gk, you who are my home, 8b/9, nc17, brad/nate/ray, 5,380
Ray has a plan. A good plan, even, one that isn’t just demanding Brad go out with him Friday and dragging him to the hotel room where they’re going to fuck Nate through the floor. Which, is also a good plan. Well, the fucking Nate through the floor part. They can probably still do that.
The point though, is that initially, Ray hadn’t planned on just stumbling across Brad as he’s feeding his stupid koi in the sun room - because Ray refuses to call it a solarium like a pussy, or Brad - and telling him that they’re so getting laid again in a few days. In hindsight, it probably has something to do with the low hum of pot through his system, but he isn’t a stickler for details. It was all Hoosier’s fault, anyways.
Brad doesn’t say anything at first, but he does stop tossing the pellets into the pond. His hand is still filled, and the koi flounder around trying to find something to eat, even though they’re already overfed, and Ray gets that constant searching for something that isn’t there feeling. It sucks. Eventually, though, Brad grabs a few pellets from the pile in his hand and chucks them to the other side of the pond for the koi to fight over. “No.”
”But he started it!” Ray argues, nudging Brad’s back with his knee. “He called me up and everything, asked us to fuck him seven ways to Sunday because he needs to give up all of his control. He’s jonesing for your cock, homes. He was practically salivating at the thought of going down on you again.”
”You are disgusting,” Brad says, wrinkling his nose and tossing more food into the pond. “The answer is still no. We agreed this would be a one time thing. If you want to go off and let him suck your cock, be my guest.”
”He’d do more than just suck my cock,” Ray says slyly. He runs his fingers through Brad’s hair, enjoying the softness of it, and Brad allows it for a few seconds before elbowing Ray’s leg. “I don’t understand why you’re so hung up about this.” He drops to a crouch behind Brad, slumping forward against him and wrapping his arms around Brad’s neck. “It’ll be fun, Brad. Come on.”
”Don’t you ever get tired of being told no?” Brad asks, annoyed and exasperated. He tries to shrug Ray off, but Ray just clings tighter, and Brad sighs heavily. He flings the rest of the food in the pond before shifting his weight to sit, leaning back on his hands and against Ray. Tipping his head to the side, Brad kisses Ray’s jaw lightly. “Drop it, Ray.”
”I don’t want to,” Ray huffs. He sits on his heels and rests his chin on Brad’s shoulder, watching the koi swim in the pond and fight over the last of the food. “You have no excuse this time. There’s no way you can say Nate was coerced into doing this or that he doesn’t want it a little. Fuck, Brad, he wants you.”
”How long do you plan on doing this, Ray? Until Nate’s father finds out and he has us both killed? Or Wynn? Someone is bound to notice all the marks prettying up his skin and put their foot down,” Brad says. He makes a sound, exasperated or angry, though Ray’s not sure about what exactly. He doesn’t pull away though, and Ray nuzzles against his shoulder. It feels nice. “It’s too dangerous to keep this up.”
”But he wants it,” Ray replies, because shouldn’t that be reason enough? “So, worse comes to worst, we have to brain the kid in a few months to save our own hides. It’ll suck, but we’ll be fine.” Except, even as Ray says the words, he can feel something twist in his gut a little. “I mean…” His voice trails off and he sighs heavily, resting his cheek against Brad’s shoulder.
”I should have known this was going to happen when you compared the damn kid to a dog,” Brad says, prying Ray’s arms from around his neck and pushing himself to his feet. He shoots Ray a look, not quite unimpressed, but not entirely thrilled, either. “You’ve gotten attached to him.”
”Oh, hey,” Ray says, blinking up at Brad. He reaches out for Brad’s belt loops, curling his fingers in them to keep Brad from getting away. “I am not attached to him. I just think we should take advantage of the fact we have a twinkie college kid at our beck and call. Sort of. I left it up to him to call the shots.”
Brad runs his fingers through Ray’s hair slowly, fisting his hand in it and tugging Ray’s head back, until Ray has no choice but to look up at him. “You’re just asking for something bad to happen to you.”
”Well, if you won’t fucking touch me, I need to find someone who will,” Ray snaps, twisting away from Brad’s touch and standing up. “You could take out all your pent up frustrations on a kid who’s practically gagging for it and you’re passing it up because you want to be morally superior to everyone else. When you realize he wants it? That I want it?”
