Fic DVD Commentary: To Have and to Hold Down - Part 1
To Have and to Hold Down - Part 1
Fic DVD Commentary
A number of you expressed interest in reading a DVD commentary on some of my fics. Consider me flattered.
First on the list is To Have and to Hold Down. Commentary on this was requested by pushkin666 who perseveres on her delusion that before I somehow corrupted her with this filthy BDSM fic, her love for Life on Mars was as pure as a driven snow. So far she has not provided an adequate explanation as to why, if she was so very innocent, did she decide to click on a story that warned for “BDSM, spanking, dodgy-con, graphic sex”. Really my dear, you’re not fooling anyone.
It is both challenging and almost uncomfortably personal to explain reasons and motivations behind a story that’s essentially nothing but sex. It skirts around issues people don’t usually talk about (they just write fics about them instead), can include scary amounts of self-reflection and result in half of your F-list leaving in disgust.
I’ve tried to keep the risk of all to a minimum.
Please note the warnings above, the fic and the commentary are rated NC-17.
First some general thoughts on writing porn/erotica.
One question that may instantly come to mind when talking about writing porn/erotica is: How much of the fic is author’s personal fantasy material? Or, more abstractly: Can someone write a convincing sex scene involving kinks/acts that they personally don’t find erotic?
The answer to either is not straightforward. As writers we constantly put ourselves and our characters in the situations that are not familiar to us - it’s called using your imagination. But what makes a story work, is the ability to tell about those unfamiliar settings and situations on a level that the reader (and the writer) can relate to. The author or reader may not know what it’s like to live in a different galaxy but they know what it’s like to be separated from your home and loved ones. They may never have driven across the country with their brother, hunting demons, but they know what it’s like to face the unknown, to have only one trustworthy person at your back. None of us have (presumably) been stuck thirty years in the past, but we all recognise the feelings of isolation and uncertainty, of not being understood, of fighting to change things.
To give another example, and put it in the context of writing porn/erotica: In real life I don’t find S/M (causing/receiving physical pain) a turn-on at all, but the elements of control, surrender, trust, and power that underlie it, I can understand. After all, at the heart of practically every fanfic, regardless of the setting or genre, are human relationships, feelings and motivations.
Recently, there was an interesting conversation over at thefourthvine’s journal about whether authors find their own sex scenes sexy. Is it a turn-on if you’ve written it yourself?
Before answering that question, I think we should look at what is the main motivation behind writing PWP/erotica fanfic in general. Developing writing skills in a particular genre may well be a part of it, but at its core it’s something women write to turn on other women (both fanfic writers and readers being predominantly female). And that right there is as fascinating and forbidden as the porn itself, if not more so.
But it’s true and there’s no denying it. Of course I love readers for pointing out a clever simile or metaphor I used, but there is something infinitely satisfying about the comments that go “afkjdhadsk;fjdsafhfjdskh SO HOT”. The whole point of a sex scene is to be, well, sexy. If I fail to turn on the reader, I’ve clearly failed at writing the scene.
This brings us back to the question: Do I find porn/erotica I myself write sexy? The answer is: Yes, always when I write and usually also afterwards. To put it bluntly: I have to be in a sexy mood to write a sex scene. Otherwise, there’s no point. It can be incredibly annoying when you’ve finished with a fic except for the final sex scene or when you’re working with deadlines (this is the reason why Taste of Maybe fades to black before the sex scene), but it’s no use trying to force it; the writing won’t work and I’ll only end up deleting it later.
Of course, this is my subjective experience and I would be very interested to hear other people’s thoughts on writing porn/erotica.
Let’s move on to the actual Fic DVD Commentary.
To Have and to Hold Down (THATHD) was my first LoM story and my first (and only one published so far) graphic BDSM story. It came about almost by accident. Ages ago, when LoM was new and shiny, drunkenfop wrote some lovely tie!kink. Then we had an innuendo-laden discussion. And before I knew it, I’d gone and promised her some fic. Of course, once started, it turned out to be much longer than expected, which is why it’s in two parts.
The length is also the reason why the Commentary will be in two parts
I will do the DVD commentary in the “voice-over” style. Comments are in normal text, the story is in italics.
***
For some reason, I find that the Railway Arms must be described through the senses other than just sight; the smell of old cigarette smoke, the sticky alcohol stains on the counter, the stale saltiness of pork scratchings.
The pub was noisy and crowded, filled to the brim with coppers determined to play hard after a long shift of working hard.
Ray took a deep drag, feeling the arid smoke coalesce in his lungs. He held his breath for a few seconds longer than comfortable and finally blew it out, watching the swirls mix and vanish into the murky air of the room.
