by anonymous co
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Aren't mine, don't own 'em, thought they were cute and might like
to have some fun. Besides, talk about subtext. This is JiM's fault, and Bone's. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Author's Notes:
Story Notes:
Driving Constable Fraser
Fraser is waiting outside the consulate with Dief when I pull up. Even wearing normal clothes, Fraser is&Fraser. Mountie hat and all.
I'm still having a little trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that, yeah, I've gone off the deep end over the Mountie, but he hasn't seemed to notice anything different and hey, it's Saturday, the weather is great, and I'm taking my two favorite Canadians out for the day.
What a sap.
I mean, I could try and blame all this on Fraser, but it wouldn't be fair. Fraser's just Fraser, he didn't do anything on purpose.
Yeah, he listened to me talk about Ellery, he told me I was attractive-and what the hell kind of unhinged question was that to ask a Mountie, Kowalski-he gave me a dreamcatcher with an eagle feather, he listened to me talk about Stella, he even opened a door into Orsini's crotch. Well, that could have just been Orsini, I have to admit. What a scumpuppy. Trust Stella do go for a suit with nothin' inside.
Anyway, yeah, so, it's not his fault. I spent a few weeks after the thing with Kelly telling myself I was unhinged, which didn't help because it was so obvious. I was like all over Luanne Russell because it was a lot easier than thinking about Fraser. And then he ends up with a lady shark in his underwear, and I wasn't jealous, not like that, but I was worried about him. I heard about that Metcalf bitch, believe you me, and just like some women gotta have a bad boy, some guys get sucked in by bad girls.
Man, I was relieved that he wasn't one of 'em.
Anyway, like I said, it's not his fault he's who he is. It's not his fault that he's so good looking that women-and men, not just me-all over Chicago are dyin' to trip him and beat him to the floor naked. You know, I never thought about it, but that could get old, really. I mean, Fraser's a little on the shy side, at least about personal stuff, and he's practically some kind of freaking weird genius in a lotta ways, and the first thing these people go for is the face and the bod.
Sure, I noticed he was a good lookin' freak in a red Mountie suit from the getgo, but back then I didn't have any urge to pat him on the ass. Sure, I catch myself thinking about it now, but that's now, and besides, I'm unhinged, not dead.
So after Lady Shoes, I figure out that I've got it bad, real bad, and go through all that shit in my head and finally I just decide, hell, it's like a fever and I'll outwait it.
Trouble is, that fever ain't breakin'.
Especially when Fraser's wearing jeans. Like I said, I even catch myself wondering what it would be like to pat that ass, and it's only because I'd shoot myself in the head if he caught me that I'm not sneaking peeks on the rare occasion we're in the district restroom at the same time.
I even catch myself wishing I'd taken a closer look when he whipped down those puffy pants to bring me my files, back when he had me under arrest in the Consulate.
When did I start noticing how Fraser filled out a pair of jeans? I'm losin' my mind, that's what, and when he smiles as he gets in, it just feels crazier. Dief, naturally, french kisses my ear, just like he usually does, and I turn around and say, "Don't even go near those bags, Dief, or you're a dead wolf."
Fraser laughs a little, but he turns and says, "This is very nice of Ray to give you a day outside the city, and you do as he says."
Dief whuffles and lies down on the backseat, doing a good imitation of a pout.
Did I forget to mention this was my idea? It's probably better than lying down in the street and letting a city bus run over me, but only just. My mouth opens and stuff comes out, like, "Hey, Fraser, wanna grab something to eat?" Or, "Hey, Fraser, new movie starting at South Cinemas, wanna catch it?"
Or, "Hey, Fraser, what say we take Dief out of the city, up on the lakeshore, let him go crazy."
Yeah, this was my idea. Maybe I should just get a bed of nails or something, you know, start small.
"So where are we heading," Fraser asks, his hat in his lap, and the window open.
"Wisconsin," I tell him.
"Wisconsin." He looks a little startled. "Why Wisconsin."
"Gotta get out of the city, Fraser. Wisconsin is out of the city." I turn on the radio, and head on up 90, over to 94, and as soon as we get to Wisconsin state highway 50, we're gonna jump of, head on toward the lake.
We spend almost the next hour talking about Wisconsin, and a lot of other things. Well, he spends a lot of that hour talking about a lot of stuff. I mostly listen.
Mostly, I'm just feeling the heat radiate from him.
There is no way I'm gonna let myself touch Fraser, so I'm touching the next best thing, my GTO. Little touches on the steering wheel, little pats on the dash, playing with the radio. My bracelet slides up and down my wrist each time, and I gotta admit, some of the knot over Fraser eases up. Good tunes, Fraser's here, Dief's behavin' in the backseat, the weather is fine, and GTO is humming sweet as can be, hard to keep an attitude on a day like today.
