Bone

Good thing Donato's did take-out, cuz there was no way they would have been able to sit there and eat and chit-chat and act like it was any other night. Nope. They had crossed that line. Figured. Give him a line and he'd cross it. Ask for it. He'd actually asked for it. So much for everybody out of the pool. Looked like everybody in the pool, everybody in, no lifeguard on duty, take your life in your hands, good luck with the whole not-drowning thing.

A warm bag of boxed-up manicotti and salad bounced against his leg as he walked. Every once in a while he got a whiff of tomato sauce and cheese, but he wasn't hungry at all. Only got hungry when he stole looks at Fraser, walking beside him, pushing the pace a little. How come he'd never noticed how much Fraser pushed?

Fraser was rarin' to go. There'd been a minute there, back in Donato's foyer, when Ray had wondered if he'd go for it right there, and the really scary part was that he'd have let him. Didn't care that the CPD looked down on PDAs, didn't care that two guys, um, getting it on in a family restaurant was a really good way to lose his badge. Didn't care about much of anything except the guy standing right in front of him, breathing him in; the guy who more than wanted him.

As they passed a lighted storefront, close, getting close now, Ray stole another glance. Must've been thinking something pretty good, cuz his face was red. Again. Made his eyes bright blue. Now add a little green to the picture: jealousy. He'd never forget the look on Fraser's face, standing there in the squadroom. Jealous. Fraser'd been totally jealous. Funny, how good that made him feel. Red. Blue. Green. Yeah, there was a lot more color in his life since Fraser'd appeared at his door and watched a little porn with him.

With him being a detective and all, you'd have thought he'd have noticed that Fraser wasn't just in it for the popshots, wouldn't you?

He'd been so busy gazing at his own navel, he'd never looked at Fraser's. Well, that wasn't technically true. He'd gazed some at Fraser's navel, stuck his tongue in it, sucked on it. An innie. With the goodiest of goody trails furring up just underneath it, leading down. But he had to admit he hadn't been paying real good attention to anything except how Fraser was making him feel—outside, then, finally, inside. Hadn't taken much time to wonder how Fraser felt about all this, beyond the outside part, which he seemed feel just fine about.

Beyond the outside. Yeah, it was about time he looked beyond the outside.

He was it for Fraser. The only one. He waited for the panic to set in, but it must have been chased off by good old-fashioned lust, cuz the thought just made him smile. There were lots worse things to be than It for a guy like Fraser. Lots worse things.

The walk up the stairs about killed him because he could feel Fraser's eyes on his ass. Man, if his eyes felt that good, imagine…

The manicotti went straight into the fridge. That was the best he could do, what with Fraser stripping him down the minute they got the door closed and locked behind them.

"Later," Fraser growled into his neck, and Ray nodded.

Maybe Fraser hadn't done this before, but thinking about it a lot must have paid off, because it only took about two minutes to get naked and stretched out, and Fraser didn't seem to be waiting for anything, like suggestions, or second thoughts, or even the usual kiss-stroke-fire-'em-up. No, Fraser just got them both down to skin, maneuvered Ray where he wanted him—diagonal on the bed, like always—flipped him over and went for it, tongue-first.

Good, good. Good on a whole lot of levels. God, how that felt; he couldn't believe how that felt. Soft at first. Wet, mobile heat hitting nerve endings he'd lived thirty-five years without ever knowing existed. Then deeper, harder, stronger. It's a muscle, right, tongue's a muscle—you can do stuff with it. He could feel that tongue all over his body, like one touch there was worth five touches somewhere else, everything wired together, radiating one brilliant pulse after another up his back, down his legs, through to the tip of his cock. More than that, though, more than the literal sensation, it was the letting him do it. Letting Fraser in like that, hearing from the little moans and catches just how much he liked it, feeling it in the clench of fingers hard in his ass, holding him open, feeling it in the long, patient strokes of his tongue; they had all the time in the world now, now that Fraser was where he liked to be, doing what he liked to do. Fraser could do this for…hours…

Ray'd thought it might be better facing away, better if he closed his eyes. That there might be a chance he could keep it together maybe for five minutes, but no. No way was he going to last like this. No way. Not looking didn't help at all. Not looking just made the feeling more intense, just gave him nothing else to focus on except that warm, wet tongue climbing up his ass, and his dick, caught between his stomach and the sheets. Jesus. He was already humping the bed, already squirming around, trying to get the sheets to rub him up as good in front as Fraser was in back. At this rate, he'd be done and thinking about manicotti before Fraser even got a chance to…do what he was gonna do.

