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Title: Waiting
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Fraser/Vecchio
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2,644
Warnings: bondage, PWP, dom!Fraser/sub!Vecchio, some angst and fluffiness, established relationship, post-CotW with mild spoilers for the whole series
Summary: "What's this rope for, Benny? Because if you expect me to rappel down the sides of buildings now or something, you have another think coming."
Notes: This was inspired by the boot scene in "Bird in the Hand." Unbeta'd; I apologize in advance for any errors, typos, or rambling. Also if you have a better idea for the title, please let me know.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, and I am making no money off this.

###

I hadn't been with Benny long before I noticed he was always holding me down---holding my wrists against the wall, pressing my hips into the bed so I couldn't thrust into his mouth. It's not like it bothered me. Actually, it was kind of a turn-on. But I wondered about it. One day we got back to our place after he'd had to stay half an hour late at work getting reamed out by the asshole who replaced the Dragon Lady, and as soon as we get inside he's all over me, shoving me up against the wall, kissing and sucking his way down my neck, his knee between my thighs. And then, sure enough, he's holding my wrists on each other side of my head.

"Jesus, Benny," I said breathlessly. "Just tie me to the bed already."

He dropped my wrists as if they'd burned him and stepped back, looking away---but not before I saw something flash in his eyes. "Sorry, Ray."

"You actually want to tie me to the bed?" I said, surprised and intrigued at Fraser's unexpected kinky side. "Because I was joking, but I'd be up for that." I thought about it, and yeah. Because there was something about watching Benny with a perp that had always turned my crank. He got this edge in his voice and this glint in his eyes, and he moved all sharp and sudden, and...

His eyes flickered to my crotch.

"No pun intended," I added, snickering.

"It's hardly a laughing matter," he said in that serious way he has that sometimes makes me want to kill him, like right then when I'd rather have been getting manhandled behind the door. "I care about you, Ray. This is a relationship between equals, not some sort of--"

"What's a little rope between friends?" I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I bet you tie a mean knot."

He sucked in a breath and didn't say anything.

"Have it your way, Benny," I said with a sigh, and pulled him towards me by his Sam Browne belt.

###

A couple weeks later, we're eating dinner when I notice this brown paper bag sitting by the bed. "What's that, Benny?" I asked.

He promptly choked on his spaghetti. While he was coughing and drinking water, I went over and looked inside the bag. It was a large coil of gleaming nylon rope.

"What's this for?" I asked. "Because if you expect me to rappel down the sides of buildings now or something, you have another think coming."

He just looked at me, eyes shining seriously, and I got it.

I grinned at him, trying to hide the sweet little shiver that went through me. "Oho, you thought it over, huh?"

"If--that is, if you're still amenable, Ray," he said, trying to do his calm Mountie voice and not totally succeeding.

I narrowed my eyes and thought about it. I mean, not that I was going to say no, but maybe I could get a little something extra out of this. "Sure," I said finally. "But now I got a condition."

He narrowed his eyes back, and I shivered again. "What kind of condition, Ray?"

"I want you to wear the brown uniform," I said. "No jacket."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Come on, Benny," I said. "You didn't notice from the way Elaine swooned every time you rolled up your sleeves that you look damn good in that thing?"

"Evidently not, Ray," he said.

"Do we got a deal?"

"Deal," he said.

Somehow that night the rope never made an appearance. Or the next night, or the night after. It just sat in its brown paper bag at the foot of the bed, taunting me.

It wasn't the only thing that was taunting me. Fraser wore the brown uniform every day for a week. Every time I turned around he'd have the jacket off or the tie loosened or his feet up on the desk showing off that damned stripe that goes on for miles and shouldn't be sexy but somehow is. And then he'd just look at me across my desk, all innocent, like he had no idea at all what he was doing. That uniform had always done it for me, but it was worse now, because I kept thinking it was a lead-in to the rope, and it never was.

On Friday, I don't know what the hell happened at work, but Fraser got in the car wound tight as a spring. And as soon as we got inside he walked over to the bed and picked up that bag. I froze with my coat half off.

Fraser took the rope out of the bag and sat on the edge of the bed, turning the coil over and over in his hands. I was already half-hard, and then he looks up at me with those piercing blue eyes and says, "Ray?" in this low voice and God, for a second I couldn't breathe.

