[It's impressed Ray that Fraser could anticipate the bite down and muffle his cries before they caused issue, but perhaps he should have known that. The two of them can read each other easily enough by now, at least to an extent where their actions are somewhat predictable. Fraser had bitten Ray and so to balance out the odds, Ray had retaliated in kind at a more sensitive spot for Fraser. It seems like a fair trade, especially if it was one his partner was ready for.
What was less predictable turned out to be the harsher response; a lash of leather that had Benton all but cringing under him. Ray's thankful for the couch, glad for it keeping the noises down to a minimum while bitten down on. Another visit from Turnbull really wasn't something he needed to explain away.
But the muffled cry did have an affect on Ray, one that made him stop dead after the first strike and stare wide eyed down at the creeping redness of the just-struck skin. He'd done that. He'd just caused pain in a friend. Like the punch he'd delivered what felt like a lifetime ago, and the sheer surprise and guilt that followed from his own actions. It was like kicking a puppy. A loyal, lovable but often annoying puppy, and it fills him briefly with exactly the same sort of regret. His reactions and decisions often go much too fast for his rational thoughts to catch up, acting first and thinking later being his true weakness. Fraser did a good job of offering a much faster access to rational thought, but with him silent and laid out in front of Ray, he wasn't much help.
But none of this was about being rational. And as Ray falls silent, trying desperately to get his breathing down to something other than a ragged pant, he considers that Fraser has plenty of opportunity to get out of this. Enough strength, undoubtedly, to buck Ray to the floor, and enough sense to open his mouth and voice his dislike if he truly felt it a necessity. Instead Fraser lay where he was told, quiet as he was told, loyal and expectant and trembling lightly under the weight of Ray's body. Despite himself, he leans down, pressing his lips to the burning redness of the skin, placing soft, almost apologetic kisses as he follows the line of it. It's enough to settle himself and enough to show his awareness of what he'd just caused, without ever voicing himself.
With a heavy exhale that just about stays steady, Ray kicks himself back into action, discarding the holster onto the back of the couch. The noises had been muffled enough to be acceptable. No more strikes for the moment. Instead he shuffles his weight back, squirming to instead settle at Fraser's knees, making the move obvious enough as he finally lets his voice break the silence, just slightly wavering as he speaks.]
Hands and knees. Or uh. Elbows and knees. [He slaps a hand against Fraser's clothed behind to signal his meaning, his tone taking on a sharper edge thanks to the effort behind the smack.] Ass up.
[Yes, he'd noticed that small amount of shifting under him, catching on quickly at just how much Fraser could stimulate himself with a bit of friction if he'd wanted to. Taking away that ability will take away the temptation, and all that can be solved easily just by Fraser lifting his hips up and away from the couch.]
no subject
What was less predictable turned out to be the harsher response; a lash of leather that had Benton all but cringing under him. Ray's thankful for the couch, glad for it keeping the noises down to a minimum while bitten down on. Another visit from Turnbull really wasn't something he needed to explain away.
But the muffled cry did have an affect on Ray, one that made him stop dead after the first strike and stare wide eyed down at the creeping redness of the just-struck skin. He'd done that. He'd just caused pain in a friend. Like the punch he'd delivered what felt like a lifetime ago, and the sheer surprise and guilt that followed from his own actions. It was like kicking a puppy. A loyal, lovable but often annoying puppy, and it fills him briefly with exactly the same sort of regret. His reactions and decisions often go much too fast for his rational thoughts to catch up, acting first and thinking later being his true weakness. Fraser did a good job of offering a much faster access to rational thought, but with him silent and laid out in front of Ray, he wasn't much help.
But none of this was about being rational. And as Ray falls silent, trying desperately to get his breathing down to something other than a ragged pant, he considers that Fraser has plenty of opportunity to get out of this. Enough strength, undoubtedly, to buck Ray to the floor, and enough sense to open his mouth and voice his dislike if he truly felt it a necessity. Instead Fraser lay where he was told, quiet as he was told, loyal and expectant and trembling lightly under the weight of Ray's body. Despite himself, he leans down, pressing his lips to the burning redness of the skin, placing soft, almost apologetic kisses as he follows the line of it. It's enough to settle himself and enough to show his awareness of what he'd just caused, without ever voicing himself.
With a heavy exhale that just about stays steady, Ray kicks himself back into action, discarding the holster onto the back of the couch. The noises had been muffled enough to be acceptable. No more strikes for the moment. Instead he shuffles his weight back, squirming to instead settle at Fraser's knees, making the move obvious enough as he finally lets his voice break the silence, just slightly wavering as he speaks.]
Hands and knees. Or uh. Elbows and knees. [He slaps a hand against Fraser's clothed behind to signal his meaning, his tone taking on a sharper edge thanks to the effort behind the smack.] Ass up.
[Yes, he'd noticed that small amount of shifting under him, catching on quickly at just how much Fraser could stimulate himself with a bit of friction if he'd wanted to. Taking away that ability will take away the temptation, and all that can be solved easily just by Fraser lifting his hips up and away from the couch.]