Warnings (highlight to view): explicit sex
due South Flashfiction challenge: Hallowe'en
~ A sequel to Treat ~
"Ray. Ray. Ray."
Ray's tongue continued its path along Fraser's collarbone.
Ray lifted his head. "You know, I really hate it when you do that. I ain't deaf like the dog." He lowered his head once more. "I'm just ignorin' you."
"I'm merely trying to say tha...ohhh."
Having unlaced the pirate shirt completely, Ray took a second to fling the leather strips aside. "What's that you say, Frase, buddy?"
"Shirt...you're wrinkling the shirt."
"Uh-huh," Ray acknowledged, grinning at Fraser's semi-incoherent state. If all it took to paralyze that massive brain was a little tongue on his chest, what would he do when Ray wrapped that same tongue around his dick?
It was an interesting question.
Ray reached for the hem of the shirt, tugging it out of the tight black pirate pants. "Well, you see, Frase, it's like this," he said, enjoying being the calmer one for a change. "I have mastered the art of the iron. Among other arts which I plan to employ tonight, very soon after I wrinkle the hell out of your costume."
"Not much point in...getting me into it...if all you were going to do was..." Fraser's voice trailed off into a groan as Ray's hands slid up his chest under the fabric.
"Get you out of it?" Ray chuckled as Fraser reached down and helped him pull the white cotton over his head. "Yeah, but I didn't know. I hoped, maybe--" here Fraser released a chuckle of his own, warm and deep and sexy "--but I didn't know."
The shirt went the way of the laces, and Ray paused for a moment to savour the sight of Fraser, flushed, breathless and rumpled as Ray'd ever seen him. One hand spread out over Fraser's left pec, and his fingertips picked up the rabbit-fast pulse under the heated skin.
"How long have you been hoping?"
Ray's head snapped up at the softly murmured question, and suddenly his own heart raced to catch up with Fraser's. "I, ah," he stammered, running a hand through his hair, "look. I know that makes it sound--"
Fraser's hand covered Ray's swiftly before it could slide off his body. "I'm only wondering," he said slowly, "because I've been hoping, too."
Ray remembered how to breathe then, and his hand flexed under Fraser's. "Yeah?" he said, aware his voice sounded shy and vulnerable and not giving a damn for once.
"Yeah." And Fraser's voice had the same ingredients, and wasn't that a fuckin' kick in the head, huh?
"Oh, shit," Ray gasped, and then his mouth was covering Fraser's, hard and demanding, and Fraser was giving it all back to him and then some. Duet, hell, yeah.
The next couple of minutes were a whirlwind of hands and elbows and knees and flying clothes, until finally he was naked as the day he was born and pinned under one-seventy of horny, shirtless Mountie. God, he was solid, like a brick wall, only hot and satin to touch, a lot less hair than Ray himself, and that was saying something.
Then Ray felt the heat of Fraser's gaze on his cock, and he had just enough time to wonder when the hell everything had turned upside down before Fraser ran the flat of his tongue from root to tip, then swallowed him down in one go.
"Wh--what about the boots?" gasped Ray, after he finished yelling his thanks to Fraser and God and little green apples. "Had...plans..."
Fraser raised his head and grinned wickedly. "Oh, we'll get to them, Ray," he said, calmly, before going down on him again.
"Unh," Ray said explosively, when what he really meant to say was, I'll wipe that grin off your face if it's the last thing I do.
But for now, he was happy enough to go back to yelling.
"I believe you have successfully removed every functioning brain cell from my skull."
"The boys in Cell Block D called me Hoover."
"Did you have a question, Ray?"
"Yeah. You got a leather-cleaning kit in those pumpkin pants? Because those stains are gonna be real hard to explain to Uncle Taddie."
"Well, as it happens, Ray..."
See the gorgeous image created by Nicci - mmm, Pirate!Fraser...
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