From: Kellie Matthews <matthewk@Colorado.EDU>To: MRKS <MRKS@onelist.com>Subject: [MRKS] FIC: "Yes" NC17 BF/RKDate: Friday, February 11, 2000 6:16 PM
From: Kellie Matthews <matthewk@Colorado.EDU>
I had so many requests for a sequel to "Snoop" (already!) that I couldn'tresist. Plus it was just begging to be written. Warning: some peoplemight consider this to be mildly "kinky." I don't. To me kink involvesnonconsensuality, pain, and humiliation. None of those things will everappear in my work. But just thought I'd warn the more sensitive soulsamong us. Thanks to LaT & Judi for wonderful beta. --Kellie
Disclaimers: As much as I wish otherwise, Benton Fraser & Ray Kowalskibelong to Alliance. *sigh*
Rated NC17 for boys with boys and boys with toys.
Feedback to: matthewk@colorado.edu
Yesc. 2000Kellie Matthews
"Do you find me attractive?" Although he still doesn't believe he had the nerve, or theinsanity, to actually ask Fraser that, especially in front of three totalstrangers, Ray is still inwardly ecstatic over the reply he'd gotten tohis question. "Yes, very much so." He loves those words, and the patent honesty with which they weresaid. He takes them out to look at them every so often, carefully notlooking at the frame in which they rested, the frame which could, ifexamined too closely, negate some of their startling power. Fraser. Benton Fraser thinks he's attractive. Every time he thinks it, it sends ashiver of dangerous and distracting delight through him. Fraser, perfect,beautiful Fraser thinks his scrawny little ass is attractive. And heshould SO not be dwelling on that. It's bad enough that since the dayFraser had walked into the 27th and looked at him through bewildered (andokay, slightly suspicious) blue-gray eyes his fantasies have suddenlytaken a 180-degree shift from his ex-wife and the occasional Penthouse Petor Playgirl centerfold, to a certain Mountie. He sincerely hopes that he's mastered enough acting skill on his various undercover gigs that Fraser has no idea just how often Ray looks at him and imagines him buck naked and doing things that would no doubt
bring a serge-scarlet blush to those pale cheeks. He knows it's crazy, but since when is sexual attraction logical? Never, in his experience. It just . . . is. And boy is it. From the very first moment he'd heard
"Ray!" and turned around to be stunned slack-jawed by the man calling his name, he's had the downest,dirtiest thoughts about Constable Benton Fraser and what he wants to do with him, or to have done to himself by him. It only took a week for his newfound infatuation to go from alow-grade simmer to the point where he'd gone online, found a place thatsold . . . toys, and actually bought one. Along with a how-to book,because for all that he's always found the random guy attractive enough tofantasize about, his fantasies had never gone that far until now. It'salways just been touching and kissing, maybe a handjob, and if he's reallygoing all out, maybe a little sucking. Of course after getting the toyand more importantly the book, he'd had to go back online to order thelube. Duh. He should have figured that would be necessary. But thenagain it wasn't like he should know because he's never done it with a guyand chicks kind of provide their own. Heh, at least he already hadrubbers. And now he'll actually get to use them before they expire,'cause they sure aren't getting used the regular way. He's distracted for a moment by thoughts of getting to use themwith Fraser, or. . . oh, jeez. . . of Fraser using them on the toy, withhim. . . uh oh. He has to close his eyes, and bite his lip for control. Unless he wants to come before he even gets started, he'd better not eventhink about thinking about that. As he rips open one of the packets, heimagines rolling that thin, slick film down over a beautifully erect,uncut Benton Fraser cock. Yeah, he knows it's uncut. He peeked when theywere at the urinal. Discreetly. Yes, he knows what that word means, andhow to do it. Guys learn in grade school how to check out another guy'sequipment without making it obvious. And why the hell is he defendinghimself to himself anyway? Back to his fantasy . . . rolling the condom down over Fraser'scock, and then smoothing a lube-covered hand over it, like. . . this. Yeah. Damn, he likes this thing, well okay, maybe hot pink hadn't been agreat choice but a toy should look like a toy, right? But no matter whatit looks like, it feels. . . real. Amazingly real. He closes his eyes sohe's not distracted by the color, and so he can visualize Fraser moreclearly. Yeah. Dark curls, pale skin, darkly flushed-- maybe pink wasn'tsuch a bad choice after all. He squeezes, very gently. Firm, resilient,mmmyeah. Imagines the arch, the catch in the breath. Maybe that tonguething he does, moistening that mouth that haunts his dreams. Filling in his mental picture, he imagines Fraser reaching out totouch him, drops his other hand to his groin, strokes himself, slowly,trying not to rush it, but once he gets started, it's so hard not to justgo for it. But he wants, needs, more. A newly-discovered need, deep, andinsistent. Shifts a knee up, slides slick fingers down and back, strokes,shivering in expectation Not his own fingers, Fraser's. Benton's. Ben's. Thinking that name is like a forbidden thing, like saying 'fuck' inchurch. Ben. Taboo. Erotic. Ben's hand on his hip, shifting him ontohis side, moving into place behind him. He's trembling a little,anticipation alive in his veins. Now. Now. He's thrown out of the fantasy a little as he pushes, breathhissing