Stage One Responses for the Stages of Love fest
Stages of Love Challenges: Stage Two
Due South: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski
Aggravation
If Ray was honest with himself, then yes, he was attracted to Fraser.
The man was insufferable for the most part. He would insist on being infuriatingly polite and honest and kind. He would waste Ray’s time: he wouldn’t do what he was told when he was told - or would complain about the phrasing just long enough to test his patience, before revealing that he’d understood the instructions all along.
Fraser would always insist on bringing his filthy mutt of a pet along on every ride, and the things Diefenbaker did to his beautiful black seats when he began to molt his white fur every spring and autumn were simply unreal.
He was unpredictable, and he could be a trickster. He had a sense of humor though; however deeply concealed it was. But most of all he was agitating in his straight laced ness. And yet, Fraser had no true clarity of character. At one moment he could be the very image of a Canadian Mountie -- as though he’d come straight from the factory. And then later there would be something…something deep and concealed about his personality that Ray couldn’t put his finger on - or even use his imagination to approximate.
If Ray could have helped himself, he would have chosen someone else to fall in love with. When he noticed hi disposition he’d tried to fall in love with Francesca; he’d gone running after his ex-wife in sheer desperation.
In the end he had to admit to himself that yes, he was attracted to Fraser…
…Even though the Mountie really got his goat sometimes.
Romance - Due South
Dance
Benton dances remarkably well for an amateur. He takes Ray’s hand and waist, and gently steps with him in time to the music. He doesn’t just step - he floats. Ray is guiding him, and he’s an excellent leader, but for Fraser this is a first time, and yet he moves along with Ray, carrying a certain amount of quality in his movements that if Fraser hadn’t told him he’d not done this before, the other man wouldn’t have believed him.
There is no room. They are not full from the dinner they’ve just shared. They cannot see the walls around them - and perhaps even they don’t exist. There’s just the dance, as there has always been for Ray. And now he’s sharing it with Fraser…and there’s nothing else to think about. They don’t think about the case. They don’t think about the fact that Ray’s apartment is a veritable pig-heap. They don’t think about the fact that they’re both men; friends and partners, and maybe this might ruin everything. There’s just the dance: that’s all that matters.
When they stop dancing the moon has set, and the water they’ve been sharing instead of wine has gone warm and limey. While Benton helpfully fetches some more from the kitchen, Ray sits down on his woodworm chewed old chair and strokes his fingers through Diefenbaker’s fur, and he tells the deaf old wolf just what he feels about his master.
Benton stays away long enough to hear what Ray has to say - after all, he has excellent ears; unlike his wolf. When he brings the water back he’s smiling - and it’s more than just the genial smile he gives to anybody and everybody.
When he leaves, late at night, he says “Thank you, Ray, I had a wonderful evening;” and Ray knows that he really means it.
Passion - Due South
Pine Wood and Caribou Steaks
Fraser’s office is at the back of the consulate; not just the back - it’s practically outside again. He doesn’t hear the front door opening or Constable Turnball greeting someone in the hallway: in fact, he doesn’t know that Ray’s there until he hears his recognizable footsteps just outside of his door; expensive shoes and light feet. And then Ray knocks, because he’s just a little bit more polite than the man he’s replaced.
The Mountie doesn’t complain about these slight inconsistencies; considering he’d been trying to teach the old Ray to be more respectful, he simply justifies that he would have drummed it into his friend eventually anyway. But he doesn’t want Stanley Kowalski to be Raymond Vecchio, because he could never explain to his old friend the deepness of the feelings he had been connecting to this doppelganger as of late.
Standing at the door, Ray is watching him with those crystal eyes; just watching him, and Fraser realizes it’s because he’s been looking at him too - without speaking - for several long minutes.
Benton coughs, but it’s too late, Ray is crossing the office - which doesn’t take long enough to give Fraser any chance to change the tack that this encounter is taking. Ray has circled the desk before he can stand up, and guided him into a space - a dark space - full of the smell of pine wood, open fire, fur and caribou steak.
The other man doesn’t wait for Fraser to catch his breath. He’s waited too long for this, and either he kisses him and it ends now, he kisses him and all goes well, or he doesn’t kiss him, and ends up exploding. Ray pushes Benton up against the navy blue uniform that Fraser has hung up at the back of his closet and kisses him as hard as he dares; pouring all of his passion and hunger into the kiss.
For Fraser they’re not in the closet; they’re in his father’s afterlife hunting lodge - and the old man himself is watching them from his armchair, smirking knowingly. But for what the old man thinks Fraser couldn’t care less. His father is dead, after all.
When Ray leans back, looking at him questioningly, Benton gives the only answer he could have ever given: he kisses him back.
Intimacy - Due South
Zeus Himself
Benton Fraser is broad shouldered and strong. He is an imposing figure, whether or not he’s in his uniform. In fact, out of it, it is even clearer to Ray of the strength he holds in his upper body - and frankly, that’s nothing in comparison to the strength of his thighs: Ray’s seen him riding before: he knows the Mountie has balance, poise and power. He’s like Zeus himself - so perfect that he’s godlike. And Ray worships him, especially now.
