New F/K Story: Just Ask
Mar. 1st, 2007 10:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arrow00Title: Just Ask
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
arrow00
Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Rating: PG
Wordount: 1,800
Notes: Unbeta'd. Just a dopey bit of not-quite-smut.
Summary: Ray has a unique method of getting back at Fraser.
It backfires in a good way.
Addendum: the sort of sequel to this story is Show Me
Just Ask
byarrow00
It all started off as a game, or a joke. Well, to be honest, not a joke so much as a poke, a way to get back at Fraser for pissing Ray the fuck off by almost getting killed again—"Ray, I could tell the gentleman with the AK-47 was not familiar with its proper operation"—only, the way to get back at Fraser wasn't to blow his hair back by yelling at him, so Ray had to find another way. Because yelling at Fraser only made him get all sarcastic and even more wordy and uptight. But seeing how embarrassed Fraser was when Frannie came rubbing up against him, Ray got a new idea. An idea of Pure Evil Genius. He would just punish the damned Mountie with embarrassment.
Ray started with the simple stuff, commenting on how Frannie better get Fraser in the sack soon or she'd get arrested in her own squad for indecent exposure (no way could her skirt get any shorter without violating something.)
Fraser turned slightly pink and stiffly informed him that it wasn't proper to speak about a lady like that.
"Lady who? Who's a lady?"
"Ray...that's your sister you're talking about."
So, Fraser won that round, but Ray wasn't done by a long shot. The next time—"I assure you, Ray, it takes higher than a fifteen-foot drop for me to 'break my fool neck' as you call it"—Ray momentarily considered telling Fraser he looked awful pretty in hospital gown yellow, but even though complimenting Fraser was a sure-fire way to embarrass him, Ray was afraid he might give away a little too much in the process. Instead, he idled away the time in Treatment Room 2 (twelve goddamn stitches in Fraser's back, and it would've been more if it weren't for the serge) telling his captive audience about the first time he had sex.
"Margaret Simpson, Fraser. Beautiful, and we're not talking by trailer-park standards. Brunette, loooong legs, and a serious rack. We were sixteen, and Stella was dating some asshole football player, so I took Meg out behind the bleachers and kissed her so sweet and long that she let me get my hand down into her white cotton panties by half-time—"
"Ray..."
"By third quarter she'd showed me how to get my rubber on, the one I'd been carrying in my wallet for two years, at least—"
"Ray. Ray. Ray—" Fraser was really hurting now.
"And by fourth quarter I was deep in the end zo—"
"Ray!" Fraser was bright pink, a pretty good shade on him, if you had to know the truth. But the important thing was, Fraser was running his hand under the collar of his paper nightgown and looking seriously uncomfortable. Good. Let him be.
"How about you, Fraser?"
"Me?"
Boy, oh boy. Fraser sounded green now, but he was still two shades of red.
"I was...significantly older than that, Ray."
And that was all he said. The nurse came in right after with a big-ass bandage, and Ray got a nice view of that smooth chest, still pinkish, when Fraser shucked the paper thingy and eased back into his bloody Henley.
A week later, Fraser was back in action and back doing the Action Figure thing—"Goddammit, Fraser! I could've told you the hood of a Trans-Am is not the best place to try to make a citizen's arrest. At least not at eighty-five fucking miles per hour!—and Ray was back in embarrassing-Fraser-mode. But somehow the game had turned more into 'getting Fraser to talk' in Ray's head, because—truth—he really wanted to know more about the guy. And talking about sex was probably one of the quickest ways to learn about someone, although with Fraser, Ray would've settled for anything other than the usual stories about dying caribou and calving glaciers.
So Ray told Fraser how he learned about the birds and bees. "I remember I was about ten or so, and I wasn't even really interested in girls at that point, but my mom decided it was time for The Talk, so she made my dad sit me down. And you know, he cleared his throat about a zillion times and went on for a while about women being like carburetors and how you had to keep the pilot jets clean or something like that. I mean, he couched it so deep in like a...what is that thing called?"
