(no subject)

[foolme8.livejournal.com]

jailhouse rock kinda thing but not really and before i ramble on endlessly, here is an F/K at 626 words - critique very welcome -

Ray was bored. He kicked the bars again. Bored.

Fraser was getting increasingly vexed with Ray. The kicks to the bars were more frequent and the noise was quite irritating.

Ray glared at the unresponsive body lying in the cell next to his. Fraser was doing his imitation of a plank of wood again. As if anyone could really sleep or rest or whatever when they were so tense. It was just a lying down version of standing at attention. Stupid. #kick#

If Ray didn’t stop soon, Fraser was going to do something rash and possibly unforgivable. He breathed in, held it for a count of five, and then slowly released. #kick# Yes, something rash and very unforgivable.

Not even a twitch. The man was not human! What did he have to do to get some conversation dammit! Ray wasn’t asking for the fountain of youth or something impossible. He just wanted to talk, a simple dialogue with his bestest buddy, his pal, his friend Fraser. Who was ignoring him, plain as day. He might think he was fooling Ray with his resting crap, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t resting, he was ignoring. Well, noise wasn’t getting Fraser’s attention, so -. Ray grinned.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Fraser tensed. He couldn’t hear kicking. He waited, eyes determinedly shut. Still no sound from Ray. There was the feeling of being watched though and - heavy breathing? Stifled gasps. Fraser’s eyes flew open. And there was Ray grinning at him like some triumphant devil, eyes glinting dangerously.

Ray didn’t say a word, just carried on doing what he was doing. Fraser was bound to catch on and look down -. Fraser’s eyes widened, mouth falling open in shock. Ray laughed, except it came out more as a grunt as his hips bucked in response to looking at Fraser’s open mouth. Flick of the tongue, right on cue – Ray bucked again, groaning. Wet mouth, oh god.

Fraser couldn’t remember moving, but he was pressed against the bars. Ray was shirtless, pale skin almost glowing in the dim cell, standing opposite Fraser at the far wall, writhing against the bars. The tattoo stood out starkly, moving as the muscles worked, hand twisting and stroking his cock. The other arm was raised above his head, holding on, holding himself up as his hips worked back and forth. His eyes were intent on Fraser’s.

Worked up Fraser. Ray shuddered, eyes flickering shut. A worked up Fraser was hot. It was one of Ray’s most favourite things. Blazing eyes, feral, sweat on his face that Ray just wanted to lap at.

“Come here,” Fraser growled.

Ray’s cock jumped and he groaned, squeezing hard, barely holding himself up. Growling Fraser. Another of his favourite things. “Why?”

“Ray.” Another growl. Fraser shook the bars.

“I don’t,” Ray gasped. So close. “I don’t want to disturb your rest.”

“Ray.” A desperate, plaintive note made the growl a bit squeaky.

Ray grinned and sauntered over. Tried to. Quite difficult with his hand strangling his cock and his muscles spasming. He was just a step away from the bars when Fraser pulled him in, arm holding him tight against the bars, against Fraser, and Fraser’s hand gripped his cock and Ray was jerking out of control, shouting something and his fingers dug into Fraser’s back and then his head snapped back and he came and came and oh god that was pitiful. One touch. He flopped forward, resting his forehead against Fraser’s.

“Ray.” Fraser whispered against Ray’s lips, tongue stroking the bottom lip lazily.

Ray reached for Fraser, muscles working again. Damp. He grinned into the kiss and squeezed gently, consoling. Fraser’s hips gave a tired little thrust. The poor man needed a rest.