gk, you who are my home, 8a/9, nc17, brad/nate/ray, 6,440
Brad isn’t anywhere in the house that Ray can find the next morning when Ray goes searching for him. The clothes have been picked up off the floor, the water mopped up, and the table wiped down, so Ray is pretty sure Brad was at least here at some point, but he can’t find any sign of where Brad might have gone.
It’s not until Ray makes his way to the garage and finds that Brad’s Yamaha R1 is missing from its usual corner that Ray is forced to accept that maybe Brad isn’t home and that Brad is probably pissed off at him. Brad doesn’t take the bike out for no reason at all, and even then, if he’s just wandering around the city he would have taken the Ducati.
It’s surprisingly difficult not to be petty and kick the Aston Martin on his way back into the house, but Brad has a psychic connection to the stupid car and he’d know if Ray so much as breathed on it. Ray does drag his fingers over the windows, watching them smudge, but it doesn’t make him feel any better.
It’s weird being in the large house all by himself. It feels so daunting and empty when he knows Brad isn’t lurking around a corner in the main living room or in his office. It’s creepy and uncomfortable, and Ray wonders how Brad could possibly stand living here by himself before Ray came along. It had to have sucked.
Really, Ray can’t think of any alternative solution to his problem. Being home alone when he’s pretty sure Brad is mad at him and with no idea of when Brad will get back just sounds terrible. No amount of Halo or Call of Duty would amuse him at this point. Clearly, the universe doesn’t want him to be at the house by himself and if he’s not at the house, there’s really only one other place he could go.
Ray doesn’t bother to call Hoosier before he heads out, just hops in his truck and pulls out. Hoosier has no room to complain about Ray showing up unannounced, not after their shared history. And Leckie - well, Ray thinks he’s finally starting to grow on Leckie. If you can’t beat them, join them, after all.
- - -
”So let me get this straight,” Hoosier says slowly, his body curled towards Ray and one arm over the back of the couch, nursing a beer with his free hand. “You had sex with the guy that’s had Brad’s panties in a bunch for the last three months and now he’s pissed off at you?”
”I dare you to say the panty thing in front of Brad,” Ray laughs, taking a sip of his own beer. He relaxes into the couch cushions, staring pointedly at the cheap porn playing on the TV. It’s not Ray’s fault it’s playing, Hoosier didn’t put it on because Ray came over, but it doesn’t stop Leckie from glaring at Ray from where he’s working on something at the dining room table.
Leckie just really hates Ray, and Ray isn’t entirely sure why, but he thinks it has a little to do with the porn Hoosier is always watching as background noise. Leckie says Ray is an enabler, which isn’t fair, because Hoosier was doing this long before he and Ray became friends. Definitely longer than when Leckie started sleeping with him.
”I don’t even know, homes,” Ray says after a minute, wiping at his face tiredly. It’s not even noon and he’s drinking. He feels like that says something about the sad state affairs of his life, but Ray’s not entirely sure what. He just knows he’s absolutely not moping like a teenage girl like Leckie accuses him doing. “You’d think the asshole would be grateful to me for even finding Nate again.”
”How did you even manage that?” Hoosier asks, frowning. He doesn’t know the full details of what happened in the basement, but he’s smart enough to piece together all of the ones that matter. “I always imagined Brad would be the stalker in your relationship.”
”It’s not stalking, it’s surveillance and research,” Ray says, air quoting as best he can with a bottle of beer in his hand. He rolls his eyes and Hoosier snorts derisively, not that Ray blames him. “I swear on my grandmomma’s grave that it was a pure coincidence that I ran into Nate, though.”
Hoosier makes a sound, like maybe he doesn’t believe Ray, and Ray’s too tired to care if he does or doesn’t. He drums his fingers against the back cushion of the leather couch, sipping at his beer again. For a moment, Hoosier’s attention is caught on the busty blonde on the TV screen and her cheap moan, but he side-eyes Ray again and asks the question that Leckie’s probably been dying to know the answer to since Ray showed up out of the blue. “Do you plan on sticking around for a few days?”
