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“ Ray ,” Sand chides, unimpressed.
He’s sitting across the room, lounging idly on the cashmere sofa, one arm stretched across the back and the other occupied with his phone. His lips purse in a tight little line, just begging to be kissed, but Ray doesn’t think it’d be welcome right now.
He pouts from his spot on the floor, “ What . I haven’t even done anything, Sand.”
Sand just continues looking down at him, clearly displeased- and, okay, maybe Ray is doing something. But Sand’s being ridiculous, and he’s just showing him that. He hates when his boyfriend gets moody. Not only does he stop fucking him, but he looks at Ray like that , with big, liquid brown eyes oozing disappointment. Ray hates disappointing people.
He reluctantly straightens his posture- the object of Sand’s ridicule. After Ray had caused a scene at the bar ( it’s not his fault that girl got too handsy with Sand , and he had to put her in her place, ) Sand had guided him by the arm into Ray’s overpriced mansion and told him to ‘stick his nose in a corner.’ Bossy asshole.
Ray doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here kneeling, staring at the wall while Sand ignores him, but it feels like literal years. He’s half-tempted to slouch out of position again just to get some attention, but he’s already pushed Sand further than usual tonight, and the last time he had been that bad, it’d resulted in him not being able to sit for days.
He still remembers that night with startling clarity. He’d been having a bad self-esteem day and lashed out at Sand for choosing a gig over him ( which , in a clearer state of mind , he had realized was absolutely unhinged . His therapist agreed . ) That hadn’t been what did it, though. The final nail in the coffin had been him coming to the bar Sand was performing at despite being four months’ sober and avoiding anywhere that sold alcohol.
( “You are never going to sabotage yourself like that again,” Sand had ordered after the fact, deadly serious. He forced Ray to come out of hiding from the crook of his neck, teary and thoroughly chastened, and demanded, “Say it, Ray. Tell me you won’t set yourself up for failure again or we’ll have a repeat of this conversation.”
Ray nodded, sniffling and contrite, clinging to Sand’s back, “I promise, Sand.” )
“Ray,” Sand calls again from across the room, finally putting down that damned phone. He crooks his finger as if beckoning a dog. “C’mere.”
Relieved, Ray rises, fully intending on plopping on top of Sand’s lap and forgetting this stupid punishment bullshit ever happened, but the musician halts him with a stern shake of his head. Instead, he points to the spot at his feet. Ray thinks he can physically feel his blood pressure spike, realizing what Sand wants him to do.
“Sand. Honey. Baby,” he says slowly, voice oozing faux-sweetness. He even bats his eyelashes a little. “I’ve learned my lesson. I promise . Don’t you think this is enough?”
“Mmh,” Sand pretends to think for a moment, tilting his head as if truly considering the pathetic manipulation attempt, but the hope that had been slowly rising in Ray’s chest is snuffed out when the singer promptly flashes a mean little smile and says, “No, I don’t think so.” He points to the floor again, voice hardening, “In front of me. Now , Ray.”
Bastard , Ray thinks, but reluctantly does as he’s told. He spares a pout, though, glaring up at Sand through his eyelashes. He gets a stony, impassive stare in return. Sand’s good at those. It’s both hot and incredibly frustrating, especially for someone as emotional as Ray. Sand is his polar opposite in almost every way. It’s probably why they work so well together, but in moments like these, it’s just annoying.
“ Saaand ,” he goes to whine, losing his nerve in the ensuing silence, but Sand reaches out and covers his mouth. It’s the first contact he’s granted Ray since his outburst earlier, and it sends little electric zaps down the smaller man’s neck, even if it’s not necessarily a nice touch.
“Quiet,” instructs the musician, eyes darkening. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you unless I ask directly, do you understand? Your silver tongue won’t work on me.”
It has before , Ray wants to argue, but with his mouth covered, all he can do is shoot Sand a disbelieving look. He gets an eye roll in response, but thankfully, the palm leaves his mouth moments later. Wetting his lips, he waits in nervous anticipation for what Sand has planned, wriggling in place. Luckily, Sand has never been a sadist ( in the way of making Ray anxious , ) so he doesn’t keep the other man waiting for much longer.
“You embarrassed me tonight,” he says, straight to the point. “I perform at that venue all the time , Ray. Now I’ll have to do damage control and pray they take me back.”
Ray wants to groan. Not another lecture . Still, his stomach twists uncomfortably at the irritation in Sand’s voice. It’s not like he’d intentionally humiliated the other man. He just hadn’t been able to stand watching that girl paw at his boyfriend like a cat in heat. Sand still smells like her perfume even now.
