Sexy easter fun. Hispanics don’t play about that holiday, so I know his mama would force him to get his ass back home for it.
A/N: Yooooo...this is so late. I did my best with grammar, but honestly?? It was pretty hard getting back into my writing groove. This is especially dedicated to @cub1clez. I may be two days late, but I deliver, babe.
And listen, there's this blurb at the very bottom; I feel it's kinda giving "oh sorry, I sometimes forget to switch back to English." or some bullshit like that. I also am NOT Puerto Rican and have no clue if the slang I used is somewhat close to correct. But it's something my mom would say, so I included it.
DD: HIS PARENTS ARE IN THE HOUSE. A bit of degrading here and there, spit play.
Ray’s relationship with you had been going on for a while now. Ever since he introduced you to his side of his family during your junior year of high school, his mother had invited you, without fail, to every family function, delighted to see her son completely infatuated with someone as pretty as you.
So, when you’d told her that you had no plans to go to college, she made Ray promise her he wouldn’t go off with another girl–actually sat him down after dinner and made him promise her.
You made things work with Ray; phone and video calls had been a Godsend in your time apart. But they couldn’t compare to the rare times you were able to take time off work, catch a train (no car gang), and visit him for a weekend or when he was back home for breaks.
And now, after weeks of being stuck in his stuffy room with a messy roommate, he was glad to be back home for Easter break. It wasn’t as long as his summer or winter break, so he liked spending the majority of his free time in his room with you in his arms.
But unlike him, you didn’t have infinite open availability. Work, parents, siblings, his band-everything seemed to want to get in the way of getting a few hours–properly alone–to get rightfully boned by your boyfriend.
You’d requested Easter Sunday to spend some well-earned time in bed, watching movies out of the small, shitty TV he had in his room.
After years of knowing his entire side of the family and being taunted by Ray’s older brother, you were thankful they didn’t share rooms anymore. It gave you a sense of privacy if you just ignored his parents and younger brother currently inside in another part of the house.
You’d gotten the habit of raking your hand up all over his tummy after his first year of college. It wasn’t on purpose, and you hadn’t even noticed you’d started to do it until Ray pointed it out to you, but you did come to enjoy the way he’d gotten a bit softer down there after entering college. It comforted you to know he was eating well and too busy studying to hit the gym.
The habit, now three years old, had become quite therapeutic for him as well, knowing you still loved him even after changing. Your touches were soft and innocent, so there wasn’t really a need for him to fully register them until–by accident–your pinky got stuck on the waistband of his briefs.
You didn’t mean to do that; it’d just been bad timing from him shifting further up his bed in trying to reposition himself.
But months of not being able to get proper alone time with you (or himself) made it impossible to ignore the fluttery feeling he was beginning to feel below his belly.
And lord, did he try to ignore it. Feeling awful for wanting such things after knowing you didn’t mean to start anything. You’d given him no indication of wanting to do anything, and here he was, struggling to keep his boner at bay.
Curse his damned roommate.
He did everything he could to concentrate back on the movie. Imagined small, sad, abandoned dogs stuck in an alleyway, thought back to the miserable film professor that refused to give him an extension for an assignment, even went as far as to think about his literal family on the other side of the door.
“They can barge in at any moment, you absolute dumbass,” Ray chastised himself, ears red and cold sweat starting to form down his back.
But you weren’t oblivious; The moment his breathing pattern changed, you’d asked him if there was anything wrong, hands busy playing with the happy trail that poked out from the lower part of his tummy. Soft skin and prickly hair contrasting.
His face was red; you liked that about him. It made it easy for you to decipher inner thoughts he wanted to keep hidden: “I’m fine, sorry.” He tried soothing you, pushing your head to lie back on his chest.
But his voice was a pitch higher, and he refused to look you in the eyes.
You went back and forth with him, no longer lying on him but getting up to sit on your side against the wall like he was doing, one leg on top of his for comfort. And as soon as you shifted again, you understood exactly what was bothering him.
It wasn’t as big as it normally got, but it was for sure getting there. A small shiver rolled out of him when you hiked your knee a bit higher, bumping into the half-bulge forming in his pants.
