First time for everything
May. 2nd, 2004 03:00 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
elmyraemilie.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionWell, I posted this little thing on my own journal very early this morning along with a whine about not being sure it would show up in ds_flashfiction. The lovely and generous ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silverakira, brooklinegirl & invader_jim all gave me advice on posting it properly to the group, and I really, really hope this works. I can't tell from the preview if this is going to work or not. So here's my first, virgin-even, cut to a story. (fingers crossed)
“Fraser, Fraser, Fraser. Fraser!”
It was a little unnerving the way Ray had begun to repeat himself. Perhaps it was the vodka. Fraser had carefully refrained from drinking anything more intoxicating than a tiny glass of Mr. Padamonsky’s homemade wine, and that only because to refuse would have been a terrible insult, as Ray’s eyebrows had indicated. The heat and the deafening babble rising from the tightly-packed bodies of the celebrants was making Fraser just a little woozy even without the stimulus of alcohol. He turned his head with slow care toward his partner.
At first, he thought Ray had developed a tic; then the whole picture came into focus and he understood that the man was gesturing as subtly as he could toward a door at the back of the room. From where he stood, he could see Ray backed into a corner by one—no, two—of Mr. Padamonsky’s perky twenty-something daughters who, by their gestures, were discussing methods of dealing with hard-to-control hair. Excusing himself from the charming and wholly unintelligible conversation he was having with a woman he would, God willing, never see again, he edged and bumped his way gradually toward the rendezvous Ray indicated.
Ray had made no such progress. His eyes pleaded with Fraser across the jostle of partygoers from his corner next to the punch. Finally, with no expectation of being able to actually go to Ray and extricate him, Fraser resorted to hand-waving. Ray waved back with the hand not filled by a sweating glass of clear liquid. The sisters turned and smiled and waved also; while they were turned away, Ray managed to get a footstep in the right direction, then another, then several while he apologized cheerfully over his shoulder. At last, he gained the doorway, which opened just far enough to let them both slip into the next room.
“Jesus, Frase, I thought I was toast. They’re both hairstylists.” The kitchen was made pleasant by the fact that it was at least possible to walk among the partygoers without sidling crabwise. They took possession of a corner of their own; a stout grey-haired woman backed into Fraser and pressed him against Ray, who was in turn pressed against the panels of yet another door. Ray shimmied his hips against Fraser’s, who stepped back a bare six inches before being stopped by the presence of the other guest.
“Help me understand something if you would.”
“Sure. Ask me anything. If I understand it, I’ll help you understand it.”
“You went to high school with Mr. Padamonsky’s oldest son, as Mr. Padamonsky and your father did before you, and this engagement party is to celebrate the upcoming marriage of the youngest of Mr. Padamonsky’s children.”
“Right on all counts, Fraser. Tell me when we get to the part where I have to explain.” Ray pressed himself back to let two shrieking children wriggle between them and shifted his glass to his other hand. Fraser put a foot back to steady himself and ran his heel down the length of the stout woman’s Achilles tendon. She whirled and glared at him, affronted, before returning to her conversation. Fraser rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb.
“You probably cleared this up earlier, but I just don’t recall it. Where is the happy couple?”
The stout woman stepped back again, moving Fraser forward until it was barely possible to maintain any space at all between himself and his partner. Ray smiled a slow, dangerous smile; Fraser started reciting all the Inuit words for “snow” to himself. Ray insinuated his free hand between them and kept on smiling.
“They’re not here.” The hand that slipped between the buttons of his shirt was cool compared with the overheated atmosphere of the kitchen, and the shock of it nearly yanked a yelp from Fraser’s lips. The vodka-chilled fingers moved up and down within the space between the buttons, then began to work their way toward the hem of the t-shirt that kept them from the warmth of skin. “Aren’t you going to ask me where they are, Fraser?”
His eyes flashed open. “I’m sorry, Ray. What was that?”
“Don’t you want to know where they are?” Ray’s fingers found soft skin and began to flutter against it. It had become nearly impossible to move away; they were not the only ones seeking asylum from the crush by coming into the kitchen, and it would soon be as full as the other room. People were laughing and talking, elbowing past one another on their way to the sink or the salmon dip. It suddenly became very important to maintain some semblance of normal conversation.
“Yes, I do. I naturally supposed that we would…” Ray’s fingers were getting warmer, in more ways than one. With unerring purpose, they slipped beneath the waistband of Fraser’s trousers and found their way to the elastic of his briefs. The stout woman struggled away and was immediately replaced by two barrel-chested men speaking an eastern European language at incredible volume. The taller of the two slapped his friend on the back, pushing Fraser tighter against Ray, whose smile deepened with new layers of mischief and heat. It seemed to Fraser that his heartbeat must be audible even over the roar of sound in the room.