“ Ray , eyes up here,” Sand barks, snapping the smaller man out of his thoughts. The musician’s eyes narrow reproachfully. “Am I not being interesting enough for you?”
Ray rolls his eyes, “Well, you could do better-”
Calloused fingers dig into his jaw, forcing his mouth shut. He goes stock-still, an electric thrill shooting down his spine even as a pang of anxiety flares in his chest. Sand looks down at him contemplatively, frowning, “Why are you pushing so hard tonight, Ray?”
The almost caring way in which he says it makes something uneasy twist in Ray’s gut. He averts his gaze, and then remembers Sand’s order and glances back up. To be safe, he hones in on the mole on the musician’s chin to ignore those big, liquid eyes that seem to look so easily into his soul.
If he were honest, he would tell Sand that he’s been feeling off-kilter all day. He’d admit that he was on his way to the liquor store before he decided at the last second to visit Sand at his gig instead. He would spill out all his ugly insides, and how a small, insecure part of him had worried that Sand would want that girl more than him.
But Ray’s never been honest, and he doesn’t think he could take the disappointment that would surely darken Sand’s face, so he flashes a smile and purrs, “Why are you wasting my time with a boring lecture when you could be fucking me?”
It has the intended effect, but not in the way Ray wanted. Instead of frustration, something a lot like disappointment crosses Sand’s face. He withdraws the hand that had been on Ray’s jaw and sighs, “Alright, we’ll have it your way, you brat .”
Moments later, Ray’s being hefted up over the musician’s lap, letting out a startled little yelp at the sudden manhandling. Sand gives his clothed ass a light smack in warning, chiding, “ Quiet . This is what you wanted, right?”
“Not really, no,” Ray shoots back coyly, but his voice is a lot less steady.
His lip earns him another sharp smack, and he whines, squirming. Sand scoffs, “Still talking back, Ray?”
A finger hooks under the fabric of Ray’s jeans, pulling them unceremoniously down his thighs. The chilly living room air makes him shiver, burying his face against the couch cushion. Sand massages the skin soothingly for a moment before landing another sudden strike, this one much harder. Ray squeaks.
The whole corporal punishment thing wasn’t a frequent player in their relationship- Sand only used it for Ray’s larger infractions, or when he felt like the smaller man needed settling. Right now, he seems to think it will make him talk. Ray keeps his lips firmly sealed, even as the next set of blows elicit a few whimpers. Objectively, they’re pretty light, but he’s always been more sensitive.
“Tell me why we’re here,” Sand hums, frustratingly calm. His voice is rich like honey, sending shivers down Ray’s back.
“Be-because you’re mean,” pants back the smaller man.
There’s a sigh, and then another set of swats rain down on his ass, targeting the right cheek. The sting is immense. Ray gasps, arching his back in an involuntary attempt to escape, but Sand shoves him back down. The musician plants a palm in-between his shoulder blades, halting his wriggling.
“Not the answer I’m looking for, Ray,” he says, sounding almost bored. He hitches his knee up to get better access to his target, sending Ray scrabbling at the couch cushions. “ Why are we here ?”
“I- ow- because,” Ray chokes, warring between pride and pain. Sand isn’t unreasonable. He’ll stop once Ray admits what he did wrong. It’s in Ray ’s hands to stop this. He whimpers, giving up the act embarrassingly quickly, “Because I caused a scene and embarrassed you!”
Usually, the smacks stop once he’s laid his sins bare, so it surprises him when another hard blow lands. He yelps, trying to rise, “ Wh-what ,” but is only pushed down again.
Sand rubs up and down his spine with his free hand, soothing, “That’s part of it, but not all. Can you think of why else I’m punishing you?”
No , Ray wants to shout, suddenly overcome with a feeling of helplessness. When he’d known what Sand wanted, it felt a lot easier to act out and know he could put an end to it at any point. Like this, though, ignorant to his crimes, he’s entirely under Sand’s control. It’s maddening. Tears spring to his eyes humiliatingly fast, the sting in his ass only getting worse with each swat.
“ Sand ,” he whimpers, turning his face against the other man’s knee. “I don’t- I don’t know -”
“- think , Ray.” The hand on his back travels up to his neck, grounding him against the overwhelming onslaught of emotions. Sand’s voice is warm as he continues, “I know you can do it, baby . You’re so smart.”
Not smart , Ray wants to argue, but that’s another part of their rules- Ray’s not allowed to talk bad about himself. That ’s been the hardest one yet. Instead, he muffles a cry into Sand’s knee at a particularly painful strike. His tears wet the fabric of the singer’s jeans.
