Chapter Text
Nothing in Ray’s life had ever been easy until Fraser came along. And it’s not like Fraser made life any easier, what with their partnership starting with driving a burning car into the lake. To be fair, Ray made Fraser’s life harder, too: first just by being there instead of Fraser’s real partner, and then by being willing to throw his own career and Vecchio’s out the window because he just couldn’t let go of the past. But Fraser stuck by Ray even though he was being a pain in the ass, helped him get his head screwed on instead of doing the easy thing, which would have been to just haul Ray’s ass back to the station to do his job. Because it turned out the thing about Fraser was, he didn’t mind hard, as long as he was doing what was right. And being around Fraser reminded Ray that that was why it was worth slogging through the hard stuff, which was easy to forget sometimes. So then they became partners for real, and not just partners, but friends.
Now, being Fraser’s friend and partner. . .well, that was a lot of things, but easy was not one of them. No way, José. In fact, what it was, was crazy-making, what with the way Fraser needed to be right all the time, which was not even as bad as the way he needed to tell Ray just how right he always was in contrast to just how wrong Ray always was. Not a damn word Ray said ever seemed to get through to Fraser until the day Ray lost it completely and just hauled off and slugged him.
As soon as the punch connected, Ray got that sick, guilty feeling in his gut. Hitting your partner-and-friend was only a little bit less unforgivable than hitting your wife. The only thing he could think of to make it—not right, exactly, but at least square in some way—was to get Fraser to hit him back. He thought at least then they could end the whole thing cleanly, close the door and walk away, take their transfers and get on with their separate lives.
But it turned out that walking away from Fraser wasn’t any easier than being his partner. Maybe because Ray didn’t really want to walk away. So it was a good thing that the gods of bizarre international crime dropped a dead pirate in their laps. Because somewhere in between Fraser saving Ray from drowning and Ray tossing a gun into Fraser’s waiting hand like magic. . .something changed between them. Ray couldn’t quite figure out how or why it happened, only that suddenly they were pulling together instead of apart. And somehow, by the time they got back to Chicago, it was settled that Fraser wasn’t going back to Canada and Ray wasn’t quitting his job pretending to be Vecchio, and that unforgivable punch was. . .forgiven, after all. And it didn’t take long after that for them both to admit that on top of the crazy partner-and-friend thing, there was something else going on between them.
That’s when things got easy. There was kissing, and there were some words, the kind you always want to hear and say, like ‘love’ and ‘want’ and ‘let me,’ and then there was Fraser spending the night in Ray’s bed. And then friend-and-partner became friend-and-partner-and-boyfriend. They weren’t really advertising that part too much, because, for one thing, Ray had a feeling Welsh would put the kibosh on the Ray-and-Fraser partner thing if he knew they were also the other kind of partners. But Fraser came home with Ray almost every night, all Ray had to do was ask, like this was just what they did, now. It wasn’t like he’d moved in or anything; he’d bring a change of clothes with him, and Ray would wake up early to drive him back to the Consulate before work. But pretty soon, Fraser had left some spare clothes in Ray’s closet, and a toothbrush and shaving kit in the bathroom, and a dog dish for Dief under the kitchen sink.
Ray never admitted that sometimes, when he was home by himself, he just looked at Fraser’s clothes hanging there in his closet. It was just that easy to fall so hard for someone that you’d start doing stuff that would’ve been pathetic even back in high school. But that was mostly okay, because Fraser loved Ray back, and Fraser was not the kind of guy who decided he loved you and then changed his mind about it. Plus, Ray knew that Fraser hadn’t just ‘forgotten’ to return Ray’s sweats he’d left over at the Consulate that one time.
Being in love made things easier between them in some ways Ray hadn’t expected. Fraser was suddenly a lot more inclined to just let stuff slide. If Ray said ‘ironically,’ Fraser wouldn’t come back at him with, “Actually, Ray, I think you meant to say ‘coincidentally.’” A couple of times Ray said ‘irregardless’ in front of God and everyone in the bullpen and Fraser didn’t even blink. Fraser didn’t second-guess Ray’s ability to navigate the wilds of Chicago nearly as much, either.
