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 (solo sex), suspenders".

It's all Ray's fault, really, the way he grabbed Fraser across his chest that morning to prevent him from, well, walking unarmed into crossfire, if Fraser were to be honest, and he supposes he should be grateful to Ray for saving his life but all he can think of is the way Ray's hand lay over his pectoral and how every time Ray tugged Fraser this way or that for better cover, Fraser's suspender was pulled across his nipple, a sweet and shocking friction that distracted him even from the startling soft bulge of Ray's genitals against his buttocks.

He hangs his tunic in his office closet--for once, mercifully, untenanted--and drops his suspenders to remove his henley and his undershirt.

He unbuttons his trousers, then hesitates, stops. He reaches for his suspenders and slowly slips them back up over his shoulders, feeling them drag across his bare skin.

He looks down. His nipples are stiff and dusky pink, framed by the suspenders, and his eyes close as his hands--Ray's hands, in his mind it's Ray's hands--come up and move the suspenders higher on his shoulders so that they settle over his nipples.

He shivers, and that small motion is enough to make the suspenders rub his nipples. "Oh," he whispers, and his indrawn breath gives him another teasing moment of friction. "Ray." He flushes scarlet. "Ray."

Duty beckons, his workday not over simply because it's evening, and he's strong enough to heed its call and turn to his desk, but weak enough to delight in each whisper and scrape of the suspenders over his nipples as he crosses the room and settles in his chair.

He has to move carefully, reaching into his partly open fly to adjust his swollen penis as he sits, and he can't resist giving it a long, hard squeeze. He doesn't quite groan, and it's certainly not a whimper, but neither can he remain silent. Ray.

Weakness, too, makes him move his inbox to the far left corner of his desk, the outbox to the far right, so that each new piece of paper forces him to lean across the desk and brings his nipples in contact with his suspenders. His penis gets harder with every completed form--not the least because he's imagining Ray on his knees underneath Fraser's desk, between his spread thighs, looking up at him through his eyelashes and slowly lifting his hand.

The touch of Ray's hand on his naked belly, Fraser thinks, his own hand trembling slightly now as he wields his pen, would surely make him climax on the spot.

Thirty minutes is an eternity when desire wars with duty, and by the time he finishes his last report he's breathing fast and shallow and his mind is filled with Ray, Ray, Ray.

With a groan of relief he pushes away from the desk and leans back in his chair, legs sprawled wide. He opens his trousers all the way with hands that shake a little and frees his aching erection, careful not to touch himself too much.

Closing his eyes, he carefully places his right hand over his left pectoral, over his suspender that's over his nipple, just like Ray did this morning, just like Ray's touch, Ray's hand, Ray's hand on Fraser's chest, and if he were to name the sound he makes he'd have to call it a whimper so he resolutely doesn't think of that at all.

His left hand clutches the arm of his chair and he rocks his hips rhythmically, clenching the muscles in his groin as he rubs the suspender across his nipple.

Ray, it's Ray whose arm clutches his chest, Ray who's rubbing his suspender across his nipple again and again, shooting electric pleasure straight to his groin; Ray who won't let him touch his penis so he's reduced to clenching and rocking and thrusting into cool air, aching for Ray's touch, Ray's body, Ray's mouth.

He can't keep silent any longer, needy sounds escaping his throat even though his jaw is clenched tight. Ray.

His arm (Ray's arm) clamps hard across his chest and slams him back against the chair (Ray's chest) and he gasps and arches, so close now, so close, and Ray pushes the suspender aside and pinches Fraser's nipple hard and he's coming, sweet merciful Christ, he's coming, Ray's name tangled with the Lord's on his lips.

And may God have mercy upon him, because he's already thinking of how he can get Ray to do it again.

~ fin ~