"Metaphor, Ray?"
"Yeah—metaphor, that I really didn't have a fucking clue what he was talking about. But then about a year later I found his secret stash of Playboys out in the tool shed, and then I figured out some of it. At least, I got my first boner that way."
Oh, yeah. Fraser was positively Pretty in Pink.
"How about you, Fraser?"
"I—well, my education was decidedly more...formal in nature." Fraser coughed and shifted the ice bag on his wrist.
"Formal how?" Ray got up and brought back a towel from Fraser's closet. Fraser thanked him with a nod and rested his arm on it so he wouldn't drip all over his desk.
"Well, when I was six—"
"Six?" Ray squeaked his disbelief.
"Yes. It was shortly after my mother died. I remember I asked my grandmother if she would be having any more children with grandfather. I wanted a brother, you see. I was a little...confused." Fraser flicked his eyebrow with his thumb. "Anyway, grandmother brought me a copy of Gray's Anatomy and showed me the transparencies of the male and female sex organs, and explained how insemination works. And that I wouldn't have any new, er, playmates, any time soon."
Ray had been going for embarrassed, but now he was the one looking down at his shoes. That was...the creepiest, most pathetic thing he'd ever heard.
"Jesus."
"Yes, well. She was doing what she thought best."
"But, so when did you get your first chubby?"
"Ah." Fraser's tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip. "My, my, look at the time."
"Fraser—"
But Fraser must've already given some secret signal to Diefenbaker, because the wolf came trotting over and nudged Fraser's arm.
"It appears I'm overdue giving Dief his nightly walk."
"Yeah, yeah." Ray ceded the field.
It wasn't even fucking two days later before Fraser pulled another boneheaded play—"Ray, would you kindly remove the handcuffs before trying to halt the table saw?—and this time Ray waited until he had Fraser trapped in his apartment, sans Dief and with Neosporin slathered on his wrists, before attacking once again.
"Man, after a day like this, nothing better than taking a hot bath and jerking off. Don'tcha think?"
"I beg your pardon?" Fraser froze in the process of trying clumsily to wrap gauze around his wrist. Ray hitched in closer and took over.
"Well, you know. Pretty big rush today, all that adrenaline. Usually gives me some good iron in my pants."
Fraser coughed.
Ray snipped off the gauze and taped it down. "So, I generally like to come home, drink a beer, get in the tub with some toys and have at it." Ray mimed jacking off. Only he didn't just do the quick movement, but took his time, and made sure to do the white man's overbite. He even thrust out his hips a little.
Bingo. Fraser was not only red, but a bead of sweat had sprung out over his lip.
"Honestly, Ray." He sounded like he was choking.
"I like to use toys occasionally, too. I got a terrific water-proof vibrator out of the divorce—"
Fraser jerked to his feet and spun around. Looking for his hat, maybe? Ray felt a surge of glee. Also, he was hard as a rock.
"How about you, Fraser? How do you like to jerk off?"
"That's enough." Fraser turned back toward him, and he didn't look embarrassed anymore. Christ, he looked...devastated, somehow. Like someone had just stolen his shiny new Big Wheel off the front lawn. Only, Ray was pretty sure they didn't have Big Wheels up in the Yukon.
"Fraser, I just—"
"Enough." Fraser whispered it this time, sounding almost furious, but not quite. Something else. Ray couldn't get a handle on it.
"Hey, chill out—"
"I will not." Fraser lifted one hand and clutched it in his hair. It stood up for almost a full second when he let go and pointed one finger, saying haltingly, "You—it's really quite...unsporting of you, Ray, to toy with me this way. You have me at an obvious disadvantage. You know you have a greater...facility in speaking of certain...subjects, and are using that—" Fraser cut himself off. Ray saw his throat jerk in a heavy swallow. "This isn't quite...buddies," Fraser finished finally, his jaw closing with a click.