He wracks his brain for what Sand could want, coming up blank. Instead, his brain pivots into self-loathing. Should he not stop other people from approaching the musician? Is that it? Has Sand grown tired of him? Ray wouldn’t blame him.
Instead of getting drunk on the weekends like a normal college student, he has to stay at home with his useless addict boyfriend. He has to put up with all of Ray’s breakdowns and insecurities when he could be with someone who gave back all that love he offers so selflessly.
Ray had meant it, all those months ago, sobbing on his knees in the therapist’s office- in this world, there’s no one more loving than Sand .
It’s that thought that breaks him. “ I don’t know ,” he finally wails, helpless like a child. “Please help me, Sand.”
“Okay,” Sand hushes him immediately, voice softening. The hand on Ray’s neck travels up to his hair, idly stroking. Ray sniffles, clinging to the musician’s thigh. Blissfully, the swats have stopped. “Thank you for trying, baby . Are you ready to listen now?”
Ray nods miserably, hiccupping. If Sand could see his face, he’d for sure make a show out of his big, teary eyes and quivering lower lip. As it is now, he just curls up on the singer’s lap, soaking in his warmth like a cat.
“Good,” praises the musician, still gently petting Ray’s hair. “You were partially right, but the way you behaved earlier isn’t the most pressing concern for me- it’s why you behaved that way.” He taps Ray’s hip, right over his tattoo. “What’s the most important part of our relationship, Ray?”
That ’s something Ray can answer definitively. “Trust.”
“Yes, and I need to be able to trust you to tell me when something’s wrong,” Sand hums, trailing a hand down to cup the smaller man’s neck and turn his face around. His eyes are warm yet stern. “And you need to be able to trust me . If you had told me what was on your mind instead of barging into my gig and causing a scene, we could’ve avoided all this.”
It all sounds frustratingly reasonable. Ray averts his gaze, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. Suddenly, he just feels bad because Sand’s right ( like always . ) If he had communicated instead of acting out like a spoiled child, they could be cuddling and watching movies right about now. Sand wouldn’t have had to deal with him after an exhausting day at work, and Ray wouldn’t be crying and contrite over his lap.
He’s disgusted with himself. Therapy had been helpful in curbing his irrational thoughts, but sometimes things still got too much. When that happened, Ray felt almost out-of-body, unable to separate himself from that mean, ugly thing inside him that demanded blood. It’s like it’s just rooted in his system to just mess up everything good in his life. He feels very small on Sand’s lap.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong now, Ray?” The musician asks kindly, completely lacking judgment despite the sorry sight that Ray must make.
Ray squirms. On one hand, he wants to ( God, he wants to , ) but on the other one, that means admitting to Sand how much of a fuck-up he is. Sand would feel so betrayed , knowing Ray had turned to drinking before him. It makes his stomach churn. His chest grows tight, and his breaths start picking up as he croaks out, “Sand, please, can’t we drop this, I-”
“-still don’t want to talk?” Interrupts the singer, sounding disappointed.
Ray whimpers, frustrated and increasingly panicked, “ No - that’s not- you aren’t listening !”
“Then talk to me,” Sand urges, voice hardening. Ray is suddenly acutely aware that he’s still sprawled across the musician’s legs. Sand softens his tone, “Whatever it is, Ray, I won’t be mad. I just want you to be honest with me.”
“You’re going to hate me,” Ray mumbles childishly, turning his face into the denim of the singer’s jeans. It’s soaked through with his tears at this point. He whimpers, “You don’t think you will, but you’re going to, Sand.”
There’s a soft, exasperated exhale, and then Ray finds his world suddenly rotating until he’s upright in Sand’s arms, their breaths mingling. The musician squeezes him tight without warning, eliciting a startled squeak. “This is the issue, Ray,” he says, sounding very serious. “You don’t believe me. You don’t believe that I love you, and that I’ll stay with you even when you mess up, do you?”
The question knocks the breath out of Ray’s chest. His instinctive reaction is to respond with faux-confidence. He did it with Sand for the majority of their early relationship, playing the spoiled khun nu role up until he couldn’t anymore. For some reason, though, the words get stuck in his throat. He is unlovable. Sand just hasn’t realized yet.
“No one else has ever stayed,” he confesses quietly, fresh tears dripping down his face to stain Sand’s tee-shirt.
He feels the musician stiffen, and then unceremoniously, he’s being wrenched out of the warm prison of the other man’s arms. Sand’s face is pinched, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Am I everyone else?” He asks disbelievingly- almost hurt . Ray’s stomach sinks. “Have I not proven time and time again that I’m here for the long haul?”
