arrow00 | F/K bday fic for zabira: Seasonal Disorder (NC-17)

Title: Seasonal Disorder
Author:

arrow00
Fandom: dS
Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Rating: NC-17
Category: birthday fic!
Wordcount: 1,908
Summary: June comes every year like clockwork.
Notes: Happy birthday

zabira! You are a
lovely shiny thing, so shiny all the other things are
jealous and wrap themselves in tinfoil, the posers.

Wrote this in great haste and am barely making the West
Coast deadline, but I did manage to bend Ray over the
sofa JUST IN TIME for your bday. ♥ you!

Seasonal Disorder

by Arrow

June, 1997

Stella's favorite is lilacs. Ray always bought her a big bunch on her birthday. It's her birthday again this week, which is why Ray is thinking about it as he watches Dief sniff the marigolds growing outside the café window. A moth, the same color as the flowers, launches upward, startled by Dief's nose.

Dief barks once and snaps at it. He has pollen on his snout.

Inside, Fraser is getting them coffee, the good stuff. And hopefully some of those triangle things—Ray can never remember what they're called, but they aren't really sweet, and they usually have fruit in them, cranberries or tiny raisins or peaches, if he's lucky.

He and Fraser have been coming here at least once a week for almost a year now, like a ritual. That means it's already been three years since Ray last bought Stella a bunch of birthday flowers and got to see the way her eyes light up when she's happy with him. She's never happy with him these days.

The bell dings and Fraser walks out. All right. Along with the coffee, he's carrying a white paper bag, which means—

"I got you a scone, Ray. Raspberry-peach."

"Scone, that's it. Perfecto. Thanks, Frase."

Ray smiles, and Fraser beams back at him.

///

June, 1998

There's a new girl behind the counter, and she gives Ray a smile as she bags his scone. That's nice, having such a cute girl make eyes at him. He's still got it. But Ray is in a hurry—Fraser is waiting for him back at his apartment. He's been sleeping over on Ray's couch ever since he took that dive off the top of an ice cream truck and twisted something in his bad leg.

As Ray leaves, his eyes catch the orange of blooming marigolds. It reminds him of something, but he can't dig up what. Flowers. Something about flowers.

Ray juggles his coffee in one hand as he climbs into the GTO and heads back to his apartment, and Fraser.

///

May, 1999

The snow is melting all over, and Ray can't decide whether to keep his jacket on or off while he chops wood beside Fraser's cabin. Finally he takes it off again, and his sweat cools, running down his back and seeping into his pants. Grabbing up an armful of wood, he trudges back around to the front door. He sees flowers coming up bravely through the snow, nice purple ones.

"Hey, Frase?" Ray kicks the door closed behind and him and goes over to the fireplace to set down the wood.

"Mmm?" Fraser's doing something with a hammer and a mouth full of nails. He's dressed in jeans and a red shirt that's frayed around the collar.

"It just occurred to me, and this is really stupid—"

Fraser puts down the hammer and spits the nails into his hand. "What, Ray?" Fraser waits. He's patient like that.

"It's just, Jesus, I'm an asshole, you know? But I just now realized we've never celebrated your birthday. Not once."

Fraser's eyebrows scrunch up for a second and then his face is blank again. But Ray knows the signs now.

"Sorry. Guess you have a reason not to?"

"None in particular. I just don't—well, it's not that I don't understand the significance, but the truth is, I don't really know the exact date."

Ray is flummoxed. Completely.

"I do know it's sometime in June," Fraser says cautiously when he sees Ray's expression. "I use June twenty-seventh for legal documents and such, since that's the date my father guessed when he finally managed to make it into town to register my birth. But he told me some time back he wasn't sure of the exact day."

"Fraser, that's just—" There are no words in Ray's brain that will cover the pitiful whackiness of Fraser's family.

Fraser looks away. "Strange, I know."

"But why didn't your dad—?"

"My father wasn't witness to my birth. I'm not sure if my mother never told him the exact date, or if he simply...forgot."

Ray knows where to put his money, but doesn't say anything. "Okay. June twenty-seventh it is. Wow, that's next month."

"Ray, you really needn't—"

"Shut up. You don't get to have any say." Ray grins as he walks over to Fraser. He can see Fraser sniffing a little—Ray must smell pretty rank. But it doesn't seem to bug Fraser, who closes his eyes for a second, a small smile on his face.

He likes it, Ray thinks. He likes the way I smell. Even though it's been a couple of weeks now since they started messing around, Ray still gets a huge charge out of it—the way Fraser wants him so bad, seems to love every little thing about him. Sometimes, when Fraser goes googly-eyed on him, Ray gets a little embarrassed. It doesn't make sense that Ray can just, for example, rest his hand on Fraser's waist, just above his jeans, and pet him a little, and Fraser's neck will flush right away. Like Ray has the keys to his batmobile.

There's no explaining it, but Ray sure the hell isn't complaining.

"Hey, there, Mountie," Ray whispers a little roughly. "What're you thinking about?"

"Nothing, Ray." But Fraser's eyes call his mouth a big liar, because they're looking lazy and so damned sexy staring back at him.

"Nothing, eh?" Ray puts his hand on Fraser's cock.

It turns out it wasn't nothing after all.

