thelockbox | Benton Fraser

[ Fraser didn't know how to keep down those soft noises forever, not when Ray's tongue lashed against his throat, followed by gentle teeth--he was better ready for them this time, and instead of a shocked gasp he reciprocated with the softest moan.

And he listened, not with his ears but with his body, reaching for the inherent understanding such as that which he used to read the texture of the snow like a storybook. Like this, he tried to interpret Ray's responses instead. He tried to feel him in his fingertips, his heart, tried to hear the meaning in the sound of his breathing, and little by little he was picking up on the intricacies. That sound meant he was doing something right. The fingers in Ray's hair. He pushed them a little deeper, drew his nails gently against Ray's scalp, digging but not pulling, trying to urge him to make the sound again. ]

You like that.

[ And he was still learning, still maneuvering his way through it, and in this case the maneuver was to shift his hips to one side, carefully bringing himself off Ray's lap so that they might better coordinate getting out of their underwear. Not that he went far, he couldn't bear to. ]

[Fraser's noises aren't so bad either. Ray's being attentive enough to listen to the sounds being made and when they're being made, quietly pleased with himself for managing to get a reaction out of the other.

There's certainly reactions being dragged out of him too, those nails digging in causing him to grunt out a noise of quiet pleasure, overly sensitive to every touch.]

Nngh, yeah. Yeah. Real good. C'mon. [The shift from his lap is needed despite Ray's reluctance to let it happen, giving him a chance to make a proper effort to get Fraser out of that last bit of clothing despite having to draw away for a moment.]

[ If he had the wherewithal to do so, Benton might have marveled over his own fondness for Ray, the fact that his friend's frenetic energy was even now not a burden but a benefit. A turn on, if he were to be crass about it. There was no slowing him down, and Fraser had no intention of trying, a soft whisper of a laugh panted into Ray's hair.

Instead his hands sought out the back of Ray's, and a moment later he was ducking down until his forehead brushed against his partner's elbow, kicking his way to freedom. Outside the wind howled a challenge, but for once Fraser ignored the weather, ignored everything but what he was doing--which was, while he was already in a more pragmatic position, helping to divest Ray of his own underwear. His nails scraping against Ray's bared hip bones and the long stretch of thighs that followed was even intentional, as was the blunt-toothed bite he left on naked skin as he moved back up again. Close. Close enough to feel the heat against his chest but not close enough to touch. ]

Now, Ray?

[That interminable energy of Ray's is built up in him like a static, causing his muscles to constantly tremble under the excitement and effort of it all. He's almost not sure what to do with himself, but his focus lies entirely on Fraser, all the little shifts and movements made for his partner's sake.

But he settles for the garment removal, attention locked solidly on Fraser as the Mountie slips from the final confines of covering. And Ray does stare, he stares unabashedly, flushed and panting and eager, his lips curling upwards into a roguish little smile. It doesn't take much for Ray to start whining out a soft moan thanks to those teasing nails, his pitch lifting at the bite. He can feel the heat of Fraser and almost almost arches towards him.]

You uh. We don't have any uh.

[He's pretty sure they didn't pack for this sort of thing. Which is too bad, because now that Fraser's close again, Ray's hands are going right back to gripping at the curve of his ass, unwilling to let his partner go too far.]

[ It's more than rewarding. Benton isn't strictly aware of himself as attractive, but he appreciates the reciprocation, the pure honesty of it. All too often he's aspired too far only to find himself disappointed, but these high aspirations come hand in hand with a core affection such that only partners could share. Ray had come on this mission with him, nevermind the challenges it meant that they would face; he'd trusted him that they would face them together. After all, Fraser always knew what to do.

This time at least--he could provide the necessary solution at the germane moment. ]

Lubricant. [ Because what is awkward. ] Actually Ray, I rarely if ever leave home without it.

[ But before he could explain himself, he had to twist across, reaching for his discarded pack. Fortunately the tent wasn't so large that he had to get away from Ray to twist open the leather strap, and a moment later he was settling back against Ray's warmth, an ancient looking tobacco box held into the space between them. When he twisted it open deftly with one hand, the air filled with the scent of warm leather and sandalwood. This wasn't the moment to explain its purpose, though he could wax lyrical about the many uses of the grease. The truth was its primary function was to soften and protect Fraser's precious boots. ]

[There's a temptation to ask what the hell Fraser's doing with any kind of lubricant, but then Ray remembers he doesn't care. Not to mention he's fully aware of the amount of random balms, ointments and whatever else the Canadian likes to carry with him; he should know, he's had enough of it used on him in the past. At least he's not going to complain about it this time around.