“I’m too much, Sand,” argues the smaller man, voice wobbly. He doesn’t even know why he’s arguing. Of course he wants to believe Sand’s words. He wants to stay with the musician forever, young and dumb and in love, but he also wants to be in control of when Sand inevitably leaves him. He’s never been in control of anything- when his mom died, when Mew abandoned him for Top, his addiction…
“...Okay, Ray,” Sand says, and Ray’s heart drops because this is it- this is what he wanted, Sand realizing he’s not worth it- but it already hurts so bad. He’s snapped out of his spiral by the singer’s next words, “Clearly you aren’t ready to listen. That’s my bad. Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to go take a shower- I’ll help you if you need me to- and then you’re going to meet me in the bedroom.”
He taps a confused Ray’s hip, urging, “Up,” as if this solution makes perfect sense. Ray’s head spins. He doesn’t move until Sand pinches his already sore ass, yelping, “ Fine, ” and jumping to his feet. His legs tremble slightly. Sand rises as well, steadying the smaller man with an arm around the waist.
“C’mon,” hums the singer, blissfully aloof.
They start up the criminally long staircase to the bedroom, with Ray leaning heavily into the Sand’s side. He’s still confused, but all too happy nonetheless to bask in Sand’s touch after being denied for so long. Some of the musician’s stone-cold demeanor melts away once they reach the bedroom. He must be so tired after working gigs all day.
Plopping onto the bed, the taller man throws an arm over his eyes, muttering, “Your house is too big, khun nu .”
The return to his usual demeanor unwinds the tight band of anxiety in Ray’s chest slightly. He laughs, “I told you not to call me that, jackass ,” and throws a pillow at Sand’s face.
He catches it- the cool bastard- and proceeds to fold it under his head. It would be a crime not to take the opportunity presenting itself, so Ray plops on top of the singer like a spoiled cat. Sand exhales a startled ‘ oof ’ that turns into an amused huff, and then he brings his arms up to wrap around Ray.
“You’re still in trouble,” he murmurs, hot breath tickling the smaller man’s hair. Those big, imploring eyes peek down at Ray through long lashes. “Do you want me to help you wash up?”
Ray’s immediate reaction is to say yes , but that familiar guilt from earlier rears its ugly head, making the words die in the back of his throat. Sand looks so tired. There have been bags under his eyes for days, and he’s content to be in bed, as he should be, after a long day. Yet here is, being forced to deal with Ray.
“I’m okay,” Ray forces out. Sand’s brow furrows, clearly bewildered. Ray never skips out on being spoiled. Realizing he’ll need to be more convincing, the smaller man offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Get some rest, na , Sand? I’ll be right out.”
Sand frowns. “Okay.”
He’s not right out. Ray stays in the bath until his fingers are pruny and the water has gone cold, lost in thought. He’s surprised Sand doesn’t come and check on him, but a part of him hopes it’s because the musician’s fallen asleep. He needs the rest, and Ray could sidle up next to him and fall asleep without worrying about whatever the singer has planned.
Meet me in the bedroom , he’d said. Ray dries off and wraps a towel around his waist, smelling like his grossly-expensive vanilla body wash. The bedroom air is chilly on his bare skin as he enters. A shiver runs down his spine. Across the room, Sand is decidedly not asleep.
“Sand?” Ray questions, shocked.
The singer shoots him an impassive look, lounging idly on the bed. In front of him, there’s a silk blindfold and a vibrator. Sand pats the spot in front of him, ever direct, “Sit down.”
A mixture of anxiety and interest wriggle in Ray’s stomach. Hesitantly, he approaches the bed until he’s within Sand’s reach and finds himself unceremoniously hefted in-between the musician’s long legs. “You won’t be needing this,” hums the taller man, making quick work of undoing Ray’s towel and letting it drop to the floor.
Ray shudders again- this time not only from the cold. Sand’s mouth is dangerously close to his exposed cock, which has already started throbbing in interest. The singer remains silent for a moment, staring as if entranced. He traces the messy tattooed scrawl on Ray’s hip meaningfully, asking, “Is this okay?”
“More than,” Ray manages to purr, flashing a sly grin. This he can do. Sex is like second nature, and sex with Sand is the first. He can at least make up for his insolence through this.
“Great,” Sand hums, tapping the smaller man’s hip to get him to sit down. There’s something almost predatory in his gaze that makes Ray feel very small. The singer continues, “Since we’re having issues with being honest tonight, I’m going to give you some incentive.”