I find it impossible to write completely meaningless and motiveless sex. I know, because I’ve tried it again recently with a short Supernatural piece, but other things interfere until the word count suddenly explodes. This is exactly what happened with THATHD. Despite the essentially PWP nature of the story, I have to have some reason for the characters to behave the way they do. Therefore I needed to have some scene-setting.
It had been a good, clean bust. A routine chat with a regular snitch had produced some interesting information about stolen guns. A little traditional detective work - none of that fancy pussyfooting that DI let’s-all-be-nice-to-the-poor-misunderstood-criminals so liked - had resulted in an early-morning raid and a day of paperwork. It hadn’t been that exciting, but - Ray grudgingly admitted - it *had* been good, solid police work.
I asked drunkenfop which POV she wanted for the fic, saying that I could write both from dom’s (Ray) or sub’s (Chris) POV but found it difficult to switch (yes, yes, pun intended) within a fic. She wanted things from Chris’ POV, and yet I was having real difficulty to start the story with that. I believe this is because as a sub Chris doesn’t act, he reacts. He doesn’t instigate or finish things, Ray does, which is why THATHD begins and ends with Ray’s POV.
Ray’s voice was scarily easy to find. He wasn’t happy. He needed to make something happen.
And yet… He wasn’t satisfied. A restless, fidgety feeling churned inside him, and nothing helped, not the booze, not the fags, not the throb of his bloody knuckles which he’d slammed on the toilet door in an effort to just fucking *stop* for a minute.
He drowned his drink and leaned against the back wall. Arms crossed tightly to restrain the thrumming, twisting something that was shaking his body apart, he surveyed the scene in front of him.
Ray/Chris is not my pairing of choice at all for this show, Sam/Gene is. The only reason I started writing it is because drunkenfop asked. But as she didn’t specifically exclude other pairings, I added some Sam/Gene hints. And then later the potential of Sam/Chris became very important.
Over at the bar the Guv was holding court, surrounded by eager fresh-faced uniforms, one hand holding a half-filled pint, another one resting on Tyler’s shoulder. There was a roar of laughter as Gene got to the punch-line. For a split second the tableau seemed freeze and Ray could see every detail with crystal clarity: the way brown liquid pooled on the dirty floor from a fallen bottle; the long lines of Sam’s neck as he threw his head back, uninhibited for once in his amusement; Guv’s eyes everywhere at once, always watching and evaluating, and - more and more lately - lingering on his second-in-command.
The description of Chris through Ray’s eyes is pretty much the way I see him too: vulnerable and easy to take advantage of, yet almost entirely unaware of it himself.
And then, inevitably, his gaze came to rest on a mop of dark hair above a pair of slender shoulders currently covered in a fake leather jacket. Chris.
Chris, with his easy smiles and dumb jokes and an insecure streak a mile-wide. Chris with his need for approval and eagerness to please and all the things Ray shouldn’t notice, like his ridiculously long lashes, his crooked mouth and the way his shirt rode up at the back revealing a strip of white skin.
Chris with his forehead resting against Sam’s arm, shaking with laughter because obviously it was a fucking *riot* to be draped all over their superior like a cheap slut. Goddamn idiot…
This following bit I’m not happy with. It feels too out of character, too mushy.
Ray’s gut tightened painfully and he was half-way across the room before he realised he’d moved. But he couldn’t just fucking stand by and watch Chris…
What? Watch Chris do exactly what? Ray slowed down, trying to shake his head clear. This was beyond stupid, he couldn’t just elbow his way into a group of *coppers* like a jealous lover, for God’s sake, and besides it was nothing, nothing at all. Probably nothing.
Sam took me by surprise. I didn’t know he was in on the whole thing until I wrote this part, and it gave me this dark thrill of yes, of course. Sam becomes a third actor in the story even though he’s off-stage for most of it. That was never planned and just goes to show how characters sometimes take the life of their own.
But over at the bar Sam was looking at him, eyes dark and amused over Chris’ shoulder. The moment stretched for long seconds and he couldn’t breathe because Sam *knew*, saw right through him and Ray was frozen between one step and another. Then Sam smiled, slow and deliberate, ducking his head down, eyes never leaving Ray’s and whispered something in Chris’ ear, making the younger man double over helplessly and Ray was moving.
***
Chris’ voice was more difficult to write than Ray’s. He’s drunk and confused, then later turned-on, scared and yet trusting. All those layers needed to be shown, subtly, and I feel some of the mental jumps are too abrupt to be in character.
Chris was propelled around mid-sentence, his head fuzzy-full of alcohol and struggling to keep up.
“Wha…? Hey, Ray!” His pint sloshed over but it didn’t matter because hey look, it was Ray! Chris smiled brightly at his… well not a friend exactly, but… something. And the Guv was here too. And Sam. He turned back towards the DI, feeling drunk and loose and very friendly.
Sam, Sam, Sam.
It was a good name. He tried it out loud.