“Aw, Ray,” you teased, a mischievous smile already on your face as you leaned over to kiss him, “why didn’t you just tell me?”
He didn’t let you peck him, embarrassed by the sounds he was sure he’d make if you and he started kissing and things were to go your way. He couldn’t bring himself to indulge in his needs for fear of not being able to keep his voice in check: “My parents…they’re downstairs.”
Your eyes found his; passion and conflict battling for the other to cave in, “You’re just gonna have to learn how to be quiet for today.”
On the bed, you were enjoying taking your time with him; a luxury you’d been fighting tooth and nail for a while now to get back. But if, by any chance, someone were to come in, you’d left his pants just low enough for him to be able to quickly pull them back up and cover himself.
Still, Ray’s consciousness, against all odds, was strong-willed enough to get his body to freak out; forcing him to remember he had no lock on his door, “My door, baby, the door,” he shook his head trying to get your attention and used both his hands to stop your ministrations.
A small huff came out of you, “Since you’re so worried about it…” you started, hand reaching out to grab him, forcing him to get off his bed and follow you to where his closed door was, “focus on putting enough weight against it to keep it closed, Toro.”
The door's coolness shocked his skin, forcing him to snap out of his spiral of anxious thoughts and focus all attention back on the situation at hand. Looking now at the amount of pre-cum seeping out of him and making a mess under his briefs, Ray couldn't help but to feel slight annoyance for not being able to keep himself in check.
You didn’t mind his mood though, too preoccupied with the feeling of soft carpet now digging into your knees and leaving prominent indents for you to cover up with his sweatpants later.
One other thing you were grateful for in consequence of your boyfriend's rather unhealthy habits was how salty the amounts of added sugars and salts made him taste. For every kitten lick on the tip of his cock that you gave him, a new spurt of salty pre invaded your mouth.
“I didn’t think you’d ever be a risk slut.” you whispered, seeing just how hard he got, dick red and messy; visibly pulsing from excitement.
Knowing that Ray, though attempting to play coy, enjoyed what you were doing almost as much as you did, made the ache in between your legs impossible to ignore.
But the people on the other side of the door lingered on your mind. Making a mess on your hands for you to wash off in the bathroom at the same time as Ray would be too obvious. So, you got up, whispering for him to shut his eyes to give you a second to grab something and surprise him.
“I want us to try something new, Ray.”
Your sweet guy knew he was in no position to ask questions, lest he wanted to be sent out of the room in his current predicament. It’d happened before, long ago when he accidentally upset you. So, he shut them, taking that moment to let himself shudder and bask in the feeling of the warm, blooming, tight feeling of pride he got after being such a good boy.
Unfortunately, you were too busy trying to shuffle around the mess in his nightstand to properly praise him like you’re both used to; the objects clacking around loudly enough to catch his attention. And against his better judgment, he opens his eyes, still shy about the small amount of toys he kept in there for himself, for then he misses you.
“Ah, c’mon…you don’t gotta look there, man…” He looked at everything around his room but you, pants still halfway down and pressed firmly against the now warped-up door. But all you need is a warning glance to catch his eyes to remind him of what he originally was tasked to do.
Eyes and mouth shut until you joined him back on the door.
You continue your search, and in a mess of condoms, a fleshlight, discarded sticky notes, lotion bottles with varying supposed uses, and many, many tissues, you eventually find the small pink bottle of lube you’d bought together.
There’s hesitation when reaching for the fleshlight; there’s no way you were going to be the one to take it out of the room to clean it up. So you decide against it, mind determined to substitute it with literally anything that wouldn’t raise suspicion.
But what in his room wouldn’t…
On his bookcase lies one of those funny-looking waterwigglers; bright and green in all its glory, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to get played with once more.
It's sure to be something new for you to enjoy. And you didn’t know how he’d respond to it, but were willing to try. Fascinated by the idea of it ever since boys in your middle school joked about using one of them on themselves, and your coworker told you she’d used it on her boyfriend months ago while restocking the toy section in Walmart.
