| One For The Money
Author: Minervacat
For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, Ray Kowalski and Fraser are having dinner at Shaw's Crab House in Chicago with Stella and the other Ray. Actually, the reasons are pretty simple: Stella wants her ex-Ray not to hate her current Ray, and Fraser wants his ex-Ray (but not ex like that) not to hate his current Ray (current exactly like that). Not really complicated, but so many Rays make Ray's head hurt. The last thing Ray wanted to do is put on a damn coat and tie and go have dinner with Armani and The Stella and Fraser. Last thing in the whole world, especially at a place like Shaw's, always full of rich snooty tourists, made him feel inferior and slow, but Stell liked it, always had. So there they were. The food turns out to be pretty good, though, if he doesn't think about the price, and Stella looks pretty and Fraser looks prettier and the Style Pig's not really so bad. Ray knows it could be worse, really, but he still doesn't want to be there. Plus he's sitting in a corner, back to two walls, and Fraser beside him, trapping him in his chair. No escape for him tonight. His tie's starting to choke him and he's trying not to fidget because it makes Fraser crazy, but he just can't stop moving. He's got a finger tugging, secret-like, at his collar, and Vecchio's talking something Canada to Fraser, and Ray's not listening one single bit. Stella's off in the can, powdering her nose, when Fraser's warm fingers crawl up onto Ray's thigh. Which, if Frase wants him to stop fidgeting, that's one way to do it. Ray freezes and Fraser gives his leg a friendly squeeze, under the table, like. Ray tries to focus on Vecchio, on Vecchio's mouth going on about Canada thinking about decriminalizing dope, anything but Fraser's fingers, stroking up his thigh, very carefully, feather light. Makes Ray start fidgeting again, 'cause his dick's waking up in his pants and it's not comfortable at fucking all. Plus Stell's back from the can and he knows that she knows him well - enough to see it written all over his face. Ray swivels his head away from Vecchio's mouth and the Canadian dope, just as Fraser's hand closes over his erection, squeezing a lot harder than when Fraser squeezed his knee a minute ago. Ray cuts off a groan in his throat and hisses, "Fray-zer." Fraser glances at Ray and just as his stupid clever fingers are popping the button of Ray's pants, and Fraser fucking winks at Ray and keeps nodding seriously at Vecchio and Stella the whole goddamned time. Ray puts both hands on the tabletop and pulls his chair in as close as he can get, because Frase has got his hand inside Ray's briefs and wrapped around his dick, which thinks this is the greatest thing ever. Hand job from Fraser in front of Stella and Vecchio, plus it's in a public place? Sign Ray's dick right up, never mind that the rest of him should be booking him and Fraser both, public indecency. Fraser, still talking about decriminalization versus legalization, runs his thumb across the head of Ray's dick, fingers loose around the shaft, and Ray jerks without meaning to. Stella looks him over sharply and Ray gulps, swallows hard, but Fraser doesn't move his hand. "Ray? Are you all right?" "Fine, Stell," Ray manages. "Just all this dope talk's making me remember my misspent youth, you know?" "Acid flashback?" Vecchio says with a laugh. A mean laugh, makes Ray want to put his foot through the Style Pig's head, except the Mountie hand on his dick squeezes, really fuckin' hard, and Ray swallows the comeback. "Yeah, Vecchio," Ray says. "Bad one - you're in it." Vecchio laughs for real this time, Stella fixes him with one more piercing glare, and Fraser lets go of his stranglehold on Ray's dick. He starts stroking instead, though, and Ray tries not to inhale the water he's just drunk. He chokes out, "Wrong pipe," when Vecchio glares at him, and Fraser gives his dick this wicked little twist, his thumb catching in the slit, sliding wetly through the slickness there. Fraser's working him mechanically, none of his usual flair, just straight down to business. Only not straight, and definitely not your usual business deal. Means to an end, Fraser would say. Ray's brain is starting to liquefy as his balls pull up tight - he can feel this orgasm like it's going to hit him like the goddamned Blue Line at rush hour - but he can still remember Fraser's