This scene 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.



















Bonus scene from "The Teeth of the Hydra" by Resonant

(Keep in mind that at this point I was still experimenting with alternating point of view between Fraser and Ray.)

"All right, then. Fine," he said, and stuck out his hand, and pulled Fraser to his feet. And kissed him.

By the time Fraser's mind had recovered from the shock, his body was participating with great enthusiasm. Ray didn't let go of his hand immediately, but as they moved closer together, their joined hands were pressed between their bodies, and without breaking the kiss Ray let go and wrapped that hand around the back of Fraser's head, long fingers feathering through his hair. Restless, like his mouth, like his mind, never still.

Where had this come from? He had had lunch with Stella, and then he'd left in a great fury, and now it was one in the morning and ...

He'd had a fight with his ex-wife, and now he was ...

"Stop," Fraser said.

Ray lifted his head, flushed and panting. "Huh?"

"Stop," Fraser said again, and stepped back out of the circle of his arms. It hurt.

Ray's gaze sharpened as his brain came back on line. "Stop?" he said. "Now you're saying stop? You gonna tell me you don't want it?" And he stepped forward again and put his hand on the front of Fraser's jeans. "Because I won't believe it."

"Of course I want to," Fraser said. Ray's eyes came up. "I don't choose to." He grasped Ray's wrist and moved it away from his body.

Ray looked down. Pulled experimentally against Fraser's grip. "Your hands are really strong," he said dreamily. Only when Fraser released him did he look up.

"Half the department thinks I'm queer, you know that, Fraser? You knew that. Evidently the DA's office does, to, including my ex, which was news to me." He reached out, fisted a hand in Fraser's shirt. "So fuck it."

"Do you always make a practice of living down to everyone's worst expectations?" Even to himself Fraser sounded like a schoolteacher.

"No, no, you're missing my point. My point is, fine, whatever, label me any way you want, right." He took a step closer, until Fraser could feel his warmth. "Because, see, if I don't give a shit what they call me," and he pulled at the shirt until Fraser had to step forward, "then I can have anything I want."

He let go, stepping back, and Fraser had a moment of sickening disappointment -- but Ray was shedding his jacket, toeing off his boots, hauling his sweatshirt over his head. "Sleep with me," he said, and flung himself at Fraser. "Stay with me, come on, Fraser, you know you want to --"

"Yes," Fraser said, and filled his hands and his senses with Ray.

God, he felt good, he felt like he was flying. Fraser's shirt had buttons, and he felt like ripping it, so fuck it, he just did it, pulled hard with both hands, and some of the buttons just slipped loose but at least one popped off, and Fraser sucked in a gasp.

Fraser in his arms was big and hot and solid, kissing him hungrily, hands not roaming much but just holding on. Ray pulled his mouth free.

"Come on, come on," he said, and tugged Fraser back into the bedroom. Fraser had on boots, but they weren't tied, and he left one in the hall and the other in the doorway, and Ray pushed him down on the bed and tumbled down on top of him.

Fraser splayed his hands over Ray's lower back, hip to hip, and then Fraser was pushing him up, big hot hand stroking his cock once through the jeans and then undoing the buttons with practiced ease. Ray rolled over sideways, sticking his hands up under Fraser's shirt to stroke over his bare back, and Fraser followed him, mouth touching down at neck and shoulder and breastbone even as his hands parted Ray's jeans and tucked down his shorts --

And shit, a guy's mouth was big! Fraser went down and down and right down to where his circled fingers gripped Ray's cock, and Fraser's other hand brushed over his balls for a second and then went down and back, and suddenly a new thought hit him, bloomed in him. What he could have now, what he could claim --

"Wait -- fuck, that's good -- wait, Fraser, stop, I want you to do me."

Fraser raised his head, looking irritated. "You do not."

Ray grinned. "Do so," he said.

Fraser made a gesture that was like half a slow headshake. "You don't have to prove anything to me, Ray --"

Ray nudged him off and started pushing off his jeans. "Not talking about proof, Fraser, talking about sex, here."

Fraser maybe hadn't noticed that he had a handful of Ray's bare ass. He was still frowning and looking pissy, which for some reason struck Ray as hilarious.

"Correct me if I'm mistaken," Fraser said very precisely, "but I am under the impression that I'm the first man with whom you've been intimately involved, and --"

"You ain't mistaken." Ray flicked open the button on Fraser's jeans. "But I've got all the stuff and I know how it's done and I want you to do it."

