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When the lamp lights are turned low and they’ve moved the mirror out of the bedroom and Mikey is in Ray’s lap, slowly kissing him, it’s the easiest thing in the entire world. Mikey can feel himself let go, can feel the tension in his body loosen, can feel the trust magma-hot in his skin.
He’s nervous, though. Even though he loves Ray with the force of the sun, would surrender his entire body to Ray and already gives so much of himself to Ray every day, he can’t shake the anxiety that sits in his stomach on principle alone.
Then, he feels Ray’s hand on his waist, and his whole body responds with a shudder.
“Honey,” Ray murmurs against Mikey’s lips. “You okay?”
Mikey tries to assess himself before he answers. His stomach is a little tight but his whole body is warm and soupy, and he feels so incredibly safe. He wants this. “Yeah. ‘m okay.”
“Alright.” Ray settles both of his hands on Mikey’s hips, and the sensation makes him so breathless that the only thing he can do is lean back in to kiss Ray. What he wants, what he really wants, is to get one of Ray’s thick thighs beneath his own and grind down on it, but that’s embarrassing and would involve moving, and Mikey’s too comfortable with where he is now.
Ray responds easily to him. His mouth opens against Mikey’s and Mikey lets his tongue in, the sensation electric and lightning-bolt ripping through him, settling in his cunt. He’s throbbing, he’s hard, and he’s okay. He wants. And his body lets him.
He pulls back and rests his forehead on Ray’s. “Baby.”
“I’ve got you,” Ray says. “Are you…?”
“I wanna, I think…I wanna change the mood. I’m ready.” Mikey’s trying to not feel humiliated, because communicating about what you need is good for the soul and whatnot. And he told Ray that they both need to be verbal here. The hostility of silence is what’s kept Mikey away from this for so long, the idea that he would have to be alone with his thoughts and his sensations.
But Ray is good to him. Ray would never do that to him.
“Okay,” Ray says easily. “How do you want to be?”
Mikey thinks for a second. He likes this position, likes how in control it makes him feel to be on top of Ray like this. But he also wants to be touched, wants to be soothed, wants to be taken care of. And that’s really hard if Ray’s beneath him. He takes a deep breath, steels himself, reminds himself of a few simple facts. Today is October twenty-third. It’s not the winter. It’s fall, and you’re here with your boyfriend who loves you more than anything else in the world. You’re here. You’re safe.
“Under you?” Mikey asks quietly. stroking his thumb against Ray’s cheek and feeling his heart try to expand out of his chest when Ray closes his eyes and leans into the contact. “If that’s, uh, okay with you?”
“Of course,” Ray murmurs. There’s some awkward shuffling as Mikey pulls back from Ray’s lap, then rests on his side as Ray rolls over on top of him. Now, Mikey’s on his back and he forces a calm breath into his lungs. Breathe. “How’s this?”
“It’s okay,” Mikey immediately soothes. He doesn’t feel caged in like he feared he would when thinking about how he wanted this to happen. It’s grounding, to have Ray’s warmth and weight draped over him. “This is…good. It’s good. I like it.”
“I’m glad.” Ray leans down for a kiss and Mikey gratefully accepts, loving the tender way that Ray holds him, adores him. He’s safe. He’s so safe.
He pulls back a little bit. “Can you…” He takes a breath, trying to get his bearings. “Can…”
“Yeah?” Ray prompts. He gently brushes some of Mikey’s hair behind his ear and out of his eyes. “Talk to me.”
There’s that soft curl of shame inside of Mikey’s diaphragm, a horror at asking for what he wants. Equal participant, he reminds himself. I deserve to feel good, too. I’m allowed to ask for what I want. “Can you put your knee between my, between my legs?” His cunt jumps as he asks, and he feels out of breath.
“‘f course I can,” Ray murmurs. He shifts a little bit, and then Mikey feels hot, hot pressure against his groin.