They’ve gone back to his apartment. It isn’t that Ray doesn’t appreciate Benton’s living conditions; it’s just that he had something against the idea of being interrupted by Turnball inviting them to come and watch the curling with him. It gives Ray confidence. He knows this place; he knows his boundaries…and he can let himself do far more with the knowledge that something typically Canadian isn’t about to surprise and unnerve him.
Ray is dressed in full gear - he hasn’t so much as taken off his gun belt yet - but Fraser is naked. Ray thinks he must be cold, because the water in the radiators has frozen; but Benton doesn’t seem to feel it: he stands unflinchingly, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Usually Ray would be able to recognize those expressions. He could tell what Fraser was thinking when they were on a case together: run after that car, try and disarm that shooter, jump off tall building…but this was a different kind of look all together.
Then he realizes what it is - Benton’s thinking; [i]actually thinking[/i]. Usually he thinks so quickly Ray never catches it - then he often does something utterly stupid, so Ray calls it ‘not thinking’; so this is a new sight all together.
Fraser doesn’t know how to proceed; but Ray does, he reaches up and closes his hand over Fraser’s wrist, guiding him down onto the bed. Ray grunts in pain as he settles: there’s a gun in the small of his back, and he twists on the bed, turning Fraser over onto his back, so that he can take his gun belt off without looking like that was his intention all along. Fraser catches him at it of course; helps him out of the gun belt and then turns the American onto his back again and devours his mouth with wolfish passion.
They know each other like bread knows butter: Fraser is full of wild passion - he tastes like the wilderness, and he feels like ice; he’s hard as rock, and where he touches it leaves a burn that heightens Ray’s senses. This first time between them is experimentation; mistakes and successes…but they’re learning all the time, expanding the horizons of their partnership further than ever before. They make love in time to Ray’s waltz. In the morning Ray drives Fraser to the consulate, and Turnball peeks out the window, grinning knowingly at them, as though he can see some difference in Fraser, even from this distance.
Commitment - Due South
The End
Commitment can be lots of things. The commitment that Fraser is most accustomed to is commitment to uphold the law. But there are other types of commitment he understands too. He understands the type of commitment that stops him leaving Ray on a ledge half way down a frozen cliff. He understands that even though he is risking his life; there is no way that he can leave his friend and lover down there to be buffeted by icy winds until he freezes to death.
So even though it might kill him; Fraser unhooks the dogs from the sled, and leads them round to the cliff’s edge. He ties a rope to the end of the dog’s leads; and then attaches it to his belt - and taking up his ice picks, he gradually lowers himself over the edge of the cliff; and down to Ray.
The descent is hard work - holding all his weight on sheer ice with only two picks of metal isn’t much like icing a cake. When he gets to Ray he’s feeling hot and tired. He checks Ray over for injuries - he’s broken his foot - and then he lifts the man up, first tying him by a rope to his waist, and then bringing his lover’s arms around his neck. The climb back up is eased by the dogs, who pull away on command, giving them an extra bit of go to relieve Fraser’s fatigue.
Back on solid ground; it is all Fraser can do to reattach the sled and point them in the direction of home. While Ray’s foot is healing they remain there - telling stories; well, Ray mostly listens - and making love when the desire takes them. It is a perfect “The End” for the Mountie and his cop.
Harry Potter: Fenrir Greyback/Remus Lupin
The Five Senses: Sight, Hearing, Touch, Smell, Taste
Sight - Harry Potter
Remus Lupin: Age 5
At five, when Fenrir first saw him, Remus was just another boy; nothing more and nothing less. Fenrir had bitten and killed boys before, boys both younger and older than Remus, and this was no different to any that had come before.
Then again, the parents should have been more careful…giving the boy a name like Remus Lupin was asking for trouble - especially for such notorious wolf-hunters as Marianne and George Lupin.
When the babysitter sent Remus upstairs to bed, Fenrir used Alohamora on the door and crept inside; taking his wand to the babysitter…he would come back to her later. She made no noise as she went down, and Fenrir proceeded up the stairs to the top floor, sniffing his way to the right bedroom and slipping inside.
He locked the door and put his wand away; then turned towards the boy, who sat on the bed with a book open on his lap. He was looking out the window - and Fenrir could smell his excitement; the rushing of his heart.
“Hello there,” he growled, when Remus showed no sign of having noticed him. The boy turned back to him quickly and smiled.
“Hi,” he said, his eyes running over Fenrir quickly. “Are you a friend of my babysitter?”
“Yes,” Fenrir answered, making his way over to the bed. He could see the first glimmer of the full moon in the window. He didn’t have long. “What are you reading, Remus?”
Remus pushed the book to him, still smiling his charming little smile. “About werewolves… They’re out there you know…right now, waiting for the full moon. It’s so exciting.”
Fenrir leant forwards over the book, smiling with his mouthful of jagged teeth. “They are out there, Remus. And they’re in here.”
The boy fought valiantly. Fenrir changed. He had no chance.
After they’d broken out of the bedroom, the new-born werewolf pup killed and fed from the babysitter tied up downstairs. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen…but not near as beautiful as the sight that greeted Marianne and George Lupin when they got home the next morning.
