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DS Fiction- "Fairy Tales"
This quickly got too long for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ds_flashfiction, and besides, it doesn't have a third party involved anywhere, so it doesn't fit the current "Threesomes" challenge. And, in what is becoming a habit with me, I kind of thought it would be funny until I was actually writing it.
Oh... and also to my surprise, it's Teen Rays, which I entirely blame on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cmshaw's wonderfully seductive PWPs... because, seriously? I've never really bought Fraser/Vecchio, despite seeing some really excellent writing with that pairing. But put the two teenage Chicagoans together -- which certainly didn't happen in canon continuity -- and... hot!
Because it is likely that people who haven't previously seen me or my writing before, I feel it is necessary to warn that some nasty homophobic terms get used in the course of this story, and the attitudes the characters express, are not those of the author.
Pairing: Vecchio/Kowalski
Rating: R, or NC-17 if the rating board is having a bad day
Length: 2052 words
Fairy Tales
Afterward, Ray let his head pillow on Vecchio’s slightly sticky stomach, feeling very pleasantly wrung out. If he turned his ear against Vecchio’s chest he could hear a heartbeat, and the sound of his breathing, like the little waves in the gravel of Lake Michigan. He was, momentarily, happy with the entire world. Even now he grinned at the thought of how he’d made Vecchio totally lose control, even if the price had been a mouthful of jiz.
“What you laughing about, you?” Vecchio’s slightly nasal voice made Ray wake up just a little.
But what made him sigh was Vecchio’s fingers running through his hair. “Hey,” Ray said, liking it a whole lot. He pushed his head back into the hand and Vecchio responded by massaging his scalp. “Nice…” he drawled, accepting what was offered until Vecchio brought his other hand around and started stroking his face, feather-light touches that outlined the bridge of his nose, his eye sockets, his lips.
“Hey! Hey, man!” Ray sat up, breaking away from the too-familiar fingers, shaking his head as though he could shake the sense-memory of melting into those hands away. “Don’t go touching me like that!”
“Like how?” Vecchio propped himself up on his elbows and stared at Ray. “I was just—”
“Don’t go all faggy on me,” said Ray. He sat up abruptly, and stared hard at Vecchio. “Touching my face… you don’t do that, okay? We’re not queer.”
Vecchio sat up much more slowly, his cross and Saint Christopher’s medal dangling in the sparse chest hair. “What’s so wrong about touching your face… you liked it!”
Ray was up off the bed before he knew what he was doing, stalking to the far side of his bedroom, where he’d decorated the sloping walls with posters of classic cars. His parents weren’t due for another hour, and they’d assume like always that Vecchio was here doing homework – and hadn’t his grades improved this semester? He pulled back the curtain just enough to peer out, to look away from Vecchio and his uncomfortable question.
“I said—”
“I heard you the first time,” Ray said, turning back. “Guys… straight guys… don’t do that.”
“Yeah, well, they don’t suck each other off, either.”
Ray was not so much speechless as feeling like thirteen thousand words wanted to escape from his brain through his mouth right this minute. At last he got his tongue untangled enough to say, “We’re not faggots.”
Vecchio sat up, put his feet on the floor, and stared at Ray long enough that Ray wanted to hit him… and then he had the nerve to say, “You so sure about that, Stanley?”
Ray frowned first because Vecchio had used that name to get his goat, and secondly – “Jesus Christ, you are such an idiot, Vecchio.”
“Oh yeah?” Vecchio cocked his head. “Maybe I’m just a guy who’s decided to call a spade a spade.”
“And maybe you’re an idiot,” Ray said. “Queers are old guys… with stupid fruity clothes, and… and poodles, and… limp wrists, and lisping, and shit like that. We like sports. We have girlfriends. We have normal lives.”
“Normal, huh?” Vecchio’s green eyes were dark, hooded. “This is what you call normal?”
Ray shut his eyes. “Okay, so it’s not usual,” he said. “But… you’re not a faggot, man. I’d never hang around with you if you were.”
