[ Okay, so words were done with. Three syllables, two, one. They were all done with now and for forever. He didn't know how to deal with them any more; they seemed to him to be a fading tapestry of a life that he'd been done with ever since Ray said "Yeah" and started to reciprocate movement.
Ray pressed deeper into him, then deeper again, and the boring, full, every day Chicago world dissolved, and there was just Fraser and Ray, hips and cocks and hot breath, shivering and panting and moaning. Oh yes, yes. They should have done this years ago. To think that they might have been doing this, joining together in twisting heat and muscular perfection, in pleasure and sobbing breaths--to think that they could have been doing it since they'd met... It was like he'd been deprived of oxygen, and had only just caught on. Where had this feeling been his entire life? Where had Ray been?
But that was fine. He could manage having been deprived, because it had led him here, to this moment, where he was Ray's and Ray was his, and they were discovering this whole new situation together. He'd never been with a man before, and apart from Ray Fraser didn't think that he'd ever want to be, except for the fact that physically it was more rewarding than he'd ever dreamed possible. He'd been waiting for this sensation - this exact feeling - since he was a teenaged boy, had been missing it his entire life, and now Ray completed him.
It was like losing his virginity again--or well, maybe in some ways it was? But it was more rewarding than the first time; there was no avoiding that fact. Ray meant too much to him, and so this moment - this exact moment - was his to sear permanently onto his memory. They would always be this young, this free, fit this perfectly. They would always move in time, and Ray would always purr his approval, and his hand would always close around him, rough and gentle at once. Ray's eyes would always be lidden when he raised his head, his arousal showing in every corner of his face, even from so close up. Each thrust that they made in turn transforming into a visible change in him that rippled under his skin. And he would preserve this moment too, leaning in to brush his lips wetly against Ray's, even though he was as helpless to form it into a proper kiss as he was to form actual syllables, too busy panting through it to be able to maneuver his lips into any attack angles or better still maintain a solid seal.
It was all just way beyond him; perfect Mountie or not, Fraser was gradually falling apart. He'd stopped being able to stay upright, and now he was reduced beyond speaking. Sweat clung to his forehead, hair damp, and still those persistent muscles worked, ground down and thrust up into Ray's hand, pressed down again, using every ounce of strength he had in him; the same energy and muscle power he'd use to pursue criminals repurposed to the pursuit of pleasure.
He was on fire, but if there was anything that Fraser was good at it was working beyond what others would consider to be the limits of human ability. Anyone else would have been worn out by now, but Fraser had staying power. He could probably keep this up for another half hour if he had to--okay, maybe not. But fifteen minutes? Sure, why not.
What were words good for, anyway, that he couldn't explain with his body? He thrust back harder, this time letting the shift of Ray's hips take him in as deep as he could stand. He could hear the wet slip of it, feel every inch splitting him wide, pressing deep...
And maybe he was still able to talk after all, because that sure was his voice panting "Yes, yes, yes" into Ray's mouth. ]
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Ray pressed deeper into him, then deeper again, and the boring, full, every day Chicago world dissolved, and there was just Fraser and Ray, hips and cocks and hot breath, shivering and panting and moaning. Oh yes, yes. They should have done this years ago. To think that they might have been doing this, joining together in twisting heat and muscular perfection, in pleasure and sobbing breaths--to think that they could have been doing it since they'd met... It was like he'd been deprived of oxygen, and had only just caught on. Where had this feeling been his entire life? Where had Ray been?
But that was fine. He could manage having been deprived, because it had led him here, to this moment, where he was Ray's and Ray was his, and they were discovering this whole new situation together. He'd never been with a man before, and apart from Ray Fraser didn't think that he'd ever want to be, except for the fact that physically it was more rewarding than he'd ever dreamed possible. He'd been waiting for this sensation - this exact feeling - since he was a teenaged boy, had been missing it his entire life, and now Ray completed him.
It was like losing his virginity again--or well, maybe in some ways it was? But it was more rewarding than the first time; there was no avoiding that fact. Ray meant too much to him, and so this moment - this exact moment - was his to sear permanently onto his memory. They would always be this young, this free, fit this perfectly. They would always move in time, and Ray would always purr his approval, and his hand would always close around him, rough and gentle at once. Ray's eyes would always be lidden when he raised his head, his arousal showing in every corner of his face, even from so close up. Each thrust that they made in turn transforming into a visible change in him that rippled under his skin. And he would preserve this moment too, leaning in to brush his lips wetly against Ray's, even though he was as helpless to form it into a proper kiss as he was to form actual syllables, too busy panting through it to be able to maneuver his lips into any attack angles or better still maintain a solid seal.
It was all just way beyond him; perfect Mountie or not, Fraser was gradually falling apart. He'd stopped being able to stay upright, and now he was reduced beyond speaking. Sweat clung to his forehead, hair damp, and still those persistent muscles worked, ground down and thrust up into Ray's hand, pressed down again, using every ounce of strength he had in him; the same energy and muscle power he'd use to pursue criminals repurposed to the pursuit of pleasure.
He was on fire, but if there was anything that Fraser was good at it was working beyond what others would consider to be the limits of human ability. Anyone else would have been worn out by now, but Fraser had staying power. He could probably keep this up for another half hour if he had to--okay, maybe not. But fifteen minutes? Sure, why not.
What were words good for, anyway, that he couldn't explain with his body? He thrust back harder, this time letting the shift of Ray's hips take him in as deep as he could stand. He could hear the wet slip of it, feel every inch splitting him wide, pressing deep...
And maybe he was still able to talk after all, because that sure was his voice panting "Yes, yes, yes" into Ray's mouth. ]