thelockbox | Benton Fraser

[Well, it may all be very adorable were it not entirely infuriating. Ray doesn't even know what Fraser's doing at first, wound up as he is by his partner totally ignoring the questions he throws his way, but then he get its, he catches onto the whole silence thing.

Ah, he said subs had to be quiet so Fraser's being quiet. He gets it. Except...]

Fraser! This isn't a game. C'mon, I gotta, uh, I need...

[What he needs is help, but he can't ask help from the one guy he's just lectured about how in charge he is. So Ray supposes he should grab some ~~balls~~ bulls and starting running. There is, however, a vast amount of awkwardness that follows as he closes the final bit of distance between them, arms still folded and shoulders hunched defensively. When he does move, it's only to shift one hand, reaching out oh-so-slowly to carefully brush against that odd scar on Fraser's shoulder and then withdrawing seconds later.]

Okay, I'm done. We done? Practice over.

Edited 2014-07-16 05:18 (UTC)

[ He stays dead quiet, obedient, and sees where it leads him, and while it takes Ray just a moment too long to get it he does eventually, rallying to his own flag. After that it's time to see whether Ray getting it leads to him actually fulfilling their respective roles. Burying his own apprehension - he's let so many strangers touch him while he's playing statue that a friend touching him is nothing - Fraser submits, letting Ray come closer, reading his partner's own nerves in the angle of his body and the uncertainty of his touch against the ragged scar on his clavicle.

And then at once Ray is pulling back like the contact burned him. Pulling back, but not pulling away.

A long pause, deliberate eye contact, and now it's Fraser's turn. Fortunately he's only been given one order. Nobody told him to stand still and do nothing - that's not his job here - and when Ray seems like he's ready to bolt after all, Fraser only fills the space with quiet confidence, raising his hand to Ray's jaw and closing the distance between them to brush the sweetest of lingering kisses against his mouth. At least for that Fraser's eyes close. He'd count to three before he withdrew. Three seemed like a good, fair number. ]

[Even after he pulls away Ray can still feel the warmth of Fraser on his fingertips, burning into him. It's not even remotely the first time they've come into contact with one another, but this just feels different. This isn't two cop partners doing their normal duties, this is locked in a room with a topless Mountie trying to work out the finer points of dominance.

Usually he'd be glad to shut Fraser up for even a few minutes, but this willing silence is somehow discomforting, as if all he needs right now is the verbal approval that he just can't get.

Ray's tempted to bail out, to step back and walk away, but just as he's considering turning tail he sees the shift of Fraser's hand. Before he has time to think on it there's lips on his, soft and somehow reassuring and yet thankfully brief, his eyes slip shut for those few lingering seconds but other than that Ray doesn't react. Isn't really sure how to react beyond blinking back at Fraser after it's over, lips slightly parted. There's a logical part of him (yes, logic) that tells him how very, very bad this all is, and yet the other half would just as happily fall back into that kiss and against the supporting hand.

When he does eventually think of a reply it's with a quiet, dry voice.] ... I don't know if I can, uh.

[He's not even sure what it is he can't do. A lot of things, really.]

[ The non-reaction is one of those warning signs Fraser's attuned to look out for. It's almost as if it's Ray's pre-breakdown sign. Getting anger out of him is one thing, making him think is wonderful, and shocking him is a frequent possibility--but speechless and staring and not even vibrating isn't right, as though if Ray actually did stop moving he might cease brain function entirely. In fact, that Ray hasn't made a break for the door is almost worse than if he had. At least an attempt at escape might have been justified in this circumstance.

Fraser's hand, meanwhile, hasn't fallen away from his partner's jaw. It stays there, warm and reassuring, while Fraser brings the other up to find Ray's. It's easy enough when Ray's holding it out from his body ever so slightly, as though in touching Fraser it had acted without his permission. Very slowly, as though adjusting a rifle sight without disturbing his prey, he guided Ray's hand to his flank, where just the tips of his fingers would brush against the scar tissue on his back. Getting Ray to touch him was half the battle; in truth, the illusion of intimacy would be impossible without it.

