Archive of Our Own

“Alright, what do we want to play first?”

To celebrate the end of their second semester, Ray and his gang have retreated an hour outside of Bangkok to Bang Saen. The plan is simple: spend the weekend swimming, drinking, and just hanging out at April's parents’ moderate villa by the beach.

Ray sits cross-legged on the floor between Mew and Cheum. Though he probably barely passed his exams, he never turns down an excuse to party. He sips a glass of Sangsom mixed with soda water and lets the stress of the past few days leave his body.

“I say truth or dare,” Boston crows. He wiggles his brows. “No back-outs though. You guys were boring last time.”

“Maybe let's ease into it,” Mew suggests. “We could do karaoke to start. That could be fun.”

“Or beer pong. April, you still have that table out back, right?”

April raises a hand to shush the group. “Hang on, guys. We're still missing one more person.”

“Wait, aren't we all here?” Ray takes a mental head-count of himself, Cheum, April, Nick, Boston, Top, and Mew. Perpetually single, he has no one to pair off with, but the place is big enough that he can crash in one of the spare rooms alone.

“Almost.” As April answers, a motorcycle roars up the driveway outside, then sputters to a stop near the front steps. “Ah. That must be him.”

“Him who?”

The door opens as if on cue, and in walks a tall, slightly disheveled man in a black muscle tank and baggy blue jeans. He places his bike helmet onto the shoe rack and toes off his boots. “Hey guys.”

“Yok!”

Ray should have known. Ever since he helped April with a film club collab a few months back, the outspoken art student has been a semi-permanent fixture of Ray's ragtag group. Sometimes he's too busy to hang out—he belongs to some anarchist crew that does petty-crime protests, and he also teaches painting classes for extra money. But when he does join the YOLO gang, he never misses an opportunity to needle Ray.

And it makes his blood boil.

Tonight is no different. Yok says polite hellos to everyone before settling next to him, knees poking through the holes in his beat-up denim.

“Hi, Ray.” 

His grin is stupid big, his teeth too straight for someone who gets into a lot of fights. Ray barely spares him a glance, and instead responds with a shrug-grunt combo he used to reserve for Top. 

Yok is undeterred. “Saw your fancy Mercedes parked out there. How many kilometres per litre do you get with that thing? Five?”

His lashes flutter. They're long, and his dumb deer eyes are wide, sparkling with mirth. He's enjoying this way too much.

“Enough to kill a whole forest of trees,” Ray replies listlessly, because he knows Yok expects the pushback. It's no fun otherwise. “Better than polluting with noise like that piece of shit you drive.”

Yok smiles. “You're just jealous no one ever taught you how,” he replies. He leans in close, smelling harshly of diesel and cigarette smoke. It mingles with an earthy scent that has Ray's nostrils twitching. 

“I could give you a ride sometime.” He blinks, his full lips set in a pout that's somehow also a smirk. “Would you like that?”

Ray swallows hard. “No.”

“Mn. Offer's always on me.” Yok pats his thigh, warm and trembling beneath his rough painter's hands. He grins again and it's sugar-sweet. “You never know. I might change your mind.”

April clears her throat. “Okay, we're all here now. Yay! Let's start with a toast.” She quickly tosses Yok a can of Leo so he can join in. He catches it expertly. “To winter holidays!”

“To winter holidays!” 

Everyone holds their respective drink in the air, some giving a little “Woo!” for effect. Yok taps his can against Ray's glass and watches him down the remaining few sips.

Ray puts his glass down. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re so weird.”

After a short debate, Mew's suggestion of karaoke ends up winning the vote 6-2. April retreats to the closet for a set of toy mics while Nick hooks the machine up to the big TV.

Yok, annoyingly, glues himself to Ray, probably because he's the only other unattached person here. He leans back on his wrists, his impossibly long legs taking up half the carpet.

“What are you going to sing?” he asks.

Ray shrugs. “Don't know. Micro, probably.”

Yok laughs. “Micro? Really?”

“What's wrong with them?”

“Nothing.” Yok slurps his beer noisily. “I just didn't expect you to have taste.”

Ray stares back at him. It's foreign to hear ‘Micro’ and ‘taste’ in the same sentence without the word ‘bad’ in there somewhere too. Everyone from P'Yo to Mew makes fun of him for still listening to the 80s soft-rock group. Hell, even his dad gives him funny looks when he passes by him alone in the music room, crooning along to ‘Rak Khun Khao Laeo’ for the hundredth time. 

“Well, you're not singing with me,” he warns. 

“Solo artist, hm? Fine, fine. Not my style anyways. You'll see.” He raises a muscular arm. “April. Put me down next.”

When he stands up, Ray immediately scoots closer to Mew, leaving little space for Yok to squeeze back into when he’s done. He pours himself another drink as his friends cheer the newcomer on. Yok stands with the mic in hand and nods at April to hit play.

Unexpectedly, heavy guitar and drums rage from the speakers, nothing like the easy-listening of Micro. His face is lit up, and he paces the floor in front of the TV like a tiger in a cage, eyes locked on Ray with a slight grin. 

Suddenly, he lets out a high-pitched growl that shocks even Top, and begins to sing along to some song Ray's never heard of. 

Why do they always send the poor?
Barbarisms by Barbaras
With pointed heels
Victorious victories kneel
For brand new spanking deals!

Ray only knows what the lyrics are because it's karaoke. Otherwise, he would have no idea. He can't tell if this overexaggerated wailing is just Yok being spirited, or if the actual singer of whatever band this is really sounds like that. 

Either way, it's bad. He coughs into his hand and looks at the clock on the wall.

Blast off
It's party time
And we don't live in a fascist nation
Blast off
It's party time
And where the fuck are you?

Ray rolls his eyes. Of course Yok would pick some ‘protest’ song, always making a point to talk about this war or that injustice. If he actually paid attention, he'd know that the real injustice is making everyone else listen to this garbage.

Why don't presidents fight the war?
Why do they always send the poor?
Why don't presidents fight the war?
Why do they always send the poor?

