schmerica: (happy endings for everybody)
I. "Ah," said Fraser and "What?" said Ray. "You've got something on your cheek -- an eyelash, I believe. If I may?" and Fraser leaned forward and Ray blinked and turned his face up and held himself still as Fraser's hand went on his face.

II. Two fingers on Ray's wrist, cool and light, faintest possible touch, almost like a tickle as Fraser counted silently and Ray waited until, "Your pulse seems to be in order, then," Fraser said, still frowning, but helping Ray back up.

III. Sitting in front of the TV watching the game, popcorn on the coffee table in front of them. Ray stretched out sideways, taking up two cushions, leaving the end of the last one for Dief to crowd in and warm his feet, and Fraser sat on the floor in front, cross-legged, leaning forward to watch. When the show went to commercial, Fraser took a handful of snacks, chewed it thoughtfully while he leaned back against the couch again. Ray reached his hand out another inch and let it rest against the back of Fraser's head.

IV. All he wanted to do was hit, punch, kick, strike, and he was so close he could taste it but no, "Ray, don't. Ray, you're better than this," Fraser was saying, almost whispering in close, and his arms were tight on Ray's, pulling him back, pulling him away from the fight.

V. Fraser was on his knees next to the cage at the hospital, facing Dief so he could talk, so Dief could see his mouth, understand him through the bars. Fraser was saying something quiet and heartfelt in some language Ray didn't know, but Ray could understand what was going on: it's okay, it'll be okay. Fraser was talking and Dief was watching him, not saying a thing of his own, and one of Fraser's hands was clenched in Dief's fur, tight and white-knuckled. Ray knelt down next to them and reached out his own hand to Fraser's, twining them together, all three of them clasped.
schmerica: (f/k=<3)
I felt an urgent need to write something today. Therefore, have some kidfic.

(Other installments can be found here.)

Sunday morning )
schmerica: (ds: campfire)
[livejournal.com profile] shoemaster wrote me cuteness commentfic last week, and she has agreed to take her payment in the form of kidfic, rather than the pony I promised. Yay!

(This is unrelated to any other kidfic I have written in the past; don't try to match it up with the Carrie stories.)

Could you invent a world for me? )
schmerica: (ds: fraser window)
Earlier I poked [livejournal.com profile] brooklinegirl and [livejournal.com profile] 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.

Ray turned into a girl. Because when you can't write porn about that, what CAN you write porn about? My lord. )
schmerica: (ds: even though you feel like crying)
Fraser loves the snow, the mountains, the rocks, the movement of the constellations in the sky. Nothing in this world is permanent, but some things might as well be; their timeline is so much slower than a man's life that they are, relatively, a fixed point, something steady and reliable and sturdy.

Ray Kowalski's loves aren't so wise. He invests all of himself into a car, a smile, a perfect summer day from 1979 he'll never get back, the approval of someone he'll never win. He gives his love to things, as prone as they are to break, and people, as prone as they are to break him.

Perhaps he hasn't lost enough yet. Perhaps he's just that much braver. Fraser can't help that his own love goes to someone so uncertain, so unpredictable, so capable of anything, but that doesn't mean he hasn't tried.

******

(Missed december project today because of finals studying, so two people tomorrow.)
schmerica: (ds: fraser's gams)
In between various heartwarming family festivities, I think pornful thoughts like about Ray and Fraser out on their quest, after Call of the Wild. As you may know, I am mighty fond of the Jerking Off In the Same Room as Other Guy theme; today I have been daydreaming about this particular scenario, with the two of them in their little tent. It doesn't happen every night, but often enough, once in a while, a man just needs some relief from his natural urges--

And maybe at first, they waited until they thought the other was asleep but, no matter which of them it is who starts it, they both end up doing it, not together, completely seperate, but at the same time, heavy breathing and hard cocks and the other just a few feet away--

They don't look at each other, let alone kiss or touch, and during the days they don't talk about it or acknowledge it any way. Certainly there's nothing to think about, and during the days they're too busy to have time for introspection anyway, even if there was something new and intriguing about Fraser's mouth or Ray's hands, even if there was this new queer vibe coming up from between them. Which there isn't.
schmerica: (ds: ray kowalski)
The music picture meme has been updated with answers. 18/20 were guessed, woo! The only ones left were Kasey Chambers and Mates of State. I'm not sure how many I would have gotten, honestly.

Also, I was productive this afternoon! I have a new thing up at [livejournal.com profile] stop_drop_porn. It's RayV/Stella/RayK. Really. No, really. Come on, you trust me! It's here.

Plans for tonight: cooking tacos, drinking Coke, watching the rest of the s3 BSG premiere, waiting for the Grey's Anatomy torrent to go up, reading about Antarctica, reviewing my Greek declensions, getting packages ready to mail tomorrow. My life = excitement.
schmerica: (ds: call of the wild)
Fraser is prissy, and weird. He's polite, courteous to a fault, neat and tidy and Canadian. He's arrogant, he doesn't listen, and he's so lonely he carries it around with him everywhere he goes, like this big cloud surrounding, invisible until you look in his eyes at just the right time.

