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There was Fraser on his back on Ray's bed, twisting and panting and red-faced. And here was Ray sitting between Fraser's feet, not touching him with anything but two wet fingers, wondering if anybody on the planet had it better than him right this minute.
Fraser was hot and soft inside. Ray wasn't completely sure he could tell the right spot by feel, but he didn't have to, because Fraser's cock jumped every time he touched it, and Fraser's words were more and more not words at all but only groans.
He felt like he could do this for hours.
"Raaay," Fraser said, and the muscles in his thighs tightened and loosened. God, that was beautiful. "Ray -- st -- stop a moment --"
Ray stilled his fingers, but he didn't take them out, and Fraser's muscles fluttered around his knuckles. "Yeah?" His own voice was all scratchy, but not as scratchy as Fraser's.
Fraser just panted for a second, and then he opened his eyes in a kind of vague way, like a guy with a head injury. Losing brain cells by the minute. Jesus. Ray had done that to him.
"I think -- that's enough," Fraser said hoarsely. "If you want -- to move on."
Oh, yeah, he had had a goal, hadn't he? "Maybe," he said. "Wouldn't want to hurt you." He turned his hand, rotating his fingers without moving them, and a little shiny drop welled up from the head of Fraser's cock and clung there, trembling a little with each breath Fraser took.
"And besides," Ray said, pulling his fingers out a bit, "this is really," pushing them in again, "turning me on."
"Is it?" Fraser said weakly.
Ray separated his fingers as much as he could and drew them slowly back. Fraser's fingers tightened, drawing up a handful of sheet. The little droplet spilled down the tip of Fraser's cock and landed on the shiny spot just below his navel.
"Yeah," Ray said.
"Well, then," Fraser said, closing his eyes. "Carry on."
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July 6, 2004