Golden by Te September 1999 Disclaimers: If they were mine, they'd have a lot more bruises. Spoilers: Ha! Not even close. Summary: Morning. Ratings Note: NC-17 for m/m mild kink. Author's Note: The Serge chat on AOL is a fun, fun place. Acknowledgments: To the glorious LaTonya for the title, and to everyone who doesn't run screaming, and... thete1@earthlink.net * Daddy793: So, Andre, what do you think of w/s? Andreshan: w/s? LaToot: what's w/s? Daddy793: Water sports. Andreshan: Oh hehe Andreshan: Uhm... I dunno? LaToot: Oh...Ray...still....needs...to learn how to swim...... KatyCath: oh dear..... KatyCath: LOL Andreshan: *giggles* Daddy793: Maria Maniaci and Anna warped my mind back in XF land... Andreshan: I think I would rather read about it, then actually *watch* it Daddy793: And then the Spike did it some more... and, well, I just have this image of Fraser nude and kneeling in Ray's shower stall, cuffed to the water-spotted fixtures, tense and obviously aching with arousal... Andreshan: *WHIMPER* LaToot: [whimpering....Te.....please.....write....this. you have a willing audience.] Daddy793: He can't believe Ray has agreed to this. KatyCath: Oh yes. Have eyes, will read Daddy793: The cuff on his right wrist is just a little too tight, though, and he can feel the tile digging unnaturally regular patterns into his knees, so it must be real. He's really here, and Ray is... he can hear Ray outside of the bathroom, doing whatever it is he needs to do to prepare himself for... this. For this. Oh, God, Fraser feels his heart may very well burst from this. The fear, the shame, the absolute love Ray must have for him. To do this. Of course, it had been terribly difficult -- almost impossible -- to ask, to open himself up for the sort of rejection he hadn't feared since before they'd ever even kissed. But he had, and he had watched the request steal over Ray's mind. Ray's eyes have always been immensely, terrifyingly clear and Fraser knew -- *knew* -- he'd been wondering about all the times they'd walked into a mens' room together. All the times Ray had gone in by himself. Every supposedly casual morning after loving, with Fraser catching Ray's reflection in the bright blade of his straight razor. Ray had never been and would never be a morning person, so Fraser probably hadn't needed to resort to such subterfuge in order to observe Ray having his typical long morning urination, but some things went beyond expediency to necessity. Many, many of those things involved Ray. Ray smiling, laughing, arguing, coming... pissing one long, steady stream into the pristine porcelain bowl. Ray's long, thin cock in his fist, illusorily hard. Blond stubble and lengths and lengths of lean, hard muscle on display. Every morning for months, fantasies spiraling into long shameful afternoons of sentry duty or paperwork that just left his mind dangerously idle and prone to thoughts of himself, on his knees... God, yes, always on his knees, just like now and Ray hadn't promised but every word he spoke was a promise and Fraser would not, would *not* fear now. But the sound of his handcuffs scraping back and forth, back and forth on the metal fixtures belies all shows of confidence. Fraser is shaking, and his nipples have thorned with as much apprehension as arousal. His testicles hover on the edge of trying to crawl back into his body for more than one reason, his cock is already drooling, hungry for everything, anything at all, but mostly just this one thing... Fraser hits his head against the wall of the shower four, perhaps five times and squeezes his eyes shut. Breathes deep of acrid sweat and incipient mildew. Presses his cheek into the ghost of throbbing velvet heat and almost, almost doesn't feel the chill in the air. Last night he had not been able to let Ray be after his first orgasm, not even for five minutes, and had brought him to another with his mouth. With his whole body. And after Ray had asked him why, and of course he had answered. Of course. Stammering, blushing, and so, so hard he couldn't see anything but the lurid red-hazed flashes of Ray's flesh, couldn't hear anything but the cracked moans he kept biting off into his lips and tongue. And finally, incredibly, Ray had whispered "I will," and then guided Fraser's *hurting* cock inside him where it was close and warm and *Ray* and it hadn't taken long, no, not long at all. When he'd woke Ray had been waiting for him, furthering the