Work Text:
The afternoon was calm, bathed in the golden light seeping through the curtains. The sun painted the living room with a warm, gentle glow. On the couch, Sand had a guitar resting on his lap. His fingers moved slowly over the strings, drawing out melancholic melodies that vibrated through the air. His hair fell messily across his forehead and, with that mix of concentration and serenity on his face, he looked like a living painting.
Ray, sitting beside him, was at first distracted by his phone. But little by little, the sound of the guitar stole his attention. He glanced up, watching him from the corner of his eye. And suddenly, something lit up inside him. Sand wasn’t just playing; it was like he was illuminating the entire room with every note.
Without thinking too much, Ray unlocked the camera and started snapping pictures. To others it might have seemed ridiculous, but to him every image was a memory: a fragment of their life together. And through the lens, he saw Sand in a new way—not just handsome, but vulnerable, completely lost in what he loved.
—You’re so beautiful… —he murmured, certain Sand wouldn’t hear him.
But Sand lifted his gaze. The melody broke off and silence filled the room.
—What did you say? —he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ray smiled, his heart racing.
—I said you’re the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen.
Sand tilted his head, a mischievous smile curling his lips.
—Are you messing with me?
—Not a chance. —Ray put the phone aside—. Even when you’re not playing, you look amazing. The way you focus, the way you lose yourself in it… it drives me crazy.
A flush crept up Sand’s cheeks, and he tried to hide it by strumming a simple chord.
—You’re gonna make me embarrassed, you know that?
Ray watched him in silence for a moment, then spoke softly:
—You’re what I choose every single day, Sand. There’s no comparison. What I feel for you has nothing to do with being perfect.
The words fell slowly, so sincere that Sand felt a warmth spread through his chest. The vulnerability in his eyes softened, and he let out a nervous laugh.
—You’re an idiot… but thank you.
Ray laughed too and raised his phone again, aiming it straight at him.
—Well, this idiot is going to make you an album. I’ll call it “Sand’s Treasure.”
—God… that name sounds cheesy as hell. —Sand strummed again, this time with a more playful rhythm.
—How about “Happiness on the Couch”? —
—Worse. —Ray burst out laughing—. But “The Guitar and Its Creation” actually sounds kind of poetic.
—You know I’m not poetic at all. —Sand laughed, though his eyes were shining—. I’m just a guy with a guitar.
—A very talented guy. —Ray cut him off, holding his gaze this time.
Sand swallowed, trying to regain his focus. But the notes coming out of his guitar sounded different, lighter, as if they carried Ray’s smile within them.
Ray leaned closer, letting his shoulder brush against Sand’s, and rested his head on him. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of wood and fresh cologne.
—One day, when we’re old, I want to look at these pictures and remember this exact moment —he whispered.
Sand stayed quiet for a while, playing slow chords. Then he tilted his head and brushed his lips against Ray’s forehead.
—Then burn it into your memory. Because I want to remember it too.
The guitar kept vibrating between them, like a secret language only the two of them understood. And in the warmth of it all, the certainty was clear: every note, every laugh, every photo was a piece of eternity.
The guitar still hummed with soft chords, but Ray wasn’t listening to the music anymore. With his head resting on Sand’s shoulder, breathing in the cologne and wood, something else began to spark inside his body. His fingers slid down Sand’s thigh—just a light touch, but enough to make him slow down the melody.
—Ray… —Sand murmured, sensing the deliberate caress.
—I never understood that. —Ray shrugged and leaned closer—. In my world, compliments shouldn’t be something to blush over. And especially not with you… you look perfect.
Sand lowered his gaze, as if those words weighed more than any melody.
—Sometimes I don’t feel that way. I compare myself to others, and I end up thinking that I… don’t measure up.
—Mm? —Ray lifted his gaze with a mischievous smile, the one he always wore when he was up to something. —Keep playing. I want to play with you.
Before Sand could answer, Ray set the guitar aside, careful not to knock it, and climbed onto his lap. The couch creaked with the movement. Sand was pinned against the backrest, his breath caught, watching as Ray straddled him.
—See? —Ray whispered, lowering his face until their lips brushed—. You sound perfect here too.