The hand at Ray's jaw rose half an inch, smoothing Ray's flyaway hair back behind his ear, and Fraser leaned in close, brushing a kiss where his fingers had been once before, and softly breaking the rules that had been laid out for him, with the justification that if they were still undercover rather than really doing this, bending the edges of the rules might be important. He couldn't very well stay put as ordered if they had a footchase on their hands.

And Ray needed his reassurance. The silence was unsettling him, now he had it. ]

I believe you can, Ray. Trust me.

[The stillness remains just long enough to be slightly concerning, his attention still locked entirely on Fraser, his mind still virtually incapable of processing what's happening or how to go about it. Fraser, on the other hand, doesn't appear (at least on the outside, Ray can never speak for the Mounties mental state) to be having any issues with any of this, smooth and confident and oddly knowing just how to handle the situation. Ray's left like a fish out of water that's not even bothered to squirm out it's final death wriggle. He's uncertain and totally perplexed by the idea that any of this should ever be normal behaviour. Partners can't do this. This sort of stuff makes partners into... partners.

As Ray finally tunes back into the real world, he notices his hand moving- not of it's own choice- to rest at Fraser's back, fingers curling against the curve of his spine. All Ray can think about, yet again, is the heat, the warmth that drains into his fingers as he rests them there. He barely even registers the lips against his face, but just like that and for perhaps no visual reason, Ray starts to shiver. All pent up energy, frustrations, uncertainty and every single other emotion just fighting to get out. But he's scared to use them, not when it's Fraser.]

Fraser... this is uh, this is... heh. I uh, don't think we should, uh... [This feels more than practice for a job. This is intimate. More than Ray's used to. And yet still he hasn't pulled away or resisted.] You uh. You take the wheel for a second. [It's possibly cowardice, maybe even selfishness that has him passing the buck for an undetermined amount of time, but Ray doesn't want to be held responsible for anything this might change. If their friendship screws up, Ray likes someone to blame that isn't himself. And Fraser's so easy to blame.]

[ Fraser knows he's going to be handed back control long before it happens. He'd suspected it would happen at the very moment Ray had first recoiled. At last, it seems, some of that movement comes back, enough that Fraser no longer thinks his partner is about to combust on the spot.

Ray just needs time to adjust, to decide how this is going to work, perhaps even to unjumble some of the feelings he was having about it--though the latter sometimes seemed to take time and potential heartbreak to accomplish. Where Fraser's emotions were - in general - neatly ordered and pigeonholed, Ray didn't have that benefit. Of course he also didn't know that Fraser had considered kissing him long before this point; had imagined that one of the times Ray snagged his arm and pulled him through the door into Welsh's broom cupboard second office it might have been for something other than to be overheard talking. It had, at least, occurred to him, and that gave him an uncanny advantage.

Not that Fraser hadn't carefully and adjustedly buttoned up any such thoughts years ago, without a second thought, and shelved them for the sake of professionalism.

Carefully Fraser ran his hand up along Ray's arm, then up to his shoulder. His other hand fell from Ray's cheek, swiftly but gently moving to settle featherlight at Ray's waist. Three points of a dance hold, and Ray with the last part to do. ]

Put your hand on my shoulder, and close your eyes. Tell me: Can you hear it, Ray? The music?

[ Because if he could only give Ray something familiar to focus on, he might be able to help him to find his center. ]

[Any concept of kissing before this point had never even crossed Ray's mind. Or if it had, he'd certainly buried it deep. Sure there'd been that time in the sinking ship that had caused a few alarming questions to spark in Ray's mind, but Fraser had brushed it off so casually as 'routine' that he'd pushed it no further. After that, Ray had done well in keeping any thoughts deeply closeted.

Perhaps that's part of the reason for the energy thrumming inside of him, something that's long been locked away that's finally getting it's time in the open air, although still resisted rather spectacularly by Ray.

When Fraser starts to move in a way that's familiar, Ray doesn't fight it. He lets his friend fall into what he recognises as a dance hold, and ever so slowly he responds. He keeps the hand at Fraser's back for convenience sake, fingers dusting against the vicious scar tissue, a little too low for anything deemed professional but this is just between friends. His other raises, hesitates mid-air and then makes the decision to do as instructed, resting a loose grip at Fraser's shoulder. It's all done in one movement, his eyes slipping shut as he does so and inhaling heavily. When he does exhale, it's with a slow, thoughtful hum, nodding carefully along to Fraser's words. He listens, he listens with everything he's got, focusing every point into the two of them, into the wind outside, the quiet ticking of a clock in the distance, of their breathing currently no quite in sync and their heartbeats the same. Ray can make anything into music, he can shuffle in silence when without a sound system.]

