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04:11 pm: Fic: The Cetacean Situation (dS, NC-17)
Happy Birthday, lynnmonster! This is for you.

Title: The Cetacean Situation
Authors: littera_abactor and norah.
Fandom: Due South; this is a crossover of sorts with Spider-Man (comics, second movie) and Ultimate X-Men. Don't look for canon accuracy here, though.
Rating: NC-17
littera_abactor wrote the ends
norah wrote the middle
And they both rewrote it all.
But lynnmonster deserves all the blame. She started it.
Thanks: To dine, fanofall, and raveninthewind for beta reading above and beyond the call of duty. We love you guys, and we promise the next one will be slightly less crack-ridden, OK?

"Fraser?" The voice woke him out of a confused dream of heat and participatory full body contact, and it took him a moment to realize that he was still in the Consulate - and still entirely alone. Well, not entirely alone. Diefenbaker was there, at the foot of the cot, soundly asleep and, from the looks of it, dreaming of sledding. "Fraser?" That didn't sound like Diefenbaker.

"Ray?" Fraser's initial reaction to the sound of Ray's voice in the absence of Ray's actual physical presence was to look at the closet. He got up and began dressing; if his closet now had two occupants, he'd definitely be called upon to mediate, and being fully dressed would give him a psychological advantage he'd need if he was dealing with his father and Ray.

"Fraser. Um." Ray sounded at a loss, and also slightly muffled. But not by the closet door; he knew exactly how much that dulled sound.

"Ray, are you in the hallway?" Usually, when Ray let himself into the Consulate, he let himself all the way in; there'd been several times that Fraser had very narrowly avoided embarrassing himself, when he'd awakened from dreams of Ray to find him there in person, hovering over the cot.

Now that Fraser was awake, he was detecting a certain stress in Ray's voice, a certain worrisome hesitance and - fear? Fraser didn't even bother buttoning his flannel shirt; he walked briskly to the door and - failed to turn the handle. He shook it, and it didn't even rattle, didn't shift at all. Ray couldn't possibly be holding the door shut this firmly.

"Yeah, I am, and don't try to open the door for a second, OK?" There was a pause, and Fraser, pressed against the door, could hear Ray taking a deep breath.

"Ray, are you all right? Ray?" Another deep breath. Ray sounded almost - nauseated. Not at all intoxicated, though, which was, under the circumstances, somewhat unfortunate. Fraser felt fairly sure of his ability to cope with crises brought on by excessive consumption of alcohol."Ray?"

"I'm, I'm not exactly sure." From the sound of his voice, Ray was now sitting in the hallway with his back to Fraser's office door, although, oddly enough, he was still managing to keep the handle from turning and the door from opening. Also from the sound of his voice, Ray was scared. "It's - it's talking to me, Fraser. Asking me things, telling me things. And I don't want you to see me like this, but I - I..."

Fraser walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and selected a few tools. Back at the door, he began removing the hinges, giving thanks for the American building code that required all interior room doors to open inward. "Ray? Keep talking to me. Tell me how you got here."

"I - Jesus, I - I just thought, hell, Fraser's the only person I know who won't shoot me on sight looking like this. And that's only 'cause you don't have a gun. So I thought of the Consulate, and then I was on my way here, and - uh. If I think any more about how I got here, I'm gonna be sick." He sounded sick.

"That's fine, Ray." Fraser had the first hinge off and was working on the second. "Where were you when you decided to come here?"

"In – in the alley. I saw a guy, looked like he was beating this other guy, I went down the alley and – " Ray sounded upset. "Fraser, are you taking the hinges off the door?"

"Yes, Ray."

"Don't come out here! I - oh, Jesus. Fraser, I don't think I'm safe right now. These things - fuck. I've got to - got to - " Fraser could hear him scrambling up, and identified the scraping noise as something metallic. Metallic and large and moving along the floor and the walls. He got the last screw out of the final hinge (and really, wasn’t it rather excessive, not to say wasteful, to use five screws in each side of each hinge?) and stepped to one side, pulling the door down. He moved into the hallway, keeping alert.

Diefenbaker sprang awake and bounded forward, barking, which distracted Fraser's attention at a crucial moment. There was a sudden pressure about his waist, and Fraser found himself being lifted off the ground and pressed against the hallway wall. He looked down and saw something silver and gleaming wrapped around him. Tracing the metal - tentacle, there was really no other word for it - back to its source led his eyes to Ray, who appeared to have four of the things...growing out of his back. Fraser stopped struggling with the tentacle, which was pointless, anyway, as the things were incredibly strong and supple, and passed a thumb over his eyebrow. This was going to require some thought.

