ds_flashfiction | since it's my challenge. . .

i might as well do one, huh?

anyway, it's for two icons, one of which i can't find anymore, although i swear

lamardeuse used to have it. however, it looks just like the other icon, except it was captioned with the first five words of the story.

the icon posted is mine, made for me by

heuradys

“Wear them for me, Ray,” he says, passing me his red long johns, and yeah, I’d thought about him saying that before. Dreamed about it actually, but in my dreams Fraser was always more. . .intent. Haired messed up, eyes all hot with desire, a little lick of the lips, you know? Oh, yeah.

Not like now. Not all tidy and buttoned-down and button-up, looking at me all concerned and earnest, all ‘my-partner’s-going-to-freeze-to-death-here-in-my-father’s-cabin-and-I-must-help-him.’ Which is exactly how he’s looking at me, and it’s really disappointing, but at least it means he cares, right? A little?

But hell, it’s colder than a witch’s tit up here, so I say ‘thank you kindly’ and put them on and throw myself in the sleeping bag and hope to God I stop shivering sometime this century.

Finally, I start to feel warm, drowsy even. The bag’s rated to –100F, I’d have to feel warm eventually. Just as I’m drifting off to sleep, I suddenly realize I’m wearing Fraser’s underwear. Well, that wakes me the hell up. I’m not warm anymore, I’m hot and steaming, and my dick’s so hard it aches.

I squint through the darkness at Fraser. He’s asleep by now, right? He’s got to be. And it’s not like I’m going to get a chance like this again. Slowly, quietly, I unbutton the long johns and slip my hand inside.

Oh, God, it feels so good, and part of it is because I know it’s wrong, thinking about Fraser like this, using Fraser like this, but damn, the long johns kind of smell like Frase, and this is as close as I’m ever going to get and I just close my eyes and go for it.

The smell’s more intense with my eyes closed, the cloth on my body feels like Fraser lightly touching me just everywhere. I know I’m going to make some noise, so I bite down on the collar, and I can taste something; it’s salty, it’s tangy, it’s Fraser; and my cock is just drooling and my hips are slamming out of control and I come so hard I think I break something.

Now I’m sleepy, and I feel kind of good and kind of sad and wistful. I wipe my hand off on my pants and bring it up to my mouth. I fall asleep sucking on my fingers, pretending it’s Fraser, tears prickling hot behind my eyelids.

I wake up in a bad mood, strip off the long johns and fling them away from me. Now I’m even crankier and I have to pee, so I pull on yesterday’s clothes and stumble outside to the john, and whose brilliant idea is that? Put the damn thing inside where it belongs.

When I get back, Fraser’s up and about and coffee’s made and he’s packing things. I go straight for the coffee and drink about half of it before I realize that Fraser’s packing things.

I slowly turn my head, and sure enough, Fraser’s holding those damn long johns in his hands and he’s just standing there all stiff and still. I look up at him, he’s got a little frown on his face and then he leans in and takes a big whiff, and oh my God, I am so busted.

“Ray, is this your semen?” he says, and I’m sort of scooting away from him, babbling weird excuses when I notice how he’s looking at me. He’s not mad, not mad at all. He’s staring at me, all focused and intent. His hair’s messed up, his eyes are all hot with desire, then he looks right at me and gives a little lick of the lips. Oh, yeah.

Oh, yeah.

615 words