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New F/E Snippet: Around, Around (NC-17)
Title: Around, Around
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
arrow00
Fandom: dS
Pairing: Fraser/Eric Kitikmeot (from Mask)
Rating: NC-17
Category: Missing Scene from Mask, PWP
Wordcount: 1,073
Warnings: Sex, unsafe
Summary: Eric stays to say thank you.
Notes: This is forzabira, secretlybronte, ifreet,
leonandra and sisterofdream for making me do this.
Around, Around
By Arrow
The rest of the family had already cleared out with David, and the masks were carefully packed and on their way back to their rightful home in the Territories. But Eric lingered, intending to leave no unfinished business behind him before returning home.
The Mountie appeared tired when he opened the door, but he didn't look all that surprised to see Eric waiting there on the floor next to the wolf.
"Eric," Fraser said. Eric could tell by the half smile that he already knew about the switch. Probably he'd known even as he'd let David and Eric escape from the museum. Eric wasn't surprised. He was right, when he'd said the Mountie hadn't changed. He should have known that. Maybe he could even have trusted Fraser earlier, but trust didn't come easily to him, and the matter was too important for his people.
"Hello, Mountie," he said.
"I'm surprised to still find you here," Fraser said. A polite lie, like the many they had danced around for days now. But lies were no longer needed. The careful line had been kept, and they were safely through.
"No, you're not."
"No, I'm not," Fraser agreed, nodding his head. He walked over to his closet and opened it to hang up the heavy blue coat, then pulled off his brown tunic and other trappings of the law—so many pieces and symbols layered on top of one another. Eric knew he wore them with pride, but waited until the Mountie parts were discarded and Ben was there, stripped down to shirt, pants and braces. Then Eric approached, and laid his hands on Ben's shoulders from behind.
Ben stiffened, then relaxed, as if he had to remind himself.
Eric nodded and squeezed. Ben's shoulders were broad now, not skinny as they were when he was a youth, a scrawny kɫgum'ol unaware of his own growing strength. They had both shared so much anger back then, each toward his own people. That anger had brought them close, but eventually they had followed their expected paths.
Still, today when Eric had held the gun on him, Ben had surprised him. Eric should have remembered the fierce boy who'd wrestled with him until they both were bruised and bleeding, their cuts stinging in the heat of the sweat lodge afterward. Or remembered the man who'd faced death cold-eyed to avenge his father.
"You haven't changed," Eric said again. Ben turned and smiled.
"So you said. Nor have you." He tilted his head curiously. "Although I must say your ease with a pistol surprised me."
"It's difficult to get a rifle through customs."
"Ah." There was no condemnation in Ben's eyes, and Eric stepped close to watch them widen. Ben licked his lower lip, a habit he'd never seemed to be able to rid himself of. It made Eric smile, and he saw it reflected in the lifting of Ben's cheek.
"So," Ben said.
"So, Mountie. Are you ready for a sweat?"
Ben stepped back and stripped his clothes, and Eric followed. Earlier, in the sweat lodge, he'd appreciated Ben's body grown to manhood, but they'd been enemies then, or so Eric had thought.
He should have remembered.
He remembered it now, the smooth skin, hairless, like his, but so very pale. Eric drew his hands down Ben's chest, and Ben's head tilted back, exposing his throat.
It was a peculiarity of his that Eric had never understood—how the wolf gave in to the cub at a certain kind of touch. A touch Eric knew how to give, and enjoyed giving, closing his teeth hard on Ben's neck to feel him tremble.
He couldn't thank Ben for what he had done today—to do so would admit too much and endanger the balance. But this he could do—could lay Ben down on the bedding on the floor, could let his hair brush along Ben's belly, could suckle him and make him feel the heat under his own skin, the pulse of his life, until he cried out joyously and spilled between them.
