Forgotten Desires

Title: Forgotten Desires

Author: Henrika

Fandom: Still Crazy, post movie

Pairing: Les/Ray

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters featured in this story, and I make no money from this. It is for pure entertainment only.

Summary: Two years after the reunion, Les Wickes discovers hidden desires…

A/N: This story deals with mature themes such as same-sex relationships and cross-dressing. If this is not your cup of tea, please turn back now.


Chapter 1

Just like any other evening, Les Wickes entered his favourite pub, seated himself on a barstool by the counter, and ordered his drink. No one raised an eyebrow at his entry or even looked twice.

Just because he had regained a certain amount of fame in the past couple of years didn’t mean he had stopped coming here. And even though people knew him as Les Wickes, the bassist in Strange Fruit, fame had not taken over his life, and he could still move around freely – in most cases, anyway – without being harassed or recognized by rabid fans. This suited Les perfectly. In fact, he pitied the people who could not even go grocery shopping at a local supermarket without being photographed and asked to sign autographs. Fame, if gone too far, could be a curse rather than a blessing.

The recently reborn rock star began sipping on his drink, leaning his elbows on the counter. While he was happy about their success, there were downsides with the life he was leading now. Things were different now as opposed to 25 years ago – he was married, a father, and middle-aged. Until the reunion in 1998, his life had been dull, ordinary, and average – but stabile. Fame and money has its price. His relationship with Camille had slowly deteriorated in the past year and a half, and Les wholeheartedly admitted that it was all on him. He was rarely home, did not have enough time for either his kids or Camille, and lately his alcohol consumption had grown downright unhealthy – or at least that was what he was told.

He felt slightly guilty for sitting on a pub on a Friday night instead of spending “quality time” with his family, but the atmosphere at home was all but pleasant after his and Camille’s most recent argument. They never argued about money anymore, as before. Now his schedule and increasing absence were the hot topic.

So what do I do? thought the 47-year-old Les, who had spent the biggest part of his adult life laying roofs. Instead of trying to work the problems out, I go to a pub to get boozed. That’s some family man…

“Hello, Les,” a soft, breathy voice said quite close to his ear, and Les could feel a warm presence descending next to him. The voice was somewhat different than usual, but still clearly recognizable. For a moment he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Ray…?”

But the real surprise didn’t come until he laid eyes on Ray. The lead singer of Strange Fruit was known for his bold, flamboyant, and sometimes rather feminine style, but tonight he had obviously gone further than ever before.

Ray wore a short, bright red dress tied around his neck that left his arms and shoulders bare, clearly meant to show off his slender, long-limbed physique in a not too subtle way. To accompany the skimpy outfit, he also wore black, ankle-strap stilettos which added a few inches to his height – Ray was already a good six feet as himself – and something that *had* to be a fake bosom, shaped to fill up that area of the low-cut dress perfectly. To sweeten the pot, he had also put on make-up that highlighted his large, blue eyes, high, elegant cheekbones, and normally rather thin lips in a distinctive but not exaggerated way.

For a moment Les was at a loss for words. Was this lovely, immaculately feminine creature beside him really Ray Simms, and not Ray’s long lost twin sister?

“Ray…?!” Les repeated dumbly, not sure what to do or say. Ray was sitting next to him, on *his* pub, dressed up as a woman. What could one say to something like that, except that… his band mate really looked gorgeous?

“Les, darling, you look surprised,” Ray said with a soft snort. He reached into his small, black purse and picked up a cigarette, which he elegantly lit with a flick of his fingers. “I came for you, of course.”

“For… me?” The bassist could hardly trust his own ears. Was this really happening, and not just a figment of his sometimes lacking imagination?

“Yeah, for you,” Ray confirmed with a crooked, seductive smile. He breathed out some smoke and crossed his long, slender, seemingly flawless legs, leaning even closer to Les. Ray’s arms, chest, legs and, of course, face were shaved, showing not a sign of masculinity. His normally wavy hair had been straightened and, Les noted, contained streaks of auburn mixed with the blond. A sweet smell of an expensive perfume swept by when Ray leaned against him.

“I thought you might want some company… so I came.”

“Ray, you…” Les’ words stuck in his throat. Ray was… *flirting* with him? This simply could not be happening… But despite the surreal situation, Les felt a tightening in his stomach that was not due to shock… because Ray was, despite not being “genuine”, by far the most attractive lady at the pub.

“What would you like?” the bartender asked Ray, and Les briefly wondered if he recognized the lead singer or even realized that he was in fact a guy. Probably not. Les himself couldn’t have guessed had he not known.

