Written for Anna.
Fraser was clearly not doing well. Ray could tell, because he kept twitching and tugging at his collar. Ray couldn't really blame him - it was hot as hell at the station, even though it was February. Somebody must have cranked the heat up accidentally, but apparently, that somebody had no clue as to how to set it back, because for three hours now the station had been sweltering. It was never even this bad in the summer - hell, in the summer, there was the A/C, at least, or some fans, if the A/C got busted. (Which it often did.) But, this? This was killer.
Ray leaned forward from his chair and tugged at the back of his t-shirt, which had been sticking to his skin for a good five minutes now. He'd taken off his sweater two hours and fifty minutes ago, and was now wishing he could take the t-shirt off, too, but no can do, as it was kind of against the law, and inconveniently for him, he was a cop. He'd have liked to get out of there, but Welsh practically nailed his ass to the chair and forced him to write up reports for the last two weeks. Fraser was there to help, but he wasn't being a huge help at the moment, because Ray'd been asking him the same question for the past two minutes with no success at all.
"Yo. Fraser." Ray dropped his pencil and stared at Fraser across the table. Fraser was looking kind of glazed over, and it took him a while to notice Ray's hand waving in front of his face. "Fraser, the flower shop? Why were we at the flower shop?"
"Uh --" He passed a hand over the back of his neck, and Ray saw that it came away shiny. Oh, man, Fraser was sweating buckets in that uniform. He watched as Fraser looked at his own hand, wiped it on his right sleeve, and looked back at Ray. "We were there because the suspect's aunt owned it, and she was the likeliest person to harbor him that day, as his girlfriend was out of town, and his boss was waiting for fire him."
"Right. All right. Just, uh... just checkin'." Ray scribbled down more notes, trying to concentrate over the haze of the station. Huey was splashing his face with water from a plastic cup, and Dewey had about ten feet of free space all around him. Apparently, heat intensified the fish smells. It was rank. The only person to feel remotely comfortable was Frannie, sitting back in her chair, smiling happily and letting her midriff hang out. No big surprise there.
God, Ray just wanted to get these stupid reports over and done with. He told Welsh he could do them just as well as at home as here, but Welsh, sporting sweat stains under his arms the size of Ray's head, growled, "This is my Valentine's Day present from you, Detective, so I expect it to smell like roses," and shut himself up in his office. Valentine's Day or not, nothing around the station was smelling even remotely like roses at the moment.
Ray leaned back his head and closed his eyes. He couldn't think straight, it was so fucking hot in there. How was he supposed to remember what they did two weeks ago, when he could barely remember getting up in the morning? This sucked.
"This sucks," he told Fraser. Fraser made a noise that sounded like he was agreeing, and Ray leaned forward again. Fraser looked like he was about to lose it. Why the hell was he still in that uniform? "Fraser. Take off the red thing, it's inhuman."
"I can't, Ray, I am on duty." But it sounded like Fraser was just about ready to give it up, he was so tired. All he needed was a small push.
"You're not in Canada, and the Ice Queen isn't anywhere to be found. She's probably sitting in her comfortable, cool office, having Turnbull serve her tea. You --" he pointed at Fraser, "are about to have a heat stroke. Take it off, Fraser."
"I couldn't possibly --"
"Fraser --"
"It just doesn't seem right --"
"Fraser --"
"Ray, I --"
Ray made a move like he was going to go over there and strip Fraser himself, when Fraser started yanking at his belts and loops and unstrapping himself with lightning speed. When the tunic finally came off, his henley looked about ten shades darker than usual. Amazingly, Ray found after sniffing the air with some caution, Fraser didn't smell like sweat at all. Freak of nature. Ray caught himself and tried to concentrate not on Fraser smells.
"See? That has to be better."
"I - much better, yes, thank you, Ray." He did look relieved, Ray thought, watching Fraser roll up his sleeves and get back to work. He figured, another half hour, hour, and they might actually be able to blow the joint and go for an ice cream, or something. He had no better plans for the day, anyway.
It hadn't even been a couple of minutes when Frannie got out of her chair and sauntered up to Fraser, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and practically humping his face with her midriff. Ray scowled.
"Frannie, go away, we're working here."
Frannie rolled her eyes at him, and didn't loosen the death grip on Fraser's shoulder. "Just hold your donkeys, bro, like you're even doing the work."
"Horses."
"What?"
"It's `hold your horses', Frannie, and yeah, we're doing work, so again I say - scram."
She didn't even bat an eyelash, just turned back to Fraser - who looked just as freaked out as usual - and cooed:
"Frase, you look like you're boiling. Why don't you take off the suspenders? They must really retain that moisture. You know, I read that moisture can make you hot."
Ray rolled his eyes and threw his pencil down. Fraser was still trying to squirm out of Frannie's grip.