Ben rolled to his stomach afterward, offering himself. It had been a long time since Eric had played these boys' games. He'd forgotten how wonderfully the muscled, tight band of heat could surround him, and how it felt to match power with power, thrust with thrust. Ben murmured his appreciation into the skin of his own forearm and clenched hard around him when Eric found the right rhythm, the right dance. In no time at all he found release, coming inside of Ben.
But if this much hadn't changed—the simple pleasure they found in each other—some things had. The skin of Ben's back was no longer perfect. By his spine there was a deep divot of red, a scar recently healed. As Ben relaxed facedown beside him on the bedroll, Eric put his hand over it. It felt warm with evil.
Ben shivered when he touched it, confirming Eric's belief.
"What caused this, Ben?"
Ben didn't quite shrug him off, but Eric could see the effort it cost him not to.
"Failure of duty," Ben said, his voice hoarse. "My failure."
Eric circled the scar once with his palm. Carefully, he skirted the subject that must remain unspoken between them. "It's not always possible to follow duty and not betray what is in your heart."
Ben obviously knew that, for the masks were now in the hands of Eric's people. And, indeed, when Ben looked over there was a soft smile on his face. Eric grinned back, and let his hand move away from the past, down to where Ben was still warm and wet from him. Eric played there in the way Ben had always liked, until Ben shook and moaned and turned on his side, pulling up one knee.
"Again?" Eric asked with a laugh.
"Again," Ben said. "Unless you're not up to it, old man."
Ah, a challenge from the Mountie. Eric moved over and straddled Ben's leg, saying in his ear, "I'll show you an old man," and entered him again. Ben groaned and laughed.
And so they went around, around.
///
Back home, his village built a great fire to celebrate. They opened a bottle of champagne and made a toast. "To the masks." And though Eric could not say it out loud, he lifted his glass and made his own toast in his heart.
To Ben.
....................
2008.04.06
kɫgum'ol — Tsimshian for bear cub
Author:
arrow00Fandom: dS
Pairing: Fraser/Eric Kitikmeot (from Mask)
Rating: NC-17
Category: Missing Scene from Mask, PWP
Wordcount: 1,073
Warnings: Sex, unsafe
Summary: Eric stays to say thank you.
Notes: This is for
zabira, secretlybronte, ifreet, leonandra and sisterofdream for making me do this. Around, Around
By Arrow
The rest of the family had already cleared out with David, and the masks were carefully packed and on their way back to their rightful home in the Territories. But Eric lingered, intending to leave no unfinished business behind him before returning home.
The Mountie appeared tired when he opened the door, but he didn't look all that surprised to see Eric waiting there on the floor next to the wolf.
"Eric," Fraser said. Eric could tell by the half smile that he already knew about the switch. Probably he'd known even as he'd let David and Eric escape from the museum. Eric wasn't surprised. He was right, when he'd said the Mountie hadn't changed. He should have known that. Maybe he could even have trusted Fraser earlier, but trust didn't come easily to him, and the matter was too important for his people.
"Hello, Mountie," he said.
"I'm surprised to still find you here," Fraser said. A polite lie, like the many they had danced around for days now. But lies were no longer needed. The careful line had been kept, and they were safely through.
"No, you're not."
"No, I'm not," Fraser agreed, nodding his head. He walked over to his closet and opened it to hang up the heavy blue coat, then pulled off his brown tunic and other trappings of the law—so many pieces and symbols layered on top of one another. Eric knew he wore them with pride, but waited until the Mountie parts were discarded and Ben was there, stripped down to shirt, pants and braces. Then Eric approached, and laid his hands on Ben's shoulders from behind.
Ben stiffened, then relaxed, as if he had to remind himself.
Eric nodded and squeezed. Ben's shoulders were broad now, not skinny as they were when he was a youth, a scrawny kɫgum'ol unaware of his own growing strength. They had both shared so much anger back then, each toward his own people. That anger had brought them close, but eventually they had followed their expected paths.
Still, today when Eric had held the gun on him, Ben had surprised him. Eric should have remembered the fierce boy who'd wrestled with him until they both were bruised and bleeding, their cuts stinging in the heat of the sweat lodge afterward. Or remembered the man who'd faced death cold-eyed to avenge his father.
