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ds_flashfiction2004-09-05 07:39 pm
sihayab.livejournal.com) wrote in ds_flashfiction2004-09-05 07:39 pm
Entry tags:
Another entry for the jewelry challenge
Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lynnmonster and kassrachel for their services as betas. ::smooches::
Weighing in at 543 words.
Glimpse
“See you tomorrow, Frase.” A casual wave, the sound of boots echoing on the Consulate’s parquet floor.
Stifling the urge to say something, to call Ray back for another minute of his company, Fraser moved the stack of forms, and a gleam caught his eye.
“Ray, you forgot—”
The door slammed.
“—your bracelet.”
Picking it up with fingers that did not tremble, not at all, Fraser held the bracelet high, a thin stream of silver spilling from his hand. The metal flashed in the lamplight, twisting and moving sinuously, never still.
So like Ray.
It played through his fingers and pooled in the palm of his hand, cupped and held dear. He could offer that same hand to Ray, if only he could gather the courage to speak.
Fraser dropped the bracelet onto his desk and stood. Nothing but foolish musings by a lonely man. He would return it to Ray in the morning, and not treat it as some romantic totem, a favour from the oblivious object of his desire.
He ignored it through the long evening, reading until his eyes burned, then preparing for another restless night in his narrow bed. And yet the small silver coil never left his thoughts, a faint glimpse of possibility in his all-too-concrete world.
Sometimes he thought such faint glimpses were all he had left.
After carefully gathering the bracelet in his hand, Fraser stretched out on his cot. He raised his hand and touched his lips to the silver, dragged it across his mouth. It tasted bitter. Ray would taste of sweat and coffee and chocolate as well as metal. He knew that in his mind and in his heart.
Fraser slowly unbuttoned his union suit. The cool air kissed his skin, the only kisses he could expect, and he trailed the cold silver across his nipples with a sigh. A small part of his brain catalogued the evidences of arousal: hardened nipples, quickened breath, dampness at armpit and groin, the slow fill and rise of his penis. Another part despaired, for if he had a lover, if he had Ray in his bed, touching him, being touched in return, there would be no clinical moments, no time to observe each change in his body’s responses.
A faint glimpse fading.
He squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his hand around his penis, the cool metal trapped in his humid palm. It might feel this way if Ray stroked him, the breath-stealing juxtaposition of hot and cold. The small beads rolled over his damp skin, sliding smoothly. Fraser’s hand sped up. But Ray would also kiss him, speak to him, rub against him so that he could think of nothing but Ray, feel nothing but Ray, know that Ray was there with him, loving him.
Fraser’s back arched as he gasped and climaxed, one hand clenched on the frame of the cot, the other ruthlessly stroking himself until he had finished.
His eyes prickled as he lay there, still holding Ray’s bracelet, proof of his solitary completion smeared on his belly and chest.
Fraser turned on his side, the bracelet curled in his fingers. Tucking that hand under his cheek, he stared at the wall until sunlight reached the edge of his cot.
lynnmonster and kassrachel for their services as betas. ::smooches::Weighing in at 543 words.
Glimpse
“See you tomorrow, Frase.” A casual wave, the sound of boots echoing on the Consulate’s parquet floor.
Stifling the urge to say something, to call Ray back for another minute of his company, Fraser moved the stack of forms, and a gleam caught his eye.
“Ray, you forgot—”
The door slammed.
“—your bracelet.”
Picking it up with fingers that did not tremble, not at all, Fraser held the bracelet high, a thin stream of silver spilling from his hand. The metal flashed in the lamplight, twisting and moving sinuously, never still.
So like Ray.
It played through his fingers and pooled in the palm of his hand, cupped and held dear. He could offer that same hand to Ray, if only he could gather the courage to speak.
Fraser dropped the bracelet onto his desk and stood. Nothing but foolish musings by a lonely man. He would return it to Ray in the morning, and not treat it as some romantic totem, a favour from the oblivious object of his desire.
He ignored it through the long evening, reading until his eyes burned, then preparing for another restless night in his narrow bed. And yet the small silver coil never left his thoughts, a faint glimpse of possibility in his all-too-concrete world.
Sometimes he thought such faint glimpses were all he had left.
After carefully gathering the bracelet in his hand, Fraser stretched out on his cot. He raised his hand and touched his lips to the silver, dragged it across his mouth. It tasted bitter. Ray would taste of sweat and coffee and chocolate as well as metal. He knew that in his mind and in his heart.
