Fireworks 

Disclaimer: Due South and its universe do not belong to me. I'll get over
it someday. 

Fireworks 

Ray Kowalski lay on his back, arms and legs outstretched, hands clenched
tightly, as Benton Fraser's magical tongue moved across his chest. Strong
fingers reached up to play with his nipples as the wet heat slipped into
his navel, and he gave a mighty groan. Finally, the moment he had waited
for was on hand as his lover's mouth slipped even lower, towards his
throbbing erection, throbbing, pulsing, pounding, knocking, knocking... 

Ray woke with a start, gasping for breath, his hand automatically reaching
for his aching cock as he realized that the knocking was in fact coming
from his front door. 

"Fuck." 

He debated staying quiet until whoever it was left, but his GTO was parked
out front so anyone could tell he was home. Besides, the only people who
ever dropped by without calling first were his landlady and Fraser, and
there was no use hiding from either of them. She always had a sixth sense
about when he was in the apartment, and Fraser, well Fraser could probably
hear his heartbeat, or smell him, or something. Not, of course, that he
wanted to hide from Fraser, except maybe when he woke up with a raging
hard-on brought about by incredibly erotic and guilty dreams about his
straight and pure-as-maple-syrup best friend. 

"Ray?" The muffled voice reached him from beyond the front door, and he
sighed. Fraser it was. With a stifled curse he lunged out of bed, grabbing
his ratty old bathrobe and shrugging it on, heading for the door. 

For appearance's sake, he growled out "What!" before flinging the door
open, secretly admiring the startled Mountie on the other side. In
deference to the hot July day, Fraser was in jeans and a t-shirt, a
panting wolf at his feet. He held his Stetson in his hands, and as Ray
watched, a look of consternation crossed the other man's face. 

"I am sorry, Ray; I didn't mean to wake you." 

"S'okay, Frase," Ray grumbled, as if having a warm Mountie show up on his
doorstep wasn't the highlight of any day. "C'mon in." 

Fraser and Dief gratefully entered the apartment, the human giving a small
sigh of relief at the coolness of the air-conditioned room, the wolf
heading straight for the appliance in question and settling down in the
breeze. 

Ray got his guest a glass of cold water, trying not to gawk at Fraser's
throat when the man swallowed. With an inward sigh, he excused himself and
headed for the bathroom, hoping that being out of sight of the other man
would let him get his own body under control. 

After a few minutes spend splashing cold water on his face and willing his
erection to subside enough not to embarrass him, he headed back to the
living room, stopping with a slight frown at the sound of Fraser's voice. 

"... I do know what I'm doing. Besides, I am a Mountie. I can handle
any..." The soft voice trailed off again, and Ray shook his head. Fraser
was talking to the wolf again. 'Freak', the thought fondly. 

He strolled into the room, mildly surprised to see Fraser gazing into the
kitchen rather than at Dief, who was curled up, asleep, on the floor. He
cleared his throat, and Fraser jumped, startled, spinning back towards him
almost guiltily. 

"Ah, Ray, I was just... er..." 

"Talkin' to yourself again?" Ray supplied, amused, and Fraser smiled
ruefully. 

"Apparently." 

"So what brings you around, anyway? Besides, the AC, I mean?" 

"Well, Ray, I was wondering if I might use your television. Today is
Canada Day, and many of the festivities are televised, including the
fireworks tonight on Parliament Hill in Ottawa." 

"So why don't you watch them on the tv at the Consulate?" 

Fraser looked away, blushing slightly. "I suppose I could, though with the
Consulate closed today, and both the Inspector and Turnbull back in Canada
this week-end..." He glanced up again, chagrined. "You're right, Ray.
Perhaps I should return to the Consulate after all; I'm sorry to have
bothered you." 

Ray watched in horror as Fraser turned away, heading for the door. Cursing
himself for the stupidity and insensitivity of his question - of course
Fraser would be feeling lonely and homesick on his own country's birthday
- he moved quickly, reaching the door a second before the Mountie and
placing himself in his friend's path. 

"I'm sorry, Frase; that's not what I meant at all. C'mon, you go find the
right channel, and I'll get dressed and go get us somethin' to munch on,
and we'll do Canada Day right." 

