better late than never (ray toro x reader smut)
Kinktober Day 14: Cockwarming/Desk Sex
Era: Current (2022)
Reader Pronouns: None, but Reader has AFAB anatomy.
Content:
- Cockwarming Ray while he works
- Degradation and praise
- Ray domming the absolute HELL out of you.
Word Count: 2,781
Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.
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All you can focus on is the sound of that damned pen scraping against paper. Over and over again, it makes the same quiet skritch sound, doing its part to drive you absolutely mad.
Of course, you know that the pen has very little to do with your current state of agitation. At this point, however, you need a distraction.
More aptly, you need something to be mad at.
As much as you may want to, you can't quite bring yourself to be angry with Ray. This is the case, even when he is paying you absolutely no attention while his cock is buried deep inside of you.
It's almost as though you aren't there at all as he works out a series of chord progressions and commits them to paper. He pulls back, tapping the pen against his chin before going right back to scribbling random letters over the printed lyrics.
Beyond restless, you shift ever so slightly. Despite his apparent concentration, the movement is not lost on Ray.
Your breath hitches as you feel his free hand tighten around your hip, squeezing. "Be still," he mutters before returning to his work.
Though you sort of feel like screaming out of frustration, you oblige him, going completely motionless once again.
You try to think about something, — anything, — other than the fact that he's inside of you right now, to very little avail. You can't help it, — he's fucking huge and rock hard, buried deep in your dripping wet pussy.
You have no clue how he's being so casual and unaffected about this whole thing, but, by God, is he doing just that.
It's almost enough to make you wonder if this is all some sort of messed up dream that you're having. That would make sense, — you, so fucking desperate you could cry, and Ray, just as cool as ever and somehow unattainable despite his suffocating proximity.
You want so badly to wake up, only to find him dipping his head under the covers and yanking down your pajama pants, waking you up the best way he knows how.
Alas, something tells you that won't be happening.
He keeps his hand resting on your hip. His touch is real, concrete, — blistering in warmth and full of unintended tenderness.
And still, he seems to care twenty times more about putting music to those stupid fucking lyrics than he does about you.
"Ray." His name breaks up from your throat, quiet. You can't resist testing the waters, though you get the sinking feeling that you know what the ultimate outcome will be.
As predicted, you get no response.
Nevertheless, you persist. "Ray," you repeat, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Okay. Fine. If standard operations aren't going to work, you'll just have to be a bit more dramatic.
It doesn't take much for your barely-quavering voice to suddenly dissolve into one long whimper, trilling out the first pet name that pops into your mind. "Baby..."
Ray doesn't even look up from the top of his desk. "No," he snaps, beginning to write at a faster pace.
You tense up at the sharpness in his voice. Such assertiveness is uncharacteristic of him. That being said, it makes you wet in a way that not many things do.
In your current state, that's a dangerous thing.
You find yourself wanting to test your limits. You've long since lost the control it would take to stop yourself.
"No what?" you ask him. "Can I not talk to you?"
For a moment, he is quiet. Finally, he speaks up again.
"Yeah. You can." His voice sounds normal again, so soft and sweet. The deviousness manages to slip into his final comment, however. "Just let me finish working first."
You somehow muster up the willpower to bite your tongue for a few moments more. Then, you press: "When do you think that'll be?"
You don't overlook the way that his grip tightens around the pen. "I'll be finished when I'm finished."
You have to try your damnedest not to burst into a fit of giddy giggles. God, you are going to get it in a bit. "Alright, alright," you say. "You don't have to be so uptight about it. Jesus..."
Ray doesn't say a word in response to your smarting off. He just hums, — a deep, low sound that you know guarantees trouble.
Knowing better than to try your luck too much, too soon, lest he tell you to put your pants back on and go about your day, you stay quiet.
Well, except for the sound of your slightly ragged breathing.
There's nothing for you to do now except think about how fucking full of him you are. You wish you could rock your hips back and forth just a little, slowly build up the pace until you're riding him just the way that he likes.
You would never get away with it, of course. Certainly not when he's in such a militant mood.
Still, it's more than fun to think about.