Yok practically screams the last part. When the music screeches to an end, everyone erupts in applause. Ray makes a face. Surely they're just being polite, right?

“What can't you do!” Mew cries. He pats Yok on the back as he sits down, as closely to Ray as he can even with limited space. “That was awesome!” 

Ray's heart lurches. He's over Mew, he swears it. Romantically anyways. But it still hurts to hear his best friend praise someone else, especially when Ray is known in their crew as the laziest and least ambitious. Yok paints and boxes and studies and scream-sings and supports his single mother and God knows what else. 

What does Ray do, besides drink and sleep?

“Amateur hour,” he mutters. “Me next. Move.”

He stands up, purposely knocking into Yok's shoulder with his knee. Yok doesn't seem to notice. He grabs another can of beer and cracks it open, still with his gaze locked onto Ray like the crosshair of a gun.

He's always been a decent singer, and Micro is his preferred group. He avoids Yok's unblinking stare as he belts the romantic lyrics. 

I'm falling for you
I'm truly falling for you
They say I'm arrogant
But the truth is, I'm just shy around you…

Ray's truth is that he doesn't know who he sings words like these for anymore. He never got the chance to properly date Mew before Top swooped in, and the last few others he tried things out with were wrong in various ways—looks, personality, and sometimes just timing. He finishes the song with a weary sigh and basks in the cheers of his friends for a brief moment.

Yok is smiling when he sits down. “Nice voice.”

“Compared to yours, yeah.” Ray turns up his nose as Cheum takes the stage, but his disdain is directed towards the man next to him, clearly unable to take a hint.

Yok shrugs, unperturbed. “Serj Tankian wasn't trying to win American Idol when he wrote BYOB,” he explains. “It's not about his voice. It's the message.”

“Yeah, yeah, money bad, I get it.” Ray shushes him while Cheum belts Chappell Roan with all her might. “Don't you ever take a day off? Here, have some Macallan.”

He pours Yok a glass of the hyper-expensive whiskey he bought specifically for this party. “Try it and tell me 7000 baht doesn't taste better than 700.”

Yok obliges and takes a sip. “Mmm.” He sticks his tongue out and licks his lips. Ray looks away. “Yum. But what's the point?” He motions to his empty can of Leo. “Can't I get just as drunk off a few 50 baht cans of this?”

Ray sighs. “There's no pleasing some people.”

After a few more rounds of karaoke and a quick game of Never Have I Ever, things begin to wind down. It's still the same day as their final exam after all, just hours later. Everyone is stifling yawns as the traffic outside slows. It’s so quiet, they can hear the waves from the beach across the street. 

Mew and Top are the first couple to tap out, heading for the room allotted to them. The girls follow shortly after. 

As April helps a tipsy Cheum to her feet, she calls out, “Extra blankets are in the closet if you guys want. Nick and Ton, you're in that room there.” She points to a closed wooden door. “And Ray and Yok, the room at the far end.”

Ray blinks, his hand halfway inside a bag of Lays. He furrows his brow. “What do you mean ‘Ray and Yok’?”

April shrugs. “We only have four rooms. It's just for the weekend.” She loops her arm through Cheum's. “Goodnight!”

As he struggles to comprehend what the fuck just happened, Yok stands up with his backpack over one shoulder. “Ooh. You and me, hm?” He elbows Ray in the ribs. “Lucky you. I call the left side.” He struts down the hall without a care in the world.

Ray seethes, turning to Nick and Ton. “Can I please sleep with you guys?” He turns on the puppy eyes, hands pressed together in prayer. 

Boston is the first to laugh. “Brand new sentence, at least from you.” He taps Ray on the cheek. “No way. Not unless you want a threesome.” He wiggles his brows. “Interested?”

“Fuck no.” Ray shoves him away, aware that Ton is only ever half-joking when it comes to threesomes. “But you can sleep with Yok, can't you Nick? I thought you guys knew each other.”

Nick shakes his head. “About as well as you know him. We had one class together in first semester.” He grins, catching Ton's eye. “Besides, I don't think it's me he wants to spend the night with.”

“I'm gonna go shower.” Boston buddy-punches Ray. “Have fun tonight, virgin.”

Ray rolls his eyes. “Fuck off.” He turns back to Nick. “What do you mean? Yok hates me. I'm the living embodiment of every petition he’s ever had people sign against.”

Nick chuckles at that. “I'm not saying it makes any sense, but he doesn’t hate you. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty obvious he likes you.”

“He does not.”

“He does! He's always teasing you and stuff,” Nick insists. “He doesn't flirt with me.”

Ray makes a face. “That's because you're with Boston.”

“Nobody's ‘with Boston,’” Nick retorts, and it feels like the most honest he's ever been with Ray about the mess he's in with his oldest friend. “And didn't you say last week that you missed hooking up? It's been months since that guy came through town with his band.” He smiles. “Yok kind of reminds me of him, actually.”

Ray sighs. Sand the guitarist was hot as hell. A little sarcastic, a little uncouth, but sweet as the cherry atop the sundae they shared on their first date. His flirting was more Ray's speed too, sensual and low-key. They met when he came through Y.O.L.O for a summer tour, and it wasn’t just the stage that got rocked; Sand gave him the best sex of his life. 

Unfortunately, he was in Bangkok for a good time, not a long time, and Ray hasn't had sex—good, bad, or otherwise—since he went back to Phuket.

It was steady for a while. Yok, on the other hand, is unpredictable, a live wire with no warning label. Ray used to think himself reckless, but Yok is on another level entirely, scaling buildings just to paint some communist bullshit on the side, or running from the cops with a black bandana hiding his face. Ray's seen the wanted posters near campus. He'd recognize those doe eyes anywhere.

And to make matters worse, Yok is so forward. His fearlessness seems to extend to his one-liners, and he's about as subtle as an atom bomb. Ray is used to being the most flirtatious person in the room, commanding attention wherever he goes, but Yok steals the spotlight with his infectious energy every time. All Ray can do is slump into a corner booth and knock back whiskey after whiskey to hide his sulking.