“Sam, Sam, Sam.”
“Chris, Chris, Chris.” Sam answered, the serious tone betrayed by the laughter-lines around his eyes. It was the most hilarious thing ever. Chris inhaled some of his beverage, coughing and wheezing, barely able to stay on his feet.
“DC Skelton, I believe you are intoxicated in public premises.”
And that was funny too. So funny in fact that Ray’s gruff “I’ll take care of it, Guv.” didn’t register until he was yanked back and towards the door by his jacket.
The alley is important. The setting for the sex scene needed to be close by, because this was a spur of the moment kind of thing that Ray was doing. I also wanted to make the sex scene deliberately dirty and almost degrading.
Ray dragged him out and into the alley behind the pub, the roar of voices fading away until it was only his own, all giggles and feeble protests. He slipped on the wet cobble stones, the brick wall cold and grimy under his hand as he braced against it for balance, still weak from laughter.
“Hey, easy there, I’m…”
Ray slammed him against the wall and for a while Chris thought he was going to take a swing at him but then the larger man visibly reined himself in and took a careful step back.
Despite the dom/sub division, that becomes overt later, Ray is very clearly not in control here. Neither of them are. It’s very much a case of emotion overriding common sense and that’s the feel I wanted to convey.
“Is he fucking you yet? Or is the Guv keeping the leash short and tight?”
“What?! Who?”
“DI Tyler. DI Scientific Method. DI Sherlock-fucking-Holmes.”
“Sam? No! Why would you…?” Chris almost started laughing again, only he wasn’t quite sure he got the joke.
“Shut up!” He could feel the other man’s hot breath on his face and suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.
“Sam this and Sam that. I’m sick of your hero worship. A man makes a one mistake - one! - and suddenly he’s not worth knowing!”
The mistake in question is Ray’s mistreatment of a suspect in episode 1.07 that led to a death in custody. It also resulted in loss of status for Ray, both in terms of his rank, and, I think, in eyes of Chris, who until now had looked up to Ray as his role model.
What the…? Chris bristled at the implication. Ray made it sound like he was a snot-nosed little kid, star struck with a local trouble-maker. Which of course wasn’t true. Although Sam - DI Tyler he quickly corrected himself - *did* cause a considerable amount of trouble and Chris *was* younger than the rest of the CID, but that was it. There was no hero worshipping involved. Although the way Sam had pulled that girl from the…
A hard punch made his head spin, snapping his attention back to the man in front of him.
“You’re thinking of him right now aren’t you?”
Chris brought a hand to his mouth, feeling the stinging and warm wetness where the force of the hit had split his lip.
This was another aspect that came a surprise. I didn’t plan things to escalate to physical violence but that’s where the scene went. It’s interesting (and potentially disturbing) how, despite writing from Chris’ POV, I was still very much in Ray’s headspace here, and he was like a bomb, ready to explode. Ray wanted to gain some control over the situation, but instead he lost control of himself.
But of course, what’s important here is Chris’ reaction to the punch. Or, to be more accurate, the emotion behind it.
Hit.
Ray had hit him. Not badly but…
“Answer me!”
“No. I’m not thinking of him.”
And he really, really wasn’t. It was if the sudden flare of violence had wiped his mind clean because Chris didn’t seem to be able to form any coherent thoughts at all. Everything narrowed down to feeling, to purely physical sensation.
He stood still, mind oddly blank and peaceful, feeling the ghost of heatpain of Ray’s palm. His body felt heavy and lethargic, skin growing unbearably sensitive, his clothes suddenly restrictive.
In a way the punch ups the ante even more. The D/s kink turns into something that flirts with bloodplay and use of pain. It’s not terribly hardcore but I was pushing my boundaries as a writer. Bear in mind that I’d never before written anything like this.
The night air smelled of rain and danger and men in brink of something new and dark. Chris breathed deeply through his mouth to get more, better and then Ray was right there in his face and Chris flinched, expecting another punch but no, that wasn’t it, too close.
Too close to see Ray’s mouth closing over his bleeding lip.
It wasn’t even a kiss, just Ray making a goddamn *claim* of ownership, all teeth and tongue, but by the time Ray’s hands closed around his biceps and pushed him down Chris was hard and panting.
“I’ll give you something else to think about.”
His knees hit the gravel hard, warm blood already seeping through the threadbare slacks. The pain pulsed in counter to his heartbeat, fast and erratic and lifting him high, higher, as far as he could stretch until his head was cradled in Ray’s hands, tilted back and held immobile.
He couldn’t see Ray, just the dark sky, water drizzling down and into his eyes, blinding him further. Chris blinked rapidly, mouth falling open to catch the clean taste of rain and blood and before he could think further there was a sound of a zipper being lowered and for once he knew exactly what was coming.
