Second Chance

by Speranza

Note:  Just a PWP thingamajig.  Thanks to the usual suspects—Mia, Resonant, Julad, and also to cmshaw, who does PWPs a helluva lot better than I do.  Warning:  No clowns.

He was drunk and just beginning to get weepy when there was a knock at the door.

Stella. Ray lifted his head and swiped his bare forearm across his eyes. She'd come. She'd come anyway, never mind what she said. Ray only got the barest glimpse of his reflection in the window's black glass before he was turning and stumbling toward the door.

Ray flung open the door and—No Stella, not Stella—found Fraser standing in the hallway, looking pale in the dingy yellow light.

"Fraser—" Ray couldn't believe how fucked-up his own voice sounded, and he figured his face was a twisted, blotchy mess. He stared down at the hallway's linoleum floor to avoid Fraser's eyes, and tried to cover his embarrassment by fidgeting and scratching at the back of his neck. "Look, this isn't...this isn't a good time..."

Strong fingers gripped him by the shoulders, and Ray looked up and saw Fraser's face.  The normally calm features were pained and distorted.  Fraser stepped into the apartment, forcing Ray backwards, kicking the door shut behind them.

Fuck, Fraser was—

Ray's heart kicked into overdrive, a panicked pounding in his chest. Fight or flight! Run for it! Hit him!—except Fraser was wrapped tightly around him now, pinning his arms to his sides. Ray felt the sudden, shocking warmth of Fraser's body against his, then felt—then let himself feel—the obscene wetness of Fraser's mouth.

Ray tried to twist away, but Fraser's arm was crooked around his neck, holding him still, holding him close. Crazy thoughts were whirling through his brain (he's fucking me, killing me) when Fraser's tongue slid between his lips and into his mouth and—

Fuck, he was hard; he was rock fucking hard. Blood was surging through his body, into his arms and legs, making his skin tingle. Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop—and Ray realized that his arms were wrapped tight around Fraser, his fists knotted in the back of Fraser's soft leather jacket.

He was moving backwards, flying backwards, Fraser was moving him—and then the wall smashed into his back with a jolt. Fraser's mouth broke away from his, and Ray's eyes flew open, and for a moment they just panted into each other's shaken faces.

Fraser's face was eerily shadowed by the darting orange candlelight. "Fraser," Ray began, but Fraser leaned forward and murmured, "Shh."

Ray breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, shuddering helplessly as Fraser's lips touched his eyebrow, as Fraser kissed each of his eyelids. A hand brushed his cock and then groped him up and down through his jeans.

Ray let his head fall back with a soft thunk against the plaster.

Wall. Wall outside his bedroom. Warm-hot palm at his fly, warm-wet mouth at his throat. Fraser'd missed the door to his bedroom, Fraser had been pushing them toward the bedroom.

Ray pushed his trapped erection urgently against Fraser's hand. Fraser was warm and solid and kissing him senseless, and god, he needed this. He needed this so fucking much.

Fraser grabbed Ray's hair on both sides, tugged his head forward, took his mouth again. Fraser's hands seemed to be everywhere—in his hair, under his t-shirt, cupping his ass. Ray couldn't seem to think clearly, to make a story out of his senses. His head was swimming. Fraser's mouth was smothering any chance of rational thought.

Fraser was—Christ!— turning him on, making him so fucking crazy. That strong hand cupping him between his legs, that heavy tongue in his—

Ray tried to wrestle Fraser's jacket off while keeping their mouths pressed together, while keeping that heavy hot tongue in his mouth. Fraser had to yank first one arm and then the other from around him to wriggle out of it, but at the end of the contortion Ray was gripping flannel instead of leather, and underneath the flannel he could feel the hard, warm muscles of Fraser's chest.

Feeling frenzied, feeling absolutely fucking desperate for it, Ray pulled the tails of Fraser's shirt out of Fraser's pants and shoved his hands up and underneath. His palms eagerly roamed over Fraser's bare skin.  Ray's mouth and chin were slick with kisses as Ray slid his hands up over Fraser's ribs, Fraser's hot sides, the rough, scarred skin at the small of his back.

Fraser suddenly went on the offensive again, seizing the hem of Ray's t-shirt and tugging it upward. Ray felt cool air pinch his nipples as his t-shirt rose—and then the shirt was yanked up over his head, up over his raised arms, momentarily blinding him.

When Ray's head came free from the t-shirt's neck, he had a brief glimpse of Fraser's flushed, intense face before Fraser cupped his jaw tightly between thumb and forefinger and pulled his face close for another kiss. God, but Fraser could kiss—and Ray fumbled dizzily, blindly, at the buttons on Fraser's flannel shirt.

Fraser was moving them again, sideways, backwards, through the bedroom doorway. For a moment, Ray feared that Fraser would drive them into the nightstand and knock over the candles, but Fraser steered them straight to the bed. The edge of the mattress hit the back of his knees just as Ray got his first warm palmfuls of Fraser's chest and shoulders.

Fraser moaned softly at the massaging grip of Ray's hands—and then Fraser's thigh was hard between his legs and Fraser's hands were clutching his hips and Fraser was tilting him off balance and tumbling him backwards onto the bed.

Ray writhed and gasped up at the ceiling—Christ, he was so horny, he could barely breathe. He jerked his hips upward just as Fraser fisted Ray's hair and drove himself downward, and then they were grunting into each other's mouths and humping furiously. Not enough, not nearly enough, so Ray blindly hooked his leg around Fraser's and flipped them over so that he was on top. He had only few blissful seconds of perfect friction before Fraser rolled them over again, this time pinning Ray down by the wrists.

