The sequel to Dancing With Myself
Ray and Fraser belong to Alliance, yadda, yadda...
NC-17 for explicit male self-pleasuring and m/m interaction. Fraser, Kowalski. No like, no read. Should you be inspired, feedback to surfgirl@altavista.net -- flames will light my jasmine incense.
Somehow Ray had found something that Fraser just couldn't do.
Small consolation that Ray could do it, apparently, better than Fraser.
"C'mon, Fraser, just do it," Ray's voice rasped from the dark end of the little hallway.
Okay, he'd relented. He hadn't made Fraser take off all his clothing... just everything but the pants. After all, he'd had his pants on when he was unknowingly being watched beating off by Fraser. But Fraser just wasn't doing anything. His pants were open, his half-hard (and slowly softening) cock stuck out. But his hands were twitching on his thighs. This wasn't fair.
"Ray, I--"
"Fraser, look. You got your jollies an' all, watching me. Now it's your turn, for a taste of your own medicine. You have to do it."
"I can't." Stated flatly, but with a tremor in his voice.
The Mountie's face was half in shadow, but he wasn't looking at Ray anyway.
"Whaddaya mean, you can't? Everybody can do this! It's not rocket science, Frase."
Fraser looked up miserably.
"I, um, I just can't, Ray," he whispered.
"Why not? Guys do it all the time! Fer chrissakes, I remember an occasional circle jerk in the locker room when I was on track in high school. Surely some things don't change north of the border," Ray said, his voice fading.
The Mountie hung his head, tucking his now completely limp organ back into his pants.
"You forget. I didn't get to spend much time with my peers as a child. Most of my time was spent with adults. I am sure that many rites of passage which seem completely normal to you -- and perhaps to my countrymen farther south -- utterly passed me by fifteen to twenty years ago."
He'd zipped as he'd spoken. Now he was buttoning the top button of his jeans.
"Hey... wait a minute. This isn't fair, Fraser. You owe me."
"I can make it up some other way," the Mountie said, his face looking up again.
Ray knew Fraser couldn't see him where he was at the dark end of the hall, leaning back against his front door. But somehow Fraser's eyes blindly found a point in the darkness that happened to leave his gaze boring a hole into his Chicago partner. Damn it. Fraser could probably pinpoint his exact location, Ray thought, just by listening to his voice, assessing the bounce angles of each hard surface between them, and calculating backwards to find the location of the source.
Worse yet, Fraser's face was only half-lit from the side, giving his eyes a disconcertingly direct, open, wide-pupilled look which was... beginning to frazzle Ray. Not like he wasn't frazzled already. But something in the Mountie's gaze and in the short reply, "I can make it up some other way" was prickling the hair on Ray's arms... no small feat, since he was holding his own cock.
"Make it up to me..." Ray muttered to himself.
Oh, yeah, all right, he could think of lots of ways for Fraser to make it up to him... but Fraser was gonna have to pay his dues first. Not his fault the Mountie'd never had a circle jerk.
Although... Fraser had stayed and watched him beating off when he should have gone... stayed because he liked it. Liked watching it. If that meant what Ray hoped it meant...
Well, that didn't matter right now. What mattered was they weren't even. Fraser still owed him. And Ray wanted Fraser to pay the same way he had: by being observed masturbating.
"I'm sorry, Ray. I'm just too..."
"Uptight? Hung up? Inhibited? Nah, I would never have guessed that, Fraser," Ray said
sarcastically. He zipped his pants unhappily.
"Ray, I really... oh. Sarcasm. Yes, I see."
"No, you don't see. This ain't fair. And I don't want you to make it up to me any other way--" Okay, well, that was a lie, but in principle, it was the truth-- "I want you to make it up to me in exactly the same way."
"I... really can't, Ray! I wish that I could. I just feel too..."
"Shy?"
"...Yes."
"Self-conscious?"
"...That too."
"Foolish?"
"Well, uh..."
"Humiliated?" Ray growled, remembering his horror at discovering Fraser had been there the whole time, seen the whole thing, from start to finish, from him dancing by himself, to him opening his pants, to him coming and wiping up his semen.
Thank God Fraser couldn't see what had been going on inside his head while he'd been dancing and beating off. And somehow -- though finding out someone had been watching you the whole time you were jerking off and when you came was a pretty horrible thing -- the thing that made him cringe more was knowing Fraser had seen him dancing by himself.
"I... I..." Fraser squirmed in the chair.
Ray began walking down hallway from the dark end. Steadily, slowly, he stepped down the hall until he came into the living room and threw himself on the sofa again -- this time looking away from Fraser.
