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Title: Short List
Author: laughingacademy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 251
Pairing: F/K
Prompt: 62. F/K “Okay, put that one on the short list.”
*
“Gawwwwwwwwd…”
Ray was going to die. He was going to die, and it was going to be all Fraser’s fault.
Ray already had a white-knuckle grip, but he managed to clamp down even harder. His arms were shaking with the strain, his shoulders were making loud complaints about the uncomfortable angle, and his neck would not be sending him love notes anytime in the foreseeable future. The sweat in his eyes stung like his last fight with Stella.
Don’t think about Stella. Bad, bad time to think about Stella…
“Shit. Shit!”
Ray snapped at the air, lips curled back, his breath whistling between his teeth. He was not going to whimper, goddammit.
A jolt, and everything clenched. He widened his stance for better balance, calves and thighs flexing, and pushed with his heels.
Ray looked down, trying to see what was happening.
Man, his toes were white-knuckled. Did toes even have knuckles? Or were they called something different, the way toes were toes and not, like, feet fingers. Fraser would know, but Fraser was—
“JESUS CHRIST!”
He did not do that. He did not do that. That did not just happen, no way. Crazy Canadian bastard, brain the size of a planet and not a lick of sense— licked everything, which proved he had no sense. Just went charging in, all thank you kindly and take no prisoners and, and ah ah …!
“Ray? Ray? Ray?”
“Yeah, ’m here,” he croaked. “So. Rimming. Okay, put that one on the short list.”
Author: laughingacademy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 251
Pairing: F/K
Prompt: 62. F/K “Okay, put that one on the short list.”
*
“Gawwwwwwwwd…”
Ray was going to die. He was going to die, and it was going to be all Fraser’s fault.
Ray already had a white-knuckle grip, but he managed to clamp down even harder. His arms were shaking with the strain, his shoulders were making loud complaints about the uncomfortable angle, and his neck would not be sending him love notes anytime in the foreseeable future. The sweat in his eyes stung like his last fight with Stella.
Don’t think about Stella. Bad, bad time to think about Stella…
“Shit. Shit!”
Ray snapped at the air, lips curled back, his breath whistling between his teeth. He was not going to whimper, goddammit.
A jolt, and everything clenched. He widened his stance for better balance, calves and thighs flexing, and pushed with his heels.
Ray looked down, trying to see what was happening.
Man, his toes were white-knuckled. Did toes even have knuckles? Or were they called something different, the way toes were toes and not, like, feet fingers. Fraser would know, but Fraser was—
“JESUS CHRIST!”
He did not do that. He did not do that. That did not just happen, no way. Crazy Canadian bastard, brain the size of a planet and not a lick of sense— licked everything, which proved he had no sense. Just went charging in, all thank you kindly and take no prisoners and, and ah ah …!
“Ray? Ray? Ray?”
“Yeah, ’m here,” he croaked. “So. Rimming. Okay, put that one on the short list.”