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“What uh. What’s all this?” There’s a sort of nervous laugh to Ray's voice when he steps into the room.
“Hmm?” Dookie glances at him for just a moment, eyebrows slightly raised as he looks up from his desk where he’s setting up the admittedly sparse equipment. “Oh this? Yeah don’t worry for now, it’s not for you. Or like, not really. Shut the door though.”
After a moment's hesitation, Ray obeys and the two of them are alone in Dookie’s quarters, the dim background noises of the base cut off.
“Look,” Ray starts again, half smile on his lips and he takes a step forward, “You asked me to be here, so I think I should get to know-”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dookie interrupts with a wave of his hand. “I’m not like. Keeping secrets or whatever, just be patient for a sec, okay?” He levels Ray with a look that really shouldn’t do anything to a man seven inches taller than him, but Ray stops talking, even if his face is still painted with apprehension.
“Sit down,” Dookie instructs, gesturing to the chair by his desk before stepping away from it himself.
Ray scoffs, hands on his hips now and derision in his voice. “And why should I-”
“Oh my fucking god,” Dookie interrupts, exasperated, “just fucking do it. Jesus Christ."
Ray scrunches his face in annoyance, but then complies, sitting down heavily with a loud breath out. Dookie then sits himself down on the edge of his bed, a softer breath leaving his lips.
Sat like this, they’re still pretty fucking close, knees almost touching, and Dookie can definitely still reach the set up he’s laid out on his desk. A moment of silence passes between the two, Dookie’s eyes not leaving Ray's face, simply gauging his expressions and reactions, before Ray speaks again.
“So, are you gonna tell me what I'm doing here or what?” he huffs, leaning back in the chair, thighs spreading, possibly in an attempt to get more comfortable.
“Yeah,” Dookie concedes with a half nod, “but I just gotta figure out whether you’re gonna be cool with it or not.”
Ray pauses, and takes a moment to look him over before responding, not quite in character for him. Then he looks over to the setup on the desk that Dookie was messing with when he came in, and takes assessment of what’s there.
Everything is laid out with almost careful precision on a towel: a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a lighter, a few cotton balls, a sewing needle, a jar of vaseline, a light blue felt tip marker, a few packets of sanitary wipes, a pile of paper towels, a pair of nitrile gloves, a single unopened patch bandage, and a small container of a deep black liquid. ink.
Ray’s eyes meet Dookie’s and he snorts, “You can’t mean-”
“Oh yeah,” Dookie grins wide, excited and way too predatory for someone of his stature. His legs spread just slightly as he leans forward a few inches, not quite in Ray's face, but still closer than he should be. “You, motherfucker, are gonna give me a stick ‘n poke.”
“I’m gonna what?” Ray sputters, a laugh of disbelief bubbling out of his throat.
Dookie rolls his eyes, his head moving with the gesture in exaggeration. “C’mon. This will be the safest stick ‘n poke I've ever gotten with all these sanitation supplies, and I'll walk you through the whole process if you’re that much of a pussy.”
Ray looks once again to the supplies on the desk, then back at Dookie. He seems to consider it for a moment, his brows creased. Dookie knows that as a medic, Ray's gotta have some qualms with the general idea of stick ‘n pokes, but he’s done his best to eliminate as many medical issues as one can with such a practice.
“Alright,” Ray finally concedes, reaching for the black nitrile gloves, “but I get to choose what I put on you, yeah?”
“Duh,” Dookie agrees, way too pleased. “That was always the plan, big boy.” He sits further back then, and lifts his hips so he can pull his track pants down.
Ray’s whole body seems to freeze and twitch just slightly, his eyebrows headed towards his hairline. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Dookie just snorts and kicks his pants off, “Chill. I've got a specific spot for stick ‘n pokes and it can’t be comfortably reached with those on.” Now pantsless, he swings his left leg up and onto Ray's lap.
Ray’s gaze is immediately focused on the cluster of wobbly, scribbled mess of ink there, before he looks back up at Dookie’s face.
“Damn. These look like shit,” Ray observes, and Dookie just outright laughs, head thrown back.
“Yeah I know,” he says when he catches his breath, but he’s still grinning. “That’s kind of the point.”
Ray places his hand on Dookie’s calf then, right over the bundle of awful tattoos, and then he slides up until it rests just below his knee. Dookie swallows, feeling a tightness in his stomach that’s all too familiar, but he’s still grinning.
“So. I got free range to just, what? Mark you up?” Ray finally asks, voice low and mouth faintly curved upwards.
With eyes half lidded and amused, Dookie looks up at Ray and gives a shallow nod. “I mean. Yeah. If you want.” He shrugs and his mouth is curled at one corner in a mockery of a grin. He’s sitting on his bed in nothing but a military issue tee and a pair of tight boxer briefs now, but his leg is still on Ray's lap and his head is tilted in an easy casualness as he looks at the other man.
