd be rockin' it. Ray just didn't know how to comprehend the heat, the thickness of it, the way Fraser's form settled between his thighs, solid and hot and entirely his. Ohh god yes, this was his, all blood thumping and excitement and need of everything that they had, eager and wanting and there was nothing to do but fucking give the rest of himself, too.

That was just how Fraser was. He didn't deliver in grand quantity, but in pure, focused energy. He could go for days, had stamina and strength that he could lend to the pursuit, but other people were not as capable. Victoria had held up well enough, because she - like him - was always on the run, and Ray--well, Ray absolutely did his best. But the truth of it was that he was quickly having to learn to adapt. He didn't mind adapting, either, didn't mind changing his rhythm to suit Ray, now and again, after all Ray was adapting back.

This kind of spontaneity? This was exactly the kind of thing he was learning to let in. He wasn't tailored for it, but he tried to perform like he could carry it off anyway.

Putting his mouth on Ray should have been no new experience for him. He knew what he expected to feel, and what he expected to taste, and while intrinsically what he expected was what he got, in other ways the novelty was all there. His mouth had been everywhere, his tongue had tasted everything, but it had never done this, and somehow that made it more intimate than the actual sex. Novelty was in some ways, a kind of lifestyle choice, and when it came to intimacy he was grateful that it was someone that he absolutely loved whom he was making these discoveries with. Ray's responses were just right. They didn't push, or demand, anything more than Fraser was willing to give, and the fingers digging into his scalp were just as stimulating to him as the first time that he'd dug his nails through his hair.

How thrilling to discover then, on his first time, that he actually kind of liked doing this. Tonguing things usually elicited very different noises from Ray, but this time he was the master of the orchestra himself, manipulating the baton...

Enough imagery.

The moment he sensed that Ray could handle more stimulation, Fraser splayed his hands on his hips, holding him still, and began to bob his head, testing the way that his heavy arousal felt in his mouth. He still didn't tangle him up in anything more athletic, just for now a little movement, so that Ray could catch his breath--assuming he hadn't hyperventilated already.

If asked, Ray would've provided a petulant enough response - that he was capable of keeping up at least to a certain degree. That Fraser could most definitely outpace him at every given opportunity but fuck it if he didn't give it all he had every single go around. Maybe he wasn't the world's best arctic explorer and maybe he couldn't hoof it the way Fraser could but he brought something altogether different to the party. Gut responses without all the full blown logic behind them, kisses that came from nowhere and raucous personal pledges to show him altogether different ropes.

Not that he was any more knowledgeable about this than Fraser was, but he'd been the first one to go diving in, throwing his own personal caution to the wind and hoping it didn't go down in the potential burning building of their relationship. And so yeah, maybe he waited for a certain amount of reciprocation, but mostly he took a nosedive into every opportunity for intimacy. And in the beginning it had been a personal quest to prove to himself that he could, now he simply wanted it.

And now he was getting it.

Being pinned down to the couch was something he gave silent thanks for, not exactly wanting to go thrusting himself eagerly into Fraser's inviting mouth. A Mountie could only handle so much. And inviting it was, if only because of the number of other things Ray'd witnessed Fraser's tongue explore and now it was his turn, the warm slip of it only just brushing up against him with each bob of his head. And screw it if Ray didn't take half a second to just watch, glazed eyes blinking through all that he could stand to witness, disappearing between Fraser's lips as he moved.

How he hadn't hyperventilated was something of a mystery because Ray was fairly sure he was forgetting how to breathe in the process, muscles and heat twisting up the length of him, his pulse settled against Fraser's tongue. Ray was pretty damn sure that it made it better that they were budged up on the couch, notched together and hot, the gloss of Fraser's hair locked between his fingers, dipping each time he moved. And really, whatever noises he was making weren't even remotely up to him, groans echoed behind encouraging breathless words.

Yes, good, that's good, that's great, I fucking love you- the stupid shit worth saying when he didn't even notice it, trying to be encouraging but really just somehow being thankful that maybe Fraser wasn't as terrified of his dick as he was beginning to think.

Fortunately Fraser already knew that Ray loved him, otherwise the burble of his repetition, interlaced with swearwords, might have seemed insincere. It wasn't as if Ray only loved him when they were physical with each other, after all, but he didn't usually have to say it, certainly didn't sat it often, and never like this. I fucking love you.

In some ways - most ways, in fact - getting that kind of reaction out of Ray was worth everything else he'd done. The cried and whimpers, the way he writhed underneath him was something he could get absolutely addicted to. Giving his partner so much pleasure--he could get used to the obscenity of it, even, so long as it was always just them. Behind closed doors. He could never expose this side of him to anyone else, not that he wasn't capable of physical intimacy. Of course he was. He got overwhelmed with it too. He could do it for days, and that didn't come without a certain appeal for the whole process. Sex wasn't pretty, but it was beautiful--transcendent.