"Goddamnit, Fraser. You coulda left," he said uncomfortably. "That really... really... I feel like an idiot."
"Why, Ray?" The Mountie's voice had softened. "It's perfectly natural."
"Yeah, it's so perfectly natural, you can't do it," Ray retorted.
"No, that's not why I can't do it, Ray," Fraser said softly. "It is perfectly natural."
"Oh, yeah? Then why can't you?"
"Because... because... I never had anyone... I mean, I hardly-- I can't even imagine, in front of someone--"
"Never?" Ray asked, curious.
"What?"
"Hardly... what?"
Had the room been more well-lit, Ray would have seen his partner color.
"I, uh, that is--"
The detective rolled around on the sofa to look at his partner.
"Well, Ray, I, uh," Fraser stammered and gulped. "I ...that is to say ...it's an expedient thing. I ...well, even if I weren't constitutionally this way, I would be extremely circumspect about it now, living at the Consulate as I do."
"What's the Constitution got to do with it? Other than it could be part of the right to the pursuit of pleasure?"
"No, Ray, I meant... I meant that, uh, even if I had grown up completely comfortable with, ah, I certainly wouldn't indulge very often in my current place of residence."
"Huh?"
"There's no telling when someone will walk into my room. And that door does not lock."
"So?"
"Inspector Thatcher walked in one day when I was changing my pants."
"Oh, she did, did she? But you weren't beating off, were you."
"Uh, well, that is to say -- n-no."
"So it's really nothing like what you did to me!" Ray burst out, rolling to face the back of the couch. Damn him!
"I-- Ray-- Well, I mean... Ray," the Mountie's voice softened again. "I realize..."
"Realize what? That you're getting away with it and I'm letting you? Yeah. You are. You know it. I oughta..."
"Ray--"
"I oughta..."
"Ray, now--"
The detective rolled over and sat up. His eyes gleamed in the half-light as he looked at his Canadian partner.
"Fraser, you're pretty good at takin' orders, right?"
"Well, I suppose I am, under most--"
"Well, whyncha pretend I'm ...I'm an Inspector. The Inspector. Your Inspector. The Ice Queen -- she's gone. Back to Yukalot or wherever."
"In point of fact, Ray--"
"I don't give a damn about the fact about her, Frase. The main thing is, I'm your Inspector now. And I'm gonna tell ya what you have to do. And you're gonna do it."
"What?"
"You heard me. Stand up." Ray jumped up from the couch and got Fraser's Stetson from the kitchen counter, and dashed back, putting it firmly on his head.
"Ray--"
"Constable Fraser, stand up!" Ray barked.
And, shocked and startled, Fraser jumped to his feet.
Ray gave him a coolly pleased smile and sat down on the couch.
"Oh, this is much better, Frase," he murmured, looking up at his partner from under the Stetson's brim. "Constable Fraser, I want you to open your pants."
"But, sir--"
"Open your pants, Constable, and that is an order!" Ray Kowalski demanded, standing up from the couch.
The Mountie paled and began unbuttoning his jeans.
Ray started to walk away, down that little hallway that led to his front door again. When he got to the door, he turned around.
"Constable Fraser, what you are about to do will promote the best of all possible diplomatic relations between the Chicago Police Department and the Canadian Consulate in Chicago," Ray said, the rough, smiling edge of his voice coming through the darkness.
"Yes, sir," came Fraser's voice faintly.
"Are your pants open?"
"Yes, sir."
"Take your cock out. Pull down your underwear and pants as far as you need to completely remove your organs from your pants," Ray ordered.
The Mountie felt the heat rush to his face, his neck, even his chest. He wasn't wearing his shirt anymore, so he could blush the entire length of his torso. He slowly pushed his pants down a bit, and then pushed his boxers down into them.
"Take yourself in hand, Constable," came Ray's demand.
The Mountie attempted to comply, but his hand clamped up before getting it onto his organ.
"Constable, I'm warning you--"
"Sir, I'm, uh, complying, sir," came Fraser's stuttered reply. He held himself gingerly.
"Squeeze your fist around your cock," came Ray's hoarse command. "Do it now. Constable."
Fraser gulped and closed his eyes. He squeezed the shaft of his cock, feeling it begin to increase in width, length, and firmness.
"Very good, Constable Fraser," Ray purred. "Your Inspector wants to see you stroke it now."
The Mountie hesitated. "Sir, I---"
"Do it!" came Ray's harsh yell. Fraser jumped and complied.
"That's better," muttered Ray.