Ray’s shaking by the time you get back to him, and to try and ease his nerves, you let your left hand travel up and down his chest like it was on the bed–something small to steady him and bring him back to you.
You let him grasp onto the toy, “Open up,” letting him process your proposal a bit before his ‘what the fuck, babe’ face took over.
But he doesn’t look at you like you’ve gone crazy, no. Instead, he laughs a bit, incredulous at your audacity, “Absolutely not.” Before handing it back to you, the cartoonish flop when making impact with the palm of your hand
He laughed a bit, incredulous at your audacity, “Absolutely not,” before handing it back to you, the cartoonish flop it made when given to you making you laugh with him too.
“Why not?” A good question; you would have for sure thought he’d be excited–or at least intrigued by the idea. It was like…every man's wish, from what you’d heard.
Any previous anxiety Ray had was discarded; attention all on your cute (though unconventional) idea for a good time: “One, it’s not mine. And two…it just didn’t feel good last time.”
The confession makes you laugh. A full, hearty laugh that had him groaning in embarrassment, mumbling that if you didn’t shut up, it’d be the last time he ever tells you anything about his “failed adventures.”
You shush him, telling him that your friend had recently tried it out with a guy and it went just fine, that she’d already told you what to do and how to do it; you were now practically a pro, “Open your hands.”
Now, you’d both used lube before; therefore, he was familiar with the way it felt on him. But for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from wincing at the coolness of it today with you. He’d never been so excited to coat himself base to tip with it, twisting both his hands on himself to really make sure he’d left no area uncovered.
“I’ll get dirty…” he started. Though there was no true resistance in his voice. The thought of what he was about to do with you made him feel on top of the world–but damn it, did he like being a whiny bitch for you sometimes.
You interrupted him, getting back on your knees, “So you’re just going to have to clean yourself up.”
Your bossiness always ignited something inside him; warm, tingly feelings rendering him unable to stop himself from tugging faster, just like he’d done all those nights when his roommate was asleep. He whined as soon as you made him take his hands off of himself, threatening him to tie him up if he did that again.
You were full of shit; he knew this already. Nonetheless, let you take the win. He was a good boyfriend.
A good boyfriend who enjoyed looking down at you while you lubed up the toy and added a few more drops of it onto his dick. The sight of your cleavage forced him to deal with devils to keep himself in check and not touch anything.
His breath betrayed his want for nonchalance, shuddering from the AC-cold air in his room and excitement for your warm touch. On him, preferably as soon as possible.
There’s an obvious tone of desperation in the deep huffs coming out of him, “Baby…agh…please,” another huff, “Please, please touch me, please–hurry up, hurry up.” he’s so whiny and desperate; you couldn’t help but find him endearing, able to make the cutest noises while his family was getting ready to celebrate Jesus’s rising.
It took you a few attempts to successfully slip on the toy–curse you for overdoing it with the lube and curse Ray for having too fat of a cock.
But you manage. And revel in pride as soon as you get confirmation of it feeling good for Ray. The tiny twitch his dick gives you, giving you the idea to grope him higher with your unoccupied hand. “Awe, so you do like it? Dirty boy.” You chastise him, letting yourself focus solely on the whimpers he was trying to muffle with his hands.
At some point, you tell him to lower his pitch. Didn’t want his mom or dad to hear.
You go slow; mindful to not give into his begs and fully make him struggle for it. Force him into thinking there was no other choice than to pant and twist about, holding tightly onto your arm as it went up and down his torso to hopefully entice you into doing anything faster.
“Hey! What did I say earlier?” You don’t let him apologize. Instead, tell him to put his hands on his eyes and keep them there, knocking the air out of his lungs after giving a firm squeeze to his base.
And it leaves him shivering—it's April with nice gusts of warm air, and yet, he’s shivering. From excitement or anxiety you did not know, but he’s wiggling all about while your hand still made its way up and down his torso.
“Ray…” a sweet whisper, voice soft and sultry, mimicking that of one of the many demons his catechist warned him about when warning everyone in his Sunday school class about temptation, “I want your shirt off.”
But despite the temptation in your voice, the damned man wouldn’t let you tug it off of him like he usually did, reminding you that he should at least be halfway decent if his Ma were to come in to check on you guys.
