I manage to keep my hands off him till we get to the bedroom, but that's only because I won't let myself even look at him. I do that, I'm gone - I'll end up blowing him in the hall, and I'm thinking old Mrs. Milner next door won't appreciate that. Feel like I'm about to pop, holding myself back here, and once we get through the door to the bedroom, all bets are off. I push him to the bed and crawl on top of him, straddling his hips and planting my hands on either side of his head. I give myself a second to just look at him there, on my bed, before I kiss him, best I know how.
The way he tastes makes my head spin.
Fraser's hands fumble to hold onto my hips, and he moans, this real long, low moan, like he's trying to hold it back but sort of can't. God. I slide my lips messily down to his neck, just tasting. He's gasping against my ear, and his hips keep slanting up off the bed to press up against me. Just feeling how hard he is gets me really fucking hot, really fucking fast.
Fraser keeps moving his hips against me. It feels good, so damn good, and I press down hard against him, holding him against the bed just so I can feel how he fights to push against me. I can't stop tasting his neck, can't stop sucking at the spot where it meets up with his shoulder.
"God, Fraser, god, god, wanted this, you, this…" I'm half-mumbling into his skin, my hips moving to the beat of my words. Fraser whimpers, sort of struggling beneath me, and that sound makes me want to just drive my body against him, wants to get rid of all these fucking clothes and just fucking do this, do him, now, fucking now.
Fraser tightens his hands on my hips, yanking me even closer. His breath is hot against my ear as he says, "More." Then he pushes me up and over onto my back.
"Oof," I say as he sprawls on top of me immediately. "Okay, then. Good thought." I lean up for a kiss, but Fraser pushes me back down roughly. I raise my eyebrows at him and grin. I think I like desperate Fraser.
He tugs at my t-shirt, pushing it up with both hands. He seems pretty intent on it, but then he leans in and - oh god - licks at one of my nipples. I'm in the process of pulling my shirt the rest of the way over my head, and his fucking hot tongue on my nipple makes me gasp, and lurch, and bang my elbow hard against his head. I get myself totally tangled in my shirt, and by the time I finally tear the fucking thing off and toss it aside, muttering, "Sorry, Fraser, your head, sorry, sorry," he's moved on. I'm trying to just keep up, because who knew, who knew, that Fraser would be like this in bed, this crazy-messy-now-now-now thing?
Can't even wonder at it right now, because he's moved down between my legs and is getting the buttons on my jeans undone. I'm trying to get my breathing under control, but that idea goes right out the fucking window when he moves his lips against shorts, pressing his mouth against the spot right over the head of my cock. I gasp, loud, my hands clutching at the covers. "Fuck, Fraser -"
"Lift up, Ray." Man, his voice sounds ragged. He pushes at my jeans, shoving them down and off, then gets up and starts stripping off his uniform real quick. He's so fucking hot, desperate like this, and my hand moves to stroke myself as I watch him. Finally, finally, his clothes are off and he crawls onto the bed, between my legs, not stopping for a second before he bends to lick the head of my cock.
I groan, and jerk my hips up, threading my hands through his hair. "Fuck, fucking hell, Fraser, Jesus."
I don't know what I'm trying to say here - more or go slow or careful or I'm gonna come right fucking now - not that it'd matter, because he doesn’t stop or even slow down, just slides his mouth over my cock and sucks. His hands hold tight to my hips, and I can't stop moaning. I'm trying to just hang on here, but then he takes me even deeper, into his damn throat, feels like. I thrust shortly, helplessly, up into his mouth, can't stop myself, but I manage to tug hard on his hair and pant, "Stop. Stop. Stop."
Fraser lets me slip out of his mouth, and looks up at me, his mouth shiny and wet. I groan, and shove my hands through my hair. Tilting my head back, I shut my eyes tight, so I can't see him, because even that is enough to make my cock twitch.
"Fuck, Fraser. It's too fucking much, you're too fucking much." I open my eyes and pull him up next to me. "You are very," I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, "very good at that."
"I like how you taste," he say, then immediately blushes bright red.
"Jesus, look at your mouth." I run my thumb over his bottom lip. Seeing him like this, god, all messed up and hot, is just - too much. Not enough. I want more. I kiss him hard, then say against his lips, "I want you to fuck me."
Fraser pulls his head back, looks startled for a second, then his eyes go really, really hot. I can practically see the thoughts darting around in his head - too soon, too much, are you sure - but what he says, breathing hard, is,"God, yes."
I can't help but grin, because it's so clear, Fraser making the deliberate decision to go with his gut. Sorta defeats the purpose, but still, for him? That's big. That's huge. "Good. Good, Frase."
