Business or Pleasure: How to Hook a Pool Boy (Negocios o placer: Cómo gancho un chico de la alberca)
Part One
Mikey can’t really understand why they have a pool because he can’t swim. He explained this to Ray when it was an option for the house. Ray’s not an awfully good swimmer either but he’s just always wanted a pool. He grew up with having one being the symbol that you’d made it. If your house has a pool you have money. Simple as. It was the one thing Ray insisted on and Mikey huffed over. It seemed to be his thing. Since Ray hated to see the love of his life in a mood they made a compromise. The pool would be no more than 5’7 deep. They way they could both stand in the deep end with their feet never leaving the floor. Even though that’s the case Mikey never goes near the deep end. The thought of his head going under the water terrifies him more than being alone for the rest of his life. More than Ray leaving him for some younger, prettier guy who’s less demanding. It’s those little thoughts that make Mikey consider changing who he is. He did once. He tried to be perfect in every way. Didn’t ask for anything and did everything for Ray, who in turn was more than freaked out and told Mikey to just be himself, after all that’s who he fell in love with.
Mikey hasn’t tried to be different since then.
A part of him has always wanted to learn to swim though, if he wasn’t absurdly afraid of sharks in any body of water bigger than a large bath tub (thankyouverymuch Jaws). He does like standing in the pool though. As long as the water doesn’t go past his shoulders Mikey can handle it. Though when he falls in, distracted by Ricky and his dancer’s body, he can’t handle it and sheer panic floods his system as water shoots up his nose, his head almost hitting the floor. There’s an odd moment of total calm as nothing goes through Mikey’s mind. He just stares up at the surface as the world ripples in front of his eyes. But that only lasts for a few seconds before pure panic sets in as he kicks back towards the surface.
Least in his head that’s what happens. In reality, it doesn’t.
The panic sets in all right but Mikey does nothing to fight against the water rushing into his lungs, too frozen by the sheer terror of his head actually being under the water. His back hits the floor before his head eventually follows suit and the world goes even more blurry. Mikey can’t register much after that but when everything sinks back into reality he’s lying on the floor and Ricky is kneeling over him, dripping wet. Beads of water splashing against Mikey’s face falling from Ricky’s hair and the tip of his nose. His skin is glistening. Mikey doesn’t know what’s happening but he doesn’t want to ever forget the image before him. It’s like staring up at the Sistine Chapel. Then all of a sudden Ricky’s lips are on his, wet and slippery but utterly perfect, breathing air into Mikey. Giving mouth to mouth. If Mikey could be breathless he would be. As he pants the wet features above him contort into a smile.
“¿estás bien?” Ricky asks. Hazel eyes meeting Mikey’s with concern. He’s instantly lost in them. Mikey just nods for no real reason cause he still can’t understand what this man says every time he opens his mouth and says something beyond señor. His brain feels kind of fuzzy from the lack of oxygen and his breathing is laboured but he’s alive. Mikey’s head went under the water and he’s still alive. Definitely something to tell Ray when he can think straight.
Right now all he can think about is wanting Ricky to kiss him again, but with less air this time.
They just stare at each for what seems like forever to Mikey, especially since his very traumatic near death experience (if he plays it up enough Ray just might get him a present. Diamonds. Hopefully diamonds). The water from Ricky’s hair keeps dripping, all be it slower now, onto his face and Mikey’s. Framing every feature. Mikey just wants to lick it all up. The tension between them is broken when Ricky leans in and kisses his employer properly, no breathing this time and less slippery but still perfect. Mikey just melts and kisses back, fingers curling into the wet black locks, rivulets of water beginning to trickle between his knuckles and down his wrists. A tiny voice of common sense locked deep away in his head telling him to stop. When they break away Mikey looks down and notices Ricky’s shirt, soaking and see through, clinging to his body like it wasn’t even there at all. Mikey gulps and looks back up at the face the body belongs too. He’s still smiling almost innocently and it’s just too adorable.
But then it drops.
“Tengo que ir,” Ricky says with more than a hint of sadness. “pero voy a estar de vuelta.” Mikey just nods again and watches him get up and walk away; leaving a wet footprint trail like someone was meant to follow it to find something fantastical.
For the rest of the day all Mikey can think about is the kiss cause it’s definitely the most fun he’s had all week. He can taste Ricky on his lips whenever he licks them. They taste of chlorine and limes or lemons or some kind of citrus fruit that isn’t an orange. But it’s all Ricky. It’s exotic yet familiar and Mikey could get more than used to tasting it every day.
-
He tells Ray about his near death experience the next day over the phone while he plays with a throw cushion on the couch. The kind of cushion that’s all frilly edges and hideously uncomfortable to sit on but great to hold. He knows he must have caught Ray in the middle of a meeting or something cause his voice is echoed like he’s hiding in a bathroom.
“You nearly drowned?”
“Yeah. Hit my head and everything. It still hurts Rayray.” It doesn’t.
“Aww my poor Mikes. How did you fall in?”
“I can’t remember.” He can. “Everything’s a bit fuzzy.”
“Does this mean you want a present?”
Ray can always see through Mikey and ‘give me sympathy’ voice cause it makes him sound like a six year old girl.
“No,” Mikey lies. “I just thought you’d want to know that I nearly died. Sorry for trying to keep you updated with things that are going on around here.”
“Okay okay, cool your jets. I’m bringing you back something anyway.”
The smile that grows on Mikey’s face is almost radioactive. “Is it sparkly?”
“Maaaaybe...”
“Rayrayyyyyy! Don’t be such a tease!”
“I’m not teasing. You’ll find out at the end of the week but right now I really gotta go. Love you loads babe.”
“Love you too.”
-
One of the oddest presents Mikey ever received was a cookbook off one of his exes. The only reason he can think of why he got it is because the ex in question couldn’t stand that he can’t cook. The book itself is basic, simple one pot meals and things that can be made and cooked in half an hour. Mikey’s tried a few recipes from within the pages, the simplest things that are literally ‘put it in a saucepan and leave it alone’ but when you have a short attention span and the tendency to get really distracted by rather trivial things even that is a stretch.
But today. Today is different. Today Mikey is craving something sweet. Something chocolaty and gooey that’ll stick to his hips. Normally in this situation a batch of brownies would appear out of thin air and fill the whole house with that mouth-watering ‘delicious baked goods are waiting for you to devour them’ smell, and Ray would be stood by them with that smug look on his face that Mikey can never be mad at cause it usually means he has batter on his fingers that, of course, would just have to be licked clean....as well as other things.