Ray was rewarded with a smile that almost melted his kneecaps. "Thank you
kindly, Ray." 

Oh yeah, he'd be more than willing to put up with a day of Canadian
so-called 'entertainment' to get a smile like that out of Fraser. 

 

Several hours later Ray was seriously upgrading his estimation of
Canadians and their culture. He and Fraser had spent an enjoyable
afternoon camped out on his couch, watching an endless parade of Canadian
celebrities and musicians perform on Parliament Hill in what seemed to be
a massive free concert, and while, to Ray's ear, a lot of the music didn't
sound any different than what came out of the States, except maybe for the
stuff that was in French, there were enough acts from Native Canadian
groups, and some kick-ass fiddle-players from the Atlantic provinces, to
keep both men's rapt attention. Of course, Fraser kept up an on-going
cultural commentary, especially during a fifteen-minute special on the
RCMP musical ride, which had been performed in Ottawa the day before, as
well as providing Ray with simultaneous translations of the French parts
of the shows. 

By the time evening had rolled around both men found themselves sprawled
on the couch, gorged on pizza (with pineapple and extra Canadian bacon),
waiting for the legendary fireworks display to start. They had gradually
moved closer together over the course of the day until they were side by
side, almost touching. Ray enjoyed the comfortable closeness, though he
didn't let himself think about it too much. 

It was during a set of commercials that Ray felt the change. He was
chuckling at a certain proud Canadian doing a beer commercial when he
stopped suddenly, turning his head to meet Fraser's intense gaze. 

"I want to thank you, Ray," the Mountie said softly. "It was very kind of
you to spend your day off doing this with me." 

Ray smiled self-consciously. "Aw, geez, Frase. You know there's nothing
else I'd rather do." 

He could have sworn that beautiful face had moved even closer to his own,
though maybe that was just wishful thinking. 

"Why not?" 

The question caught him by surprise. "I like doin' stuff with you, Frase.
You're my best friend." 

Blue eyes gazed into his, unblinking. "Is that all, Ray?" 

Ray's heartbeat sped up. There was no way this conversation was going
where he thought it was. Was there? "What do you mean?" 

"Am I just your best friend?" 

Ray swallowed. "Right now? Yeah," he whispered, then shocked himself by
adding, "Unfortunately." 

Fraser blinked, then flashed Ray that blinding smile again. "Understood,"
he said, before leaning forward suddenly and pressing his lips to Ray's. 

Ray tensed as electricity seemed to shoot through his entire body, then
melted into Fraser's embrace, throwing his own arms around the other man's
shoulders and returning the kiss enthusiastically. He wasn't entirely sure
which one of them had just gone insane, but there was no way in Hell he
was going to fight it. 

He trailed his fingers through Fraser's thick, dark locks and thrilled as
the Mountie moaned, deepening the kiss and thrusting his tongue deeply
into the cop's mouth. Their tongues danced together, caressing and tasting
each other, sending waves of arousal crashing through them both. 

Finally they pulled apart slightly, gasping for breath. Ray realized that
Fraser was saying something, and fought past the rushing of blood in his
ears. "... wanted to do that for so long, Ray," the Mountie was muttering,
and Ray felt happiness bloom inside him. 

"God, Fraser... Ben, me too." 

At the sound of his first name on Ray's lips, Fraser's eyes widened, then
narrowed as he launched himself at his partner once again. This time Ray
found himself on his back on the narrow couch, his mouth full of agile
Mountie tongue, his skin tingling from the touch of the hands Fraser had
managed to slip under his shirt, his cock hard and aching from the thigh
rubbing against it. His own hands seemed to have a mind of their own,
reaching down to tug the hem of Fraser's shirt out of his jeans, then
trailing up the large, hairless chest to toy with the man's nipples,
eliciting another low moan from that gorgeous throat. 

Fraser shifted, and Ray nearly swallowed his tongue as their groins met,
and for a brief time the men moved as one, their lips sealed together,
their hands moving in unison, their hard cocks grinding against one
another through two pairs of jeans. 

