Details of the Dream      Details of the Dream

 by Hel Virago

  

 

 Disclaimer: I don't even own the punk from the poster or the long-haired
wack-job drummer.

 Author's Notes: ds_flashfiction, did you ever know that you're my hero?

 Story Notes: Written for the flashfiction "sex" challenge. Oh yeah, that
was real hard for me.

 This story is a sequel to: Coincidence 

 

 In dreams, you can fuck forever. And Christ, but Ray had every intention
of it. See, in real life, his back had been kinda strained -- his own
fault, nobody said he had to make a C with his spine every time
Big-and-Buff pushed in -- he'd started to worry about scraping his hands
up (and explaining it to Stella), and really, even back then it'd been not
the greatest idea to just pick some total stranger up, no matter how sexy
he looked or how hard his eyes were telling Ray he was gonna fuck him the
minute Ray turned around. 

 But now, there was no Stella, there was no strain, and it'd turned out
the guy either wasn't a crazed axe murderer or Ray wasn't his type, so
none of that was there. There was just Ray and the guy, the guy and Ray,
the guy with the nice dick Ray'd barely got a glimpse of, and Ray with the
sweetest reason to be a bottom he'd had in years. Ray and the guy and the
river, and the river didn't much care. The river did provide cover, even
in the dream, cause dark for the night or not, the buildings were ringing
with Ray's yelps and "come on, come on, harder!" and the guy's grunts and
"oh yeah, oh good, yes, come on." Because it was a dream, they didn't need
cover. Of course, because it was a dream, Stella was watching and giving a
critique: "Do it harder, he can take it" and so was some guy he'd only
seen on a poster: "No no, he don't need no reacharound, not yet, do ya?"
and Welsh: "Detective, is that the best you can do? Let's see some hip
action out there" and -- this was the freaky one -- Thatcher: "Come on,
man, put some back into it!" 

 But they all floated away on that river, melted into darkness and brick
and the big guy was still fucking like he was trying to make it last.
"It's a dream," Ray said, "so we're not gonna have to stop." The guy
didn't look sure, so Ray showed him his badge: "It's okay. I'm gonna be a
fucked-up detective with emotional issues when I grow up, so you can trust
me." 

 The man gave a hoarse grunt and began to pound in harder, settling in for
the long haul, and a solicitous Volpe brought Ray a pillow and a podium to
make the position more comfortable, because Ray was moving in for good,
setting up housekeeping right here, "Yeah, I'm Ray Vewalski Kokio the
Secret and that's the guy whose dick lives in my ass, what can I do for
you?" and never ever leaving. 

 They fucked for hours: sun came up, sun went down, the guy said Ray had
the sweetest ass and had he ever considered life insurance? 

 And then, of course, it was actually the same night and he was going to
be late, but still he just wanted to stay, just wanted to... and Beautiful
Dick guy grabbed his cock and squeezed while his thrusts went short and
sharp and he jerked the orgasm out of him all over the fondly-remembered
individually-blessed bricks in front of him in a sort of abstract
neo-Renaissance Rothko-esque splash. 

 Probably he'd just had his first wet dream in freaking years out in real
life and he was gonna have to sneak a load of laundry before his mum made
her weekly visit, but in here Ray just leaned his head against the wall
and felt the guy's sweaty head on his back and asked the guy not to do the
weird offering-him-a-drink thing this time, okay? And the guy agreed,
saying Ray didn't have anywhere to be this time anyway, and no Stella to
jump on him and fuck him in some weird star-fucking-transferrence deal
that he certainly wasn't going to question. So they just stood panting for
a minute, receiving the applause and adulation of the masses. 

 Stella sent a telegram -- "I knew you had it in you, Ray," -- and some
long-haired wack-job was doing something obscene with a drumstick and a
donut which was apparently a compliment, and Welsh applauded, yelling,
"Well done, what's-your-name!" and Thatcher handed the guy a Mountie hat
and said, "That's the way, Constable!" and Fraser pulled his dick out of
Ray's ass and Ray woke up and began freaking out. 

End Details of the Dream by Hel Virago: lorelei_fic@hotmail.com

Author and story notes above.