Here's a sequel to "A Darkness Inside Him", this time from Ray's POV. Still uber dark, rated NC-17, with a squick warning for b/d, s/m, and some blood. I really don't like the Fraser and Ray I've conjured up in this universe, so I don't expect anyone else to, either!
Feel free to send comments to raven_free@hotmail.com and visit my site at http://www.geocities.com/raven_free/
Maybe Just Ugly
By: Raven
I don't even scream when Fraser lets his belt down hard on my chest. I don't dare. If I do, if I complain, then he won't fuck me and I need him to fuck me. Need him so bad I hate myself 'cause what we're doin' is wrong.
This ain't buddies. It ain't even partners or lovers. It's sick and twisted and so fucking wrong, but I can't make it right.
The second I saw the bastard in that bright red suit, wham! I was head over in heels for him. And he was into men, too.
One man.
That I'm pretendin' to be.
Oh, sure, Fraser's just a man. Needs a good fuck like anyone else, but he won't let himself pretend that he enjoys it. He likes to hurt people. He hurts me 'cause I'm not Vecchio.
And I just take it 'cause I want his cock inside me. 'Cause I love him. Loved him. Once I got to know him, I knew sure as hell that there's more to hate in Benton Fraser than to love.
He's just one sick, twisted sonofabitch. I can't end this. He's the only one who can. And he won't. 'Cause he likes to hurt people. He likes to hurt me.
When he's done with the belt, he yanks my legs up. I relax so he can enter me easily, not that he'd care either way. No lube, obviously. I feel something tear and I know I'm gonna have blood on the sheets in the mornin'. vI come. I always come. Like I actually *enjoy* being used like some toy by a sick, perverted Mountie. Maybe I do. Maybe I'm just as sick and perverted as him.
He dresses without saying anything, then he leaves. I hear him slam the apartment door shut behind him.
Some nights, he comes back to set me free. I know he won't be back tonight. Tomorrow, sure. He'll unlock me and I'll go take a shower and in the meantime he'll be fixing coffee. We'll go to work, and he'll chatter on about some cute Inuit story I have no fucking interest in, but I'll laugh and we'll joke and we'll fool everybody.
Except us. We know exactly what we are. No word for it. Maybe just ugly.