“That’s a relief to know,” Vecchio said wryly. “Yeah, when I’m going down on you, it’s sure a relief to know you don’t think of me as a cocksucker.”
“What is with you?” Ray was getting mad. “I didn’t get your rocks off hard enough or what?”
“You rang my bells just fine… my spine is still quivering,” said Vecchio. “Not a whole lot to compare here, but I’m betting you’ve gotten very good at blowjobs.”
“Shut up,” Ray said.
“Maybe it was the way you pushed me onto the bed, and said – and I quote, ‘I’m gonna make you scream, Vecchio.’ That and, ‘I’ve been thinking about this all day,’ and – oh yeah: ‘I love the way you taste.’”
“Do not push me, Vecchio,” Ray said, balling up his fists, entirely forgetting he was naked. “That was just talk, that meant nothing. It was just to get you hot.”
“Big surprise, it worked, just like you wanted it to.”
“Yeah, well,” said Ray, frustrated. “Sue me, it’s fun to see you go nuts. You’re gonna do the same to me, might as well make you a little grateful.”
“Oh, so this is all about good performances?” Vecchio ran his hand through his thick dark hair. “You’re a true method actor, Stanley.”
“What the fuck has gotten into you?” Ray almost shouted, but caught himself in time to hiss it out instead. The last thing on earth he wanted was one of the neighbors asking his mother what his son had been yelling about in the early evening when he was with his best friend doing homework. “This is supposed to be just fun.”
“Is it?” Vecchio. He tilted his head, sarcastically.
“Yeah, it is,” said Ray. “We got all this sex drive stuff, and no place to go with it. We fool around, it’s way more fun than masturbation, and neither of us can get pregnant. And no faggy shit about it.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“But it is, don’t you see that?” Ray sat on the bed next to Vecchio. “If we were fags, yeah, we’d be… well, falling in love. Writing poems to each other. Sending flowers – I don’t know what they all do, but that’s not us, we’re normal guys with flexibility, that’s all.”
“You’ve got every angle of this covered, right?” said Vecchio softly.
“I thought it through, yeah,” said Ray.
“Know what happened three months ago yesterday?” Vecchio said.
Ray thought, and thought, and shrugged.
“It’s kind of our anniversary,” said Vecchio, and Ray snorted. “That was the day we hung out after driver’s training, and you knew where to score a twelve pack…and after we drank a bunch of beers apiece, you talked me into a jack-off contest, only about halfway through, you come over and start helping me, like maybe you thought about it for a long time first, looking to get your hands on me.”
Ray frowned and rolled his eyes. “I was too fucking blitzed to have a plan – it’s a wonder I could see straight enough to grab anything, let along your dick.”
“You were polluted, okay,” Vecchio said. “But still… in vino veritas – you thought of grabbing me when you were seriously shit-faced. That’s got to count for something.”
“So… you let me,” Ray snapped. Then reconsidered, but it was too late to take it back.
“Yeah, well….” Vecchio got up off the bed, and paced back and forth across the small room – it was his turn to move now. Ray watched him, uneasily, aware of his nakedness, of the way his stuff shifted, the way they fit onto his slim lithe teenage body. The two of them were never together naked unless they were actively fooling around– Ray hadn’t spent a whole lot of time just looking at his friend. It made him feel kind of hot, and that was just not comfortable.
“It’s not the label that’s bothering me,” said Vecchio, breaking the silence. “Whatever you want to call… this, that doesn’t bother me so much, as what it is.”
“And that’s what I’m saying—”
“No, you’re not.” Vecchio cut him off. “You’re dancing around it, laying out that classic Kowalski bullshit. You’ve got what we’re doing labeled ten different ways, and maybe each one of them is true… but that doesn’t mean it’s not the other things that you’re saying it’s not.”
“You mind translating that into Earth-speak, Vecchio?”
Vecchio’s eyes narrowed. He stalked back across the room, sat on the bed next to Ray and stared at him, locking his gaze into Ray’s eyes. Abruptly he embraced Ray, pushing him down on the bed, using his size and weight against the skinnier, shorter boy, his mouth roaming hotly and wetly over his face, smothering Ray’s protests.