Ray’s been waiting to hear the question, but he has absolutely no idea how he’s supposed to respond to that. He doesn’t know where Brad is, doesn’t know how long he’ll be gone or if he’ll even stick around when he gets back. Someone has to feed the stupid koi if Brad’s taking off to Florida or California again, but Ray really hates being alone in the house. It just feels like he’s asking an axe-murderer to show up and kill him.
Not that Ray would be taken out by an axe-murderer. For one, Brad would never let him live it down ever which is reason enough not to let it happen. Ray knows better than to put himself in axe-murderer-esque situations anyway, and he likes to think he could hear some huge ass guy lumbering around his home from a mile off.
Ray doesn’t say any of that though, opting instead to take a long drag of his beer until he’s finished the bottle off. “For a couple hours, for sure,” Ray says, shrugging his shoulder. “At least until I can get ahold of His Royal Highness and figure out how long this bitch fit is going to last.”
He doesn’t ask if it’s cool or if Hoosier minds, because he knows Hoosier won’t. Leckie makes a sound, glaring at the both of them over the top of his laptop and just daring Ray to say he plans on sticking around for the night. The longest Ray’s ever been over before Leckie stormed off to get a hotel room was nine days, he kind of wants to know if that record still stands.
”I am getting the feeling you’ve just been couched,” Ray says, dropping his voice and flashing a grin over at Hoosier. He should probably feel guilty for getting Hoosier in trouble, but he doesn’t have it in him right now, and even if he did, Hoosier is always getting in trouble with Leckie.
”It’s cool, we can cuddle for warmth,” Hoosier deadpans, drinking the last of his own bottle. He grins when Ray makes and objecting sound, pushing himself up off the couch and grabbing Ray’s empty bottle. “I’ll make it up to you, baby,” he says mockingly sweet, moving into the dining room. He reaches for Leckie’s chin, to tip his head back and kiss him, but Leckie pulls away.
”I’ve got plans with Web,” Leckie says, slapping his laptop shut with enough force that he winces. He leaves it where it lays, side stepping out of Hoosier’s way and disappearing into their bedroom without another comment or - surprisingly - a backwards glare.
Hoosier tosses the bottles he has in the kitchen trash, because fuck recycling, and pulls two more out of the fridge. He hands one to Ray before collapsing back onto the couch again, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and sighing heavily. “I don’t know who in their right mind would want to deal with Liebgott over you,” he says thoughtfully. “At least you don’t yell as a default form of communication.”
”Well, he’s sleeping with you, he can’t exactly be in his right mind,” Ray points out. He fights with the cap on his bottle for a moment, glaring at Hoosier and daring him to say anything at all before he finally manages to get it open with a triumphant sound. “Seriously though, what the fuck did I do to get him to hate me so much?”
”Ah, come on,” Hoosier huffs, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be such a girl about it. He doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t like you very much.”
”Because that is completely reassuring,” Ray replies wryly, then takes a long drag of his beer. He wonders if he can get drunk before five o’clock, and how much trouble Hoosier will be with his little missus if they do. “He has to give seriously awesome head when he’s not PMSing, because I have no idea what you see in him.”
”You know, everyone says the same thing about you and Brad,” Hoosier comments idly, sipping at his own beer. “And yeah, he does.”
”Brad and I aren’t together,” Ray says, side-eyeing Hoosier and frowning when he scoffs. “Fuck that, we’re not domestic like you and Leckie or fucking Webster and Liebgott, and damn if I have any idea how they haven’t managed to kill each other off. Snafu and Sledge are all romantic and domestic and shit, too. Don’t tell me Ack Ack and Hillbilly aren’t trading handjobs when they’re not passing out bullets, either. Is it possible to work for Godfather and to not smoke cock?”