When Ray met Stella for the first time, it was love at first sight. Him and her from across the community center dancefloor waiting for class to start. He looked over at her, sitting and giggling with her girly friends and it was like BANG, POW, arrow through his chest. Good shot, Cupid. GOt it in one.

It's not like that with Fraser. It takes the better part of two years, and then it's like everything's in fast-forward going too fast for him to catch up. They stood in the hotel hallway and knocked on that door and Vecchio opened it up, and just like that everything had changed. Everything was different.

He sits next to the Ice Queen in his car; he runs with Vecchio through the mall; he sits and waits in the chair outside the hospital room and waits for Fraser; he follows the guy onto and off of an airplane, up a mountain, everywhere in the world.

And all the time Ray should be thinking what he's always thinking at these times (bad guys bad guys gonna get em gonna catch those fuckers). But he's not. The only thing going through his mind is Fraser.

But they do catch 'em, Fraser gets his man, just like always, and then the fast-forward stops, slo-mo, pause, because Ray doesn't know what happens now.

So he looks over at Fraser, who now that Muldoon's in custody, he looks almost nearly as exhausted as he should be, and Ray takes a deep breath and says it, asks Fraser, "So what happens next?"

Fraser looks back at him and he's silent for a moment, looking thoughtful, looking right at Ray, and then he smiles, crinkling up the corners of his mouth and eyes and looking, looking pleased. For the first time in a week Ray can breathe around that ache in his chest.
schmerica: (ds: call of the wild)
My contributions to the first [livejournal.com profile] weekend_battle:

due South, PG, Ray Vecchio/Irene Zuko, Knee-high

Grey's Anatomy, PG, Izzie/Denny, Ginger Snap

None of my due south fangirls have been online to chat with me aimlessly about porn in weeks. It's no wonder I'm getting distracted by other fandoms, when there is no one to discuss the subtleties of Fraser's oral sex skills with on a regular basis!
schmerica: (pretty: callum keith rennie)
Ray Kowalski at fifty is an entirely different creature from Ray Kowalski at thirty-five -- though I have loved both of them, and all the variations in between, and can only anticipate the ones to come.

His body is leaner than it was, and tougher. The deep lines on his face look almost harsh in repose, but in context they merely add character to his extraordinarily expressive face. He wears his glasses more often now, as his eyesight has begun to decline, to the point of frustration. His hair is slightly thinner, and he wears it clipped closer to his head. He is less fastidious with his facial hair, which sometimes he fails to attend to for ages at a time. (Originally he began this as a ploy to annoy me; he continued to do so after discovering I quite liked it.)

His disposition is calmer than it was fifteen years ago. There are more quiet moments between us, unspoken communication. At the beginning of our relationship, barely a week might go by without yelling or quarrels or silent anger at each other; these days we've gone months without stepping on each other's toes. Without outside forces, too, his hair trigger temper seems to have relaxed.

Ray, of course, doesn't believe he has changed a bit. "I don't know what you're talking about," Ray says, scrunching his face at me. "I'm exactly the same as I ever was. I still got it, Fraser. I can hit that target, I can sink that shot. I can kick your ass in hockey out on the pond and come inside and fuck you three ways to Tuesday."

His voice is playful, but completely defiant, and his accent is just as strong and distinct as it was the day he entered Canada.

"Perhaps you'd care to demonstrate," I say carefully.

Ray's teeth-baring grin is one of the most beautiful things I know; some things never change.
schmerica: (Default)
Hmmm. Snippet for [livejournal.com profile] aerye! This is still early enough in the timeline where it is F/K and F/V but not K/V yet -- the Mountie and his Boyfriends have not yet made their way to OT3 4-evah.

It's not even-- it's not, like, a sexy kiss or anything )
schmerica: (Default)
Man, I haven't been producing snippets like this since the genderfuck thing last year. Maybe there's some kind of fandom fever every April...

I suppose this comes right after this. So far this is closer to polyamory than threesomeness, I guess, although ferally.

before anything else )

---And then la la la, other stuff happens. I imagine Fraser's devious plan will work, and they really *will* start to like each other more as time goes by. I expect some time not too long in the future, when they're both been drinking for a few hours and playing cards or something, and Fraser disappears to the bathroom, Vecchio will crack a joke and Kowalski will grin and take a swig of his beer and say something like "You know, for the guy who's fucking my boyfriend, you're not such a bad guy" and Vecchio will raise his eyebrow and say something like "Funny, Kowalski; I've always thought of you as the guy fucking my boyfriend" and for a split second Ray thinks about getting annoyed, but before he can decide, he's laughing out loud, and then Vecchio's laughing, too, and then Fraser comes back from the bathroom.