He wanted to hear more of those noises. He wanted Ray to melt underneath him. And then he wanted to do it again and again. He groaned softly against the pull of the fingertips in his air, and sucked deeper, relaxing so that he could draw the full length of him into his throat. It was easy, it turned out, he didn't know what all the fuss was about. He hummed, throat vibrating, and as he drew back off, the note became audible, purred across the head as he pulled up from Ray's erection.

And now he looked up to him, just to check that he was still okay, and smoothed the width of his tongue against the head, watching Ray's reactions shamelessly.

Sometimes Ray wanted to point back over his shoulder while Fraser watched and worry over the first time they'd romped under the sheets - over the sheets - on the tiny little bed. Where the ferocity had been there and had swallowed them whole. When it didn't matter how many times they stroked and rubbed and rutted because the world was gone and all that was left was their drive to seek pleasure. Ray had gotten addicted to it way back then, month ago, and often wished he knew the words to plunge Fraser back into fervent sessions of love making where there was nothing but the slip of bodies and their own personal friction.

Maybe he'd done something wrong, maybe Fraser couldn't let himself plunge, maybe he just didn't know. But god, when it was good, it was good.

It was just another outlet to express his need, his want - another way to shout to Fraser that he loved him enough that his head nearly blew off. Fraser turned out to be extraordinarily good at this, though Ray didn't doubt that he wouldn't have been for a second. The man had an oral fixation a mile wide, his dick shouldn't have been any different - any grosser - than the bottom of a shoe. And somehow there was something delicious about being ground down into the couch, hips captured, lost under weight he'd never exactly known before. Fraser's entirety - his bulk, his strength - he hadn't grown used to it yet; he wasn't sure he ever wanted to.

Groaning like Fraser was trying to eat him alive, Ray squirmed, wished he could buck his hips and told himself not to. Somehow Fraser had taken all of him without a thought and the rumble in his throat drove up through his groin, blood pulsing along the length of his arousal, heart beating with pleasure. Oh god, it was perfect. When Fraser finally drew back, all Ray could do was whimper with it, shuddering at the expanse of Fraser's tongue along the head of his cock and blinking his eyes open to find himself being stared at.

Oh.

"You're good, you're- you're really, really good." Though, at this rate, he didn't know how much longer he was going to last, his cock bobbing as it curled towards his stomach, resisting the urge to pull Fraser closer, to push, to earn more. 'Please' sat on the tip of his tongue, 'do me now' shouted in the back of his head and yet Ray only parted his lips to try and breathe, fingers twining at the nape of Fraser's neck.

"Ben-"

It was good to actually hear it verbalised at his silent question Is this okay? Are you okay? Once he had confirmation, Fraser rose slowly away, drawing back so that the tip of his tongue left Ray's erection last, and flicked through the divot in the tip as it drew away. He could see how aroused Ray was, splayed open on the couch like he'd been thrown there, his chest rising and falling with exertion, sweat clinging to all his edges, his hair damp and stuck down. Fraser on the other hand didn't feel like he'd done much at all; just laying his tongue on Ray seemed to have changed him into an entirely different thing, a creature driven by pleasure, and while Fraser knew he was ruffled, it was only visual. None of his calm exterior had changed, or broken. He was perhaps a little flushed, but if anything that was from Ray's swearing, and the way he said "Ben" as he pulled away.

They didn't need words to communicate. They hadn't needed them in so long, that Fraser just bled into it easily. Because it was what Ray wanted, Fraser made it happen without pause, without question.

He climbed up off the couch, leaving Ray right where he was while he went to their packs in the other room. After previous uncoordinated attempts had come up with a need for proper materials, Fraser was finally properly prepared for all these things; he returned very briskly with lube and condoms, and he tossed them down on the couch before putting his hands back on Ray's sides, all but pulling him back into a sitting position to greet him with a kiss before holding back at the last second. Maybe Ray didn't want to kiss him, considering where his mouth had just been. Americans were fussier about that sort of thing.

He had to get confirmation. "You need me as much as I need you, don't you? If you want to go more slowly..."

Yes, he was a force of nature, but he was a conscientious one.

It didn't matter so much that Fraser still looked all kinds of put together, though maybe that was because Ray was still shuddering from the last flick of Fraser's tongue, leaving him utterly immobilized in a thick drive of pleasure. While Ray felt like he'd been pounded flat in some sort of marathon, Fraser was unsurprisingly held in place. He looked a touch warmed maybe, lips glossy and just on the edge of swollen, pink from friction. His hair starting to fall out of place was the only indication that Ray's fingers had been there and while Fraser stared up at him, Ray had to bite his tongue to keep from spewing needy words and begging for things he still knew he wanted.

