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"Ray," Fraser braced his hands on either side of Ray's shoulders and tried to halt his lean. "Ray . . . "

Ray had his hand tangled in his lanyard, which shouldn't have been enough to overcome his stability. It might have been the heat, sliding in the open windows of Ray's apartment; it was almost 2 am and still over 90 degrees. It might have been the creeping, maddening tension that had been plaguing Fraser for some months now. It could have been the full moon but it was probably the supple, lanky way Ray was leaning against the wall just inside his apartment door.

"Ray, Ray, please don't--" he said, locking his shoulders and--when they threatened to give way--his knees as well.

"You know you're crazy, right?" Ray was smiling but his eyes, washed of all color in the diffuse silver light of the moon, were worried. A dark v of sweat stained his T-shirt and spread from beneath the lines of his gun holster, Fraser licked his own lip, tasting the sourness of his sweat--he was sick, in some undefined way--and jerked back, choking on the lanyard like a hooked fish. He gasped and caught scent of Ray, the strong smell of sweat and body warm leather was overwhelming, pungently unique and Fraser jerked again.

"Always," he panted. "A freak, am I not?"

"Yeah," Ray reached out slowly to touch his face and Fraser angled frantically away, eyes wild. "But something else, Frase, what's wrong? Something's wrong with you, something's really wrong."

"Don't touch me!" Fraser's voice broke, nearly panic stricken. He knew he couldn't stand it, if Ray touched him. Not when they were so close, not when Ray smelled like he did now. Not when Fraser could feel the poisonous build of his own raw darkness seething so close to the surface.

The heat the past few weeks had been unrelenting, as had his duties. The Consulate had been vicious in its boredom and his work with Ray had been far too full of blood and death and violence. Fraser felt poisoned, full of restlessness and hunger with no outlet. He felt like he had with Victoria and he was terrified. He couldn't go back there. He couldn't allow himself to feel that way again. Fraser was trying desperatly to feel nothing at all.

Ray's hand fell to his collar and the riiip of Velcro made Fraser lunge away, lanyard hissing through Ray's fingers. Fraser bolted for the door; he needed his uniform despite the heavy weight of it, perhaps because of it. It held him down, locked him away. Kept him safe.

"No!" Ray body blocked him into the back of the couch, hooking an elbow under Fraser's flailing arm and flipping him around to grab at his jacket and yank. Fraser had 30 pounds on him and 13 years as a peace officer; Ray had his wiry speed, a street fighter's instinct and neither of them were holding back. Brass buttons popped over the floor as Ray twisted Fraser's jacket open underneath the Sam Browne then Fraser slammed Ray up against the wall, snarling in his face.

"Let me go," Fraser said roughly, though his hands were clenched brusingly on Rays shoulders, pinning him at arms length. This had to stop. He knew it had to stop, now . . . or it wouldn't stop.

"No, Fraser," Ray was breathing hard, eyes dark, sweat like tears on his face. "You run, I follow, you fight, I fight ya and win. You ain't getting away from me. Not like this."

"You don't want this." Fraser hissed, voice tight with fear and--something darker; anger, hunger. There was a bruise rising on his chin where Ray's elbow had caught him while they struggled and the dull ache only goaded him on.

"Yes I do." Ray's hand settled, lightly, oddly tender, on Fraser's face, sweaty palm cupping his equally sweaty cheek. Fraser twisted his head slightly, still holding Ray's gaze in his own and dragged his tongue over Ray's angular thumb. Ray's eyes went, if possible, darker still--nothing but black pupil and a thin line of silver in the night. Heat rushed to the surface of Fraser's skin, he knew he was blushing, but not from embarrassment. Ray's scent surround him and the stutter of his breathing drew him. He couldn't hold the tide back any longer and let it drag him down.