Hearing - Harry Potter
Howling
At eight years old, Remus Lupin is living in a refuge for young werewolves. It’s like a young offender’s institute, except perhaps worse. During the day, it’s like a prison, incorporated with a school. The young werewolves learn to read and write, and to do arithmetic. Their teachers are strict - some are worse than just strict…some are abusive too. They have free reign here. Sometimes Remus can hear them crying for help - but he can’t do anything, and so he has to leave them be. Sometimes, it’s his voice ringing in the halls.
The only thing that’s at all like the outside world is the passing of time. The clock is still the same - and Remus spends his time just listening to the ‘tick-tock’. One day he’ll be out of here… He just has to wait until enough tick-tocks have gone by.
At night, the students are kept in rooms by themselves - the rooms have solid steel bars on the doors, and the lights go out at exactly nine-oh-one every evening. Remus counts the tick-tocks until they send him to sleep.
On full-moon nights, the whole building changes. They are confined to their steel rooms for three days and three nights without food or water. Noone visits them until the fourth day, when they bring food to the crying children.
Sometimes Fenrir leads the pack down to the edges of the building - and they howl to the children from under the full moon, feeding promises of rescue and revenge. Fenrir listens for that special voice; the strong, distinct voice that belongs to Remus Lupin; the promising young cub he brought to the moon. Sometimes he thinks that he can hear him leading the voices in the night, as though he were a Greyback wolf himself.
Inside the compound, Remus listens to the howls of the wolves in their cages, and leads them in their heartsick song - and every full moon day, Remus listens to the sobs of homesick, starving, frightened children…and the constant tick-tock of the clock.
Touch - Harry Potter
Touching Noses
At thirteen years old, Remus is practically an adult. He’s left the compound now, because he was rescued by Hogwarts’ Professors; sent to school beside other boys and girls of his same age. Couldn’t they see how “dangerous” he was? Strange how they could care to educate one boy after all that went before him. Fenrir could not believe in the world changing, neither would he believe that the even a few people could change their inbred fear of their kind. It was that simple. These people either had some trick planned, or else they were simply stupid. One day Remus’ secret would be out, and they would drive him away again.
Fenrir prowls through the dark forest, keeping an eye out for centaurs - the most dangerous animal in this forest beside himself. A herd of centaurs would trample him to death to protect their young. He wasn’t here because he was interested in them…Fenrir was here for Remus. He’d heard the young wolf howling the night before. Now he was here to find him. Remus was old enough to join the pack now. He would be able to defend himself.
The Shrieking Shack was an obstacle that Fenrir did not expect to meet on the way; though he should have known that they’d lock him away over the full moon. He finds his way into the tunnel by pure chance; diving away from an attack by the confounded tree. Inside, he sniffs and pads, following the powerful strong scent that belongs to the young werewolf. He knows he’s going the right way now…until his nose bumps against a closed door.
It doesn’t matter. He’s faced doors before. It takes him almost the rest of the night to claw his way through it; upon finding that the wizard’s spells are keeping it shut. When he does get through his paws are sore, and he’s broken off one nail in his fight to get to the howling wolf trapped within.
The younger werewolf is upstairs, a heavy collar wrapped tight around his furry neck. It’s obvious he’s been fighting all night to try to get out of his bindings - but not even Fenrir could have broken them. He comes closer, sniffing at the young wolf, looking him over thoroughly. He’s young and strong, with grey and brown fur; with muscle rippling beneath it from his monthly battles with the chains.
Fenrir moves forwards, touches his nose to Remus’, then steps close to him. The younger wolf growls at first, more from nerves than anything else; and then he accepts the comfort of the warm body pressed against his own. He submits - and Fenrir rewards him by grooming him as he sleeps.
In the morning, Fenrir leaves without Remus. There is no way that he can free Remus from the chains and escape too. He will come back later. Before he leaves, he delivers a painful bite to Remus’ shoulder so that the younger wolf might remember him.
Smell - Harry Potter
Missing Persons
At seventeen, Remus smells like a strong, active adult. He is leaving school soon; but Fenrir goes to visit him at Christmas, when Sirius and James have gone to the Potters’ for Christmas, and Pettigrew has crawled off home. Remus is spending Christmas alone…but for the first time in many years, Christmas is a full moon.
On Christmas Eve, Remus makes his way out to the Whomping Willow alone, and climbs down the tunnel, wrapped as he is in his ragged brown cloak. Fenrir is already waiting for him in the hut - he had the intelligence this time to go before the moon rose.
When Remus closes and locks the door, Fenrir creeps from the shadows and unlocks it, pushing it open wide enough for a wolf to push it with his nose; he makes his way deep into a dark corner and curls up to sleep, waiting for the moon.
She wakes him with a stab of pain in his back. Rather than cry out, he moans softly. Transformation is a pleasure for him…though there is such incredible pain, he considers it a blessing. He enjoys the pain, because it tells him what he is becoming.
Tail, fur, long nose, changing teeth, ears shifting vertically, changing shape. There is a dull moment when he can see nothing, hear nothing and smell nothing - and then there is an explosion of colour, sound and smell. The most impressive is the scent - he can smell the room, he can smell Remus, he can smell other animals; strange animals, and other humans.
