Birdwatching
Sep. 19th, 2003 10:25 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ds_flashfictionPosting this one for Kellie. I think you'll enjoy it!
Thanks to Ardent and Kalena for beta!
Birdwatching
c. 2003 Kellie Matthews
"What did I tell you when I gave it to you?" Ray demanded irritably.
Fraser sighed, staring down at Ray's coffee table, wondering what on earth would leave a blue ring on the wood. He would feel far better equipped to argue with Ray had he gotten more than ten minutes worth of rest the previous evening. "That I should feel free to use it."
"That's right. So you want to tell me why you didn't?"
"It was late."
"Well duh," Ray said, giving him a slightly exasperated look. "It was late, the Ice Queen's private party was still going, and you couldn't sleep, which is why you should have come over here." He punctuated his sentence with a finger jabbing downward toward the floor.
"But then you'd have been disturbed as well."
Ray snorted. "Fraser, haven't you been around me enough to know I already am? Anyway, I'd've only been disturbed for a couple of minutes and then been right back to sleep and you wouldn't be acting like some of Momma Lolla's leftovers today. That's just not good. When we're working, I need you sharp, I need you on the ball, not all . . ." his hands waved wildly in the air as he searched for the right word. ". . . zombified. The whole point of giving you the key was so you could come over here whenever you needed to, sleep on my couch, use my shower, watch my tv, whatever."
The association Ray's words inadvertently conjured brought a laugh bubbling up. One that sounded alarmingly like a giggle.
Ray eyed him narrowly. "Something funny?" he demanded, ready to prickle at some imagined slight to his hospitality.
"Just . . . " he giggled again. Lord, he was tired. "Can I also eat your porridge?"
There was perhaps a tenth of a second's worth of confusion in Ray's eyes, and then something sparked in them– amusement, affection, and something else, as well. Surely exhaustion was playing tricks on him.
But then Ray said: "Yeah, Brownielocks," his voice soft, and a little husky. "You can let yourself in, sit in my chair, eat my porridge, even sleep in my bed. Any time. Though if you're expecting a bear, you're gonna be sorely disappointed."
Fraser blinked. He couldn't possibly have meant . . . Ray grinned at him, and winked, rubbing idly at his collarbone with a thumb, pushing his collar open, baring skin that was smooth, and faintly gold-tinged, and . . . not at all hairy.
"Actually, I'm not all that fond of bears, Ray," Fraser managed to say with a straight face.
Ray's smile widened. "Huh. And here I thought you were into wildlife."
Well. All right. Ray was baiting him. Perhaps more, even, if the warmth in his eyes was any sign. He swallowed hard, managed a solemn nod, and took the dare. "I am. However, I'm very particular about what sort of wildlife I'm 'into.'"
"That so?" Ray said thoughtfully. "So how you feel about spike-crested cacklers?"
Warmth began to seep through him, and it was all he could do not to laugh aloud, both in amusement, and joy. "I've only encountered one instance of the species, but it's certainly a handsome specimen."
Ray snickered."Yeah, well, the red-feathered northern peacemaker's a pretty handsome specimen too," he said, his gaze flicking down and then up again in a distinct fashion that Ray Vecchio had once referred to as a 'check out.'
"I'm glad you think so," Fraser said, maintaining the pretense of the conversation, even though they both knew better. "You know, I've heard that the spike-crested cackler is a gifted mimic, and in order to evade detection will sometimes disguise itself as another species entirely: the Vecchionii Officinalis." Fraser said, taking the chance that Ray would not question his dreadful taxonomic construction.
"Really?" Ray said, widening his eyes, a smile tugging hard at the corners of his mouth. "So how do you tell them apart?"
"It's quite simple really. The cackler's mating dance is quite unique, and in no wise resembles that of the species it mimics."
"In no wise," Ray muttered, shaking his head, then his gaze met Fraser's, narrowed and intent. "That mean you've seen this mating dance?"
Fraser tilted his head a little. "I believe so. Several times. In fact, I think I'm seeing it at this very moment."
"You might just be right," Ray said. "But I haven't been so lucky with that northern peacemaker." His gaze was bright, and challenging.