Sadly no Ray means no magically appearing brownies and definitely no kitchen sex. It does mean that Mikey’s little cookbook has to come out and he has to attempt making some himself. Thankfully there aren’t any distractions when he melts the chocolate and weighs everything out, adding them all together slow and methodical, making sure there are no mistakes. It would be relaxing if Mikey didn’t have to concentrate so damn hard to make it right. Cooking is not something that comes naturally to him. It only hits him when everything is mixed together in a large bowl that he could have driven to the store, bought many more than the batter will make and had an instant brownie hit in the car like a junkie with a fresh baggie of smack. Mikey looks down at the mixture and pulls a face. A face of annoyance. Because not only does he now have to cook it (and for Mikey that means sitting in front of the oven and watching it to make sure it doesn’t burn) but he also has a chocolate stain or two on his white shirt.
That, actually, more than annoys him. It pisses him right the fuck off.
He pours the batter into the tin in the angriest was he can muster, which really isn’t that angry at all. It’s hard to be angry with a liquid or a thing that’s pretty damn close to a liquid.
“You’d better be fucking delicious!” Mikey mumbles to his creation as he slams the oven door closed. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of sitting in front of the oven and waiting. To give Mikey his dues he stares at it intently, but only for about a minute and a half before his mind starts to wander.
When his ass starts to go numb from sitting on the opposite counter he decides to call Ray. It rings a little longer than it normally does but Mikey doesn’t think a thing of it. He just kicks his legs in the open kitchen space as the room starts to fill with the smell of baked chocolate.
“Hello?” Ray’s voice has that instant calming effect. Like being wrapped in a blanket on a cold day in Jersey when the snow used to reach up past the bottom of the door.
“Hey Rayray. What’s up?” Mikey smiles into the phone, still looking at the oven so not to be totally distracted in a way that he’ll just walk off and leave it to burn to an absolute crisp and set off the fire alarm. Again.
“What do you want?” The smirk in Ray’s voice is unable to be hidden. Even over hundreds of miles.
“Nothing!” Mikey feigns hurt. “Just wanted to talk while my brownies are baking.”
“You’re making brownies? Have you warned the fire department? Are the valuables in a safe place?”
“Oh ha ha! I’m not gonna burn them this time. I’m sat in front of the oven watching them.”
“Baby no offence but you burn everything. If it was possible I’m pretty sure you could burn cereal by pouring milk on it.”
“I’m not that bad. No one is that bad.”
Ray makes a noise of false agreement on the other end but Mikey knows he’s right though. He just doesn’t like to let Ray win all the time.
“So how’s it going so far?”
Mikey hops off the counter and presses his nose to the oven door, peering through the slight orange glow of the light he left on.
“Looking good,” he says proudly. Because he is. Really proud. Nothing has gone wrong so far apart from the stains on his shirt but that’s what new shirts are for, right?
“You remember all the ingredients?” Ray asks with a smile in his voice.
“Oh ye of little faith...” But fear suddenly grips Mikey’s stomach and spreads through his chest. Did he? He’s sure he did, especially with the amount of time it took him to measure everything out. He couldn’t have forgotten something. The kitchen is starting to smell the same as when Ray bakes brownies so he must have done everything right because Ray’s are always perfect.
“Mikes? You’re doing that panicky breath thing, you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine you just scared the shit out of me, that’s all.” He would sound more annoyed if it were possible with the delicious smells wafting around him and invading all his senses.
“Oh I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
“Every time Rayray.”
There’s a weird slip in time where they both know they’re smiling at each other through their respective phones. It’s like a 6th sense but not nearly as cool as seeing dead people. But that in itself isn’t that cool anymore. They’ve never been awkward on the phone to each other when neither one speaks, its comfortable like they’re just sat next to each other in the same room.
“Want me to save you one if they come out right?”
“Yeah! Then make me a whole batch too,” Ray chuckles. “Who knows? This could be the start of a wonderful cooking career.”
“Now I think that’s putting a little too much faith in my non abilities.” Mikey hops back up onto the opposite counter, swinging his legs again like a carefree child but still making sure he doesn’t hit his ankles on the cupboard doors underneath him.
“Well you never know Mikes, I’m pretty sure half the bitches on TV can’t cook yet they have their own shows. Just seems to a contest of who has the prettiest face and who can look the best pretending to make chicken.” There’s a small pause. “And before you ask, yes you have a pretty face.”
The grin on Mikey’s face would be considered contagious if there was anyone else near him or even in the house to catch it. “It’s like you were reading my mind.”
“Its cause I was. I’m full of surprise don’t cha know.”
From his countertop perch Mikey faintly hears the side gate latch open and closed in quick succession and his heart starts to beat faster. Through the large window he sees Ricky pull into view. His hair looks more feathered and darker. Glossier. Though that might just be from the sun. Either way all Mikey wants to do is go outside and run his fingers through it, twirls the strands around his knuckles to see how soft it is, what it smells like. But he can’t because of his damn hunger pangs and Ray still being on the phone. It would seem suspicious if he suddenly hung up. He chews on his lip in thought. Caught between the husband and the fantasy. If only there was a way to have them both. Be one hell of a night that’s for sure....
Mikey really does just wanna go outside.
An idea pops into his head. He pads over to the over again and looks through the glass. He doesn’t need too but it all adds to the sound whistling down the phone.
“Rayray? Should the top of them be black?” Mikey asks as innocently as he can. In reality they’re not black at all. It might just be the first thing that he’s ever not burnt.
“No. No they really shouldn’t be. Take ‘em out and just scrape the top off or something.”
“Means I gotta go then.” Mikey smirks, knowing Ray can’t see it and he’d good at talking like he isn’t wearing it.
“I’m sure they’ll still be delicious Mikes. Tell me if they are or not yeah?”
“Of course.” He glances out of the window. Ricky isn’t wearing a shirt. He needs to end this now. “Love you loads.”
“Love you too sweet cheeks.”
As Mikey hangs up he turns the oven off (normally he forgets so it’s considered a damn miracle) before heading outside in his normal clothes. He isn’t bothered about changing into something skimpy and extremely revealing today for a reason he can’t place his finger on. Maybe it’s the fact he’s doesn’t feel so fat today or maybe it’s the fact that Ricky’s kiss is still playing in his mind on a loop. Or it could just be the nice weather. A number of things are in consideration as he reaches the edge of the pool, but not too close encase he falls in again.