But the strongest smell by far is Remus; the scent of the young greyback is everywhere. He has left his mark on every part of this house…and Fenrir leaves his own before he begins to chase the scent of the young wolf.
First they fight. Then they lick each other’s wounds. Then they head out to follow the smells of the night…
Remus Lupin is missing for eight days before a bedraggled young man finally finds his way back to the village of Hogsmeade.
Taste - Harry Potter
Sacrifice
Remus Lupin is much older than seventeen now. He’s past thirty; but still young. Still young; but going as grey now as his werewolf form has turned in recent years. He is haggard and worn when he creeps into the dark cave. The smell of wolf and decay is powerful - it would ward away any other traveller, but it draws Remus in instead.
The caves are a labyrinth. Deep inside, there is a flicker of firelight; though from which direction, it is difficult to tell. Lupin follows the acrid taste of smoke deeper into the cave, slinking through the shadows as though he were made of them. Finally he comes to the firelight; where a pack of similar, haggard beings; both young and old; surround the camp fire; gnawing on old bones, and talking amongst each other.
One lifts his head and spots Remus - and he lets out a loud howl that echoes around the cave. The other’s turn to face him - their eyes either dark with the firelight behind them, or full of flames if they are sat behind it. They howl too, filling the cave with a cacophony of lupine voices.
Lupin waits - and sure enough, a strong arm suddenly loops around his waist, pulling him back against an equally firm chest. “Why do you come here, wizard’s pet?” asks a gravely voice; and then he is being dragged away into the darkness; spinning down corridors and through rooms until he is deposited on his back in a pile of powerful smelling furs.
There is a little light in this room - but only from on burning candle. He can see Fenrir clearly though; dark shadow menacing and broad. It doesn’t frighten him. He does not cow to this man. So Fenrir pounces him and takes him, just to prove that he’s the dominant male in this world. Remus screams; but when they’re done, he knows that there is little he could do to stop it. As long as he does not question his position, he will be able to spy on the wolf pack without further harm befalling him.
To prove his compliance and subservience, he licks the salt sweat from Fenrir’s naked form; and cleans away the iron blood and semen from his loins. It is not a taste that Remus would easily forget - it is the taste of sacrifice.
Red Dragon: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
The Five Stages of Sexual Response: Desire, Excitement, Plateau of arousal, Orgasm, Resolution
Desire - Red Dragon
George and the Dragon
Will looks beautiful handcuffed to the bed, his pale hair pooled around his head like the halo of a Christian saint depicted in some renaissance painting. Hannibal opens his hand to let free a curtain of red and white rose petals, letting them fall on and around the naked and unconscious man on the ebony sheets. He is waiting for Graham to wake up, and gradually he does, though coherence is far away. Graham is a warrior of panic. When he sees Lecter, his fear is delectable. He fights his silver bindings as though he is George fighting the Dragon.
Excitement - Red Dragon
Arousing Adonis
Lecter has an array of “specially designed” tools. They aren’t anything more than a feather, a knife and a candle - but he doesn’t enlighten Will, because he knows the anticipation will frighten him more than anything Hannibal might ever do to him. He trails the feather down the firm plateau of Will’s abdomen, and then brushes it along his soft length. It doesn’t take much experimenting to excite the terrified man. Soon Graham is a flushed Adonis buried in bed-sheets and petals; his body rouged, wet with sweat - the smell of arousal and fear plenty enough to arouse his captor.
Plateau of Arousal - Red Dragon
Architecture
Sustaining Will’s pleasure is a difficult task. It requires constant contact and determination from Lecter. He caresses Will until he hovers on the edge, his chest heaving, his blood rushing, his every breath a moan; and then he lets him down again, and it begins once more, that gently building back up. Lecter is an architect. Everything must be perfect. Every time his building is perfectly precise. One more brush of his thumb would be the end of his game. A few seconds more and he would not be able to prevent it. He lets him down and starts again.
Orgasm - Red Dragon
Fireworks
It’s like a series of little explosions, firing off down the length of his body. When it happens, Doctor Lecter thinks of Sydney Harbour Bridge on New Year’s Eve; a wave of fountain-like fireworks bursting into the sky at midnight. Hannibal thinks of the movement of a fish - a ripple along the length of the man’s slim, streamlined body. Will’s body moves like that when he reaches orgasm, electricity firing off nerves just as neatly as it fires off those Chinese bombs. And it is spectacular - Lecter leans back and watches Will’s eyes spin in their sockets like Catherine Wheels.
Resolution - Red Dragon
The exhaustion of post orgasm is like the throes of death. Hannibal admires the flush of Will’s skin; the way his eyes are wide and sightless as he tries to find some sustenance in the air that he’d breathing in. When Lecter brings his hand to Will’s throat; he can feel the blood rushing - heart thundering like an auctioneer’s gavel gone out of control. Lecter smiles, capturing open lips in a kiss - an exchange of fluids as he tastes Will’s mouth - tastes orgasm and whiskey and chloroform on his breath. He lets him sleep and departs humming into the night.
