Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Notes: Commentfic PWP

New House

by china_shop

china_shop: So last night I dreamed there was an early episode of Due South where Fraser inherited a big house from an old lady he'd helped, and lots of people piled in to give him advice about what to do with it, and he got more and more withdrawn and arm-folded-y and not coping with all the people, and eventually he kicked them out, politely but very firmly. Except for Ray.

damned_colonial: Fraser and Ray just standing there looking around the big empty space of the main downstairs living area, all quiet and uncrowded at last, and Ray saying "... So."

china_shop: Oh! Such a VERY HAPPY PLACE! I suspect Ray gets a bit nervous, though. A little shy around the edges.

"I can—" He gestures over his shoulder at the door. "—if you, uh, if you want to be alone."

Fraser shakes his head. "That's not—" He stops, and licks his lip. "No. I'd like it if you stayed."

They stare at each other for a moment.

"So, uh—" Ray rolls his shoulders to shift the tension, and moves over to the empty fireplace. "—when're you gonna move in?"

He hears Fraser's footsteps approaching on the bare boards, and stares at the mantelpiece feeling weird. What's happening here? Fraser's his friend — since when have things felt so heavy? So awkward? He bites his lip, and is about to turn around when Fraser says, from just behind him, "I'm not sure if I will. I mean, it's a lovely house, but it's really too big for me and Diefenbaker. We're adequately served by the Consulate. I'm considering leasing the house out, actually."

Ray turns. "You're crazy, Fraser. Crazy! This is a great house." He looks around, avoiding Fraser's eye. "I mean, the floor is perfect for dancing. And it's even got that lawn for Dief, so he can remember he's an animal, and not a human trapped in a wolf body, you know?"


"And there's the shed where you can keep, I dunno, your carving stuff. Why would you—You can't live in your office anymore, Frase. Not when you've got a house like this. I won't let you."



"I—" Fraser looks up, right at him, and there's hope burning in his eyes.

Ray feels hot, all of a sudden. He thinks about opening a window, but he can't move. Christ, but Fraser's eyes are blue. "Wow," he says, because he has no idea what to say at all. And because, wow! Fraser's looking at him like—wow! Ray starts noticing all these little things about him, like he hasn't shaved since yesterday, and there's the faintest hint of stubble along his jawline. Like his nose is perfectly straight. And who the hell who boxes has a straight nose? Like his lips are slightly parted as if he's breathing through them. Like the way his adam's apple moves when he swallows.

Ray swallows. This is—hell, this is not what Ray expected when he woke up this morning. To be having this moment here, this moment with Fraser. But he's cool, he's hip to the nineties, he can roll with it. Hell, he can't help but roll with it, the way Fraser's looking at him, reeling him in like a car and a tow truck. He leans forward a little, to check, to make sure he's not hallucinating.

Fraser's eyelids fall, lashes fanned on his cheeks, and Ray figures Faint heart never won fair, uh, Fraser, and throws caution to the wind, and leans in and kisses him, gently on the lips. "Happy house-warming, Fraser."

Fraser gasps a little, and his hands come up to grip Ray's shoulders, but he doesn't pull him closer. He just bends forward and kisses him back, carefully, intently, as though he's not sure if they're just carrying out some weird Chicago custom he hasn't come across before, like a more intimate version of shaking hands.

Which is kind of funny, because Ray's hands really are shaking. What started out as a friendly kiss, a hello there, lips kind of deal, is heating Ray right up. His face is hot and, as soon as he becomes aware of that, his stomach clenches, and—yeah. Other stuff. And he starts to panic, because what if that isn't what Fraser's getting at. What if—?

Ray licks Fraser's lip, licks into his mouth. His heart is pounding in his ears, but not so loud he can't hear Fraser's ragged breath, the tiny grunt he makes in the back of his throat. But still, neither of them moves closer, and Ray starts to think, hysterically, that they could still be here in the morning, standing in the middle of this slowly darkening, empty living room, earnestly kissing with six inches of space between their bodies.

It's like stalemate. It's like he made the move, but now he has to make the next move, so he does. He touches his hand to Fraser's face, touches the rough almost-stubble and then moves up to the hair behind Fraser's ear, to Fraser's neck. Fraser doesn't protest. In fact, his kissing gets more frantic, more urgent. Ray takes that as a yes, and pulls Fraser into his arms.

The contact drives all the air out of his lungs, all the strength from his legs. He has to hang on to Fraser to stay upright, so he does. He wraps himself around Fraser, one arm around his waist, the other still on the back of his neck, and Fraser holds him, too. Holds him in a tight bearhug, breaking off the kiss so he can bury his face in the side of Ray's neck.

Fraser's body is pressed right up against Ray's. Ray can't keep from pushing forward, and it seems like neither can Fraser, and this is a good thing. An Incredibly Good Thing. Ray wonders briefly how he could have been blind to the goodness of this, before. How he could have spent the last year hanging with Fraser, working with Fraser, and not wanted him every single minute. He didn't, then, but he sure as hell does now. "Want you," he murmurs into Fraser's ear. He wants Fraser's hands on him. He wants skin. It's been a hell of a long time since anyone but him touched his skin, and suddenly he's convinced he'll die if that state of affairs isn't fixed now.

