[That edge of pain was something he appreciated more than he'd even realised. It wasn't often that he'd thought to bring that into the bedroom or had the chance to, but there'd always been that sort of grim satisfaction he got from a scuffle, whether it was on the streets or in the ring. He couldn't help but enjoy that sting of pain and the lingering sense it had on the body even days after. This was the same deal, that bruising on his neck would be there as a reminder whether he liked it or not, but he was starting to think he liked that very much.

He likes the tongue too, but it didn't last long enough for him to full enjoy before Fraser was pulling back and then full away, leaving Ray without anything to hold onto and without anything to look at. Suddenly the blindfold seems like less of a good idea, unable to judge just what his partner is up to, but straining his ears to try and follow where he might be going, head twisting to follow the sound of Fraser's voice as he circles.]

Heh, punishment. C'mon, you deserved that one for bitin' like that. [The loss of touch is enough to get him fidgeting again, impatient but never moving off the couch. He gets it, he thinks. The lack of Fraser is 'punishment' enough for the swearing. Bad means no Fraser, good means the return of Fraser, right? That would be logical, and sometimes Ray can get logic.

But Fraser does return and Ray can almost sense the presence before him, ears still straining to make sure he catches what's happening. He hears the soft clink of metal, familiar enough without the brush of cool metal against his wrist. He knows what's going on.]

Trust. Right. So I gotta just sit here unseein' and cuffed up and trust you're not gonna fuck with me?

[And yet his hands settle in his lap, drawing closer together.]