Hoosier makes a thoughtful noise before grinning slowly. “I think I’ve seen this porn before,” he says, which makes Ray laugh, because if anyone has seen porn about a gay mob, it would be Hoosier. Most people Ray knows collect antique or dangerous weapons or trophies from their jobs, Hoosier collects porn like it’s the only thing more important than sex and oxygen. Then again, when he’s sleeping with Leckie, it might be the only way he gets off on a semi-regular basis.
Sighing heavily and a little bit pathetically, Ray slumps down in his seat and kicks his feet up on the coffee table as well. “Do you remember the days when we were both unattached and could do whatever the fuck we wanted and not have to worry about pissing off the fairy princesses?”
”Vaguely,” Hoosier says. “I distinctly remember a lack of blowjobs at three in the morning and having to actually work to get laid. Also, having to clean up after myself, which fucking sucked, and sheets that were permanently cold.”
There’s probably a point to Hoosier’s words somewhere, hidden in the way Hoosier is glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes, but Ray is pointedly not seeing it.
- - -
Ray finally manages to get ahold of Brad a little after seven, long after he and Hoosier have already set up camp on Hoosier’s couch with mountains of take out and cheap beer. It’s only the second time he’s called, and it’s not like he’s doing it because he’s worried about Brad or anything. He just wanted to see if Brad would answer this time.
”Hey,” Brad says, which is so fucking anticlimactic that Ray kind of wants to punch something. He doesn’t think Hoosier would appreciate it though, and he can only imagine the bitch fit Leckie would throw if he ever comes back from his bitch session with Web.
Ray really has no idea what he’s supposed to say to Brad right now, or what he even wants to say. He just leans against the fridge and takes a sip from his beer, letting the silence sit for a minute. “How long do you plan on being gone?”
Brad doesn’t answer at first, but Ray doesn’t really expect him to. He wonders what it means that Brad isn’t surprised that Ray knows he took off and is probably halfway across the country by now, and that Brad doesn’t even bother to deny it.
At least Leckie tells Hoosier when he needs some time away. Not that that makes Leckie boyfriend of the year or anything, or that Brad and Ray are anything even resembling boyfriends, but -
Ray worries about Brad sometimes (or all the time, really) and he kind of wishes Brad would do the same for him. Or at least get his head out of his ass long enough to realize that Ray does worry. Maybe Ray is more emotionally invested in this thing between them than Brad is, but that doesn’t mean much. Brad doesn’t let himself get emotionally invested in anything.
Ray’s so busy feeling sorry for himself, he almost misses when Brad answers his question.
”I’ll be back in a few days. Needed to see the ocean,” he says quietly, which is basically code for I needed to get the fuck away before I shoot everything. It gives Ray a timeline though, and a good a guess as any as to where Brad is headed right now. If he only plans to be gone for a few days, he’s probably off to Miami.
Ray has never liked Miami.
”Well, a warning would have been fucking nice,” Ray says bitterly, sliding down the length of the fridge until he’s sitting on the floor. It hides him from Hoosier’s questioning gaze, tucked away and safe behind the island. Ray doesn’t even care that Hoosier is going to accuse him of moping like a little bitch later. Ray will deal with that.
”I can say the same goddamn thing to you,” Brad snaps coldly, and it’s confirmation enough that Brad is pissed off about the Nate thing. He has no reason to be, as far as Ray is concerned. He got his dick sucked by a champ and got to fuck Nate’s tight ass, like he’s only been dry humping his mattress about in his sleep for three months over. He should be rewarding Ray with blowjob after blowjob until Ray’s dick falls off.
Ray doesn’t want to fight with Brad though, not right now. It’s no fun when Brad runs the risk of not coming home for weeks on end, and Ray thinks Leckie would kill him if he tried to crash on the couch for that long. “It was a onetime thing,” Ray says instead, mouthing the word maybe.