He reaches for the blindfold, beckoning Ray closer. Nervous excitement swirls in the smaller man’s stomach. He does as instructed, sitting prettily like a prized lap dog. Sand leans forward, whispering hotly against his ear, “What’s our signal to stop?”
“Tap against the headboard three times,” Ray answers quickly. Sand nods at him to give an example, so Ray raps on the wooden headboard three times in quick succession.
“Good,” the musician praises, voice momentarily softening. The warmth doesn’t last for long, though. He turns Ray around so that they’re back-to-chest, bringing the silk ribbon to the smaller man’s eyes. “I’m disappointed in you, Ray. You don’t get to start falling back, do you hear me? You’ve made so much progress. I’m not going to let you sabotage it because of your self-hatred.”
The words cut like daggers through Ray’s chest. Suddenly, this feels a whole lot less like a sex thing, and more like an impromptu therapy session. Damn Sand. Most people would just fuck it out and go to bed, but not him. He takes care of Ray’s well-being like it’s his own ( which , funnily enough , his own is probably the only one that Sand doesn’t take care of , ) and Ray had majorly endangered that tonight.
Suddenly, his vision goes black, the soft fabric of the silk tightening around his eyes. Sand works quickly, deft musician’s fingers tying the blindfold around Ray’s head in seconds. Despite the harshness of his words, he’s incredibly gentle, untucking Ray’s hair from under the fabric. The feeling is amplified by the lack of sight, and Ray shudders.
Speaking of- all of his senses seem to be more prominent without vision. He’s hyper-aware of Sand’s warm body behind him, and the cold air against his naked skin. The sting from his punishment earlier had mostly faded, but the drag of the sheets against his ass suddenly feels like fire. If he focuses hard enough, he thinks he can feel Sand’s heartbeat reverberating through his back.
It’s weird. He’d been blindfolded before, but never in this sense, where the intent was to punish and not to pleasure. Sand seems to sense his nerves, perfectly attuned to all of Ray’s cues. He smoothes a palm down the smaller man’s thigh, asking, “Good?”
“M’fine,” Ray answers, relaxing almost instinctively. Sand’s voice is always hot, but it’s sweet like honey now, rich and deep right against his ear-
-the warm weight behind him suddenly vanishes, leaving Ray cold and alone on the bed. He whines, conflicted. Like this, he’s completely and utterly at Sand’s mercy. There’s something inherently attractive about giving up control to another person, but it’s also scary.
He startles when cold fingers graze his forehead, readjusting the blindfold. Sand hushes him, equal parts dominant and attentive, “Shh, you’re alright.”
From the sound of his voice, he’s standing in front of Ray now. Ray can imagine him- the stern set of his lips, the gentle furrow of his brow, those heavy-lidded doe eyes. He says, “I’m going to get you ready for the vibrator now,” before drawing back again.
Ray doesn’t whine this time, but a little shiver runs down his spine. Sand gets straight to the point. He’s always been like that- a rough lover. He wrenches Ray’s legs apart, ordering, “Keep them there,” in that deliciously deep timbre. There’s the sound of what is presumably a bottle of lube opening, and then cold fingers prod Ray’s hole.
He yelps, instinctively trying to close his legs, but a bruising grip clasps around one of his thighs, keeping him spread open. “What’s the matter, khun nu ?” Sand taunts meanly. The fingers come back, pressing more insistently against the fluttering ring of muscle. “Too much?”
Ray’s sensitive in general, but like this, every sensation is heightened. He cries out when the first two fingers slip inside, arching his back. Sand’s not even working him up to it- the bastard. Instead, he scissors Ray open roughly, not even bothering to target his prostate. It’s all just- pressure . Ray wishes he wasn’t blindfolded so that Sand could see the absolute death glare he’s sending his way.
He pleads, “Sand, please .”
“Doesn’t feel very good, does it,” Sand hums conversationally, phrasing the question like a statement. He pushes his fingers down to the knuckle without warning, making Ray curse. Still sounding completely unaffected, he then continues, “It didn’t feel very good when you embarrassed me in front of an entire crowd of people, either.”
“ You said you weren’t mad about that !” Ray bursts out childishly. Frustration simmers in his stomach. Despite the lack of stimulation, his cock is hard against his stomach, begging for attention. He can already feel tears welling in his eyes. Normally, he wouldn’t break this fast, but it’s been an exhausting day.
A sharp smack lands on his thigh. “I’m not,” Sand says steadily. The fingers stroking inside Ray pick up the pace, just barely dodging that spot that makes him see stars. “I’ll never punish you if I’m truly mad, Ray. But your actions did upset me. There’s a difference. I expect better from you.”