Diefenbaker was already down the hall, jumping on Ray, tail wagging furiously; Ray was fending him off weakly, muttering, apparently to himself, "Crazy mutt - Jesus. It's not enough that I interrupt the most fucked-up murder in the history of the whole world and most of Marvel comics and get attacked by metal freakin' arm things, now I'm being jumped by a dog with an ear fetish." He raised his voice. "Fraser, get your wolf off me. I'm not safe."

"Well, Ray, that would be easier if you would let me go. If, that is, you're in control of your, er, companions?"

Ray looked up. "Shit. Shit shit shit. Sorry, Frase. These things - they kind of have a mind of their own." He wrinkled his face in concentration. After a breathless pause - well, breathless on Fraser's part, as the tentacle had gotten rather tight around his midsection - the limb retracted and Fraser thumped back to the floor.

Fraser walked carefully toward Ray, holding his arms in the air. "Ray, what happened?"

Ray backed down the hall at roughly the same pace. Diefenbaker was sniffing curiously at one of the metal tentacles, and from the way it was twitching, it didn't like that. "I got home from the gym and I was out of everything, and you can't enjoy a workout if you don't drink beer afterwards, you know? It's, like, the law or something." Fraser nodded soothingly, prompting Ray to continue. When Ray began to speak again, Fraser took advantage of his distraction to sign to Diefenbaker: Welsh. Get Welsh.

"So I went to the liquor store, and I saw something down an alley. Something..." His voice trailed off and the tentacles began twitching in earnest, almost wriggling; Fraser assumed they were keyed into his mental state. Or possibly they had enough volition that they were exhibiting their own response to the unpleasant memory. He kept moving forward. Soon, Ray would be against the wall, and then Fraser would be able to take a closer look at this situation. With luck, he’d be able to resolve it before Welsh arrived.

"Yes, Ray?" Fraser tried to make his voice encouraging and calming. The tentacles didn't seem to care for it, as their writhing intensified, but Ray responded, automatically returning to his story.

"So I looked down the alley, and I couldn't see much. Didn't have my glasses." He smiled slightly and looked sheepish. "But there was a guy on the ground and another guy standing over him, and you don't need glasses to know what that means." Ray bumped into the wall and stopped moving, apparently lost in the memory. "I shouted, 'Stop! Police!' and - Jesus, I swear the guy that was standing ran straight up the wall of a building. Christ. So I ran down, you know, and there was the guy still on the ground, and he had all this metal coming out of his back, and I got down to take his pulse, and..." He trailed off again, but picked up in a few seconds. "I blacked out, I guess. Woke up like this." He looked up and saw Fraser, now within arm's reach, and his expression changed.

"Ray - " Fraser wasn't sure just what he'd have said, but he didn't have a chance to find out; the tentacles were on him so fast he couldn't even see them move, never mind have time to react. One wrapped around his waist, another around his shoulders and neck, and this time he wasn't pushed back. He was reeled in.

"Fraser, I told you - don't come near me. I - shit, these things, they're talking to me, they're making me crazy." Ray's face twitched with distress, moving between expressions so quickly that none of them could be identified.

"Talking to you?" Fraser felt just a twinge of pride at the even timbre of his voice. Even the RCMP had never trained him for a situation like this, but he seemed to be handling it surprisingly well for someone who was genetically linked to Tiberius Fraser.

"Jesus, yeah. I think they - I think they want to hurt you. But I don't wanna hurt you, Fraser." Ray's face had settled on a single expression, one Fraser had never seen on him before. "I don't want to hurt you." A tentacle reached out, moving so slowly that Fraser was fascinated by it, by the strange sinuous rippling of it. When the tentacle reached him, the very tip of it stroked along Fraser's cheek, leaving his skin tingling and surprisingly warm in its wake.

"You wouldn't hurt me, Ray." Fraser's voice was even, confident, but he felt himself swallow, felt his throat go dry. Those - things - were touching him. Or rather, Ray was touching him, eyes slightly narrowed and intent, the odd supple metal of the strange new appendages vining out from his back, reaching out to...stroke down Fraser's chest, where the edges of the flannel swung open. Fraser shivered.

"Ray, we've got to call someone. Welsh...or the hospital. Someone who can help you." Ray's expression didn't change; his eyes were fixed on Fraser as the agile metal pushed the front of the shirt back, until it was hanging off his shoulders. Fraser grabbed at it, tried to pull it back around him. "Ray! Ray, I believe these, er, attachments are influencing your mental state. You are clearly not in your right mind."

