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*****

Two *weeks* I have been gone. Two whole goddamn weeks. And believe me, that may not sound like a long time, but it is. Before I left I asked Fraser how many minutes that was, and he started to tell me -- it was in the thousands, I know that -- but then he got this look on his face and shook his head and just said, "Too many, Ray."

Which I already knew that, but it was nice to hear anyway, you know?

So me, and Chicago, two long weeks. I feel kinda bad, because I was mostly an asshole there the whole time, but it's cool, I think most of them got it. And it was good to be back, see everybody again, but it's even better now that everything's all settled up and taken care of and I'm back here, back home for good.

Home. It's weird, that. You can't have a home all by yourself, so even with the turtle, the apartment wasn't ever that. It was just the place where I lived. But this, this is home now. Mine and Fraser's. Mom and Dad and the house me and my brother grew up in, me and Stella's apartments getting nicer and nicer -- I never would've thought I was going to end up shacking up with a Mountie in the middle of Nowhere, Canada. It sounds like the punchline to something, but I'm laughing all the way to the bank, buddy.

Fraser kisses me in the middle of our bedroom. It's the real gentle, soft sort, his mouth saying "Hey there, you" to mine. Which I can get into, totally. I've just spent more time in airplanes and airports and cars than anybody should even have to think about, and I haven't slept or showered in way too long, but this is all kinds of good, so we kiss like that for a long time.

After a while Fraser's hands make their way down to my ass, and I got my own wrapped around him pretty tight as we rub against each other, and it's not just our mouths greeting each other anymore. He stops kissing me and moves his mouth over to my ear and bites the earlobe, holding it between his teeth for a second and then licking there again.

I shudder and pull away from him. His eyes are all dark as I pull my shirt over my head and throw it to the floor. He just looks at me, drinking in the view or something, so I give him a look and raise my eyebrow till he smiles to himself and starts stripping, too.

It's stupid, but once I get out of my underwear, there's this second when I just want to cover up my hip, keep it away from him.

Like he's going to *miss* it or something. I may as well get it out of the way now.

He's sitting naked on the edge of the bed, waiting for me, and when I turn to him his eyes flicker up and down, real fast, and then they stop right there, at the edge of my right hip. His eyes get real big and clear and he says "Ray?" in this queer kind of voice.

"You like it?" I ask, trying to make my voice seem real casual, like it's nothing. Not a big deal or anything.

He reaches out one hand, the fingers fanning out, but he stops an inch before he hits my skin. "Does it hurt?"

"Nah, not anymore." It's had time to heal up. I got it done the day after I got into Chicago.

He goes ahead and reaches out and touches it then, tracing the outline of the wolf there with his fingertips. We're both naked and it's the only place we're touching and it feels good, feels intimate in this way I can't really make sense of.

Then Fraser covers the tattoo up with his palm, curls his hand around my hip and looks up at me and says, "Is this for us?"

And yeah, Fraser knows that story, 'cause Fraser knows all my stories. Fraser knows about me saving up all that money, a couple hundred for the tiny little ring, and then after Stella said yes to the first, the other couple hundred for the ink. Stella didn't get it -- she thought it was hot, but really stupid. Which says a lot of things about us, actually, but that's not the point. Because the point is stupid drunken twenty-year-old me and *yes* and *forever* and *real* and all that stuff I was trying to say.

But Fraser doesn't just know all my stories -- he knows me, too. He gets it.

To Fraser's question, I say, "What do you *think*?"

Fraser smiles again and leans forward to kiss my belly.

I curl both my hands real gently into his hair, and Fraser puts his other hand on the opposite hip, holding me still while he sucks these kisses all the way from one of his hands to the other. Usually Fraser likes to go slow, draw it out a long time, explore and enjoy and all that, but tonight he's moving quick, sort of eager and urgent.

It's making me even harder, watching him get into it, so when he turns his head down and licks the head of my cock, it's not a moment too soon.

I'm trying to breathe as he licks around, over and over, but it's coming out kind of shallow and gaspy. He takes one hand away from me -- not the tattoo one -- and wraps it around the base of my cock, holding it out as he goes down.

