Cue
Written for Q, for her prompt RayK - verbal, hyperkinetic, run-at-the-mouth RayK - has nonpainful laryngitis. What might Fraser do to his partner to get him to make noise?
With huge thanks to Brooklinegirl for the speediest beta in existence!
“Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray!”
Predictably, Ray turned around and yelled back, however, quite unlike his usual self, he made very little noise while doing so. In fact, he made no noise at all, apart from the slight wheezing sound that came whistling out of his throat.
Oh, dear.
“Ray?” Fraser met his partner in the middle of the hallway, hands instinctively going to Ray’s throat glands. “Are you ill?”
His hands were batted away as Ray stood back, his attitude in full force, manifest in the crossed arms, tough stance, and furrowed brows. His entire demeanor suggested a very loud and obvious “duh!”
Fraser cleared his throat. “You have lost your voice.”
Ray huffed in answer and rolled his eyes. Bingo, mouthed his lips. Abstractly, Fraser thought about what it was like being Diefenbaker.
“I am sorry to hear that. Have you been to the doctor?”
Ray rolled his eyes heavenward in irritation, which Fraser took to mean “yes, fat a lot of good that did me,” and indicated for Fraser to follow him. He did.
They talked as they walked, even if Fraser did a significantly large portion of the actual talking. However, the walking Ray succeeded at admirably. While Fraser had noticed before how physical and kinetic his partner was, he had never had a chance to fully study him in motion, because Ray’s speaking voice often distracted him from any truly meaningful delving into the character of Ray’s movements. Now, when all he had was Ray’s physicality to help him along, he drank it in.
Ray moved with the strength of a hurricane, never stopping, the starting force of his movement always giving way to another, so that even when he stopped walking, his body continued the motion, now with a turn of his neck, now with a drumming of his fingers on his thigh. That movement, in turn, would transform to another, and soon, they would be walking again, Ray paging through a case file, Fraser attempting to peer over his shoulder.
When the shoulder jerked minutely underneath his chin, Fraser realized he had been standing too close for Ray’s comfort. Immediately, he caught himself and stepped back, not wishing to cause Ray any more discomfort than he was in already. He cleared his throat as he stood a respectful distance apart from Ray.
“Have you had any luck with the witnesses on this case?” he asked, only half-interested in the answer. The rest of his curiosity was taken up by the minute flutter of Ray’s lashes as he roamed his gaze over the pages in front of him and then lifted it to meet Fraser’s own. Ray shook his head and sighed. Fraser must still have been standing a little too close, because Ray’s breath traveled between them and Fraser could nearly taste the bitterness of coffee, overlaid by a throat lozenge. Cherry Ice, he believed the flavor was called. It had a curious kick to its artificial sweetener, something that immediately made itself part of Ray’s innate flavor in his mind.
He had strayed too far in his thoughts. Mind back to the present, he scattered a non-committal “ah” to the air between them, and turned away.
A tug on his sleeve pulled him up short, and when he turned around, Ray was crowding his side. Fraser looked at Ray’s face, so close to his own, he could make out the beginnings of evening stubble, and watched it go through a million different changes, as if the words, unable to make themselves known by way of Ray’s voice, found their definitions written out in invisible ink all across his skin. Fraser read things like, “this sucks” and “I wanna get out of here” and “let’s grab some food, this coffee sucks” and even a few phrases whose definitions he could scarce believe in without the proper evidence to back them up. He let those lie, as he took rein in taking care of the rest.
“Where would you like to eat, Ray?” he asked, and Ray’s surprise and gratitude were as obvious as the quick, one-armed hug Fraser received a second later. Quick, like the first time they met, though with a bit less desperate force, perhaps. The Fraser, buddy! was implied.
They wound up at a diner close to Ray’s apartment. Diefenbaker, mollified by the fact that the shoe was on both feet now, made very little of the fact that Fraser refused to share his coleslaw, and mooched off of Ray’s fries, instead. It was strange that Dief should feel a kinship with Ray in this matter, rather than with Fraser, but it was not surprising. Diefenbaker was known for being rather contrary.
