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The room is bathed in a misty low light when Sand blinks his eyes open. The AC is humming in the corner and the curtains aren’t entirely closed, letting in a sliver of light from the city outside. He isn’t sure what made him wake up right now. It wasn’t a nightmare or a loud noise outside. It’s not even down to Ray and his wild limbs hitting him somewhere on his body like he usually does in his sleep.
In fact, he doesn’t feel any point of contact with Ray right now which is a rarity, because Ray always seems to find some way to mold himself to Sand’s body in his sleep. It’s like he’s sleeping with a clingy octopus in his bed.
Sand runs a hand over his eyes and brushes some sleep out of the corners, looking to the right side of the bed once he’s a little more awake. It’s empty. He’s alone in their bed, Ray nowhere to be found. His boyfriend had already been asleep by the time Sand got home earlier. His gig tonight went great and the audience demanded an encore he all too gladly gave them. He made his way back to his apartment at one in the morning.
Looking at his phone on the nightstand reveals that it’s closer to four now - way too early for Ray to be up and functioning in any capacity. Sand thought he would be out cold from the day he had but he’s obviously mistaken.
Ray had the early shift at the hostel yesterday and afterwards he went straight to therapy and then to his dad’s for some kind of business meeting. And judging by the texts they exchanged throughout the day, it was a heavy therapy session after an already exhausting day. He also knows Ray well enough that him claiming his talk with his dad went “fine” probably means the exact opposite.
It’s just their luck that Ray’s first really bad day after rehab is a day where Sand is too busy to be with him.
He pads out of his room and takes in the quiet of the apartment around him. Nick is away for some work thing this week so Ray has basically moved in for the time being. Not that he otherwise spends a lot of time at his own home. Nick constantly teases that Ray should pay rent as well with how much time he spends at Sand’s apartment - with or without Sand there.
Sand can’t say anything about it though because he absolutely loves it. He loves having Ray here all the time. Knowing he’s happy and taken care of and has a place he feels comfortable in is all Sand always wanted for his boyfriend. He doesn’t even mind coming home from a grueling shift at his mom’s club to Ray burning something on the stove because he wanted to surprise Sand with a meal. He doesn’t care that Ray leaves his clothes and towels on the floor because he’s not used to tidying things up himself. And he for sure doesn’t mind coming home from class to his boyfriend starfished out in his bed because he didn’t feel like getting up yet.
Because he gets to come home to Ray.
Sand finds the man in question on the couch - bathed in the glow of the moon and the breeze coming in from the open balcony doors. He’s turned away from the windows, staring into the open room instead with such a faraway look that Sand isn’t sure he will even notice Sand stepping into the space.
There’s a slight crease between Ray’s eyebrows but otherwise his face is devoid of any emotion; his eyes empty and almost glazed over. It’s a look that doesn’t bode well in Sand’s experience. Not at four in the morning after the day Ray had.
“Ray?”
He doesn’t react even when Sand steps into his line of vision; eyes still trained on something at the other end of the room behind Sand. Only when Sand sinks into the soft cushions in front of Ray does the man flit his eyes over to his boyfriend. There’s a small moment where Ray almost looks caught out, like he’s been seen doing something he shouldn’t do, before his face morphs into a look of utter exhaustion.
Sand loves that Ray doesn’t mask his emotions around him anymore. That he can always tell what Ray is thinking and feeling by simply looking over at him. In the few months they’ve been together, he’s become fluent in every twitch of eyebrow and crease of mouth. Something’s not right with him, Sand knows it just by looking at him, but he also knows that he must give Ray the space to tell him himself. Everything at his pace.
“Can’t sleep?”
A tiny shake of head is all Sand gets from Ray; a minuscule movement barely recognizable. Sand gives him some more time to say something else - anything else. When he wants to, he will.
“I almost drank one of them just now.”