They haven’t had the chance to talk about what they would do if Nate wanted more, or if they ever ran into him again. Ray has every intention of getting back on that, and he kind of wishes Brad would just admit he wants it already, too, because it’s easier for all three of them that way. Ray bets Nate is pressing down on his bruises and jerking off to the thought of Brad holding him down right now - because it’s always Brad people want, who is eight feet tall and is terrifying in the control he has, even when he’s fucking people hard enough to nearly break them.
”I have to go,” Brad says, and he hangs up before Ray even has a chance to object.
Ray curses into his phone, even though Brad might as well be halfway across the world for all the good it does. It’s hard to resist the urge to throw it across the kitchen, but Ray’s not a goddamn girl and he doesn’t think his wireless carrier will let him get yet another phone this year when he breaks this one. Ray kind of sucks at taking care of his toys.
He doesn’t go back to Hoosier right away, opting to sit with his head between his knees and his fingers in his hair. He’s just trying to think, or actually, to stop from thinking. He tries to focus on nothing but white noise, but it’s not coming to him, even right now. Probably because he wants it so bad.
There’s no point in pretending he’s not moping though, because maybe Ray lets things get too him a little too much, especially when Brad is involved. He’s just really fucking glad Hoosier doesn’t comment on it when he eventually makes his way into the kitchen to throw away some empty bottles and fast food containers.
“Should I break the news to my fairy princess we’ve got a houseguest?” Hoosier asks, leaning back against the island and looking down at Ray with a quirked eyebrow and a lazy smile. He enjoys tormenting Leckie more than is probably healthy considering they’re doing the whole live-in boyfriends thing.
For a moment, Ray just sits there, but eventually he looks up at Hoosier and smiles thinly. It’s weak and he feels like shit, but he’s glad he’s got Hoosier right now. He’s tired of Brad being a bitch and his vanishing acts when he doesn’t want to deal. And maybe Ray can’t talk, because he’s been known to spend two or three days with Hoosier at a time, but at least Ray stays within the city when he and Brad are fighting.
It only takes Ray a second to realize that this whole thing is giving off an uncomfortably domestic vibe and that shit just isn’t going to fly. He pushes himself to his feet, shoving his phone in his pocket and he’s careful not to spill his beer as he stands. “We’re going to need something a lot stronger than this,” Ray says, waving the bottle in front of Hoosier.
There’s an easy grin on Hoosier’s face, and he nods his head in agreement. “First one to throw up is a teenage girl,” he says, but he shoves Ray out of the way of the fridge and reaches in the back of the freezer to pull out a bottle of tequila. “I know you’re probably used to vodka, but where’s the fun in getting wasted if you remember it in the morning?”
”I think I love you,” Ray says, putting his bottle on the counter and reaching for the tequila. “Gimmie gimmie gimmie.”
”Get in line,” Hoosier laughs, holding the tequila out of Ray’s reach. “It’s too early in the night to drink straight from the bottle,” he adds, clutching the bottle tight while he grabs two mismatched cups from the cabinet. “Give it like an hour before we cave,” Hoosier says, and Ray seriously fucking loves him right now, no maybes about it.
- - -
That first night, Ray is vaguely aware of the return of Leckie. It’s late, or maybe early depending on when you look at it, and Leckie at least tries to quiet when he toes off his shoes and moves through the apartment. He stares at where Ray and Hoosier are sprawled out on the couch, Hoosier’s feet in Ray’s lap.
Ray makes a vague sound when Leckie starts to tidy up, because only Leckie would come home at four in the morning and decide to clean up after his live-in boyfriend - or whatever Hoosier and Leckie were calling themselves - and his best friend. Ray has always known there was something off about Leckie though.
Leckie doesn’t say anything as he gathers up the empty bottles and take out, tossing them in the trash. He moves around in the kitchen, somewhere Ray can’t see and is too tired to actually give a fuck about. When he comes back, he leans over Hoosier to drag the blanket from the back of the couch and lets it fall on top of him.