We head on out of the city, and not even asshole drivers are getting on my nerves. I look in the rearview mirror to make sure that Dief's still behaving himself, drum along with the radio.
Fraser starts laughing a little, shakes his head at me when I look at him. "I'm just enjoying myself, Ray. You don't often get the chance to relax, either, it's good to see you this way."
Okay, not so good. I can feel myself turning as red as Fraser usually turns. "Thanks, Fraser." As casual as I can manage. "You look pretty relaxed yourself." I look sideways at him. "Well, except for the hat."
He looks at his hat, kinda startled. "Oh."
"Hey, I didn't mean anything by it, Frase, it just makes you look like we're going on a stakeout or something."
He turns the hat carefully in his hands. "I suppose it's just second nature, I hadn't thought about it."
"Well, it'll keep the sun out of your eyes," I tell him.
"Ah."
I hate when he does that. Not always, but a lot. What the hell does that mean? I don't mind today, I figure I embarrassed him a little, but I didn't mean to. I look over, give him a quick grin. "Hey, I got my shades, you got your hat."
He grins back, then, and it's okay.
I go back to drumming on the steering wheel, and listening to Fraser go on about alluvial deposits or something, and all of a sudden, he's touching the bracelet, sliding it up my arm.
Weird, weird, and I shiver, and it feels good, and whoa, what the hell is going on, Fraser doesn't, like, reach out and touch people.
I look over at him, startled, and he's got his eyes on the bracelet, I think, but then he says, "You know, Ray, you have the hands of an artist."
I look at my hands, just normal hands, knuckles scuffed on one from changing the oil in a hurry last night, callouses here and there, writer's bump on the middle finger of my right hand, and I don't get it. Is he joking or what? "An artist?"
"You have very graceful hands," he says, real thoughtful.
Does that mean anything? My heart's hammering ninety to nothing and I'm trying to second guess Fraser and figure out what that means. Is it some kind of polite Canadian insult, like he's figured out that I've been eyeing the back of his jeans and he's letting me know he's figured it out? Wait, if he was gonna insult me, he wouldn't be in the car, right? Right? "Hey, Fraser," I say nervously, "Can you get me a soda out of the cooler, it's back under the bags."
Bad bad bad bad. Fraser smiles, stops touching my wrist, and turns around in the seat to lean over and reach the cooler. He has to shift over closer to reach behind his seat, so not only do a get a really good view of his butt, I get a good whiff of Fraser as he's shifting around and back.
Clean smell. Soap. Maybe a little woodsmoke, but where the hell that came from in Chicago, I dunno. Leather, maybe his belt and boots. He sits down, pops the soda top, and hands it to me. Got one for himself, I'm glad to say, and I put the open can between my legs, hoping to cool off before I embarrass myself and he really does figure something out.
He goes back to glaciers and alluvial deposits, and the can is cold and wet, and great, I'm going to have a damp denim crotch for a while, but hey, at least I can talk again without stuttering.
So, we head off down 50, and then take some back roads I know about to this little stretch of public beach. Not much of a beach, I admit, but it's lakeside, and besides, what does a wolf care about sand? This is better, reeds and shit, and Dief bounds out of the car with a bark, like he's tickled pink.
I get out and stretch, and Fraser gets out and just breathes in the clean air. Gotta admit, you get used to city smells. Exhaust and garbage and hot asphalt, and fast food, and the only thing I can smell here is trees and lakewater.
Dief bounds into it, naturally, barking all the way, and a couple of birds take off from the trees not too far away, and Dief barks at them.
Swear to God, he sounds practically delirious.
I grin at Fraser. "Dogs have all the fun, huh?"
He smiles back at me, kinda strange, not a smile I've seen before, and I can't figure out what this one means. "I don't know, Ray, I'm certainly enjoying myself."
I swear, my heart just turns over. I spend so much time tuning out about half of what he says to me. It's not that I don't listen, it's just-Fraser goes off on these tangents, and for the first time, I realize he knows it, and a lot of the time manages to stop himself.
I feel bad about that, all of a sudden. "You ever do that kayak thing, Fraser?"
The wind ruffles his hair, and I realize, he left his hat in the car. He tilts his head back to just enjoy it, breathes it in, and my mouth goes dry as hell. "Yes, Ray, I have."
He really looks good. He looks happy. He looks&..hot.
I think I need to follow Dief into the lake. Like, really soon.
