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When a raindrop hits the top of Ray’s head, the man takes a couple seconds to regroup, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them and looking up.
Yet the sky above him is perfectly clear, the only thing decorating the oceanic view being a couple of fluffy white clouds. They look like cotton candy, that same airy consistency that would make his mouth water whenever he’d seen other kids eating it.
Sunlight gently tickles his nose, and Ray resist the urge to sneeze, soaking in the warmth of the sunshine with his arms spread wide.
There’s a strange thud at the back of his mind, the sound of multiple footsteps surrounding him, as if he’s not alone. Yet when Ray looks around, there’s no one to be found.
A strange feeling wells up in his chest, as if this is wrong — as if there should be people around him, as if it should be raining. The moment he decides to dwell on this, however, a sturdy hand lands atop his shoulder, and Ray can’t help but jump.
“My man! What’re ya floatin’ in the clouds for?” McVries voice is hearty and smooth, lulling any other sounds that might’ve dared to invade Garraty’s mind. He opens his mouth to respond, yet short circuits the moment his hand gets pulled by the other man.
“C’mon, let’s go rest a while, how bout it?” McVries doesn’t wait for Ray to respond, is already dragging him over a threshold that isn’t really there. A wave of fear washes over Ray, as if he shouldn’t be stepping off this endless road he’s standing on, yet the sloshing of his shoes brings him out of it.
But there’s no water in his shoes. Nor is there a threshold, or a road — everything around them is now a never ending field, grass so green it looks artificial. It gently licks at Garraty’s ankles, and he can’t help the urge to kick these terribly uncomfortable shoes off. One of them is coming apart, a small detail Ray catches as the shoe goes flying in some random direction, yet he’s already distracted by McVries by the time it disappears.
“C’mere.” McVries is already splayed out on the grass, his grey sleeveless stretching atop his chest, a sight Garraty tries his best to ignore (and fails).
If the other man notices his staring, he doesn’t mention it, instead turning on the side and leaning on his arm the moment Ray joins him in the grass.
He doesn’t say anything, simply opts to staring at Ray as he fidgets beneath McVries stare — it’s so incredibly open, so sincere and honest that Garraty feels as though he’s been turned inside out and has all of himself put on display.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” McVries asks, his open palm drawing a line over the horizon, yet his gaze remains fixed to Ray.
“Yeah…” Ray responds, not really looking at whatever McVries is talking about. There may as well not be anymore grass or sky or anything, Ray’s tunnel vision focused on one person and one person only. He begins thinking this is too good to be true; to be able to lay in the grass like this, legs lax, eyes glued to something he could spend hours staring at. Garraty begins digging in his memory, trying to remember the first moment he laid his eyes on McVries, yet is interrupted before he can find it.
“What’cha thinkin’ about?” McVries asks, his thumb gently rubbing at Ray’s cheek. A thought bubbles somewhere in the depth of his mind, something along the lines of why is McVries the only one asking me questions?, yet the other man’s touch quickly dissipates any rational thought.
“You.” Garraty blurts, no other answer appearing in the nearest 50 mile radius. McVries eyebrows shoot up for a moment, yet a cocky smirk quickly replaces the surprise, and Ray feels the urge to both pounce the man and curl up into a ball of shame.
McVries would clearly prefer the first option, if the way he suddenly towers over Ray is anything to go by. His chest presses against Ray’s, incredibly firm, and Garraty has to squeeze his hands into fists in order to resist the temptation of groping.
“Lil’ ol’ me, huh?” His finger traces down Ray’s arm, causing goosebumps to form beneath his feather light touch. Ray squeezes his eyes shut, wondering when he’d gotten so fucking sensitive. McVries is barely touching him and he’s already holding back whines, tensing his body in order to resist trembling beneath the other man’s touch.
Oh, but of course McVries is incredibly perceptive, the bastard — he knows exactly what he’s doing, gently urging Ray to lift his arms in a way that the other doesn’t even realize he’s done it, not until McVries hand wraps around both of his wrists.
