"…and so I punched him in the nose, and ever since then he's got a real hard-on for me, and I'm getting tired of it because the whole thing was his fault and he knows it and he was asking for it, so I just gave it to him." Ray closed the apartment door and threw his jacket toward the couch. He turned to see Fraser looking at him with a puzzled expression.
"Hard-on?" Fraser inquired.
"You know, a grudge." Ray headed into the kitchen.
"Ah. A grievance. A vendetta. Lingering hard feelings."
"Whatever." Ray ducked his head into the fridge. "What, you never heard of a hard-on before?" He turned around with a beer in one hand and a carton of milk in the other.
"Well," Fraser said, accepting the carton of milk and reaching for a glass, "yes, I have." He turned slightly pink. "But not in that sense."
"What, you thought the guy was popping a woody over me?" Ray laughed. "Trust me, Fraser, that's the last thing that'd ever happen." He twisted the top off his beer bottle and made a three point shot into the trash can across the room.
"Popping a woody," Fraser said, looking bemused.
"Jesus, Fraser, don't they talk English up there in Canada? And don't make me explain that one to you."
"No, Ray, that won't be necessary. I'm not familiar with that particular expression, but it clearly refers to a man's penis becoming erect." Yeah, Fraser was definitely blushing now.
"We have got to work on your vocabulary, Fraser. You're old enough now, you can say cock. I bet if you worked up to it slow, you could even say fuck."
Something changed in Fraser's eyes, and suddenly the room seemed a lot smaller. And a little warmer.
"What, you're not gonna tell me to clean up my language?"
Fraser took a step toward him, and the pink in his cheeks was looking less like a blush and more like a flush, and holy crap there was a lot more difference between those things than one letter of the alphabet. "It's true, Ray, that in the past I have asked you to mind your language." He took another step closer, and the room got hotter. "However, that was not so much because I objected to your use of the vernacular in certain instances as it was because I wished to avoid the potential consequences of hearing you say those words in that particular setting."
Fraser lifted the beer out of Ray's unresisting grip and set it gently on the kitchen counter.
Ray looked down. Wow. "Consequences."
"Yes." Fraser's voice was low and husky. "It seems that hearing you say things like hard-on and cock has a certain… effect on me that I felt could be inappropriate under certain circumstances."
Ray swallowed hard, still staring. "Hard-on."
Fraser took one more step closer, giving Ray a close look at the subject in question. "Slang expression for an erect… cock."
Ray looked up just in time to see Fraser lick his lower lip, leaving it wet and shiny. "And what if I said fuck?"
no subject
"Hard-on?" Fraser inquired.
"You know, a grudge." Ray headed into the kitchen.
"Ah. A grievance. A vendetta. Lingering hard feelings."
"Whatever." Ray ducked his head into the fridge. "What, you never heard of a hard-on before?" He turned around with a beer in one hand and a carton of milk in the other.
"Well," Fraser said, accepting the carton of milk and reaching for a glass, "yes, I have." He turned slightly pink. "But not in that sense."
"What, you thought the guy was popping a woody over me?" Ray laughed. "Trust me, Fraser, that's the last thing that'd ever happen." He twisted the top off his beer bottle and made a three point shot into the trash can across the room.
"Popping a woody," Fraser said, looking bemused.
"Jesus, Fraser, don't they talk English up there in Canada? And don't make me explain that one to you."
"No, Ray, that won't be necessary. I'm not familiar with that particular expression, but it clearly refers to a man's penis becoming erect." Yeah, Fraser was definitely blushing now.
"We have got to work on your vocabulary, Fraser. You're old enough now, you can say cock. I bet if you worked up to it slow, you could even say fuck."
Something changed in Fraser's eyes, and suddenly the room seemed a lot smaller. And a little warmer.
"What, you're not gonna tell me to clean up my language?"
Fraser took a step toward him, and the pink in his cheeks was looking less like a blush and more like a flush, and holy crap there was a lot more difference between those things than one letter of the alphabet. "It's true, Ray, that in the past I have asked you to mind your language." He took another step closer, and the room got hotter. "However, that was not so much because I objected to your use of the vernacular in certain instances as it was because I wished to avoid the potential consequences of hearing you say those words in that particular setting."
Fraser lifted the beer out of Ray's unresisting grip and set it gently on the kitchen counter.
Ray looked down. Wow. "Consequences."
"Yes." Fraser's voice was low and husky. "It seems that hearing you say things like hard-on and cock has a certain… effect on me that I felt could be inappropriate under certain circumstances."
Ray swallowed hard, still staring. "Hard-on."
Fraser took one more step closer, giving Ray a close look at the subject in question. "Slang expression for an erect… cock."
Ray looked up just in time to see Fraser lick his lower lip, leaving it wet and shiny. "And what if I said fuck?"