[ If Ray were sober this...would have ended at goodnight, and while it was true that Fraser would have preferred a genuine and sober commitment, that wasn't how things had worked out last time. Ray had been angry, and tired, and against the odds drunk - a rare enough thing - and they'd gotten into a fight. It had ended well enough.

But Ray wasn't sober and Fraser had to judge whether he was sufficiently within his scope to make a decision such as the one Fraser was asking him for. He seemed with it enough about being mad about Stella, collected and informed, coordinated, as the sudden grab for his wrist had neatly demonstrated. His eyes were steady, the pupils contracted to focus on his face. Hi pulse had sped up to match the rush of adrenaline. All the signs were good.

So when that grip loosened, Fraser reacted slow and carefully, moving his had higher, fingers bending inwards so that just the backs of them brushed along the seam of Ray's fly. He sat forward, only so far as to prop his chin on Ray's thigh, and brought his hand higher, slipping his fingers underneath Ray's shirt. ]

I should warn you, Ray. I prefer to be...I believe the word we like to use is...dominant. It isn't about who does what, it's about building trust. [ His hand flat on Ray's stomach now, fingers cool. ] When I ask you to do something, you need to do it, and if you're ever uncomfortable--just ask me to stop. Can you do that?