[ Was this really happening? Maybe he was sick. He was having a fever dream, or he was hallucinating--something. Because how could this be happening? Or was it just him? Was this a thing that happened to people all the time, and Fraser was just too Canadian to have noticed it carrying on right under his nose? If only his father was here, he'd be able to explain--no, scratch that. He didn't want his father seeing this. He'd only say something smug and self satisfied like 'I knew it all along', and that wasn't helpful to anybody.
Stanley's tongue flicked out against his mouth, and instantly he was struck by the desire to chase it, touch it with his own, and that solved nothing because Stanley's head went to the side, and Fraser was left mouthing against his ear for a moment, inhaling the scent of gel out of his partner's hair.
His hat came off before the kiss was resumed, and this time Fraser went at it with renewed fervor, seeking his partner's tongue with his own and twisting against it, around it, writhing and needy. Stanley's lips were at once rough and soft. The bristles of his stubble ground against Fraser's naked skin, but he couldn't find it in him to mind the discomfort. Nor did Fraser pay a great deal of attention to Ray stripping off his belt and loosening his collar; the kiss was too distracting, too overwhelming, and too important.
He almost lost focus completely at the mouth on his sore neck, the hips on hips on hips as Ray's arousal bumped against his own, and his own bumped against--oh. Oh, it had been too long. His breath hitched, and he moaned into Stanley's mouth, a low, rumbling moan that was subdued only because of their current whereabouts. These rooms were only soundproof up and to a point, and softening his noises was the only discernible control Fraser was currently capable of demonstrating.
His nose jarred against Stanley's as he tried to work himself enough breathing space to talk, but his words were husky and low as he tried to use the opportunity to drink in every line of his partner's face, imprint the color of his eyes, the moistness of his own saliva left behind on Stanley's parted lips. ]
Don't let this be a dream. [ He tightened his hands, huffing a breath outward as - almost imperceptibly - he rocked into Stanley. He was still clear headed enough to be able to wrap his head around an idea: if he could make a distinction, even if this all went to hell, they might be able to save their working relationship. ] Ben, Ray. Don't call me anything but Ben. Can you do that?
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Stanley's tongue flicked out against his mouth, and instantly he was struck by the desire to chase it, touch it with his own, and that solved nothing because Stanley's head went to the side, and Fraser was left mouthing against his ear for a moment, inhaling the scent of gel out of his partner's hair.
His hat came off before the kiss was resumed, and this time Fraser went at it with renewed fervor, seeking his partner's tongue with his own and twisting against it, around it, writhing and needy. Stanley's lips were at once rough and soft. The bristles of his stubble ground against Fraser's naked skin, but he couldn't find it in him to mind the discomfort. Nor did Fraser pay a great deal of attention to Ray stripping off his belt and loosening his collar; the kiss was too distracting, too overwhelming, and too important.
He almost lost focus completely at the mouth on his sore neck, the hips on hips on hips as Ray's arousal bumped against his own, and his own bumped against--oh. Oh, it had been too long. His breath hitched, and he moaned into Stanley's mouth, a low, rumbling moan that was subdued only because of their current whereabouts. These rooms were only soundproof up and to a point, and softening his noises was the only discernible control Fraser was currently capable of demonstrating.
His nose jarred against Stanley's as he tried to work himself enough breathing space to talk, but his words were husky and low as he tried to use the opportunity to drink in every line of his partner's face, imprint the color of his eyes, the moistness of his own saliva left behind on Stanley's parted lips. ]
Don't let this be a dream. [ He tightened his hands, huffing a breath outward as - almost imperceptibly - he rocked into Stanley. He was still clear headed enough to be able to wrap his head around an idea: if he could make a distinction, even if this all went to hell, they might be able to save their working relationship. ] Ben, Ray. Don't call me anything but Ben. Can you do that?