Sand follows Ray’s line of sight to the rows of homebrew at the other side of the room; his eyebrows climbing into his hairline as he grapples with the severity of the situation. This is definitely not how he imagined this night to go.
Ray is three months sober now, one month out of rehab, and it’s been quite a journey. For the most part, he’s been doing quite well since he came home, even though that’s mostly due to the fact he’s been swerving bars entirely since he’s been to rehab. ‘Removing himself from temptation’ is what he explained to Sand.
It’s been going well. But that was on good days without the temptation right in front of him.
He isn’t even brewing any plum wine anymore, he stopped the moment Ray agreed to actually check into rehab, but there’s still some of it in the apartment while he sells off the residual stock. Right now, he desperately wishes he would have already gotten rid of everything.
“I didn’t, don’t worry. But I really wanted to and it feels like I failed somehow.”
Ray’s voice breaks at the end of the sentence; his eyes brimming red. He’s peeling the skin around one of his nails on his right hand; a nervous habit he has that Sand only picked up on since Ray practically moved in. Sand scooches closer to him on the couch at the sight, grabbing Ray’s hands to stop him from tearing his fingers bloody.
“You didn’t, Ray. You didn’t drink, you stayed strong. Remember your therapist said there will be bad days but what matters is how you cope with them.”
There were plenty of bad days at the start, right after Sand and Mew dropped Ray off at the facility. The one phone call they got in the first week was filled with lots of tears and even screaming with Ray blaming Sand for everything he and his body were going through. He didn’t mean any of it, Sand knew that, and Ray apologized profusely the week after but it was the first sign that this whole thing would be harder than Sand first assumed.
He would stick by Ray though. No matter what happened.
No matter how many lows Ray experienced, how hard he described the therapy sessions to be or how often he told Sand over the phone that he was done with it all and throwing the towel. In the end, he got rewarded with a sober and more well-adjusted version of Ray when his time at rehab was over. And Ray himself is happier and more at peace with himself.
“I will pour it away. Everything.”
Ray’s fingers tighten around his, keeping Sand locked in place without an escape to make good on his promise. Their eyes meet for the first time that night and this being the thing that makes Ray finally look at him just proves how important this is for Ray.
“No, don’t. Then you can’t sell it anymore. I have to learn to be around alcohol, especially on bad days.”
Eyes drop closed in front of him; chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He’s trying to distract himself, Sand guesses, find something else to occupy his mind. 5 things you can see, 4 things you can feel and all that.
Ray’s voice is barely above a whisper when he next speaks; low and loaded with emotions. Sand can tell how hard it is for him to say what he does, how difficult it is to admit this.
“I can’t think about anything else, Sand. All that’s in my head is how much I want to drink this.”
Sand keeps watching his boyfriend, taking in his red-rimmed eyes and trembling lips. He wants so badly to take this load off his chest and it kills him to know that he can’t. This is Ray’s fight. The only thing he can do is try to understand and support him.
He doesn’t know how to help though. He doesn’t know what he can do for Ray without being patronizing or overstepping. He isn’t sure what he can say that will make the situation better. What words are there to relieve the ache Ray is carrying inside of him every day?
He tried reading up on what he can do to support Ray when he was in rehab. Blogs of people whose family members or partners are suffering from the same disease, articles from therapists describing what to expect and where to show leniency. And where not to. But reading about it doesn’t prepare you for real life when the bad days eventually catch up with the careful equilibrium they achieved lately.
There is something he can offer Ray though. Something that might be unorthodox but it’s the only thing he can think of doing right now that might alleviate the pressure in their chests.
“Can I try something? It might help distract you?”
Ray offers him a timid nod, obviously willing to try everything when his usual tactics don’t seem to yield the result he wants. Tears are gathered in the far edges of his eyes, threatening to spill out if they stay in this moment for longer.
There’s something that always manages to clear Ray’s head. That makes him forget whatever problem he’s fretting over at the hostel and lifts his mood whenever he has a fit of jealousy over someone paying too close attention to Sand at a gig. The one thing that’s sure to distract him from whatever is spinning in his head.