"Ah." Fraser cleared his throat, feeling his face grow warm. "Well, you see, the peacemaker is both shy and wary, and unlikely to exhibit mating behavior save under exceptional circumstances."
"What circumstances would those be?"
Really, he should have known better than to expect Ray to let that lie. "Well, privacy is quite important," he said after a long moment of uncomfortable shifting on the couch.
Ray looked around the apartment. "Check. Next?"
"The, ah, potential mate must be physically present."
Ray's lips twitched, and he leaned marginally closer, though Fraser had already been able to feel the warmth of his body. "Check. Anything else?"
"Er," he swallowed some moisture into his dry mouth, but despite that his next words sounded slightly hoarse. "Physical attraction is always useful."
"Check," Ray said, and then quirked an eyebrow. "Right?"
Fraser nodded, blushing a little, though he wasn't sure why. He'd long ago admitted to that particular foible.
Ray looked pleased. "What else?"
Fraser looked at the floor. It needed sweeping. There was a dustbunny the size of a squirrel peeking out from under the wing chair– no doubt in part comprised of wolf-fur. He cleared his throat. "I'm afraid the peacemaker has a long history of mistaking incompatible individuals for potential mates, so its helpful if the potential mate is both sincere and trustworthy."
Ray smiled winsomely. "Sincere is my middle name. Well, one of them," he joked, then his eyes grew serious. "But if you don't trust me by now, you're never going to." His gaze stayed level, and grave, questioning.
"I trust you implicitly," Fraser whispered.
Ray's gaze warmed. "Seems like a preponderance of exceptional circumstances then," he said softly.
A little flare of warmth went through him. He wondered if it was odd to be aroused by a well-constructed sentence. Then he wondered why Ray was looking at him like that, so expectantly, and with just a hint of fear. Finally, he figured it out. He knew that mere words were no reassurance for Ray. Ray knew as well as he did how fleeting words were. Time to, as the saying went, put up or shut up.
Time to match Ray's courage.
Fear knotting in his stomach, Fraser reached out, putting his hand on Ray's shoulder, and then moved it up until he could cup the prickly blade of his jaw in his palm. Ray leaned into it a little, eyes half-closed in pleasure, almost purring.
Fraser eased forward, rubbing his smooth jaw along Ray's rough one, and then he buried his face in the hot curve of Ray's neck. Ray's arms came around him, the long fingers of one hand threading up through his hair to cup the back of his head, petting, soothing. For long moments they just sat there, and then finally Fraser pulled back enough that his cheek was against Ray's, and his mouth just centimeters away from Ray's. Eyes closed, he absorbed the moment, breathing, feeling Ray's breath warm and moist against his skin. One heartbeat. Ten. Thirty.
"Fraser," Ray whispered.
Breath laced with yearning. He turned his head, and their lips met. Clung. Parted. Tongue slick and hot against his own, eager pulse racing against his thumb as it caressed Ray's collarbone. Right where Ray's thumb had rested, teasingly, moments earlier.
Ray was impatient and greedy, but that suited him. Fraser surrendered to fingers that were surprisingly deft on the myriad fastenings of his uniform. He shivered at the sound of parting velcro-- never erotic before-- and felt the slide of lanyard through epaulettes as if against skin. The muted belling of brass tongue against buckle made him hard, the sound of heavy leather falling to the floor even harder. When the tunic fell open, the rush of cool air through sweat-dampened undershirt made his nipples painfully tight, and stung him to action.
Fraser fisted his hands in the sides of Ray's shirt and pulled it out of his trousers until the hem slid free and he could pull it off and toss it aside, impatient to feel Ray's skin under his fingers, not for the first time; but for the first time like this. For the first time licit. As his hands slid, flat-palmed, up Ray's chest, Ray's fingers turned clumsy on the fastenings of his jodhpurs, fumbling as he tried to open the button, which rubbed the heel of his hand against Fraser's erection. Fraser moaned into Ray's mouth.
