It was interesting the way the tension left Fraser's body; he was completely boneless, dark eyelashes fanned out across his pale freckled cheeks, not an ounce of the fire left in him that had made Mason crowd him against his kitchen wall, using his height to his full advantage.
Tension had been running through them for weeks; Fraser would smile at him, all pretty, spout random facts about hockey and Boston like he'd loved both forever even though one was newer than the other, lean into Mason's shoulder and giggle while Mason tried to watch sports. Mason had thought of many scenarios where he could kiss Fraser first, from the broom closet at Warrior to the showers at TD Garden to the passenger seat of Fraser's car, where all he'd have to do is lean over and press their mouths together as Fraser's eyes twinkled at him like they always did.
Mason ran his fingers down Fraser's body; he was still warm, muscles slack, completely and utterly undone in a way Mason hadn't expected when they'd all but wrestled each other into Mason's bedroom and then Mason had wrestled Fraser onto his bed - it had been cute to Mason that Fraser had thought he'd ever have the upper hand here. Fraser really only had the upper hand in one way - it was the name on his lock screen attached to a text Mason had watched come in but knew Fraser hadn't answered, even though the name itself had been what had made Mason and Fraser go tense in the first place.
