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"Mm?" Vecchio raised his eyebrows.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Vecchio looked pointedly down at his hand, which was still exactly where it had been, namely on Ray's crotch. Ray stared at it, white against the dark denim, like he was going to discover it was a mirage or something.
It wasn't a mirage. It was pretty solid. Very -- Ray swallowed as it moved, and his cock moved too -- very, very solid.
"I would think that would be pretty obvious. You being a detective and all."
"Yeah, but --" Vecchio's hands had to be even longer than Ray's own, when measured by his ability to have his thumb snugged up there while his fingers curled down under there. Fuck, but it had been a long time. "But --"
Vecchio looked him over blandly, eyes taking very obvious note of the flush in his cheeks and the speed of his breathing and the way he'd slouched down a little on the couch so he could get his legs further apart. Ray looked down at Vecchio's hand again. Fucker was wearing a pinky ring.
"When I was Vecchio, I was straight," he pointed out.
Vecchio flashed both rows of teeth. "Aw, doesn't that just suck? Every undercover job, the research always leaves out some crucial bit of intelligence."
Ray doubted Vecchio had had on a pair of jeans since the seventies, but he somehow managed to get the top three buttons of Ray's 501s undone without moving his fingers from that really nice warm cradle around Ray's balls.
"Shit," Ray moaned, letting his head fall back against the couch. "Wish I'd known. It was a long fucking two years."
Three buttons were enough to make it very obvious how few objections Ray had.
"Nah," he said, just to be sure, watching Vecchio's pale graceful fingers give his naked cock an introductory handshake. "You -- oh, fuck -- you do Vecchio better than me."
"I dunno about that," Vecchio said. "I got a feeling you're gonna do Vecchio just fine."
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September 20, 2004