I expect better from you . The words replay over and over in Ray’s head, searing his heart like a brand. No one had ever believed in him enough to expect anything from him. He has the hysterical thought that this is probably the sort of thing one hears from their mother. His mom never gave a shit what he did- even when she wasn’t dead.
Ray whimpers, and the hand on his thigh squeezes slightly as if in comfort. Seconds later, the fingers leave him, departing with a wet sound that echoes around the room. He flushes, unable to tune it out with the blindfold obscuring any distractions. Sand hums, mocking, “I’ve had you in far worse positions than this, baby .”
“You suck,” Ray huffs tearfully. They both know he doesn’t mean it. He thinks Sand is the coolest person alive. He’d just be infinitely cooler if he stopped edging Ray and fucked him until he can’t remember his name.
He doesn’t have time to prepare before the blunt head of the vibrator is jamming inside him without warning. A shrill cry jumps from his throat of its own accord. It hurts . It’s not unbearable, and it probably wouldn’t be so bad without the blindfold amplifying every sensation, but like this, prone and pent-up and helpless- it’s a lot .
“What did you say?” Sand asks coyly. Despite his cruel tone, he gives Ray a moment to adjust to the sudden intrusion, stroking soothingly up and down the smaller man’s inner-thigh.
Ray shudders, “Fuck me.”
He can imagine Sand shrugging noncommittally as he hums, “Hmm, don’t think so, khun nu ,” and leans forward to press a kiss to Ray’s bent knee. Moments later, the vibrator is switched on, pressing right against the smaller man’s neglected prostate. The switch from no sensation to such an intense amount all at once makes Ray sob, writhing against the sheets.
Sand’s mouth latches onto his neck seconds later, sucking marks into the ivory skin. Like this, Ray can feel that he’s not unaffected, the bulge in his jeans brushing obscenely against Ray’s bare thigh. He whispers, breaths hot and fevered, “Feel good?”
“Obviously, asshole ,” Ray hisses, hips twitching in little sporadic circles to grind down on the vibrator. Sand’s hand catches his thigh a moment later, halting his movements. The smaller man groans in frustration, neglected cock leaking on his belly.
“Clearly, if you’re still able to talk back, I’m not doing enough,” muses Sand against his chin, and then there’s a pulling sensation inside Ray, before the vibrator thrums to a higher setting.
Ray curses, kicking his legs. Sand’s warm weight pins him to the bed, lips still working idly against his neck and shoulders. The musician chides, maybe even a little meanly, “Down, Ray,” and nips the smaller man’s earlobe, teeth catching on the silver hoop there.
Those soft, wet lips pepper kisses along the pinkening skin of his neck and chest, traveling down to his soft stomach and thighs. Ray wishes more than anything that he could see his boyfriend right now. Sand is nothing short of a sex-mussed daydream in the bedroom- dark, lustful eyes, swollen lips, flushed skin. He circles Ray’s hip tattoo with his tongue, reverent.
He’s so close to where Ray needs him, hot breaths fanning out across the smaller man’s stomach but never lower. It’s too much. Ray writhes, sobbing, “Sand, please , pleasepleaseplease .”
There’s a sharp exhale of laughter, “No one ever made you wait before, khun nu ?” And then on the next beat, a warm, wet heat surrounds Ray’s weeping cock.
He cries out, unable to stop himself from bucking his hips up into that tight throat. Sand takes it like a champ, not even so much as choking, but he does make a low, disapproving noise that thrums through Ray’s cock like a million electric bolts. Strong hands pin his hips to the mattress a moment later, surely leaving bruises in their wake for Ray to trace in the morning.
Sand circles the leaking head of Ray’s dick with his tongue, drawing back with a wet ‘ pop’ to order, “Tell me when you’re about to cum,” and then diving back in.
Ray preens. The combination of Sand’s mouth, and the vibrator still pressing insistently against his prostate, make him see stars. He groans, arching his back, tears and maybe a little drool leaking down his face. He’s less self-conscious somehow with the blindfold, making these soft little ‘ uh-uh-uh ’ noises each time Sand swallows him down.
It doesn’t take long at all for the pleasure that had been steadily building in his stomach to reach its peak. After being denied for so long, the onslaught of sensation is overwhelming. He sobs unabashedly, teeth clacking, “Gonna- gonna cum, Sand.”
For a singular, glorious moment, he actually thinks that. His toes curl and his stomach clenches, just about to tip off the edge into white hot ecstasy- and then Sand withdraws. He takes away that hot little mouth, leaving Ray right on the peak. The smaller man can’t help crying out, choking out a nasally little, “What, no ,” through red, bitten lips.