”You need to learn you can’t just tell someone to do something and expect them to bend to your will all the damn time,” Brad replies and it’s hard for Ray to bite back a comment about bending over, because the lack of bending is kind of a problem here, but he doesn’t think Brad would appreciate it. “Ray, stop acting like a spoiled brat.”
”Then maybe you should start acting like you’re fucking human,” Ray says, and he knows it’s a mistake the moment the words are out of his mouth. Ray won’t back down on what he’s said though, even if Brad’s lip are a thin line and he looks like he wants to push Ray into the koi pond. Brad says koi will eat bodies, if you let them sit long enough, and Ray’s not entirely sure if he believes him or not but now is not a good time to test out that particular theory. “You don’t have to be the Iceman all the damn time. It’s okay to be Brad once in a while.”
”We’re through here,” Brad says, pushing past Ray and moving towards the door. He looks pissed, or more than pissed, and Ray is sick of Brad tucking tail and running away when he has a problem instead of sitting and dealing with it. This holier than thou and wounded warrior bullshit is starting to get tiring.
”Stop running away all the time!” Ray yells after Brad, and he’s kind of surprised when Brad freezes in the doorway. “You fucking well know I’m not going to give up on this because we both know you’re practically choking for it, too. The problem is, is that you fucking like Nate and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Brad is quiet, his fingers curled around the doorjamb so tight his knuckles have gone white. He holds on for a second before he forces himself to let go. “This is just sex, Ray. There’s no connection deeper than that of mutual need. It will never be anything more than that so stop.”
”It doesn’t have to be,” Ray replies, and he has to take a deep breath before he continues or he might just yell so much he explodes. Brad can be so fucking retarded. “Nate fucking trusts us to tie him up and cover him in bruises and fuck his tight ass. If that doesn’t prove more than just sex, I don’t know what does.”
”Enough, Ray,” Brad says, but he doesn’t sound angry anymore. Just tired, or exhausted, really, and Ray wonders if this means he won’t hop on his bike and take a trip back down to Miami way. “Just stop.”
”Brad,” Ray says. He moves in closer, but not close enough to touch, because he wants to be able to move out of the way if Brad decides to lash out at him. “When’s the last time you had sex with someone who wasn’t me or Nate? I bet you didn’t even fuck a hooker in Miami. You’re attached and you fucking know it.”
Brad just leaves without saying a damn thing, and Ray knows he’s right. Not that it makes him feel any better, because he can’t remember the last time he slept with anyone that wasn’t Brad or Nate either. It’s almost officially made them domestic or some shit.
Still, Brad hasn’t agreed to meet Nate with Ray, and Ray has no idea if this means he’s won this argument or not. He knows better than to bring it up again right now, but it doesn’t stop him from wondering.
- - -
For the first time in what has to be years since Ray moved in with Brad, Brad’s bedroom door is locked. Ray can pick it, he has in the past, but Ray is too busy being stupidly hurt to even bother. Brad’s locked him out. This isn’t even metaphorical or cosmic bullshit like the stuff Rudy spits out to anyone who will listen. Brad has literally locked him out.
Which, fine. Ray is a grown ass man. He can sleep in his own damn bed. He doesn’t need to be in the same room as Brad, using the freakishly huge dickface as a pillow and a means to keep warm. He took over an entire room for himself when he decided to crash at Brad’s, because this house is too big and too empty for Brad to live in alone. He might as well use it. It’s Brad’s loss. He’s the one who doesn’t get any blowjobs at three in the morning.
Only, Ray’s not really tired anymore. All he wants to do is steal some of the good vodka from Brad’s liquor cabinet and spend the night getting drunk and not moping. Ray’s not a sixteen year old girl. His heart isn’t broken, he doesn’t need to mope about shit. His life is fucking awesome right now, thanks.
And if Ray spends the night drinking stolen vodka to the point he needs to spend what feels like an eternity over the toilet throwing up, that’s no one’s business but his own. He’s got his own bathroom, with his own bathtub, and as soon as he’s done vomiting out his insides, he’ll curl up in the cool porcelain and sleep away tomorrow. He can do whatever the fuck he wants.