“Hola,” he calls to where Ricky is. A sheen of sweat making his back muscles glisten in the sun. His feathered hair flicks across perfect features as he turn his head and Mikey just fucking melts under the cool Spanish gaze. Then there’s the smile to go with it.
“Hola hombre de mis sueños. ¿Cómo estás hoy?” Ricky continues to work without taking his eyes off Mikey, who’s caught like a deer in the headlights. Sadly Mikey’s new Spanish knowledge of one word doesn’t extend this far into conversation so he just smiles, fascinated as one bead of sweat rolls down Ricky’s spine and disappears into his shorts.
And god does Mikey want to know what that tastes like.
For now he settles for sitting on the edge of one of the sun loungers, not in an overly demanding way but Ricky walks over anyway and sits next to his legs on the floor. Mikey hooks them over his naked shoulders, fingers finding their way to his thick hair like this has happened a million times before. He feels every strand slip through his digits like threads of silk. He twirls it around his fingertips and rubs them over Ricky’s scalp, getting tiny soft moans in return as the pool boy tilts his head back in appreciation.
Mikey can suddenly smell coconuts and orchids. He makes a mental note to buy any shampoo that has that scent because it’s just so heavenly.
He lets his fingers trail down the back of Ricky’s head and down the back of his neck, taking in the feel of the smooth tanned skin. Memorising it. Ricky’s head falls forward against the top of his chest and Mikey continues to feel the small area of skin like it’s all he’s ever known. Tracing his fingers lightly over where Ricky’s spine is, causing the man to shiver, and around to the front. Feeling over collar bones and the tops of muscle.
Mikey could feel this one small part of him forever.
But alas he can’t and as always, and far too soon as far as Mikey’s concerned, Ricky has to leave. Not that he particularly wants to either.
-
Mikey decides to go back into the pool after his little drowning incident two nights before Ray is due to fly back home. Partly because he wants to, but mostly it’s out of pride. He doesn’t want to be beaten by, what is essentially, a hole filled with water. There are very few things more humiliating than being beaten by a whole filled with water.
He decides to do it at night. Why he can’t really say but it probably has something to do with the lack of programs he’ll watch on TV. He strips off at the side of the pool and steps into the shallow end of the warm water until it ripples by his hips, breathing in a way that lets his anxiety drop. The water is relaxing but Mikey can never forget that it holds danger. Maybe a shark if the underwater lights weren’t on, making everything glow a dull electric blue. It almost lights up the whole back yard except for the corners which remain pitch black. It’s oddly relaxing. Just the sound of the water sloshing gently back and forth against Mikey’s movements as he gingerly walks further into the deep end, stopping a few feet before the wall so the water is up around the tops of his arms. It won’t get more than an inch deeper but he always feels safer when he’s not right up against it. Mikey’s breathing is a little shaky but he’s calm being this deep. Not soothed but definitely calmed. And there is a difference. He closes his eyes and just enjoys the quiet peace, swirling his arms slightly under the surface. After a while, with his feet firmly planted on the tiled floor, he zones out. Not really thinking of anything.
The next time he opens his eyes Mikey nearly jumps three feet in the air in surprise. There’s a man stood at the edge of the pool staring at him. The very object of his desires for the past two weeks in jeans and a thin sweater.
“Perdona que te moleste pero se me olvidó algo,” Ricky says softly, fingering a silver chain in his right hand. Mikey just smiles and nods, his heart racing from both the fright and the fact Ricky is now just there, staring at him naked in the water. Its then Ricky sighs and rubs his face before looking earnestly into Mikey’s eyes.
“Lo siento pero no puedo mantener a mi mismo nunca más. Creo que Te quiero, o por lo menos me gusta usted, y sé que debe sentir la parte posterior mismo, porque siempre estás aquí cuando estoy trabajando. Usted me mira cada vez y me encanta. Me encanta tener tus hermosos ojos en mí. El amor tiene sus dedos en mi pelo y quiero más. Quiere usted se siente en todas partes, cada bache y cada contortus. Quiero tenerte en mis brazos y nunca dejarte ir, pero no puedo porque usted está casado y su marido se casa pronto. Lo único que pido es una noche, una sola para tener una idea de lo que podría haber sido. Si desea que la misma sonrisa y el guiño.”
That’s just far too much Spanish for Mikey to understand. It hits his brain like a brick wall of impassable knowledge that he’ll never understand. But by the look in Ricky’s eyes and his whole body language Mikey knows what he just said was important, heartfelt even, so he does what he always does. Smiles and nods. Albeit more warmly than before. Ricky’s face breaks into a smile, near tears in his eyes and he steps into the pool fully dressed. Mikey watches him as he wades his way over, everything soaked through. The silver chain in Ricky’s hand ends up around Mikey’s neck. It’s warm from the way it’s been clenched tightly for a while. It’s nowhere nearly sparkly enough for him but he doesn’t care. Ricky is so close, fingers brushing over the back of Mikey’s neck as he does the clasp up. They stare into each other’s eyes and all Mikey wants his him. The Latino pool boy that he can’t understand and has only known for two weeks. Not even that. Deep in his mind he knows this is a mad crush, nothing more. Once Ricky is out of his life he won’t get urges anymore. Like the urge to touch and kiss him all over. The urge to see him completely naked. The urge to take him to bed and let him fuck Mikey’s brains out all over the pillows. Which Mikey knows he’ll won’t be anything other than amazing at.
Ricky’s fingers trace the length of the chain, stopping just above Mikey’s heart which is palpitating dangerously close to a coronary. The bottom of his arms are tingling under the surface of the water which he can’t understand but he really doesn’t want too. This is far too good to be true. It’s as if his life has gone from trashy soap opera to some deluxe Hollywood movie in less than 14 days.
Then they kiss. It’s needier than the first time, less about assuring that Mikey is still alive and more about just enjoying it. Ricky’s tongue makes the first move, snaking into Mikey’s mouth when his lips are slightly parted getting the tiniest of moans in return and Mikey just melts into the other man. Even the very tip of Ricky’s tongue on his sends sparks around his body. He reaches out and unbuttons the soaked sweater, throwing it out over the edge and hearing it land with a heavy wet thump. Probably stretched out beyond repair. Under it is a thin white t-shirt that needs to come off too even though it’s practically see through. It definitely leaves nothing to the imagination. Not that Ricky ever left his chest to Mikey’s imagination anyway but this time he gets to touch and confirm everything he thought. Run his fingers over the tight abs through the barely-there-shirt.
