a due South story
by dirty diana
Inspired by kelly girl, from whence all naughtiness comes.
We're in a diner, across town, and it's late at night and nearly empty. We're sitting in a booth, and Fraser's telling me a story. I think it involves snowshoes and cabbage, but I'm not listening. I mean, I am listening, cause I love the sound of Fraser's voice, the way it dips and falls when he's talking about nothing. But I'm not actually listening, in the sense of understanding what the fuck he's going on about. Instead I've got one hand on Fraser's thigh, moving up his thigh. His arm is draped over the back of the booth, so I move closer, lean into him and run my mouth along the curve of his neck.
It's late at night, and the waitress doesn't even notice. But Fraser sits up suddenly,
"Ray," Fraser's saying, "perhaps we could attempt to preserve some appearance of decorum."
I grin. My tongue darts quickly along the pale skin of his collarbone. "Say that again."
"I was saying that my uncle Tiberius..."
"The last part, Fraser. With the big words."
He licks his lower lip, and bends his head to whisper in my ear. "Perhaps we could attempt to preserve some appearance. Of. Decorum."
Fraser's a tease. It took me a while to figure that out. Quick and hard, I pinch the inside of his thigh. "Perhaps we could get out of here."
He signals for the check.
The diner is next to a twenty-four hour supermarket, with handwritten signs in the window and flashing neon lights. We're walking past it, when I hear Fraser's voice behind me.
"Ma'am," Fraser is saying, "perhaps I could assist you?"
He's kidding me. He's got to be kidding me, except I turn around and this lady's pushing a full shopping cart with a broken wheel and carrying her ugly blond baby in one arm, and of course Fraser's not kidding me.
"Frase," I whisper urgently. "Do you have to do this right now?"
"It only takes an extra second to be courteous," he whispers back at me, and he's already got two bags out of the cart.
"Ray, I don't think that this is where we parked the car."
Beside the supermarket, there's a drycleaner's, and behind the drycleaner's there's a six-story apartment building, and between the two buildings, there's a small dark alleyway. That's where I've managed to lead Fraser, and it's definitely not where we parked the car. "Nope."
"This doesn't seem very decorous."
"You probably should have thought of that before you made me wait for twenty minutes outside the supermarket, Fraser." And I kiss him, tasting his lips and then pushing my tongue into his mouth. He freezes for one moment, then kisses me back. I've got both hands on the wall for balance as I push close against him, the brick rough and slightly damp against my skin. I can feel his whole body, hot and solid through his shirt and his pale blue jeans.
Underneath the jeans and the courtesy and the fucking decorum, Fraser's just as hard as I am.
I thrust my hips against his, and he moans, just loud enough for me to hear. I unzip his pants, run my fingers along the tip of his cock, and it's wet in my hand. Fraser moans again, louder this time, and I've got his whole cock in his hand, stroking up and down the shaft, gently at first, then harder, faster, until he leans his head back against the wall and comes with a sigh.
"Now, Ray," he whispers softly, as I taste him on my fingers, "that most certainly was not decorum."
"No, it most certainly was not, Frase. Decorum would be you on your knees, sucking my cock."
He shakes his head. "No, I think that if you check the Oxford English Dictionary you'll find that...ah." Gently I'm tugging on his waist, forcing him downwards.
He unzips my fly with his teeth. He tastes me, licks at the tip of my cock, stroking the base with his fingers, slowly, then quickly, then slowly again. He's a tease. I mentioned that, right? Finally I just tangle one hand tight in his hair and say, "Fraser," two impatient syllables. And he gets the hint, takes me inside his mouth, and I'm thrusting hard against the wet heat of his tongue, and then I press my hand flat against the wall and come, groaning out loud.
"Perhaps," he says as he gets to his feet and kisses me, "we could take this somewhere more private now."
"You sure?" I ask him, and I'm grinning at him. Grinning like someone who just got laid in an alley. "There might be some little old ladies that need help crossing the street. Or maybe someone needs the door held open. We could go look."
"Very funny," he answers dryly. "It really does only take a moment, Ray."