Hourglass challenge
May. 3rd, 2003 01:14 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
cesperanza.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionThanks to LauraKaye and Julad and Te for beta! 967 words.
Seven Years
by Speranza
1998
"Don't stop," Ray gasped. "You stop and I'll kill you--"
"I...ohhh. Ray." Fraser couldn't get close enough. He reached out blindly and shoved Ray's coffee table back a foot, vaguely hearing their empty beer bottles rattle and fall over.
To hell with it--he just had to get closer, and Ray's sofa was narrow enough as it was without the table bearing down on them.
"Please," Ray was moaning. "Please--" and Fraser turned himself half around on Ray's body, maneuvering himself now that he had room to maneuver. He tightened his hand on Ray's erection before pulling the exquisitely soft head into his mouth, basking in the sound this ripped from Ray, a desperate keening like nothing he'd ever heard.
He sucked gently, rhythmically, rubbing Ray's leg with his other hand, enjoying the tickle of hair against his palm. Ray's keening grew louder and then Ray's hips were bucking erratically and Ray was thrusting into his mouth, against the back of his throat, spilling and spilling. Fraser was aware suddenly of his own aching erection, his own painful lust--and as if Ray were reading his mind, Ray groped for him and began to suck him with fierce desperation. Tears welled up in Fraser's eyes.
Later they collapsed onto each other and dozed awkwardly, Ray's face buried on Fraser's hip, Fraser's cheek pressed to Ray's thigh. When Fraser woke and lifted his head, he saw that the television was still flickering in the darkness beyond the beer bottles and the leftover enchiladas.
"Hey," Ray said groggily from somewhere down between his legs. "So who d'ya think won?"
2005
"Ray?"
"Yeah?" Ray called back to him.
"I'm having an affair with David Duchovny."
"Okay."
"I just thought you should know that."
"Okay. Yeah. In a minute!"
Fraser sighed, put his elbow on the kitchen table, and rested his head on his hand. Dief took the opportunity to sit up and make eyes at that night's leftovers. "Oh, all right," Fraser said and set his plate down on the floor. Dief gratefully leapt toward the plate, tail wagging enthusiastically, and began to eat with gusto.
Hmm, Fraser thought. Perhaps a little more gusto was what was required.
"Ray..." Fraser said slowly, and stood up. Ray didn't spare him a glance, but maintained his position, crouched at the edge of the sofa, hands dangling between his legs, eyes glued to the television set. Fraser began to unbutton his flannel shirt. "Ray..." he repeated, and began to walk toward the sofa.
"Yeah." Ray glanced at him for a single second before turning back to the screen.
And then...slowly...Ray turned back to look at him. "Uh."
Gratified, Fraser parked his hip against the back of the sofa, licked his fingertip, and touched his nipple, which hardened instantly, providing him with a little stab of pleasure.
Ray stared at him and swallowed hard.
"Hello," Fraser said gently, showing Ray a quick smile.
Ray's face was a classic portrait of regret and confusion as he looked from Fraser to the screen to Fraser to the screen to Fraser again. "But there's hockey," Ray said, his voice breaking pathetically.
"Yes. Yes. I know there's hockey," Fraser said, and slid his shirt off his shoulders.
Ray looked at him, licked his lips, and was turning around on the sofa, rising onto his knees for a kiss---when the announcer suddenly yelled something and Ray's head jerked around again, eyes helplessly drawn back to the screen. Fraser reached out, took Ray's chin between his thumb and forefinger, and pulled his head back around.
"But there's hockey," Ray pleaded, as if Fraser hadn't heard him the first time. "It's a power play--the first power play of the--"
Fraser lost his temper. "You know, nobody asked you to become so bloody Canadian!"
"I'm sorry." Ray sounded sincere enough, but he was still glancing helplessly between Fraser, who was half naked, and the Toronto Maple Leafs, who were all fully clothed.
"Look at you!" Fraser said, gesturing wildly at Ray, who was a portrait of confusion as he glanced back and forth, a deeply divided soul. "Sex. Hockey. Sex. You can't make up your mind, can you?"
"No," Ray confessed; he looked totally distressed, and really, Fraser could almost feel sorry for him.
"Congratulations, Ray," Fraser said, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "You've become a Canadian cliche. I'll inform immigration."