And then Leckie leaves and the only thing Ray manages to think before he drifts off is he thinks that this is the first time in history he and Leckie have been in the same room for more than five seconds and Leckie didn’t glower at him like a little bitch. Not that Ray expects the trend to last, and he’s out cold before he can put any more thought into it.
- - -
Hoosier and Ray end up spending a good portion of their time at the house, rifling through Brad’s things to annoy him when he gets back. Brad would flip a shit if he came home and the house had been ransacked and all his stuff taken. That’s not even touching on the implications that they would both probably be compromised on the mob front, which means Godfather would have them both shot like dogs and that would seriously fucking suck.
Besides, the more time they spend at the house together and away from Leckie, the less Ray has to listen to Hoosier cornering Leckie just out of Ray’s sight or behind closed doors so he can go down on him. Hoosier calls them I’m sorry blowjobs to make up for Ray sticking around, but Ray is pretty sure Hoosier is just being a dick of a best friend because he knows Ray can’t really object.
Well. Ray objects to the sounds Leckie makes, because he gets so breathless and kind of high pitched, but Ray’s probably just spent too much time with Brad. Anything other than grunts and low moans makes him think of cheap whores. Which, it turns out, is okay to say to Hoosier as long as Leckie isn’t around. Hoosier agrees with Ray, but he kind of likes it. Leckie is just a bitch.
Ray starts to get the feeling his being at Hoosier’s is a little too domestic though when he comes home from the shops with groceries for Hoosier’s fridge and Leckie’s on the phone in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. He picks at the brown paper bag in Ray’s arms, peering inside of it, before making a thoughtful sound.
”There’s something messed up that you remember to buy peanut butter when you don’t live here, and Hoosier never does,” Leckie says, frowning. He cradles his the phone between his shoulder and ear, humming at the response, and starts to empty out the bag. “No, not you. Ray. Sent him out with Hoosier for groceries.” Leckie pauses, as if realizing something, and blinks up at Ray. “Speaking of which, did you forget Hoosier at the store?”
Ray rolls his eyes and shoots an are you fucking kidding me? look to Leckie, which Leckie returns with a dark glare. “He’s putting wiper fluid in his stupid car. He’ll be up in a minute.” He grabs a beer out of the fridge, because he can if he damn well wants, and goes to flop down on the couch.
Really, Ray has every intention of ignoring the half-naked Leckie in the kitchen, but it’s hard to do when he says things like “Brad is the biggest cockblock to ever cockblock and he’s a thousand miles away right now”.
Ray snorts derisively, taking a long drag of his beer. He doesn’t know who Leckie is talking to, but he bets it’s Webster. Leckie always bitches to Webster. Ray is in complete agreement about Brad being the biggest cockblock ever though. Dude is cockblocking himself, and not just by refusing to have anything to do with Nate. Ray puts out, when he wants to. Which is all the time.
Hoosier wanders in, eventually, grabbing a beer from the fridge as well. They spent an hour running around town doing all the errands Leckie was too lazy to do, they deserve the beer. Hoosier steals a kiss to Leckie’s jaw, grinning when he’s pushed away, before he makes his way back over to Ray and collapses next to him on the couch.
”How long do you think Liebgott has until Web is too into this gossip thing to put out?” Ray asks, kicking Hoosier’s ankle as they fight over space on the coffee table. He wonders how much of the story is out there, if anyone knows the reason Brad took off isn’t just because Ray’s apparently a dick and not because he’s actually an awesome person who cares about getting Brad’s dick wet and his wellbeing. Not necessarily in that order.
”I talked to Sledge earlier,” Hoosier says, taking a drag from his beer slowly, waiting until Ray’s turned his attention away from the pacing Leckie to Hoosier. “He says Liebgott’s been at Mathilda’s and complaining to whoever the fuck will listen. It’s like this epic circle of cockblocking.”
