[ Still still still. There's that stillness, and Ray frozen in front of him like a wolf watching a rabbit, and Fraser is all his; he feels himself trembling, hot under the weight of his wool uniform, nevermind that every clasp was undone, every button open, waiting to be peeled off him by Ray's eager fingers. The other man steps toward him, but that stillness persists like the moment before a sunrise, overwhelming him with anticipation.
When Ray's hand finally slipped under his shirt, flattening full against his stomach, Fraser felt himself physically jump, as though he were being pulled toward that contact, pulled up through the tips of each of Ray's fingers and poured into him. He was impossibly hard, eager, maybe even a little bit nervous, but he knew without doubt what he wanted.
The funny thing was that if they'd thrown each other down in the police station, the nerves wouldn't even have reached him, like they hadn't last night. The haste gave a veneer of their knowing what they were doing, what all these warring, wild emotions meant, when all in all the truth was rather that they were both slaves to them. He wanted to understand instead, to feel the real depth and all the meaning of what it meant to be doing this - really doing this - taking this step and going to bed with the man he worked with every day.
It changed everything, but Fraser found he wanted it to change. He wanted Ray to be involved in every part of his life, not just work, not just the man who picked him up from the lonely room in the consulate and drove him between gunfights and gang killings. It was going to kill him a little every time they were in danger from now on, but at least they'd be in danger together. Fraser wanted--he needed...
He needed to be Ray's, in every way it was possible to belong to someone. And he needed Ray to be his. And maybe he needed...maybe he needed to get out of the consulate, because it sure would have made last night easier if they'd been fucking on the floor of his apartment and not the floor of his office.
He didn't kiss back when Ray's lips brushed against his own; it wasn't that kind of contact. But his jangling nerves at least resolved into a single point of reality - Ray's mouth, which he kissed, and sighed against sweetly, his eyes closing just for a moment.
They were really doing this, and nothing had felt more right, or more terrifying, since he'd folded himself into Victoria back on that mountainside. ]
Yes, Ray. [ Sentences were still off; gestures would have to do instead. He moved his hands up, sliding the base of his thumbs down Ray's shoulders until he met the jutting bone of his shoulder blades, and then he leaned in and brushed against him a second kiss, this time to the dark blonde stubble under the other man's jaw, appreciating the way the rough texture of it grazed his skin. The next four words were distracted, murmured against Ray's neck. They came from the frightened place that still wasn't sure whether he was good enough; he wasn't like other men, he was arrogant, narrow minded and petty. He was damaged. He was lonely. He was infuriating. Why would anyone want him? ] If you'll have me.
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When Ray's hand finally slipped under his shirt, flattening full against his stomach, Fraser felt himself physically jump, as though he were being pulled toward that contact, pulled up through the tips of each of Ray's fingers and poured into him. He was impossibly hard, eager, maybe even a little bit nervous, but he knew without doubt what he wanted.
The funny thing was that if they'd thrown each other down in the police station, the nerves wouldn't even have reached him, like they hadn't last night. The haste gave a veneer of their knowing what they were doing, what all these warring, wild emotions meant, when all in all the truth was rather that they were both slaves to them. He wanted to understand instead, to feel the real depth and all the meaning of what it meant to be doing this - really doing this - taking this step and going to bed with the man he worked with every day.
It changed everything, but Fraser found he wanted it to change. He wanted Ray to be involved in every part of his life, not just work, not just the man who picked him up from the lonely room in the consulate and drove him between gunfights and gang killings. It was going to kill him a little every time they were in danger from now on, but at least they'd be in danger together. Fraser wanted--he needed...
He needed to be Ray's, in every way it was possible to belong to someone. And he needed Ray to be his. And maybe he needed...maybe he needed to get out of the consulate, because it sure would have made last night easier if they'd been fucking on the floor of his apartment and not the floor of his office.
He didn't kiss back when Ray's lips brushed against his own; it wasn't that kind of contact. But his jangling nerves at least resolved into a single point of reality - Ray's mouth, which he kissed, and sighed against sweetly, his eyes closing just for a moment.
They were really doing this, and nothing had felt more right, or more terrifying, since he'd folded himself into Victoria back on that mountainside. ]
Yes, Ray. [ Sentences were still off; gestures would have to do instead. He moved his hands up, sliding the base of his thumbs down Ray's shoulders until he met the jutting bone of his shoulder blades, and then he leaned in and brushed against him a second kiss, this time to the dark blonde stubble under the other man's jaw, appreciating the way the rough texture of it grazed his skin. The next four words were distracted, murmured against Ray's neck. They came from the frightened place that still wasn't sure whether he was good enough; he wasn't like other men, he was arrogant, narrow minded and petty. He was damaged. He was lonely. He was infuriating. Why would anyone want him? ] If you'll have me.