My god, man, do they want tea?*
Sep. 6th, 2004 09:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archiveIf you read my last post and believed one word of it, you clearly do not know me at all and are henceforth banned from my LJ. Yes.
*snerk*
Yes, I woke up with a God-complex this morning and told him to get out my flat directly.
due South
Sharp-Dressed Man
Ray's a smart guy, maybe not as smart as Fraser, but there are things that he thinks he's pretty smart about, like kinky stuff. As someone who gets off on watching his partner rub his eyebrow and lick his bottom lip and slather whale blubber on burns and scratches, Ray knows all about kink. He knows that most people are kinky about shoes and leather and whips and chains -- and a lot of stuff that he wouldn't do unless he were tied up. Or Fraser were tied up, and that's really not a thought to be pursuing when Fraser's creeping around Ray’s bedroom gathering bits of his uniform, but Ray's not really in charge of his dick, so it's not like he can say 'Hey, now's not the time, you'll get yours later.' But if he could, he would.
So, instead, he exhales softly through his nose and watches Fraser lace-up his boots. When Fraser's head turns in his direction, he closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep, but when the mattress creaks, he opens his eyes again and can't help being drawn to Fraser pulling his henley over all that creamy skin. It's like Fraser's putting on his battle armor for war, and Ray's never thought of himself as a damsel in distress, but Fraser can save his bacon anytime.
His breathing gets a little stuttered as Fraser pulls on his serge, so red and bright, kind of like Santa. But a kinky Santa. Then there's that Sam Browne that makes Ray exhale sharply through his nose and that lanyard that serves no friggin' purpose at all, and Ray closes his eyes really tight when Fraser turns towards him again.
He can hear the slapping of leather soles against the polished floorboards, and his dick is just way too excited about Fraser getting dressed.
The bed creaks and dips again, and Ray does not sigh at a brush of soft lips against his own.
When he opens his eyes, Fraser has a tiny smile on his face, and maybe Ray does sigh this time.
But it's just a little sigh.
*
During the day, everything is fine. Fraser goes to the consulate; Ray goes to the two-seven; they have lunch together at the deli three blocks away from the precinct, and Ray does not stare.
He does not stroke the bright serge in the small of Fraser's back, which makes Fraser's fumble his sandwich, nor does he spend long seconds staring at the velcro closure that's so tight and snug against Fraser's throat.
Ray's worn a Mountie uniform; he knows how scratchy the pumpkin pants are against inner thighs. He knows about the pressure of the tightened laces against strong calves and how the suspenders rest against hard collarbones. But he doesn't think about these things.
Well, maybe a little.
Or a lot.
After lunch, Ray sits next to Fraser in the GTO and tries very hard not to think about the sweat that gathers along Fraser's hairline underneath his Stetson. It's a pointless struggle, and if Fraser notices the sweat beading along Ray's forehead or the way he swallows three times before he answers his questions, he doesn't mention it.
*
In his bedroom that night, the moon casts long stripes of pale white across his bed, and Ray strips himself of his clothing quickly and without ceremony under Fraser's raised eyebrow. When Fraser attempts to speed up his own disrobing, Ray lunges across the room to stop him.
"Slower," he says, consciously petting the Fraser's graying henley. "Go slower."
Ray wets his bottom lip as Fraser clears this throat. "Okay, Ray. Whatever you want."
*
Ray awakens the next morning not to Fraser quietly moving around his room and getting dressed, but to blue-eyes scant inches away from his own, appraising him quietly; and before he can protest at being stared at, Fraser speaks. "Would you like to help me get dressed, Ray?"
Ray opens and closes his mouth several times for air and swallows dryly before speaking. "Yeah," he says, his voice raspy and low. "Yes."
Ray's dick perks up as Fraser climbs out of bed to gather the bits and pieces of his uniform, and he strokes himself absently as Fraser deposits socks and henley and various bits and pieces at the foot of his bed.
Fraser's bare ass makes Ray feel light-headed, and the smoothness of his stomach makes Ray's mouth go dry. He strokes himself fiercely as Fraser drops his boots on the side of the bed and stands before him, staring longingly.
"We, ah, we should get started," Fraser says, shuddering when Ray comes all over his hand.
"I think I already did." Ray wistfully wipes his hand on his sheets and clambers out of bed.
Fraser's hand on his wrist is tight and sure like a Sam Browne across his chest, and Ray gasps into the kiss as Fraser pulls him close.
Fraser's tongue is wet and hot, and it sweeps through Ray's mouth clearing away every thought he's ever had. When Fraser releases him, it takes him several moments to get his bearings, and he's wobbly on his legs when he reaches down and snags Fraser's boxers from the foot of the bed.
Ray gulps around the frog in his throat when he gets to his knees, because Fraser's cock is right there, hard and wet and just waiting for his mouth. His tongue takes a swipe across the head before he can think about it, and the hand on his shoulder grips too tightly when Ray wraps his hand across Fraser's calf and tugs for him to lift it up.