“Nnh,” is a fairly good approximation of the noise he makes. He feels his whole body respond to Ray’s, reaching out and desperately searching for a point of contact. He links his fingers with Ray’s, feels his hand be guided above his head. Oh, that’s good. “Fuck, fuck.”
“That okay?”
“It’s perfect, can I…?” Mikey slowly rocks his hips down, and the drag of fabric and bone and heat is rich and perfect.
“Oh my god,” Ray says distantly. When Mikey glances up, he can see Ray’s chest shallowly rising and falling, his eyes wide and entranced. “Jesus, that’s so hot.”
Mikey has a brief vision of secondhand pleasure and voyeurism and silence, silence, silence and he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, tightens his grip on Ray’s hand, rolls his hips again. The resounding throb of his dick grounds him somewhat.
“You’re okay,” Ray murmurs, and Mikey wants to kill him for being psychic, for being sweet, for being so caring. “I’ve got you. You’re here. You’re here with me.”
Mikey drags his hips up the slightest bit and wants to die when he hears himself whimper. “Ray…”
“Yeah,” Ray responds in a soft breath. His forehead comes down onto Mikey’s, and he feels them exchange warm breaths, letting the steady pulse and sweat and life of Ray’s body anchor him to the bed, to this moment.
“I wanna…” Mikey struggles to keep his voice steady, and the anxiety has perked back up, on the ready to defend Mikey’s body. Relax, he commands himself. Whatever threat you think you sense is in the past. This is the safest you’ve ever been. “Can you take my pants off?”
Ray takes a shaky breath. “Okay. You want mine off, too?”
Mikey thinks about it, then slowly nods. Mirrored vulnerability. Trust exercises. He’s got this. He wants it so bad that it hurts.
Ray’s come off first, jeans slowly shucked off and stepped out of. He’s wearing a pair of light gray boxers, which aren’t doing a lot to hide how turned on he seems to be. Mikey’s stomach flips, and he feels so hot. The need to jump Ray’s bones is absolutely overwhelming.
“D’you want me to do it for you, or do you want to do it yourself?” Ray asks.
Trust exercises. Mikey reminds himself. Letting Ray undress him had been one of his biggest ones. They’ve done this dozens of times as a build-up to this moment, and Mikey’s always loved the feeling. Now’s no different. He thinks it might be a little selfish, but he wants Ray to take care of him.
“Can you?” Mikey whispers.
“Course I can.” Mikey lifts his hips up and shivers when Ray’s fingers slip under the waistband of his sweatpants, then pulls so slowly until they’re on the ground. “God. You’re so beautiful, Mikey.”
Mikey closes his eyes, and he’s aware that he might start crying soon. He wants Ray so badly, and Ray’s being so kind, so understanding. So careful.
“Need you,” Mikey says. “Touch me, please?”
“Always. Sit up for me?”
Mikey shifts until his back is against the headboard and he’s got Ray between his legs, running his hands up his thighs. The contact is so warm, and Mikey wants more, more, more. “Can I touch you through your boxers?”
Mikey nods. “Yeah, yeah—” He swallows hard. It’s getting hard to breathe. He can feel his heartbeat in his dick. “Please.”
Ray’s hand travels up, working its way across Mikey’s thigh, stroking his skin and sending the world into supernova when it finally rests over the crotch of his boxers.
Mikey’s breath audibly shudders. His whole body seizes with tension. It’s a real effort to force himself to stay calm, to remember where he is.
“Honey?”
“I’m okay.” It’s a familiar call and response in all of this, a reassurance that they’ve both got each other, that they’re here for each other. “You…I’m…”
Ray’s hand pauses, and the other comes up to Mikey’s face, cradling him. MIkey leans into the contact and tries to figure out how to phrase this. “I…I like this. I really like this. Brain’s struggling to get the memo, though.”
Ray nods. “Do you need a second?”