I'm sinking into his mouth and suddenly I say stupidly, "Missed you, Fraser." I don't know whether the movement from his throat is a laugh or an agreement or maybe something else altogether, but it feels good either way.

He got his hair cut while I was gone -- it's shorter now, against his skull, soft prickly little hairs rubbing against my hands. His eyes are closed, too, which is good, because this way I can watch him without him glancing up and noticing. Which is something I always like. I always have, mostly, even back at the beginning. It's not something I get to do too often, but that just makes it better.

Fraser always looks really serious when he's sucking cock. Like he's concentrating really hard. Like it's this tricky problem that needs his full attention. I mean, I like sucking Fraser, too, but I'm not sure I ever get that intense about it, if you know what I mean.

It gets to me every time, it's so damn hot, the way he does this. I almost feel like a stupid kid again, but jesus -- *Fraser gets off on sucking my cock*. That is not something anyone else can say. That is something that is *mine*.

Fraser moves his mouth off the end of my cock, licks around the head again while his hand jerks me off. He takes a deep breath, and then the hand is gone and Fraser's mouth is back, taking me in deep deep deep.

"Oh god," I say, curling forward over Fraser. His hand comes down to play with my balls. "That's good, that's perfect, just like that, come on, do me--"

I have this tendency to babble sometimes.

"Missed you so fucking much, nothing else--" I'm saying when Fraser clutches hard on my hip and then just swallows again and I'm gone.

After, Fraser pulls me down onto the bed with him, scooting us around till he's satisfied. We're on our sides, pressed against each other all the way down, and Fraser holds me tight and kisses me hard like I'm going to try to get away. His cock's hard and wet, and it jerks against me in these rough little thrusts when he moves.

I pull away from the kiss to try and get a breath, and Fraser's head follows mine for an inch. "What do you want?" I mutter, and Fraser groans and shifts a little, curling his upper leg over mine. He reaches down to grab my hand, brings it up to his face and holds my fingers there in his mouth.

"Fraser--" I say, real low, and Fraser pulls my fingers out and tugs my hand back around him to the crease of his ass.

Back in Chicago, when we were partners, I used to jack off thinking about Fraser's ass. Thinking about Fraser. Not all the time, but enough.

I've been in love twice, and both times I fell so hard it hurt. I'ts like wanting somebody is supposed to feel the same as ramming your head against a wall. Which maybe it's not -- maybe I'm an idiot for it -- but I don't mind. I think I've gotten lucky.

I press the first finger in real soft, trying to let him get used to it, but Fraser just makes this noise in his throat and throws his head back.

"More, Ray."

Two fingers, slow and easy to start with. Except Fraser doesn't want it slow and gentle, and he pushes back against my hand, trying to get me to slip in further.

Fraser's breathing heavy and biting his lip. I twist the fingers around, looking for that spot to stroke. When I find it, he makes that groan again and wraps his legs tighter around mine.

I press against the spot with my fingertips again and say "Love you" so quiet even I can barely hear it.

And then Fraser goes a little crazy, going for it all the way, thrusting forward against me with his cock, then back to fuck himself on my fingers.

Two weeks without this -- and that does not sound like a long time, not at all, but if we've gotten a little spoiled, I don't mind. I think maybe we deserve it.

"Oh, *Ray*," Fraser says, and then I lean in to kiss him before he jerks one more time and comes between us.

I pull my fingers out slowly, and Fraser moves away a little to fall onto his back. He's splattered with spunk and I rub it there into his belly while he takes these deep breaths.

"So, uh, you dig the new tat?" I say after a minute.

"Very much so," Fraser says, and I grin.

Home is good. Home is awesome. Maybe even permanent, because the thing is, Fraser's etched in here as much as anything you can see on my skin. Some marks don't go away.

Mood accomplished
Music Iron & Wine - Teeth in the Grass

Flat. Top-Level Comments Only

Posted by

beledibabe.livejournal.com

Oh. ::whimper::

Mmmmmmm, tasty.

::contemplating Fraser's ass::

::thud::

::contemplating Ray's new tat::

Guh.

::thud::

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