Sand scooches a bit closer on the couch so that their legs are touching; knees pushing together on the leather of the seat beneath. Their hands are still tangled together and Sand lays them securely in his lap for the moment. Ray is watching him with rapt attention, following his movements with so much trust and openness in his expression.
It’s a heavy honor to be trusted so explicitly by another person and Sand really hopes he doesn’t fracture that trust with what he’s about to try. He makes the resounding resolution to stop immediately if he feels any apprehension from his boyfriend.
He squeezes Ray’s hands once more before he leans forwards into the other man’s space. Sand places a small kiss on the tip of Ray’s nose, trying and failing to suppress a smile at the adorable way Ray scrunches up his face in response. He places two more kisses to his left and then right cheek before moving to the spot under Ray’s ear, laying smooth lips against the stretch of skin there.
The action has the desired effect - Ray lets out a long sigh the moment Sand’s mouth connects with the sensitive skin at the edge of his jaw. Even though he can’t see his face from this angle, Sand knows Ray’s eyes must fall shut as he continues to let his mouth wander along the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the bone underneath with plush flesh.
He alternates between soft kisses and sharp teeth against Ray’s skin, cataloguing every squeeze of fingers Ray gives him in return. Every hitch in his breath is a sign to keep going. It’s imploring him that he’s doing a good job in slowly wiping Ray’s mind clean and only leaving behind space for pleasure.
“Sand.”
Ray’s voice is but a whisper as it tumbles out of his mouth; the name spoken with a reverence befitting the quiet of the night around them. Hearing his name being uttered in such a delicate way makes Sand’s blood throb in his veins and desire spike in his stomach.
The head in front of Sand is fully tipped backwards by the time he reaches Ray’s chin; sharp tongue poking out to taste the southernmost point of Ray’s beautiful face. He dips even lower into the hollow of Ray’s throat, over his Adam’s apple, where he tastes like the remnants of his expensive perfume.
“Sand. I need to kiss you.”
He lets himself follow Ray’s plea. He lets himself be compelled back up to seal their mouths together and give Ray what he so desired. Their lips slide together with fervor and it doesn’t take long until their tongues find each other as well. Kissing Ray is equally a fight and a dance; well-choreographed by the amount of time they’ve kissed each other but still different each time they do.
There were days, after they first got together, where they would spend hours in Sand’s bed just kissing. Not taking things any further but simply enjoying the feeling of each other’s lips until their mouths were red and puffy. But that’s not for tonight. That’s not what Ray needs right now. He’ll save the romanticism for another day when Ray isn’t buzzing out of his own skin.
He gives Ray another long moment to take his fill, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip and plunging it back into Ray’s mouth, before he disentangles their mouths again and continues his journey down Ray’s body. Sand connects the moles along Ray’s collarbone with his tongue, running from browned skin to browned skin like he’s tracing stars in the sky somewhere. He might as well be.
Their hands finally untangle in their laps so that Sand’s hands are free to find the hem of Ray’s shirt. The fabric is smooth and silky against his fingers, brushing feather-like against Ray’s skin as he pushes it up Ray’s waist. They work together to get rid of Ray’s shirt, with him raising his arms so that Sand can push the shirt up his arms and over his head.
Any new stretch of skin that gets uncovered is like a piece of art to Sand. He’s captivated by it every time he sees even a sliver, although he must’ve seen it all about a thousand times. Every time he gets to undress Ray to taste him, every time they get to shower together in the evening, every revealing picture Ray sends him when he’s supposed to be working - it never fails to drive him crazy when he gets to see Ray’s perfect, smooth skin in any way.