Inhale. Exhale. Mikey lets the locks click into place, lets his stomach roil in its anxiety. I know you’re scared, he tells himself. This used to be scary. But it doesn’t have to be, and it isn’t. This is someone you can trust with anything.
“I’m good,” he says. “Touch me? Over my boxers, for now.”
“Of course.” Ray’s thumb slowly slides over Mikey’s dick, and his body jerks. The sensation of being touched by someone else after so long is overwhelming, and the soft, thin fabric isn’t doing much to make the sensation less electric. “That good?”
“So good,” Mikey gasps, pushing his hips up. He feels one of Ray’s fingers trace the outline of his cunt and draw a little infinity symbol over his mons. “Thank you.”
“Always.” Ray’s thumb lingers against where Mikey’s entrance is. He hasn’t soaked his boxers, but they’re not exactly dry, either. “So wet. So good for me.”
Mikey’s cunt flutters, tensing around nothing, dick crying for stimulation. “Please, take my boxers off?”
“You’re sure?” Ray prompts, and his eyes are so stupidly big with love and care, and Mikey wants him so badly.
“So sure,” he responds.
“Hips up,” Ray murmurs, and Mikey raises his hips off the mattress so that Ray can pull his boxers down and discard them. Mikey lets his legs fall open and resists the urge to hide himself. “Oh my god. Mikey, you’re…”
“That hot, huh?” he jokes, but his voice is weak with want, his chest feeling shallow with how hard it is to breathe.
“Gorgeous,” Ray confirms. “Can I…can I touch you?”
“Yeah.” Mikey beckons Ray up the bed and slowly kisses him, and then feels Ray’s hand trail down his chest, through his happy trail, then—
“Here?” Ray prompts against his lips, a finger so gently stroking through Mikey’s cunt. “Can I touch you here?”
Mikey’s gonna die. He’s so turned on that it hurts and his whole body has surrendered to that warm, vulnerable feeling. “Yeah, please. Need you.”
“You’ve got me.” Ray noses into the crook of Mikey’s neck, using his thumb to apply gentle pressure to Mikey’s dick. The sensation is so odd, Ray’s hands untrained to Mikey’s body in this way. Mikey’s not even really trained to it. He always just freehands whatever works when he feels like having an orgasm and silently jerks himself to completion, then rolls his pants back on without another word. The expectations here are so different, and Ray’s so curious, and he wants Mikey. “I’m here, beautiful. Can I touch your hole?”
“Yeah.” Mikey’s voice cracks in the middle, and he’s so tuned in to how Ray’s finger trails down, gathers the slick pooling outside of his entrance.
“Jesus,” Ray whispers. “You’re so wet.”
Mikey has a brief flash of an image in his mind, of Ray pushing inside of him and filling him up to the brim, stuffing him full. It’s going to be so long before Mikey gets there, and it would probably hurt like hell if they tried now because of how tight he gets, but it’s so arousing that he needs something in him right now.
“Can you—” He gulps in air desperately. He feels like he’s never going to breathe properly again. “Please, I’m…it’s so…Ray, Ray.”
“Hey, hey.” His boyfriend’s sweet voice, reassuring and grounding and ready to respond to what he needs. What did I ever do to deserve you? “Talk to me, honey.”
Mikey feels tears in his eyes. He’s suddenly so overwhelmed by the trust he’s put into Ray, how good Ray has been in return, how much he wants this. “I’m, I’m sorry, it’s—”
“Do you need to stop?” Ray asks quietly.
Mikey vigorously shakes his head. The idea of stopping now, when his body is so alive with pleasure, when he’s uncrossing so many awful wires, when he’s at the will of his beautiful boyfriend who responds to his needs as easily as breathing, is awful. “No, no, please. I’m just…I need you.”
“You’ve got me.” Ray gently squeezes his hip. “What do you need?”