“I don't give a fuck if he likes me,” Ray replies. He looks down the hall to the room that Yok has already disappeared into. “We have nothing in common.”

“You had nothing in common with Sand,” Nick reminds him. “I remember him telling me you had to Google ‘Arctic Monkeys.’”

“Shut up!” Ray stomps his foot in frustration. “I'm going to bed. Alone. That's it.” He shakes his head, grateful that Nick and Ton will be sleeping at the opposite end of the villa. The last thing he needs is to be kept awake by their incessant fucking.

Nick laughs. “Sure. Goodnight, Ray. Have fun.”

Ray ignores him and storms into the room. 

It's even worse than he thought—there's one bed, and it's a twin, barely big enough for two kids to sleep side by side. He shudders as he imagines fighting Yok's alien limbs for space all night, and trying to steal blankets he's using to keep his bony ass warm. 

Maybe it's not too late to claim the couch, he reasons. It'll majorly fuck up his back, but is it worse than sharing body heat with Yok?

Before he can move an inch, the door to the left of him opens. “Couldn't wait to sleep with me, could you?” 

Yok emerges from what he now realizes is an ensuite bathroom, face freshly washed and teeth gleaming white. He flops down onto the mattress next to Ray and grins.

“Leave me alone. I don't want to catch anything.” Ray kicks him gently with a socked foot.

“Rude. You don't think I play it safe?”

“Do you?”

Yok shrugs. “When it matters.” He rubs his bare arms. “Fuck, it's cold in here. Can we turn the AC up?”

“No way!” Ray whines. “It'll get too hot overnight. I need it cold.”

“Okay.” Yok slides closer to him on the bed. “You know, you don't need to make up excuses to cuddle with me. I'll do it for free, out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Stay away from me.” 

Ray plugs his charger into the wall and puts his phone face down on the nightstand, then crawls under the thin covers. Yok does the same, but remains upright, leaning against the headboard with his phone in hand. 

From this angle, Ray can see his screen. He has Tinder open and is scrolling through someone's profile. His tongue pokes out the side of his mouth as he scrutinizes the brief intro.

“You actually read bios?” Ray asks, unable to help his curiosity. 

“I can afford to be choosy,” is Yok's immediate reply. 

Ray snickers, because it's something he would say, though he's not immune to going straight for looks. “Why would you be?”

Yok swipes right on some guy. Instant match. He smirks. “Because I can be. I don't want to fuck a capitalist.”

Ray snorts. “The dick is that different or what?”

“You tell me, rich boy.” 

“You wish.” Ray holds back another noise. “You think you're hot shit, hm?”

“No. I know I am,” Yok corrects him. He waves his phone in his face. “Got here three hours ago and I have fifty-two matches.”

“And yet you're still here in my bed, pissing me off.”

“Last time I checked, it didn't have your name on it.”

The juvenile reply to Ray's equally juvenile claim has him blushing. “You know what I mean. Why don't you go spend the night with one of those fifty-two guys who wants you, and not me, who hates you?”

Yok laughs. “Hmm. When you put it that way…” He tosses his phone onto the easy chair in the corner and lies down, facing Ray directly. “Maybe I just like a challenge.”

Ray studies him. Up close, he can see the constellation of moles that dot his face, the blemishes on his skin that's probably never been exfoliated in his life. His hair is unevenly cut, and the longer pieces at the back tickle his nape, giving him a rough, unkempt appearance.

He’s definitely not ugly though. Ray can see how he got fifty-two matches so quickly.

“Keep your distance. I'm a capitalist.” He wiggles his fingers adorned with silver Cartier rings and a Van Cleef bracelet. 

“You are.” Yok seems amused. He props himself up on his elbow. His shirt, practically cut to his waist on the sides, falls open and exposes his Chinese ‘mother’ tattoo and a perky brown nipple. 

“So then.” Ray removes his jewelry and places it next to his iPhone. “Why won't you leave me alone?”

“Because.” Yok smiles, revealing a dimple in his cheek. “I don't think you care about that stuff. You're just playing ‘spoiled rich boy’ because it's all you know. You’re way more multifaceted underneath.”

“Fuck off with your Psych 101 analysis,” Ray retorts. He thinks back to the song Yok sang earlier. “What about you, hm? Anarchist starving artist. Real original.” He gives him a smug look, brows raised. “I bet you say ‘eat the rich’ unironically.”

Yok's stare lands on Ray's lips. “I do. But I mean it.” He flits his gaze upwards, eyes sparkling once again. “Would you let me?”

Ray can't believe Yok is still barking up this tree after the months of petty insults they've exchanged. Is it some sort of psyop? An extended case study for his degree? An elaborate trick to get Ray to fall for him, just so he can say he brought down a rich kid with his socialist sex appeal?

Or does he actually—in spite of his convictions, his protests, his Twitter bio—like Ray? 

And which is worse?

“I'm no Bruce Wayne,” he replies. “I don't do philanthropy. Find someone else to give you pity sex.”

Yok snickers. “Pity sex, hm? That's really what you think of me?”

“I don't think of you at all.”

“That's too bad. I think about you a lot.” Yok rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. “At night. When I'm alone.”

Ray snorts. “Yeah? Am I good?”

“Very.” Yok places his hand deliberately on the crotch of his jeans and tucks the other behind his head. His underarm hair is dark and untrimmed, fitting his wild personality. “I like thinking about how you'd say my name if I was riding you.” He shrugs. “I always imagine you being loud like me.”

A tingling feeling takes hold in Ray's lower half. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to be seduced by his current view of Yok's lean body through the side-slit of his shirt. 

He's just making all this shit up to get a rise out of you. Don't fall for it. 

When he opens his eyes again, Yok is staring at him. “You don't believe me, Ray?”

“Nope.”

“Then let's make a bet.”

Ray rolls over. “A bet? No way. You don't have any money.”

