ds_flashfiction | Ink Challenge by Belladonna

First challenge fic... anywhere.

Title: Marked
Rating: R?
Summary: Black ink.
Word Count: 886, I think.

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When Ray woke, the first thing he felt was the soft flutter of fingertips on his lower back. He stayed still, knowing that Fraser knew the exact moment he woke up. When Fraser said nothing, Ray shifted a little; pressing one of his legs back between Fraser's, which was pressed tight behind Ray.

"Fraser?"

"Why did you get this?" Fraser's voice was barely audible in the darkened room, his fingertips pressing down a little more firmly against the tattoo at the base of Ray's spine.

Ray shrugged as well as he could, lying on his side. "It was a thing."

"A thing?"

"A new start kinda thing. Stella served me with papers, and after I finally signed the damn things, I got inked."

"I don't think I understand what you mean." Fraser's hand moved, gently slipping across Ray's bare hip before settling unerringly against the black ink just below the sharp curve of Ray's pelvis. "What about this one?"

"Got it after an undercover gig went bad." Ray bit back what else he wanted to say about that time in his life. Fraser didn't need to know how bad 'bad' was, and what else Ray had done before he'd gotten the tat.

Fraser's fingers moved again, tracing the line of Ray's arm until he touched the Champion logo on Ray's bicep. "This?"

"I got that after…" Ray swallowed hard, fighting the way that Fraser's fingers on his skin always made him feel. He wanted to make sure that he explained this right. He never was that good with words, not when he needed to be. "I got that the night I finally stopped being Stanley for good." Ray didn't say anything else, not about his dad, not about Stella, or college, or being a cop, but he knew he didn't have to. Fraser knew. Knew him too well sometimes.

"And you started being Ray."

"Yes." Ray's eyes closed even though the room was mostly dark. Fraser did get it, in some way.

"Tell me more." It wasn't a command, but it might as well have been as Ray began to search for the right words.

He reached up, tugging Fraser's hand back down, until those blunt fingers stroked along the black ink just to the left of his cock. "I was… lost, after. Didn't know how to get back."

"And this helped you find yourself?" Now Fraser sounded confused, but his fingers kept moving along the design, distracting Ray from his thoughts.

Ray could clearly see the design when he closed his eyes; simple, stark black, smooth sloping lines that started as an s curve, but became a dragon when you really looked. Tribal, the artist, a girl named May, had said. Powerful.

"This helped to make me… solid." Ray huffed out his breath loudly, angry with himself. He couldn't put this into words, not into the right ones, words that would make Fraser understand. Hell, he'd never even tried before. "It made me real."

"Real." Fraser's echo of the word was nothing more than a breath on the back of Ray's neck, hot and humid, but he knew it wasn't a question.

"A tattoo is a scar you make yourself." The words were out of Ray's mouth before he even had time to think about them, but that was okay. There were true enough, weren't they? The tattoos were something tangible and physical and right fucking there, on his skin. Pain made real. Made solid. So that he could never forget.

"Ah." There was something in Fraser's voice now, something that told Ray that he was maybe starting to understand. And why wouldn't he? Fraser had his own share of scars.

"And this…" Ray's own hand slid over his skin, tracing the mark he knew was there on his back, low, below where the line of his jeans would rest. He could still remember May, the artist, looking no more than 20 except for her ancient eyes, whispering to him. 'Wings are for angels, even fallen ones.'

"It looks like wings." Fraser shifted behind Ray, moving down the bed. Ray felt Fraser's breath ghost across the bare skin of his back, then the edge of Fraser's nails tracing the widespread lines of the tattoo.

"Is wings." Ray was shocked at how hoarse his voice was, but he shouldn't have been. This was all it took- the touch of Fraser's skin, the feel of his breath.

"It's beautiful." The slick warm feel of Fraser's tongue, dragging slowly across the design, made Ray groan and fist his hands in the sheets.

"Will you get one for me someday, Ray? To wear your feelings for me on your skin like that?" Another lick, soft and wet and hot, and then Fraser was rolling Ray onto his back.

"Maybe I will, some… oh, god, Fraser…" Ray's words became moan as Fraser traced the dragon tattoo with his tongue-tip. "Please…"

"Maybe I should get one, Ray." Fraser's hands closed around Ray's hips, holding his twisting body still. "Wear you on my skin."

Ray's hands twined through Fraser's thick hair, yanking him down. "Please." For just a moment he saw Fraser's mouth twist into a predatory grin, and then Fraser leaned forward, taking Ray's cock deep into his mouth.

And when Ray came, he thought about black ink under milk-pale skin.

END

Notes: To me, ink= tats= sex. I can't help it, it's the way I'm put together. Thank KimberlyFDR for checking my grammar and such.