"...'m sorry," Ray said again, though his eyes were inexorably drawn back to the screen, where Barazov tried a shot at the net and missed. "Can't you wait till the--"
Fraser sighed and abruptly gave up. "The eternal conflict," he mused, bending to swipe his shirt off the floor. "Sex and hockey. Hockey and sex--"
"Sex and hockey?" Ray asked, apparently intrigued by the thought.
Fraser rolled his eyes at this. "I wouldn't try them simultaneously," he said, sliding his arms back into his shirt sleeves. "I suspect the ice would be cold."
But now Ray was smiling at him, his eyes glittering. "Hey, come on," he said softly, "we used to. That's how we used to do it. On the sofa, during games..."
"We were younger then," Fraser objected. "Or the sofa was bigger. Or something."
But Ray was grinning wolfishly now, and he was up, off the sofa, and grabbing Fraser in a way that still made his heart pound. "Come on," Ray murmured, sliding his fingers into the belt loop of Fraser's jeans and tugging gently. "We used to do it. Let's do like we used to..." and Ray dragged Fraser onto the sofa, and slowly climbed on top of him, and damn if that coffee table wasn't still in the way.
Seven Years
by Speranza
1998
"Don't stop," Ray gasped. "You stop and I'll kill you--"
"I...ohhh. Ray." Fraser couldn't get close enough. He reached out blindly and shoved Ray's coffee table back a foot, vaguely hearing their empty beer bottles rattle and fall over.
To hell with it--he just had to get closer, and Ray's sofa was narrow enough as it was without the table bearing down on them.
"Please," Ray was moaning. "Please--" and Fraser turned himself half around on Ray's body, maneuvering himself now that he had room to maneuver. He tightened his hand on Ray's erection before pulling the exquisitely soft head into his mouth, basking in the sound this ripped from Ray, a desperate keening like nothing he'd ever heard.
He sucked gently, rhythmically, rubbing Ray's leg with his other hand, enjoying the tickle of hair against his palm. Ray's keening grew louder and then Ray's hips were bucking erratically and Ray was thrusting into his mouth, against the back of his throat, spilling and spilling. Fraser was aware suddenly of his own aching erection, his own painful lust--and as if Ray were reading his mind, Ray groped for him and began to suck him with fierce desperation. Tears welled up in Fraser's eyes.
Later they collapsed onto each other and dozed awkwardly, Ray's face buried on Fraser's hip, Fraser's cheek pressed to Ray's thigh. When Fraser woke and lifted his head, he saw that the television was still flickering in the darkness beyond the beer bottles and the leftover enchiladas.
"Hey," Ray said groggily from somewhere down between his legs. "So who d'ya think won?"
2005
"Ray?"
"Yeah?" Ray called back to him.
"I'm having an affair with David Duchovny."
"Okay."
"I just thought you should know that."
"Okay. Yeah. In a minute!"
Fraser sighed, put his elbow on the kitchen table, and rested his head on his hand. Dief took the opportunity to sit up and make eyes at that night's leftovers. "Oh, all right," Fraser said and set his plate down on the floor. Dief gratefully leapt toward the plate, tail wagging enthusiastically, and began to eat with gusto.
Hmm, Fraser thought. Perhaps a little more gusto was what was required.
"Ray..." Fraser said slowly, and stood up. Ray didn't spare him a glance, but maintained his position, crouched at the edge of the sofa, hands dangling between his legs, eyes glued to the television set. Fraser began to unbutton his flannel shirt. "Ray..." he repeated, and began to walk toward the sofa.
"Yeah." Ray glanced at him for a single second before turning back to the screen.
And then...slowly...Ray turned back to look at him. "Uh."
Gratified, Fraser parked his hip against the back of the sofa, licked his fingertip, and touched his nipple, which hardened instantly, providing him with a little stab of pleasure.
Ray stared at him and swallowed hard.
"Hello," Fraser said gently, showing Ray a quick smile.
Ray's face was a classic portrait of regret and confusion as he looked from Fraser to the screen to Fraser to the screen to Fraser again. "But there's hockey," Ray said, his voice breaking pathetically.
"Yes. Yes. I know there's hockey," Fraser said, and slid his shirt off his shoulders.