He immediately feels bad—that was a low blow, even for him. Yok is far more charitable than he is, using his meagre funds to help underprivileged kids and whatnot. Ray, in contrast, doesn't even tip.

But Yok just laughs. “And they call me a spoiled brat.”

He leans in so his nose is almost touching Ray's, his big brown eyes sparkling even in the dim light of April's spare room. “I meant a different kind of bet. No money involved. And we'll both win, if you play fairly.” He smirks. “Or don't.”

Ray pushes him away with an open-palmed hand on his chest. It's hard not to feel his warmth, the dampness of his shirt from the heat of the evening. 

He has to admit he's intrigued, if only slightly. “What's the bet then?”

Yok leans in again. “I bet…” He looks down at the sheets between them. “That I can make you come before you can make me come.”

Ray recoils. “What the fuck would I want to do that for?” He slides away. “I can't stand you.”

“I can't stand you either,” Yok replies. “But… I'd fuck you. Or let you fuck me.” He bites his lip, grinning. “Don't deny it, Ray. I know you think I'm hot.”

“I do not,” Ray huffs.

“You do. But don't worry.” He traces Ray's pouty lips with his finger. “I think you're hot too. Who wouldn't?”

Despite the fact that the compliment is coming from Yok, Ray is mollified. It's been a while since he had attention from anyone, and as much as he hates to admit it, Yok is right. Ray does find him hot. Annoying and preachy and the total opposite of him, for sure… but still hot, and lethally so.

He swats his hand away. “I could make you come in five minutes. Easy as hell.” He cocks his head to the side. “How about we make this more interesting?”

Yok widens his eyes. The grin hasn't left his face since they ended up in this cramped room together. “You’ve got me. What did you have in mind?” 

Ray nods towards the footboard of the bed. “You go over there. I'll stay here.” He rests his back against the headboard. “And you watch me.”

Yok's eyes light up. “Oh. And you… watch me?” he clarifies. He's already tugging his muscle shirt off, fully revealing his obnoxious tattoos. 

He's such a cliché. Birds were popular on Tumblr like ten years ago. And does he even speak Chinese to have that character as big as it is on his side?

Ray nods. “Mmhmm. No touching each other. Just watching.”

“Sure.” Yok unlatches his belt. Ray follows it as it slides through the loops of his jeans until it's completely out. 

“Wait.” 

Yok freezes, hand on his zipper. Ray sits up. “What are we even betting? Like, what do we get if we win?”

“Hmm.” Yok continues to move, shoving his jeans off until he's in a pair of light blue boxers and nothing else. “Well. If I come first, then you win.”

“Yeah.”

“And if you come first, then I win.”

“Yeah.” Ray is growing impatient, already losing steam for this ridiculous proposition. “But what am I winning? Watching you come?”

Yok laughs. “You want to put money on this or something?”

“No, but…” Ray pouts, forgetting who he's in front of. “What's the point then? I don't even like you.”

“You're going to watch me jerk off in front of you, and you're still saying you don't like me? Not even a little bit?” Yok tuts, shaking his head. “You're silly, Ray. That's why I like you.” He grins. “And because you're hot. But you know that.”

Ray shrugs. “Don't flatter yourself. I'd fuck you, but that's about it.”

“Then that's it.” Yok flutters his lashes in a move that's eerily reminiscent of Ray himself. “If you win, you can fuck me. If I win, I get to fuck you.” He holds his hand out. “Deal?”

Ray considers it. All personal mantras aside, Yok is sex on long, long legs, and it's been months since he got his rocks off with anyone besides his right hand and a half-decent porno. No one needs to know about this, nor does it have to continue past this weekend. He could fuck Yok. He could be fucked by Yok. 

He shakes his hand. “Deal.”

Yok's brows shoot to his hairline. “Really? You really want to?”

“I want to prove your stupid ass wrong,” Ray shoots back. “Come on. Before I lose interest.”

Yok still seems baffled that he's agreed, but he sits back in his spot and palms the front of his boxers, where a bulge is already forming. His lips are parted just a little, enough to give Ray a glimpse of his bottom teeth. Two of them are longer than the others, like fangs. 

Cute.

“It’s not fair if we’re not naked, don't you think?” He pushes his boxers down to his knees. “I know what you want to see.”

Once they're around his ankles, he kicks them off completely. They launch into the air and land next to Ray's left foot. 

He makes the mistake of looking down at them and catches the wet spot on the front, darker blue than the rest of the fabric. He swallows. Fuck. He's already that horny?

“Take your clothes off too.” Yok's cock is half hard, resting on his inner thigh. His long hair falls into his eyes as he smiles. 

Ray shucks his singlet off and throws it to the floor. Yok watches him with his lower lip between his teeth. Feeling bold, he pops the button of his jeans and tugs the zipper down, exposing his black boxer briefs.

“Come do the rest.” Ray places his hands palm-down on the bed. “No touching though.”

Yok grins wickedly. “So you do know how to play dirty.” He sits up from the endboard and onto his knees. “Good. I was getting bored.”

“Fuck you.”

“You might.”

He crawls towards Ray, stopping in front of him to sit back on his heels. “How am I supposed to take these off without touching you?” he asks, eyes wide.

“Try your best.”

Ray watches him snake his hands up his thighs. When he reaches his waistband, he tucks two fingers in on each side of his hips, into his underwear as well.

“Can I?” He blinks slowly, rubbing Ray’s skin with the pads of his thumbs.

“I already said yes.” 

He tugs with an expression of faux-difficulty, and Ray relents, lifting his legs up to help him along. His pants and boxers come off with one quick yank. Yok tosses them to the side and keels his spine, staring at the tattoo on Ray's hip.

“Beautiful,” he reads, and raises his eyes to meet Ray's. “Fitting.”

“Thanks.” Ray narrows his eyes and waves his hand like a rich hotel manager. “Back to your side. You already got an advantage just now.”

Yok shakes his head. “Not done looking.” He traces the letters of Ray's thigh tattoo. 

“No touching!” Ray smacks his arm.

