FIC: The Empty Space Between You and Me (Brad/Ray, NC17)
Title: The Empty Space Between You and Me
Author: Kali
Pairing: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Rating: NC17
Summary: It's always motels. Never Brad's house, never Ray's apartment.
Notes: I feel like I should warn that this is not a happy fic. But comments and con crit are loved as always.
Disclaimer: This is based on the ficionalised HBO series, not the actual people portrayed in the book.
Ray is sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched. The air stinks of sweat and sex, and he imagines he can see bruises already forming on his thighs. Behind him, Brad shifts, quiet whisper of cheap sheets against skin. He sighs.
“What the fuck are we doing?”
Ray snorts bitterly. “Fuck if I know, homes.”
Brad goes to take a shower. Ray's gone by the time he gets out.
-
It's always motels. Never Brad's house, never Ray's apartment. Just anonymous motels, cheap and run-down where no one bats an eye, where no one cares that they're two men, one an active Marine. It's the kind of motel for invisible people, and Ray feels right at home.
-
Brad's hands are twisted in his hair, sharp and stinging, and he fucks up into Ray's mouth without caring if Ray can take it. He knows he can. He's silent, always silent, just the occasional gasp or bitten-off noise. He gives no warning that he's coming, but Ray knows from the way his thighs tremble.
Brad collapses back on the bed in a boneless sprawl and Ray gets up to spit in the bathroom sink. He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror and wants to punch it. Back in the room, Brad hasn't moved. Ray grabs his boxers and tugs them on over his still-hard cock. That gets Brad's attention, makes him push up on to his elbows.
“Ray? You didn't-”
“Not important.” He smiles, all teeth and sharp edges as he looks up at Brad. “Never was, right?”
-
Ray doesn't really know anyone here, save a couple of guys still serving. He spends his time watching movies or drinking, doesn't leave his apartment for days on end. It's not a good life and he's still sane enough to recognise that, but he doesn't do anything to change it. He came here for a reason and like the good devil dog he is, he's staying for that reason.
-
Brad fucks him against the wall, pinning him against the cheap plaster with hips and hands and cock. Ray moans and whimpers, pushes back into it and taunts is that all you got? Fucking weak, Brad, come on, fuck me like you mean it. Brad's hands tighten on his hips, dig in hard enough to leave fresh bruises. He bites at Ray's neck, sucks a hickey into the skin there. He doesn't talk. Never does. Ray fills the silence as best he can, and when Brad reaches around to grab his cock, stripping it quick and hard, he shouts loud enough that he can't hear Brad's silence any more.
-
He's checking his mailbox, not expecting anything but the usual bills and bullshit, when some girl smiles at him. He thinks he recognises her from the hallway, figures she lives somewhere in the building. He reads all he needs to know in her smile and shakes his head, jogging back up the stairs before either of them says a word. His stomach feels like he just ate glass and he doesn't know why.
-
Ray sticks around long enough for Brad to get out the shower this time. Brad blinks at him, like he hadn't expected that. Ray doesn't think about the fact that he can still surprise Brad, doesn't want to feel the emotions that come with it. He just looks at Brad, studies his face. After a second he shakes his head. Brad frowns.
“Ray?”
Ray's smile isn't as bitter as it normally is, but it's still not nice. “Just... Nothing. I gotta go.”
Brad's expression almost softens and Ray looks away before he can see it properly. “Ray...”
“Don't,” he says harshly. “Fucking don't, okay?”
When Brad says his name for a third time, soft and cautious like Ray's a wild animal he doesn't want to spook, Ray loses it, takes a quick step forward and swings with everything he's got. His fist connects solidly with Brad's jaw and he goes down hard, head slamming against the bathroom door. Ray stands over him, breathless and angry.
“I fucking said don't, Brad. You had your fucking chance.”
He leaves before he can do worse.
-
He sees the girl again, this time in the hallway and he speaks before he can think, apologises for being an asshole. It's awkward and uncomfortable talking to her, but he pushes through it and thinks he does okay. He takes a shower as soon as he gets back inside his apartment, washing away things he can't see. He finds a bruise on his hipbone, a fading smear of green, and wants to throw up.
-
Brad fucks him hard, like always, hands rough and demanding on his body, and for the first time in his life, Ray finds himself hating it, finds himself craving a gentle touch and soft hands. He bites his lip against it, goads Brad into fucking him harder, but when he comes it feels empty. He lies on the bed after, stares at the ceiling. Brad is beside him, warm and big, but it feels like there's miles between them. Ray doesn't normally stay long enough to feel the distance stretching out endlessly like that.
“I think I'm done,” he says softly, and Brad shifts, rolls his head to look at him. Ray doesn't look back, knows he wouldn't be able to continue if he did. “I can't do this anymore, Brad. It's fucking killing me.”
Brad sits up, one hand twitching on the mattress like he wants to reach out. He doesn't. He just looks at Ray, waiting for Ray to fill the silence. As always.
“You had your chance,” he says, quietly echoing words he said months ago. “I fucking gave you all the chances in the world. And you bailed. That's not my fault, Brad, not my fault that you can't get over your fucking trust issues to see that we could've.... But I'm done now.”
He stands up, gets dressed slowly. He feels Brad watching him every second but doesn't look back until he's literally got one foot out of the door. The sight, of Brad still sitting in the bed, naked and very fucking alone, almost breaks him. He doesn't let it.
