[Fic by @captain-athos ❤️💜]
Lawrence has to take Ray’s hands into his own first. They’re trembling, though it’s only apparent when they’re skin to skin, and he can feel the faint but persistent shudder as Ray tries to fight down whatever it is that’s bothering him.
He runs a thumb across Ray’s knuckles, hoping it will soothe the palpable anxiety radiating from the man. Ray’s eyes flutter closed, and he takes a shaky breath.
“Are there any lies you’d care to confess, Monsignor O’Malley?”
Even keeping his tone light doesn’t help the joke to land - Ray squeezes his eyes shut, and his breath hitches.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
What is it about Ray’s treacherous mind that does this to him? Takes a simple error and twists it into something with teeth and claws.
“Ray,” says Lawrence, more gently this time, “Ray, look at me.”
He cradles Ray’s face instead, watches as he gasps softly, grey eyes peeking cautiously out at him.
“Sweet Ray,” he continued, tracing a thumb over his cheek, “you’ve done so well. This isn’t your fault.”
“But - but your Eminence-”
“You did the best you could. You always do the best you can. You’re a good man, Ray.”
Ray sighs the word into existence, chases Lawrence’s palm with his cheek.
Lawrence steps in closer, and Ray obediently opens his arms to welcome him in, rests shaky hands on Lawrence’s waist.
Lawrence has to stand up on his toes, but he does it anyway, guiding Ray’s lips to his own. He lets his fingertips dig in a little to the soft skin around Ray’s jaw, knowing how much he likes to be held fast, how much he trusts himself to be handled and manipulated when he’s in Lawrence’s hands.
There’s a whimper against his mouth, and Lawrence finds himself smiling.
“Good boy, Ray,” he murmurs against warm lips, “good boy.”
[ID: Digital illustration of Thomas and Ray in their choral clothing, sharing a kiss. Ray is the one holding Thomas but the latter is the one leasing him, hands on his cheek, digging in a little, grounding him. They share a smile. /End ID]