Subtitle this one BLAME ANAGI   Oxford College Oxford College 2 5
1999-12-03T03:00:00Z 1999-12-03T03:00:00Z 2 1225 6987 Emory University 58
13 8580 9.2720	  0 0		       � Subtitle this one BLAME ANAGI. We
were chatting earlier tonight and she said she was still waiting for
someone to pick up the Vecchio/Ian challenge. This is the result. Otter me
if you will; Silvina has already worked me over better than Zuko's goons
for what I did to her Ray. All comments of any kind received with
unadulterated joy. Author: Cat to you, Acer canadensis to the Archive.
Pairings: Ray Vecchio/ Ian MacDonald, mental RayV/BF. Rating: Wow, my very
first NC-17! Universe: Not sure, but it's definitely not this one. The
real Ray Vecchio would never ever ever act like this unless somebody held
a dropper of pinkeye bacteria over Benny's baby blues and forced him to.
Warnings: Contains some minor violence and non-consentual sexual activity.
Sequels: NO! I already have too many stories in the works! But Silvina
hates this one and is writing her own Ray/Ian, which should be up in a few
days. � RETRIBUTION � "You little worm! I told you if I ever saw you again
I'd strangle you!" � Ray had gotten a call on his cell phone that morning.
Ben had been assigned to watch a prisoner at the Consulate, but had just
remembered some urgent act of goodwill and thankless service to others
that he had to perform, and there was nobody else at the Consulate, and
could Ray possibly fill in? He was sure he would be finished within an
hour, or possibly two at the latest. � Naturally, Ray had said yes, since
things were pretty slow at the station, and presented himself to play
surrogate Mountie at the Consulate. Ben had been waiting for him outside
his office door, and when Ray had arrived, he had said hurriedly, "Thanks,
Ray. He's in my office," and bolted for the door. � Ray had called after
him "Hey, Fraser, is he dangerous?" and Ben had stopped short and spun
around, looking slightly flustered. � "No... no, not at all. Goodbye,
Ray." This time, the fleeing Mountie made it out the door. Puzzled, Ray
had knocked and entered the office. There, spinning himself around in
Fraser's chair, Ray had caught the first glimpse of the man he was set to
guard. � Which explained why he was now turning an interesting shade of
mottled purple. � The round, cheerfully smiling face that was turned to
him blanched with sheer terror as Ian MacDonald recognised his new captor.
Without either of them seeming to move a muscle, they were suddenly
transported to a new position halfway across the room. Ian's back was
pressed to the wall, and Ray's hands were twisted in his shirt collar,
holding him there. � "I blew up my car because of you! This after I gave
up my vacation in Florida and ruined my shoe pushing said car out of a
ditch and ended up hitchhiking across the border covered in mud in a
carful of helpful Canadians while being chased by the Canadian mob!" Ian
made a small, strangled noise, and Ray shoved him harder against the wall.
"Oh, no you don't. Don't you even try to talk, 'cause I know it's gonna be
a lie. So the last time we met, you get me involved in breaking into a
protected military base in search of aliens-" � "Akshulee..." Ian gasped,
"It uz my fiansaaay..." � "Shut up! And you almost get me courtmartialed,
and they only let me go because my lieutenant convinced them I was insane.
After that, I got every single stupid and dirty and tedious case that came
into the precinct for a month because of you!" Froth was beginning to form
at the corners of Ray's mouth. � Ian stared at him, wide-eyed. 'Time
really does slow down just before you die,' he thought. � "Well?! Don't
you have anything to say?!" � "I... I'm sorrreee..." Ian managed, before
he was shoved against the wall for a fourth time, and Ray was suddenly
shouting into his face from a distance of about two inches. � "You're
SORRY? You do all that and you're SORRY? Oh, no, I'll show you sorry!