Ray looked at him, licked his lips, and was turning around on the sofa, rising onto his knees for a kiss---when the announcer suddenly yelled something and Ray's head jerked around again, eyes helplessly drawn back to the screen. Fraser reached out, took Ray's chin between his thumb and forefinger, and pulled his head back around.
"But there's hockey," Ray pleaded, as if Fraser hadn't heard him the first time. "It's a power play--the first power play of the--"
Fraser lost his temper. "You know, nobody asked you to become so bloody Canadian!"
"I'm sorry." Ray sounded sincere enough, but he was still glancing helplessly between Fraser, who was half naked, and the Toronto Maple Leafs, who were all fully clothed.
"Look at you!" Fraser said, gesturing wildly at Ray, who was a portrait of confusion as he glanced back and forth, a deeply divided soul. "Sex. Hockey. Sex. You can't make up your mind, can you?"
"No," Ray confessed; he looked totally distressed, and really, Fraser could almost feel sorry for him.
"Congratulations, Ray," Fraser said, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "You've become a Canadian cliche. I'll inform immigration."
"...'m sorry," Ray said again, though his eyes were inexorably drawn back to the screen, where Barazov tried a shot at the net and missed. "Can't you wait till the--"
Fraser sighed and abruptly gave up. "The eternal conflict," he mused, bending to swipe his shirt off the floor. "Sex and hockey. Hockey and sex--"
"Sex and hockey?" Ray asked, apparently intrigued by the thought.
Fraser rolled his eyes at this. "I wouldn't try them simultaneously," he said, sliding his arms back into his shirt sleeves. "I suspect the ice would be cold."
But now Ray was smiling at him, his eyes glittering. "Hey, come on," he said softly, "we used to. That's how we used to do it. On the sofa, during games..."
"We were younger then," Fraser objected. "Or the sofa was bigger. Or something."
But Ray was grinning wolfishly now, and he was up, off the sofa, and grabbing Fraser in a way that still made his heart pound. "Come on," Ray murmured, sliding his fingers into the belt loop of Fraser's jeans and tugging gently. "We used to do it. Let's do like we used to..." and Ray dragged Fraser onto the sofa, and slowly climbed on top of him, and damn if that coffee table wasn't still in the way.
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no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 11:29 pm (UTC)"Congratulations, Ray," Fraser said, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "You've become a Canadian cliché. I'll inform immigration."
bwahahaaha
and damn if that coffee table wasn't still in the way.
*g*
Verrry nice one!
no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 11:41 pm (UTC)Oh my god. So funny. I am so madly, madly in love with your Ray, Ces. He is fucking perfect.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 11:45 pm (UTC)Hmmm....
NOPE!
Thanks. This little beauty is exactly what I needed on a sleepless night. Eases my stress and makes me feel all warm 'n fuzzy.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 04:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 06:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 06:50 am (UTC)I'm glad I'm sitting on the tatami mat when I read that line, coz I fell off my cushion laughing...
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Date: 2003-05-03 07:46 am (UTC)Ray's face was a classic portrait of regret and confusion as he looked from Fraser to the screen to Fraser to the screen to Fraser again. "But there's hockey," Ray said, his voice breaking pathetically.
of course there's this
"I'm sorry." Ray sounded sincere enough, but he was still glancing helplessly between Fraser, who was half naked, and the Toronto Maple Leafs, who were all fully clothed.
What a great story to wake up to. I read this earlier, but decided that the last time I posted before morning coffee and shower I was more incoherent than usual.
I bow down to your talent at making me see and hear the boys. It's a gift, I tell you, a gift.
Yes, I worship you and I want to write just like you when I grow up.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 07:52 am (UTC)Fraser the Hockey Widower
Date: 2003-05-03 08:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 02:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 03:46 pm (UTC)I almost want to make a hockey icon, to use when I want to reply to you. ;)
no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 08:44 pm (UTC)he was still glancing helplessly between Fraser, who was half naked, and the Toronto Maple Leafs, who were all fully clothed.
I then turned to my boyfriend, who was watching Nascar, and licked the side of his neck, as an experiment. He sorta patted me on the head and said, "uh-huh. Hold on a sec."
You are a genius at observation, my dear.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 10:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 10:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 10:50 pm (UTC)Is this a trick question? *g*
Hmm.