I swallowed hard and nodded. Fraser stood up and took off his jacket, and my throat went drier than the Vegas desert. "Please undress," he said quietly.

So I stripped, and Fraser stood there doing that blank doorman stare of his, rolling up his sleeves. When I was naked he jerked his head towards the bed, and I went over and lay down. He grabbed my left wrist and tied it to the bedpost, neat and quick and completely calm like I was a log he was lashing to his dogsled or something. He tugged on my arm to make sure the rope wouldn't tighten or give, and then he reached down and pulled out his knife.

I swear my heartbeat went into triple, maybe quadruple time. He flicked me this irked little glance like I was being a drama queen and sliced through the rope. Then he took the rest of the coil and moved on to my ankle. I don't know why his skill at knot-tying was getting to me the way it was; it's not like I'm some perv with a thing for Boy Scouts. But with every sure, efficient movement I was getting harder.

So there I was, spread-eagled on the bed. And I could see Fraser was tenting his pants pretty bad, but does he go for it? No, he pulls up a chair and whips out a book and starts reading.

"Benny, what the hell?" I said.

He ignored me. And you know, I almost didn't mind. I mean, there he was, slouched in the chair with his feet up on the edge of the bed, tie a little loose, ignoring me even though he had this hard-on the size of Alaska, and...I kind of just watched him. He was reading some incredibly boring book about genetic fingerprinting, and I bet that even though he had to be mostly focused on me, he could have quoted back the whole thing if I'd asked him. Which---and I guess this is kind of a recurring theme with Fraser---you wouldn't think would be sexy, but it is. I love him, you know?

But after a while I started to get annoyed. "Benny," I said warningly.

"Yes, Ray?" he said snidely back.

"Come on, Benny, this isn't funny," I said.

"Are you tired of waiting?" he asked.

"Yes!" I said. "So get your butt over here already and have your wicked Mountie way with me!"

He looked at me, and I swear I could not figure out his expression. "Do you know how long I waited for you?" he asked finally, and now it was his perfect impassive Mountie voice, the one he uses on criminals he's not turning into his pet project of the week.

"What?"

"You were the first after Victoria," he said. I flinched a little--we never talk about that. "I don't suppose you were celibate in Vegas."

"I couldn't," I said, feeling kind of sick. "Armando liked the girls."

His jaw clenched. "I was celibate while you were in Vegas," he said quietly. "And the year before that, and the year after while you were with Stella. I was waiting for you."

So he didn't fuck Kowalski. I had expected to be thrilled when I finally found that out for sure, but I wasn't. "Benny--" I started.

He turned back to his book. "I think you can probably wait a little longer," he said dismissively.

I counted to a thousand before I got fed up, and also a little cold. "Don't be like this, Fraser--" I started.

In a second he was on me, his shoe planted square in the middle of my chest and his face about six inches from mine. "Do you want me to untie you?" he asked, his voice real quiet and hard.

It was like a shot of adrenaline right in the heart. You can bet my erection was back. And it wasn't just that. I mean, I had no idea what was going on, but if I said yes I knew Fraser would untie me and I'd never find out. And he'd never ask again, even though he wanted this for some reason. Also, damn. "No," I said softly. "Please don't."

His mouth twisted, and he lifted off me with a sharp push of his foot. It hurt where the corners of his heel dug in. I wondered how the boot would feel. He sat back down and picked up the book again, but he was breathing kind of hard, like this was getting to him too. After a couple seconds he reached out, real casual, and started jerking me off, still holding the book in his other hand.

I'm a talker in bed, just like everywhere else. So it only took about fifteen seconds before I was babbling. "Oh, Jesus fuck, Benny, yeah, just like that, yeah, oh, fuck," and straining off the bed. And Fraser's just sitting there reading about forensic science as if his hand's not on my dick, as if I'm not a foot away from him writhing and begging. I mean, he actually turned a couple pages one-handed.

After a couple minutes of this, Fraser put the book down, let go of my dick, and straddled me. I arched upward, trying to get some contact between our erections, but no luck. He reached up and stuck a couple of fingers in my mouth. You can bet I started sucking. He slid them in and out, real slow, until I started to whimper with impatience.

