by brooklinegirl




For pearl-o, who asked for F/K: "Almost missed there."

Many thanks to mistress Lynnmonster once again for her invaluable insta-beta skills and for helping me come up with this idea in the first place.

Fraser wasn't entirely comfortable going to a bar, and he had never played darts before. But, "It's a test of skill," Ray had said, giving him a solemn look. "It'll hone your reflexes."

It was a Tuesday night so they had the back corner of the bar to themselves. Fraser proved to be very proficient at the game.

"It's like knife-throwing," Fraser explained, and Ray grinned at him and took another swallow of beer, nodding approvingly.

Ray had ordered Fraser a beer as well. "For fortification, Fraser," Ray said. "Besides, it's the traditional drink of dart-throwers."

And Fraser, never being one to look down on tradition, lifted the long-necked bottle and took a sip, watching Ray the whole time.

When it was Ray's turn to throw, he, too, was good at it. His glasses were on, his gaze concentrated, and a bottle of beer hung loosely from the fingers of one hand as he threw with the other, his body angled sideways. Fraser found his gaze drawn to the graceful, curving length of Ray's body, and when Ray caught him looking, he didn't even try to look away.

Ray smiled then, his eyes hot with promise, before going to fetch the darts from the board. He pressed them into Fraser's hand, and Fraser could feel the heat of Ray's hand brushing against his. "Your turn," Ray said, and Fraser swallowed, and nodded.

He stood firmly straight and took aim, and just as he threw, he felt Ray edge up closer behind him. Fraser's dart landed towards the edge of the board.

"Almost missed there," Ray murmured against his ear, sounding amused, and Fraser breathed in the scent of beer and leather and Ray, and refused to turn to look. He threw his last two darts in quick succession, and they landed right next to each other on the bulls-eye. Beside him, Ray breathed out a laugh.

Fraser turned, then, and watched Ray finish his beer in several long swallows. Ray picked up his leather jacket from where he had slung it over the back of his chair and slipped it on. "Let's get out of here, yeah?" he said, and Fraser nodded, pulling on his own jacket, and followed.

The back door swung shut heavily behind them, and the alley was dim and quiet, the air cool against Fraser's hot face. When Ray paused after a few feet, Fraser stopped too. Ray removed his glasses and slid them into the pocket of his jacket before leaning back against the rough brick wall. He regarded Fraser in the muted light of the alley, his thumbs slipped through the belt loops of his jeans, and when he tilted his head, Fraser stepped close enough to feel Ray's breath warm against his face, a marked difference to the cool night air.

"Kiss me," said Ray, and his voice still sounded amused, so Fraser didn't. But he put his hands on Ray's hips and tugged him closer.

"Kiss me," Ray said again, challenging this time, and Fraser put his face against the crook of Ray's neck and breathed deeply. He felt more than heard Ray's breath catch, and when Ray said, again, "Kiss me," it was a whisper, a request, and Fraser moved to press his lips against Ray's, soft at first, then harder, holding him back against the wall with his hands, hips, body, and slipping his tongue into Ray's mouth.

Ray looped his arms around Fraser, canting his hips further forward, and Fraser kissed him, and kissed him, their two bodies twined, hidden in the protection of the shadowy darkness.


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