“You have the body of a god,” Mikey lets slip as his fingers drift under the shirt to peel it off the pool boy. Ricky stares at him blankly because of what he said, not what he’s doing, as the shirt meets the sweater.
“Umm, you,” Mikey says louder, pointing in the middle of Ricky’s chest hoping he’ll understand but getting stuck on a mine for have. He’s got body and god all lined up, they’re easy. But ‘have’ now that’s a tricky one.
“Tus ojos son como las estrellas,” Ricky buts in, running his thumb over Mikey’s jaw before they kiss again like lovers and Mikey soon forgets all about a possible mime. He runs his hands all over the pool boy, anywhere he can reach, taking in the texture of his skin and all the bumps and concaves that make him so utterly irresistible.
He still tastes of citrus fruits and it makes Mikey tingle. It’s still not orange though.
Somewhere in the tangle of kisses and mysterious fruits, the rest of Ricky’s clothes ends up in the sopping pile and the two bodies become a knot of limbs desperate to touch each other everywhere. Tongues running together in a warm embrace. Mikey’s threads his fingers through the thick black hair, pulling their bodies flush together so not even a trickle of water separates their stomachs. He’s pretty sure he can feel Ricky’s heartbeat they’re so close.
Then Ricky moves his hips.
Mikey’s head is thrown back without him even realising he’s doing it as a shockwave of pleasure rockets through his body. It’s also the first time in the whole encounter that he realises he’s actually hard, let alone just how hard. He pants into the sky as Ricky places kisses over his neck. Some soft and delicate. Others Mikey is sure will leave a mark and out him. But he doesn’t care. He needs more. He pulls Ricky back with him through the water until his back is pressed up against the small tiles. Neck resting against the ledge. The pool boy between his legs.
Ricky stares into his eyes, the welcoming hazel clouded by a dark lust that gives Mikey shivers.
There isn’t the usual fear that swamps Mikey’s senses when his feet leave the floor, hooked over Ricky’s elbows to be placed around his waist. He feels completely safe in the pool boy’s arms. He knows Ricky wouldn’t let him drown, if he didn’t before why would he now?
It just doesn’t make sense.
Mikey groans when he feels fingers press up against him and doesn’t even think to stop Ricky pushing them into him, not an ounce of guilt to tell him that this is now technically adultery in his system.
“Please,” Mikey starts begging, ridding Ricky’s digits when he starts scissoring them wide. “Please fuck me.” He drags his nails down Ricky’s back, leaving right red marks and crescent moons when they pause and just dig in. Mikey knows the other man has no idea what he’s saying, their whole relationship has pretty much been built on that rather large fact, but he hopes that by the way he’s panting, moaning and groaning and begging like a whore, that it’ll translate.
It does. Apparently every language knows when a man needs to be fucked. It must be instinctive.
The pain in Mikey’s neck as its bent by the concrete lip would be extremely uncomfortable in any other situation but he can feel the heat of Ricky’s erection and he just doesn’t care about the pain. He cares about it even less when he finally, finally, feels Ricky’s cock push into him slowly, forcing his shoulders up against the underside of the concrete, bending his neck forward even more so he feels almost doubled over. It does give him a fantastic view of what’s happening under the water though, watching the naturally tanned shaft disappear inside of him. Mikey moans loudly throughout, not caring if the neighbours hear, digging his nails into Ricky’s shoulders for some kind of purchase and the noises the other man is making. God.
Mikey could just come from them alone.
After a few moments Ricky lets Mikey go, more than confident that he’s not going to float away, and places his hands either side of his employer’s body to keep him locked in place. Starting to roll his hips in such a way that makes Mikey bite his bottom lip to near shreds to keep in some of the moans of sheer pleasure coursing through every single fibre of his being. The rolls turn into thrusts and his moans turn into screams. Mikey can feel Ricky’s shoulder muscles tense under his fingertips as his cock slides against the toned stomach that drove his imagination crazy. It’s almost all too much.
“Oh my goooooooooooood,” Mikey whimpers, throwing his head back if he could, as Ricky fucks him deeper, the head of his cock brushing against that spot in a continuous cycle now.
It’s definitely too much now. Everything’s tingling and he can’t stop shuddering in the cage of Ricky’s arms.
“Ven señor. Por favor, venga,” Ricky moans next to Mikey’s ear and that’s it. Mikey comes hard, screaming the pool boy’s name without him even touching his cock. It would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so wiped by the whole affair. When Ricky comes into him a few thrusts behind Mikey’s whole body goes limp, arms slipping off strong shoulders and making a splash in the water that’s scattered with white globules floating around their bodies.
“Finished,” the pool boy pants happily.
-
Mikey’s in particularly high spirits when Ray returns home two days later, still buzzing from his little pool encounter. Ray looks worn out as Mikey wraps his arms around him, dressed in another one of his flowery silk dressing gowns. Ray hugs him back.
“Someone’s happy,” he smiles. His voice is music to Mikey’s ears as he runs his hands not so subtly over his husband’s back.
“Cause I am. I have you back!”
And as cheesy as it sounds, it’s the honest truth. He loves Ray more than anything in this world; even if he does stray away sometimes he always comes running back because Ray, his Rayray, is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
“So how’d everything go?” Mikey asks like an eager child, helping Ray talk his jacket off even though he really doesn’t have too. He just wants too. It’s an excuse to feel more of the body he’s missed even if it doesn’t necessarily seem like it. With Ray back home and his pool boy fix more than satisfied Mikey wants nothing more than to just be with his husband again and to be completely enveloped by him again.
Ray just keeps smiling. He smells like long distance travel; airport departure lounges and cheap coffee. “Oh the usual, meeting here, meeting there. Too many meetings for me to even care about.” He shifts his arms to around Mikey’s slim waist and dips him, catching the slight man off guard so he lets out a little surprised yelp that’s far from graceful. “But I don’t wanna talk about work anymore.”
He has that look in his eyes and Mikey just smirks.
“Oh, and what do you want to talk about?”
“How gorgeous you look naked, bouncing on my cock,” Ray smirks back. Mikey can’t help but stare at his full lips.