"You've got me," says Fraser, muffled from where his head's still pressed against Ray's neck. "As much as you want."

Ray pulls back to look at him, forces Fraser's face up. Fraser looks red-faced and wide-eyed, like he's wondering whether that was too much to say. He should know Ray better than that. Ray's never been afraid of getting close. Ray brushes his thumb along Fraser's lower lip, then smiles at Fraser, holding his gaze while Ray starts to unbutton Fraser's blue plaid shirt. He pauses on the third button, his knuckles brushing against the warm cotton undershirt underneath. "This okay?"

Fraser's eyes don't waver. "As much—" He clears his throat. "As much as you want. Anything."

"I want a lot, Frase," Ray tells him softly. "What if I want too much?"

Something flickers through the room, through the air between them. Something magic. Fraser feels it, too. Ray can tell by the crinkles around his eyes, by the hot look he gets, and the half smile he gives Ray. "Try me," he says.

And then it's like who they are—trembling on the edge of sex, of being lovers—and who they were—friends and partners—gets all mixed up together, and Ray relaxes, because this is okay. This is going to be okay. This is Fraser.

Ray finishes unbuttoning Fraser's shirt and pushes it off his broad shoulders, and then quickly shrugs off his own jacket. He pulls Fraser close again, kissing him, sucking Fraser's tongue into his mouth. Fraser's hands stroke up and down Ray's back, smoothing his t-shirt until Ray starts to arch into them. "So," Ray says, breaking the kiss. "This is— this is good, but— you, uh, you got a bed in this place?"

Fraser bites Ray's jaw gently. "I'm afraid not, Ray," he murmurs between licks and bites. "All Mrs Killjoy's chattels were sold to cover the lawyers' fees. I believe there's an antique chaise longue in the shed, but I doubt it'd bear our weight."

"Never mind," says Ray, who stopped listening after I'm afraid not, getting distracted watching Fraser's kiss-reddened lips shaping the words. "Never mind, I just saw a wall." He pushes Fraser against the wall between the mantelpiece and the built-in bookshelves, and presses his thigh between Fraser's legs. Fraser bends his own leg up to press against Ray's groin, and Ray groans and slumps forward, his mouth fixed on Fraser's, his hands tugging at Fraser's undershirt, searching for skin.

When he finds it, Fraser throws his head back, panting for breath, trembling under Ray's greedy hands. He stays like that a minute, two, and Ray leans in and licks up his neck, tasting sweat and faint aftershave.

Then everything spins around, out of nowhere, and Fraser has him pinned against the wall, has his hand on Ray's cock, mapping out his hard-on. "Oh jesus," Ray breathes, hooking his arm around Fraser's neck, his leg around Fraser's calf, and trying to climb him. Pushing desperately into Fraser's hand. "Oh, god, Fraser."

Fraser grips Ray's ass and holds him up, so he's practically sitting on Fraser's thigh, balanced there between Fraser and the wall, with Fraser's hands everywhere, everywhere, touching him.

And it's good, it's all good, except he can't touch Fraser like this, he can't reach to make Fraser feel this good. Most of his attention is on Fraser's hands, on the pressure, and then, when Fraser pulls his fly down and somehow gets in there, gets inside his shorts and touches him, his cock, skin-to-skin, then it's hard to think about anything else, but jesus, he wants to give it back, too, to make Fraser squirm and groan like Fraser's making Ray. But it's only a little part of his mind thinking that, enough to make him pull Fraser's head towards him with both hands and kiss him sloppily, kisses full of promises like Can't stop, can't stop, but I'll give this back to you, I will, as soon as I've fucking come and I love you, oh god, Frase, I love you! But not enough to make him upset the applecart, not when it's this good. Fraser's a fucking genius. Ray tells him that with kisses, too.

Ray thrusts forward, harder and harder, and Fraser's sweating with the effort of keeping them upright. Ray's nearly there, can feel it building, and then one more push, and they stagger back together, nearly falling, and Fraser gasps with laughter, and steadies them, and then pushes Ray down onto his back on the floor.

The light coming in the French doors is golden, now, it's nearly sunset, and it glows across Fraser's skin, lights his eyes, and Ray's never seen anything more beautiful. He scrabbles at Fraser's jeans, his fingers stupid with hunger, and Fraser laughs again, breathlessly, and undoes his own jeans, kicking off his sneakers at the same time.

Ray pulls off his t-shirt and, what the hell, shoves off his shoes and jeans and shorts, too, and Fraser does the same, and they lie side-by-side on the cold hard floor and look at each other.

