cuffs

NOTE: this story contains adult content.

It's dim in here, just the one lamp on Ray's bedside table turned on, all the blinds drawn closed. Ray is standing barefoot in the middle of the bedroom floor, and Fraser is taking off Ray's clothes.

He's doing it slow, getting into it--gathering Ray's t-shirt in a bunch as he pulls it up over Ray's chest, tugging gently until the stretched cloth slides off Ray's head and down his arms. Ray feels kind of weird, standing there with his shirt off while Fraser's still fully dressed, so he shivers and crossed his arms over his chest. Fraser lets the t-shirt fall to the floor, and then Ray feels those callused fingertips stroke gently over the skin of his upper arms, feels Fraser's hands close around his biceps, tugging him in. He closes his eyes in time for the kiss, and god, Fraser's good at this; he takes his time, kisses Ray sweet and slow, and then does it again, heavier, open-mouthed, pushing past Ray's lips with his tongue.

Ray's kind of dazed and stupid for a moment after, his eyelids only halfway open. Fraser waits, thumbs stroking Ray's arms, until Ray manages to swallow and take a breath. "Are you warm enough?" he murmurs then, and his face is still only about an inch away from Ray's face, so that voice kind of sinks right in.

Ray swallows again. "Yeah," he says, and then follows it up with a nod because Jesus, that wasn't even a word that came out of him just there--more like a Y with some breath behind it.

Fraser smiles and kisses him again--slow, god, why is he doing everything so slow? Those soft lips on Ray's, that tongue just barely flicking in. "Good," Fraser says after a while. His hands slide down Ray's arms, pulling them straight against his sides. Then Fraser's fingers move to the button of Ray's jeans.

Ray tries to keep his hands where Fraser put them, because that's the game, right? That's the way this is supposed to go. But when Fraser gets his fly undone and starts pushing the denim down his thighs, Ray's knees give way on him so he kind of has to put his hands on those big shoulders, has to brace himself and hang on. Fraser just laughs anyway, his breath warm against Ray's hip, and oh man, it's like Ray's skin has extra nerves in it or something, like knowing what's coming has turned his body into one giant hot zone.

"Fuck," he says, or moans, really, and then Fraser has his ankle in one warm hand so he lifts it, lets Fraser push his jeans off that foot, does it again with the other one. And then he's totally naked and Fraser stands up, pulls him close, and there is already something so great and perverted just in this: in standing here with all his skin rubbing up against Fraser's flannel and denim, in feeling Fraser's hands on him, exploring him, stroking firm and sweet down his back and over his ass, up along his sensitized sides. He shivers hard again, lifts his face from Fraser's neck. Fraser smiles and pushes his fingers into the hair on either side of Ray's head, thumbs stroking under his chin, tilting his face up for another soft, heavy kiss.

"Get up on the bed," Fraser says. "On your hands and knees."

And Ray's fucking dizzy now, like seriously, no shit, not-sure-where-the-bed-even-is dizzy, but Fraser takes his hands away and just stands there, watching him, and there's heat in that blue gaze, and want, and affection--but there's amusement, too, and a whole lot of challenge. So Ray peels himself away from Fraser's warm body and gives his head a shake, takes a breath. Wobbles obediently to the bed. Fraser made it before they started this, so the sheets are clean underneath his knees, and then his palms. The mattress sinks under his weight. He feels a little stupid, like this, and that sense of playing a game of something starts leaking back and he smiles, laughs a little, scratches his cheek with a shoulder.

But then he hears Fraser take a slow breath through his nose and step closer to the bed, and all that heat just slams him again, and his arms actually tremble. "A bit closer to the headboard, Ray," Fraser says. His hand comes up to lie flat on the small of Ray's back and Ray shivers hard, crawls up toward the pillows. Fraser's hand slides up Ray's back and then down over his shoulder and along his left arm. When it gets to Ray's wrist, it stops, and squeezes, and pulls. Ray lifts obediently, and Fraser's other hand clasps the cuff around him--butter-soft leather with a sturdy metal clasp; they figured it would be more fun than using their own metal handcuffs.

