Trust. Me.
Title: Trust. Me.
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: James Dewees/Ray Toro
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,800
Warnings: Variations of CBT...
Dedicated to: Shadow_hive, happy fucking birthday...
Summary: AU. Ray has an undeniable fascination that began his Freshman year...
See? It's like this... ever since that fateful fucking day in gym class, he'd known. No, no, no... it's not what you're thinking. He knew long before Frosh flipping PE that he was queer as a fucking... well, something pretty damn queer that's for sure. And, ha no... not that he was the most well hung horse of a boy in the entire class. Just no... he ranked high but not that high. No, it was that day that Ray Toro became excruciatingly aware of the fact that 99.9998% of his peers were circumcised. And he was fascinated.
***
"You should grow your hair out... seriously." Gerard told him one afternoon; looking up from his Witchblade trade paperback and rubbing his chin thoughtfully with is thumb. “Trust me.”
Snorting, Ray rolled his eyes. He shifted on the edge of the bed so that he wouldn't tumble off and returned his attention to the math textbook spread over his lap. It wasn't until Gerard's attention was completely refocused on his comic that Ray lifted his hand to the coarse helmet of hair he despised and actually gave the matter careful consideration.
***
"So, teach me..."
"You can't just teach someone how to draw... it comes naturally."
"Bullshit... just show me."
Exasperation leaking out of every pore, Gerard flung himself down next to Ray in the university food court. He dug out a pack of markers and a sketchbook. An even deeper grimace spread over his face when he was actually forced to remove a sheet of paper for Ray. "Fucking here..." He spat with more venom than his face and posture betrayed. After all, this was not of the things you made an issue of when your best friend came up to New York to visit your lonely ass. Even if it was getting said friend out of his parent’s house for the weekend.
...Ray couldn't have smiled wider and at the end of the hour he found himself easily capable of sketching out rather badass looking tags. Gerard had been right... some shit was just talent but at least now there'd be a technique behind his doodling; not that he ever doodled that much to begin with.
***
“What’s really going on…” Ray’s mother asked; her voice stern and full of doubt. She reached over and turned off his music and folded her arms over her chest.
Scaling his bedroom in less than three steps, Ray pressed play on his cassette player again and glared at her.
“Nothing, ma… just figure it’s time to grow up… you know, do stuff on my own, get an apartment of my own…”
“…with him.”
“He’s my best friend!”
“I’ve seen the way you look at other boys, Raymond… don’t lie to me about this.”
Ray threw a stack of t-shirts down and sighed loudly. “Gerard and I are just friends, ma!” She looked him up and down from head to toe as she made a noise deep in the back of her throat. “… please believe me, Mama… please?”
***
"So.... what's his name?" Gerard asked without even looking up from the pad stretched over his thigh and knee.
Pulling a face at his friend, Ray picked at the frayed edges of the hole in his jeans. The string caught on a callous. He jerked his hand away and flared his nostrils at the distinct jolt of nails on a chalkboard that shot up his spine at the scrape of dry flesh against denim. "... James..."
"James what?"
"...dunno..." Ray itched his scalp grinning, even if only to himself, at how awesome the mop of hair felt cascading over his wrist and arm. He glanced up at Gerard and waited for the question he knew was coming.
And come it did, Gerard looked up and blinked. "...you don't know his fucking last name?"
"What the fuck would I need that for... to scribble on my fucking Chemistry notebook?" So, yeah... he'd caught Gerard out Junior year in high school doing that exact fucking thing over some stuck up bitch that didn't give him nor his male feminist ideals a single moment of consideration. It had got him to wondering if Gerard would change his name when he got married instead of his wife. Funny shit. No really.
"Ass." Gerard picked up a spare pencil and chucked it at Ray with a light laugh. "... you've had your..." He blanched at the next word. "... dicks... in each other's mouths and you don't know his last name?"
"Or his birthday either..." Ray threw out with a smirk. Not only had he got Gerard to say the much hated D-word, he had the singular joy of causing him to spaz out all that much more with further details.
"Height?"
Sure, Ray felt it pertinent to ask him that the second he slid down on his knees. He knew he was shorter than him by a few inches and most of that was his hair. "Heh, no."
"... fuck, his middle fucking name?"
"Yeah, totally, Gee... suffix too." Ray actually fucking giggled at the seething look his best friend shot him at that. Seriously, why would he know that if he hadn't bothered with the last name?
... eye color?" Gerard asked hopefully.
"Brown maybe..." Ray replied knowing he was just coaxing the other man into a hissy fit. His friend's artist's eye would never over look such an important detail. But he would.
Gerard sputtered. Right on cue. "Shoe size?" He questioned in an unhappy whine.
"Yes."
