Now I'm Ready (To Feel Your Hand)

[tabbys_fics]

Now I'm Ready (To Feel Your Hand)
Generation Kill || Brad Colbert/Ray Person/Walt Hasser || Adult || ~4100 words
written for swear_jar
Originally posted February 20 2011 at this post, and archived A03.
Disclaimer: I am completely full of shit; I come from a family of liars and proudly carry on that tradition. Uh, this is a work of fiction based on portrayals of actors and meant to imply nothing about any real people. Meant purely for fun and not for profit. I own nothing of the characters or the world within.
Summary: Ray-in-a-collar fic. Shamelessly self-indulgent porn, combination of what happens when Ray wears his collar out in public and stories get back to Brad and Walt, and Brad and Walt trying to get Ray to break the "kissing is against the rules" bullshit he started in Iraq. Title comes from The Stooges' I Wanna Be Your Dog.

A/N: Part of the fucked up Ray 'verse that lives in my head. Encouraged shamelessly by swear_jar, so I blame her. Written in bits and pieces on my blackberry. Beta'd by the always-awesome asimplechord. Much thanks to the two of them as well as ltlredhairdgirl and harriet_vane for cheerleading. Title comes from The Stooges' I Wanna Be Your Dog. Any remaining mistakes are mine; feel free to point them out.

Ray thinks the collar is a joke, a gag gift of sorts, but once he realizes it's not, he wants to wear it everywhere. Only he's not wearing button up shirts if he doesn't have to, and the collars on his t-shirts don't come up high enough to hide it, so he can't. He thinks about getting a tag for it, something that says "property of BC and WH," but Brad and Walt both veto that idea. He settles for wearing it around the house. He likes the feel of it, the slight pressure, the constant reminder that he's a kept man. And fuck if he'd ever admit it out loud, but he likes being a kept man.

He's gotten comfortable in it, and even if Brad sometimes rolls his eyes when he comes home to find Ray dancing around the kitchen making dinner in nothing but loose shorts and the collar, even if Walt laughs at him when he teases Ray that it was actually meant as a joke or that he needs to keep the kink in the bedroom... well, even then, Ray's okay with it.

He realizes he's maybe gotten a little too comfortable when he comes home from a run on the beach and glances in the mirror as he strips for the shower to see the collar in plain view. Oops. That was probably why Christeson had been looking at him so strangely and Stafford had been smirking when he ran into them on the beach. At the time, he thought he had a hickey or something - Brad has a thing about biting - but now that he thinks about it... yeah, it was totally the collar.

Ray spends an obscene amount of time in the shower. Hot water isn't something he plans on ever taking for granted again. He's thinking about a nap as he towels off; naps in a real bed shouldn't be taken for granted either and he only has a few days left of freedom before the semester starts. But when he walks in the bedroom, he stops short in the doorway because Brad and Walt are sprawled out in their big bed. He has a moment to wonder why they're home early, but doesn't dwell on it because they are and he's more than happy to take advantage of that.

He's pretty sure they know he's there, but they don't stop making out. And really, that's what it is, like they're teenagers with all the time in the world, all deep kisses and wandering hands and soft noises that blend in with the whirring of the ceiling fan. Ray wants nothing more than to crawl up in the bed between them, steal all the attention for himself, but he's still sticking to his self-imposed rule that kissing isn't allowed. His arguments in Iraq - that kissing took up too much time when they could be doing other things, or that kissing was more likely to leave signs of what they had been doing - are no longer valid. Since they've been stateside and continuing their... whatever their relationship is classified as, it's mostly stubbornness holding him back.

Brad and Walt know his feelings on the subject and seem determined to show him what he's missing. Not that it isn't hot to watch the two of them - if he wasn't so invested in keeping the two of them for himself, he might consider buying a camera and capitalizing on that hotness - but Ray really would rather he be involved in whatever is going on. He's more of a hands-on kinda guy.

He secures his towel around his waist and clears his throat, loudly, to get their attention.

Neither Brad nor Walt look up, and Ray taps his foot impatiently. He's the middle man here; he's the one who dragged Walt into this thing between himself and Brad. They're not supposed to be leaving him out.