“I could talk about that forever.”
Mikey can’t really understand why they have a pool because he can’t swim. He explained this to Ray when it was an option for the house. Ray’s not an awfully good swimmer either but he’s just always wanted a pool. He grew up with having one being the symbol that you’d made it. If your house has a pool you have money. Simple as. It was the one thing Ray insisted on and Mikey huffed over. It seemed to be his thing. Since Ray hated to see the love of his life in a mood they made a compromise. The pool would be no more than 5’7 deep. They way they could both stand in the deep end with their feet never leaving the floor. Even though that’s the case Mikey never goes near the deep end. The thought of his head going under the water terrifies him more than being alone for the rest of his life. More than Ray leaving him for some younger, prettier guy who’s less demanding. It’s those little thoughts that make Mikey consider changing who he is. He did once. He tried to be perfect in every way. Didn’t ask for anything and did everything for Ray, who in turn was more than freaked out and told Mikey to just be himself, after all that’s who he fell in love with.
Mikey hasn’t tried to be different since then.
A part of him has always wanted to learn to swim though, if he wasn’t absurdly afraid of sharks in any body of water bigger than a large bath tub (thankyouverymuch Jaws). He does like standing in the pool though. As long as the water doesn’t go past his shoulders Mikey can handle it. Though when he falls in, distracted by Ricky and his dancer’s body, he can’t handle it and sheer panic floods his system as water shoots up his nose, his head almost hitting the floor. There’s an odd moment of total calm as nothing goes through Mikey’s mind. He just stares up at the surface as the world ripples in front of his eyes. But that only lasts for a few seconds before pure panic sets in as he kicks back towards the surface.
Least in his head that’s what happens. In reality, it doesn’t.
The panic sets in all right but Mikey does nothing to fight against the water rushing into his lungs, too frozen by the sheer terror of his head actually being under the water. His back hits the floor before his head eventually follows suit and the world goes even more blurry. Mikey can’t register much after that but when everything sinks back into reality he’s lying on the floor and Ricky is kneeling over him, dripping wet. Beads of water splashing against Mikey’s face falling from Ricky’s hair and the tip of his nose. His skin is glistening. Mikey doesn’t know what’s happening but he doesn’t want to ever forget the image before him. It’s like staring up at the Sistine Chapel. Then all of a sudden Ricky’s lips are on his, wet and slippery but utterly perfect, breathing air into Mikey. Giving mouth to mouth. If Mikey could be breathless he would be. As he pants the wet features above him contort into a smile.
“¿estás bien?” Ricky asks. Hazel eyes meeting Mikey’s with concern. He’s instantly lost in them. Mikey just nods for no real reason cause he still can’t understand what this man says every time he opens his mouth and says something beyond señor. His brain feels kind of fuzzy from the lack of oxygen and his breathing is laboured but he’s alive. Mikey’s head went under the water and he’s still alive. Definitely something to tell Ray when he can think straight.
Right now all he can think about is wanting Ricky to kiss him again, but with less air this time.
They just stare at each for what seems like forever to Mikey, especially since his very traumatic near death experience (if he plays it up enough Ray just might get him a present. Diamonds. Hopefully diamonds). The water from Ricky’s hair keeps dripping, all be it slower now, onto his face and Mikey’s. Framing every feature. Mikey just wants to lick it all up. The tension between them is broken when Ricky leans in and kisses his employer properly, no breathing this time and less slippery but still perfect. Mikey just melts and kisses back, fingers curling into the wet black locks, rivulets of water beginning to trickle between his knuckles and down his wrists. A tiny voice of common sense locked deep away in his head telling him to stop. When they break away Mikey looks down and notices Ricky’s shirt, soaking and see through, clinging to his body like it wasn’t even there at all. Mikey gulps and looks back up at the face the body belongs too. He’s still smiling almost innocently and it’s just too adorable.
But then it drops.
“Tengo que ir,” Ricky says with more than a hint of sadness. “pero voy a estar de vuelta.” Mikey just nods again and watches him get up and walk away; leaving a wet footprint trail like someone was meant to follow it to find something fantastical.
For the rest of the day all Mikey can think about is the kiss cause it’s definitely the most fun he’s had all week. He can taste Ricky on his lips whenever he licks them. They taste of chlorine and limes or lemons or some kind of citrus fruit that isn’t an orange. But it’s all Ricky. It’s exotic yet familiar and Mikey could get more than used to tasting it every day.
-
He tells Ray about his near death experience the next day over the phone while he plays with a throw cushion on the couch. The kind of cushion that’s all frilly edges and hideously uncomfortable to sit on but great to hold. He knows he must have caught Ray in the middle of a meeting or something cause his voice is echoed like he’s hiding in a bathroom.
“You nearly drowned?”
“Yeah. Hit my head and everything. It still hurts Rayray.” It doesn’t.
“Aww my poor Mikes. How did you fall in?”
“I can’t remember.” He can. “Everything’s a bit fuzzy.”
“Does this mean you want a present?”
Ray can always see through Mikey and ‘give me sympathy’ voice cause it makes him sound like a six year old girl.
“No,” Mikey lies. “I just thought you’d want to know that I nearly died. Sorry for trying to keep you updated with things that are going on around here.”
“Okay okay, cool your jets. I’m bringing you back something anyway.”
The smile that grows on Mikey’s face is almost radioactive. “Is it sparkly?”
“Maaaaybe...”
“Rayrayyyyyy! Don’t be such a tease!”
“I’m not teasing. You’ll find out at the end of the week but right now I really gotta go. Love you loads babe.”
“Love you too.”
-
One of the oddest presents Mikey ever received was a cookbook off one of his exes. The only reason he can think of why he got it is because the ex in question couldn’t stand that he can’t cook. The book itself is basic, simple one pot meals and things that can be made and cooked in half an hour. Mikey’s tried a few recipes from within the pages, the simplest things that are literally ‘put it in a saucepan and leave it alone’ but when you have a short attention span and the tendency to get really distracted by rather trivial things even that is a stretch.
But today. Today is different. Today Mikey is craving something sweet. Something chocolaty and gooey that’ll stick to his hips. Normally in this situation a batch of brownies would appear out of thin air and fill the whole house with that mouth-watering ‘delicious baked goods are waiting for you to devour them’ smell, and Ray would be stood by them with that smug look on his face that Mikey can never be mad at cause it usually means he has batter on his fingers that, of course, would just have to be licked clean....as well as other things.