He tries to twist onto his side and rut against the sheets, losing all shame in his almost frantic desperation to cum, but Sand holds him still. The musician orders, “Breathe, Ray,” over Ray’s sharp, hitching breaths.
“ Why ,” the smaller man wails petulantly. He’s never felt more out of control. His tears soak through the blindfold.
“Did you forget this is a lesson?” Sand hums, voice hardening. He pinches Ray’s thigh. It’s not even that hard- just a reminder that he’s not here to get off. He’s here for whatever Sand wants. “Here’s the deal: I’m not going to let you cum until you tell me the reason you acted the way you did today.”
Ray’s stomach sinks. He whimpers, fresh tears rolling down his face, leaking through to the goosefeather duvet. Sand strokes his hip, reminding him kindly, “If it’s too much, tap the headboard three times, remember?” He even waits a few moments to see if Ray will, but it’s all mixed up inside the smaller man.
There’s a certain appeal to laying his sins bare that Ray can’t deny. He’s been carrying the guilt of his actions all day, and the idea of Sand holding him and telling him ‘ it’s okay ’ in that deep, soothing timbre sounds like heaven. There’s only one thing stopping him, and it’s the fear that Sand won’t forgive him. That must be what the musician was talking about earlier.
This isn’t solely a lesson on being honest, but in learning to trust, too.
If only it wasn’t so fucking hard . Sand hums when he shows no sign of wanting to stop, and moments later, a warm, wet hand encircles Ray’s cock. It’s almost painful after being denied once already, sharp and hypersensitive. He whines, hips kicking, but this time, Sand doesn’t stop him from moving.
The room is filled with his low, raspy moans and the wet ‘ squelch ’ of the musician’s hand working Ray’s cock. It should be embarrassing, but the smaller man is too far gone to care, writhing against the covers like a bitch in heat.
“Ready to tell me what’s wrong?” Sand asks. He would sound nonchalant if it weren’t for the slight strain in his breathing. His wrist twists, gathering more pre-cum with his thumb and smearing it around.
Ray grits his teeth, remaining stubbornly silent even as his hips jerk. He fists his hands into the fur pillows under his head, quivering with need. It doesn’t take long for Sand to bring him to the brink again, deft musician’s fingers playing him like an instrument. He doesn’t even need to say anything before the hand retreats, cutting him off once again.
This time, it’s even worse. Ray sobs, the pulse of the vibrator inside of him becoming almost painful with the prolonged lack of release. He bites his lip to keep from crying out, but Sand gently unhooks the swollen skin from his teeth, chiding ‘ no, Ray .’ He presses a fleeting kiss to the abused skin- the first one he’s granted Ray all night.
“Sand- please - it hurts,” whimpers Ray pitifully, chest heaving. He untangles his fingers from the blankets to paw at where he thinks Sand’s chest is, clinging to the thin fabric of his shirt.
The singer makes a slightly sympathetic noise. “I told you what you have to do to make it stop,” he murmurs softly, heated breaths fanning out against Ray’s jaw.
It’s so goddamn frustrating - the way he makes himself sound so reasonable even while he’s torturing Ray within an inch of his life ( maybe that’s a little dramatic , but it’s how it feels . ) He wants to tell Sand to try and confess his deepest, darkest secrets with a vibrator up his ass and his orgasm withheld from him twice . Subsequently, he can’t do that, so he just sobs and clings to Sand instead.
“Still fighting?” The musician asks, sounding disappointed. His fingers skim Ray’s inner-thigh, ghosting across the sensitive spot where he’s stretched open by the vibrator. He whispers, “I can do this all night, Ray.”
“ Sand ,” Ray pleads because it’s all he can do. He’s still not ready to confess. His fear of being abandoned ties him to the bed like shackles, blocking him from both physical and emotional release. He shakes his head when he feels Sand’s finger prodding his hole, slipping in beside the vibrator. “No- nonono , Sand, it’s too much-”
“-it wouldn’t be if you just gave in,” Sand interrupts, voice like the sweetest honey. Ray is wet and hot and loose inside by now, so the musician is able to start thrusting his finger relatively quickly, nipping at the smaller man’s neck. “Wouldn’t it feel so good to give in, baby ? I would never judge you.” He presses a gentle kiss to the blindfold. “I love you, Ray.”
The whispered confession pools in Ray’s stomach like molten lava, warming him from the inside out. He clings to Sand’s shoulders, wailing, “ Sand, Sand, Sand ,” like a prayer. A hand snakes down to stroke his cock moments later, pumping in time with the finger thrusting inside of him.