Brad's doing something with his teeth and tongue that has Walt panting his name in short breaths, but his full attention is on Ray as soon as he takes a step toward the bed.

"No." The stern tone is accompanied by a glare that immediately makes Ray want to disobey. He likes to see how far he can push Brad, even though he knows it's a dangerous game. Like teasing a wild animal. "You stand there until I say."

Ray crosses his arms across his chest, biting his tongue to keep the snarky words inside his mouth. Who the fuck told Brad he got to be in charge? Bastard.

"And no pouting, princess." Brad's not even paying attention to him anymore. He's focused on Walt, making him squirm on the bed and drawing out these half whispered, half moaned unintelligible words that go straight to Ray's dick.

Ray knows he could jerk off. He's got his own private porn show going on, live and in stereo. He doesn't require Brad Colbert's magical touch or Walt Hasser's mystical tongue in order to be satisfied. Fuck them.

But he also knows if he touches his dick, Brad's gonna give him another bitch glare and make him wait even longer. Fuck.

Ray drops his hands to his sides and clenches his fists, then sucks his lower lip in beneath his teeth. He won't be surprised if he tastes blood before this is over. Keeping quiet isn't exactly his standard MO, but he knows the rules. He may not like them, and Brad may not have spelled them out, but Ray knows. He's not fucking retarded, all evidence to the contrary.

The way they're laying, Ray's got a perfect view of the art on Brad's back. Walt's running his fingers over the lines, like he knows them as well as Ray does. By now he might. It's not a secret that Brad likes it when they trace over it with the tips of their fingers or the flat of their tongues. Ray told him once that he could taste the colors of the ink there, but he may have been high at the time. Still, Brad's skin tastes different than Walt's, and Ray can blame that on the ink if he wants.

If anyone ever wants to make a bet on whether or not Hasser has a tattoo, Ray would be all over than shit. He's done his research; he knows there's no ink on Walt's body unless he's fallen asleep on the grocery list.

Brad's got his leg between Walt's, pressing up against his balls, and a hand wrapped around Walt's cock, stroking it. It's obvious Walt's enjoying it, but it's too slow, too light a touch, and even with whatever sweet bullshit Brad is whispering between his stupid fucking kisses, Ray knows it's not enough to get Walt off.

Ray means to be quiet, he really does, but fuck, he doesn't have all afternoon to wait for someone else to have all the fun. "That's not gonna work, Brad."

Brad pulls away slowly and turns toward Ray. He looks like he's amused by the interruption. Fuck that; Ray's not his playtoy. Ray puts on his best scowl and crosses his arms across his chest again.

"He's not gonna come like that." There's an edge of petulance to his voice that he can't quiet temper.

Brad doesn't alter the slide of his hand as he glances down at Walt, who has an expression of amusement that mirrors Brad's.

"You hear that, Walt? Ray thinks I can't make you come." Brad tightens his grip and twists his hand just a little on the next upstroke, causing Walt's hips to arch off the bed just a bit as he presses his head back against the pillows. Ray can see the flash of his tongue as he swipes it along his lower lip, and Ray has to sink his teeth back into his own lip as he shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Fucking cockteases.

"You think what I'm doing is inadequate?" Brad's voice is too smooth, too calm, and normally Ray likes to hear that tone, but not today.

"You want me to stop?" Brad twists his hand again, and Walt's answer is a grunt that doesn't sound like yes but sure as hell isn't no.

"Oh, fuck you both!" Ray's done with their bullshit game.

His dramatic exit - back into the bathroom - is ruined by the legendary speed and stealth of the Iceman. Ray's not sure how Brad managed to move from the bed to directly in his path in less than a second, but he's not gonna rule out supernatural forces. He's had a sneaking suspicion for a while that Brad's at least part Veela.

Brad's got one hand fisted in the towel that's still secured around Ray's midsection, but it's not close enough to Ray's dick to warrant attention. The other hand, though...

Brad's got two fingers curled under the collar, pressure barely this side of too much, and the pad of his thumb is on the bottom of Ray's chin, pushing his face up so he's forced to meet Brad's eyes.

"Walt and I heard an interesting story today, Ray."