"Thank you kindly, Francesca, I'm quite fine. The tunic was the cause of my discomfort, but now I'm feeling rather refreshed and ready to work." He finally succeeded in dislodging Frannie's arm.
"Oh." Her face fell, and Ray smirked. "Well, I'll just be over there if you need anything. Water, orange juice, neck rub..." She trailed off, and walked away, swishing her hips like they were a tail. She didn't sit down at her desk, but walked out of the bull pen, and Ray figured it was to lick her wounds. Really, when it came down to it, he couldn't blame her.
He looked over at Fraser, who was busy writing with the speed of a robot, and looked away. Yeah, so he couldn't really blame Frannie for sticking her tits out every chance she got, because - and he hated to admit it, but sometimes, you just had to have the balls to face up to the truth - if he had had tits, he'd have been doing the exact same thing. But he didn't, so really, it was a moot point. Ray repeated his daily mantra of "Ray - kinda gay; Fraser - not so gay" and tried to focus on his work. He wasn't Frannie, after all. And he liked his dick, thank you very much.
It was maybe twenty minutes later when he realized that it got hotter. A lot hotter. Illegal kind of hotter, the kind of hotter that felt like your insides were melting and you were about to collapse in on yourself. This was ridiculous. He looked around the bullpen and saw everybody else doing the same thing. The space around Dewey grew, while Huey's face was now permanently embedded in a bowl of water. Fraser, Ray saw out of the corner of his eye, looked near fainting. Just as he was about to grab him and run, there was a crash behind Ray and he jumped and turned around.
Welsh had thrown open his office door, and was looking around like he was about to shoot up the place. Everything went quiet. Welsh just stared. The showdown continued for a few more seconds at most, when Welsh finally seemed to spot what he was looking for and went after it like it was dinner. Ray turned around. Frannie was standing at her desk. Her eyes were real big, and she wasn't twitching a muscle.
Busted.
Ray would have laughed, had he not been feeling like death burnt over, so he just sat back and watched as Welsh descended on her.
"Miss Vecchio. Have you been at your desk the entire day?"
"Uh - well...yes, sir. I mean...no. Sir."
"I see. And were you, by any chance, anywhere in the vicinity of the supply closet?"
"I had to get staples, sir."
"Uh-huh. And were you aware that tampering with the temperature controls that are located inside the closet is an offence punishable by death?"
Frannie squeaked. "Since --"
"Starting today."
"I..."
"You, Miss Vecchio, are getting off very lightly. I am allowing you to live. Right now, I want you to sit down --" Frannie sat. "And not move a limb until my say so. It might be minutes. It might be hours. But no matter how long, Miss Vecchio, you are to sit here and contemplate your actions for the rest of the day. Capisce?"
"Yes, sir," Frannie squeaked.
"Good." Welsh straightened up and turned around. "Vecchio."
"Yeah, Lieu?"
"Go in there and fix the damn thing." Welsh passed him and was almost inside his office when he leaned out and added: "Make it fifty, will you? And make it fast."
"Yeah." Ray was more than happy to oblige. He was halfway down the hallway when he realized Fraser was following him, and well, what the hell, he could turn the heat down by himself, he didn't need witnesses or anything. But it was Fraser, and he probably had a wacky reason of his own for following Ray into the closet, so he let Fraser catch up with him and opened the door.
He never quite figured out why the temperature controls were in the closet, but he never really questioned it, either. The important thing was that he was now inside, and could turn the damn heat down before he melted and rotted on the spot. He didn't bother turning on the light, because there was enough light in the hallway and he didn't figure he'd be in there long. It was hotter than hell inside, anyway. But when the door closed behind Fraser and everything went dark, he turned around.
"Fraser?"
"Yes, Ray?" Fraser's voice was closer than he'd expected. Ray fumbled around and found the cord that switched the light on. The bulb sparked once and blew.
"Damn. Frase, can you see anything?"
"I believe I've found the controls, Ray." Fraser's voice was to the left of him now, and in a moment, Ray heard a quiet hiss. Fraser turned the heat down. Thank the fucking God.
Ray blew out a breath and slumped against the wall. He thought that maybe he was already cooling down, his skin prickling with it, letting the tension go. He felt less queasy, and could breathe easier. He knew it was just psychosymptomatic, or whatever, but no matter what it was, it felt good. Really good. It was dark, which made it feel even cooler. He was kind of glad the bulb blew out.
"Ray?" He heard the rustle of Fraser's pants and felt a hand settling on his shoulder.
"I'm here, Fraser. Just...enjoying myself..."
"Ah. Good. Then you won't find my request to remain here for a few more minutes odd."
"Not at all, my friend. I needed to get away, anyway."