When Fraser's done buckling, Ray's balance is off because that arm is stretched out too far to take much weight. His other arm shakes with the strain of it for a minute, and then Fraser's hands are back, stacking a couple of pillows under Ray's face and pushing him down on them. And yeah, that's better--he's kind of balanced on his shoulder this way, instead of his arms--but it leaves his ass up in the air in a way that feels weird and stupid and completely fucking hot all at the same time. He swallows again, and Fraser pats him, pushes his fingers through Ray's hair.

Fraser has to get a knee on the bed and lean way over to do Ray's other wrist. He feels warm and heavy against Ray's shoulders, and his fingers shake a tiny bit while they buckle that cuff, and Ray has to breathe kind of shallow, has to lick his lips. When Fraser straightens up again, he doesn't go all the way--he keeps one hand on the small of Ray's back and another one on the top of Ray's head, and he swallows so loud Ray can hear it, and he takes a shaky breath. "God, Ray, you look so..." He breaks off, swallows again. Ray feels his hands tighten. "Are you sure you want this?" he says, and all of a sudden he's totally himself again, out of the game--polite cautious Benton Fraser, boyfriend and Mountie. Ray groans and rolls his eyes, but Fraser's still talking: "Am I even doing this correctly? Should I loosen the..."

"Fraser." Ray's voice is muffled by the pillow so he lifts his head, cranes his neck so he can glare at Fraser's flushed, uncertain face. "Fraser. You asking me what to do? Kind of goes against the whole point of this exercise. Which is for you to be in charge, and for me to lie here and get fucked."

Fraser takes a breath. "Right," he says, and his voice is rough, and Ray can see the heat building in those eyes again, warring with the doubt.

"You gotta be the boss, here, okay? It's like...a field exercise or something."

And oh yeah, Fraser's sinking hard again: there goes that tongue against his lower lip. "Right," he says, and then he takes another breath, and he leans in and kisses Ray hard. "Okay then."

He takes his hands away, gets up off the bed. Ray can't see him but he hears cloth against cloth, the small sounds of buttons opening, the scrape of the drawer in the table by the bed. Then Fraser's back again, kneeing his way across the foot of the bed and Ray still can't really see him, but he feels him, leaning against his ass and his thighs, and Jesus, Fraser's naked and hard and hot against Ray's skin, and his lips feel insanely good, brushing Ray's too-warm ear. "Lift up a little," Fraser says, and licks him, and it takes a minute for the words to turn into English inside Ray's head, and by then Fraser's hands are helping, nudging at his hips, sliding a couple more pillows underneath. And that's easier, balance-wise, and also it's fucking great, because it gives Ray something to thrust against, and he does that, and fuck, fuck, everything starts to look sharper and brighter and Ray's blood is fucking loud, and he can hear his breath and Fraser's breath, and when Fraser wraps his fingers around Ray's hips he thinks he actually might have ruptured himself. "Unh," he says.

Fraser laughs against Ray's spine, up high between his shoulder blades, which is where he has his lips. "Not yet," Fraser says, giving Ray a warning squeeze. "You just sit still, for a while, if you please." His lips move, tracing soft and wet down Ray's spine, and it's all so fucking good, Fraser's hands are fucking good, even though they're not moving or anything, even though they're just holding him there, holding him still.

When Fraser gets to the small of Ray's back he slows down, starts sucking and biting between each small kiss, and Ray thinks maybe there'll be bruises on his ass tomorrow, and then he thinks oh sweet holy fuck and then he stops thinking words at all, and jerks hard and helpless against the cuffs. Because Fraser's tongue is slicking down into the cleft of Ray's ass, and those big hands are moving around, thumbs digging in, spreading him, and then yeah, god, yeah yeah yeah, Fraser's mouth has the best ideas ever. They've done this before, but Ray can always only stand it for so long, because it's good in a scary, dangerous, what-if-I-fucking-explode-right-now way, and he always ends up making Fraser stop. But now he can't make Fraser stop, he already told Fraser a hundred times "Fraser, you're the boss", and so he's helpless in Fraser's hard grasp, can't even hump the pillows to get a little relief, and the cuffs are tight around his wrists, and Fraser's tongue is killing him in the very best possible way.