Fraser slowly unbuttoned his union suit. The cool air kissed his skin, the only kisses he could expect, and he trailed the cold silver across his nipples with a sigh. A small part of his brain catalogued the evidences of arousal: hardened nipples, quickened breath, dampness at armpit and groin, the slow fill and rise of his penis. Another part despaired, for if he had a lover, if he had Ray in his bed, touching him, being touched in return, there would be no clinical moments, no time to observe each change in his body’s responses.
A faint glimpse fading.
He squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his hand around his penis, the cool metal trapped in his humid palm. It might feel this way if Ray stroked him, the breath-stealing juxtaposition of hot and cold. The small beads rolled over his damp skin, sliding smoothly. Fraser’s hand sped up. But Ray would also kiss him, speak to him, rub against him so that he could think of nothing but Ray, feel nothing but Ray, know that Ray was there with him, loving him.
Fraser’s back arched as he gasped and climaxed, one hand clenched on the frame of the cot, the other ruthlessly stroking himself until he had finished.
His eyes prickled as he lay there, still holding Ray’s bracelet, proof of his solitary completion smeared on his belly and chest.
Fraser turned on his side, the bracelet curled in his fingers. Tucking that hand under his cheek, he stared at the wall until sunlight reached the edge of his cot.
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Did it suddenly get ... warm in here?
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Does that help?
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Not as much as you might think... :P
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::fans self and goes back to re-read::
Ray would taste of sweat and coffee and chocolate as well as metal.
Gorgeous!!
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Oh my god, WOOBIE! Hot yet so, so sad.
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Oh, sad, lonely, sweet Fraser. This is lovely and hot and so melancholy. Well done!
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Sekrit message: No, he didn't.
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You=talented. :)
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You=adorable. ::snuggle::
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wah!!!
Another part despaired, for if he had a lover, if he had Ray in his bed, touching him, being touched in return, there would be no clinical moments, no time to observe each change in his body’s responses.
That's so very Fraser ... ow.
::loves on you::
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::smooches Deb::
::sneaks in a grope::
::hands over hankie::
Glad you liked it, darlin'.
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Because, yes, okay, total woobie Fraser, but - the very first thing I thought when I saw this challenge was, "oh, bracelet porn! There's gonna be bracelet porn, there just has to be." Very. Serious. Kink. on my part, and you totally fed it and for that, I thank you kindly. *g*
It's so, so very fraser to take what little he thinks he can get. I love this:
He raised his hand and touched his lips to the silver, dragged it across his mouth. It tasted bitter. Ray would taste of sweat and coffee and chocolate as well as metal. He knew that in his mind and in his heart.
God. Yeah. Lying back with the bracelet, mentally cataloguing Ray's flavors, god, yeah, hotness.
But it's utterly sad at the same time, how very completely alone Fraser is here, it just makes my heart hurt. Though - okay, I'm shallow, because, my god:
He squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his hand around his penis, the cool metal trapped in his humid palm. It might feel this way if Ray stroked him, the breath-stealing juxtaposition of hot and cold. The small beads rolled over his damp skin, sliding smoothly.
Hot. So very, very hot. Though this is what really got to me:
Fraser’s back arched as he gasped and climaxed, one hand clenched on the frame of the cot, the other ruthlessly stroking himself until he had finished.
Guh. Oh my dear lord, guh. Yeah. That's a mental picture that's gonna stay with me for a very, very long time. I have a sheer, utter love for you for this fic.
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But yes, poor Fraser's alone, all alone. ::sniffle::
Alone and jerking off...
Whee!!!!
::loves blg::
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This is wonderful, but so very lonely.
*sniff*
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::nodnod:: That's what I was trying to achieve, darlin'. And thanks to your wonderful suggestions, I inched a bit closer.
Lonely. Yep, that's our Fraser.
::dabs eyes::
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I'm just so very dead from that story.
Sigh. The longing and the angst and the sadness - but the hot! and the ooo! and the bracelet! It just -
Wow. All of that together = really perfect story.
*twirls you*
*licks you*
*sneaks in a quick grope*
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::licks e::
::wriggles and giggles::
You are so good for my ego!
Sad and lonely bracelet pr0n = my forte, I guess. ::wry g::
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