“Did the doctors tell you anything about when your voice would be returning?” Fraser asked, once he had eaten his fill.
A soundless “ha!” escaped Ray’s lips and Fraser hmphed in sympathy. Considering how much Ray talked on an hourly basis, this sort of handicap must have been quite torturous for him.
“I am sorry to hear that, Ray. I’m sure we can...find a way to make this easier on you, while you wait to regain your voice.”
Ray lifted his eyebrows.
“Well, I imagine we can come up with other forms of communication. They may not be as immediate as speech, of course, but it may be helpful to us, as well, in the long run.”
Ray didn’t need words to express his cynicism. He really did have quite a mobile face.
“As partners, that is,” Fraser rushed to clarify. “Say, for instance, we are attempting to apprehend a suspect, but are unable to communicate with each other verbally.” He paused, watching Ray. “Yes, exactly, like on the Henry Allen.”
Ray sat back in a listening position.
“If we learn, now, how to understand one another without speaking, we may become quite a bit more adept at our chosen careers.”
Ray added miming to his repertoire.
“Well, no, not exactly like Batman and Robin… That is… Ah, I see. Thank you.”
Ray gave a graceful gesture.
“You are too kind. So, you see, Ray, we have already begun to understand one another quite well without verbal cues.”
This time, both Ray and Diefenbaker chose to snort their derision.
“While I do not appreciate this chorus of nay-sayers, I take your point. I am still speaking, indeed.”
Fraser concentrated on reading every gesture verbalized by Ray’s elegant fingers.
“You wish me to not speak for the rest of the day, as well?” That should make for some interesting conversation, he thought, even as he said, “I am not certain that is such a wise course of action, Ray. I am not sure we –”
Ray held up his hand in a universal “stop” gesture, and Fraser broke off momentarily.
“You wish me t-mmmph!” This time, Ray had not stopped at holding up his hand, but had leaned across the table to break off Fraser’s speech physically. Ray’s skin smelled strongly of salt and grease. It was warm, callused at the tips of his fingers. Fraser felt every one as they curled firmly over his cheek.
He had no other recourse but to nod his agreement, if only to rein himself in back under control. Ray’s physicality could be a powerful thing, if left entirely unchecked.
Seemingly satisfied, Ray let him go and sank back in the booth. Fraser took that moment to take calm and steadying breaths.
So. No talking. He thought that perhaps he had agreed in part to show Ray that this was a bad idea. He wondered how much silence Ray could truly take. Perhaps, proving Ray wrong would be just the thing for him to take the edge off his nearly-constant state of arousal he had been in since encountering Ray that day.
It took a little longer for them to settle the check, Fraser’s ability to do long division in his mind hampered by Ray’s refusal to use even writing implements. Finally, they came up with a solution that worked for them both (“You owe me,” Ray had mouthed, dropping a few bills on the table), and they were on their way.
Fraser had thought that the easiest solution to their problem would be to part ways, perhaps, but Ray had other ideas. He drove them the rest of the distance to his apartment building, not wishing to leave his car too near the diner, and, with a gallant gesture, invited both Fraser and Diefenbaker up for some tea.
Fraser was impressed both with the fact that Ray had actually acquired some tea, and the fact that he had mimed it so successfully – if with a certain measure of unnecessary editorializing. Fraser had accepted with a small smile, and Dief merely wagged his tail at the lack of any sweets on the table. He retreated quite quickly to the kitchen corner, where his snores let them both know his exact thoughts on the silent treatment.
Which only left Fraser and Ray, silent and quite stubborn with it.
Ray was on edge. It was easier to tell now, when he was entirely silent, and Fraser, true to his promise of learning his partner’s cues better for the future, attempted to parse out the true reasons for the twitchiness.
Was Ray agitated because he lacked his voice? Because, now that silence reigned supreme, he could not handle it, and could not let Fraser know this, for fear of a reproving lecture? It was difficult to tell. The one time Fraser accidentally spoke in the car had been enough to tell him not to make the same mistake twice. Ray had, it would seem, taken the entire thing quite to heart, so that the second time Fraser ended up breathing in Ray’s skin over his mouth, he knew that it was more than a bet that he had riding on remaining silent.