unreality. Waiting with a gentle smile and knife-flashing handcuffs and a hand for him to rise, and a tug for him to obey. And now the morning is aging and he is here and Ray is here and oh, for a moment he is utterly unsure which sense it was that alerted him to the other man's presence. When the moment passes, Fraser opens his eyes, feasts upon the naked form before him and no longer cares about anything but *now*. The hair on Ray's legs is just this side of blond. The flesh is pale with insufficient sunshine, yet with a hint of golden there, too. Fraser revels in the way he must crane his neck to see above the shallow bowls of Ray's pelvis. Fraser does not look higher than the other man's collarbone. Fraser is shaking. "Are you ready?" He swallows and hears a click, the scraping rattle of the cuffs, his own pounding heart and "yes..." Light, brittle chuckle. "Easy there, Frase, I... uh... I haven't done this before." "I know. Just... please..." And he hates himself for his inability to remain coherent even using just monosyllables but he can't manage any more than that. One hand brushes over his cheek, fingers card restlessly into his hair, almost roughly. The motion tilts his head back again for just a perilous moment that shows him Ray's lovely, slightly bruised expanse of throat. Oh, he asks so much of Ray and then he just took anyway and he could not bear to imagine a day when Ray said no... "Are you really sure about this? You want me to... you really want me to?" *I disgust him.* "Please, Ray... oh, please..." His mouth is a traitor and he thanks God for it. "Shh, shh, babe, I said I would, right?" Fraser pushes back and up into the hand in his hair and listens to Ray's breath catch. "This really turns you on, doesn't it..." It isn't a question. "God, I never even really thought about this stuff. Guess I shoulda maybe taken that stint in Vice, hunh? Those guys are just way too tense, though..." Shaky breath. "Right, I'm babbling. God, Frase, just tell me you want it, OK? I need to hear it." "I want it, Ray. I want it from you. Only you. Always you Ray *please* --" The hand covers Fraser's mouth before he can begin to truly babble "Oh, that's... that's real good. Too good. Way too good. Gotta calm down a little 'cause you know I can't really piss... I mean... you didn't shave this morning." Fraser nods at the small outburst, eyelids fluttering at the feel of his lips brushing Ray's calloused fingers again and again... "Your skin still looks so... creamy. Like it does. But it's shadowed, too. I like that. I like you that way. Do you know what way?" Fraser shakes his head, gazes unsteadily at Ray's flexing abdomen, but no lower. "Dirty, Frase." And the first splash hits him, brands him on his solar plexus and burns into four distinct streams. "Dirty." Another splash, just left of his nipple and Ray pushes Fraser's head further back, perhaps for leverage or perhaps just because and -- "Oh this is gonna be quick you gotta tell me where you want it --" But he forgets to move his hand and Fraser couldn't have answered anyway, couldn't have spoken beyond the heat and slick and ammonia and salt and tang *it's the sea* and the perfectly rendered image of how they would appear to the perfectly placed camera: One dark haired man on his knees, twisted into a glyph of wanting satisfied, up into the stream of another man's offering and aggression, all easy stance and natural process *transformed* into exactly what he needs. Fraser bucks into the air, into the drops and streamlets that make their way to his groin until suddenly the entirety is directed there. Hot, pounding his abdomen and cock and he slams his thighs up and closer together, heedless of the inevitable decrease in balance. He will not let any of this gift go until he has taken all of it he can. "Ahhh... you don't even... fuck, it's going, Frase..." And it's the irrational panic of *ending* that triggers his jerking, flexing orgasm. He digs his teeth into the side of Ray's palm but the other man never moves, and does not stop until Fraser is too far gone to truly notice. Long minutes pass before he begins to come back to himself... Ray has uncuffed him, but has not yet turned on the shower. The scent of what was done, of what it meant to Fraser gets higher and higher in Fraser's mind with each breath. Ray is still holding his face. In the end, Fraser surrenders the dream of sanity. And leans in to give thanks. end.