Sadly no Ray means no magically appearing brownies and definitely no kitchen sex. It does mean that Mikey’s little cookbook has to come out and he has to attempt making some himself. Thankfully there aren’t any distractions when he melts the chocolate and weighs everything out, adding them all together slow and methodical, making sure there are no mistakes. It would be relaxing if Mikey didn’t have to concentrate so damn hard to make it right. Cooking is not something that comes naturally to him. It only hits him when everything is mixed together in a large bowl that he could have driven to the store, bought many more than the batter will make and had an instant brownie hit in the car like a junkie with a fresh baggie of smack. Mikey looks down at the mixture and pulls a face. A face of annoyance. Because not only does he now have to cook it (and for Mikey that means sitting in front of the oven and watching it to make sure it doesn’t burn) but he also has a chocolate stain or two on his white shirt.
That, actually, more than annoys him. It pisses him right the fuck off.
He pours the batter into the tin in the angriest was he can muster, which really isn’t that angry at all. It’s hard to be angry with a liquid or a thing that’s pretty damn close to a liquid.
“You’d better be fucking delicious!” Mikey mumbles to his creation as he slams the oven door closed. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of sitting in front of the oven and waiting. To give Mikey his dues he stares at it intently, but only for about a minute and a half before his mind starts to wander.
When his ass starts to go numb from sitting on the opposite counter he decides to call Ray. It rings a little longer than it normally does but Mikey doesn’t think a thing of it. He just kicks his legs in the open kitchen space as the room starts to fill with the smell of baked chocolate.
“Hello?” Ray’s voice has that instant calming effect. Like being wrapped in a blanket on a cold day in Jersey when the snow used to reach up past the bottom of the door.
“Hey Rayray. What’s up?” Mikey smiles into the phone, still looking at the oven so not to be totally distracted in a way that he’ll just walk off and leave it to burn to an absolute crisp and set off the fire alarm. Again.
“What do you want?” The smirk in Ray’s voice is unable to be hidden. Even over hundreds of miles.
“Nothing!” Mikey feigns hurt. “Just wanted to talk while my brownies are baking.”
“You’re making brownies? Have you warned the fire department? Are the valuables in a safe place?”
“Oh ha ha! I’m not gonna burn them this time. I’m sat in front of the oven watching them.”
“Baby no offence but you burn everything. If it was possible I’m pretty sure you could burn cereal by pouring milk on it.”
“I’m not that bad. No one is that bad.”
Ray makes a noise of false agreement on the other end but Mikey knows he’s right though. He just doesn’t like to let Ray win all the time.
“So how’s it going so far?”
Mikey hops off the counter and presses his nose to the oven door, peering through the slight orange glow of the light he left on.
“Looking good,” he says proudly. Because he is. Really proud. Nothing has gone wrong so far apart from the stains on his shirt but that’s what new shirts are for, right?
“You remember all the ingredients?” Ray asks with a smile in his voice.
“Oh ye of little faith...” But fear suddenly grips Mikey’s stomach and spreads through his chest. Did he? He’s sure he did, especially with the amount of time it took him to measure everything out. He couldn’t have forgotten something. The kitchen is starting to smell the same as when Ray bakes brownies so he must have done everything right because Ray’s are always perfect.
“Mikes? You’re doing that panicky breath thing, you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine you just scared the shit out of me, that’s all.” He would sound more annoyed if it were possible with the delicious smells wafting around him and invading all his senses.
“Oh I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
“Every time Rayray.”
There’s a weird slip in time where they both know they’re smiling at each other through their respective phones. It’s like a 6th sense but not nearly as cool as seeing dead people. But that in itself isn’t that cool anymore. They’ve never been awkward on the phone to each other when neither one speaks, its comfortable like they’re just sat next to each other in the same room.
“Want me to save you one if they come out right?”
“Yeah! Then make me a whole batch too,” Ray chuckles. “Who knows? This could be the start of a wonderful cooking career.”
“Now I think that’s putting a little too much faith in my non abilities.” Mikey hops back up onto the opposite counter, swinging his legs again like a carefree child but still making sure he doesn’t hit his ankles on the cupboard doors underneath him.
“Well you never know Mikes, I’m pretty sure half the bitches on TV can’t cook yet they have their own shows. Just seems to a contest of who has the prettiest face and who can look the best pretending to make chicken.” There’s a small pause. “And before you ask, yes you have a pretty face.”
The grin on Mikey’s face would be considered contagious if there was anyone else near him or even in the house to catch it. “It’s like you were reading my mind.”
“Its cause I was. I’m full of surprise don’t cha know.”
From his countertop perch Mikey faintly hears the side gate latch open and closed in quick succession and his heart starts to beat faster. Through the large window he sees Ricky pull into view. His hair looks more feathered and darker. Glossier. Though that might just be from the sun. Either way all Mikey wants to do is go outside and run his fingers through it, twirls the strands around his knuckles to see how soft it is, what it smells like. But he can’t because of his damn hunger pangs and Ray still being on the phone. It would seem suspicious if he suddenly hung up. He chews on his lip in thought. Caught between the husband and the fantasy. If only there was a way to have them both. Be one hell of a night that’s for sure....
Mikey really does just wanna go outside.
An idea pops into his head. He pads over to the over again and looks through the glass. He doesn’t need too but it all adds to the sound whistling down the phone.
“Rayray? Should the top of them be black?” Mikey asks as innocently as he can. In reality they’re not black at all. It might just be the first thing that he’s ever not burnt.
“No. No they really shouldn’t be. Take ‘em out and just scrape the top off or something.”
“Means I gotta go then.” Mikey smirks, knowing Ray can’t see it and he’d good at talking like he isn’t wearing it.
“I’m sure they’ll still be delicious Mikes. Tell me if they are or not yeah?”
“Of course.” He glances out of the window. Ricky isn’t wearing a shirt. He needs to end this now. “Love you loads.”
“Love you too sweet cheeks.”
As Mikey hangs up he turns the oven off (normally he forgets so it’s considered a damn miracle) before heading outside in his normal clothes. He isn’t bothered about changing into something skimpy and extremely revealing today for a reason he can’t place his finger on. Maybe it’s the fact he’s doesn’t feel so fat today or maybe it’s the fact that Ricky’s kiss is still playing in his mind on a loop. Or it could just be the nice weather. A number of things are in consideration as he reaches the edge of the pool, but not too close encase he falls in again.