“Fine.” Yok giggles. “You're so mean. I love it.” He drops back against the endboard and lowers his eyelids in fondness. “Tell me what else you want me to do.”

“Just watch.”

Ray has always liked putting on a show. His mother would probably be disappointed that he uses her performer genes for this kind of exhibition, but fuck it. He's good at it, touching himself and whimpering in perfect sync. Sometimes he even preps himself just for fun. He loves how his bed friends stare when he's three fingers deep in his own hole. 

He starts slow, wrapping a hand around his cock and pumping it experimentally. His other hand remains flat on the bed to steady himself. The AC unit hums above him and peaks his nipples in the chilly air.

“Told you it was cold,” Yok observes. He copies Ray's stance, fingers slipped inelegantly around his cock, legs sticking straight out on the bed. They're so long that his toes touch Ray's; his feet must be at least four sizes bigger. He's never really noticed their size difference beyond height before, but…

Damn.

“Mm.” Yok's moan is quiet, low in his throat. Ray can't be sure if it's always like that, or if he just doesn't want to wake the others. “I've thought about what you might look like when you get yourself off.” He winks. “It's even better than I imagined.”

Ray scoffs. “Shut up.”

“What? You said I couldn't touch you.” Yok's big hand looks smaller around his thick cock. He raises his hips, thrusting lightly into the circle of his oil-stained fingers. “You didn't say I can't talk.”

“Wish you couldn't,” Ray mumbles.

“You want to tape my mouth shut?” Yok smiles innocently. “Or… maybe shove something down my throat?” He's clearly turned on by this; his fingers move faster on his shaft. “Mn. I bet you taste good, Ray. You should come in my mouth and let me decide.”

His filthy words have blood rushing straight down. Ray slows his movements. No way is he coming five seconds into this, especially not when Yok is wearing that shit-eating grin, one hand behind his head like he does this for a living.

It suddenly hits him. Yok has been flirting with him all night, and he's under his skin now, a persistent itch. But who's to say he can't do the same? He's Ray Pakorn, the undisputed king of traffic light night at Y.O.L.O. He shouldn't be putting out this fire. 

He needs to douse it with gasoline.

“You want me to come in your mouth?” he replies sweetly, his voice an octave higher than before. 

Yok maintains eye contact. “Mmhmm. I'd take you so well.” He slows down too, catching on. “Every last drop.”

“You sound…” Ray shifts, smothering a groan. “Mn. You sound greedy.”

“I am.” Yok smiles. “Is that bad?”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh.” Yok lowers his free hand down to his stomach and rests it flat. “And what do you think of that, hm?” He speeds his motions up once more. 

“I think…” Ray pouts again. “I don't like when guys are bad.”

“Why not?” Yok asks. “Too dangerous for the princess?”

Ray shrugs. “No.” His cock is painfully hard; mind over matter doesn't seem to be working against Yok's velvety voice. “I need to be spoiled. Bad guys won't give me what I want.”

“Mn.” 

Yok brings his free hand further down. Ray gasps when he realizes he's going for his balls, squeezing them softly between his fingers. He's never seen a guy do that before, at least not in front of him. 

Unfortunately, it’s fucking sexy.

“Maybe you need to be patient,” he murmurs. “Not everything will come when you want it to, baby.”

Ray gulps. Fuck. He's no amateur.

But two can play this game. He has a hunch, and continues to touch himself while he thinks of a baiting question.

Finally, he asks, “So you think you can get away with being bad?”

“Not at all,” Yok explains. He grins. “I get away with most things. But it'd be fun to be caught sometime.”

“And then?”

Yok seems to perk up. “And then…” He shrugs. “You tell me. What would you do to me if I was being bad?”

Ray giggles exaggeratedly. “You're being bad now.”

“And you're letting me watch you touch yourself,” Yok reminds him. “And touch myself too. Doesn't seem like much of a punishment to me.”

A breathy moan escapes Ray. Yok is good at this; it's clearly not his first time playing some kind of dirty chicken. He spreads his legs further. 

“So you want to be punished?” Ray grins. “Hm. I'd start by tying you up then.” He looks up at the spires of the headboard and raises one arm. “Like this. Helpless.”

“Oh.” Yok’s hand moves faster, filling the room with the sound of palm to skin. “I’d like that.”

“No you wouldn’t. I’d tie you so tight you couldn’t move,” Ray continues. “It would hurt.”

“It better.” Yok bites his lip. “Mn. What else?” 

Ray can see the perspiration forming on his forehead. He’s weakening. “Greedy. I thought you were trying not to get off.”

“I can control myself.” Yok slows down again. His hand is slathered in precome, and he wipes some onto his thigh. It glistens in the waning light. “Come on. You’re imagining me helpless, hm? What would you do to me?”

It’s quiet, save for some muffled sounds from the other end of the hall which must be Nick and Ton. Ray still can’t believe he let himself get roped into this, but he’s almost too far gone to quit now.

“Well, since you seem to never want to shut up, I’d have to do something about that.” He smiles. “Any ideas?”

“A few.” Yok thumbs at his tip and arches his back, letting out a punchy moan. “I love being loud, so you’ll have to make sure I can’t talk at all.” He drops his gaze to Ray’s cock. “Keep my mouth occupied and you’ll be fine.”

Ray closes his eyes, picturing Yok sucking his dick with his hands tied behind his back, or sitting on his face while he rides his tongue until he’s a slobbering mess. Without thinking, he begins to pump his cock faster. His heart speeds up and he releases a soft, pitchy whine.

Wait a minute. 

He opens his eyes. Yok is in front of him, naked and sweating from the poor air circulation and his proximity to an orgasm. Why is Ray even bothering to imagine this, when he could have Yok on his knees for him right now?

“You’re so hard,” Yok observes. “God, I need that in me.” He draws one foot up, exposing his puckered pink hole. His mouth drops open in a small o before grinning. “Been a while since someone fucked me, Ray. It’s so tight.” He winks. “Going to feel really good. For both of us.”