Ray just breathed for a few beats, feeling his face flush. But he really hadn't meant it that way. Sure, it had started out as a game, but after a while—
"I'm not playing with you," Ray made himself say. "I really—it's really that I wanted you to start telling me some real stuff. About you. I really do want to know more about you, Fraser."
Fraser's expression changed, some of the hardness softening to puzzlement. "But this—this isn't just things about me. This is very specifically about...about—"
"Yeah." Ray didn't need to watch Fraser try to make himself say it. He'd already tortured the poor guy enough. Fraser still looked upset with him. More than upset—his face was still flushed, and when Ray let his eyes travel downward, he noticed—
Huh. Interesting.
Ray stood carefully. His heart was beating out something crazy, almost like words saying 'do it, do it, do it.'
"Thing is, Fraser, I guess I thought if I talked about this stuff enough, maybe I could get you to...react."
Fraser's eyes went round, his pupils blown wide and swallowing the blue.
"I've done nothing but react," he said, and his voice was hoarse.
"Yeah. But I thought you were just embarrassed," Ray said softly. "I didn't know you maybe wanted...what I do."
Fraser shook his head, and incredibly, a small smile was growing around his lips. "You could've just asked, you know."
"Asked? You mean like, 'Hey, Fraser, buddy, you wanna get busy with me?'"
Fraser blinked. "Yes."
Ray jerked. "'Yes' as in asking like that? Or 'yes' as in...yes?"
"Yes." Fraser nodded at him. "Yes, as in, 'please, yes.'"
"Oh." Ray chewed on that for about a second and a half, and then he was chewing on Fraser's lips, kissing him huge, and Fraser was grabbing his hips, crushing Ray against him, pushing his hard-on against Ray's thigh.
Crazy. Just...crazy. Turned out all he had to do was goddamn ask. So, about three hours and two orgasms later, he just asked Fraser to show him how he jerked off.
And Fraser did.
...................
2007.03.01
A link to the original Big Wheel
Author:
arrow00Pairing: Fraser/RayK
Rating: PG
Wordount: 1,800
Notes: Unbeta'd. Just a dopey bit of not-quite-smut.
Summary: Ray has a unique method of getting back at Fraser.
It backfires in a good way.
Addendum: the sort of sequel to this story is Show Me
Just Ask
by
arrow00It all started off as a game, or a joke. Well, to be honest, not a joke so much as a poke, a way to get back at Fraser for pissing Ray the fuck off by almost getting killed again—"Ray, I could tell the gentleman with the AK-47 was not familiar with its proper operation"—only, the way to get back at Fraser wasn't to blow his hair back by yelling at him, so Ray had to find another way. Because yelling at Fraser only made him get all sarcastic and even more wordy and uptight. But seeing how embarrassed Fraser was when Frannie came rubbing up against him, Ray got a new idea. An idea of Pure Evil Genius. He would just punish the damned Mountie with embarrassment.
Ray started with the simple stuff, commenting on how Frannie better get Fraser in the sack soon or she'd get arrested in her own squad for indecent exposure (no way could her skirt get any shorter without violating something.)
Fraser turned slightly pink and stiffly informed him that it wasn't proper to speak about a lady like that.
"Lady who? Who's a lady?"
"Ray...that's your sister you're talking about."
So, Fraser won that round, but Ray wasn't done by a long shot. The next time—"I assure you, Ray, it takes higher than a fifteen-foot drop for me to 'break my fool neck' as you call it"—Ray momentarily considered telling Fraser he looked awful pretty in hospital gown yellow, but even though complimenting Fraser was a sure-fire way to embarrass him, Ray was afraid he might give away a little too much in the process. Instead, he idled away the time in Treatment Room 2 (twelve goddamn stitches in Fraser's back, and it would've been more if it weren't for the serge) telling his captive audience about the first time he had sex.
"Margaret Simpson, Fraser. Beautiful, and we're not talking by trailer-park standards. Brunette, loooong legs, and a serious rack. We were sixteen, and Stella was dating some asshole football player, so I took Meg out behind the bleachers and kissed her so sweet and long that she let me get my hand down into her white cotton panties by half-time—"
"Ray..."