The issue with this type of fun thought is that it's the type of thought that makes you restless. Borderline uncomfortable, even. You're so tempted to shift a bit, but you just know that Ray would have something to say about it. So you struggle to remain still.
In an attempt to distract yourself, you focus your attention on the paper. You try to read the lyrics, make sense of the words that will eventually comprise the band's first song in almost a decade, but you just can't seem to concentrate.
There are a few key words that you pick out, — swarm, decay, coward... Oh, whore. That's an interesting one.
Still, you can't for the life of you process the context of the lyrics, or how they might possibly sound when they are sung, or that they're important at all, really.
You're that helpless at this point. You just need to get fucking railed.
Ray sighs deeply underneath you, his chest rising and falling against your back.
You squirm slightly, letting out an involuntary whine.
Your slight movement turns into a full-blown shiver as Ray's fingertips ghost over your inner thigh. It's barely a touch at all, but God. You fucking need it.
"Be patient," he murmurs in your ear. "I'm almost done."
Every scratching sound after that seems agonizingly slow. After what seems like hours, he finally drops the pen. He lets out a sound of satisfaction as he cracks his knuckles, reclining slightly in his chair.
"Think it's time I called it a day," he announces. The chipperness in his voice betrays the darkness of his eyes when they fall on yours.
He tilts your chin up with his fingers, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as his gentle smile melts away. "Now, I just have to decide what to do with you..."
Before you can think better of them, the words slip off your tongue. "Can you fuck me?" you blurt out. "Please? I've been waiting all afternoon..."
His laughter rumbles in his chest. The sensation travels throughout your whole body. "I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself," he says. "How many times did I have to tell you to be still today, baby?"
You swallow hard, struggling to keep the lump in your throat from unravelling into tears of desperation. "I don't know, sir," you mumble.
Ray hums. "Well, I wasn't exactly keeping count, either. I just know that it was too many." His fingers return to your thigh, tracing light, absentminded patterns as your breath catches in your throat. "You weren't exactly obedient today. I asked you to hold still and keep me warm while I worked, and then I'd reward you. And what did you do?"
This question isn't a condescending one. Hell, it's not even rhetorical. He genuinely wants an answer from you. An honest one, for best results.
Despite the slight bruising that your pride takes as a result, you give in. "I moved," you mutter.
He laughs. Despite the fact that it doesn't sound remotely mean or intimidating, the sound still makes your heartrate quicken instantly. "That wasn't all, baby," he chides. "Can you think of anything else that you did that I asked you not to?"
You only have to consider it for a moment before coming to a conclusion. "I wasn't quiet when you asked me to be," you concede. "I rushed you, too. I was..."
"A little impatient, yeah?" His thumb strokes the underside of your chin. Tempted as you are to lean into his touch, you remain frozen. Attempting to make up for your noncompliance too late, you suppose.
"Yes, sir," you admit quietly, face burning.
You can practically see the gears turning in Ray's brain as he continues to caress your face, seeming to mentally formulate a response to your admission of guilt. Finally, he seems to reach a verdict.
"I don't know, baby. You were pretty disobedient." He frowns down at you. "I could edge you into next week for that, don't you think?"
Your first instinct is to cry and beg, tell him you would do anything to avoid such a fate.
But that's not what he wants from you. More than anything, you want to do what he wants. "You could, sir," you tell him. "If you think that's an appropriate punishment..."
"Well. It would be an appropriate punishment, for sure. But..."
That last word causes hope to bloom in your chest. The anticipation builds up quickly within you as the hand that rests under your chin travels down your neck and over your shoulder.
"I'm feeling nice," he finally says. "I see how badly you need it. I'll give you what you want."
"Thank you." The words break up from your throat with all the desperation of someone with a knife pressed against their throat. "Thank you so much, sir. I..."
You go quiet as his lips brush against your temple. "Later," he tells you as he pulls away. "Stand up, baby."
You rise on shaking legs, letting out an instinctive gasp as he slips out of you. You're fucking aching for him. You think you'd keep him inside of you forever, if you could.
You hear the sound of his desk chair sliding across the floor as he gives you your next order. "Bend over my desk for me."
A groan passes your lips as you position yourself so that your chest presses against the hard surface. "Yes, sir."
