Title: All Fun and Games
Fandoms: due South
Characters: Ray Kowalski/Benton Fraser
Rating: Explicit (but not very)
Length: 1830 words
Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters, I don't own them, I derive no profit from their use.
Summary: Ray and Fraser experiment with orgasm denial, but fail to take certain things into account.
Author Notes: A gift for Sock Marionette.  Also, apparently Desirée has been taking Goofiness Pills this month.  I'm sure we'll be returning soon to your regularly-scheduled angst-and-hope.


It had seemed like a good idea at the time.  A fun idea.  A sexy little game for Ray and Fraser to play: a little kinky, a little naughty, maybe.

24 hours.  You can’t come for 24 hours.

If you insist, Ray.

Ray hadn’t realized how hot it would be, just knowing that Fraser was out there, not allowed to get himself off because Ray had told him to wait and Fraser had promised to obey.  It was a turn-on to imagine Fraser lying on his cot at the Consulate, not coming, waiting for Ray, thinking about Ray, maybe even touching himself, teasing himself, but stopping before he went too far, because Ray had told him he couldn’t. . .  Or getting dressed in the morning, answering phones, maybe even standing guard duty, thinking about it, wanting it, wanting Ray. . .

It was really Goddamned distracting, is what it was.  Ray basically sleepwalked through the morning, grunting when people talked to him because he hadn’t heard what they said; staring at case notes without making sense of the words; squirming in his seat and thinking about Fraser with his hands behind his back and his cock leaking. . .

And then Fraser showed up after lunch.  And that was just no good at all.

Fraser looked just like he always did, red tunic and stupid hat and everything.  He gave his usual cheerful greeting to Frannie and Huey as he strode briskly past them on his way to Ray’s desk.  But when Ray popped to his feet and came around the desk to meet him, he thought Fraser was holding himself a little more carefully than usual.  And he definitely looked at Ray for longer than he usually did when they were in public.  And then his eyes dropped to Ray’s hands and Ray realized just what a bad, terrible, really really bad idea this whole thing had been.

“This was a bad idea,” Ray told Fraser, jamming his hands in his pockets and trying not to fidget uncontrollably.  “This was a seriously bad idea.  I wasn't thinking about how it would be to have to work together with you. . .”

“I admit, that aspect of the. . .arrangement. . .is more uncomfortable than I was expecting,” Fraser murmured as he sat down at Ray’s desk and started leafing through the case notes.  “And distracting.”

“Fucking right it's distracting!” Ray hissed.  “Very distracting!  I already couldn't focus on anything else and now I've gotta look at you, and—”

“You were thinking about me?” Fraser asked.  He looked honestly surprised.

“Of course I was, that was the whole point!”

“Well. . .”  A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Fraser’s mouth.  “Not the whole point. . .”

“Weren't you thinking about it?” Ray asked, suddenly nervous.  “About me?”

“Incessantly.”  Fraser looked right into Ray’s eyes with enough sincerity to melt steel.  Ray swallowed hard.

“Uh. . .good,” he stammered.  “Except, bad.  We've gotta go. . .question witnesses.  Arrest people.  We can't be thinking about sex.”

“Well, it's only a few hours before your shift is over,” Fraser pointed out.  “We'll manage.”

“Maybe you'll manage.”  Ray sat down on the edge of the desk, making an effort to keep his voice down.  This was not a conversation everyone in the bullpen needed to hear.  “I'm gonna die of embarassment.  Or frustration.  Or I'll get hit by a car because I’m too frigging distracted to watch where I’m walking.”

Fraser gave him a perplexed frown.

“It's not as if anything's different for you.  After all, I'm the one who—”

“It is different, okay?”  Ray didn’t know why it should make a difference, knowing that Fraser was under orders not to come until that night.  It’s not like Fraser would normally be having sex in the middle of the day, on the job.  Fraser spent every day not coming during business hours, there was absolutely nothing interesting about that.  Except today, Ray couldn’t think of anything else.

“Besides,” he added.  “I was waiting for you, too.”

Fraser blinked in surprise.

“You didn't need to.”

“No, but I wanted to.”  In the shower that morning, he’d jerked off, wondering what Fraser was doing. . .but he’d stopped before he could come.  Somehow it didn’t seem right for him to come if Fraser couldn’t.

The smile Fraser gave him was bizarrely shy, given what they were talking about.  It also made Ray really really want to kiss him, which was not helpful.

“Anyway,” Ray went on.  “The point is, we can't do this.  It’s messing with my head.  I can’t focus on investigating robberies with you standing right there, not. . . We've got to stop.  Call it off.”

“I don't see how that will help,” said Fraser reasonably.  His voice sounded a little rough around the edges.  “It's not as though I'm going to come before we get home, whether you allow me to or not.”

“Oh God,” Ray groaned, trying to keep his voice down.  “You're actually talking about this in the bullpen. . .”

“You started it,” whispered Fraser, glancing around to check if they were being overheard.