Ray's mouth was surrendering under his own but Fraser still bit his lip before slicking his tongue inside. Heat, there was so much heat; the skin along his back marched in chills and he moaned, breathing harshly through his nose as he felt Ray's hands yanking his uniform off. The Sam Browne clattered heavily by their boots and Ray twisted his face aside to gasp for breath. Fraser dragged his tongue along Ray's rough jawline then wrapped his lips around Ray's earlobe, beginning to suckle.

"Oh, god--I got ya, I got ya," Ray gasped, one hand knotted hard in Fraser's hair the other skimming over his hot body, gripping his waist as Fraser ground hard against they rhythm of Ray's hips. Ray was hard. Ray was hard. The animal whine slipping from Fraser's throat as he tongued the soft bit of flesh in his mouth frightened him, he couldn’t imagine what Ray thought if it.

But Ray didn't struggle, his legs slipped apart as he leaned against the wall, giving Fraser a welcome cradle to fit himself to. Ray's hand loosened in his hair, stroking him, petting soothingly. "S'okay Frase, let it go. I'm here. Let go."

"I need--" Fraser begged roughly into Ray's ear. His hands were twisting in Ray's shirt, dragging it aside, he couldn't understand why it wouldn't come off. "I need--oh, god--I c-can't stop this. I can't--I can't control this. Need--need so much. Need so badly."

"Yeah, okay, okay," Ray dragged at one of Fraser's hands, putting it under his shirt so Fraser could touch the hot, wet skin. Fraser groaned and opened his mouth against the pulse in Ray's throat. It raced under his tongue; he couldn't stop licking it. Ray's head thumped against the wall, throaty moans humming against Fraser's hand on his chest, softly against his searching mouth.

"I don't want to hurt you," Fraser gasped, then bit hard on Ray's collarbone, a gathering shudder wracked Ray's body but the sound he made was one of pleasure. Another scent was rising amid the sweat and leather and wool; one that brought Fraser's already swollen erection to a painfully rigid state. A heavy, male scent, Ray's excitement, Ray's lust. Fraser dropped his forehead to Ray's shoulder, inhaling deeply, eyes fluttering closed. It was such a maddening scent; it almost hurt to breathe it. Fraser couldn't get enough of it. "Ray, Ray, Ray--make this work--make this--I have to have something, *please* . . .."

"Ahhh--" Ray's hand tightened in his hair again, dragging at him, pulling. He hooked a boot behind Fraser's heel, unbalancing him. "Get down. Frase, get down there."

Fraser's knees folded and he dropped to the floor with a grunt then buried his face in the crotch of Ray's not terribly clean jeans. He locked his hands on Ray's thigh, rubbing his cheek against the strong length caught in the left leg of Ray's pants and making incoherent noises of desperation. Ray's hands were there then, unbuttoning the snap, pulling down the zipper, exposing himself, offering himself to Fraser.

"Yes, yes, yes," Fraser chanted, too disoriented to do anything but watch, hands kneading Ray's thighs brusingly hard. This was what he needed. He was salivating, raw with a hunger that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with the tight ache that swept through him then gathered hot and heavy between his legs.

Ray pushed at his underwear, pulling his penis free. His other hand yanked at Fraser's hair. "Look at me," he gasped. Fraser dragged his eyes from Ray's glorious length to look up to his face. Ray was all sharp angles and slick skin in the moonlight, his mouth looked swollen and dark--right now, Fraser only felt a hot satisfaction at knowing he'd done that--and his eyes were in deep shadow. "You are so fucking beautiful. I want you to eat me. I want you to take everything you need, Fraser. Take it, take it."

Ray's hand moved in time with his words, jacking himself and Fraser leaned forward. He licked at Ray's fingers, wrapped his lips around his penis, he licked at the hot, salty tip, he licked at everything he could reach. It was so good, the strong sweat and precome taste had Fraser groaning in pleasure. Ray's smell was overwhelming here; he was drowning in it and never wanted to breathe again. He caught the tip of Ray's penis between his lips, slipping his tongue over the head and pulled it in. Ray keened softly and his hips arched forward, pushing and Fraser sucked hungrily, taking what was offered. In a moment he grunted in frustration, Ray's hand remained wrapped around the shaft; he wanted all of it. He tried to push Ray's fingers away with his tongue but Ray only pumped his fist, letting Fraser take only so much and no more.

