[ As Ray presses forward, Fraser rolls with him, pushes back again as Ray meets the apex. It's all careful balance, give and take, and it's part of why they function so very well together. Fraser has no complaints, at least, particularly since the fact that Ray is so close to him means that his partner reaches across his back at last, warm fingers damp with sweat a refreshing sting that as much helps Fraser to map out the marks as it lets him get a feel of Ray's mindset. He can feel Ray settling down, confident and comfortable, no longer as afraid of doing harm as he'd been in those first apprehensive moments after the first strike, when what he'd done had at first caught up to him.
Even this much had changed their relationship. Fraser hadn't known pain could be something he liked, and Ray hadn't known he had it in him to inflict it. It wasn't as if he'd ever deliberately explored it before--even if he'd ever had opportunity. Fraser was the kind of man whom despite his strength people seemed to endeavor to protect; if he so much as hinted that he was ill, or injured, wellwishers would appear within moments. And Ray - Vecchio - had been the most protective man he knew; if this was a big city thing, Fraser had been well insulated from it.
But Ray wasn't Ray Vecchio. Ray was all rough edges and occasionally going too far, and the spark in him was frightening sometimes, but he'd brought them to this point as much as Fraser had pushed for it in the first place. Pushed in a way he never would have done with his former partner.
Now Ray being comfortable is what he wants. Fraser wanted, most of all, for Ray to be enjoying this as much as he was. Ray's almost breathless moans against his skin, when he did finally lean down to press his kisses to the wounds, reassured him that that was the case. They were both enjoying this, even if Fraser was sure from the buzz of his own pleasure that he was getting the best out of it. He hissed softly at one particular spot where all four of the lashes had crossed over each other--there was a line of abrasion there four inches long, more a graze than a cut. Fraser arched and shuddered, and panted out one of the words he'd negotiated to be able to use. ]
no subject
Even this much had changed their relationship. Fraser hadn't known pain could be something he liked, and Ray hadn't known he had it in him to inflict it. It wasn't as if he'd ever deliberately explored it before--even if he'd ever had opportunity. Fraser was the kind of man whom despite his strength people seemed to endeavor to protect; if he so much as hinted that he was ill, or injured, wellwishers would appear within moments. And Ray - Vecchio - had been the most protective man he knew; if this was a big city thing, Fraser had been well insulated from it.
But Ray wasn't Ray Vecchio. Ray was all rough edges and occasionally going too far, and the spark in him was frightening sometimes, but he'd brought them to this point as much as Fraser had pushed for it in the first place. Pushed in a way he never would have done with his former partner.
Now Ray being comfortable is what he wants. Fraser wanted, most of all, for Ray to be enjoying this as much as he was. Ray's almost breathless moans against his skin, when he did finally lean down to press his kisses to the wounds, reassured him that that was the case. They were both enjoying this, even if Fraser was sure from the buzz of his own pleasure that he was getting the best out of it. He hissed softly at one particular spot where all four of the lashes had crossed over each other--there was a line of abrasion there four inches long, more a graze than a cut. Fraser arched and shuddered, and panted out one of the words he'd negotiated to be able to use. ]
Yes.