First Five Kisses

Written for Pearl_O's challenge.

The anticipation of the first kiss zaps lightly at the back of Ray's neck. Their breath combines into something heavy and nearly tangible as they move closer. The air is chilly all over, except near their faces, where they warm each other, and their feet, where the fire is still crackling. The first touch of Fraser's lips on his own has Ray breathing in deeply and the letting go. He closes his eyes and slips his lips between Fraser's. They're cool and wet and warming with every new touch. Their lips part, then purse again, and part, and then there's rhythm and synchronized breathing, and a moan as one tongue slides out to meet the other, and after that, there are hands on his face and hair underneath his fingers, and then, there's hardly any air at all to breathe, except for Fraser's, and Fraser seems willing to give him his last breath ten times over.

The second kiss is hot and wet and the anticipation has built into need and now they can't stop, not even while they try to get rid of their clothes and find a semi-comfortable way of lying down on the sleeping bags without sliding onto the hard ground. Fraser rips his bag open, one hand still cradling Ray's head, and lays him down on the flannel side, trying for gentle, but losing out to gravity at the last minute. Their noses crush for a moment, and then they're back in rhythm, tongues sliding in and out of each other's mouths, caressing and echoing the movement of their bodies.

The third kiss is hardly a kiss anymore. Ray feels Fraser's weight on top of him, in between his legs, inside him, and their mouths are barely touching, unable to grab hold of lips, because Fraser is moving and Ray is moving with him, and there's hardly room to breathe anymore, no strength to moan or say a name, because it's good, it's so damn good, and he feels Fraser's sweaty back moving underneath his hands and tries to lick Fraser's lips and their tongues meet outside their mouths, making a circle of their bodies, two connections, moving in rhythm, and Ray doesn't know how long he can take this for anymore, because it's good, it's just so fucking good and his body is taut and tense and he feels himself beginning to shake and tries not to lose contact with Fraser's tongue and their mingled breaths.

The fourth kiss Fraser gives him after he's slumped down and closed his eyes. One peck, two, three, and he lays his head on Ray's chest, probably listening to the crazy beat of his heart. Ray thinks about chasing that mouth and getting another kiss, maybe ten, but his head won't obey anymore, and he closes his eyes, as well. It'll be a few minutes until he regains consciousness, and that's good, too.

When Ray wakes up in the morning, Fraser is already leaning over him, kissing his neck. His lips drag along Ray's jaw line, his tongue lightly licking at the stubble. They have to get up, Ray knows, and pack up the gear, and have breakfast, and get moving, but Fraser is warm, nestled against him, and his thigh is trapping Ray's hip, ridding him of any choice. They can lie here like this for a little while, Ray decides, no rush. They've got time, anyway. Out here, there's nothing but time. Ray moves his head to meet Fraser's and kisses him. They have a few minutes to kill.

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