"By third quarter she'd showed me how to get my rubber on, the one I'd been carrying in my wallet for two years, at least—"
"Ray. Ray. Ray—" Fraser was really hurting now.
"And by fourth quarter I was deep in the end zo—"
"Ray!" Fraser was bright pink, a pretty good shade on him, if you had to know the truth. But the important thing was, Fraser was running his hand under the collar of his paper nightgown and looking seriously uncomfortable. Good. Let him be.
"How about you, Fraser?"
"Me?"
Boy, oh boy. Fraser sounded green now, but he was still two shades of red.
"I was...significantly older than that, Ray."
And that was all he said. The nurse came in right after with a big-ass bandage, and Ray got a nice view of that smooth chest, still pinkish, when Fraser shucked the paper thingy and eased back into his bloody Henley.
A week later, Fraser was back in action and back doing the Action Figure thing—"Goddammit, Fraser! I could've told you the hood of a Trans-Am is not the best place to try to make a citizen's arrest. At least not at eighty-five fucking miles per hour!—and Ray was back in embarrassing-Fraser-mode. But somehow the game had turned more into 'getting Fraser to talk' in Ray's head, because—truth—he really wanted to know more about the guy. And talking about sex was probably one of the quickest ways to learn about someone, although with Fraser, Ray would've settled for anything other than the usual stories about dying caribou and calving glaciers.
So Ray told Fraser how he learned about the birds and bees. "I remember I was about ten or so, and I wasn't even really interested in girls at that point, but my mom decided it was time for The Talk, so she made my dad sit me down. And you know, he cleared his throat about a zillion times and went on for a while about women being like carburetors and how you had to keep the pilot jets clean or something like that. I mean, he couched it so deep in like a...what is that thing called?"
"Metaphor, Ray?"
"Yeah—metaphor, that I really didn't have a fucking clue what he was talking about. But then about a year later I found his secret stash of Playboys out in the tool shed, and then I figured out some of it. At least, I got my first boner that way."
Oh, yeah. Fraser was positively Pretty in Pink.
"How about you, Fraser?"
"I—well, my education was decidedly more...formal in nature." Fraser coughed and shifted the ice bag on his wrist.
"Formal how?" Ray got up and brought back a towel from Fraser's closet. Fraser thanked him with a nod and rested his arm on it so he wouldn't drip all over his desk.
"Well, when I was six—"
"Six?" Ray squeaked his disbelief.
"Yes. It was shortly after my mother died. I remember I asked my grandmother if she would be having any more children with grandfather. I wanted a brother, you see. I was a little...confused." Fraser flicked his eyebrow with his thumb. "Anyway, grandmother brought me a copy of Gray's Anatomy and showed me the transparencies of the male and female sex organs, and explained how insemination works. And that I wouldn't have any new, er, playmates, any time soon."
Ray had been going for embarrassed, but now he was the one looking down at his shoes. That was...the creepiest, most pathetic thing he'd ever heard.
"Jesus."
"Yes, well. She was doing what she thought best."
"But, so when did you get your first chubby?"
"Ah." Fraser's tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip. "My, my, look at the time."
"Fraser—"
But Fraser must've already given some secret signal to Diefenbaker, because the wolf came trotting over and nudged Fraser's arm.
"It appears I'm overdue giving Dief his nightly walk."
"Yeah, yeah." Ray ceded the field.
It wasn't even fucking two days later before Fraser pulled another boneheaded play—"Ray, would you kindly remove the handcuffs before trying to halt the table saw?—and this time Ray waited until he had Fraser trapped in his apartment, sans Dief and with Neosporin slathered on his wrists, before attacking once again.
"Man, after a day like this, nothing better than taking a hot bath and jerking off. Don'tcha think?"
"I beg your pardon?" Fraser froze in the process of trying clumsily to wrap gauze around his wrist. Ray hitched in closer and took over.