"Never been righter, Fraser," Ray murmured, and Fraser felt his wrists encircled and drawn away from where they clutched at his shirt. "I want - we want this."

Fraser felt the first stirrings of real fear, hearing Ray refer to himself in the plural, realizing that whatever these tentacles were, they seemed to have won the mental battle Ray had been waging when he first arrived. He no longer looked confused, or afraid. Just calm, intent on - intent on - "Ray!" Fraser gasped. He could feel cool metal on his belly, where the last of the appendages had insinuated itself between them and was wrapping itself firmly between his legs.

Fraser realized, to his shame, that he was getting hard. The firm pressure of the metal, tucked snug between his legs, the restraints holding his wrists like handcuffs behind his back, that look in Ray's eyes - but no, this wasn't Ray, this wasn't real.

"Ray, you need to stop. Stop. You don't want this. I - " But he couldn't say it, couldn't say, 'I don't want this,' because so very many times he'd thought about this, late at night on his narrow cot, about Ray looking at him like this, touching him, touching him oh, God, there, yes - no. No. Not like this. Not with this Ray, out of control and invaded by some sick mechanical other. Not with a Ray possessed by these things, no matter how clever or strong or supple against his traitorous cock. Fraser realized his hips were rocking, minutely, but rocking, rubbing his erection up against the smooth metal between his thighs. He forced himself to still.

"You got no idea what I want, Fraser." Ray was smiling now, a curious hungry smile that made him look almost predatory. Fraser wondered with a small part of his mind if Ray's new attachments might be carnivorous. "You got no," and Ray pulled him in, reeled him in effortlessly with the long snakelike arms, "fuckin’," and they were chest-to-chest, Ray's breath hot on his neck, "idea."

Fraser struggled to keep calm, but it seemed destined to be a losing battle, with Ray's lips so close, Ray's much-washed t-shirt so soft against his bare chest, Ray's scent - warm and uniquely Ray - all around him. (Not Ray, Fraser reminded himself sternly, trying to concentrate on the harsh smell of metal, the hints of oil and rust, rather than that of the warm skin so close to his own. Ray would never do this. Not with you, not to you.)

Fraser’s nipples had gone tight and sensitive where they rubbed against Ray's shirt and his cock was straining against the denim of his jeans, rubbing up against smooth metal and Ray's own erection. Ray's erection. Oh dear God, Ray was hard.

And talking again, lips moving against the smooth skin of Fraser's cheek. "Do you know how many times I've jerked off thinking about touching you, Fraser?" And finally - finally - Ray was touching him, Ray’s own, warm hands were touching Fraser's skin, stroking his bare chest, his neck, his hair, brushing against his face, soft and reverent, so unlike the unyielding steel around his wrists, around his waist.

Fraser swallowed again, throat dry, resisting his impulse to lean into those touches, grind against Ray, to believe that this was truly what Ray wanted and not some aberration brought on by the strange metal intruders. "About touching me? Ray, I'm sure you never - "

"But I did, Fraser," Ray interrupted. "Touch myself," and his hands skated down Fraser's body, pinned helplessly in coils of alien metal. One hand lingered on a tight nipple, scratching lightly at it. "Thinking about touching you, touching you like this," and his hand was warm and strong, gripping Fraser's rigid cock through his jeans, stroking him.

"This ain't new, Fraser," and Fraser could hear his quiet certainty, "It's not these things I got on me making me do this. I always wanted this. I just - " and the metal between Fraser's legs slipped away, to make room for the heat and pressure of Ray's hand, scrabbling at the buttons of his fly " - just got so tired of wanting, Fraser, wanting and not having and all the good reasons for staying away. And now they tell me we can take what we want, and I can - I won't hurt you, Fraser, I won't, I just want, just - just let me."

Ray's hand slipped inside his jeans, into the waistband of his boxers, and pushed them down, freeing his cock. And then Ray was touching him, touching him and saying exactly what Fraser wanted to believe. He tried to resist, one more time, even as his hips pushed forward, thrusting into the tight circle of Ray's fist. "We can't, Ray, we have to, have to get - you to - to - hospital -" Ray's mouth cut off the protest, warm tongue slipping between Fraser's open lips.

Ray's mouth was hot and wet and Fraser almost came right then, it was so close to some of his long-held guilty wishes. Not the part where Ray was being mind-controlled by cyborg tentacles and stripping him naked in the hallway of the Consulate, of course. Not that part. But the feel of Ray's hand, warm and callused and sure on his cock, the taste of Ray in his mouth, the way Ray said "I want you" and "let me."