Ray pushed at Vecchio, had to squirm around a bit – Vecchio wasn’t trying hard to hold him down, though he’d clamped Ray’s arms to his sides – to get his hands up and push Vecchio off to the side. “What the hell kind of answer is that?” he hissed. “You’re losing it, Vecchio.”
Vecchio lay on his side on the bed, not moving away. “My name is Ray, Ray,” he said. “I never put it together until now… I figured you had a thing about not calling another guy by that name, but it’s really that you don’t want me in any closer emotionally than you have to, so it’s ‘Vecchio’ with you.”
Ray couldn’t think of what to say to that, so he just stared his mean stare, the one that usually got guys to cave. He was also very aware of how stiff his boner was, so turned on.
Vecchio didn’t look like he was caving any time soon, in fact he seemed more determined the longer Ray looked at him. “The thing I want to say… it’s just this. You, Stanley Raymond Kowalski, are a cocksucking homo.”
“Okay…” Ray struggled to his feet. “Get out,” he said. “Get your clothes on and get the fuck out of here, get the fuck out of my house.”
“Sure,” Vecchio said, brushing past Ray over to the pile of clothes he’d shed near the door. He was silent as he put on underpants, socks, slacks, and a polyester shirt that he left loose and unbuttoned. He ran a hand through his dark wavy hair, checking out how it looked in the small mirror atop Ray’s chest of drawers. “Kind of a hot number, aren’t I?” he said.
“Just get the fuck out,” Ray said.
Instead Vecchio buttoned up his shirt deliberately, then walked up to Ray. “I’m warning you, Vecchio, you don’t get out of here, I’m going to beat the fuck out of you,” Ray said.
“It’s Ray, Ray,” Vecchio said. “And I’m going.” He paused, his stare challenging. “I guess we’re breaking up,” he said, not entirely mockingly.
Ray stared at him in exasperated fury. Vecchio looked down. “That’s quite a boner you got there,” he said. “I could take care of that for you before I go. Seeing as I got my turn, but you didn’t get yours.”
“I can’t believe that I thought you were my friend,” Ray said.
“I was your friend,” Vecchio said. “But you can’t do the things we do and only be friends. I didn’t get that… I’m still trying to get my head around it.” He went to the desk, gathered up the schoolbooks that he’d brought over for their “study” session. “You want to believe your fairy tales about normal guys doing each other, the fact that you can’t say my first name, that somehow all that keeps the fairy dust from sticking to you, go right ahead.”
“Asshole,” Ray hissed.
“As you will, Stanley. It has been fun, I can’t lie about that… but I’m not going to lie about the rest.”
“What the hell, you going to tell about us at school?” Ray swore he could feel himself go white.
“And buy myself a world of trouble?” Vecchio said. “Not likely. I’m not talking about the kind of lies you tell to other people…” He sighed. “The hell of it is, I like you, buddy, even if we weren’t doing it, it’s been fun to hang out.”
“Yeah, right,” Ray said. His hard-on was wilting at last.
“Take care, Ray,” Vecchio said, and turned and walked out without a backward glance.
Ray sat down on the edge of his bed and looked down at his hands for a long long time, until the sound of his parents arriving made him remember that he was naked, so he scrambled into his clothes, rearranged the sheets and comforter so that no stains showed, and was sitting at his desk with his book open when his Mum came up to enquire if he preferred peas or carrots with dinner.
ds_flashfiction, and besides, it doesn't have a third party involved anywhere, so it doesn't fit the current "Threesomes" challenge. And, in what is becoming a habit with me, I kind of thought it would be funny until I was actually writing it.Oh... and also to my surprise, it's Teen Rays, which I entirely blame on
cmshaw's wonderfully seductive PWPs... because, seriously? I've never really bought Fraser/Vecchio, despite seeing some really excellent writing with that pairing. But put the two teenage Chicagoans together -- which certainly didn't happen in canon continuity -- and... hot!Because it is likely that people who haven't previously seen me or my writing before, I feel it is necessary to warn that some nasty homophobic terms get used in the course of this story, and the attitudes the characters express, are not those of the author.