He reaches out towards the box when Fraser presents it, tilting his head to try and get a glimpse of the contents, a curious sniff given.]

Just occasionally, Fraser, yer useful to have around. [For the sake of lube. And also for this sort of thing, he guesses.]

I see. But only occasionally? After all I imagine this is the kind of thing you can usually take care of without my help...

[ He'd had the chance to get his breath back, which was the peril of stopping even for long enough to fetch supplies, but while he was very capable of filling the space with words, he didn't intend to leave it at that. Leaving the tin to Ray, he pulled himself a few inches closer, stretching across the space between them to press a kiss to Ray's shoulder, before flattening his cheek against his chest, trying not to speak too loudly over the rhythm of Ray's heart in his ear. ]

If you could try not to use it all, Ray. ...For a number of reasons, none of which need to be explored at this juncture.

[ And not all of which related to the wellbeing of his boots. For one thing, if this didn't go terribly badly, then the tension levels in the tent the following night might escalate to similar levels...and then where would they be? ]

Occasionally. [He reiterates just to rub it in, because obviously he doesn't need Fraser around. It's not like he'd die cold and alone in the wilderness without his buddy. Although Fraser is becoming kind of useful for this sort of thing, even if it is a first.

The tin is accepted silently, giving him a proper chance to take a look and while his hands are otherwise occupied for the moment, Fraser's getting an appreciative little hum for his closeness. His chest rises and falls under Fraser's ear, his breathing and heart rate having slowed somewhat during the latest pause but already picking up again.

It's the feel of the grease- or rather the knowledge of what he'll do with it- that's got him excited again, coating his fingers in it and dumping the tin aside. When his hand traces downwards, he's leaving a slick trail against Fraser's lower back, fingers slipping cautiously between the curve of cheeks and ever so attentively circling against his entrance. There's something careful about Ray's actions, like he so desperately wants to get it right, watching for reactions with his head tilted down and brows furrowed.]

[ It's the natural rhythm that he thrives on, that collects him when everything else is out of his control. Like hoofbeats or raindrops beating on the ground, or the soft strum of an acoustic guitar, Benton uses the sound to help him find his center in the moment. Ray is a cacophony of sound on a good day, but it's almost compiled itself into a harmony now, chaotic but real, symphonic in its own right. Fraser wrote the meter behind his eyelids, the heartbeat the base, the sound and feel of his breath the strings, the soft, appreciative hum - and he did recognize it as appreciative - making every difficult part of this impossibly worth it.

They might bicker, but they understood each other without words, and just as Fraser could all but feel Ray's nerves twisting the air, he knew his own soothing commitment and trust would be equally well communicated. They could balance each other out like this, find the safer middle ground. As long as they had each other, they could make it through any trial, survive sinking ships and track down fugitives in the wilderness.

And do this.

Raising his head, Fraser braced his arm underneath himself, canting his hips very slightly, legs parting by way of wrapping one across Ray's only to tangle it through once more, hooking his toes at the base of Ray's knee. He didn't say a word, but his breathing slowed and staggered, while Fraser, meanwhile, sought out Ray's line of sight. Flushed, lips parted, he guided him with almost imperceptible little nods of his head, knowing that he could resolve some of Ray's anxiety with minute directions, and pressed back with his hips just in case despite his best intentions the other gestures failed.. ]

[That silent communication has done them well in the past. It's got them through plenty of tough times and has only improved with experience. It takes a real understanding of each other to truly get it and as much as Ray may be loathe to admit that he can interpret Canadian freaks, he's certainly managed to get on the same wave length as his partner. With a few careful glances or subtle hand gestures, the two of them have managed to set up plans of attack in the past, but it's strange just how well the skill has it's other uses.

The silence in the air at that moment is thick, the heavy breathing from both of them barely making a dent in it, but still Ray doesn't speak. He matches Fraser's own quiet, reading into each nod and pant presented without a word and returning his own slow nod; a confirmation and a warning at once.

It's the only notice Fraser gets before those fingers move, pushing one within in one steady movement. He crooks and curls it, massaging lightly, leaving little time before a second slips in alongside the first, a mix of impatience and eagerness.

