The artist formerly know as C.L. Finn.
Jun. 29th, 2003 01:26 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
trixiesfic.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionOnce upon a time, I was writing this big story, known only as Young!Ben. Then I got distracted by something shiny. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bethbethbeth and rowanfairchild demanded that I dust this off, pretty it up and post it. So, I give you, 18 year old Ben Fraser.
Tom Fitzgerald was as different from me as I was from Innusiq. He stood over me several inches, most of his height contained in his legs. He had blond hair that was neither long, nor short, and poorly cut, curling out from beneath his hat. His fair skin was tanned and freckled in places, and he had a perpetual burn across his nose the entire summer that I was in Alberta.
A couple of weeks after I got hired on at the ranch, one of his mares went into labor in the middle of the night and had a difficult time of it. My help consisted mostly of keeping the mare calm while he reached up inside her and got the foal untangled. When it was all over, hours later, he slapped me on the back and grinned and we shared a beer while we watched the foal take its first steps.
After I'd cleaned up the stall, I went into the mud room to wash off and found Tom already there. He'd stripped his soiled shirt off and hosed off his arms and chest, splashed his face, and was running his wet hands through his hair. His chest and back were pale where his skin rarely saw the sun, shocking against his tanned arms and neck. He had only a small amount of blond hair on his chest, but it glittered with the water droplets caught in it. I watched several droplets break free and journey down over his flat belly, disappearing under the waistband of his jeans, which were damp and clinging to his thighs.
He was saying something about getting some sleep, about a delivery in the afternoon, but it was drowned out by the white noise in my head and the low-level buzz in my body. I licked my lip and became aware of the sudden silence in the room, and Tom's stillness. I pulled my eyes back up to his face. He was watching me, his eyes squinting slightly in a way that made me simultaneously excited and terrified. He smiled and moved forward into my space. The sink behind me held me in place, held me up, as I waited.
"You want something, Ben?" he asked, laying a warm, damp hand against my neck, tilting my head up. I couldn't say anything-- aside from being too stunned and terrified to produce words, I had no idea how to say what I wanted, what nameless thing I knew I craved but couldn't put words to. He saved me from the dilemma by moving again, leaning in, leaning down, covering my mouth with his own.
It wasn't my first kiss, but it was far in substance and tenor from my adolescent fumblings with June or the almost shy overtures I'd made to Julie Frobisher. It was soft and sweet, and then his tongue was in my mouth and it was wet and forceful, and I was kissing him, devouring as he devoured me. He tasted like beer and tobacco, and he smelled like sweat and horses and hay, and faintly like new life. I was painfully erect, I felt empty, hungry, deep in my belly, and it all felt like falling.
Falling without a net.
I reached out to grab whatever I could before I hit bottom, and found wet, warm skin. I wrapped my arms around Tom, pulling him closer to me, opening my mouth wider, and then I was no longer falling. I was flying.
Tom laughed into my mouth and my lungs seemed to expand with it. Then his hands were under my shirt, running up my back, around and across my chest. Without much thought, my own hands followed his lead, and I explored the muscles of his back, the sharp juts of his shoulder blades, the hard curves of his shoulders. And then I couldn't breathe at all because one of his hands had moved south, warmth cupped over my erection. I gasped and clutched at his back harder, but he gentled his kiss, then pulled back. I tried to follow, unwilling to give up his mouth quite yet and desperately wanting his hand back on me, but his hand in the middle of my chest kept me at bay.
I swayed as Tom grinned and grabbed the bottom edges of my shirt, pulling it up and off. Then he was back, and that warm skin was pressed against me and his tongue was back in my mouth, and I was thinking that there couldn't be anything more sublime on earth than his tongue, and his lips, and his teeth. But I was distantly aware of his hand working on the buttons of my jeans, and then... then I knew how wrong I was, that there was unquestionably something better. His warm hand snaking into my underwear and closing tightly around me far exceeded the feel of his mouth on mine. I couldn't breathe, could barely move as all the muscles in my body seemed to seize up, and I was forced to pull away from his mouth, to gasp for air.
My struggle to find oxygen didn't deter Tom, however. He simply trailed his mouth down to my throat, kissing, licking, biting his way down. I was shivering intensely, and my own groans seemed to echo in the room, but I couldn't seem to do anything but reach back and hold myself up on the sink, tilt my head back further, and go wherever Tom was taking me.
And then he was moving further down, licking my chest, and kneeling down in front of me, pulling my jeans and underwear with him, and then he was still. I managed to find some control over the muscles in my neck and pry my eyelids open to look down at him. He grinned up at me and I felt myself responding with a smile, and then...
"Dear God."
His hands framing my hips, he leaned forward and took nearly my entire penis into his mouth. His mouth was hot, and he looked so obscene. And for an insane instant I wanted to apologize, because I knew this was going to be over before it had barely begun.