As soon as Ray’s chest gets uncovered, Sand continues his way down, leaving a trail of kisses over his collarbone and pecs. Ray’s hands tangle in the dark strands of Sand’s hair when he seals his mouth over a nipple and sucks; a gasp leaving his mouth and fanning out over Sand’s head. He licks and sucks until Ray is a twitchy mess above him. Only then he’s satisfied enough to move even lower.
With a hand securely on Ray’s lower back, Sand tips him backwards until Ray is lying on the couch; Sand hovering over him with only a few centimeters of space between their bodies. He likes having Ray under him like this and he knows that Ray loves the feeling of Sand pressed against him as well, all-encompassing him. It makes him feel safe.
The access to the rest of Ray’s chest is better in this position. Sand can mouth along the fine dusting of hair leading down to Ray’s boxers this way, watching as Ray’s stomach contracts and spasms in response. He traces the lines of Ray’s tattoo with a sharp-pointed tongue, leaving each letter on his hip wet and glistening.
It’s a true statement etched there along the bone. Ray is beautiful. He always has been, right from the moment Sand first saw him at Yolo. He has that certain aura around him; this magnetic pull that exudes out of his every pore. He has always been exceptionally beautiful, even when he thought of himself as nothing but marred and broken. But now that he’s healing and healthier? Now he’s even more beautiful.
Ethereal even.
Ray’s silky boxer shorts are riding low on his waist; the logo of the brand something Sand can’t pronounce and probably can’t afford either. He doesn’t waste much time teasing Ray right now. Instead, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of the shorts and pulls them over Ray’s thighs and down his legs, discarding them on the floor beside the couch.
He isn’t interested in teasing Ray tonight, that’s something for another night entirely, he simply wants to help him clear his head. Fill the space with pleasure until it’s all Ray can think about. And he knows the way there is not through teasing but through sheer overstimulation.
Sand shrugs out of his own shirt to even the playing field a little, throwing it carelessly to the side. Ray bites his bottom lip while he’s looking up at Sand above him, his eyes shiny with something other than tears thankfully. He’s more than half hard already from the little bit of kissing and sucking, curving up his stomach. It’s always the biggest compliment to Sand - how responsive Ray is to every touch of his. So reactive. So addicted to something only Sand can give him.
Sand plants both hands on either side of Ray’s neck, locking their eyes together. He lifts his palms up slightly so that only his fingertips make contact with Ray’s skin and starts dragging them down his chest. They brush lightly over the raised skin of his nipples and down his sides, deliberately skirting around his cock. Their eyes stay locked throughout it all; heat meeting heat.
Sand lets his fingers wander until they reach the meat of his thighs. One of his hands snakes around to find the round flesh of Ray’s cheek, giving it a firm squeeze and keeping his hand between skin and couch. His free hand finally wraps around the heavy length of Ray’s cock; another sharp gasp tumbling out of Ray’s mouth at the few languid strokes he delivers.
It’s too rough though; the slide not wet enough without any lube. It won’t get Ray where Sand wants him to be. Where he needs to be tonight. Sand gives one last kiss to the tattoo on Ray’s hip before his mouth finds the tip of Ray's dick right next to the cursive letters. The reaction he longs for comes immediately. Ray’s head tips backwards into the seat beneath him and he lets out a moan so wanton Sand is glad Nick is gone for the week and most of his neighbors are deep asleep at this hour.
Ray is loud. It’s one of the things that captivated Sand about him on that first night they slept together. He’s demanding, yes, but he also lets Sand know what he likes and what feels good to him with sounds. With gasps and moans and even screams on some occasions. He’s uninhibited and he’s made Sand a good deal wilder as well.
He runs his tongue up the shaft and over the head, taking it in his mouth once he reaches the top. The hand on Ray’s cheek squeezes and kneads; long fingers dipping into the cleft with every other touch. He’s trying to overwhelm Ray. Give him too much, too many sensations, at the same time to focus on one thing. If he can overload Ray’s senses with pleasure there’s less space for him to fret about his sobriety.