- - -
Friday comes, and Brad still isn’t talking to Ray, and Ray still doesn’t care. He definitely doesn’t miss the way Brad cards his fingers through Ray’s hair idly when they end up pressed against each other on the couch or the soft kisses Brad likes to press against his jaw. Brad can be a fucking girl all he wants somewhere else, it’s no big deal.
He’s been on his laptop for half an hour, sipping coffee while he flips through a list of hotels he and Brad have vetted in the past, or that Godfather owns, when Brad wanders in in search of coffee. He’s got shorts slung low on his hips, his skin flushed from a shower or working out or something, and Ray has to remind himself he doesn’t want that even a little bit.
Even if Ray kind of does, and he’d let Brad fuck his throat right now and for the next fifty years if it means Brad would stop shutting him out. Ray is fucking boss at giving head and Brad knows it, has been on the receiving end like a million times, he has to miss that at least a little bit.
”Pot’s fresh,” Ray says idly, and it’s hard to keep his eyes fixed on the screen. He needs some place to take Nate that won’t freak him out, because Ray really doesn’t want to try his luck with any of the questionable quality ones he himself usually ends up crashing at. This has always been more Brad’s area of expertise but Ray refuses to ask for help.
Brad just makes a vague sound when he pours himself a cup of coffee, drinking most of it in a single gulp despite the fact it’s still hot. He tops off his cup before moving towards the kitchen table, stretching out and sitting across from Ray. “You got a job?” He asks, sipping at his coffee.
”Nope,” Ray replies. “Works a chore and fucking Nate is anything but,” he adds, glancing up over his laptop and smirking at Brad. He ignores the eye roll Brad gives him in favor of sipping his own coffee and looking at his laptop screen again. “You’re still invited, you know.”
”You seriously aren’t going to drop this, are you?” Brad asks, his expression so clearly not amused even though Ray not only is offering him the greatest opportunity ever, but he also makes fuck awesome coffee. He stares while Ray pointedly ignores him, before sighing. “Where are you taking him?”
”I have absolutely no idea,” Ray says. He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging roughly, before dropping his hands to his lap. He looks over at Brad, and he’s kind of tired as fuck right now, and he hates Brad for looking so awake. “I figure, one of Godfather’s places is off limits, just because it’s Nate.” There is absolutely no surge of smug pride when Brad nods his head in agreement. “It’s been months since anyone we trust has checked out some of these other places, though.”
Brad gestures for Ray to hand over his laptop, and Ray does it without thinking. He watches as Brad sets his cup down carefully, out of the way where it won’t accidentally spill onto the laptop, and he focuses on the list of tabs Ray has open. He skims through them quietly for a moment, occasionally nodding to himself and tapping away at the keys.
Ray sips at his coffee, leaning back in his seat and sprawling, and waits for Brad to give his laptop back. He’s trying to figure out if it’s worth trying to convince Brad he wants to come anymore, because Brad is a dick, but at least Brad is here. He’s helping. That’s... Ray doesn’t know what that is, but he thinks that it’s a good sign. Progress, maybe.
When Brad does pass Ray’s laptop back, there’s only one hotel tab left open. It’s not one Ray was feeling too strongly about, but it’s nice enough, and he trusts Brad to know about these kinds of things. “What if I asked you to come along as a personal favor,” Ray asks, scrolling through the page until he can find a number he can book a room with. He pauses, looking up when Brad doesn’t respond. “What, it’s a legitimate favor.”
”Only in your messed up world would asking one person to fuck another while you were there be considered a favor,” Brad says, and he almost sounds amused. He drains the last of his coffee and stands up, reaching across the table to grab Ray’s cup. He doesn’t ask if Ray wants more before refilling it, and Ray’s kind of amused by it. Normally Brad is the one to cut him off.
”Would you at least consider it?” Ray asks, pushing his chair back onto two legs and leaning back. “It’ll be awesome, and you know it. Think of it as some sort of bonding exercise.”
”Four legs on the ground or I’ll beat you with that chair,” Brad says, and Ray slips his chair down onto the floor instinctively. Brad probably wouldn’t beat him to death with the chair, because it would mean having to buy a new one, but Ray’s had to work with a few people in the past who definitely wouldn’t hesitated from doing so. “And you mean a bondage exercise.”
