Fic: Helpless Ray K/Fraser Nc-17
May. 5th, 2006 04:30 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ds_slashTitle: Helpless
Author: Lipstickcat
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Ray K/Fraser
Rating: Nc-17
Warnings: PWP ahoy! ^_^
Word count: 641
***
The thing Ray likes best about Fraser is how helpless he becomes in bed. This calm and in control pillar of a Mountie turns into a ragdoll, his own toy soldier to bend and pose at his will. He understands now that the buddy breathing had been exactly that, a necessity, because Fraser was incapable of initiating physical activities with sexual implications. The wordy Mountie was rubbing off on him – and not in that way, yet – because Ray knows that’s the kind of sentence he would appreciate.
But, yeah. Fraser – Ben, it was “Ben” when he became Ray’s own personal chew toy – had admitted to having urges and fantasies during one of these increasingly frequent chew toy sessions, but he felt too bound up in propriety and red tape to act on them and make the first move. Ray had made a comment about binding Ben in red tape, but he mentally filed away the important information that Frase had admitted to having urges about him, and that he was the one who needed to coax him out of his shell.
And he did said coaxing at every possible opportunity: There was a knack and game to catching Fraser off guard, perhaps while they were sitting on his sofa watching sports, or in the bedroom, now that the room no longer seemed off limits to them both, chatting and lazily petting Dief as he tried his best to turn the sheets into a mass of wolf hair. Ray would duck forwards, planting his hands either side of Fraser, weaving his face into the other man’s vision and surging forwards softly to capture those lips like he was hunting the most delicate butterfly.
Then everything would become anything but delicate. Fraser would gasp, but kiss back hard, releasing all them pent up urges in one crazy rush of hot mouth and tongue and straying hands. You could be fooled into thinking that he would take charge in this, as in all his walks of life, but no matter how submissive Ray tried to make the initiation, Fraser would start to falter and by the time Dief has decided that he’s seen enough and has skulked off to a quieter room, Frase has become Ben, Ray’s toy soldier.
Normally, they’ve managed to peel each other out of their clothes by this point. Its like Samson without his hair; Fraser without his clothes becomes powerless, he’s reduced to this whimpering, limp, - well, mostly limp – creature that falls back and surrenders to everything Ray wants to give him.
The first time it happened, it scared Ray. He thought he’d gone too far, too much too soon. He’d broken him, ruined it before it even started, but Frase had reassured him in a hazy murmur and told him to keep going, and Ray was only a man, who was he to refuse?
He loves every bit of it, the whispering strokes of fingers ghosting along his sides as he leans over Fraser, the way his body jerks as he licks a trail over his hip and down, down, further down. He can move him into any position, the man feels so light in the heat of passion, so supple. When he sits back to admire his conquest Ben gazes back up at him with ice glacier eyes through heavy lids and thick dark lashes. Glistening full lips parted, releasing the sweetest most helpless sounds. He loves how Ben cranes his head up when Ray nuzzles into his neck, gasping at the gentle scrape of teeth. How hungry and lazy his kisses become.
He loves loves loves how he clings to him and moans hoarsely into his ear as he takes him, so that he can feel Fraser, Frase, Ben – His Ben – around him, with him, part of him.
And nothing, nothing, is greater than that.
*END*
Author: Lipstickcat
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Ray K/Fraser
Rating: Nc-17
Warnings: PWP ahoy! ^_^
Word count: 641
***
The thing Ray likes best about Fraser is how helpless he becomes in bed. This calm and in control pillar of a Mountie turns into a ragdoll, his own toy soldier to bend and pose at his will. He understands now that the buddy breathing had been exactly that, a necessity, because Fraser was incapable of initiating physical activities with sexual implications. The wordy Mountie was rubbing off on him – and not in that way, yet – because Ray knows that’s the kind of sentence he would appreciate.
But, yeah. Fraser – Ben, it was “Ben” when he became Ray’s own personal chew toy – had admitted to having urges and fantasies during one of these increasingly frequent chew toy sessions, but he felt too bound up in propriety and red tape to act on them and make the first move. Ray had made a comment about binding Ben in red tape, but he mentally filed away the important information that Frase had admitted to having urges about him, and that he was the one who needed to coax him out of his shell.
And he did said coaxing at every possible opportunity: There was a knack and game to catching Fraser off guard, perhaps while they were sitting on his sofa watching sports, or in the bedroom, now that the room no longer seemed off limits to them both, chatting and lazily petting Dief as he tried his best to turn the sheets into a mass of wolf hair. Ray would duck forwards, planting his hands either side of Fraser, weaving his face into the other man’s vision and surging forwards softly to capture those lips like he was hunting the most delicate butterfly.
Then everything would become anything but delicate. Fraser would gasp, but kiss back hard, releasing all them pent up urges in one crazy rush of hot mouth and tongue and straying hands. You could be fooled into thinking that he would take charge in this, as in all his walks of life, but no matter how submissive Ray tried to make the initiation, Fraser would start to falter and by the time Dief has decided that he’s seen enough and has skulked off to a quieter room, Frase has become Ben, Ray’s toy soldier.
Normally, they’ve managed to peel each other out of their clothes by this point. Its like Samson without his hair; Fraser without his clothes becomes powerless, he’s reduced to this whimpering, limp, - well, mostly limp – creature that falls back and surrenders to everything Ray wants to give him.
The first time it happened, it scared Ray. He thought he’d gone too far, too much too soon. He’d broken him, ruined it before it even started, but Frase had reassured him in a hazy murmur and told him to keep going, and Ray was only a man, who was he to refuse?
He loves every bit of it, the whispering strokes of fingers ghosting along his sides as he leans over Fraser, the way his body jerks as he licks a trail over his hip and down, down, further down. He can move him into any position, the man feels so light in the heat of passion, so supple. When he sits back to admire his conquest Ben gazes back up at him with ice glacier eyes through heavy lids and thick dark lashes. Glistening full lips parted, releasing the sweetest most helpless sounds. He loves how Ben cranes his head up when Ray nuzzles into his neck, gasping at the gentle scrape of teeth. How hungry and lazy his kisses become.
He loves loves loves how he clings to him and moans hoarsely into his ear as he takes him, so that he can feel Fraser, Frase, Ben – His Ben – around him, with him, part of him.
And nothing, nothing, is greater than that.
*END*
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