Fraser's zipper went down with a beautiful growl of sound, and Fraser closed his eyes. "If your supplies aren't adequate --" he said threateningly.

Ray sat up and opened the nightstand drawer, which was mostly full of dirty kleenex and chapsticks with no tops, and started handing things to Fraser. Bottle. Bottle. Tube. Condom. Different kind of condom. Bottle. "Take your pick."

Fraser stared at this bounty. "I withdraw my objection," he said.

Ray just grinned at him.

Fraser was examining the bottles carefully. "This one's past its expiry date." He dropped it on the floor. "This one --" He opened it, winced at the cherry-cough-drop scent, and dropped that one, too. He uncapped the tube and rubbed a sample of the contents between his fingers, then fanned out the two condoms. "You have a preference?"

"Red one's a little thicker, slow you down," he said. "Black one you hardly know's there." He grinned when Fraser tossed the red one to the floor. "Knew it. No good Mountie self-denial here."

Fraser raised his eyebrows. "It would seem to be too late for that."

Ray took the packet out of his hand. "Get the jeans off. Let me handle this. I'm good at this."

The secret with a rubber was to get everything good and wet, at least up top, before you put it on. Ray applied himself with a thoroughness that Fraser should have been proud of, first with his mouth and then with the slick, until Fraser had to grab his wrist and grate out, "Now." And -- he glanced up out of the corner of his eye to be sure -- there was Fraser watching him roll it on.

"How do you usually -- no, I'd prefer not to know," Fraser said. "Lie down on your back."

Ray resisted the temptation to salute, but took the opportunity to grab a kiss, and Fraser pressed him back and stretched out half on top of him.

Ray gasped as Fraser's wet finger breached him. "Oh, yeah," he signed, and opened his eyes in time to see some of the worry smooth out of Fraser's face. "Told you," he said, and spread a little more.

Fraser pushed back his legs and rolled on top of him, and Ray's legs flailed for a moment and then settled in the crooks of Fraser's arms. Fraser went in slow and steady, mouth slack, eyes never leaving Ray's face. It was different, it was way different, and it stung some, but Ray breathed deep and let it happen, because he and Fraser had been on their way here for years, years, and he hadn't even noticed.

The first stroke was pretty much all pain, but the second had a bright core of pleasure in it, and before too long the pleasure was the only thing left. And Fraser, eyes still on Ray's face, shifted position once, and then again, and one more time, hauling at Ray's hips, and --

"Ah, fuck!" because that was it, that was just it, every stroke now lit him up from inside, and he was wailing something and his hand was hauling frantically on his cock, knuckles rubbing against Fraser's belly, and Fraser was whispering, "Yes, yes," and trying to look down between them, and he came until he saw stars.

He was still wringing out aftershocks, feeling Fraser in him with every spasm, when Fraser shuddered all over and turned his head to the side and pushed down, all but bending Ray double, breathing loud through clenched teeth. Hitting so hard -- it was almost too much -- and Ray put his fingers on Fraser's nipple before he remembered his hand was wet, but Fraser grunted, deep, and then, oh, god, so incredible, Ray could feel Fraser's cock jerking inside him as, still making short thrusts, he came.

Ray was used to being the last one to come, had decades of practice in it, so this was new to him -- warm waves of post-orgasmic sweetness still shivering through his body, but his head clear to watch as Fraser clenched his eyes shut and rocked gently in him, chasing those last small spasms of pleasure. It wasn't the most comfortable thing, splayed out and bent up like this, and even on his elbows, Fraser was putting quite a bit of weight on him. He never wanted it to end.

He touched Fraser's mouth, his cheeks, his sweat-damp hair, and Fraser pressed a fervent kiss to Ray's palm and then opened his eyes, almost smiling, and said, "My god."

"Yeah," Ray said.

They shifted so Ray could lower his legs -- Fraser was still in him, and it gave him a shuddery feeling, like it wouldn't take much to start him up again. Ray made a move like to pull apart, and Fraser said, "Wait a few moments and it will be easier."

"Kiss me, then," Ray said, and Fraser did, for a very long time.

When they separated, Ray pulled Fraser over to lay his head on Ray's chest, because he was lying in the world's biggest wet spot and in no hurry to spread it around. Fraser wrapped one arm across his chest and nuzzled against his neck.

"May I ask," he said, "what on earth you were discussing with Stella in the conference room?"

"David Bowie," Ray said, and kissed the top of his head.

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July 13, 2002