"Well, you know. Pretty big rush today, all that adrenaline. Usually gives me some good iron in my pants."
Fraser coughed.
Ray snipped off the gauze and taped it down. "So, I generally like to come home, drink a beer, get in the tub with some toys and have at it." Ray mimed jacking off. Only he didn't just do the quick movement, but took his time, and made sure to do the white man's overbite. He even thrust out his hips a little.
Bingo. Fraser was not only red, but a bead of sweat had sprung out over his lip.
"Honestly, Ray." He sounded like he was choking.
"I like to use toys occasionally, too. I got a terrific water-proof vibrator out of the divorce—"
Fraser jerked to his feet and spun around. Looking for his hat, maybe? Ray felt a surge of glee. Also, he was hard as a rock.
"How about you, Fraser? How do you like to jerk off?"
"That's enough." Fraser turned back toward him, and he didn't look embarrassed anymore. Christ, he looked...devastated, somehow. Like someone had just stolen his shiny new Big Wheel off the front lawn. Only, Ray was pretty sure they didn't have Big Wheels up in the Yukon.
"Fraser, I just—"
"Enough." Fraser whispered it this time, sounding almost furious, but not quite. Something else. Ray couldn't get a handle on it.
"Hey, chill out—"
"I will not." Fraser lifted one hand and clutched it in his hair. It stood up for almost a full second when he let go and pointed one finger, saying haltingly, "You—it's really quite...unsporting of you, Ray, to toy with me this way. You have me at an obvious disadvantage. You know you have a greater...facility in speaking of certain...subjects, and are using that—" Fraser cut himself off. Ray saw his throat jerk in a heavy swallow. "This isn't quite...buddies," Fraser finished finally, his jaw closing with a click.
Ray just breathed for a few beats, feeling his face flush. But he really hadn't meant it that way. Sure, it had started out as a game, but after a while—
"I'm not playing with you," Ray made himself say. "I really—it's really that I wanted you to start telling me some real stuff. About you. I really do want to know more about you, Fraser."
Fraser's expression changed, some of the hardness softening to puzzlement. "But this—this isn't just things about me. This is very specifically about...about—"
"Yeah." Ray didn't need to watch Fraser try to make himself say it. He'd already tortured the poor guy enough. Fraser still looked upset with him. More than upset—his face was still flushed, and when Ray let his eyes travel downward, he noticed—
Huh. Interesting.
Ray stood carefully. His heart was beating out something crazy, almost like words saying 'do it, do it, do it.'
"Thing is, Fraser, I guess I thought if I talked about this stuff enough, maybe I could get you to...react."
Fraser's eyes went round, his pupils blown wide and swallowing the blue.
"I've done nothing but react," he said, and his voice was hoarse.
"Yeah. But I thought you were just embarrassed," Ray said softly. "I didn't know you maybe wanted...what I do."
Fraser shook his head, and incredibly, a small smile was growing around his lips. "You could've just asked, you know."
"Asked? You mean like, 'Hey, Fraser, buddy, you wanna get busy with me?'"
Fraser blinked. "Yes."
Ray jerked. "'Yes' as in asking like that? Or 'yes' as in...yes?"
"Yes." Fraser nodded at him. "Yes, as in, 'please, yes.'"
"Oh." Ray chewed on that for about a second and a half, and then he was chewing on Fraser's lips, kissing him huge, and Fraser was grabbing his hips, crushing Ray against him, pushing his hard-on against Ray's thigh.
Crazy. Just...crazy. Turned out all he had to do was goddamn ask. So, about three hours and two orgasms later, he just asked Fraser to show him how he jerked off.
And Fraser did.
...................
2007.03.01
A link to the original Big Wheel
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 02:01 pm (UTC)And yes, that's what my parents did to me, except a little more subtly - they just chucked a science book at me when I was five or six before I even asked, knowing that I would go 'ooo, blood cells?' and then read the rest of it out of curiosity so they'd never have to give me the talk. Utterly sneaky sods.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-04 12:23 am (UTC)