The knowledge he has of Ray’s body comes in handy tonight, offering him the perfect manual to all of Ray’s pressure points. He knows the body underneath him too well at this point. It won’t take much for him to get Ray off.
Sand hollows his cheeks and sucks a bit harder, pulling out every dirty trick he knows that’ll get Ray over the edge fast. He has some more plans for his boyfriend tonight. Ray’s hands find the thick of Sand’s hair again, tugging on it every time Sand’s mouth bumps up against the head.
A tongue in the slit, taking Ray down his throat as far as he can, alternating between sucking and kissing the sensitive skin - Sand is doing all he can to reduce Ray to a whimpering, breathless mess. He’s about to move even lower to eat Ray out, knowing that it’s a surefire way to get Ray to orgasm, when Ray’s hands find either side of his jaw and haul him back up again.
Ray kisses him twice, maybe three times, with a probing tongue and the softest lips Sand ever got to taste. He likes tasting himself on Sand’s tongue; loves making out after being eaten out or blown and Sand likes giving him whatever he wants. He will try every filthy fantasy Ray has to make him happy. It’s not like fucking Ray while he’s still asleep or in front of the bathroom mirror is a hardship.
“I want your fingers, ter, please.”
Sand moans against Ray’s lips at the words. Sweet nicknames and dirty words together seem to do it for him; or maybe it’s just Ray that does it for him. If Ray is shameless and filthy then Sand is gladly right there with him. He leans down to press one or two more kisses to the smile on Ray’s face before he leans out of Ray’s reach.
“Give me a second, baby.”
It takes a sensational amount of willpower to wrestle himself away from Ray’s naked limbs and stumble down the hallway into his room. The half-empty bottle of lube is still on the nightstand from the last time they used it and Sand doesn’t waste much time grabbing it and getting back to where he left Ray. He’s tenting his own boxers by now; desperate to get down to it.
Ray is still lying on the couch when he’s in Sand’s eyesight again. One hand is outstretched towards Sand, beckoning him closer again, while the other is lazily running up and down his cock. Sand slides back in-between Ray’s legs, removing the hand on Ray’s cock and giving the wrist a light bite before he presses it above Ray’s head; a clear instruction to leave it there and not touch himself anymore.
He warms a dollop of lube between his fingers, circling one wet digit around the rim. He’s not pressing in yet, only when he hears the whine Ray lets out against his mouth does he press in until the first knuckle. The content sigh he gets in return for the intrusion is music to Sand’s ears.
Ray might like the kissing, the tasting, the most whenever they have sex but this is what Sand can’t live without. The feeling. Sinking his fingers into Ray’s heat, being enveloped by his body when he pushes into him, getting to feel every flutter of his walls when he’s close to tipping over the edge. It’s all so intoxicating.
The moans Ray lets out the more he gets stretched open only increase in volume and frequency the longer Sand goes on. One of his legs hitches up across Sand’s back, giving him better access and changing the angle as well. Sand is able to reach deeper this way, to find that spot that’s going to be Ray’s undoing.
A second finger soon joins the first one and by now Ray’s mewls are almost desperate. He brushes up against Ray’s prostate on every drag of his fingers and every time he does Ray arches his back just a bit more against his body. Deft fingers dig into the skin of his back; the heel of Ray’s foot pressing into the small of his back like he’s trying to tether them even closer together.
Sand can tell Ray is slowly inching closer to orgasm. He’s clenching around Sand’s fingers; body thrashing and head slamming into the upholstery. He attaches his mouth back to Ray’s neck, planting kisses on every inch of skin available to him. The skin in the dip of Ray’s collarbone slowly reddens under Sand’s attention and heat blooms in his gut at the thought of Ray running around with a hickey courtesy of him tomorrow. So every last guest at the hostel knows he’s all Sand’s.