Yeah. Yeah, I got it. [And he's swaying just slightly against Fraser to his own little rhythm.]

Edited (you didn't see that typo) 2014-07-16 16:11 (UTC)

[ Fraser stays calm, his breathing steady, determined to make himself a calming influence for Ray one breath at a time. It's working; he can feel it working, and he shifts gently in rhythm with the other man. They blend into each other, partners into the fray, now dance partners. More, at least in appearance.

As Ray sways, Fraser eases in closer, lets his chest almost touch against Ray's, their arms crossed, his nose near the other man's ear. It's comfortable, safe, and Fraser benefits from it too, from the advantage that having a few moments to think gives him. His shoulders relax, his posture softens, and he raises his eyes toward the plaster ceiling. ]

Are you feeling any better?

[ Maybe he'd move on, and maybe he already knew, but he needed Ray to know that he felt better more than he needed to hear it himself. ]

[As their breathing steadies it starts to fall into sync, an unconscious little habit Ray has from dancing; better to fully merge with a dance partner and become one for the sake of rhythm. The slow shifts and sways keep him in his own little world, but he's distantly aware of Fraser, of how he starts to relax into the hold and of how Ray relaxes in turn.

This is something he knows in a whole sea of unfamiliarity and if he were more aware of what was going on, he might be more thankful for Fraser thinking of it. It was a good idea, but it's not really a surprise considering Fraser is often the source of good ideas.]

Mmhm. [He hums out his agreement, one more steady breath before his eyes cautiously open to stare at the plain closet in view.]

Better.

You?

[ Well that's Fraser through and through, a man of good ideas. Ray's gentle humming and the serenity that he seems to have fallen into is almost surreal; if Fraser had known he could induce a state of calm like this from dancing with him before he might have insisted upon it long before now.

He tilts his head very slightly down, looking at the closed, blank face of the door, then down toward Ray's neck. Almost unintentionally his head inclines slightly, his breath gusting against his partner's skin. It's not really that surprising; circumstances are favorable, they're too close for Fraser to avoid it, even if he wanted to. After all they'd already shared a kiss.

Well. He'd shared a kiss with Ray. Hardly the same thing. ]

Much. [ Perhaps as far as he'd go to voicing his own apprehension. ] Perhaps before we raise the jeopardy...we should concentrate on accomplishing...this.

[It's not exactly surprising that Stella spent much of her time dancing with Ray, considering it's one of the few things that can get him calm and focused enough to not be bouncing off the walls for once. And that's also exactly why Ray loves dancing so much, giving him at least one outlet where his mind isn't racing a hundred miles an hour and spouting useless information, thoughts bouncing around like a pinball.]

Concentrate on this? Like uh, the uh, the dancin' or...? [He gets the general idea, he'd just prefer not to think on in. Thinking is bad, so much so that he once again distracts himself by lifting his hand from Fraser's shoulder and grasping for the his partners hand down by his waist. Intertwining their fingers in a loose clasp, he raises both hands just slightly above and away from their shoulders in another typical stance, still swaying softly against and with the other body.]

We gotta do this properly if we're gonna do it.

[ It's something. It's the first thing Ray's done that wasn't an order or a gesture instructed physically by Fraser, and he accepts the fingers winding in his own, lets him raise them. He folds his own fingers in somewhat, clasping Ray's hand a little tighter of his own accord. His face turns slightly inward, forehead brushing briefly against Ray's temple.

He inhaled. If Ray were still afraid, Fraser couldn't smell it on him. Sure, he wasn't himself yet, but the gentle swaying had done the trick. The question was whether Ray could maintain that calm. ]

Like the dancing, or--?

[ But it's only a gentle murmur. He's teasing, mostly. He knows what Ray means; just as he knows that Ray knew what he'd meant before. Just as he knows that Ray will read beyond the obvious meaning when he says: ]

That depends. Are you ready to lead, Ray?