I'll..." Ray paused, unable to think of a suitable punishment. Death was
too easy. � There was total silence in the office as green eyes shot sheer
anger at the terrified dark ones a few inches away. The tableau could have
been a display at a wax museum, except for the motion of Fraser's desk
plant stretching its little leaves towards the sun a few millimeters an
hour. Neither of the men moved at all. � Slowly, Ray found himself falling
into the dark pools, being drawn in, as the fire raging in his blood found
outlet. With a sudden change of grip, he pressed his lips to his
prisoner's, a hot, hard, bruising kiss. � For a second, the Master of
Improvisation was completely at a loss. Then, remarkably, he was back on
his feet, kissing Ray back for all he was worth. He saw his chance of
getting out of this encounter alive, and he took it. When his captor
pulled away for breath, Ian moaned. � When Ray opened his eyes, he saw
blue ones gazing back at him... sky-blue eyes darkened by desire so that
they looked almost black. Dark lashes surrounded them, set in a pale face
framed by silky dark hair. Inhaling, the scent of the partner he desired
filled his nostrils and crept into his brain. Half of his mind, crazed by
the hormones of anger, pushed itself into the lie, willing itself to
believe. The othe half knew the truth, and still sought retribution. � He
kissed Ian again, fiercely. "Kiss me," he hissed, half ordering, half
pleading. "Kiss me. Make it up to me." � Swallowing his fear, Ian
complied. Awkwardly at first, he slid his tongue into the detective's
mouth, and was rewarded by Ray's releasing his shirt and sliding his hands
down to rest on Ian's hips. Growing absorbed in his role, he moved away
from Ray's mouth, kissing along the jawline to nuzzle the tender spot
below the ear, then working his way down the slender throat to dip his
tongue into the small hollow just above the collarbone. Ray threw his head
back and gasped his pleasure, mouthing the name he did not dare even to
whisper. � Ian's hands slid down Ray's shirtfront, finding the small
nipples and rubbing circles around them with his thumbs. Ray moaned.
"Harder!" � Glancing down at Ray's crotch, Ian answered "Yeah, I can see
that." � The joke was a bad idea. Ray's eyes flew open, maddened by lust
and hate. "You wanna do something about it?" Ian stared at him, and Ray
stared back, his gaze filled with silent command. Slowly, Ian returned to
his task. Unbuttoning the top button of Ray's silk shirt, he wondered if
he could possibly drag this out long enough to be rescued by the Mountie's
return. He snuck a peek at the clock, and to his horror realized that
Fraser had been gone for less than fifteen minutes, and could not be
expected back for at least another forty-five. No help there. Best, then,
to just get this over with. � Unbuttoning the rest of the shirt swiftly,
Ian bent his head and swirled his tongue around one nipple, his hands
running back and forth over the firm flesh of Ray's chest and stomach.
Ray's fingers tangled in Ian's silky dark locks as he closed his eyes and
pushed himself back into his fantasy. � Without allowing himself to think
about what he was going to do, Ian forced his hands to move lower. He
touched curly dark hair, hard ridges of ribs, tough softness of abdominal
muscles that moved with Ray's breath. One finger dipped briefly into his
navel, causing him to jerk sharply. Moving his hands carefully apart, Ian
felt hipbones, then thighs. He steeled himself and brought his hands
together. � He faltered at the first touch of the hard heat between Ray's
legs. 'Focus, Ian. Believe the story you tell,' he told himself.
Concentrating on what he was doing with his mouth, Ian let his hands move
automatically. � It was over in less than a minute. Ray's orgasm passed
with a wordless cry, and his lips once again formed the shape of the name
he would not allow himself to say. � Pulling away, Ray went to the window
and began to rebutton his clothing, unable even to look at the man who sat
slumped in the corner of the room. Once dressed, he leaned heavily on the
window sill, and rested his forehead against the cool glass, closing his
eyes in an effort to shut out the last twenty minutes. Taking a deep
breath, he spoke in his normal voice. � "Look, Ian, I'm, uh... yeah." He
raised his head. "Look, when B-when Constable Fraser gets back..." �
"Don't worry. I'm not gonna tell him." Ian stared at the floor. "It's not
like anyone would believe me anyway." � "Benny would." Ray's voice carried
quiet conviction, and he met Ian's eyes steadily for a few seconds. Then
he looked away, out of the window. "Problem is, he'd believe me too. And I
don't even know what I'd tell him." � END