“Please finger me?” It’s barely there, whispered and ashamed, and Mikey wants to hide so badly. But he forces himself to remember that he’s allowed to ask. Ongoing, mutual, enthusiastic. He’s shaking so much that he can feel his teeth rattling. “I’m—I need you so bad.”
“Okay,” Ray murmurs. “I, could we…” He seems to chew on the words.
Mikey’s chest seizes with panic. “What? Is this…is something wrong?”
“No, no, honey.” Ray’s hand is suddenly in Mikey’s hair, softly scritching at his scalp, and the contact is delicious, sweet and warm and comforting. “I don’t want to pressure you, but…can I blow you?”
Mikey’s dick is very interested. His brain less so. He tries to roll it over in his head, consider it. He pushes away phantom memories, reminds himself that it’s October twenty-third, that the air is warm and his boyfriend is considerate and the bed beneath him is solid. He can’t lie and say he doesn’t want it, because he does. He just doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to follow through. “Um.”
“You don’t have to say yes,” Ray quickly says. “It’s whatever you want.”
“I want it,” Mikey says, leaning his head into Ray’s touch. He’s rewarded with more soft stroking of his hair. “But I just…It’s hard for me. I’m…”
“It’s okay.” Ray’s hand briefly stops against his hair and Mikey whines. “We don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.”
“I do want to,” Mikey murmurs. “And you want to. I…wanna try. But I might not be able to. And I don’t wanna freak you out.”
That’s what this all comes down to, isn’t it? The crushing fear that Mikey will have an outsized reaction that will make Ray realize that none of this is worth it. Mikey’s been getting better, has been for years, and he’s confident with himself and reasonably confident with sex. But there have been times where the terror overwhelmed him, where he simply couldn’t do it. And even though Ray’s always been there for him, he’s seen how scared Ray gets when Mikey…leaves his body. Exits stage left and doesn’t return for hours on end.
“I’ll be okay if you can’t.” Ray lets his hand cup Mikey’s face, forcing him to make brief eye contact. “I want to do it if you want me to do it. I don’t if you don’t.”
Mikey nods slowly. “I really wanna try. Just…go slow. Be, be gentle?”
“Always.” Ray slowly shuffles down and Mikey moves back a little more just to give him some room to work with. Ray gets situated between his legs and studies him. Mikey tries not to feel like some kind of specimen, with Ray eyeing him up like that, but then he realizes that Ray’s eyes are shiny. Oh, no.
“Ray?” he asks, worried he’s pushed his boyfriend too far. “Are you good?”
“Sorry, you’re just—” There are suddenly tears rolling down Ray’s cheeks. “I…thank you for trusting me, beautiful. I’m, I’m really glad that you…that I get to do this for you. That you’re letting me do this."
Mikey feels the potent press of adoration against his lungs, threatening to strangle him. He’s so in love it hurts, and he can feel his whole body tense with the effort of containing it. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”
Ray laughs, something strangled and vulnerable. “Well, that would make two of us.”
Mikey tries not to think too hard about the fact that Ray loves him so much that he’s crying because he gets to do this. Not that he finally gets to fuck Mikey (the word ‘deflower’ comes to his mind and he instantly stamps that thought out) but that Mikey’s trusting him to pleasure him. It’s so good. It’s so…freeing. Looks like you were right, he concedes to his therapist in his head.
“I love you,” Mikey says in lieu of anything flowery or sappy. He’s not good with words, and he’s even worse at trying to work through the raw emotion making it difficult to breathe. “I love you so much.”
“I love you,” Ray easily returns. “Can I use my mouth on you?”
Mikey nods. “Yeah, go for it.”
Ray rests a warm, strong hand on Mikey’s tummy, keeping his pelvis pressed to the bed, and it’s crazy unfair just how turned on that makes him feel. He rocks his hips up a little bit, then whines when Ray’s lips finally wrap around his dick.
