[ How long was it? Fraser had set the alarm for four; that would give them time to catch Frannie before the end of her shift to hear back on related suicides, and drop by one of the fetish shops in his old neighborhood. He could only hope they wrote receipts (it had to be said that there was a certain vicarious thrill to be had comping for bondage gear on the Canadian government's dime; the best thing was that given his record it wouldn't get him so much as a batted eyelid.) They'd have time after that to work out how to get into the clothes, and scope out the club so that they better knew their escape routes if things turned bad.
It was still only a quarter to eleven - not even lunchtime - but they hadn't slept more than three hours the night before. It was enough of a deficit to make Fraser sincerely doubt his ability to wake himself up, and he was usually so good at that. Bone exhaustion got deep in him--when he was out, he could be out for almost twenty-four hours without warning. It had happened before. If it happened today, they'd miss their window. They might even spook Lucca. ]
Five hours fourteen minutes.
[ Fraser lingered back slightly when he made it to Ray's side. The previous evening he hadn't even gotten Ray entirely out of his clothes, and here he was down to his underwear, sprawled spidery-limbered across his bed. He ducked close, deliberately lapping the sugary sweet salt taste from Ray's lips - hardly even a kiss - before he was ducking out of range again. His own breeches went the rest of the way off the bed then, discarded with as little care. He had other things but wrinkles on his mind.
Given an eternity, he could kiss this body under him to pieces, but it wouldn't get him what he wanted. Fraser's motivations had been set in stone since three that morning, and now--now now now. This was his opportunity, his moment. Fraser slyly shifted across the bed, climbing over Ray to straddle his hips, his weight distributed to either side of him in the arch of the strong running muscles across the top and inside of his thighs.
He scooped Ray's hands up off the bed, bringing them to his legs and holding them flat there - instructing him to stay - as he flexed, pushing his heels back, his hips down, so that the muscle tightened and pulled under his fingers, and then relaxing again just as deliberately. Twice, he did this, before he let go of Ray's hands and scooped the tube of lubricant up from where he'd tucked it against Ray's hip. Exhausted he might be. Drained. Spent. But Mounties were like bowling pins; you knocked them over and they sprang right back up, good to go.
Fraser wasn't quite good to go, but he didn't have to be. Not really. He was upright, though, and that was a huge bonus. ]
Ray. [ He said, and there was a breathy element to the sound of his voice, something not at all sleepy; the total opposite in fact. He let the tube touch plastic smooth and cold against Ray's side as he drew it into view. ] I'm going to do something now, Ray, that I've only ever done...privately. That is--by myself, for myself. I don't want you to be concerned. In fact, I enjoy it. Rather a lot. [ He licked his lips, opened the cap on the bottle and raised it almost in a toast to the man beneath him. ] If anything I hope that you will, perhaps, think of me doing this alone without you--alone in my cabin, in front of a warm fire, the wind howling outside the window. Just me and my hands.
Just watch. Listen.
[ He was nervous despite his bravado. Ray knew him, knew him well enough to know that, surely? Fraser the living contradiction, who sucked cock like a vacuum pump but trembled under the weight of his own exposure. And yet this was what he wanted: voyeurism; Ray watching him and seeing back through into those private moments where Fraser had thought himself entirely alone, where he'd brought himself pleasure in the low glow of the dying firelight. The gesture was that he was giving all of it - all those moments in their entirety; the privacy; the shame; the secrecy - to his partner.
And if Ray had been falling to sleep, maybe he might pay a little more attention now. Fraser kept his gaze fixed down as he squeezed lube out into his palm, a practiced one-handed working of his fingers smoothing it over them while he dropped the bottle at Ray's other hip. His center of gravity shifted forward, and he sat up a little higher across Ray's hips. ]
no subject
It was still only a quarter to eleven - not even lunchtime - but they hadn't slept more than three hours the night before. It was enough of a deficit to make Fraser sincerely doubt his ability to wake himself up, and he was usually so good at that. Bone exhaustion got deep in him--when he was out, he could be out for almost twenty-four hours without warning. It had happened before. If it happened today, they'd miss their window. They might even spook Lucca. ]
Five hours fourteen minutes.
[ Fraser lingered back slightly when he made it to Ray's side. The previous evening he hadn't even gotten Ray entirely out of his clothes, and here he was down to his underwear, sprawled spidery-limbered across his bed. He ducked close, deliberately lapping the sugary sweet salt taste from Ray's lips - hardly even a kiss - before he was ducking out of range again. His own breeches went the rest of the way off the bed then, discarded with as little care. He had other things but wrinkles on his mind.
Given an eternity, he could kiss this body under him to pieces, but it wouldn't get him what he wanted. Fraser's motivations had been set in stone since three that morning, and now--now now now. This was his opportunity, his moment. Fraser slyly shifted across the bed, climbing over Ray to straddle his hips, his weight distributed to either side of him in the arch of the strong running muscles across the top and inside of his thighs.
He scooped Ray's hands up off the bed, bringing them to his legs and holding them flat there - instructing him to stay - as he flexed, pushing his heels back, his hips down, so that the muscle tightened and pulled under his fingers, and then relaxing again just as deliberately. Twice, he did this, before he let go of Ray's hands and scooped the tube of lubricant up from where he'd tucked it against Ray's hip. Exhausted he might be. Drained. Spent. But Mounties were like bowling pins; you knocked them over and they sprang right back up, good to go.
Fraser wasn't quite good to go, but he didn't have to be. Not really. He was upright, though, and that was a huge bonus. ]
Ray. [ He said, and there was a breathy element to the sound of his voice, something not at all sleepy; the total opposite in fact. He let the tube touch plastic smooth and cold against Ray's side as he drew it into view. ] I'm going to do something now, Ray, that I've only ever done...privately. That is--by myself, for myself. I don't want you to be concerned. In fact, I enjoy it. Rather a lot. [ He licked his lips, opened the cap on the bottle and raised it almost in a toast to the man beneath him. ] If anything I hope that you will, perhaps, think of me doing this alone without you--alone in my cabin, in front of a warm fire, the wind howling outside the window. Just me and my hands.
Just watch. Listen.
[ He was nervous despite his bravado. Ray knew him, knew him well enough to know that, surely? Fraser the living contradiction, who sucked cock like a vacuum pump but trembled under the weight of his own exposure. And yet this was what he wanted: voyeurism; Ray watching him and seeing back through into those private moments where Fraser had thought himself entirely alone, where he'd brought himself pleasure in the low glow of the dying firelight. The gesture was that he was giving all of it - all those moments in their entirety; the privacy; the shame; the secrecy - to his partner.
And if Ray had been falling to sleep, maybe he might pay a little more attention now. Fraser kept his gaze fixed down as he squeezed lube out into his palm, a practiced one-handed working of his fingers smoothing it over them while he dropped the bottle at Ray's other hip. His center of gravity shifted forward, and he sat up a little higher across Ray's hips. ]
Are you--are you watching?