by Jodie Louise
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine except black spikes. Also I'm British so apologise if the writing is not American enough.
Author's Notes: I started writing Blakes7 slash and thank Judith Proctor for encouraging me. Thanks D.
Story Notes: Okay - this is one dark story - please be warned.
Black Spikes
Stupid. Twenty years ago I got away with this. The face looking back at me in the mirror is the face of a very stupid ageing punk freak. Maybe the eyeliner had been a bit too much. Maybe the beer had been a bit too much.
The door to the can swings open behind me and I try to look together. I meet his eyes in the mirror. Nice. Probably too young. Dark eyes, blue-black hair spiked in all directions, a dog collar, glitter. Could've been me his age. Whoa - very nice butt. Already my imagination is running away with me - ideas of what I could do to black spikes, what I can get him to do to me. I'm sure he can see the desire flare in my eyes because he is staring at my reflection in the mirror with some kind of - hunger. I could do him right here, right now. Slowly I pull myself together. I can feel him watching me as I leave - I have to leave. I want him, could have him but Fraser is waiting outside.
The walls shake as the last band starts up. Angry, punk noise. Sounds how I feel inside. I always feel like that inside.
Fraser is where I left him pretending to drink his bottle of beer. He ain't wearing the red but even in jeans and T-shirt he looks wrong here. Too neat, too clean, too sober.
I push through the kids in their ripped clothes, eyeliner and mad hair. The singer screeches. His panda eyes look psychotic and glitter catches the light. I want to fling myself across the floor with the kids. I want, I need to feel the music. To move, to touch the singer. For a moment I am a teenager again with acne, bad make-up, stamping at the front in my steel capped boots. And I'm touching the singer who later fucks me in the dressing room. And then I'm back, twenty years later - Fraser across the room waiting for me.
No one understands me. I'm a freak.
I find perverse enjoyment in pain. I dye my hair. I'm a freak. In twenty years I have not grown up at all. I'm still that teenager with the sexual confusion, the angst, the death wish, the hair gone wrong.
My hair on the last try came out an orange blond - a cross between Johnny Rotten and Debbie Harry. Actually, thinking about it, if I shaved my eyebrows I would look more like Bowie circa 1976. Kinda got used to the colour now. Got some stick at the precinct when I first turned up with it like that. Fraser didn't say much - did notice him look at it a few times.
He is still there, bottles in hand. Didn't bat an eyelid when I turned up with kohl ringed eyes and extreme solid hair. Not humouring me like Stella did, but just...accepting.
Fraser nods as he sees me weaving towards him through the crowd. He smiles. I feel a tap on my ass and turn to see black spikes there. I stare too long, he can see my need for him. Spikes pushes me against the wall, ramming my back. And I want him, I want the kid, but he is a kid and I know it is a bad idea. He rubs my groin. Gently I pull the guy off.
"Hey kid." I am not really sure what to say next.
I feel Fraser at my shoulder. Black spikes looks at me, and then Fraser, holds up his hands and walks. I stare at his perfect butt as he goes. Black spikes has made me feel very hot.
"Ray?"
Frase is holding my beer and I take it. I swig and avoid meeting his eyes by staring at the stage.
"Ray?"
"Huh?" I grunt, eye fixed on the singer.
And I remember the other singer who took me as a teenager in the dressing room. I'm still not sure how he knew but he did. Took me raw. Loved it. I found it painful to sit down the next day but didn`t care.
"Did he hurt you?"
I pause, suddenly realising that Fraser is talking about black spikes: "No."
I try to smile but the muscles don't work properly.
"Thank you kindly for bringing me out tonight Ray - it certainly is...different."
I look at him from the corner of my eye.
"Not your bag huh, Frase?"
He smiles. It is sweet. I like it. A proper smile not one those polite smiles he is always doin'.
"Well, no. Not exactly. Although I find it interesting to imagine you coming to these places when you were younger."
I can sense black spikes looking over.
"C'mon Fraser, let's split."
Grab him by the elbow and pull because I can no longer stay. Feel strung out, tense. We walk in silence towards my apartment. Only a few blocks but seems to take forever. Frase looks puzzled. Not sure what came over me. Wanting the old days back, wanting sex or something.
"That was so weird." I try to explain.
He looks at me.
I search through my pockets for cigarettes, brought them earlier, sorta wanted some. I find one and light up. It gives me something to do with my hands and I really try to pretend I'm not shaking...I'm not shaking. I take a long drag. Thankfully Fraser makes no comment 'bout the smoking.
"Like bein' a kid again..." I continue and then get stuck.
I realised we had both stopped walking so started up again.
Silence.