Gathering most of the energy left in his body, Ray pushed himself up and pulled his knees underneath him, getting his dick away from the temptation of the sheets. It might have protested if the shift in position hadn't left his ass just flat-out wide open to Fraser, who was never one to let an advantage like that slip by. Tongue, deep. Tongue, good. Tongue gonna do it for him if he didn't stop it. Soon. Any minute now.

"Fraser…" Wow. Voice. Okay, good start. He felt the tongue withdraw.

Slowly.

"Hmmmm?"

Christ, that felt good. The hum went straight up his body, then that tongue, so tough and deep inside, went all soft and tender, circling outside, right there. Focus, Ray, focus.

"We gonna do this?" he asked, dismayed at how rough his voice was, how shaky he felt there on his knees.

The answer came in motion, not words. From the corner of his eye, Ray saw Fraser reach in the bedside table for the lotion Ray had used when it was Fraser's turn, then felt a puddle of it drip onto his back. Smart Fraser. Ray felt one hand go to his hip, stroking there, holding tight, and then a slick finger nudged in, easier than he might have thought. The tongue-fuck helped, probably. The finger got grabbed, squeezed, and then, like his body knew he was gonna cave eventually anyway—didn't he always?—he opened up, let Fraser in.

If you had to have a pattern, it was a good one: No. Not sure. Maybe. Okay. Hell yes.

Hell, yes. Fraser's fingers weren't quite as long as Ray's, but they were long enough. The second finger—clench down, breathe hard, open wide, yeah, he was getting it now—hit something good inside. That place that made Fraser get all wild-eyed and unMountieish. Sparks of pleasure, so good they shocked him, shook him, stroked out of him by the pads of Fraser's wide fingers inside him. He'd already started hunching back, learning the rhythm, rocking against stretching fingers, when he heard Fraser start to talk. Pay attention, man. Pay attention.

"Ray, we never talked about…"

No, they never talked about…much of anything really. Not when it came to this stuff, anyway. But he knew what Fraser meant. Kind of like he knew he'd always go wherever Fraser led him, he knew what Fraser meant. Still, it was a good thought to have. One of them should probably have had it earlier. Ha. Fat lot of good all those filmstrips had done Fraser.

"Fraser, we're probably the two cleanest guys on the planet, if that's what you're worried about," he said, then groaned when Fraser's fingers answered him, scissoring inside him.

"Yes," Fraser murmured. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Ray hummed back to him, humping back on him, conversation over, that's it, that's it.

The fingers could probably do it for him, too, just like the tongue, just like Fraser's hands could, and his mouth, pretty much anything Fraser did to him could make him come like everything before was just practice, but they were this far now, he'd come this far, gotten those fingers inside him, and now…and now…and then the fingers were gone. He heard Fraser suck in a deep breath behind him, then felt his hand, not so steady now, not even as steady as the hip it rested on, and then…something big, slippery and hot, pushing against him. Pushing.

Oh.

Okay.

Ouch.

"Ray?" He felt the whisper against his shoulder, felt the stretch of hot, shaky Mountie press against his back, the blunt force still driving between his legs, barely breaching, but there, pushing, pushing. Fraser might be asking, but Fraser's body was telling.

Time for his own deep breath. Time for another round of letting go, time to open up and just let Fraser do what he wanted. It'd be good. It would. It always was.

Ray locked his elbows, widened his knees, and did a little pushing of his own.

Back, down a little, clenching his teeth against the stretch, the tightness. Fuck, Fraser was big. How in the world? Try. Keep trying. Pushing some more, pushing it, maybe faster than he should, but God, once you started this, you just had to keep going, see it through, and wasn't that a good analogy for their whole partnership, didn't that just about cover it.

He pushed back, kept pushing, and met solid Fraser behind, steady now, a wall. Fraser, letting him do it, letting him take it however he wanted it. Stretch, shove, shake a little, do it all over again. Over and over by inches, in increments, until he was skewered, jabbed tight, crammed full, throbbing around the heat of Fraser's dick.