Ray bites his lip. Yok looks sinful, long neck tilted to the side with his annoying half-grin. He wants to abandon this stupid idea and just bury his tongue between his thighs.

But he can’t lose. He raises a brow. “I can hardly see anything. Your hair’s a mess.” He spreads his own legs to show off his neatly trimmed pubes. “No one’s fucked me in ages either, by the way.”

He continues stroking himself, but reaches down with his other hand to circle his own rim. He grins when Yok’s eyes widen. “Come taste me. I dare you.”

“I don't think you want that.” Yok thumbs his pink head and brings his finger up to his mouth. Still maintaining eye contact, he licks the sticky pre right off it. “I'm very good with my tongue.”

“Then show me.”

Yok drops his cock from his hands. “Yeah?”

Ray stops too, afraid he'll come if he doesn't. “Mmhmm. If you can't resist.”

“Maybe I don't want to.”

Yok is on his hands and knees again, crawling over to Ray with his cock flushed and hard between his legs. He stops in front of him and places his hands on his thighs.

Fuck. His eyes are so big, so fucking big and staring up at Ray like he's a marble statue to be worshipped. And it feels good, because this hasn't happened to him in a while, and from someone so unexpected. He can look past Yok's stupid haircut and tacky tattoos if it means he's going to suck his soul out through his aching dick.

“What are you waiting for?”

Yok smiles. “Can I kiss you first?”

Ray wrinkles his nose. “Why?”

“Mn.” Yok gives a little shrug, barely lifting his shoulders. “Want to.”

“But I don't like you.”

Yok laughs. “Still in denial. You'll like kissing me though.” He leans in closer, eyes glassy. Ray never thought he could be bested in the puppy category, but Yok may just have him beat. All he needs to do is say, “Na?” and he might as well be looking in a mirror. 

Kind of Freudian, he thinks, and lets out a soft chuckle.

“Hmm. Okay, you can kiss me. But…” Ray lifts a finger to Yok's full lips before he can close the gap. “This is you conceding. I win, and you lose.”

Yok bites his finger instead, playfully, and sucks on the pad of it. “You haven't made me come yet though,” he reminds him. “That was the bet.”

Ray reaches between his legs and runs his fingers through his untrimmed hair, down past the shaft of his cock to his rim. He circles its puckered edge, his other finger still in Yok's mouth. 

“You're really going to stick to the rules?” he asks. He smiles. “And here I thought you were a rebel, Yok.”

Yok gyrates his hips so Ray's finger goes deeper into his hole. “Mn.” He licks the one in his mouth. “And here I thought you didn't like me, Ray.” He shakes his head. “You're doing such a bad job of pretending.”

Ray can feel his cock leaking onto Yok's thigh. It's true, he can't really pretend anymore; the evidence is heavy between his legs, and he's ready to throw his previous assumptions to the wind. 

But first, he has to win this bet.

“I'll make you come,” he promises. He continues to circle Yok's entrance, but takes his other hand and tucks Yok's hair behind his ear. “And we'll both win. Na?”

Yok blinks twice. “Okay.”

It’s Ray who moves first, pressing their lips together in a vain attempt to regain some control. But he’s been under Yok’s spell since they entered the room, even if he didn’t let himself believe it, and the artist won’t give it up that easily. 

He kisses Ray roughly, skipping playful pecks and going right to licking the seam of his lip. Ray grants him entry and pulls him onto his lap. Their cocks brush together almost painfully. Yok moans right into his mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he gasps. He licks Ray’s tongue, his teeth, the side of his face. “Fuck. I need you to fuck me so fucking bad.”

Ray loses count of how many times he swears, but he doesn’t care—Yok’s huge hand is wrapped around him now, stroking him in time with his tongue in his mouth. It’s warm and ashy, tainted with a lingering taste of Leo from earlier. Ray chases it, spit-soaked, his hands in Yok’s hair.

He never imagined kissing him before tonight, but it’s somehow what he would have pictured, hot and wet and never-ending. Yok bites his lip and tugs on it, grinning when Ray yelps. He sits back for just a moment to assess the situation, then dives back in, dragging his sloppy kisses from Ray’s lips to his jaw and down his neck.

“So pretty, Ray.” 

Yok seems to like saying his name, and he doesn’t mind one bit. He shimmies down the headboard slightly so the other man can straddle him, grinding against him as they make out.

Soon enough, he’s kissing his way down Ray’s chest. Lots of guys like playing with him here, so he allows it, pushing Yok’s hair away from his eyes as he circles his nipple with his tongue. He grins, sucking on the bud and groaning at the same time. Ray lets out a moan of his own in the silence of the house.

Sorry, guys.

“Knew you’d be loud,” Yok chuckles. He repeats his action on Ray’s other nipple, nibbling on the tender pink skin. Ray hisses. “Can I suck you off?”

“Not off,” Ray reminds him. “But sure.” He looks down at Yok’s deer eyes. “You’re pretty too, you know.”

“I know.”

Yok positions himself on his stomach, letting Ray’s thighs bracket his ears. He grins up at him. “Too bad we’re doing this with our friends here.” He wraps his thumb and forefinger around Ray’s base. “But I still want to hear you, okay?”

Ray would bark like a dog if Yok wanted him to. But he just nods, unable to tear his eyes away from this man he wanted to strangle earlier, getting closer and closer to the weeping head of his cock.

The first lick has him near-convulsing, the second, moaning from deep in his throat. Deep in his core. Yok is torturously slow at this, but so damn good, maintaining eye contact as he sucks Ray down to the root. It’s different from other blowjobs he’s had, because Yok isn’t focused solely on making him finish. He’s enjoying it, moaning along with Ray and keeping everything loose. Drool pours down his chin, soaking the sheets beneath them. 

It’s not the first time Ray’s had to pay to clean someone’s bedding, and it won’t be the last. 

“Mn. Yok.” Ray pushes his hair back again so he can stare into his long-lashed eyes. “Fuck. Can you take a little more?”

“Mnkay,” Yok manages to reply. 

