Jewelry Challenge

[lynnmonster.livejournal.com]

Here's a reply to the recent spate of unrequited Fraser masturbation stories we've gotten recently (all two of them). I believe it was kassrachel who made a comment to the effect that she wanted to see the reverse...

Heartfelt thanks to brooklinegirl, beta extraordinare, who didn't let me backtrack and tone things down. (You rock, missy.)




Ray had at least half an hour, and he planned to take full advantage of that time.

He dropped his keys on top of the little table by the front door -- funny how he'd never think to buy one of those himself, but ended up using it every single day -- and stripped out of his jacket. He hung it up neatly in the hall closet, tossing his gun and his badge into the lockbox on the top shelf.

His holster and shirt were off by the time he walked into the bedroom, and he dropped them onto the floor. He skimmed his jeans and shorts down his legs and sat heavily on the bed, toeing off his boots and kicking his way out of the tangled-up cloth. He brought his feet up onto the bed and pulled off his socks.

He always felt like a world-class idiot wearing socks and nothing else, and these kinds of details were important.

He scooted up the bed until the nightstand was in easy reach, and grabbed the leather strap off the top of it. He fastened it around his neck, buckling it so that it was almost too tight, but still allowing him to swallow without much discomfort.

He blew out a breath and settled against the headboard, pillows supporting his lower back. He closed his eyes and let everything else in the world disappear except the pressure around his neck, his images of Fraser, and his own right hand.

Ray dragged his hand lightly up the line of his breastbone, detouring to circle around his right nipple. He shivered a little as the rough skin of his fingertips caught and tugged at the sparse hair surrounding it. He licked his lips and pictured Fraser's face, Fraser's fingers reaching out to touch him. He'd be a little tentative, at first, but really not all that much -- his eyes would be dark with hunger and his outstretched hand would follow the path of his gaze without prompting. Ray ran a fingernail lightly over the little peak, which tightened even more, and imagined Fraser's response to that visible reaction.

Fraser would lick him there next, definitely.

Ray licked at his own fingers and brushed them against the same nipple. He did it again and rubbed little damp circles over the top, making a pleased humming noise in the back of his throat. He was so turned on that his dick was already stretching and pointing towards his belly. His wet fingers felt so damn good -- and now Fraser would lick him again -- and Ray pushed his finger down for a moment, pressing firmly.

He shifted and tweaked the flesh under his fingers, simulating a bite, and swallowed hard. The tightness around his throat and the stinging tingle in his nipple shot straight to his cock and he couldn't wait any longer, he had to touch himself.

Ray let his hand to drop to his groin and wrapped it around his dick. For a moment, he didn't move, just held on, picturing the expression on Fraser's face if he were here right now, watching Ray touch himself.

Ray began to slide the tight tunnel of his hand up and down slowly, putting on a show for his imaginary audience. He pressed back against the smooth wood of the headboard, arching his spine a little bit -- practically able to feel the weight of Fraser's eyes on him -- and sped his strokes. The air was cool against his skin, even though he felt hot, so prickly hot, and he twisted against the empty air the way he would against Fraser's palms.

Ray was breathing heavily and pushing blindly into the nonexistent touches. Getting desperate, he finally allowed his other hand to sneak into the action as he writhed and jerked himself. He let his hand skim across his chest, first, then slide lower and lower until it brushed against his balls. He pulled on them a little, starting out as just a self-tease and a display -- but he quickly got so caught up in all the sensation, between his hands and his brain-pictures and the air on his skin, that he was lost in a haze of pleasure. The distant clatter of a set of keys and the scrabble of canine claws from the hallway didn't register in his clouded mind.

Until he heard a scandalized "Ray!" coming from the bedroom doorway, and realized that Fraser had come home early.

Ray's hands stilled and he opened one eye, peering skeptically at his partner. "Don't 'Ray' me. I know you love it when I start without you."

Fraser smouldered at him and crawled onto the bed, fully dressed. He hovered above Ray and traced along the collar circling Ray's neck. Ray swallowed, his Adam's apple moving against the leather, and Fraser's eyes went just as heated as they'd been in Ray's imagination.

"Yes, I do," Fraser told him, grabbing onto Ray's wrists and pulling them up and away from his body, pinning them against the pillows. He straddled Ray's thigh and pushed against him, the bulge of his crotch covered in rough, tight denim that scraped abrasively against Ray's skin.

Ray strained against Fraser's hold, stretching his neck up and latching onto Fraser's lips in a hungry kiss.

He loved it when Fraser came home early.