“Just some ice tea, please,” Ray replied casually. Even though he’d done something one could describe as out of line or even crazy, he would not consume alcohol. That would most certainly destroy the slim chances he had to seduce Les. Remaining sober was a must.

Les looked down at his own plain clothing: his usual black leather jacket, blue denim jeans, and large, worn work shoes. Ray, on the other hand, looked ready to attend a party with the royal family. Those who did not know what was going on had to wonder why a woman like that was flirting with someone as boring as he.

“You… you’re very beautiful,” Les said awkwardly, but he meant it. Slightly ashamed, he admitted to himself that Ray was far more attractive as a woman than as a guy. The aging, blond singer could currently have passed as a slightly older version of Elle McPherson.

“Thank you,” Ray replied with a genuinely appreciative smile. He began to sip his drink, and Les also noticed that his fingernails were perfectly manicured and painted in the same nuance as his dress. Who had done that for him? Surely not Ray himself. The man was as clumsy as an elephant in a crystal shop. Who had helped him? A beauty parlour? Astrid?!

Les’ head was swarming with unanswered questions. But despite all distractions, he found it very hard to take his eyes off Ray. It wasn’t only curiosity, but attraction, as well. He found himself wanting to envelop Ray’s slender body in his arms and run his hands over the pale, milky skin… touch and squeeze the fake breasts to see if they felt as real as they looked, and…

Les blinked a few times to clear his head. He wanted to fuck Ray? Ray in drag, surely, but still Ray… a man. Les had never before felt such a strong overwhelming desire for someone of his own sex before. Therefore this was very… confusing. Ray had been known to sleep around both sexes twenty years ago already, and led an all-around promiscuous lifestyle. But women’s clothing? That was something new, at least to Les.

But, what the hell, it was working. Les felt a familiar warmth spreading through his loins, and there was also a tightening in his trousers. He furtively passed his glance over Ray, trying to catch any possible masculine outlines, especially in his pelvic area. He could see none. The dress was short; only reaching Ray’s mid-thighs. It was also very form-fitting. Was there really a man under all that?

Ray had just finished his glass of ice tea and regarded Les from under long, thick lashes. The other man’s sudden flush and the way he kept fidgeting were obvious signs of arousal. Ray had also caught Les checking him out and noticed that the brown-haired man’s eyes kept sliding toward his groin.

The thought almost made him snicker. If Les only knew!

“Hey, Les… what do you say we get out of here?” he suggested coyly and placed his hand on his charge’s upper arm, searchingly squeezing the clearly muscular limb. Les was not slender, like himself; the bassist had performed a physically demanding job for many years, and a toned, muscular build was the result. And Ray loved it.

Les fought to keep his breathing somewhat steady. Ray was actually proposing that they… And then the singer’s hand was on his arm, rubbing his bicep through the many layers of clothing. Ray seemed impressed.

He shouldn’t – he really shouldn’t. He should tell Ray to get lost, leave the pub, and head home back to Camille. That’s where he belonged; with his wife, his family… Yet still…

Les could not recall last time he had been as turned on as now. He *could* still end this, but to what end? Camille was probably still cross with him, and she would berate him for being out so late and for smelling booze. It seemed that he could do nothing right anymore, at least as far as Camille was concerned.

Les turned to look Ray straight in the eyes, his gaze steadier than ever. He raised his own hand and passed it along Ray’s body, from his waist up to his neck, enjoying the feel of the warm, smooth skin under his palm. And then he decided that there was no way he’d turn down an opportunity like this. Ray obviously wanted him – and the feeling was mutual. Only a fool would let it slip.

“Yeah, let’s…” he growled, sweeping down the last remaining swig from his glass.

*~*~*

They took a cab to a relatively small, cheap, two-star motel near the pub; neither Les nor Ray wore that much cash, and using a credit card simply was not an option – at least not to Les. The short ride in the cab had only increased his arousal and desire for Ray to almost animal heights – every gesture, every touch, every brush of Ray’s foot against his leg…

Even the slightest doubt vanished as soon as they reached the motel. A few minutes after checking in Les was fumbling, hands sweaty and trembling, to fit the room key into the lock. Ray was not making things easier by teasing his over-stimulated body with his well-manicured hands and whispering hot words of excitement into his ear.

