[ It's almost the lack of synchronization that undoes him in the end. Maybe it's the way Ray says his name, or the mouth on his throat, or the last snap of Ray's hips. Maybe it's the actual feeling of pressure bursting like a faucet as Ray spills himself inside him. Maybe it's Ray's heartbeat against the palm of his hand as it lunged for several beats to full speed while his partner's breath roars against his throat. Maybe it's just everything about it together.
It's glorious, like being shown a piece of heaven, and Fraser's close--almost all the way there, but only almost, and since he wants to surmount that precipice, he doesn't even think twice before his hand slips from Ray's thigh, sliding into the hot space between them to wrap around Ray's hand. It's almost enough in of itself; it takes no more than a single stroke, and the tightening fist of tension closes its bearlike grip, seizing in and then releasing with a bright burst that leaves the world spinning behind. Where Ray groaned against his skin, Fraser cries out so loud that the ears of the wilderness itself hears him, and outside in the snow one of the dogs - not Dief, obviously - starts up a howl that within moments the whole dog pack are echoing.
Any ability it might have had to put him off is inconsequential in the aftermath. Instead it's a soundtrack to Fraser's heavy breathing, his hand still tight around Ray's, as though afraid to let go, afraid to budge an inch and feel the real, sticky truth of what they'd done. No, not afraid--he wasn't in the slightest bit apprehensive. He just didn't want to. There were moments of stillness, and there were moments of stillness, and Fraser wanted to frame this moment, this feeling, for as long as he possibly could. ]
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It's glorious, like being shown a piece of heaven, and Fraser's close--almost all the way there, but only almost, and since he wants to surmount that precipice, he doesn't even think twice before his hand slips from Ray's thigh, sliding into the hot space between them to wrap around Ray's hand. It's almost enough in of itself; it takes no more than a single stroke, and the tightening fist of tension closes its bearlike grip, seizing in and then releasing with a bright burst that leaves the world spinning behind. Where Ray groaned against his skin, Fraser cries out so loud that the ears of the wilderness itself hears him, and outside in the snow one of the dogs - not Dief, obviously - starts up a howl that within moments the whole dog pack are echoing.
Any ability it might have had to put him off is inconsequential in the aftermath. Instead it's a soundtrack to Fraser's heavy breathing, his hand still tight around Ray's, as though afraid to let go, afraid to budge an inch and feel the real, sticky truth of what they'd done. No, not afraid--he wasn't in the slightest bit apprehensive. He just didn't want to. There were moments of stillness, and there were moments of stillness, and Fraser wanted to frame this moment, this feeling, for as long as he possibly could. ]