There’s not…a lot of growth to work with. The effects of T have been remarkably fast for Mikey, and he’s loved watching the shadow of moustache form against his upper lip after not even four months. His voice has also been a pretty delightful change. But that’s also only made the changes in the downstairs department even more underwhelming. He’s still pretty small, with his cock only barely peeking out from the foreskin on a good day, and he’s still getting crazy wet.
Ray doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest though, his mouth furnace-hot and his tongue working over Mikey’s dick. It’s so incredibly good, overwhelming and tingly and so, so warm.
Mikey tries to give some audible feedback even though he’s used to being silent. “That’s so good,” he encourages, bucking his hips up a little against Ray’s face. He realizes the hand on abdomen isn’t holding him down, it’s grounding him, and Mikey could cry at how thoughtful Ray is being about this.
But it’s hard to think about anything else besides how quick, how calculated Ray’s tongue is, working under his dick and sucking hard, briefly darting down to his hole, curling around him in this enticing way that makes Mikey feel like his cunt is hotter than the fucking sun. He’s letting out these soft, gaspy noises. Not quite moans, but about as close as he can get.
“Can I—” He throws his head back and momentarily forgets what he was going to say when Ray’s thumb gathers some slick and uses it to stroke him. “Fuck, can I hold your hair?”
Ray moves off of him, and holy Jesus, his face is soaked. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course you can.”
So, Mikey gets a hand into Ray’s hair and holds on for dear life. He’s not really looking to pull, just to have something to anchor himself to. And he really does need an anchor, because Ray is skilled, and he’s relentless, and Mikey has no idea when he got this good at blowjobs but he’s not complaining in any way.
“Please,” Mikey gasps, trying really hard to not fuck Ray’s face, keenly aware of the hand pressed against his pelvis. “Oh, god.”
Then, Ray’s tongue presses right against the head of his dick, and Mikey makes a noise he’s never heard from himself before — high, whiny, cracking right in the middle. He’s so fucking sensitive.
He feels a finger nudging at his hole and slowly, Ray pushes inside of him.
It’s no secret that Mikey’s incredibly tight. And not the fun kind either that makes things feel really good. He actually just…can’t fit things inside of him. He’s never been able to get more than two fingers into his front hole, and even that feels awful and cramped. That had honestly been the easiest part of the sex conversation, in that it technically wasn’t directly related to why Mikey needed to wait so long.
And Ray’s fingers certainly aren’t as slender as Mikey’s. So, suffice to say, he feels pretty full with Ray inside of him like this.
“Oh, my god—” he gasps out. “Full, fuck, so full.”
Ray groans against his cunt, and the vibration is too good. Too good, too good, and Mikey’s so overwhelmed—
It happens. There’s a brief moment, with Mikey’s cunt full and his back pressed to the headboard, that he feels a sudden rip of cold in his chest, and he has the sensation that it hurts, that he’s in pain, and he sucks in a breath so quick that it’s dizzying. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
“Ray,” he gasps. “Ray, Ray, wait—”
Ray’s off him in a second. “Mikey?”
“I’m okay,” he reassures, resting his hand atop Ray’s on his tummy. October twenty-third. It’s the fall. You’re in bed with your boyfriend, your boyfriend who will never make you feel unsafe. That will never happen again. “I, I need you to talk to me.”
“About anything specific?” Ray asks. His finger is still inside of Mikey, and Mikey’s grateful for that. He wants to be cared for right now, wants to have every inch of him swamped in Ray.
“No, just…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Just talk to me.”
“Can I touch you?”
Mikey nods. “Yeah, wanna cum, I’m just…” He takes a deep breath, forces himself to voice his feelings because they’re not going to get anywhere if Mikey’s dishonest. “A little scared. Got kinda freaked out. Wasn’t here for a second.”
He hopes that everything he isn’t saying makes it through. You need to talk because your voice makes me feel safe. I know that you’ll never hurt me. I trust you to make me feel good. This is something I never thought I would be able to let someone see. I love you. I love you.