“Hola,” he calls to where Ricky is. A sheen of sweat making his back muscles glisten in the sun. His feathered hair flicks across perfect features as he turn his head and Mikey just fucking melts under the cool Spanish gaze. Then there’s the smile to go with it.
“Hola hombre de mis sueños. ¿Cómo estás hoy?” Ricky continues to work without taking his eyes off Mikey, who’s caught like a deer in the headlights. Sadly Mikey’s new Spanish knowledge of one word doesn’t extend this far into conversation so he just smiles, fascinated as one bead of sweat rolls down Ricky’s spine and disappears into his shorts.
And god does Mikey want to know what that tastes like.
For now he settles for sitting on the edge of one of the sun loungers, not in an overly demanding way but Ricky walks over anyway and sits next to his legs on the floor. Mikey hooks them over his naked shoulders, fingers finding their way to his thick hair like this has happened a million times before. He feels every strand slip through his digits like threads of silk. He twirls it around his fingertips and rubs them over Ricky’s scalp, getting tiny soft moans in return as the pool boy tilts his head back in appreciation.
Mikey can suddenly smell coconuts and orchids. He makes a mental note to buy any shampoo that has that scent because it’s just so heavenly.
He lets his fingers trail down the back of Ricky’s head and down the back of his neck, taking in the feel of the smooth tanned skin. Memorising it. Ricky’s head falls forward against the top of his chest and Mikey continues to feel the small area of skin like it’s all he’s ever known. Tracing his fingers lightly over where Ricky’s spine is, causing the man to shiver, and around to the front. Feeling over collar bones and the tops of muscle.
Mikey could feel this one small part of him forever.
But alas he can’t and as always, and far too soon as far as Mikey’s concerned, Ricky has to leave. Not that he particularly wants to either.
-
Mikey decides to go back into the pool after his little drowning incident two nights before Ray is due to fly back home. Partly because he wants to, but mostly it’s out of pride. He doesn’t want to be beaten by, what is essentially, a hole filled with water. There are very few things more humiliating than being beaten by a whole filled with water.
He decides to do it at night. Why he can’t really say but it probably has something to do with the lack of programs he’ll watch on TV. He strips off at the side of the pool and steps into the shallow end of the warm water until it ripples by his hips, breathing in a way that lets his anxiety drop. The water is relaxing but Mikey can never forget that it holds danger. Maybe a shark if the underwater lights weren’t on, making everything glow a dull electric blue. It almost lights up the whole back yard except for the corners which remain pitch black. It’s oddly relaxing. Just the sound of the water sloshing gently back and forth against Mikey’s movements as he gingerly walks further into the deep end, stopping a few feet before the wall so the water is up around the tops of his arms. It won’t get more than an inch deeper but he always feels safer when he’s not right up against it. Mikey’s breathing is a little shaky but he’s calm being this deep. Not soothed but definitely calmed. And there is a difference. He closes his eyes and just enjoys the quiet peace, swirling his arms slightly under the surface. After a while, with his feet firmly planted on the tiled floor, he zones out. Not really thinking of anything.
The next time he opens his eyes Mikey nearly jumps three feet in the air in surprise. There’s a man stood at the edge of the pool staring at him. The very object of his desires for the past two weeks in jeans and a thin sweater.
“Perdona que te moleste pero se me olvidó algo,” Ricky says softly, fingering a silver chain in his right hand. Mikey just smiles and nods, his heart racing from both the fright and the fact Ricky is now just there, staring at him naked in the water. Its then Ricky sighs and rubs his face before looking earnestly into Mikey’s eyes.
“Lo siento pero no puedo mantener a mi mismo nunca más. Creo que Te quiero, o por lo menos me gusta usted, y sé que debe sentir la parte posterior mismo, porque siempre estás aquí cuando estoy trabajando. Usted me mira cada vez y me encanta. Me encanta tener tus hermosos ojos en mí. El amor tiene sus dedos en mi pelo y quiero más. Quiere usted se siente en todas partes, cada bache y cada contortus. Quiero tenerte en mis brazos y nunca dejarte ir, pero no puedo porque usted está casado y su marido se casa pronto. Lo único que pido es una noche, una sola para tener una idea de lo que podría haber sido. Si desea que la misma sonrisa y el guiño.”
That’s just far too much Spanish for Mikey to understand. It hits his brain like a brick wall of impassable knowledge that he’ll never understand. But by the look in Ricky’s eyes and his whole body language Mikey knows what he just said was important, heartfelt even, so he does what he always does. Smiles and nods. Albeit more warmly than before. Ricky’s face breaks into a smile, near tears in his eyes and he steps into the pool fully dressed. Mikey watches him as he wades his way over, everything soaked through. The silver chain in Ricky’s hand ends up around Mikey’s neck. It’s warm from the way it’s been clenched tightly for a while. It’s nowhere nearly sparkly enough for him but he doesn’t care. Ricky is so close, fingers brushing over the back of Mikey’s neck as he does the clasp up. They stare into each other’s eyes and all Mikey wants his him. The Latino pool boy that he can’t understand and has only known for two weeks. Not even that. Deep in his mind he knows this is a mad crush, nothing more. Once Ricky is out of his life he won’t get urges anymore. Like the urge to touch and kiss him all over. The urge to see him completely naked. The urge to take him to bed and let him fuck Mikey’s brains out all over the pillows. Which Mikey knows he’ll won’t be anything other than amazing at.
Ricky’s fingers trace the length of the chain, stopping just above Mikey’s heart which is palpitating dangerously close to a coronary. The bottom of his arms are tingling under the surface of the water which he can’t understand but he really doesn’t want too. This is far too good to be true. It’s as if his life has gone from trashy soap opera to some deluxe Hollywood movie in less than 14 days.
Then they kiss. It’s needier than the first time, less about assuring that Mikey is still alive and more about just enjoying it. Ricky’s tongue makes the first move, snaking into Mikey’s mouth when his lips are slightly parted getting the tiniest of moans in return and Mikey just melts into the other man. Even the very tip of Ricky’s tongue on his sends sparks around his body. He reaches out and unbuttons the soaked sweater, throwing it out over the edge and hearing it land with a heavy wet thump. Probably stretched out beyond repair. Under it is a thin white t-shirt that needs to come off too even though it’s practically see through. It definitely leaves nothing to the imagination. Not that Ricky ever left his chest to Mikey’s imagination anyway but this time he gets to touch and confirm everything he thought. Run his fingers over the tight abs through the barely-there-shirt.