Ray went still, and then Fraser felt his mouth curve against his own, and his hand moved deliberately, palm fitting perfectly over the arch of his cock. Squeezed. Rubbed. Stroked. He moaned again, shoving one hand down the front of Ray's thankfully too-loose khakis, working his fingers under the snug, stretchy cotton of his briefs to find hot, damp skin. Then Ray was moaning too, into his mouth, and bucking into his hand. It was a bit of a shock to find his fingers very nearly didn't meet around Ray's circumference. But a good one.
Annoyed with the awkwardness of the position, Fraser shoved the coffee-table out of the way with one foot, and pushed Ray onto his back on the couch. Ray laughed, and put one booted foot up on the back of the couch. The other rested on the floor, and he used it to push his hips up as Fraser wrestled his pants and briefs down.
"That works better if you unzip 'em first," Ray pointed out huskily. Fraser shot him a glare, and Ray laughed. "Your turn." He finally got Fraser's pants undone, but the braces kept them in place, and Fraser had to let go of Ray long enough to unbutton them. Then he was shoving his pants down along with his boxers, and settling in against Ray's hot, smooth belly.
"Yeah," Ray breathed, his hands sliding up under the tails of Fraser's tunic to cup his buttocks, fingers digging into their lower curves. "Oh yeah." He pulled Fraser hard against him, and their cocks kissed, a sticky-slick skid of skin against skin.
Fraser kissed him, reveling in the feel of Ray beneath him, the jerk and shudder of his responses, the maddening flick and tease of his tongue. He braced himself on one hand, and rocked into Ray, the other sliding down Ray's chest to his waist. Reluctantly he lifted his hips away from Ray's, but only long enough to capture them both in his hand.
Ray growled, and wrapped his own fingers around the parts that Fraser's couldn't cover. Together they started to stroke. There was no question of tempo or style, it was just fast and hard. Ray held onto his backside with his other hand, fingertips in the crease, conjuring images in his brain of Ray over him, in him . . .
Oh God. . .
Pleasure like an electrical shock: hard, intense, near-painful. Not yet, not yet, too soon. He tried to hold back, tried to slow their hands.
"Yeah, that's it, come on, come on, give it to me," Ray crooned, ignoring his attempts, long fingers urging him higher and higher, until red flared behind his eyelids and heat shot through him like he was standing too close to a forest fire.
Control lost, he keened his need aloud and spilled himself over their fingers, his whole body shaking with pleasure.
"Beautiful," Ray breathed, still stroking, their twined hands moving easily now, slicked with thick, hot moisture. Each stroke made Fraser jerk, the sensation too intense, too much, but he didn't protest, he couldn't. He wanted more. Needed more. Ray's hand, and his, moved once, twice more, and then Ray moaned, and shook, and fresh heat painted their hands and their bellies.
It was nearly as good as coming himself.
They sagged together, panting, and after a little while Ray patted his ass. "Fraser?"
"Mmm?" he asked, unable to summon anything more coherent.
"You don't need a reason to use the key."
Fraser smiled. "Understood."
* * * fin * * *
Thanks to Ardent and Kalena for beta!
Birdwatching
c. 2003 Kellie Matthews
"What did I tell you when I gave it to you?" Ray demanded irritably.
Fraser sighed, staring down at Ray's coffee table, wondering what on earth would leave a blue ring on the wood. He would feel far better equipped to argue with Ray had he gotten more than ten minutes worth of rest the previous evening. "That I should feel free to use it."
"That's right. So you want to tell me why you didn't?"
"It was late."
"Well duh," Ray said, giving him a slightly exasperated look. "It was late, the Ice Queen's private party was still going, and you couldn't sleep, which is why you should have come over here." He punctuated his sentence with a finger jabbing downward toward the floor.
"But then you'd have been disturbed as well."
Ray snorted. "Fraser, haven't you been around me enough to know I already am? Anyway, I'd've only been disturbed for a couple of minutes and then been right back to sleep and you wouldn't be acting like some of Momma Lolla's leftovers today. That's just not good. When we're working, I need you sharp, I need you on the ball, not all . . ." his hands waved wildly in the air as he searched for the right word. ". . . zombified. The whole point of giving you the key was so you could come over here whenever you needed to, sleep on my couch, use my shower, watch my tv, whatever."