[Oh, he picks up on the careful teasing. It's oddly reassuring to hear Fraser be something other than his overly polite self, and it makes Ray smile ever so lightly into the the embrace. Now that they're standing there, hold still in place, their warmth doesn't feel so distracting any more. Even Fraser's careful shifts and brushes against him feel less uncomfortable. It really is amazing what dancing can do for the sake of his sanity, to calm his nerves and allow him to lose himself.

He huffs out an amused exhale against Fraser's skin before finally drawing back just enough to spare a glance to his partner. It's a tough question to decipher, but the meaning is easy enough to know.

Ray ducks his head out of sight again to ponder over his reply, not entirely sure on his response.]

I uh. I can show you. Show you what you gotta do. What to expect, yeah?

How I should act?

[ It takes him a moment to wrap his head around it; he has to reflect on the entire conversation, in fact, but when he meets Ray's eyes, thoughts processed, he thinks he understands. Ray will show him how to play his role, then tomorrow night when they took this to the club, Ray might perhaps be more ready to take the lead.

This was the only way that Ray could say it that wasn't so blatantly obvious. The only way he could hand over the wheel without taking his hands off it. ]

I understand, Ray.

[ And Fraser leans back into the space, and in a low timbre he enunciates his way through the languishing melody of the ook pik waltz, guiding Ray in slow, careful steps. Leading, rhythm and steady calm, spoken words murmured into the break in the melody: ]

I'm going to kiss you again, Ray. [ More soft humming. ] Don't be afraid. [ And more; ] This time, I would very much like it-- [ Too many words, but their feet are light, so soundless across the floorboards that they may as well be dancing on air. He finished the refrain, brought them back down to earth and bumped his nose against Ray's. ] --if you were to kiss me back.

[ Like so. His kiss is just as tender as before, but this time Fraser lingers, waiting for the reciprocation he'd asked for. ]

[If nothing else, Ray can rely on Fraser to almost always understand where he's coming from. Even without words, they tend to somehow get one another's plans. Ray wasn't exactly clear on his meaning, but Fraser still understood, still got the passing over of the lead without Ray ever actually having to admit it with proper words.

He could dominate, sure. Ray's displayed that in the past without question, in fact, his whole bravado tended to rest on being the over confident 'alpha' male, squaring off with fist fights and countering every little issue he could with loud arguments. But with the intimacy as it was, with Fraser being... Fraser, and the vague awkwardness that still lingers in Ray's conscience, it's difficult for him to really let go when he's uncertain. And around Fraser it's so easy to just do what he says.

The distraction of the humming keeps his mind in check, keeps him from over thinking it all too much because yes, Ray Kowalski does over think just occasionally.]

Yeah. Okay.

[This time he's ready for it, with ample warning and the relaxing thrum of a waltz still stuck in his head and leading his feet. He's used to this sort of embrace, of kissing while dancing, losing himself to the rhythm and feel, and as Fraser's lips brush against his he's ready to react. His head tilts for a better angle, lets the linger happen for just a moment longer before pressing into the kiss, mouth parting just slightly. There's still that distant reminder that this is Fraser in a back office of the consulate, and it niggles just enough to keep Ray in line.]

[ Fraser can almost feel him over-thinking it, and while he's confident he's settled much of it with the waltz, there's that distant uncertainty in the kiss that he can't quite put his finger on, but which he would guess was related to the fact that they were close friends, and this sort of intimacy wasn't something either of them really knew how to work with.

Well...that wasn't totally true. Fraser knew what to do. Okay, he knew the basics. The rest he'd work out as they went along.

He knows it's too easy. That a kiss can be a kiss but that it's also so much more than that, and he can pretend otherwise but...well, here they are. Kissing. Intimately. In his office. He should pinch himself just to make sure he's not dreaming. Ray's mouth was pliant, but more importantly Fraser was suddenly aware of his partner's coordination, the way Ray's body shifted in perfect rhythm without disturbing the kiss, the fact that he didn't fumble or stumble even for a second. He was almost a different man like this; the man that Fraser had seen hinted at beneath the chaotic surface. A beautiful soul of a man, and this a side of him that few people ever saw. Felt. Kissed.