And then I was gone, my body shuddered and fire skittered over my nerves before everything in the universe seemed to narrow down to the connection between my penis and his mouth. Everything went white and then black as I came, and when I finally came crashing down to a soft landing, I was still held by Tom's mouth and his hands on my hips.
When I became aware of anything outside of those three spots, I was panting impossibly loud and I was sure that if I could open my eyes, I'd be able to see my heart pounding in my chest. The rest of my body felt like nothing so much as blubber. Tom pulled back, licking me clean as he did, sending aftershocks through my body, then laid a soft kiss on my belly, the center of my chest, my chin, before reclaiming my mouth. I could taste myself in his mouth and that realization nearly made me hard all over again.
"Damn, you're sweet," he whispered, moving to suck on my earlobe.
"Th... thank you," I said, stupidly, unsure of whether I was thanking him for the compliment or the orgasm.
He chuckled against my neck and then returned to my mouth with soft, gentle kisses, as he pulled my pants back up. I realized then that I had done nothing for him, and prying my hands off of the sink behind me, I reached awkwardly down to open his jeans. He stopped me, clasping my hands in his and pulling it away.
"But..." I began to protest.
"Later, Ben. I promise," he said, "I'll let you do whatever you want." And there was something about his voice that made the promise a guarantee of much greater things to come. I found myself nodding at him.
"Right now, you need to get a few hours sleep. I'm gonna need you at noon with the new mares." He stepped back and pulled me with him, back onto my feet, and then pushed me towards the door. I took several steps out of reflex, before realizing that my pants were in danger of falling down. Concentrating on the buttons, I stopped and cleared my throat, trying to find my voice again.
"I... um..." Tom grinned at me, and tossed me my shirt, which was now damp and muddy from the floor. I had no idea what to say, what should be said. I had no protocol for this scenario, so I simply said, "I'll see you later," and then turned and stumbled out of the room and down the corridor to my room.
I closed the door firmly behind me, stripped down quickly, and climbed into bed, all the while fighting the irrational urge to go back, to beg Tom to do it again, to teach me how to do it, to do more. I could still taste him on my lips, and I could feel every spot on my body that he had kissed as I skimmed my hand over them. I felt elated, and oddly powerful, and utterly exhausted.
I'm pretty sure that I fell asleep with a ridiculous grin on my face as I drifted off to the sounds of the rest of the ranch just beginning to stir.
Yeah, um, slightly over the word limit. Sorry about that. *g*
bethbethbeth and rowanfairchild demanded that I dust this off, pretty it up and post it. So, I give you, 18 year old Ben Fraser.Tom Fitzgerald was as different from me as I was from Innusiq. He stood over me several inches, most of his height contained in his legs. He had blond hair that was neither long, nor short, and poorly cut, curling out from beneath his hat. His fair skin was tanned and freckled in places, and he had a perpetual burn across his nose the entire summer that I was in Alberta.
A couple of weeks after I got hired on at the ranch, one of his mares went into labor in the middle of the night and had a difficult time of it. My help consisted mostly of keeping the mare calm while he reached up inside her and got the foal untangled. When it was all over, hours later, he slapped me on the back and grinned and we shared a beer while we watched the foal take its first steps.
After I'd cleaned up the stall, I went into the mud room to wash off and found Tom already there. He'd stripped his soiled shirt off and hosed off his arms and chest, splashed his face, and was running his wet hands through his hair. His chest and back were pale where his skin rarely saw the sun, shocking against his tanned arms and neck. He had only a small amount of blond hair on his chest, but it glittered with the water droplets caught in it. I watched several droplets break free and journey down over his flat belly, disappearing under the waistband of his jeans, which were damp and clinging to his thighs.
He was saying something about getting some sleep, about a delivery in the afternoon, but it was drowned out by the white noise in my head and the low-level buzz in my body. I licked my lip and became aware of the sudden silence in the room, and Tom's stillness. I pulled my eyes back up to his face. He was watching me, his eyes squinting slightly in a way that made me simultaneously excited and terrified. He smiled and moved forward into my space. The sink behind me held me in place, held me up, as I waited.
"You want something, Ben?" he asked, laying a warm, damp hand against my neck, tilting my head up. I couldn't say anything-- aside from being too stunned and terrified to produce words, I had no idea how to say what I wanted, what nameless thing I knew I craved but couldn't put words to. He saved me from the dilemma by moving again, leaning in, leaning down, covering my mouth with his own.
It wasn't my first kiss, but it was far in substance and tenor from my adolescent fumblings with June or the almost shy overtures I'd made to Julie Frobisher. It was soft and sweet, and then his tongue was in my mouth and it was wet and forceful, and I was kissing him, devouring as he devoured me. He tasted like beer and tobacco, and he smelled like sweat and horses and hay, and faintly like new life. I was painfully erect, I felt empty, hungry, deep in my belly, and it all felt like falling.