”Well, if you want to go ahead and jump the gun like that, I’m sure we can break out the rope and leather,” Ray grins, and Brad places Ray’s coffee cup down in front of him with more force than is strictly necessary. Ray grins, reaching for it and takes another sip. “I’m sure Nate won’t mind. Fuck, I’ll even let you tie me up if you want.”
”Ray,” Brad starts. He pinches the bridge of his nose, making a face, and he sits down back across from Ray. “Why is this so important to you?” He asks, staring into his coffee and twirling a finger around the lip of his cup slowly. “Why would you risk getting shot in the face pestering me no matter how many times I’ve told you to stop?”
”Uh, because one, I know you wouldn’t actually shoot me in the face,” Ray says, and Brad shoots him a try me look. Ray waves it off. “Two, because I’m a hedonistic bastard that loves sex more than anything else, especially if I get to dom some pretty boy’s ass. And three, because you need this as bad as I want it.”
”You never know when to shut up, do you?” Brad asks, tired. He sips at his coffee, watching Ray idly, and Ray can’t tell what he’s thinking. Besides the fact he’s obviously tired of this conversation, he’s carefully blank. It’s almost as Brad locking Ray out of his room. Ray feels so shut out from Brad and he hates it.
”I’ll shut up about this when you admit you want it,” Ray replies, shrugging his shoulders. “Or, you can come with me and not admit it, but that’s kind of like an admission anyways. Stop resisting this so much, you jackass. You know you want it and you’re only hurting yourself.”
”Because insulting someone is really the way to get them to do something you want them to,” Brad says wryly, smirking at Ray over the top of his cup. “You need to work on your convincing skills.”
”It’s easier to convince you to do something when I have your cock in my mouth,” Ray says easily, smiling suggestively over at Brad. He grins when Brad looks thoughtful, and it’s been almost a month since Nate sucked him off, a little bit longer since Ray has. How Brad hasn’t exploded from sexual repression, Ray will never know. He’s ready to burst apart himself. “You know, it’ll feel better when Nate - “
”Ray, shut the fuck up and suck me off,” Brad says, pushing his chair away from the table and spreading his legs invitingly. He quirks an eyebrow when Ray doesn’t respond immediately, daring Ray to turn him down.
Ray would object, but he’s pretty sure this is a win in his favor. Calling to get a hotel room and texting Nate the address can wait until after. It’s been too long since Ray has done this, and he maybe wants to do it as much as Brad wants him to. Besides, he’s pretty sure it means they’re making progress.
- - -
Ray’s rooting through the drawers in Brad’s room looking for leather wrist cuffs, because he knows that between the two of them, one of them owns a pair, when Brad walks in. Ray stops searching long enough to look up and smirk, but he’s put off gathering supplies and he really wants those wrist cuffs. “You changed your mind about this thing?” He asks without looking up.
”Why are you going through my stuff?” Brad asks, so clearly less than thrilled. He moves to investigate some of the drawers Ray has already been through and makes a pissed off sound when he sees the disarray. “Did you have to tear apart every fucking drawer? What are you even looking for?”
”Wrist cuffs,” Ray says, pausing in rooting through Brad’s dresser. “You know, the ones we used on that one girl.” He mimes the gesture to mean large breasts, and Brad just quirks an eyebrow at him. “With the shitty tramp stamp that made you bitch like the tattoo elitist that you are. Christ. It was before you went home for Hanukah, I think.”
”Her,” Brad says, nodding in agreement. Ray bets Brad can’t remember her name either, though, and he feels a little bit better. “If you’re going to get something permanently inked onto your skin, think it fucking through. Or at least find a goddamn reputable artist. It’s not that fucking hard.”
Ray rolls his eyes, because he’s heard this argument a million times. He used to feel self-conscious about his tattoos when Brad spewed rants like this, but he’s heard them so many times now that he doesn’t care. “Are you going to help me find the wrist cuffs or not?”
”They’re in the shoebox in the top of my closet,” Brad replies. He doesn’t look up or offer to get them for Ray, too busy straightening out his drawers after Ray tore them apart. Really, he should be used to Ray’s destructive habits by now. He should just accept them and move on. It’s as simple as that.
There’s a quip on Ray’s tongue about how it’s super fucking cliché to keep sex toys in a shoebox in a closet, but he’s still holding out on Brad coming with him. He hates Brad’s closet, because Ray’s had bedrooms smaller than it, and he has to push himself up on his tiptoes to grab the shoebox and pull it down before he can open it. Sure enough, the wrist cuffs are in there, but they’re not the only things. “Why are you hoarding my sex toys?”
