[ Insinuating, yes, although there wasn't much mystery left to it after Fraser's earlier gyrations. He'd made it very clear then that his desire for Ray strayed below the belt as well as above it. Mounties, apparently, only had two speeds: nothing and everything. Well, that had been true for Fraser in every relationship he'd ever had. For a man who could read remarkable subtlety in a person's actions or emotions, he was terrible at replicating those nuances. He didn't love gently: he loved with passion and devil-may-care, loved as though he were on the path to utter self destruction, because not only would he give all of himself to someone but he would betray himself to do it, let them reconstruct him any way that they wanted. And he didn't care who saw, or judged, or what it cost.
He wasn't safe when he was like this. He wasn't predictable. He was a man who broke into hotel rooms and carved wooden phalluses and drank stolen champagne. He was a man who could leap onto moving trains and destroy his friend's reputation, his life, without so much as looking over his shoulder. Fraser was the ultimate fool for love, and what he needed - more than anything - was someone in his life who would protect him from himself.
There were advantages to dating Ray, and that was just one of them. Their established relationship played its part too. They already had their rhythm, they'd established it when they weren't so close, rather than jumping straight under the bedsheets at the first opportunity. What they had were solid foundations--they were sturdy.
Wasn't that one of the last things his father had said to him? A good relationship stood on strong foundations. Well whose foundations were stronger than Ray's and his own? They'd loved, they'd lost, they'd faced each other's darkest days and overcome them, they'd fought, they'd almost drowned. They'd almost walked away, permanently. And here they were, stronger than ever. Stronger than ever and finally realising what it really meant; what it could come to mean.
Maybe even sober - maybe even without the rush of overwhelming romantic happiness that swelled in him when Ray understood what he wasn't saying and used 'kiss' and meant 'way more than kiss'--and knew Fraser would understand - maybe even then he'd have still seen it as an invitation.
He stepped forward, stepped closer to Ray and reached his hand up and touched it to his cheek, and then he was leaning in to kiss him, softly, sweetly, ignorant of the room around him almost as though they weren't standing in a suite full of people, many of them strangers but some of them colleagues, friends, former in-laws.
Fraser was past caring. All that mattered was the long minutes it had been since he'd kissed Ray the first time; that long kiss that seemed to vary in a million ways and go on forever, that kiss where he had tried everything in case it was his only opportunity to do so. Even with his lips still swollen from that earlier kiss, the moment it had ended it had been difficult to remember that it was real, hard to imagine that he didn't just dream it.
So he had to do it, and while it wasn't as intimate as the kiss before - Fraser kept a clear foot and a half between Ray's chest and his own, and he didn't exactly lavish on the attention of his tongue - it still felt flagrant for the company they were keeping.
And Fraser knew - worried really - that Ray would be mad at him for making that decision for him, nevermind that it was the second time so far he'd done it in the last ten minutes. He rolled back on his heels, beginning to drop his hand. ]
I'm sorry. [ He actually apologised this time, there was something to be said for that. ] I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. I love you, Ray. I have for a very long time. This is all so surreal.
no subject
He wasn't safe when he was like this. He wasn't predictable. He was a man who broke into hotel rooms and carved wooden phalluses and drank stolen champagne. He was a man who could leap onto moving trains and destroy his friend's reputation, his life, without so much as looking over his shoulder. Fraser was the ultimate fool for love, and what he needed - more than anything - was someone in his life who would protect him from himself.
There were advantages to dating Ray, and that was just one of them. Their established relationship played its part too. They already had their rhythm, they'd established it when they weren't so close, rather than jumping straight under the bedsheets at the first opportunity. What they had were solid foundations--they were sturdy.
Wasn't that one of the last things his father had said to him? A good relationship stood on strong foundations. Well whose foundations were stronger than Ray's and his own? They'd loved, they'd lost, they'd faced each other's darkest days and overcome them, they'd fought, they'd almost drowned. They'd almost walked away, permanently. And here they were, stronger than ever. Stronger than ever and finally realising what it really meant; what it could come to mean.
Maybe even sober - maybe even without the rush of overwhelming romantic happiness that swelled in him when Ray understood what he wasn't saying and used 'kiss' and meant 'way more than kiss'--and knew Fraser would understand - maybe even then he'd have still seen it as an invitation.
He stepped forward, stepped closer to Ray and reached his hand up and touched it to his cheek, and then he was leaning in to kiss him, softly, sweetly, ignorant of the room around him almost as though they weren't standing in a suite full of people, many of them strangers but some of them colleagues, friends, former in-laws.
Fraser was past caring. All that mattered was the long minutes it had been since he'd kissed Ray the first time; that long kiss that seemed to vary in a million ways and go on forever, that kiss where he had tried everything in case it was his only opportunity to do so. Even with his lips still swollen from that earlier kiss, the moment it had ended it had been difficult to remember that it was real, hard to imagine that he didn't just dream it.
So he had to do it, and while it wasn't as intimate as the kiss before - Fraser kept a clear foot and a half between Ray's chest and his own, and he didn't exactly lavish on the attention of his tongue - it still felt flagrant for the company they were keeping.
And Fraser knew - worried really - that Ray would be mad at him for making that decision for him, nevermind that it was the second time so far he'd done it in the last ten minutes. He rolled back on his heels, beginning to drop his hand. ]
I'm sorry. [ He actually apologised this time, there was something to be said for that. ] I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. I love you, Ray. I have for a very long time. This is all so surreal.