Rated NC-17 for graphic m/m sex	 Graham Gregory Graham Gregory 26
179 2000-09-20T17:06:00Z 2000-09-20T20:05:00Z 4 1342 7651 Home 63 15 9395
9.2720	       Rated NC-17 for graphic m/m sex. Consider yourself warned.
  The lucky people at Alliance own these characters. Man, I'm jealous.   I
suppose this could be seen as a companion/sequel to my Duty Bound series,
sort of after Boredom's the real Silent Killer, but it will also make
sense on it's own, after all it doesn't exactly *have* a storyline or
plot, what do you want from me?   I have nothing against Jerry Springer;
in fact I think he rocks.   Not beta'd my mistakes, mine, all mine.  
Pierced     Stan stared down at his naked torso, make that naked,
*unmarred* torso for the last time. For some strange reason he'd dragged
his ass back to the same place where he'd had his tattoo done, of course
he wasn't drunk this time, well not quite, certainly not drunk enough to
numb the pain he was expecting, he hadn't drunk enough beer, he knew that
now, not nearly enough. When he'd had his tattoo done he'd been in the
fuzzy happy place that was alcohol.    Although now, he was sat under the
bright fluorescent tubes in a sterilised room, pleased that even in his
stupor all those years ago, he'd had enough sense not to venture into one
of the dives he often finds himself visiting in his line of work. Sighing
in dread as his hyper vigilant hearing picked up- the noises of the large
tattooed guy clanking metal sounding instruments together from across the
room. How come his hearing became as sensitive as the Mountie's whenever
pain was immanent? Stan had to fight the urge to get up and run. He didn't
care if he was half naked; his car was only a block away, no biggie, even
if it was nearly midnight. He'd prefer not to have to bump into some of
the unsavoury characters he knew would be lurking around outside, whilst
being in a state of undress, with only his backup gun.	  He hadn't
realised it was so late, Ray would be worrying about him, bringing him
back to the reason he was led out on a suspiciously hospital looking bed,
waiting fro his body to be mutilated by some guy who looks like a human
doodle.   His eye's widened in panic as the big man turned his attention
back to him, a large needle in his hand. He could do this, he could.   No
he couldn't. Just as he was about to jump up and run, preferring to face
Freddie Kruger himself than to go through with it, he rethought about the
reason he was here.   Ray.   OK, he could do this, just gotta concentrate
on Ray, hell he could do that, he'd had hours and hours of practice on
that particular activity. Ray shyly admitting during a television show
//not that he thought that Jerry Springer could actually be worth calling
a television show// that he thought certain body piercings had an appeal.
There was something in the way that he had said it that made Stan pay
close attention, it was quiet and bashful, very unlike his Italian
partner. He'd looked at him hopefully, Stan could still remember the way
he'd tried to hide his true hurt when he'd instantly refused the idea,
asking if he had lost his mind, the way Ray had assured him he was only
joking, he didn't really want him to get his body, 'decorated with painful
metal things'. That was this morning, they'd hardly spoken since, hence
the reason he was here and Ray was probably at home, thinking he'd gone on
a bender.   "You okay mate?" the big guy asked him, breaking his train of
thought.   "Greatness," he'd meant it to sound cheerful and reassuring,
but it came out bitter and sarcastic, "get it over with," he hated that it
had sounded like a plea, where'd his tough guy image disappear to, eh? He
felt the coolness of the antiseptic over his nipple as the guy sterilised
it with a cotton swab. He could feel it evaporating quickly, pulling his
nipple into a hard nub //perfect for sticking a needle through it//  
"Ready?"   The guy didn't even give him a chance to answer before he felt
the pain.   Pain.   Concentrated pain closing around his right nipple, he
wondered if it was always this bad for everyone, Ray had always teased him
about his sensitive nipples, and the git wanted him to get a permanent
hole put through one of them, sadistic bastard, he'd never forgive Ray for
this. He'd been shot before and he'd never felt pain like this. He was
pretty sure that getting shot hurt like a son of a bitch, but there was
always something else to think about, the kids to save from the warehouse,
some perp to catch, or he'd just plain old blacked out. Never before had
he nothing else to concentrate on but the pain. He didn't like it one bit.
  Just as soon as the pain had started, it stopped, reduced to an ache, a
damn persistent, throbbing ache, but still an ache. He could deal with
aches. Letting out a huge sigh of relief, he opened his screwed up eyes
and stared tentatively down his chest. Getting a quick glimpse of the
small silver ring through his right nipple before it was promptly covered
with a piece of gauze with sticky edges, increasing the aching slightly.  