Not that they didn’t still argue about how to do things on the job. But now that Ray didn’t feel like Fraser was judging him all the time, it was suddenly easy to listen to him instead of automatically fighting him on everything. It was easy to admire him for doing everything well when Ray didn’t feel like Fraser was doing it to one-up him. And it was easy to be patient with Fraser’s unique way of doing things—all those extra minutes he tacked onto each day being courteous, the things he said that no one ever really says except in the movies or on TV. Ray could just smile and enjoy Fraser’s brand of weirdness, because it was all Fraser and Ray loved the lunatic. Everything was just. . .easier. Being with Fraser, being Fraser’s partner-friend-boyfriend.
For the first few weeks, anyway, until Ray realized that the one problem, the one thing that wasn’t easy, was their sex life. Which surprised the hell out of him, because in Ray’s experience, marriage or casual dating, the physical stuff had always been the easy part; it was the emotional stuff that tripped him up. And honestly, it wasn’t like Ray thought that sex was the most important thing in a relationship or anything like that. It was just, if they weren’t clicking in bed, weren’t in tune with each other, what did that say about the rest of the relationship?
It wasn’t Fraser’s fault. Fraser didn’t have a lot of experience. In fact, although Fraser hadn’t quite come out and said it, Ray had the impression that Fraser might not ever have seriously dated someone before. And given the not-so-much-dating thing, it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t have much sexual experience: Fraser wasn’t exactly your one-night-stand kind of guy.
Not that Fraser was a lousy lay. For one thing, as Ray knew from his high-school days with Stella, love could make up for a whole hell of a lot of lack of expertise. For another thing, Fraser was good at just about anything he tried and a damn fast learner. It didn’t take him long to figure out a bunch of Ray’s buttons, especially since Ray wasn’t trying to be mysterious about it or anything. Besides, just seeing Fraser smile at him, just the fact of being allowed to touch him, little stuff like that was enough to practically drive Ray crazy, no special tricks required.
The problem was, Ray couldn’t figure out how to drive Fraser crazy, no matter how hard he tried. And he tried damn hard. He’d never imagined that he was god’s gift to women—or men, for that matter—but unlike Fraser, Ray did have years of sexual experience. Not as much with guys as with chicks, sure, but enough to know what he was doing. So he was pretty sure he knew how to show someone a pretty good time in bed. No one had ever complained, anyway. Not even Stella during the worst parts of their pre-divorce.
And Fraser did seem to have a good time when he was in bed with Ray (or on the couch, or in the shower, or that one time on the kitchen floor, or the two and a half times in the car). He always seemed to be in the mood when Ray put the moves on him; plus, Fraser wasn’t exactly shy about starting the making out himself. It didn’t take much necking to get him hard. And it wasn’t like Ray had trouble making him come: he didn’t have a hair trigger, but he never got stuck chasing after it, either. Afterward, he would cuddle up to Ray, all warm and relaxed and happy in the afterglow. Which was all very nice, and the afterglow part was way more than nice. It reminded Ray of the early days of his marriage (which was another of those maybe-pathetic things he didn’t necessarily need to share).
But still. Fraser, a guy who got a kick out of being able to identify gravel, acted like sex with Ray was like some kind of pleasant pastime. He obviously enjoyed it, but he wasn’t over the moon about it. Ray, on the other hand. . .That first time, Fraser made Ray come so hard he shook for a long time after, and it was the same most of the other times, too. As far as Ray was concerned, Fraser fucking hung the moon.