Ray’s cock forced its way past his lips, scraping them raw and Chris gagged, swallowed, too much and not enough.
It didn’t matter that he’d never done it before. It didn’t matter that he was starting to panic, struggling to breathe around thickness in his mouth. It certainly didn’t matter whether he wanted to do it or not.
Deliberate flirting with breathplay.
And while everything else that had happened during the last ten minutes was strange and unexpected, this was something Chris was intimately familiar with. There was a sense of security that came with having one’s choice taken away, safety in surrender. Obedience left no room for mistakes.
That paragraph was where Chris’ headspace really opened up to me. In the show he is portrayed as someone who is not the most intelligent guy around, and often finds it difficult to understand all the intricacies of what is going on and where he fits in. Here, with Ray, the answers were simple. I tried to explore this theme further throughout the fic, but I don’t’ know how well it comes through.
“Come on Chris, open up. That’s it, good boy.” Ray’s hands coaxed his head into a better angle.
Instinctively he relaxed his throat and Ray slid deeper, pulled out, back in with a long thrust. Chris moaned, eyes wide and unseeing, his own cock twitching in sympathy.
Chris had always been good at following orders. He had liked the boundaries, the feeling of being useful. He just hadn’t known it was possible to like being *used* as well.
The parallel between being useful and being used is something that really resonated with the story. It goes a long way in explaining how Chris could find himself going along with a relationship like this.
Ray was cupping his face with both hands now, fucking his mouth fast and hard and Chris just wanted more, needed Ray to take it all.
And then Ray was coming, seasalt taste filling his mouth and he swallowed and swallowed, until hard hands were pushing him away.
Now Ray is in control. And Chris is so very much not. And - going back to the earlier point about whether something you write yourself turns you on - this hits my kinks like a hammer of god, and the answer is very much a yes.
Chris didn’t want it to stop. He tried to follow but Ray kept him in place. Chris was aching, out of his mind, a good boy, yes, pleaseplease, so hard.
“Let me, Ray, letmeletme...” Begging, he was begging, licking Ray’s come off his lips and he needed, wanted, squirmed under Ray’s hands, still fisted in his hair.
“Come on. Bring yourself off, I want to watch.”
Chris started to unbuckle his belt, acutely aware of their less than private surroundings but beyond caring.
“No, keep them on. I want you to come in your pants for me.”
drunkenfop originally asked for “almost-but-not-quite non-con”. I don’t think I really managed that, because wow, do I have issues about consent, but I compensated by adding another element. Humiliation is a real squick for some people, but I think it worked here.
Shame flushed against his skin, hot and arousing.
He pressed the heel of his hand down hard on his aching cock, desperate for relief. The thought of how he must look, kneeling down on a filthy street, Ray’s come drying on his face, made him flush with embarrassment and he hesitated, frozen in place.
“Again. Don’t stop. I won’t let you go until you come.” Ray’s voice was low and rough, his fingers tightening their hold, making Chris’ eyes tear up.
“P…please.” But the plead dissolved into another moan, a treacherous hand already curling around his hard-on, squeezing just right because, yeah, he knew how to bring himself off and now Ray would too.
While I still enjoy much of the build-up in this fic, even after a year, the orgasm scenes make me cringe quite badly. I hate writing those. I think it’s partly because the climax is the least sexy part of the sex scene, and partly because there are only so many ways you can describe someone coming without sounding like a B-porn movie or a flowery romance novel.
Ray’s nails were blunt half-moons of pain on his scalp, making the pleasure sharper, keener and he sobbed because he wanted *skin* but Ray wouldn’t let him. He arched taut, hips stuttering up to meet his own palm, too desperate to get any proper rhythm going. But it was enough because jesusgod he was right on the edge already, breath coming in ragged puffs. Above him Ray was *smiling*, wild and brilliant and cruel and that was all it took, Chris was coming in his pants - just like Ray wanted. He would have screamed if not for Ray’s other hand that came down hard on his mouth, muffling sound but not the white hot rush of orgasm tearing him open like a jagged knife.
I wanted to show that the encounter was about more than just two men getting off. It felt important that Ray didn’t just leave, that there was at least a hint of genuine caring underneath all the kinky alley-sex. When Chris followed Ray to the car, it came clear to me that the story was far from over.
When he came to, in what felt like hours, Ray was crouching down shaking him by the shoulders.
“Chris. Chris, come one, snap out of it. We got to go.”
“Uhm, ok, yeah.”
He felt dizzy getting to his feet, body heavy and uncooperative. Ray started towards the parking lot and Chris stumbled after him, the only way to go now.
There was a wet spot in front of his trousers and for a few seconds he couldn’t work out why. And when his sluggish brain finally made the connection Chris was already sitting in Ray’s car - no closer to any real answers.
And that’s the end of the first part of To Have and to Hold Down.
