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schmericaEarlier I poked ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brooklinegirl and justbreathe80 in email, because I was cranky and BLEH and I wanted to WRITE dammit and why couldn't I wriiiiiiiiite anymore HELP.
Surprisingly, this actually worked. Secret to any productivity from me ever is, apparently, simple BRIBERY. This should not come as a surprise to anyone.
*****
It's Ray's idea to go out dancing. Fraser doesn't think it's all that wise, actually, considering the circumstances, but Ray insists.
"This is crazy, Fraser, this is completely fucking nuts," Ray said, standing in the middle of his apartment, wearing nothing but a black bra and red cotton panties. "This is crazy and it sucks and there is nothing I can do about, and so we're gonna do something else besides sit here and feel sorry for ourselves."
It was probably unwise of Fraser to interject at this juncture to point out that he had no reason to feel sorry for himself. Although of course he felt sympathy for the trials Ray was going through, Fraser had no such sexual difficulties of his own to face. Except for the stress involved in the odd change of one's male significant other transforming to a female significant other, of course, but that was minute in comparison to Ray's trauma. After all, Ray was still Ray, in every way that counted, and it wasn't as if he was any less attractive in his female form...
The upshot of the situation was, Ray had decided they were to go dancing. He borrowed a dress from Francesca, which looked nice, though it fit rather differently on him, since his bosom was less full than hers and his legs rather longer. He put on mascara, giving his eyes a large and dramatic quality, and some lipstick, making his lips shiny and red and glossy with the faint scent of artificial cherries.
He wore his boots on his feet, but Ray seemed surprisingly swift and agile in them, even with the heavy steel toe construction.
The venue Ray selected was a place they had ventured to before, for dinner and such. Fraser had seen Ray on the dance floor here, elegant and lithe, twirling young girls and beautiful women around this floor, a fierce smile overtaking his face as his body moved in all the steps, just as he liked. Fraser doesn't think of himself as a jealous man, but... This is something they have never done before, in each other's arms, in public, everything easy and simple, with no one taking a second look in their direction.
When their dance finishes, Fraser is surprised when Ray declines any wine or dessert, and merely expresses a desire to head back home. Fraser is perfectly happy to oblige. In the GTO, as Ray drives them back to his apartment, Fraser can't help but watch him from the passenger seat. The delicate curve of his facial structure, just slightly more petite now; the thin curves of his long fingers on the steering wheels; the subtle curves of the fabric against his breasts when he shifts in his seat.
Ray looks over at him, catches him in mid-stare. "What?" he says suspiciously.
"Nothing," Fraser says. He clears his throat. "You're very beautiful."
Ray makes a noise that is frighteningly close to a cackle at that. "Yeah, I just bet. You're sweet, Fraser."
"I'm entirely serious." They are stopped at a traffic light; Fraser takes the opportunity to reach out and take Ray's hand off the steering wheel, to cup it in his own hand and lift it slowly to his mouth. He kisses the back of it gently, and then he turns it over and presses another kiss into the center of Ray's palm before he lets him go.
Ray doesn't say a word, just looks forward as the light changes and he drives them through the streets. It's not until he parks that he turns to Fraser again, a grin splitting his face wide, outlining the deep lines in the corners of his mouth, where Fraser wants to kiss.
"Come here," Ray says, unbuckling his seatbelt. He doesn't have to say it twice. Fraser is out of his own seatbelt, leaning forward to catch his mouth as soon as he can. Ray is twisting, almost climbing out of his seat to get closer. One of his hands in one of the back of Fraser's head, holding him closer as they kiss, and with the other he grabs Fraser's hand and pulls it up his skirt.
Ray is warm and wet, and Fraser's fingers slip through his hair and skin. He rests his palm against Ray's vulva, the curve of his hand mirroring the curve of Ray's body. Ray makes a noise against his mouth, and he moves, pushing himself against Fraser's hand.
Fraser breaks off the kiss, and rests his head against the warm side of Ray's neck. He breathes in the scent of Ray's soap, the same brand he has always used: it's as familiar to him as the tempo of Ray's walk, the rhythm of Ray's speech, the feel of each of his vertebrae as he runs his hand down his spine.
"Perhaps," he says, "perhaps we should move this inside."
Ray's breath is coming heavily; his hands tighten once where he holds onto Fraser's shoulders, and then they loosen again, a slow forced relaxation. "Yeah," he says after a moment. "Inside. Right."
