ds fic: HOWL
Sep. 27th, 2004 10:50 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
nifra-idril.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionTitle: HOWL
Pairing: Rayk/Fraser, Rayk/Stella
Written for the 7 deadly sins challenge. This is wrath.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1445
Ray’s got his cock in his hand and his teeth gritted, and he’s sliding right into the groove – grunting, rocking his hips up into his hand, thinking about Fraser bending him naked over his desk.
It’s less about being turned on than it is about habits, and how fucking hard they are to break, because if he doesn’t do this, he’s not going to be able to sleep.
Ray remembers back when jerking off was fun – well, at least enjoyable, but now it’s this mechanical motion, this thing he does before falling asleep. He comes home, he drinks a beer, eats some dinner, watches the game, takes off his clothes and masturbates before sleeping. Take one step of that whole chain of events away, and he spends the night staring up at his ceiling. Ray’s too old to spend the day chasing bad guys if he hasn’t gotten any shuteye.
A lot of times he thinks about Fraser, and sometimes he thinks about Stella, and there are a couple of dark horse candidates that show up in his fantasies from time to time. Once it was Frannie, and a couple of times it was the Ice Queen, and even Turnbull got a cameo, but that freaked Ray out enough that he couldn’t even finish.
And sometimes, Ray thinks about just what he’s doing – thinks about opening his pants, taking out his cock in public somewhere, like under the cover of his desk at work and just jacking himself until he comes. He wonders if he’d be able to keep up a conversation with Fraser if he did that, and yeah, that’s working for him, that’s turning his crank, yeah – yeah.
He’s sitting there, legs spread so far his knees are banging the cheap cold metal of the desk, jeans open just enough to get his hand in there. Fraser’s talking about – oh who even gives a shit what Fraser’s talking about. But he looks like he’s enjoying it, he looks like it’s making him happy, so maybe it’s caribou or maybe it’s chemistry.
“Don’t you think, Ray?” Fraser asks, head tilted, and that polite little smile on his lips as he waits for his response, and Ray’s hand moves faster, and his head falls back on the pillow.
“Yeah,” he pants, and hears himself sounding a little breathless, but basically fine. Fantasy Fraser doesn’t notice a difference, just nods, keeps going. Ray can feel the flush working its way up his neck into his face, thinks about how Stella used to say she could always tell when he was turned on from his neck – from how it would get blotchy and red – and he thinks about her licking there.
She used to do that, used to lean over, and just lick a long strip up the cords on his neck, or whisper in his ear while they were waiting in line at the movies, or lunch or whatever. And he had to keep it cool, keep it together, pretend it didn’t get him as hot as it did until they were alone and yeah, yeah, that’s just like this thing he’s imagining with Fraser and him talking, with him just moving his hand fast as he can underneath the desk and nodding at everything the Mountie says.
And underneath all the surface arousal, beyond how his hand’s moving, how he’s picturing Fraser licking his lips and moving his hands and describing migratory birds, and Stella’s quick little tongue and how wet and hot it felt behinds his ear, Ray’s thinking how sad this is.
Because he doesn’t want this – he wants – he wants Fraser’s body or Stella’s body, and he wants to curl up next to them after he comes. Maybe listen to Stella bitch about the amount of laundry they end up doing, or Fraser, who’d probably just be neat and efficient about the spunk issue – probably just pull the sheet off the bed, and then pull Ray tight to him, maybe even prop his chin on Ray’s shoulder and just hold on.
And that’s hot too, the way he’s imagining Fraser’s whole body pressed against him and Ray’s body – Ray’s body needs touch. It needs to feel something solid, something real, another person.
Anything, maybe Fraser could bite him all over, or Stella could because she had those sharp little teeth, and she liked biting, she’d always liked to bite, and Ray didn’t mind, Ray dug it. Or Fraser could just press him down into the mattress, could pin Ray down using his whole body, but anything, *anything* because Ray’s body is starving. *Ray* is starving for hands that aren’t his own, for someone else to touch him because, oh shit it’s been a long while.