Continue to DVD Commentary for Part 2 of To Have And To Hold Down
Fic DVD Commentary
A number of you expressed interest in reading a DVD commentary on some of my fics. Consider me flattered.
First on the list is To Have and to Hold Down. Commentary on this was requested by pushkin666 who perseveres on her delusion that before I somehow corrupted her with this filthy BDSM fic, her love for Life on Mars was as pure as a driven snow. So far she has not provided an adequate explanation as to why, if she was so very innocent, did she decide to click on a story that warned for “BDSM, spanking, dodgy-con, graphic sex”. Really my dear, you’re not fooling anyone.
It is both challenging and almost uncomfortably personal to explain reasons and motivations behind a story that’s essentially nothing but sex. It skirts around issues people don’t usually talk about (they just write fics about them instead), can include scary amounts of self-reflection and result in half of your F-list leaving in disgust.
I’ve tried to keep the risk of all to a minimum.
Please note the warnings above, the fic and the commentary are rated NC-17.
First some general thoughts on writing porn/erotica.
One question that may instantly come to mind when talking about writing porn/erotica is: How much of the fic is author’s personal fantasy material? Or, more abstractly: Can someone write a convincing sex scene involving kinks/acts that they personally don’t find erotic?
The answer to either is not straightforward. As writers we constantly put ourselves and our characters in the situations that are not familiar to us - it’s called using your imagination. But what makes a story work, is the ability to tell about those unfamiliar settings and situations on a level that the reader (and the writer) can relate to. The author or reader may not know what it’s like to live in a different galaxy but they know what it’s like to be separated from your home and loved ones. They may never have driven across the country with their brother, hunting demons, but they know what it’s like to face the unknown, to have only one trustworthy person at your back. None of us have (presumably) been stuck thirty years in the past, but we all recognise the feelings of isolation and uncertainty, of not being understood, of fighting to change things.
To give another example, and put it in the context of writing porn/erotica: In real life I don’t find S/M (causing/receiving physical pain) a turn-on at all, but the elements of control, surrender, trust, and power that underlie it, I can understand. After all, at the heart of practically every fanfic, regardless of the setting or genre, are human relationships, feelings and motivations.
Recently, there was an interesting conversation over at thefourthvine’s journal about whether authors find their own sex scenes sexy. Is it a turn-on if you’ve written it yourself?
Before answering that question, I think we should look at what is the main motivation behind writing PWP/erotica fanfic in general. Developing writing skills in a particular genre may well be a part of it, but at its core it’s something women write to turn on other women (both fanfic writers and readers being predominantly female). And that right there is as fascinating and forbidden as the porn itself, if not more so.
But it’s true and there’s no denying it. Of course I love readers for pointing out a clever simile or metaphor I used, but there is something infinitely satisfying about the comments that go “afkjdhadsk;fjdsafhfjdskh SO HOT”. The whole point of a sex scene is to be, well, sexy. If I fail to turn on the reader, I’ve clearly failed at writing the scene.
This brings us back to the question: Do I find porn/erotica I myself write sexy? The answer is: Yes, always when I write and usually also afterwards. To put it bluntly: I have to be in a sexy mood to write a sex scene. Otherwise, there’s no point. It can be incredibly annoying when you’ve finished with a fic except for the final sex scene or when you’re working with deadlines (this is the reason why Taste of Maybe fades to black before the sex scene), but it’s no use trying to force it; the writing won’t work and I’ll only end up deleting it later.
Of course, this is my subjective experience and I would be very interested to hear other people’s thoughts on writing porn/erotica.
Let’s move on to the actual Fic DVD Commentary.
To Have and to Hold Down (THATHD) was my first LoM story and my first (and only one published so far) graphic BDSM story. It came about almost by accident. Ages ago, when LoM was new and shiny, drunkenfop wrote some lovely tie!kink. Then we had an innuendo-laden discussion. And before I knew it, I’d gone and promised her some fic. Of course, once started, it turned out to be much longer than expected, which is why it’s in two parts.
The length is also the reason why the Commentary will be in two parts
I will do the DVD commentary in the “voice-over” style. Comments are in normal text, the story is in italics.
***
For some reason, I find that the Railway Arms must be described through the senses other than just sight; the smell of old cigarette smoke, the sticky alcohol stains on the counter, the stale saltiness of pork scratchings.
The pub was noisy and crowded, filled to the brim with coppers determined to play hard after a long shift of working hard.
Ray took a deep drag, feeling the arid smoke coalesce in his lungs. He held his breath for a few seconds longer than comfortable and finally blew it out, watching the swirls mix and vanish into the murky air of the room.
I find it impossible to write completely meaningless and motiveless sex. I know, because I’ve tried it again recently with a short Supernatural piece, but other things interfere until the word count suddenly explodes. This is exactly what happened with THATHD. Despite the essentially PWP nature of the story, I have to have some reason for the characters to behave the way they do. Therefore I needed to have some scene-setting.
