Another driveby flashing...
May. 29th, 2003 05:45 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
beledibabe.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionAgain, for some mental R&R, with heartfelt thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kassrachel for the lightening beta.
He could see it in his eyes. The moment Ray stepped through the heavy front door and sauntered – there really was no other word for that movement – up to the desk, cocked – dear God, how quickly his mind plummeted into the gutter – his head to one side and said, “Hey, Turnbull. Fraser in his office?” he knew exactly what would happen.
Fortunately, he had not risen from his chair, so his burgeoning erection remained hidden behind the dubious shield of an inch of oak, not to mention his trousers and tunic.
“Good afternoon, Ray.” He smiled, just to see Ray’s lips curl in response, see the tiny web of wrinkles – laugh lines would perhaps be a better description – appear at the corner of Ray’s eyes, see the sparkle in Ray’s glance – a glance that wasn’t for him, but a fellow could dream, couldn’t he? Behind the desk, his erection lengthened, as if reaching out to Ray, to those long hands, strong fingered. “Yes, Constable Fraser is in his office.”
He would give almost anything to be there, on the inside, with them.
But Ray – an excellent detective, really, but it was not surprising that Ray had no idea of the nature of his thoughts – indeed very few people considered him capable of thought at all, much less these sorts of thoughts – simply flapped a hand at him and said “Greatness.”
His eyes followed Ray, sliding down the length of his back to survey the play of muscles beneath his trousers – short jackets had certain benefits, despite their uselessness in climatically challenging situations – as he walked toward Constable Fraser’s office. Before he entered the office, before closing the door behind him, Ray favoured him with a brief glance, a flash of teeth that suddenly inhibited his breathing and caused his erection to throb even more than before.
Pressing his palms against the smooth surface of the desk, he stared at his whitening fingertips. What can’t be cured, must be endured. One of his grandmother’s many words of wisdom, and entirely appropriate to the situation. Endure he must, despite the discomfort of damp underwear, and an ache split between his groin and a spot located behind his sternum – not that he believed in the cliché of a broken heart, but there were moments when he would swear that something was being shredded in his chest.
Hands slowly clenched – how he could even contemplate stroking himself, succumbing to pleasure, to desire, while on duty, in public – he straightened his shoulders and tried not to imagine what Ray and Constable Fraser were doing behind that closed door.
Exceptionally sharp hearing could be an advantage, except at times like these, when muffled cries and a dull thud – a body thrust – dear Lord, his mind again – against the thick door, rhythmic susurrations hinting at clothing pushed aside, moist flesh rubbing against flesh, lips bitten in a vain attempt to stifle groans...
His head jerked up as the door opened and he turned toward it like a compass needle to magnetic north. Ray stood in the doorway, lips red, open shirt framing his heaving chest, the front of his trousers gaping in a vee, arrowing down toward...
He forced his eyes up. Standing behind Ray, Constable Fraser smiled, his hands stealing around Ray’s torso to rest on that panting stomach in a proprietary gesture that even an idiot like himself could understand. ‘Mine,’ it screamed, in glaring neon script. ‘Keep off.’
When he turned away, it physically hurt – but in all honesty, that was his own fault, for wanting what was not his, what was as far beyond his reach as the moon to a child – and yet the casual cruelty surprised him, for he never suspected that Constable Fraser hated him enough to hold the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world – even more than a brain that worked like everyone else’s – dangling this one thing in front of him forever out of his reach.
“Turnbull.”
Ray’s husky voice could not be ignored, even if he were capable of more self-control, which was obviously not the case – his underwear chafed his erection almost painfully – surely his just desserts? He looked at Ray, pliant and warm and open in more ways than he could imagine, wincing as the ache under his breastbone sharpened, piercing him deep.
“Ren, c’mere.”
He forgot to breathe as Ray’s head fell back against Constable Fraser’s shoulder and Constable Fraser’s fingers slid into the waistband of Ray’s open trousers. When Ray groaned softly, he gasped, sucking in air with as much desperation as a drowning man who briefly surfaces from the waves.
Ray beckoned. “C’mon. Join us.”
Him?
Legs as weak and uncoordinated as a baby’s, he stood – surely there was some mistake, some other Ren in the room – but Ray smiled at him, met his eyes, and opened his arms.
This time when the door closed, he found himself on the inside.
kassrachel for the lightening beta.He could see it in his eyes. The moment Ray stepped through the heavy front door and sauntered – there really was no other word for that movement – up to the desk, cocked – dear God, how quickly his mind plummeted into the gutter – his head to one side and said, “Hey, Turnbull. Fraser in his office?” he knew exactly what would happen.
Fortunately, he had not risen from his chair, so his burgeoning erection remained hidden behind the dubious shield of an inch of oak, not to mention his trousers and tunic.
“Good afternoon, Ray.” He smiled, just to see Ray’s lips curl in response, see the tiny web of wrinkles – laugh lines would perhaps be a better description – appear at the corner of Ray’s eyes, see the sparkle in Ray’s glance – a glance that wasn’t for him, but a fellow could dream, couldn’t he? Behind the desk, his erection lengthened, as if reaching out to Ray, to those long hands, strong fingered. “Yes, Constable Fraser is in his office.”
