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The containment unit thrummed ominously. It always did, but when it had been opened more than a dozen or so times in less than forty-eight hours, the noise was deeper and louder than usual, and sounded much more dangerous. Ray checked the readings on the monitor while Spengler ran the ectoetheric particle detector over the trap slots. The fluctuations they had detected weren't dangerous - they weren't the sorts of surges that could bring down the containment grid - but they could be the first warnings of trouble.
"I'm not getting any elevated readings," Egon called across the basement, lowering the detector. Ray nodded. He turned the oscillator knob at the bottom of the monitor, and watched the field variance levels settle down. The thrumming noise quieted, although it remained clearly audible, deeper than its normal purr. "I think we're at the end of a cycle," the engineer replied. "We'll have to wait for it to go through its quiet period and then build back up again before we're going to be able to detect anything." The physicist nodded in agreement, and they both headed for the stairs to the reception area.
Egon had just made it to the top of the stairs when the door flew open behind Ecto-1A and then banged shut again. Venkman stamped his feet, twice, knocking encrusted snow and salt from his shoes, then opened his locker door with the same force and threw his coat in without bothering to find a hanger. The two scientists flattened themselves against the wall; being in Venkman's way when he was in this sort of a mood was never pleasant. Egon shot an apologetic glance in Janine's direction, and she cringed slightly at her desk. But Peter only tossed a crumpled piece of paper at her in-box, missing by several inches, and growled "File that." He spun on the ball of one foot and marched up the stairs, his back stiff as a soldier's. "Or burn it. One or the other."
For a moment the lower floor was silent. Ray and Egon glanced at each other, eyes narrowed and mouths wry. Then Janine's voice floated over the filing cabinets. "I had to choose today to work overtime."
Egon picked his way past Peter's office, overflowing with old newspapers and unsigned invoices, to her desk. "At least he isn't screaming. He has gotten better about that over the years."
Something thumped over their heads, somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen. Ray consciously arranged his features into an expression of concern - not that he wasn't concerned, but it wouldn't do to let any of the other emotions he was feeling show in front of the staff. Janine carefully unfolded the crumpled bit of paper, flattening it with the heel of her hand, and sucked in a breath through her teeth. Leaning over her shoulder, Egon read it and made a small, sad "hmm" sound.
Ray couldn't see the note with Egon in the way, so he looked the question at Janine, raising his eyebrows. Their secretary shrugged and murmured "It's a 'Dear John' letter." Ray reached out and snatched it from her hand.
It read:
Dear Peter,I realize it's cowardly of me to tell you this by letter instead of in person, but Andre and I have been talking again, and he wants to give our marriage another shot, for Oscar's sake. He bought us tickets to London, very last minute, and didn't tell me until they arrived today - by the time you read this, I'll be at the airport already. I don't know how I feel about him as a husband, but I know it's not fair to Oscar for him to grow up without his father, especially if we do have a chance to be a real family.
I really appreciate everything you've done for me, and for Oscar. I'm not sure how this is all going to work out, but I'll call you when we've arrived in London, and when we get back home I'll let you know.
Please understand that this isn't about my feelings for you. This is about doing right by Oscar. Everything that happened in December made it clear to me that he's what comes first in my life now, before my career or my relationships. I'm sorry if I've hurt you again - I hope I haven't.
All my love,
Dana
"Oh, man," sighed Ray. He handed the half-sheet back to Janine and ran his hand through his hair.
Egon shot Janine an apologetic look. "Would you mind waiting down here a little longer? Winston's out with his family tonight, and I need to make sure the situation is stable before leaving Ray alone with -" He was interrupted by a crash over their heads. " - With that."
"Sure, Egon." She took off her glasses and looked at the ceiling. "You guys need backup, or should I stay out of your way?"
"I think we'll be fine. We've dealt with this before, remember." Ray rubbed his chin. "With Marsha, Lyssa, Jennifer, Josie, Vanessa, Morgan, Lucy, . . . "
Egon interrupted him. "More to the point, we've dealt with it with Dana once before. I'm sure we'll be fine, Janine." He touched the back of her hand and headed in the direction of the stairs. Ray raised his eyebrows at their secretary and then followed Egon. Were they back together again? He'd thought Janine was still seeing Louis. Then again, Egon's ideas about relationships were - unorthodox, to say the least. It wasn't really Ray's business, anyway.
