Due South


When Fraser steps out of the bathroom, the steam chases him into the cold of our bedroom and floats away into vapor. Fraser’s still limping, and every time he moves, a grimace plays harsh games with his face. I hate seeing him like this, bruised and battered. Silly Mountie, trying to tangle with Warfield. Mob bosses and broken bones mix very easily, I told him, but Fraser’s got a stubborn streak. At least Warfield’s in jail now, and that’s what counts. That, and the fact that Fraser’s at home with me.

He’s naked when he collapses slowly to the bed, his eyes closed and his uncut penis lying against his leg.

“Inviting,” I tell him. He doesn’t open his eyes.

“Don’t even think about it, Ray. All I want is sleep.”

I crawl into bed next to him and run the tips of my fingers over his chest. “Sleep, eh?”

“I’m the one who says eh. Stop it.” He says the words forcefully ... but without conviction. His dick jumps a little bit, and that’s when I’m sure that sleep is not the only thing on my Mountie’s mind.



“You know how when we’re doing it, and I’m usually fucking you so hard you scream?”

“Yeah?” Now his dick isn’t just jumping; it’s growing. Oh, you randy little Canadian.

“And you know how when we’re not fucking, my cock is lodged deep in your throat and I face-fuck you till I cum?”

“Um,” he groans. His dick’s at full erection now, the head poking out of his foreskin slightly. A drizzle of precum dribbles down from his slit. Nice.

“That’s all active stuff. Cardio workout for Fraser and Ray.” The pad of my index finger trails down his body, past his navel, into the thick mat of his pubic hair. Up the shaft of his cock – Fraser’s shuddering sigh is the only yes I need – and now catching the glistening precum before it drops to his stomach. I make sure his eyes are open and watching me as I place my finger to my tongue. His precum is so sweet, like liquid candy playing on my taste buds.

“Not tonight, Fraser.”

“Not tonight?” There’s real disappointment in his voice. From sleep to full-body hormone in less than ten seconds. Impressive.

“Not tonight, darlin’. Tonight, I take care of you.” Without another word, my head’s moving down, and my mouth is at the head of his cock. More precum. I lash my tongue out and catch another delicious drop. Then, no warning needed, I slam my head down on his cock and swallow that fucker whole.

Strange, I think, as I’m moving rhythmically up and down on Fraser’s penis. Strange that this feels new to me. Usually this is Fraser on me. Usually, that ends up with me slamming my cock up his ass and him begging for me to shove it in just a little deeper. But this ...how did I stay away from sucking his dick for so long?

With my lips and tongue, I work his foreskin down so that his sensitive shaft is exposed and ready for action. I tease the underside of his head with my tongue, and Fraser’s hand comes up and grabs a chunk of my spiky hair. A little rough, are we? Good. I can handle rough. Move it down slowly, my tongue never stopping, racing along his cock as my lips move ever so slowly to the base of his shaft. Fraser’s hand pushes down and before I can hesitate, his dick is stuffed all the way into my throat. For a moment, I can’t breathe, my throat constricting against his cock. From far away, I head him groan deeply.

Then I push up, my tongue running faster. I gulp some air through my nose and without needing prompting, I’m down all the way again, forcing him deep, deeper, deepest into my throat and cutting off my air completely. I try to gasp but I can’t; throat closes on his dick again, and now I know he’s close. In the dark behind my closed eyes, bright lights appear. Need to breathe. Up again. Increase suction. Up, down, tongue never flagging, pulling in air as fast as I can, guzzling down precum by the gallon. Then, oh then, slam my mouth down one more time, my lips in his pubes, and there it is, bam, Fraser’s semen spurting out, shooting down my tightened throat, and before it goes I taste every hot, sweet, ounce of it.

Then his hand, grabbing my head, pulling me up for air. I’m thankful for the oxygen ... but so damn sad that I can’t live my whole life with my mouth on his cock.

“How you feeling, buddy?” I ask him.

“Spent,” he says, but with that Fraser grin that lets me know he’s sated and happy. “But not too spent.” Now that grin comes with a nasty little gleam in his eye.

“Cardio workout for Fraser and Ray?” I ask.

“Till I scream, Kowalski,” he says as if the bruises and the limp don’t matter at all. “Fuck me till I scream.”

And I’m only too happy to oblige.