Think about black spikes and how nice it would've been. I wonder how Frase would look dressed as a punk. Dog collar, chains, touch of eyeliner and flash of chipped black nail varnish. Get a grip Kowalski, get a grip...
Suddenly we were outside the door to my apartment.
"You, ah, want to come in, Frase?"
"Yes. Thank you."
I go to the kitchen, start boiling some water, try to lose some of that built up energy. Pent up sexual frustration or just stupid, stupid...wondering if I got any razor blades and I don't mean for shaving. Feel like I hate myself tonight. Self destructive.
"Ray, it's okay."
Fraser is standing behind me. Didn't even notice him creep up.
Okay? I wonder how many depressive self-destructive sexually ambiguous friends this guy has. I turn shake my head and collaspe on the couch. My feelings are all jumbled up, and my sexual frustration is building. I clutch at my hair. At times like this it really does not help having a gorgeous mountie as a best friend. It can sorta exasperate certain situations and feelings.
The couch dips as Fraser sits next to me.
"Sorry Frase...It was a bad idea tonight. Just wanted to relive my misspent youth or somethin' - I've gone and got myself all, er, worked up."
"That young man..."
And I was fed up of not saying the truth.
"He wanted sex Fraser. I guess I kinda liked him but knew it would be a bad idea."
Pause.
"Ah." he says finally.
I let out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding and fumble for another cigarette. I light it, stretch back and work my boots off with my feet. I sink right back in the couch wishing it would swallow me. Fraser is sitting ram-rod straight. I look at him from the corner of my eye.
"Jeez, I'm sorry Frase. You didn't need to hear that stuff. Kinda freaked you out, huh?"
I take one last drag from the cigarette and stub it out. Hardly smoked any of it and Fraser is staring at me.
"Been trying to give up anyhow." I shrug, "Been trying to give up a lot of things."
Story of my life. I rub my eyes, tracks of kohl rub onto my fingers. My bracelet catches the light as does the scar from that time when I sliced myself with a blade. Hardly notices but I know it is there.
And Fraser is there, sitting, not saying anything. No Inuit stories, nothing. I feel like I'm at the end of a cliff and am about to fall off.
"Is that what you want from me?" he finally asks.
I am so surprised he has spoken that I cannot think what he means.
"Huh, Frase?"
"That young man...what you wanted to do to him...to me?"
Fraser is staring at the back wall - his neck has gone pink. I want to kiss, tear, maul him there. I want to lose myself in him. Earlier I decided I was gonna tell the truth and do now. Deep breath.
"Yeah."
Silence.
"Ah."
I turn and look at him. I am angry.
"Is that all ya can say? Is that it? Shout at me, kiss me, hit me or something!"
"I don't want to hit you Ray."
"May be you should. May be I'm a jerk. May be I deserve to be hit, to be hurt to be fucking punished."
And he turns eyes wide toward me.
"Why do you think that?"
I sigh. Don't know if I can explain how my head works. I don't want him to know how really messed up I can be.
"Frase, please don't."
He sits back on the couch.
"Understood."
I flick on the TV and find some hockey. We sit in silence watching the game.
Fraser is asleep in front of the box. I decide to go for a long walk. Still have that pent up frustration. Want some action and know where to find it.
The guy was waiting there same as always. Nodded when he sees me and slips down the alley. I quickly check around - did not want to explain this to anyone at the precinct. I push some bills into his hands and he pockets them, gets to work.
He opens my jeans and I hiss as the cold air touches me. Cold only for a moment and then warm heat around me, and I thrust, and fuck, and he bites - he knows me by now. And he pulls my jeans further down, sticks fingers in me. I groan, I groan.
I feel so much better, so much better. Now I have a valid reason to hate myself.
I let myself back into the apartment and find Fraser doing the washing up from a long time ago. He turns and looks at me.
"Hello Ray."
A blanket and pillow are on the couch. Frase catches me looking at them.
"I hope you don't mind. I thought I would sleep on your couch tonight."
I don't meet his eyes.
"Okay."
So I go straight to my room and close the door. I have started to undress when there is a knock. I don't want to deal with it right now. The door opens and he peers from behind it. He just won't let it go tonight. Well then, I'm playing it my way. Want to strip away that control and see what's beneath. I deliberately walk right up close to him. I am so close that our noses almost touch. I can feel Fraser's warm breath on my face. He looks confused. I can't decide between hitting him and kissing him. Must be drunker than I thought.
Frase swallows, I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down.
"Ray. I didn't realise how...wide...your sexual predilections were. And I want to assure you that it really does not matter to me."
It takes me a moment, but then I understand the Fraser-speak.
"Hell right it shouldn't. We're buddies, partners."
Fraser pats me awkwardly on the shoulder.
