Purr Purr  M/M implied, not explicit. Purr Purr by GL (short but wicked)
Ray was not stupid. He was no rocket scientist but he wasn't stupid. He
realised quite well that sometimes to get what you wanted you had to ask -
nag even. And at other times, you had to make the other person want it
first and then graciously 'give in' with just the right amount of
resistance. This situation called for the latter strategy. The campaign
started slowly, gradually, sometimes no more than a lingering look, or
standing just that fraction too close in the quarry's personal space. When
the quarry had become accustomed to this and no longer took alarm, Ray
implemented Phase II. He started to wear different clothing, severely
beautiful and expensive, subtle, tasteful and cut with cleverness and
style. The quarry's inherent good taste could only approve of such
garments and Ray was rewarded by more and longer looks, more and longer
conversations, more and longer closeness. Phase III was but a short step
up from Phase II; Ray now developed a taste for 'literature'. This
flattered the quarry and of course necessitated joint visits to libraries
and long lingering talks over the kitchen table, where Ray was always
careful to lean ever so slightly back in his chair with his top collar
button ever so slightly undone and his tie ever so slightly loosened. He
took to wearing his old leather shoulder holster too, on the principle
that every little helps and the quarry's tastes in this particular area
were not yet known. Better too much bait than not enough. That glimpse of
leather might just be the deciding factor. The strategy was working well,
the quarry was now excited, interested and leaning forward on the table as
Ray leaned back. The quarry was now standing too close, looking too
lingeringly, increasing his advance as Ray began his retreat. Slowly, very
very slowly, Ray moved back, teasing almost, reluctant almost, and very
careful to appear perfectly unaware of all the threads now woven into the
battle plan. Ray was languid but emphatic and turned away from the quarry
with the exact degree of nonchalance and sensuality required, careful to
emphasise the elegance of his body in the movements. He paused then,
fearing for one second that the quarry would elude him even this late in
the day, but then Ray felt the pounce, the instinctive grab, tackle and
hold as his quarry became his prey, a prey that was fondly if sweetly
misled that he was in fact the cunning hunter here. Ray allowed himself to
be coaxed - ever so slowly with many a long lingering caress - towards the
bed, hesitant, reluctant, willing to be persuaded, rewarding his poor
defeated prey with some delicate token of acceptance, tilting his chin to
allow kisses, permitting intimate strokings of a worshipful nature before
finally consenting to take his place, boneless and elegant, on the lap of
the hapless happy prey. Purr purr, thought Ray with sleepy victory. Purr
purr. THE END	Return to the Due South Fiction Archive