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To my knowledge everyone on my flist, except moth1 (hey!) and
drunkenfop (for whom this story is written), is non-British. Therefore you probably won’t have a clue what Life on Mars is or who the characters are. So for you I give...
Rating: NC-17 (really)
Pairing: Ray/Chris (a little bit of Sam/Gene if you squint)
Warnings (to be taken seriously): BDSM, dodgy-con, graphic sex
Summary: It didn’t matter that he’d never done it before. It didn’t matter that he was starting to panic, struggling to breathe around the thickness in his mouth. It certainly didn’t matter whether he wanted to do it or not.
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Author notes: In a fit of lust-addled madness after reading
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There is no cling film in this part but there might be in the second. Also the pov is Ray’s to start with. What do you know, it appears I *can* switch within a fic *ggg*
I am posting this in two parts because the second part is not ready and I didn’t want to make drunkenfop wait too long.
Want to know more? There is now a DVD Commentary available for this fic!
To Have And To Hold Down 1/2
The pub was noisy and crowded, filled to the brim with coppers determined to play hard after a long shift of working hard.
Ray took a deep drag, feeling the arid smoke coalesce in his lungs. He held his breath for a few seconds longer than comfortable and finally blew it out, watching the swirls mix and vanish into the murky air of the room.
It had been a good, clean bust. A routine chat with a regular snitch had produced some interesting information about stolen guns. A little traditional detective work – none of that fancy pussyfooting that DI let’s-all-be-nice-to-the-poor-misunderstood-criminals so liked – had resulted in an early-morning raid and a day of paperwork. It hadn’t been that exciting, but – Ray grudgingly admitted – it had been good, solid police work.
And yet… he wasn’t satisfied. A restless, fidgety feeling churned inside him, and nothing helped, not the booze, not the fags, not the throb of his bloody knuckles which he’d slammed on the toilet door earlier in an effort to just make it fucking *stop* for a minute.
He drowned his drink and leaned against the back wall. Arms crossed tightly to restrain the thrumming, twisting something that was shaking his body apart, he surveyed the scene in front of him.
Over at the bar the Guv was holding court, surrounded by eager fresh-faced uniforms, one hand holding a half-filled pint, another one resting on
And then, inevitably, his gaze came to rest on a mop of dark hair above a pair of slender shoulders currently covered in a fake leather jacket. Chris.
Chris, with his easy smiles and dumb jokes and insecure streak a mile-wide. Chris with his need for approval and eagerness to please and all the things Ray shouldn’t notice, like his ridiculously long lashes, his crooked mouth and the way his shirt rode up at the back revealing a strip of white skin.
Chris with his forehead resting against Sam’s arm, shaking with laughter because obviously it was a fucking *riot* to be draped all over their superior like a cheap slut. Goddamn idiot…
Ray’s gut tightened painfully and he was half-way across the room before he realised he’d moved. But he couldn’t just fucking stand by and watch Chris…
What? Watch Chris do exactly what? Ray slowed down, trying to shake his head clear. This was beyond stupid, he couldn’t just elbow his way into a group of coppers like a jealous lover, for God’s sake, and besides it was nothing, nothing at all.
But over at the bar Sam was looking at him, eyes dark and amused over Chris’ shoulder. The moment stretched for long seconds and he couldn’t breathe because Sam *knew*, saw right through him and Ray was frozen between one step and another. Then Sam smiled, slow and deliberate, ducking his head down, eyes never leaving Ray’s and whispered something in Chris’ ear, making the younger man double over helplessly and before he knew it Ray was moving.
***
Chris was propelled around mid-sentence, his head fuzzy-full of alcohol and struggling to keep up.
“Wha…? Hey, Ray!” His pint sloshed over but it didn’t matter because hey look, it was Ray! Chris smiled brightly at his… well not a friend exactly, but… something. And the Guv was here too. And Sam. He turned back towards the DI, feeling drunk and loose and very friendly.
Sam, Sam, Sam.
It was a good name. He tried it out loud.
“Sam, Sam, Sam.”
“Chris, Chris, Chris.” Sam answered, the serious tone betrayed by the laughter-lines around his eyes. It was the most hilarious thing ever. Chris inhaled some of his beverage, coughing and wheezing, barely able to stay on his feet.
“DC Skelton, I believe you are intoxicated in public premises.”
And that was funny too. So funny in fact that Ray’s gruff “I’ll take care of it, Guv.” didn’t register until he was yanked back and towards the door by his jacket.
Ray dragged him out and into the alley behind the pub, the roar of voices fading away until it was only his own, all giggles and feeble protests. He slipped on the wet cobble stones, the brick wall cold and grimy under his hand as he braced against it for balance, still weak from laughter.“Hey, easy there, I’m…”
Ray slammed him against the wall and for a while Chris thought he was going to take a swing at him but then the larger man visibly reined himself in and took a careful step back.
“Is he fucking you yet? Or is the Guv keeping the leash short and tight?”
“What?! Who?”
“DI Tyler. DI Scientific Method. DI Sherlock-fucking-Holmes.”
“Sam? No! Why would you…?” Chris almost started laughing again, only he wasn’t quite sure he got the joke.
“Shut up!” He could feel the other man’s hot breath on his face and suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.
“Sam this and Sam that. I’m sick of your hero worship. A man makes a one mistake – one! – and suddenly he’s not worth knowing!”