Ray seems to get it, because his finger slowly curls inside of Mikey, and he shudders. “I’ve been working on this song recently, y’know, the rat king one?”
“Mhm,” Mikey confirms, not trusting himself to say anything else, not with how Ray’s other hand moves down to stroke slow circles on his dick.
“And I thought I wasn’t gonna get anywhere with it. It’s been stuck for a while, maybe because I didn’t think it was my vibe? But I had a breakthrough with some of the lyrics, realized that I was trying way too hard to communicate something with it, but—” Ray’s eyes dart up to meet Mikey’s as he curls his fingers again, and there’s that half-smile there, the got you that Mikey absolutely loves. “I dunno. I think we get too lost in trying to make our art mean things to other people.”
“Yeah,” Mikey breathes.
“Because we sort of dilute our meaning based on what other people expect, and…” Ray pauses, slightly speeding up the pace on Mikey’s dick. His hips buck forward and his cunt starts to feel warm, tense, desperate. “We lose ourselves, lose part of our art when we try to translate it for other people, when we try to make them understand.”
“Ray…”
“Yeah, baby?”
“‘m close.”
“I’ve got you,” Ray husks. “D’you wanna cum just like this?”
He nods. “Please.”
“You’re okay.” Ray begins to curl his finger more quickly inside of Mikey, thumb working over his dick. “My good boy, I’ve got you.”
Mikey keens. “Ray…”
“You’re safe,” Ray murmurs. “That’s it, that’s it. You gonna cum?”
“Ray.”
The tension in his abdomen is unbearable. His whole body feels tingly and warm, his cunt alive with electricity.
“I’m here. You’ve got this.”
“Oh, oh—”
Mikey cums. He feels his orgasm rip through him, his legs jittering and his cunt pulsing around Ray’s finger, and Ray gently strokes him through it. Mikey can hear himself making this soft series of “nnh, nhh, nhh”s in times with the pulses of his legs. Ray’s so sweet through it, slowing down the pressure as the waves get less severe, then finally moving away when Mikey’s finished.
He feels so good. So sated. So loved. “Ray,” he whines out, vaguely aware of how wrecked his voice sounds. He also feels…weird. Like his body isn’t making full contact with the mattress, like his head’s stuffed full of cotton, like…
“Are you okay?”
Mikey tries to get his bearings. He blinks open his eyes and looks at Ray, whose eyebrows are furrowed and whose cock is crazy hard in his boxers.
“You want me to—” Mikey gestures to the tent in his boxers.
Ray looks down and then blushes like he genuinely didn’t realize that he had a raging boner. “I, uh, no, it’s okay. I know you don’t…I don’t want you to push yourself.”
Mikey considers insisting, but he doesn’t want to push Ray, and, yeah, he doesn’t want to push himself. He’s not sure if he’s in a place to reciprocate right now. And the fact that Ray recognizes that only serves to make Mikey feel even more emotional. “I love you.”
“I love you.” Ray hauls himself up from between Mikey’s legs and sits next to him at the headboard. “You should probably pee.”
The idea of getting up right now is overwhelming. Mikey’s suddenly exhausted, and all he really wants to do is curl up with Ray and go to sleep.
“C’mon, we’ll do it together.”
“That’s weird, man,” Mikey mumbles with a smile. He leans into Ray’s side and basks in this feeling of safety, of warmth. He’s still uncomfortably wet and very aware of how slowly Ray’s boner is flagging, but there’s something so solid about this moment. He did it. He fucking did it.
“Mikey,” Ray whines. “Seriously, you gotta pee. And probably get cleaned up.”
“Can I safeword out of this?”
Ray stiffens a little bit. “Honey…”
“I’m joking.” Mostly. “Let’s pee, yeah.”
“Do you want to run a bath?” Ray asks. “I know that usually relaxes you, and, I dunno if you’re feeling, um. Stressed, or anything.”