And THAT's where the nice good threesomey stuff start to come from. AndthentheyallhavesexandlivehappilyeverafterTHEEND.
schmerica: (ds: campfire)
I.

Tentative, unsure, your hands clutching nervously at your own thighs, not touching Fraser anywhere, anywhere at all, as you watch his eyes flutter close and feel his soft exhale of breath right before you press your lips gently against his.

II.

Snowing outside, both of your breaths coming out in puffs of steam; Fraser's got snow in his hair, red in his cheeks, laughter in his eyes, and you set your gloved hands right on either side of his face, holding his face still before you kiss his chapped lips.

III.

Slumped against the couch, or a wall, or a kitchen chair, loose-limbed and relaxed. When Fraser comes close enough, bending over to reach something or moving past you, you take your opportunity and sling your arm around his neck, pulling him into your orbit as he doesn't object at all.

IV.

Watching for a minute, before you come up behind him at the stove; the room smells like garlic and lemons and you wrap your hands around his waist, a full body hug, resting your chin on his shoulder until he turns his head, twists himself toward you till he can meet your mouth.

V.

In bed, both of you naked, you clutching at any skin you can reach until Fraser gets frustrated, makes a small noise -- now you're on your back, Fraser over you, your hands stretched out above your head. The tips of your fingers can reach the headboard, and Fraser has your wrists both caught fast. Relaxing, going totally limp beneath him, you smirk up at Fraser's flushed face and wait for him to do what he's going to do.
schmerica: (ds: thatcher owns you)
a) Redid my journal design! Color scheme is courtesy of this generator, which somebody on my friends list linked to months and months ago. Boring and girly -- MY FAVORITE. Yay.

b) [livejournal.com profile] lalejandra says I am fired because when we were looking of [livejournal.com profile] eliade's kink list this evening, I suggested to her Duck MacDonald was a selkie. Whatever!

c) Ray Kowalski is convinced that Ray Vecchio is a homophobe, and points to this as the decisive factor in their antipathy and disdain for each other. "Look," Ray Kowalski says, when Fraser mildly entreats him to make more of an effort, "it's not my fault, Fraser. To him, I'm always gonna be the guy who made the Mountie a queer, okay?"

Fraser knows Ray Vecchio much better than Ray Kowalski does, and he doesn't believe this to be a fair assessment of his character. Fraser believes (though he does not share this knowledge with Ray Kowalski) that Ray Vecchio would dislike and resent Ray Kowalski just as strongly no matter what set of genitalia he might possess.
schmerica: (grey's: oh george)
Lines That Will Not Be Growing Up Into Real Stories:

"Come on," Ray said, raising his hands up into the air, "come on, do me."

It's an invitation, but mostly it's a challenge; the tone of his voice, the expression on his face, even his posture all scream it loudly, and it's obvious to Fraser that Ray expects him to back down even here.

*****

In theory, Meredith is totally happy for George and Izzie. Of course she is. They're her friends. She wants them to be happy, and if they're happy with each other, well ... then, yay. Good for them.

In practice, it's a different story.

"They hold hands," she tells Cristina, getting changed before pre-rounds. "They call each other 'sweetie' and 'dear.' This morning, when I went down to the kitchen? She was sitting on his lap at the table and they were Eskimo kissing. I can't be expected to deal with this before I've had coffee."

"Whatever, quit bitching," Cristina says.

"Excuse me?" says Meredith.

"So they're cute."

"Nauseatingly cute."

"--Nauseatingly cute. Big deal." Cristina starts to walk away, but she's still talking. "Jeez, Meredith, you can't stand seeing anybody else happy, can you?"

"I have no problem with seeing people happy!" Meredith calls after her, but Cristina just waves her hand in a small not-paying-attention gesture. Meredith scowls down at the locker and mutters, "I just don't need happy people in my house."

*****

Finding out that Maggie's Fraser's sister, Ray thinks maybe he should feel a little bad about thinking about her like this, thinking about her in sexy ways. But she really is hot, cute and pretty and smart, and if Ray's going to be completely honest, the fact she's Fraser's sister maybe even makes it better.

*****

After Fraser dies, Ray gives Dief a choice: he can stay with him, he can go with somebody, he can even go back into the wilderness and stay up in the Arctic, if that's what floats his boat. Free will, just like Fraser always said.

Only it turns out that even after this many years hanging around Fraser, Ray still can't speak one word of wolf, let alone enough to figure out what it really is Dief wants. In the end, he takes him with when he moves back down to Chicago.

*****

Sometimes Hope thinks that this must be what's it's like to be in a relationship with a genius. A real genius, or maybe an artist. The weird hours, the strange habits, all the quirkiness and weird behavior. And maybe he doesn't participate as much, or help out with things, but that's because he's busy doing other things. That's why he needs her, after all -- why she needs to take care of him. Geniuses aren't expected to be able to do these things.

The only difference, really, when Hope stops to think about it, is the fact that Curtis doesn't actually contribute anything to the world in return.

December 2015

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