[ God this...the two of them riling each other up was turning him on. It was like a battle was being fought above him, and though Fraser was really far too into sliding his tongue over each of Ray Kowalski's digits to really pay any great deal of attention to any of it, he still couldn't miss the verbal jousts, or the way Ray's fingers twisted hard around Stanley's fingers in his own hair, pinching and tugging unrelentingly.
It's not going to kiss itself better, Ray.
You'd like that, huh? Both of us on our knees?
Fraser - visual Fraser, who lived in his own imagination half the time anyway - could see it in his own mind's eye, both of them, lips catching and tangling as they kissed every inch of Stanley they could, competing for it. Or maybe it was his own fantasy, this desire to drink in every inch of skin until he'd sucked all the flavor out of it. Maybe he was fantasizing both of them fighting over him--the combinations were endless.
One hand stayed twisted around Stanley's wrist, holding it against his throat as he earnestly kissed his way upwards. The second, free, first raised to brush the inside of Ray Vecchio's wrist behind him before reaching across for Stanley's bare waist, for the arch of his hip dipping downward under the waistband of his jeans. His fingers hooked under the seam, running down the length of it with just his flat hard fingernails touching Ray's belly, and then as he reached the fly they hooked in deeper, anchoring in warmth, the bristle of stray pubic hair against the back of his fingertips shockingly intimate. His thumbnail counted the teeth, hopping from one to the other, torturously, all the way down.
Fraser was sometimes too patient for anyone's good, and this was a prime example of that. Anyone else would have ripped them off already. Instead he was busy nibbling into the delicate skin on the inside of Stanley's elbow, working his teeth in experimentally in his tender too-Canadian efforts to leave a bruise without actually causing any harm, almost afraid of his own efforts to do so. He licked at it again apologetically. Sorry, Ray.
Far too busy on other things to realise he literally had the key to all of this curved against - pressing eagerly against - the palm of his hand.
Or maybe he did know, and he was just that much of a dick. ]
no subject
It's not going to kiss itself better, Ray.
You'd like that, huh? Both of us on our knees?
Fraser - visual Fraser, who lived in his own imagination half the time anyway - could see it in his own mind's eye, both of them, lips catching and tangling as they kissed every inch of Stanley they could, competing for it. Or maybe it was his own fantasy, this desire to drink in every inch of skin until he'd sucked all the flavor out of it. Maybe he was fantasizing both of them fighting over him--the combinations were endless.
One hand stayed twisted around Stanley's wrist, holding it against his throat as he earnestly kissed his way upwards. The second, free, first raised to brush the inside of Ray Vecchio's wrist behind him before reaching across for Stanley's bare waist, for the arch of his hip dipping downward under the waistband of his jeans. His fingers hooked under the seam, running down the length of it with just his flat hard fingernails touching Ray's belly, and then as he reached the fly they hooked in deeper, anchoring in warmth, the bristle of stray pubic hair against the back of his fingertips shockingly intimate. His thumbnail counted the teeth, hopping from one to the other, torturously, all the way down.
Fraser was sometimes too patient for anyone's good, and this was a prime example of that. Anyone else would have ripped them off already. Instead he was busy nibbling into the delicate skin on the inside of Stanley's elbow, working his teeth in experimentally in his tender too-Canadian efforts to leave a bruise without actually causing any harm, almost afraid of his own efforts to do so. He licked at it again apologetically. Sorry, Ray.
Far too busy on other things to realise he literally had the key to all of this curved against - pressing eagerly against - the palm of his hand.
Or maybe he did know, and he was just that much of a dick. ]