Chapter Text
Ray was checking his reflection in the mirror when he noticed Sand coming up behind him. He continued fidgeting with the buttons, not paying him any mind. This shirt was one he hadn't worn often, but today Ray was feeling out of sorts and if he was to go out, Ray thought, he would look good. The last few buttons of his shirt were left and he was contemplating over leaving them open when suddenly, a hand wrapped around his chest, pulling him back from his thoughts.
He stilled as Sand's hand began trailing a path down his chest. Ray's eyes were fixed on his reflection, all thoughts wiped from his mind in favour of following the movement of his hand. It dragged down his front, brushing his crotch and lower still, before moving back up to rest casually above the waistband of Ray's boxers that were peeking through his pants.
The fingers rested there for a moment, drumming over his hipbone to a tap tap tap rhythm. A pause, before they slid down his underpants to cup his soft dick. Ray's breath caught. Sand's hand continued to shift around inside, tucking it to the side and softening the natural bulge. Just as easily, he took his hand out and smoothed his shirt over the pants. Right when Ray thought he could catch his breath, Sand tapped the crotch of his pants with his fingers, right where he knew his balls rested. After one last onceover in the mirror, he hummed in approval and turned back towards the door.
Ray stood there frozen. The impact on his balls was sudden and quick, leaving him dumbfounded. He looked down in a daze to find that his previously soft dick was now forming an even bigger bulge in his pants. His ears burned. He could distantly hear the jingle of keys which reminded him that he should follow Sand out the door. With not enough time to examine the reaction, he grabbed a scarf poking out from one of the drawers—a red one he had seen Sand use to cover his face when riding the motorcycle on particularly dusty days—and tied it around his waist in an imitation of those rock stars in the magazines Sand has lying around his apartment.
Sand's brows raised at the addition to the outfit. Ray could feel his cheeks getting hot as he defended himself, "Just trying to look the part," and then, because he couldn't help himself, "Do you like it?"
Sand's eyes roamed over his frame as he unclasped the helmet from his bike. He leaned forward and looped a finger around Ray's belt, tugging him forward. The pull had Ray moving towards him hip first to automatically settle against Sand's side. Sand's eyes stayed on him as he secured the straps of the helmet on Ray. There was a knowing gleam in his eyes that left Ray feeling like he had unknowingly revealed too much.
"Looks good," he said.
It had always been there at the back of it all, a soft hum that got drowned by the buzz clouding Ray's mind whenever Sand was around. When he thinks back to it, he couldn’t pinpoint where it started. Ray had been used to having people at his beck and call. The way he saw it, Ray didn't need to concern himself with actions, only the outcomes.
When it came to Sand, Ray was used to asking and receiving, and so it was no surprise that Ray had grown oblivious to the dynamics that had been slowly forming outside of the bedroom. It didn't serve much purpose to examine the consequences of it—not that Ray could call it a consequence seeing as he was majorly benefiting from it, but Ray was slowly coming to the realization that he had unknowingly gotten used to having a constant someone doing things for him.
It was in how Sand wouldn't let Ray do the most mundane tasks like tying his shoelace, carrying his bags or fastening Ray's seatbelt when he drove his car, usually with a tut of disapproval over Ray's floundering hands blocking his attempts. Coming from anyone else, such treatment would leave Ray blustering. But Sand's touch was laced with a certain softness, a pat on the head, that Ray couldn't help leaning into. Ray was used to his friends helping him through a rough night, but when Sand ushered him out of the crowded club and into open space with a hand around his waist and all of his body weight on Sand, he could close his eyes and let Sand take care of the rest.
It wasn't until after the accident that Sand's touches and care started to hold more purpose and direction. It was like the instinct to nurture had blossomed into a need to guide and protect. His hands were always on his body, gently leading and manipulating his limbs into going where Sand wanted them. The more Ray found himself following Sand around, the more he sought his direction.
Watching Sand perform had become a part of Ray's routine and he would make it a point to sit at that booth on the side which gave him a clear view of his boyfriend commanding the stage. His full attention was on the man, and so the drinks being intermittently placed at his table were not given much thought before they would make their way in his hands. That is, until Sand was done for the night and back at Ray's table. Back at his side where he quite frankly should always be, Ray thinks, as Sand intercepts the next shot and closes his tab.