"Pants," Ray hissed, managing to twist his mouth away for a second. "Please. Open my—" Fraser smothered the rest of the sentence, but Ray felt Fraser's hand slide between them, opening his button, tugging down the zipper of his jeans, and breathed a sigh of gratitude into Fraser's mouth.

Fraser shoved Ray's briefs down, then slowly pumped his cock.

Oh yeah. Oh god, yeah.

Cool air blew over Ray's slick mouth and chin as Fraser lifted his head. Underneath him, Ray shivered and squeezed his eyes shut. "Christ, touch me," he whispered. "Jerk me off, Fraser, please—"

Fraser's hand tightened around his erection and Ray sucked in a huge, wet breath—and a second later he was crying out ("Oh—oh, god...") because Fraser was sliding down his body and lying across his legs and ("Oh god, Fraser—") wrapping his warm, wet mouth around Ray's dick and slowly kissing his fist. Ray's groans dissolved into inarticulate sobs as he thrust up into Fraser's tight, wet mouth. Tears leaked out the corners of his eyes.

Fraser sucked him, licked him, teased him, his dark head bobbing up and down—and then he let Ray hold his head still and fuck his throat. Ray strained desperately for breath, his chest heaving, and then he cupped Fraser's sweaty neck in his hands and came in a series of violent shudders. Fraser's hands burned his skin where they gripped his hips, holding him down as he came.

Ray's head fell to the side, his brain swimming. Dimly, he could feel Fraser swallowing around him, sucking gently now that he was softening. Ray opened his eyes and saw Fraser's flickering shadow move up the wall beyond the bed just as he felt Fraser's tongue touch his belly.

Ray moaned and blindly dropped his hand into Fraser's thick hair. Fraser buried his face against the stripe he'd licked and let out an answering moan, except Fraser's moan sounded...hungry. Hungry and agonized and horny.

Suddenly Fraser's shadow was moving again, rising over him and flipping him onto his stomach. Ray felt a momentary stab of panic—he's going to fuck me—and then he felt Fraser's lips drift down his spine and press a kiss to the small of his back. The kiss was gentle and very, very sweet, and something tightly wound within Ray eased.

Fraser had come to him like some kind of miracle, on this night of all fucking nights. Ray had needed somebody so desperately, and Fraser had held him and kissed him and taken him to bed and given him the best blowjob he'd ever had.

So all right. What the hell. He'd try anything once, so—so he'd give Fraser anything he wanted.

Ray swallowed hard and wrapped his arms around his pillow. "Fraser," he whispered, twisting his head to one side. "Do...whatever you want, okay?"

Fraser went very still, and for a second Ray could hear nothing but his own pounding heart and the sputtering and guttering of candles. And then suddenly Fraser was on him, full on top of him, holding him tight—and Ray took several deep breaths, mentally chanting: This is good, this is good, don't wuss out.

Still, Ray shouted in surprise as Fraser pushed his erection between Ray's thighs. Shit, Christ—-and Ray felt Fraser's hot, damp hands gently coaxing his legs together. Ray clamped his legs together tightly, and Fraser groaned appreciatively at the pressure and began to thrust in earnest.  Fraser kissed the back of Ray's neck, then began to tongue his ear—and there was something about the feel of Fraser's strong, wet tongue that made Ray wish that Fraser was fucking him for real, fucking him inside.

Though Fraser was fucking him pretty hard already, groaning and gasping and snapping his hips in an increasingly ragged rhythm, jerking Ray around violently on the bed. Ray could feel Fraser's dick hard and high between his legs—rubbing his perineum, nudging the back of his balls.

Fraser was murmuring incoherently. "W-want. Need...Ray, I need...oh, god—" and Ray felt the first pulse of wetness between his legs.  


He dozed and woke up later with Fraser wrapped tightly around him—strong arms encircling his shoulders, a heavily-muscled leg draped across both of his. Strangely, this didn't feel so much like affection as—protection, like Fraser protecting him. It felt like Fraser was guarding him, keeping him safe from something that was out to get him, and in that second, Ray felt absolutely, one hundred percent certain that Fraser loved him, because he could feel Fraser's love viscerally, right down deep in his bones.

Ray closed his eyes against the darkness and tilted his head toward Fraser, felt Fraser's stubbled cheek brush sweetly against his. Fraser was always protecting him, especially from Stella, and from all the hurt that came with Stella.

Fraser had, like, a sixth sense about Stella, which was weird because Fraser didn't otherwise know shit about women.

A whisper of breath against his ear made him shiver. "Are you all right?"

"I— Yeah." Suddenly he felt the need to pull away, and so he pulled away. After a moment, Fraser let him go. "She didn't come."

Fraser's voice was quietly sympathetic. "I know, Ray. I'm sorry."

Ray rolled over and wrapped his arms around himself, hunching slightly and shivering. Man, the sheets were cold everywhere that Fraser wasn't. "I thought—" He swallowed, shrugged into the darkness. "I thought that maybe. You know. Second chance—"

Fraser's arms were tight around him even before he started sobbing. It was like Fraser knew he was going to cry, except Fraser couldn't know a thing like that. Fraser couldn't know that Stella wasn't coming. That Ray needed him. That Ray needed this.

He'd probably just seen the candles in the window, and decided to stop by.  

The End

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