Fraser turned half an inch of height into a mile, inclined the kiss so that Ray's face was turned upward, putting him in his place. There was a roughness there, raw power restrained, as Fraser's teeth caught against Ray's bottom lip, barely there as he sought the opportunity to deepen the kiss still further. When he did, Ray's mouth was his dominion, and Fraser didn't hesitate, lashing his tongue against Ray's own, all but counting each of his teeth in turn. There was no holding back. ]

[In some ways Ray isn't surprised at just how well they soon sync up, bodies moving together without mistakes made. He is surprised that Fraser has some semblance of rhythm considering his previous displays but he doesn't have much time to think on it considering the current situation.

As the kiss opens up, the movement from Ray's dancing comes to a slow stop, his previously leading hand clasping onto Fraser's slowly lowering itself. Once his focus is drawn towards those lips it's difficult to focus on much else, and it's definitely not easy to draw attention away from just how swiftly Fraser ramps it up.

Tender and lingering soon becomes raw and unrefined, overpowering even in the brief display shown. Fraser uses his height to his advantage and Ray really can't criticise him for that, can't even do much beyond relent against the force of it all.

While Fraser's witnessing a calmer more co-ordinated side of Ray, Ray's witnessing virtually the opposite from his partner, rough and overbearing and very un-Canadian. And yet it's something he knew had always been there, even witnessed the briefest flash of something on the rare times Fraser displayed annoyance, anger or even attraction. It's the wild spirit for a man of the wild, untamed but very well restrained.

The ownership over his mouth manages to get a soft moan from him, almost bordering on a whine as presses his own tongue into the fray, battling back without trying to press any advantage. He may decide to argue, in time, but for now he'll see just how much Fraser knows of all of this.]

[ As Ray stills, so does Fraser. He's far too occupied to even consider trying to split his attention to urging the dance on again. Much too busy.

From Fraser pours raw, almost unrefined passion, urged on by Ray's tender moan, by the clash of a tongue against his own, albeit only one that challenged his advantage without actually having the fight to press it. Where the first kiss had been the first round in a boxing match, testing, this kiss was the second round in turn. Ray let the blows come, and both of them had the quiet understanding that they could both do real harm if they really wanted to.

Wild passion was what lurked at Fraser's core. Serenity at Ray's. Well--Serenity broken by pleasure, or surprise, or...whatever that sound meant. Fraser couldn't be sure. Maybe because he hadn't ever heard it before. The tongue lashing had to stop, but only because he was panting, and only because in a single step - while his usual control had been slipping - Fraser had pushed Ray back the one step between himself and Fraser's desk, and the phone had rattled from the impact enough to make a startled ringing sound. His hands unwound, settling on the edge of the desk, and the kiss hung in place but a breath apart, while Fraser tried to stop some of the spinning in his head. Maybe...maybe he wanted this far too much. They should slow down. He was forgetting his mission.

There were a thousand good reasons.

He licked his lips, suddenly more nervous than he cared to admit. ] Something like that?

[If this were a boxing match, it's hard to tell who's winning. Fraser certainly has the advantage- one they'd both agreed on- but Ray most certainly wouldn't call himself a loser in all of this. This was impossible not to enjoy in some sense of the word.

He's almost to the point of making complaint the instant Fraser withdraws but the shove of weight stops him, his previously well balanced stance becoming a clumsy stumble as he can do little more than let gravity take it's course. The desk does break his fall, but it's so solid that it gives no resistance to the weight of the both of them slamming into it. Naturally Ray takes almost the entirety of the force, grunting out a hefty exhale and struggling to gather air back into his lungs. The distraction of Fraser makes it all the more bearable, and with his closeness of them both still there it settles Ray to get his breath coming back steady and deep.

When there is a pause for reflection, he loses himself to staring up at his partner, his own expression curious as he tries to read into the emotion on Benton's features.

He gets the dilemma they're both facing, and just how far this could go, but in true Ray fashion he decides to finally sweep too much of the logic aside and listen to his currently rapidly beating heart.]

That's about it, yeah. [Exhaled out.]

More to it than that though.

