[ Close was good. Fraser liked close; it was safe. It was Ray's shoulder close against his own, Ray's side against his own flank. He lowered his head, waiting as Ray orders the drinks and starts sifting through keys, clearly only really able to focus on one task at a time (like that was a surprise). Fraser waits with the patience of a saint for the telltale click of the lock, and as the mechanism finished working, he took an overindulgent moment to rub his thumbs into the places where the metal had rubbed his wrists raw during the night.
It was true that he looked the part, he thought. Between his cut and well kissed lips, ravaged wrists and back, and the bruise on his neck, very little was left to the imagination; and what had been was a matter of record now, after the possessive, overwhelming kiss that he'd been subjected to just moments before.
Fraser accepted the water with his usual grace. ] Thank you kindly. [ And sipped it gratefully. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything since their pizza the night before, and the water was cool and soothing, taking his mind - somewhat - off the buzzing need that had insinuated itself just under his skin. He set the glass back down, then, sliding Ray's coat from his shoulders and laying it across the other man's lap, he draped himself across his partner's shoulders, pressing his nose in against his neck.
Fraser didn't linger long, just enough that the warmth of Ray's body made it through his hoodie to Fraser's bare skin, and then he retreated, removing his hat and leaving it on Ray's head like insurance as he put a little space between them at last.
Generally speaking, Fraser was a look but don't touch person. Touching came after looking. This time, he meandered, following the length of the bar, dragging his fingers along the surface. His path, inevitably, led him past the motorcyclist with his head down, which let Fraser get a better look at the bruise on the back of his neck.
His hand came off the bar only far enough to trail across the stranger's shoulders as he passed him, as though not thinking twice about it. In fact it was quite deliberate. The man swung round like an alligator, caught Fraser's wrist in his hand, brought his elbow up into his throat and slammed him backward down against the bar. It would have been enough to knock the wind out of him if Fraser hadn't been ready for it, but as it was it was intended to surprise him, not hurt him, and his head didn't even collide with wood during the assault.
The man appeared angry, but it was a controlled rage, directed, and Fraser knew that he'd been right when he'd looked over moments before; this man was what Ray was only pretending to be, and he'd done it for so long that it came as second nature to him. It wasn't vicious, it was markedly controlled, like a rifle in the hands of a skilled marksman. ]
You think you can just touch me? It don't work that way, cazzone. Stay back! [ Snapped toward Ray and only Ray. From the moment Fraser had woken the dragon, not a single person in the club had moved. ] You don't take this one out in public much, huh? I can tell. Sap as they come but not one iota of common sense. You know who I am, sappenzo? Ey?
[ Eyes and hair as black as stone; Italian descent, the scent of camphor wood and cigars and motorcycle oil. Apart from his expensive boots, this man wore very little leather, only leather stud cufflinks in the button holes of his expensive Armani suit. Underneath the fabric he was built out of pure iron. Even so, Fraser could have resisted if he wanted to, but he stayed where he was put; it suited his cold read. ]
Course you don't. Quiet, that's good. You. [ He looked sharply at Ray. ] Come over here. Come on. You born in Chicago?
no subject
It was true that he looked the part, he thought. Between his cut and well kissed lips, ravaged wrists and back, and the bruise on his neck, very little was left to the imagination; and what had been was a matter of record now, after the possessive, overwhelming kiss that he'd been subjected to just moments before.
Fraser accepted the water with his usual grace. ] Thank you kindly. [ And sipped it gratefully. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything since their pizza the night before, and the water was cool and soothing, taking his mind - somewhat - off the buzzing need that had insinuated itself just under his skin. He set the glass back down, then, sliding Ray's coat from his shoulders and laying it across the other man's lap, he draped himself across his partner's shoulders, pressing his nose in against his neck.
Fraser didn't linger long, just enough that the warmth of Ray's body made it through his hoodie to Fraser's bare skin, and then he retreated, removing his hat and leaving it on Ray's head like insurance as he put a little space between them at last.
Generally speaking, Fraser was a look but don't touch person. Touching came after looking. This time, he meandered, following the length of the bar, dragging his fingers along the surface. His path, inevitably, led him past the motorcyclist with his head down, which let Fraser get a better look at the bruise on the back of his neck.
His hand came off the bar only far enough to trail across the stranger's shoulders as he passed him, as though not thinking twice about it. In fact it was quite deliberate. The man swung round like an alligator, caught Fraser's wrist in his hand, brought his elbow up into his throat and slammed him backward down against the bar. It would have been enough to knock the wind out of him if Fraser hadn't been ready for it, but as it was it was intended to surprise him, not hurt him, and his head didn't even collide with wood during the assault.
The man appeared angry, but it was a controlled rage, directed, and Fraser knew that he'd been right when he'd looked over moments before; this man was what Ray was only pretending to be, and he'd done it for so long that it came as second nature to him. It wasn't vicious, it was markedly controlled, like a rifle in the hands of a skilled marksman. ]
You think you can just touch me? It don't work that way, cazzone. Stay back! [ Snapped toward Ray and only Ray. From the moment Fraser had woken the dragon, not a single person in the club had moved. ] You don't take this one out in public much, huh? I can tell. Sap as they come but not one iota of common sense. You know who I am, sappenzo? Ey?
[ Eyes and hair as black as stone; Italian descent, the scent of camphor wood and cigars and motorcycle oil. Apart from his expensive boots, this man wore very little leather, only leather stud cufflinks in the button holes of his expensive Armani suit. Underneath the fabric he was built out of pure iron. Even so, Fraser could have resisted if he wanted to, but he stayed where he was put; it suited his cold read. ]
Course you don't. Quiet, that's good. You. [ He looked sharply at Ray. ] Come over here. Come on. You born in Chicago?