Not that Peter and Dana were Ray's business, either. Except when they were. Or, more accurately, when Peter was Ray's business. He had a pretty good idea of what was coming, and his stomach was tight with anxiety and, he had to admit, anticipation.
Peter had found the bourbon Ray hid in the back of the pantry and was pouring himself one on the rocks when they made their way to the kitchen. An empty beer bottle was on the floor a few feet away from the trash can, intact, thank goodness, and a pile of soup cans that had been on the pantry shelf were scattered across the floor. There was no sign of damage to the glassware or the plates; Ray watched Egon note that and visibly reassess Peter's level of damage downward slightly. He hadn't thought Venkman was at the point of having a pottery-throwing fit - they'd only seen him do that once, and Ray suspected he'd been slightly chemically enhanced at the time.
"Peter - " Egon started, but Venkman interrupted him immediately. "Hey, guys. Have a seat. Ray, I borrowed this, I'll get you another one, I swear. Do I need to apologize to Janine? Last thing I need right now is her threatening to quit again."
Ray took the bottle from Venkman's hand, glanced at it, picked two glasses from the shelf, and poured a splash both for himself and for Spengler. Egon adjusted his glasses nervously and accepted the offer of a chair. "No, Janine's more concerned than angry. Peter," the physicist continued, "are you all right?"
"Fine, fine. The love of my life just dumped me for the second time, that's all. I save her ass twice in five years, and I can't get her to stick with me for more than a couple of months at a time. Hell, she had a kid with a guy who's allergic to life and more high-strung than his violin, and she's willing to give him a second shot, but -" He broke off, and drained the rest of his glass of bourbon. He gestured at Ray to hand him the bottle again; Ray took his glass, added a couple of fingers' worth, and passed it back to Venkman. Egon sniffed at his, and sipped at the edge of it cautiously before setting it back down. Peter waved expansively and started again. "You read the letter, right? Or Janine read it to you?"
"We read it. Didn't seem like it was a secret, since you threw it at her." Ray took a swallow, enjoying the warmth as the liquor rolled down his throat. He silently debated exactly how much alcohol it was safe to allow himself.
"No, I figured you would. I didn't mean to throw it at her; I'll apologize tomorrow. I just - I couldn't handle it anymore. Literally." Venkman puffed his cheeks and blew out a deep breath. "She couldn't even call me up to tell me that? She left me that taped to the door of her apartment." Both Egon and Ray flinched. "Yeah. And it's not even 'goodbye forever.' It's 'Oh, I think this is better for me and my kid, but if it doesn't work out, I might come back to you.' How selfish is that?" Peter rubbed a hand across his face. "Well, you know, little Petey Venkman doesn't have to take that!" He tossed back most of what Ray had added to his glass. "I'm not gonna hang around for her this time."
"As I recall, you didn't exactly do much waiting last time," commented Egon. Ray cringed slightly. Spengler continued, "You hooked up with that programming director -" The physicist frowned, and groped for the name. His memory was damned near photographic where particles and theories were concerned, but he occasionally forgot things relating to people. It bothered him more than he usually let on; that he was scowling openly about it meant he was more worried about Peter than about his own pride, for once.
"Lois," Ray supplied, slightly relieved that Spengler didn't go where he'd been suspecting, but not particularly pleased at the mention of yet another of Peter's old flames.
"Right, with Lois, within a couple of months of Dana discontinuing your relationship back in '85." Egon fidgeted slightly and rotated his glass without raising it from the table. "Peter, I know that Dana is someone special to you, but you and she have several marked areas of incompatibility. This may, in fact, be the best possible course of action for both of you."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Please don't tell me I'm supposed to take relationship advice from you two. Come on, what do you guys know about women?" He grinned; it was his con-man shark-grin, but at least it was a smile. "I've coached you through every relationship with a girl either of you has had after high school."
Egon returned the predatory grin, lopsided and slightly twisted. "Venkman, you have no idea." He leaned forward, looking much more somber. "Seriously, are you going to be functional? I'm not sure you should try to make your way back to your apartment alone."