Ray wanted to make Fraser feel just as good as Fraser made him feel, but no matter what he did, there was still that something missing. For a while, he held out hope that maybe it was the condoms that were keeping Fraser from really getting into it. But after they’d jumped through all the proper preparation hoops, got tested and given the go-ahead to take off the Trojans, it didn’t seem to make a difference to Fraser. So Ray was clean out of ideas. It was crazy-making all over again, only unlike the arguments they used to have on the job, Ray was pretty sure the sex thing really was something that he wasn’t doing or wasn’t doing right or. . .Well, Ray wasn’t sure at all, and that made him nervous. And Ray wasn’t any good with relationship-talk, but he wasn’t any good at just letting things lay, either.
So one night, after giving Fraser the kind of slow, teasing ravishment that never failed to reduce Stella to a quivering puddle, but which affected Fraser more like a hot bath after a day of moving furniture, Ray figured it was time to bite the bullet.
He was spooned up behind Fraser with one arm draped across his chest, enjoying a few moments of quiet. After a little while (feeling like he was back in high school, and not the good parts of high school), he worked up the nerve to ask, “Was that okay? I mean, did you. . .have a good time?”
Fraser reached up to grasp Ray’s hand gently.
“Of course,” he murmured. “Always,” he added, squeezing Ray’s hand.
“’Cause it’s okay to say if you don’t like something, you know. I mean, I’m trying to pay attention and stuff, but I’m not a mind-reader, so. . .well, I just mean, if there’s anything. . .”
Fraser rolled over carefully to look at Ray kind of shyly.
“I like everything we’ve done.” He hesitated. “Everything you’ve done to me,” he added hopefully.
Ray lifted up on one elbow to peer down at Fraser’s face. That was one of those sentences that pretty clearly had a silent but on the end of it. He worried his lower lip, considering.
“But there’s. . .something I’m not doing? That you’d like me to do?”
Fraser looked away, his free hand plucking at the sheet.
“There are some things that I like. . .that I want. . .that are a bit, well, esoteric is perhaps the best word.”
Ray blinked. If Fraser thought something was esoteric, it had to be pretty bizarre. Although, on the other hand, since Fraser basically grew up under a rock, maybe he just thought it was out there.
“Like what?” Ray asked, trying to sound cheerfully casual as he stroked Fraser’s shoulder soothingly.
“I might like it if. . .” Fraser bit his lip, his eyes still averted.
“If. . .?”
“Well, I think we both know that you’re the more experienced of the two of us,” Fraser said in a rush, speeding up even more as he concluded, “But you don’t have to treat me like a blushing virgin.”
“I—what do you mean?” Ray asked, frowning. “You think I been. . .what, talking down to you or something?”
“No,” Fraser said quickly, peeking at Ray before looking away again. “Not condescending, just. . .well, I’m not made of glass.”
“No shit,” Ray responded without thinking. “You’re the unbreakable Mountie, I think we’re all clear on that by now.” He frowned again, thinking over what Fraser had said. “I’m not trying to baby you or nothing,” he said, slowly. “I just want to. . .be good to you. Make it good for you.”
“What if ‘good for me’ is a bit less. . .tender?” Fraser asked tentatively.
“Oh. You like it rough and wild, that what you’re saying?” That was kind of a turn-on of an idea. Especially because Fraser was so tough that Ray was pretty sure there was no way he could hurt Fraser by accident, even if things got a little out of control. . .
“Rough, yes. As for ‘wild,’ well, if that’s your pleasure, then it would be mine as well,” Fraser told Ray, his voice almost formal.
“I. . .” Ray frowned. “I thought we were talking about your pleasure, here.”
“What if your pleasure is my pleasure?” Fraser asked quietly.
“Well. . .” Ray noticed he was jiggling one foot nervously and made himself stop. “That’s kind of the way it’s supposed to work, right? Half the fun is seeing the other person having fun. But I don’t think that’s what you’re talking about, is it?”
“No.” Fraser was nearly whispering now. “I. . .want you to take what you want from me.”