"You haven't changed," Eric said again. Ben turned and smiled.
"So you said. Nor have you." He tilted his head curiously. "Although I must say your ease with a pistol surprised me."
"It's difficult to get a rifle through customs."
"Ah." There was no condemnation in Ben's eyes, and Eric stepped close to watch them widen. Ben licked his lower lip, a habit he'd never seemed to be able to rid himself of. It made Eric smile, and he saw it reflected in the lifting of Ben's cheek.
"So," Ben said.
"So, Mountie. Are you ready for a sweat?"
Ben stepped back and stripped his clothes, and Eric followed. Earlier, in the sweat lodge, he'd appreciated Ben's body grown to manhood, but they'd been enemies then, or so Eric had thought.
He should have remembered.
He remembered it now, the smooth skin, hairless, like his, but so very pale. Eric drew his hands down Ben's chest, and Ben's head tilted back, exposing his throat.
It was a peculiarity of his that Eric had never understood—how the wolf gave in to the cub at a certain kind of touch. A touch Eric knew how to give, and enjoyed giving, closing his teeth hard on Ben's neck to feel him tremble.
He couldn't thank Ben for what he had done today—to do so would admit too much and endanger the balance. But this he could do—could lay Ben down on the bedding on the floor, could let his hair brush along Ben's belly, could suckle him and make him feel the heat under his own skin, the pulse of his life, until he cried out joyously and spilled between them.
Ben rolled to his stomach afterward, offering himself. It had been a long time since Eric had played these boys' games. He'd forgotten how wonderfully the muscled, tight band of heat could surround him, and how it felt to match power with power, thrust with thrust. Ben murmured his appreciation into the skin of his own forearm and clenched hard around him when Eric found the right rhythm, the right dance. In no time at all he found release, coming inside of Ben.
But if this much hadn't changed—the simple pleasure they found in each other—some things had. The skin of Ben's back was no longer perfect. By his spine there was a deep divot of red, a scar recently healed. As Ben relaxed facedown beside him on the bedroll, Eric put his hand over it. It felt warm with evil.
Ben shivered when he touched it, confirming Eric's belief.
"What caused this, Ben?"
Ben didn't quite shrug him off, but Eric could see the effort it cost him not to.
"Failure of duty," Ben said, his voice hoarse. "My failure."
Eric circled the scar once with his palm. Carefully, he skirted the subject that must remain unspoken between them. "It's not always possible to follow duty and not betray what is in your heart."
Ben obviously knew that, for the masks were now in the hands of Eric's people. And, indeed, when Ben looked over there was a soft smile on his face. Eric grinned back, and let his hand move away from the past, down to where Ben was still warm and wet from him. Eric played there in the way Ben had always liked, until Ben shook and moaned and turned on his side, pulling up one knee.
"Again?" Eric asked with a laugh.
"Again," Ben said. "Unless you're not up to it, old man."
Ah, a challenge from the Mountie. Eric moved over and straddled Ben's leg, saying in his ear, "I'll show you an old man," and entered him again. Ben groaned and laughed.
And so they went around, around.
///
Back home, his village built a great fire to celebrate. They opened a bottle of champagne and made a toast. "To the masks." And though Eric could not say it out loud, he lifted his glass and made his own toast in his heart.
To Ben.
....................
2008.04.06
kɫgum'ol — Tsimshian for bear cub
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Your Eric voice is terrific! The dancing around recent events, avoiding any open acknowledgment that would require one of them to act. And the part about the scar! Aw, Fraser.
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Next I might have to write Smithbauer.
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The entire thing has such a distinct voice and perspective. I especially loved Eric waiting for him to shed all the layers of Mountie and get down to just Ben, He couldn't thank Ben for what he had done today—to do so would admit too much and endanger the balance, and the scar hot with evil made me shiver.
