ds_flashfiction | Public Sex Challenge

silverakira.livejournal.com posting in

Okay, so, this is posted way after the challenge ended, but that just seems to be my modus operandi. F/K, NC-17, in retaliation to all the R/R that this challenge seems to have drawn. [grin]

Beta'd by the wonderful

brooklinegirl, who is a lifesaver. Really. Since this was my first sex scene, ever, and I was, admittedly, really nervous about writing it.

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
05.11.04

Ray’s right hand skidded down the wall, slick with sweat. His forehead was pressed against the cool surface though he could feel each hot gust of air as he gasped, his breath partially trapped by the surface of the wall.

“Fraser,” he managed to pant out. Fraser responded by dipping his hands lower and stroking his dick through his pants. Jesus.

“Fraser.” Not so much speaking as moaning now. I don’t think this’s what Welsh had in mind when he said to try and camouflage with the crowd, Ray thought slightly hysterically, and choked down a laugh. Though when Fraser started tracing the outline of his ear with his tongue, all urges to laugh drained out of him. Sort of like how all the blood from his brain drained straight down into his cock.

Christ, how the fuck did he get himself into situations like this? Not that he was complaining or anything; or at least he wouldn’t be if they weren’t undercover. In a gay club. Where they were supposed to be sniffing out that stupid new drug on the street market, not each other. But dammit, this time it hadn’t been his fault: Hurricane Fraser had blown right by him (or rather, right into him), and he’d been pinned to the wall before he’d even realized anyone was behind him.

“Who the fuck --!” Ray had realized it was pointless though, since he hadn’t even been able to hear himself over the pounding techno beat of the club, much less whoever had been behind him. He had been just about to jab the guy in the stomach with his elbow when he heard a breathy, “Ray,” right in his ear and felt hands -– Fraser’s hands –- sliding under his skintight shirt, caressing his sides and his abdomen.

And oookay, so he’d known that his torso was an erogenous zone, but Jesus Christ, Fraser was doing something incredible to his skin. He was skimming his fingers up and down, back and forth, across Ray’s stomach, and you’d think that it’d tickle except for the fact that every time Fraser moved his fingers it felt like tiny electric shocks mainlined to his dick.

Fast-forward a little bit, and here they were again, except now Fraser’d gotten Ray’s zipper open and his hand into Ray’s pants and was touching his dick sans cloth, thumbing the slit, and holy fuck he was going to come right now if Fraser didn’t stop. But his damn traitorous body couldn’t stop thrusting into Fraser’s palm and his legs were definitely not in operation-mode right now. Christ, he needed to get laid more often if one fucking hand job was turning him so much that he was ready to go off within a few minutes. But then again it probably had more to do with whose body the hand was attached to.

And, okay, so now really wasn’t the time to think about that, cause it was so damn pathetic of him; god, he had no self-control; but this, if this was all he could get with Fraser, just this one thing…

But something was off, something was wrong. Because Fraser was slurring things like “Ray” and “wonderful” between biting the lobe of his ear -- Fraser never slurred -- plus, if that hadn’t been setting alarms off in his brain like crazy, there was no way that the Fraser he knew would do this, in public. And jeez, what a time to get all noble, to grow a fucking conscience. But it was still wrong, so he leaned his head back onto Fraser’s shoulder, turned his head towards Fraser’s ear, and said, loud as he could, “Fraser, stop, we gotta -- just let me…God.” Okay, so maybe he wasn’t trying as hard as he could, but Christ, he was getting the best hand job of his life, who the fuck could blame him?

And Fraser wasn’t helping none either; Fraser just latched onto his neck and started sucking and licking. Ray might have started making all sorts of embarrassing noises then, but he wasn’t really paying attention since most of the cells upstairs were more focused on the matter at hand. So to speak.

Okay, so -- okay. He inhaled deeply, grabbed at Fraser’s hand, and heaved backwards. Fraser lost his grip and Ray twisted around. Fraser must have been really out of it, though -- whoa there, unsteady much, Benton buddy? -- and Ray had to grab onto the front of Fraser’s shirt to stop him from tumbling over and breaking his pretty face.

And –- shit –- now Ray could see the dilated pupils. Fraser was high as a fucking kite. Stupid Mountie had probably been licking things to find the drug. Goddamn Fraser with his invincibility complex.