“But I—” Ray shut his mouth on the protest. He’d asked what Fraser wanted and Fraser was telling him. And if what he really wanted was. . .Well, it would at least explain why all Ray’s efforts to give Fraser everything he could think of hadn’t been getting him anywhere.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Let me get this straight, all right? What would make you happy—really light your rocket—is for me to push you around and, and do whatever I want to you?”
“Yes,” Fraser said on a sigh. “I’m a sexual submissive,” he added. Ray winced. Fraser hadn’t figured out that technical terminology was almost never the way to make something sound sexy and fun. And there was something about Fraser hanging a label on himself like that, like it was a diagnosis or something, that made Ray’s gut squirm. But right now, the important thing was to make sure Fraser didn’t feel like Ray was labeling him or judging him for wanting. . .what he wanted.
“Okay,” he said firmly, putting his hand back on Fraser’s shoulder. “Okay, I think I got it.” He rolled Fraser over onto his back, then swung a leg over to sit straddling Fraser’s hips, looking down at his face. Fraser looked back up at him.
“Really?” Fraser asked.
“I’m not stupid,” Ray snapped, more sharply than he meant to. “I can understand stuff when you spell it out for me.”
“Yes, Ray,” Fraser murmured softly. Agreeably.
That startled Ray—shocked him, even, like he’d leaned against a brick wall and it had collapsed under his hand. But he could roll with this; he knew what the game was, now, and if he maybe wasn’t sure about all the rules, well, he’d damn well figure them out as he went along. He reached down, took Fraser’s chin in his hand, and tilted Fraser’s face so they were looking right at each other.
Fraser met Ray’s eyes, like he was obeying an implicit command.
Ray stared down at him. Take what you want. What Ray wanted was some lazy post-sex snuggling, or at least, that was what he’d wanted ten minutes ago. Now. . .now he had Fraser at his mercy, or pretending to be, and that was something pretty fucking rare, worth taking advantage of—and Fraser wanted him to take advantage. But all he could think of was the way they’d both reached for each other that first time, perfectly in tune for once, how good he’d felt wrapped in Fraser’s arms, the promise of that first kiss. . .
Well, that was something he could do, anyway. He leaned down and kissed Fraser, gently at first, but then he remembered—rough and wild—and pressed his mouth down hard, forcing his tongue between Fraser’s lips, which parted to welcome Ray’s kiss passively, letting him in but not kissing him back. Fraser moaned deep in his throat, the sound choked off almost before it escaped.
That sound sent a little thrill of anticipation through Ray. He thrust his tongue into Fraser’s mouth again. He gave Fraser’s chin a little shake as he pushed their mouths together, wishing Fraser would damn well give him something back. Instead, Fraser melted under him, still passive and motionless. Except for the erection pressing against Ray’s thigh. Ray didn’t have Fraser’s lightning refractory period and anyway, his body wasn’t sure whether this was hot or creepy. But he pressed his hips down against Fraser’s, rubbing Fraser’s cock between them.
“Ray,” Fraser sighed. Ray dipped down to run his tongue lightly over Fraser’s lips before giving him a soft kiss.
“Ray,” Fraser said again.
Rocking his hips against Fraser’s, Ray started kissing his way down Fraser’s throat, lingering above his collarbone. Fraser groaned, but Ray couldn’t tell if it was desire or frustration or a weird combination of the two.
“Ray,” he said a third time.
Fuck. Ray jerked his head up, remembering that he had a mission, here. Shifting his weight to one hand, he shoved the other into Fraser’s hair and gripped it firmly.
“You want something?” he murmured, calling up his street voice, the one he used to intimidate minor thugs. “You telling me what to do, here?”
Fraser’s hips bucked against Ray’s, and woah, okay, this really was the way to get him hot in a hurry.
“No, Ray,” he said submissively.
“Good,” Ray hissed, grinding down harshly. “Long as we got that straight.”