”Maybe if Snafu bitches about it enough, Brad will come back,” Ray says thoughtfully, glancing down at the bottle in his hands. “Or, if we had a job. It’s unnatural how quiet things have been. No one’s getting much work, according to the stupid gossip mill.”
”Hey, the gossip is awesome and you know it,” Hoosier says, prodding Ray in the side. “If you’re going to insult my number one source of information, I’m going to have to kick you out on your ass. Leckie’d like that.”
”Leckie won’t be happy short of my death,” Ray replies, taking a sip of his beer. He makes a vague hand gesture when Hoosier tries to deny it, and Hoosier stops trying. Ray’s pretty sure Leckie would try to kill Ray himself, if he thought he could get away with it. “How long do you think you have before Leckie gets pissed off enough to go stay in hotel?”
”A few days, for sure,” Hoosier says, shrugging his shoulders weakly. He takes another sip of his beer before flashing Ray a smug little smile. “Of course, him getting a hotel room means we don’t need to worry about the neighbors when I have to go and convince him to come back.”
”William,” Ray says, mock affronted. “I can’t believe you would stoop so low to take advantage of Leckie’s situation like that.” He can’t keep his face straight when Hoosier starts to laugh, and he’s grinning before he knows, laughing along.
”Would you two shut up for five minutes?” Leckie snaps from the kitchen, throwing a dishtowel in their direction. “You’re like goddamn children.” It falls short by a longshot, but it’s enough to make Hoosier and Ray laugh harder and Ray isn’t entirely sure why.
He’s pretty sure Leckie will storm off by the end of the week, and Ray’s probably a shitty best friend to Hoosier for wishing he’d do it already. Hey, though, if Leckie is going to loathe Ray’s entire existence and his cockblocking because of Brad’s own cockblocking, then Ray can loathe Leckie right back. Besides, Brad is bound to come home eventually, and everything will be okay again.
- - -
Brad does come home, eventually, though Ray isn’t entirely sure when. Ray just knows that Brad’s bike wasn’t in the garage when he left on the sixth night, but it’s there when Ray rolls in a little after noon on the seventh. A week. Brad’s been bitch fitting for a week, and he couldn’t even be bothered to tell Ray he was home.
Ray doesn’t care. He doesn’t. Not even a little. If Brad wants to be a little bitch about everything, than that’s his prerogative. Ray’s a little too hungover to deal with anything beyond a shower and a nap, so if Brad doesn’t want to announce that he’s back home, then Ray doesn’t have to either.
Not that Ray does a lot to hide the fact that he’s home. He strips as he makes his way through the house and to the bedroom he claimed for his own, leaving his clothes where they fall. By the time he makes it to the bathroom, he’s naked. He sits on the edge of the tub while the shower heats up, losing himself in the way the water sounds in the small room.
It’s nice and quiet and it’s weird that just knowing Brad’s around doesn’t make this stupid house feel so lonely. He’s still not so sure why Brad needs such a big house, except he does have more things with wheels than anyone else Ray has ever met, but aren’t you supposed to do things in moderation? Brad’s got himself a little hypocrisy going on.
Brad, who doesn’t make his presence known until Ray’s running a washcloth over his skin and wondering at what point Hoosier wrote penis on his elbow in Sharpie. Ray doesn’t have to look up to know Brad’s there, can hear him even over the sound of the shower, but Ray pointedly doesn’t turn to look at him.
For a moment, Brad is quiet, but he lets out a frustrated sigh and moves closer to Ray. “Would you stop acting like a child for five minutes - “
Ray slams his hand down on the lever with more force than he means to, shutting the shower off. “Do you want to talk about who is acting like a child? Because I’m not the one who ran away to Miami for a week to have a temper tantrum just because someone did something I didn’t like.”
