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ds_flashfictionTitle: In Which Ray Kowalski Actually Finds the History Channel Useful
Author: subobscura (santmaybe1121)
Rating:NC-17; this means pr0n
Word Count:1500
Pairing:F/K
Notes: Eyeliner. History Channel. A persistent Fraser. A creative Ray.
Prompt 50. F/K “Bastet. Egyptian goddess of cats.” For metaphoracle.
Ray’s kind of annoyed because as soon as they walked in the door, Fraser confiscated the remote and they’ve been watching the History Channel for two hours. Which, okay, can sometimes be sort of interesting, but this is like going back to school. So he fidgets for a while and then wanders over to the kitchen to see if they have any food and then maybe cook that food since it’s been his turn for a couple of days now.
He stands with his face above the steaming pot of spaghetti feeling his pores open and listens with half an ear. And what the fuck is Fraser watching because he distinctly hears “Osiris” and “masturbation” and he’s damn sure the last time he watched the ‘H’ channel it did not in any way mention any lascivious acts. He dishes up the spaghetti and his ghetto garlic bread and goes to see what his weird-ass boyfriend is up to now.
Under duress, Fraser might admit that he increased the volume so that Ray might overhear some of the program he’s watching. Under even more extreme duress, he might also admit that he wants said program to give Ray…ideas. But he’s not in any danger, and if his olfactory senses serve him well, his partner is actually serving him a passable spaghetti for dinner.
A low growl and bark from under the coffee table punctuate Ray’s kiss to his neck, and draws his eyes towards the t.v. screen.
“Whoah, that is one freaky looking lady,” says Ray. He squints and then fumbles for his glasses on the table. “That is a chick, right?”
“Bastet. Egyptian goddess of cats.” Another growl from the canine component of their trio. “Diefenbaker thinks that Anubis was a far more historically important figure, but Anubis was partly a jackal, so there you are.”
“I’m with the wolf on this one, Fraser. Cats suck. Dogs rule. End of story.”
“But Ray, your feline attributes are part of what make you so very attractive.” As he says this, Fraser turns to face his partner and nuzzles his nose behind Ray’s ear, just skimming his hairline. Then he tugs his earlobe slightly between his teeth, and gives a raspy lick to the hollow between Ray’s jaw and neck.
“How do you mean? You calling me a cat?” Ray’s voice is husky though, and when he glances up there are spots of color high on Ray’s cheeks and the tips of his ears. Fraser smiles to himself. Half the battle is won already.
“No, Ray, your human anatomy has been quite obvious to me for some time now. But, you must admit, you have a certain je ne sais quoi. Your cleverness, your grace, your…flexibility.” Ray is leaning in to the long strokes Fraser’s drawing up his sides, rubbing his face against Fraser’s temple. And then, disappointingly, he pulls away and shakes his head as if clearing his mind.
“No way, you horndog. You can’t fool me that easily. I cooked, and we’re going to eat it before we do anything else.” Then he looks stricken for a moment. “Christ, I sound like my mum.”
And so Fraser sat next to Ray with explicit instructions to keep his hands to himself. If he was honest, they probably would starve if Ray didn’t put his foot down once in a while. Instead they watched “The History of Sex: Sex and the Ancient Egyptians.” Which was not at all conducive to relaxation if Fraser had anything to say about it.
Ray wonders for a moment if this is weird, and then decides that he doesn’t care and anyway, if anyone has a lock on weird in this relationship, it is totally Fraser. Besides, boredom is the silent killer and this is definitely not boring, no way. He looks down at the old almost transparent t-shirt and thinks, ah well, it died for a good cause.
Ray disappeared into the bedroom about ten minutes ago, and aside from two thumps when his boots hit the closet door (and how Fraser wished he wouldn’t do that), there hasn’t been any sound to clue Fraser in to what Ray’s doing. He’s about to get up and investigate, when the bedroom door opens and, oh my, is all Fraser can think.
Because Ray’s standing there wearing a very thin white cloth around his waist pinned tightly to fall mid-thigh and nothing else. His hazel blue eyes are outlined with kohl. Otherwise, he’s tall and golden and toned, and very very naked. Fraser pulls on his collar.