[With a sudden case of noodle limbs, Ray's arms slip away from Fraser, using the moment to attempt and awkward shrug out of his hoody in the confined space he has.]

Edited 2014-07-16 23:58 (UTC)

[ For one brief, terrifying moment, Fraser thought that perhaps Ray was about to try to wriggle his way to freedom. His instinct was to let him, shocked more at himself after all for the sudden burst of unrelenting, unfamiliar passion. It took him the space of a staggered heartbeat - too long - to realize that Ray wasn't going anywhere. All he was trying to do was get out of his clothes.

Nothing wrong with that, right?

No. No, he was missing something here. Control; he was supposed to have control. And there was nothing controlling about letting Ray squirm his way out of his clothing of his own account. Fraser only hesitated for a moment longer, and then he was tilting himself back upright--albeit reticently, he'd been quite happy where he was. ]

Stop.

[ The word - the order - felt strange in his mouth, especially considering how badly he suddenly wanted - needed - Ray to do anything but stop.

But there was more to it than this...this very real risk of simply pouring frantic energy into each other like teenagers in the dark. It wasn't why they were here, and Fraser would find it hard to justify himself if they didn't achieve any of the goals they'd set out for. Maybe this was the real problem with the way he lived his life. So much passion pent up like this wasn't good for a person. His mouth felt dry, his breathing was anything but even, but he drew himself back enough that Ray would be able to sit back up should he want to. Or need to.

A deep breath. Another. Fraser counted all the way down from ten, then gave the slightest nod of his head. ]

Okay. Now you can take it off. [ Was that enough? He amended it: ] Slowly.

[The order comes out sharp. Sharp enough to have Ray halting mid squirm, frozen to the spot with one arm twisted awkwardly half out of a sleeve as he stares at Fraser with a light frown of questioning. At first he wonders if something happened, if perhaps there was an urgent need for Ray to keep his jacket on, or for him to stop squirming for fear of breaking something, but when nothing further comes for some time, he's just left there guessing, unmoving.

And then he gets it, a sudden realisation as Fraser sits back that the halting was part of it all. Part of this 'practice' they had going on. Communication was important, he considers, as is doing as he's told, but that may be a little more difficult. Ray's not used to getting permission for things, especially not dressing or undressing himself.]

Fraser-- [He starts with an eye roll as the verbal 'order' comes but catches himself the moment the name leaves his lips. It's either this or him trying to give the orders and he's not really sure what the better choice is right now. So he'll play along, the pause they've had bringing back some of that cockiness as he starts up his actions again. With the added space he's now got he can arch himself upwards and easily allow the garment to slip from his shoulders and down his back. The gun holster at his shoulder is snapped off quickly, dropped aside easily and then his hands drift down the flat of his own torso, crossing over one another as he reaches the hem of his t-shirt. And then he pauses, head tilted downwards as his eyes flick up to Fraser, all blue eyed and sultry as his lips curl up into a roguish little smile, mischievous and cocky and only broken by him tugging the shirt upwards and off, ruffling his hair on the way.]

[ Fraser should have been warned. Someone should have warned him that Americans could do this very well. In the Yukon, getting in and out of clothes was all about haste and practicality. Stopping to actually absorb the show didn't occur to people when it was ten degrees below. Ray, on the other hand--Ray knew what he was doing, and Fraser was by no means ready for what the demonstration would do to him.

It was true. If they did this in the club and somehow Ray was able to be submissive in a public venue, Fraser would ruin the whole thing in short shrift, either by being too conservative or else melting under the power of a single lascivious look.

Or in this case a grin.

Maybe it was because Ray had caught him looking. From the start he hadn't been able to take his eyes off him, and even though at one point he deftly reached out to push Ray's gunbelt - and his own, similarly discarded - into the top drawer of his desk, Fraser hadn't so much as glanced down to do it. His cheeks were flushed, lips already bruising from the kiss, slightly parted, and as Ray's hands flattened against his abs it took everything in his power not to reach out. The cocky smile was his final breaking point. Instinctively Fraser laid his hand in the very center of Ray's bare chest, as though he could somehow hold the effect Ray was having on him down.

