[ Throughout, Fraser's eyes had yet to so much as even drift closed. They'd stayed on Ray, as they were on him now, looking up at him with his cheeks almost touching the inside of Ray's thighs, still flushed and wanton from his earlier exertions, and now that Ray's fought his way out of his underwear his erection looms between them, effectively the elephant in the room--or embassy as was actually the case. Fraser licked his lips, his mouth dry from sucking on denim, and rolled his shoulders forward slightly, his cuffed hands dropping to the floor beside his knees.

Fraser. This is-- ] --A bad idea? Are you going to tell me not to "put that in my mouth" now, Ray?

[ He shifted upward, dragging the flat of his tongue deliberately along the underside of Ray's cock, following the crease of sinew from base to tip. Only smoky lust hung in too-black eyes when, at the apex, his tongue disappeared back between his lips, and Fraser worked his mouth, swallowed, and spoke again. ]

It's perfectly alright. I have a fair idea where it's been.

[ This is really why he shouldn't be allowed to talk in a bedroom situation. At least he's not choosing this moment to recite an Inuit legend. ]

Hold on to me. Don't let go.

[ It's all the warning he gives before leaning forward, at last - if only because of the angle - having to drop his eyes away, taking several inches down in one. As before, there was no let-up; Fraser's mouth was heat and lashing tongue. It swelled and dipped and tasted, relentlessly devouring, and Fraser paid his usual amount of hawklike attention to proceedings without seemingly straining to observe. He wanted to know what worked, even though what he suspected was that Ray would succumb to almost anything--except maybe - and only maybe - Fraser biting down as hard as he could, something he wisely chose not to test. ]