And that finally stopped him. Looking up from his work entirely, Gerard gaped. "Wait! What?!"
"... he's cut." Ray offered.
"Oh, fuck you..." Gerard laughed out loud and threw his entire notebook at Ray's face.
***
Legs spread wide, Ray focused his attention on not sliding right the hell off of the hotel bed upon which he was precariously perched. The surname-less wonder was sitting a mere foot away from him; left hand occupied with a cigarette that he drew in indeterminable intervals between his lips then to just under his nostrils and back down to its resting spot on his own thigh. His right hand... was another story all together.
The pressure was building. Ray's legs trembled but he held their position.
Not bothering to loosen his grip, James bit the filter of his cigarette with lip covered teeth as he slid his left hand over his right and squeezed. He'd already spent the better part of twenty minutes milking Ray's sac. The telltale signs of pain had come and gone as quickly as the twitching of Ray's hips, so the game was still on. Flexing his fingers, James clenched his left hand tighter.
Thighs quaking, Ray finally gasped out loud. "...shit!"
"Shit?" James’ voice was a low rumble that spoke of too many cigarettes, too much hard liqueur and not enough sleep. But despite this near vocal protest, this outburst, he shifted forward and pulled a little more. When Ray's only response was to whine desperately, James grinned like the Cheshire cat and rolled his balls against each other.
"D-dick!" Ray managed to lisp out as a sharp, familiar pain shot up into his abdomen. He curled into himself defensively even as James released him as promised upon hearing their agreed upon safe word.
Five minutes later he was still curled in a fetal position on the bed. But instead of grimacing in pain and unknown pleasure, Ray watched as James sucked and puffed on his cigarette until the very last ashen cherry flared against the filter; acting as if he just hadn't held Ray's balls in a vice like grip for over a fucking half hour.
"... Raymond?" James finally spoke as he stubbed out the remains of his cigarette and took in Ray's position.
"Hmm?"
"... just checking."
"I'm good..." Ray replied quietly. "...more than good.... you want?"
Cracking his neck, James shook his head and smiled in a manner that Ray could only describe as professionally at him. "Nah, I'm good... your mouth is fucking Turkish Delight… I taste more of it, I‘ll end up in bad places…"
Ray snorted. "Fucking Narnia, dude?"
"Fucking, dick... dude."
"There's a story behind it.... Actually."
"I would think the fuck so... you're the absolute only guy I know weird enough to actually pick 'dick' as a safe word... what the fuck, man?"
Gerard's disgusted face flashed in his mind's Eye as Ray barked out a shrill laugh. He didn't offer an explanation. Straightening a leg out, Ray toed at James' knee. "Hey..."
"Yeah?" He asked as the leather of his jacket slipped and swished over his shirt as he shrugged the shoulders of it into a more comfortable position. The thing was that it wasn't all that uncommon to leave Ray in such a state, but tonight was going to be the first night James walked out of whatever room they'd rented for a few hours with a stiff cock pressed against his own zipper.
"... what's your last name?"
Handle already in his grip, James paused at the door and turned back around to face Ray. That question had came so far out of nowhere; he wasn't even prepared to lie. "Dewees." He replied softly and stepped out of the room a moment later.
The lock slid back into place. Ray blinked at the closed door twice before rolling onto his back and wrapping his hand around his leaking prick. He gripped the base tightly and pushed as much skin as he could up and over the tip. Pinching the foreskin roughly between his fingers, he flinched at his own touch before quickly getting down to business with more than just a flick of his wrist.
***
Stretched out in Gerard's grandmother Elena's recliner, Ray snickered quietly as The Flintstones flickered and played out on the television screen. More thankful than embarrassed when he'd nearly knocked over the kitchen table after sitting a little too haphazardly, Ray had quickly taken the older woman up on her offer of the over-stuffed chair while her and Gerard discussed some mural he'd been asked to work on. He'd managed the car ride over and he could manage a fucking cartoon.
Hell, Ray'd manage desert if Grandma Way had made Baklava. Just as long as he never had to explain what the hell was causing him to act like he had sat on a Taser. Lord knew, Elena was the last person he wanted to discuss the likes of cock harnesses with. Let alone the one currently between his legs.
On the way out to the car, Gerard gave him an especially worrisome look that clearly begged the question 'are you okay?'.
"I'm peachy." Ray'd grinned and opened the passenger side door and started to climb in. Unfortunately for him, Gerard was faster and managed to slip into the car before him and just in time to see him ease his hips down on the curves of the bucket seat with a hiss.
"... who ever the fuck he is... if he fucking hurt you... I'll kill him."
The anger in Gerard's voice jerked Ray's attention away from the constant pull of leather inside of his pants and to his friend's face. "...Gee." He couldn’t just come out and tell him either. How the shit do you explain to your squeamish best friend that you willingly let your balls essentially be bound for your… your not exactly boyfriend-friend?