"Clean it twice a day with salt water until it's healed, you can take it
out after six weeks," the guy informed him, moving on to his next
customer, Stan took that as a hint to get the hell out. Pulling his tee
shirt stiffly over his head, wishing that he'd brought a baggier one,
unappreciative of the way it rubbed against the gauze. Walking down the
road in the dark then climbing gingerly into his GTO Stan glanced at his
watch, nearly one o clock, man Ray was going to be pissed with him.   
#*#*#*#*   Closing the door quietly behind him, Stan stepped into the dark
apartment; Ray had apparently gone to bed. Stan toed off his boots and
socks. Slipping out of his jeans, dumping them on the chair, he slowly
opened the bedroom door.    Ray was already in bed, and Stan hoped
stupidly, asleep.   Not willing the risk of pulling his tee shirt off and
catching the gauze, or worse yet, the ring, he left it on along with his
jockeys. Ray would think it was strange of course, he always slept naked.
There was no way in hell that he was going to risk the pain again though.
Sliding quietly in between the sheets, lying prone on his back, Stan
thought he'd got away with it. But before he could breathe a sigh of
relief, Ray turned over onto his back,   "What the hell time do you call
this Kowalski?"   " 1am Ray, what the hell time do you call it?" so he
couldn't help the backchat, he was in pain, he really didn't feel like the
inquisition. Ray's eyes narrowed on him, taking in the tee shirt covered
shoulder.   "Be that fucking way," Ray snarled, rolling over, turning his
back to Stan again. Stan remained still for what felt like an eternity,
scared to move. Eventually, when he was sure Ray was asleep he shifted
over as close as he could to his lover's back, contented just to feel his
comforting warmth down his side.   #*#*#*#*   Stan slowly ascended his way
back into consciousness, he knew he didn't really want to do that, he'd
hardly slept all night, kept rolling over, a sharp pain bringing him back
to reality, before repeating the same cycle.    Now he was being woken up.
Even in his fuzzy state, he knew that he didn't want that, definitely not.
  Leave me alone, he wanted to scream, but just couldn't really be
bothered. Fuck off he wanted to yell at the insistent thrusting against
his thigh, but again, couldn't really be assed. Was that his tee shirt
being lifted up? And what the hell was tugging at his nipple?   His
nipple?   Shit.   His eyes flew open in horror, looking into the murky
depths of Ray's own eyes, puling at the gauze with impatient, excited,
*jerky* movements.   Ow.   "Ray, could you, um?"   "What?" Ray asked
eagerly, his hand tracing seductive circles on his stomach.   "Not *do*
that, it hurts,"   "Oh. Can I see it?" Ray reminded him of a kid at
Christmas, so excited and wide-eyed, almost made the whole pain thing
worthwhile.   Almost.   Not that he had a chance to answer; the gauze was
now slowly, but insistently being removed. He didn't have time to react
before Ray prodded it cautiously with the end of his finger
experimentally. Okay, that didn't hurt as much as he'd expected, it had
kind of glued itself in place with dried pus //umm, nice// as long as it
wasn't actually *moved* then he'd be just fine. He hoped.   "Ra..." he was
quickly shut up as Ray shoved three fingers down his throat, cutting off
the rest of the sentence, as he climbed on top of him, pulling his
jockey's down and pushing his thighs apart. Slowly lowering his head.   
//No Ray//   Okay he could deal with that as well, Ray was being
incredibly gentle, gently laving the still throbbing nub. Stan relaxed his
head back onto the pillows and concentrated on sucking on the fingers, he
could trust Ray not to hurt him. The fingers were suddenly removed and
shoved into his exposed ass. Stan's back arched off the bed as Ray's long
fingers brushed his prostrate. Then, just as quickly the fingers were
gone, replaced with something much more appetising. They'd done this often
enough to forego the foreplay, so to speak. Not that they didn't enjoy it,
it just seemed that Ray didn't have enough patience for it. It didn't take
Ray long to come, he was acting like a love starved teenager. Ray sped up
his pumping on Stan's dick, till it wasn't long before he followed him
over the edge. Ray landed in a sweaty heap on top of him, careful not to
put any weight onto his nipple.   "Love you," Ray murmured,   "Yer just
after my body,"   "Who could blame me?" he asked as he moved in for a deep
kiss.   Finis   Comments, good or bad, I can take it, I'm a big girl
cheezymule@yahoo.co.uk