[ The lack of control really did feel good. It was powerful, like being on a row boat in the middle of a storm at sea, at mercy to the roll of the waves and the lash of the wind and rain. It was exhilarating and terrifying at once, almost death defying to have his pride ripped away and be able to do nothing - nothing - about the onslaught ripping into him. Hands and teeth and words were like swords and needles pressed into his skin, bleeding him out. The thrill of it - the thrill of feeling as though there was no coming back from this - more than rivaled the pleasurable superiority he'd felt, the power, of when he'd had Kowalski on his knees in front of him, similarly helpless, chained to the headboard.
It was hard to know where to align his focus. The mouth that had so injured him only moments before abandoned that nub to the air - and god it stung - languidly wandering toward the other. Ray couldn't help his anticipation, counting seconds: was it longer than last time? had that been a flash of teeth? bite me if you're going to bite me!
But it wasn't the only distraction. Stanley's hand was wandering back, replaced by Fraser's, fingers pressing against his perineum in such a way as it made his toes curl. One of his shoes had fallen off, and his pants had slipped halfway off on that side, but the mess of half-stripped outfits wasn't on anyone's mind right now. Not when Stanley was busy touching there, moving his devilish mouth up to lick at his ear where Fraser had been but a moment before, and purr into it all his secrets--right to the Mountie's face.
Oh shit.
Fraser's hands stopped moving, and for a second it felt like he might just get dropped on the floor, deposited on his back while Fraser ran for it. It seemed to take forever for Fraser to breathe again; Ray knew because he was holding his breath too, and then - blessed relief - that mouth moved to his ear and shit shit shit Fraser was taking too many fucking cues from his partner because that hurt. It was still throbbing when Fraser, voice like audio porn, murmured cool air and hot words against it.
Tell me more. He didn't; not right away. ]
Kowalski. Ray. There's lube...in my right pant pocket. ...And my ankle holster is right in the fucking way. [ In the way of kicking off the rest of his clothes. He made a plaintiff gesture with his left leg. ]
Fraser. Fraser--Benny. He's right. He's right, and I shoulda told you, I know, but how do you tell your best pal that sort of thing? Sat down over pizza watching the game 'Hey Fraser, I dreamt about doing you in the backseat of my car last night. So how about that touchdown, huh?' [ He groaned. ] But it's not just me. Ray here wants to take you back to Canada and have loads of warming-up-this-igloo-so-we-don't-freeze-to-death sex with you. You know, real fuck or die stuff. Jesus.
[ He shuddered all the way through, rolling his hips down against Stanley's hand, grinding against Fraser behind him, and he snarled into the open air as he tipped his head back. He was going to go down fighting one way or another. ]
no subject
It was hard to know where to align his focus. The mouth that had so injured him only moments before abandoned that nub to the air - and god it stung - languidly wandering toward the other. Ray couldn't help his anticipation, counting seconds: was it longer than last time? had that been a flash of teeth? bite me if you're going to bite me!
But it wasn't the only distraction. Stanley's hand was wandering back, replaced by Fraser's, fingers pressing against his perineum in such a way as it made his toes curl. One of his shoes had fallen off, and his pants had slipped halfway off on that side, but the mess of half-stripped outfits wasn't on anyone's mind right now. Not when Stanley was busy touching there, moving his devilish mouth up to lick at his ear where Fraser had been but a moment before, and purr into it all his secrets--right to the Mountie's face.
Oh shit.
Fraser's hands stopped moving, and for a second it felt like he might just get dropped on the floor, deposited on his back while Fraser ran for it. It seemed to take forever for Fraser to breathe again; Ray knew because he was holding his breath too, and then - blessed relief - that mouth moved to his ear and shit shit shit Fraser was taking too many fucking cues from his partner because that hurt. It was still throbbing when Fraser, voice like audio porn, murmured cool air and hot words against it.
Tell me more. He didn't; not right away. ]
Kowalski. Ray. There's lube...in my right pant pocket. ...And my ankle holster is right in the fucking way. [ In the way of kicking off the rest of his clothes. He made a plaintiff gesture with his left leg. ]
Fraser. Fraser--Benny. He's right. He's right, and I shoulda told you, I know, but how do you tell your best pal that sort of thing? Sat down over pizza watching the game 'Hey Fraser, I dreamt about doing you in the backseat of my car last night. So how about that touchdown, huh?' [ He groaned. ] But it's not just me. Ray here wants to take you back to Canada and have loads of warming-up-this-igloo-so-we-don't-freeze-to-death sex with you. You know, real fuck or die stuff. Jesus.
[ He shuddered all the way through, rolling his hips down against Stanley's hand, grinding against Fraser behind him, and he snarled into the open air as he tipped his head back. He was going to go down fighting one way or another. ]
Go on. What're you waiting for, a new Pope?