Peter shook his head. "I'm not that drunk, Spengs, but I wasn't planning on it, anyway. If I go back to the loft, I won't wake up on time and one of you will have to come looking for me, and either our nine o'clock tomorrow will yell at us for being late or the two of you will try and take care of it without me." He stretched in his chair, the blue-and-white-striped sleeves of his shirt riding up. "With Zeddemore out of town, you guys are dangerous enough. I'm not letting you go without me. I'll just crash here tonight."
"Well." Egon stood up, and set his glass in the sink. "If you're sure, Peter, then I should go attempt to mollify our secretary." He stepped to Venkman's side; for a moment, his hands fluttered, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to put a hand on Peter's shoulder. He finally did, lightly. "I'll take the pager. If you need anything, let me know."
Peter reached up and patted Egon's arm. "Yeah, no problem, Spengler. I'll be fine. I just need a good hot shower and some sleep. By this time tomorrow, I'll have forgotten Dana Barrett ever existed." He looked up and grinned again; still mostly fake, but better than before.
Egon looked hesitantly at Ray, who nodded back at him. "I'll keep an eye on him. It'll be fine." Egon acknowledged Ray with his eyes, and left quietly, his footsteps barely audible on the stairs. Ray glanced back at Peter, then got up and tucked the bourbon back into the pantry. He looked at the cans littering the ground and sighed.
Peter waved in his general direction. "Don't worry about the cans. I'll pick them up later. Ray, really, I'm okay. I'm not drunk yet. Tipsy, maybe, but I don't even have a good buzz going."
Ray turned back and slid into the chair Egon had vacated. "And you don't need to be, either. You drunk and heartbroken is not a pretty sight." It had just about killed Ray the last time he'd had to watch that. If he had to go through it again, he would, but he'd rather it could be avoided.
"You're right, Ray." Peter finished off the last dregs from his glass and stirred the half-melted ice with a finger. "If I get smashed, I'll start bawling, and nobody wants that." A gentle but high-pitched hum sang out from the windows, and all the dust motes in the building stirred; Peter sat up straight. "What was that?"
"That was Spengler turning on the new alarm system." Ray smirked just a bit; they were rather proud of it. "We installed it since the last time you slept here. The electroetheromagnetic field prevents corporeal or spectral intrusion, from either direction."
Peter gave him a level look. "You guys are more worried about the containment grid going than you've been telling me."
"What could you do about it? It's not about to blow, Pete, it's just fluctuating in weird ways." Ray shrugged. Once you'd faced down a Sumerian demigod, smaller spooks just weren't as terrifying as they might be.
Peter shivered. "Yeah, but the idea of you two, and maybe Winston, stuck inside a whatever-magnetic field with the pissed-off contents of the containment unit if it does go, with me not able to get back in here, doesn't really appeal to me." Venkman frowned; Ray's eyebrows lifted.
"Really?" Ray thought about that for a minute. "I'm sorry, Peter. I guess I hadn't thought of it that way before."
"Of course you two suicidal mad scientists didn't think of that." Venkman shook his head in disgust, and stared into his glass for a moment. "You were solving the problem of how to keep them in. The problem of how you were going to get out wasn't part of your hypothesis." He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling only a tiny bit. "Never mind that some of us might need to keep you around."
Ray shrugged. "If the containment grid blew with us in here, you'd be out of business whether we survived or not." He wasn't sure if he was trolling for sympathy, or just trying to get Peter's mind on something that wasn't Dana.
"Oh, sure. That'd be the biggest thing on my mind, that I was out of a job again." Peter came around the table, opened the refrigerator, and stuck his head in, hunting for something. Whatever it was, he didn't find it. "That's me, Peter Venkman, not caring about anyone other than myself. Never mind that I'd've just lost two, probably three, coworkers, and my two best friends." He closed the fridge and continued around the table until he was behind Ray. "Well, except that I might have trouble finding someone who'd loan me twenty bucks."
"Don't be silly, Venkman," Ray said, trying to keep his voice even. He hated being baited like this, and Peter was quite good at it. "You can always bilk Louis out of a double sawbuck."