Ray nods absently and removes his hand to put on the provided gloves that he’d already grabbed. “This is stupid,” he assesses, snapping the wrist of the second glove once it’s on his hand.
“Yeah, well, so are you,” Dookie agrees, eyes trained on Ray's gloved hands. And then those hands are back on his leg, one gripping his ankle and turning it inward so the litany of tattoos are more visible, and the other up higher up, on his knee.
“You ever do this before?” Dookie asks, and after a pause, Ray huffs and shakes his head. “That’s fine. It's easy, really.” He leans back and settles himself on his elbows. “I don’t usually do this much prep, but I didn't want you bitching at me about an infection so.” He lifts his eyes back up to Ray's. “First, once you figure out where you wanna do it, take one of those sani wipes and clean the area. Anywhere below the rat is fine.” He lifts himself off one elbow to gesture first to the desk where he’d laid out the supplies and then to his upper calf where the stark black image of a curled up rat paints his skin.
“You can do whatever you want, but if you feel like you need a guide before you go all in, you can use the marker I put out for ya.” Once again he waves towards his desk, then settles back on both elbows. “Then you wanna sterilize the needle. You probably know how to do that with a lighter and some alcohol so I won't hold your hand for that.”
Ray fixes him with a look, but his hands don’t move from their loose grip on Dookie's leg. It feels almost grounding, but Dookie isn’t gonna let himself lean into that too much right now.
“Then as far as the tattoo itself goes, you just gotta dip the needle in the ink and poke over and over. It's just got the one tip so you’ll have to redip a lot but hey, it’s what I got.” He shrugs again, somewhat stilted by his position leaned back on his bed with his leg on Ray's thighs.
“Do whatever design you want, with the stipulation that it can’t be too big, and when you’re done, wipe it over over with a paper towel if it’s too bloody and then another sani wipe, then spread a bit of vaseline on it and if you feel the need, cover it with the bandage, but that’s probably not actually necessary, I just threw that in because you’re a medic I guess.”
A minute of silence stretches between the two men and Dookie struggles not to twitch or shift under his own anticipation. and then Ray moves.
He reaches for the marker, keeping eye contact with Dookie until he uncaps it and presses the tip to Dookie's leg and goes to work. Dookie doesn’t look at what Ray is drawing on his skin, can feel that it’s just above the conglomerate of his other stick ‘n pokes, but doesn’t speculate on what it might be.
When Ray caps the marker after mere seconds, Dookie feels himself jump, just a bit, and he does watch Ray's next moves. The medic picks up the needle, the shiny silver of it a stark contrast to the slick black gloves on Ray’s hands, and then he goes for the lighter. He clicks it and holds the needle over the flame and Dookie absolutely should not be as enraptured by his methodical precision as he is. And yet.
Once the needle is heated, Ray sets the lighter aside, and uncaps the bottle of isopropyl. He grabs a cotton ball and soaks it in the liquid, then runs the damp cotton over the needle. Shaking the needle in one hand to dry the alcohol, he then grabs one of the sanitary wipe packets, opening it with his teeth.
“What the fuck,” Dookie whispers, wishing his legs were close enough to each other to rub his thighs together for some friction, and then immediately hating himself for the thought.
Ray just grins down at him though, and works the sanitary wipe out from its packaging. He swipes it over a spot on Dookie’s calf that Dookie can’t quite see from where he’s all but lounging. It's cold on his skin, but dries quickly and when he looks up, Ray is looking right at him, a lazy smile curved on his lips.
“Figured out what you’re gonna do then?” Dookie asks, pretending he’s not on the verge of breathless.
“Yeah, I think so.” Ray’s loose smile turns into an outright smirk. “But you’ll have to wait and see.” His grip on Dookie’s leg tightens then, just enough to hold it still and Dookie watches as he dips the tip of the sewing needle into the tiny pot of ink he’d prepared. He then holds it up just enough to be in Dookie's line of sight. “I don’t get why you didn’t just buy some actual tattoo needles or somethin’ though,” he muses and Dookie just hms and tilts his head from side to side.
“Just working with what I know,” he says, eyes trained on the way the ink drips from the sharp tip before Ray moves it away from the pot and over Dookie’s leg.
“Whatever works then,” Ray says, smirk inching just slightly wider before his eyes move to train on the skin of Dookie’ calf.
“Going in then?” Dookie asks, voice quieter than he’d really like.
“Guess so,” Ray says, matching his volume.
Dookie is silent in return, save the breath in his lungs and the thumping in his chest. And then he feels the first prick of the needle in his skin.