It seems extremely wrong to cover up Fraser's cock before Ray's had his way with it, and he glances up at Fraser a bit forlorn before his brain reminds him of something: it's Sunday.
Fraser doesn't have to work today.
All this getting dressed is just to get undressed all over again.
"It's Sunday, Fraser," he says, carefully pulling the boxers up and over Fraser's dick. It wouldn't do to injure the merchandise.
"I know it is, Ray."
Ray can hear the smile before he sees it, and he bites his lip for a second thoughtfully.
"Where should we -- uh, boots. We should go with the boots, next," he says, breathing hard through his nose. He strokes Fraser's calf absently as Fraser's fingers card through his hair. "I like the boots. And the serge. And the, uh, leather."
“So I gathered.”
Ray doesn’t have to look up to see the smirk.
He would kick Fraser in the head if he didn‘t look so good in his uniform, and Fraser knows it.
-end-
Inspired by, strangely enough, The Last Samurai. Tom Cruise does nowt for me, but Ken Watanabe is The Man!
* I heart Eddie Izzard.
*snerk*
Yes, I woke up with a God-complex this morning and told him to get out my flat directly.
due South
Sharp-Dressed Man
Ray's a smart guy, maybe not as smart as Fraser, but there are things that he thinks he's pretty smart about, like kinky stuff. As someone who gets off on watching his partner rub his eyebrow and lick his bottom lip and slather whale blubber on burns and scratches, Ray knows all about kink. He knows that most people are kinky about shoes and leather and whips and chains -- and a lot of stuff that he wouldn't do unless he were tied up. Or Fraser were tied up, and that's really not a thought to be pursuing when Fraser's creeping around Ray’s bedroom gathering bits of his uniform, but Ray's not really in charge of his dick, so it's not like he can say 'Hey, now's not the time, you'll get yours later.' But if he could, he would.
So, instead, he exhales softly through his nose and watches Fraser lace-up his boots. When Fraser's head turns in his direction, he closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep, but when the mattress creaks, he opens his eyes again and can't help being drawn to Fraser pulling his henley over all that creamy skin. It's like Fraser's putting on his battle armor for war, and Ray's never thought of himself as a damsel in distress, but Fraser can save his bacon anytime.
His breathing gets a little stuttered as Fraser pulls on his serge, so red and bright, kind of like Santa. But a kinky Santa. Then there's that Sam Browne that makes Ray exhale sharply through his nose and that lanyard that serves no friggin' purpose at all, and Ray closes his eyes really tight when Fraser turns towards him again.
He can hear the slapping of leather soles against the polished floorboards, and his dick is just way too excited about Fraser getting dressed.
The bed creaks and dips again, and Ray does not sigh at a brush of soft lips against his own.
When he opens his eyes, Fraser has a tiny smile on his face, and maybe Ray does sigh this time.
But it's just a little sigh.
During the day, everything is fine. Fraser goes to the consulate; Ray goes to the two-seven; they have lunch together at the deli three blocks away from the precinct, and Ray does not stare.
He does not stroke the bright serge in the small of Fraser's back, which makes Fraser's fumble his sandwich, nor does he spend long seconds staring at the velcro closure that's so tight and snug against Fraser's throat.
Ray's worn a Mountie uniform; he knows how scratchy the pumpkin pants are against inner thighs. He knows about the pressure of the tightened laces against strong calves and how the suspenders rest against hard collarbones. But he doesn't think about these things.
Well, maybe a little.
Or a lot.
After lunch, Ray sits next to Fraser in the GTO and tries very hard not to think about the sweat that gathers along Fraser's hairline underneath his Stetson. It's a pointless struggle, and if Fraser notices the sweat beading along Ray's forehead or the way he swallows three times before he answers his questions, he doesn't mention it.
In his bedroom that night, the moon casts long stripes of pale white across his bed, and Ray strips himself of his clothing quickly and without ceremony under Fraser's raised eyebrow. When Fraser attempts to speed up his own disrobing, Ray lunges across the room to stop him.
"Slower," he says, consciously petting the Fraser's graying henley. "Go slower."
Ray wets his bottom lip as Fraser clears this throat. "Okay, Ray. Whatever you want."
Ray awakens the next morning not to Fraser quietly moving around his room and getting dressed, but to blue-eyes scant inches away from his own, appraising him quietly; and before he can protest at being stared at, Fraser speaks. "Would you like to help me get dressed, Ray?"
Ray opens and closes his mouth several times for air and swallows dryly before speaking. "Yeah," he says, his voice raspy and low. "Yes."
Ray's dick perks up as Fraser climbs out of bed to gather the bits and pieces of his uniform, and he strokes himself absently as Fraser deposits socks and henley and various bits and pieces at the foot of his bed.
Fraser's bare ass makes Ray feel light-headed, and the smoothness of his stomach makes Ray's mouth go dry. He strokes himself fiercely as Fraser drops his boots on the side of the bed and stands before him, staring longingly.