"There we go. So good for me." The chair creaks as he stands up. "Now... Don't turn around the whole time. You got it?"
Though you're quietly mourning the look on his face when he comes, you agree. "I've got it, sir."
He laughs, hands coming to rest on either side of your waist and squeezing. "You're being good now, huh?" he asks. "That's a shame. Things would've turned out a lot better for you if you'd done that earlier. But you know what they say..."
You stiffen as he lines himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock slipping so easily between the lips of your dripping cunt.
He pauses there for a moment, pressing a chaste kiss against the side of your neck before leaning in to whisper in your ear.
"Better late than never," he says, just before driving back into you with an unexpected amount of force.
You let out a shaking moan, clawing at the surface of the desk.
You expect him to stay like that for a moment, giving you time to adjust to the angle before setting his pace.
Alas, this isn't what you get. Not at all.
The next thrust comes soon after the first, just as hard. His hands travel down to your hips, gripping you hard enough to leave bruises.
"This is what you wanted, huh?" he asks, pulling out almost all the way before slamming into you again. "You wanted me to fuck you like this? Wanted me to manhandle you?" He lets out a loud, broken moan, burying himself up to the hilt. "Wanted me to treat you like a fucking slut?"
The degrading name takes you aback. Holy fuck. He hardly ever talks to you like that.
You certainly aren't opposed to it, though.
"Yes," you cry out. "Yes, that's what I wanted."
"Say it, then." He groans, hips bucking against you. "Tell me you're my slut, baby. Go on."
Despite the harshness of his words, he's still so fucking encouraging. It makes it so easy for the words to slip up from your throat. "I'm your slut," you declare. "I'll do anything you say."
"Hold on, now." His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling sharply. "I don't take kindly to lies, baby. If you'll do anything I say, how come you couldn't hold fucking still earlier? If I asked you once, I swear I asked you a million... fucking... times..." Each word is punctuated by a sharp thrust, the force causing tears to begin to prick in the corners of your eyes.
The response slips out automatically. "Because I'm stupid."
Something in those words causes him to slow down, his grip on your waist loosening. You mentally kick yourself.
Shit. He's waiting to see if you'll use your safeword.
When you neglect to give him any verbal cues, he speaks up. "Oh, baby. That's not true." One of his thumbs rubs circles against the small of your back. "You're so fucking good for me, you know that? We just make mistakes sometimes, that's all."
You hum, giving him a slight, jerky nod.
"Such a good pet for me," he continues, beginning to roll his hips into you with a bit more intensity again. "I'm lucky... So lucky..."
You don't respond to his praise with words. You don't think you could if you tried. You reward him with the sound of your moans as he begins to build up his pace again, each sound steadily increasing in volume.
"You're so fucking good," he goes on. "Can't believe how good I have it... Getting to have you in my lap while I work... Warming my cock... So fucking desperate... All for me."
He lets out another strangled groan as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room.
"Baby," he forces out between gorgeous noises, his rhythm growing increasingly uneven. "I'm getting close. Need you to come for me."
Simply hearing those words almost finished the job. Knowing that he needs you in the same way that you need him does its job to make your already-weak knees continue to melt into jelly.
If that's not enough, the next order that he gives you causes you to grow dizzy. "Grind against the edge of my desk for me," he tells you. "Please, baby.... Want you to come first..."
With a shuddering breath, you do as he asked. You roll your hips until your clit brushes against the corner of the desktop.
Maybe it should hurt, but you're so fucking wet that you can hear Ray's every thrust, so the bit of extra friction hardly does anything to faze you.
In fact, it's what finally tips you over the edge.
Your only warning is a loud cry that is almost a scream as you tighten around Ray's cock. Your eyes squeeze shut as your high overtakes you, intense and seemingly neverending. You've waited for so long, and it's just so fucking good.
It's even better when Ray follows you over the edge a moment later. Just as he promised, he spills inside of you, letting out a guttural groan as he all but collapses on top of you.
After what seems like an unusually long amount of time, you finally come back to earth, only to register the feeling of your aching knees and Ray, pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck.
"Turn around and look at me," he murmurs against your neck.