”You had no right to bring him here,” Brad replies, scowling. He moves aside when Ray steps out of the shower, probably because he doesn’t want Ray to try to use him as a towel, and he leans against the sink when Ray starts to dry himself off. “Besides, you can’t handle staying home alone by yourself. You’ve got to spend a week bothering our fucking friends until it gets so bad that Snafu is calling me to bitch about how upset Sledge is.”
”What the fuck does Sledge have to be upset about any of this?” Ray asks, running the towel through his hair. “Kid’s not even fucking involved a little bit. Also, screw you, Hoosier is my friend. You’ve got Snafu to be a little bitch with.”
”Sledge is upset because Liebgott’s been harassing every fucking person in the city about how Webster won’t put out because he’s too distracted trying to figure out why the fuck you’ve been staying with Hoosier and Leckie,” Brad says, and for a second he looks confused by what he just said. “Also, Leckie spending all his time with Web means no sex for Liebgott, which means even more angry yelling…”
”Dude, when did our lives become such a damn soap opera?” Ray asks, and Brad just makes a grunting sound in agreement. “I’d like to point out all of this could have been avoided if you didn’t have to run off like a little bitch.”
”You know what, forget I even fucking bothered,” Brad says, and he pushes himself away from the counter and storms out of the bathroom. Ray’s not entirely sure what that means, but if Brad was trying to apologize, he really needs to work on his sincerity.
Ray could follow Brad, and they could hash out all the details and scream at each other until they feel better, but Ray is too tired for Brad’s shit right now. All he wants to do is sleep for a few hours and maybe get a blowjob at some point. Both of which are things that can be done without Brad, even if it does mean Ray’ll have to go bar crawling again.
Grumbling under his breath, Ray doesn’t even bother getting dressed before he crawls under his covers and spreads out over his bed. He thanks God for air conditioning, because his blanket is heavy and warm, and it doesn’t take long for Ray to drift off altogether.
- - -
Ray’s eating fruit loops in his boxers when he gets he gets a call from Nate. He stares blankly at the phone because he doesn’t recognize the number and because he’s only been up for fifteen minutes, it’s too early for this shit. He puts his bowl down on the counter and answers it though, slipping it between his ear and shoulder so he can keep eating. “Hello?”
A moment of silence, then, “Ray.” Not a question, and not hesitant, like Ray always imagined Nate would be when he called back for more. It’s been three and a half weeks, he’s already lasted longer than Ray thought he would.
”Sup, homes?” Ray asks around a mouthful of cereal. He swallows, wiping his face with the back of his hand, and tries again. “I was wondering when you were going to take me up on my offer. Couldn’t turn down something this good, huh?”
Nate doesn’t answer right away, either because he’s trying to think of his words or he’s so stunned by Ray’s awesomeness he’s speechless. Ray’s going to pretend it’s the latter. “I thought maybe just one time would be enough,” Nate admits quietly, sighing heavily. “I never intended to take you up on your offer.”
”Bruises are starting to fade, then,” Ray decides, dropping his spoon into his bowl and giving up on eating. He pulls himself up onto a clean spot of counter, groaning and stretching, before leaning comfortably back against the wall. “You’re a kinky motherfucker and you know it.”
”I am not,” Nate snaps and Ray bites back a laugh, because Nate might not have been doing the most deplorable things in the universe when he was between Brad and Ray, but he’s certainly not vanilla. “I don’t know why I called, this was a mistake - ”
”Nate,” Ray says, “Hey, don’t you dare hang up on me. I’ll stop teasing you.” He waits for a second, worrying at his lower lip, but the only thing Nate does is let out an exasperated sigh. There’s no dial tone, which Ray thinks is a very good thing. “So. I think the important question here, is what do you want out of this?”
There’s a thoughtful noise over the other end of the line, and Ray wonders if Nate even knows what he wants beyond a good, hard fuck every now and then. Which Ray is more than willing to give him, but there’s so much more that Ray wants to do to Nate than just tying his arms behind his back. “I don’t know,” Nate says and Ray wonders how hard it was for him to admit.