It’s unrelenting now, the pressure he puts on Ray’s prostate. Ray’s hands are grappling for purchase on Sand’s back, roaming and gripping whatever stretch of skin they can reach. Ray moves his hips against Sand’s fingers and Sand can tell he’s close to losing it.
“Sand, stop. I wanna cum on you.”
Sand doesn’t let up despite Ray’s protests. Mostly because Ray keeps pulling him closer and moving against him, obviously chasing his high. Ray can barely get the words out in-between his pants. His eyes keep pinching shut in ecstasy; his legs spasming around Sand’s body.
“It’s okay, you will. Let go.”
He would like to think that Ray finishing as soon as the words leave his mouth are down to some obedience kink Ray has but Sand knows his boyfriend well enough to know it’s quite the opposite. Ray almost never does what he’s being told to do - especially not in bed. Sand guesses it’s more the knowledge that he’s in for another orgasm that does it for Ray right now. He’s coming untouched all over his flexing stomach; the smile wide on his lips like it always is when he’s cuming. It’s a stunning sight.
Ray pulls him in for a kiss once he’s not breathless and delirious anymore, pushing their tongues together like he’s been starving for the taste. He whines into Sand’s mouth when he detracts his fingers, wiping them on his boxers before he wriggles out of them, only just managing to keep his mouth attached to Ray’s in the process.
Chest heaving, eyes half-lidded and dazed. Ray is a whole picture the way he’s sprawled on the couch that Sand can’t take his eye off of him. He wants to give him the world. Maybe someday he will be able to. Ray deserves it.
Before Sand can slip back between Ray’s legs he’s being pushed back against the cushions; feet planted firmly on the ground. Ray swings a leg over Sand’s legs, bracketing them and sitting himself on Sand’s thighs. Sand is hard against him; dick nestled between Ray’s plump cheeks. There’s cum drying on his chest and Sand is fairly sure he’s never looked hotter, fucked-out but ready to ride Sand’s cock.
The bottle of lube is lying abandoned on the coffee table in front of the couch and Sand has to steady Ray with both hands on his hips when Ray stretches to grab it. The twist of his body brings Ray’s left shoulder closer. Sand doesn’t think twice about leaning forward and pressing a lingering kiss to the slope of it and then to the hinge of Ray’s jaw.
Ray presses their lips back together once he’s facing forwards again, capturing them in a slew of kisses. Their kisses are only broken by the moan that gets punched out of Sand’s mouth when a wet hand wraps around his dick, spreading a generous amount of lube up and down. He realizes with a start that this is the first time tonight that pleasure is being given to him directly but he doesn’t mind it all too much. Ray is his sole focus tonight.
He can feel Ray lining his dick up; head teasing the loosened muscle between his cheeks. Breath foregoes Sand when Ray starts inching down on him and all he can do is watch on as Ray’s mouth drops open as well and his head lulls backwards. Sand’s hands run up delicate hips and around Ray’s back; palms spreading out over both shoulder blades.
“Fuck, Sand, you always feel so good.”
Ray’s eyes are half-lidded when he eventually bottoms out, catching Sand’s dark eyes and keeping their gazes locked for a long moment while he’s getting used to the feeling. Ideally, he would’ve stretched Ray even more but he knows Ray likes the burn most times. It all adds to the overwhelm he’s aiming to drown Ray in.
Tiny rocks and circles shock Sand to the core when Ray starts moving his hips, keeping their stare unbroken. Sand can only watch in awe as Ray stars riding him in earnest. Sand loves Ray in every position but this? This is otherworldly. The way his thighs flex with every rise, the way his hips gyrate when he wants to tease Sand, how the sweat travels down his neck and over his chest - it all works together to paint a picture that has Sand pawing at Ray’s body and groaning in ecstasy.
Ever since their first time hooking up Sand knew he would get addicted to this. The feeling, the fucking sounds Ray makes, the heat of it all - it all works up to drive him completely insane. Adding love into the mix certainly doesn’t lessen the intensity either. It’s even better now. Because despite Sand’s previous conviction that one night stands worked just fine for him, he’s a lover at heart and sex with someone you truly love simply feels so much better.
