[ Fraser feels the smile. Like letters drawn on his back, he senses the subtle meaning in the change of shape of Ray's mouth through his kisses, and exhales another happy moan, his eyes drifting closed. Looking at the ground wasn't helping, but with his eyes closed he could stretch out with all of his other senses, feel more, hear more.
Feeling more was the priority. Particularly when feeling more meant feeling like this; meant feeling Ray's tongue lathing against abused skin, lapping at the sensitive graze, teeth scraping at bruises as Ray tugged down almost the full length of his shoulder blade with his mouth. It wasn't painful so much as a tingling sensation - Ray could have done more harm with a comb than with his teeth - but it was pleasurable none the less. Not at all anything that needed to be apologized for.
When Ray slipped his hand around his arousal again, there was no holding Fraser still. He rocked forward at once, his back dipping under Ray's mouth before arching back toward it, the muscles in his back undulating in time with the movement. Enough time had passed that he wasn't quite as sensitive as he'd been five minutes before, but it was an improvement because of that--he could actually feel Ray rather than at the first touch only being aware of there being too much sensation all at once. Not that there isn't too much sensation. Between Ray's mouth, his hips and his hands, it was already becoming difficult to think, difficult to do more than pant soft yesses over and over again under his breath. ]
Yes. Yes, Ray, yes.
[ Technically breaking his own rules, the slip of the name comes when Ray's touch is at its most rough, its most firm, in contrast to the gentle, soothing searching of Ray's tongue. He whimpers out loud when the touches to his cock are instead too gentle, but the teeth catch rough against the swell of bruising welts. Fraser is all contrast; he thrives on it. ]
no subject
Feeling more was the priority. Particularly when feeling more meant feeling like this; meant feeling Ray's tongue lathing against abused skin, lapping at the sensitive graze, teeth scraping at bruises as Ray tugged down almost the full length of his shoulder blade with his mouth. It wasn't painful so much as a tingling sensation - Ray could have done more harm with a comb than with his teeth - but it was pleasurable none the less. Not at all anything that needed to be apologized for.
When Ray slipped his hand around his arousal again, there was no holding Fraser still. He rocked forward at once, his back dipping under Ray's mouth before arching back toward it, the muscles in his back undulating in time with the movement. Enough time had passed that he wasn't quite as sensitive as he'd been five minutes before, but it was an improvement because of that--he could actually feel Ray rather than at the first touch only being aware of there being too much sensation all at once. Not that there isn't too much sensation. Between Ray's mouth, his hips and his hands, it was already becoming difficult to think, difficult to do more than pant soft yesses over and over again under his breath. ]
Yes. Yes, Ray, yes.
[ Technically breaking his own rules, the slip of the name comes when Ray's touch is at its most rough, its most firm, in contrast to the gentle, soothing searching of Ray's tongue. He whimpers out loud when the touches to his cock are instead too gentle, but the teeth catch rough against the swell of bruising welts. Fraser is all contrast; he thrives on it. ]