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Duty Calls

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Duty Calls

Duty Calls


by malnpudl

Disclaimer: Due South and its characters belong to Alliance Atlantis and a bunch of other people who are not me. This is just for fun, not for profit. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: Originally written for and posted in oxoniensis's Porn Battle #2 on LJ for the prompt "due south, fraser/kowalski, multi-task".


Chicago seems to have been a bad influence on Fraser, or perhaps it's Ray, specifically, who's the corrupting force, because Fraser has never before in his life sat at his superior's desk (in her absence, of course; he's not that far gone, not quite) in full uniform with Constable Turnbull just down the hall while his partner kneels underneath the desk and opens Fraser's fly.

When Ray said, with a wicked grin and a wave of his hand, "Just keep working, Fraser, I'll... entertain myself," Fraser could scarcely have dreamt that this was what he meant.

If Fraser were to look down, he knows, he could see Ray's hands slipping his penis through the opening in his boxers, but the phone is ringing so he dare not look.

The bilingual greeting is automatic, thank heavens, because the hot wet shock of Ray's mouth steals all his thoughts.

"Please hold," he manages, and fumbles for the button as Ray all but swallows his cock. "Oh, dear lord!" he gasps into the receiver, and then panics for an instant until he sees the reassuring blinking orange light on the phone.

Ray lifts his head. "Work, Fraser. Duty calls." He licks a wet circle around the head of Fraser's cock. "Protect and serve."

Fraser's breath stutters and he swallows hard. "Maintain the right, Ray."

"That, too," Ray says, and sucks hard.

"Ray!" Fraser winces at the desperation in his voice. "Please!" Though he's no longer certain what he's begging for.

Ray chortles around his cock, and the vibrations make Fraser's scrotum draw up tight. Ray lets Fraser's cock slip out of his mouth and drops down to nuzzle at Fraser's balls. "Answer the phone, Fraser," he says, and takes Fraser's left testicle into his mouth.

Fraser's arousal drops from incandescent to merely intense, and he manages to punch the correct button on the phone and attend to some tedious but no doubt essential red tape with a third level bureaucrat from Ottawa--at least until Ray apparently decides that the concluding Canadian ritual politeness has gone on long enough and leaves Fraser's balls to lick his way back up his cock, prompting Fraser to wind up the call with extraordinary dispatch. He hits the disconnect button an instant before his control lapses and the moan that he's been desperately suppressing bursts from his throat.

He clutches at Ray's head, willing himself not to thrust too hard, too deep.

Ray lifts his head. "Hey. Watch the hair, Fraser." And he slides Fraser's hands down to cup his jaw. "Not that I don't like you fucking my mouth..."

Fraser's cock pulses hard and he bites back a whimper.

"I do. But for now you're just gonna have to sit there and take it like a good little Mountie." He licks a broad stripe and chuckles. "Not so little."

Fraser gives himself up to the heat of Ray's mouth, and he's shocked half out of his skin--and deeply grateful for Ray's presence of mind that spares him all but the slightest graze of teeth--when there's a brisk knocking at the office door.

"Not now, Turnbull," he chokes out in a strangled voice.

The door opens. Turnbull pokes his head in, and Diefenbaker squeezes through the open door to come and sniff at the base of Thatcher's desk. "I beg your pardon?"

"Later, please," Fraser manages. "I'm...rather busy now."

Ray pokes a finger into his own mouth alongside Fraser's cock, and Fraser quivers in terrified anticipation. Oh, please, Ray, not yet. Not yet.

"Very well, sir." Turnbull withdraws, then pokes his head back in to summon Diefenbaker, who leaves with obvious reluctance, grinning wolfishly.

The door closes and Fraser's head hits the chair back with a thud as he breathes out his relief, just in time for Ray to snake a wet finger down the back of his pants, heading due south.

Fraser spreads his thighs as far as he can and surrenders to the inevitable.

"I always," Ray says, lips wet against the head of Fraser's cock, "always get my man."

And as Ray's finger penetrates Fraser's ass, Fraser is lost, he's gone, his toes are curling and his hands are scrabbling for purchase on anything he can reach and Ray is drinking down his come, swallowing around his cock, drinking him down and draining him dry and all Fraser can do is reach out blindly and pet Ray's hair with trembling hands and murmur his name, over and over and over again.

~ fin ~


 


End Duty Calls by malnpudl

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