Don't move, Fraser whispers in his ear, and that's easy for him to say, the freaking Mountie, Mr. Self Control himself, but Ray, he likes to move, he needs to move. The only time he's not in motion is when he's asleep, and even then there's the rolling, and the kicking, and the inappropriate snuggling�
Fraser's fingers twist a little inside him, and he can't help it, his hips come off the bed, a strangled moan escaping his lips. Ray� he hears from a long way off. It's a warning, the only one he gets, and Fraser's other hand clamps down on Ray's hip, pressing him into the mattress. His fingers continue to slide in and out, slick and hard and maddeningly slow�not enough, not nearly enough. His lips press against Ray's throat, sucking and nibbling and leaving a trail across his neck and collarbone that cools as the air touches it.
Then Fraser's rhythm picks up a little, and Ray closes his eyes and bites his lip and doesn't move, doesn't speak, just grips the sheet a little tighter in his fingers and tries to remember to breathe. The hand on his hip eases away, and Fraser's arm is draped across him, heavy and warm, and he thinks that he can taste blood from biting down so hard�
And then Fraser's lips are on him, and his hips are arching off the mattress, his hands coming up from the sheets to tangle into Fraser's hair, because not moving is definitely a thing of the past now. He's so into it, so busy feeling those fingers going in and out at just the right pace, and that mouth sucking with just the right amount of suction that it takes him just a second too long to figure out that Fraser's stopped moving.
He looks down and Fraser's watching him, lips wrapped obscenely around his cock, and his eyes are saying you broke the rules, Ray. Now you're on your own. And Ray's ok with that, because there are still lips, and there are still fingers, and even if they're not moving, he can deal with that, because moving is something that Ray Kowalski is a goddamn master at.
He twists his hips up and then sinks down, and it's so fucking hot, because Fraser's just there, and he's watching Ray, and Ray's fucking himself into his mouth and onto his fingers, and then Fraser makes this sound low in his throat that Ray feels in every nerve in his body, and he's coming so hard he's seeing flashes of light on eyelids that he hadn't even noticed he'd closed.
When he finally opens them again, Fraser's moved up beside him, watching him, his hand running across Ray's chest in slow circles. He's got this smile on his face, small and dirty, that no one ever gets to see but Ray, and it reminds him that Fraser hasn't come yet, that he's still pressing hard and hot against Ray's leg, not demanding, just reminding him that maybe sleep isn't an option just yet. He puts his hands on Fraser's shoulders, pushes him back against the pillows.
Don't move, he whispers against skin damp with sweat, and Fraser shivers under his touch.