Ray can only imagine the kind of shit Stafford was talking. He can't be upset by it; they're like family. A fucked up family that has certain incestuous tendencies, but a family nonetheless. He would've done the same thing if the roles had been reversed.

"Word on the street is that our dear little Ray-Ray is living some kinky submissive lifestyle, and loving it."

Ray feels his cheeks heat up at the word submissive, but more out of irritation than anything else. "I'm not fucking submissive!" He recognizes the lie, but it's a technicality. Just because he likes his collar, just because he maybe sometimes likes it when Brad or Walt is in control, that doesn't make it a lifestyle.

Ray tries to step away but Brad's hands are still there, until suddenly they're not. Ray stumbles a little, but is quick to recover. Brad's just studying him, like he can unlock all of Ray's secrets if he stares long enough, though his expression is clearly schooled to keep Ray from reading any in return.

Ray reaches up to the collar, fumbling with it and muttering about Brad being an asshole, when Brad smacks his hands away and pushes him toward the bed.

"Hands and knees."

Ray lets the towel fall to the floor before he crawls up on the bed - pissed off or not, he's gonna demand at least one orgasm happen before he leaves this room - and glares when Walt, who's sitting up against the headboard now, tugs at the collar to pull Ray closer.

"I'm not!" Ray insists.

"Of course not." Walt's placating tone is nothing less than condescending. Fucking Walt. "You are, however, a dumbass," he leans in to press his lips against Ray's, quick and chaste, and adds, "but at least you're our dumbass."

Ray's eyes track Walt as he pulls away, the deliberate way he licks his lips, the smirk that follows. He thinks about that first accidental kiss in Iraq, wonders how it'd be different to kiss Walt here, now. He wants to say something snarky that'll prompt Walt to kiss him to shut him up, get what he wants without asking for it, but he doesn't get the chance.

Ray doesn't know what he was expecting from Brad, but he honest-to-God yelps when Brad's hand comes down against his ass. It's more the surprise than the sting, and Ray glares at Brad over his shoulder.

Brad just arches his eyebrows at Ray, a silent question, and raises his hand again.

Fuck.

The second smack is harder than the first, and Ray bets there's a red mark on his ass that's a perfect match for Brad's hand. It's a wonder there's enough blood left to rush to his cheeks as feels his face flush with a combination of embarrassment and anticipation, but it does and he lets his head drop down.

He's at eye level with Walt's stomach, all hot, smooth skin. Walt's built more for cuddling than Brad is, but his muscles are no less defined. What Ray likes best, though, are the marks on his hips, some more faded than others, different sizes and places, all reminders of Ray and Brad's hands.

There are other marks, other traces of their not-so-careful play on one another, but Ray can't see them from here. It's a wonder no one else has noticed them, called one of them out about them. Ray's not the only one with a kinky lifestyle.

Walt's not quite close enough for Ray to touch him, and Ray would normally demand he rectify that, but apparently Ray's not calling the shots.

Ray can't stop the startled "ah!" when Brad slaps him again. Brad doesn't lift his hand back up but squeezes his ass cheek instead, and Ray feels the mattress shift beneath him as Brad moves to lean over his back. He's close enough that Ray can feel the warmth of his skin, the tingle of being so close but not quite close enough, and his breath brushes against Ray's cheek when he starts talking.

"I should have known you'd like that." The fondness in his tone is something Ray would've missed if he didn't know Brad so well. "Is that something we need to try one night? You wanna get spanked before you get fucked?"

Ray doesn't mean to dignify that when an answer, holds back the whimper he feels building. He's not a puppy, not Brad Colbert's fucking lapdog, but he has a feeling Brad knows how he feels about the subject, because he laughs just a little.

"How 'bout this? How about you suck Walt off, and don't swallow it all? Hold it for me."

He's gone before Ray has a chance to process the words, but holy fuck. Ray doesn't know where Brad gets this shit. Maybe he and Walt need to set up parental controls on Brad's laptop, because all that internet porn seems to be getting to him.

Doesn't mean he's not gonna do what Brad says.