Ray’s grinning a little sheepishly. “Thought we could try our own investigations of ancient sexual practices.” The eyeliner makes his eyes glow. “What’s a matter, Frase? Cat got your tongue?” He looks far too pleased with his play on words.
“Come here,” Fraser growls, and spreads his legs so that when Ray walks over to him on silent cat-feet, he stands between Fraser’s knees. Fraser looks up and up until he meets Ray’s smug expression. “Is there anything under here,” Fraser asks and slides his hand up Ray’s long thigh under the white cotton feeling it stretch. He feels the hot smooth skin of Ray’s inner thigh, the warm damp of the crease of his groin, and finally Fraser cups his cock, hard and long and heated. Ray gasps and Fraser smiles, tight and feral. “I suppose not.”
Fraser stands, keeping Ray close by holding him by his hips, feeling the contrast between old cloth and humid skin where his abbreviated wrap ends. Fraser puts his mouth close to Ray’s ear and whispers all warm and spicy breath, “Ray, you are a tease. And now, I’m going to fuck you.” Ray shudders but doesn’t protest as Fraser pushes the coffee table out of the way with his foot.
He needs to be creative more often, Ray thinks. He’s bent over the back of the couch, with his ass pushed in the air, and Fraser didn’t even bother to take off his Egyptian skirt thingy, just pushed it up around his hips. He moans as a third finger is added to the two already fucking him, and Fraser is rubbing that spot over and over. Fraser’s other arm is wrapped around him holding him in place, pulling and pinching at his nipples. He’s trying to get some friction against the couch, but Fraser’s holding him too tightly.
The fingers are withdrawn, and Ray wants to cry, no no no. But Fraser’s hand is there at the back of his neck, soothing him. Then there’s the sound of a zip and the rustle of cloth and the snick of the bottle of slip, and holy fuck, Fraser’s going to fuck him standing up almost fully clothed. Ray lets out a whimper and doesn’t even care that he probably looks like a slut.
And finally finally the blunt tip of Fraser’s cock is pushing at his entrance, and then in and in and in. He’s still loose from this morning, but this is only the fifth or sixth time they’ve ever done this so he’s not that loose. It burns a little, but Fraser doesn’t give him any time to adjust, just starts fucking him slow and deep with long slides and hard thrusts that make flashes of white appear behind his eyelids. All he can do is grip the couch and hold on.
Fraser watches the man spread below him, the man he’s inside, with something like wonder. He presses kisses to Ray’s damp nape, then runs his tongue down the line of spine that he can reach. Ray is moaning constantly now, letting out little whimpery breaths of air each time Fraser bottoms out. “Please, Frase,” he’s saying. “Fuck, I love you, please, please let me come. Ah, please touch me.”
Fraser takes pity on him and slides one of his hands holding Ray’s hips down to grip Ray’s cock firmly. At the same time he leans over and whispers in his ear, “God, Ray, you’re simply exquisite.” At his words, Ray throws his head back against Fraser’s shoulder and floods his hand with wet heat. And inside that warm tight clench, he has no choice but to follow.
They’re curled on the couch together, after Fraser cleaned them up with a towel from the kitchen. Ray’s fucked out and filled with a general lassitude that means he can’t do much except sprawl with his head on Fraser’s shoulder.
Fraser’s watching him with a warm blue gaze. “You look like a debauched Egyptian slave boy.” His mouth curls. “It’s a good look for you, Ray.”
Ray yawns. “All the better to serve you, Mr. Mountie.” He stretches and feels a pleasant soreness that means tonight will still be with him tomorrow. “But not right now.”
“Can I ask where you got the eyeliner?” Ah, Fraser the curious.
“Hot, isn’t it? Hey, I was one of THE original punks Fraser. They didn’t even have a name for punks yet, and I was one.” Ray smirks.
“Of course. I never would have guessed.” Fraser’s tone is arid. He reaches for the remote to turn the t.v. back on.
“Up next: ‘Sex in the Middle Ages,’” says the announcer. Ray groans.
