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Sand opens the door and lets Ray stumble to the bathroom on his own. He’s made the trip often enough that he knows how to get there as well as the consequences of missing the toilet when he pukes. Sand trusts that he’ll get it right.
Sand follows him eventually, when the heaving is slowly dying out and he stands behind him with what Sand believes is the patience of a saint because he’s long run out of his human quota of patience for Ray.
Ray finally stops and looks up at Sand pitifully, still leaning against the toilet that Sand is sure is covered in pee; Nick doesn’t have the best aim. There was a time that Sand would have rushed forward to wipe away the string of spittle clinging to Ray’s bottom lip, or helped prop him against the slightly cleaner wall, when Ray would make that face at him, eyes wide and cheeks puffed out like a helpless hamster - chest aching with an endearment that blooms despite his best judgment.
He holds the tissue out at Ray, who looks at him for a second longer, like he’s contemplating saying something before he decides against it and grabs the tissue, wiping his mouth himself. Sand does help him up when Ray is on his knees and unable to make it onto his two feet, for the journey to the couch, or as Ray is surely hoping, the bed.
Ray doesn’t let him move away once he’s gotten a hold of Sand’s hand, clinging to it like he needs Sand for support even though it makes opening the cap of the mouthwash that Sand keeps on the sink ready for him, just that much harder.
Ray is supported, henceforth, all the way back to the couch but instead of falling back onto it like Sand expects when he lets go, Ray keeps standing steady and inches closer, hands digging into Sand’s back, clenched around his t-shirt. Sand lets Ray get close, till he’s sure that Ray is on his tiptoes before unceremoniously pushing on his chest so Ray falls back onto the couch in a big heap.
Ray pouts unhappily up at him and Sand rolls his eyes as emphatically as he can manage before heading to the fridge to grab Ray a water bottle. He’s still pouting when Sand returns, ignoring the bottle in Sand’s hand.
San gestures the bottle towards him again, ‘You want to get fucked later or what?’ Ray’s annoyance falls away instantly as he clambers for the bottle. It’s back in the next moment as he grumpily cracks open the cap and drinks from it. But Sand can see the way his hand shakes as he takes large gulps, trying so desperately to not appear desperate to sober up enough for Sand to fuck him.
Sand has to wonder, not for the first time, for whose benefit all these pretenses are for.
‘Walk in a straight line.’ Sand demands when the silence stretches to an uncomfortable length, as though he’s a cop that’s just pulled Ray over. Ray scrambles to comply as though he is too.
Ray does a decent enough job, stumbling only when his shin bumps against the coffee table and that, Sand knows, is not due to the alcohol. Ray makes it all the way to the fridge and does a little hop at the end when he turns to face Sand proudly, knowing he’s passed Sand’s test.
Sand has to dip his head towards the floor at Ray’s antics, to not let the way the rock pressed upon his chest softens, show.
He walks up to Ray and Ray sobers up immediately, Sand’s proximity more potent than water to clear his head, the anticipation building into his muscles instantly, already buzzing for Sand’s hands to be on him, gentle. His back arches into the tender path that Sand’s palm draws down and gasps when Sand gropes at his ass, breathes a soft ‘Sand’ between them as Sand pulls him into a kiss, his hands trembling on Sand’s shoulder.
They make it to Sand’s bed like that, lips sealed together and short stumbling steps, Rays fingers tangled tightly into the hairs on Sand’s nape like he can somehow pull Sand’s mouth closer than it already is, tongues intertwined, chasing the flavor of Sand’s smokey kiss with abandon.
Ray doesn’t let go when Sand does, falling back onto the bed with Sand in tow, even though it means Sand almost knees him in the groin. Sand isn’t sure that Ray would have noticed if he had, already pushing at Sand’s jacket as he pulls on the hem of Sand’s ratty t-shirt, pushes at the waistband of Sand’s jeans all at once.
Sand shushes Ray even before the whine can escape his throat, as Sand sits up putting distance between their bodies. He lets Ray keep his hands on him, unable to be soothed without Sand’s body heat filling in the gaping emptiness, even as Sand says as gently as he can manage with his breath still left somewhere with Ray, ‘Let me.’
Sand pulls open the buttons on Ray’s shirt one by one, kissing every sliver of skin that’s revealed fondly. Sand tries to continue the path down as he pops open the buttons of Ray’s jeans. But Ray's fingers are already digging into Sand’s jacket pulling him up with urgency.