Fraser leaned into the kiss, hungry for it, helpless to avoid it. A thousand hastily concocted rationalizations and justifications flitted through his head. Maybe this is all I'll ever get of Ray. Maybe if I give this to Ray, I'll be able to convince him to go the hospital afterward. Maybe - maybe Ray won't - remember. Fraser, surrendering helplessly, hoped Ray would forgive him as he tried to put into the kiss all the need and longing of months of frustrated desire.

Ray must have been able to feel it, that moment when Fraser gave over, stopped fighting. Because he groaned into Fraser's mouth and pulled away, not chest-to-chest anymore, stepping back so all that connected them were the tight steel cables of the tentacles around Fraser and Ray's hand still moving on Fraser's cock.

"I used to imagine," Ray said, and his lips were wet, his voice low and rough, "I used to imagine sucking you." And he put his hand to his mouth and licked, nice and slow, along two fingers, then pushed them into his mouth and started to suck, moving them in and out in time with his slow strokes on Fraser's cock. Fraser's breath caught. God, how he wanted to believe it, to imagine Ray on his bed, one fist pumping his own cock, sucking on his fingers and thinking of Fraser. He closed his eyes.

And opened them a moment later, with a soft involuntary cry, as those fingers, wet with Ray's spit, closed around a nipple and rubbed. "Used to imagine how you'd feel in my mouth," Ray was saying. "How you'd taste. Used to come so hard, just thinking about it, oh God, Fraser. Let me, let me suck you." And maybe it was that Ray was still asking, still asking when it was so clear he could just take, but Fraser couldn't even pretend to hold out anymore. He leaned forward, feeling the pull and stretch of his shoulders against the metal wrapping his wrists, and caught Ray in another fierce kiss, panting into his mouth.

"Please, yes, Ray. Please." The words were muffled against Ray's lips, but they must have been clear enough, because Ray was moving him, using the pull and grip of the monstrous tentacles to push him back up against the wall of the hallway.

The tentacles holding his wrists moved, brought his arms out to his sides and pinned them to the wall on either side of his head. Their grip wasn't harsh, but there was something - inexorable about them, Fraser decided, wildly. A force of un-nature. Something inexorable about this Ray, this odd and be-tentacled Ray, who was rubbing up against Fraser now, moaning into his neck, sucking at what was sure to be a large bruise the next day.

Fraser let out a gasp, arousal and shock and need telegraphed in a short, involuntary sound. Hearing it, Ray dropped abruptly to his knees, his (real, warm) hands stroking Fraser's belly above the steely belt of the appendage wrapped firmly around it. Fraser struggled to get his hands back, not fighting to escape now, just wanting to touch Ray, to touch his hair or his hands or anything at all he could reach. Ray muttered against his hip, "God, Fraser. You're the most beautiful thing we've ever seen, I want, let us - " and then he had one hand on the base of Fraser's erection and his mouth was on the head, licking and sucking like he was dying of want.

Fraser groaned and dropped his head back against the wall, only to bring it forward again so he could look down, could see Ray like this, like his dreams made real, eyes closed and mouth stretched around the tip of his cock. It felt so good, so right, and yet this wasn't his Ray. His Ray wouldn't do this. Or would he? He remembered Ray saying, "I always wanted this," and "Let me," and then he couldn't care any longer, because Ray had taken him in, taken him in entirely, and his mouth was wet and good and hot and Fraser would have thrust into it if he hadn't been restrained by the strange metal appendages that kept him pinned to the wall. "Ray," he heard himself moan. "Oh, God, Ray."

Ray was sucking him, really sucking him, and the sight and the sensation were incredible. He could see the last steel tentacle moving strangely, and he moaned as he realized that it had undone Ray's pants and was pushing down his underwear. He could just see, just glimpse Ray's cock, flushed red and swollen, before Ray's hand reached down and covered it, moving rhythmically on himself as he bobbed his head between Fraser's thighs.

It was too good. Fraser couldn't hold onto his worry, his confusion, his reservations about Ray's sanity and his own with that tongue rubbing up against his shaft, those lips wrapped around him. He wanted to thrust, to penetrate, to push further into that welcoming heat, and he panted as Ray took him deeper, shoulders flexing and face flushed as his hand worked his own cock. Ray, lost in pleasure, looked even more erotic than Fraser had imagined.

Even the sight of the metal reaching for him from Ray's back, a visceral reminder of the wrongness of this, could not stave off his orgasm; as he felt it uncoil he keened Ray's name, panting it over and over as he felt himself throb and come in Ray's throat. But fear set in along with the aftershocks. He'll hate me for this. Followed almost instantly by I should hate myself for this.