Ray leaned in closer.  His nose was practically touching Fraser’s ear.  He could hear Fraser’s breath going in and out kind of quick.  He was not going to stick his tongue out and lick Fraser’s ear, no way, unh unh. . .

“You could jerk off in the men's room,” he whispered back.

Fraser jerked away, his face flushing almost as red as his uniform.

“I could not!” he hissed, glaring at Ray.

Ray bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

“Even if I told you to?” he asked with a mischievous grin.

“Please don't,” said Fraser quietly.  He’d gone completely still.  Except Ray could see the rise and fall of his chest under his tunic as he breathed.

Ray felt like he couldn’t breathe at all.

“Oh god, that means you would,” he said.  Fraser didn’t answer.   “You would, wouldn’t you?  If I ordered you—?”

“Please.”  Fraser looked like a deer in the headlights.

“I wont, I won't, I don't want you to,” Ray promised hastily.  “That would just be tacky.”

“Not to mention, risky,” Fraser said, trying to speak normally but still sounding pretty ragged.

“Yeah, like you have a problem with risky,” Ray teased.

“Ray.”

“I said I won't.”  Ray held up his hands placatingly and Fraser relaxed a little.

“Doesn't mean I'm not going to tease you about it, though,” Ray added, leaning in towards Fraser again.

“Ray.”  But Fraser didn’t back away.

“Or think about it.”  Fuck, he wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about it.  Well, he was damned if he was going to be the only one in that boat.  He let his voice go low and sexy.  “About you in there, in the stall, with your hand. . .”

“Ray, stop it.”  Fraser’s face was flushed again, his eyes fixed on his hands, which were gripping a pen, knuckles resting on Ray’s desk.

Ray slid off the desk and bent over Fraser from behind, his hands on Fraser’s shoulders, like maybe he was looking at something on the desk.  Fraser’s hands twitched, snapping the pen in half.

“Or my hand,” Ray murmured in Fraser’s ear.  “I could do it for you.  Would you like that?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Ray.”

Fraser had his head down and Ray’s computer would mostly be blocking his face from people seeing it, like Ray’s body was shielding Fraser’s back.  Of course, that wouldn’t keep anyone from seeing Ray. . .

“You like thinking about that.  Crowded in there with my hand on you. . .my other hand over your mouth so you don’t make any noise. . .”

“Ray. . .” Fraser took a deep breath, let it out, and straightened up, turning away from Ray a little to look at the computer screen, not that there was anything on it.  “Ray, we have work to do.”

“Fuck, yeah, you're right.”  Ray let go of him and ran his hands through his own hair, then stuck his hands back in his pockets, pacing in a little circle from one side of the desk to the other.  “Work, yeah.  Thinking about work.  How the hell can you think about work at a time like this?”

“Would it be better if I left?” Fraser asked, not looking at Ray.  He started to stand up, but Ray shot out a hand and grabbed Fraser’s wrist.

“You do and I swear I won’t let you come for a fucking week,” Ray hissed.

They both froze, staring at each other with what were probably identical shocked expressions.

“Are you pissed at me?” Ray whispered when the silence had gone on way too long.  “Don’t be pissed.  I know I don’t own you or nothing. . .”

Fraser shook his head, just a little, like he was afraid it might fall off or something if he made any sudden moves.

“That was an unfortunately vivid image,” he said carefully.  He sounded like he needed a drink of water.  Or maybe something stronger.

“Right,” Ray muttered, shaking his own head in case that would help kickstart his brain.  “Because we’re working.  That’s what we do when we’re at work.  We work.”

Fraser nodded.

“Witnesses?” he offered, holding up one of the pages from Ray’s file.

“Yeah.  Witnesses.  We’ll start with the pet store.”

“The pet store,” Fraser repeated.  “Indeed.”

They made their way out to the parking lot without talking or really looking at each other much.  Ray was jittering like a junkie, but by the time he opened the car door, he’d just about managed to wrap his head around the facts of the case: string of break-ins, green car seen around the neighborhood, pet store guy claimed to have heard a bump in the night. . .

“You wouldn’t last a week,” said Fraser as he fastened his seatbelt.  Ray twitched, banging his elbow on the door and dropping the keys on the floor.

“Oh, and you would?” Ray shot back.

Fraser gazed out the window with an expression that was about equal parts prim and smug and just totally inappropriate for the situation.

“When it comes to self discipline, I’ve had–”

“I’ll fucking discipline you, you–”  Ray snapped his mouth shut as Fraser’s head whipped around to stare at him with huge, hungry eyes.

“Do you think you could manage not to say things like that for, oh, at least a few minutes?  Or is that asking too much of you?”  Fraser’s voice was strained.  Like the crotch of Ray’s jeans.  Like his freaking willpower.  Like his sanity.  He wondered what it would take to get Fraser’s voice to break.  If he reached over and. . .

Ray rested his forehead on the steering wheel, letting out an explosive sigh.

“This is going to be a really fucking long day, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so,” murmured Fraser.