First Person Imperfect
Title: First Person Imperfect
Author: Stormy Stormheller (aka stormheller)
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: NC-17
Length: 9200 words
Why I'm reccing this fic: First time AU story. Fraser meets RayK when he first comes to Chicago. Great Fraser!voice. Hot strangers-meet-at-the-bar-anonymous-sex. Canonical happy end. Perfect!
I head off, hoping he’ll follow me now. With two quick strides, he closes the distance between us. I’m glad he decided to walk with me.
“So, buddy-boy. You gonna give me something to call you?” I stare at him a moment, considering. I would prefer our little tryst to remain anonymous. “So I’ll have something to scream,” he prods jokingly. A truly evil grin flashes across his features this time. A spike of arousal travels my spine.
A name. What moniker shall I offer? I mull over possibilities, discarding “Dudley Do-Right”, “Mackenzie King”, and “Yukon Jack”. He’s looking at me curiously.
I almost blurt out “Diefenbaker”, but the idea of attempting to achieve orgasm with that “pet name” panted in my ear seems, well, a thought best left alone. For a split second, guilt barks at my consciousness, guilt at my faithful companion’s temporary incarceration in quarantine. There’s nothing I can do tonight, though, so for once I’ll think only of myself and ignore the whining in the back of my mind.
Finally, I say “Steve. Steve Constable.” It’s as good a name as any, and offers no clues whereby he could trace me later, should he be so inclined.
First Person Imperfect
Author: Stormy Stormheller (aka stormheller)
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: NC-17
Length: 9200 words
Why I'm reccing this fic: First time AU story. Fraser meets RayK when he first comes to Chicago. Great Fraser!voice. Hot strangers-meet-at-the-bar-anonymous-sex. Canonical happy end. Perfect!
I head off, hoping he’ll follow me now. With two quick strides, he closes the distance between us. I’m glad he decided to walk with me.
“So, buddy-boy. You gonna give me something to call you?” I stare at him a moment, considering. I would prefer our little tryst to remain anonymous. “So I’ll have something to scream,” he prods jokingly. A truly evil grin flashes across his features this time. A spike of arousal travels my spine.
A name. What moniker shall I offer? I mull over possibilities, discarding “Dudley Do-Right”, “Mackenzie King”, and “Yukon Jack”. He’s looking at me curiously.
I almost blurt out “Diefenbaker”, but the idea of attempting to achieve orgasm with that “pet name” panted in my ear seems, well, a thought best left alone. For a split second, guilt barks at my consciousness, guilt at my faithful companion’s temporary incarceration in quarantine. There’s nothing I can do tonight, though, so for once I’ll think only of myself and ignore the whining in the back of my mind.
Finally, I say “Steve. Steve Constable.” It’s as good a name as any, and offers no clues whereby he could trace me later, should he be so inclined.
First Person Imperfect