Fraser removes his hand from Ray's undergarments carefully, fixes Ray's skirt, helping him look reasonably presentable until they're in private. He smooths down his own hair, but that has the unfortunate consequence of bringing his hand, rich with the scent of Ray's sex, directly to his face. His mouth waters as his penis hardens even further, and he has to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths before he feels capable of facing the world once more.
"Fraser," Ray says from outside the driver's side door, and even in its higher pitch the slight whiny element to his voice is exactly the same, "Fraser, come on already, what the hell is taking you so long, we've got stuff to do."
"Excuse me, Ray," Fraser says, opening his eyes, and he sits up straight and climbs out of the car and walks around to take Ray's hand. Ray pulls away immediately, but once they're upstairs, within his apartment, he lets Fraser take his hand again, and this time he doesn't stop him.
brooklinegirl and justbreathe80 in email, because I was cranky and BLEH and I wanted to WRITE dammit and why couldn't I wriiiiiiiiite anymore HELP.Surprisingly, this actually worked. Secret to any productivity from me ever is, apparently, simple BRIBERY. This should not come as a surprise to anyone.
*****
It's Ray's idea to go out dancing. Fraser doesn't think it's all that wise, actually, considering the circumstances, but Ray insists.
"This is crazy, Fraser, this is completely fucking nuts," Ray said, standing in the middle of his apartment, wearing nothing but a black bra and red cotton panties. "This is crazy and it sucks and there is nothing I can do about, and so we're gonna do something else besides sit here and feel sorry for ourselves."
It was probably unwise of Fraser to interject at this juncture to point out that he had no reason to feel sorry for himself. Although of course he felt sympathy for the trials Ray was going through, Fraser had no such sexual difficulties of his own to face. Except for the stress involved in the odd change of one's male significant other transforming to a female significant other, of course, but that was minute in comparison to Ray's trauma. After all, Ray was still Ray, in every way that counted, and it wasn't as if he was any less attractive in his female form...
The upshot of the situation was, Ray had decided they were to go dancing. He borrowed a dress from Francesca, which looked nice, though it fit rather differently on him, since his bosom was less full than hers and his legs rather longer. He put on mascara, giving his eyes a large and dramatic quality, and some lipstick, making his lips shiny and red and glossy with the faint scent of artificial cherries.
He wore his boots on his feet, but Ray seemed surprisingly swift and agile in them, even with the heavy steel toe construction.
The venue Ray selected was a place they had ventured to before, for dinner and such. Fraser had seen Ray on the dance floor here, elegant and lithe, twirling young girls and beautiful women around this floor, a fierce smile overtaking his face as his body moved in all the steps, just as he liked. Fraser doesn't think of himself as a jealous man, but... This is something they have never done before, in each other's arms, in public, everything easy and simple, with no one taking a second look in their direction.
When their dance finishes, Fraser is surprised when Ray declines any wine or dessert, and merely expresses a desire to head back home. Fraser is perfectly happy to oblige. In the GTO, as Ray drives them back to his apartment, Fraser can't help but watch him from the passenger seat. The delicate curve of his facial structure, just slightly more petite now; the thin curves of his long fingers on the steering wheels; the subtle curves of the fabric against his breasts when he shifts in his seat.
Ray looks over at him, catches him in mid-stare. "What?" he says suspiciously.
"Nothing," Fraser says. He clears his throat. "You're very beautiful."
Ray makes a noise that is frighteningly close to a cackle at that. "Yeah, I just bet. You're sweet, Fraser."
"I'm entirely serious." They are stopped at a traffic light; Fraser takes the opportunity to reach out and take Ray's hand off the steering wheel, to cup it in his own hand and lift it slowly to his mouth. He kisses the back of it gently, and then he turns it over and presses another kiss into the center of Ray's palm before he lets him go.
Ray doesn't say a word, just looks forward as the light changes and he drives them through the streets. It's not until he parks that he turns to Fraser again, a grin splitting his face wide, outlining the deep lines in the corners of his mouth, where Fraser wants to kiss.
"Come here," Ray says, unbuckling his seatbelt. He doesn't have to say it twice. Fraser is out of his own seatbelt, leaning forward to catch his mouth as soon as he can. Ray is twisting, almost climbing out of his seat to get closer. One of his hands in one of the back of Fraser's head, holding him closer as they kiss, and with the other he grabs Fraser's hand and pulls it up his skirt.
