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