Falling without a net.
I reached out to grab whatever I could before I hit bottom, and found wet, warm skin. I wrapped my arms around Tom, pulling him closer to me, opening my mouth wider, and then I was no longer falling. I was flying.
Tom laughed into my mouth and my lungs seemed to expand with it. Then his hands were under my shirt, running up my back, around and across my chest. Without much thought, my own hands followed his lead, and I explored the muscles of his back, the sharp juts of his shoulder blades, the hard curves of his shoulders. And then I couldn't breathe at all because one of his hands had moved south, warmth cupped over my erection. I gasped and clutched at his back harder, but he gentled his kiss, then pulled back. I tried to follow, unwilling to give up his mouth quite yet and desperately wanting his hand back on me, but his hand in the middle of my chest kept me at bay.
I swayed as Tom grinned and grabbed the bottom edges of my shirt, pulling it up and off. Then he was back, and that warm skin was pressed against me and his tongue was back in my mouth, and I was thinking that there couldn't be anything more sublime on earth than his tongue, and his lips, and his teeth. But I was distantly aware of his hand working on the buttons of my jeans, and then... then I knew how wrong I was, that there was unquestionably something better. His warm hand snaking into my underwear and closing tightly around me far exceeded the feel of his mouth on mine. I couldn't breathe, could barely move as all the muscles in my body seemed to seize up, and I was forced to pull away from his mouth, to gasp for air.
My struggle to find oxygen didn't deter Tom, however. He simply trailed his mouth down to my throat, kissing, licking, biting his way down. I was shivering intensely, and my own groans seemed to echo in the room, but I couldn't seem to do anything but reach back and hold myself up on the sink, tilt my head back further, and go wherever Tom was taking me.
And then he was moving further down, licking my chest, and kneeling down in front of me, pulling my jeans and underwear with him, and then he was still. I managed to find some control over the muscles in my neck and pry my eyelids open to look down at him. He grinned up at me and I felt myself responding with a smile, and then...
"Dear God."
His hands framing my hips, he leaned forward and took nearly my entire penis into his mouth. His mouth was hot, and he looked so obscene. And for an insane instant I wanted to apologize, because I knew this was going to be over before it had barely begun.
And then I was gone, my body shuddered and fire skittered over my nerves before everything in the universe seemed to narrow down to the connection between my penis and his mouth. Everything went white and then black as I came, and when I finally came crashing down to a soft landing, I was still held by Tom's mouth and his hands on my hips.
When I became aware of anything outside of those three spots, I was panting impossibly loud and I was sure that if I could open my eyes, I'd be able to see my heart pounding in my chest. The rest of my body felt like nothing so much as blubber. Tom pulled back, licking me clean as he did, sending aftershocks through my body, then laid a soft kiss on my belly, the center of my chest, my chin, before reclaiming my mouth. I could taste myself in his mouth and that realization nearly made me hard all over again.
"Damn, you're sweet," he whispered, moving to suck on my earlobe.
"Th... thank you," I said, stupidly, unsure of whether I was thanking him for the compliment or the orgasm.
He chuckled against my neck and then returned to my mouth with soft, gentle kisses, as he pulled my pants back up. I realized then that I had done nothing for him, and prying my hands off of the sink behind me, I reached awkwardly down to open his jeans. He stopped me, clasping my hands in his and pulling it away.
"But..." I began to protest.
"Later, Ben. I promise," he said, "I'll let you do whatever you want." And there was something about his voice that made the promise a guarantee of much greater things to come. I found myself nodding at him.
"Right now, you need to get a few hours sleep. I'm gonna need you at noon with the new mares." He stepped back and pulled me with him, back onto my feet, and then pushed me towards the door. I took several steps out of reflex, before realizing that my pants were in danger of falling down. Concentrating on the buttons, I stopped and cleared my throat, trying to find my voice again.
"I... um..." Tom grinned at me, and tossed me my shirt, which was now damp and muddy from the floor. I had no idea what to say, what should be said. I had no protocol for this scenario, so I simply said, "I'll see you later," and then turned and stumbled out of the room and down the corridor to my room.
I closed the door firmly behind me, stripped down quickly, and climbed into bed, all the while fighting the irrational urge to go back, to beg Tom to do it again, to teach me how to do it, to do more. I could still taste him on my lips, and I could feel every spot on my body that he had kissed as I skimmed my hand over them. I felt elated, and oddly powerful, and utterly exhausted.
I'm pretty sure that I fell asleep with a ridiculous grin on my face as I drifted off to the sounds of the rest of the ranch just beginning to stir.
Yeah, um, slightly over the word limit. Sorry about that. *g*
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Date: 2003-06-29 01:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-04 01:58 pm (UTC)