Once he finally managed to get the door open, Les yielded to the overwhelming urge to simply grab his soon-to-be lover and deflower him brutally. Their mouths met in a fervent, passionate kiss, no doubt smearing Ray’s lipstick all over both their faces. But Les could really not care any less at this point. He pushed Ray against a table abruptly – roughly, even – and heard the other man release a small groan of pain. But he was beyond caring about that, either. Grabbing Ray by the waist, he lifted the singer onto the table and roughly spread his long, lithe legs to make room for himself between them.

Their mouths clashed again, hungrily seeking each other’s taste, and Les’ hands finally started making their way in under the elegant, red dress. That was when he got a surprise big enough to disrupt even the most overwhelming excitement.

Ray was not wearing any underwear. Instead of finding black silk or lace, his groping hands encountered nothing but bare skin. Ray was just as aroused as he; the man’s rock-hard erection – so far the only proof that this exquisite, sexual creature was indeed male – jerked and throbbed in Les’ hand when he squeezed it with strong fingers. He really didn’t have much experience in this field; the only homosexual encounter he’d had dated almost 30 years back in time, but that was the least of his concerns now. His body would tell him what to do.

“No undies, ehh?” Les growled softly between the wet kisses as his hands continued their exploration of Ray’s body.

“No, I… didn’t think I’d… need any…” Ray breathed in reply, sensually leaning his head back and exposing his throat to Les’ aggressive kisses and nips. His Adam’s apple was prominent now – another detail hinting at his true gender. However, the pants and moans he made when Les nibbled at his throat were as feminine as they could possibly get.

Tired of waiting any longer, Les grabbed the hem of the dress and pulled the skimpy outfit over Ray’s head in one single movement and threw it carelessly to the floor. Now naked save for his shoes and the strapless bra containing his fake breasts, Ray shivered from pure excitement.

The item he’d been so curious of before was now exposed to his questioning gaze, and Les grabbed the material filling up Ray’s brassiere, briefly imagining that he was fondling real breasts. And they *did* feel real – slightly colder than ones made of flesh but otherwise very authentic.

This could only mean one thing – Ray had not used random, improvised wads of cotton to create fake breasts; this was the work of a professional. That in turn had to mean that Ray had done this before – properly.

“Do you like my tits?”

Les pulled Ray even closer, crushing the other man’s slighter frame against his own. The fake breasts were flattened – seemingly naturally – against his chest.

“Your tits? That’s funny…” the bassist smirked when his nose touched Ray’s. “Kinda risky, isn’t it, wearing them without straps?” He slid his sweaty palms over Ray’s bare shoulders. “Don’t you fear they might… fall out?”

“I like taking risks…” Ray said challengingly, the bold twinkle in his eyes suggesting that that was indeed the case.

Les briefly considered letting Ray wear the bra and its contents while they proceeded to the next level, but another part of him wanted the beautiful creature completely naked and exposed to his hungry gaze. Reaching behind Ray’s back, Les began to fumble with the clasp. His large, coarse hands were not exactly made for it, but he *had* done this before with Camille, so he wasn’t completely illiterate. After the third try, the clasp actually came off and the bra fell to the floor. Ray didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t look near as feminine now, but that did not subdue Les’ burning arousal and desire for him. He was going to take Ray, wrestle him into bed and fuck him until he’d transformed the lead singer into a wanton, crying lump of jelly.

The table was not the place for it. Some moments later, he took a firm hold on Ray, lifting him off the table. His lover quickly realized his intents and wrapped his legs around Les’ waist and arms around his neck, firmly clinging to the larger man. The long-limbed singer was not heavy despite his height; the strength with which he clamped down on Les’ waist was almost crushing, however.

His next destination was the bed. Almost frantic by the time they reached it, Les let them both fall onto the mattress and immediately rolled atop Ray, unwinding the other man’s arms from his neck and pinning his wrists down. Their erections ground against one another, separated only by two layers of clothing between them, consisting of Les’ denim jeans and underwear. The presence of the clothes was suddenly frustrating. While Ray was naked from head to ankles, Les was still fully dressed.

Ray seemed to notice it, too. “Now hold on, tiger…” he purred seductively, softly grasping a handful of Les’ brown hair and pulling his head back. “Why am I the only one naked?”

With a frustrated groan, Les rose to his knees and began to struggle out of his clothes. His jacket went first, closely followed by his shirt. However, before he had finished unbuttoning all buttons, a hand that did not belong to him began working on the buckle to his belt and deftly opened it. Then Ray’s warm, dry hand slid into his jeans and started massaging his throbbing cock through his briefs. The singer hummed appreciatively; a sign that he was impressed by the discovery.