Though it takes far too much effort, considering the amount of energy that you just spent, you manage to oblige him.
Instantly, he leans in to kiss you for the first time since this morning. You melt into his touch, allowing him to pull you into his chest.
He laughs against your lips as he pulls back, forehead still resting against yours. "My pretty baby," he cooes as his fingertips trail gently over your skin. "Love you."
You hum, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. "Mmm... love you, too."
He pulls back, pressing another kiss against your cheek before making a declaration. "Gonna cook dinner for you," he says. "You deserve it for being so good..."
You laugh quietly. "Whatever you say, sir."
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@mysunfishpeedinmyroom @xocasper @clichedlovers @yachiiko @enchantinghouseofwh0res @dangerouslittlefairy @deadlovers
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Tree - Ray Toro x Reader
Prompt: T: Tree (How do they decorate their tree?) (from this list)
Reader: can be read as any gender (no pronouns used)
Word Count: 1 293
Warnings: I just read this again and it’s really, really sweet, sickeningly. Also: if you want tomorrow’s story to hit even harder, please pay attention to how easily Ray and Reader communicate their feelings. This has been a warning.
You knew Ray was full of surprises, but nothing could have prepared you for how important it was to him to decorate the Christmas tree together. The two of you had been dating for not even a year, making this your first Christmas together, and a few months ago, you had moved in with him. It had been a decision some of your friends had called rushed, but it was way cheaper than your flat, Ray had offered, and secretly neither of you felt all too keen on spending the precious spare time you had with getting from one apartment to the other. Even though it had been a bit scary, the usual anxieties taking over like whether you would be able to stand sharing a living space with each other, how your daily routines would clash and so on, living with Ray had been as good as perfect, and you did not regret your choice for one second.
It was a Sunday morning in early december, when the sound of a crash woke you up. Irritated, you sat up, blinking into the twilight of the room. The bed beside you was empty, and a second crash, followed by muffled cursing made you suspect Ray was already up and about.
Slipping out of bed and grabbing one of Ray’s hoodies from where it hung over a chair, slipping it on, you poked your head out of the bedroom door. The continuing noise of clattering mixed with quiet cursing, originated in the living room, and once you pushed the door open far enough to see inside, you were no longer surprised as to why Ray was swearing. But you were surprised at the sight before you.
It seemed definitely impossible, but Ray had managed to carry a Christmas tree inside, which was almost as tall as the ceiling was high. All by himself. Right now he was struggling to keep the tree in its stand, every time it threatened to tilt, a new curse quietly falling off his lips.
Once you had overcome your initial surprise at the huge tree in the middle of the living room, you ran over to Ray, quickly grabbing the tree that seemed on its best way to fall on top of your boyfriend.
“Which way do you need me to tilt the tree,” you asked, glancing down at Ray who was crouched on the ground. His hair was dishevelled and from his body language alone you could tell he was focusing.
Through hesitating comments Ray wished you a good morning, and just a few minutes later, the tree stood safe and tall, its top twig almost scratching the ceiling.
Standing side by side with Ray, you inspected your work. You couldn’t help but feel like you imagined these children in the picture books to feel at the sight of such a huge tree. Respect, awe, but also giddy.
“Good morning, again,” Ray whispered, sneaking his arm around your waist and pulling you in for a short kiss.
You repeated the words against his lips before he pulled away. Only now you properly realised, that he was still wearing his winter jacket, and on the sofa lay his hat.
“How about you make us some hot chocolate and I go fetch the decorations,” Ray suggested.
“Don’t you want to have breakfast first,” you asked, confused, but he shook his head.
“We’re gonna have a Christmas Tree decorating breakfast. With hot chocolate and cookies… If that’s okay for you?”
Even if he had not asked, you would not have refused his wish. Something in his voice made it very clear how important this was to him. Not important because he wanted to do it, but because it meant something to him emotionally. You were not entirely sure what it was, but the thought of rejecting his wish would have felt equal to breaking his heart. Besides: Christmas Tree decorating breakfast sounded pretty awesome.