“Goodbye, Brad.”
Author: Kali
Pairing: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Rating: NC17
Summary: It's always motels. Never Brad's house, never Ray's apartment.
Notes: I feel like I should warn that this is not a happy fic. But comments and con crit are loved as always.
Disclaimer: This is based on the ficionalised HBO series, not the actual people portrayed in the book.
Ray is sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched. The air stinks of sweat and sex, and he imagines he can see bruises already forming on his thighs. Behind him, Brad shifts, quiet whisper of cheap sheets against skin. He sighs.
“What the fuck are we doing?”
Ray snorts bitterly. “Fuck if I know, homes.”
Brad goes to take a shower. Ray's gone by the time he gets out.
-
It's always motels. Never Brad's house, never Ray's apartment. Just anonymous motels, cheap and run-down where no one bats an eye, where no one cares that they're two men, one an active Marine. It's the kind of motel for invisible people, and Ray feels right at home.
-
Brad's hands are twisted in his hair, sharp and stinging, and he fucks up into Ray's mouth without caring if Ray can take it. He knows he can. He's silent, always silent, just the occasional gasp or bitten-off noise. He gives no warning that he's coming, but Ray knows from the way his thighs tremble.
Brad collapses back on the bed in a boneless sprawl and Ray gets up to spit in the bathroom sink. He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror and wants to punch it. Back in the room, Brad hasn't moved. Ray grabs his boxers and tugs them on over his still-hard cock. That gets Brad's attention, makes him push up on to his elbows.
“Ray? You didn't-”
“Not important.” He smiles, all teeth and sharp edges as he looks up at Brad. “Never was, right?”
-
Ray doesn't really know anyone here, save a couple of guys still serving. He spends his time watching movies or drinking, doesn't leave his apartment for days on end. It's not a good life and he's still sane enough to recognise that, but he doesn't do anything to change it. He came here for a reason and like the good devil dog he is, he's staying for that reason.
-
Brad fucks him against the wall, pinning him against the cheap plaster with hips and hands and cock. Ray moans and whimpers, pushes back into it and taunts is that all you got? Fucking weak, Brad, come on, fuck me like you mean it. Brad's hands tighten on his hips, dig in hard enough to leave fresh bruises. He bites at Ray's neck, sucks a hickey into the skin there. He doesn't talk. Never does. Ray fills the silence as best he can, and when Brad reaches around to grab his cock, stripping it quick and hard, he shouts loud enough that he can't hear Brad's silence any more.
-
He's checking his mailbox, not expecting anything but the usual bills and bullshit, when some girl smiles at him. He thinks he recognises her from the hallway, figures she lives somewhere in the building. He reads all he needs to know in her smile and shakes his head, jogging back up the stairs before either of them says a word. His stomach feels like he just ate glass and he doesn't know why.
-
Ray sticks around long enough for Brad to get out the shower this time. Brad blinks at him, like he hadn't expected that. Ray doesn't think about the fact that he can still surprise Brad, doesn't want to feel the emotions that come with it. He just looks at Brad, studies his face. After a second he shakes his head. Brad frowns.
“Ray?”
Ray's smile isn't as bitter as it normally is, but it's still not nice. “Just... Nothing. I gotta go.”
Brad's expression almost softens and Ray looks away before he can see it properly. “Ray...”
“Don't,” he says harshly. “Fucking don't, okay?”
When Brad says his name for a third time, soft and cautious like Ray's a wild animal he doesn't want to spook, Ray loses it, takes a quick step forward and swings with everything he's got. His fist connects solidly with Brad's jaw and he goes down hard, head slamming against the bathroom door. Ray stands over him, breathless and angry.
“I fucking said don't, Brad. You had your fucking chance.”
He leaves before he can do worse.
-
He sees the girl again, this time in the hallway and he speaks before he can think, apologises for being an asshole. It's awkward and uncomfortable talking to her, but he pushes through it and thinks he does okay. He takes a shower as soon as he gets back inside his apartment, washing away things he can't see. He finds a bruise on his hipbone, a fading smear of green, and wants to throw up.
-
Brad fucks him hard, like always, hands rough and demanding on his body, and for the first time in his life, Ray finds himself hating it, finds himself craving a gentle touch and soft hands. He bites his lip against it, goads Brad into fucking him harder, but when he comes it feels empty. He lies on the bed after, stares at the ceiling. Brad is beside him, warm and big, but it feels like there's miles between them. Ray doesn't normally stay long enough to feel the distance stretching out endlessly like that.
“I think I'm done,” he says softly, and Brad shifts, rolls his head to look at him. Ray doesn't look back, knows he wouldn't be able to continue if he did. “I can't do this anymore, Brad. It's fucking killing me.”
Brad sits up, one hand twitching on the mattress like he wants to reach out. He doesn't. He just looks at Ray, waiting for Ray to fill the silence. As always.
“You had your chance,” he says, quietly echoing words he said months ago. “I fucking gave you all the chances in the world. And you bailed. That's not my fault, Brad, not my fault that you can't get over your fucking trust issues to see that we could've.... But I'm done now.”
He stands up, gets dressed slowly. He feels Brad watching him every second but doesn't look back until he's literally got one foot out of the door. The sight, of Brad still sitting in the bed, naked and very fucking alone, almost breaks him. He doesn't let it.
“Goodbye, Brad.”