Walt's scooted down on the bed to give Ray better access to his body, and he's running a hand over the back of Ray's head. Ray's hair is longer than regulation, but not long enough for Walt to get a grip on. Ray wonders for a moment about the what if, if Walt would twist his fingers through Ray's hair and force him where he wanted him to go. That line of thinking is a road to trouble, though, and Ray pushes it aside as he licks the head of Walt's cock.

Ray has no idea what Brad's doing, and he doesn't want to, like, choke on Walt's dick or accidentally bite him or something, so he runs his tongue along the shaft instead, getting a taste of precome and sweat and Walt.

Brad's hands are on his ass, spreading his cheeks, and that's familiar territory until Ray feels a rush of cool air, like someone breathing out against his skin, and then Brad's tongue is pressing smooth and slow up his crack.

Ray does whimper at that, and turns his head to press small kisses up the side of Walt's dick, which is about all he can manage in between the "ah ah ah" sounds he's making when Brad does it again, and again. He's vaguely aware that one of them is laughing at him, but that's okay because they don't do - haven't done - this and fuck.

He bites down on Walt's thigh to stifle a scream when Brad pushes the tip of his tongue in.

"Ouch, fucker!" Walt smacks him in the back of the head, and Ray pulls back, a little dazed.

"Do that again."

Walt smacks him again and Brad laughs.

"No, no," Ray says, a little breathless as he runs his tongue over Walt's abused flesh. He can already see the indentation of his teeth, the bruise starting to form. He kinda likes it. "Brad."

Brad nips lightly at Ray's ass cheek, and Ray swears he can feel the smirk there. Cocky bastard. "Why don't you just focus on what you're supposed to be doing up there?"

Ray resists the urge to bite Walt again even as he keeps himself from pressing back against Brad's hands, against his tongue. He adjusts so he can wrap his lips around Walt's dick, swallow him down. The tiny noises Brad's drawing out with the quick flicks of his tongue transition to an all-out moan when Brad slides two slicked up fingers in beside it.

Ray's body is shaking, from the strain of holding himself up, from the way Brad's stretching him open with his fingers and tongue, from the power he has over Walt using just the slick slide of his mouth. Brad's motions speed up, spurring Ray to do the same as he works over Walt's cock. Walt's got one hand stroking up to meet Ray's lips as he goes down; his other hand is running over Ray - across his shoulders, along the edge of the collar, wherever he can reach. Ray doesn't know which of them is making the noises that are filling up the room, but it's the best porn soundtrack he's ever heard.

Ray realizes the rough way Walt's saying his name is a warning, and he's swallowing before he remembers Brad's words. He's a little dumbfounded at how exactly he's supposed to go about this, but he manages, mostly, though he feels a bit like a chipmunk with his cheeks puffed out.

He pulls off and glances at Walt. He's pretty sure he looks ridiculous, but Walt's looking at him like he's something special.

"You," Walt says, swiping a thumb across the corner of Ray's mouth, "are so fucking hot." He sucks the bit of his own come off the tip of his thumb, and Ray thinks that Walt should see himself before he makes judgments on hot.

Ray is sufficiently distracted enough to miss the fact that Brad's hands have moved from his ass to his sides and his cock has taken their place. When Brad pushes in, there's a moment where Ray's afraid he's going to choke or spit or fucking die, but he's determined not to die with a hard on.

Ray's also not quite ready to come yet, so he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to keep his breaths even as Brad slides in. There's barely enough time to adjust to the burn and stretch, the full feeling, before Brad shifts his weight so he's settled more on his knees and can pull Ray into his lap. There's a steadying hand tight on Ray's hip, holding him in place, and the other wrapped loosely around his throat as he urges Ray up until his back is against Brad's chest. Ray wouldn't say it's comfortable, wants to wiggle for a less awkward position, but Brad's cupping his chin and turning Ray's face to his.

Ray maybe forgets to breathe when Brad licks his way into Ray's mouth, taking Walt's come for himself in a way that is simultaneously the epitome of so fucking weird and mind-stutteringly hot.

Brad backs off just enough to murmur against Ray's lips, "This isn't against your no kissing rule, is it?"