“Tell me, Garraty…” McVries trails off, his hand playing with the bottom of Garraty’s shirt. Something about the way he says Ray’s name makes the man shudder, and he can’t help the stifled breath that escapes his trembling lips.
“Yes..?” He’s ready to tell McVries anything he wants to hear if it means he’ll continue inching his way higher, if his calloused fingers continue brushing against the revealed parts of Garraty’s stomach.
“What do you want… right now?” Was McVries always this evil? Did he always force Garraty into a corner, baiting him to practically beg for his touch and attention?
And the worst part; Ray was, without a doubt, ready to beg.
“You.” He must sound like a broken record, yet no other words seem to form on the tip of his tongue, his whole being overtaken by desire for this man.
McVries doesn’t reply, yet his hand boldly slips beneath Ray’s shirt, splaying across his seemingly scalding skin. His whole body feels like it’s on fire, burning for the man atop him, and he hopes McVries can’t feel his rapid heartbeat through their connected chests.
Ray waits with baited breaths, feeling as though he’s living out some perverted fantasy that he’s going to wake up from with underwear full of cum and shame.
“Fuck…” He’s ready to feel all the shame in the world when McVries thumb brushes atop his nipples at the same moment as his lips finally make contact with Garraty’s neck.
McVries tongue is hot against Ray’s sensitive skin, and he can’t help the loud moan that escapes him when the man’s lips wrap around the pale skin, teeth nicking at it as he leaves marks. Ray hopes they never fade, as twisted and strange as that may sound — he’d like to carry a piece of McVries with him at all times, even if it’s something as dirty as a hickey.
Garraty bucks his hips up, unconsciously, and inhales sharply when his own hardness rubs against McVries. His hands are still restricted above his head, in the gentle yet sturdy embrace of McVries grip, so Ray has no outlet other than rubbing himself against the other man.
He feels incredibly gay right now, though how else are you supposed to feel when you’re grinding your junk against your best mates?
“Fuck, Pete, please…” Ray no longer has a filter on, though it’s not like he was really thinking about what he said before either — Garraty punctuates his words with another grind against McVries, who reluctantly pulls his off the pale man’s neck. His gaze is hazy, and he licks his lips before finally making eye contact.
Only then does Ray realize that he’d called McVries Pete. Not that it was strange… that was the man’s name, yet for some reason he’d only ever recalled them being on last name bases… at least, Ray had only called him McVries before. He can’t recall the reason, yet if he had to guess it probably had something to do with his fear of attachment; ever since his father, he’d been afraid to get too close to people, afraid that he’d have to deal with losing them and therefore a small part of himself.
His existential and clearly misplaced thoughts are interrupted the moment Pete’s hand runs down Garraty’s stomach, landing on his belt and beginning to undo the loops. Without command, Ray lifts his hips, hoping to get these awfully restricting jeans off as soon as possible.
When McVries decides to use both hands, so to quicken the process, Ray finally has the chance to touch Pete. His hands immediately roam the expanse of the man’s chest, squeezing his pecs before moving to his biceps. It’s everything he’s wished to do ever since… well, he can't recall, however he knows for a fact this is exactly what ran through his mind each time Ray would catch himself staring at the man’s body. Can you really blame him?!
When his cock is finally freed by McVries confident hands, Ray almost cums on the spot. The image of his hands all over Pete, while McVries holds his cock in his hands with the word “want” spelled out in his gaze… is every wet dream Ray has ever had, and he hasn’t had many.
Hastily, Ray’s hands make their way towards Pete’s belt, wishing to see all of his glory as well. He has his assumptions, as any man does regarding his closest friends, yet imagining it and seeing it are two very different things.
Unfortunately Garraty doesn’t have much experience unbuckling other men’s belts while incredibly horny, so it takes him a tad bit longer than it had taken Pete. Ultimately, both their dicks are out, and Ray almost gasps at the size of McVries. It was to be expected, but seeing it up close is completely surreal.