“You have the body of a god,” Mikey lets slip as his fingers drift under the shirt to peel it off the pool boy. Ricky stares at him blankly because of what he said, not what he’s doing, as the shirt meets the sweater.
“Umm, you,” Mikey says louder, pointing in the middle of Ricky’s chest hoping he’ll understand but getting stuck on a mine for have. He’s got body and god all lined up, they’re easy. But ‘have’ now that’s a tricky one.
“Tus ojos son como las estrellas,” Ricky buts in, running his thumb over Mikey’s jaw before they kiss again like lovers and Mikey soon forgets all about a possible mime. He runs his hands all over the pool boy, anywhere he can reach, taking in the texture of his skin and all the bumps and concaves that make him so utterly irresistible.
He still tastes of citrus fruits and it makes Mikey tingle. It’s still not orange though.
Somewhere in the tangle of kisses and mysterious fruits, the rest of Ricky’s clothes ends up in the sopping pile and the two bodies become a knot of limbs desperate to touch each other everywhere. Tongues running together in a warm embrace. Mikey’s threads his fingers through the thick black hair, pulling their bodies flush together so not even a trickle of water separates their stomachs. He’s pretty sure he can feel Ricky’s heartbeat they’re so close.
Then Ricky moves his hips.
Mikey’s head is thrown back without him even realising he’s doing it as a shockwave of pleasure rockets through his body. It’s also the first time in the whole encounter that he realises he’s actually hard, let alone just how hard. He pants into the sky as Ricky places kisses over his neck. Some soft and delicate. Others Mikey is sure will leave a mark and out him. But he doesn’t care. He needs more. He pulls Ricky back with him through the water until his back is pressed up against the small tiles. Neck resting against the ledge. The pool boy between his legs.
Ricky stares into his eyes, the welcoming hazel clouded by a dark lust that gives Mikey shivers.
There isn’t the usual fear that swamps Mikey’s senses when his feet leave the floor, hooked over Ricky’s elbows to be placed around his waist. He feels completely safe in the pool boy’s arms. He knows Ricky wouldn’t let him drown, if he didn’t before why would he now?
It just doesn’t make sense.
Mikey groans when he feels fingers press up against him and doesn’t even think to stop Ricky pushing them into him, not an ounce of guilt to tell him that this is now technically adultery in his system.
“Please,” Mikey starts begging, ridding Ricky’s digits when he starts scissoring them wide. “Please fuck me.” He drags his nails down Ricky’s back, leaving right red marks and crescent moons when they pause and just dig in. Mikey knows the other man has no idea what he’s saying, their whole relationship has pretty much been built on that rather large fact, but he hopes that by the way he’s panting, moaning and groaning and begging like a whore, that it’ll translate.
It does. Apparently every language knows when a man needs to be fucked. It must be instinctive.
The pain in Mikey’s neck as its bent by the concrete lip would be extremely uncomfortable in any other situation but he can feel the heat of Ricky’s erection and he just doesn’t care about the pain. He cares about it even less when he finally, finally, feels Ricky’s cock push into him slowly, forcing his shoulders up against the underside of the concrete, bending his neck forward even more so he feels almost doubled over. It does give him a fantastic view of what’s happening under the water though, watching the naturally tanned shaft disappear inside of him. Mikey moans loudly throughout, not caring if the neighbours hear, digging his nails into Ricky’s shoulders for some kind of purchase and the noises the other man is making. God.
Mikey could just come from them alone.
After a few moments Ricky lets Mikey go, more than confident that he’s not going to float away, and places his hands either side of his employer’s body to keep him locked in place. Starting to roll his hips in such a way that makes Mikey bite his bottom lip to near shreds to keep in some of the moans of sheer pleasure coursing through every single fibre of his being. The rolls turn into thrusts and his moans turn into screams. Mikey can feel Ricky’s shoulder muscles tense under his fingertips as his cock slides against the toned stomach that drove his imagination crazy. It’s almost all too much.
“Oh my goooooooooooood,” Mikey whimpers, throwing his head back if he could, as Ricky fucks him deeper, the head of his cock brushing against that spot in a continuous cycle now.
It’s definitely too much now. Everything’s tingling and he can’t stop shuddering in the cage of Ricky’s arms.
“Ven señor. Por favor, venga,” Ricky moans next to Mikey’s ear and that’s it. Mikey comes hard, screaming the pool boy’s name without him even touching his cock. It would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so wiped by the whole affair. When Ricky comes into him a few thrusts behind Mikey’s whole body goes limp, arms slipping off strong shoulders and making a splash in the water that’s scattered with white globules floating around their bodies.
“Finished,” the pool boy pants happily.
-
Mikey’s in particularly high spirits when Ray returns home two days later, still buzzing from his little pool encounter. Ray looks worn out as Mikey wraps his arms around him, dressed in another one of his flowery silk dressing gowns. Ray hugs him back.
“Someone’s happy,” he smiles. His voice is music to Mikey’s ears as he runs his hands not so subtly over his husband’s back.
“Cause I am. I have you back!”
And as cheesy as it sounds, it’s the honest truth. He loves Ray more than anything in this world; even if he does stray away sometimes he always comes running back because Ray, his Rayray, is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
“So how’d everything go?” Mikey asks like an eager child, helping Ray talk his jacket off even though he really doesn’t have too. He just wants too. It’s an excuse to feel more of the body he’s missed even if it doesn’t necessarily seem like it. With Ray back home and his pool boy fix more than satisfied Mikey wants nothing more than to just be with his husband again and to be completely enveloped by him again.
Ray just keeps smiling. He smells like long distance travel; airport departure lounges and cheap coffee. “Oh the usual, meeting here, meeting there. Too many meetings for me to even care about.” He shifts his arms to around Mikey’s slim waist and dips him, catching the slight man off guard so he lets out a little surprised yelp that’s far from graceful. “But I don’t wanna talk about work anymore.”
He has that look in his eyes and Mikey just smirks.
“Oh, and what do you want to talk about?”
“How gorgeous you look naked, bouncing on my cock,” Ray smirks back. Mikey can’t help but stare at his full lips.
“I could talk about that forever.”