It had been a good, clean bust. A routine chat with a regular snitch had produced some interesting information about stolen guns. A little traditional detective work - none of that fancy pussyfooting that DI let’s-all-be-nice-to-the-poor-misunderstood-criminals so liked - had resulted in an early-morning raid and a day of paperwork. It hadn’t been that exciting, but - Ray grudgingly admitted - it *had* been good, solid police work.
I asked drunkenfop which POV she wanted for the fic, saying that I could write both from dom’s (Ray) or sub’s (Chris) POV but found it difficult to switch (yes, yes, pun intended) within a fic. She wanted things from Chris’ POV, and yet I was having real difficulty to start the story with that. I believe this is because as a sub Chris doesn’t act, he reacts. He doesn’t instigate or finish things, Ray does, which is why THATHD begins and ends with Ray’s POV.
Ray’s voice was scarily easy to find. He wasn’t happy. He needed to make something happen.
And yet… He wasn’t satisfied. A restless, fidgety feeling churned inside him, and nothing helped, not the booze, not the fags, not the throb of his bloody knuckles which he’d slammed on the toilet door in an effort to just fucking *stop* for a minute.
He drowned his drink and leaned against the back wall. Arms crossed tightly to restrain the thrumming, twisting something that was shaking his body apart, he surveyed the scene in front of him.
Ray/Chris is not my pairing of choice at all for this show, Sam/Gene is. The only reason I started writing it is because drunkenfop asked. But as she didn’t specifically exclude other pairings, I added some Sam/Gene hints. And then later the potential of Sam/Chris became very important.
Over at the bar the Guv was holding court, surrounded by eager fresh-faced uniforms, one hand holding a half-filled pint, another one resting on Tyler’s shoulder. There was a roar of laughter as Gene got to the punch-line. For a split second the tableau seemed freeze and Ray could see every detail with crystal clarity: the way brown liquid pooled on the dirty floor from a fallen bottle; the long lines of Sam’s neck as he threw his head back, uninhibited for once in his amusement; Guv’s eyes everywhere at once, always watching and evaluating, and - more and more lately - lingering on his second-in-command.
The description of Chris through Ray’s eyes is pretty much the way I see him too: vulnerable and easy to take advantage of, yet almost entirely unaware of it himself.
And then, inevitably, his gaze came to rest on a mop of dark hair above a pair of slender shoulders currently covered in a fake leather jacket. Chris.
Chris, with his easy smiles and dumb jokes and an insecure streak a mile-wide. Chris with his need for approval and eagerness to please and all the things Ray shouldn’t notice, like his ridiculously long lashes, his crooked mouth and the way his shirt rode up at the back revealing a strip of white skin.
Chris with his forehead resting against Sam’s arm, shaking with laughter because obviously it was a fucking *riot* to be draped all over their superior like a cheap slut. Goddamn idiot…
This following bit I’m not happy with. It feels too out of character, too mushy.
Ray’s gut tightened painfully and he was half-way across the room before he realised he’d moved. But he couldn’t just fucking stand by and watch Chris…
What? Watch Chris do exactly what? Ray slowed down, trying to shake his head clear. This was beyond stupid, he couldn’t just elbow his way into a group of *coppers* like a jealous lover, for God’s sake, and besides it was nothing, nothing at all. Probably nothing.
Sam took me by surprise. I didn’t know he was in on the whole thing until I wrote this part, and it gave me this dark thrill of yes, of course. Sam becomes a third actor in the story even though he’s off-stage for most of it. That was never planned and just goes to show how characters sometimes take the life of their own.
But over at the bar Sam was looking at him, eyes dark and amused over Chris’ shoulder. The moment stretched for long seconds and he couldn’t breathe because Sam *knew*, saw right through him and Ray was frozen between one step and another. Then Sam smiled, slow and deliberate, ducking his head down, eyes never leaving Ray’s and whispered something in Chris’ ear, making the younger man double over helplessly and Ray was moving.
***
Chris’ voice was more difficult to write than Ray’s. He’s drunk and confused, then later turned-on, scared and yet trusting. All those layers needed to be shown, subtly, and I feel some of the mental jumps are too abrupt to be in character.
Chris was propelled around mid-sentence, his head fuzzy-full of alcohol and struggling to keep up.
“Wha…? Hey, Ray!” His pint sloshed over but it didn’t matter because hey look, it was Ray! Chris smiled brightly at his… well not a friend exactly, but… something. And the Guv was here too. And Sam. He turned back towards the DI, feeling drunk and loose and very friendly.
Sam, Sam, Sam.
It was a good name. He tried it out loud.
“Sam, Sam, Sam.”