Placing a steadying hand near Ray’s head, McVries grabs both their cocks into his hand, aligning them together before giving an experimental thrust. His quiet groan is completely drowned out by Ray’s guttural moan, and Garrety would feel incredibly embarassed if he weren’t so horny.
Feeling like he’s somewhat missing out on the action, Ray places his hand adjacent to Pete’s, the heat from both their dicks only causing the knot in the bottom of his stomach to tighten.
With a groan, Mcvries buries his face in the crook of Ray’s neck, maintaining a steady pace as he deeply inhales.
“Fuck, Ray… you smell so good…” It takes Garraty a second to process the words, yet it hits him like a boulder when he does. His body arches into McVries embrace, head lolls back in the hopes of providing him better access. He’ll give up each and every part of his body to this man as long as he continues moaning and slowly coming undone atop him.
Ray’s second hand begins to wander aimlessly, trying to memorize where each and every one of Pete’s muscles are, where his skin is softer and where it happens to be scarred. He attempts to commit every bit to memory, yet the closer he gets to orgasm the harder it gets.
When Pete’s hips jut in a particularly sharp thrust, accompanied by a low groan right above Ray’s ear, the man practically sees white. A whine that quickly turns into a moan bubbles from his chest and to his lips, yet a hand over his lips restricts it from coming out.
When Ray opens his eyes, rain patters onto him violently as water uncomfortably sloshes in his shoes. There’s a strong hand over his mouth, and when Garraty tries to locate the source, McVries comes into view.
“Good mornin’! You sure started the day off on a better note than most of us.” Pete gives him a knowing look as he removes his palm from Ray’s mouth, and it takes Garraty a second to process the meaning behind those words.
Oh shit.
Shame swallows him whole (as he’d presumed would happen, though at the moment it hadn’t mattered), and he looks around anxiously, yet nobody seems to be paying him any mind, too focused on not tripping over their own feet in this weather.
“What… what happened?” A part of Ray doesn’t even want to know, yet for the sake of his sanity and terrible curiosity he absolutely must hear every detail.
McVries gives him a strange look, as though he’s trying to gauge whether the man is joking or not. After a couple of moments and a deep sigh, he wraps an arm around Ray’s shoulder.
“You dozed off… as most of us do… must’ve had a pretty nice dream, as most of us wish we’d have… got a little noisy, so I decided to spare you the troubles.” Pete says this all so casually that Ray, for a second, believes there’s absolutely nothing weird about imagining getting jerked off by the guy you just met one and a half days ago. Only for a second though.
“So…” McVries trails off for a second before wiggling his brows, insinuating a question that Garraty simply isn’t picking up on.
“You got a lady at home?” Oh. It finally hits Ray, and it’s probably a good thing that Pete assumes he was dreaming of a woman — but a tiny, dirty and perverted part of Garraty wishes McVries would know exactly what he’d been dreaming of.
“Nah… Had one, but broke it off before The Walk.” Ray shrugs his shoulders, in an attempt to show Pete how little it matters to him.
“That’s a good call.” Pete replies, nodding along as he squeezes Garraty’s shoulder.
“How about you? Got a lady?” He mimics McVries tone, who chuckles at Ray’s antics before speaking.
“No, Ray. No I don’t.” He makes it a point to stare directly into Garraty’s eyes as he says this, and Ray can’t stop himself from slowing down, hypnotized by the possible admission in those words. He’s ripped out of his thoughts by the loud “WARNING, 47! SECOND WARNING!” accompanied by Pete’s sturdy grip around his waist, pulling him forward with a chuckle.
Shaking his head, Ray smiles to himself — they’ll talk about it after The Walk, when they’ll be able to lay in an empty field of grass with the bright blue sky above their heads, not a single soul daring to bother them but their own.