He opens his mouth, slobbering onto Ray’s cock and gripping the shaft. The spit aids the glide back into his mouth, and Ray feels his tip hit the back of his throat. He curls his toes and wraps his legs around Yok’s back. He can feel him giggling even as he sucks him deep.

A familiar sensation simmers in Ray’s abdomen. Fuck. He grips Yok by the hair and tugs him off, and by the look on the other man’s face…

He liked that.

“Good?” he asks, head cocked to the side. He kisses Ray’s thigh.

“Mhmm. Really good.”

“Told you I could take it all,” Yok brags. He wipes his lips with the side of his hand. “Mm. You taste so good.”

“Lemme try.”

He kisses Ray with his drool all over his tongue, a filthy mix of precome, the whiskey from earlier, and ash from the cigarettes they both smoke. Ray falls on top of him, pressing him down into the mattress. 

He sighs, falling onto Yok’s chest. “Now what?”

Yok kisses his forehead. “Whatever you want.”

“Hm.” Ray tiptoes his fingers between his legs and feels his way to his rim. “Do you have lube?”

“Never go anywhere without it.” Yok reaches across the bed, grabbing his discarded jeans and slipping his hand into the pocket. “Mn. Here. And a condom.”

Ray laughs. “Were you hoping to hook up with me or something?”

Yok shrugs. “You can never be too prepared. But…” He sighs as Ray pushes his finger into him, just a centimetre. “I didn’t want to rule it out.”

They both snicker. Ray takes the accessories and tosses them to the side for a moment, then flops down onto his chest like Yok had done for him. He rubs his inner thighs and Yok sighs again.

“Can I eat you out?” he asks.

Yok spreads his legs and draws his knees up, allowing Ray easier access to his tight pink hole. It’s dusted with the same dark hair as his cock, giving him a feral appearance that’s turning Ray on faster than he’d ever admit out loud. He takes the change in position as a yes and licks across his entrance with the flat of his tongue. 

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” Yok hadn’t been lying; he’s even louder than Ray, drawing his moan out almost comically. “Mn. Fuck, baby, do it again.”

Baby. Ray’s always liked the word, and he decides he likes it from Yok, even in this scenario. He circles his hole with the tip of his tongue and buries his face into his skin.

He’s warm here too, deliciously so. Ray savours the rare opportunity to rim someone, taking in the heady scent of him, his sweat, his hair, all the little things that make sex so much fun. Yok jerks beneath him, his hands where Ray’s were, tugging on his long strands to say more, more, more. Ray obliges, using his finger to spread Yok’s entrance further open and make room for his tongue inside. 

He’s not as messy as Yok, but he can feel the drool escaping the corner of his mouth as he licks him open. His whimpers are clear, not breathy like Ray’s. Anyone who’s still awake can definitely hear him.

But Ray is far past giving a single fuck. He laps at Yok’s tender hole, his tongue mapping his walls. It’s so hot listening to him that he’s moaning too, whiny and almost pathetically. 

“Ray.”

He hears his name and lifts his head. Yok grabs him and pulls him down to his lips, kissing him until he has to take a breath. He falls back onto his chest again.

“Prep me?” he asks, shoving the bottle of lube into Ray’s sticky hand.

Ray laughs. “Impatient, na?”

“You have no fucking idea.”

But they still take it slow. Ray fingers him open, one to two to three, all while kissing him more sensually than he has all night. Yok’s lips are soft, full, slotting perfectly between his own. He keeps his tongue behind his teeth, only letting it occasionally mingle with the tip of Ray’s.

He crooks his finger. Yok sighs, bucking his hips. “Mean.”

“I still need to make you come, remember?” Ray smothers his giggle against his lips. “You didn’t say it had to be with my dick.” 

“It does.”

“Ohoo.” Ray kisses the mole just below his eye, then the one on his cheek, and finally the spot on his chin. “You’re more of a baby than me. Quite the accomplishment.”

Yok shrugs. “People see me how they see me.” He gives Ray a soft kiss. “But you’ve come closest.”

“To what?”

“How I want to be seen.” Yok smiles shyly. 

Ray falters, his fingers still buried inside him. He knows bits and pieces about Yok’s past from April, including some tangle with a vigilante cop that he later regretted, and a string of meaningless hookups since then. 

This should be meaningless, but Ray’s fondness for Yok has been growing inside him since the first kiss. No, since the challenge, Yok’s unapologetic bet that he could get Ray off. And boy, could he, if given the chance. Maybe he’ll let him.

After this.

“Mn. Well, I’m glad we had to share a bed,” he admits. He slowly withdraws his fingers, kissing Yok’s sigh away. “How do you want to do this?”

“Let me sit on your cock.” Yok pouts. “Please?”

“You think you deserve it?” 

Yok nods. “Mhmm. I let you cheat on the bet. You owe me.”

It's like being in a dream, having someone tell Ray he can pay a debt by letting them bounce on his dick. He laughs at the absurdity of the night and every strange turn it's taken. 

“Guess I do, don't I?” He nips at Yok’s lip. “‘Kay. You can sit on it.”

He rolls the condom on and holds himself steady at the base. “Ready?”

“Mmhmm.”

Yok grips his shoulders and sinks down. Both of them gasp as he settles on his thighs, circling his hips to find the right angle. Ray could come just from this, but he’d rather die than end this fuck too early, after edging himself for the last hour and a half. 

“Fuck. You are tight.” He grins, staring up into Yok’s starry eyes. “Feels so good, baby.”

Yok raises his brows at the pet name. “Yeah?” He steals a quick kiss. “Want me to move?”

“Mm. Please.”

He’s bigger than Ray in every conceivable way, except maybe his waist, somehow tiny enough for Ray to wrap his arms around him and still touch his own elbows. Even so, he’s cute like this, murmuring against Ray’s lips and kissing him softly. 

“More,” Ray urges him with a smack to his ass. “You wanted to ride me. Do it.”

Yok laughs. “I forgot you’re a brat too, hm?” He lifts his hands from Ray’s shoulders and holds the sanded edge of the old headboard. “Hope this is stable.”