Staring down the line of himself, Ray felt utterly debauched, rather strange considering he'd only just earned himself part of a blowjob. But his jeans were hardly rucked off all the way and he had to wonder whether this couch was prepared for the two of them and their antics, sweaty and rough, edging into all the corners and filling out their own spaces. But while Ray wanted it something bad, he just wasn't sure he wanted it the second Ben got up off of him, leaving him to suddenly feel as if he was freezing to death while his cock began to feel sorely neglected. Not that he was clueless as to what Fraser was doing but god, he missed him already.

Ben's name ricocheted around his mind on high speed until he finally returned and Ray flopped backwards with relief, some lizard part of his mind still worried that Ben might refuse at any given moment, that the heat might burrow itself away and he'd return to Fraser, leaving behind the guy who could fuck him senseless.

Wrenched upright once more, Ray would've happily dove into the kiss but Ben suddenly froze, leaving Ray blinking wildly, a rabbit caught red handed in the act of doing something particularly naughty. As soon as the words tumbled from Benton's mouth, Ray was shaking his head, capturing the back of Benton's neck and pulling him closer to plant a scattered kiss across his lips.

"Fuck, Ben- I need you more'n than that. Just, how bout- Now. I need you now." Another ravaged kiss was mumbled across his mouth, fingers seeking out skin at Fraser's side, his hip, pulling him closer. Right now, he didn't want conscientious. He wanted to be boned until he couldn't walk straight, until there was nothing left.

"I want you to take it."

Fraser was immensely grateful for Ray's reassurance, and the thing was, if he hadn't been right there with him, absolutely a part of this--if Ray had been laid back, staring at the ceiling, he wouldn't be able to do this. But with Ray looking at him, reaching out for him, pulling him closer, he couldn't help but feel appreciated, wanted. Ray made him feel safe, even though this thing frightened him a little every time they did it. He knew intrinsically that all was well, but the act was one that broke through barriers, was physically challenging in a way he'd never considered before their relationship had begun.

Fraser could do a thousand insane things first time and do them like he was good at them, without so much as blinking in lack of confidence, but when it came to Ray, constant reassurance was necessary, at least until he got going. As he'd proven with the blow job, when he was underway, there really was no holding him back.

So he bent inward, and brushed Ray's lips with his own again, since Ray was so eager to brush kisses against him, grateful and relieved that he was happy to kiss his mouth after what he'd just done. That was what he'd worried about, after all, and quickly Fraser fell into ravaging him with that kiss, all the while expertly juggling the bottle of lube so that he could squeeze some out onto his hand.

The next thing Ray would know about it, two wet fingers would be sliding along the crease of his thigh, urging him to spread his legs wider so that he could find the right spot, and press inside. It was intimate, but their proximity gave Fraser confidence, sliding home. He didn't try to find Ray's prostate; considering how tensed to the wire he was, Fraser would probably miss out if he so much as brushed it by accident; nor did he bother with too many fingers. They were gone as quickly as he'd pressed them in, content that Ray was relaxed and eager, and didn't need excess work this time. He'd been coiled like a spring the first time.

Fraser nudged the tip of his cock against him, wet with freshly applied lube, and sighed softly against Ray's mouth, breaking the kiss.

"Guide me in," he urged. "I'll only go as fast as you want."

Ray honestly didn't know how reassuring he was supposed to be - he didn't even know if he was any good at it, being comforting, truth be told. He tried his best to make Fraser feel as if there wasn't anything to be terrified of, but at the end of it, Ray was still halfway clueless when it came to it all. He knew what he wanted, knew where he wanted it, but he had no experience when it come to directing Fraser.

... Well, no, that wasn't even remotely true. He had more than enough experience trying to tell Fraser what to do, but not in this sense. Not when he still felt like he was learning how their bodies fit together, memorizing pieces and swaths of Fraser's skin, learning where he buckled and what made his eyes glaze over with lust. It wasn't a daily guessing game, but he got what he could out of it every single time, desperate to explore and eager for everything he wanted. It wasn't his fault that nearly every time they made love he was coiled up like a spring, desperate for affection and touches, needing more and grappling with how he was supposed to express it.

It was hard. He was hard. God, he was hard.

Clamoring into the kiss now that Fraser was kissing back, Ray's thumbs slid against Fraser's temples, fingers slipping down to his jaw, jumping from throat to ribs and grasping tight. Everything about the moment sank into heated need, the cabin sweltering with it. Ignoring Fraser's antics with the lube to needle his way deeper into the kiss, Ray still jumped when cold fingers brushed against his thigh, grabbing for Fraser's hip and digging in. It took a second to relax again after the initial impact, but Ray unwound himself and wiggled his legs further apart, one foot dropping off the side of the couch to make room.

