This story is rated NC-17 (adults only). It includes explicit male/male sex. If this is what you came for, scroll down. If it isn't, hit the Back button.
Homemaking
by Resonant
for Laura Kaye, with fondest housewarming wishes
Even over the rising wind, the scent hit Ray as soon as he came in sight of the cabin, a fruity, spicy, Christmasy smell.
"Oh, man," he said to Dief, slinging the pruners onto the nail under the overhang and shedding his boots and coat outside the door. "Fraser's been canning." Dief whuffed his agreement and bounded ahead.
Sure enough, there was an empty bushel basket just inside the cabin door. The windows were steamy in the late-autumn chill, and the kettle and tongs were beside the sink, and the rest of the counter was taken up with jars and jars of apple jelly, pink-gold applesauce, and apple butter.
Fraser, with a spotless towel tucked into the waistband of his sweats, was wiping out the sink. "You've beaten the storm home, I see."
Ray came up behind him and nuzzled into the hair at his nape, wrapping his arms around Fraser's broad shoulders. "Did I ever tell you," he said in his best low, seductive voice, "that I really -- really -- really -- love -- apple butter?"
"You might have mentioned it a time or two, yes," Fraser said, smiling. "Last year at apple season, and the year before at apple season, and the year before that ..."
"You know all my secrets," Ray said. "The thrill is gone." His hands went up under Fraser's loose T-shirt, tracing the muscles of his chest, and then down into the pockets of the sweats.
"Mhm," Fraser said, leaning back against him and reaching back to grab his hips. "Nothing's left but mundane, humdrum tedium," he sighed, writhing back against Ray with each word.
Ray licked his neck. "You taste like cinnamon," he said.
"You smell like pine trees," Fraser said, laying the back of his head on Ray's shoulder and nuzzling against his neck until Ray kissed him, pulling his hand loose to grope Fraser through the towel and the sweats.
"Mm. You done here?"
"Yeah," Fraser said. "Why? Did you have suggestions?"
"I might have some ideas, yeah," Ray said. He pulled the towel out of Fraser's waistband and popped him with it. "C'mon."
In the bedroom, Ray discovered he still had the towel in his hand, so he flipped it around Fraser's waist and used it to draw him in for a long kiss. If Ray'd been cooking all day long, the towel would have been a big sticky wet mess, but Fraser was a Martian, so it was clean as the ones in the drawer. "Fraser," Ray sighed, and Fraser nuzzled closer and put his hands on Ray's hips, kissing softly at Ray's cheeks, his temples, his eyes.
Ray tugged on the collar of Fraser's T-shirt with his teeth, and Fraser took it off like the cooperative guy he was.
Ray took a step backwards toward the bed, whipping the towel so that it wrapped around Fraser's outreached arm -- and Fraser stopped suddenly, looking at his wrist wrapped up in white cloth, and when he looked up again there was something on his face that hadn't been there before, something more still and skittish than the half-laughing desire that Ray was used to.
He looked turned on and scared and determined. That towel meant something to Fraser.
Jesus, I hope he doesn't want me to choke him or something, Ray thought, but what he said was, "Anything."
His breath caught as Fraser wrapped the towel around both his own wrists.
Ray had to smile when Fraser tucked the loose end under and tried to pull it tight -- it was just like Fraser to try to tie his own restraints. "Here." He took the towel out of Fraser's hands, put Fraser's hands together wrist to wrist, wrapped the towel around, and tied it in a single knot, not too tight. "OK?" he said.
Fraser frowned down at it. He moved his wrists apart, and the knot began to loosen.
"Yeah, I know," Ray said. "It's symbolic or something."
Fraser looked at him for a moment. "All right," he said hoarsely. His neck was red. Ray kissed him there, and then kissed his mouth, and then stepped back to ogle him.
He looked incredible. Hard under the sweats, which hid nothing -- breathing hard -- slight frown between his eyebrows like he was trying to figure out what to do next. Ray rubbed the line with his thumb. "Quit thinking, Fraser," he said. "My job to think. Your job to feel."
Fraser nodded jerkily.
Ray pulled the covers down. "Go lie down."
Fraser's balance was very slightly off -- Ray probably wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been looking for it. Of course Fraser was no stranger to being tied up. For all Ray knew they practiced stuff like that in Mountie school.
Fraser stretched out on his back with his hands at his waist, but after a minute the curve of his spine probably started to bug him, and he put his arms over his head instead.
"What shall I do now, Ray?"
Poor guy just wasn't happy without an agenda. "Nothing," Ray said. "Not a thing."