"Hey, yeah, Ray, there's a great idea. Why don't you leave me alone with no one for company in the world other than the crankiest secretary in New York, who would no doubt blame me personally for Spengler's death, and the only other person who's as hung up on Dana as I am?" Peter spat from somewhere near the sink.
"Is Louis still carrying a torch?" Ray was genuinely surprised at that.
"Uh-huh. Louis is still in love with her, and in lust with Janine, and totally confused about the difference." Ah, gossip. Peter loved talking about other people; it was one of the reasons he'd gone into psychology. "Janine's sweet on him, but Egon's still her emotional center. Egon doesn't know what he wants, although it sounds like he's happy with what he's getting." Peter's voice was getting closer and closer to Ray's ear. The engineer squirmed, caught between feeling uncomfortable and eagerly awaiting what probably lay on the other side of that discomfort.
"How about you, Ray?" Peter's hands slid around his shoulders in a casual gesture that could have been either just being friendly or a loose embrace. "You still carrying any torches?"
"Peter, stop it." Working with Venkman for a decade, and knowing him for almost two, made it simple for Ray to see when he was being manipulated. It didn't make it one bit harder for Peter to wrap him around his little finger, though.
"Hmm? No one you'd like to wrap in your arms and take to bed? No one you wanna hold and comfort and then give the most soul-cleansing blow job they've ever had?" Peter was speaking slowly, softly, right next to Ray's ear, his breath tickling with every syllable.
Ray tilted his head back and tried to glare at him. "Peter, you do this every time. I know you're using me, you know you're using me; could you please at least do me the favor of not pretending?"
"Not pretending I'm not using you or not pretending I don't know?" Peter pressed a small kiss just behind Ray's ear; gooseflesh rose down the back of the engineer's neck.
"Either one." Ray's fingers clutched at the table. He hadn't had enough bourbon. If he'd taken another drink by now, he could just blame the alcohol in the morning and salvage some of his self-respect. As it was, when his will broke - and it would, in just a few more minutes, if that - it was going to be no one and nothing's fault but his own.
"Ray, if I'm giving you what you want, I'm not really using you. I'm using you when I go away again. And I promise you, I'm not doing that tonight." Peter ran his tongue around the rim of Ray's ear; the engineer shuddered deliciously.
Ray moaned, "Peter, please, don't do this to me again. I can't handle it." Ray knew he was just a rebound. He was always the rebound. He'd confessed his feelings for Venkman after one of Peter's rather spectacular break-ups in college, and the two of them had had some of the hottest sex Ray had ever experienced - then Venkman had pretended the next morning that none of it had happened. Ever since, whenever Peter was dumped, as opposed to doing the breaking up himself, he'd managed to insinuate himself into Ray's arms. Usually it was a one-night stand. A few times it had been a week or two. But it always ended with Peter finding another girl, and going back to treating Ray as a buddy - and nothing more.
Peter grinned against his throat. "What, you're afraid Egon's going to dump you if you spend the night with me? He wouldn't have left us alone together if he minded."
"Egon and I are not sleeping together." Ray blushed nearly crimson. "That was a one-time experiment to see if it would positively charge the mood slime faster." Technically, it had been twice. It had worked, spectacularly well, as far as the ectoplasm was concerned. Ray found Egon to be a reasonably agreeable partner; it had been physically quite nice, and certainly emotionally satisfying. But there hadn't been the sparks there always were with Peter. "Did he tell you about that?"
"I twisted his ear." Peter nipped gently at Ray's earlobe. "Are you done protesting yet, Ray? Because I'd really, really like to get my hands on your cock right about now."
"Peter, I - " Ray was interrupted by Peter leaning far enough forward to kiss him, awkwardly and upside-down. The last scraps of resistance tore away in a flood of desperate need.
Venkman broke off the kiss, surprisingly gently, and then casually walked out of the kitchen. Ray sighed, deeply, then got up and followed him down the stairs to the bunkroom.
Peter paused at the door to kick off his shoes, still wet from the slush he'd tracked in downstairs. Ray hesitated behind him, wanting to wrap his arms around Venkman, to just hold him for a moment before they started ripping each others' clothes off. He settled for putting a hand on Peter's back as he tugged his own sneakers off. Peter didn't pull away from the touch. Maybe that was a good sign. Or maybe it just meant he was drunker than he was letting on.