The association Ray's words inadvertently conjured brought a laugh bubbling up. One that sounded alarmingly like a giggle.
Ray eyed him narrowly. "Something funny?" he demanded, ready to prickle at some imagined slight to his hospitality.
"Just . . . " he giggled again. Lord, he was tired. "Can I also eat your porridge?"
There was perhaps a tenth of a second's worth of confusion in Ray's eyes, and then something sparked in them– amusement, affection, and something else, as well. Surely exhaustion was playing tricks on him.
But then Ray said: "Yeah, Brownielocks," his voice soft, and a little husky. "You can let yourself in, sit in my chair, eat my porridge, even sleep in my bed. Any time. Though if you're expecting a bear, you're gonna be sorely disappointed."
Fraser blinked. He couldn't possibly have meant . . . Ray grinned at him, and winked, rubbing idly at his collarbone with a thumb, pushing his collar open, baring skin that was smooth, and faintly gold-tinged, and . . . not at all hairy.
"Actually, I'm not all that fond of bears, Ray," Fraser managed to say with a straight face.
Ray's smile widened. "Huh. And here I thought you were into wildlife."
Well. All right. Ray was baiting him. Perhaps more, even, if the warmth in his eyes was any sign. He swallowed hard, managed a solemn nod, and took the dare. "I am. However, I'm very particular about what sort of wildlife I'm 'into.'"
"That so?" Ray said thoughtfully. "So how you feel about spike-crested cacklers?"
Warmth began to seep through him, and it was all he could do not to laugh aloud, both in amusement, and joy. "I've only encountered one instance of the species, but it's certainly a handsome specimen."
Ray snickered."Yeah, well, the red-feathered northern peacemaker's a pretty handsome specimen too," he said, his gaze flicking down and then up again in a distinct fashion that Ray Vecchio had once referred to as a 'check out.'
"I'm glad you think so," Fraser said, maintaining the pretense of the conversation, even though they both knew better. "You know, I've heard that the spike-crested cackler is a gifted mimic, and in order to evade detection will sometimes disguise itself as another species entirely: the Vecchionii Officinalis." Fraser said, taking the chance that Ray would not question his dreadful taxonomic construction.
"Really?" Ray said, widening his eyes, a smile tugging hard at the corners of his mouth. "So how do you tell them apart?"
"It's quite simple really. The cackler's mating dance is quite unique, and in no wise resembles that of the species it mimics."
"In no wise," Ray muttered, shaking his head, then his gaze met Fraser's, narrowed and intent. "That mean you've seen this mating dance?"
Fraser tilted his head a little. "I believe so. Several times. In fact, I think I'm seeing it at this very moment."
"You might just be right," Ray said. "But I haven't been so lucky with that northern peacemaker." His gaze was bright, and challenging.
"Ah." Fraser cleared his throat, feeling his face grow warm. "Well, you see, the peacemaker is both shy and wary, and unlikely to exhibit mating behavior save under exceptional circumstances."
"What circumstances would those be?"
Really, he should have known better than to expect Ray to let that lie. "Well, privacy is quite important," he said after a long moment of uncomfortable shifting on the couch.
Ray looked around the apartment. "Check. Next?"
"The, ah, potential mate must be physically present."
Ray's lips twitched, and he leaned marginally closer, though Fraser had already been able to feel the warmth of his body. "Check. Anything else?"
"Er," he swallowed some moisture into his dry mouth, but despite that his next words sounded slightly hoarse. "Physical attraction is always useful."
"Check," Ray said, and then quirked an eyebrow. "Right?"
Fraser nodded, blushing a little, though he wasn't sure why. He'd long ago admitted to that particular foible.
Ray looked pleased. "What else?"
Fraser looked at the floor. It needed sweeping. There was a dustbunny the size of a squirrel peeking out from under the wing chair– no doubt in part comprised of wolf-fur. He cleared his throat. "I'm afraid the peacemaker has a long history of mistaking incompatible individuals for potential mates, so its helpful if the potential mate is both sincere and trustworthy."
Ray smiled winsomely. "Sincere is my middle name. Well, one of them," he joked, then his eyes grew serious. "But if you don't trust me by now, you're never going to." His gaze stayed level, and grave, questioning.