Fraser's eyes are so big, so dark, looking down the length of Ray's body, so hot that Ray almost can't bear it. He looks away, like Fraser needs his privacy, and then realizes how stupid that is, and looks back, and they smile at each other. Fraser reaches out a slow hand and runs it down Ray's side, over his hip, and down the slope of his thigh, close to Ray's cock, but not touching it. Ray shivers and his eyes fall shut, and he instantly remembers where they were before gravity so rudely interrupted them, which was really really close to Ray having an incredible orgasm. He can get there, it's so close. And now, now there's all this skin, too, and Fraser's cock lying in the crease of his thigh, and Ray doesn't know where to start.

So he goes with his instinct, he takes a punt, and curves his hand around Fraser's cock, gently at first, feeling its weight and taut fullness, and hearing Fraser's intake of breath. Fraser hitches forward a little, and Ray gets the idea and changes his grip so he can stroke up and down, firmer and more confident, like a rhumba, and god, it's incredible. Fraser is letting him do this. Fraser is letting him in.

Ray thinks about Fraser an hour ago, getting quieter and more withdrawn as people milled around his house and gave him advice about what to do with the azaleas in the garden. He was so armoured Ray would've thought it'd take a pair of pliers and some bolt cutters just to get him to kick back and have a cup of tea. And here he is, the same guy, Ray's friend, the same Fraser, and he's naked, and he's pulling Ray on top of him, toward him, and it's like he's not the same guy at all. Fraser rolls them both back so Ray's on top with Fraser spread out beneath him, and Ray's dizzy with something like vertigo, and something like love.

Ray kisses him. "It's not too big for three," he says. "Counting Dief, that is."

And Fraser blinks at him for a second, and then looks serious. "Ray, we only just— we haven't even—"

"Yeah, well, we're gonna. Any second now," says Ray, pushing his fingers into Fraser's thick hair. "I'm gonna, and then you're gonna. Or maybe the other way round."

"—talked," says Fraser. "We haven't even talked about this. You don't know what—"

"Hey," says Ray. "I know you. I know this." He kisses Fraser. "I know enough."

Fraser wraps his arms around him and kisses him hard, for a long time. "I'm probably hell to live with," he says.

"Everyone is," says Ray. "Haven't you heard that? Hell is other people. But jesus, Fraser, you're—" He can't say it, because it's too corny, too stupid, but he thinks it as loud as he can: you're heaven too.

Maybe Fraser hears him, maybe he doesn't, but either way, the words stop coming, and they both lean in, pushing their cocks together. Ray slips a hand between them, to line them up, and then they're sliding together, Fraser's cock hot and thick against Ray's. Ray moves over Fraser, loves him, feels him trembling. "It's okay," he whispers into Fraser's ear. "It's okay." But then Fraser does something—twists his hips—and the whisper turns into a growl, turns into a groan, turns into something deep rising up inside Ray, burning through him, moving him faster and faster.

"Oh god," says Fraser. "Oh, god, yeah." He clutches Ray's shoulders and drags himself up against Ray, shoves his hips up like he can't keep still, and now they're inching across the floor, and fuck, it must be cold, Fraser must be feeling it on his back, but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are shut tight, and he thrusts up again and again, and Ray feels pleasure burst from inside himself, his orgasm shooting through him like fireworks in his blood, and he comes hard between them.

Then Fraser yells, and grabs Ray's hips and holds him tight, holds them close together. He curves up into Ray, his whole body rigid as he comes, swearwords that Ray never thought he'd hear from him filling the air, hoarse and loud. And after a long moment, he collapses back on the floor, and Ray lies heavy on top of him, but down a bit, his head on Fraser's chest, and holds him.

"You said 'fuck'," Ray says, after a while.

The corner of Fraser's mouth quirks. "It was an accurate description."

"Yeah." Ray kisses his shoulder. "But you said 'fuck'."

"True enough." Fraser rolls so that they're side-by-side again. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

Ray looks at him, at his beautiful face. "What else? Anything scary?" he asks.

"Perhaps." Fraser looks distant a moment, and mysterious. The light's turned pink now, sunset in full swing, and he looks like a movie star.

Ray lifts his chin, giving him attitude. "You think I can't handle it?"

"I—" Fraser closes his eyes, briefly, then pulls Ray in and kisses him. "I hope so. I hope you can. But—"

"But it's too soon to be playing happy families," Ray finishes for him.

Fraser nods. And okay, Ray gets that. Rushing doesn't work. Rushing can get you into all sorts of messes — Ray's been there — and they take a fuck of a long time to untangle, and it hurts. "Take it slow, huh?"

"I think so, yeah." Fraser looks at him, a touch anxiously, like he's worried Ray will be offended, so Ray pulls him close and kisses him, and they lie there a while. Ray rests his head on his arm and wishes there was a pillow or something. Even in spite of him feeling so good, the floor's damned uncomfortable.

"Okay," says Ray, after a while. "But you're not gonna let the place either."

"No, Ray." Fraser lies back and looks at the ceiling, and smiles. "I'm not going to let it."


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