[Ray's seen the sort of abuse Fraser can take first hand, seen that nothing will drag him from work beyond physical paralysis and even then he seems keen to continue. Maybe it's madness, maybe it's bravery, maybe it's just stupidity, but it's Ray's Mountie and he's proud of him no matter what. Perhaps that's why he can strike with such force without huge concern.
It's that moan that concretes it. Reassures Ray all over again that he can't hit too hard. Fraser's enjoying this and Ray- the man who could barely hurt a fly despite all the usual bravado- enjoys it because of his partner. He reads off Fraser's reactions and tries to keep it pleasurable for them both, the sadism only stretching to the extent of what his friend wants from it. The moment Fraser shows displeasure is the moment Ray will stop enjoying it. At least for now their bodies work in unison, reading off one another through pleasure and pain, building on a connection- a foundation- that was always there.
The roll of hips against him is met with a lazy roll forward of his own, tilting down enough to better inspect the redness of Fraser's back. Urging or not, Ray can't help but reach out to touch it, careful as though putting his hand on a hotplate, laying his palm flat against the burning flesh beneath. He hums out a low noise, soothing, one that seems to vibrate through him all the way to the touch, the flat of his hand resting for a moment before there's the careful creep of fingers. His thumb brushes broad, slow strokes, following the strips of red with curiosity, marvelling at the the points where one strike crosses over another.
When he does lean closer, it's to press his lips against previously touched skin, tender in contrast to the earlier force. He speaks, breaking through the panting and light moans to mutter against skin.]
no subject
It's that moan that concretes it. Reassures Ray all over again that he can't hit too hard. Fraser's enjoying this and Ray- the man who could barely hurt a fly despite all the usual bravado- enjoys it because of his partner. He reads off Fraser's reactions and tries to keep it pleasurable for them both, the sadism only stretching to the extent of what his friend wants from it. The moment Fraser shows displeasure is the moment Ray will stop enjoying it. At least for now their bodies work in unison, reading off one another through pleasure and pain, building on a connection- a foundation- that was always there.
The roll of hips against him is met with a lazy roll forward of his own, tilting down enough to better inspect the redness of Fraser's back. Urging or not, Ray can't help but reach out to touch it, careful as though putting his hand on a hotplate, laying his palm flat against the burning flesh beneath. He hums out a low noise, soothing, one that seems to vibrate through him all the way to the touch, the flat of his hand resting for a moment before there's the careful creep of fingers. His thumb brushes broad, slow strokes, following the strips of red with curiosity, marvelling at the the points where one strike crosses over another.
When he does lean closer, it's to press his lips against previously touched skin, tender in contrast to the earlier force. He speaks, breaking through the panting and light moans to mutter against skin.]
You like that?