“Don’t go too deep, just barely into the skin,” he feels the need to warn, one of his hands raising to grip Ray’s non-dominant arm. Ray doesn’t respond, just gives another poke to Dookie’s leg, just below the first. And then a heavy silence fills the air as Ray continues on, more sure with each light jab of the needle.
Every few stabs, Ray pauses to re-dip the tip into the ink, and eventually, Dookie gives in and tilts his head back. It's been ages since someone’s hands other than his own did this, and Ray isn’t exactly skilled or gentle by any means, but still Dookie closes his eyes, letting his elbows slip lower and allowing himself to get lost in the sensation.
At one particularly sharp jab, Dookie sucks a breath through his teeth and hisses out an airy, “Fuck,” feeling his leg tense but doing his best not to let it twitch or move at all.
“Damn,” Ray breathes out softly, voice teasing and not stopping his work. “You’re good at this. Staying so still.”
A disgruntled noise surfaces from Dookie's throat and he lifts his head enough to glare at Ray. “I’ve had lots of practice. Are you almost done?” he seethes through tight lips, not wanting to reveal how this is affecting him.
“Just about,” Ray replies, tone still light and eyes still trained on his work. Dookie huffs and drops his head back to let Ray finish. It doesn't take long, as Ray said, before he’s setting the needle aside and grabbing a paper towel to blot at the small pin pricks of blood and ink left as a result of his efforts. “There. All finished, you pussy,” he teases before reaching for another sanitary wipe.
“Oh fuck you,” Dookie huffs, pushing himself back up to sitting as Ray dabs his newly inked skin gently with the sanitary wipe. “Now let’s see your work.” Dookie leans forward as ray starts to rub the fresh ink over with the vaseline that Dookie provided.
With a jolt, Dookie grabs Ray's wrist to stop his movement. His gaze fixes on the new ink in his skin for just a moment before he slowly lifts his eyes to meet Ray's gaze.
“Really?” he asks, voice low and peppered with heat, something that could be anger, but not quite. “Your name?”
Ray doesn’t even look ashamed in the slightest. “Hey, you said I could do whatever I wanted.” His grin stretches wide, eyes dark and deep, full of teasing.
Dookie meets that heated gaze and takes a breath in, then out. “You mother fucker,” he hisses and then grabs Ray by his hair and hauls him forward until their mouths meet, teeth clashing unpleasantly at first, but their tongues slide together deliciously when Dookie yanks on Ray’s hair to angle his head just right.
It’s all heat and wet and Dookie tugs the collar of Ray’s shirt with the hand that isn’t busy gripped in his hair. He pulls Ray closer to him until the medic has to stumble out of the chair towards the bed, landing with a knee between Dookie’s thighs. He moans at the initial contact, but then Ray moves, his hips turning in a way that almost completely separates Dookie from any contact, and Dookie groans in frustration.
With an impatient noise, Dookie tightens his grip on Ray’s hair and then starts to shuffle himself backwards until they’re both fully on the bed, Ray hovering over him with one leg still between Dookie’s thighs. Dookie surges upwards, mouthing at any skin he can reach; lips, cheek, jaw, throat. And when his mouth makes contact with the juncture between Ray's neck and shoulder, he bares his teeth and bites down, desperate to feel flesh in their grip.
Above him, Ray makes a needy noise and writhes down onto Dookie who simply sees stars when Ray's thigh presses so insistent between his. Before he can really process what he’s doing, he grabs a hold of Ray and rolls the two of them over until he’s on top of the other man, adjusting his legs to straddle Ray's hips.
Pulling back to watch Ray's face, Dookie grinds down purposefully and slowly. When Ray's hands immediately find his hips, fingers digging in and pulling him down harshly against him, Dookie breathes a moan of satisfaction.
His hips roll a handful of times with near urgency, before he feels a hand at the back of his neck pulling him upright. He looks down at Ray, brow wrinkled with confusion and brain muddled with lust.
“I didn’t-” Ray’s breathing has grown heavy and his eyes are slightly hazy now. “Didn’t put the- the fucking bandage on.”
Dookie snorts and rolls his eyes leaning back in, “Whatever, it’s fine.” He nips at Ray's jaw, growing impatient.
“Dude, I just fucking stabbed you repeatedly with a needle, I really should-”
“Oh my fucking god, I don’t fucking care,” Dookie interrupts, grinding his hips down onto the hardness he can feel beneath him, effectively silencing Ray’s protests.
A groan eases its way out of Ray's throat, and his hands, still clad in black nitrile, slide from Dookie’s hips down to his upper thighs, gripping tightly and pulling him down, encouraging the movement.
The room grows warm with the combined heat of their breaths and Ray whines when Dookie bites harshly at his throat. “God,” he huffs, voice somewhat strained, “are you trying to fucking eat me?”