He looked at Fraser for a minute longer. The gray sweats rode a precise inch below his navel -- Ray wondered if the Mounties had regulations on that, too. The position he was in showed his chest off beautifully. After all these years, Ray still found his bare feet adorable.
When Ray pulled his own shirt off over his head, the muscles in Fraser's stomach tightened.
He toed off his socks and started on his jeans buttons. Fraser was watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. Usually he took off pants and jockeys in one crumpled mess, but today he kept the briefs on for a minute while he got rid of the jeans.
His cock twitched with the intensity of Fraser's look, and he rubbed it through the knit. Fraser gasped and Ray grinned at him and dropped the shorts -- and then walked away.
"Ray?"
Fraser's voice was uncertain. That's right, Ray thought -- I could leave you there. But I don't want to. "Need to get something," he said soothingly.
He'd hoped there was a new tube of slick under the sink, and there it was. When he came back in with the tube in one hand and a wet washcloth in the other, Fraser was, if anything, harder than ever. Ray looked hard at his cock under the sweats, and made sure Fraser knew he was looking. "Whatcha been thinking about in here, Fraser?"
Fraser flushed red, but didn't answer. Ray smiled and put the stuff on the nightstand. "I been thinking about you," he said, and put a knee on the bed, and stroked Fraser gently through the sweats. Fraser's breath caught. "Been wondering if I could make you come without taking these off."
"Probably," Fraser said huskily.
"Maybe I will." Ray leaned over and licked the spot between the waistband and Fraser's navel. "Or maybe it would be more fun to get you naked first. Dunno."
He lay down, propped on his left elbow, body not quite touching Fraser's, and looked at Fraser for a while longer. He really was almost supernaturally pretty. His cheeks and neck and chest got pink when he was turned on, and his breath got a little shallower, lifting his ribcage. His eyes on Ray were hungry.
His arms, though, were relaxed -- he had to be doing that on purpose, because he knew the towel would come unknotted if he pulled against it, and he didn't want his hands free.
He just wanted to want it and want it until Ray decided to give it to him.
Ray ran a finger over Fraser's half-open palms, and they opened for him. "You want to touch me," he said.
"Yes," Fraser said, and his hands clenched and released against Ray's fingers.
"Where?"
Fraser looked at him hotly, but didn't answer.
Ray thought about where Fraser's hands would usually be right about now. He ran his thumb gently around the rim of Fraser's ear. "Here?"
Fraser nodded. Ray drew his fingers down the side of Fraser's neck, over his collarbone, down his chest to tease one nipple. "Here?"
Fraser nodded, breathing faster.
Ray smoothed his palm over Fraser's belly to cup his cock through the sweats. "Here?"
Fraser's voice was hardly louder than a whisper. "Everywhere."
God, yes. For a second Ray was tempted to whip off the towel and take him up on it, because Fraser had hands that could make a shelter out of two overcoats and a tree branch, and they were just as talented at other things. And Fraser in this focused mood had been known to make Ray come four times in one afternoon.
But then Ray looked at him, all pink and half scared and trusting, laid out like an early Christmas present, and god knew when he'd get this again.
"Yeah," he said to Fraser, "everywhere," and he slid the sweats off.
Fraser had really great legs, weird as it was to think that about a guy. Ray ran his fingers back up them, pushing them apart a bit, urging him to bend one knee and put one foot on the bed. He gently stroked Fraser's inner thighs, where the skin was so smooth and nobody got to see it but him. In this position Fraser was showing lots of skin that nobody saw but Ray, and Ray stroked the undersides of his arms, the arches of his feet, the beautiful dip under his hipbone, and Fraser's body rose toward his hand.
And, god, Fraser could do anything that needed to be done -- he was the only truly self-sufficient person Ray'd ever met -- but every now and then Ray managed to get below that, to where Fraser was this big bundle of need, and there was nothing, nothing like being the only one who knew that was there and could fill it.
"Anything you want, Fraser," he said hoarsely. "Anything you want, you got it," but Fraser just sighed and twisted up toward his hand, like he didn't even know how to start.
So Ray looked at him some more, and then he finally put his hand on Fraser's naked cock.
And Fraser, who could hold out for hours if he wanted to, made a choked-off sound and came in a great arc all over Ray's hand and his own chest.
"Jesus," Ray breathed.
Fraser opened his mouth, looking like he was getting ready to apologize, and Ray kissed it out of him, deep and slow, not wanting to hear it because, god, who could say they'd seen Benton Fraser lose it like that? Nobody but him.