He would give almost anything to be there, on the inside, with them.
But Ray – an excellent detective, really, but it was not surprising that Ray had no idea of the nature of his thoughts – indeed very few people considered him capable of thought at all, much less these sorts of thoughts – simply flapped a hand at him and said “Greatness.”
His eyes followed Ray, sliding down the length of his back to survey the play of muscles beneath his trousers – short jackets had certain benefits, despite their uselessness in climatically challenging situations – as he walked toward Constable Fraser’s office. Before he entered the office, before closing the door behind him, Ray favoured him with a brief glance, a flash of teeth that suddenly inhibited his breathing and caused his erection to throb even more than before.
Pressing his palms against the smooth surface of the desk, he stared at his whitening fingertips. What can’t be cured, must be endured. One of his grandmother’s many words of wisdom, and entirely appropriate to the situation. Endure he must, despite the discomfort of damp underwear, and an ache split between his groin and a spot located behind his sternum – not that he believed in the cliché of a broken heart, but there were moments when he would swear that something was being shredded in his chest.
Hands slowly clenched – how he could even contemplate stroking himself, succumbing to pleasure, to desire, while on duty, in public – he straightened his shoulders and tried not to imagine what Ray and Constable Fraser were doing behind that closed door.
Exceptionally sharp hearing could be an advantage, except at times like these, when muffled cries and a dull thud – a body thrust – dear Lord, his mind again – against the thick door, rhythmic susurrations hinting at clothing pushed aside, moist flesh rubbing against flesh, lips bitten in a vain attempt to stifle groans...
His head jerked up as the door opened and he turned toward it like a compass needle to magnetic north. Ray stood in the doorway, lips red, open shirt framing his heaving chest, the front of his trousers gaping in a vee, arrowing down toward...
He forced his eyes up. Standing behind Ray, Constable Fraser smiled, his hands stealing around Ray’s torso to rest on that panting stomach in a proprietary gesture that even an idiot like himself could understand. ‘Mine,’ it screamed, in glaring neon script. ‘Keep off.’
When he turned away, it physically hurt – but in all honesty, that was his own fault, for wanting what was not his, what was as far beyond his reach as the moon to a child – and yet the casual cruelty surprised him, for he never suspected that Constable Fraser hated him enough to hold the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world – even more than a brain that worked like everyone else’s – dangling this one thing in front of him forever out of his reach.
“Turnbull.”
Ray’s husky voice could not be ignored, even if he were capable of more self-control, which was obviously not the case – his underwear chafed his erection almost painfully – surely his just desserts? He looked at Ray, pliant and warm and open in more ways than he could imagine, wincing as the ache under his breastbone sharpened, piercing him deep.
“Ren, c’mere.”
He forgot to breathe as Ray’s head fell back against Constable Fraser’s shoulder and Constable Fraser’s fingers slid into the waistband of Ray’s open trousers. When Ray groaned softly, he gasped, sucking in air with as much desperation as a drowning man who briefly surfaces from the waves.
Ray beckoned. “C’mon. Join us.”
Him?
Legs as weak and uncoordinated as a baby’s, he stood – surely there was some mistake, some other Ren in the room – but Ray smiled at him, met his eyes, and opened his arms.
This time when the door closed, he found himself on the inside.
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no subject
Date: 2003-05-29 03:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-29 03:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-29 04:45 pm (UTC)to Fraser's possessive grasp
::rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr......mmmmmmmmmm::
to Turnbull crossing the threshhold,
::aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhwwwwwwwww::
I enjoyed this thoroughly.
And now for the question I have never had answered to my satisfaction. Where did "Renfield" come from? It's not canon as far as I know, but everyone calls him that. Do you have any idea?
Inquiring minds, yadda yadda.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-29 11:52 pm (UTC)Great question. He first appears in "Bird in the Hand". Have you checked that ep recently? Maybe he introduces himself using his full name there. (He's hysterical in that one anyway, so it's fun to watch. *G*)
no subject
Date: 2003-05-29 05:00 pm (UTC)Okay, that was my first coherent thought. My actual first thought was 'mrrrgh', because, woah. *Hot*.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-29 07:52 pm (UTC)More? Please?
no subject
Date: 2003-05-29 08:04 pm (UTC)Oh!
Date: 2003-05-29 09:24 pm (UTC)Karen
no subject
Date: 2003-05-29 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-29 11:57 pm (UTC)This was painful and lovely. And, um, hot. *G*
The damp underwear line was....mrowl!
(IOU some smut, I know. I'm a little blocked at the moment, but soon. *G*)
no subject
Date: 2003-05-30 07:31 am (UTC)thank you...
no subject
Date: 2003-05-30 02:55 pm (UTC)Ray stood in the doorway, lips red, open shirt framing his heaving chest, the front of his trousers gaping in a vee, arrowing down toward...
*fans self* Uh, yeah.
This one is a scorcher!
no subject
Date: 2003-05-30 10:06 pm (UTC)