Every day’s the same: Ray wakes up, reaches for Stella, and remembers all over again that he’s alone.
Today is different.
The room smells of sex, and there’s another naked body pressed up against his. Solid and warm and very definitely male. A heavy arm around his waist, familiar big hand on his stomach.
For a moment, he can’t remember how they got here, and then he does.
Last night, and the date that wasn’t a date. Pizza on the couch with Fraser: Ray’s treat, to make up for the almost-fight they’d had the night before, about Ray still not being over Stella. Falling asleep in the middle of telling Fraser about his day, and waking up snuggled against him. Kissing Fraser’s neck, and the sound Fraser made when he did that.
Making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers, kissing and kissing, pushing his hands up under Fraser’s shirt. The two of them stumbling into the bedroom, Fraser pushing him towards the bed and down onto it. Yanking Ray’s t-shirt over his head, undoing Ray’s pants and pulling them down around his ankles. Dropping to his knees to take Ray in his mouth. Jesus, Fraser’s mouth.
Fraser sucking him hot and sweet and desperate, clumsy with it, and fast fast fast. Wild for him, groaning like he couldn’t get enough of Ray, like he was dying for this, maybe dying of this – which, jesus, Ray might be about to do that himself. Needing to come so bad, wanting to hold off because it was so good, too good, and then he was gone, no time even to warn Fraser –
Fraser swallowing and groaning again, gripping Ray’s thighs hard enough to bruise. Pulling off and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Still got all his clothes on. Damp patch on the front of his jeans. Kneeling there, looking up at Ray, his eyes dark.
“Jesus, c’mere, Fraser.” Trying to pull him up off the floor. Arms got about as much strength as a wet noodle.
Fraser’s hands shaking, pulling off the rest of Ray’s clothes. Looking at him lying there all bare. Licking his lips like Ray was dessert or something. Sweaty, sticky, red-faced, soft-cocked dessert.
“Ray.” Voice rough like he’d been chewing gravel. No shit, Sherlock.
“Want to see you. C’mon, Fraser, take your clothes off.”
Naked in bed together, finally. Christ, so good. Going again, sooner than Ray would have thought he could, and Fraser taking it slower the second time, like he’d only got one chance at this and he wanted to blow Ray’s mind. Which he did, oh boy did he ever...
So yeah, this is how he got here: dopey and fucked-out the morning after, aching in all the right places (because hey, he’s not eighteen any more), with a naked Mountie pressing up against his ass. Which is greatness, Ray’s body is more than happy with this as a way to start the day, but there’s an uneasy part of his mind wondering where they go from here.
Think about that later. Right now Ray’s got a lot better things to do than thinking.
He squirms back against Fraser’s hard-on, and Fraser growls, and hello, that’s a very good noise that Ray wants to hear more of, like, a lot more. Fraser bites the back of Ray’s neck, going to leave a mark there for sure, and Ray has to grab hold of himself so he doesn’t come just from that.
“Mmm,” Fraser says, a pleased sort of rumble. He curls his fingers around Ray’s hand and squeezes.
“Jesus, Fraser, are you trying to kill me?”
Fraser’s answer is to move his hand up, making a loose fist around Ray’s shaft. He gives Ray a couple too-light strokes, then curves his palm over the head of Ray’s cock.
Ray thrashes so hard he nearly comes off the bed.
“Mmm,” Fraser agrees. “Keep your hand where it is, please, Ray.”
“Oh god,” Ray says, helpless. He’s played this game before, but with Fraser? It might actually kill him. Cause of death: heart failure brought on by cockteasing. Would they put that on a death certificate?
Fraser kisses the back of his neck and strokes Ray’s cock lightly with just the tips of his fingers. Ray moans and squirms and pushes against Fraser’s hand, trying to get more. Fraser tightens his grip and jacks him off, slow, so slow Ray thinks his head may explode. He works him till Ray’s wrecked and sweating, his thighs shaking, so close he can almost taste it, and Fraser stops.
“Fuck, Fraser, please – ”
“I could do this all day,” Fraser says dreamily, and Ray whimpers. “But we don’t have time for that.”
Fraser slides his hand down to lace his fingers with Ray’s, and starts to move again, and the top of Ray’s head is definitely coming off now, everything is hot and tight and slick as Fraser jacks him off with their joined hands and Ray curses and begs and comes and comes till he can’t come any more. Fraser gives a choked cry and comes too, in wet spurts up Ray’s back.
Ray’s still panting and seeing stars and wondering if he’s maybe had a heart attack when his fucking alarm goes off.
Both of them groan, much less happily this time.
“Shit,” Ray says. “Fuck it.”
Fraser gives him a fierce hug. They’re sweaty and gross and stuck together, and Ray just wants to lie here and never get out of bed again, but they have to get up and go to work –
– and what then? Do they act like nothing’s changed, like it’s just another regular day? Do they have a Serious Conversation? (Please god, no.) He’s frozen, not knowing what to do or say, and then he has a brainwave.
“Hey,” he says, heaving himself around to face Fraser. “You want breakfast? I got eggs, I got bread, I could make eggs and toast, there’s orange juice...”
Ray is babbling, but Fraser doesn’t care. Fraser beams at him like he knows Ray got breakfast food hoping he’d stay over, which, Ray didn’t even know that when he got it. That smile makes something big open up inside of Ray, same warm feeling in his chest like after Fraser’s phone call the night before last, only more so.
“That would be lovely, Ray,” Fraser says, and kisses him.
It’s just a quick dry closed-mouth kiss, morning breath and all, but the warm feeling in Ray’s chest gets bigger and warmer till he’s glowing all over inside with it.
“OK,” he says. “Toss you for who gets first shower.”
“Right you are, Ray,” Fraser says.
He flips Ray onto his back, pins him to the mattress and kisses him again, hard. Then he’s out of bed and heading for the bathroom while Ray’s still half-dizzy. Sneaky goddamn Mountie.
“Really, Diefenbaker, there’s no need to smirk,” Fraser says.
Lurking outside the bedroom, the furry eavesdropper. Just as well they remembered to shut the door.
Ray grins, then stretches himself and yawns, listening to the water run. In the shower, Fraser’s singing some Canadian song about wanting to take the northwest passage. He sounds happy. It’s about time Ray had a good day for a change; maybe this is going to be the one.