stupid phrases, banging around alone in his otherwise empty brain. Everything used to be in his brain, now it's all in his dick, and Fraser's hot hand. Ray is practically panting now, trying to focus on anything but the way Fraser's watching him out of the corner of his eye, licking his lips (which, fuck, makes Ray absolutely batshit crazy with lust) and the way Fraser's, oh yeah, giving him a hand job at Shaw's while they're having dinner with Ray's ex-wife. Which melts his brain completely and for good, because he can't stop thinking about the real fucking weirdness of it all. Frase presses his thumb against the head of Ray's dick, says, "But who am I to judge the actions of the Canadian Parliament?" and makes Ray come all over his briefs and Fraser's hand, biting his tongue so hard in the process that he tastes blood. "Ray!" Stella says. "Are you sure you're all right? You look ... awfully pale." Fraser's hand is still inside Ray's pants, using Ray's napkin to wipe him off. "Yeah, Stell," Ray says, and oh, he is going to kick Fraser's ass later, probably the way of a torturous blowjob. "I'm fine." Stell gives him that look again, and they weren't together all those years for her no to know something's up, but Vecchio says, "Benny, what were you saying?" and she drops it. Fraser drops it, too, pulling his hand away and wiping his fingers on the napkin in his lap. Ray grins a little at that, spunk all over the napkins at Shaw's, and he zips up his pants and puts his hands on the table, the back of one bumping up against Fraser's. "Vecchio," Ray says. "How bad you think the Cubs are gonna be this year?" And they argue over that for all of coffee and dessert and the check, all the way out to the curb where Vecchio says something about the relief pitching and climbs into a cab after Stella and rides off. Ray drags Fraser around the corner while they're waiting for the valet to bring the Goat around. "You," Ray says, pinning Fraser against the brick wall with his hips, and - big fuckin' surprise - Fraser's hard, rock hard, against his thigh. "I am gonna fuckin' kill you." "I hoped you would," Fraser says, in that low voice that just kills Ray, low and so fucking controlled because if Fraser doesn't keep it under control, he's likely to jump Ray and fuck him raw. So what can Ray do but drop to his knees in the alley, Fraser up against the wall? He's gonna have to dry-clean his stupid suit, but that's just a hazard of working with Frase, he knows, Vecchio said. Not that Ray hopes Vecchio knows about this kind of thing. He's on his knees in the alley, button and a zipper on Fraser's suit pants and a hand inside, starchy boxers brushing against his knuckles as he tugs Fraser's hot hard dick out of the flap. Ray licks slowly across the head of Fraser's dick, slick and stuff in the cool night air, and Fraser's hands fist in his hair, hard enough to hurt. Then Ray sucks it down, one hand braced on Fraser's thigh, the other fisted around the base of Fraser's cock. Four deep sucks, one good squeeze and a swipe of Ray's tongue against the edge of the foreskin and Fraser comes, groaning, in three great spurts. The whole thing takes maybe 45 seconds, tops, and if Fraser's been sitting there with a hard on since he first stuck his hand down Ray's pants, it's no surprise to Ray that he comes like a shot. Ray sucks him clean, tucks him back into his pants, and stands up, knees complaining in protest. He's getting too old to be blowing Fraser in back alleys, except it doesn't ever stop being fun. Fraser's panting against the wall, and Ray can hear the GTO idling out at the curb. "Come on," Ray says. "That was your prize, for making me shoot my load in front of Stella. Let's go home so I can punish you." Fraser smiles, slow and satiated, the smile only Ray sees, and he puts his hand in Ray's. "I look forward to it." Author's notes: Some random internet searcher found Pearl_O's website with the search string "handjob under the table," and I can't resist a challenge. Lale held my hand and fixed the bits of this that didn't work (which was lots) and is, in general, responsible for me writing any due South at all. And I wrote the entire thing, more or less, during two days of sales training at work, where I spent a lot of time trying to avoid having to explain why I was grinning like a maniac and squirming. |
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