Pairing: Vecchio/Kowalski
Rating: R, or NC-17 if the rating board is having a bad day
Length: 2052 words
Fairy Tales
Afterward, Ray let his head pillow on Vecchio’s slightly sticky stomach, feeling very pleasantly wrung out. If he turned his ear against Vecchio’s chest he could hear a heartbeat, and the sound of his breathing, like the little waves in the gravel of Lake Michigan. He was, momentarily, happy with the entire world. Even now he grinned at the thought of how he’d made Vecchio totally lose control, even if the price had been a mouthful of jiz.
“What you laughing about, you?” Vecchio’s slightly nasal voice made Ray wake up just a little.
But what made him sigh was Vecchio’s fingers running through his hair. “Hey,” Ray said, liking it a whole lot. He pushed his head back into the hand and Vecchio responded by massaging his scalp. “Nice…” he drawled, accepting what was offered until Vecchio brought his other hand around and started stroking his face, feather-light touches that outlined the bridge of his nose, his eye sockets, his lips.
“Hey! Hey, man!” Ray sat up, breaking away from the too-familiar fingers, shaking his head as though he could shake the sense-memory of melting into those hands away. “Don’t go touching me like that!”
“Like how?” Vecchio propped himself up on his elbows and stared at Ray. “I was just—”
“Don’t go all faggy on me,” said Ray. He sat up abruptly, and stared hard at Vecchio. “Touching my face… you don’t do that, okay? We’re not queer.”
Vecchio sat up much more slowly, his cross and Saint Christopher’s medal dangling in the sparse chest hair. “What’s so wrong about touching your face… you liked it!”
Ray was up off the bed before he knew what he was doing, stalking to the far side of his bedroom, where he’d decorated the sloping walls with posters of classic cars. His parents weren’t due for another hour, and they’d assume like always that Vecchio was here doing homework – and hadn’t his grades improved this semester? He pulled back the curtain just enough to peer out, to look away from Vecchio and his uncomfortable question.
“I said—”
“I heard you the first time,” Ray said, turning back. “Guys… straight guys… don’t do that.”
“Yeah, well, they don’t suck each other off, either.”
Ray was not so much speechless as feeling like thirteen thousand words wanted to escape from his brain through his mouth right this minute. At last he got his tongue untangled enough to say, “We’re not faggots.”
Vecchio sat up, put his feet on the floor, and stared at Ray long enough that Ray wanted to hit him… and then he had the nerve to say, “You so sure about that, Stanley?”
Ray frowned first because Vecchio had used that name to get his goat, and secondly – “Jesus Christ, you are such an idiot, Vecchio.”
“Oh yeah?” Vecchio cocked his head. “Maybe I’m just a guy who’s decided to call a spade a spade.”
“And maybe you’re an idiot,” Ray said. “Queers are old guys… with stupid fruity clothes, and… and poodles, and… limp wrists, and lisping, and shit like that. We like sports. We have girlfriends. We have normal lives.”
“Normal, huh?” Vecchio’s green eyes were dark, hooded. “This is what you call normal?”
Ray shut his eyes. “Okay, so it’s not usual,” he said. “But… you’re not a faggot, man. I’d never hang around with you if you were.”
“That’s a relief to know,” Vecchio said wryly. “Yeah, when I’m going down on you, it’s sure a relief to know you don’t think of me as a cocksucker.”
“What is with you?” Ray was getting mad. “I didn’t get your rocks off hard enough or what?”
“You rang my bells just fine… my spine is still quivering,” said Vecchio. “Not a whole lot to compare here, but I’m betting you’ve gotten very good at blowjobs.”
“Shut up,” Ray said.
“Maybe it was the way you pushed me onto the bed, and said – and I quote, ‘I’m gonna make you scream, Vecchio.’ That and, ‘I’ve been thinking about this all day,’ and – oh yeah: ‘I love the way you taste.’”