Due South: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski
Aggravation
If Ray was honest with himself, then yes, he was attracted to Fraser.
The man was insufferable for the most part. He would insist on being infuriatingly polite and honest and kind. He would waste Ray’s time: he wouldn’t do what he was told when he was told - or would complain about the phrasing just long enough to test his patience, before revealing that he’d understood the instructions all along.
Fraser would always insist on bringing his filthy mutt of a pet along on every ride, and the things Diefenbaker did to his beautiful black seats when he began to molt his white fur every spring and autumn were simply unreal.
He was unpredictable, and he could be a trickster. He had a sense of humor though; however deeply concealed it was. But most of all he was agitating in his straight laced ness. And yet, Fraser had no true clarity of character. At one moment he could be the very image of a Canadian Mountie -- as though he’d come straight from the factory. And then later there would be something…something deep and concealed about his personality that Ray couldn’t put his finger on - or even use his imagination to approximate.
If Ray could have helped himself, he would have chosen someone else to fall in love with. When he noticed hi disposition he’d tried to fall in love with Francesca; he’d gone running after his ex-wife in sheer desperation.
In the end he had to admit to himself that yes, he was attracted to Fraser…
…Even though the Mountie really got his goat sometimes.
Romance - Due South
Dance
Benton dances remarkably well for an amateur. He takes Ray’s hand and waist, and gently steps with him in time to the music. He doesn’t just step - he floats. Ray is guiding him, and he’s an excellent leader, but for Fraser this is a first time, and yet he moves along with Ray, carrying a certain amount of quality in his movements that if Fraser hadn’t told him he’d not done this before, the other man wouldn’t have believed him.
There is no room. They are not full from the dinner they’ve just shared. They cannot see the walls around them - and perhaps even they don’t exist. There’s just the dance, as there has always been for Ray. And now he’s sharing it with Fraser…and there’s nothing else to think about. They don’t think about the case. They don’t think about the fact that Ray’s apartment is a veritable pig-heap. They don’t think about the fact that they’re both men; friends and partners, and maybe this might ruin everything. There’s just the dance: that’s all that matters.
When they stop dancing the moon has set, and the water they’ve been sharing instead of wine has gone warm and limey. While Benton helpfully fetches some more from the kitchen, Ray sits down on his woodworm chewed old chair and strokes his fingers through Diefenbaker’s fur, and he tells the deaf old wolf just what he feels about his master.
Benton stays away long enough to hear what Ray has to say - after all, he has excellent ears; unlike his wolf. When he brings the water back he’s smiling - and it’s more than just the genial smile he gives to anybody and everybody.
When he leaves, late at night, he says “Thank you, Ray, I had a wonderful evening;” and Ray knows that he really means it.
Passion - Due South
Pine Wood and Caribou Steaks
Fraser’s office is at the back of the consulate; not just the back - it’s practically outside again. He doesn’t hear the front door opening or Constable Turnball greeting someone in the hallway: in fact, he doesn’t know that Ray’s there until he hears his recognizable footsteps just outside of his door; expensive shoes and light feet. And then Ray knocks, because he’s just a little bit more polite than the man he’s replaced.
The Mountie doesn’t complain about these slight inconsistencies; considering he’d been trying to teach the old Ray to be more respectful, he simply justifies that he would have drummed it into his friend eventually anyway. But he doesn’t want Stanley Kowalski to be Raymond Vecchio, because he could never explain to his old friend the deepness of the feelings he had been connecting to this doppelganger as of late.
Standing at the door, Ray is watching him with those crystal eyes; just watching him, and Fraser realizes it’s because he’s been looking at him too - without speaking - for several long minutes.
Benton coughs, but it’s too late, Ray is crossing the office - which doesn’t take long enough to give Fraser any chance to change the tack that this encounter is taking. Ray has circled the desk before he can stand up, and guided him into a space - a dark space - full of the smell of pine wood, open fire, fur and caribou steak.
The other man doesn’t wait for Fraser to catch his breath. He’s waited too long for this, and either he kisses him and it ends now, he kisses him and all goes well, or he doesn’t kiss him, and ends up exploding. Ray pushes Benton up against the navy blue uniform that Fraser has hung up at the back of his closet and kisses him as hard as he dares; pouring all of his passion and hunger into the kiss.
For Fraser they’re not in the closet; they’re in his father’s afterlife hunting lodge - and the old man himself is watching them from his armchair, smirking knowingly. But for what the old man thinks Fraser couldn’t care less. His father is dead, after all.
When Ray leans back, looking at him questioningly, Benton gives the only answer he could have ever given: he kisses him back.
Intimacy - Due South
Zeus Himself
Benton Fraser is broad shouldered and strong. He is an imposing figure, whether or not he’s in his uniform. In fact, out of it, it is even clearer to Ray of the strength he holds in his upper body - and frankly, that’s nothing in comparison to the strength of his thighs: Ray’s seen him riding before: he knows the Mountie has balance, poise and power. He’s like Zeus himself - so perfect that he’s godlike. And Ray worships him, especially now.