Beyond the quickened heart beat of excitement, Ray appears surprisingly calm. His gaze never leaves Fraser but he's exactly why Ray's nerves have settled. Staring at his partner is it's own reassurance, a dogged sort of loyalty that tells him if Fraser's okay then he's okay.]

[ Fraser understands. He even tries to be ready, but nothing is quite sufficient to prepare him for the actual feeling, the sensation of a finger pressing inside. No; he's at once ready and not, and his eyes close, brow pinching at the intrusion. It's almost as though the tension that had been in Ray had been drawn into him instead.

But Fraser could conquer tension. A man who could slow his own heartbeat and endure even deliberately dislocating his own shoulders, who on occasion had been known to chew roots and boiled leather for sustenance, could adjust quickly to the sensation. When he relaxes, some of the discomfort seems to release, and Fraser catches on quickly, concentrating on his breathing.

Most of his efforts were foiled when Ray added a second finger, but Fraser was able to open his eyes at least a little, determined to look at Ray, to see him. There was glassy need in his expression now, a dewy frosting to his eyelashes, and for a man who never seemed to perspire, the heat seemed to be having its effect on him, his skin glossy and a whole bead of sweat showing against his temple.

I'm okay. It even felt good. He couldn't say it out loud, but just in case Ray couldn't hear him, he leaned up to kiss him, instead only managing to exhale a moan against his partner's mouth, and then a soft laugh despite himself, his nose bumping against Ray's again.

And speaking of things he'd absorbed from Ray: ] I can... I want you to. I need...

[Ray watches all of it with a curious fascination, absorbing every little nuance and expression he can gain from Fraser. Other than the constant thrum of energy in his taut muscles, Ray remains still, his attention solely focused on working those fingers, experimenting gently which what he can receive from each twist, crook and stretch of them.

It's reward enough to have Fraser looking up at him like that, glazed and wanting, so far removed from the usual. It's even better when his partner is leaning up for an unsuccessful kiss, and Ray's chuckling right back, an exhaled laugh that catches in the back of his throat. This time it's he that helps out, tilting his head and leaning down to catch Fraser's lips after that moan, more of a chaste reassurance than anything else.]

Yeah? Gad, Fraser, yer so hot.

[Attractive, he means. But. It's an accurate description of the temperature too.]

I'll uh. Yeah. [At least Ray can understand it. This is his language, he's got this. At least he thinks he's getting the general idea.

He moves under Fraser enough to shift his weight, trying to use the momentum to get the Mountie on his back and Ray on top without disturbing too much in the process. His fingers only reluctantly move to briefly curl around his own erection, slicking it up with what remaining grease lingered on his fingers.]

[ Hot. Yes, he's hot. Overwhelmingly so, but every inch of it is heat that's been generated by Ray himself. Too hot to get a word out, too distracted by Ray's fingers and his mouth, by the rivulet of sweat that's caught on the precipice of his collarbone, just under the pad of Fraser's thumb.

Comforted by the chuckle, reassured by the kiss, and very much possessed by his wanting, he dropped his weight back down where he was supporting it with his arm, and guided by Ray's push, let himself be rolled over onto his back into the embrace of the furs.

His eyes remained on Ray's even then, one hand on his shoulder where he had no intention of removing it, the side of his thumb against Ray's pulse. His other hand moved down between them, finding Ray's, curling almost slightly against his arousal. His legs were already parted around him to make room, and from here...

He licked his lips. Spoke the answer to a question never asked, but one which had hung in the air for years now: ]

Not just as a woman, Ray. [ He picks his moments. ]

[Ray remains upright while he sorts himself out, on his knees, perched between Fraser's curled legs, attention flicking between the locked gaze and downwards to his current distraction. The added aid of another hand has him panting softly, trying not to work himself up too much before he's even started.

It takes a moment for the spoken words to find their way through Ray's foggy thoughts and even longer for him to decipher them, but when he does he's smiling, something coy about the curl of his lips. It's like that final shred of approval he needed, as if knowing that was enough encouragement to assure him.]

Heh. Yeah. Not so bad yourself.

[His free hand shifts to curl under the crook of one of Fraser's knees, using his grip as leverage to better position himself. Finally he shuffles forward, lining himself up with a slick hand and only once he's certain of his position does he lift his gaze back to Fraser, curious but determined. Another barely-there nod, very little warning before he shifts his hips forward, a slow, easy push as he enters. His breath is almost immediately turning ragged, brows furrowing as if it's taking all of his concentration to take this carefully. Just another little show of some uncharacteristic patience solely for the sake of his partner.]