"I mean it. You ever can't sit at my Nana's house again because some gay asshole thought it was okay to rough your shit up... I'll drown 'em mob style in the fucking Delaware..." Gerard turned the ignition angrily and jerked the gearshift into reverse. "... KY ain't that fucking expensive..." He muttered as the red of his tail lights illuminated the pavement as they backed out of Elena's driveway.
"...he hasn't fucked me..." Ray protested without even thinking.
They were pulling up to the stop sign at the end of the street before Gerard finally stopped chewing his lip and looked over at Ray. "...what?" When Ray didn't answer, Gerard tapped the accelerator but didn't push the car above five miles an hour. "... Ray..."
"Look... just trust me that I'd tell you if you need to... ya know… find a place to dump a body?" Slithering his hand up and over his bicep, Ray rubbed at his shoulder nervously. He could only imagine what someone as delicate about some things as Gerard fucking Way would think about the things he let James do to him.
"Ray..."
Ray tightened his face and squared his jaw as he turned to stare at the shadow enveloped scenery scrolling by his window.
"Raymond."
"Gerard...." He retorted in a child like tone. "Trust. Me." Ray stated firmly.
***
A faded grocery list was scrawled over palm of James' hand. It was the first thing that Ray had noticed when the other man had let him into their hotel room for the night. The second thing was that not a single thing on the list was in English. Not a single one. Eyes squinting at the marks, he scarcely noticed the smirk James was giving him before he was slammed hard and fast against the wall.
"... Toro Family!" James inhaled slowly as if inhaling Ray's scent was an honest to fuck luxury. The first time Ray'd heard James call him that, it had perplexed him. A week later, the epiphany finally struck. Normal people went on dates. Normal people gave each other flowers and fucking jewelry. Normal people called each other baby and normal people told each other 'I love you.'... but he and James, they were anything but normal people. Three days later, Ray had dropped his own pet name before he'd even realized he'd had one.
"...Papichulo..." Ray replied breathlessly clutching his stomach and trying to regain some of the air that had been forced from his lungs when his back and hit the wall.
"...did you bring it?" Nodding, Ray dug into his hoodie pocket and gave James the medical grade gauze and tape. "...excellent!" James exclaimed taking the items from him and walking to the other side of the room.
Grinning to himself, Ray shrugged off his jacket and quickly unbuckled his belt. Thumbs hooked into the waist of his jeans, he shoved them off without even unfastening the button and zipper. Dressed in a snug, plain black t-shirt, a white jock, and calf high athletic-style socks, Ray climbed onto the bed and stretched out. When James turned to face him with a smile, he tried not to worry at the scissors and pen now in the other man's hand.
But what was even more worrisome with the Red Sox baseball cap now hiding James' dark shock of sometimes greasy hair. It was all Ray could do not to burst out laughing as James licked his lips and began his usual and usually sexy prowl toward the bed. It was ultimately the prominent tent in the other man's pants that kept his mouth shut and pushed his legs open. Feet flat on the edge of the bed, Ray presented himself without shame to a man he wasn't quite sure he could define as his lover.
The session had began with a very different air than any of the others and it appeared that it was going to continue in a very similar fashion. James broke the silence with a chuckle the very second Ray's stomach muscles had clenched when the soft cloth of the gauze slid over his balls. In turn, Ray finally let himself laugh even going as far to excessively giggle when James began wrapping his sac up like a sprained ankle. "... oh, so we're playing doctor, Papi?" He teased.
A sharp, quick slap to his scrotum had Ray arching his neck; head pressed hard to the bed's comforter. He moaned low and just this side of desperate; unable to swallow the un-worded plea escaping his throat as James hauled back and repeated the action. Ray trembled and spread his legs wider. Tonight was going to be different in so many ways. Over the last month they'd scarcely seen each other for more than their briefest sessions, usually under an hour, once or sometimes twice a week. But tonight, tonight they'd actually booked a room for the entire night.
Ray was salivating at the fucking thought of it.
When the gauze was finally wrapped over nearly every surface of Ray's balls, James nipped at his inner thigh with his teeth and traced the cap of a ball point pen along his pale flesh. The bands of white cloth were a more than snug fit after James had finished with him. Ray’s sac was tight and red in the bindings; he could hardly breathe he was so turned on. "Toro." James said as the one and only warning he ever gave the other man.
The whisper present roll and slice of the ink over his flesh had Ray biting his tongue and panting harshly through his nose. At the very same moment that pleasure blossomed over his too sensitive sac, razor sharp slices of pain cut up to his gut fading before they caused his fight or flight responses to take over. And as soon as it had began, it was over. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ray lifted his head and quietly inquired. "... whadya write?"