Venkman dropped his shoes at the foot of his own bunk - even though he still had his own apartment, he crashed at the firehouse after a bust ran late often enough that they kept one made up for him - and then jumped onto Ray's. He landed flat on his back, bounced once, and then landed again more or less sitting upright. Not too terribly drunk, then.
Ray looked warily at Peter, who grinned back at him casually, as if this were an everyday occurrence. The engineer carefully removed his socks, tossed them across the room into the hamper - they hit the edge, but fell in instead of onto the floor - and deliberately settled onto Peter's bunk.
"Hey, get over here." Peter smirked at Ray and crooked his fingers at him, beckoning.
"I haven't changed my sheets in a few days, Pete. Come over here; it's cleaner." Technically, it was true. Peter looked confused, then vaguely annoyed, then resigned; he got up, crossed the isle between the beds, and sat down next to Ray. He leaned down and nuzzled Ray's hair, and murmured "Okay, now, where were we?"
"Right about here," Ray responded, and pulled Peter down to meet his lips. Peter had his tongue out in less than a second, but Ray held off for a while. If he was going to be used again, he at least wanted to savor it instead of rushing through. By the time he finally opened his mouth and let Peter in, they were both groaning, pulling at each other's shirts and belts.
"Goddamn it, Pete," Ray growled, "what bizarre attraction do you have to sweater vests with no buttons?" He shoved the offending article of clothing over Venkman's head and flung it off the end of the bunk.
"Hey, chicks dig 'em." Peter's fingers finished unbuttoning Ray's placket and roughly tugged his shirttail from his waistband. "Besides, you can never be too warm in this kind of weather, right?" He trailed one hand gently over the thin fabric of the undershirt beneath, finding one hardening nipple and pinching it gently. Ray drew in a sharp breath through his teeth and attacked Peter's chinos with renewed vigor.
Venkman tossed Ray's shirt behind him and began working on his belt. "I mean, you're not exactly making this easy, yourself." He gave up on unthreading the strip of slightly worn leather from the belt loops and just undid the fly.
Ray slid the khaki trousers down Peter's slim hips. Oh, gods, Venkman had dressed for a date with Dana; he was wearing silk boxers. Peter kicked the chinos off onto the floor, and Ray reached around to grope his ass through the slick, soft fabric. Peter chuckled into his shoulder and peeled Ray's t-shirt off.
"Come on, Ray, I wanna see you naked." Peter hooked his thumbs into Ray's briefs and yanked them down with his jeans. Ray rolled back on the bed and let Peter finish stripping him.
He looked up into Peter's startling blue eyes. "Well, Peter?" He tried to make his voice sound challenging. It came out sounding more like he was asking for reassurance.
"Oh, yeah." Peter's mouth curled into a predatory grin. "You know I like your body, Ray. Always have." He ducked down and tongued the nipple he'd tweaked earlier; Ray hissed and wriggled. Venkman continued, "What, you worried that you've gained weight? Just more of you to love, that's all."
"Uh-huh." Ray finished divesting Peter of his shirt. He looked at the boxers and decided to leave them for a moment more, grabbing another double handful of Peter's rear.
"Don't believe me, Ray? You're sure in a suspicious mood this evening." Peter pushed Ray back onto the mattress, gently but firmly, and climbed on top of him. "Need me to demonstrate?" He rocked his hips and ground against Ray through the thin silk fabric. " 'Cause I'll be glad to, Ray. As often as you want."
"Then show me, Peter," Ray gasped as their erections pressed together and then slid apart, the silk caressing him.
"Sure thing, Ray." Peter smirked and slid towards the foot of the bed, and pushed Ray up towards the head, spreading his legs just enough. His hands meandered roughly down Ray's thighs, and then across his hips, tracing his treasure trail, around, and down into the crease where thigh and hip met.
Ray threw his head back. "Peter, please."
"Let me warm you up, Ray. No need to rush." Now it was Peter who was taking this slow. His fingertips ran down Ray's stomach, making the muscles tighten under the younger man's plumpness. Peter's breath tickled at his groin, warm and damp and making every hair stand on end. Ray grabbed at the headboard and moaned.