Les pushed the intruding hand away. If Ray kept touching him like that, he threatened to come into his underpants, which would be both humiliating and very disappointing, especially for a man his age.

Kicking off his shoes, he pushed his pants and briefs down in one single movement. His erect shaft finally sprang free, and he felt slightly self-conscious, knowing it was now the subject of Ray’s intense scrutiny. Not that Les had anything to be ashamed of; he was fairly well-endowed and had been told so numerous times.

In a matter of seconds he was on top of Ray again, hands sliding over and exploring the singer’s smooth, shaven body. Ray was underweight for his height, and his bones were quite protuberant in places, but right now Les didn’t care. His desire had reached critical heights and the idea of thrusting into Ray’s long, thin body was extremely compelling.

His fingers found their way in between the other’s legs, past the hard penis and shaved balls, until he reached Ray’s secret place of pleasure and not-too-gently pushed two fingers inside. The singer yelped and then whimpered; perhaps Les had hurt him, or perhaps it was just an act to further stimulate his rugged, masculine lover. Either way, it worked. Les thrust his fingers deeper into the damp, snug heat and imagined what Ray’s insides would feel like, clamped around his member. He didn’t feel like fantasizing anymore. Pulling his digits back out, he gripped his full penis instead and guided the tip to Ray’s entrance.

Then the singer suddenly jolted and put his hands against Les’ chest, as to push him off. “Les, wait…” he spoke through a haze of lust. It was tempting just to let the man of his dreams have his way with him without any regard to his own pleasure, but if he did, he would regret it in the morning.

“You need to use the… lubricant… It’s in my… purse…”

Les grimaced in frustration. Of course. How daft he’d been. Ray did not get wet the way women did, so the wetness had to be applied from an outside source.

“Yeah, I’ll…” He rose from the bed, still holding his cock in one hand. Ray’s purse… Where was the blasted thing? Oh, yes, the table. He walked over there to retrieve the much needed accessory. It was a small bottle of clear, water-based lubricant; the kind you could easily purchase from any pharmacy. He even unscrewed the lid and leaned over to smell at the substance, knowing that there were both scented and unscented versions. This was the former. Then he turned his attention back to Ray.

The singer had removed his stilettos and lay sprawled on the bed, legs widely spread and one hand between them, idly caressing his pinkish erection. The decadent slouch of his slender, pale body, together with the expression of absolute bliss on his now very feminine face practically made Les salivate. He approached the bed unsteadily, hands trembling and head buzzing. It was too late to back out now, too late to return home to Camille and pretend like nothing happened. Things had already happened, and he wanted – no, craved – to move on to the next level. Screw the consequences.

Ray watched in excitement and anticipation as Les slathered a generous amount of lubricant onto himself; a few sticky droplets fell onto the sheets beneath them, and it was quite obvious that he was a novice at it. Ray arched his back and moaned out his pleasure when Les’ fingers entered him again, this time slick with lubricant. They did not move with the expertise of some of his previous lovers, but Les’ eagerness and passion made up for that.

“How do you want me…?” Ray asked, feigning innocence as he put his index finger between lush, glossy lips and began to suck on it, knowing it would probably drive Les further against the peak.

“Like that, on your back…” the bassist growled, hauling the other man’s legs over his shoulders almost brutally. Then he entered Ray. The entry itself met little resistance, aided by the lubricant and Ray’s experience. One fluid thrust was all it took, and Les was buried to the hilt inside the blond singer, who groaned wantonly at the delicious friction.

Ray was all the things he’d imagined: hot, tight, gripping… He was still for a few seconds after the initial thrust, not for Ray’s sake but because he was dangerously close to climaxing himself. Then finally the other man’s inner muscles loosened their spasmodic hold, and it was safe to proceed.

From the moment Les started pounding hard and deep into his body, everything was pure ecstasy for Ray. This was the moment he’d dreamed about for so long… and it was finally happening. A part of him almost dared not believe it and urged him to pinch himself as to find out it wasn’t in fact all a dream, but another, more primitive part of his brain told him that it was real and drove him beyond all coherent thoughts.

Les was fucking him; pounding him hard into the mattress with all the ferocity and viciousness Ray knew he possessed. And it felt good. It felt fucking amazing. All the singer could do was writhe, squirm, and cry out, as even the most basic use of the English language seemed to have deserted him. Otherwise, he would have begged Les to take him harder.

When he felt himself humping toward an orgasm, Les did nothing to stop it. He didn’t know if Ray had climaxed or was going to, and he didn’t care. All that mattered now was his own release.