But right now his hands are working over time, and he’s turned on, his *body* is turned on, but as Ray gets closer and closer and closer, picturing Fraser and his face, his fucking beautiful face, the way it looks when he’s excited, and remembering Stella, and Ray’s alone, he’s all alone, and he’s in his bed, and his eyes are open and he’s staring at his bedside table and the lube there and the old coffee mug that he needs to wash and – damn! – he just needs to come. He needs to pull this fucking orgasm out, get it over with, and he’s more angry than turned on, and he thinks for a second about what Fraser would do, what Fraser would really *do* if he ever saw Ray like this.
Spread out, legs as wide as they can get, his hands moving so fast down there that they might be blurring as he tugs on his balls and rubs his thumb against the underside of his cock, rough. Moaning, panting, calling Fraser’s name – and Fraser’d stand there, probably get flustered, probably rub his eyebrow, clutch his hat, his knuckles white, his face white, and he’d say – he’d say – he’d just say Ray’s name. His voice would be practically a whisper, embarrassed and thin, and Ray would squeeze his eyes closed, would say –
“Touch me.”
Twists his hips up, into his hand more, and Ray’s eyes are shut so tight, so *tight* that it could almost be real, Fraser could almost be standing right there, and he says it again, growls it.
“*Touch* me,” and he’s getting madder, and saying it’s just another release, getting him hotter.
He digs his heels into the mattress, really goes for it, and shouts, “Touch *me*, fuck you, fuck you, *fuck* you, touch me, please, just – ”
He doesn’t sound like himself, and his voice is rebounding off the walls now, he’s loud enough that he sounds – he sounds like he isn’t alone, and he comes, he comes all over himself and before it’s even over, he feels lonely and dirty and gross. He catches his breath, just lies there for a moment, swallowing and feeling the aftershocks, feeling anger creep in to the places where the orgasm was just tingling.
He stands up, goes to the bathroom, washes himself off, and he just looks at his bedroom. There are dirty clothes all over the floor, and a picture of his mom over on his dresser, and in front of it is another dirty, empty coffee mug, and a pile of ash on the floor by Ray’s bed from the ashtray he knocked over when he woke up this morning and didn’t care enough to clean up.
It’s sad and it’s lonely and Ray deserves better than this. He’s a good guy, even if he can be an asshole sometimes, but he’s a *good* guy. He deserves *more*.
“Fuck this shit. Just fuck it,” Ray screams, and he doesn’t care that it’s late.
He doesn’t care at all. He kicks his nightstand. He kicks it so hard that it buckles and falls, and that feels fucking *good*, that feels better than coming, and he swipes an arm across his dresser and sends all that crap flying across the room. He rips the sheets off his bed, and stops just short of putting his hand through the wall.
Ray tears his room apart, and then he does the same thing to the living room and the kitchen and he ends up standing naked in front of his sink, arm braced against the countertop as his shoulders shake and tears run down his cheeks and he just yells. He keeps yelling for a long time, howling like something wild and hurt. In the end, he curls up on the floor, and wakes up because his back hurts and when he goes into work, he doesn’t feel any better.
He just feels sore.
Pairing: Rayk/Fraser, Rayk/Stella
Written for the 7 deadly sins challenge. This is wrath.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1445
Ray’s got his cock in his hand and his teeth gritted, and he’s sliding right into the groove – grunting, rocking his hips up into his hand, thinking about Fraser bending him naked over his desk.
It’s less about being turned on than it is about habits, and how fucking hard they are to break, because if he doesn’t do this, he’s not going to be able to sleep.
Ray remembers back when jerking off was fun – well, at least enjoyable, but now it’s this mechanical motion, this thing he does before falling asleep. He comes home, he drinks a beer, eats some dinner, watches the game, takes off his clothes and masturbates before sleeping. Take one step of that whole chain of events away, and he spends the night staring up at his ceiling. Ray’s too old to spend the day chasing bad guys if he hasn’t gotten any shuteye.