"The wetter you get them," he said calmly, "the less it will hurt."

Jesus.

So he gets the fingers as wet as he wants, and he starts working them inside me until I'm gasping and moaning, and on every slide he hits that spot, and how did I ever live without him?

I must have said something like that out loud, because he stopped moving and got this weird look on his face. Then he slid down and sucked me in like a damn vacuum cleaner, deep throating me like it was nothing (and don't give me that "It's a simple matter of controlling the gag reflex, Ray," because human beings don't work that way), and I gasped out, "Fraser, I'm gonna come--"

And he pulled off and said, still fucking me with his fingers, "I'd rather you didn't." And then he went back to sucking me off, and God, I tried not to, I strained against it, I even tried to think about Vegas for a couple of seconds which is usually good for instant boner death, but I only managed to hold myself on the edge for about another thirty seconds before I was coming so hard it felt like my brains were being yanked out through my dick. Fraser kept right on sucking until there was absolutely nothing left, and then he leaned his forehead against my stomach and said in this tired voice, "I told you not to do that."

"You set me up," I said, feeling kind of woozy. "God, that was good."

He sat up and looked at me. I still couldn't read his expression.

I struggled to come down from the post-orgasm high. "Is everything okay, Benny?"

"What do you want me to do now, Ray?" he asked.

It was way too soon for me to get hard again, but I felt a little tingle. Because he hadn't come yet. "Anything you want, Benny," I said. "Please."

"Anything I want," he said consideringly. "You can't run away, no matter what I want."

"I wouldn't anyway," I said, because hell, it's the truth and we both know it.

He drew in a sharp breath. "No," he said. "Maybe next time." And then he got up and went into the bathroom, and I couldn't hear anything but I was pretty sure I knew what was happening.

"Fraser!" I shouted. "Fraser, get your ass out here and let me touch you!"

No sound. A minute later (which, okay, was flattering, because he hadn't even touched himself once up to that point) he comes out looking flushed. I checked: no hard-on. What kind of freak has a willing guy tied up in his bed and jerks off in the bathroom?

"Benny," I said, confused and frustrated.

He just untied me, carefully and methodically. When he was done I sat up and rubbed my wrists.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"Of course not," I said. "Can I touch you now?"

"Of course, Ray," he said without looking at me.

I reached out and pulled him into a hug, stroking his hair. "We okay, Benny?"

"I don't know, Ray," he said, the edge still in his voice. "Are we?"

"Well, I'm having some great afterglow," I said. "But I'm not so sure about you."

He didn't say anything.

"Benny, you know I'm never leaving you again, right?"

He lifted his head and raised his eyebrows at me. "It was only a game, Ray." Which wasn't an answer, and I think Fraser knew I knew that.

"Going to Vegas was the dumbest thing I ever did," I told him. Surely he knew that? Surely he knew I hated it? "I missed you like hell. I waited for you too, on the inside."

"But you went," he said stubbornly. "I could have ended up with nothing but diaries and ghosts."

I stared at him. "You think I'm that dumb that I would keep a diary deep undercover?" I asked, insulted. "What am I, a twelve year old girl?"

He glared at me, and I felt it all over.

"Fraser, you really think I would let myself get killed out in the fucking desert? I have responsibilities. I have a family. I have a Mountie who's too dumb to realize he deserves about a million times better than me."

He shook his head at that and licked my wrist where it was still red from the ropes, right on the pulse point. I shivered again.

"You don't have to tie me to the bed to keep me from leaving, because if you want to leave me you're gonna have to tie me to the fucking bed," I said. "And then while you're packing I'll holler so loud your neighbors will call the cops and Kowalski will have to come out here and arrest you for intent."

"Intent to do what, Ray?" he asked.

"Leave me."

"That's not technically illegal," Fraser pointed out.

"Sure it is," I said. "Hell, it's in the Geneva conventions. No torture, right?"

He snickered and licked at my wrist again, twining his other hand in mine.

"Fuck me next time?" I whispered in his ear.

He looked at me and smiled a little. "Maybe, Ray," he said in his Mountie voice. "If you're good."