Sugar Water, Bob/Ray, R
Jul. 2nd, 2009 08:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lizhanneTitle: Sugar Water
Author:anne_elliot
Pairing: Bob/Ray
Rating: R
Word Count: 953
Notes: Written forzephyrina ♥. Thanks to drown_thecity for the beta! No particular warnings in this one.
Summary: Bob and Ray, a hotel room, a shower, and achy wrists. Short and fluffy.
“Bob. Bob. Bob. You know you can’t. Your fucking wrists.”
“Fuck my wrists, wanna fuck you.”
Dear God. Being in a hotel room at last, with some kind of privacy and a naked Bob in the shower was proving to be much harder than Ray thought it would be. For one, they were both tired as fuck, so tired that Ray was seriously starting to rethink his plan of “hey, sex in a bed all night!” and rescheduling it for the morning, because they needed to get some sleep.
And since being tired was not enough, Bob had decided to be a handsy little fuck and forget that he wasn’t supposed to be putting any undue stress on his wrists. The fact that Ray couldn’t forget it even when Bob’s wrists were suffering the stress of pumping his cock was probably proof that Ray was getting old, or that they were already at old-married-couple status. Or something.
Still, wrists. Brian was going to kill him if Bob hurt himself worse than he already had, and not even by playing, so Ray took a deep breath, cursed his life, and grabbed Bob’s hands again, gently pushing them away.
“I see I’m going to have to be more convincing than this,” he said, and dropped to his knees. Or, given the size of the shower stall, he somehow wriggled his way down to his knees, trying not to look like an idiot while at the same time trying to avoid knocking Bob down and keeping Bob’s hands where they should be.
Which, in this particular case, meant pinned against the shower stall glass. Gently, of course, because that was the whole point, wasn’t it?
“Now you shut the fuck up, let me suck you off, and after this we’re going to sleep, motherfucker, okay? You can fuck me in the morning.”
Bob's eyeroll didn’t seem to be of the “you complete moron” kind as much as the “I think I might have broken something at the thought of fucking you” kind, so Ray took it as a good sign, and opened his mouth.
*
Ten minutes later, Ray felt that his plan had been working wonderfully well so far. He had a well-fucked and blissed-out Bob, still half naked and hot from the shower, in his bed, damp hair filling the pillow with the scent of cheap hotel shampoo, and he was massaging his wrists, something that caused Bob to make pretty much the exact same faces he’d been making a few minutes ago.
Ray applied himself to the task, trying to be gentle and thorough, because it wasn’t just Bob their drummer who was in pain, it was Bob, and Ray couldn’t help but worry.
The only problem was that he’d been horny for what seemed like forever, and as much as fighting Bob’s advances in the shower made him feel incredibly virtuous, the sad truth was that - especially after giving Bob a blowjob - he was pretty much hard as a rock, fuck.
He realized the thought distracted him when Bob turned his head and mumbled, “Dude, dude, I think you’re done, those are my fucking shoulder blades, not my wrists,” and lay down next to him, his left hand tangled in Bob’s hair, petting his neck lightly and trying to keep the rest of his body close but not touching, because he felt Bob relaxing and didn’t want to wake him up. He could always take care of things as soon as Bob fell asleep.
“Hey, s'okay. I’m about to fall asleep but you can fuck me if you want.”
Just. Fucking what? Ray tried (and failed) to suppress the stutter-moan that welcomed Bob’s words, and dropped his head miserably on the pillow.
“Bob, come on. I won’t die for one night.”
“No, dude, it’s alright. You get pissy when you fall asleep with blue balls, and I kinda like it. When you, you know. Like this.”
“...Oh.”
Oh. There was no way Ray was fucking Bob right now, he was way too tired even to think about getting up and finding what they needed, but he didn’t need much convincing to be honest, about orgasms in general. He hooked one leg over Bob’s hips and wrapped his left arm around Bob’s chest, burying his face in the other’s hair and biting lightly from time to time at his neck as he started moving against Bob’s ass.
It didn’t take long, of course – Ray might be tired, but he was also a horny mess, and Bob urging him along with sleepy, appreciative noises as he lay pliant and warm under him drove him crazy, as did the feel of Bob’s muscles under his hand, and of Bob’s skin under his mouth.
Five minutes, and Ray was panting open-mouthed against Bob’s neck, clutching him tighter with both his leg and arm, and coming in his pants like a teenager.
“Fuck, I’ll have to get up anyway now.”
His brilliant plan had a crucial flaw, and Ray was too boneless and on his way to sleep now to contemplate the idea of getting up. Damn sticky mess.
“Tissues under pillow,” came Bob’s sleepy voice, and Ray just had to turn Bob’s head and kiss him.
“I thought I was the planner,” he said, reaching under Bob’s pillow to find the blessed packet of tissues that was saving his life right now.
“Fuck you, and let me sleep now.”
Ray chuckled, cleaned himself somewhat with a couple of tissues, and arranged himself comfortably around Bob, already drifting to sleep after a few of seconds.