The Mountie's organ began to harden and thicken. But even as it did, his strokes -- little more than halting -- slowed and faltered.
"Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP," Ray began with a threatening growl.
He didn't need to finish the sentence. Fraser ducked his head -- his eyes were already closed anyway -- and stroked harder.
"That's good... real good, Fr-- Constable. Very good," Ray purred. "You're, uh, you're not circumcised, Constable."
"N-no, sir," the Canadian stammered, squeezing his eyes harder.
"So how does that feel? Does it feel different?" Ray asked, frankly curious, and dropping the Inspector act.
"As opposed to--"
"You know... someone like me. Cut," Ray answered shyly from the dark end of the hall.
"Well, Ray, I can't say, since I'm not actually--"
"Attention!" Ray burst forth abruptly. "None of this Ray stuff. I'm your superior, commanding officer." Surreptitiously, he unzipped his pants as quietly as possible.
"Yes, sir, I--"
"So go on," Ray said, in a normal, if curious, tone. He pushed his jockeys down a bit. He was already half-hard.
"It's, ah, it's, uhh..." Fraser's strokes slowed and faltered.
"Constable, there's no reason for you to stop," Ray interrupted. "You can talk and stroke at the same time, can't you?" he barked, but the edge of humor in his voice came through. He hoped the edge of arousal from his first few strokes wasn't obvious to Fraser.
"I-- Yes, sir," Fraser answered, his strokes picking up in pace again, back to a steady, rapid rhythm.
"So... anyway... it feels like what? Describe it," Ray demanded, now stroking himself harder but trying to be as quiet about it as possible.
"Well, Ray, it's..." the Mountie trailed off, still stroking himself. It was extremely disconcerting to be both discussing it and simultaneously doing it. "It's... it feels... well..."
"Yeah, yeah," Ray urged, trying to match his rhythm to Fraser's.
"Slippery inside."
"Slippery inside? Ya mean, like you're gonna pee?" He had it now. They stroked their cocks -- though unknown to Fraser -- in unison.
"No, I mean, slippery inside the -- under the-- it's slippery and--" Fraser panted slightly.
"Oh, precum." Ray eyed the tip of his partner's cock, seeing the foreskin edging back more with each stroke. The baring of the head of Fraser's cock, a bit more with each stroke, was far more arousing than he'd expected.
"Oh. Well. Yes," Fraser murmured, surprised. Ray was so easy with things, so easy with himself. He envied that quality.
"So? It's slippery, and..." Now the head was completely bare, shiny, wet-looking -- just like Frase said -- and darker colored than the rest of Fraser's cock... which was darker than his pale chest and stomach.
"Yes, and-- well-- it's difficult to..."
"Explain..." Ray said, finishing Fraser's sentence. He was breathing rather hard now himself, but trying to keep his voice calm and controlled.
"Yes..." The dark head was thrown back now, but Fraser's eyes were still squeezed shut tight.
"It's... very sensitive, and..."
"You're breathing kinda hard, Frase," Ray whispered. His heart thundered in his chest but, amazingly, his voice did not quaver.
"I..." Fraser whispered back, still stroking away. Ray vexed him so, and yet, on the inside of his eyelids, as if permanently tattooed, all he could see was Ray. Ray swaying to the music. Ray caressing his body. Ray sliding into the chair, unzipping his pants... Ray stroking himself, faster and faster, and spurting his semen up into the air--
"You... you what? Tell me what you're thinkin', Frase," Ray whispered cautiously. He didn't want to break the spell. Fraser was goin' about as nuts as he'd never expected Fraser to go, with stroking himself, and he wanted to know what was going on behind the face of the normally monk-like Mountie.
"I'm thinking..." Fraser breathed hard and ducked his head. Ray couldn't see his Adam's apple anymore, but he could see Fraser clenching and unclenching his other hand.
"Yeah..." Ray whispered, his heart in his mouth. It seemed like Fraser was about to come, but...
"I'm thinking of..." The speed of the Mountie's strokes doubled. He hammered the shaft
"Thinking of..." Ray urged quietly. It couldn't be what he hoped, but he did wonder what was getting the previously gun-shy Mountie going so well. He felt the excitement spiraling upward in him, that feeling of not being able to keep it down anymore--
"Of... y-- OH oh oh oh, mmmm, unh, ahhhhh..." Fraser gasped, hips jerking. He moaned short, quiet moans and breathed little sighs in between as he spurted into air in Ray's living room.
Huh? Ray thought, for a wild millisecond thinking Fraser had begun to say "You". Oh! And he was so damn hard and so close to the edge-- but he couldn't come. Not now... it was too soon since he'd last come -- unaware Fraser was watching at the time.