It hit him hard. Every nerve ending in his body took fire, and he saw starburst behind his closed eyelids as his hips seemed to pump reflexively, spurting load after load into Ray’s bowels. A drawn-out, guttural groan escaped his throat when it was over at last, and with it went also the last of his remaining strength.

Ray was almost disappointed when he felt Les’ orgasm and the other man collapsed on top of him, covered in sweat and breathing in short, throaty gasps. Only a few seconds later Les rolled off him, breaking their intimate connection. For the following few minutes, the two men lay beside each other on the double bed, silent and unmoving while waiting for their hearts to catch up with their libidos. Neither was twenty-five anymore, and it was strikingly obvious.

Once he’d regained the ability to speak and think straight, Ray wondered what was going to happen next. He badly wanted to snuggle close to Les, lean his head on his chest, and feel the man’s strong, protective arms around himself. But that sort of intimacy didn’t exist between them yet – hell, just because they’d fucked like animals minutes before, it still didn’t make them *lovers*.

“Oh, God, Ray…” Les’ voice was hoarse, and the words came out as a pant. “That was… that was incredible…”

Ray propped himself up on his elbow and smiled. “You weren’t too bad yourself, man…” He let his free hand trail across his own chest, tweaking his nipples and then sliding lower. In fact, he’d wanted to touch Les instead, but Ray wasn’t sure the other man would appreciate it. Since he had not climaxed, his own cock was still half-hard and very responsive to touch. Playing with the sensitive tip, he took in the sight of a naked, supine Les. The man had a very good body for someone his age; toned, muscular, and broad in exactly the right places. Ray had desired it for over two decades.

Despite the wild romp earlier, Ray was not sleepy. Now that his body had caught up, he felt he wanted more. And the night was far from over…

“Say, Les… want a blowjob?”

The bassist almost started and turned to stare at his band mate. “You… you’d do that?” he asked, mildly surprised. No one had sucked his cock in over fifteen years; Camille refused to do it, and he had to admit he’d almost forgotten how it felt.

“Are you kidding? I’d pay to taste this luscious plum of yours!”

Les could not quite fathom that Ray was so eager to suck his dick after where it had just been, but he did not complain when he felt the other man’s lips wrap around his organ and swallow it almost to the root. Ray did not cough or gag; apparently he’d had some practice in this department, too.

“Ohh, Ray…” A deep, lecherous groan passed Les’ lips, and his right hand tangled in Ray’s long, blond hair. The singer did not seem to mind or object to being controlled that way. All Les heard were the slurping, wet sounds of Ray’s mouth working on him.

The bassist could never have believed anything could get him aroused again so soon afterwards, but his cock swelled to full size and stiffness after only ten seconds in Ray’s highly talented mouth. The feeling was like heaven. Not once did he feel the nick of Ray’s teeth, and the stimulation was slowly increasing without bringing him over the edge. Obviously Ray wanted him to last for a while.

Ray took his time tasting and lapping at the appetizing piece of flesh before him, and the moans Les made told him that he was doing quite well in his task. The ache between his own legs was also growing by the minute, but he would *not* stroke himself to release. Ray wanted to come in unison with his new lover.

Withdrawing his lips from Les’ cock, Ray sat up despite the hand entangled in his hair. Les grunted in protest when the act was cut short, but the singer had other plans. Climbing atop and straddling his band mate, he guided the pulsating erection to his entrance and started lowering himself onto it.

Les opened his eyes when he felt a warm presence descending onto his loins and saw Ray impaled on his cock. His lover was still wet from their previous activities, so the entry was smooth and frictionless. Les could honestly not say which he preferred; Ray’s mouth or his arse, but if the singer wanted this, fine with him.

He rolled them around almost immediately, reversing their roles and pinning the slighter man beneath him. With their bodies intimately joined once more, another ride towards ecstasy began.

A few minutes of rest after his second orgasm that night was all it took before Les Wickes was ready for yet another turn. This time he had Ray stand on all fours and pushed into him from behind. It was an incredibly erotic experience being able to watch himself disappear into the other’s body. And amazing though it was, Ray was still tight, even though this was the third time Les fucked him within a few hours. The sensation was almost overwhelming.

After something like this, it certainly felt like he’d never go back to Camille and their monotone routine of sex on Saturday evening. For a woman who’d born two children, his wife was still in good shape, but in bed she inevitably lost to the Sex God Ray Simms had proven to be.

Four AM in the morning, Les finally fell asleep, drained to the point of exhaustion, with his lover and band mate’s head resting on his arm.

TBC...