a due South story
by dirty diana
Beta'd by skripka.
The score was Boston 3, Chicago 1, when Fraser picked up the remote and turned off the television.
"Fraser," I protested, "what are you doing? There's seven minutes left to go."
"Yes, but it seems rather unlikely that the Blackhawks can turn it around at this late stage, Ray."
"Course they can turn it around," I mutter, and reached for the remote, but Fraser is faster than me, snatching it away, a movement that brought his body in full contact with mine, breath warm on my neck.
"I suppose they could," Fraser says, "if they weren't on the wrong end of a 5-3 powerplay. Perhaps we could use those seven minutes and thirty-nine seconds for something more productive." And his arms reach around me, pulling me closer towards him on the couch.
He feels good. But he stole my remote control, and he's not getting off that easy. "I want to watch hockey."
Fraser tilts his head to one side, giving me a disapproving look, as his fingers skim lightly along the back of my neck. "I don't believe that you do."
"I don't know what you mean," I answer, meeting his even stare.
"It appears that you are teasing me, Ray. Playing a game of "difficult-to-get".
"You mean "hard-to-get", Frase."
"Pardon me. Hard to get." And his hands circle my waist, slipping underneath my shirt, hot on my skin. He bends his head, pressing his mouth gently to my neck.
I shiver slightly, as Fraser's kisses trail down my throat. "It's only fair, don't you think? You made me chase you for nearly two years."
"I did not," he corrects me softly, in between kisses, "force you to pursue me. In fact, I might have given in much earlier, if I wasn't under the impression that you were rather enjoying yourself."
This is one of those times where I have no idea if he's kidding or not. "Bastard."
He doesn't argue. "But it's a question of preparation, Ray."
And his hand sneaks further up my shirt, twisting a nipple in his fingers, hard, making me gasp. "What is?"
"Well, since you spent so long "chasing me", as you put it, I imagine that you must have had a list of thing that you intended to do with me once you caught me. Since you had such ample time to prepare."
Me and Fraser have only been doing it a few weeks, but I sure as hell know when he's talking dirty, Canadian style. And I wonder what the hell's wrong with me that listening to him talk about preparation is turning me on.
"Yeah, I had a list, Frase. Of course I had a list. I jerked off every morning to that list." And that's me, talking dirty the American way. I notice that Fraser is breathing just a little faster. "It was a real long list, too."
"I see," he whispers into my ear.
"Indeed I do. But if this list was long as you say, then I find it extremely difficult to believe that we've already completed everything on it."
"And I find it extremely difficult to believe that I never realised what a slut you are."
Blue eyes are grinning at me. "Try to focus, Ray," he says, and that's easier said that done with his hands rhythmically stroking the front of my jeans, caressing my growing hardon. "The list?"
"Slut," I answer, kissing him hard, pushing him down underneath me. I've got him pinned on the couch, my tongue seeking control inside his mouth. I raise his arms over his head, pulling off his shirt, and then start to move my hips, slowly grinding against him, feeling the pressure of his cock hard against my thigh.
Fraser moans out loud.
"I'll show you the list," I whisper into his ear. "I'll show you real good. Item one. Fuck Fraser until he can't sit down."
Fraser moans again, and tangles his hand in my hair, mouth half-open and searching for mine.
Sounds like a yes to me. "Don't move," I say, as I climb off him and disappear into the bedroom, getting the lube from the bedside drawer.
Being Fraser, he took me literally. When I get back he's lying in the exact same position that I left him in, stretched out on the couch. Shirtless, nipples hard in the cool room, cock hard and bulging at the front of his jeans. I could look at him forever, if my cock wasn't begging for attention.
He still doesn't move, but his eyes flicker over me, standing at the foot of the couch, as I get undressed. "Raise up," I say, and obediently Fraser lifts up his hips, as I pull of his jeans, leaving him bare on the couch. "Spread your legs."
He obeys again, one leg raised on the back of the couch. I kneel in between his thighs, stroking his belly, his cock, hard and damp at the tip.
Then my index finger, slick with lube, slides inside him, gently, not rushed. Teasing him at first, then adding a second finger, slow and easy.
Fraser groans, absently twisting one nipple underneath his left hand.
"You like that?" I ask him.
"It's quite enjoyable, Ray."
"Enjoyable?" I repeat. "Don't give me Mountie-speak. I asked you if you liked it." One more finger pushing inside him, watching as he opens for me. "Well?"
"I..." He hesitates, and lets out another low moan. "Yes. I like that."
"You want more?"
He licks his lips, and lets his eyes fall closed. I can see parts of him drifting away, into the pleasure.
"I don't think so, Frase. Look at me."
His eyes fly open again, bright and not quite focused.
"That's better," I say, and I'm vaguely surprised at how well Fraser follows my instructions. We might have to skip to something else on the list pretty soon. "Now answer the question. You want more? You want me to fuck you?"
"Ray," Fraser whispers, his stare caught in mine. "Yes. Please, Ray. Yes."
With one hand on his hip, the other on the back of the couch, I slide myself into him. Fraser's body jerks up to meet me, as I start to thrust, gently, choking back a moan. I'm watching him, watching me, as my movements get faster and faster.
I tighten my grip on his body and lean forward, my stomach brushing against his cock. Just one touch, and Fraser starts to come, in hot wet spurts over my skin and his. I thrust harder, once more, twice, until the pulse of his orgasm is too much for me, and I let go.
"Slut," I whisper a few moments later, as I curl my naked body into his arms, sticky and sated.
"Mmmmn," is his only response. I lean my head on his shoulder, and he strokes the bare skin at the base of my spine. "What's next on the list, Ray?"
"Something good," I assure him. "Don't worry, Frase. It's something real good."