He hammered away, anyway, though, closing his eyes and imagining that Fraser had said "You", that the Mountie had been thinking of him. He embellished it, picturing Fraser stroking his cock, picturing the hand on his cock as not his own, but his partner's. He moaned quietly, wanting so badly to come, wanting so badly to do something with Fraser, and knowing it was just -- well, but then, he did stick around to watch me beat off -- there must be a reason for--
"Ray," Fraser breathed, suddenly nearby.
The detective nearly jumped out of his skin. "Fraser!" he yelled, falling back against the door, the Stetson tipping forward almost over his eyes. He let go of his cock.
"I said I could make it up to you another way... even though I already made it up to you," Ray heard the Mountie whisper, so close he could feel his breath.
"You--" Now Ray was backed up against the door. He pushed the hat brim up nervously and then braced himself against the door. His head spun. He could feel Fraser close by, could feel the heat coming off the Mountie's body, could feel the man's breath fer chrissakes -- but he couldn't see him. He wanted to reach out and grab Fraser by the hair, and just lay a long kiss on that perfect mouth, but he was afraid of reaching out and poking Fraser in the eye -- and what the hell was Fraser doing backing him into a corner here?
"Ray." The Mountie's voice came from right next to him, and the heat in the air increased a notch. Just as Ray realized Fraser was almost pressed up against him, the Canadian pushed his chest against Ray's. The Mountie's sticky hand sought Ray's bobbing cock.
And with that grip, Ray was lost. He grabbed Fraser violently by the shoulders and pushed his face where he guessed the Mountie's face would be -- he didn't care if he hit his hair, his ear, or his nose. He just wanted contact.
And he got it because for some reason, for once he got it right in the dark (unlike all those fumbling times with Stella when they were dating) and Fraser's mouth met his, hot and wet and demanding-- the hat was knocked off--
And suddenly Fraser's mouth was gone, while that hand -- that hand -- stroked him harder, and Ray's knees quivered, and that mouth was trailing a very light, warm trail of moisture down his neck, across his collar bone... A light suck passed over Ray's nipple and he jerked again. Oh, no, this was-- this was not happening--
Fraser's mouth descended slowly, warm and strong, his teeth ever so lightly scraping down Ray's abdomen, down past his navel -- which got a swirly around the outside (playing it safe, Ray thought; no lint), and then down at an angle, as another hand found Ray's pants and shoved them down hard.
Ray didn't see how he was going to continue standing and when he felt Fraser's breath on his cock he knew what was coming and knew he ought to stop his partner and knew he wouldn't. One kiss landed on the left of his cock, one last on the right, and--
"Oh, Fraser," Ray moaned as the Mountie took his entire cock in and encircled his hips with those broad, strong arms. He could hardly stand -- he held himself up with his hands on Fraser's shoulders as the Canadian knelt in front of him.
He didn't want to thrust but -- Goddamn this boy's like a Hoover -- it was involuntary and soon he was thrusting into Fraser's mouth, and his hands crept dangerously towards the back of Fraser's head. No, no, I'm not gonna fuck his mouth, Ray tried to tell himself; but the overwhelming sensation and suction had his knees shaking so badly he had to put his hands back on Fraser's shoulders to stay relatively upright. As it was he was half-hunched over Fraser's head, gripping his shoulders, gripping because, because he--
"Mmmm," Fraser murmured around Ray's organ. It wasn't an attempt at speech or communication so much as an unintentionally vocal chance to breathe in between strokes, when Ray's cock wasn't yet back in his throat again.
But it was enough for Ray, especially that last sweet swirl of tongue around the head as Fraser pulled his mouth almost all the way off -- before sucking him back in up to the hilt. In three increasingly sharp thrusts, Ray's body jerked and the liquid rushed up through him as if bursting through his balls -- that'll teach you to come again so fast, Ray, he thought -- and he realized he was incoherently babbling and clueless as to what he'd just said.
And Fraser swallowed it all, not even stopping to breathe. Excess lung capacity...
When he removed his mouth from Ray's softening cock with a smack, Ray's knees gave out. Courtesy of his sweaty, and now somewhat clammy, back, he slid down the painted door behind him. The detective was drained. And joyous. And scared shitless. And triumphant because now he knew, he knew for sure why Fraser had stayed to watch him.
And he let his head fall forward onto
the -- non-clammy, and non-sweaty, of course -- creamy shoulder of his
partner and sighed happily as Fraser's arms went around him.
end