It was good to be able to concentrate on Fraser's mouth without being distracted by Fraser's hands. He kissed him until his breathing slowed down, and then he kept on kissing him until it started speeding up again.
And then he got the washcloth and cleaned him off. Fraser's nipples tightened up when the cool water hit them, and Ray put his palms over to warm them. When Fraser pushed his chest up into Ray's hands, Ray laughed -- at least he wasn't oversensitive still. He used his thumbs to tease Fraser's nipples into standing up again, and then he got one with his mouth and one with his fingers until he could feel Fraser panting under him, and when he peeked, Fraser was getting hard again.
"I could keep doing this to you all night long," he said. "Over and over." Fraser's breathing got a little louder. "Except eventually I'd go nuts just looking at you."
He got the tube and tossed it from hand to hand. Fraser twitched, looking at him. "Just trying to decide what I want," he said. "Got any requests?"
"Anything," Fraser said. That little tension was gone now, replaced by a sort of openness -- like anywhere Ray's hand went would magically be the right place. Incredible.
Outside, the wind was still rising, making that little harp-string noise it sometimes made in the bare branches of the trees. In here, in their warm bedroom, Benton Fraser was offering him anything he wanted.
Ray made his mind up.
He stroked the slick into Fraser with fingers that were just short of shaking. And usually at this point you could tell that Fraser was trying -- he liked it, later on, but it was always an act of will for him to let Ray in -- but this time he just opened right up, greedily, clenching his muscles around Ray's fingers like he wanted to feel them better. Ray closed his eyes. "Cut it out," he said grittily, and Fraser gave one more clench and then relaxed.
Ray slicked himself up and knelt, shouldering one of Fraser's legs, and the minute his cock touched flesh, Fraser's head went back and he let out a long, low "Ah" that made the hair stand up on the back of Ray's neck. His other leg wrapped around Ray's hips, pulling, urging, and Ray pushed and pushed and slid -- "God!" -- and he was in.
Fraser's dark hair was damp with sweat, curling around his face, and his eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, and his mouth was loose, and Ray wanted a picture, wanted to show it to everybody -- for me, he's like this for me, he gives this up for me.
"Oh, Ray," Fraser sighed, and Ray made one slow deep stroke and then another, not even trying to hit the right spot because Fraser was panting like his whole body was the right spot, "oh, Ray, oh, yes, yes --"
Ray got his weight his knees and one arm so he could reach down for Fraser's cock, but Fraser shook his head. "No, don't -- just kiss me -- Ray --" So Ray lay on his elbows and licked at Fraser's mouth, too hot to really kiss properly. But Fraser didn't care, Fraser was moaning against his mouth, almost yelling -- "Yes, yes, Ray!"
Fraser's leg tightened around his hips, like he was trying to make Ray hold still, and Ray paused, as deep in him as he could go, breathing hard and shaking with the effort of not thrusting, watching Fraser's face. Fraser breathed deeply, and breathed again, and suddenly convulsed around him, wetting them both down as he came.
"Oh, god, Fraser," Ray said, kissing Fraser's face, and Fraser's leg gave him another squeeze, and Fraser said -- didn't even whisper -- "Go on. I want to feel you."
"Ah --" Ray lost all finesse, then, all rhythm, even -- just pushed frantically, fast hard thrusts, and almost before he could catch his breath he was coming.
Panting through the aftershocks, he realized Fraser had pulled one hand loose from the towel and laid it on the back of his head.
It took him a long time to get himself together, but Fraser didn't seem to be in any hurry, just combed through Ray's hair with his fingers, over and over. When he raised his head, Fraser had his eyes open and this little half smile on his face, and he looked maybe as relaxed as Ray had ever seen him.
Ray rolled to the side and laid his head on Fraser's chest, and Fraser's hand went on combing through his hair. "You're amazing, Fraser, you know that, right?"
"I'm glad it's me," Fraser said. "I had wondered whether perhaps it was the apple butter."
Ray grinned without raising his head. "I really love apple butter."
The first patter of rain hit the house -- not the roof but the window. That must be some wind.
"Ray." Fraser lifted his head suddenly. "That blockage in the creek -- if it rains hard, it could back up into the septic tank --"
"Dug it out yesterday while you were up at the orchard," Ray said. Fraser relaxed under him as another spatter of rain hit the glass.
"It's OK," Ray said to him. "Safe at home."
-end-
Feedback me at resonant8@sbcglobal.net.
August 11, 2003
http://trickster.org/res/homemaking.html