“Chris, Chris, Chris.” Sam answered, the serious tone betrayed by the laughter-lines around his eyes. It was the most hilarious thing ever. Chris inhaled some of his beverage, coughing and wheezing, barely able to stay on his feet.
“DC Skelton, I believe you are intoxicated in public premises.”
And that was funny too. So funny in fact that Ray’s gruff “I’ll take care of it, Guv.” didn’t register until he was yanked back and towards the door by his jacket.
The alley is important. The setting for the sex scene needed to be close by, because this was a spur of the moment kind of thing that Ray was doing. I also wanted to make the sex scene deliberately dirty and almost degrading.
Ray dragged him out and into the alley behind the pub, the roar of voices fading away until it was only his own, all giggles and feeble protests. He slipped on the wet cobble stones, the brick wall cold and grimy under his hand as he braced against it for balance, still weak from laughter.
“Hey, easy there, I’m…”
Ray slammed him against the wall and for a while Chris thought he was going to take a swing at him but then the larger man visibly reined himself in and took a careful step back.
Despite the dom/sub division, that becomes overt later, Ray is very clearly not in control here. Neither of them are. It’s very much a case of emotion overriding common sense and that’s the feel I wanted to convey.
“Is he fucking you yet? Or is the Guv keeping the leash short and tight?”
“What?! Who?”
“DI Tyler. DI Scientific Method. DI Sherlock-fucking-Holmes.”
“Sam? No! Why would you…?” Chris almost started laughing again, only he wasn’t quite sure he got the joke.
“Shut up!” He could feel the other man’s hot breath on his face and suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.
“Sam this and Sam that. I’m sick of your hero worship. A man makes a one mistake - one! - and suddenly he’s not worth knowing!”
The mistake in question is Ray’s mistreatment of a suspect in episode 1.07 that led to a death in custody. It also resulted in loss of status for Ray, both in terms of his rank, and, I think, in eyes of Chris, who until now had looked up to Ray as his role model.
What the…? Chris bristled at the implication. Ray made it sound like he was a snot-nosed little kid, star struck with a local trouble-maker. Which of course wasn’t true. Although Sam - DI Tyler he quickly corrected himself - *did* cause a considerable amount of trouble and Chris *was* younger than the rest of the CID, but that was it. There was no hero worshipping involved. Although the way Sam had pulled that girl from the…
A hard punch made his head spin, snapping his attention back to the man in front of him.
“You’re thinking of him right now aren’t you?”
Chris brought a hand to his mouth, feeling the stinging and warm wetness where the force of the hit had split his lip.
This was another aspect that came a surprise. I didn’t plan things to escalate to physical violence but that’s where the scene went. It’s interesting (and potentially disturbing) how, despite writing from Chris’ POV, I was still very much in Ray’s headspace here, and he was like a bomb, ready to explode. Ray wanted to gain some control over the situation, but instead he lost control of himself.
But of course, what’s important here is Chris’ reaction to the punch. Or, to be more accurate, the emotion behind it.
Hit.
Ray had hit him. Not badly but…
“Answer me!”
“No. I’m not thinking of him.”
And he really, really wasn’t. It was if the sudden flare of violence had wiped his mind clean because Chris didn’t seem to be able to form any coherent thoughts at all. Everything narrowed down to feeling, to purely physical sensation.
He stood still, mind oddly blank and peaceful, feeling the ghost of heatpain of Ray’s palm. His body felt heavy and lethargic, skin growing unbearably sensitive, his clothes suddenly restrictive.
In a way the punch ups the ante even more. The D/s kink turns into something that flirts with bloodplay and use of pain. It’s not terribly hardcore but I was pushing my boundaries as a writer. Bear in mind that I’d never before written anything like this.
The night air smelled of rain and danger and men in brink of something new and dark. Chris breathed deeply through his mouth to get more, better and then Ray was right there in his face and Chris flinched, expecting another punch but no, that wasn’t it, too close.
Too close to see Ray’s mouth closing over his bleeding lip.
It wasn’t even a kiss, just Ray making a goddamn *claim* of ownership, all teeth and tongue, but by the time Ray’s hands closed around his biceps and pushed him down Chris was hard and panting.
“I’ll give you something else to think about.”
His knees hit the gravel hard, warm blood already seeping through the threadbare slacks. The pain pulsed in counter to his heartbeat, fast and erratic and lifting him high, higher, as far as he could stretch until his head was cradled in Ray’s hands, tilted back and held immobile.
He couldn’t see Ray, just the dark sky, water drizzling down and into his eyes, blinding him further. Chris blinked rapidly, mouth falling open to catch the clean taste of rain and blood and before he could think further there was a sound of a zipper being lowered and for once he knew exactly what was coming.
Ray’s cock forced its way past his lips, scraping them raw and Chris gagged, swallowed, too much and not enough.