But Ray wasn't done. He swallowed, a quick convulsive motion of his throat, and sat back on his knees, looking up at Fraser. His hand moved frantically on his penis, gripping tight and shifting in a blur up and down. "Fraser," he gasped, "Fraser, love you, God…taste so good," and then Fraser saw him convulse, double over himself as the first spasms hit him and Ray came, messily, over his fist and his jeans and the Consulate floor.

He stayed bent over, panting for a few moments, and Fraser wanted to get down on his knees, too, to kiss Ray again, to wrap his arms around him and say injudicious and excessively emotional things to him. Perhaps it was just as well that he was still restrained by the metal tentacles. Except…Ray had said that the tentacles wanted to hurt Fraser.

And Ray might be out of commission at the moment, but the tentacles weren’t. They were starting to writhe in agitation, and the one around Fraser’s waist had tightened fractionally. If the things could hiss, Fraser felt sure that they would be doing so. What the hell was taking Diefenbaker so long?

Ray looked up, and Fraser’s breath caught. Ray’s face was a study in despair and shock.

“Oh, God, Fraser…I’m sorry,” he choked, and the metal let go of him all at once, tentacles whipping about angrily and darting forward and back. Fraser’s knees were still weak from his orgasm and he was unprepared for his sudden release; he almost fell, but he regained his balance and held out a hand for Ray, who was still on the floor.

Fraser could see the real Ray, his Ray, in the incredulous look he got as Ray scrambled away from his hand. “Fraser, run!” Ray said. “This is not the time to be fuckin’ courteous!”

For once, Fraser didn’t argue. He yanked his pants up around his waist and ran, fastening the top button as he sprinted for the door. He heard the clank and scrape of moving metal behind him, but he didn’t look back. He’d almost gained the Consulate door when it was thrown open, and he had to press himself flat to the wall to avoid being trampled by the squadron of heavily-armed men who flooded through it.

Suddenly, all his fear was for Ray. “"Hold your fire!" he cried, but the battle had already engaged, and he went unheard. He could see one of the metal arms lifting a black-clad man into the air and dashing him against a wall, and the struggle two more were waging with a mesh net.

“Don’t worry, Constable, their instructions are to capture the creature with as little bodily harm as possible.” Fraser turned to see Lieutenant Welsh and a man he didn’t recognize standing just inside the door. Diefenbaker slipped out from between them and ran to Fraser, barking wildly at the tentacles that still thrashed above the fray. “General Fury and his men have been looking for this ’Doctor Octopus,’ also known as Doctor Octavius, for weeks, and they know how to handle him.”

“Lieutenant Welsh,” Fraser said, “I believe you may be operating under a misapprehension. The man attached to those tentacles is not Doctor Octavius. That’s Detective Kowalski, sir.”

Welsh stared at Fraser in horror for a split second, then turned to General Fury. “You hear that? That’s not your guy. That’s my best detective, Nick, and I want him back in one piece, do you hear me?”

As do I, thought Fraser, unable to do anything but watch General Fury bark orders at his men. As do I.


The nurse was more of an archetype of a nurse than a real human being; she had the sensible shoes, the stern but kind face, even the white hat. Fraser couldn't remember ever seeing a nurse in that hat in real life, but then, life lately had not felt especially real. Even his life had not previously featured inorganic tentacles, or sexual intercourse in his workplace with his best friend. He was fairly certain no one's life had ever featured a combination of the two. He was also fairly certain that his thought processes weren't operating at their all-time peak, but then, it had been a difficult day. Night. Night and day. Ray...

He wanted to embrace the nurse when she interrupted his mental wandering circling. "Constable Fraser, you may see him now." The nurse gave him a perfect, impersonal smile, and led him down the hallway of this very strange hospital, or military installation, or perhaps headquarters. Ray had a room to himself; Fraser didn't think there were any other patients currently in residence.

Fraser hesitated outside the door, considering potential scenarios and his best response to each, until he realized that the nurse was staring at him in puzzlement.

He was being cowardly and unrealistic. He'd handled - no, he edited hastily, he'd coped with - Ray perfectly well when he'd had the tentacles; surely there wasn't anything that could be worse about a Ray with the tentacles removed again, a Ray restored, one hoped, to his normal self. Fraser took a deep breath, counting heartbeats until they slowed a bit, and then walked into the room.

Ray was on his stomach on the bed, and the sheets were pulled up to his waist. The remainder of his back was completely covered by bandages. He had an alarming number of monitors and tubes attached to him, and he looked a little vague from medications, but he was all flesh and all Ray once again.

Ray turned his head to smile at him. Fraser noticed the slight hesitation in his expression and mentally eliminated one of the possibilities from his list; Ray clearly remembered some or all of what had happened. He felt his face heat a bit, and focused firmly on the present. "How are you feeling, Ray?"

