NC-17
9/2003
Response to the Darkness Challenge over at ds Flashfic.
I had a nice, light porn fic idea in my head. I started writing it, it got away from me, and turned real dark. I think I’ve watched “The Ladies Man” too much. This is set right afterwards, with Ray still dealing with the aftermath of the Beth Boetrelle case.
I'm tired tonight, too tired to move, to think, to feel. I'm too old for this. I’m done, I’m just...done. I just want to lie here and let the dark hide me from all of this. I feel the bed dip a little as Fraser lies down next to me. His hands are on me in the dark and I'm too fucking weary to push them away. He's gentle, though, gentle with me. I should make him stop; I'm not up for this. Not up for any of this. Can't do it anymore, Frase. Sorry, buddy.
I know I said I loved you, but maybe I lied. 'Cause my heart is leaking, bleeding out, and I'm done. No more room here to care anymore. Hurts too much. Takes too much out of me. I'm just an old cop and I have no time for any of this.
Why are his hands so fucking gentle? I wish I had the energy to push him away. He moves me carefully, stripping me of my shirt, letting my boots fall to the floor as he slides them off my feet. It's dark in here and I let him do it. He whispers my name when he’s done, and I roll over, away from him, hide my face in the sheets. His hand rubs my back, circles, soothing, but I don't want it.
He says my name again, and I'm shivering. He stops rubbing my back, moves purposefully, to pull me close. I think again that I should stop him, make him let me go. But he has me against him then, up against his body, which is all heat, like a fucking furnace. I'm cold here. Like ice. I want to be like ice. Cold enough that I don't have to think or feel or hurt. Cold always, and maybe Canada isn't such a bad place. Maybe I can go there to freeze, to hide. Maybe that's what I need.
He holds me against his body and I hate this. I don’t understand this. Don’t understand him. Fuck, I don’t understand myself. I fucked up, big time. Got fucked over by Franklin, sure, but that was payback, no more than I deserved. Going to see Beth Botrelle was another sort of payback, but I deserved that more than anything. Still not enough though. Feel stretched to my limit, by all of this, but it’s still not enough. Fraser’s arms are strong as he holds me close, and it's dark, and suddenly it all just snaps inside me. Can't take this, and where I am in my head is gone, so far gone.
I push at Fraser, hard, and he falls back. I crawl on top of him, would crawl inside him if I could, because he's warm and I'm freezing cold. I'm shivering, but I hold him down. Pin his wrists above his head, but I won't look at his eyes, not even in the shadows here. He breathes my name again, and I shut my eyes tight, turn my head away with a jerk. Now he’s pushing up against me, but I hold him down. Press my body against his, and he's warm, and I want, I need, but I can't, I can't, can't do this, can't have this, can't have anything…
I sag down on top of him. His hands are on me, gentle, so fucking gentle. He holds me, turns to lay me on my back, and I look up at him. I whisper his name, quiet, and then, even quieter, I say, "Please." I don't deserve it, and I don't even know if I want it, but I need it, I just fucking need this, need something.
I see his eyes search mine in the dark. I know he sees it there, sees how fucking ragged I feel inside, reads me so good like always. Then his hands are on my jeans, unbuttoning them quickly, urging my hips up so he can slide them off of me, my boxers too. And then he's got his hand on me, where I want it, where I’m so fucking hard. His breath is coming in quick bursts against my cheek, but his eyes are so damn serious. I want to turn away, but I can't, because his other hand is soft against the side of my face.
He leans closer, but doesn't kiss me. My chest is tight with need and fear, and I want him to take me. He watches me in the dark as he runs his hand over me again. I close my eyes and push up against his hand.
I say it again. "Please."
He pulls away and when I call his name it sounds desperate even to me.
"Shh," he says, and then he's back, but he's gotten rid of his clothes, and is naked up against me, and I can feel him hard against my hip. He's so warm he feels like he’s burning.
"I need you. Need this." The voice doesn't sound like mine. It sounds broken. Lost. Fucked up.
Maybe that's me. Maybe that's who I am.
He looks down at me in the dark and he says, "Yes." Just that one word, but it's something, it's enough. Everything still so fucked up inside me, but for right now, it's enough.
His hands are on me, holding me down, not so gentle now. It feels good. When I arch up against him, he presses me down harder, and I growl deep in my throat. Yes. He moves down my body, his mouth hot against me as he goes, and I twist underneath him. I can't stop. When he gets to my cock, he licks it, one hot stroke up. Then he takes it in his mouth, swallowing me deep, all the way down. He pulls back then, lets my cock slide almost all the way out, then takes me in deep again. And again. I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood. And then his hands are on my legs, urging them up further, further, over his shoulders. Holding me. He ducks his head, and his mouth, that hot fucking mouth, licks hot, wet. He goes lower still. I feel his hands spread me and then his hot tongue licking and he's there, he's there, his tongue delving further and in and I think I'm begging but I don't care.
He takes his time, longer than I can handle, because when he finally, finally, lifts his head and licks his lips, I’m frantic, desperate. I try to turn over, to let him take me that way, but he pulls me back roughly. I close my eyes and push my head back into the pillow. He growls my name, and I say please again. He grabs hold of me, and now he’s kissing me, hard, forcing his tongue into my mouth, taking me, making me.
“Open your eyes, Ray.” His voice is demanding, even though he’s panting. I can’t not do what he says. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter for another moment, then open them and look at him in the dimness. He’s shaking now, too, and I wonder why.
But he nods, and that’s all that matters, all that’s important. He’s going to do this, because I need this, need him. He pushes in, fuck, hard and fast. I close my eyes again, and he says my name, his voice harsh. He strokes his hand over my cock, and tells me again to look at him. I don't want to, but I have to, and he’s over me there in the dark, over me and in me and holding me. I'm close, suddenly, so fucking close, and I'm growling again, maybe, or maybe it's sobbing, but he doesn't care, and I don’t give a fuck, don't give a fuck, because Christ, I’m coming, he's slamming into me and I'm coming, in hard spurts all over my stomach.
My gasps are loud and my heart beats in my ears and he's still moving in me. Not slamming anymore, moving slow and steady and his eyes are on me. They gleam silver in the dark, and he watches me as he balances himself against the bed with his hands and moves in and out of me slowly. Too slowly, but I'm not in a position to move too much, so I give in and just watch him. Watch him watch me, watch him…want me.
Watch his face as he moves, and tries to keep it slow and steady, but he's sweaty and shaking and looking at me. Watching me. Letting me see him as he fucks me. As he takes me. Slow, slow, but his mind is not in charge all the way, his hips move faster, and he loses the rhythm. The sweat drips from his forehead, and he has to drop his head, close his eyes, and I get to be the one to watch him as he gasps, loud, and comes deep inside me.
His arms won’t hold him up. He pulls out and lowers himself, all unsteady, over to one side of me. Rests his head against my stomach. It's the tenderest fucking thing. I lift my hand and lay it against his head, and he makes a noise in his throat and rubs his cheek against my stomach.
He whispers my name once more in the dark. Whispers that he loves me. That he'll never leave me, and could never not love me. And his breath is warm against my stomach as he says it again, that he loves me. I look up at the ceiling and run my fingers through his hair. Can feel myself breathing all shaky. He tightens his hold on me. I start to say his name, tell him I’m all right, but my throat is tight and I can’t say a word. All I can do is lie there, and my fingers thread themselves tight in his hair. He holds me close and I feel the tears trickling down my face in the night. He must feel me shaking still, but he doesn’t move, just lets his breath out in a long, warm sigh across my stomach and lets me cry.
~end~