Right.
Ray isn’t here to be worshiped.
Sand follows Ray’s hands until they deposit him back to Ray’s lips. He helps Ray push his jacket off, separates only enough to tug his t-shirt over his head before he’s back, lips molten lava and Ray’s fingers running down heated skin that’s already ash.
He fucks Ray slow, with thrusts that burrow Sand deep, deeper than Ray has ever wanted him. Ray’s body is pulled taut with tension like it’s not enough, his hips try to push back against Sand’s hold on them, trying to make Sand go faster, at the pace Ray wants him.
Sand can feel the want tangible between them, pouring out of Ray in thick waves; Ray’s need to be fucked and had and destroyed, his insides splintered and torn till there’s nothing left to be found. Sand stops on a particularly hard thrust, grinding against Ray’s prostate and the low whine in Ray’s throat in response, the way that Ray’s hand slams into Sand’s chest, makes Sand think that Ray will finally do it; push him away.
The truth is, that Ray isn’t here to get fucked either.
Sand looks down at Ray as he pants, eyes watery and lips bitten red from the roughness of his own teeth bearing down on them. Sand can’t help the smile on his face any more than he can the softness in his chest as he looks down at those beautiful almond eyes that had first captivated him so, glistening with the wants and pleas that Ray can’t articulate outside Sand’s bed.
The truth is, that Sand wants to fuck Ray hard and fast till he’s screaming Sand’s name, unable to remember even his own. He wants Ray a babbling mess, destroyed, splintered and torn till only Sand knows where the pieces are.
But Ray’s broken body isn’t Sand’s to claim either.
Sand pulls out so he can turn Ray onto his stomach, pushing his dick inside before Ray can complain. Ray scrambles for purchase, insistently pushing his hips back till Sand has to hold him down again as he continues to fuck him neither particularly hard nor particularly fast.
‘What?’ Sand says, loving the way his heated breath on Ray's nape makes him shiver, ‘If you’re thinking about him then think about him.’ Sand grabs Ray’s wrists so he can hold him down while he fucks him, ‘It’s okay Ray. I bet this is how he’d make love to you. All gentle and soft and romantic. It’s only natural you’re thinking about him.’
Sand doesn’t know what possesses him to say it, but the way Ray cries out in response like a wounded animal, the way he resists Sand’s words with his wrists pushing back against the hold that Sand has on him, pushing back with his whole body against Sand’s covering his, feels very satisfying.
Ray’s breath is heavy, and the tension in his body takes on a new flavor like he’s a compressed spring ready to pop. Sand fucks Ray in deep, shallow thrusts that grind into his prostate, pushes him down flush into the bed until his dick is likely rubbing against Sand’s rough, low quality bedsheet that he’s been unable to get Sand to change.
‘C’mon, baby. I know you’re close. I know you want to come. You can cry out his name if you want. Pretend he’s giving it to you.’
‘Sand!’ Ray finally manages to twist his wrists free but only after Sand has already loosened his hold, feeling Ray’s orgasm crest in the way that he squeezes around his dick. It doesn’t take Sand long to follow, pulling out and taking off the condom so he can paint Ray’s back with it.
Ray lays on his stomach boneless, releasing shaky breaths into Sand’s pillow now soaked with his tears and saliva. It’s not until a few moments pass and he doesn’t feel Sand’s body against his that he crawls up on his knees. Sand is back before Ray has to move very far, Ray falling slowly back down onto his stomach when he feels the wet cloth on his forehead, then down his back as Sand wipes him down gently.
Sand gets in bed and pulls Ray back against his chest so that they’re spooning, turns Ray’s head with two fingers under his chin so he can kiss him soft and soothing.
‘Sand,’ Ray says when he pulls back, voice soft and needlessly hesitant, ‘Can I stay the night?’
There was a time that Sand was interested in the things that Ray wanted to forget. Mew something something, Top blah blah blah, sometimes there was a Boston yada yada thrown in there just for variety.
But it all blends into the same thing after a while, Ray’s need for Sand never exceeding the bounds of his shitty friends and unfulfilled life.
‘Yeah.’ San breathes in deep with his nose buried in Ray’s nape, indulging in the scent of their bodies swirling together there, raw and honest, ‘Stay.’
Ray relaxes back into Sand’s hold, fingers tangling into Sand’s longer ones splayed across his belly. And there he remains until the sun peeks through Sand’s window and his alarm rings, calling in the morning anew.