Notes: Written for brooklinegirl.
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Sometimes Ray has bad days, just like anyone...days when he just wants to drop kick the next person he sees, but the next person is almost always Fraser.
And he can't drop kick Fraser, because Ray comes home from these sucky days, and Fraser's there waiting for him on the couch, and he just knows. Ray never has to say a word, Fraser's just there, meeting him at the door, pushing him against the wall, pressing his lips to Ray's throat, the edge of his mouth, the stubble that's just beginning to form along his jaw.
He wants to undress Ray, and Ray just lets him. He never lets anyone do anything to him, get away with anything, but Fraser, he could do whatever the hell he wanted and within seconds Ray would be begging for it. That's just the way it is.
So Ray watches while Fraser pulls his clothes off, doesn't move except to help, to brush the hair out of Fraser's eyes, to brace himself back against the wall when Fraser kneels down, leans in, and takes Ray into his mouth.
And he wants to close his eyes, lose himself in it, but Fraser is on his fucking knees, sucking his cock, and how can a guy not watch that? So he keeps his eyes on Fraser, his fingers drawing useless patterns across the skin of Fraser's neck and cheek, and he comes fast, hard, like he's still a kid.
Then he sinks down to Fraser's level, right there on the floor, and they hold each other for just a minute, just long enough for Ray to start feeling like a fucking girl. "Bad day?" Fraser finally asks, his breath stirring the hair on Ray's neck, and Ray grins against Fraser's shirt.
"Not anymore."