“Course you did.” The button at the top of his fly was open now, and the zipper was slipping down. Someone called out across the room and Ray raised his glass to them, then turned back to his victim. “You’re hard, my friend. I was thinking that a little tease would be good, kind of get things going for later, but you are rock hard right now.” Fraser drew in a sharp breath as the long, knowledgeable fingers slipped through to confirm the words. The crowd seethed around them and the two big men were forced to give some ground, which put the Mountie and his partner in full-body contact with each other. Ray gave another little shimmy and began to stroke his fingers along the length of his lover’s cock.
“Smile, Ben. Say something. Go on. We’re talking here, right?”
The expression he wound up with didn’t feel much like a smile; it felt like a baring of teeth before biting, but it was going to have to do. “You are…that is, we can’t…oh!”
Ray had managed to get a full grip and began moving up and down, slipping the skin of Fraser’s erection over the clenched muscle. There must have been some moisture there, because the hand was sliding lusciously. The swiveling motions of Ray’s wrist were making amazing perfect frictionless heat around Fraser’s aching cock, and when he looked into his partner's changeling eyes more heat stared back at him. The urge to move his pelvis, thrust into the warm, slick hand that surrounded him, was almost overwhelming. Only the thought of public humiliation should they be discovered held him back. Ray pulled them together with his arm around Fraser’s shoulder, condensation from his drink dripping down his back. This turned them a little from the room, and the speed and scope of his attentions increased.
Fraser clamped his lips hard together to contain the moan of pleasure that threatened to escape. The rest of the room, noise and smoke and people, seemed to recede a little bit as the strong arm tightened at his shoulder. Ray leaned in toward his ear. “Hey, they’re having their party and we’re having ours. No one knows, Ben. You can come right here in a room full of people. I can make you come right here. Do you want it? Is it good?” In answer, Ben relaxed against the supporting arm and gave himself over to the risk and the pleasure of this terrible thing. Ray whispered steadily to him, telling him how beautiful he was, how hot this was. Ben whispered back, pleas to go faster, squeeze harder, don’t draw it out, God please!
Behind them, a woman’s voice raised in a peal of laughter and it was all Ben could stand. With Ray’s hissed yes in his ear, he gave in to the desperate need to move and snapped his hips forward one time, throwing his hand out to support himself against the wall. Ray bent forward with him, murmuring delight and comfort into his ear as the evidence of Ben’s climax wet his trousers. They paused there for just a heartbeat, Ray with his arm around Ben who stood panting, braced against the wall.
Then there was shocking, heart-stopping cold as Ray dumped his drink all over Fraser.
“Oh, shit.” Loud, this voice, as though it had never whispered. “I am so, so sorry. Geez, here, let me see if there’s a towel.”
From the vicinity of the sink, someone yelled, “Who needs a towel?”
“Right here.” Ray waved, and the towel passed to him hand over hand. “So clumsy. Here, here’s the bathroom. Get yourself dried off. Let me get you a drink.” Fraser found himself shoved through the door into a tiny powder room. He flipped on the light and looked in the mirror. The man who looked back was soaking wet and reeked of vodka. He no longer cared what had happened to young Mr. Padamonsky and his fiancée; his only though was to go home and get Ray out of those dry clothes.
XoXoX
silverakira, brooklinegirl & invader_jim all gave me advice on posting it properly to the group, and I really, really hope this works. I can't tell from the preview if this is going to work or not. So here's my first, virgin-even, cut to a story. (fingers crossed) “Fraser, Fraser, Fraser. Fraser!”
It was a little unnerving the way Ray had begun to repeat himself. Perhaps it was the vodka. Fraser had carefully refrained from drinking anything more intoxicating than a tiny glass of Mr. Padamonsky’s homemade wine, and that only because to refuse would have been a terrible insult, as Ray’s eyebrows had indicated. The heat and the deafening babble rising from the tightly-packed bodies of the celebrants was making Fraser just a little woozy even without the stimulus of alcohol. He turned his head with slow care toward his partner.
At first, he thought Ray had developed a tic; then the whole picture came into focus and he understood that the man was gesturing as subtly as he could toward a door at the back of the room. From where he stood, he could see Ray backed into a corner by one—no, two—of Mr. Padamonsky’s perky twenty-something daughters who, by their gestures, were discussing methods of dealing with hard-to-control hair. Excusing himself from the charming and wholly unintelligible conversation he was having with a woman he would, God willing, never see again, he edged and bumped his way gradually toward the rendezvous Ray indicated.