“I’ll buy April a new one if it’s not.”

With newfound leverage, Yok lifts himself off of Ray and slams back down. The resulting effect has Ray groaning, but it feels so fucking good too. He’s rarely on top, and very rarely has someone ride him. Yok is clearly an expert. 

He snags Ray's lip with his teeth and bites down, one hand one the side of his face and the other clamped to the carved wood. Ray digs his nails into his lean back, leaving behind crescents and deep, red scratches.

“Ow! Fuck.” 

“You wanted it to—” Ray hisses as Yok rides him harder. “You wanted it to hurt, na?”

Yok laughs, looking briefly behind him before turning back to kiss Ray some more. “Yeah, I did. Look at you giving me what I asked for. For once.”

Ray doesn’t have any qualms about it, because Yok is giving him what he wants, fucking himself on his cock like it’s a toy. It’s a far cry from the ‘used’ feeling he often gets from sex with randoms, guys who couldn’t care less who he is or what he likes. Yok sees him, says his name. He wants Ray, and Ray wants him.

Again, and again, and again.

“Going to come,” Ray whispers. His gut unfurls with need, and he claws down Yok’s back, surely drawing blood. “Fuck, baby, right there… mn…”

“No.” Yok grins down at him, slowing his movements. “You’re not going to lose, are you?” Sweat pours down his chest, shiny on his neck and thighs too. “I get to come first. Remember?”

Thankfully he does after one last thrust, spilling warm cum onto Ray’s stomach. Ray was right behind him anyways, finishing inside him with a punctuating groan. Yok falls forward and bites his neck. Ray laughs and pulls him close to his chest.

“I win,” he murmurs into his hair.

Yok laughs, smothered in his pecs. He bites Ray’s nipple playfully. “I let you win.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

They sit like that for a moment. Ray breathes in the scent of him, still diesel and cigarette smoke, but mixed with his own spicy Polo cologne and the salt of their sweat. He did it. He actually fucking did it.

I fucked Yok.

“Let’s clean up,” Yok suggests. “I’m sleepy now.”

He slides gingerly off of Ray, pinching the condom so it won’t slip off with him. Ray does the rest and hands it to him, and he steps off the bed. The ensuite being in this room was pure luck; he has no idea what they would have done otherwise.

Yok comes back with a warm cloth and wipes Ray’s thighs and belly free of his arousal. He gives himself a quick once-over, then throws it back over near the bathroom door and crawls under the covers next to Ray. 

“See? You didn’t need an excuse to cuddle me,” he jokes, shivering under the chill of the AC.

“I took the most complicated path.” Ray wraps him in his arms. “But I guess it was worth it.”

“Mn. Admit you had fun, rich boy,” Yok whispers as he kisses his neck.

“Only if you'll admit…” Ray sighs, running his hands through Yok's hair. “Admit you fucked a capitalist.”

That gets a hearty chuckle out of Yok. He lifts his head and grins. “Mn. I did, didn't I? I might get kicked out of my gang for this.” He drops a kiss on Ray’s pouty lips. “I’ll be a fugitive soon enough.”

“Don't worry. You can hide out at my place,” Ray suggests deliriously. 

“Yeah? For how long, hm?” Yok licks the shell of his ear. Ray moans. “A few days? A week?”

“As long as you need to…” Ray gasps again as the tip of Yok's tongue enters his ear canal. “Mm. Fuck, Yok.”

“Ray,” he whispers. “Mn. Can I stay inside you then?” He giggles. “I want to fuck you too. Would you like that?”

Ray nods. He’d like to try a multitude of things with Yok—bottoming, topping, tying him down like he’d threatened to do earlier. He’s never really explored many kinks, but Yok seems like someone who’s down for anything, so he just might be the best person to ask. 

“I would.” He wrestles himself away from Yok’s manic kisses and burrows into his chest instead, signalling his exhaustion. “But maybe later, na? I’m so sleepy. I thought you were too.”

“I am. I just wanted to get my fill.” Yok embraces him this time, his arms so long that Ray fits easily in their circle. “Who knows if you’ll change your mind tomorrow and hate me again?”

Ray winces. “I didn’t… I mean, I never hated you. I just…”

“Shh, I know. I’m a lot to handle.” Yok snickers. “But so are you, hm? I’ve never met a bigger brat than me. I’m not sure what to do with you.” He taps Ray on his nose and kisses him there. “Baby Ray.”

Yok feels safe. Like someone he could open up to, if he gave himself enough time. They’ve kind of done this in reverse anyways, exposing everything physical only to end with tender words. They might not have anything in common, but friendship can start with having sex, right?

“Just go to sleep,” Ray whispers. He gives Yok one last little kiss. “We’re sharing tomorrow night, too, remember? You’ll have plenty of chances to fuck me.”

“Mn. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Yok reaches for the bedside lamp and yanks the cord. 

“Admit you like me,” he whispers in the darkness. “I want to hear you say it.”

Ray rolls his eyes even though Yok can’t see them. “You’re not recording this, are you?”

“Just in my memory.” Yok taps him on the back. “Come on. One time, baby.”

“Fine.” Ray takes a breath and smiles. “I like you.”

“I knew it.”

There’s one beat of silence too long. Ray can feel Yok shaking. “What about me?”

“You didn’t last three seconds. Fuck.” Yok lets out the laugh he’d been holding in. “I like you, Ray. Happy?”

“Mhmm.” And he is; his heart rate slows enough to lull him into slumber. “Goodnight, Yok.”

“Night.”

Ray lies awake. He knows that technically, he did cheat on their bet. Yok would have seduced him into coming all over himself, if he hadn’t been too stubborn to stick to the rules they laid out. But he’s glad he didn’t. Yok never does, so why should he? Fighting dirty is more his style anyways.

And really, they both won in the end. Ray closes his eyes, the lyrics of the Micro song from earlier echoing in his head.

Maybe next time, he can look Yok in the eyes when he sings them.