over teeth, instinctive resistance. No, just relax. Remember? Push into-against, and . . . yield. Yeah. Slow, sweet stretch, strangefullness. Fuck, so good, yeah. The first time he'd done this, the firstthirty seconds (seemed like longer) had been spent wondering why the hellanyone would *ever* do this, but then it was like something inside himjust opened up, and it slid in, and he wondered why the hell everyonedidn't do this all the time. Why hadn't anyone ever told him how good itfelt? He felt cheated. Could've been doing this for years. In. To the base. Yeah. In his mind, he feels the crush of darkcurls there, rough, but soft against his ass. Shudder, a little quiver ofalmost-coming licking at his nerve endings. Ohgod. Yeah there. Justthere. Fucking there. He rolls onto his back, feeling Ben beneath him,broad, strong chest under his back, smooth, flat belly beneath his hips. Splays his thighs out to make room for Ben's between them, arches upward,feeling hands on his chest, fingers tugging at his hardened nipples. Hipsbuck, up, down, hard, hard enough to feel the soft-full weight of ballsagainst his perineum (cool word, Fraser word, never knew that's what itwas, until he got the book). Better, inside, a rush of perfect sensation. Oh yeah. Yeah. Tosses his head against the smooth curve ofpillow/shoulder beneath it. "Fuck me," he moans (quiet, don't disturb the neighbors). "God,Ben. Fuck me." Hips moving, slow, glide, like dancing. Feel the slide insidehim. Heat rushing through his skin, making him sweat and shiver. Slide,glide, back, forth, up, down, yes oh yes. Feels it starting, so deep,never knew how deep it could start. He goes still for a minute,completely still, until the sensation fades a little. Doesn't want it tohappen too fast. No, wants it slow, wants it to last. There. Okay. Back in control. New motion, a kind of circling, stirring. The slide inside iseasier every second, all resistance gone, he's just open, and surrenderedand filled up to the brim. Rocks gently, feeling the butt of blunt tipinside him. Amazing. His belly feels cool where he's leaked on it, and acurrent of air touches that wetness. He puts his fingers there, strokesthe slick skin, pushes down against the flat plane just above the damptangle of pubic curls, pushes hard. If he pushes hard enough, can he feelBen there, inside him? No, but it feels good, so good. Starts to rockagain, hands fanned out on his thighs. His hands/Ben's hands, guidinghim, increasingly urgent. "Touch me," he whispers. "Please." A plea, a demand. Touch meoutside, and in. Need touch. So hard, full, full to the brim. Inside. Out. He knows he could come, just like this, without ever being touched,but wants touch, craves it. One hand moves to his hip, holding hard, onecurves around his aching cock. Warm, broad palm (narrow, long-fingeredbut pretending), sturdy, strong, almost rough, squeezing stroking. Hearches into the touch, falls back, into the filling weight, again, again,again, slide stroke full fill poetry in his body, in every nerve, startingagain, starting deep. Harder. Deeper. Harder. Desperate buck of hips, hand clenching on his cock. "God! Ohgod! Ben!" Hits like an explosion. He's tapped into a well of sensation atpressure, pumping it through him, out of him in thick, sweet spurts. Stars behind his closed eyelids, quasars, pulsars, spilling energy intothe void of his need, filling it, filling him. Filling him. So full. That's what he does, what Ben does. Fills him. Ful-fills him. . . don'tgo there. Minutes pass. Boneless sprawl, breathing starts to even out. He's wet, sweat, and semen on his skin. He skims a thumb across a puddle,brings it to his mouth, sucks. Salty-sweet, stings his tongue strangely. A shiver racks him as he images what it would be like to taste Ben thisway. Wants to. Needs to. No. Not need. Can't be need. Can't put thaton Ben. It's bad enough he's using him like this, would be worse to letit slip. He sighs. It's just want. Lots of want. Keep it here, hiddenaway where it can't be seen, or heard, or felt, except by him. It's notso bad. He can do this, keep it separate. Sighs again. He's starting to ache a little. This is the onlybad part. The part where he can't pretend any more, can't make it Ben anymore. Not Ben; Fraser, he corrects himself. Fraser. Don't slip, Ray. Don't slip. Fraser. He shifts his hips, twists, and he's free with a softinhale of breath. Hates this part. Wants to be held. Wants to go tosleep with arms around him, bodies tangled, sweaty. He snorts derisivelyat himself. Fuckin' hearts and flowers, Ray Kowalski. Yeah, that's him. Too damned romantic for his own good. The clock-radio clicks on, telling him he's out of time. He sitsup, stripping the condom off his erstwhile lover, and heads for thebathroom to shower and dress. Face another day of wanting, and only,sort-of, having. That's more than he's had in a while though, so it'sbetter than it could be. And it's pretty good, really. Fraser likes him. That's clear. Hell, even the damned wolf likes him. Maybe as lunch,maybe as a buddy, hard to tell, but it's like. And there's still thatambiguous hope inside him. "Do you find me attractive?" "Yes, very much so." Yes. He smiles at his reflection in the mirror, a little smug. Yes.
* * * finis * * *
Kellie Matthews // matthewk@colorado.eduhttp://spot.colorado.edu/~matthewk/Home.html--------------------------------------------------------Love that stutters, that stammers, is apt to be the love that loves best. -Gabriela Mistral
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