[ Delicate Fraser is not; not as a whole, at least. He bears savage injury without flinching, vicious knife wounds and gunshots in the back and the occasional deliberate (or accidental) blows to the head. Jumping through third story glass windows and rolling out of moving cars would hurt normal people, but he takes his scrapes and bruises without making a sound. This is different because of the physical effect it's having on him, overcoming the pain isn't in his best interests at all considering the drill of pleasure each strike instills in him.
He's not afraid to be hit a little harder, and in fact when Ray hits him the second time, and pauses in the beat that follows, Fraser's inhale-exhale becomes the soft whisper of a moan under his breath. No, not quite a whisper. It's deliberately loud enough for Ray to hear, though not loud enough to break the 60 decibel rule of normal conversation.
He hears Ray, too, when his partner readies the next strike, feels him shift his upper body and murmur 'exhale' under his breath, hears him exhale, follows suit. It occurs to him too the similarity between this method and Ray's careful judgement of aim and trajectory before he fires his gun. It's a question of concentration, he knows; Ray is judging his own power and direction, balancing the weapon in his hand, and the path he lays down is the one he's chosen, exactly where he intended it to be, with as much force as he meant. It means more to Fraser like that; it means Ray is listening to his body, and making decisions based on how Fraser responds. They're working as a team even now, even like this.
The next strike sends another thrill through Fraser that he simply can't ignore, his fingers curling into his hands, flushed and panting. Afterwards he tilts his head very slightly forward, slightly to the right toward he clatter of the fallen strap, and Fraser lets the comment linger at the forefront of his mind.
It is enough to think on. The sting to his back is brutal, and perfect for it; after all it was Ray who had inflicted those bruises, and if they ached for a week it wouldn't be long enough. He rolled his hips back toward Ray again, a shiver catching him, and resisted the urge to beg for the warm soothing caress of fingers on stinging flesh, no matter how much the thought of them appealed to him. He wanted Ray to feel what he had done, and he wanted to feel Ray feeling it. ]
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He's not afraid to be hit a little harder, and in fact when Ray hits him the second time, and pauses in the beat that follows, Fraser's inhale-exhale becomes the soft whisper of a moan under his breath. No, not quite a whisper. It's deliberately loud enough for Ray to hear, though not loud enough to break the 60 decibel rule of normal conversation.
He hears Ray, too, when his partner readies the next strike, feels him shift his upper body and murmur 'exhale' under his breath, hears him exhale, follows suit. It occurs to him too the similarity between this method and Ray's careful judgement of aim and trajectory before he fires his gun. It's a question of concentration, he knows; Ray is judging his own power and direction, balancing the weapon in his hand, and the path he lays down is the one he's chosen, exactly where he intended it to be, with as much force as he meant. It means more to Fraser like that; it means Ray is listening to his body, and making decisions based on how Fraser responds. They're working as a team even now, even like this.
The next strike sends another thrill through Fraser that he simply can't ignore, his fingers curling into his hands, flushed and panting. Afterwards he tilts his head very slightly forward, slightly to the right toward he clatter of the fallen strap, and Fraser lets the comment linger at the forefront of his mind.
It is enough to think on. The sting to his back is brutal, and perfect for it; after all it was Ray who had inflicted those bruises, and if they ached for a week it wouldn't be long enough. He rolled his hips back toward Ray again, a shiver catching him, and resisted the urge to beg for the warm soothing caress of fingers on stinging flesh, no matter how much the thought of them appealed to him. He wanted Ray to feel what he had done, and he wanted to feel Ray feeling it. ]