”Because you are constantly leaving them in here or otherwise lying around,” Brad replies. He looks up from where he’s moved to his dresser, folding some shirts, and sends Ray a dark look. “I don’t even want to know the condition of the ones left in your care.”
”Fuck you, I take good care of them,” Ray huffs out. He moves to the bed, dumping the box out and rifling through its contents. He can feel Brad’s eyes on him when he adds the wrist cuffs and two dildos to his bag. “Do you think Nate’s ever used one of these before?” Ray asks, and he means sex toys in general, but he’s got a vibrator in his hands.
”Exactly how much do you think he’s going to let you get away with?” Brad asks, amused. He turns around to lean back against his dresser, quirking an eyebrow when Ray double checks the contents of his bag. “I know he’s only twenty three, but I doubt he has the stamina you seem to think.”
”One, easily solved with a cock ring,” Ray replies. He smirks when Brad rolls his eyes. “Not that I’m going to bring that up to him just yet. I’m just trying to give Nate some choice here. If he’s not used to it, it’s going to be weird, right? I don’t want to scare him off just because he’s nervous about having a dildo shoved in his ass. Kid was a total top before. I’m breaking him into a world of debauchery like he’s never known.”
Brad is looking at Ray like maybe he never expected him to be so considerate or something, which is ridiculous, because Ray can be a fucking gentleman or whatever when he wants to be. “The level of thought you’ve put into this astounds me.”
”Shut the fuck up,” Ray says, and it’s hard to resist the urge to throw something at him. He doesn’t have anything he could throw, really, besides a dildo or two, and he isn’t sure Brad would let him live if he did that. “Are you going to come with me tonight or not?”
For a second, Brad’s expression is unreadable. Ray knows him well enough to know that he’s debating the pros and cons, wonders if it kills him to even back down a little bit even though he wants it so much. Brad doesn’t say anything at first, just moves closer and picks up the bag Ray had packed. He rifles through it slowly, quietly, before zipping it up and sitting it back down on the bed.
”Brad, come on,” Ray says softly. He’s not above begging this close to the event, and he ignores the fact he should have already left by now, because he wants Brad to be there for this. Ray wants Brad to come with him more than he knows how to admit, or deal with, and he doesn’t know why except that Ray’s life has been all about Brad for years. He doesn’t want that to change. “Please.”
Brad doesn’t say anything at first, just moves closer until he can curl his fingers around the back of Ray’s neck and drag him in close. His lips are warm and soft where they brush against the corner of Ray’s mouth. Ray doesn’t know what this is about, but he thinks it’s a good sign. Brad doesn’t let Ray return the kiss, pulling away when he tries. “Okay,” he says softly.
Ray’s smiling so wide it almost hurts, and he bites back the slew of cheers. He’s won, he’s totally fucking won and he’s probably the only person in the universe besides Brad’s mom who can bend Brad to his will, but now isn’t the time for that. He has to at least wait until Nate is naked to do his victory dance, because Ray isn’t going to risk chasing Brad away now.
”Stop smiling, you retard,” Brad says, scowling. He grabs Ray’s bag up again and shoves it as his chest. “Aren’t you supposed to be there in half an hour? Hurry the fuck up before Nate decides he doesn’t want to wait for your pimply ass anymore. I’m driving.”
”Oh fuck you,” Ray says, shouldering Brad as he bumps past him, but it lacks any real heat. He’s in too good a mood to care about anything right the fuck now. He won and he’s going to get laid and he’s officially the most awesome roommate ever. Brad is going to have to give him all the blowjobs ever for this, later.
- - -
Nate’s only nervous at first, when he’s told to strip and get on the bed. He watches quietly when Brad binds his wrists to the headboard with the leather wrist cuffs, worrying at his lower lip, and Ray wonders what it says that Nate’s more anxious about the wrist cuffs than he was having Brad or Ray’s belts around his wrists. At least these are padded a little.
He sucks Brad off like that, hands bound above his head and lying on his back, Brad straddling his chest and gripping the headboard, rocking into Nate’s mouth with shallow thrusts. It means he’s distracted enough that Ray can slick him up to three fingers, mouthing kisses and nips to the inside of Nate’s pale thighs.
