Holiday Fic Request #1: Sort-Sighted for the Long-Term (AtS/due South, Gunn/RayK, NC17)
Title: Sort-Sighted for the Long-Term
Author: viciouswishes
For: amaresu
Fandom: AtS/due South
Pairing: Gunn/RayK
Setting: Post-series
Rating: NC17
Words: 600
Request: due South/Buffy, Gunn/RayK, glasses
Summary: For fanfic_100 040 sight, Ray's still wearing his glass and Gunn's still killing demons.
"Glasses," Ray says. He holds out his hand, shaking it and waiting for Gunn.
Gunn gives them to him and bang, bang, Ray's shooting the bad guys. Both of the horned monsters fall over dead.
"Now that's how you kill. E-fucking-fficient." Ray's grinning like a happy fool. They'd saved the damsel or in this case, a homeless guy, once more and it's time to celebrate. Gunn doesn't mention that if Ray got contacts, they'd be even more efficient.
"Pizza and beer?" Gunn suggests.
"Sounds perfect-o."
Gunn met Ray four months ago. He was bouncing around job to job, hunting demons at night and trying to forget all about Los Angeles. Ray was barely hanging onto his job and spending his nights drunk dialing somewhere in the middle of Canada. "Bad break up," he'd told Gunn.
After busting a vamp gambling ring, Gunn ended up on Ray's couch. And a month later, he wound up in Ray's bed. "Shut up and kiss me," Gunn had said and Ray starting kissing him as the Hawks killed the Red Wings.
"Do you ever think about getting contacts?" Gunn asks. He moves his school books off the table to make room for the food. This time he's going for a legitimate degree in law. He can tell that Ray's nervous about the books and his schooling, but then Gunn's met Stella.
"Why?" Ray asks like Gunn's asking Ray why he doesn't wear his underwear on his head. "Why don't you get a gun?"
Gunn shrugs. "Always reminds me of cops."
"I am a cop."
"I know." Gunn leans over and kisses Ray. "But you're not like the ones I knew growing up. The ones who harassed you or arrested you for driving while black." Ray's really not like anyone Gunn's met and that's something. Ray's hyper, a little reckless and carefree, a complete gentleman, a vicious poker player, and a damned good dancer. He's also a cop, and Gunn's gotten used to that.
Just like Ray's gotten to used to his boyfriend being a demon hunter and a law-genius who works shitty dock jobs and goes to night school. "And you know I'd pound their faces if anyone on my squad did that."
"I'm glad someone's standing up for me." Gunn's hands undo Ray's pants. He traces over the scar on Ray's stomach and he moves so he can kiss across Ray's blighted flesh.
Ray groans. He runs his hand over Gunn's newly-shaved head. His hard cock's exposed and Gunn's taking him into his mouth. This is fast and dirty and sloppy. Maybe it's because they have pizza to eat and beer to drink and later they can fuck on Ray's bed until the sun comes up. Or maybe it's that if Gunn goes slowly Ray's going to start thinking of white banks of snow and red serge and Gunn's going to dream about an English accent and scars from bullets meant for him.
But Gunn's sucking and Ray's attention's locked on him. Gunn swallows as Ray's swearing and coming. Ray's glasses are crooked and Gunn's pants tight across his own cock.
"That was good," Gunn says as he moves back up on the couch. He grabs a beer and drinks, washing down the taste of Ray.
Ray just sits there with his legs open and limp cock resting on his thigh. "What are you waiting for?"
"Nothing." Gunn realizes that Ray's who he wants. Dorky glasses, bad hours, and all. "Just thinking that we might want to get a bigger bed or one not standing on milk crates."
"There's nothing wrong with milk crates."
Gunn grins and pulls Ray off his ass and toward the bedroom. "How about if we break the bed?"
Author: viciouswishes
For: amaresu
Fandom: AtS/due South
Pairing: Gunn/RayK
Setting: Post-series
Rating: NC17
Words: 600
Request: due South/Buffy, Gunn/RayK, glasses
Summary: For fanfic_100 040 sight, Ray's still wearing his glass and Gunn's still killing demons.
"Glasses," Ray says. He holds out his hand, shaking it and waiting for Gunn.
Gunn gives them to him and bang, bang, Ray's shooting the bad guys. Both of the horned monsters fall over dead.
"Now that's how you kill. E-fucking-fficient." Ray's grinning like a happy fool. They'd saved the damsel or in this case, a homeless guy, once more and it's time to celebrate. Gunn doesn't mention that if Ray got contacts, they'd be even more efficient.
"Pizza and beer?" Gunn suggests.
"Sounds perfect-o."
Gunn met Ray four months ago. He was bouncing around job to job, hunting demons at night and trying to forget all about Los Angeles. Ray was barely hanging onto his job and spending his nights drunk dialing somewhere in the middle of Canada. "Bad break up," he'd told Gunn.
After busting a vamp gambling ring, Gunn ended up on Ray's couch. And a month later, he wound up in Ray's bed. "Shut up and kiss me," Gunn had said and Ray starting kissing him as the Hawks killed the Red Wings.
"Do you ever think about getting contacts?" Gunn asks. He moves his school books off the table to make room for the food. This time he's going for a legitimate degree in law. He can tell that Ray's nervous about the books and his schooling, but then Gunn's met Stella.
"Why?" Ray asks like Gunn's asking Ray why he doesn't wear his underwear on his head. "Why don't you get a gun?"
Gunn shrugs. "Always reminds me of cops."
"I am a cop."
"I know." Gunn leans over and kisses Ray. "But you're not like the ones I knew growing up. The ones who harassed you or arrested you for driving while black." Ray's really not like anyone Gunn's met and that's something. Ray's hyper, a little reckless and carefree, a complete gentleman, a vicious poker player, and a damned good dancer. He's also a cop, and Gunn's gotten used to that.
Just like Ray's gotten to used to his boyfriend being a demon hunter and a law-genius who works shitty dock jobs and goes to night school. "And you know I'd pound their faces if anyone on my squad did that."
"I'm glad someone's standing up for me." Gunn's hands undo Ray's pants. He traces over the scar on Ray's stomach and he moves so he can kiss across Ray's blighted flesh.
Ray groans. He runs his hand over Gunn's newly-shaved head. His hard cock's exposed and Gunn's taking him into his mouth. This is fast and dirty and sloppy. Maybe it's because they have pizza to eat and beer to drink and later they can fuck on Ray's bed until the sun comes up. Or maybe it's that if Gunn goes slowly Ray's going to start thinking of white banks of snow and red serge and Gunn's going to dream about an English accent and scars from bullets meant for him.
But Gunn's sucking and Ray's attention's locked on him. Gunn swallows as Ray's swearing and coming. Ray's glasses are crooked and Gunn's pants tight across his own cock.
"That was good," Gunn says as he moves back up on the couch. He grabs a beer and drinks, washing down the taste of Ray.
Ray just sits there with his legs open and limp cock resting on his thigh. "What are you waiting for?"
"Nothing." Gunn realizes that Ray's who he wants. Dorky glasses, bad hours, and all. "Just thinking that we might want to get a bigger bed or one not standing on milk crates."
"There's nothing wrong with milk crates."
Gunn grins and pulls Ray off his ass and toward the bedroom. "How about if we break the bed?"