"Like I just had a big chunk of metal pulled out of my back, Fraser. How do you think I'm feeling?" Ray thought about that for a few seconds. "But I can wiggle my toes and feel my feet when that sadistic evil nurse creature sticks fuckin' pins in me, so I guess better than I could be."

"That's very good, Ray. The doctor anticipates a full recovery."

"Yeah, I know."

Fraser winced internally - of course Ray would have heard that first. And apparently they were going to skip the standard hospital visit conversation (diagnosis, prognosis, treatment, bad food, lovely flowers, everyone wishes you well - Fraser knew the script perfectly), which was unfortunate, as he couldn't think of anything else to say. He supposed he ought to revel in the novelty of speechlessness, but his mind was choosing instead to focus on what a complete idiot he must currently appear to be. No, what a complete idiot he was.

Fraser thought his mouth might be permanently locked. Perhaps he had tetanus. When had he last had his vaccinations updated? Astonishingly careless, and perhaps he could have that seen to while he was - but, no, probably not a good idea to ask that nurse for - under the circumstances, it was no surprise that Ray, the effects of tentacles and pharmaceuticals aside, found his voice first, found a neutral topic first.

"So how come Welsh knows that Fury guy?"

Fraser swallowed twice and opened his mouth. So apparently he didn't have tetanus; he was just a coward. "I'm not sure. He doesn't seem to want to explain."

That was putting it rather mildly, actually. Just before tromping back into the mysterious depths of this building, Lieutenant Welsh had pointed at Fraser and said, "This never happened, you know nothing about it, and I spent this whole week in Baltimore, understand?" From what little Fraser had been able to hear, the Lieutenant and General Fury had spent the time since then having a discussion. An extremely animated discussion. At high volume. One might even call it an argument.

"Huh. Gonna have to get him to have some drinks with me at Anthony's." Ray frowned and shifted slightly in the bed. "But not too soon, I guess."

"Does it, ah, hurt much?" Fraser cringed again. Did he always sound this fatuous?

"Well, no, but that's 'cause they've got me on enough drugs to get an elephant tiptoeing through the tulips. If I could find my badge, I'd get the name of their dealer, because I'm damn sure shit this good can’t be legal." Ray made an abortive gesture, possibly a finding-the-badge-and-arresting-that-nurse gesture, with one of his hands, and Fraser's mind filled with the memory of those hands wrapped around Ray's own cock. His whole body turned hot and prickly.

He groped - struggled - for something to say. "Well, for the moment, Ray, I'm willing to turn a blind eye if you are."

Ray twisted his head to stare at him more effectively. "You are?"

Fraser nodded.

"Then the world is about to end or you've been body snatched or I'm dying." Ray made another attempt at a hand gesture; the tubes and surgical tape attached to both arms appeared to be impeding his thinking processes somewhat. Then he frowned. "Though I guess if I can get taken over by weird alien tentacle things, you can turn a blind eye to a felony. I mean, they're both about the same on the Unlikely Weird Shit-o-Meter."

“And hey, Fraser, did you find out anything more on those things? Fury and Welsh took ‘em away, I guess, but I heard them telling the doctor they were…sensitive or something. Like they had a mind of their own, which did they ever." Ray shuddered slightly.

Fraser frowned. "Sentient, Ray," he said worriedly. And that was the point, the problem, wasn't it? "So they were, ah, they were - er - dictating, or rather, influencing, I mean - " Fraser had no idea how to say it.

Ray's face, strangely distorted from pressing flat into the bed, scrunched up; after a moment's analysis, Fraser was able to identify the expression as amused. "You mean, did the tentacles make me want to blow you?"

Fraser flushed again. "Ah, essentially, yes."

Ray made another attempt to move, winced, and settled for an elaborate roll of his eyes. "No, Fraser, they did not make me want to blow you; the tentacles are maybe the only sentient, uh, being I've ever met that didn't want to fuck you. They wanted to kill you. Slowly. With lots and lots of pain. Which, you maybe noticed, was not what happened. I was the one who wanted to blow you in the Consulate hallway, and I got my way because, one, my body, so my turf, kinda like winning a fight more in your home town, and also no fuckin' creepoid tentacle creature from, I don't know, the black space lagoon or whatever is going to tell me what to do."

Ray was speaking more slowly with every passing sentence, and now seemed to be talking at least half to himself. "I don't even take orders from myself most of the time. Which they were pretty surprised by. Guess they're not used to that. That other guy, the one that had 'em before, must've been a total pussy."