Ray had made no such progress. His eyes pleaded with Fraser across the jostle of partygoers from his corner next to the punch. Finally, with no expectation of being able to actually go to Ray and extricate him, Fraser resorted to hand-waving. Ray waved back with the hand not filled by a sweating glass of clear liquid. The sisters turned and smiled and waved also; while they were turned away, Ray managed to get a footstep in the right direction, then another, then several while he apologized cheerfully over his shoulder. At last, he gained the doorway, which opened just far enough to let them both slip into the next room.
“Jesus, Frase, I thought I was toast. They’re both hairstylists.” The kitchen was made pleasant by the fact that it was at least possible to walk among the partygoers without sidling crabwise. They took possession of a corner of their own; a stout grey-haired woman backed into Fraser and pressed him against Ray, who was in turn pressed against the panels of yet another door. Ray shimmied his hips against Fraser’s, who stepped back a bare six inches before being stopped by the presence of the other guest.
“Help me understand something if you would.”
“Sure. Ask me anything. If I understand it, I’ll help you understand it.”
“You went to high school with Mr. Padamonsky’s oldest son, as Mr. Padamonsky and your father did before you, and this engagement party is to celebrate the upcoming marriage of the youngest of Mr. Padamonsky’s children.”
“Right on all counts, Fraser. Tell me when we get to the part where I have to explain.” Ray pressed himself back to let two shrieking children wriggle between them and shifted his glass to his other hand. Fraser put a foot back to steady himself and ran his heel down the length of the stout woman’s Achilles tendon. She whirled and glared at him, affronted, before returning to her conversation. Fraser rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb.
“You probably cleared this up earlier, but I just don’t recall it. Where is the happy couple?”
The stout woman stepped back again, moving Fraser forward until it was barely possible to maintain any space at all between himself and his partner. Ray smiled a slow, dangerous smile; Fraser started reciting all the Inuit words for “snow” to himself. Ray insinuated his free hand between them and kept on smiling.
“They’re not here.” The hand that slipped between the buttons of his shirt was cool compared with the overheated atmosphere of the kitchen, and the shock of it nearly yanked a yelp from Fraser’s lips. The vodka-chilled fingers moved up and down within the space between the buttons, then began to work their way toward the hem of the t-shirt that kept them from the warmth of skin. “Aren’t you going to ask me where they are, Fraser?”
His eyes flashed open. “I’m sorry, Ray. What was that?”
“Don’t you want to know where they are?” Ray’s fingers found soft skin and began to flutter against it. It had become nearly impossible to move away; they were not the only ones seeking asylum from the crush by coming into the kitchen, and it would soon be as full as the other room. People were laughing and talking, elbowing past one another on their way to the sink or the salmon dip. It suddenly became very important to maintain some semblance of normal conversation.
“Yes, I do. I naturally supposed that we would…” Ray’s fingers were getting warmer, in more ways than one. With unerring purpose, they slipped beneath the waistband of Fraser’s trousers and found their way to the elastic of his briefs. The stout woman struggled away and was immediately replaced by two barrel-chested men speaking an eastern European language at incredible volume. The taller of the two slapped his friend on the back, pushing Fraser tighter against Ray, whose smile deepened with new layers of mischief and heat. It seemed to Fraser that his heartbeat must be audible even over the roar of sound in the room.
“Course you did.” The button at the top of his fly was open now, and the zipper was slipping down. Someone called out across the room and Ray raised his glass to them, then turned back to his victim. “You’re hard, my friend. I was thinking that a little tease would be good, kind of get things going for later, but you are rock hard right now.” Fraser drew in a sharp breath as the long, knowledgeable fingers slipped through to confirm the words. The crowd seethed around them and the two big men were forced to give some ground, which put the Mountie and his partner in full-body contact with each other. Ray gave another little shimmy and began to stroke his fingers along the length of his lover’s cock.
“Smile, Ben. Say something. Go on. We’re talking here, right?”
The expression he wound up with didn’t feel much like a smile; it felt like a baring of teeth before biting, but it was going to have to do. “You are…that is, we can’t…oh!”
Ray had managed to get a full grip and began moving up and down, slipping the skin of Fraser’s erection over the clenched muscle. There must have been some moisture there, because the hand was sliding lusciously. The swiveling motions of Ray’s wrist were making amazing perfect frictionless heat around Fraser’s aching cock, and when he looked into his partner's changeling eyes more heat stared back at him. The urge to move his pelvis, thrust into the warm, slick hand that surrounded him, was almost overwhelming. Only the thought of public humiliation should they be discovered held him back. Ray pulled them together with his arm around Fraser’s shoulder, condensation from his drink dripping down his back. This turned them a little from the room, and the speed and scope of his attentions increased.