"A list..." James replied distractedly as he taped the final bit of gauze down before giving Ray's balls a quick playful tug.
Whimpering, Ray shifted his ass until he was presented properly for James. He knew well enough that the answer given was the best he was going to get. He also knew that there was no way in hell that James would keep his mouth to himself tonight.
The button down black cotton shirt was the first item to slide off of James' broad shoulders. The next was the wife beater he wore underneath. The black jeans and cowboy boots followed quickly after. And last but not least, the fucking Red Sox cap finally came off. Climbing onto the bed, James knelt just over Ray head and stared down at him; his cock hanging heavy just over his forehead. The moment Ray's tongue slid out over his lips, James made his move.
Hooking Ray's legs under his pits, James descended on Ray's cock like a starving man; his tongue probing the fold of foreskin and lapping at the recess of skin until the other man's prick was fully erect in his mouth. Meanwhile, Ray was coiling his tongue over the already exposed red tip of James' cut dick with a fervor only matched by the near desperate hold he had on the man’s ass.
In a symphony of shuttering gasps and jerking hips, both men found release; James quickly shifting to grasp Ray's balls in hand and pull. He stared in awe as Ray arched up off the bed with a solitary sound passing his lips when it all became too much.
"...dick..."
***
"You're fucking shitting me!" Gerard exclaimed nearly leaping from the couch and into Ray's unsuspecting arms. "...we're actually going to fucking meet No Name James?!!!" This was huge. It was mid July and him and the guys were throwing Ray a birthday bash to beat all others for his big 3-O... and he was going to bring No Name fucking James!
Ray threw his gaming magazine at Gerard's head. Sadly, he missed. "Dewees, fucker." He cocked an eyebrow at his best friend and roommate before returning his attention or lack there of to the crossword he had been holding nearly right in front of his face.
That did it.
Before Ray could even move enough to prevent himself some serious discomfort, Gerard was throwing himself over his lap. Grunting out in pain, he shoved him off quickly. Unfazed, Gerard clamored up to sit beside Ray. "... you know his fucking last name now?!" His unnecessary question was given no unnecessary answer. "...birt-"
"October thirteenth, shorter than me-fuck if I know, I told you brown, size 11 and he's..."
Gerard reared back and punched his arm... and hard. "Cut... yeah, yeah... mother fucker." He stuck his tongue out at Ray. "... Ew."
Chuckling as Gerard made his escape, Ray prayed to fuck that his friend never caught wind of their safe word.
***
A giggle escaped Ray’s lips as one James Dewees slinked up and over his legs to straddle his knees; dressed in only black cotton boxers. In addition to a row of obnoxiously colored votive candles, a new wax warmer resided on Ray’s night stand. He hadn’t asked a single question upon being handed this gift separately after the party crowd had dispersed. He hadn’t even asked question when James was setting it up. Ray simply knew better. He trusted James, some said more than he should, but in any instance he still did. When he’d asked Ray to strip and had immediately went to work cleansing his cock and balls with a cotton ball and a bottle of antiseptic, Ray knew he’d made the right decision.
“… Happy Birthday, Mr. President…” James cooed in his best Marilyn Monroe voice as he pulled a small white candle he’d hidden from out behind his ear. He winked dramatically at Ray and with one hand pushed his foreskin back to expose the head of his cock. James licked his lips as he used the same hand to hold on to the little birthday candle taking measure to not let it slide too far into Ray’s piss slit.
Moments later, the scent of lavender and roses filled the air only to be joined moment’s later by Ray’s husky sex voice. James smirked and molded the wax around the base of the white candle not stopping until it was securely standing without his assistance.
Being as it was their first time with wax play, James stopped at double layers. The heat alone from that much had Ray tossing his head from side to side and thrusting helplessly up into the air. “Shhh…” James whispered and ran his fingers in slow, gentle circles. Once he held Ray’s gaze, he leaned over towards the night stand once more retrieving a lit candle.
Ray whimpered as the flame drew closer and closer; loosing his breath only after the birthday candle was lit and the other hotter burning one was a good distance away from his cock. Frayed around the edges from such over stimulation, Ray shuddered when the first tendril of wax slipped from the flame’s grasp and rolled down the side of his wax encased member.
Panting when it all ended with James’ breathe ghosting over his cock extinguishing the flame, Ray whimpered. The night had only begun! He wasn’t ready for it to be over with yet!
And it wasn’t. Whistling casually, James climbed off the bed and retrieved a small packet of papers and began pressing them edge to edge around Ray’s cock.
“… are you going to?!” He nearly begged
Nodding, James replied sincerely moments later before grasping the bottom of the waxing paper and preparing to pull. “…welcome home, Toro Family…”
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: James Dewees/Ray Toro
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,800
Warnings: Variations of CBT...