What the…? Chris bristled at the implication. Ray made it sound like he was a snot-nosed little kid, star struck with a local trouble-maker. Which of course wasn’t true. Although Sam – DI Tyler he quickly corrected himself – did cause a considerable amount of trouble and Chris was younger than the rest of the CID, but that was it. There was no hero worshipping involved. Although the way Sam had pulled that girl from the…
A hard punch made his head spin, snapping his attention back to the man in front of him.
“You’re thinking of him right now aren’t you?”
Chris brought a hand to his mouth, feeling the stinging and warm wetness where the force of the hit had split his lip.
Hit.
Ray had hit him. Not badly but…
“Answer me!”
“No. I’m not thinking of him.”
And he really, really wasn’t. It was if the sudden flare of violence had wiped his mind clean because Chris didn’t seem to be able to form any coherent thoughts at all. Everything narrowed down to feeling, to purely physical sensation.
He stood still, mind oddly blank and peaceful, feeling the ghost of heatpain of Ray’s palm. His body felt heavy and lethargic, skin growing unbearably sensitive, his clothes suddenly restrictive.
The night air smelled of rain and danger and men in brink of something new and dark. Chris breathed deeply through his mouth to get more, better and then Ray was right there in his face and Chris flinched, expecting another punch but no, that wasn’t it, it was too close.
Too close to see Ray’s mouth closing over his bleeding lip.
It wasn’t even a kiss, just Ray making a goddamn *claim* of ownership, all teeth and tongue, but by the time Ray’s hands closed around his biceps and pushed him down Chris was hard and panting.
“I’ll give you something else to think about.”
His knees hit the gravel hard, warm blood already seeping through the threadbare slacks. The pain pulsed in counter to his heartbeat, fast and erratic and lifting him high, higher, as far as he could stretch until his head was cradled in Ray’s hands, tilted back and held immobile.
He couldn’t see Ray, just the dark sky, water drizzling down and into his eyes, blinding him further. Chris blinked rapidly, mouth falling open to catch the clean taste of rain and blood and before he could think further there was a sound of a zipper being lowered and for once he knew exactly what was coming.
Ray’s cock forced its way past his lips, scraping them raw and Chris gagged, swallowed, too much and not enough.
It didn’t matter that he’d never done it before. It didn’t matter that he was starting to panic, struggling to breathe around the thickness in his mouth. It certainly didn’t matter whether he wanted to do it or not.
And while everything else that had happened during the last ten minutes was strange and unexpected, this was something Chris was intimately familiar with. There was a sense of security that came with having one’s choice taken away, safety in surrender. Obedience left no room for mistakes.
“Come on Chris, open up. That’s a good boy.” Ray’s hands coaxed his head into a better angle,
Instinctively he relaxed his throat and Ray slid deeper, pulled out, back in with a long thrust. Chris moaned, eyes wide and unseeing, his own cock twitching in sympathy.
Chris had always been good at following orders. He had liked the boundaries, the feeling of being useful. He just hadn’t known it was possible to like being used as well.
Ray was cupping his face with both hands now, fucking his mouth fast and hard and Chris just wanted more, needed Ray to take it all.
And then Ray was coming, sea-salt taste filling his mouth and he swallowed and swallowed, until hard hands were pushing him away.
Chris didn’t want it to stop. He tried to follow but Ray kept him in place. Chris was aching, out of his mind, a good boy, yes, pleaseplease, so hard.
“Let me, Ray, letmeletme...” Begging, he was begging, licking Ray’s come off his lips and he needed, wanted, squirmed under Ray’s hands that were still fisted in his hair.
“Come on. Bring yourself off, I want to watch.”
Chris started to unbuckle his belt, acutely aware of their less than private surroundings but beyond caring.
“No, keep them on. I want you to come in your pants for me.”
Shame flushed against his skin, hot and arousing,
He pressed the heel of his hand down hard on his aching cock, desperate for relief. The thought of how he must look, kneeling down on a filthy street, Ray’s come drying on his face, made him flush with embarrassment and he hesitated, frozen in place.
“Again. Don’t stop. I won’t let you go until you come.” Ray’s voice was low and rough, his fingers tightening their hold, making Chris’ eyes tear up.
“P…please.” But the plead dissolved into another moan, a treacherous hand already curling around his hard-on, squeezing just right because, yeah, he knew how to bring himself off and now Ray would too.
Ray’s nails were blunt half-moons of pain on his scalp, making the pleasure sharper, keener and he sobbed because he wanted *skin* but Ray wouldn’t let him. He arched taut, hips stuttering up to meet his own palm, too desperate to get any proper rhythm going. But it was enough because jesusgod he was right on the edge already, breath coming in ragged puffs. And above him Ray was smiling, wild and brilliant and cruel and that was all it took, Chris was coming in his pants – just like Ray wanted. He would have screamed if not for Ray’s other hand that came down hard on his mouth, muffling sound but not the white hot rush of orgasm tearing him open like a jagged knife.
When he came to, in what felt like hours, Ray was crouching down shaking him by the shoulders.
“Chris. Chris, come one, snap out of it. We got to go.”
“Uhm, ok, yeah.”
He felt dizzy getting to his feet, body heavy and uncooperative. Ray started towards the parking lot and Chris stumbled after him, the only way to go now.
There was a wet spot in front of his trousers and for a few seconds he couldn’t work out why. And when his sluggish brain finally made the connection Chris was already sitting in Ray’s car – no closer to any real answers.
Want to know more? There is now a DVD Commentary available for this fic!