It’s all too much. The pleasure builds again, hot and melting, and Sand lazily coaxes, “C’mon, Ray, tell me what’s wrong,” up until the moment that Ray can’t take it anymore.
“ I- I was going to the liquor store !” He bursts out like a sinner at confession. Maybe he is. Maybe Sand is his God, and he’s just the lowly piece of shit who the musician took a chance on. Once he’s started, it’s hard to stop. The words spill out of him, so fast they’re nearly incoherent, “I woke up, and I just felt so- so bad - and I didn’t want to bother you at work, so I- I went for a walk to clear my head, and then- and then I started walking there - but last second I turned and went to see you instead because I knew I shouldn’t , Sand- and then I saw that girl touching you, and I just- I just-”
Sand cuts him off with a kiss, swallowing his repentance like the sweetest melody. His ministrations speed up, thumb bumping a button that kicks the vibrator to its highest setting. Ray positively wails , the pulsing pleasure in his lower belly reaching its peak, and this time Sand doesn’t stop, parting from the kiss to breathe against the smaller man’s abused lips, “I’m so proud of you, Ray.”
That’s all it takes for Ray’s orgasm to crash through him like a freight train. After being denied for so long, it’s both relieving and painful. His back arches, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as he spills in wet, white ropes across Sand’s hand and his stomach. Sand works him through it, steadily pumping his finger in and out, hand never once ceasing its stroking. He goes all the way up until the moment Ray stops him, blubbering, “ Too much, too much ,” as little electric shocks shoot up his spine.
Sand slowly withdraws his fingers, smearing the excess lube on Ray’s inner-thigh. Asshole. Ray pants in the aftermath, prone and exhausted. Tears leak steadily down his flushed face, collecting on the fur pillow under his head. His thighs twitch sporadically, aching after straining for so long. Sand strokes his thigh soothingly, running a hand through the smaller man’s sweaty hair.
With the comedown also comes the startling realization that Ray admitted what he’d been doing before he barged in on Sand’s gig. His chest tightens, fresh tears welling. For some reason, it had eluded him until this moment to apologize, but it spills past his lips now, high-pitched and miserable, “I’m sorry, Sand.”
The musician makes a questioning noise, gathering Ray close to his chest. Even though the blindfold’s still obscuring his vision, Ray can imagine the singer’s pinched brow and pursed lips. He asks, “For what?”
“Being- being bad. Too much,” Ray whimpers out, feeling strung-out and vulnerable in a way he never has before. It’s like he’s back in the therapist’s office, begging an imaginary Sand not to leave him, except Sand is here and solid and real now. “You must be so tired of me, right?”
There’s a beat of silence, in which Ray convinces himself that Sand is figuring out a way to agree that won’t hurt his feelings ( Sand’s good like that , he always has been , taking everyone else’s feelings into account before his own . ) Then there’s an exasperated huff, and a kiss is dropped on Ray's temple.
“You’re right, I’m so tired of you,” mutters the musician sarcastically, pinching Ray’s hip. “That’s why I chased after you for almost half a year. I’m just so over you.”
In a way, it’s almost a perfect reaction. Sand’s mom had once described him as being a man of ‘ tough words, gentle actions .’ It rings true right now. Gentle fingers unhook the blindfold from Ray’s eyes. He winces at the sudden onslaught of light, blinking the tears out of his eyes. Sand’s face comes into focus moments later, highlighted in the soft moonlight filtering inside through Ray’s blinds and unbelievably gentle.
“I love you, you idiot ,” the singer bulldozes on, endearingly sincere. He reaches up to wipe the tears off Ray’s face with the back of his palm, pressing another tender kiss to the starstruck man’s forehead. “Even the bad parts, Ray. I love all of you. You don’t get to decide that I don’t, do you hear me?”
“So you’re not- you’re not mad?” Warbles out Ray, fresh tears stinging his eyes. “You’re not going to leave me?”
Sand sighs again, this time fond. He answers with a kiss, soothing Ray’s insecurities with the evidence of his devotion. When he pulls back, he asks, “Is that answer enough for you?”
Ray laughs wetly, hitching up for a kiss. Absurdly, he thinks that it might be more than enough, for now.
( Sand will clean him up later . He’ll make Ray take his antidepressants and drink some water , and deny the smaller man’s offer to ‘return the favor’ under the pretense of being too tired . They’ll fall back into bed together , with Ray curled up and content like a cat on Sand’s chest , and everything will be okay for a moment .
They’ll have to talk , eventually , about what had made Ray feel so bad that he’d been so close to relapse . Somehow , it doesn’t feel as scary , though , knowing Sand will be by his side . )