[ It's not so much as he's urged to make room as he has little other choice. Ray presses into the space between his legs, and the position becomes somewhat easier, if only because resting his own weight against Ray's hips takes some of the pressure off his thighs. Then, almost immediately the advantage is lost; the weight shifts forward into his shoulders, leaving Mountie neck and back and muscular forearms to do the majority of the work. Not that he has any complaints, not with Ray's chest to his back, every inch of his upper body almost in contact with Fraser's. No, nothing to complain about there.
Ray's grip on his jaw is firm. It corrects through force but without anything resembling vindictiveness, and Fraser is obsequious enough not to fight it. Even if he'd felt like testing Ray's strength, why test that? There was no challenge worth making. But Ray reassured him with a kiss anyway--he hoped it meant that he was relaxing a little again himself.
Not that relaxing was on Fraser's dance card. Holding in his noises suddenly became a whole other level of difficult. Difficult like he almost said 'Oh dear' out loud and lost the game in a whole other way.
Ray turned him to slush in all the time it took for him to catch Fraser's ear in his teeth. He'd moaned almost at the first touch before, but this time he had a little more control, albeit only barely. His panting started hard rather than raising up to that point, undone in seconds, and everything that came after was like layers of paint being splashed all over a finished masterpiece. Fraser didn't moan or groan or whimper for long, and it wasn't what ultimately broke him when the pressure became too much.
He screamed. Mountie screaming, very manly. And then he froze dead, the color draining out of his face, and said: ]
Ray, let me up.
[ He really didn't want to get up. He would much rather stay exactly where he was. But that was going to be a problem when, in precisely eight and a half seconds time, Constable Turnbull smashed the fire-axe into the office door and sent it smashing into tiny pieces. ]
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Ray's grip on his jaw is firm. It corrects through force but without anything resembling vindictiveness, and Fraser is obsequious enough not to fight it. Even if he'd felt like testing Ray's strength, why test that? There was no challenge worth making. But Ray reassured him with a kiss anyway--he hoped it meant that he was relaxing a little again himself.
Not that relaxing was on Fraser's dance card. Holding in his noises suddenly became a whole other level of difficult. Difficult like he almost said 'Oh dear' out loud and lost the game in a whole other way.
Ray turned him to slush in all the time it took for him to catch Fraser's ear in his teeth. He'd moaned almost at the first touch before, but this time he had a little more control, albeit only barely. His panting started hard rather than raising up to that point, undone in seconds, and everything that came after was like layers of paint being splashed all over a finished masterpiece. Fraser didn't moan or groan or whimper for long, and it wasn't what ultimately broke him when the pressure became too much.
He screamed. Mountie screaming, very manly. And then he froze dead, the color draining out of his face, and said: ]
Ray, let me up.
[ He really didn't want to get up. He would much rather stay exactly where he was. But that was going to be a problem when, in precisely eight and a half seconds time, Constable Turnbull smashed the fire-axe into the office door and sent it smashing into tiny pieces. ]