The End
Author: subobscura (santmaybe1121)
Rating:NC-17; this means pr0n
Word Count:1500
Pairing:F/K
Notes: Eyeliner. History Channel. A persistent Fraser. A creative Ray.
Prompt 50. F/K “Bastet. Egyptian goddess of cats.” For metaphoracle.
Ray’s kind of annoyed because as soon as they walked in the door, Fraser confiscated the remote and they’ve been watching the History Channel for two hours. Which, okay, can sometimes be sort of interesting, but this is like going back to school. So he fidgets for a while and then wanders over to the kitchen to see if they have any food and then maybe cook that food since it’s been his turn for a couple of days now.
He stands with his face above the steaming pot of spaghetti feeling his pores open and listens with half an ear. And what the fuck is Fraser watching because he distinctly hears “Osiris” and “masturbation” and he’s damn sure the last time he watched the ‘H’ channel it did not in any way mention any lascivious acts. He dishes up the spaghetti and his ghetto garlic bread and goes to see what his weird-ass boyfriend is up to now.
Under duress, Fraser might admit that he increased the volume so that Ray might overhear some of the program he’s watching. Under even more extreme duress, he might also admit that he wants said program to give Ray…ideas. But he’s not in any danger, and if his olfactory senses serve him well, his partner is actually serving him a passable spaghetti for dinner.
A low growl and bark from under the coffee table punctuate Ray’s kiss to his neck, and draws his eyes towards the t.v. screen.
“Whoah, that is one freaky looking lady,” says Ray. He squints and then fumbles for his glasses on the table. “That is a chick, right?”
“Bastet. Egyptian goddess of cats.” Another growl from the canine component of their trio. “Diefenbaker thinks that Anubis was a far more historically important figure, but Anubis was partly a jackal, so there you are.”
“I’m with the wolf on this one, Fraser. Cats suck. Dogs rule. End of story.”
“But Ray, your feline attributes are part of what make you so very attractive.” As he says this, Fraser turns to face his partner and nuzzles his nose behind Ray’s ear, just skimming his hairline. Then he tugs his earlobe slightly between his teeth, and gives a raspy lick to the hollow between Ray’s jaw and neck.
“How do you mean? You calling me a cat?” Ray’s voice is husky though, and when he glances up there are spots of color high on Ray’s cheeks and the tips of his ears. Fraser smiles to himself. Half the battle is won already.
“No, Ray, your human anatomy has been quite obvious to me for some time now. But, you must admit, you have a certain je ne sais quoi. Your cleverness, your grace, your…flexibility.” Ray is leaning in to the long strokes Fraser’s drawing up his sides, rubbing his face against Fraser’s temple. And then, disappointingly, he pulls away and shakes his head as if clearing his mind.
“No way, you horndog. You can’t fool me that easily. I cooked, and we’re going to eat it before we do anything else.” Then he looks stricken for a moment. “Christ, I sound like my mum.”
And so Fraser sat next to Ray with explicit instructions to keep his hands to himself. If he was honest, they probably would starve if Ray didn’t put his foot down once in a while. Instead they watched “The History of Sex: Sex and the Ancient Egyptians.” Which was not at all conducive to relaxation if Fraser had anything to say about it.
Ray wonders for a moment if this is weird, and then decides that he doesn’t care and anyway, if anyone has a lock on weird in this relationship, it is totally Fraser. Besides, boredom is the silent killer and this is definitely not boring, no way. He looks down at the old almost transparent t-shirt and thinks, ah well, it died for a good cause.
Ray disappeared into the bedroom about ten minutes ago, and aside from two thumps when his boots hit the closet door (and how Fraser wished he wouldn’t do that), there hasn’t been any sound to clue Fraser in to what Ray’s doing. He’s about to get up and investigate, when the bedroom door opens and, oh my, is all Fraser can think.
Because Ray’s standing there wearing a very thin white cloth around his waist pinned tightly to fall mid-thigh and nothing else. His hazel blue eyes are outlined with kohl. Otherwise, he’s tall and golden and toned, and very very naked. Fraser pulls on his collar.