“Whatever, I love you too.”
Author:
anne_elliotPairing: Bob/Ray
Rating: R
Word Count: 953
Notes: Written for
zephyrina ♥. Thanks to drown_thecity for the beta! No particular warnings in this one.Summary: Bob and Ray, a hotel room, a shower, and achy wrists. Short and fluffy.
“Bob. Bob. Bob. You know you can’t. Your fucking wrists.”
“Fuck my wrists, wanna fuck you.”
Dear God. Being in a hotel room at last, with some kind of privacy and a naked Bob in the shower was proving to be much harder than Ray thought it would be. For one, they were both tired as fuck, so tired that Ray was seriously starting to rethink his plan of “hey, sex in a bed all night!” and rescheduling it for the morning, because they needed to get some sleep.
And since being tired was not enough, Bob had decided to be a handsy little fuck and forget that he wasn’t supposed to be putting any undue stress on his wrists. The fact that Ray couldn’t forget it even when Bob’s wrists were suffering the stress of pumping his cock was probably proof that Ray was getting old, or that they were already at old-married-couple status. Or something.
Still, wrists. Brian was going to kill him if Bob hurt himself worse than he already had, and not even by playing, so Ray took a deep breath, cursed his life, and grabbed Bob’s hands again, gently pushing them away.
“I see I’m going to have to be more convincing than this,” he said, and dropped to his knees. Or, given the size of the shower stall, he somehow wriggled his way down to his knees, trying not to look like an idiot while at the same time trying to avoid knocking Bob down and keeping Bob’s hands where they should be.
Which, in this particular case, meant pinned against the shower stall glass. Gently, of course, because that was the whole point, wasn’t it?
“Now you shut the fuck up, let me suck you off, and after this we’re going to sleep, motherfucker, okay? You can fuck me in the morning.”
Bob's eyeroll didn’t seem to be of the “you complete moron” kind as much as the “I think I might have broken something at the thought of fucking you” kind, so Ray took it as a good sign, and opened his mouth.
*
Ten minutes later, Ray felt that his plan had been working wonderfully well so far. He had a well-fucked and blissed-out Bob, still half naked and hot from the shower, in his bed, damp hair filling the pillow with the scent of cheap hotel shampoo, and he was massaging his wrists, something that caused Bob to make pretty much the exact same faces he’d been making a few minutes ago.
Ray applied himself to the task, trying to be gentle and thorough, because it wasn’t just Bob their drummer who was in pain, it was Bob, and Ray couldn’t help but worry.
The only problem was that he’d been horny for what seemed like forever, and as much as fighting Bob’s advances in the shower made him feel incredibly virtuous, the sad truth was that - especially after giving Bob a blowjob - he was pretty much hard as a rock, fuck.
He realized the thought distracted him when Bob turned his head and mumbled, “Dude, dude, I think you’re done, those are my fucking shoulder blades, not my wrists,” and lay down next to him, his left hand tangled in Bob’s hair, petting his neck lightly and trying to keep the rest of his body close but not touching, because he felt Bob relaxing and didn’t want to wake him up. He could always take care of things as soon as Bob fell asleep.
“Hey, s'okay. I’m about to fall asleep but you can fuck me if you want.”
Just. Fucking what? Ray tried (and failed) to suppress the stutter-moan that welcomed Bob’s words, and dropped his head miserably on the pillow.
“Bob, come on. I won’t die for one night.”
“No, dude, it’s alright. You get pissy when you fall asleep with blue balls, and I kinda like it. When you, you know. Like this.”
“...Oh.”
Oh. There was no way Ray was fucking Bob right now, he was way too tired even to think about getting up and finding what they needed, but he didn’t need much convincing to be honest, about orgasms in general. He hooked one leg over Bob’s hips and wrapped his left arm around Bob’s chest, burying his face in the other’s hair and biting lightly from time to time at his neck as he started moving against Bob’s ass.
It didn’t take long, of course – Ray might be tired, but he was also a horny mess, and Bob urging him along with sleepy, appreciative noises as he lay pliant and warm under him drove him crazy, as did the feel of Bob’s muscles under his hand, and of Bob’s skin under his mouth.
Five minutes, and Ray was panting open-mouthed against Bob’s neck, clutching him tighter with both his leg and arm, and coming in his pants like a teenager.
“Fuck, I’ll have to get up anyway now.”
His brilliant plan had a crucial flaw, and Ray was too boneless and on his way to sleep now to contemplate the idea of getting up. Damn sticky mess.
“Tissues under pillow,” came Bob’s sleepy voice, and Ray just had to turn Bob’s head and kiss him.
“I thought I was the planner,” he said, reaching under Bob’s pillow to find the blessed packet of tissues that was saving his life right now.
“Fuck you, and let me sleep now.”
Ray chuckled, cleaned himself somewhat with a couple of tissues, and arranged himself comfortably around Bob, already drifting to sleep after a few of seconds.
“Whatever, I love you too.”