Fraser's hands tightened on Ray's jeans, tugging at them. He could feel the toe of Ray's boot digging into his left knee and the hard grip on his hair excited him. He growled low in his throat, pushing against Ray's wet hand again with his lips, head bobbing.

"You want more, yeah?" Ray gasped. Fraser nodded around his penis and slicked his tongue slow over the curve of his glans. Ray twitched and whimpered. "Unbutton your pants, Frase. Get 'em open."

Whimpering, squeezing his eyes tight shut, Fraser reached down to unfasten his jodhpurs.

"Get yer cock out, for me." Ray breathed. He nudged his fist against Fraser's mouth, keeping him from going further down on his slick, hot penis. "Put yer hand on it--ahh--put both hands on it."

Only when Fraser had wrapped his hand around his own stiff penis, rising eagerly from the open v of his pants, did Ray shift his hand. He let go of his penis, pressing his hand flat to his crotch, fingertips rubbing his tight scrotum. Fraser sank deeper onto Ray's shaft with a muffled, wet moan. Ray's hips nudged gently, rhythmically, giving Fraser a pattern to work with. His other hand soothed through Fraser's sweat damp hair and his groans of lust were mixed with soft encouragement, his voice falling reassuringly around Fraser.

It was so good, the stroke and stroke and stroke of Ray's penis in his mouth. Fraser could tongue it and suck it and *taste* it and Ray only encouraged him, only moaned in pleasure, gave him more. It was so good, it was what he needed and Fraser could feel something cruel and painful unknot inside himself. Unconsciously, his own hands picked up the rhythm of Ray's thrust and Fraser began to jack his own penis, one hand slipping into the hot darkness to cup and roll his testicles. Ray must have felt the brush of Fraser's forearm against his shin because he groaned deeply, head thumping against the wall again. Fraser tasted a strong dribble of precome in his mouth and swallowed eagerly.

He leaned closer, nose pressing repeatedly against the back of Ray's hand. They were moving faster now, the wet sound of his mouth obscene in the late night. Fraser's body thrummed, shivers rushing through him, gathering in little, reflexive jerks between his legs. His penis felt enormous and he could feel Ray's twitching, swelling harder still, in his mouth.

"Oh, oh, oh--take it, take it, Frase--gonna come, gonna, gonna, gonna come," Ray chanted, body arching like a drawn bow. Fraser moaned, pressing in tight and hungry, wild for it, mad for it. He pumped himself hard, hips snapping Ray was keening above him and his hand was a hard fist in his hair again.

Ray snapped forward with a brief scream and pulsed strong and sour into Fraser's sucking mouth. Fraser swallowed and swallowed, choking, crying out, on fire, coming in a wild flood, burning, lights rushing behind his closed lids as he sprayed semen wildly between his own fingers.
Fraser abruptly jerked back with a cry, Ray's twitching penis slithering past his lips and down his chin as he wailed. The crush of sudden sobs stunned him; Fraser couldn’t stop himself, shocked and shamed by the tears, wracked by a storm of weeping.

Ray slid down the wall, grabbing Fraser in a hard, hot hug. He didn't tell Fraser to stop; he didn't ask him any questions. Ray just pressed Fraser's face into his the crook of his neck and rocked him back and forth, one hand stroking his shaking back.

"I got ya," he murmured into Fraser's hair, voice still rough with climax. "I got ya, Frase. S'okay. I got ya."

"Oh, god, god," Fraser gasped, pushing his face into the dark sweaty skin of Ray's neck. "Don't let go. Don't let go."

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