”Because if this is just about getting a little bruised and getting fucked, that’s cool,” Ray says, swinging his legs back and forth, banging his heels against the cabinet. Brad would kill him, if he could see him, but Brad would kill him anyways for the conversation he’s having and who he was having it with. “But, if it’s giving up control you’re interested in, I can do you one better.”
”Yes,” Nate says. He doesn’t need time to think about it, which Ray thinks is a good sign. “I want - ” it’s not so much that Nate hesitates, as maybe he needs a second to make up his mind or reassure himself he can do it. “I want to be in control. That’s the point of a safe word, right? You can’t do anything I don’t want and you have to stop as soon as I tell you.”
”Someone’s been doing their research,” Ray hums, nodding to himself. “Looking up porn on the internet, Nathaniel? Naughty, naughty.” He laughs when Nate chokes, but he doesn’t apologize. Nate will either tell him to stop or hang up. “That’s the gist of it all, yeah. Gaining control by giving it up. You’re a lot kinkier than you want to admit.”
”So can we do this thing or not?” Nate asks, and Ray wonders if he’s blushing. Nate’s such a good boy, it probably kills him to have to call Ray and ask for this. At least he isn’t trying to go out to a bar on his own again.
Letting his heels thump against the cabinet again, Ray stops swinging them and sighs. “Okay,” he says, nodding. He starts to drum his fingers on the counter at his side, an easy, idle action, before he continues. “Today is what, Tuesday? Then, I want you to wait until Friday.”
”What?” Nate asks, and he sounds more than a little distressed. “Can’t we get this over - can’t we do this already? I have absolutely nothing to do all night. That’s kind of the reason I called in the first place.”
”Nate,” says slowly, cutting him off before he can go on. He doesn’t like waiting either, knowing it’s Nate he’s giving a rain check to, but there’s a method to his madness. Plus, it will give him more time to convince Brad he wants this. “Wait, when you called to get your pretty ass owned, the implication was you do want Brad and myself, right?”
”Yes, Ray,” Nate says wryly.
”Okay, just making sure,” Ray says, and he isn’t sure why, but he’s actually kind of relieved a little. He isn’t going to set up a play date if he isn’t invited. Nate’s ass is as much his as it is Brad’s. “Okay,” Ray says again, then, “Do you trust me?”
For a second, Nate is quiet. Ray doesn’t think he’s unsure so much as trying to figure out what Ray is getting at, if there’s some scheme here he doesn’t know about. After a moment of silence though, Nate says, “Yes.”
”Right,” Ray says slowly, nodding to himself. “Then I want you to just trust me on this. Friday night, we’ll own your ass as little or as much as you want. But you’ve got to learn to give up control here, too. I want you to spend the rest of the week thinking about what it feels like to be tied up and helpless and how we’re going to pound your tight little ass while you scream for more.”
”You’re so crude,” Nate replies, and his voice gets a little breathless. In anticipation, Ray hopes, and not embarrassment. Or, if it’s embarrassment, they’ll fuck the shyness out of him, given enough time. “Fine. Friday is fine. I’ll be there.”
”I’ll text you the location later,” Ray decides. He stops drumming on the counter and can’t fight the lazy grin that makes its way to his face. “Though, if you’re kind of horny and need to get it out of your system, I wouldn’t stop you from jacking off right now while we’re on the phone.”
”I’m hanging up now,” Nate says, his tone clipped. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Ray’s not really surprised when Nate hangs up on him, but he is kind of disappointed. That would have been a great start to their relationship, he thinks and idly he wonders how Nate gets himself off. It was worth a shot though and Ray snaps his phone shut, reaching across the counter to grab his bowl and finish his cereal. Talking to Brad can wait until he’s more awake and less hungry.
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