•••

Heat and the rough slip-slide of raw silk undulated against Ray's back. He let his head fall back to drape against the shoulder he knew would be waiting. Latex pulled, taut, muting the sensation of a body behind him. Fingers skidded across his abdomen, catching-releasing across the surface. Nails dug in, hips thrust and Ray suddenly remembered why he liked his leather jeans so much.

And the wet heat of the tongue tracing his ear was nothing to sniff at.

/Feel no shame for what you are/

Ray turned, eyes closed, knowing that he was smearing silver across this partner's skin. Warm brown hair, artfully chopped, big little-boy eyes and a crying mouth. Hungry face. Please-Sir-can-I-have-some-more face. Man's body. Racer's body, hard, ropy. Pianist's fingers. Strong, knew what to do with a half-naked body... and what not to do in public. Ray wondered what he could do behind a convenient door.

/Stand absolved behind your electric chair/

A hand slid up, fingers testing his collar. Found it acceptable. Paint smeared along his jaw, and now he had pale streaks in his hair but who cared? This guy never blinked and Ray couldn't look away. He wondered if the guy tasted good with strawberries.

/Dancing/

And then Ray was ready to leave. This one would do nicely. He caught the wandering hand, tugged. The eyes smiled, winked. They stumbled through the club and outside. A hand on his collar again and the S-curve of Ray's back twisted like a snake, sinking to slither back. He nodded towards the goat and that hand urged him forward.

/Falling/

"John."

Ray flailed, hands scrabbling across the sheets searching in vain for purchase. Evil fingers twisted, again. "Say it," the voice demanded.

"Fuck me," Ray growled, legs spread, hips canted.

"Say it, Ray." Blunt pressure. Twitch and more pressure. Steel fingers holding him back.

"Fuck me," He repeated, undeterred.

A snap and then the glitter of steel. Chain pulling his collar. Up and back, caught. Looped on the headboard. No escape. "Say it."

"Make me."

And Ray got what he wanted. All at once, split-filled-broken. Beautiful pressure opening-closing. Thrust and slide. Glide. He bucked up, meeting the next thrust.

/Throwing light/

Teeth, tongue. Lips on his. The taste of disinfectant embedded in skin. Seemed native to "John."

Was what he was waiting to hear and Ray knew it. The ride began.

Ray screamed.

/As you are now in your heart/

Sunlight usually hurt after a night like that. Ray didn't dare try to reason why it didn't this morning. Maybe it was the lotion that John was applying to his slightly irritated skin. Latex did that to him sometimes. Damned considerate doctor he'd picked up.

Fingers on his collar. Possessive hands. Lips pressed just at the buckle.

This.

This he liked. Wanted.

Ray smiled.

/Fall/