Many beta thanks to the fantabulous mrsronweasley! ♥
Ray's been on the edge of coming for what feels like hours, but he sinks into Fraser slow, slow. He's sweating now, it's dripping down into his eyes, even though when they started, his hands were so cold that even Fraser flinched away from them. Ray presses his forehead against Fraser's back, panting desperately and mouthing at his skin, trying to just - hold on, hold on.
Fraser is on shaky hands and knees, his head bowed between his arms, his breath coming in smothered gasps. They'd started out under the covers, groping and kissing, but as things got more intense, they'd shoved the covers off onto the floor, leaving the two of them kneeling on the sheets, fucking desperately.
"Ray," says Fraser hoarsely.
Ray, deep inside of Fraser, closes his eyes and listens to the wind whipping its icy way around the cabin walls outside, like it's searching for a way in. Uh-uh, not here, not in the house that Fraser built; it's tight as a drum.
"Ray." Fraser's voice is intense, like he's barely holding it together.
It's the second day of the storm, but it feels like a week, or more; feels like forever. These walls that Fraser built, tight as a drum, yeah: keeping the wind out, keeping the two of them in. Two days of this, and it started to feel like a trap, started to feel like being back in that crevice, stuck there with Fraser. Sure, no person alive he'd rather be stuck with, but stuck just the same.
It helped that Fraser was a man of vast devices. It helped that Fraser was a man who didn't, in the end, so much mind cold hands.
"Ray." And now Fraser's voice is sharp, needy. Ray moves, just a little, just slightly drawing in and out of Fraser's tight, hot body.
"Jesus," he murmurs, his lips brushing against Fraser's skin. "Oh, Jesus, Fraser, I -"
Fraser's neck bends lower. He's desperate for it, Ray knows he's desperate for it, but he just presses back against Ray - not hard, just moving his body back to meet Ray's tiny thrusts, making Ray groan softly against his back, making his fucking toes curl from just that, only that.
There's a loud shriek of wind outside, like a banshee from hell, but it's a far-off distraction, it's not important. Ray can't think of anything but this, the heat of Fraser's body around his cock, the sound of Fraser's soft moaning, the taste of Fraser's sweat against his tongue.
Ray takes a deep breath and bites his lip hard as he draws back, then thrusts forward again, as slow and steady as he can, his own moan mixing with Fraser's as he does so. Jesus, he wants to come, he really fucking wants to come, but this is too good, too damn fucking good, and he just -
"You -" Fraser's struggling to get the words out. "You - I want you to - God, Ray, I need you to -"
The storm outside had made Ray twitchy, and it was more than just not being able to go out, more than just the four walls and only Fraser and Dief to talk to and nothing, nothing, nothing to do. It was the storm itself, sort of, that Ray could feel in his chest, like it had gotten into his blood, this roaring, frantic thing that he couldn't shake.
He hadn't been able sit still, paced the cabin for what felt like hours, and it didn't matter what he put on the stereo; didn't matter that Fraser, looking at him, faintly worried, didn't say anything about the music, even though he was clearly trying to read. Ray just kept listening for the storm behind the music, kept picking out the panting shriek of the wind, the sound of the snow whipping through the air, against the walls, until it was near to making him crazy.
Fraser moans again and Ray sinks back on his haunches, changes his angle and thrusts in, slow and deep, making Fraser gasp.
"Yeah," says Ray, and maybe he is crazy, 'cause his voice sure sounds that way. "Yeah, Fraser, you -" He slides in again, same angle, same spot, and Fraser cries out this time, loud, and Christ, Christ, Ray is never gonna get enough of this, never.
"I -" Fraser says through gritted teeth, shoving back against Ray, not gentle now, not waiting. "Ray, I -"
"God." Ray leans forward, and he's really fucking him hard now, steady, caught on that balance where he's so close to coming, so damn close, but holding there, holding, as he thrusts in again, fuck, again, and again. Each time so sure he's going to lose it, each time right on the fucking brink of going over.
Fraser's back is bowed before Ray, and he's down on his forearms, his head tilted to press his face into his own arm. Ray can still hear him keening steadily, and Jesus, oh, Jesus, he needs to come, he needs to come, he needs to just fucking - fucking -
One more thrust in, and that's it, that's it, he's coming so hard he feels it through his entire body. He just keeps coming, feels it in waves, shaking him hard. It leaves him limp and wheezing, sprawled over Fraser's back. He can't even catch his breath, his heart is thundering in his chest. He pants, pulling out of Fraser, sliding to the side, because Fraser - Fraser is a good man, Fraser is holding on here. He groans when Ray pulled out, but Ray tugs him forward, pulls him close.
Fraser's still hard, still so fucking hard. His eyes look ten times darker than usual, and his hair stands in sweaty spikes. He buries his face in Ray's shoulder as Ray circles his cock with one slightly shaky hand. Fraser, man: Fraser has more self-control than anyone Ray has ever met. Fraser is holding on, drawing this out, for Ray, for himself, for both of them, hanging on by the skin of his teeth, his cock hot and heavy and huge in Ray's hand, but not coming, not yet.
"Ray," he's murmuring, his voice shot, rough and trembling. "Ray," he says again, like he does to get Ray's attention sometimes. Ray keeps one hand on the back of Fraser's sweaty neck as he strokes his cock with the other one, strokes him in that steady, driving rhythm that will get him there, get him there fast and now, no matter how hard he's holding back.
"Yeah." Ray presses his lips against Fraser's hot temple. "Yeah, Fraser."
"Please." Fraser's whole body is tight, and his hips are moving frantically forward, thrusting his cock into the circle of Ray's fingers, and then - there it is - he's coming, hot and slick, all over Ray's hand and hip, crying out loud enough to drown out the wind still whipping against the cabin walls outside.
He collapses against Ray's chest, stays pressed there for a few moments before extracting himself with a groan, flopping away to sprawl next to him. "My god, Ray."
"I know." The chill of the cabin air feels good against Ray's skin. He rolls over onto his stomach, letting one hand fall against Fraser's chest. He closes his eyes, listening to the storm outside beat rhythmically against the cabin. "That was -"
"Yes," Fraser lifts his hand to weave his fingers with Ray's on his chest. "It was."
They need to get up and add fuel to the stove. From what seemed like far away, Ray can hear Dief padding around the kitchen; they need to start on dinner sometime soon, too. Fraser had said something about making stew tonight. Thinking of it makes Ray's stomach rumble, and Fraser laughs, lifting their joined hands to his lips and pressing a kiss against Ray's knuckles. "Are you ready to get up?" he asks, tilting his head to look over at Ray.
"Yeah," says Ray, stretching, and sitting up, shivering as he swings his legs off the bed and his feet touch the chilly floor. "Yeah, I'm ready."
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