Five Things That Never Happened To Ray and Ray
Author's Notes: A double challenge entry; for the Naive Fraser! Challenge on DS_Flashfiction, and for the "Five Things" challenge over at Te's Challengeland. Thank you Resonant for the beta (and the muskrats!) and Naomi for making sure that the right dick was being referenced. I love you guys. *g*
Vecchio had Kowalski by the arm, and he got it twisted up and behind Kowalski's back so that he had enough leverage to slam Kowalski chest-first onto the kitchen table. Kowalski went down hard, with a kind of flattened bang against the table top. In a second, Vecchio was on top of him, weighing him down and whispering in his hot, pink ear. Kowalski was flushed and breathing hard and looking really fucking happy—man, the guy never looked so good as when you were throwing him around some.
"Yeah?" Vecchio whispered.
Kowalski's eyes fluttered closed. "Yeah."
"Yeah," and Vecchio didn't need to be told twice. He slid his hands under Kowalski to undo his jeans, then tugged them (and Kowalski's tiny little underwear, dark blue briefs more like bikinis: slut) over his ass and down his thighs just enough so that he could spread Kowalski's legs a little, get between them. Kowalski's t-shirt was riding up his pale, lightly freckled back, and Vecchio's hands were shaking as he reached for the zipper of his grey gabardine trousers. He unzipped, pushed his green silk boxers down, and then pulled the small tube of lube from the breast pocket of his Egyptian cotton dress shirt.
He knocked his knee against Kowalski's leg, and Kowalski instantly shifted his stance to spread wider, obedient as you please: good boy. Vecchio lubed himself up first, knowing that Kowalski was gonna start moaning like a bitch once he stuck fingers in him, and he wanted to be ready for action.
"C'mon...." Kowalski's head twisted around; his hands were white-knuckled where they gripped the edge of the table. "What are you doin' back there?"
"Hang on a minute, hang on a minute—"
"Reading the paper? Prospecting for gold? You want to paint my kitchen or—" Vecchio shoved two fingers in. Kowalski sucked in a long, shuddering breath, and then breathed out slowly. "...Okay, yeah."
He watched Kowalski writhe against the linoleum tabletop as he slid his fingers in and out, twisted them, pressed deep. Kowalski moaned, and there was something about that moan that always went straight to his dick, made him crazy—fucking crazy—for the Polack. He pulled his fingers out, grabbed his slicked-up cock in his fist, and pushed himself against Kowalski's hole.
He sank in slowly, gritting his teeth, going in, going deep.
Kowalski was shaking underneath him, gasping rhythmically for air. "...yeah....c'mon.... harder, do it harder, do it—"
Vecchio grabbed Kowalski's pale, smooth hips and began to slam in.
They neither of them noticed Fraser opening the door behind them.
"Okay, look," Ray Vecchio said, letting his hands drop away from his face. "Let's go through it again..."
"He takes his thing!" Kowalski was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking more pissed off than Vecchio'd ever seen him. "And shoves it up my whatsit! So what's the fuckin' problem, Fraser?"
Fraser bit his lip nervously. "There's no problem if you say not. I'm just not sure I see how—"
"Oh, Christ," Kowalski said, flinging himself backwards to stare at the ceiling. "Kill me. Just kill me."
"Let's go through it again," Ray Vecchio sighed.
"Ray! Don't! What are you—"
Strong hands grabbed at his shoulders, tugging him back and up and away. He only had the briefest glimpse of red wool before Fraser socked him one to the jaw and he went crashing back into Kowalski's coffee machine.
"Hey!" Somewhere Kowalski was yelling. "Hey! What are you doing?"
Fraser, sounding worried. "Are you all right, Ray? Did he hit you?"
"Hit? He was—fuck, I'm fine! I'm just fine!"
"Oh." Fraser, sounding confused. "Because I thought he was...."
"I was enjoying that, Fraser, okay? What are you, the asshole police?!"
"You were... I—oh, dear. Ray, what happened to your pants?"
Vecchio decided that now would probably be a good time to pass out.
"Ah! The Muskrat Maneuver. Well done—though a bit hard on the back, Ray, isn't it? That's why you have to clear your mind first, empty yourself of all thoughts. When I was studying Shotokan Karate, my old Sensei, Shige Haramoto, used to read to me from The Hagakure to help me clear my head. It is a fact that ash will not live where the water is too clear. But if there is duckweed or something, the fish will hide under its shadow and thrive. I don't know what it means," Fraser admitted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "but it's a very relaxing thought when you're twisted up like a pretzel, isn't it?"
"What. The fuck. Are you talking about?" Vecchio asked between gasps.
Fraser glanced down suddenly, and suddenly saw where Vecchio's dick was. "Oh dear."
"Hello, Ray. Ray."
Moving together, as one, they both slowly turned their heads to see Fraser standing in the doorway.
"Are you fellows having trouble moving that table?" Fraser asked, clapping his hands together and coming closer to help.
"Er, I knew you. Two would. Get. Along. I'll just be—" and the door banged shut behind him.