feminesque: (brad&ray//secretsmile)
[personal profile] feminesque
I realised I did not have this in my own journal.

Pure smut with no semblance of plot, character development, etc. Also, I offend E.E. Cummings, I'm sure.

Under Me You Quite So New
Brad/Ray
NC-17
For [livejournal.com profile] queenigalore’s kink meme
Prompt: Dom!Ray, Brad knows when to get on his knees for his Ray-Ray.



Brad is bent over the cushions of the couch, face pressed into the back, keening like a whore and writhing against Ray’s tongue. Every jab against his asshole, every lick behind his balls, every time Ray sucks one into his mouth sets off another peal of need, another helpless thrust toward the couch, where he can’t get an inch of friction, cock hard and jerking in thin air, touching nothing. That elicits another thrust backwards against Ray’s swirling tongue.

“Ray, fuck, please…”

“Yeah?” Ray asks, a millimetre from the delicate, pink skin, breath ghosting against the wetness there. He darts his tongue out again. Brad twitches and begs. His voice is in shreds, little tremors running through his limbs. It’s possibly the hottest thing Ray’s ever seen and when it comes to Brad in all his permutations, that’s a lot of hot.

“Yeah, please. Need it. Need you.”

“Yeah…” he drawls, letting the incredulity touch Brad like a caress. Ray’s own voice isn’t doing so hot right now. He’s got to get a grip because they are pretty fucking far from done. Brad needs a hell of a lot more than this in these circumstances and they both know it.

He leaves Brad’s ass alone for the minute, climbing his way up Brad’s back and covering him with his body, running his palms slowly up Brad’s thighs, hips, ribs. He’s damp with sweat and smells like the ocean. Ray’s chest snags deliciously against the wet skin, knows Brad can feel his nipples harden at the contact. He pitches his voice low and speaks into Brad’s ear, putting as much threat into it as he can for him, for both of them. This shit is always a high-wire act for Ray, but he’s never failed yet and he doesn’t ever intend to – the stakes are too high and the reward is beyond rewarding. He wraps his fist around Brad’s cock, pumps it a few times, flicks his thumb underneath the head just to hear Brad moan again, feel him move into it, feel the echo of a heartbeat in his hand.

“I’m not convinced, Brad. I think you’re pretty fucking far from this need you profess. I call it bullshit, and you know it is.”

He peels himself off Brad and stands up, steps back a foot or so, drawing his cock out into the vee of his open fly, leaving his balls still snagged under the band of his jockeys. Brad sits up on the edge of the couch, left hand rubbing along his own thigh and cock in his right fist, pumping gently and eating Ray up with his eyes. Ray has never seen them this wide and bright. His aim is to make them glazed and heavy lidded, sex-drunk. It’ll take some doing. Ripped Fuel fucking dreams of lighting Brad up like this.

He watches Brad watching him for a while, eyeballs him, pinches his own nipple just to tease Brad. Watches Brad’s eyes flick toward the motion, watches him lick his lips, watches him bite them and just lets Brad get good and wound up.

“Get your hand off your cock.” Ray commands. “You don’t touch yourself unless I say you can.” His voice is okay now, deep and thick with lust but without a tremor or catch in it, because ordering Brad around, Brad complying without a lick of hesitation is pretty fucking inspiring. Brad complies immediately, even looks a little cowed and that’s good, that’s really good. Ray starts talking in earnest now and won’t stop, no matter how worked up he gets, until Brad’s fucked-out and sore beneath him.

“Say ‘yes’.”

Brad swallows thickly, staring as Ray palms his own cock up against his belly, then down against his fly. “Yes,” Brad rasps.

“You want me to fuck your ass? This isn’t about what you want, Brad, not about what you need. C’mere.”

Ray curls his fingers, beckoning, and Brad sort of flows off the couch onto his knees, begins a slow panther-crawl towards Ray, muscles moving tight under the skin, until he’s kneeling right in front of Ray. Even on his fucking knees the Iceman is a huge bastard. He’ll still have to lean down a ways.

His head is already bowed toward Ray’s cock, supplicant, like some kind of altar boy in the church of kinky gay sex. Ray’s chest feels full of the brittle fragments of broken things and he still can’t really believe Brad lets him see him like this. He rests his hand on top of Brad’s head, combs his fingers through the short, straw-coloured hair as Brad leans into his touch like a contented pet.