“Do not push me, Vecchio,” Ray said, balling up his fists, entirely forgetting he was naked. “That was just talk, that meant nothing. It was just to get you hot.”
“Big surprise, it worked, just like you wanted it to.”
“Yeah, well,” said Ray, frustrated. “Sue me, it’s fun to see you go nuts. You’re gonna do the same to me, might as well make you a little grateful.”
“Oh, so this is all about good performances?” Vecchio ran his hand through his thick dark hair. “You’re a true method actor, Stanley.”
“What the fuck has gotten into you?” Ray almost shouted, but caught himself in time to hiss it out instead. The last thing on earth he wanted was one of the neighbors asking his mother what his son had been yelling about in the early evening when he was with his best friend doing homework. “This is supposed to be just fun.”
“Is it?” Vecchio. He tilted his head, sarcastically.
“Yeah, it is,” said Ray. “We got all this sex drive stuff, and no place to go with it. We fool around, it’s way more fun than masturbation, and neither of us can get pregnant. And no faggy shit about it.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“But it is, don’t you see that?” Ray sat on the bed next to Vecchio. “If we were fags, yeah, we’d be… well, falling in love. Writing poems to each other. Sending flowers – I don’t know what they all do, but that’s not us, we’re normal guys with flexibility, that’s all.”
“You’ve got every angle of this covered, right?” said Vecchio softly.
“I thought it through, yeah,” said Ray.
“Know what happened three months ago yesterday?” Vecchio said.
Ray thought, and thought, and shrugged.
“It’s kind of our anniversary,” said Vecchio, and Ray snorted. “That was the day we hung out after driver’s training, and you knew where to score a twelve pack…and after we drank a bunch of beers apiece, you talked me into a jack-off contest, only about halfway through, you come over and start helping me, like maybe you thought about it for a long time first, looking to get your hands on me.”
Ray frowned and rolled his eyes. “I was too fucking blitzed to have a plan – it’s a wonder I could see straight enough to grab anything, let along your dick.”
“You were polluted, okay,” Vecchio said. “But still… in vino veritas – you thought of grabbing me when you were seriously shit-faced. That’s got to count for something.”
“So… you let me,” Ray snapped. Then reconsidered, but it was too late to take it back.
“Yeah, well….” Vecchio got up off the bed, and paced back and forth across the small room – it was his turn to move now. Ray watched him, uneasily, aware of his nakedness, of the way his stuff shifted, the way they fit onto his slim lithe teenage body. The two of them were never together naked unless they were actively fooling around– Ray hadn’t spent a whole lot of time just looking at his friend. It made him feel kind of hot, and that was just not comfortable.
“It’s not the label that’s bothering me,” said Vecchio, breaking the silence. “Whatever you want to call… this, that doesn’t bother me so much, as what it is.”
“And that’s what I’m saying—”
“No, you’re not.” Vecchio cut him off. “You’re dancing around it, laying out that classic Kowalski bullshit. You’ve got what we’re doing labeled ten different ways, and maybe each one of them is true… but that doesn’t mean it’s not the other things that you’re saying it’s not.”
“You mind translating that into Earth-speak, Vecchio?”
Vecchio’s eyes narrowed. He stalked back across the room, sat on the bed next to Ray and stared at him, locking his gaze into Ray’s eyes. Abruptly he embraced Ray, pushing him down on the bed, using his size and weight against the skinnier, shorter boy, his mouth roaming hotly and wetly over his face, smothering Ray’s protests.
Ray pushed at Vecchio, had to squirm around a bit – Vecchio wasn’t trying hard to hold him down, though he’d clamped Ray’s arms to his sides – to get his hands up and push Vecchio off to the side. “What the hell kind of answer is that?” he hissed. “You’re losing it, Vecchio.”
Vecchio lay on his side on the bed, not moving away. “My name is Ray, Ray,” he said. “I never put it together until now… I figured you had a thing about not calling another guy by that name, but it’s really that you don’t want me in any closer emotionally than you have to, so it’s ‘Vecchio’ with you.”
