[ So much for synchronized, anticipating each other's every move. Still, no noses get broken, and that's mostly because Fraser is tipping so very gently into it, as though for the first time. His breath gusted against Ray in the exhale, but there was no assault - not yet - just tender searching, the brush of a mouth against a mouth in the dark, slotting into place.
The sound of his name murmured against his mouth is deeply satisfying, and for all that it might be an effort to remind him that they're doing this in public or they ought to be working, or Welsh is going to kill them if he finds out they were necking in a closet when Ray was already well past being late--for all that it might be a warning, Fraser was well past hearing such nuances. He heard what he wanted: he heard his name murmured the way it had been last night, with his hands straining in the cuffs, and the heat of his tongue lashing his partner's thigh.
And those weren't exactly the prurient thoughts that any man, no matter the billow of his breeches, ought to be having in a closet in a packed police-station.
The kiss that had started out so tenderly suddenly changed gear. Fraser stepped forward, all but carrying Ray off the floor with him, knocking his partner forcefully against shelves of blank copy and toilet rolls. A half open box of biros spilled several more of its contents onto the floor, but Fraser was already far past tuning it out, his mouth mashing against Ray's, teeth clacking together, tongue probing, clashing, fighting for heat and space and contact and reality. Because what was real any more? Were they? Was this?
Fraser didn't breathe - either didn't dare to or didn't have time to - and it was only as he snaked one hand around Ray's hip and ground deliberately - deliriously - against him, that he even made a sound, panting a whimper into their kiss.
Because there was reality after all, the reality that insisted that an earnest kiss in the closet was one thing, but that being discovered dry grinding against his partner would be much more difficult to explain. Nevermind how hard it was going to be to stand in Welsh's office with the encounter's physical effects still bearing him down. ]
Ray. [ Pleading. He wanted more, couldn't help himself, and for once didn't have the discipline to stop this before it went too far. ] Ray.
no subject
The sound of his name murmured against his mouth is deeply satisfying, and for all that it might be an effort to remind him that they're doing this in public or they ought to be working, or Welsh is going to kill them if he finds out they were necking in a closet when Ray was already well past being late--for all that it might be a warning, Fraser was well past hearing such nuances. He heard what he wanted: he heard his name murmured the way it had been last night, with his hands straining in the cuffs, and the heat of his tongue lashing his partner's thigh.
And those weren't exactly the prurient thoughts that any man, no matter the billow of his breeches, ought to be having in a closet in a packed police-station.
The kiss that had started out so tenderly suddenly changed gear. Fraser stepped forward, all but carrying Ray off the floor with him, knocking his partner forcefully against shelves of blank copy and toilet rolls. A half open box of biros spilled several more of its contents onto the floor, but Fraser was already far past tuning it out, his mouth mashing against Ray's, teeth clacking together, tongue probing, clashing, fighting for heat and space and contact and reality. Because what was real any more? Were they? Was this?
Fraser didn't breathe - either didn't dare to or didn't have time to - and it was only as he snaked one hand around Ray's hip and ground deliberately - deliriously - against him, that he even made a sound, panting a whimper into their kiss.
Because there was reality after all, the reality that insisted that an earnest kiss in the closet was one thing, but that being discovered dry grinding against his partner would be much more difficult to explain. Nevermind how hard it was going to be to stand in Welsh's office with the encounter's physical effects still bearing him down. ]
Ray. [ Pleading. He wanted more, couldn't help himself, and for once didn't have the discipline to stop this before it went too far. ] Ray.