They’ve gone back to his apartment. It isn’t that Ray doesn’t appreciate Benton’s living conditions; it’s just that he had something against the idea of being interrupted by Turnball inviting them to come and watch the curling with him. It gives Ray confidence. He knows this place; he knows his boundaries…and he can let himself do far more with the knowledge that something typically Canadian isn’t about to surprise and unnerve him.
Ray is dressed in full gear - he hasn’t so much as taken off his gun belt yet - but Fraser is naked. Ray thinks he must be cold, because the water in the radiators has frozen; but Benton doesn’t seem to feel it: he stands unflinchingly, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Usually Ray would be able to recognize those expressions. He could tell what Fraser was thinking when they were on a case together: run after that car, try and disarm that shooter, jump off tall building…but this was a different kind of look all together.
Then he realizes what it is - Benton’s thinking; [i]actually thinking[/i]. Usually he thinks so quickly Ray never catches it - then he often does something utterly stupid, so Ray calls it ‘not thinking’; so this is a new sight all together.
Fraser doesn’t know how to proceed; but Ray does, he reaches up and closes his hand over Fraser’s wrist, guiding him down onto the bed. Ray grunts in pain as he settles: there’s a gun in the small of his back, and he twists on the bed, turning Fraser over onto his back, so that he can take his gun belt off without looking like that was his intention all along. Fraser catches him at it of course; helps him out of the gun belt and then turns the American onto his back again and devours his mouth with wolfish passion.
They know each other like bread knows butter: Fraser is full of wild passion - he tastes like the wilderness, and he feels like ice; he’s hard as rock, and where he touches it leaves a burn that heightens Ray’s senses. This first time between them is experimentation; mistakes and successes…but they’re learning all the time, expanding the horizons of their partnership further than ever before. They make love in time to Ray’s waltz. In the morning Ray drives Fraser to the consulate, and Turnball peeks out the window, grinning knowingly at them, as though he can see some difference in Fraser, even from this distance.
Commitment - Due South
The End
Commitment can be lots of things. The commitment that Fraser is most accustomed to is commitment to uphold the law. But there are other types of commitment he understands too. He understands the type of commitment that stops him leaving Ray on a ledge half way down a frozen cliff. He understands that even though he is risking his life; there is no way that he can leave his friend and lover down there to be buffeted by icy winds until he freezes to death.
So even though it might kill him; Fraser unhooks the dogs from the sled, and leads them round to the cliff’s edge. He ties a rope to the end of the dog’s leads; and then attaches it to his belt - and taking up his ice picks, he gradually lowers himself over the edge of the cliff; and down to Ray.
The descent is hard work - holding all his weight on sheer ice with only two picks of metal isn’t much like icing a cake. When he gets to Ray he’s feeling hot and tired. He checks Ray over for injuries - he’s broken his foot - and then he lifts the man up, first tying him by a rope to his waist, and then bringing his lover’s arms around his neck. The climb back up is eased by the dogs, who pull away on command, giving them an extra bit of go to relieve Fraser’s fatigue.
Back on solid ground; it is all Fraser can do to reattach the sled and point them in the direction of home. While Ray’s foot is healing they remain there - telling stories; well, Ray mostly listens - and making love when the desire takes them. It is a perfect “The End” for the Mountie and his cop.
Harry Potter: Fenrir Greyback/Remus Lupin
The Five Senses: Sight, Hearing, Touch, Smell, Taste
Sight - Harry Potter
Remus Lupin: Age 5
At five, when Fenrir first saw him, Remus was just another boy; nothing more and nothing less. Fenrir had bitten and killed boys before, boys both younger and older than Remus, and this was no different to any that had come before.
Then again, the parents should have been more careful…giving the boy a name like Remus Lupin was asking for trouble - especially for such notorious wolf-hunters as Marianne and George Lupin.
When the babysitter sent Remus upstairs to bed, Fenrir used Alohamora on the door and crept inside; taking his wand to the babysitter…he would come back to her later. She made no noise as she went down, and Fenrir proceeded up the stairs to the top floor, sniffing his way to the right bedroom and slipping inside.
He locked the door and put his wand away; then turned towards the boy, who sat on the bed with a book open on his lap. He was looking out the window - and Fenrir could smell his excitement; the rushing of his heart.
“Hello there,” he growled, when Remus showed no sign of having noticed him. The boy turned back to him quickly and smiled.
“Hi,” he said, his eyes running over Fenrir quickly. “Are you a friend of my babysitter?”
“Yes,” Fenrir answered, making his way over to the bed. He could see the first glimmer of the full moon in the window. He didn’t have long. “What are you reading, Remus?”
Remus pushed the book to him, still smiling his charming little smile. “About werewolves… They’re out there you know…right now, waiting for the full moon. It’s so exciting.”
Fenrir leant forwards over the book, smiling with his mouthful of jagged teeth. “They are out there, Remus. And they’re in here.”
The boy fought valiantly. Fenrir changed. He had no chance.
After they’d broken out of the bedroom, the new-born werewolf pup killed and fed from the babysitter tied up downstairs. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen…but not near as beautiful as the sight that greeted Marianne and George Lupin when they got home the next morning.
