Ray's hand stroked gently over his belly. That was all. And not so softly that it tickled, either, but with firm, kind pressure, back and forth. His hand was steady, but the skin of Ben's belly underneath his fingers was shuddering and jumping, shaking with the near-convulsions of his vanishing control.
Some time earlier, it seemed like hours ago, Ray had stripped him with a smile, coaxed him to stretch out on the bed, and—with a single, too-brief kiss—guided his hands to the headboard and told him to hang on.
"Stay still for me, okay?" is what he'd said, and then he'd begun to run his hands gently over Ben's body, just as he was doing right this very moment. Smooth, slow strokes over his arms, and across his ribs and down over his legs to his feet. He'd swept his hand softly over Ben's exposed neck, run his fingers through Ben's hair, and even tucked his knuckles into the curled warmth of Ben's palm where it was clenched around the frame of the bed. He seemed determined to touch every part of Ben that he could reach, every part of him but one.
Ben's cock—which was flushed and hard and steadily spilling precome on to his shivering belly—he did not and would not touch. He'd run his fingernails carefully through the dark curls that surrounded it, and had used the pads of his fingers on the soft, sensitive skin of Ben's inner thighs. His thumb had briefly fit itself in to the place tailor-made for it on Ben's hip. Not once had he given in to the pleading moans Ben was unable to stop himself from making every time those hands had swept teasingly close to the place where he wanted them most.
Ray wouldn't touch Ben's cock, but he might as well have been stroking it with every caress. At first, Ben had felt soothed and cherished by Ray's hands, but the sweet burn in his arms, where they stretched above his head, and the escalating struggle to keep his body as still as Ray asked had chipped away at his initial calm. The urge to push up into Ray's questing palms—to beg with his body and his mouth for more of the touch that he coveted so desperately—was racing through every muscle in his body. His teeth were clenched tight, but they were no match for the sounds that seemed to push their way out of his throat with every breath. His thigh muscles were shaking with the strain of his stillness, and Ray's gentle hands were sending electric jolts of pleasure arcing through every nerve ending.
And then Ray leaned down, put his mouth to Ben's ear, and began to whisper, "I can't wait to fuck you. You should see yourself. So beautiful like this." Ben felt a jolt of lust so strong it was almost like rage. He clenched his eyes shut tight, and struggled to breathe through it, as Ray's voice continued to tease his ear, "Oh, God, you're going to lose it in a second, aren't you?"
He'd slid his hand from Ben's belly, and it was resting—still gentle—over his quick-beating heart. Ben carefully opened his eyes, and turned his head to meet the pale-blue gaze inches from his face. He licked his lips—Ray's eyes tracked the motion avidly—and said, "I want—" His throat, rubbed raw from his cries, made the words a scratchy whisper. He flexed his arms, trying to calm himself, licked again at his lower lip, and then began again, "I want that. I want you." He held Ray's gaze, trying to put all the love and desire and helplessness he could into one look, and—"Please, Ray."
Ray opened his mouth, maybe to tease, and just stopped. He looked suddenly stunned at what he'd wrought.
And Ben, who had been working so hard to do as Ray asked, who had been controlling his every quivering muscle, all of a sudden just couldn't anymore. He couldn't wait for Ray to come back from wherever he seemed to have gone. He couldn't wait for Ray's glazed eyes to clear, couldn't wait for him to catch his runaway breath, couldn't wait for the next touch, whatever it would be. Lightning-quick—and with a cry that was half-despairing—he let go of the headboard, brought his aching arms down and around Ray, toppling him back and using his strength to force him down to the bed.
Ray had never bothered to remove his clothes, and they were rough against Ben's body. It felt good. There was a crazy, jittering hunger living under his skin, after all that soft stroking, and it seemed to crave scratches, roughness, the bite of shirt-buttons pressed into his bare chest.
Ray hadn't resisted his sudden fall. He was clutching hard at Ben's back and muttering curses in his ear as they rocked together on the bed. Every shift felt harsh and awful and wonderful, kicking like licking flames at his already hungry body, but Ben wanted something else. He grabbed Ray's hand and pulled it—unresisting this time—to his cock. As Ray's long fingers closed around him, they both made the same hungry noise. Ray continued to stroke him, while Ben took his head in both hands and pulled their mouths together. It was hardly a kiss. Ben's breath was wildly out of control and he couldn't stop the noises pushed out of his throat by the feel of Ray's hand where he'd been denied it for so long. Still, it felt good to clutch at Ray's hair and share breath while Ben steadily fell apart.
It didn't take long. The scrape of denim against his thighs, the bite of Ray's teeth on his lip, and the twisting stroke of Ray's callused fingers over the head of his cock; these things all combined in one perfect moment of free fall. Ben had just a second to marvel at them, and then he was coming, wrenching spasms of near-painful release shaking his whole body.
He sank down against Ray's chest, breathing heavily into the warm space where his neck met his shoulder, but he didn't feel anything like the languorous contentment that usually followed on the heels of orgasm. He was still thrumming in tune with Ray, who was doing his own silent pleading, his body twisting under Ben's still one. Ben heaved himself up, crawled down Ray's thrashing body, scrabbled clumsily at his buckle and buttons and reached into his boxers to pull his cock out. When his mouth closed around the tip, a little voice in his head said, that's it, that's it, that's it and he hummed around the blood-hot mouthful. Ray responded with a shout, and began to nudge at Ben with his hips, mindlessly pushing his cock against Ben's tongue. Ben let him, reveling in the stretch and strain of it, in the dance they created together. He could tell Ray was trying desperately to control his movements, and that he was mainly failing. He'd also lost control of his mouth, and was muttering, a wash of sound in Ben's ears, "Oh fuck. Oh, Ben. You...you...Oh, Christ, Ben!"
As he let Ray stroke himself against his tongue, Ben reached both hands under Ray and pulled him closer, pulled him deeper into his mouth. For one long moment, he struggled for breath, heard Ray's voice go hoarse and incoherent, felt the button on Ray's jeans dig insistently into his cheek, felt Ray's cock fill him up where he most wanted it, and then—with a shout—Ray was coming, his body shaking with rolling shivers under Ben's hands, in tune with the pulse of him in Ben's mouth.
Ben licked him clean, and then crawled back up to kiss him softly. Ray's eyes were closed and he was still breathing like he'd just chased a suspect for blocks, but his lips opened for Ben's kiss. When they separated, Ray opened his eyes for just a moment to meet Ben's, and then closed them again. "Just couldn't wait, could you?" he mumbled.
"Mmm."
"Impatient Mountie. I was going to," Ray's voice was getting softer and slower. Ben kissed him again, wrapped strong arms around his back, stuck his bare leg in between Ray's denim-clad ones, and tucked his face in the crook of Ray's neck. Not even bothering with the covers, he lay there while Ray's breathing evened out into the cadence of sleep, then he closed his eyes, surrendered himself to the comforting sound of it, and fell into his dreams.
~fin