ultracosmicrays: (the riviera)
[personal profile] ultracosmicrays
Cosmic!Rays AU, Part 14. We have achieved R! The management accepts no responsibility for those dying of shock.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13



"Well, that was awkward," muttered Ray as he hovered, unsure of what to do next.

He could stand out on the walkway and wait for Frannie to vacate the sanitation cabin but the metal floor was cold under his feet and goose bumps he did not do. He could go back to his cabin and wait, but he wasn't sure he wanted to risk finding himself at the end of a blow by blow recount of Ian's dreams and queries as to where he spent the night. He could go back into Vecchio's cabin and get back in bed until Frannie came out. Except for the part where he had woken up with his arm around Vecchio's waist, his face tucked into the hollow between Vecchio's neck and shoulder and the woody he was sporting pressing neatly up against Vecchio's back.

That hadn't been a shock.

The shock had been realizing he didn't want to move. It was comfortable. It was warm. It was good. He wanted to stay there. Instinct had told him to move in closer, to nuzzle against the curve of Vecchio's neck. Ray kicked instinct in the head. If instinct just wanted to share the warmth of another human then instinct could go out and buy it in the next port they hit and not fuck things up with this guy Ray was starting to believe was his friend.

Moving with extreme care Ray had started to extricate himself and was rewarded by absolutely no change in the combination deep-breathing snoring that Vecchio was trialing. He kept going until he was lying flat on his back, half off the bed and lay there willing his erection away. It was not an easy task and Ray had only just achieved his goal when the light came on and Vecchio stirred. Not ready to meet Vecchio's eyes Ray had made his escape only to be thwarted by Frannie.

No, he couldn't go back in there.

Maybe he should go up to the rec room, start breakfast, surprise Frannie. He was sure he'd seen some pancake mix in one of the cupboards. Nobody could resist pancakes, could they? He could feed her pancakes and tell her in words of one syllable each exactly why she was wrong about him and Vecchio. Explain how there was a difference between guys who worked together and were friends and guys who worked together and fucked. And he'd tell her how she should know her brother wasn't into guys, he was still pining over Stella, and then there was the mysterious Frankie. No, he wasn't into guys, except for that time that Ray caught him checking out his ass. And the other couple of times he'd thought maybe he'd gotten an interested vibe. But apart from that. Then he'd explain that yeah, he liked guys, but he wasn't into Vecchio that way. Except for the thing with the voice yesterday, which was undeniably hot, and the whole snuggling thing last night. Okay, this was getting complicated. Maybe Ray wouldn't make breakfast. So now what?

It was his lucky day; he'd dithered for so long that Frannie came out and scurried past him, not meeting his eyes. Ray dived for the sanitation cabin, breathing a sigh of relief as he shut the door behind him.

Having relieved one kind of pressure Ray found another kind niggling at him as he stood under the shower. Turned out his morning wood had come back with a vengeance. It had obviously been lying in wait for him, killing time until Ray was in a position to take it in hand. Ray figured what the hell; at least there'd be one relaxed person on board. He squeezed the gel-tube on the wall and spread it over his palms. Leaning back against the wall he parted his legs slightly and wrapped one hand around his dick, letting the fingers of the other hand cup his balls, squeezing and tugging gently.

He began to stroke, loosely at first, finger and thumb encircling the shaft, skin shifting and twisting around the hardness at his core. Yeah, this was what he needed. Ray closed his eyes picturing Fraser in his apartment, bare-chested and tending a simple scratch he'd gotten, skin glowing in the soft lamplight, blue eyes dark and glittering, smiling at Ray. Pale pink nipples, chest of cool marble, like a beautiful ice statue. Ray groaned and his hand sped up, more fingers encircling now, gripping tighter, other fingers, clever fingers, pushing against the track of sensitive skin hidden behind his balls. Push and pull, push and pull, Ray found himself falling into the rhythm, toes curling and uncurling with the want of it, thighs braced against the inevitable.

Push and pull, push and pull. Ray couldn't wait, was racing towards his goal, whole world closing in to the breathlessness of now. Behind his eyes, Fraser smiled and then bowed his head. Ray's hands were on his shoulders, stroking down, pushing something off them. Only the shoulders weren't as broad as they should be and the marble chest was gone and Ray's head told him to stop, twist the dials, retune the picture but his body was a runaway train and he didn't want to stop, not really and then Vecchio looked up with that slow smile of his and Ray's orgasm ripped through him and he exploded, hard and fierce and desperate.

Panting and shattered, Ray reckoned he knew how that terrorist bomb must have felt, except he was only responsible for the death of several million of his little soldiers and not, you know, real people. Which was good. The Vecchio thing, though. That was not good. Far from good. Very, very ungood. The way Ray figured it he had three options: talk, act, repress. Talking? Too girly. Acting? Too risky. Repressing? Just right.

Ray cleaned himself up, watching his junk mingling with the water and swirling down the plughole and off to the recycling tank. It gave him a certain grim satisfaction to know that in a day or two, Vecchio could be drinking his spunk. Purified and filtered, for sure, but still. It might be the closest he'd ever get.






Part 15
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August 2007

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