Dedicated to: Shadow_hive, happy fucking birthday...
Summary: AU. Ray has an undeniable fascination that began his Freshman year...
See? It's like this... ever since that fateful fucking day in gym class, he'd known. No, no, no... it's not what you're thinking. He knew long before Frosh flipping PE that he was queer as a fucking... well, something pretty damn queer that's for sure. And, ha no... not that he was the most well hung horse of a boy in the entire class. Just no... he ranked high but not that high. No, it was that day that Ray Toro became excruciatingly aware of the fact that 99.9998% of his peers were circumcised. And he was fascinated.
***
"You should grow your hair out... seriously." Gerard told him one afternoon; looking up from his Witchblade trade paperback and rubbing his chin thoughtfully with is thumb. “Trust me.”
Snorting, Ray rolled his eyes. He shifted on the edge of the bed so that he wouldn't tumble off and returned his attention to the math textbook spread over his lap. It wasn't until Gerard's attention was completely refocused on his comic that Ray lifted his hand to the coarse helmet of hair he despised and actually gave the matter careful consideration.
***
"So, teach me..."
"You can't just teach someone how to draw... it comes naturally."
"Bullshit... just show me."
Exasperation leaking out of every pore, Gerard flung himself down next to Ray in the university food court. He dug out a pack of markers and a sketchbook. An even deeper grimace spread over his face when he was actually forced to remove a sheet of paper for Ray. "Fucking here..." He spat with more venom than his face and posture betrayed. After all, this was not of the things you made an issue of when your best friend came up to New York to visit your lonely ass. Even if it was getting said friend out of his parent’s house for the weekend.
...Ray couldn't have smiled wider and at the end of the hour he found himself easily capable of sketching out rather badass looking tags. Gerard had been right... some shit was just talent but at least now there'd be a technique behind his doodling; not that he ever doodled that much to begin with.
***
“What’s really going on…” Ray’s mother asked; her voice stern and full of doubt. She reached over and turned off his music and folded her arms over her chest.
Scaling his bedroom in less than three steps, Ray pressed play on his cassette player again and glared at her.
“Nothing, ma… just figure it’s time to grow up… you know, do stuff on my own, get an apartment of my own…”
“…with him.”
“He’s my best friend!”
“I’ve seen the way you look at other boys, Raymond… don’t lie to me about this.”
Ray threw a stack of t-shirts down and sighed loudly. “Gerard and I are just friends, ma!” She looked him up and down from head to toe as she made a noise deep in the back of her throat. “… please believe me, Mama… please?”
***
"So.... what's his name?" Gerard asked without even looking up from the pad stretched over his thigh and knee.
Pulling a face at his friend, Ray picked at the frayed edges of the hole in his jeans. The string caught on a callous. He jerked his hand away and flared his nostrils at the distinct jolt of nails on a chalkboard that shot up his spine at the scrape of dry flesh against denim. "... James..."
"James what?"
"...dunno..." Ray itched his scalp grinning, even if only to himself, at how awesome the mop of hair felt cascading over his wrist and arm. He glanced up at Gerard and waited for the question he knew was coming.
And come it did, Gerard looked up and blinked. "...you don't know his fucking last name?"
"What the fuck would I need that for... to scribble on my fucking Chemistry notebook?" So, yeah... he'd caught Gerard out Junior year in high school doing that exact fucking thing over some stuck up bitch that didn't give him nor his male feminist ideals a single moment of consideration. It had got him to wondering if Gerard would change his name when he got married instead of his wife. Funny shit. No really.
"Ass." Gerard picked up a spare pencil and chucked it at Ray with a light laugh. "... you've had your..." He blanched at the next word. "... dicks... in each other's mouths and you don't know his last name?"
"Or his birthday either..." Ray threw out with a smirk. Not only had he got Gerard to say the much hated D-word, he had the singular joy of causing him to spaz out all that much more with further details.
"Height?"
Sure, Ray felt it pertinent to ask him that the second he slid down on his knees. He knew he was shorter than him by a few inches and most of that was his hair. "Heh, no."
"... fuck, his middle fucking name?"
"Yeah, totally, Gee... suffix too." Ray actually fucking giggled at the seething look his best friend shot him at that. Seriously, why would he know that if he hadn't bothered with the last name?
... eye color?" Gerard asked hopefully.
"Brown maybe..." Ray replied knowing he was just coaxing the other man into a hissy fit. His friend's artist's eye would never over look such an important detail. But he would.
Gerard sputtered. Right on cue. "Shoe size?" He questioned in an unhappy whine.
"Yes."
And that finally stopped him. Looking up from his work entirely, Gerard gaped. "Wait! What?!"