“Look at me.”

He curls his fingers under Brad’s chin, cupping his face, stoking a thumb over his cheek down and across his bottom lip, pressing in a little. Brad blinks slowly up at Ray, like he’s a little stoned, his eyes well on their way toward glassy now. Ray has Brad’s chin in one hand, his cock in the other, now barely half an inch apart. It’s hard to breathe just then. And despite what he’s just professed about Brad’s wants and needs, he has to ask, just to hear the answer, just to see the reaction.

“You want that?” Ray touches the tip of his cock to Brad’s bottom lip.

Brad hums agreement, sits back on his heels to get down a little lower and just tilts his head back, eyes drifting closed and lips parting to let Ray in. His tongue sneaks out, licking and probing, swirling around the head of Ray’s cock as Ray slips in. Brad’s hands lie palms-up beside his thighs, twitching like dying fish as Ray begins to make lengthening strokes in and out. Brad’s mouth is the most amazing place he’s ever been, whether it’s taking Ray’s cock, tracing the skin on his hips or crushed against his mouth. He snatches a train of thought and follows it for the sake of holding out long enough to wear Brad down properly.

“Never thought you were the type Brad, alpha male that you are, icewater for blood when we’re in combat. One word of command in the bedroom and you’re like white phosphorous or something, flat on your back, all liquid fire and saying ‘please’ like it’s the only word you ever learned—get your hands off your cock. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Brad moans around Ray’s cock, but complies, reaching up to rub and pinch at Ray’s nipples instead, the teasing fuck, knows Ray can’t take much of that before he has to start pumping in earnest. He wraps a hand around each of Brad’s wrists and drags his hands down to the marginally safer territory of his waist, which was maybe not the best idea because now Brad can haul him in close and swallow Ray’s cock as far as it will go. He’s groaning out another litany before he can stop himself.

“Fucking love your mouth on me. Watched you all through OIF, every time you dipped, every time you smirked or sucked on your camelbak, wanted to have you like this. When you kissed that fucking grenade? Just wanted to put you on your back and fuckn’ sixty-nine ‘till doomsday.”

Just for a moment Ray gives himself over, pumping into Brad’s heated mouth, letting Brad grasp and grapple at his back, ass and thighs, trying to swallow Ray down. Brad digs his fingertips into Ray’s ass, kneading them and drawing them apart, one finger caterpillar-walking toward his asshole and teasing at the opening. He’d love to let Brad go to town there but if he does he’s finished, so he drags Brad’s finger away, not without protest from Brad who makes a disappointed little moan around Ray’s cock.

“Finally unfucked ourselves enough to figure out we were on the same page and what do you do? Jesus, one hundred and ninety pounds of marine falling straight to his knees in front of me, I though my brain was going to collapse. And the time you pushed your wrists into my hands, when I finally fucking got it, fuck, Brad, I nearly goddamned proposed.”

He has to act quickly here because Brad is a goddamn predictable bastard and romantic overtures like that tend to turn him into a particularly adamant fuck machine. He’s already speeding the pace up, head bobbing on Ray’s cock, fingers digging into Ray’s ass, trying to be the one to set the tempo. Perfect, exactly what Ray is looking for under other circumstances, but not if Brad gets the upper hand here. He draws Brad’s face away from his cock, slipping out of his mouth with an obscene pop that makes Ray’s balls tighten up even more. Brad’s pupils are blown wide, his eyes almost black and his cock is tilted to the left across the top of his thigh, every beat of his heart causing it to rise and fall back to the crease there*. Ray can feel the heat burning in his own eyes, it’s running all through his body, little licks of flame leapfrogging though his limbs and in his belly and groin, and he’s cupping Brad’s face between his hands again. He bends over, has to kiss Brad’s swollen mouth, get close to those darkened eyes.

“Ray,” Brad whispers, a little awed, and reaches up to draw him down.

Brad’s tongue is just as perfect in his mouth as it is around his cock and Ray spends some time just luxuriating I the feel of it sliding along and under his own tongue, flicking here, lapping there.