Ray can hear the smirk in Brad's words, but he doesn't give a fuck whether this is against the rules or not. He chases Brad's tongue with his own and decides maybe he needs to rethink his own boundaries.

Walt seems to have decided he doesn't like being left out of the mix either, because he's kneeling up on the bed beside them, one hand jerking at Ray's cock with a firm but unsteady rhythm. He doesn't try to jump in on the kiss, but is leaving distractingly small biting half-kisses along Ray's shoulder.

When Brad's had his fill and Ray can no longer distinguish the tastes of Brad and Walt on his tongue, he releases his grip on Ray's face and slides his hand down to run his fingers along the edge of the collar.

"I like the idea of you wearing it. Like everyone else seeing that you're taken, they can't have you." Brad pauses to lick a long, slow stripe up the side of Ray's neck, voice dropping even lower. "But you're so fucking hot like this, I'd rather they not look at all."

Oh. Oh! Ray would usually have something to say in response to that, but Brad's still talking, nonsense words about Ray being hot that he wishes he was in the proper state of mind to appreciate, and Walt's moved to pressing heavy, wet kisses against his skin, and he's not sure whose hands are where but it doesn't matter because it all feels good and the one wrapped around his dick is hot and perfect.

Ray tries to keep a steadying grasp on Brad's thigh beneath him, his other hand scrambling to touch whatever parts of Walt he can reach. He feels unsteady, like he needs them to ground him, and he's not sure about the words that are tangling themselves together as they trip off his tongue, and he's so so close but not sure he wants this to end. When one of the hands slides up his stomach to twist at his nipple, he settles on Walt's name, his voice sounding broken and close to begging.

He might resort to begging if he has to.

Walt knows what he wants, though, and the way he kisses is better than Ray remembers - rough and demanding and taking. Ray whimpers against his mouth and Walt laps up the sounds even as he continues to draw them out with his hands on Ray's body.

Ray's orgasm is almost a surprise, and Walt pushes close to him, pressing Ray tight between himself and Brad. Ray rests his head on Walt's shoulder as he comes down, and he's vaguely aware of the ache starting to spread in his legs, the sticky sweaty mess, the glaringly obvious fact that Brad hasn't gotten off yet.

As soon as Walt moves away, Brad executes one of his show-offy moves of awesome and has Ray facedown on the bed. Ray's off balance, mentally and physically, bunching up the sheets between his fingers and moaning Brad's name into the mattress. One of Brad's hands is resting hot and heavy against Ray's collar, holding him down as he fucks him in earnest, hard and fast and holyshit.

It only takes a handful of deep thrusts before Brad goes still above him, then drops his weight down on Ray's back. Ray muffles a laugh as Brad places one of his trademark kisses on the back of his neck. Fucking Brad.

Ray doesn't complain about how heavy Brad is, even though he's having a hard time catching his breath, because he kinda enjoys Brad holding him down like this. Not that he'd ever tell anyone that.

When Brad pushes himself off of Ray and off the bed, Ray lets himself relax even more into the mattress. The breeze from the fan is chilly across his sweaty back, and he shivers. Walt laughs as he stretches out beside Ray and runs a hand down his back.

"Cold?"

Ray turns on his side so he can grin at Walt. "I'm sure you'll warm me up."

Walt's smug expression would be cute if it wasn't directed at Ray. "Does this mean you wanna break your own rules?"

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me."

Walt complies, and Ray lets himself enjoy it. Really, he should have given in to this whole thing forever ago, and he's got some lost time to make up for. He mentally clears his calendar for the rest of the day, content to lay right here and swap lazy kisses with Walt the rest of the afternoon, with some Brad thrown in and maybe a timeout for beer and pizza.

The bed shakes when Brad comes back, crawls up on the other side of Walt. As much as Ray doesn't want to stop, there's something he's gotta say, so he pulls away from Walt with a satisfied smile.

"You're jealous," Ray teases.

"Fuck you." It's not a denial, and Brad doesn't look at him.

He is so jealous. Ha.

"Just don't wear the collar outside anymore, huh?" Walt says, using said collar to pull Ray back into a kiss.

Ray is totally on board with that plan, although he may be tempted to slip if the consequences are like this.