“Yes, Ray,” Fraser said, shuddering under him. There it was again: that dreamily submissive tone that was freakily unlike any way Ray was used to anyone, especially Fraser, saying his name, ever.
Ray shuddered himself, but not in the good, sexy kind of way. It was just a game, he reminded himself, and it was obviously doing good things for Fraser, so there was no reason to feel creeped out. He tightened his grip on Fraser’s hair, watching for his reaction, and Fraser smiled up at him, breathing hard through parted lips, his pupils big in his wide-open eyes.
Ray made a sharp little involuntary noise in his throat at the sight of him. He started to move in to kiss Fraser, but no, Fraser didn’t want tender, Fraser didn’t want sweet, Fraser wanted Ray to take, not give. . .He pulled away, sitting back on his heels.
“Kiss me,” he said, putting as much command into his voice as he could.
Fraser pushed himself up, lowering his eyes and tilting his face upward to brush his lips against Ray’s.
Ray forced himself not to lean into the kiss.
“That the best you can do?” he asked. Jesus, Stella would have slapped his face by now; he would have slapped his own face by now. Fraser just brought his mouth back to Ray’s.
“I’m sorry, Ray,” he said softly and, Jesus, sincerely. Then he licked at Ray’s lips, and no, that was just wrong, that was fucking creepy, Fraser wasn’t some kind of beaten-down toy Ray had bought for the night, and Ray wasn’t—He pushed Fraser away with both hands; scrambled back and off to one side, landing on his ass on the bed.
“No, Ben, quit it, I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” He rubbed his hands over his face.
Fraser sat up, spine suddenly rigid.
“Of course, Ray,” he said, but his voice had gone from subservient to cautious, bordering on defensive.
“I don’t—it ain’t your fault, I just—I’m sorry.” Ray drew up his knees and wrapped his arms around them, wishing he could sink through the floor or at least had some clothes on or something.
“It’s not for everyone,” Fraser said stiffly. “I’d hoped. . .but I should’ve known you better than that.”
Ray flinched, unable to look at him. There wasn’t much he could say to that. He’d never imagined he was in Fraser’s league, not really, but he’d hoped—he’d really thought he could swing it, because for whatever reason, Fraser loved him and wanted him. . .But no, he’d fucked up. Really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it still hurt to know that Fraser pretty much expected him to be a fuck-up, like everyone else.
“Sorry,” he mumbled again.
“The fault is entirely mine,” Fraser said, reaching up to tentatively stroke Ray’s shoulder. “It’s not for everyone. You shouldn’t feel obliged to cater to my. . .sexual neuroses.”
Yes, I should, Ray wanted to say, except that wasn’t really right either, and he didn’t want to start an argument about this. He looked up to meet Fraser’s eyes.
Fraser smiled hesitantly at him.
“Really, it’s all right,” Fraser said. “I love you. Everything else is optional.”
Ray uncoiled and scooted over to wrap his arms around Fraser.
“And I love you, buddy,” he sighed. “I just. . .I want to make you happy, you know? You deserve to be happy.”
“I am,” Fraser said, hugging him. “And I want to make you happy, as well.” He winced. “I mean, in the sense you mean, not. . .what I was trying to do before.”
“I know what you mean,” Ray said. He kissed Fraser gently, then let one hand drift down to Fraser’s crotch. “Do you need. . .? I mean, I could. . .if you want. . .”
Fraser shook his head.
“The thrill is gone,” he said. He sounded like he was trying to make a joke out of it, but it wasn’t funny and Ray could tell Fraser didn’t really think so either. “I think. . .could we just sleep?”
“Sleep is good,” Ray agreed. He lowered Fraser down to the bed, then slid himself into place beside him. He hesitated before draping an arm over Fraser like usual, but then went ahead and did it. Fraser immediately leaned into Ray’s arms, shifting around with a contented sigh.
Ray smiled a little as he nestled his face against the back of Fraser’s shoulder. At least this was something he knew how to do right.