Suddenly a thought made its way through the aroused haze in Ray's mind.
This was Fraser's national holiday, and he wanted to do something for the
Canadian to help him celebrate it. Granted, he had never actually done
anything of the sort before, though he was familiar with the logistics,
having had the act performed on him more than once, and he was sure that
in this case his enthusiasm would more than make up for his lack of
experience. And boy, was he feeling enthusiastic! 

With a sudden burst of energy he managed to flip their positions so that
he was now laying atop the Mountie, then sat up, straddling the other man.
With quick agility he stripped of Fraser's shirt, moving his hands down to
undo his friend's jeans. Fraser's eyes grew large as he realized what Ray
was doing, the pupils widening in arousal. He moved his hands to Ray's
shirt, but was stoped by the blond man's whisper. "No, Ben. This time,
it's for you." 

Fraser frowned, confused, but obeyed, and lay back, biting back a whimper
as Ray's fingers slipped into his jeans and gently grasped his erection. 

"Ray!" 

"Shhh, love," answered Ray, tugging on the waistband of the jeans and
bringing both them and the boxers beneath them down past Fraser's knees.
On the television, someone was singing Canada's national anthem, and Ray
gazed in rapt wonder at the one part of Fraser that was standing at
attention, straight, proud and red. "Oh, Canada," he breathed, and Fraser
sputtered, his face flushing. 

"For God's sake, Ray..." His embarrassed protest was cut off by an abrupt
yelp as Ray swooped down and engulfed that Canadian cock in his mouth. 

"Ray!" came Fraser's strangled shout as his hands moved of their own
accord to cup Ray's head, not forcing his actions at all but merely
stroking the tangled blond spikes. 

Ray took as much of Fraser's penis as he could into his mouth, wrapping
his fingers around the rest of the shaft and rocking to the movement of
his friend's hips. All the times he'd ever thought - or dreamed - about
doing this, he'd never imagined it would be this good: the feel of the
hard flesh moving in and out of his mouth, the strong, salty taste of the
pre-cum leaking from the tip, the overwhelming scent of Fraser's arousal,
the moans and whimpers coming from further up the couch... but most of
all, the fact that this was *Fraser* lying half-naked underneath him, with
his cock in Ray's mouth, his hands in Ray's hair, crying out "Loveyouray,
loveyouray" over and over. 

Dimly, Ray could hear the sound of explosions coming from the television
as the fireworks lit the sky over the Ottawa river. A thousand miles away,
Ray could feel their own set of fireworks starting as Fraser tensed and
shouted out Ray's name, spurting a great jet of salty-sweet cream into his
partner's mouth. Ray swallowed convulsively, relishing Fraser's taste, and
the realization of how easily he could become addicted to it sent him over
the edge, crying out, pumping his own semen into his jeans. 

The sound of the fireworks dwindled in time with his pounding heartbeat,
and he lay his head on Fraser's thigh as his friend... now his lover...
caught his breath. The Mountie's fingers resumed their gentle stroking of
his head, tugging him gently until he got the hint and crawled up into
Fraser's embrace. At once his face was cupped between those strong hands
and he was kissed thoroughly and reverently. 

Finally he pulled away to gaze uncertainly into Fraser's eyes, reassured
and somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer love he found there. 

"Oh, Ray," Fraser whispered, stroking his cheek affectionately. 

In a moment of sheer courage - or stupidity - Ray steeled himself and
spoke the words that had been plaguing his dreams for so long. "I love
you, Ben." 

That smile again. He'd kill for that smile, and he'd already seen it three
times today. "I love you, Ray," came the response he'd always craved, and
he was filled with intense joy. 

Ignoring the cooling wetness in his pants he lay his head against his
lover's shoulder, feeling a thrill as Fraser wrapped his arms tightly
around him, laying his cheek on Ray's soft blond spikes. 

"Happy Canada Day, Ben." 

The arms around him tightened briefly. "Happy Canada Day, Ray... and many
more." 

Fraser's voice sounded so wistful that Ray swore on the spot that he'd
look up each and every damned Canadian holiday and celebrate every single
one of them with Ben. Right now, though, sleepy and more content than he'd
been in a very long time, he settled for saying "Count on it, Benton
buddy, count on it." 

 

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