"Yes. As did I." Fraser's hand left his shoulder, and Ray tried not to feel too disappointed. He felt Fraser slump against the wall next to him.
"God, Frannie, huh?" Ray smirked and leaned his head back. "She must want you out of those clothes pretty badly."
Ray thought he'd heard a soft snort. The were silent for a long moment, and Ray was just getting more comfortable against the wall when he felt Fraser shifting. When he spoke, his voice was so close to Ray's ear, Ray felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
"Francesca is...brave. She has a certain courage that some might even envy."
"Brave, huh?" Ray's voice broke off. He had to clear his throat before continuing. "She's pushy, that's for sure..."
"She goes after what she wants, Ray."
"You'd noticed, eh?" He wanted to make light of it, because the air was too heavy. It was pressing on him, and why had he thought he had cooled off? He was burning all over.
"Yes. I do wish her advances were otherwise directed, of course..."
He didn't want to say it, but he couldn't stop himself, it seemed. Here were the words, tumbling out of his mouth. "Not interested in Frannie, then? `Cause of Vecchio?"
"No. Not interested in Frannie. And it isn't because of Ray, although that is a consideration, as well."
"What, you, uh -" Don't say it. Don't say it. "You interested in somebody else? Frannie getting in the way?"
He wanted to shut up, he did, but it was dark, and his chest was hurting, and he wanted to move, but his feet were rooted to the floor.
"I --" Fraser stammered. Ray didn't want to breathe, in case he missed the next words. "Yes. My affections are...otherwise engaged." He'd said it real low, so low, the sound traveled all the way down to Ray's belly and rumbled there, settling, coiling. Ray didn't want to know. He was going to be sick. He didn't - he didn't want to know.
"Oh, yeah?" Dammit. He should have muzzled himself. He should have physically restrained himself from talking.
"Yes." It seemed impossible that Fraser's voice get any lower, but there it was, dark, low, quiet, killing Ray with every vibration. "Ray..." Ray closed his eyes. He could pretend, just for a moment, he could pretend that Fraser'd said that with intent. That he'd said that to make Ray's knees melt, because they were - melting, just like the rest of him, and he had to force himself not to slide down the wall from the pressure on his chest, and his liquified bones.
And then, Fraser put his hand on Ray's belly, and tugged him sideways, and Ray went, his mind blank, and Fraser's hot breath fanned across his face, and he closed his eyes. And Fraser's lips were soft at first, and fit over his, and then they slipped in between his and held him there. He felt a noise rumble out of him, and the pressure in his chest got tighter. He felt his fists releasing and grabbed Fraser's suspenders, pulling him close, closer. He opened his mouth and Fraser followed, his hands still covering Ray's waist, and then they were kissing, really kissing - tongues, lips, teeth, they were going at it, making out, right there in the closet, in the dark, with the heat still hovering at around eighty.
He moaned and felt Fraser breathe in harshly through his nose. Fraser's fingers bunched Ray's t-shirt and Ray pressed in closer, never letting go of Fraser's mouth, only to slant his lips better over Fraser's, rough and demanding, because now that he had him - why, he had no idea - he wasn't going to let him get away. Fraser's chest vibrated with his moan and Ray was being pushed up against the wall, his head hitting it with a thump, and he would have laughed, if he'd had the energy for it. All his energy was focused on Fraser and Fraser's hands holding him and Fraser's mouth moving over his, Fraser's tongue, God, Fraser's body, Fraser's cock, pushing up against his, hard. He pushed back and tangled his fingers in Fraser's hair, thick and damp, curling with the heat. Fraser made a noise that almost forced Ray to his knees, and once he had that thought, it wouldn't let him go, so he pulled Fraser closer and turned them around, fast, so he wouldn't have a chance to argue.
Finally letting go of Fraser's mouth, he moved his lips over his chin and down to the hollow of his neck. It was damp, sweaty, and yeah, Fraser smelled a bit like sweat up close, but it was a clean sweat, like something was stopping it from becoming the stink that the station had amassed, and Ray breathed in, listening to Fraser's harsh breaths. It was so damn dark and hot in there, he thought he would explode, and before he knew it, he was fully on his knees, trying to unzip Fraser's stupid pumpkin pants by feel, and not having the first clue as to how to do it.
"Fraser --"
"Ray, you don't --"
"Shut up and undo your pants. Now, c'mon..." He trailed off as Fraser's hands pried his off and went to work on the buttons and hooks and zipper. Finally, his fly was open, and now it was Ray's turn to bat Fraser's hands away, because he could do this part. He felt around with his fingers - starched boxers? Fraser was a freak - and slid the elastic band down around Fraser's hips, touching his dick with his wrist and Fraser was moaning and clutching his head, and Ray hadn't even done anything yet. When the pants and the boxers were around Fraser's knees, he took hold of Fraser's dick and tugged at it, just to see what Fraser would do. He felt Fraser's fingers closing around his hair, tight, so fucking tight, and he breathed in the smell, stronger now, muskier, hotter. He slid out his tongue and swiped it from root to tip, slowly, messy; over the foreskin, inside and then out, and Fraser was groaning real loud, and they were in the fucking closet, and anybody could come in, but Ray didn't care, because once his tongue found Fraser's dick, it wasn't letting it go. He was licking him all over, just licking, spreading the spit and precome around, making it hot, trying to make it good for Fraser.