"... he's cut." Ray offered.
"Oh, fuck you..." Gerard laughed out loud and threw his entire notebook at Ray's face.
***
Legs spread wide, Ray focused his attention on not sliding right the hell off of the hotel bed upon which he was precariously perched. The surname-less wonder was sitting a mere foot away from him; left hand occupied with a cigarette that he drew in indeterminable intervals between his lips then to just under his nostrils and back down to its resting spot on his own thigh. His right hand... was another story all together.
The pressure was building. Ray's legs trembled but he held their position.
Not bothering to loosen his grip, James bit the filter of his cigarette with lip covered teeth as he slid his left hand over his right and squeezed. He'd already spent the better part of twenty minutes milking Ray's sac. The telltale signs of pain had come and gone as quickly as the twitching of Ray's hips, so the game was still on. Flexing his fingers, James clenched his left hand tighter.
Thighs quaking, Ray finally gasped out loud. "...shit!"
"Shit?" James’ voice was a low rumble that spoke of too many cigarettes, too much hard liqueur and not enough sleep. But despite this near vocal protest, this outburst, he shifted forward and pulled a little more. When Ray's only response was to whine desperately, James grinned like the Cheshire cat and rolled his balls against each other.
"D-dick!" Ray managed to lisp out as a sharp, familiar pain shot up into his abdomen. He curled into himself defensively even as James released him as promised upon hearing their agreed upon safe word.
Five minutes later he was still curled in a fetal position on the bed. But instead of grimacing in pain and unknown pleasure, Ray watched as James sucked and puffed on his cigarette until the very last ashen cherry flared against the filter; acting as if he just hadn't held Ray's balls in a vice like grip for over a fucking half hour.
"... Raymond?" James finally spoke as he stubbed out the remains of his cigarette and took in Ray's position.
"Hmm?"
"... just checking."
"I'm good..." Ray replied quietly. "...more than good.... you want?"
Cracking his neck, James shook his head and smiled in a manner that Ray could only describe as professionally at him. "Nah, I'm good... your mouth is fucking Turkish Delight… I taste more of it, I‘ll end up in bad places…"
Ray snorted. "Fucking Narnia, dude?"
"Fucking, dick... dude."
"There's a story behind it.... Actually."
"I would think the fuck so... you're the absolute only guy I know weird enough to actually pick 'dick' as a safe word... what the fuck, man?"
Gerard's disgusted face flashed in his mind's Eye as Ray barked out a shrill laugh. He didn't offer an explanation. Straightening a leg out, Ray toed at James' knee. "Hey..."
"Yeah?" He asked as the leather of his jacket slipped and swished over his shirt as he shrugged the shoulders of it into a more comfortable position. The thing was that it wasn't all that uncommon to leave Ray in such a state, but tonight was going to be the first night James walked out of whatever room they'd rented for a few hours with a stiff cock pressed against his own zipper.
"... what's your last name?"
Handle already in his grip, James paused at the door and turned back around to face Ray. That question had came so far out of nowhere; he wasn't even prepared to lie. "Dewees." He replied softly and stepped out of the room a moment later.
The lock slid back into place. Ray blinked at the closed door twice before rolling onto his back and wrapping his hand around his leaking prick. He gripped the base tightly and pushed as much skin as he could up and over the tip. Pinching the foreskin roughly between his fingers, he flinched at his own touch before quickly getting down to business with more than just a flick of his wrist.
***
Stretched out in Gerard's grandmother Elena's recliner, Ray snickered quietly as The Flintstones flickered and played out on the television screen. More thankful than embarrassed when he'd nearly knocked over the kitchen table after sitting a little too haphazardly, Ray had quickly taken the older woman up on her offer of the over-stuffed chair while her and Gerard discussed some mural he'd been asked to work on. He'd managed the car ride over and he could manage a fucking cartoon.
Hell, Ray'd manage desert if Grandma Way had made Baklava. Just as long as he never had to explain what the hell was causing him to act like he had sat on a Taser. Lord knew, Elena was the last person he wanted to discuss the likes of cock harnesses with. Let alone the one currently between his legs.
On the way out to the car, Gerard gave him an especially worrisome look that clearly begged the question 'are you okay?'.
"I'm peachy." Ray'd grinned and opened the passenger side door and started to climb in. Unfortunately for him, Gerard was faster and managed to slip into the car before him and just in time to see him ease his hips down on the curves of the bucket seat with a hiss.
"... who ever the fuck he is... if he fucking hurt you... I'll kill him."
The anger in Gerard's voice jerked Ray's attention away from the constant pull of leather inside of his pants and to his friend's face. "...Gee." He couldn’t just come out and tell him either. How the shit do you explain to your squeamish best friend that you willingly let your balls essentially be bound for your… your not exactly boyfriend-friend?