Hearing - Harry Potter
Howling
At eight years old, Remus Lupin is living in a refuge for young werewolves. It’s like a young offender’s institute, except perhaps worse. During the day, it’s like a prison, incorporated with a school. The young werewolves learn to read and write, and to do arithmetic. Their teachers are strict - some are worse than just strict…some are abusive too. They have free reign here. Sometimes Remus can hear them crying for help - but he can’t do anything, and so he has to leave them be. Sometimes, it’s his voice ringing in the halls.
The only thing that’s at all like the outside world is the passing of time. The clock is still the same - and Remus spends his time just listening to the ‘tick-tock’. One day he’ll be out of here… He just has to wait until enough tick-tocks have gone by.
At night, the students are kept in rooms by themselves - the rooms have solid steel bars on the doors, and the lights go out at exactly nine-oh-one every evening. Remus counts the tick-tocks until they send him to sleep.
On full-moon nights, the whole building changes. They are confined to their steel rooms for three days and three nights without food or water. Noone visits them until the fourth day, when they bring food to the crying children.
Sometimes Fenrir leads the pack down to the edges of the building - and they howl to the children from under the full moon, feeding promises of rescue and revenge. Fenrir listens for that special voice; the strong, distinct voice that belongs to Remus Lupin; the promising young cub he brought to the moon. Sometimes he thinks that he can hear him leading the voices in the night, as though he were a Greyback wolf himself.
Inside the compound, Remus listens to the howls of the wolves in their cages, and leads them in their heartsick song - and every full moon day, Remus listens to the sobs of homesick, starving, frightened children…and the constant tick-tock of the clock.
Touch - Harry Potter
Touching Noses
At thirteen years old, Remus is practically an adult. He’s left the compound now, because he was rescued by Hogwarts’ Professors; sent to school beside other boys and girls of his same age. Couldn’t they see how “dangerous” he was? Strange how they could care to educate one boy after all that went before him. Fenrir could not believe in the world changing, neither would he believe that the even a few people could change their inbred fear of their kind. It was that simple. These people either had some trick planned, or else they were simply stupid. One day Remus’ secret would be out, and they would drive him away again.
Fenrir prowls through the dark forest, keeping an eye out for centaurs - the most dangerous animal in this forest beside himself. A herd of centaurs would trample him to death to protect their young. He wasn’t here because he was interested in them…Fenrir was here for Remus. He’d heard the young wolf howling the night before. Now he was here to find him. Remus was old enough to join the pack now. He would be able to defend himself.
The Shrieking Shack was an obstacle that Fenrir did not expect to meet on the way; though he should have known that they’d lock him away over the full moon. He finds his way into the tunnel by pure chance; diving away from an attack by the confounded tree. Inside, he sniffs and pads, following the powerful strong scent that belongs to the young werewolf. He knows he’s going the right way now…until his nose bumps against a closed door.
It doesn’t matter. He’s faced doors before. It takes him almost the rest of the night to claw his way through it; upon finding that the wizard’s spells are keeping it shut. When he does get through his paws are sore, and he’s broken off one nail in his fight to get to the howling wolf trapped within.
The younger werewolf is upstairs, a heavy collar wrapped tight around his furry neck. It’s obvious he’s been fighting all night to try to get out of his bindings - but not even Fenrir could have broken them. He comes closer, sniffing at the young wolf, looking him over thoroughly. He’s young and strong, with grey and brown fur; with muscle rippling beneath it from his monthly battles with the chains.
Fenrir moves forwards, touches his nose to Remus’, then steps close to him. The younger wolf growls at first, more from nerves than anything else; and then he accepts the comfort of the warm body pressed against his own. He submits - and Fenrir rewards him by grooming him as he sleeps.
In the morning, Fenrir leaves without Remus. There is no way that he can free Remus from the chains and escape too. He will come back later. Before he leaves, he delivers a painful bite to Remus’ shoulder so that the younger wolf might remember him.
Smell - Harry Potter
Missing Persons
At seventeen, Remus smells like a strong, active adult. He is leaving school soon; but Fenrir goes to visit him at Christmas, when Sirius and James have gone to the Potters’ for Christmas, and Pettigrew has crawled off home. Remus is spending Christmas alone…but for the first time in many years, Christmas is a full moon.
On Christmas Eve, Remus makes his way out to the Whomping Willow alone, and climbs down the tunnel, wrapped as he is in his ragged brown cloak. Fenrir is already waiting for him in the hut - he had the intelligence this time to go before the moon rose.
When Remus closes and locks the door, Fenrir creeps from the shadows and unlocks it, pushing it open wide enough for a wolf to push it with his nose; he makes his way deep into a dark corner and curls up to sleep, waiting for the moon.
She wakes him with a stab of pain in his back. Rather than cry out, he moans softly. Transformation is a pleasure for him…though there is such incredible pain, he considers it a blessing. He enjoys the pain, because it tells him what he is becoming.
Tail, fur, long nose, changing teeth, ears shifting vertically, changing shape. There is a dull moment when he can see nothing, hear nothing and smell nothing - and then there is an explosion of colour, sound and smell. The most impressive is the scent - he can smell the room, he can smell Remus, he can smell other animals; strange animals, and other humans.