Ray laps at the head of Nate’s cock, sucking lightly, but it’s not even close enough to what Nate needs to get off. It’s just a distraction, to keep him hard and wanting while Brad fucks his throat. He smirks when Brad comes with a low groan, and Ray presses his fingers against Nate’s prostate roughly, rubbing against it in slow drags. He doesn’t stop until Brad pulls out, and Ray removes his fingers and wipes them on Nate’s thighs slowly.
Nate’s cheeks flush bright red, to the tips of his ears and down his chest at the sight of the dildo, and Ray’s actually kind of amazed he’s still conscious when his blood is rushing through his body like that. Nate squirms, but he spreads his thighs far enough apart for Ray to settle between them proper and press the silicone toy into him, his back arching up and moaning loudly when it slides deep.
He fucks Nate like that, slowly, until Nate is begging for More, Ray, please, harder and he’s tugging against the wrist cuffs binding him to the headboard. And Ray gives him what he wants, fucking him with it hard and fast until Nate is biting his lip and curling his toes. He curls his fingers around Nate’s cock, tight, and then Nate is begging just to be allowed to come.
And for all the times Ray has seen Nate come, has seen him spread out and helpless beneath him, this tops the cake. Nate is writhing, biting his tongue and embarrassed from the sounds he’s making, his skin flushed and sweaty and he’s fucking gorgeous. Ray wants to keep him like this forever, Nate pliant and begging.
His cock is aching from the sight though, and Brad only has the patience to twist and tug at Nate’s nipples for so long before he gets handsy and takes this over for himself, so Ray loosens his grip. He watches the way Nate’s hips arch up into the circle of Ray’s fist and he bows his back, smirks when Nate cries out as he comes. Ray doesn’t stop fucking Nate with the dildo until Nate’s cock stops pulsing, Nate’s body taut as he tries to catch his breath.
Nate is loose and pliant after that, his body accepting Ray easily when he lines up and pushes his cock into him. It’s not gentle, not even for Ray, but he isn’t as rough as he can be. It’s no fun when Nate is too winded to do more than tug at his bindings and moan loudly, but it’s enough. He catches his breath soon enough, arching up and rocking against Ray for more, and it’s good.
They’ve got Nate to themselves for the entire night, to push and pull and fuck until it doesn’t matter how much time he gets to catch his breath, he’s nothing but a trembling mess beneath their fingertips. He’s so warm and pliant, nothing but lazy smiles and broken moans when they touch his nipples, the bruises and bites covering his shoulders and chest and stomach and thighs.
It’s not until Nate starts to shy away from touches to his cock, whimpering softly in a way that’s not good, do Brad and Ray call it a night and congratulate themselves. They’ve broken him so easily, covered him in their marks and come, reduced him to an oversensitive, quivering puddle, and he let them. If Ray hadn’t already gotten off twice, that alone would be enough for him to want to push Nate’s thighs apart and do it all over again.
Instead, Brad just leans over Nate and undoes the bindings on his wrists slowly, bringing Nate’s arms down carefully until he’s flat on the bed and sighs contently. It brings a smile to Brad’s face, something soft, and Ray leans in to kiss Nate’s hip gently. They leave him there, and it shouldn’t be as hard as it is, but Nate makes no sign of getting up any time soon, and he waves them off when they ask.
It’s just sex though, so there shouldn’t be these stupid feelings of lingering want for tenderness and cuddles. Ray can demand those things of Brad on occasion, but he has no room or right to want them from Nate. Still, it’s hard to leave when Nate is laid bare like that, but he does, they do.
And maybe, the feeling eases up when they get home and Brad kisses Ray softly, tugging him up to his bed and curling around him, but he still feels like he shouldn’t have walked away. All the same, it’s nice to have Brad’s lips pressed against the back of his neck and freakishly long limbs dragging him back against Brad’s chest and pinning him in place.
It’s way nicer than Ray knows how to admit, and he’s fucking missed this. Not that he has any intentions of telling Brad that anytime soon, because he’s not a fucking girl like Brad is. Still… This doesn’t make up for leaving Nate alone in a hotel room under one of Ray’s many, many aliases, but they’ll live. Ray will live. But first, Ray wants to sleep for at least a century.
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