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Ray was still hot and panting when Ren laid his head, hair damp with sweat, in the middle of his chest and puffed out a long warm breath of air, practically melting against him. In a languid effort to move, Ren brought his hand up to the dip at the base of Ray’s throat and slipped two fingertips to rest there. After a moment filled with nothing but Ray’s ragged breaths, his fingers began to tap a quick regular beat.
Ray pushed his head back into the pillow and arched his neck, feeling it crack. “What’re you doing?”
He could feel the side of Turnbull’s mouth curve into a smile. “Making sure you’re not having a heart attack,” he replied, still tapping, counting Ray’s heartbeats. The heart that was beating because of him.
Ray let out a haggard laugh. He was sprawled flat on his back with his arms out to the side, like some kind of X-rated Jesus. He pulled up his right, his wrist limp, fingertips trailing over the ridge of Ren’s shoulder. Everywhere they touched they were stuck together; it would’ve normally felt icky to Ray and he was pretty sure it would become soon, but in the aftermath of one hell of a hot night of non-stop sex, body wracked and satisfied, he could hardly bring himself to care.
He stared hard at the ceiling, his breath calming.
“This is easier than I thought it’d be.”
There was a kind of unselfconsciousness in his voice. Ren smiled again.
“Having a heart attack?”
Another breathy half-laugh. “Yeah.”
Ren didn’t say anything more but his smile was on his face for a long time, even after his features had slackened once sleep had taken him. Ray drew patterns with his fingers over Ren’s shoulder until sleep snatched him too, one arm wrapped around the Mountie and the other draped over his eyes. With the kind of images he was seeing in his dream, it was fairly certain his heart rate would be just as high when he woke up again in the morning.
Ray pushed his head back into the pillow and arched his neck, feeling it crack. “What’re you doing?”
He could feel the side of Turnbull’s mouth curve into a smile. “Making sure you’re not having a heart attack,” he replied, still tapping, counting Ray’s heartbeats. The heart that was beating because of him.
Ray let out a haggard laugh. He was sprawled flat on his back with his arms out to the side, like some kind of X-rated Jesus. He pulled up his right, his wrist limp, fingertips trailing over the ridge of Ren’s shoulder. Everywhere they touched they were stuck together; it would’ve normally felt icky to Ray and he was pretty sure it would become soon, but in the aftermath of one hell of a hot night of non-stop sex, body wracked and satisfied, he could hardly bring himself to care.
He stared hard at the ceiling, his breath calming.
“This is easier than I thought it’d be.”
There was a kind of unselfconsciousness in his voice. Ren smiled again.
“Having a heart attack?”
Another breathy half-laugh. “Yeah.”
Ren didn’t say anything more but his smile was on his face for a long time, even after his features had slackened once sleep had taken him. Ray drew patterns with his fingers over Ren’s shoulder until sleep snatched him too, one arm wrapped around the Mountie and the other draped over his eyes. With the kind of images he was seeing in his dream, it was fairly certain his heart rate would be just as high when he woke up again in the morning.