Instead, I turn around and flip the passenger side seatback forward and start dragging out the bags and the cooler, and ta da, even a blanket to sit on. Couple of chew things for Dief, and a ball to toss, either for me and Fraser, or for Dief, and frankly, I'm voting for tossing it for Dief.
"Ah, Ray, this was a wonderful idea." I get that new smile again. "Thank you very kindly."
"Hey, my pleasure, Fraser. I like getting out of the city, too, ya know."
"I thought you developed a skin condition out of the city, Ray."
I can't tell if he's pulling my chain on purpose at first, and then I see one corner of his mouth twitch. "Yeah, but I got plenty of calamine lotion."
He laughs out loud, which is also something Fraser doesn't do a lot.
I spread out the blanket on the skinny little strip of sand, peel off my boots and socks, and roll up my jeans. Dief is frisking around in the baby waves rolling up, jabbing his nose in once in a while like he's trying to catch a fish.
Oooh, I nearly forgot, I got a Frisbee in the first bag. "Hey, Dief!"
Dief looks at me, and I toss him the Frisbee and Fraser comes over to sit down on the blanket.
Dief leaps into the air to catch it, lands with a splash and, whoa, that's right up there with lookin' at Fraser's ass, not a good idea, because here comes a very wet wolf toward me with a wet Frisbee, and I got nowhere to hide.
And I'm flat on my back, and Dief is wet and Fraser's laughing, and pushing Dief off and tossing the Frisbee toward the car to let Dief rocket after it.
I'm wet. "Shit."
Fraser's trying to stop laughing, but not doing too well. "Here, Ray," he says and peels off the chambray shirt he's wearing, then peels out of the t-shirt underneath. "Take that off."
Every bit of the blood in my body just flew south, wet shirt or not.
I don't think I've ever seen this much bare Fraser in the entire time I've known him. Ever. Never. Never ever.
He waves a hand in front of my face. "Earth to Ray," he says, still laughing. "Ray, take off the wet shirt."
That penetrates the fog and I blink at him.
Fraser has amazing nipples. That's all I can see, but he tugs at the side of my t-shirt and I fumble at it, and somehow I get it off. Next to Fraser, I look freakin' scrawny, and I never thought much about it before. Sure, I knew I wasn't a Greek god, but hey.
He's sitting awful damn close. All I can see is his chest. And his throat. And his chin. And then, his hand, coming up close enough that I swear my eyes are gonna cross, but he doesn't wave his hand in front of my face, he touches my collarbone.
He runs one finger along my collarbone.
Touching me. Warm brush of his fingertip on my skin, and it's like&like nothing I remember feeling, at least not for a long, long time. Yeah, I'm hard, and I think I'm going catch on fire. And it's kinda hard to breathe, and I'm trying to watch that finger, but it's kinda hard to see your own collarbone, I never noticed that before. I finally lift my head, even though it feels real heavy on my neck, and Fraser's watching his finger slide across my skin and bone, and his face is kinda flushed.
His eyes track that finger, and I really am having trouble getting in a good breath, but I'm afraid to make any sound, afraid to move, and then he looks up, looks me right in the eye.
I really can't breathe now. I can't move. I thought I knew what I felt until this minute, when I can see things I never saw before on Fraser's face. Not just a new smile, no, he's not smiling, and he leans in and I lean in and holy, we're kissing.
We're definitely kissing. I don't know what friends do in Canada, but we're way beyond that kind of kiss. Long slow kisses, quick furious kisses, and he's learning the shape of every one of my teeth, and I'm sucking on his tongue, and somebody is making these hungry sounds.
Oh, wait, we both are.
The blanket's wool, and a little scratchy under my back and I push back into Fraser's weight, and we're lying on our sides and instead of going for the gold, we're kissing. His mouth tastes good, feels good. I nip at his lower lip, run my tongue under his upper lip and then he returns the favor, and I swear, I'm going to die if I don't get more. My heart's hammering still, I wonder vaguely if he can feel it, and dive in for some more of that mouth.
Before he changes his mind. Gets his sanity back. Remembers he's Canadian or something.
We may not be going for the gold, exactly, but he's got one hand on my ass and pulls me up close and personal, and oh, sweet Jesus, he's as hard as I am, and if I could only break away from his mouth, I might be able to get enough use of my hands back to check that out, but his skin is so damned warm and smooth under my fingertips and palms and jeez, I'm having trouble getting past the little dip in his back just before his ass curves back out again, and yeah, I have gotten that far, I'm under the waistband at least.
I hope to God no county Mountie drives by looking for out of towners to ticket, because he'd get one eyeful of what's going on here, and never mind we're still mostly dressed, Fraser's kisses are seriously X-rated, and I can't say I'm far behind there.