It didn’t matter that he’d never done it before. It didn’t matter that he was starting to panic, struggling to breathe around thickness in his mouth. It certainly didn’t matter whether he wanted to do it or not.
Deliberate flirting with breathplay.
And while everything else that had happened during the last ten minutes was strange and unexpected, this was something Chris was intimately familiar with. There was a sense of security that came with having one’s choice taken away, safety in surrender. Obedience left no room for mistakes.
That paragraph was where Chris’ headspace really opened up to me. In the show he is portrayed as someone who is not the most intelligent guy around, and often finds it difficult to understand all the intricacies of what is going on and where he fits in. Here, with Ray, the answers were simple. I tried to explore this theme further throughout the fic, but I don’t’ know how well it comes through.
“Come on Chris, open up. That’s it, good boy.” Ray’s hands coaxed his head into a better angle.
Instinctively he relaxed his throat and Ray slid deeper, pulled out, back in with a long thrust. Chris moaned, eyes wide and unseeing, his own cock twitching in sympathy.
Chris had always been good at following orders. He had liked the boundaries, the feeling of being useful. He just hadn’t known it was possible to like being *used* as well.
The parallel between being useful and being used is something that really resonated with the story. It goes a long way in explaining how Chris could find himself going along with a relationship like this.
Ray was cupping his face with both hands now, fucking his mouth fast and hard and Chris just wanted more, needed Ray to take it all.
And then Ray was coming, seasalt taste filling his mouth and he swallowed and swallowed, until hard hands were pushing him away.
Now Ray is in control. And Chris is so very much not. And - going back to the earlier point about whether something you write yourself turns you on - this hits my kinks like a hammer of god, and the answer is very much a yes.
Chris didn’t want it to stop. He tried to follow but Ray kept him in place. Chris was aching, out of his mind, a good boy, yes, pleaseplease, so hard.
“Let me, Ray, letmeletme...” Begging, he was begging, licking Ray’s come off his lips and he needed, wanted, squirmed under Ray’s hands, still fisted in his hair.
“Come on. Bring yourself off, I want to watch.”
Chris started to unbuckle his belt, acutely aware of their less than private surroundings but beyond caring.
“No, keep them on. I want you to come in your pants for me.”
drunkenfop originally asked for “almost-but-not-quite non-con”. I don’t think I really managed that, because wow, do I have issues about consent, but I compensated by adding another element. Humiliation is a real squick for some people, but I think it worked here.
Shame flushed against his skin, hot and arousing.
He pressed the heel of his hand down hard on his aching cock, desperate for relief. The thought of how he must look, kneeling down on a filthy street, Ray’s come drying on his face, made him flush with embarrassment and he hesitated, frozen in place.
“Again. Don’t stop. I won’t let you go until you come.” Ray’s voice was low and rough, his fingers tightening their hold, making Chris’ eyes tear up.
“P…please.” But the plead dissolved into another moan, a treacherous hand already curling around his hard-on, squeezing just right because, yeah, he knew how to bring himself off and now Ray would too.
While I still enjoy much of the build-up in this fic, even after a year, the orgasm scenes make me cringe quite badly. I hate writing those. I think it’s partly because the climax is the least sexy part of the sex scene, and partly because there are only so many ways you can describe someone coming without sounding like a B-porn movie or a flowery romance novel.
Ray’s nails were blunt half-moons of pain on his scalp, making the pleasure sharper, keener and he sobbed because he wanted *skin* but Ray wouldn’t let him. He arched taut, hips stuttering up to meet his own palm, too desperate to get any proper rhythm going. But it was enough because jesusgod he was right on the edge already, breath coming in ragged puffs. Above him Ray was *smiling*, wild and brilliant and cruel and that was all it took, Chris was coming in his pants - just like Ray wanted. He would have screamed if not for Ray’s other hand that came down hard on his mouth, muffling sound but not the white hot rush of orgasm tearing him open like a jagged knife.
I wanted to show that the encounter was about more than just two men getting off. It felt important that Ray didn’t just leave, that there was at least a hint of genuine caring underneath all the kinky alley-sex. When Chris followed Ray to the car, it came clear to me that the story was far from over.
When he came to, in what felt like hours, Ray was crouching down shaking him by the shoulders.
“Chris. Chris, come one, snap out of it. We got to go.”
“Uhm, ok, yeah.”
He felt dizzy getting to his feet, body heavy and uncooperative. Ray started towards the parking lot and Chris stumbled after him, the only way to go now.
There was a wet spot in front of his trousers and for a few seconds he couldn’t work out why. And when his sluggish brain finally made the connection Chris was already sitting in Ray’s car - no closer to any real answers.
And that’s the end of the first part of To Have and to Hold Down.
Continue to DVD Commentary for Part 2 of To Have And To Hold Down