Ray’s grinning a little sheepishly. “Thought we could try our own investigations of ancient sexual practices.” The eyeliner makes his eyes glow. “What’s a matter, Frase? Cat got your tongue?” He looks far too pleased with his play on words.
“Come here,” Fraser growls, and spreads his legs so that when Ray walks over to him on silent cat-feet, he stands between Fraser’s knees. Fraser looks up and up until he meets Ray’s smug expression. “Is there anything under here,” Fraser asks and slides his hand up Ray’s long thigh under the white cotton feeling it stretch. He feels the hot smooth skin of Ray’s inner thigh, the warm damp of the crease of his groin, and finally Fraser cups his cock, hard and long and heated. Ray gasps and Fraser smiles, tight and feral. “I suppose not.”
Fraser stands, keeping Ray close by holding him by his hips, feeling the contrast between old cloth and humid skin where his abbreviated wrap ends. Fraser puts his mouth close to Ray’s ear and whispers all warm and spicy breath, “Ray, you are a tease. And now, I’m going to fuck you.” Ray shudders but doesn’t protest as Fraser pushes the coffee table out of the way with his foot.
He needs to be creative more often, Ray thinks. He’s bent over the back of the couch, with his ass pushed in the air, and Fraser didn’t even bother to take off his Egyptian skirt thingy, just pushed it up around his hips. He moans as a third finger is added to the two already fucking him, and Fraser is rubbing that spot over and over. Fraser’s other arm is wrapped around him holding him in place, pulling and pinching at his nipples. He’s trying to get some friction against the couch, but Fraser’s holding him too tightly.
The fingers are withdrawn, and Ray wants to cry, no no no. But Fraser’s hand is there at the back of his neck, soothing him. Then there’s the sound of a zip and the rustle of cloth and the snick of the bottle of slip, and holy fuck, Fraser’s going to fuck him standing up almost fully clothed. Ray lets out a whimper and doesn’t even care that he probably looks like a slut.
And finally finally the blunt tip of Fraser’s cock is pushing at his entrance, and then in and in and in. He’s still loose from this morning, but this is only the fifth or sixth time they’ve ever done this so he’s not that loose. It burns a little, but Fraser doesn’t give him any time to adjust, just starts fucking him slow and deep with long slides and hard thrusts that make flashes of white appear behind his eyelids. All he can do is grip the couch and hold on.
Fraser watches the man spread below him, the man he’s inside, with something like wonder. He presses kisses to Ray’s damp nape, then runs his tongue down the line of spine that he can reach. Ray is moaning constantly now, letting out little whimpery breaths of air each time Fraser bottoms out. “Please, Frase,” he’s saying. “Fuck, I love you, please, please let me come. Ah, please touch me.”
Fraser takes pity on him and slides one of his hands holding Ray’s hips down to grip Ray’s cock firmly. At the same time he leans over and whispers in his ear, “God, Ray, you’re simply exquisite.” At his words, Ray throws his head back against Fraser’s shoulder and floods his hand with wet heat. And inside that warm tight clench, he has no choice but to follow.
They’re curled on the couch together, after Fraser cleaned them up with a towel from the kitchen. Ray’s fucked out and filled with a general lassitude that means he can’t do much except sprawl with his head on Fraser’s shoulder.
Fraser’s watching him with a warm blue gaze. “You look like a debauched Egyptian slave boy.” His mouth curls. “It’s a good look for you, Ray.”
Ray yawns. “All the better to serve you, Mr. Mountie.” He stretches and feels a pleasant soreness that means tonight will still be with him tomorrow. “But not right now.”
“Can I ask where you got the eyeliner?” Ah, Fraser the curious.
“Hot, isn’t it? Hey, I was one of THE original punks Fraser. They didn’t even have a name for punks yet, and I was one.” Ray smirks.
“Of course. I never would have guessed.” Fraser’s tone is arid. He reaches for the remote to turn the t.v. back on.
“Up next: ‘Sex in the Middle Ages,’” says the announcer. Ray groans.
The End
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