![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
doll-revolution.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionlike a stealth bomber, doll sneaks in under the deadline, with a story so short, so freakish, and so darn odd, it must be
Ray’s brain stopped tracking the very second Fraser turned back from the closet, a pair of his red long johns dangling from his hands. “Wear them for me, Ray,” Fraser said, and bam! Ray’s brain locked and shuddered to a stop, synapses fused and smoking.
“Guh?” said Ray, cringing a little as he Tried. To. Speak. But he could feel the sparks shooting off the melted ooze of his brain, and it just wasn’t any use. “Um, gar?” he said hopefully, lifting a shaking hand toward Fraser’s face.
Fraser dropped the long johns and took two swift strides over to Ray. “My God, Ray, what’s wrong?” he said, placing his warm, broad hands on Ray’s cheeks, tilting Ray’s face up into the light, looking for pupil size or blood clots or whatever kind of odd Fraser-esque Inuit-related illness indicator you looked for when your partner inexplicably lost the ability to speak.
But Ray had one hardy ganglion still industriously working, and it recognized the head-tilt maneuver from untold first dates, and it zapped an urgent message down Ray’s central nervous system: Go for it, you moron!
Ray’s eyes widened, and he flung himself at Fraser, a football tackle practically, and Fraser lost his balance and fell over, Ray falling on top of him, bodies pressed together full-length, the heat pouring off Fraser incandescently.
Even with no brain at all, Ray knew just what to do in this situation: he molded their mouths together and kissed Fraser kissed Fraser kissed Fraser, giving him back every particle of air he ever owed him and then some.
(The writhing and the grinding and the moaning and the actual coming; well, that was just icing on the cake, so to speak, compared to the mind-bending reality of Fraser’s tongue)
So really, the quest for Franklin’s hand was a lot warmer and more friendly than Ray had been thinking at the start, when he had been ready to risk his life in two thousand bizarre ways if it meant he’d never have to go back to Chicago. Which it turned out he didn’t, so that was all to the good, wasn’t it?
“I was so surprised! He’s so skinny; I just thought he was going to be cold,” Fraser told Dief rather plaintively, but Dief just rolled his eyes and showed Fraser his ass. “Well, that’s hardly helpful,” Fraser said, but the corners of his mouth twitched up in a slight smile.
‘Like I couldn’t tell he was in heat,’ Dief thought later at Bob Fraser. ‘Like the whole world couldn’t tell he was in heat for the blond.’ Bob just shrugged and straightened his Stetson. Damned if he’d ever understand the boy. Still, the Yank seemed to make him happy. C’est la vie, eh?
460 words
Ray’s brain stopped tracking the very second Fraser turned back from the closet, a pair of his red long johns dangling from his hands. “Wear them for me, Ray,” Fraser said, and bam! Ray’s brain locked and shuddered to a stop, synapses fused and smoking.
“Guh?” said Ray, cringing a little as he Tried. To. Speak. But he could feel the sparks shooting off the melted ooze of his brain, and it just wasn’t any use. “Um, gar?” he said hopefully, lifting a shaking hand toward Fraser’s face.
Fraser dropped the long johns and took two swift strides over to Ray. “My God, Ray, what’s wrong?” he said, placing his warm, broad hands on Ray’s cheeks, tilting Ray’s face up into the light, looking for pupil size or blood clots or whatever kind of odd Fraser-esque Inuit-related illness indicator you looked for when your partner inexplicably lost the ability to speak.
But Ray had one hardy ganglion still industriously working, and it recognized the head-tilt maneuver from untold first dates, and it zapped an urgent message down Ray’s central nervous system: Go for it, you moron!
Ray’s eyes widened, and he flung himself at Fraser, a football tackle practically, and Fraser lost his balance and fell over, Ray falling on top of him, bodies pressed together full-length, the heat pouring off Fraser incandescently.
Even with no brain at all, Ray knew just what to do in this situation: he molded their mouths together and kissed Fraser kissed Fraser kissed Fraser, giving him back every particle of air he ever owed him and then some.
(The writhing and the grinding and the moaning and the actual coming; well, that was just icing on the cake, so to speak, compared to the mind-bending reality of Fraser’s tongue)
So really, the quest for Franklin’s hand was a lot warmer and more friendly than Ray had been thinking at the start, when he had been ready to risk his life in two thousand bizarre ways if it meant he’d never have to go back to Chicago. Which it turned out he didn’t, so that was all to the good, wasn’t it?
“I was so surprised! He’s so skinny; I just thought he was going to be cold,” Fraser told Dief rather plaintively, but Dief just rolled his eyes and showed Fraser his ass. “Well, that’s hardly helpful,” Fraser said, but the corners of his mouth twitched up in a slight smile.
‘Like I couldn’t tell he was in heat,’ Dief thought later at Bob Fraser. ‘Like the whole world couldn’t tell he was in heat for the blond.’ Bob just shrugged and straightened his Stetson. Damned if he’d ever understand the boy. Still, the Yank seemed to make him happy. C’est la vie, eh?
460 words
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-08-19 10:57 pm (UTC)An icon explained, and I just love the idea of Dief talking to Dead Bob. Wonderful!
no subject
Date: 2003-08-19 11:11 pm (UTC)i just had an idea! we could have the Icon Explanation Challenge!! that would be cool, huh?
::grins:: and i think dief talks to dead bob all the time. twice the aggravation for fraser.
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 12:50 am (UTC)We also need a Dead Bob challenge...
no subject
Date: 2003-08-21 03:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-21 04:31 pm (UTC)and the icon thing would be cool! there's so many fun ones. (like, for example,
no subject
Date: 2003-08-19 11:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 01:36 am (UTC)and see? right there? your icon could be, oh, fraser watching home-made porn that ray made especially for him, like those cheesy diamond commercials. (which, i admit, don't usually have the porn)
see? we can have loads of fun!!!
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 12:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 01:39 am (UTC)at least someone was on the ball!
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 01:41 am (UTC)::to psyk42's mom:: "don't worry, it's just the gay porn based on tv characters. sometimes it's kind of funny."
(okay, now i'm cracking up.)
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:21 am (UTC)"Call for Short, Freakish and Darn Odd! Call for Short, Freakish and Darn Odd!"
::lamardeuse raised hand enthusiastically::
Oh, yeah, baby. I loved every inch of this story, sweet and nummy and hilarious. Thanks two thousand times.
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:42 am (UTC)i just love that undie icon of yours, and it can in really handy, so. . . YAY!
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:45 am (UTC)see? now you're just like ray. ^__^ (hopefully the fraser-sex will soon follow)
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 03:12 am (UTC)Well, my middle name is Rae. Hair won't spike, though. But I certainly think about the Mountie a lot.
(hopefully the fraser-sex will soon follow)
From your mouth to...
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 06:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 04:11 pm (UTC)that's really one of the nicest comments i've ever had.
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 04:10 pm (UTC)(IMHO)
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 11:22 pm (UTC)Liz
no subject
Date: 2003-08-21 04:33 pm (UTC)thanks a lot! (and i don't think it's a bad thing either!
no subject
Date: 2003-08-22 03:09 am (UTC)