Clearly, Ray was never going to stop talking on his own. Fraser managed to get a word in with some difficulty, and wondered for a moment if his own stories of the Territories made it so very challenging to convey important information. Or, as in this case, ask an important question. "So they wanted to - they wanted you to torture me to death. But you preferred, ah, you preferred," and he was in conversational trouble again.

"You know, it says I don't know how much bad shit about your life that you can say 'torture to death' with no trouble at all, but you can't get the words 'have sex' out of that pretty mouth. Yeah, Fraser, I ‘preferred’ the blow job, but I guess if you want, we can pretend it was the tentacles." He sounded - downcast? Fraser found it hard to assess his emotions accurately, knowing how heavily medicated he was.

“I wouldn’t have told you, you know,” Ray said, looking away from Fraser. “I mean, I wanted to do that – do you – from, like, day one, Fraser, but I never would’ve made a move. But those things - it wasn’t like they were controlling me or nothing, like I just said, but they kinda made it hard to think about all the reasons I shouldn’t, you know?”

Fraser, awash with relief - among other emotions - spent several moments quashing the involuntary and elaborate image of just what he might be able to do with an entirely willing Ray, free of all alien influences. After he made a full and complete recovery, of course, with all necessary time for rehabilitation, they could - he became aware that Ray's expression had changed, closed, and realized he hadn't spoken yet. "Ah, no. That is, I do not wish to pretend that the tentacles were responsible for our, er, activities. In the Consulate."

Ray took a deep breath, and for a moment Fraser feared he was falling asleep. His voice, when he spoke, was unusually tentative. "So you, you know, liked that?"

Finally, an easy question. "Very much, Ray."

"You didn't, um, I didn't - " And now Ray appeared to be in difficulties, but fortunately Fraser had no trouble understanding the question.

"No, Ray," he said gently, "you didn't." Really, if there was ever a time for the whole truth, this was it. "I've been wanting to do that since the week I met you, and in fact have spent a great many hours imagining it. Elaborately. In detail."

Tension Fraser didn't realize had been there left Ray's face and then his body. "Wow." His eyes slid shut again, and he mumbled something about, "…when I get off these drugs and away from that scary fuckin' nurse." After a long pause, he heaved his eyes open again and said, "So, you'd be up for that again some time? Maybe with no tentacles?"

"Actually, Ray, I was thinking perhaps we could change the venue to your apartment. I also would like to suggest several activities for inclusion on, shall we say, an expanded agenda."

"I got no idea what you just said, except I do. And I like it. I wanna hear your extended agenda thingy, even got some, uh, suggestions myself there maybe. Only right now I think I gotta pass out again. These drugs are...so fuckin’..." The last words trailed off into nothing as Ray did, indeed, pass out again.

Fraser scanned the room. It contained nothing except the bed and the monitors, so he carefully moved the bed to its lowest position, sat on the clean and suspiciously expensive flooring, and gently wrapped his hand around the unbandaged portion of Ray's upper arm.

He would be there when Ray woke up. Perhaps they could discuss the agenda in much greater detail; he was sure a clear-cut program would motivate Ray to get out of the hospital much more quickly. And Fraser was definitely looking forward to hearing Ray's suggestions.

They were bound to be interesting. With Ray around, everything was.

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[User Picture]
Date:April 24th, 2005 11:24 pm (UTC)
I get to be the first one to comment!

I don't know if it's considered bad form to comment on a fic you beta-read, but I wanted to say how much I desperately loved this, and I don't CARE if it's completely crack-INFUSED.
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 03:20 am (UTC)
Good lord. We've corrupted you. Because I remember you all, "Well, I'll beta it, but...tentacles. Ew."

And we completely understood, believe me, because there were moments writing this that we had conversations replete with capital letters and exclamation points and angst: "TENTACLE PORN! I'm writing tentacle porn!" "I know, I know. If you get sent to hell for this, you can blame me."

Now, of course, I am dead to shame, to the point that I'm considering getting t-shirts made for norah and me: "I write tentacle porn." (And perhaps for the beta team: "I edit tentacle porn.")

Tentacle pride!
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 12:25 am (UTC)
God, I love it when good writers smoke crack.
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 03:22 am (UTC)
Oh, but not nearly as much as we love doing the actual smoking. There's something so freeing about writing a wacked-out crossover between dS and assorted comic books.
Date:April 25th, 2005 12:26 am (UTC)
Dear god, I'm going to hell. I've read tentacle porn, and liked it. I think I'll blame this on MMWD.

Nice job, ladies!