He hears himself actually whimpering, a little, and he makes a conscious effort to stop that right now and it just...doesn't happen. And then one of Fraser's hands stops touching him, and Ray hears a small pop--the cap of their lube being opened. When Fraser's hand comes back, it's to push one slick finger into Ray's ass and Ray groans and mashes his face into the pillow. Fraser's kissing his tailbone and fucking that finger into him, and Ray's shaking, now, he's shaking and trying to work his hips against the pillows, and then Fraser's pulling the finger out and replacing it with two, and Ray can't even whimper anymore, can't even see--all he can do is push back into Fraser's hand and Fraser's lips and gasp long desperate breaths into his lungs.

Fraser kisses his back again, says, "ssshhh," against his wet skin. He's up on his knees now, and he's pressed all along Ray's back and he's heavy and warm and Ray can't breathe. He feels Fraser's fingers slide out of his ass and then Fraser's cock is there instead, wider and softer and god so much better, and Fraser wraps an arm around Ray's chest and pulls him close, kisses his shoulder and the back of his neck and the corner of his tight-shut eye, murmurs stupid stuff against his temple as he thrusts all the way inside.

He keeps it slow like that at first and Ray appreciates that because this, getting fucked liked this--it's the hottest most intense thing that's ever happened in his life. He trusts Fraser all the time, every day, as natural as breathing. But there's something so spelled out about this, something so simple and enormous. It's like jumping off that fucking roof all over again, times a thousand.

"Fuck, I love you," he says, into the pillow. And Fraser moans into his hair and kisses him, kisses his head and his neck and the side of his face, and Fraser's hips are really moving now, like they got a life all their own, but Ray doesn't care, he wants it, wants all of it, and he just pants into the pillow and pulls down against the cuffs and he lets Fraser fuck him through the mattress.

It doesn't take long after that. Fraser's cock is slamming square against Ray's prostate and Fraser's hips are forcing Ray's down against the pillows with each and every thrust and all it takes is one hard stroke from Fraser's finally-relenting hand and Ray groans and jerks and comes all over himself. He hears Fraser make an echoing moan, feels that hand squeeze him one last time and then slide around to grasp his hip again. Fraser's breath sounds kind of desperate now, in Ray's ear, and his rhythm is shot all to hell, and when Ray squeezes his eyes closed and pushes back into Fraser's cock, Fraser groans again and loses it, comes for what feels like forever inside Ray's ass.

For a long time, Ray can't keep track of the time. He just lies there under Fraser and Fraser lies there on top of him, and Ray can hear them breathing together, can hear the moment when the rhythms separate, when Fraser's breath comes a little slower than his own. He shifts. Fraser kisses his ear, soft and heavy, kisses his cheek and then awkwardly, his lips. His arm tightens around Ray's chest and his hips lift a little, and Ray winces as Fraser's cock slides out of him. "Sorry," Fraser says, and Ray swallows and licks his lips and still only manages to say "Huh uh."

He hears Fraser smile, feels him press another kiss into his skin. Those hands slide up and tug open the safety clip on the right cuff, then move over and get the left. Fraser rolls him then, and kneels over him, rubbing the pins and needles out of his wrists and arms. After another couple of minutes, Ray manages to crack open an eye. He licks his lips again, says "hey."

Fraser smiles at him, letting Ray's arm go so he can get his hands around Ray's face instead. He leans down and kisses him, takes his time. "Are you okay?" he asks finally.

Ray smiles. His eyes have gone closed again, but he can't make himself care enough to force them open. "So much okay," he says. He can feel Fraser's hands on him everywhere still; his ass aches in a mild and completely excellent way. "Kiss me some more," he says, and Fraser does, and he keeps on doing it until Ray's grasp on consciousness is gone.