A lot of times he thinks about Fraser, and sometimes he thinks about Stella, and there are a couple of dark horse candidates that show up in his fantasies from time to time. Once it was Frannie, and a couple of times it was the Ice Queen, and even Turnbull got a cameo, but that freaked Ray out enough that he couldn’t even finish.
And sometimes, Ray thinks about just what he’s doing – thinks about opening his pants, taking out his cock in public somewhere, like under the cover of his desk at work and just jacking himself until he comes. He wonders if he’d be able to keep up a conversation with Fraser if he did that, and yeah, that’s working for him, that’s turning his crank, yeah – yeah.
He’s sitting there, legs spread so far his knees are banging the cheap cold metal of the desk, jeans open just enough to get his hand in there. Fraser’s talking about – oh who even gives a shit what Fraser’s talking about. But he looks like he’s enjoying it, he looks like it’s making him happy, so maybe it’s caribou or maybe it’s chemistry.
“Don’t you think, Ray?” Fraser asks, head tilted, and that polite little smile on his lips as he waits for his response, and Ray’s hand moves faster, and his head falls back on the pillow.
“Yeah,” he pants, and hears himself sounding a little breathless, but basically fine. Fantasy Fraser doesn’t notice a difference, just nods, keeps going. Ray can feel the flush working its way up his neck into his face, thinks about how Stella used to say she could always tell when he was turned on from his neck – from how it would get blotchy and red – and he thinks about her licking there.
She used to do that, used to lean over, and just lick a long strip up the cords on his neck, or whisper in his ear while they were waiting in line at the movies, or lunch or whatever. And he had to keep it cool, keep it together, pretend it didn’t get him as hot as it did until they were alone and yeah, yeah, that’s just like this thing he’s imagining with Fraser and him talking, with him just moving his hand fast as he can underneath the desk and nodding at everything the Mountie says.
And underneath all the surface arousal, beyond how his hand’s moving, how he’s picturing Fraser licking his lips and moving his hands and describing migratory birds, and Stella’s quick little tongue and how wet and hot it felt behinds his ear, Ray’s thinking how sad this is.
Because he doesn’t want this – he wants – he wants Fraser’s body or Stella’s body, and he wants to curl up next to them after he comes. Maybe listen to Stella bitch about the amount of laundry they end up doing, or Fraser, who’d probably just be neat and efficient about the spunk issue – probably just pull the sheet off the bed, and then pull Ray tight to him, maybe even prop his chin on Ray’s shoulder and just hold on.
And that’s hot too, the way he’s imagining Fraser’s whole body pressed against him and Ray’s body – Ray’s body needs touch. It needs to feel something solid, something real, another person.
Anything, maybe Fraser could bite him all over, or Stella could because she had those sharp little teeth, and she liked biting, she’d always liked to bite, and Ray didn’t mind, Ray dug it. Or Fraser could just press him down into the mattress, could pin Ray down using his whole body, but anything, *anything* because Ray’s body is starving. *Ray* is starving for hands that aren’t his own, for someone else to touch him because, oh shit it’s been a long while.
But right now his hands are working over time, and he’s turned on, his *body* is turned on, but as Ray gets closer and closer and closer, picturing Fraser and his face, his fucking beautiful face, the way it looks when he’s excited, and remembering Stella, and Ray’s alone, he’s all alone, and he’s in his bed, and his eyes are open and he’s staring at his bedside table and the lube there and the old coffee mug that he needs to wash and – damn! – he just needs to come. He needs to pull this fucking orgasm out, get it over with, and he’s more angry than turned on, and he thinks for a second about what Fraser would do, what Fraser would really *do* if he ever saw Ray like this.