Ray is warm and wet, and Fraser's fingers slip through his hair and skin. He rests his palm against Ray's vulva, the curve of his hand mirroring the curve of Ray's body. Ray makes a noise against his mouth, and he moves, pushing himself against Fraser's hand.
Fraser breaks off the kiss, and rests his head against the warm side of Ray's neck. He breathes in the scent of Ray's soap, the same brand he has always used: it's as familiar to him as the tempo of Ray's walk, the rhythm of Ray's speech, the feel of each of his vertebrae as he runs his hand down his spine.
"Perhaps," he says, "perhaps we should move this inside."
Ray's breath is coming heavily; his hands tighten once where he holds onto Fraser's shoulders, and then they loosen again, a slow forced relaxation. "Yeah," he says after a moment. "Inside. Right."
Fraser removes his hand from Ray's undergarments carefully, fixes Ray's skirt, helping him look reasonably presentable until they're in private. He smooths down his own hair, but that has the unfortunate consequence of bringing his hand, rich with the scent of Ray's sex, directly to his face. His mouth waters as his penis hardens even further, and he has to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths before he feels capable of facing the world once more.
"Fraser," Ray says from outside the driver's side door, and even in its higher pitch the slight whiny element to his voice is exactly the same, "Fraser, come on already, what the hell is taking you so long, we've got stuff to do."
"Excuse me, Ray," Fraser says, opening his eyes, and he sits up straight and climbs out of the car and walks around to take Ray's hand. Ray pulls away immediately, but once they're upstairs, within his apartment, he lets Fraser take his hand again, and this time he doesn't stop him.
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(no subject)
7/4/07 22:13 (UTC)it's as familiar to him as the tempo of Ray's walker
Um. Possibly you mean walk, sweetie? Although I DO NOT DOUBT that Fraser will still love Ray when he is old and gray and needs to get around in a walker, and actually I kind of want to read that right now, because OH RAY OH FRASER OH PEARL.
But! I was busy; I had a plan!
*explodes from hot hetsex*
(no subject)
7/4/07 22:19 (UTC)*fixes quickly*
(They would be so cute as old men together, darling! AWWWWWWW.)
(no subject)
7/4/07 22:44 (UTC)YAY.
(no subject)
7/4/07 23:07 (UTC)Omigod, out of context, and including your typo? BEST SENTENCE EVER.
*twirls you*
(no subject)
7/4/07 23:14 (UTC)(no subject)
7/4/07 23:14 (UTC)Yay for fic writing! (and I also would read old man!Ray with his walker. God, the two of them would wreak havoc in a nursing home)
(no subject)
7/4/07 23:44 (UTC)SO TRUE. Fraser with girls = hot. Fraser with Ray = super hot. Fraser with Ray-as-a-girl = YES PLEASE.
*twirls you* Writing, yay.
(no subject)
7/4/07 23:22 (UTC)(no subject)
7/4/07 23:45 (UTC)(no subject)
7/4/07 23:33 (UTC)(no subject)
7/4/07 23:46 (UTC)(no subject)
8/4/07 08:00 (UTC)So what did they bribe you with? :)
(no subject)
8/4/07 17:51 (UTC)(no subject)
8/4/07 16:26 (UTC)This is like a gift to ME and I never even got to respond to your email! eeee!
omg, YAY RAY. Black bra and red cotton panties! \o/ And:
He wore his boots on his feet, but Ray seemed surprisingly swift and agile in them, even with the heavy steel toe construction.
god, GOD, YAY for girl!Ray in a dress and kick-you-in-the-head boots. That is such a DEEPLY HOT IMAGE.
also, and I'm not quite sure I can point to why, but Ray-as-a-girl, in that dress and those boots, driving the GTO, with Fraser watching him, is just so deeply, desperately hot that I can't even DESCRIBE it.
This is just wonderfully awesome and I ADORE you.
(no subject)
8/4/07 17:53 (UTC)Ray! In the GTO! Fraser watching him! Yes. I just, why are they so PRETTY?
(I think soon you should tell ME what happens when they get up to the apartment. Mmm.)
(no subject)
9/4/07 04:19 (UTC)(no subject)
9/4/07 04:33 (UTC)(no subject)
12/4/07 07:06 (UTC)thank you for sharing this! ♥
(no subject)
14/4/07 21:25 (UTC)(no subject)
12/4/07 08:24 (UTC)(no subject)
14/4/07 21:25 (UTC)