Fraser uses a straight razor. Ray has seen those before, he's gone to barbershops and seen guys getting the whole package, the hot towels and the lather with the brush and all that, but no: Fraser uses a straight razor every single day. He's got the leather thing and all that--he moves the blade back and forth, back and forth, getting it nice and clean and sharp before he puts the blade up against his skin.
So, on one hand, Ray feels kind of bad about having a cheap package of disposable Bics at his place, when Fraser stays over; on the other hand, when he's gotta borrow Fraser's, he's pretty sure he's gonna cut his own throat. He usually just does without.
Today, though, it's the fourth day in a row of not-shaving, and it's generally around now that Ray has to suck it up and shave or get asked if he's growing a beard, and since Fraser has made it really clear he doesn't dig the bearded look -- not even on the tundra if he can help it -- Ray grits his teeth, lathers up, and grabs up the straight razor, wondering if it's already sharp enough or if he's gotta do the thing with the leather thingy that looks kinda like a weightlifting belt.
"Ray?" Fraser appears behind Ray, and Ray jumps, and this is another reason why the disposable Bic has got it over the straight razor, because if he jumped wrong, somebody could be missing a finger. Ray likes all of his fingers, he likes all of Fraser's fingers, and he figures he should keep them all right where God put 'em, but when Fraser opens up his palm and says, "Let me," Ray very carefully puts the razor in Fraser's hand, shaking a little afterwards.
Fraser gets the blade good and sharp, quick and easy like he's done it a million times, but he doesn't offer to hand the blade back to Ray. Instead, he makes a little gesture with one hand and tilts his head back in demonstration. Ray blinks at him, but he goes for it, tilting his head back and letting Fraser move him, very gently, into position.
"It's not as difficult as one might think," Fraser murmurs, gently scraping the razor down Ray's cheek. "It really is just a matter of practice, and using the right pressure, and avoiding unnecessary movement."
He takes the blade away to rinse it, and Ray swallows in spite of himself. "Easy for you to say," he murmurs. "How long you been doing it like this?"
"Always," Fraser says. He brings the razor up again and draws another line down Ray's cheek, careful, careful, but somehow Ray knows he's just not gonna cut him--Fraser's not going to harm so much as... well, no, not gonna harm anything but the hairs on his head. Cheeks. Whatever.
The blade's gotten warm, between Ray's skin and the rinse water, but the lather's getting cool--the contrast is different from shaving cream out of a can, somehow. None of that zhwoop, zhwoop, zhwoop, all done! stuff that leaves a few hairs here and there to get scraped on later--this is slow and cautious and deliberate. Just like Fraser.
When Fraser gets to Ray's throat, Ray tries not to swallow, tries not to even so much as breathe--this could go so bad, this could be like that godawful musical Stella took him to that one time, with the worst pies in London--but Fraser just keeps going, one stripe after another after another, and halfway over his throat Ray realizes Fraser's--kinda breathing hard.
He opens his eyes and glances at Fraser, not that it's real easy like this, and Fraser's intent on what he's doing, sure, but he's also got the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth, and he's got his eyes narrowed, and--that is a sex look, that's Fraser giving him a sex look because of shaving, and okay okay okay, he's got Ray convinced, he's got Ray on board, straight razor, yeah, this is the ticket, this is the way to go, hell yes.
Fraser finishes up and sets the blade down, and he puts his fingertips lightly on Ray's cheeks and leans in. Ray opens his mouth and lets Fraser kiss him, and there they are, smooth as silk, Ray's cheeks still hot and sensitive from the gentle scrape of Fraser's straight razor, and Ray thinks he could just go on kissing Fraser until they've both got five o'clock shadow and need to shave all over again.