Spread out, legs as wide as they can get, his hands moving so fast down there that they might be blurring as he tugs on his balls and rubs his thumb against the underside of his cock, rough. Moaning, panting, calling Fraser’s name – and Fraser’d stand there, probably get flustered, probably rub his eyebrow, clutch his hat, his knuckles white, his face white, and he’d say – he’d say – he’d just say Ray’s name. His voice would be practically a whisper, embarrassed and thin, and Ray would squeeze his eyes closed, would say –
“Touch me.”
Twists his hips up, into his hand more, and Ray’s eyes are shut so tight, so *tight* that it could almost be real, Fraser could almost be standing right there, and he says it again, growls it.
“*Touch* me,” and he’s getting madder, and saying it’s just another release, getting him hotter.
He digs his heels into the mattress, really goes for it, and shouts, “Touch *me*, fuck you, fuck you, *fuck* you, touch me, please, just – ”
He doesn’t sound like himself, and his voice is rebounding off the walls now, he’s loud enough that he sounds – he sounds like he isn’t alone, and he comes, he comes all over himself and before it’s even over, he feels lonely and dirty and gross. He catches his breath, just lies there for a moment, swallowing and feeling the aftershocks, feeling anger creep in to the places where the orgasm was just tingling.
He stands up, goes to the bathroom, washes himself off, and he just looks at his bedroom. There are dirty clothes all over the floor, and a picture of his mom over on his dresser, and in front of it is another dirty, empty coffee mug, and a pile of ash on the floor by Ray’s bed from the ashtray he knocked over when he woke up this morning and didn’t care enough to clean up.
It’s sad and it’s lonely and Ray deserves better than this. He’s a good guy, even if he can be an asshole sometimes, but he’s a *good* guy. He deserves *more*.
“Fuck this shit. Just fuck it,” Ray screams, and he doesn’t care that it’s late.
He doesn’t care at all. He kicks his nightstand. He kicks it so hard that it buckles and falls, and that feels fucking *good*, that feels better than coming, and he swipes an arm across his dresser and sends all that crap flying across the room. He rips the sheets off his bed, and stops just short of putting his hand through the wall.
Ray tears his room apart, and then he does the same thing to the living room and the kitchen and he ends up standing naked in front of his sink, arm braced against the countertop as his shoulders shake and tears run down his cheeks and he just yells. He keeps yelling for a long time, howling like something wild and hurt. In the end, he curls up on the floor, and wakes up because his back hurts and when he goes into work, he doesn’t feel any better.
He just feels sore.
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no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 08:03 am (UTC)Really fantastic piece, Nifra. Ray's so lonely it hurts and you've conveyed that beautifully.
I love that the destruction feels more satisfying to him than the orgasm...my theory is that it's because he's expressing real emotion, not just going through the motions. That he hasn't gotten true release from an orgasm in a long time.
*pets Ray*
Wonderful job!!!
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 11:28 am (UTC)Oh, that's definitely a part of it -- I think, also, destruction feels more productive for Ray right then, weirdly. It creates tangible results in his world, which sure can't be said of him jacking off or wanting Fraser or Stella.
Oh, God, poor Ray! *pets him*
I'm so glad you enjoyed it!
no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 08:08 am (UTC)I can *see* this, and it almost makes *me* fucking mad, too.
::loves on Nifra and Ray::
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 11:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 08:11 am (UTC)This is very nicely done, my dear -- you have this really vivid style I totally envy.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 11:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 08:28 am (UTC)Not to be all over the overshare or anything, but God i know just how this feels, and you've done it so well.
Ouch.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 11:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 08:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 11:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 08:45 am (UTC)Now I want to cuddle Ray and feed him cookies and milk, and then *stomp* right over to the consulate and *drag* Fraser back by his ear, *plant* him in front of Ray and yell at them both until they're naked in each other's arms, sweating and gasping and *so* damn close to coming.
And then I'd just sit back and watch...
