Oatmeal (This is not art.)	The Due South Fiction Archive Entry    
Home

 Quicksearch
 Search Engine
 Random Story

 Upload Story

      	  Oatmeal (This is not art.) 
 by malnpudl  

 Disclaimer: Due South and its characters belong to Alliance Atlantis and
a bunch of other people who are not me. This is just for fun, not for
profit. No copyright infringement is intended.

 Author's Notes: My friend Pat said to me: "I love you for many reasons,
but one of the main ones is your ability to subvert ANY SUBJECT IN THE
WORLD to slash." When I got smug, she threatened to challenge me with
random prompts, starting with "oatmeal." Ergo, this is all her fault.

 

 Fraser's sweaty hands slipped on the wooden rails of the headboard and he
almost lost his grip, regaining it only when threatened with Ray's
disapproving glower. Sweat dripped down the sides of his face and across
his scalp. He could feel it in his armpits and on his chest and trickling
over his belly until it pooled in his navel.

 He'd been seconds away from coming for, dear lord, it felt like forever.
Ray had brought him up to an incandescent frenzy and then held him there,
relentless and unmerciful, keeping him right on the edge.

 Fraser writhed on the damp sheet, his cock aching for the touch that Ray
withheld. He wrapped his his legs more tightly around Ray's shoulders and
thrust upward with his hips, desperate for more, for Ray to pound into him
deep and hard and send him over the edge. "Ray!" he begged, all pride
forsaken. "Ray, please!"

 "Nuh-uh." Ray shook his head and sweat drops flew, landing hot and wet on
Fraser's chest. "You're gonna pay. You don't get to come until I say so."

 "Pay?" Fraser managed. "But... why?"

 Ray found Fraser's prostate with the head of his cock and parked on it,
rubbing back and forth over it with tiny half-inch strokes, enough to
madden and inflame but not enough to grant release, and Fraser's moan
cracked and broke into a helpless wail of need. 

 "Oatmeal," Ray said, his voice all righteousness, and his face above
Fraser was the face of Justice.

 "Oatmeal?" Fraser gasped between panting breaths.

 Ray bit Fraser's nipple, shooting white hot pleasure through him. "You
fed me oatmeal for breakfast three days in a row this week. You know I
hate oatmeal."

 "I'm sorry!" Fraser would have said anything Ray wanted to hear in that
moment, anything at all. "I'm sorry, Ray, I didn't... I wasn't... oh, God,
Ray, please! Oh, please, now!"

 Ray's eyes narrowed. Mercy, it seemed, was not to be meted out lightly.
"You sure you're sorry?" he asked, and withdrew his cock almost all the
way until only the head remained inside Fraser.

 "Yes! Oh, don't, Ray!" He thrust desperately upward, trying to impale
himself, but Ray carefully held himself at his chosen depth. "Ray!" Fraser
wailed. "Ray!"

 Ray, at long last, was merciful. He drove into Fraser hard and fast, each
thrust a surging wave of blinding heat that built and crested, one atop
the other, until Fraser shattered, crying out in a voice he could no
longer recognize as his own.

 Afterward, once he could breathe again, once he could find words again,
Fraser turned on his side and looked at Ray lying beside him, heat
radiating from his uncharacteristically still body, his eyes closed and
his unruly blonde hair dark with sweat.

 "So," Fraser said, brushing a damp lock of hair off of Ray's forehead.
"This is what happens when I feed you oatmeal for breakfast?"

 Ray grunted. "Yep."

 Fraser felt a smile creep over his face. "You realize, don't you, that
there may be a flaw in your strategy?"

 "Huh?" Ray turned his head and cracked one eye to peer at Fraser. "Oh,"
he said. "Oops."

 ~ fin ~  
  

End Oatmeal (This is not art.) by malnpudl 

Author and story notes above.  

Please post a comment on this story. 
Read posted comments.