I nip his upper lip this time, just for variety, and run my tongue down inside his lower, and he sucks on my tongue, and oh, God, that's one of those nipples right there under my thumb, perking right up.
Now I've got what Fraser calls the horns of a dilemma. Nipple, mouth, nipple, mouth, and God, that mouth.
He pulls back, and oh, shit, he's changed his mind, he's freaking out or something, and I'm trying to hold on, and he finally, I swear, pulls away with a sort of pop, like he's breaking suction.
"Ray," he says, and I never find out what comes next because Dief lands on top of us, soaking wet and cold, and what do I hear come out of that mouth but, "Bloody hell, Diefenbaker! Stop that!"
Boy, he is totally pissed, Dief gets a lecture like I never heard, and believe me, I've heard Fraser be plenty snarky with Dief.
Dief sits down, whines and Fraser is standing over him, his hands on his hips. "Stay here and enjoy yourself," Fraser winds up the lecture, "And behave, or there won't be any more trips to the lake for you."
Me? I'm lying on the blanket gasping like a fish on dry land. At least until Fraser leans down and pulls me up to my feet.
"Ray," he says and then that mouth is on mine again, and I am all into that until he starts to more or less walk me backwards and we sort of stumble.
"Where we going?" That's how stupid I am.
"The car," he says, and licks my mouth.
I notice he's dragging the blanket with one hand. "What's that for?"
"To keep us from being arrested."
I give up. I'm not complaining. I keep trying to get back to that mouth, not to mention trying to get back against that body, and we keep stumbling, and somehow I've got my back against the GTO and Fraser's sucking on my tongue again and trying to open the passenger door, and it keeps hitting me in the ass until I squirm sideways. He tries to reach down to flip the seat forward, which I don't figure out for a minute, and I slide down so I don't lose contact, and he puts his hand on the back of my head and yanks sideways and pushes back and I hit my ass on the bump on the back floor.
Car, I think, and wonder for a minute how I got there, but Fraser is trying to get in and I scoot up and back and then there is an overheated Mountie more or less on top of me, and oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Oh, no, oh, no, he takes his mouth away from mine, and I can't seem to wrap my mind around what the hell is going on until he starts popping buttons. "Where's the blanket?" I gasp.
"Over the back window, Ray." Reasonable voice, even if he's breathing hard.
Oh. That's why it's kinda dark back here.
Pop, pop, pop. I look down and whoa, my jeans are unbuttoned and Fraser's hands slide under my ass, which helpfully lifts up, and he tugs shorts and jeans right down to my knees. My cock pops up, helllloooo, and Fraser's kneeling between my legs, he reaches down and gives it a hello back with a sort of twist of his fingers.
I'm dreaming this, I know, I gotta be dreaming, I do not have a half-dressed Fraser playing with my cock, I'm still in bed, and dreaming all this. But boy, his mouth comes down on mine again, but not long enough, and then he's getting my jeans off my legs, and I'm suddenly really glad I lost the boots and socks.
I can't seem to get hold of his waistband, he keeps shifting, and kissing me, which is plenty distracting, and his hands on my chest, stroking down from my shoulders, with little pauses in between to rub his thumbs over my nipples.
I finally pop the snap on his jeans and work the zipper down, while sucking on his tongue and lips. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, and I slide my hands under the waistband of his shorts and try to return the favor. Oh, yeah, yeah, and he shifts a little to make it easier, and I'm looking practically eye to eye with Fraser's cock. Whoa.
I'm having sex in the back of the GTO with Fraser. I'm having sex in the back of a car for the first time since I was, jeez, seventeen. And that was Stella. This is Fraser.
A guy. My partner. My friend. What the fuck am I doing here?
I look up at him and oh, God, his expression melts all that shit and baggage away, and he slides down, jeans at half-mast and kisses me like I haven't been kissed in years. Hungry and tender and oh, yeah, I'm kissing him back and for the first time I can't figure out how the hell we're going to do this in the car, neither of us is exactly short, but what the hell, his mouth is my new favorite thing, except maybe for what's prodding against me, and I slide down the seat, and it's only luck that we don't both fall down on the floor between the front seats and the back seat.
We rock together like that for a while, and I'm moaning into his mouth, and he licks my chin and works down, finds a nipple and that almost sends me through the car roof and I'm gasping, "Wait, wait, wait," because I'm getting sure that I'm going to come before I really want to, because that feels infuckingcredible. Hot man, hot mouth, God, I love him, and how the hell did he know?