Ray withdraws his tongue, gentles the kiss to a mere press of lips and finally pulls away with a nipping drag of teeth. Brad leans his forehead against Ray’s and sighs. Ray smirks and strokes the shell of Brad’s ear.

“Bedroom, Brad,” he says softly. “Now.”

***


It’s not easy to ease a guy almost a foot taller than you down onto a bed but Ray manages with a combination of holding Brad to him like a fainting prom date and letting gravity do the rest. He doesn’t have much choice really with Brad attached to his face, mouthing at his jaw and neck and feeling him up like a horny teenager. The slightly drug-fucked aura Brad had in the living room pretty much evaporated at the threshold of the bedroom.

Brad’s hands are huge and hot and everywhere and Ray is pretty sure he’s going to have to tie him up, but not for a while yet. For now he’s content to kiss Brad back, manhandle his limbs into position for what he has planned. He gets hold of Brad’s wrists, drags them off him and up the mattress, pins them above his head. Time to get his attention.

Ray hovers above Brad, thrusting gently against Brad’s cock, just to keep up the wholly unsatisfying friction. And to keep him pinned. Brad outweighs him, he could overpower him if he really wanted to. He clearly doesn’t want to given the way he’s only bucking a little beneath Ray, body tight with restraint and it’s going to stay that way unless Ray removes the need for control.

“Gonna tie you up Brad,” he purrs, hands ghosting across Brad’s shoulders and up his arms. “I have exactly zero faith in your ability to keep your hands to yourself when I start sucking you off. When I fuck you.”

Brad’s eyes flutter shut and Ray feels him rock up for more friction, a little of that control slipping away. He’s disappointed when Brad reigns it back in, twisting his wrists around to grip the edge of the mattress. His knuckles are white from the force with which he’s holding on, apparently not trusting himself to keep his hands obedient otherwise. That kind of compliance is so hot it makes Ray’s brain tingle but it’s not going to suffice.

They ordered all sorts of shit a while ago: silk rope, leather cuffs, a vast array of cock rings (Ray suggested a ball-gag for himself. Brad had just looked at him like he’d been shot in the puppy and said “Fuck, no” so that idea was nixed) but it looks like they might have gone the way of Brad’s turret, lost forever in the bowels of a Fed-Ex container ship, so they’re still making do with Brad’s Givenchy ties. Brad would rather blow the entirety of Delta Company than wear a tie, but when he absolutely positively must, he wears the best – the kind of ties that would send Patrick Bateman on a jealous rampage – be they around his neck or around his wrists.

Ray ties both of Brad’s wrists together, kissing them before he does, and relishing the deep rumbling sounds Brad makes in his chest. Straddled over Brad’s chest, Ray’s still wearing his jeans and Brad keep nosing at the fabric, trying to get his mouth back onto Ray’s cock. Brad can’t quite arch up high enough and he huffs, frustrated, as he falls back to the mattress. Ray finishes up, chuckling dark amusement, and strokes Brad’s face, just looking at him for a moment. It’s the calm before the storm and Brad knows it.

“Still can’t believe you’re mine.”

He leans down and kisses Brad, slow and deep and possessive. Brad just opens up and lets him invade, making contented humming noises and testing out the bonds around his wrists.

“Well, I am.” Brad says quietly as Ray pulls away and shimmies down to kneel between Brad’s knees. He makes a show of stripping his jeans the rest of the way off, watches Brad eye his cock bobbing around as he shucks one leg off and then the other. He pushes Brad’s thighs apart, stroking the skin in long sweeps of his palms, so that he can settle close between them.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this, spread out for me.” Ray touches him everywhere, long sweeping caresses, not paying too much attention to any particular area, not long enough to satisfy in the slightest: brief squeeze of Brad’s cock before running the backs of his fingers up Brad’s ribcage, kissing here, licking there. He’s relentless, reveling in the feel and taste of Brad’s skin, running his hands all over him: up the backs of his thighs, sweeping up and down his flanks, rubbing circles across his pecs. He alternates pinching and rubbing Brad’s nipples, leaning down to lick and nip at them, setting Brad to writhing underneath him and moaning.

