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Ray stands in front of the mirror and wonders, as he so often does, what Fraser sees in him.
To his own curious glance, he is all bones and awkward angles, tanned skin dotted with occasional freckles, lean muscles, the red-and-black of his tattoo and the sudden flash of his grin. Hair that juts up in staccato spikes, wet and experimental after his shower. A lived-in face, rough-edged and angular.
In Fraser's eyes, he is somehow so much more.
He still doesn't get that, but Ray is the last person in the world who would question his good luck. He's never been one for looking into the mouth of gift horses.
The front door thumps closed and the sound of booted feet and wolf claws on linoleum echoes through the apartment.
"Ray?"
"In here," he hollers back, picking up his brush and running it quickly through his hair, distracted by thoughts of dinner and the pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen and the special showing of Casablanca they've talked about trying to catch tomorrow night.
Fraser appears behind him, wraps his arms around Ray's chest and pulls him back, burying his nose into the nape of Ray's neck and inhaling deeply. The feel of Fraser's warm breath sends shivers down his back and a zing through his blood, making him suddenly aware that he's standing here with nothing more than a towel slung low over his hips, while Fraser is fully dressed and pressing himself close to Ray.
It makes him feel vulnerable and exposed, being mostly naked while Fraser's not and he's okay with that, because he trusts Fraser. Trusts Fraser like he's never trusted anyone before in his life.
Fraser makes a sexy grumbling-growling noise in his ear and hugs Ray tighter, ignoring his gasp of surprise. Reaching down, Fraser loosens the knotted ends of the towel with a flick of his broad, competent hand and lets it slither to the floor.
Ray thrusts his hips forward the tiniest bit, searching for friction, testing the waters and trying to see where Fraser is going with this.
Fraser actually has a mean streak a mile wide; he likes to tease Ray for hours, touching and licking and sucking until Ray is writhing on the bed, pleading. Usually, he keeps Ray right there, on the edge, forcing Ray to take and take until there is nothing left of Ray but desperate want and wild, needy noises.
Humming softly, Fraser caresses the dusting of hair on Ray's belly before he moves lower, firmly taking Ray's hard cock into his warm hand.
Not slow, then. Fast and hard.
As Fraser starts to stroke, his other hand sneaks across Ray's chest to his nipple, pulling on the silver ring threaded through Ray's flesh. Ray hisses sharply at the discomfort.
The sharp bite of pain builds quickly, agony sliding into pleasure with the rough friction of Fraser's hand on his cock. He arches into Fraser's touch, biting his bottom lip to keep from crying out, to keep from asking Fraser to stop.
It hurts, Fraser's fingers are tugging and twisting on the ring, it hurtshurtshurts and Ray's going to scream, he can't help it, he can feel it building in his throat and the tension in his body, and then—and then Fraser grips his dick harder and strokes him faster and his body tries to shift gears from pain to pleasure. The line between the two blurs and it leaves him gasping.
Ray grunts, slowly opens his eyes to look into the mirror, surprised to see Fraser staring intently back at him. Ray's mouth is open, he's panting with the painpleasure shuddering though him and there's something decadent, almost lewd about the way he looks, sweaty and aroused. He feels he should be ashamed or embarrassed, but he isn't, not with Fraser watching his reflection, wide-eyed and hungry.
Fraser pulls on the nipple ring again and Ray's eyes flutter closed, the sting making his dick ache and throb. He's close, so close, and another tug on his cock makes him moan softly, despairingly.
Fraser stops stroking Ray's dick, ignoring the almost-whine that Ray makes, and brings his palm up to Ray's mouth. It takes Ray a minute to figure out what Fraser wants and he opens his mouth, licking and sucking on Fraser's fingers. Fraser moves his hand away all too soon and the slippery wetness on his dick feels good.
He thrusts his hips and Fraser rubs at his pierced nipple, twisting and flicking it until Ray is keening softly in his throat, wordlessly begging, struggling into Fraser's slick hand.
Leaning forward, Fraser bites at Ray's earlobe, stoking his cock faster, pulling hard on the ring, breath hot in Ray's ear.
"Come for me, Ray," he whispers, and Ray does, sobbing and moaning and leaning hard against Fraser as his knees start to buckle. Fraser holds him up and gentles him, petting Ray softly, soothingly as Ray drifts into a post-orgasmic haze.
Smiling hazily, Ray lets Fraser drag him to bed. Dinner and the dirty dishes can wait.
-fin-