"I trust you implicitly," Fraser whispered.
Ray's gaze warmed. "Seems like a preponderance of exceptional circumstances then," he said softly.
A little flare of warmth went through him. He wondered if it was odd to be aroused by a well-constructed sentence. Then he wondered why Ray was looking at him like that, so expectantly, and with just a hint of fear. Finally, he figured it out. He knew that mere words were no reassurance for Ray. Ray knew as well as he did how fleeting words were. Time to, as the saying went, put up or shut up.
Time to match Ray's courage.
Fear knotting in his stomach, Fraser reached out, putting his hand on Ray's shoulder, and then moved it up until he could cup the prickly blade of his jaw in his palm. Ray leaned into it a little, eyes half-closed in pleasure, almost purring.
Fraser eased forward, rubbing his smooth jaw along Ray's rough one, and then he buried his face in the hot curve of Ray's neck. Ray's arms came around him, the long fingers of one hand threading up through his hair to cup the back of his head, petting, soothing. For long moments they just sat there, and then finally Fraser pulled back enough that his cheek was against Ray's, and his mouth just centimeters away from Ray's. Eyes closed, he absorbed the moment, breathing, feeling Ray's breath warm and moist against his skin. One heartbeat. Ten. Thirty.
"Fraser," Ray whispered.
Breath laced with yearning. He turned his head, and their lips met. Clung. Parted. Tongue slick and hot against his own, eager pulse racing against his thumb as it caressed Ray's collarbone. Right where Ray's thumb had rested, teasingly, moments earlier.
Ray was impatient and greedy, but that suited him. Fraser surrendered to fingers that were surprisingly deft on the myriad fastenings of his uniform. He shivered at the sound of parting velcro-- never erotic before-- and felt the slide of lanyard through epaulettes as if against skin. The muted belling of brass tongue against buckle made him hard, the sound of heavy leather falling to the floor even harder. When the tunic fell open, the rush of cool air through sweat-dampened undershirt made his nipples painfully tight, and stung him to action.
Fraser fisted his hands in the sides of Ray's shirt and pulled it out of his trousers until the hem slid free and he could pull it off and toss it aside, impatient to feel Ray's skin under his fingers, not for the first time; but for the first time like this. For the first time licit. As his hands slid, flat-palmed, up Ray's chest, Ray's fingers turned clumsy on the fastenings of his jodhpurs, fumbling as he tried to open the button, which rubbed the heel of his hand against Fraser's erection. Fraser moaned into Ray's mouth.
Ray went still, and then Fraser felt his mouth curve against his own, and his hand moved deliberately, palm fitting perfectly over the arch of his cock. Squeezed. Rubbed. Stroked. He moaned again, shoving one hand down the front of Ray's thankfully too-loose khakis, working his fingers under the snug, stretchy cotton of his briefs to find hot, damp skin. Then Ray was moaning too, into his mouth, and bucking into his hand. It was a bit of a shock to find his fingers very nearly didn't meet around Ray's circumference. But a good one.
Annoyed with the awkwardness of the position, Fraser shoved the coffee-table out of the way with one foot, and pushed Ray onto his back on the couch. Ray laughed, and put one booted foot up on the back of the couch. The other rested on the floor, and he used it to push his hips up as Fraser wrestled his pants and briefs down.
"That works better if you unzip 'em first," Ray pointed out huskily. Fraser shot him a glare, and Ray laughed. "Your turn." He finally got Fraser's pants undone, but the braces kept them in place, and Fraser had to let go of Ray long enough to unbutton them. Then he was shoving his pants down along with his boxers, and settling in against Ray's hot, smooth belly.
"Yeah," Ray breathed, his hands sliding up under the tails of Fraser's tunic to cup his buttocks, fingers digging into their lower curves. "Oh yeah." He pulled Fraser hard against him, and their cocks kissed, a sticky-slick skid of skin against skin.
