Fuck or Die Challenge by Kijikun
Title: Lie back and think of Chicago
Rating: Adult (sex!)
Warnings: Questionable consent, m/m
Pairing: Turnbull/RayK, impiled RayK/Fraser
Word count: 949
supper fast last mintue Beta: shrewreader
Notes: My Kingdom for another week of writing time. This one is so in my to be expanded box.
It would happen tonight, Ray told himself, watching Turnbull walk across the room towards him. Undressing as he went. Ray himself was half-naked, his jeans only held up by his hip bones.
Tonight he and Turnbull would pull off one hell of a show.
A show for the camera they both knew would be trained on them. A camera that would actually be filming them, so they had to make this look real. They had to make it real.
No Fraser up in the film room, which was tucked away in one of the many rooms in the large lodge, tonight. Fraser, after weeks of work, had gained access to the computer system by a very simple means.
He played on the voyeuristic tendencies of the man whose job it was to man the computers.
If Ray and Turnbull didn’t give the man behind the camera a good show, it'd be all over for Fraser. His cover would be blown and he’d be killed--if he was lucky. If he wasn’t lucky he’d be sold for a few hours for some of the more creative guests at the lodge. Ray had to still a shudder as he remembered some of the stories he’d heard, when he’d first got wind of this place from some others who shared Ray’s creative way of making a living.
Oh yeah, he and Turnbull would probably get their brains blown out too, and he kind of liked the kid. Even though he hadn’t been real sure if the young Mountie could pull off this kind of uncover work. Turnbull had since proven he was more than capable of undercover work.
Turnbull was also one hell of a dancer.
When Ray’s jeans were pulled the rest of the way off he almost jumped out of his skin. But he didn’t.
Lie back and think of Chicago.
Ray’s inner voice giggled over that. A nervous giggle that sounded more terrified than mirthful. There’s a fucking Mensa word for you, Stella.
A large strong and impossibly gentle, for the owner, hand cupped his chin.
It would be much easier to lie back and think of Chicago if Turnbull would just get fucking on with it. He could seriously do without all the touches.
Ray must have whimpered--not that he ever fucking whimpered --but he must have done something that clued Turnbull into some of his inner frenzy. Which was a surprise because he didn’t think you could buy the younger man a clue.
“Shhh,” Turnbull whispered in his ear, and then ran his tongue over the whirl of Ray’s ear. “I’ll make it good. It’ll be alright Ray.”
A tremor went through Ray shaking something inside him until he realized he was trembling.
Fuck, he couldn’t freak out. Not now. Not with Fraser's life and the whole operation on the line. It just undercover work. Nothing more.
The down comforter suddenly felt clammy and too damn hot all at the same time, under his back. Ray swore he could feel the camera on him.
“Close your eyes.” Turnbull told him in a soft voice, right into his ear, hot breath tickling his skin. “You--you can pretend I’m someone else. I know-I know you’d rather--"
Ray was sure if Turnbull mentioned Fraser, he’d be sick all over the place. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out Turnbull’s blurred face. “Shut up.” He hissed back, grabbing at Turnbull’s hair. “Shut up and do me, Ren.”
So much for lying back and thinking of Chicago.
***
Turnbull was gentle and he made it good for Ray, just liked he’d promised. His large, gentle hands coaxed moans and whimpers from Ray, leaving him shuddering. Seconds from begging.
Ray hated him for it.
“Oh, Ray,” Turnbull’s voice trembled as he pressed inside Ray’s body.
It hurt and Ray held onto that sensation with both hands. It should hurt. He didn’t want this with Turnbull. Ray didn’t want the pleasure, the connection; he didn’t want any of it.
Ray wanted do to this with Fraser. It should have been Fraser above him, panting, and groaning. Why hadn’t he let Fraser do this?
The pain faded. Turnbull thrust against something inside of Ray that made Ray arch up. Oh, God, Ray wanted more of that pleasure and he arched against Turnbull. Ray had his arms and legs wrapped around Turnbull holding him as close as he could. Because if Ray didn’t hold onto something solid, he was going to shake to pieces and Turnbull was as solid as they came. Like one of those petrified redwoods he’d seen has a kid.
Turnbull’s hand wrapped around Ray’s penis and stroked.
Then it was over. Ray choked on a whimper. Turnbull let out a broken little gasp.
Ray didn’t let go of Turnbull. He just clung tighter. He buried his face in other man’s broad shoulder.
Why had he agreed to this? A blow job would have done the job; he’d given lots of those. He was good at those and they wouldn’t have left him feeling---lots of things. Things Ray wasn't sure he wanted to look at right now. It was easy to distance ones self when it was just a quick blow, this--this was something else.
“Ray?” Ren sounded scared and Ray hated that because he knew he’d put that fear there. “Are you alright?”
All Ray could think of was Fraser. Fraser watching that tape.
“I--did I hurt you?” Turnbull whispered, trying to disentangle himself from Ray’s arms and legs.
Ray made no move to help him. Made no attempt to answer him.
