rum swizzle

Once they start sleeping together is when Ray really gets it.

He knew it before, on some level; you couldn't work with a guy who jumps off buildings and climbs all over moving vehicles without some clue. But it's only when they start fucking that he really gets it, because Fraser is finally letting him get it. And not just the sex, either.

Fraser's sweet on the surface. He's got a pretty face and a courteous tip of the hat for everyone, big wide eyes when it comes to something he never encountered as a country bumpkin, and he learned real well that if you didn't have anything nice to say, then you shouldn't say anything at all. But underneath all of that sweet mask is someone tougher, smarter, someone who can throw a knife at a man's head or punch you in the jaw hard enough to floor you if you aren't braced right.

It's not that Fraser is mean, Ray thinks. It's that Fraser isn't as tame as he pretends.

He likes to nibble and bite and Ray likes it when Fraser uses his teeth, so he lets Fraser bite his shoulder and pushes into his teeth when Fraser gets down to Ray's nipples and sucks hard. Ray likes it kinda rough, not all the time, but when Fraser unbuckles and something in him just comes undone, Ray can roll with that. He rolls with it and scratches Fraser's back and leaves his own bite marks, because he's not the same kind of wild--he grew up hemmed in by a city, he's a stray dog compared to Fraser's half-tame wolf--but he feels it, too, the leash on his temper and on his attitude and on his feelings.

God, worst of all on his feelings. He'd been pushing them down and shoving them away from the table for months, until he realized he wasn't the only one doing it, and then--then--

The bite mark on his hip healed up real nice. When Fraser's all sweetness he frets about the fact that it scarred, but Ray doesn't care. He likes that Fraser knows he can be wild with Ray, and he likes Fraser's mark on him, staying when so many other marks didn't show. And while he doesn't break skin the way Fraser can, he likes the hickeys he leaves on Fraser's chest and shoulders and neck. He especially likes the way Fraser doesn't mind them at all--the way Fraser will brush at them in the morning, eyelids fluttering, and if Ray's really lucky they'll make time for one more round before they have to get up, put their harnesses and leashes back in place, and re-enter the glazed civility of the rest of the world.

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