This man is so considerate. Mikey could die. He thinks about it for a second, but he wants the closeness of Ray’s skin, not the scalding heat of a bath. “Nah. Would rather be with you.”
Ray kisses the top of his head and slowly helps him out of bed, slowly walking with him even though Mikey’s not even feeling that weak. Normally, he prefers to go two or three times until his legs are shaking and it takes a real effort to catch his breath. But he’s not gonna put the burden of that on Ray, and this is a good place to start.
Mikey unceremoniously takes a piss with his whole body slouched and elbows digging into his knees while Ray washes his mouth out, and then they switch as Mikey washes his hands and looks at himself. His eyes are a little shiny and hazy, and he kinda hates the way his reflection looks, and then—
The mirror. He remembers why they took that stupid mirror out of the room and he jerks his head away, closing his eyes. Old images rise up, hostile and quickly moving in on him. He reminds himself that it’s never going to happen to him, that Ray’s never going to do that to him, that he’s safe here.
His chest starts to flail. He can’t breathe.
“Mikey? You okay?”
“Can you—” He chokes on the words for a second, feeling the phantom sensation on his face, a heat and skin and silence. Breathe, he commands himself, and he pictures a feather floating in front of him, his breathing keeping it steady. “Can you hold me?”
Ray’s arms wrap around him. Mikey holds onto him for dear life, face pressed into a band tee that’s falling apart with how much Ray has worn it. Ray begins to murmur sweet reassurances, telling Mikey that I'm here and I've got you and That's it, you're okay.
You’re here. Mikey hates those stupid grounding exercises about things you can see or whatever, but he forces himself to seek out Ray — the way that his chest slowly rises and falls, the strong and steady beat of his heart, the slow stroke of his hand up and down the length of Mikey’s spine. Fabric and skin and warmth. It’s October twenty-third. It’s the fall. You’re here with your boyfriend who you love to the end of the earth. It’s been seven years since you were hurt.
“Thank you,” Mikey says, even though what he wants to say is “I’m sorry.” He feels the phantom sensations fall away, the ghosts of his past scared away by Ray’s love and devotion. There’s a hand on the back of his head, stroking his hair. He’s safe here. “I, it wasn’t…I shouldn’t have looked in the mirror.”
Ray stills. He hasn’t asked about any specific details, hasn’t pried into what happened that gave way to certain requests (lights on, Mikey had to be able to see Ray’s face at all times, no mirror in the room, they had to turn the heat up). But Ray’s not an idiot, and has probably been able to construct what happened out of negative space. Mikey feels bad that he can’t explain what happened, that he wants to explain what happened, that he would never force the images of what happened onto Ray. I’m sorry, he thinks. It’s not as bad as you’re thinking. I’m okay, I promise.
“Are you…” Ray pauses. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“I wanna lay down.” Mikey feels a little shaky, and he’s exhausted, and it’s a lot harder to feel disconnected from reality if you’re asleep. “Tired. ‘m okay, though. It was just…a lot.”
Their nighttime routine happens in relative quiet. Mikey pulls on a clean pair of boxers and peels out of his compression tank while Ray flips the comforter, and Mikey turns out the lights and switches on the white noise machine while Ray changes into a pair of pyjama pants and puts on a new shirt. Mikey’s heart aches as he climbs into bed with his boyfriend and burrows into his chest. I love you.
“Thank you,” Ray says into the darkness. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”
“Thanks for being so…” Mikey feels for the word. He has no idea if there’s a word that’ll ever capture what Ray means to him. “Good to me.”
“Always,” Ray murmurs. “You deserve it.”
Mikey feels tears start to well up in his eyes. He presses further into Ray, listens to his fractal heartbeat, lets himself sink. He knows he’ll be safe when he sleeps, and when they wake up together in the morning, they’ll still have each other. And the certainty of Ray’s love is what lulls him to sleep.