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*dances around the room in completely uncontrollable glee*
in all seriousness, this is a wonderful little window in to their relationship. i love the voice, i love the undercurrents to their interactions. and OMG, hotness times eleventy!!! Ben rolled to his stomach afterward, offering himself. NNNNRRGGGHHH.
and I LOVE the way you connected fraser's ability to flout his duty to the mistakes he made with victoria. i have always felt that you can't have the fraser of the show--someone who occasionally chooses what he sees as justice instead of rigid adherence to the law--without that arc.
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someone who occasionally chooses what he sees as justice instead of rigid adherence to the law
::yays:: the tie-in made me breathless when I thought of it.
Thank you for the inspiration!
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It was a peculiarity of his that Eric had never understood—how the wolf gave in to the cub at a certain kind of touch. A touch Eric knew how to give, and enjoyed giving, closing his teeth hard on Ben's neck to feel him tremble.
Is just YES and perfect.
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Marvelous.
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Thanks, mal.
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(the solution, of course, is to write it yourself when you can. :)
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So this was very thinky, and very hot. This passage in particular struck me:
Eric grinned back, and let his hand move away from the past, down to where Ben was still warm and wet from him. Eric played there in the way Ben had always liked, until Ben shook and moaned and turned on his side, pulling up one knee.
I love that transition from the brief discussion of the scar (genius, btw) and into this act that brings them both satisfaction. "let his hand move away from the past" is a beautiful way to articulate that idea. So, yes, yet again you have thrilled and amazed me. *bows to you*
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You know, that just seemed like an Eric kind of thought. I can't imagine putting that thought in Ray's head, for example. It was really neat writing Eric's POV.
I'm so glad you liked, pooks.
That Eric calls making love with Fraser a "boy's game" is sort of sad and heartbreaking
I think so, too, for Eric's sake, really.
Thank you for the swell note.
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Laurie
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It's really a wonderful episode. I'd be happy to rip it for you if you think you might be interested in watching.
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(Anonymous) - 2008-04-07 13:14 (UTC) - Expand(no subject)
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It felt warm with evil.
That made me shiver. It's so like Eric to feel it.
This morning I had a clear picture of Eric and Fraser getting undressed to go into a sweat lodge and RayK standing nearby, clutching a whiskey bottle, squinting distrustfully at the other two and saying: Fraser, I'm going to need way more spirits to be that spiritual!!!
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Hilarious image, thanks. :)
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Heh! Nice little bits of banter between them, the old friendship holding true in spite of everything.
And this:
Eric grinned back, and let his hand move away from the past, down to where Ben was still warm and wet from him. Eric played there in the way Ben had always liked, until Ben shook and moaned and turned on his side, pulling up one knee.
I still haven't figured out why, but that is such a happy!kink of mine. Nnnrrgh!
In this instance it seems one more gesture of deep trust on Fraser's part, not only that a physical need will be filled, but an affirmation of the emotional bond, too. sigh. So verrah nice!
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Oh, yeah, guilty right here. ::grins at you::
And I love that idea--an affirmation of the emotional bond. I can just imagine them as gangly kids, roughhousing like pups.
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Actually, I have an idea for a Fraser/Eric story, but it's all woven together with a longer story idea about Fraser's youth. It'll get written some time, I guess... God, I'm a slow writer.
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I do hope, oh please, that you do end up writing your F/E story. I would love love to read it. (offers beta fingers.)
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Eric ... waited until the Mountie parts were discarded and Ben was there
::points:: This. This I like especially lots.
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I think I'm adopting this as my personal canon. :)
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OH, hey, I think you should write Smithbauer too :)
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and yeah, the sadness--a lot of cultures look on homosexual experimentation in youth as being something you're supposed to "grow out of," not as being a legitimate analysis toward your future sexuality. sad, I think.
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I'm glad though, that in the middle of all his loneliness Fraser (Ben) did have that touch and reconciliation with his past, even though neither of them can acknowledge what he's done, in letting the Masks go home.
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this is so odd, I'm getting comments on old stories today. how lovely.