"Fraser, Fraser, Fraser," I'm moaning now, and the next time his hip bumps against me, I'm going to explode, but oh, no, Fraser has to lean back and pull me up, gets us both shifted around. I whack my knee on the edge of the front passenger seat, and then I'm in his lap facing him, straddling him, and his fingers brush my mouth and I suck one in. Bite it a little, suck on it again, and then I lick his palm.
He groans, takes his hand away, and wraps it around both of us.
I'm staring down at what he's doing, kinda hypnotized for a minute, and there's that little voice in the back of my head helpfully telling me that's Fraser's cock and the other one is mine, and jeez, this is some wet dream I'm having, and I hope to God I've got clean sheets, or I'll have to do laundry after our trip to Wisconsin, and I hope I'm not oversleeping.
I tell the voice to shut the fuck up and lean in to glom onto Fraser's mouth again, and his hand is doing incredible things. "Fraser," I say, and kiss him again. Yeah, I got a fever, all right, fever fever fever, and we're practically feeding on each other, drowning in each other, and he never misses a goddamn stroke, and I'm trying to hold back, because I want to see his face when he comes, but I'm so close, so goddamn close and I wrap one arm around his neck and just dive in, not even breathing.
I'm rocking up into his hand and against his cock and he's rocking up against my cock, and I wrap my hand over his and he groans into my mouth.
And then we're both kinda frantic, rocking hard and moaning, and I sort of lose the contest, if there is one, I feel it coming from the soles of my feet, up and I'm holding on hard and making all kinds of noise, and then he kind of bites my throat, and sucks hard, groaning and dammit, I didn't get to see his face, but I'll worry about that later because he feels so goddamn good against me, and my lips are puffy and sensitive from all that kissing, and that's good, too.
He stops sucking on my throat and rocks us together again, and I whimper, because it's too sensitive, and his fingers loosen, and mine loosen, and both of us are slick, fingers, chest, and belly. I don't wanna let go, but I do have kind of a stranglehold on him, and I loosen up, taking in deep breaths; he raises his head, licks my mouth again, bites it a little. "Ray." Husky voice.
I let my forehead rest on his. "Fraser." Which, now I think about it, is a kinda weird way to refer to someone who just did what he just did or we just did. Well, whatever. "Oh, wow."
His other hand slides up my back, pulls me closer and oh, yeah, I think kissing some more is a fine idea, even if I'm sweaty and about ready to fold. He feels good, even sticky, and I'm not completely unhappy about this, except my right leg is starting to cramp.
I need a Caddy or something if we're going to make a habit of this. "Frase," I breathe, and I'm not sure what it is I want to say. "Gotta move," which wasn't what I planned, and evidently he was, because he shifts and then the cramp in my leg eases up, and he eases me back on the seat, so I can stretch my legs out across his. I'm not sure that's what I wanted, either, because there's no more kissing this way, so I haul my ass up, peer out the side windows, and then dive for the glove compartment, where I'm pretty sure I have a couple of months worth of extra fast food napkins for clean-up.
He laughs softly, and jeez, I yelp, Fraser just goosed me.
I jerk back, and whack my head on the dome light, and then I'm back against Fraser. "Sorry, sorry," he mutters, rubbing the whacked place. "But you're very decorative like that, Ray, I'm afraid I gave into my baser impulses."
Fraser just goosed me. I'm laughing and then he's kissing me again, and we're both trying to clean up the mess. Two guys. Jeez, think of the wet spots.
"So, uh, this wasn't just like a one time thing, right?" I finally manage to put it into words. "Or like, you know, one of those things you do to be nice."
He gives me an offended look. "Ray, Ray, Ray. You don't seriously believe that I'd-"
"No, no, I just-you know, sometimes I just gotta hear stuff."
Then I get one of those smiles again. "This wasn't a one time thing, Ray, and I wasn't doing it to be nice."
I'm unhinged. That feels pretty infuckingcredible, hearing him say that. I drop the wad of napkins on the floor and climb back into his lap and kiss him. "How did you figure it out?"
That smile. Jeez, that smile. "I saw your heart in your eyes, Ray."
Okay, he's a freak, and he says things that make no sense to me, but that one makes me shiver. "And?"
He kisses me hard. "And I realized that you couldn't see mine."
The words hang there between us. I have to swallow hard. His expression gets thoughtful and he touches my lower lip. "I've spent too many years protecting it, I expect."
Yeah, well, it's mine to protect now. "And?" Like a kid asking for a story.
That smile comes back, like sunrise over the lake. "Someone had to make the first move."
Oh, yeah.
Finis
End Driving Constable Fraser by anonymous co: JimPage363@aol.com
Author and story notes above.