"We, ah, we should get started," Fraser says, shuddering when Ray comes all over his hand.
"I think I already did." Ray wistfully wipes his hand on his sheets and clambers out of bed.
Fraser's hand on his wrist is tight and sure like a Sam Browne across his chest, and Ray gasps into the kiss as Fraser pulls him close.
Fraser's tongue is wet and hot, and it sweeps through Ray's mouth clearing away every thought he's ever had. When Fraser releases him, it takes him several moments to get his bearings, and he's wobbly on his legs when he reaches down and snags Fraser's boxers from the foot of the bed.
Ray gulps around the frog in his throat when he gets to his knees, because Fraser's cock is right there, hard and wet and just waiting for his mouth. His tongue takes a swipe across the head before he can think about it, and the hand on his shoulder grips too tightly when Ray wraps his hand across Fraser's calf and tugs for him to lift it up.
It seems extremely wrong to cover up Fraser's cock before Ray's had his way with it, and he glances up at Fraser a bit forlorn before his brain reminds him of something: it's Sunday.
Fraser doesn't have to work today.
All this getting dressed is just to get undressed all over again.
"It's Sunday, Fraser," he says, carefully pulling the boxers up and over Fraser's dick. It wouldn't do to injure the merchandise.
"I know it is, Ray."
Ray can hear the smile before he sees it, and he bites his lip for a second thoughtfully.
"Where should we -- uh, boots. We should go with the boots, next," he says, breathing hard through his nose. He strokes Fraser's calf absently as Fraser's fingers card through his hair. "I like the boots. And the serge. And the, uh, leather."
“So I gathered.”
Ray doesn’t have to look up to see the smirk.
He would kick Fraser in the head if he didn‘t look so good in his uniform, and Fraser knows it.
-end-
Inspired by, strangely enough, The Last Samurai. Tom Cruise does nowt for me, but Ken Watanabe is The Man!
* I heart Eddie Izzard.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 09:53 am (UTC)and lick his bottom and
Are you saying bottom licking isn't kinky?
The suit. Yes, my god. It's all about the uniform. *kinks on Mounties everywhere*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 09:59 am (UTC)Are you saying bottom licking isn't kinky?
*dies*
That was a typo. But, yeah, it is. I'm not denying that. See what happens when I run around unsupervised?
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 10:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 10:13 am (UTC)I love this a lot.
:-)
no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 10:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 10:49 am (UTC)Mmmmm, yes. I dug this.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:13 pm (UTC)Good.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 11:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 11:23 am (UTC)"Where should we -- uh, boots. We should go with the boots, next," he says, breathing hard through his nose. He strokes Fraser's calf absently as Fraser's fingers card through his hair. "I like the boots. And the serge. And the, uh, leather."
“So I gathered.”
May I say again: guhhhhhh.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:14 pm (UTC)*grins madly*
It's the Fraser Barbie, dress him and strip him over and over again for hours of kinky enjoyment.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 12:23 pm (UTC)Okay, this actually made me snort with laughter.
also, *guh*, sweetie. go you with the kink.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 12:38 pm (UTC)The bed creaks and dips again, and Ray does not sigh at a brush of soft lips against his own.
When he opens his eyes, Fraser has a tiny smile on his face, and maybe Ray does sigh this time.
Loved this. And wow - uhm, *loved* this.
Really great stuff.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 01:04 pm (UTC)He would kick Fraser in the head if he didn‘t look so good in his uniform, and Fraser knows it.
...guuuhhhhh...
*is now incoherent and dead to the world; thank God it's a holiday*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:18 pm (UTC)*calls Mort*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 02:27 pm (UTC)He would kick Fraser in the head if he didn‘t look so good in his uniform, and Fraser knows it.
ahahahahah. <3
no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 03:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 02:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:You're a plumber? What on earth is that?
From:God attack the Queen, send big dogs after her, that bite her bum
From:no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 04:21 pm (UTC)Oh my god. SmugFraser. How hot is he? Guh! This is quite delicious and so well told.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 05:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:21 pm (UTC)*calls morgue, again*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 05:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 05:34 pm (UTC)::wibble::
no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 06:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 12:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-08 07:29 am (UTC)So hot. Great Ray voice, and so, so, so hot.
Did I mention it's hot?
::wanders off to get some ice water::
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 04:09 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked it.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 12:44 pm (UTC)this morning and told him to get out my flat directly
best qoute ever
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 04:09 pm (UTC)I try.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-05-16 12:51 pm (UTC)"We, ah, we should get started," Fraser says, shuddering when Ray comes all over his hand.
"I think I already did." Ray wistfully wipes his hand on his sheets and clambers out of bed.
this whole fic is a tiny piece of perfection, and I do so adore you for writing it.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-16 05:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-23 03:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 02:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 01:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-10 03:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-06 04:59 am (UTC)(Yes, I am 4+ years late. WHAT IS YOUR POINT?)