I can't tell for sure whether he's done this - gone this far, with you know, a guy - before. He's taken to the rest of it really damn well, and I think he's the sort of guy that'll ask questions, if he's not sure. But - I trust him. This is me going with my gut. Let's see where it takes me. Us.
I roll over to give him a clue as to where to start, and reach to the bedside table to snag the lube that's still there from - wow, it's been a hell of a long time since I had a guy in my bed. Since I've had, well, anybody in my bed.
I peer over my shoulder at Fraser, who's watching me, his eyes heavy-lidded and turned-on. He looks half-scared, but I drop my gaze, and his cock is still hard, tight against his stomach. Oh yeah. He wants this. I shift on the bed, my own cock pressing into the covers. God. How did my night end up here? It's unreal. "Now. Okay?"
He - god, he actually licks his lips. Not in that nervous way he has, but like he's - hungry.
"Not - not yet, Ray."
He never makes anything easy, does he?
But he moves forward, drapes himself over me, his body warm and a little damp and god, that feels good. He moves his hips and his cock - Christ - presses against my ass. Slides in to nestle between the cheeks and I choke a little, make a sound that's embarrassingly like a whimper. He runs his tongue along the back of my neck, across my hairline and I find myself squirming, pressing my cock against the bed, as the feel of his tongue - man, he has an oral fixation - ratchets my need up much, much higher.
He groans against my neck as I shift, and I feel his hips move, feel him sliding back and forth against my ass, the head of his cock occasionally rubbing against that spot right at the top where it feels like there's an electric current running straight to my cock. His breath is hot as he presses his lips to the side of my face, and I turn my head awkwardly, trying to get my lips on his. Leaning forward, he kisses me, his hands struggling to find mine. He weaves our fingers together, presses them to the bed, thrusting again against me. "Fuck," I say vaguely, pressing my head into the pillow. "Fraser."
I sound desperate.
He mouths the back of my neck again and I shudder. He lets go of my hands and I try to press back against him but he's - oh god - sliding his way down my body, stopping to trace his tongue over and over at that point at the top of my ass. How does he pay that much attention, how the fuck does he know what that does to me? Jesus.
But that's - fuck - that's nothing because - he's moving lower. I gasp and jerk my hips, but he just grabs on to them and holds me still while his tongue - that damn fine tongue - works its way down and licks deeper and god, it's a fixation he has, that oral deal, a fixation. Not that I'm - jesus fuck - arguing. Uh-uh.
He shifts a little more, moves down to press his tongue firmly just behind my balls and I shudder. My hands are white-knuckled on the sheets. He moves back up, and his tongue shouldn't feel so damn hot, but it does, and he's going deep this time, goddamn. Man'll put his tongue anywhere, anywhere at all, and right now - right now he's fucking me with it. He's killing me here. I'm panting his name, over and over, but he's not paying attention, is too busy sliding his tongue as deep as he can get it and, fuck - I'm -
Suddenly his hands are on my hips, urging me to turn over. It takes all the strength I have to flop over onto my back "Fraser - you bastard, you're killing me." I'm sweating, my cock is aching, I'm harder than I ever, ever remember being. Like I could come any second. Fraser is kneeling over me. He's shaking, too.
"Ray," His voice is tightly calm. This is what desperate sounds like on him. "Are you okay?"
I close my eyes, desperately willing away the immediate urge to come. "Yeah," I manage. "Yeah, Fraser."
"Good." And then my eyes fly open as he pushes two slick fingers inside me. "Fuck!" I think I end up writhing a little there, not real cool, but god, I just can't bring myself to care. "Fraser. Fraser. You gotta - you have to -" I stop, gulp as he twists his fingers inside me. "Jesus, Fraser, fuck me, fuck me."
He shuts his eyes for a second. "I - yes." And, geez. That breathless voice hits me harder than anything has so far. He grabs for the lube again, slicking himself. I'm lying here, rock hard and breathing noisily, watching Fraser - Fraser - stroke his cock, getting ready to fuck me - I - Fuck, I grab for my cock and clutch at it for a second, just trying to keep breathing. Keep breathing, and don’t come.
He moves forward, take my hips in his hands. Tugs me so my legs are over his thighs and then he presses in. Inside me. Fraser. Inside me. He's breathing hard and I can see he's trying to go slow, but I twist my hips a little and he groans and shoves against me and he's all the way in, pressed up against my ass. He stops and breathes, and breathes.
I want - fuck, I want this, I want this hard, and he has me jammed here, I can't move here, and I can't help it, I'm practically begging for it. "Fraser - Fraser - fuck, Fraser, come on, come on." I reach up and grab onto his shoulders, pull at him.