While you made hot chocolate in the kitchen, Ray carried the decorations into the living room. It seemed the stuff he owned was mostly classical red and gold, baubles in those colours, a few wooden figurines. And a tiny spider man bauble. When you spotted it, it made you laugh, but you figured it would have been unlike Ray if not a little joke like that would have been hidden somewhere.
Ray also seemed to have bought gingerbread, because when you carried the cups into the living room, the box was ripped open, and he had placed a few gingerbreads on plates for both of you.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Ray had put on some Christmas music, not the modern one, but old orchestra music, now playing from vinyl. While you put up the baubles, you always took a sip of hot chocolate in between or a bite from the gingerbread. Although a lot of the time also was used by Ray to pull you in for sweet kisses. In fact it seemed like he always tried to keep a hand at you, on your waist, your hand, your forearm…
The gestures made your heart dance, and you were absolutely certain this had to be the most romantic Christmas Tree decorating anyone had ever done.
Once you were finished, you sat on the sofa, looking at the now sparkling tree. Ray had strung Christmas lights with tiny bulbs into the twigs, and now that they were turned on, they looked like hundreds of small fairies making the tree glow.
Your head was resting against Ray’s chest, the two of you cuddled together on the sofa, as your eyes were fixed on the tree, the cups, long empt, standing on the side table.
“I’ve always dreamt about decorating the tree like this,” Ray whispered, breaking the comfortable silence.
Questioningly you tilted your head to look at him.
“Back at home it was always fun, but also loud and we would constantly bicker about what should go up on the tree and what else we needed to buy and whatnot…”
By the way he trailed off, you could tell there was more to the story. Encouragingly you ran your fingers in uneven patterns over his shirt.
“And then when I was living on my own, I saw all these couples who always celebrated Christmas together, while I was alone, or on tour, and… it sounds pitiful, but I just wondered if I'd ever have something like that. So I wanted this to be fun today.”
“It’s not pitiful,” you disagreed. “It’s understandable. I definitely felt the same, you know? I think everybody feels that way sometimes. But-,” you leant up, so you could take a better look at Ray’s face, “I think today was the most magical, most christmas-y, most romantic morning i ever could have imagined. And I feel very happy and very privileged to have spent it with you. Thank you.”
Leaning down to him, you sweetly kissed his lips, feeling as his eyes fluttered shut and he released a shaky breath. Knowing that even after months of dating he still reacted like this sometimes to something as simple as a short peck on the lips, made your heart dance happily.
“You know that I love you, right,” Ray asked, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you back on top of him. “So much.”
Burying your nose against his neck, his long hair brushing over your face, you nodded. “I love you, too. So much.”
And while the lights on the christmas tree continued sparkling, specks of red and gold dancing through the living room where the lights reflected off the baubles, Spider Man keeping watch over the tree from a high twig, you slowly dozed off in Ray’s arms.
@alexstyx @jayloverthe3rd @robinruns @lookalivefrosty @butterflycore @omgsuperstarg @fivelegance @deadlovers @casmustdiee @cmtryghoul
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Question - Ray Toro x Reader
Prompt: Q: Question (How do they confess? Is it the big question, or something smaller but just as intimate?)(from this list)
Reader: can be read as any gender (no pronouns used)
Word count: 2 138
Tiredly you ran your hand over your face. The brightness of the computer screen was already tuned to the lowest setting, you had a small lamp burning in the background and most of the software’s design was dark anyway, but still your eyes hurt terribly. A glance at the clock confirmed your suspicion that it was not only the screen brightness that hurt your eyes, but also the amount of time you had spent staring it at.
You had been here since the early morning, only doing a lunch break around noon, and a coffee break around five, when the band had left. My Chem was working on another album and as their trusted assistant they had asked you to help with… well basically everything. Before ever having worked with them you had gathered experience with mixing and producing music, tour booking, promotion and and and, although most of it had been for smaller, local bands.
It had been Ray who had suggested you should be given more freedom in the things you wanted to work at for them. So after having spent the entire day in their company, helping them mix the tracks, you had settled back into your small office in the production company, beginning with the design for the covers. The cover art had been chosen weeks ago, but now title, band name and all the writing needed to be added. It was as much fun as it was nerve wracking.