But the strongest smell by far is Remus; the scent of the young greyback is everywhere. He has left his mark on every part of this house…and Fenrir leaves his own before he begins to chase the scent of the young wolf.
First they fight. Then they lick each other’s wounds. Then they head out to follow the smells of the night…
Remus Lupin is missing for eight days before a bedraggled young man finally finds his way back to the village of Hogsmeade.
Taste - Harry Potter
Sacrifice
Remus Lupin is much older than seventeen now. He’s past thirty; but still young. Still young; but going as grey now as his werewolf form has turned in recent years. He is haggard and worn when he creeps into the dark cave. The smell of wolf and decay is powerful - it would ward away any other traveller, but it draws Remus in instead.
The caves are a labyrinth. Deep inside, there is a flicker of firelight; though from which direction, it is difficult to tell. Lupin follows the acrid taste of smoke deeper into the cave, slinking through the shadows as though he were made of them. Finally he comes to the firelight; where a pack of similar, haggard beings; both young and old; surround the camp fire; gnawing on old bones, and talking amongst each other.
One lifts his head and spots Remus - and he lets out a loud howl that echoes around the cave. The other’s turn to face him - their eyes either dark with the firelight behind them, or full of flames if they are sat behind it. They howl too, filling the cave with a cacophony of lupine voices.
Lupin waits - and sure enough, a strong arm suddenly loops around his waist, pulling him back against an equally firm chest. “Why do you come here, wizard’s pet?” asks a gravely voice; and then he is being dragged away into the darkness; spinning down corridors and through rooms until he is deposited on his back in a pile of powerful smelling furs.
There is a little light in this room - but only from on burning candle. He can see Fenrir clearly though; dark shadow menacing and broad. It doesn’t frighten him. He does not cow to this man. So Fenrir pounces him and takes him, just to prove that he’s the dominant male in this world. Remus screams; but when they’re done, he knows that there is little he could do to stop it. As long as he does not question his position, he will be able to spy on the wolf pack without further harm befalling him.
To prove his compliance and subservience, he licks the salt sweat from Fenrir’s naked form; and cleans away the iron blood and semen from his loins. It is not a taste that Remus would easily forget - it is the taste of sacrifice.
Red Dragon: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
The Five Stages of Sexual Response: Desire, Excitement, Plateau of arousal, Orgasm, Resolution
Desire - Red Dragon
George and the Dragon
Will looks beautiful handcuffed to the bed, his pale hair pooled around his head like the halo of a Christian saint depicted in some renaissance painting. Hannibal opens his hand to let free a curtain of red and white rose petals, letting them fall on and around the naked and unconscious man on the ebony sheets. He is waiting for Graham to wake up, and gradually he does, though coherence is far away. Graham is a warrior of panic. When he sees Lecter, his fear is delectable. He fights his silver bindings as though he is George fighting the Dragon.
Excitement - Red Dragon
Arousing Adonis
Lecter has an array of “specially designed” tools. They aren’t anything more than a feather, a knife and a candle - but he doesn’t enlighten Will, because he knows the anticipation will frighten him more than anything Hannibal might ever do to him. He trails the feather down the firm plateau of Will’s abdomen, and then brushes it along his soft length. It doesn’t take much experimenting to excite the terrified man. Soon Graham is a flushed Adonis buried in bed-sheets and petals; his body rouged, wet with sweat - the smell of arousal and fear plenty enough to arouse his captor.
Plateau of Arousal - Red Dragon
Architecture
Sustaining Will’s pleasure is a difficult task. It requires constant contact and determination from Lecter. He caresses Will until he hovers on the edge, his chest heaving, his blood rushing, his every breath a moan; and then he lets him down again, and it begins once more, that gently building back up. Lecter is an architect. Everything must be perfect. Every time his building is perfectly precise. One more brush of his thumb would be the end of his game. A few seconds more and he would not be able to prevent it. He lets him down and starts again.
Orgasm - Red Dragon
Fireworks
It’s like a series of little explosions, firing off down the length of his body. When it happens, Doctor Lecter thinks of Sydney Harbour Bridge on New Year’s Eve; a wave of fountain-like fireworks bursting into the sky at midnight. Hannibal thinks of the movement of a fish - a ripple along the length of the man’s slim, streamlined body. Will’s body moves like that when he reaches orgasm, electricity firing off nerves just as neatly as it fires off those Chinese bombs. And it is spectacular - Lecter leans back and watches Will’s eyes spin in their sockets like Catherine Wheels.
Resolution - Red Dragon
The exhaustion of post orgasm is like the throes of death. Hannibal admires the flush of Will’s skin; the way his eyes are wide and sightless as he tries to find some sustenance in the air that he’d breathing in. When Lecter brings his hand to Will’s throat; he can feel the blood rushing - heart thundering like an auctioneer’s gavel gone out of control. Lecter smiles, capturing open lips in a kiss - an exchange of fluids as he tastes Will’s mouth - tastes orgasm and whiskey and chloroform on his breath. He lets him sleep and departs humming into the night.