He extended his hand towards the TV and queried with his face. Ray nodded, reaching for a remote control.
They watched a cougar special on Animal Planet for a full eight and a half minutes before Fraser felt it – the change in atmosphere. It was as if it had become charged, too many ions swarming all at once, or perhaps he had finally gone the way of his uncle Tiberius, but when Fraser slowly turned his head to face Ray, he saw Ray watching him back. It was a split second, nearly non-existent, evaporated, in which Ray looked at him unguarded, but in that one minute, Fraser learned more about him than he had in the past year.
His first instinct was to call out Ray’s name, but the expression on Ray’s face checked him. Fraser remained silent as he schooled his features to something resembling “are you all right?” and scooted a little closer to Ray across the couch cushions.
Ray winced – perhaps, he hadn’t wanted sympathy, or perhaps, Fraser had misinterpreted his look altogether – and looked away, watching the TV with a glassy gaze, unseeing.
Fraser, recklessly unheeding of the cues Ray was giving off with his entire body (shuttered off, untouchable, frightened), slid even closer to him and, in a move that surely spoke of his foolishness, let his hand rest lightly on Ray’s shoulder. He squeezed, before Ray’s shoulder slipped out of his grasp. For a moment, he thought he had been proven right – he had gone too far, yet again, said too much – but then he saw that Ray had simply turned towards him with his entire body. Fraser grasped the back cushion of the couch and held it in a tight grip.
Ray’s first move was quite simple. He lifted his hand and slowly, carefully, covered Fraser’s lips with a single finger. His gaze was intense – almost frightening in its scrutiny – and its meaning was quite clear.
Fraser nodded.
Seemingly satisfied, Ray slowly slid his finger down, until just the tip of it rested between Fraser’s lips. This was no ordinary silencing gesture. Fraser’s breath caught in his throat and then escaped through his lips – he must have parted them in the second he had forgotten how to breathe. Ray’s finger rested against his open mouth now, and if Fraser had been expecting Ray’s next move to be of an entirely different nature, he was being proven wrong yet again.
Because while his mind frantically sought out such pacifying complacencies as “surely he cannot mean that” and “just good friends,” his body reacted on a level wholly different from those trains of thought. His skin was charged, prickling, and he was flushed – like a fever, only buzzing, less ache and so much more want.
He wanted, wanted with his entire body, and all Ray had done was place a single finger between his lips.
And now, now Fraser watched Ray’s face, waiting for cues, as that finger slid higher and – inside – and Ray’s finger was seeking out his tongue, and Fraser’s lips closed of their own accord, his tongue meeting the alien feel of Ray’s skin, sucking. His eyes fluttered closed, and he was blind and deaf and mute.
No other sense existed but touch and smell, the feel of Ray inside his mouth and all around him. Fraser hadn’t heard Ray move closer, but then he felt the heat of him all down his front, and then Ray’s other hand surrounded Fraser’s hips, bringing their thighs closer, and they were touching. They were so close, it made Fraser’s earlier impulse seem like an impersonal handshake.
Ray slipped his finger out of Fraser’s mouth, and Fraser was forced to open his eyes in order to plead with Ray to give him back that taste. He didn’t need to, because Ray was already bringing them closer together, and their mouths touched.
Ray’s mouth was hot, the taste of fries and diner coffee still clinging to its depths. Fraser studied them, learned them by taste and feel and smell. Ray kissed as eloquently as he moved, channeling all of his unburnt energy into pinning Fraser in place with his frenetic kisses. Fraser found himself lost, lost inside Ray’s mouth, lost in the touch of Ray’s slender hands against the skin of Fraser’s neck and face.
Their tongues touched, undid the final shards of Fraser’s self-control. He took charge, then, and slid his hands into Ray’s hair, shaping it to fit the crevices between his fingers, making Ray still and kiss him, for as long as he wanted it.
And he wanted it for as long as he could get it. He wanted to kiss Ray well into the morning, to find a new way to kiss him with the strike of each new hour. He could already envision the difference between the two a.m. kisses and the kind of kisses he would take from Ray at four in the morning, with the beginnings of a new sun sliding across the window pane, and Ray’s bare body flushed against his own.