No. There is nothing better than a DS story that starts out with Fraser naked and moaning. (Note to self: write Fraser naked and moaning more often.)
no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 10:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 10:54 pm (UTC)I'm not even sure why it's David Duchovny except it struck me funny. And it's fun to say David Duchovny. And I think Fraser *would* have a TV crush on David Duchovny. He'd probably admire Mulder's relentlessness, and the way his suits hang off him. *g*
no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 10:55 pm (UTC)(File this under: seemed like a good idea at the...)
no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 11:00 pm (UTC)Shh! (looks around nervously) Don't tell anyone. (clears throat, speaking loudly:) It's all wildly hot monkey sex forever and ever! Nobody ever gets sleepy or wants to watch the last twenty minutes of a movie they've seen fourteen times already instead of fucking. Never ever. That just never happens. *g*
Re: Fraser the Hockey Widower
Date: 2003-05-03 11:02 pm (UTC)What is UP with you people? *g*
no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 11:09 pm (UTC)"Yes, Ray."
"I'm fucking the Andrews' sisters."
"Understood, Ray."
"All three of them. Even though they're dead. It's a sort of a Swing-based necropheliac threesome. Call me the Bugle Boy."
"All right, Ray. Just one--Yes! Yes! Sweeeeeeeep!!!"
no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 11:49 pm (UTC)Oh my god, that's hysterical!!!
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Date: 2003-05-04 12:01 am (UTC)(Cough.) Not that this has ever happened to me or anything. No, this is just purely fucking hypothetical. *g*
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Date: 2003-05-04 01:34 pm (UTC)God, I love them when they're snarky. Snarky and hot for each other -- that's the very best thing.
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Date: 2003-05-04 03:38 pm (UTC)Having recently made it past the seven year mark, I was just thinking yesterday about a 'seven year itch' challenge, to see what people think would distract whom ... but it's done now. This is so great. I have to say that not only do you write the best stories, but you inspire the best comments from people as well!
Re: Hourglass challenge
Date: 2003-05-04 08:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-07 05:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-07 10:18 am (UTC)Now, as someone who has sat at a table and *dodged* back and forth when someone was trying to get my attention just so I wouldn't miss something on a hockey game... may I say that I love your Ray? And I love this Fraser, who is comfortable enough with Ray to strip down and demand sex because he's feeling ignored?
Ray. Fraser. Sex. Beer. Hockey. Dude, that is what I call *heaven*.
All hockey, all the time.
Date: 2003-06-11 10:10 am (UTC)Trust isn’t stranger than fiction. Apparently truth *is* fiction.
Re: All hockey, all the time.
Date: 2003-06-11 10:47 am (UTC)I believe this completely! So glad you liked!
no subject
Date: 2004-12-14 02:25 pm (UTC)Ray's always been into hockey though, I don't think it's a result of the onset of Canadianism ... remember:
"Leafs suck"?
Write more pleeeeeeeeease!
no subject
Date: 2005-01-06 05:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-06 10:19 pm (UTC)*Reading back*
Date: 2005-03-18 02:55 am (UTC)For verily, it is 2005 and there is no hockey.
But there is still Fraser / RayK sex.
*thinks* hockey. dS sex. Hockey. dS sex.
I suppose it's a good thing there -is- a lockout, in that respect....
Re: *Reading back*
Date: 2005-03-21 05:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-21 05:37 pm (UTC)Fraser lost his temper. "You know, nobody asked you to become so bloody Canadian!"
"I'm sorry." Ray sounded sincere enough, but he was still glancing helplessly between Fraser, who was half naked, and the Toronto Maple Leafs, who were all fully clothed.
This? Sounds just like my husband. Only I watch the Wings. And I'm not Canadian. But you get the idea. This was fantastic, just a perfect little snapshot that shows the guys being themselves, only together.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-21 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 11:27 pm (UTC)"Sex and hockey?" Ray asked, apparently intrigued by the thought.
this story reminds me of the true reason i love reading fanfic in general and your work specifically -- sometimes there are months when one can't depend on people IRL to make one smile a genuine smile anymore, but apparently there are still things between heaven and earth that do it unfailingly.. and they happen to be on the web ;D
thank you so much for sharing this lovely ♥
no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 09:08 pm (UTC)