[ Well, it was a difficult conversation to forget. They'd barely known each other for a week, and Ray had come out of nowhere with the question. A very personal question. It was more relevant now than it had ever been, so it felt good - like drawing a line under it - laying those things blatantly out in the open.

But beyond that, he wouldn't be here if he didn't find Ray attractive. And it was good - so good - to hear it back from Ray. Even if he inherently knew it, somehow he'd needed to hear it too.

Fraser kept his hand on Ray for a moment longer, but only a moment, for as soon as he began to press into him all of his attention and focus was needed elsewhere, and he brought his hand impulsively to Ray's hip instead; not with any intention of guiding him, but simply as a subtle anchor.

It's an entirely different feeling to the fingers. It's Ray; Ray pressing into him, filling him, Ray's breath ragged in the humid air of the tent, Ray's fingers curled into his own bare skin. It might have been uncomfortable, but between the slippery boot grease, his own self control and Ray's efforts to be gentle, the discomfort was already quickly on the way to being forgotten. Benton worked better under pressure. Deliberately exhaling some of his own tension, some of the fog of almost-pain dissolving away without further thought, Fraser twitched his chin upward, meeting Ray's eyes again--he'd been rather distracted with watching himself, or rather with watching Ray pressing into him. And he was very aware of how careful his partner was being. ]

You can't hurt me, Ray. [ He curled his ankles in against the back of Ray's knees. ] I'm ready.

[It was far too easy to lose himself in this feeling, of Fraser, of the heat within the tent, of the quickened pulses and heavy breathing, the warm bodies and careful movements. It's not a sensation he's used to, none of it is, but it's certainly an experience that ranks high.

Again Fraser's words drift to him through a fog, Ray just catching onto them as he grunts a quiet understanding. There's part of him that already knew that, that hurting Fraser seemed like a virtual impossibility in all situations. The infallible Mountie that could avoid bullets and catch knives. But Ray needed to be sure, needed to wait for them both to be ready, mentally as well as physically.

With a huff of effort he pitches forward, practically falling onto Fraser were it not for one hand solidly catching him, placed near Fraser's head to support Ray's weight. He lowers himself awkwardly down to his elbow, allowing for more contact between them and that little bit more intimacy for him to give Fraser the attention he deserves, lips going for his neck.

It's only after Ray's got himself settled against Fraser that he starts to move elsewhere, his hips drawing back as far as he can manage and then easily jerking forward again, the simple little shift back and forth soon matching with the hot breath against Benton's skin.]

[ Fraser welcomes Ray closer in against him, the electric heat of his partner's body pressed against his own, trapping his own arousal there, untouched as it would probably remain. He was too occupied keeping his hands on Ray, where they had never really had the opportunity to be before - groping for his gun or handcuff keys aside - where suddenly he had all the opportunity in the world, but not nearly time or flexibility enough to use it.

So he spread his fingers wide, flattening his hand against Ray's ass, letting his palm and fingertips slip down the back of his thigh. Every marvelous twitch of movement--he felt them, felt the working of muscle, the effort it took to rock into him in every wiry snap and pulse. Ray's heartbeat charged and raced, his panting breaths a roar in his ear, his mouthed kisses warm and soft and absolutely doing nothing to slow down the thundering chase toward oblivion.

And really he wanted to treasure this for as long as possible. Hours would be good. Actually he could probably manage to stretch this out into hours on a good day. Although...yes. That would imply he could actually slow Ray down. Ever. Maybe, if he was the sadistic type. Maybe Ray would even like it if he were. Something to think about.

Where do you go to, Fraser? Right; getting too far ahead of himself. He was brought back down to earth with a jolt by a spark of pleasure leaping through him. His breath staggered. ]

Oh. Oh, that's--that's good, Ray. [ Really good. ]

[Trying to get Ray doing anything for hours would be quite the feat, but it's not beyond the realms of possibility, especially not when Fraser's involved. After all, once Ray's fixated on something, he can keep himself occupied for days.

And he's definitely fixated on Fraser right now. Sort of has been for a long time, but not quite to this extent. Now it's like getting to know each other all over again, a new level of intimacy beyond what they've ever had before. The companionship had always been there, the close feelings and loyalty, but never quite so... invasive.