Four in the morning signaled the desire for more than kissing, and Fraser set about manifesting his fantasy into reality, stripping Ray as he continued to kiss his mouth, not wishing to let go yet, because he hadn’t had his fill.
Ray allowed his shirt to be lifted, struggled out of it as best he could with Fraser insisting on not letting go of his lips, and then he paid Fraser back by nearly ripping his tunic – Sam Browne, lanyard, epaulets and all – to shreds. Fraser checked himself, realized that reality meant obeying its rules. Letting Ray’s lips free, he quickly divested himself of his uniform, allowing himself the freedom to leave it all behind on Ray’s couch, as they began to move towards Ray’s bedroom.
Once there, they stripped out of their remaining clothing, hands seeking and finding new places to study and learn. Ray’s belly fit the curve of Fraser’s palm like it was born to it, and Fraser practiced making the skin on Ray’s chest flush with goose bumps by his mouth for as long as Ray allowed him. When it got to be too much, Ray pulled him up and they kissed, pinning one another in turn to Ray’s messy sheets, losing and finding each other in the folds.
When Fraser slid down and lifted Ray’s legs, Ray found Fraser’s hair and squeezed a handful, only a temporary pain made all the more gratifying by the gasp that Ray allowed Fraser to hear at the first flutter of Fraser’s tongue against Ray’s opening.
Ray’s hand squeezed harder and then let go, switching to wrenching the sheets off the bed, instead. Fraser barely noticed as he used the flat of his tongue to tear more gasps from Ray’s throat. Ray shook above him, and his lean thighs tightened under Fraser’s touch. Fraser allowed himself to lose his sight once more, and concentrated on driving Ray out of his mind. He slid his tongue all around before slipping it inside and learning the taste and smell of Ray. He fluttered his tongue against the most sensitive parts of Ray’s skin, breathed deeply, and lost all sense of time. Ray moved against him, never once stopping, as always, letting the force of his mind drive his limbs, and for a while they were like a wave, a single fluid motion repeated in a set of bodies – cause and effect caught in the same moment.
Fraser allowed Ray a respite only when they had slid so far up the bed, Ray’s head appeared to be at an awkward angle, and he looked on the verge of climbing the wall behind him. Fraser slid his tongue up Ray’s thigh, then into the bend of leg and torso, where his hipbone was most prominent. He tugged Ray down once more, down to where they were both comfortable and slipped his lips around the flush of Ray’s erection. Thick and smooth and the taste of Ray exploded around his tongue. Fraser allowed himself only a moment’s rest before taking Ray in deep, and deeper still, clutching at his hips as he worked his length. He closed his eyes and his imagination supplied the kinds of noises that Ray might have made, had he been in possession of his voice. As it was, Ray found a way to communicate, even with sound. He hands were scrambling at Fraser’s shoulder, squeezing the overheated skin, and his head thumped once more against the wall, as if the release of that sound made it easier to bear the pleasure.
When Ray finally came, Fraser swallowed as much as he could, licking up the rest, as he pumped Ray with his hand. Ray’s hair was damp and messy, dark at the roots, and when Fraser finally allowed himself to look into Ray’s eyes, for the first time that day, he felt truly overwhelmed.
Later, when Ray pulled him up with shocking strength and flipped him over, he allowed himself to submit to Ray’s plan once and for all. He did not speak a single word as Ray worked him open, slicked himself up, and slid inside him. The only sounds he made as Ray wrenched an orgasm out of Fraser’s body with the force of his own, were nearly soundless gasps, his fingers intertwined with Ray’s on the sheets.
Ray’s voice did not return in the morning. He did, however, allow Fraser the use of his. And while it made certain aspects of the day easier to contend with, Fraser found that he had been right. They had found several successful ways of non-verbal communication, and, when not dealing with anybody outside their two (and a half) man team, Ray learned that silence was not as hard on him as he had originally experienced.
In time, he voice would return, and they would both feel relief at the normalcy of it. But, for now, while Fraser kissed Ray’s silent mouth at one twenty-three in the morning, Ray’s hands spoke quite well for them both.