"Ray - Ray, please, just - Just --"
He wanted to make him say it, he wanted to hear Fraser say "suck" or "do it" or anything, but he didn't want to hurt the guy, so he leaned up and sucked in the head, and lowered his mouth, more, more, until his lips met his hand and went back up, and again, and again, his tongue swirling at the head and licking the vein, and sucking. Fraser had gone incoherent, and it was clear he was trying to be quiet, but couldn't. Ray braced his knees more firmly against the floor and slid his free hand up until Fraser got the point and took hold of his hand and sucked his fingers in, shutting himself up and making Ray see stars in the process.
Fraser's tongue worked in rhythm with his own, and they were sucking each other, like a weird version of sixty-nine, and even though it wasn't Ray's dick Fraser was sucking, he felt like he was going to come right then and there. He sped up, knowing that Fraser probably didn't have much more will power left. He nearly tugged his fingers out of Fraser's mouth, because he needed to concentrate, but his fingers in Fraser's mouth were serving a purpose, and anyway, he was close. He was so close to making Fraser come, and then Fraser's teeth were digging into his skin, it hurt, but Ray didn't stop, and Fraser practically sobbed as he came in Ray's mouth in spurts, his stomach muscles jumping, legs shaking. Ray swallowed as much as he could, letting his throat do the work, trying to relax. He was ready to take it all, when Fraser's hands were pulling his head up and away and the last spurt hit his chin when he was on his feet again and Fraser was kissing him, and licking all around his mouth, chasing his own taste, and Ray felt raw and on edge and so ripped open and hot, he was still too damn hot, and it felt so fucking good.
Fraser fumbled around and found Ray's button and popped it open, unzipped his fly, and slid his hand inside Ray's underwear. He tugged at his cock, once, twice and Ray wanted to make it last, he sucked on Fraser's tongue and hung on, not wanting to let go of the pressure, not wanting this to end. He couldn't make this end, not yet, because Fraser's hand was jerking him off, fast and rough and good, and damn, he didn't have much longer, he was coming, he was biting on Fraser's tongue and coming so hard, he saw white behind his eyelids. He shook as Fraser continued to pump him, letting Ray stay inside his mouth, and then it was over, and they were slumped against the closet wall, sweaty, panting, with their pants around their knees, their foreheads touching, no longer kissing.
After what felt like a pretty damn long moment of afterglow, Fraser reached to his left and produced a box of tissues, still unopened. Right. It helped that they were in the supply closet. Ray felt around for the box, wanting to help, but Fraser seemed to be doing just fine on his own, so he let it go and continued just standing there, because he had absolutely no energy for anything else. Fraser seemed to be abuzz with energy - who in their right mind was that energetic after sex? - and soon, he had the box opened and both of them semi-presentable. At least, their hands were clean and their pants were on. Ray couldn't vouch for the rest. He also couldn't bring himself to care.
"Fraser --"
"Ray?"
"What... I mean --"
Fraser waited a beat, but Ray didn't know what to say. Too lethargic and happy to think straight, he decided. He didn't want to ask.
"Ray, would you like to go get some ice cream?" Fraser actually sounded kind of shy. Unsure. Ray could barely believe it, but there it was.
"Fraser, I would love to get some ice cream." He felt the pressure in his chest leaving, his skin cooling down again. "As long as it's a date."
"Oh, it's a date, Ray."
"Good." He forced himself to start moving toward the door. "Great. Good. Because this was great, and all, but I have an idea for after the date, see. It doesn't involve the supply closet." He felt around for the doorknob.
"It doesn't?" Fraser sounded half-amused. Ray wished he could see his face. He wished he could have seen his face when he came.
"No. It involves a bed and a light and maybe turning off the heat." He opened the door a crack, the light from the hallway spilling inside. Ray turned around to look at Fraser, just a step behind him. He was smiling, his cheeks flushed unevenly red, his hair a total mess. He looked...stunning, really. Stunningly fucked out and beaming.
"Sounds like a wonderful plan, Ray."
"I just bet it does." He smirked and ducked his head, ran a hand through his hair. "Let's go, then."
"Yes, Ray. Let's."
The cool air hitting his wet t-shirt felt like a total release.
Feedback: mrsronweasley@yahoo.com
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