This was so, so fucked up. Screw the case; he had to deal with one out-of-commission Mountie right now. He needed a plan, though it was kind of hard to think with his brain in his dick and Fraser -- Christ, he never lets things go, does he? -- licking his collarbone. Ray groaned and shoved Fraser away again, but he was still hard as a rock; he needed something drastic -- Dewey in a pink thong. Oh god, he was scarred for life now, but shit, the situation was kind of desperate. Deep breath. Okay, drugs…Fraser would need water, right? Dehydration was usually one of those side-effects, plus it might help flush out stuff from his system. Right. Water. That was the plan.

Except he’d forgotten that Fraser, who normally got Ray’s plans pretty damn fast, was, you know, sort of stoned right now and obviously not with the program. Since Fraser had slid to his knees. Right in front of Ray. And was currently mouthing Ray’s dick through his briefs. Ray thunked his head against the wall, groaning, and grabbed onto Fraser’s shoulders. Fuck. Even Dewey couldn’t help him now.

This was beyond fucked up; this was the epitome of wrongness. Fraser had to stop. Ray moved one hand into Fraser’s soft hair and tugged, which made Fraser…lean back? But before Ray had time to tell his disappointed feelings to go to hell, a shirt flew into his face. It smelled like sweat and sex and Fraser, and whatever was left of Ray’s self-control flew out the window. Plus, you know, Fraser had started nuzzling Ray’s cock again and had Ray’s hips in a pretty tight grip, so Ray just decided to fall back against wall, make incoherent noises, and mentally thank God that they were in a dark corner. He loved dark corners right now, he would marry dark corners; God bless them, forever and ever, amen.

Sometime between the gasping and the blessing, Fraser had dragged Ray’s briefs down far enough to get to his dick. Nothing seemed to be happening, though. Ray glanced down and desperately hoped that there was nothing wrong, like maybe it was seven millimeters too short or something. But apparently everything was ok-go, ‘cause Fraser opened his mouth, started to lean forward, and, Christ, the drug must have been a relaxant or something because he saw his cock slide down, down, down Fraser’s throat. Jesus fuck, Ray thought as he stuffed the shirt into his mouth and bit down hard to stop from screaming.

God, this was going to be the shortest blowjob of his life.

Fraser was going straight for it, letting Ray’s cock fall almost all the way out of his mouth before deep-throating him again. Ray lost his grip on the shirt before reaching to stroke Fraser’s jaw with one hand and clenching the other in Fraser’s silky, damp hair. Ray sucked in wet, desperate gasps as Fraser started teasing the slit of his cock with his tongue. One of Fraser’s hands left Ray’s hip and started to caress his balls, squeezing lightly, and god, it had only been three fucking minutes, but he was going to -- he was --

“Fraser,” Ray tried to rasp out, wanting to warn him. But all that escaped his throat was an embarrassing whine, and fuck it, Fraser wouldn’t have been able to hear him over the damn music anyway. But god, okay, that was the last thing on his mind right now because he was coming his fucking brains out. And Fraser -- Jesus H. Christ, he was sucking and swallowing and Ray could feel the vibrations of Fraser moaning around his orgasm, which made everything feel a thousand times better.

Ray stared, unseeing, toward the ceiling while he tried to remember how to breathe. All of his muscles were starting to unclench too, so he was just going to collapse right now if that was okay. Fraser’s grip on Ray’s hips had loosened and he was no longer supporting Ray’s weight, so Ray slid down the wall until he was at eye-level with Fraser.

Jesus. Fraser looked like he’d been molested (which, okay, he had been). Not that it was a bad look or anything; actually, it made Fraser seem more like something out of a wet dream. His hair was all messy and sticking up in weird places, and his lips looked weirdly shiny. There was a tiny bit of come in the corner of his mouth, and Ray’s cock twitched pathetically when he saw it.

Fraser smiled dreamily at him and Ray watched helplessly, eagerly, as Fraser started to lean forward. Fraser’s tongue flickered out, and Ray’s eyes were drawn to the movement, but then Fraser’s face seem to glaze over slightly before wham! -- he passed out.

Ray blinked stupidly at his lap, full of a snoring, dead-to-the-world Mountie.

Well, fuck.

ETA: Thank you to

kelliem for catching a really stupid typo. [hits self over the head]