Very slowly, Peter stroked Ray's erection with one hand. The other kept trailing around his hips and thighs. "I always forget how thick you are," Peter murmured, his mouth only a few inches from Ray's cock.
Ray propped himself up on his elbows. "If you didn't pretend you were one hundred and ten percent straight and had never seen me naked when you didn't need me to get your rocks off, you just might find it easier to remember, Peter." He knew he was being spiteful and bitter to a man with his hands barely centimeters from his testicles, but he'd been resentful for so long he didn't care.
Peter looked up at him, and his hands stilled. "Aw, come on, Ray. Don't be like that. It's not like I've lied about it."
"Yes, you have." Ray glared down at him. "I know you lied to Rita about it, because she figured out you were lying and she went and asked Spengler."
"Rita?" Peter's eyes went up, flicking back and forth through remembered faces.
"Rita Morales, your second year in grad school. I got the most bizarre phone call from Egon at nearly midnight. She'd cornered him and asked, and he'd told her, because this is Spengler, right, he doesn't even think about it, and then it hit him hours afterwards that he'd probably broken a confidence with me by telling her. I told him I didn't care who knew." Ray narrowed his eyes. "I don't care if the whole world knows. You're the one who thinks he has a reputation to protect."
"It'd be bad for business, Ray." Peter shook his head. "Besides, right now it's just you and me." The hand that had been playing at the engineer's thighs moved higher and cradled his balls. The other one began sliding along the top of Ray's erection. "Does it matter if anyone else knows, as long as you do and I'm here?" He wrapped his hand around Ray's cock and squeezed.
Ray shivered and fell back. Almost involuntarily, he replied "No, Peter," as Venkman's thumb found the sensitive spot just below the glans.
"Didn't think so." One finger of the hand on Ray's testicles edged back and began massaging the skin just behind them. "I know how bad you want me." The other hand on his cock squeezed and slid down. "How bad you need this." Peter's blue eyes sparkled as he glanced up at Ray.
Ray's hands curled into fists in the bedspread as Peter's mouth closed on him. He scrabbled at the hard, sharp core of resentment, and lost his grip on it as Venkman's tongue flicked it away. He pressed himself back into the mattress and groaned incoherently.
Peter chuckled and bobbed his head. The suction sent a throb of white heat through Ray's groin and up his spinal cord, where it melted deliciously. He cried out and thrust upwards; Peter backed off a moment, and then curled his tongue around the head of Ray's cock and lapped at it. A hand gripped the part of Ray's erection that Peter couldn't fit in his mouth, working it in time with his tongue.
Ray squirmed and groaned. Peter's other hand moved back again, two fingers pressing down on the sensitive spot in the same rhythm. "Please, Peter, more," Ray gasped, twining one of his hands in Peter's hair.
Peter redoubled his efforts, licking, sucking, stroking. Ray forced his eyes open and glanced down, watching Peter taking him into his mouth. The taller man made a soft, contented noise around Ray's erection, pushing another surge of warmth through him. That was the strange thing - for all that he dumped Ray like a load of gravel when he had a girlfriend, he surely seemed to enjoy this.
Peter opened his eyes and looked up; their gazes met. Oh, gods, yes, Peter was enjoying this. There was nothing but desire in those glistening pools of blue. Ray tipped his head back and shouted as he fell headlong over the edge; Peter's head slid sideways so he was still mouthing the side of Ray's cock as he spurted, and his tongue caressed him until he started to soften.
"Oh, god, Peter," Ray moaned again. Peter edged back up the bunk, careful not to smear the silk, and kissed Ray long and deep. Ray rolled towards him and clutched him tight, pressing his still-wet cock into Peter's groin. Venkman pulled back to complain, then looked into Ray's face, flicking back and forth from the blue eye to the hazel one, and grinned sloppily. "Okay, I guess I asked for that."
"Well, now we'll just have to get them off of you, won't we?" Ray scooted down, grabbed a double handful of the silk, and yanked; they slid easily down Peter's long, soft-fuzzed legs. Ray fingered them gently, then ostentatiously used them to wipe down his stomach. Peter laughed. "Okay, okay, enough, Ray, I get it."