There was no safe or sane way to answer that.
Rating: Adult (sex!)
Warnings: Questionable consent, m/m
Pairing: Turnbull/RayK, impiled RayK/Fraser
Word count: 949
supper fast last mintue Beta: shrewreader
Notes: My Kingdom for another week of writing time. This one is so in my to be expanded box.
It would happen tonight, Ray told himself, watching Turnbull walk across the room towards him. Undressing as he went. Ray himself was half-naked, his jeans only held up by his hip bones.
Tonight he and Turnbull would pull off one hell of a show.
A show for the camera they both knew would be trained on them. A camera that would actually be filming them, so they had to make this look real. They had to make it real.
No Fraser up in the film room, which was tucked away in one of the many rooms in the large lodge, tonight. Fraser, after weeks of work, had gained access to the computer system by a very simple means.
He played on the voyeuristic tendencies of the man whose job it was to man the computers.
If Ray and Turnbull didn’t give the man behind the camera a good show, it'd be all over for Fraser. His cover would be blown and he’d be killed--if he was lucky. If he wasn’t lucky he’d be sold for a few hours for some of the more creative guests at the lodge. Ray had to still a shudder as he remembered some of the stories he’d heard, when he’d first got wind of this place from some others who shared Ray’s creative way of making a living.
Oh yeah, he and Turnbull would probably get their brains blown out too, and he kind of liked the kid. Even though he hadn’t been real sure if the young Mountie could pull off this kind of uncover work. Turnbull had since proven he was more than capable of undercover work.
Turnbull was also one hell of a dancer.
When Ray’s jeans were pulled the rest of the way off he almost jumped out of his skin. But he didn’t.
Lie back and think of Chicago.
Ray’s inner voice giggled over that. A nervous giggle that sounded more terrified than mirthful. There’s a fucking Mensa word for you, Stella.
A large strong and impossibly gentle, for the owner, hand cupped his chin.
It would be much easier to lie back and think of Chicago if Turnbull would just get fucking on with it. He could seriously do without all the touches.
Ray must have whimpered--not that he ever fucking whimpered --but he must have done something that clued Turnbull into some of his inner frenzy. Which was a surprise because he didn’t think you could buy the younger man a clue.
“Shhh,” Turnbull whispered in his ear, and then ran his tongue over the whirl of Ray’s ear. “I’ll make it good. It’ll be alright Ray.”
A tremor went through Ray shaking something inside him until he realized he was trembling.
Fuck, he couldn’t freak out. Not now. Not with Fraser's life and the whole operation on the line. It just undercover work. Nothing more.
The down comforter suddenly felt clammy and too damn hot all at the same time, under his back. Ray swore he could feel the camera on him.
“Close your eyes.” Turnbull told him in a soft voice, right into his ear, hot breath tickling his skin. “You--you can pretend I’m someone else. I know-I know you’d rather--"
Ray was sure if Turnbull mentioned Fraser, he’d be sick all over the place. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out Turnbull’s blurred face. “Shut up.” He hissed back, grabbing at Turnbull’s hair. “Shut up and do me, Ren.”
So much for lying back and thinking of Chicago.
***
Turnbull was gentle and he made it good for Ray, just liked he’d promised. His large, gentle hands coaxed moans and whimpers from Ray, leaving him shuddering. Seconds from begging.
Ray hated him for it.
“Oh, Ray,” Turnbull’s voice trembled as he pressed inside Ray’s body.
It hurt and Ray held onto that sensation with both hands. It should hurt. He didn’t want this with Turnbull. Ray didn’t want the pleasure, the connection; he didn’t want any of it.
Ray wanted do to this with Fraser. It should have been Fraser above him, panting, and groaning. Why hadn’t he let Fraser do this?
The pain faded. Turnbull thrust against something inside of Ray that made Ray arch up. Oh, God, Ray wanted more of that pleasure and he arched against Turnbull. Ray had his arms and legs wrapped around Turnbull holding him as close as he could. Because if Ray didn’t hold onto something solid, he was going to shake to pieces and Turnbull was as solid as they came. Like one of those petrified redwoods he’d seen has a kid.
Turnbull’s hand wrapped around Ray’s penis and stroked.
Then it was over. Ray choked on a whimper. Turnbull let out a broken little gasp.
Ray didn’t let go of Turnbull. He just clung tighter. He buried his face in other man’s broad shoulder.
Why had he agreed to this? A blow job would have done the job; he’d given lots of those. He was good at those and they wouldn’t have left him feeling---lots of things. Things Ray wasn't sure he wanted to look at right now. It was easy to distance ones self when it was just a quick blow, this--this was something else.
“Ray?” Ren sounded scared and Ray hated that because he knew he’d put that fear there. “Are you alright?”
All Ray could think of was Fraser. Fraser watching that tape.
“I--did I hurt you?” Turnbull whispered, trying to disentangle himself from Ray’s arms and legs.
Ray made no move to help him. Made no attempt to answer him.
There was no safe or sane way to answer that.