Ray grips the back of the couch with both hands, using the leverage to work himself up and down faster. He’s moving left and right intermittently, obviously trying to find the position that gets Sand to hit his sensitive prostate again. Sand takes pity on him when his eyebrows pinch together in obvious frustration. That’s not a feeling he wants Ray to feel tonight. With both feet planted on the floor he’s able to thrust up into Ray, meeting him when he slams himself down on Sand’s thighs.
The hands that found a place on Ray’s back return to his waist and with them in his grip it’s an ease for Sand to maneuver Ray’s body into a better position. A position that makes Ray gasp and lose his rhythm on the next thrust. His fingers wrap around Sand’s neck, pulling his face closer to his own but not closing the gap entirely. Instead, they’re exchanging pants and moans in the minuscule space between them. An audible crescendo of pleasure.
“I love you.”
The words get punched out of Ray in a rush by a particular hard thrust and Sand can’t help but slam their mouths together in response, moaning into Ray’s while trying to chase the taste of the words on his tongue. He’s still not used to hearing them. Obviously he knew Ray likes him, they told each other as much when they finally got together, but actually hearing his boyfriend tell him that he loves him still feels new.
Ray first told him the night before he left for rehab, profusely apologizing for not being able to say it sooner undeterred by Sand smiling from ear to ear at him. He didn’t care that he told Ray already weeks before without Ray reciprocating. He only cared that Ray felt it too and he knew he did.
“I love you.”
Ray’s head tips forward onto his chest like Sand’s words bring him the same kind of pleasure that his dick brings him right now, getting him into the perfect position for Sand to press a kiss to the crown of his sweaty hair. The tender kiss is a stark contrast to the frenzied bouncing of Ray’s hips below. He’s close again; Sand can feel it in the desperate way he moves himself and the way his arms flex and twitch while gripping onto the back of the couch.
Big hands move down to the globes of Ray’s ass, squeezing once before he starts aiding Ray in his movements. He hauls Ray up against him on every upward thrust and his fingers splay out so he brushes against the tight skin surrounding his cock, leaving Ray keening with every touch.
“Shit, Sand. I’ll cum again if you touch me. Please.”
He doesn’t have to be told twice. Sand is desperate to finish himself; he can’t hold out for much longer either. He wraps one hand around Ray’s hard cock, trading the soft flesh of Ray’s ass for the wet slide on his dick. He’s been steadily leaking at the head so that Sand doesn’t even need any lube to make the glide easier; he simply has to gather more pre-cum to slather down.
Another deep and heady moan escapes Ray at the touch, followed by a string of Sand’s name in increasing tempo. One of Ray’s hands leaves the backrest of the couch and finds Sand’s shoulder, digging into the curve and leaving angry red marks behind. The added bit of pain sends hot-red pleasure through Sand, his head tips back on a moan and the hand around Ray’s cock tightens involuntarily.
“I’m gonna-“
Ray doesn’t get to finish the sentence before he cums for the second time tonight, dripping out and covering Sand’s fist in mere moments. His hips slow down to a languid role as he rides out his orgasm, aided by Sand’s hand still slowly milking him up and down. He’s panting like he’s just run a marathon, slumping forward into Sand’s body and pushing Sand’s hand away from his oversensitive dick.
Sand relents and lets Ray catch his breath, combing the sweaty strands of hair out of his eyes. He gets a kiss pressed to his chest in return; Ray’s hand trailing featherlight up and down Sand’s side. Despite the tender actions there’s still pressure in Sand’s stomach, begging to be released. He nudges at Ray’s head until he looks back up at him; eyes glazed over and far-away.
“Turn around. On your knees.”
Sand knows the only way to shut off Ray’s brain tonight is to overstimulate him. To leave him a ruined and mewling mess. And if he can ruin himself a bit a bit in the process as well that’s even better.