Fraser clamped his lips hard together to contain the moan of pleasure that threatened to escape. The rest of the room, noise and smoke and people, seemed to recede a little bit as the strong arm tightened at his shoulder. Ray leaned in toward his ear. “Hey, they’re having their party and we’re having ours. No one knows, Ben. You can come right here in a room full of people. I can make you come right here. Do you want it? Is it good?” In answer, Ben relaxed against the supporting arm and gave himself over to the risk and the pleasure of this terrible thing. Ray whispered steadily to him, telling him how beautiful he was, how hot this was. Ben whispered back, pleas to go faster, squeeze harder, don’t draw it out, God please!
Behind them, a woman’s voice raised in a peal of laughter and it was all Ben could stand. With Ray’s hissed yes in his ear, he gave in to the desperate need to move and snapped his hips forward one time, throwing his hand out to support himself against the wall. Ray bent forward with him, murmuring delight and comfort into his ear as the evidence of Ben’s climax wet his trousers. They paused there for just a heartbeat, Ray with his arm around Ben who stood panting, braced against the wall.
Then there was shocking, heart-stopping cold as Ray dumped his drink all over Fraser.
“Oh, shit.” Loud, this voice, as though it had never whispered. “I am so, so sorry. Geez, here, let me see if there’s a towel.”
From the vicinity of the sink, someone yelled, “Who needs a towel?”
“Right here.” Ray waved, and the towel passed to him hand over hand. “So clumsy. Here, here’s the bathroom. Get yourself dried off. Let me get you a drink.” Fraser found himself shoved through the door into a tiny powder room. He flipped on the light and looked in the mirror. The man who looked back was soaking wet and reeked of vodka. He no longer cared what had happened to young Mr. Padamonsky and his fiancée; his only though was to go home and get Ray out of those dry clothes.
XoXoX
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no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 12:14 pm (UTC)Towel anyone?
Date: 2004-05-02 12:27 pm (UTC)Re: Towel anyone?
Date: 2004-05-02 12:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 12:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 02:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 03:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 03:16 pm (UTC)*g*
Just kidding -- I loved this, and I'm so glad you took the plunge and posted it!
George Padamonsky
Date: 2004-05-02 05:09 pm (UTC)And I love your icon.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 03:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 05:14 pm (UTC)I do have five cats, though. None of them are this cheerful.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 05:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 03:57 pm (UTC)Terrible and yet so wonderful.... You captured the risk and excitement really well, and especially and the way the risk increased the excitement. I found this hot and sweet - I love Ray whispering, the way they've made their own little bubble of privacy in the midst of a crazy crowded room, the way it comes down, always, to just the two of them - and really an excellent take on this challenge. I'm glad you posted and hope to see more from you!
no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 05:28 pm (UTC)No performance anxiety needed, m'dear. You deliver beautifully. Welcome!
no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 06:06 pm (UTC)Loved your Ray, who is so very sneaky, crafty, and outrageous.
Then there was shocking, heart-stopping cold as Ray dumped his drink all over Fraser.
“Oh, shit.” Loud, this voice, as though it had never whispered. “I am so, so sorry. Geez, here, let me see if there’s a towel.”
This is probably my favorite part of the story (besides the sex of course [grin]) because Ray's just brilliant like that. And you are, too, for thinking of it. (I'm glad you got it to work, because this fic is too good not to be read by as many people as possible.)
no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 06:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 07:07 pm (UTC)At first, he thought Ray had developed a tic; then the whole picture came into focus and he understood that the man was gesturing as subtly as he could toward a door at the back of the room.
Ha! I can so picture that. Yay, I hope you post more!
no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 07:25 pm (UTC)So glad you posted this.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 07:54 pm (UTC)HominahominahominaGUH.
*melts into puddle*
no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-03 05:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-02 10:24 pm (UTC)Very clever - I really enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-03 04:34 am (UTC)Oh, what a way to =start= writing DS! I for sure hope that you keep doing it!
no subject
Date: 2004-05-03 09:02 am (UTC)boy, and leave it to Ray to cover it up - Then there was shocking, heart-stopping cold as Ray dumped his drink all over Fraser.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-03 10:09 am (UTC)Brava! A great response to the challenge. Welcome!!
no subject
Date: 2004-05-03 12:32 pm (UTC)and get Ray out of those dry clothes.
Yes, indeed. Yum.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-03 11:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-04 07:54 pm (UTC)Um, where have I been? Huddled at my 'puter reading *your* stuff. Thank you most very kindly.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-04 07:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-04 10:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-05 08:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-05 03:52 pm (UTC)