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Mostly Ray is into women, with their curves and their softness, but he's always had a thing for boys with hips. He lays the blame for this utterly and wholly at Mikey Way's door.

Ray's not even looking to pick someone up at the VMAs. Gerard and he have been talking about a track for the new album and all Ray wants is to get the mandatory socializing out of the way so that he can get back up to his room and figure out chords.

He is distracted from his divine and holy purpose by the entirely satanic Spencer Smith, who has the audacity to walk across the room. With his hips.

"Fuck," Ray mutters, and goes to see what the likelihood is that he can get lucky with someone that he's not even sure is technically in the same generation with him.

Luck is on Ray's side and when he casually saunters up and says, "Congratulations on your win," Spencer blinks once, then twice, then says, "Thank you." It's good, self-contained, but there's just enough breath missing to the words that Ray thinks, oh, fanboy, excellent.

Ray knows he shouldn't take advantage, but Spencer Smith seems like a kid who mostly knows how to take care of himself, and that's only helping his cause in Ray's view. Or rather, what Ray hopes will become his cause very shortly.

Ray says, "You want something to drink?"

"I don't--"

"I didn't mean alcoholic."

Spencer tilts his head ever so slightly and then smiles. "I'd rather get the fuck outta here and see if I can find some real food."

Ray is all about helping the cause of those hips. "Cab?"

"Meet you out front in ten."

Ray's out in five. He tells Gerard, who will tell the others. Spencer's waiting. Ray has to hold back a smirk. Whoever decided that people shouldn't appear eager was clearly some kind of freak of nature. Eager is hot.

They hit up an In-N-Out on the way back to the hotel, buying the cab driver a burger and chatting with their mouths full and generally just not being cool at all.

When they get back to the hotel Spencer tells him, "I'm sharing with Jon."

Gerard will get Bob to stay with him, Ray knows, so he says, "My room it is."

Spencer's a messy kisser, but Ray really doesn't mind, not with those hips under his hands, curving just right, not with the way Spencer clearly just wants to be there. That last is impossibly hot.

Ray hasn't undone a guy's pants in a while, but it's sort of like the time he stopped playing guitar for six months, then just picked it up and couldn't remember the intervening time. Spencer's pants are down within seconds and Ray's following them, on his knees, his hands tight over Spencer's hips.

Spencer is a breathy little thing when he's having his cock sucked, his entire body moving beneath Ray's hands, his mouth. Ray caresses a bit at the skin beneath his fingers. Spencer's fingers close in Ray's hair and there's a bit of pull, some pain, but that's fine, that's good, he sort of likes the hint of aggressiveness.

Ray sucks hard and Spencer shouts a little before giving in, giving up, melting to the floor.

Spencer says, "I'm not usually this easy."

Ray says, "That's sweet of you to say."

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Skin by egelantier, photo by microbophile