Ray looks at him like he’s speaking a foreign language; like he’s on a completely different plane of existence. Sand tries not to boast at the effect he has on his boyfriend, he really does, but it’s a hard feat when Ray is looking at him so completely fucked-out every time he gets him off.
The words seem to finally sink in for Ray because he lifts himself off Sand with unsteady legs and drops onto the carpet in front of the couch, draping himself over the couch table. Sand slides onto the ground behind him, pushing back into Ray in one swift thrust. Ray lets out a desperate whine at the motion, obviously sore and overly sensitive right now.
Blunt nails dig into the wood of the table under him, grappling for purchase as Sand chases his own orgasm. He’s almost there; he can feel the heat spreading into every extremity and threatening to spill over at any moment. Before he can finally let go as well, Ray stops him with a hand blindly reaching back to tap his thigh, making Sand slow down his erratic thrusts immediately.
“Cum on me, Sand. I need it, come on.”
In comparison to Ray, Sand actually likes being told what to do in bed, so he’s helpless to follow Ray’s command.
“Fuck, baby.”
They don’t do it often, mostly because Ray likes it better when he cums inside - and even more when he gets to keep it inside - so on the rare occasions when Ray wants him to finish somewhere else the request alone gets him off in a flash. This time is no different; the mental image that explodes behind his eyelids is enough to tip him over the edge and Sand uses the last bit of his brainpower to give Ray what he wants. He pulls out of him and shoots across Ray’s naked back not even a moment later, grunting hard as he works himself through it.
White drips onto the small of Ray’s back and he moans like the feeling of it hitting his skin is the best sensation in the world. Maybe it is to him. Sand isn’t coherent enough to really think about it. His head is only filled with thoughts of Ray and how good he currently feels. The high is still too steep to come down from it.
Ray slumps onto the table like he’s the one who just had another orgasm, completely spent and void of energy after the past hour or so they’ve been at it. The sun is slowly cresting in the sky outside and Sand already knows his shift later will be hell on earth if they don’t get into bed soon. To sleep this time. He needs to get Ray clean enough to sleep first though.
Once Sand has caught his breath and come down to earth again, he leans forward to press a soft kiss to Ray’s left shoulder blade, mindful to not get into the mess on his back.
“Wait a second, okay, baby? I’ll get you cleaned up.”
Sand stumbles onto his feet; knees aching from the way he’s been crouched on the carpet just now. Ray looks like he’s a second away from falling asleep on the wood of the table so he better hurry up. He steps into the bathroom to grab a washcloth from under sink, running it under the tap and getting it just damp enough for clean up.
He’s about to get back to Ray in the living when he stops for a moment and takes in the scene around him. Ray’s shampoo and body wash in the shower that probably cost more than he spends on shampoo in his entire life, the three toothbrushes in the holder on the sink, Ray’s clothes half sprawled in front of the basket. All the tiny reminders that Ray’s life is intrinsically linked with his. All the things that make this feel like their home together.
He wants that. He wants so many things with Ray. Things that feel momentous and mundane at the same time. That might feel too grand for the stage they’re supposed to be in but feel natural with Ray. Their love is intense, always has been, and Sand wouldn’t have it any other way. Even on bad days like today, there’s no place he would rather be than next to Ray.
And he feels incredibly lucky that he gets to be the one that Ray trusts in the most intimate moments. That he’s the one who gets to drag Ray to bed and pull him against him. That he’s the one who gets to wake up next to Ray again in the morning when the sun is high in the sky already. He’s lucky that he’s the one Ray fights to be a better person for. That Ray loves him and isn’t afraid to fall deeper anymore either. They’re lucky to still want each other just as much as they did on their first night.
He’s lucky. And he will keep giving Ray whatever he needs. Whether that’s a distraction, a convenient orgasm or something more profound. He’ll give him anything.