He could hear his own moans, his own panting breath. It was all he could hear; that and the thunder of his pulse. When he could go no further, when with each tiny shove he could feel Fraser's belly behind him (soft hair, smooth skin), he opened his eyes. There. He'd done it. And fuck, yeah, it hurt. But it didn't hurt inside. Well, duh, yes, it hurt inside. But it didn't hurt inside. Didn't make him feel torn up or messed up. Just fucked, not fucked up.

Just…fucked.

He clenched down, the better to feel that burn, that searing sense that Fraser was with him, Fraser wasn't just there, he was in there, and he felt as much as heard Fraser grunt against his back, felt Fraser's dick swell inside him, and then the balance shifted.

Ray's body opened, melted, and he felt Fraser pull back a little, then thrust. Hard. More burning, more stretching, and then a jolt. Another thrust, even harder, and Ray's shaky knees went out from under him and he dropped back down on his stomach. Fraser went with him, sprawled on him, then used his knees to spread Ray's legs wide on the bed, opened him up, exposed him. Oh, yeah, Ray liked that. That worked. Fraser had it going now, nothing tentative about him, no, not now. Fraser was losing it already, in that good way Fraser had, almost rough but not really, cuz it was still Fraser.

Ray stretched himself out, held tight to the edges of the mattress and let it happen. Nothing hurt anymore, not a damn thing. It was all good—those rough thrusts, all that rubbing inside and out, the way Fraser's hands wrapped around him, got under his chest and pulled him up, so he was getting hugged and fucked at the same time.

Ray's dick, which hadn't thought much of the whole pain thing, started to get with the program again. Couldn't help it, not with getting rubbed against the bed while all kinds of incredible things were going on inside, too. Fraser's finger had hit the right spot, yeah, but not like this. Not heavy and rhythmic, not constant. Not with the power of the almighty Fraser behind it.

They had it now, the back and forth, the give and take, yeah, they had it down. And unlike when he was doing it to Fraser, he could actually pay a little attention to something besides the meltdown going on in his own body. He had it all, now: the weight of Fraser against his back, the sliding heat of him up his ass, and his own dick had found a good spot, caught between his belly and the bed, rubbing, rubbing, that callused spot hitting a wrinkle in the sheets just right, just…right.

He lost it when Fraser did, like it was a cue he was supposed to follow. He knew when it was going to happen—he could feel it. Fraser's thrusts got ragged, and his breath shorted out, and Ray got squeezed so tight he couldn't breathe himself, which was okay, really it was, but the best part was that deep inside him he could feel Fraser come. Feel Fraser's dick jerking inside him, feel the little convulsions shake him, and bam, he came, too, and felt himself tighten down hard on Fraser, never felt that before, never felt it, never felt like that.

Fraser relaxed on him, giving Ray his whole weight. Ray liked that, too. Liked feeling Fraser out of it, boneless and sweaty on him. Gave him a minute to pull himself together. Trading off was a good idea. Yeah, they hadn't had a bad idea yet. Finally, he felt Fraser rouse above him, felt one last twitch inside him, and braced himself for the scrape of Fraser pulling out. Yikes, that smarted.

He let himself get dragged out of bed and put under the shower, then Fraser came in behind him and held him up when his knees went wobbly on him. Should have been embarrassing, he guessed, getting washed there by somebody else, getting checked out pretty thoroughly, but Fraser was so matter-of-fact about it all that he didn't bother getting bothered.

Fraser let him go finally, and Ray got to watch him soap himself off, then he moved around Ray and put his face under the spray. Ray slid up behind him, wrapped his arms around Fraser's waist and held on, thinking he could always blame those damn weak knees if Fraser asked, then realized

Fraser would never ask. Fraser wanted him. More than wanted him. Fraser wasn't ever going to question a hug in the shower.

One more good feeling to add to all the others.

"You hungry?" he asked into the wet plane of Fraser's shoulder.

"Yeah," Fraser answered, then took one of Ray's hands and moved it down to his groin.

Ray could already feel him stirring there, feel the sharp twitch of Fraser's dick starting to fill again, feel the minute thrust of Fraser's hips back against him.

Unbelievable.

Looked like they'd have to save the manicotti for a midnight snack.