From where you knelt, you gave him a small pout, “Could you at least keep it up for me?” Your hands kept their ever-so-slow work on his cock.
It didn’t leave him much room for a second ‘no’ from him.
So he does what he’s told, using one of his hands to take the hem of his shirt and put it up to his teeth to let you fully stare at him for the first time in a while. Self-doubt plagued his mind due to the obvious weight gain he’d had during and after winter break.
Now with a proper view of him, you were able to appreciate how good he looked. Soft tummy with a bigger pooch than last time, bigger pecs–softer and easier for you to squish and move around.
His sides too. Ah, he looked so good.
You almost missed a small plea for you to continue, too focused on what was in front of you to remember you still had him dick out in the middle of his room. Your chance wouldn’t go to waste; cheeky nips near his nipples shut him right up like always.
Blowing cool air on them for them to stay erect was just the icing on top for Ray. He liked it when you did that, almost always losing control of himself in favor of losing himself in your touch. With shaky shoulders, he chased your hand with his hips, dazed eyes finding yours and silently begging for you to kiss him.
And who were you to deny him such things? For every time you pushed your hand harder against him, more precum spewed out of him, to the point you didn’t know if it was lube or pre that covered your hand.
You’d gotten a good rhythm set in place when footsteps made their way closer and closer to Ray’s door. “Ray, baby, your cousins will be here soon! Come help me put things up!”
The feeling of possibly getting caught charged the air around you and gave you the confidence to keep going despite your heart hammering loudly against your chest. You didn’t give your boyfriend a chance to answer, finding yourself going faster than before–joyfully staring up at him to see the state he was currently in.
Perked-up nipples from your previous attention begging for more, beads of sweat accumulating where his skin folded in on itself, and a steady pulse radiating from his cock, “Answer, Ray.”
Bless him, he did the best he could under his unfair circumstances, “Ye–yes, mm...Ma! I’ll be–fuck, fuck, I’ll be right there!” It was like he was possessed, trembling and unable to stop his eyes from rolling to the back of his head with drool dribbling from the corners of his mouth until they eventually made their way to his chin and neck.
As soon as he heard his mom make her way back downstairs, he let out the confined pants he’d been keeping at bay, “Haah, haaah…” If they were anything to go by, his glassy eyes signaled to you that he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer.
Unfortunately for him (and you), you couldn’t give him what he wanted at the moment. But best believe, if nobody else were home, you’d have him completely bare and scream-begging for what he wanted you to do.
You settled on the next big thing: “Tell me, good boy, what do you want? Hm? Wanna cum on me?”
And oh boy, did he. Yes, he did want that, more than anything, if his furious head nod was anything to go by. He was so deliciously close to the feeling of release he’d been in search of since you both were still on his bed watching a movie. So close to that ecstasy feeling of numbness that always had his knees wobbling.
It was as if he no longer had any sort of control over his actions when his hands abandoned his eyes and his shirt fell off his mouth. Ray was too preoccupied with using them to shut himself up. All the squeals he knew he was more than capable of letting out were muffled in fear of his parents hearing him.
“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my hands? Or face? You tell me, Ray.” Your comments fueled him. Now, away from his mouth, one of his hands found its way to the back of your head, tenderly cradling it before pushing you backwards onto the floor to force your mouth onto his aching cock.
As much as he liked the feeling your little impromptu toy gave him, he’d choose the feel of your mouth over and over again; over anything. The warmth, in comparison to the lube’s coldness, felt worlds apart.
The weight of it on your tongue plagued your mind; to be able to smell and taste him in such proximity always turned off your brain just enough to have him use your mouth. You’d forgotten all about the toy on the floor before kissing the tip and spreading precum all over your lips.
A mixture of different flavors overwhelmed you; from the expected salty taste of him, to the flavored lube you’d picked out, to the faint plasticky leftover flavor of the waterwiggler you used.
Kind of funny when you thought about it.
Big hands enveloped your face, caressing it so sweetly that the second he shoved himself properly down your throat, it kind of shocked you. He’d never been this desperate before, his own ragged breaths mixing perfectly with yours.