“Something like that,” Dookie answers into the side of Ray’s neck, biting down sharply again, like he really might be attempting to take a chunk out of him, and Ray hisses sharply. He loosens his jaw though, before he can do any actual damage, and laves his tongue over the purpling indentations from his teeth, satisfied with his work.
He sits back up, increasing the pressure in the roll of his hips and watching the expression play across Ray's features in response. Ray just looks back up at Dookie, lips twitching into an open mouthed smirk, even as his eyebrows are pinched together slightly.
“So, what was it that got you goin’ like this, huh?” He cants his hips upward and digs his fingers into the meat of Dookie’s thighs for emphasis, making Dookie's rhythm stutter briefly. “Was it the pain? I can’t imagine it hurt all that much, but hey, maybe that’s all it takes for you.” His accent has gotten a tad thicker, only enough to barely be noticeable.
He releases his hand from one of Dookie’s thighs, the black glove sticking to Dookie’s skin for just a moment, and trails it up Dookie’s side, then around to his back, gradually moving upwards. His fingers find the end of the rat tail that hangs down from the base of Dookie’s skull and he twirls it once before gripping it and yanking backwards on it, making Dookie cry out sharply, back arching.
“Or,” Ray's voice drops in pitch and his smirk grows. “Was it just seeing my name permanently on your skin. Was that what did it for ya?”
Dookie moans and his hips speed up as he glares down at Ray. “You’re an ass.”
“Yeah, and you’re kind of a fucking freak, you know that?” The way Ray says it makes it sound far too much like a compliment, his hips now steadily jerking upwards to match Dookie’s rhythm.
Dookie just laughs, breathless and reedy. “Takes one to know one,” he bites back, grin all teeth.
“You got me there,” Ray concedes, and finally releases the cord of hair from his grasp. He uses his now free hand to push himself up into a half sitting position, and Dookie takes the opportunity to get his own hand in Ray's hair and pull him until their mouths meet.
He bites at Ray's lip, no gentleness from his teeth, and revels in the strained noise Ray makes as a result. In response, Ray sucks Dookie’s tongue into his mouth and his hips stutter in their movement. God, he never even got his pants off and he’s already achingly close.
Dookie just grinds down harder into Ray's lap, his moan swallowed up by Ray's mouth. He's soaked through his underwear, dampening the front of Ray's pants over his cock that he can feel through the fabric, twitching beneath him. It's stupidly hot.
Ray makes a low breathy noise and releases Dookie’s tongue, and they’re just kind of panting into each other's mouths now, the air hot and sticky between them. Ray's thighs tense shakily, and Dookie knows he’s close. The hand that never left Ray’s hair grows tight, painfully so, almost mean.
“Gonna come?” he asks into Ray’s mouth, barely more than a throaty whisper.
“Yeah,” Ray agrees readily, his stomach tensing and his hand on Dookie’s thigh digging in harder, using it as leverage to keep Dookie meeting his thrusts, even as he starts to come undone.
“God, you’re easy,” Dookie breathes with a lazy grin, like he’s not in the exact same boat, and he tugs sharply on Ray’s hair again, yanking his head back to expose the column of his throat. He bites at Ray's hyoid bone, teeth grazing tender skin, pressure just enough to give the idea of choking, and that’s all she wrote.
Ray shudders beneath Dookie, a trembled groan pressed through his teeth and Dookie can feel the way his cock pulses with it as he comes, hot against his cunt, even through the fabric. He barely takes a second to savor his orgasm before he unlatches his hand from Dookie’s thigh and flips the hem of his shirt up enough to get his fingers under the elastic band of Dookie's underwear and slip his hand down.
“Fuck,” Dookie whispers when he feels thick nitrile-clad fingers trailing through his damp curls, spreading his slick folds. It doesn't take much, two fingers slipping inside him, a solid palm against his swollen clit, bumping clumsily against his piercing, and a hum of encouragement from Ray, and then he’s slipping over the edge. He shakes with the effort to remain upright, hand slapping against the wall beside him to help keep him steady, a deep vocal sigh on his lips.
Just when the stimulation starts to verge on too much, Ray pulls his hand out and lifts it to his lips, sucking the juice of Dookie’s release off his gloved fingers.
“Jesus fuck,” Dookie groans. “You can’t be doing shit like that.”
Ray just shrugs, looking far too smug for someone who just came in his pants. The room reeks of sex, and they both just take a minute to catch their breath, Dookie leaning back, bracing his hands on Ray's thighs for support.
“Shit, man,” Ray says finally, ending the silence with a slightly rough voice. “Maybe I should give you another stick ‘n poke some time.”
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe," Dookie agrees. “Or maybe I could give you one.”
“Absolutely not.”
Dookie just laughs.