Ray knows how this goes. There are two choices at hand—it can go in either direction and his next step will determine the course of the night. Ray watches Sand as he plays with his hand while conversing with P'Yo. He looks down at the huge hand covering his own and his mind wanders back to earlier that day when those very hands had casually manhandled him.
He makes his choice. Tightening his grip on his hand, he snuggles in close and presses into Sand till he loops his arm around his shoulders so Ray can rest his face against his palm. Immediately, Sand's fingers glide over his face, tracing the bridge of his nose and skimming past his lips, down to his chest where he lays his palm to rest. A finger traces his throat, up and then down to his clavicle, before the rest of them come together to wrap in a gentle but firm grip around his neck.
The pressure is light, but Ray nonetheless zeroes in on it. Ray thinks that in all the time he has spent partying and waking up in unknown beds the next morning, he would have known his kinks by now. He can't remember ever mentioning a choking kink to Sand, and yet, his mind bombards him with a profusion of images that almost send him reeling in his seat.
Sand pauses the conversation to glance at him in concern as Ray looks up at him with glazed-over eyes. "Are you okay?"
'Yeah," Ray says, but Sand doesn't seem convinced.
"Think we should leave?" Sand asks, but he is already herding Ray away from the table, gesturing to P'Yo to talk later.
This time when Sand puts the helmet on, Ray does not meet his eyes, the harsh street lights of the parking lot making it easier to evade them. The ride back home isn't long but the cold wind hitting his face sobers him up pretty quickly. Faced with sudden clarity, Ray's thoughts start gaining some structure.
Ray is not sure what happened back there but he knows that his thoughts have been all over the place throughout the day and maybe sleep will help. All he wants right now is to get back in bed with Sand. He doesn't know what is happening but this headspace of too-much-not-enough that he's been in all day is overwhelming him.
When they reach, he waits just long enough for Sand to help him with the helmet before taking the keys from him and walking towards the building, eager to fall into their bed. He thinks Sand must have followed him, he's not sure. He only has one goal in his mind and he's on his way there when Sand's voice stops him.
"Water first, Ray. Then we can go to bed."
Knowing there's no escaping the fussing, Ray switches his track to the kitchen. He's trying to get his cup which is on the top shelf for some reason even though Sand knows it's his and he should frankly consider that when he puts the dishes in the cupboards. Irritated, he turns to tell him the same when he finds himself being crowded against the counter. He looks up to find Sand looming over him. He's got the cup from the shelf filled in his hand now but neither of them pay any attention to it, their eyes locked onto each other.
Maybe it's the haze of the evening, but Ray doesn't feel cornered. He feels comfortably small, completely hidden by Sand's taller frame. It's not a bad feeling, he realizes, as Sand's raises the cup to Ray's lips. Ray drinks it up slowly, eyeing Sand. All traces of sleep have left him now, far more interested in where he's going with this.
Once he's done, Sand sets the cup down and kisses him. It's a slow kiss, Sand tasting the alcohol on Ray and chasing it. He doesn't let Ray set the pace, taking control of the kiss, as if he can tell that tonight what Ray needs is for someone to take the reigns from him.
Soon the kiss turns rough and Sand's hands move to his thighs to scoop him up without breaking the kiss. Ray wraps his legs around Sand automatically, focused on keeping up with the kiss. He doesn't notice that they have entered the room until he is lowered onto the bed.
He tightens his arms around Sand's neck when it seems like he is going to pull away, whining his protest into his mouth. "Sand," he pleads. He can't bear to be separated from Sand right now. He wants to be as close to him as he physically can, thinks he would live in his skin if he could.
Ignoring his protests, Sand pushes him down, "I think I know what you want, baby." Ray is whining before he even finishes the sentence, only caring about the widening space between him and Sand, and the burgeoning need to close it. He's leaning up, chasing Sand's mouth, but his advances are once again thwarted by Sand pushing his weight on him. Ray can't deny that it feels good, his struggles momentarily forgotten in favour of being comfortably squashed under Sand's warm body.
"Let me take care of you," Sand says and he takes a hold of his arms, gently pressing his wrists into the bed above his head. He watches him closely. "Will you let me take care of you, baby?"
Ray is a little lost in those eyes, the round shape of them contrasting against his sharp features, mesmerizing him. He knows it can't be anything he won't like. They have done this enough times now to know each other's preferences, and if there is anyone Ray trusts with his body, it's Sand. He has never hurt him, and Ray knows that that's not going to change now.
He nods in a daze, ready for whatever Sand has in store for him.