Nose wrinkling as fingers slipped inside, Ray momentarily shivered until the cool touch grew warm. It was still something to get used to, each time, though he'd managed to relax far beyond the first time they'd done this. Distracting himself by digging deeper into the kiss, Ray grunted against Fraser's mouth at the loss of fingers and then distinctly went breathless for a few moments as Fraser's arousal budged up against him.

Panting hard as Fraser broke away, Ray glanced down between them, wetting his lips, staring. "Fuck- Okay. I got this. I got you." Concentration building behind his gaze despite the way his attention glazed over, Ray dipped a hand between his legs to gently curl his fingers around Fraser's cock. Some more wiggling was required, curling his hips up and urging forward, using his thighs - clinging to Fraser - to bring him closer, Ray did what he could to do as Fraser had asked of him. Guiding the head of Fraser's erectin in deeper, Ray squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling hard, trying his damndest to relax enough to ease Fraser in smoothly.

"I want you to go slow but you gotta- Ben- I can't get you in on my own."

Slow. Slow seemed like something completely inaccessible, considering how strained he was, and yet it was what he wanted. Every time when they actually got down to it, Fraser wanted it to last as long as possible, wanted impossible things from his body, wanted to just be able to rock steadily all night, slide in and out with no threat of friction burns or running out of energy or anything else. He just wanted it to last because there was nothing like it. Intimacy was an irreplaceable thing, which, while there were other ways to relate to Ray, there was no other way to be physically inside of him, mutually sharing pleasure.

If he could just. If he could just exist in the same place as Ray, physically, then that would be closer, maybe. But this was the best alternative.

And he was always a little disappointed when he came, because it was over. Fine when they got to build up again, but not so much when the whole thing exhausted them, and they went to sleep. At least, that was why the first time he'd fallen asleep inside of Ray when they were done. Anything to be there, for all its symbolism, for how it made him feel loved, and complete.

Ray helped guide him into position, and as he urged him slowly forward, Fraser met his pace, sliding in incrementally, letting a staggered little gasp as the tightness of Ray's body suddenly released, like a continental shelf shifting, and he slid a sudden inch before slowing again. Fraser groaned, low and broken, against Ray's mouth, and then kissed him wetly, gasping, and then again, pushing down into the space so that he kissed his throat. His kisses were sloppy and urgent, but they slowed and stopped when Fraser finally settled, content that he was deep enough, the warmth and tightness embracing him.

His entire body shook as he tried to straighten his spine again, tried to lift his head and find Ray's face once again.

"Okay?" he asked, like he didn't know the answer.

Never was there ever a moment where Ray felt more vulnerable, more secure, more pieced together and torn apart than when Fraser- Ben was inside him. It was something like monuments crashing and the snow swelling up above his head and the air inside his lungs fizzling out into nothing, yet all of those at once in a way he couldn't rightly explain. It was something he needed so badly, so badly, that most of the time he wouldn't have even known how to explain it to Benton if he tried, the feeling of completion, of being right with the world when it was only surrounded by Ben.

He didn't realize how fucking lost he felt, he hadn't known how lost he was, until Ben had infiltrated every facet of his life and taken hold. Ben had become a part of him, threaded through his veins, and being filled to the brim with his cock only offered reality with the true, visceral need behind it.

Ray wanted it slow as much as he wanted it fast, and while he didn't want it to be over, it was equally excruciating in other ways. And god if he wasn't impatient. But at least Ben burying himself in deeper took the edge off, making him ache up to the base of his spine, trying to relax to make it all easier but knowing the whole thing would work through base connection until they both really got going. Until then - like every time since the first time - Ben would have to move to nudge the swell of pressure away until it was overcome by something better. At the very least though, he had Ben's gasps to rock himself to, gritting his teeth until he could try to capture a kiss. But Ben had moved away, was left attacking his throat and Ray lifted his chin higher, grabbing for Ben's thighs, his ass, sliding him home, deep, digging into the moment until he could barely breathe.

It took Ray a moment to remember this was the part where Fraser always asked- yup, there he was asking it. And all Ray could do was nod, lick his lips, breath caught in the back of his throat.

"I'm okay. I am okay, so just- can you move? Any time now is good, would be great."

Trying to give a wiggle of eagerness, bearing down on Ben's cock like he was all too greedy for it, Ray's hands crawled their way back up Ben's back, tracing his spine and undoing the muscles behind his shoulders. Tracking places he'd been before and passing across skin not yet explored, Ray vowed if not for the hundredth time that he'd taste everything, touch everything he could until Ben was refined through pleasure. He'd get there, he would, but for now all he could do was dig nails into skin, tipping his forehead to Ben's shoulder and breathing hard.

"I'd really, really love it."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

you can't go around it, you have to go through it

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