"Do you?" Ray twined his fingers in Peter's chest hair and mouthed a nipple gently. Peter's toes curled so hard Ray could hear the joints crack. Ray laved his tongue across the hardening nub, brushing the other one with the pad of his thumb.
"Yeah, Ray, I get it." Peter pushed down gently on Ray's shoulders, urging him lower. "You can stop torturing me now."
"As I recall, you like this." Ray brought his other thumb to the nipple he'd been tonguing, and began working his mouth downward, nipping and licking as he went. "Besides," he murmured, his mouth against the skin of Peter's belly, "You said we weren't in a hurry." He latched onto the soft skin just below the navel, bit down gently and sucked hard, leaving just enough of a bruise that it would be visible in the morning. Peter sucked in air through his teeth and groaned.
"I was a little closer to drunk then." Peter traced the curve of Ray's ear with a fingertip. "I haven't forgotten you, Ray." His hips rolled, brushing the tip of his cock against Ray's chin. "I certainly haven't forgotten how good you are at this."
"Mmm." Ray pressed one hand flat against Peter's hip, to keep him from bucking, and gave his erection a lavish lick from root to crown. Peter gasped and shivered. "Yeah, Ray. Like that. A man doesn't forget that kind of, oh, god, do that again." Ray closed his lips around the soft spot and flicked it with his tongue a second time, then eased Peter's cock all the way into his mouth.
"Oh, yeah." Peter's hand came down on the top of Ray's head. "Yeah, just like that, Ray, that's perfect." His hips jerked; Ray pushed him back into the mattress with both hands, a little rougher than necessary. "So good." One hand slid down and curled around, cupping Peter's ass. "Hold me tight, Ray, tighter." Ray increased the suction and swirled his tongue. "Yeah, yeah, more."
It occurred to Ray that this was one of the few times that it didn't bother him that Venkman never shut up. "Harder, Ray, harder, oh, god." His fingers dug into Peter's backside, pushing him upwards, and he puffed a ragged breath down Peter's shaft between flicks of his tongue.
"Oh, oh, god, Ray, yes, god, now, please, ahh . . . " Peter was down to single syllables; that meant he had about thirty seconds left. Ray brought his other hand around and began very gently stroking Peter's balls; Venkman's legs twitched and his heels drummed on the mattress.
"Ah, aahh, aaaaaaagh!" Peters voice caught and dissolved into incoherent moaning as he jerked, and hot liquid filled Ray's mouth. He massaged Peter through the aftershocks by hand, leaning up to look at him. It was hard to keep a mask up when you were coming; Peter in his moment of pleasure looked so innocent, as if the con-man was a shell that passion burned away.
It wouldn't last. It never did. But these fragile instants were so precious that, for a moment, Ray didn't mind.
"C'mon up here." Peter's hand fumbled at his shoulder. Ray edged back up the bunk; it wasn't really big enough for them to lie on it together comfortably, but they both rolled onto their sides and managed. Peter reached out, slid a hand under his chin, tilted him upwards, and kissed him again, gently.
"I get it." Peter wasn't smiling, exactly; it was more of an introspective look. "Using my bed, marking my shorts, marking me. Trying to stake your claim on me this time, Ray?"
Ray shrugged. "It won't work, Peter, I know better."
"Probably not." Peter curled an arm around him. "But I can't blame you for trying. This time, don't put up with my shit in the morning, okay?" He nuzzled Ray's shoulder and pulled the blankets over them.
Ray started to slide out of the bunk. Peter failed to let go. "Nah, stay here with me, Ray."
"You sure?" Peter had slept in Ray's bed a few times, but he'd never let Ray sleep in his.
"Yeah, I'm sure." He slid one leg between Ray's. "This way, we'll wake up together, you'll get at least one more round of sex out of me, and we can freak out Spengler."
"He's freaky enough already." Ray didn't really want to think about which of several reactions Egon might have; it was possible that the physicist might decide to try to crawl in bed with them. But he curled against Peter and closed his eyes. At least this way, it wouldn't seem like a dream of a mistake when morning came.