Just when you had finished adding one text, and zoomed out, you found it looked awful and went back to changing everything again. But now, at almost 2am, you were ready to give up. At least for now. Anything you changed now, was just likely to look awful tomorrow- well, later today.
Saving the current file under a new name, you turned off the computer and grabbed your jacket from the hanger next to the door, before turning the small lamp in the corner off as well.
The lights in the corridor outside flickered to life as you left the office, blinding you momentarily. Groaning at the brightness, you blinked, trying to get used to the lights as well as trying to get rid of the tiredness so you could drive home.
Ray would absolutely give you shit for staying so late at the office again. He always told you, you needed to take better care of yourself, and every time he did, you ignored the fluttering in your chest, instead arguing that you worked best this way, just like he would sometimes not step out of his office for three days straight.
It was a recurring pattern: both of you working without proper breaks and the other getting protective, reminding each other how important breaks were. At the same time, you both understood that you had these creative phases in which you had to work lest you wanted to go mad. But that rational understanding did not mean your heart did not flutter every time Ray reminded you to take good care of yourself.
It was all too easy to imagine he had some personal interest in you being well, even when you knew that in reality he just needed you to be healthy so you could work for the band as effectively as possible. Besides: why should someone like him take interest in you? You were the person in the background. Best case scenario? Nobody noticed you were even there. That meant you had done your job flawlessly. That the band constantly noticed you and tried to involve you in their work was a bigger compliment than you felt you deserved. But Ray was still the guitarist of one of the biggest bands currently around, loved by fans and worshipped by critics. He was certainly one of the kindest men you had ever met, not to mention one of the most talented and most hard working as well. Even if he were looking for a relationship, he most certainly would not look for it with you.
Still you could not blame yourself for falling for him. Anyone with at least a half-way decent taste in men would. And now that winter had wrapped its cold, dark fingers around the city, you just could not help but secretly dream about cuddling into Ray’s side and holding his hand. He always looked so warm, with his long hair, his soft eyes, his gentle smile. He could be the biggest goof, the craziest little nerd you had ever met, but his rambles were endearing and his jokes always made you laugh without fail.
Tiredly, lost in thoughts about Ray and about how much you wanted him to like you back, you shuffled to the back door of the studio. You had your hand already on the handle, when suddenly you perked up. From one of the control rooms faint music sounded out into the corridor. Irritated, you stopped. You had been absolutely certain you were the last one in the building, after all it was in the middle of the night. Walking back, you tried to identify the room the music sounded from, and stopped in front of one of the control rooms. The ‘recording’-light was turned off, so you listened to the gentle plucking of guitar strings for a moment before you pressed down the handle of the door and pushed the door open just far enough to poke your head in.
In the dim, orange light of a small reading lamp, you were able to make out a man sitting on the floor, long, curly hair reaching past his shoulders, guitar in his lap.
At the sound of the door opening, he stopped and turned around.
“I thought you had gone home with the others,” you inquired, raising your eyebrows at Ray.
“I did…” he confessed, unfolding his long legs, and getting up from where he had been sitting. “And then I couldn’t stop thinking so I came back.”
“I heard you play something new,” you noted. “Are you planning to add onto the new album?”
“Not really… it’s just something I’ve had stuck in my head for a long time,” Ray rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, holding his guitar in the other. “I wanted to get it out of my system before I forget it.”
You were burning to know what he had been working on, but if the past years of working with him had taught you anything, it was that he shared his music once he was ready to do so. Anything before that usually ended up making him feel incredibly uncomfortable, and you were more than happy to respect his boundaries.
“Well, in that case…” you trailed off. “Just don’t stay too long. Even you need a few hours of sleep every now and then. Good night Ray.”
You were already back out of the room, the door almost closed when he suddenly called for you.
Confused, you stopped and pushed the door back open, raising your eyebrows at him.
“What’s up?”
“I-“
Ray stared at you wide eyed, his left foot tapping a quick, even rhythm, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the neck of the guitar; safe signs that he was stressed and nervous. You hated when he did that. Not because it annoyed you, but because it made you feel so helpless. In these moments there was nothing you could do to help him feel less nervous, and right now you seemed to be the cause of his nervousness.