"Good night, Ray."
"Yeah."
I lean forward - want to see what he'll do - and I kiss him. Just a brush of lips, gentle. He flinches, pushes me away.
"Can't Ray, I can't."
Can't what? Deal with best buddies kissing? Gay guys? What?
He turns and closes the door quietly behind him. For a while I stare at the space he left behind.
I am reminded of the time when I told Stella about, well, me quite liking man on man action. I loved her and felt she should know, I had to tell her. She said "can't" too. We worked things out, well sorta, but it didn't stop her bringing it up in arguments, especially near the end. I started doing things that would annoy her. Started off small things like painting my toe-nails, then dyeing my hair - later it progressed to leaving gay porn lying around. Stella thought I was cheating on her, but I never slept with anyone else. Not until after the divorce. Wanted her to accept me for who I was but she always wanted me to be someone else. I loved her but she wanted me to be straight and I wasn't. She couldn't deal with that. I think that's one of the reasons she didn't want kids - thought they might turn out like me. Stella would be sweet as pie to her gay friends but when it came down to me... She tried for a while but she had these ideas, stereotypes about what me having no gender hang-ups meant. I was committed heart and soul to her but she never believed it because of my sexuality. Stella thought I could not be fully committed to her because I liked men as well as women. I married her and she still didn't believe me, didn't trust me.
Picked up the most pretty guy the same night the divorce papers came through. First time I had done a guy since High School. I was almost as nervous as I had been on my wedding night. And now I'd come on to my best friend and I've got no idea how he feels about it. What the hell does "can't" mean anyhow?
I put my glasses on to double check I am right - no Fraser. The bedding on the couch has been neatly folded. He'd snuck out in the morning without telling me. I feel very depressed about this - it means he can't face me. It means I've screwed things up and I don't know how to put things right.
So I go to work with a bandage around my wrist. Short-term relief from my screaming brain. Very smart move Kowalski. Hadn't taken a blade to myself since I was an angst ridden teenager. Still angst ridden - just older.
Fraser's eyes are instantly drawn to the band of white when he arrives in the precinct. We talk normal buddy stuff. Neither of us mentions last night. I am catching up on a pile of paperwork and Fraser sits there pushing paper around the desk.
"No Dief today?"
"He's sulking. Said he would rather be with Turnball. He was mad that I was late home last night."
Frase does that thing where he touches his eyebrow as he says this.
"You wanna come over my place tonight? I'll get some pizza or Chinese?"
Offering the - is it olive branch of peace or something? Besides we really need to talk about stuff. This is killing me.
May be he can see how desperate I am in my eyes. He nods and smiles - I grin back - may be everything will be okay again.
"Got some of that tea you like Frase." I can feel myself starting to babble, "Don't know how you drink this stuff."
Fraser takes his hat off and puts it on the counter. He turns and looks at me.
"What did you do to your arm, Ray?"
"This, this is nothin' - a scratch."
I fiddle with mugs making coffee and tea as I speak, avoiding his eyes.
"I don't believe you."
I turn and look at him. He is leaning against the counter with his arms folded.
"I don't mean to make you unhappy Ray. I realise how you feel about me..."
I am angry now.
"Do you, Frase? I love you. I want to fuck you, I want you to fuck me. Can't always have what I want."
I've been waving my arms manically and Frase has caught the cut up wrist. He pulls the bandage away. I close my eyes. I feel totally exposed. Now he'll see. Now he'll see what a complete and utter fuck up I am.
"That is more than a scratch."
A hand smoothes my cheek and I open my eyes. Fraser is there all concern on his face. I look at him through slit eyes.
"Fraser, what do you want?"
Because he is confusing me like hell.
"I don't understand the question."
I could hit him I really could. Fine. I'll do all the work.
"What do you want from me?"
"I don't know."
This last line he mumbles into his chest. Then in sinks in - he doesn't know. I've got the mountie confused and part of me feels real happy about it.
"Do you want to try the more than buddies thing?" I ask him.
Fraser grabs my wrist, pulls it to his lips and kisses it.
"I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore. I want you to be safe."
Safe? I ain't ever felt safe. I am distracted as he traces the cuts on my wrist.
"Why?" he asks.
"I don't know. Sometimes I just hate myself so much that it makes me feel better. Doing certain things makes me feel better." I explain, remembering the hustler biting my cock.
"But you are a wonderful person, Ray."
"Yeah, a wonderful fuck-up."
He then draws me into a bear hug. It feels warm, wonderfully warm. I relax into him knowing that I could get used to this.
Hot air in my ear as he whispers: "I love you Ray and I want you so much it scares me."