"I mean it. You ever can't sit at my Nana's house again because some gay asshole thought it was okay to rough your shit up... I'll drown 'em mob style in the fucking Delaware..." Gerard turned the ignition angrily and jerked the gearshift into reverse. "... KY ain't that fucking expensive..." He muttered as the red of his tail lights illuminated the pavement as they backed out of Elena's driveway.
"...he hasn't fucked me..." Ray protested without even thinking.
They were pulling up to the stop sign at the end of the street before Gerard finally stopped chewing his lip and looked over at Ray. "...what?" When Ray didn't answer, Gerard tapped the accelerator but didn't push the car above five miles an hour. "... Ray..."
"Look... just trust me that I'd tell you if you need to... ya know… find a place to dump a body?" Slithering his hand up and over his bicep, Ray rubbed at his shoulder nervously. He could only imagine what someone as delicate about some things as Gerard fucking Way would think about the things he let James do to him.
"Ray..."
Ray tightened his face and squared his jaw as he turned to stare at the shadow enveloped scenery scrolling by his window.
"Raymond."
"Gerard...." He retorted in a child like tone. "Trust. Me." Ray stated firmly.
***
A faded grocery list was scrawled over palm of James' hand. It was the first thing that Ray had noticed when the other man had let him into their hotel room for the night. The second thing was that not a single thing on the list was in English. Not a single one. Eyes squinting at the marks, he scarcely noticed the smirk James was giving him before he was slammed hard and fast against the wall.
"... Toro Family!" James inhaled slowly as if inhaling Ray's scent was an honest to fuck luxury. The first time Ray'd heard James call him that, it had perplexed him. A week later, the epiphany finally struck. Normal people went on dates. Normal people gave each other flowers and fucking jewelry. Normal people called each other baby and normal people told each other 'I love you.'... but he and James, they were anything but normal people. Three days later, Ray had dropped his own pet name before he'd even realized he'd had one.
"...Papichulo..." Ray replied breathlessly clutching his stomach and trying to regain some of the air that had been forced from his lungs when his back and hit the wall.
"...did you bring it?" Nodding, Ray dug into his hoodie pocket and gave James the medical grade gauze and tape. "...excellent!" James exclaimed taking the items from him and walking to the other side of the room.
Grinning to himself, Ray shrugged off his jacket and quickly unbuckled his belt. Thumbs hooked into the waist of his jeans, he shoved them off without even unfastening the button and zipper. Dressed in a snug, plain black t-shirt, a white jock, and calf high athletic-style socks, Ray climbed onto the bed and stretched out. When James turned to face him with a smile, he tried not to worry at the scissors and pen now in the other man's hand.
But what was even more worrisome with the Red Sox baseball cap now hiding James' dark shock of sometimes greasy hair. It was all Ray could do not to burst out laughing as James licked his lips and began his usual and usually sexy prowl toward the bed. It was ultimately the prominent tent in the other man's pants that kept his mouth shut and pushed his legs open. Feet flat on the edge of the bed, Ray presented himself without shame to a man he wasn't quite sure he could define as his lover.
The session had began with a very different air than any of the others and it appeared that it was going to continue in a very similar fashion. James broke the silence with a chuckle the very second Ray's stomach muscles had clenched when the soft cloth of the gauze slid over his balls. In turn, Ray finally let himself laugh even going as far to excessively giggle when James began wrapping his sac up like a sprained ankle. "... oh, so we're playing doctor, Papi?" He teased.
A sharp, quick slap to his scrotum had Ray arching his neck; head pressed hard to the bed's comforter. He moaned low and just this side of desperate; unable to swallow the un-worded plea escaping his throat as James hauled back and repeated the action. Ray trembled and spread his legs wider. Tonight was going to be different in so many ways. Over the last month they'd scarcely seen each other for more than their briefest sessions, usually under an hour, once or sometimes twice a week. But tonight, tonight they'd actually booked a room for the entire night.
Ray was salivating at the fucking thought of it.
When the gauze was finally wrapped over nearly every surface of Ray's balls, James nipped at his inner thigh with his teeth and traced the cap of a ball point pen along his pale flesh. The bands of white cloth were a more than snug fit after James had finished with him. Ray’s sac was tight and red in the bindings; he could hardly breathe he was so turned on. "Toro." James said as the one and only warning he ever gave the other man.
The whisper present roll and slice of the ink over his flesh had Ray biting his tongue and panting harshly through his nose. At the very same moment that pleasure blossomed over his too sensitive sac, razor sharp slices of pain cut up to his gut fading before they caused his fight or flight responses to take over. And as soon as it had began, it was over. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ray lifted his head and quietly inquired. "... whadya write?"
