After You
by lamardeuse
Rated: NC-17 for language and adult content.due South Flashfiction challenge: courtesy
It took a while for Ray to notice the pattern.
Being that Ray Kowalski was a highly trained and experienced police officer, it was perhaps odd that he didn't pick up on said pattern sooner. However, in his defense, it might be mentioned that when Benton Fraser was naked, in your bed, and fucking you through the mattress until you screamed like a girl, looking for patterns was about the furthest thing from your mind.
Nevertheless.
One morning he woke with a start, before the alarm went off--he was doing that a lot lately, despite the habitual lack of sleep, because just getting to look at Fraser in his bed was great, greatness--and suddenly he saw the pattern staring him in the face. They'd been doing the nasty for what, about six weeks, six and a half, and no matter what they did or how they did it, Ray always came first. But hey, don't get the wrong idea here, it wasn't because Ray was quick on the trigger or anything, because he wasn't. In spite of Fraser's, ah, talents and obvious charms, Ray had on many occasions held himself back until he pretty much shook the walls down when he finally let go.
No, he realized, it was because Fraser always saw to Ray's pleasure first. He was sure of it. And he supposed it was damned selfish of him not to have noticed it before now, but the thing was, when Fraser put his fingers, lips, tongue and teeth all over him, it was all he could do to remember his own name. And since both of them seemed to enjoy themselves, Ray frankly hadn't given any thought to the timing of the various enjoyments.
The only question left was why? Why did Fraser insist on Ray's being first to the finish line? Was it a bizarre race he hadn't even known they were running, where the guy to win first was really the loser? Ray had to admit that didn't exactly sound right, but then again, it did. Fraser could be pretty alpha male, in a passive-aggressive kind of way.
More likely it was some kind of freaky Canadian courtesy thing, like the way Fraser was always letting everybody else go first. Maybe the elevator and door thing extended to the bedroom; hell, maybe it was laid out somewhere in the RCMP Manual. When a Citizen of Canada is engaged in the fucking of a person from another country, said Citizen shall take pains to ensure that the Party of the Second Part comes his brains out in a timely fashion.
And maybe he was just making all of this up. Maybe he had to give in to the simple truth that Benton Fraser, Supermountie, had more staying power than a divorced, hyperactive Chicago cop who at one time or other had abused his po' ol' body in about every way you could name.
No. Naw. Uh-unh. Forget it.
Had to be another explanation.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Fraser. Frase."
"Hey, hold up."
"Yo, Frase."
"Wait, what are you--"
"Jesus God, oh fuck, oh--"
"FRASER!"
Next time. Next time he'd have it cased.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Two weeks later, Ray was still going off like the Fourth of July, with Fraser following along behind--pun intended--every time. Every goddamned time.
It was starting to piss him off.
"Fraser!" Ray fought down the urge to smack the man upside the head. Fraser in Normal Mode was aware of every last blade of grass bending under his boots, but once you got him horny, he was oblivious to everything but the patient, single-minded worship of Ray's body.
Should he really be complaining about this?
"Yes, Ray?" Fraser said, a little edge in his voice. His mouth had had to leave off playing with one of Ray's nipples, so it was understandable.
"Look, listen, look, we need to talk." Fraser stiffened, and Ray silently cursed himself. He'd already clued in to the fact Fraser enjoyed talking about relationships about as much as Ray liked having his dick slammed in the door of the Goat. The only solution would be for Ray to do most of the talking.
"I just--ah, I just wanted to make a request, okay? Normally, I wouldn't want to interrupt the proceedings, only when you get going I tend to have a little trouble concentrating. Anyway." He took a deep breath, let it out. Don't lose the momentum now-- "Look, I don't want to make this sound like I don't appreciate it, because I do--but the thing is--"
Ray trailed off, completely at a loss for what to say next. Now that it came down to it, the request seemed goofier than one of Frannie's canary-yellow shirts.
"Yes, Ray?"
Ray scrubbed his face with one hand. "Uh, never mind. This is dumb. I'm dumb. Forget it, okay?"
Now Fraser was looking worried, and Ray wished he'd never opened his mouth. "Am I doing something wrong?"
Ray swore aloud now. "Jesus, no, look, it's not like--"
"Because I know I'm inexperienced compared to you, and I--I want you to feel free to critique any aspect of my--performance which you feel needs improvement."
"Critique? What the--"
"Anything at all, Ray. I won't be offended in the least--"
"Fraser, please shut the hell up!" Fraser's eyes widened from shock, but thankfully he shut. Ray took a deep breath.
"Is that what this is about?" he asked finally. "You been nervous you weren't 'performing'?"
"I wouldn't say nervous, exactly," Fraser said ruefully, scratching at an eyebrow. "More like terrified."
And wasn't that the funniest and the saddest thing Ray'd ever heard, all tied up in one neat package. Benton Fraser, Supermountie, who wasn't scared of burning buildings or jerkoffs with guns or international terrorists, was scared of whether or not he was giving an A-1 blow job.
Because deep down, he was scared that if he wasn't up to scratch, Ray would leave.
Oh yeah. Ray understood that. He understood that in spades.
"Hey," he said softly, sitting up and taking one of Fraser's hands between his own. "Did you maybe happen to notice the large amount of moaning and screaming and coming I've been doing in your presence lately?"
One corner of Fraser's mouth tugged upward slightly. "Yes, I believe I have."
Ray grinned. "Well, those would all be what I call Very Good Signs that Ray is Having a Fucking Great Time."
The other corner of Fraser's mouth joined in. "Understood."
"Good. Now I want you to do something for me." Leaning in, Ray gave him a soft kiss that started out slow and ended with Fraser panting against his lips.
"I want you to quit worrying," Ray whispered, "and let me take care of you the way you deserve."
When Ray drew back, Fraser's eyes were startled and hot and grateful all at once. Fraser nodded then, and Ray felt like he'd been given his Christmas present four months early.
And without further ado, he got right down to the task of after-youing Fraser until he screamed like a girl.
End
July 2003
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