He didn’t wait for a response. He kissed him hungrily, sucking on his bottom lip, soaking it with spit. Sand grabbed him by the waist, and his hands quickly slid down to squeeze his ass hard.
Ray moaned into his mouth, and when he rolled his hips he felt Sand’s growing hardness pressing right between his legs.
—Already hard… —he teased, his voice rough.
—And what the hell did you expect, climbing on top of me like this? —Sand bit his neck, leaving red marks while rubbing his erection against Ray’s pants.
The heat in the room wasn’t from the sun anymore, but from their bodies grinding together, gasping like they’d been waiting all afternoon for this. Ray shoved his hands under Sand’s shirt, yanking it up and exposing his tense, hot abs. He leaned down and licked across his chest, slowly moving lower.
Sand arched his back, breathing hard.
—Son of a bitch… you’re gonna drive me insane.
Ray grinned against his skin, moving lower, leaving wet kisses from his chest down to his stomach. When he reached the edge of Sand’s pants, he looked up: Sand’s eyes were locked on him, burning, and that stare made him feel completely in control. Slowly, he undid the button, pulled the zipper down, and freed his cock.
—Just look at you… —Ray murmured, stroking the thick shaft with his fingers and playing with his heavy balls, squeezing them gently—. Always so big, Sand…
The groan that tore from Sand’s throat was low and guttural. He threw his head back against the couch, closing his eyes as Ray dragged his tongue from the base, licking every vein slowly, up to the tip, savoring it like candy.
—Fuck… —Sand gasped, his body arching.
Ray smirked against the hard flesh and took him all the way into his mouth, sinking down until his throat burned. He sucked hard, messy, letting drool spill down his chin and slick Sand’s cock. Every time he pulled back it was only to spit on it, spreading the saliva with his hand before swallowing him again, deeper, down to the root.
With his other hand, he pushed his pajama pants down to his knees and wrapped his fingers around his own cock, hot and slick against his palm, jerking himself off in the same rhythm he was swallowing Sand’s.
—Fuck, Ray… you’re gonna kill me —Sand growled, his voice ragged, gripping his hair to set the pace. He didn’t take long before thrusting, fucking his mouth hard, losing himself in the wet heat that wrapped around him.
Ray’s moans were muffled, but the glint in his eyes gave him away: he was loving every second. The couch creaked under them, the air thick with moans and wet, obscene sounds.
Sand was close; he could feel it running through his whole body, burning from his stomach down to his legs.
—I’m gonna cum… —he warned, his voice trembling.
Ray didn’t move away. On the contrary, he looked up at him with that shameless expression, squeezing his balls firmly while swallowing him whole.
The orgasm hit without restraint. Sand let out a guttural growl, holding his head down as he spilled hot, thick loads into his throat. Ray swallowed as much as he could, but some spilled over, running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and staining his shirt.
—Look at you… —Sand panted, still breathless—. All messy with my cum… fuck, Ray…
He grabbed his face and kissed him anyway, filthy-mouthed, mixing the salty taste between their lips. Ray laughed into the kiss, his breathing uneven.
Ray laughed against his lips, breathless. His chin and shirt were drenched, but he didn’t care. Sand stared at him, chest still heaving, and instead of pushing him away, he pulled him into a tight embrace.
—You’re a fucking mess… —he murmured, stroking his hair gently—. My favorite mess.
Ray pressed his forehead to his neck, smiling tiredly, letting Sand’s racing heartbeat surround him.
—Get used to it, because I plan on staying like this every chance I get.
Sand chuckled softly, kissing his temple.
—You don’t know how much I love you, Ray.
Ray lifted his gaze, his eyes still shining, and gave him a slow kiss, softer than all the ones before. There was no rush, no hunger—only affection.
—I love you too, Sand. So much.
The couch smelled of sweat, sex, and heat, but between them there was no discomfort—only that strange peace that comes after giving yourself completely. Sand cradled him against his chest, stroking his back as if to lull him, and Ray closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of being protected, of being loved.
For a moment, the forgotten guitar in the corner seemed to become part of the scene: a silent note in the air, making the moment feel as intimate as it was eternal.