Fraser kissed him, reveling in the feel of Ray beneath him, the jerk and shudder of his responses, the maddening flick and tease of his tongue. He braced himself on one hand, and rocked into Ray, the other sliding down Ray's chest to his waist. Reluctantly he lifted his hips away from Ray's, but only long enough to capture them both in his hand.
Ray growled, and wrapped his own fingers around the parts that Fraser's couldn't cover. Together they started to stroke. There was no question of tempo or style, it was just fast and hard. Ray held onto his backside with his other hand, fingertips in the crease, conjuring images in his brain of Ray over him, in him . . .
Oh God. . .
Pleasure like an electrical shock: hard, intense, near-painful. Not yet, not yet, too soon. He tried to hold back, tried to slow their hands.
"Yeah, that's it, come on, come on, give it to me," Ray crooned, ignoring his attempts, long fingers urging him higher and higher, until red flared behind his eyelids and heat shot through him like he was standing too close to a forest fire.
Control lost, he keened his need aloud and spilled himself over their fingers, his whole body shaking with pleasure.
"Beautiful," Ray breathed, still stroking, their twined hands moving easily now, slicked with thick, hot moisture. Each stroke made Fraser jerk, the sensation too intense, too much, but he didn't protest, he couldn't. He wanted more. Needed more. Ray's hand, and his, moved once, twice more, and then Ray moaned, and shook, and fresh heat painted their hands and their bellies.
It was nearly as good as coming himself.
They sagged together, panting, and after a little while Ray patted his ass. "Fraser?"
"Mmm?" he asked, unable to summon anything more coherent.
"You don't need a reason to use the key."
Fraser smiled. "Understood."
* * * fin * * *
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-09-20 05:06 am (UTC)"He pulled Fraser hard against him, and their cocks kissed, a sticky-slick skid of skin against skin."
no subject
Date: 2003-09-20 05:12 am (UTC)Ray's gaze warmed. "Seems like a preponderance of exceptional circumstances then," he said softly.
Oh, man ... I don't even know where to begin picking my favorite lines, but these are definitely among them. You captured the way Fraser's reserve hides his depth and intensity of feeling, and Ray's brashness that hides his vulnerability. I'm just full of warm fuzzies.... Funny and sweet and (unsurprisingly) hot - how do you do it!?
Love it, love it, love it - more, please! :)
no subject
Date: 2003-09-20 05:52 am (UTC)He wondered if it was odd to be aroused by a well-constructed sentence.
No. Not odd at all. :)
no subject
Date: 2003-09-20 07:17 am (UTC)This line ... just ... ohhhhmygod. This was wonderful. Write more, please?
-mercy
no subject
Date: 2003-09-20 10:41 am (UTC)::melts::
Thanks you, thank you, thank you. That was lovely.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-20 11:08 am (UTC)The muted belling of brass tongue against buckle made him hard, the sound of heavy leather falling to the floor even harder.
Yeowza, woman. You are a Goddess. :)
no subject
Date: 2003-09-20 12:05 pm (UTC)Well, duh! ::g:: I did. What's not to like? You've got your spike-crested cackler and your red-feathered northern peacemaker doing it on the couch. You got Fraser looking at dust bunnies, which really cracked me up. I adore hot and funny.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-20 12:19 pm (UTC)My, what an image to carry with me today. Just a truly spectacular story. Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2003-09-20 02:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-20 03:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-20 06:39 pm (UTC)That is going straight into my quote file. *g*
no subject
Date: 2003-09-20 10:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-21 03:56 am (UTC)"Just . . . " he giggled again. Lord, he was tired. "Can I also eat your porridge?"
Exhausted Fraser is so cute.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-21 06:09 pm (UTC)And Ann, thanks for posting!
no subject
Date: 2003-09-21 07:52 pm (UTC)And I am just *exhausted* with the effort of posting. *G*
:::hugs:::
no subject
Date: 2003-09-21 10:36 pm (UTC)Not in the slightest. Happens every time I read your fic.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-22 03:07 am (UTC)They're flirting 130 kph (that's fast, right?)and Fraser attempts to misdirect himself with dustbunnies!!! It's perfect I tell you, perfect!
Thanks for another gem, Kellie,
Julia
no subject
Date: 2003-09-22 02:29 pm (UTC)