Fraser is scared. And at that moment I want him more than I wanted black spikes. But he pushes me away. I clutch at him like a hysterical woman.
"Don't do this - don't tease me like this. We're either buddies or more than buddies. Your choice, you decide."
Fraser gently pulls himself out of my grip. He stares at the floor and can't meet my gaze. And I can't help it - the anger flares up again.
"Why do you deny yourself this? Me. I'm offering you me."
"Control - don't want to..." he mumbles.
I'm not sure what to say. I s'pose he means that Victoria and what happened. So I do instead. I grab him, pull him into a fierce kiss. Maul him, taste him. He relaxes pulling closer, touches my back and then lower, lower.
I break the kiss and look at him.
"Does this mean we're trying the more than buddies thing?" I ask.
A nod in reply. I lead him to the bedroom.
This is wrong - I shouldn't have done this. Fraser lies sleeping in my bed. He is too good for me - this is a mistake. I wanted him but he is too pure for me. I creep out of the bedroom and start making coffee.
"Ray, good morning."
I turn and Fraser is in the doorway to my bedroom absolutely naked apart from a smile. My throat goes dry. I have to tell him.
"Frase, last night...I think we should forget about it."
The pain in those blue eyes hurts - but if we stay lovers the pain I will inflict will be a lot worse.
"Why, Ray?"
"I don't think this more than buddies thing is gonna work for us." I avoid his eyes as I say this and make myself busy with coffee.
"Frase, look there is stuff...you don't know and I just think we should stay friends."
"But you started this last night."
"I know, and I'm sorry. I wanted to try the more than buddies thing but I really do not think it is gonna work out for us Frase. I'm sorry."
It always was a mistake sleeping with friends, still was a lesson I hadn't learned. It was exactly because I love Fraser that I cannot put him through this. The sex was so achingly gentle and that was what was wrong with it. Since Stella my tastes have become more extreme and I did not want to make Fraser do the stuff that I really need him to do to me. He wouldn't like it.
I feel like shit, but it is for the best. I look over at Fraser and he is staring at the floor. Slowly he retreats back into the bedroom. I watch him get dressed, memorising as much as possible. Snapshots of his body that I would remember, cherish and make me feel less empty.
"I'd better go now, Ray. I need to be at the Consulate and Dief will probably be sulking again."
"Okay. D'you want me to drive you?"
"No thanks, Ray. I think I'll walk."
Suddenly I'm there holding him and his body has gone rigid.
"Sorry, I'm so sorry." I mumble.
Fraser gently prises me away and walks to the door.
"I'll see you later then, Frase."
"Yes. If you like."
When the door closes behind him I cry. I crouch on the floor and sob loudly. I am such a bastard.
I decide to get another tattoo done. Just another self-destructive action. I want it done on my hip so the next time someone fucks me they can touch it, grab it. I want it to mark me. I've chosen a blue Chinese dragon. The design just caught my eye, or may be I've been getting too many take outs. I'm sitting there with my pants down as this guy starts to trace the outline of the dragon on my hip. Hurts a bit `cos it is on the bone. I relax into it feeling the needle in my skin. Must be the only person who gets a tattoo done in their lunch break. I let myself drift into it. Fraser didn't come to see me today - I'm not that surprised really. I want to make it up to him but don't know how. Not sure how to do it without getting him thinking we can be proper lovers or something. May be best to keep my distance for a while.
When the guy has finished I look at the tattoo - it seems to take on a life of it's own. The dragon has a long curly tail and has its mouth open. A red tongue is sliding out. Not many people will see this - it will be a secret between myself and anyone that chooses to fuck me.
It was fated. We found each other by some sort of perverse will. I am tied to the bed and black spikes is dripping candle wax over my stomach. First time I go to a fetish place for ages and I run into black spikes. And my god he is good, good at this. He is a fast learner. I like the idea that I am corrupting him into enjoying hurting another human for sexual kicks. I have got a lot worse since Fraser has been avoiding me. By osmowhatsit I think he kept me in check. Just being with him kept me controlled. But when I saw black spikes again I could not resist him. No Fraser there to be my conscience. So I show the kid what I like, what gets me hard and aching. I hate it but love it at the same time. I've learnt to embrace this part of me and I'm so glad Fraser doesn't know, so glad. Later black spikes will hit me with his belt. Then even later he will hold me by my dragon tattoo and plunge into my body taking me raw. I will teach him these terrible things that I love.
Our lovemaking will leave marks, may be scars. They will brand me as a fuck-up, a jerk, a bastard, a sexual pervert. Every time I look into the mirror I will know just exactly what I am. And I feel happy about that, real happy.
End Black Spikes by Jodie Louise: jodie.mouse@virgin.net
Author and story notes above.