*goes back to digging grave*
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 03:26 am (UTC)
Hey. We very clearly said, in the note: "blame lynnmonster." We were helpless victims of her commanding voice. Truly! Her fault! She, she - encouraged us!

But we'll probably all go to hell for this, so perhaps we should start planning a reading circle now. (Place: 99th plane of the sixth circle. Time: eternity. What: porn, cookies, and flames.)

(no subject) - (Anonymous)
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 03:27 am (UTC)
Works for me! Thank you.
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 12:43 am (UTC)

Tentacles! Sex!

Lovely indeed and I liked Ray's defense against the tentacles being his own scattershot thought process.
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 03:29 am (UTC)
Well, the previous owner was a mad scientist; merging with a highly intuitive Chicago cop must've been very traumatic for the tentacles.

They will likely need tentacle therapy.

Thank you!
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 01:22 am (UTC)
This was fantastic! So many little gems:

- After a breathless pause - well, breathless on Fraser's part, as the tentacle had gotten rather tight around his midsection

- (right in the middle of really, really, incredibly hot tentacle sex OMGWTF) Ray's mouth was hot and wet and Fraser almost came right then, it was so close to some of his long-held guilty wishes. Not the part where Ray was being mind-controlled by cyborg tentacles and stripping him naked in the hallway of the Consulate, of course. Not that part. But the feel of Ray's hand, warm and callused and sure on his cock, the taste of Ray in his mouth, the way Ray said "I want you" and "let me." From horny to LOL to Aaaw in one short paragraph. Bravo.

- the archetypical nurse

- Fraser-speak when planning sex

Brilliantly written, fun, funny and haaaawt!

we promise the next one will be slightly less crack-ridden, OK?

Don't you dare. We are addicted! More crack, more! *monkey pushes lever for another hit*
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 03:34 am (UTC)
Don't you dare. We are addicted! More crack, more!

But the betas! Think of the poor betas. Surely they deserve to edit something slightly less, you know, crack-filled and insane and writhe-y.

Perhaps next time it will just be a nice, safe dS X-Men crossover. I'm sure Wolverine and Ray would have a lot to say to each other.

(And thank you. I'm glad you liked it.)
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 01:57 am (UTC)
I love this with a completely insane love that is not quite as insane as this fic. I feel the previous sentence should have been in all caps with lots of extraneous punctuation.
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 03:38 am (UTC)
I love this with a completely insane love that is not quite as insane as this fic.

Which is good, because if this fic were human, it would be getting a 72-hour involuntary committal for its own safety.

I feel the previous sentence should have been in all caps with lots of extraneous punctuation.

No, no; the love comes through better this way. Truly.
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 02:43 am (UTC)

Ray's mouth was hot and wet and Fraser almost came right then, it was so close to some of his long-held guilty wishes. Not the part where Ray was being mind-controlled by cyborg tentacles and stripping him naked in the hallway of the Consulate, of course. Not that part. But the feel of Ray's hand, warm and callused and sure on his cock, the taste of Ray in his mouth, the way Ray said "I want you" and "let me."

I have much love for this fic.
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 02:54 am (UTC)
Oh, dear. And yet somehow...yes. Yes, yes, yes.

Apparently there are no bad scenarios you can put Ray and Fraser in if it ends with them having sex. Must be a quirk of physics.
(no subject) - (Anonymous) Expand
(no subject) - (Anonymous) Expand
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 04:34 am (UTC)
Tentacle porn due South fic. Will wonders never cease. And it was *good*, too.

I love the fact that Ray went straight to Fraser, even with DocOc arms weirding him out.
Date:April 25th, 2005 04:38 am (UTC)
You...I...there were tentacles. And it was hot. And there were tentacles.

You have discombobulated me greatly.
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 04:39 am (UTC)
Just goes to show that good writers have magical "bitch! Read this and like it!" powers, before which I am helpless.
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 04:56 am (UTC)
Best tentacle porn EVER!
Should Cthulhu take over the Earth, the authors of this fic are safe.
Date:April 25th, 2005 05:16 am (UTC)
You have broken my brain. Seriously. I'm stuck thinking about Ray and Doc Ock occupying the same ... spacetime? Alley? Doc Ock *touching* my RayK??! Why the hell didn't Spidey save him!??! *kicks Peter hard*

Um. Sorry.

What I meant to say is this is really well done and all kinds of cracktastic fun. *g*
[User Picture]
Date:April 25th, 2005 05:51 am (UTC)
I think my new favoritest part about this whole thing is the sheer number of times I have seen the word "tentacle". It's my new favorite word. I'm going to try to work it into a sentence at least once an hour, and see if anyone notices.

*goes to find tentacle icon*
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