Fraser shakes his head a little and breathes again, grits his teeth and pulls back and then thrusts, and my god, stars explode behind my eyes. And Fraser, lovely, wonderful Fraser, man, when he takes control, he takes control, 'cause he's thrusting into me over and over. He leans over me, this fucking intense look on his face, leaning forward to press his lips against mine, not really kissing so much, just connecting, before he pulls back and frowns - frowns? - and changes his angle a little.
"Fuck - Fraser - yeah - yes, I - oh god -" I struggle to loosen my grip from Fraser's shoulders, because I need to - I gotta - oh, fuck, he's hitting that spot again, and again, and I'm - I'm coming all over myself, feels like I'll never stop coming, not a hand on me, just Fraser in me. I whimper, dazed, feel him still driving into me from what feels like far away, and I force myself to open my eyes, because I want to see -
Fraser's lost the rhythm, is leaning right over me. He's shaking, and he closes his eyes, and - I can feel him coming inside me.
He drops to his elbows but doesn't collapse - I don't know how he does it, I just melt into a messy puddle after I come. He stares at me, looking sort of stunned for a second, then he moves my legs carefully down. They ache a little now that I'm not - you know, distracted. He lowers himself slowly on top of me, his arms trembling. Presses his face into my neck and breathes out, "Ray. God, Ray."
"Yeah, Fraser." I bring my hand up to rest on his head, because that felt like - more. You know? More than sex. More than anything else. Like when we were kissing in the bullpen - when I drove him to kiss me - that felt like something, you know? Like electricity, like lightning, like more.
It's weird, and it's a little scary, and I don't think I want to think about it right now. I don't think I can think about it right now. Right now, there's just this. Me. A mushy pile. And Fraser. A mushy pile on top of my mushy pile. And getting heavy.
"Frase." I poke at him. It feels sort of weird to be calling him that. After he - you know - came. In me. Jesus. "Scoot."
"Hmm?" he says against my neck. Then, "Oh." And he lifts himself far enough to drop down next to me. He lies there on his stomach and blinks at me. I heave myself over onto my side. Ouch. Wow. It has been a while.
"Hi," I say seriously.
"Hi," he says, matching my tone. Which makes me grin. Which sorta ruins the whole serious deal.
"That was, um, good." Ah, you're such a sweet talker, Kowalski.
His lips twitch like he's trying not to grin back. One eyebrow raises a little. "Yes," he says gravely. "It was."
Huh. Guess my moaning and yelling must have clued him in that "good" doesn't begin to cover it. I love how he gets me without me always having to explain myself.
"Are you okay?" he asks. His eyelids keep sliding closed.
"Not even close, Fr - um." Stupid, stupid time for my mind to be arguing with me on the logistics of naming, but - "Ben."
His eyes are closed, but he smiles. "Good." He drapes a heavy arm over my side and pulls me in for a kiss without opening his eyes. Man, he's just going with this whole instinct thing. I like it. Then he pulls back a little and opens his eyes. "You called me Ben."
"Um. Yeah," I say guardedly.
"That's nice." He blinks slowly again. "I like that, from you."
"Oh. Okay. Good," I say. He likes that. He likes me. You think I would have figured that out around about the time he was fucking me - maybe even so far back as when he had his tongue in my ass. Some really perceptive types might even have figured it out back when he was making out with me on Dewey's desk in the bullpen. I got instinct, hell, I even got logic sometimes, but some things still go right over my head. "It seems weird to be calling you Fraser, after, uh…"
He's opened his eyes and is looking at me, all sleepy and amused, waiting for me to finish.
I take a breath. "Well. You know. Ben is better. Right?"
"Mmm. Yes." He yawns hugely and this time when he closes his eyes, they stay closed. I should be about ready to pass out myself, but I got some clean-up to do, and I'm a little restless for some reason.
"Hey." I nudge him. I know I should let the guy sleep, but I just gotta ask. "You ever done that before?"
He doesn't open his eyes. "Hmm? You mean - oh." He yawns again. "No."
"Mmm." He murmurs sleepily. "I read a book on it once." He rolls over.
A book. He read a book on it. I seduce him in the bullpen, but he's read a book and he ends up fucking me through the mattress. I'm just staring at his back, trying to decide whether to be angry or impressed. Finally I settle on "sleepy." Muttering to myself ("A book. Fucking fabulous. That's just great, no, really, it's perfect."), I roll out of bed to go get cleaned up. Stand there looking down at him for a minute, limply asleep, worn-out. Because of me. I tug the covers from the foot of the bed, pull them over him. He murmurs a little in his sleep. Fucking hell. Ben. Who woulda thought it?
I head to the bathroom before I turn into any more of a girl over this. There's a weird feeling in my stomach, but it feels sorta good. It feels like instinct, and I think to myself, just go with it.
Because. Ben. Yeah. I think I could get used to this.
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