Tilting your head at him inquisitively, you encouraged him wordlessly to keep talking. He swallowed thickly before speaking again.
“I- it’s just… I don’t really know how to say it.”
“Whatever it is, you know you can be honest with me. I promise you that I won’t be mad, okay? You can just say it. I don’t need fancy words.”
“It’s not something you’ve done,” sighed Ray, averting his eyes for a moment, before looking back up to you. “No fancy words needed?”
“No fancy words needed,” you reaffirmed.
“I like you. To be honest, I’ve liked you for so long I don’t even know how long anymore. And I don’t think it’s just liking either. It’s so much more and so much stronger than that.”
Completely dumbfounded you stared at Ray. The light behind his back lit up his hair like a halo and the white light falling in from the corridor made it look like he was standing in a spotlight.
“I thought I was good at hiding it, but the other day the guys said they’d known for ages too, and that I should just be honest with you, so here’s me being honest. If it makes things weird, I’m sorry, but I think there’s not much use in hiding it anymore. You probably already knew either way.”
“I- I didn’t. Didn’t know, I mean,” you answered, once Ray had stopped speaking, making him groan quietly as if he regretted his confession already. “But it doesn’t have to make things weird.”
Quickly you fully stepped into the small room, closing the door to the corridor behind you, shutting out the cold, white lights.
“I like you, too,” you clarified. “I just never thought you’d feel remotely the same.”
Ray groaned again. “I thought you knew and were trying to discreetly tell me you’re not interested.”
“You mean I wasn’t painfully obvious about my feelings for- wait. Ray, hold on. You thought I wasn’t interested in you and still straight up just- confessed?”
Your heart ached at the thought. How much courage had it taken him to do that?
“Yeah, I mean… I needed to be sure, once and for all,” he admitted, still awkwardly clenching and unclenching his fingers around the guitar neck.
“I’m glad you did…”
For a moment both of you stood facing each other, not really sure what to do or say now that your feelings had been revealed.
“Uhm, I know this might seem a bit useless since you already know how I feel for you but uhm… I’d really like to take you out some time, for dinner or something. Or like… I don’t know. It’s silly,” Ray stuttered. He barely ever stuttered, which just proved that he was still terribly nervous.
“It’s not silly, and I’d love to,” you quickly answered, glad he had been the first one to ask.
“Really,” Ray smiled happily at you. “When- when would you like to?”
You shrugged, glancing around the room.
“I don’t know… are you gonna stay here for a while and play or are you going to go home soon?”
“I was about to head out… What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I’ve waited a very long time to go out with you and don’t really want to wait a few days just because society thinks meaningful dates have to be at 8pm. And that there’s a diner that’s open 24/7 just around the corner…”
Ray’s grin grew wider, and quickly he placed the guitar in its stand.
“I’ll just grab my jacket,” he told you, heading towards the door in front of which you were still standing.
Stopping right in front of you, he looked at you for a moment, before he quickly leant over and pressed a short peck to the corner of your lips. His warm skin on yours, his chapped lips, both rough and soft at the same time, made your heart rate spike and heat shoot to your cheeks, the spot where he had touched you tingling.
“Thank you,” he whispered, before stepping around you and through the door into the corridor, where the white lights flickered to life once more.
“What for?” You called after him as he jogged towards the break room where he had left his jacket on a sofa.
“Accepting me.”
He shouted back over his shoulder, leaving you to furrow your brows in confusion.
You were afraid that whatever he had meant by that would need some discussion in the future. After all, you knew how insecure he could be at times and if there was one thing you were certain of, it was that he never would have to be or should be insecure about your feelings for him.
You had barely finished the thought, when Ray already reappeared, fighting to slip into his jacket. By the time he had reached you, he had managed to tuck both sleeves over his wrists, and zip the jacket closed.
“Let’s go,” he decided, surprising you by taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. Shyly you closed your fingers around his bigger hand and smiled to yourself. When Ray saw your expression, he chuckled. “Trust me, when I tell you you’re not the only one who has waited far too long for this.”
@alexstyx @jayloverthe3rd @robinruns @lookalivefrosty @butterflycore @omgsuperstarg @fivelegance @deadlovers @casmustdiee @cmtryghoul
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