///

June, 1999

All the blood is rushing to Ray's head, which isn't a problem, really, since he's hanging face down over the couch and finally, finally he has Fraser's cock up his ass, pushing in over and over like a machine, a wonderful-fan-fucking-tastic machine.

All because they don't get into town in time for Ray to buy Fraser a real birthday present, so on the morning of the twenty-seventh Ray pins Fraser against the wall after breakfast and makes him tell him what he wants.

"It's your birthday. You get to have anything you want, Fraser; anything your tiny heart desires. It's in the rulebook."

"I have everything I want, Ray." Fraser is slouched a little and smiling up at him.

"Bzzt! Wrong answer, buddy." Ray leans in until he can just touch Fraser's ear with his lips. "When I say anything, I mean anything. Tell me what you want. Just this once—" Ray cuts himself off before he can say anything that sounds like a criticism, because the last thing he wants is to make Fraser feel bad on his birthday. "I want to make you feel good."

"You do," Fraser whispers back. "You always do."

"Yeah, but tell me how to make you feel extra good."

He can hear Fraser holding his breath, and then his cheek goes warm against Ray's.

"Yeah, that's it. Tell me. Short of doing it with monkeys, I'm your man."

Ray pulls away so he can see Fraser's face. Fraser is staring at him like he's the last pickle at a picnic.

"Ray, I want to—may I—" Fraser bites his lip and leans close. He kisses Ray's cheek, then right beside Ray's eye, his lips touching softly, almost not there. Then Fraser says in his ear, "I want to—I want to make love to you."

Hell, yes. About goddamned time, Ray thinks, nodding frantically. And then it's like it's Ray's birthday instead, because Fraser kisses him hard, harder than he ever has, not careful at all, and his hands are gripping Ray's shoulders, pulling him away from the wall.

And that's how Ray ends up bent over the couch, his jeans around his ankles and his ass in the air. And with Fraser's thick cock pushing inside him, stretching him open. Jesus Christ. Ray can't move at all—he's using his hands to brace himself on the cushions, and Fraser is fucking his ass and moaning down at his back, and every time he fucks in Ray can't help giving this little gaspy whimper, which just makes Fraser groan and fuck him harder.

Just when Ray is about to explode—come right then and there just from the amazing goodness—Fraser stops.

"No," Ray moans. Fraser rubs his back, trying to calm him down, maybe, and then he starts to move again slowly, but Ray doesn't want slow, he wants to come. Goddammit.

"God, you feel so good, Ray. I love you. You must know I love you. I—"

Ray's heart might bust. "Me, too, Fraser. God—" He feels himself clenching down on Fraser's cock, trying to get it moving faster, harder, fuck me, damn it. Fraser's hand squeezes between them and his fingers run along Ray's ass right where he's stretched so wide.

"God! Fraser!"

"Love this," Fraser whispers, and finally the small part of Ray's brain that's still working gets it. Fraser thinks this is his big present, like he'll have to wait a year to fuck Ray again. Ray wants to growl at him for being so stupid, but all that comes out is this pitiful moan.

Fraser seems to hear him though, because he starts moving again, short and fast, and after a minute or two of that it's enough, Christ, it's finally enough, and Ray trembles as he finally goes over the edge and comes against the back of the couch.

When his consciousness rematerializes, he feels himself still swaying with the motion of Fraser's strokes, which have grown longer and deeper. His cock pulls out slow and then pushes deep and quick. It still feels fantastic, and Ray wriggles a little to show Fraser how much he likes it.

Fraser reaches down and helps pull him up, and Ray manages to turn his head and get one good kiss in before Fraser moans and throbs inside him, giving it up.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Fraser is muttering against Ray's neck. It's just stupid, but Ray doesn't want to draw Fraser's attention to how dumb he's being, because today is his birthday, sorta. So Ray just kisses him, and after they clean up he tries extra hard to be nice, helping Fraser with nailing in the new shelf liners and sweeping up afterward.

And Ray gives Fraser a spectacular blowjob right before midnight.

"Yeah. Happy birthday, Frase," Ray says, but Fraser doesn't say Thank you kindly, because Ray just put him in a coma.

Heh, heh.

///

The next morning Ray gets up early and sneaks outside. When he comes back in, Fraser is just starting to wake up—he's all sprawled out on the bed, stretching a little and scratching his stomach between the buttons of his long johns.

Ray jumps on him and hands him the small bunch of purple flowers he picked.

"Ray?" Fraser holds the flowers and cocks him an eyebrow. "Saxifraga oppositifolia. Do these have a particular significance?"

"Happy birthday, Frase."

Fraser frowns. "But we said yesterday was—"

"See, here's the thing—we don't really know when your birthday is, right? And we can't be too careful."

Fraser still looks confused, so Ray takes pity on him and gives him a kiss, smushing the saxi-whatits between them in the process.

"We're just gonna have to leave a really wide margin for error," Ray says when he's done.

A grin breaks across Fraser's face before he makes himself look serious again. "How wide of a margin were you considering, Ray?"

Ray makes a show of counting on his fingers. "Oh, lessee, about two...no, three...hundred and sixty—"

But Fraser kisses the rest right out of him.

....................
2008.06.27

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