Ray couldn’t think of what to say to that, so he just stared his mean stare, the one that usually got guys to cave. He was also very aware of how stiff his boner was, so turned on.
Vecchio didn’t look like he was caving any time soon, in fact he seemed more determined the longer Ray looked at him. “The thing I want to say… it’s just this. You, Stanley Raymond Kowalski, are a cocksucking homo.”
“Okay…” Ray struggled to his feet. “Get out,” he said. “Get your clothes on and get the fuck out of here, get the fuck out of my house.”
“Sure,” Vecchio said, brushing past Ray over to the pile of clothes he’d shed near the door. He was silent as he put on underpants, socks, slacks, and a polyester shirt that he left loose and unbuttoned. He ran a hand through his dark wavy hair, checking out how it looked in the small mirror atop Ray’s chest of drawers. “Kind of a hot number, aren’t I?” he said.
“Just get the fuck out,” Ray said.
Instead Vecchio buttoned up his shirt deliberately, then walked up to Ray. “I’m warning you, Vecchio, you don’t get out of here, I’m going to beat the fuck out of you,” Ray said.
“It’s Ray, Ray,” Vecchio said. “And I’m going.” He paused, his stare challenging. “I guess we’re breaking up,” he said, not entirely mockingly.
Ray stared at him in exasperated fury. Vecchio looked down. “That’s quite a boner you got there,” he said. “I could take care of that for you before I go. Seeing as I got my turn, but you didn’t get yours.”
“I can’t believe that I thought you were my friend,” Ray said.
“I was your friend,” Vecchio said. “But you can’t do the things we do and only be friends. I didn’t get that… I’m still trying to get my head around it.” He went to the desk, gathered up the schoolbooks that he’d brought over for their “study” session. “You want to believe your fairy tales about normal guys doing each other, the fact that you can’t say my first name, that somehow all that keeps the fairy dust from sticking to you, go right ahead.”
“Asshole,” Ray hissed.
“As you will, Stanley. It has been fun, I can’t lie about that… but I’m not going to lie about the rest.”
“What the hell, you going to tell about us at school?” Ray swore he could feel himself go white.
“And buy myself a world of trouble?” Vecchio said. “Not likely. I’m not talking about the kind of lies you tell to other people…” He sighed. “The hell of it is, I like you, buddy, even if we weren’t doing it, it’s been fun to hang out.”
“Yeah, right,” Ray said. His hard-on was wilting at last.
“Take care, Ray,” Vecchio said, and turned and walked out without a backward glance.
Ray sat down on the edge of his bed and looked down at his hands for a long long time, until the sound of his parents arriving made him remember that he was naked, so he scrambled into his clothes, rearranged the sheets and comforter so that no stains showed, and was sitting at his desk with his book open when his Mum came up to enquire if he preferred peas or carrots with dinner.
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Thank you so much for your comments... I was beginning to think this story didn't work for anyone but me!
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And I like Vecchio being a little faster on the uptake about this. Actually suits Ray K's character to want to believe in his tough guy image. Good stuff.
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Whoa!
I'm pretty sure I read your story at the beginning of the month... but with the sieve=for=brains I have going here, it honestly faded from foreground knowledge -- not for lack of literary merit, I assure you!
It surely must have subconsciously influenced me, though, even if we do go in absolutely different directions with the two of them!
(For anyone who comes to this post later on, here is a link to a.kite's story: "Home Alone" (http://www.livejournal.com/users/akite/3898.html#cutid1) so that you can see for yourself.)
I'm in the midst of packing for a trip, so I'm not sure if I'll have time tonight to make a regular post to my LJ, because I want to make note of your story there! I think it will make for an interesting case of "compare & contrast" which always fascinates me.
(I'm so glad -- relieved! -- that you like my story!)
Re: Whoa!
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I so enjoyed this story. I love the Teen!Rays and this was a really good exploration of what's going on in their heads.
If it's OK, I'm going to add you to my friends list...
Re:
Already added you to my friends list! I'm fairly new to LJ (February? Can I still be said to be new?) and these are my first forays into DS fanfic....
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