Cute eyes stared at him while pressing your face away from him. “You gotta be more gentle; we haven’t done this in weeks. I need to acclimate.” You couldn’t help but slap your own face with his dick, enjoying its heaviness even while chastising him.
Ray apologized softly, lowering his face to give you a small peck on the lips and cheek where a small amount of fluid was due to your ministrations, and went slower, cradling your face and properly helping you keep your hair away from your face.
He was no longer the overstimulated mess you’d spent a good chunk of time making, and in fact, felt at ease enough to take his hand off of his mouth and use it to play with his nipples. Just like he liked doing to you, he fondled his newly-formed tits before tugging hard, the electric impulses derived from the action making their way to his brain.
With breathy moans, Ray tells you he’s close. Like, super, super close, and to let him know where you want him to finish: “On my face, please, please, Ray.” You weren’t thinking anymore. Not preoccupied by how obvious your bedroom activities would be when cleaning up.
“I’m a grown-ass man alone in my room with my girlfriend,” he thought, “they should have at least a small idea as to what the fuck is going on right now.”
Maybe that's why they haven’t bothered you guys? Oh God, what would his grandmother say if she were to find out what he’d done with you in this room? Out of marriage?
Before he could freak himself out any further, you got off him, seemingly reined back to reality enough to laugh at his pathetic whine for you to go back to what you were doing.
“You gotta give me a second, baby.” You begin, grabbing the toy off the floor and placing it back on his dick; this time, now able to fit it around your boyfriend with ease.
He seemed to like you using your mouth while jerking him off with it, swirling your tongue around the peeking tip every time you pushed the squishy all the way down his base. A broken moan escaped him, “Oh good God…fuck…fuck! You’re so good–you’re so fuckign good to me, baby.” He was twitching, “Y–you’re a genius…I haven’t–I haven’t been able to–Oh fuck me–masturbate at all in school. I missssed you. Missed your face, your hands.”
His hands found your cheeks again, pulling your attention away from his dick and onto his eyes. “I’ve missed your fucking mouth.” He bit his lower lip to hush himself, sweat dripping from his nose onto your face. His face seemed red, even when tucked tightly to his chest.
He wondered if people were truly capable of falling in love all over again with the same person. The scene before him was so pretty: you on the floor, covered in his cum and your spit, licking the remnants off of your lips and chin.
Aware of the limited amount of time you both had before one of his parents–or brothers came knocking at his door, Ray haphazardly pushed his briefs and pants back up; no care in the world for the current mess in his pants possibly ruining them, kneeling down with you.
He never really gave a damn about kissing you right after receiving head from you; he’d done the same after he was done eating you out countless times. Eventually, the kiss turned sloppy; spit and precum interchanged excitedly until cheeks and noses became wet with them.
Before you knew it, he’d pushed you to be completely on the floor, caging you in between his meaty thighs and peppering kisses all over your face as he went lower: sucking hickies onto your neck to admire later on in the evening.
Whimpers rolled out of you, louder when one of his hands found its way under your shirt and bra, pawing your tits like if they were a stress ball and flicking your nipples until they hardened to his liking.
Oh, how he longed to rip your shirt off of you and properly suck on them; leave you with the same chest tenderness he had.
But no, you’d pushed him off of you before he could ever get that far, reminding him that his mom had asked for him to come down several minutes ago.
You cleaned off with the tray paper towels he kept in his room and left the room first to avoid any suspicions.
As soon as Ray’s mom saw him enter the kitchen, she zeroed in on his pants: belt completely undone and his ears still a bit pink.
From where you sat, you were able to hear the loud gasp that came out of her before hearing a wack and yelp from your boyfriend, “Usted tiene que tener respeto por la gente que está aquí, Ray! ¡Abróchate la maldita correa, coño!.”
“Aw fuck!” Another wack echoed throughout the house as Ray ran back towards his room. “Ma, wait, wait!”
The scene made you feel just a little bad; you knew his belt wasn’t on correctly, but your boyfriend was just so stupid and air-headed after cumming you simply couldn’t help yourself.