Ray keeps up a steady rhythm, afraid that any faster, any harder might send him over the edge before he's barely started. There's almost too much stimulation for him to even focus on, and that hand drifting against his skin and settling on the sensitive skin of his thigh just adds to it. His muscles tremble under the warm touch, taut and working, but he works on his angle, trying to catch just the right spot after he hears a reaction.]

Hngh, yeah, y'like-- like that?

[Even though he's rather more limited with his hand usage, supporting himself as he is, Ray still uses the other to trace feather light touches down Fraser's side, barely touching until he sweeps it in between them, barely fitting between their two bodies. But he's all for giving his friend a helping hand and even distracted as Ray currently is, he manages to fumble somewhat awkwardly against the two of them, fingers finding their target and quickly curling around Fraser's arousal. He tries to match the strokes with the movement of his own hips, but there's something to be said for his co-ordination right now, but he's at least giving some fairly skilful swipes of his thumb pad over the tip and jerks of his wrist.]

[ Faster and harder can wait. Right now he still wants to absorb it, drink it in. Ray's more than moving fast enough to make his head spin as it is, and as Ray readjusts so very conscientiously to take him in hand, Fraser at last allows himself to adapt to the changing scenario. He can't feel Ray's pulse from start to finish, needs his hands to support his partner so that he can put his effort into their coupling instead.

He changes his grip, moving it from Ray's throat to a point just under his collarbone, where the natural frame of his chest and ribs would spread the benefit out to where it was needed--hopefully without leaving a bruise. Not that Fraser had any problem with bruises, since his other hand was making them now, strong calloused fingertips digging into Ray's skin, pulling him into each incredible thrust. It vibrated all the way through his body, the pleasure sparking again and again, as though Ray were striking a flint inside, flame licking through his already overheating body. ]

I like-like that.

[ Another breath, and then Fraser's eyes shut for a moment, head knocking back into the fur beneath him with a sharp, deliberate jolt, and he swore in a northern subdialect of some possibly dying out, only spoken by one tribe language. Ray was all around him, inside of him. He branded him, and whilst Fraser was sure that there were indeed circumstances where men could go into the wilderness and engage in this sort of thing without any attachments, the truth was that Ray and Fraser were attached. They'd been that way since long before they first met, like kismet. ]

A-and you? [ He tilted his face back up until his nose brushed against Ray's temple. ] Does it feel--do I? Am I everything you--God, Ray.

[Fraser's everywhere on him, the warmth of his hands spreading through Ray like wildfire, fingers almost burning against his skin. The added support at his torso is a benefit, concerning him less with his balance as his hand works it's magic, alternating grip and method. Even though Fraser's sacrificed the feel of Ray's pulse, he'll still get the heavy heartbeat thumping against ribs, fast even by Ray's hyperactive standards.

The fingers digging deeply into his skin are drawing a lot of Ray's attention back to the shift of his hips, a noise forming in his throat that sounds like a confused mix of a growl and a moan. Either way he likes it, approves of it, perhaps even craves the roughness of it. Ray's always been about the physical, after all, enjoying the reminder that he's alive, that he can feel pain and pleasure. Boxing never has been for the faint of heart.

Sadly Ray's less skilled with the thinking and verbal side of life, and as of right now he's struggling to find anything that can truly depict what he's feeling. Fraser's fumbled questioning has him grunting out agreement, but how does he even start to explain how much it means to him.] Jeezus, this is. This is workin'. This is ah-- ngh-- good. Too damn perfect.

[He tried, at least.

And judging by the shuddering muscles, he's also trying his damned hardest to hold himself together.] Fraser, I can't-- I gotta...

[ Because saying that he like-liked it too was too simple for Ray. But then Fraser wasn't really setting him up to win with the whole tripping over his own questions thing. It was a better answer than he could have asked for, though--infinitely better. Too damn perfect worked just fine for him.

It was the perfect answer.

Maybe next time would be more wrestling, more bumps and scratches and bruises as Fraser got more confident with them, but he was also immensely comfortable with the pace as it was. Ray felt good, the full length of him pressing inside, filling him. The spark had become a flame now, so that every twitch of friction made him feel better and better, so that the only thing he could think of was in fact the spiraling firestorm of pleasure in his veins.

He could only imagine how it felt for Ray. ]

I know. [ The word wasn't a word so much as a gasp, a breath into Ray's hair. More words were an impossible dream. Lights were dancing behind his eyelids, his chest tight, the heat was more overwhelming than he could have ever imagined. He was ready, he felt like he'd always been, and he'd stay with Ray no matter where he led from here. ]

[Next time. Ray can't even consider a next time. He can barely even consider this time. Granted, by the time he's settled in and attempting to sleep later, next time might be all he can think of, but his mind isn't quite capable of thinking that far ahead just yet.