"A list..." James replied distractedly as he taped the final bit of gauze down before giving Ray's balls a quick playful tug.
Whimpering, Ray shifted his ass until he was presented properly for James. He knew well enough that the answer given was the best he was going to get. He also knew that there was no way in hell that James would keep his mouth to himself tonight.
The button down black cotton shirt was the first item to slide off of James' broad shoulders. The next was the wife beater he wore underneath. The black jeans and cowboy boots followed quickly after. And last but not least, the fucking Red Sox cap finally came off. Climbing onto the bed, James knelt just over Ray head and stared down at him; his cock hanging heavy just over his forehead. The moment Ray's tongue slid out over his lips, James made his move.
Hooking Ray's legs under his pits, James descended on Ray's cock like a starving man; his tongue probing the fold of foreskin and lapping at the recess of skin until the other man's prick was fully erect in his mouth. Meanwhile, Ray was coiling his tongue over the already exposed red tip of James' cut dick with a fervor only matched by the near desperate hold he had on the man’s ass.
In a symphony of shuttering gasps and jerking hips, both men found release; James quickly shifting to grasp Ray's balls in hand and pull. He stared in awe as Ray arched up off the bed with a solitary sound passing his lips when it all became too much.
"...dick..."
***
"You're fucking shitting me!" Gerard exclaimed nearly leaping from the couch and into Ray's unsuspecting arms. "...we're actually going to fucking meet No Name James?!!!" This was huge. It was mid July and him and the guys were throwing Ray a birthday bash to beat all others for his big 3-O... and he was going to bring No Name fucking James!
Ray threw his gaming magazine at Gerard's head. Sadly, he missed. "Dewees, fucker." He cocked an eyebrow at his best friend and roommate before returning his attention or lack there of to the crossword he had been holding nearly right in front of his face.
That did it.
Before Ray could even move enough to prevent himself some serious discomfort, Gerard was throwing himself over his lap. Grunting out in pain, he shoved him off quickly. Unfazed, Gerard clamored up to sit beside Ray. "... you know his fucking last name now?!" His unnecessary question was given no unnecessary answer. "...birt-"
"October thirteenth, shorter than me-fuck if I know, I told you brown, size 11 and he's..."
Gerard reared back and punched his arm... and hard. "Cut... yeah, yeah... mother fucker." He stuck his tongue out at Ray. "... Ew."
Chuckling as Gerard made his escape, Ray prayed to fuck that his friend never caught wind of their safe word.
***
A giggle escaped Ray’s lips as one James Dewees slinked up and over his legs to straddle his knees; dressed in only black cotton boxers. In addition to a row of obnoxiously colored votive candles, a new wax warmer resided on Ray’s night stand. He hadn’t asked a single question upon being handed this gift separately after the party crowd had dispersed. He hadn’t even asked question when James was setting it up. Ray simply knew better. He trusted James, some said more than he should, but in any instance he still did. When he’d asked Ray to strip and had immediately went to work cleansing his cock and balls with a cotton ball and a bottle of antiseptic, Ray knew he’d made the right decision.
“… Happy Birthday, Mr. President…” James cooed in his best Marilyn Monroe voice as he pulled a small white candle he’d hidden from out behind his ear. He winked dramatically at Ray and with one hand pushed his foreskin back to expose the head of his cock. James licked his lips as he used the same hand to hold on to the little birthday candle taking measure to not let it slide too far into Ray’s piss slit.
Moments later, the scent of lavender and roses filled the air only to be joined moment’s later by Ray’s husky sex voice. James smirked and molded the wax around the base of the white candle not stopping until it was securely standing without his assistance.
Being as it was their first time with wax play, James stopped at double layers. The heat alone from that much had Ray tossing his head from side to side and thrusting helplessly up into the air. “Shhh…” James whispered and ran his fingers in slow, gentle circles. Once he held Ray’s gaze, he leaned over towards the night stand once more retrieving a lit candle.
Ray whimpered as the flame drew closer and closer; loosing his breath only after the birthday candle was lit and the other hotter burning one was a good distance away from his cock. Frayed around the edges from such over stimulation, Ray shuddered when the first tendril of wax slipped from the flame’s grasp and rolled down the side of his wax encased member.
Panting when it all ended with James’ breathe ghosting over his cock extinguishing the flame, Ray whimpered. The night had only begun! He wasn’t ready for it to be over with yet!
And it wasn’t. Whistling casually, James climbed off the bed and retrieved a small packet of papers and began pressing them edge to edge around Ray’s cock.
“… are you going to?!” He nearly begged
Nodding, James replied sincerely moments later before grasping the bottom of the waxing paper and preparing to pull. “…welcome home, Toro Family…”