“Love to see you like this, god, so undone. I’m so hard it fucking hurts but you’re pretty fucking far from ready aren’t you, huh? Need more than this before you’re ready to beg?”

“No. No, I’m ready. I’m ready.”

“Horseshit, Brad.” He wasn’t kidding about it hurting. His cock aches and throbs against Brad’s thigh and he can’t help rubbing himself off there a little. “You’re panting but still not pleading. Still sound pretty fucking coherent to me.”

This is it, it’s the last stretch and Ray’s all locked in now, ready to just ride this all out to the end. He hitches Brad’s ass up onto his lap and rubs his cock along Brad’s asshole, his perineum. Brad’s kind of a mess now, throwing his head back and forth, trying to look up at Ray rutting against him and then falling back to the mattress. His hair is stuck to his forehead and Ray can totally relate, he can feel sweat running down his own back in little trickles. He’s still not begging though and Ray is not going to give in until he does, until he fucking means it.

“You want me to fuck you now, Brad?” Ray scrabbles for the lube on the nightstand and nearly breaks his neck doing it, sweat-slicked hands slipping on the polished wood, and it’s a testament to exactly how little fortitude he’s got left. He sets to work on Brad’s asshole again, opening him up, fucking him with his fingers, slow and out of synch with Brad’s rocking against them. He’d feel bad for being such a teasing cunt if Brad didn’t do the exact same fucking thing to him. “You want my cock now Brad? Think you’re ready now?”

“Yeah, fuck, yeah. Ah, god, Ray.”

Not quite, not quite. He fists Brad’s cock – Christ he feels good in his hand, hot and throbbing muscle wrapped in silk – and pumps a couple of times, firm, twisting strokes and he switches up into a rhythm that might actually get Brad off if he intended to go on with it, matching his stroke with his fingers moving in and out of Brad’s ass.

Brad moans, long and loud, in satisfaction.

“Yeah Ray, like that. Oh god.”

Ray lets him bliss out for a few seconds, just lets him fuck himself down onto Ray’s fingers and up into his fist, then pulls his hands away, bracing them either side of Brad’s head and kisses him messily. Brad groans into his mouth as Ray grinds his cock down to take the edge off for himself a little.

“You want me to fuck you? I’ll fuck you Brad, just say it. Say it and mean it. Make me believe you.”

Brad is sucking wind like a marathon runner and trying to rub himself off against Ray. Ray’s not even sure he knows he’s doing that so he just grinds down harder, pinning Brad’s hips beneath his until Brad opens his eyes. His pupils are blown again and Ray is never, ever going to get tired of seeing them like that.

“Say it, Brad.”

“Please, Ray. Please fuck me now. Gotta have your cock inside me. I’m fucking dying.”

And Ray believes him.

He doesn’t let go, not now, not yet. Just kisses Brad again, fast and messy and hitches Brad back up onto his lap. He lines hick cock up and starts to push the head in, Brad’s muscles giving way easily. Brad makes a choking sound and pulls against his restraints, trying to push himself down onto Ray. Ray takes his time though, can’t fuck it up now, is actually counting beats in his head, entering in one slow stroke until he’s buried up to the base. He pulls out again, another long stroke and then he starts to pump slowly. He won’t be able to keep it that way for long. Brad is just moaning now, one long endless groan, breaking a little with each thrust and that’s it, Ray lets it go. He fucks Brad hard, balls and thighs smacking and sticking against Brad’s until Brad is panting and taught beneath him, stomach clenching and his eyes screwed shut and he comes, sobbing, long white jets streaking his own chin and chest.

Ray’s control spins away from him, the ache too much. He pumps fast and hard, chasing his orgasm as it builds and burst through him like a hot mist. He collapses on top of Brad, hips twitching with the aftershocks and it’s a good long while before he can move enough to undo Brad’s ties and then flop bonelessly back onto Brad’s chest. Brad wraps his arms around Ray, rests his chin on Ray’s head and chuckles to himself.

“Fuck are you laughing at?” Ray mumbles into Brad’s cooling skin.

“You. Me. Us.” For a long moment Brad doesn’t say anything more. Eventually he says seriously “You’re fucking amazing.”

Ray thinks about this for a second before smiling to himself and agreeing, “Yeah. You are pretty amazing.”
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