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 11:33 am (UTC)...I would like to sit back and watch that as well. *is burning up from the image*
Whoa. That was -- damn, that was good for me, was it good for you? *grins*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 08:52 am (UTC)Wow, wow, wow.
Not to go all over-serious on you, but one of the things I like about this fic is that even in the midst of his rage - or maybe this is part of it, actually - Ray is (dys?)functionally bi. For me, your fidelity to his canon passion for Stella - which seems always to have been as much physical as anything else - makes his practically-canon passion for Fraser that much hotter and more powerful.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 11:48 am (UTC)I think that's more what this Ray is, in some ways -- needsexual. Does that make sense?
But thank you so much, honey. *snugs you tightly*
no subject
Date: 2004-10-04 02:17 pm (UTC)Ohmigod, yes. That's SO the essence of Ray as a sexual person - and in some ways, I think, the essence of Ray as a person in general, in that he needs so much all the time. He needs Stella, he needs Fraser, he needs friends, he needs to be right, he needs to feel wanted, he needs to feel connected, he needs to feel like he's doing something worthwhile with his life.
::admires the finger nif has put right smack on the point that is Ray::
Still, I appreciate the Ray you've drawn here in part (though not entirely) because his sexuality's not genderspecific. As a card-carrying bi woman, I get a little tired of stories that write off both Ray's and Fraser's patent canon attractions to women as being mistakes, or childish immaturities, or pseudopassions they substituted for their true longings for one another because they didn't think those longings would ever bear fruit, blah blah blah. I have no trouble imagining Ray and Fraser in a committed relationship with one another - or fucking each other senseless, for that matter - while at the same time having romantic and sexual histories that include genuine ties to women.
Ahem. Sorry. Not that I have an opinion about this or anything. /soapbox mode OFF
*snugs you tightly*
::snugs you back with enthusiasm::
no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 09:33 am (UTC)Just so you know? I'm SO going to stalk you, because this? Fucking incredible.
Just - the urgency and the desperation and the need - God. You never cease to blow me away and this is definitely no exception.
Amazing job, babe.
*stalks stalks*
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 11:49 am (UTC)Thank you, sugar. *snugs*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 10:29 am (UTC)Couple that with Stella licking Ray's neck...mmmm.
And I was astounded and pleased that Thatcher, Frannie and even Turnbull have made it into Ray's fantasies. And yeah, Turnbull would weird me out, too.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 11:51 am (UTC)But yeah -- this Ray is not a hearts and puppies Ray. He's an angry wee fellow. *pets him*
I'm glad you enjoyed it, though, hon! *bounces*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 11:32 am (UTC)What Carla said, because she said it so beautifully.
Love the POV, the anger, the Rayness of it.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 11:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 11:52 am (UTC)Nice work.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 12:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 12:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 12:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 01:59 pm (UTC)This was amazing. *hugs you a lot*
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 12:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 12:05 pm (UTC)But I'm glad you enjoyed this, babe. *snugs you*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 05:30 pm (UTC)Beautiful, painful, wonderful. ::hugs::
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 12:06 pm (UTC)(poor Ray, god, can no one see this man?)
I think in a lot of ways that's definitely the issue here -- you've hit the nail on the head. *grins* In more ways than one because, good LORD he's gorgeous and why isn't everyone jumping him ALL THE TIME?!?!?
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 12:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 05:45 pm (UTC)Stella used to say she could always tell when he was turned on from his neck – from how it would get blotchy and red...
(because oh, wow, that's a great little detail, right there)
But then like three paragraphs later, you're breaking my damn *heart*.
What else can I say? I loved this. Hooray!
no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 12:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 12:09 pm (UTC)*snaps out of it long enough to thank you and hug you*
no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 07:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-03 12:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-04 05:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-17 02:06 am (UTC)I love stories that acknowledge the depth and passion of what Ray feels/felt for Stella as well as for Fraser, and this one did it beautifully.
Here via