[ Too loud. He'd known it as soon as he'd made the noise, of course, but to be quite honest he was finding it difficult to care. His ears were delicate, after all. Years of exposure to subzero temperatures had made them that way, and though he'd been in Chicago more or less for years now, the coldest winters at least could only be called somewhat warmer than the warmest Canadian winter days.
His ears were delicate, and Fraser knew out of instinct that Ray was going to bite - fair was fair. It was all he could do to wrap his own mouth around the back of his hand in time, teeth pressing in as best they could, trying to muffle his own cry and for the most part succeeding.
In the long - probably not that long, but it felt like the length of forever with Ray so very far away, respectively - silence that followed, Fraser panted, his ear throbbing, his hand not faring much better. Despite the sting, it had felt perversely good, something that his mind was still struggling to make sense of when he heard the whisper of leather. Concentration etched into his expression, but Fraser knew better than to turn his head to look; turning his head to look would only mean not having anything to bite down on. How he knew he needed to was another thing entirely, a rare Mountie hunch.
He heard it after he felt it. The lash of the strap snapped across his shoulders, and Fraser yelped, a sharp snap of sound gusted out of lungs that couldn't do anything but. His cry was gratefully swallowed into the mouthful of upholstery Fraser had seized between his teeth. See? He was learning! But that didn't entirely mean he'd been ready to be struck. It was a new sensation, it made him question, briefly, whether this was really a thing people did, and whether or not he could trust Ray with such power over him.
And the answer was of course he could. He wouldn't be here if he didn't. Even now, despite the fresh sting from the leather stripe, Fraser could feel only warmth pooling in him. His breath was staggered, flushed, arousal already making a firm reminder of how good it might feel. And there was no permanent injury; nothing exposed, no lines of blood where a belt buckle had ripped away skin. Ray had taken him in trust - everything that Fraser was or could be - and when he'd put on these cuffs he'd laid a responsibility of ownership on himself that Fraser was more than capable of identifying, even in his present state. He all but belonged to Ray, body now as well as the soul and heart that he realized had been shut up in the Pontiac's trunk for safekeeping for years, and Ray was the kind of man who respected his belongings. Ray was being gentle, just like he had been with the handcuffs, and he was at no risk - Fraser decided - of needing to give up his consent.
Anticipation though. Anticipation made him tremble after the fact. Nervous response from the strike made him shift very slightly forward and back, something he regretted with another soft gasp as his arousal complained about the overload of friction far too soon. Fraser's jaw ached from clamping onto the couch, but he didn't dare let go, suddenly not sure what noises he might have made, not certain whether or not he'd earned another strap. Everything hung in the air--everything hung on Ray's decision, Ray's actions, Ray's wants, and whatever Ray wanted, Fraser knew he wanted it too. ]
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His ears were delicate, and Fraser knew out of instinct that Ray was going to bite - fair was fair. It was all he could do to wrap his own mouth around the back of his hand in time, teeth pressing in as best they could, trying to muffle his own cry and for the most part succeeding.
In the long - probably not that long, but it felt like the length of forever with Ray so very far away, respectively - silence that followed, Fraser panted, his ear throbbing, his hand not faring much better. Despite the sting, it had felt perversely good, something that his mind was still struggling to make sense of when he heard the whisper of leather. Concentration etched into his expression, but Fraser knew better than to turn his head to look; turning his head to look would only mean not having anything to bite down on. How he knew he needed to was another thing entirely, a rare Mountie hunch.
He heard it after he felt it. The lash of the strap snapped across his shoulders, and Fraser yelped, a sharp snap of sound gusted out of lungs that couldn't do anything but. His cry was gratefully swallowed into the mouthful of upholstery Fraser had seized between his teeth. See? He was learning! But that didn't entirely mean he'd been ready to be struck. It was a new sensation, it made him question, briefly, whether this was really a thing people did, and whether or not he could trust Ray with such power over him.
And the answer was of course he could. He wouldn't be here if he didn't. Even now, despite the fresh sting from the leather stripe, Fraser could feel only warmth pooling in him. His breath was staggered, flushed, arousal already making a firm reminder of how good it might feel. And there was no permanent injury; nothing exposed, no lines of blood where a belt buckle had ripped away skin. Ray had taken him in trust - everything that Fraser was or could be - and when he'd put on these cuffs he'd laid a responsibility of ownership on himself that Fraser was more than capable of identifying, even in his present state. He all but belonged to Ray, body now as well as the soul and heart that he realized had been shut up in the Pontiac's trunk for safekeeping for years, and Ray was the kind of man who respected his belongings. Ray was being gentle, just like he had been with the handcuffs, and he was at no risk - Fraser decided - of needing to give up his consent.
Anticipation though. Anticipation made him tremble after the fact. Nervous response from the strike made him shift very slightly forward and back, something he regretted with another soft gasp as his arousal complained about the overload of friction far too soon. Fraser's jaw ached from clamping onto the couch, but he didn't dare let go, suddenly not sure what noises he might have made, not certain whether or not he'd earned another strap. Everything hung in the air--everything hung on Ray's decision, Ray's actions, Ray's wants, and whatever Ray wanted, Fraser knew he wanted it too. ]