Work Text:
Ray loves to massage Fraser's scalp. He'll catch Fraser unawares, usually after dinner, and stick his hands into the thick fullness of Fraser's hair. He'll alternate between massaging and gently scratching, loving the silky feel of Fraser's hair between his fingers.
He likes the sounds Fraser makes, too. Soft sighs and cut-off groans. Fraser arches his head back, wordlessly asking for a firmer touch. Sometimes Ray feels that if he hadn't come along, Frase would have died from touch-starvation. It pisses him off, because Fraser is so responsive, so loving, so needing to be petted and touched and stroked.
That's Ray's job, now. To touch Fraser and try to make up for years and years of not being touched, of being alone and lonely. He doesn't want Fraser to ever be without touch again.
-fin-