With each passing minute his actions become that little bit more erratic. That little bit more uncoordinated. Hips and hands working out of sync, his breath uneven, muscles straining, all signals that he's getting far too close. He just about manages a mumbled;] Fraser--

[It all happens at once; The curled hand finally stills, grip slackening as his hips give a few final, decisive jerks forward before burying deep. His tongue laps out against the salty skin of Fraser's neck, followed by the briefest scrape of teeth as he lets out a heavy groan, one hot exhale that seems to last. White light blurs into his vision, a strike of lightning or a spark of an explosion, all triggering alongside his release that happens hard and fast, slamming into his senses like freight train. He rides it, savours it, takes in every second of it like it'll be his last. Like every moment in his life has led up to this one evening.]

Edited 2014-07-13 21:52 (UTC)

[ It's almost the lack of synchronization that undoes him in the end. Maybe it's the way Ray says his name, or the mouth on his throat, or the last snap of Ray's hips. Maybe it's the actual feeling of pressure bursting like a faucet as Ray spills himself inside him. Maybe it's Ray's heartbeat against the palm of his hand as it lunged for several beats to full speed while his partner's breath roars against his throat. Maybe it's just everything about it together.

It's glorious, like being shown a piece of heaven, and Fraser's close--almost all the way there, but only almost, and since he wants to surmount that precipice, he doesn't even think twice before his hand slips from Ray's thigh, sliding into the hot space between them to wrap around Ray's hand. It's almost enough in of itself; it takes no more than a single stroke, and the tightening fist of tension closes its bearlike grip, seizing in and then releasing with a bright burst that leaves the world spinning behind. Where Ray groaned against his skin, Fraser cries out so loud that the ears of the wilderness itself hears him, and outside in the snow one of the dogs - not Dief, obviously - starts up a howl that within moments the whole dog pack are echoing.

Any ability it might have had to put him off is inconsequential in the aftermath. Instead it's a soundtrack to Fraser's heavy breathing, his hand still tight around Ray's, as though afraid to let go, afraid to budge an inch and feel the real, sticky truth of what they'd done. No, not afraid--he wasn't in the slightest bit apprehensive. He just didn't want to. There were moments of stillness, and there were moments of stillness, and Fraser wanted to frame this moment, this feeling, for as long as he possibly could. ]

[It takes Fraser's hand at his to remind Ray it's not quite over yet. He could barely even remember his own name, let alone what he's supposed to be doing, his forgetfulness more out of current high than any shred of selfishness.

But he helps where he can, fingers curling tighter as he moves with Fraser, barely even started up again before it's over. And before Ray's even had a chance to piece himself together, he's got Fraser arching under him with a shout that rivals Ray's usual rowdiness, drowning out another muffled moan from him at just how tight Fraser gets around him.

The dogs are a nice touch- something Ray would normal be agitated by and yet tonight finding the nearby howling oddly soothing. Like a distant soundtrack to accompany the heavy breaths and light groans deep within the tent. He doesn't move, instead becoming a dead weight on Fraser, almost boneless as he tries to at least gather enough energy to steady his breathing. Despite his face still buried against the crook of Fraser's neck, he does manage a panted and heavily muffled statement.] Holy fuck, Fraser...

Edited 2014-07-14 00:47 (UTC)

[ Holy fuck indeed.

Not that Fraser has much fight in him left to tell Ray off for his language. His eyes are half closed, his legs wound tight around the backs of Ray's, wrapped like vices that had slowly tightened their grip throughout their coupling. His hand slowly releases, though his fingers feel like the cartilage in the joints has fused together they're so stiff, and the feeling of stickiness is there as anticipated. Unabashedly he raises his fingers, lets them slide against Ray's stomach just for a moment, before he slips his hand free, using almost the last of his energy to drop it across Ray's hip casually instead.

Fraser licks his lips, tilts his head forward ever so slightly, letting his slowing breath linger against Ray's ear, and purrs out his own appreciative words. His voice is a low rumble from his afterglow, quite the opposite of the shout from before, though it's more than obvious that this kind of thing loosens him up. His guard is down--it may even stay that way for days. He can't help it, it's just the way he's wired ]

You weren't bad yourself.

Benton Fraser | Due South

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