It didn't work. The bare skin under his hand was hot, and Fraser's hand crept higher, and a moment later he was leaning over him again, skin almost touching skin, his face tilted back slightly away from Ray's. It was fortunate he'd come up with this part ten minutes before. Without his predisposition to plan in advance, Fraser would be speechless now, and Ray and his mischievous grin would have won. ]

We're going to play a game, Ray. [ His hand moved back down again. Fraser was almost close enough to kiss him. Almost. ] The rules are very simple. I ask you a trivia question about myself, and for every right answer you give me--well, you'll see. Do you want to play? Of course you do.

[ It wasn't as though Ray had a choice. That was Fraser's call to make. ]

The first one is easy. What year was I born?

Edited 2014-07-17 01:50 (UTC)

[That method was experimental on Ray's behalf, seeing just what buttons he could push while still doing as he's told. It would appear there were ways to make himself feel in control for just seconds at a time while following orders, just like in his work. This time it just meant throwing a few tempting glances and lascivious little smiles. He can work with that, and apparently it works just fine with Fraser too who certainly looks to be appreciating the show judging by the unwavering stare.

The top is tossed aside carelessly, his arms behind himself and using his elbows to prop him up just enough that when Ray leans down they're practically torso to torso. His heart thumps against the warm touch of a hand, his slim chest rising and falling under it and he briefly considers how the skin almost burns under the heat of Fraser's palm.

There's some surprise that Fraser's even able to structure proper sentences, but worse is the fact he's asking Ray to do the same. To think. Ray knows Fraser's basics, knows the file he glanced at before he met, but that seems so long ago. How Ray's meant to recall any information while laying under Fraser, let alone his own birth date, is a mystery. Oh and thanks for making decisions for him Fraser, real appreciated.]

Uh. [He stares for a moment, distracted but trying desperately to kick his brain into gear.]

Nineteen, uh. Nineteen.. sixty-- uh. [God, it's got to be around then, similar ages. He's trying desperately to recall those files.] Nineteen sixty... ?

Edited 2014-07-17 02:16 (UTC)

[ Trying to think straight is how Fraser gets out of most situations like this, and in this one all he wants is a little bit of rudimentary control, the chance to do something before his bones turn to slush from the efforts of the volcanic hot blood in his veins melting the rest of him away.

That isn't to say that Fraser intends to play fair, and as soon as Ray begins to try to speak, Fraser lowers himself several inches, pressing a kiss to the center of Ray's chest, just above his fingers. He lays his cheek down, dragging it over to the left. Nineteen sixty, Ray says. Good start. He's almost there.

And surely this one is plenty simple. Surely Ray remembers when he was born. After all it isn't much to ask that his closet friend actually remembered any of the things Fraser told him, right? Really, Kowalski! You had one job!

But Fraser waits, and nothing materialises, and his eyes flick briefly up toward his partner's again. Well okay then. If he's disappointed, Fraser doesn't show it; instead he keeps on. His mouth smooths kisses against Ray's right pectoral - Fraser's left - and his tongue lathes across Ray's nipple, no hesitation at all as hit mouth closes over it.

No hesitation when he bites, just hard enough to cause pain. ]

Sixty-two. [ And because it wasn't easy enough, apparently-- ] What's my father's name, Ray?

Edited 2014-07-17 02:42 (UTC)

[Ray's energy is definitely back in full force, jittering slightly as he lays still under Fraser, a coil of anxious nerves as his answer sits in the air. He knows it's wrong, deep down, but it's a guessing game with the space of a few years. If he actually really thought about it he might have dragged the answer up, but Fraser really isn't helping the matter with his lips.

He watches Fraser carefully and the second their eyes connect he knows he's got it wrong. Not that he has much time to worry himself over it because without warning there's teeth, and they're biting sharply around the flesh of his nipple. Ray hisses out heavily, unable to recoil beyond jerking under Fraser's weight.]

Ahh! Fraser! Wh-- [What the actual fuck. Although his rant is rather thankfully cut short as the next question comes, Ray briefly dwelling on the last answer, and he pants out heavily. That bite certainly got his blood flowing.]

Sixty-two. I meant sixty-two. I knew that. I... [Come on Ray, focus.] Gad, uh. I don't... uh... Robert!

Edited 2014-07-17 03:04 (UTC)

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