One Hundred Eighty
Disclaimer: These characters belong to people who are not me. I just borrow them, bend them into awkward positions and leave them out in the sunlight to go yellow.
Author's Notes: A Lost and Found 'verse story written for slidellra's birthday. *hearts her* Beta by the most efficient and delightful zellieh. Porny fluff. Mmmmm. Inspired by sdwolfpup's awesome Ray/Ray vid. *bows before her talent*
Story Notes: This is story 3.5 (seven - yeah, I know) in the Lost and Found 'verse.
SequelTo: When the Borders Bleed
Ray is mad.
He slams his hands hard against the much-dinged vending machine. It rocks violently, a perfect mirror
of his emotions. It wasn't supposed to go down like that. The case was supposed to be watertight. He
shoves away to find something else to maim, leaving the machine to sway itself to a standstill. The hot
chocolate will never taste quite the same again.
"Hey, hey, hey!" comes a voice from behind, half-amused, half-concerned. "Don't you know more people
die from vending machine accidents than wolf attacks every year?"
Ray finds his way barred by a smiling Kowalski. Breathing deep and clenching and unclenching his fists
automatically, the words finally register on him. Ray blinks. "Who told you that? Benny?"
"No, C.J." Kowalski's smile widens.
"Okay," says Ray, feeling the red-hot rage dissipating a little. "Let's go through this one more
time. The West Wing is a fictional universe. There is no C.J. and no President Bartlett either.
This is a shame, on both counts."
"So no Sam then," says Kowalski. "Though I'm totally willing to do something with suspenders and
disbelief on that one. Your point?"
"My point is, you dweeb," says Ray, letting himself be steered out of the station, "that they make
stuff up. What the hell do they care about the wolf versus vending machine fatality statistics?"
"But you're an expert, right?"
"I'm an expert in getting you to shut your mouth."
"Thought you were an expert in making me open it?"
Ray slumps into the GTO; his wrists ache. He's thankful it's Kowalski's turn to drive. "How did we get
from vending machines to your mouth on my dick?" he asks.
Kowalski shrugs and flashes him his best wolf-smile. "Dunno. But it's where we always end up. Or, you
know, in the neighborhood. Six Degrees of Detective Dick."
Ray snorts. "Asshole."
"That's no degrees. You're not playing fair."
Kowalski guns the engine as Ray slides down a little in his seat and chortles. They play 'Six Degrees'
all the way home.
"We're out of milk."
"Wanna stop by the store now or you want I should get some later?"
"I know who'll be getting some later."
"You been wading through sewers or something?"
"You saying I stink?"
"I'm saying that you're the odor equivalent of Rocky Five."
There's some animated sniffing of available body parts and pieces of clothing. Ray's hopeful Kowalski's
contortions won't end in a wreck.
"Yeah, fine. You got a point. I'll grab a shower."
"And I'll grab your ass."
"We going to Frannie's this Saturday?"
"Yeah, the whole family. She says she has news."
"Cool. At least she has the in-house gynecologist now."
"I can examine you if you like. Pull over."
"Patience, my young padawan. Your time will come." Kowalski flicks a glance towards Ray. "And so will
Kowalski hustles Ray and a couple of sacks of groceries through the door, practically shoves him down
on the couch. Before Ray knows it his jacket and shoes have been removed, tie loosened, there's a beer
in his hand, a muted Spanish tele-novela on the TV and he's watching K hopping from foot to foot in the
bedroom doorway trying to take off his boots without undoing the laces. Same thing every day,
thinks Ray. Sooner or later he'll do himself an injury.
He watches with affection and rising interest as K proceeds to get naked. He disappears into the
bathroom and Ray's a little disappointed. Not for long, as naked-Kowalski reappears, toothbrush poking
out of his mouth, and walks over to the counter, rummaging through a paper sack with one hand and
scratching his stomach with the other, completely unselfconscious. It makes Ray's insides twist into
interesting patterns and his heart (and other places) swell. He touches the cool beer bottle to his
lips as he watches Kowalski retrieve the shower gel and wander back off to the bathroom. He doesn't
look Ray's way at all. Ray's more than a little disappointed. So's Little Ray (not so little now).
He follows K's progress via clanks and creaks, splashes, squelches and random muttering. Then all is
quiet except for the insistent, soft drumming of water on skin. It's hypnotizing and Ray is startled
when K yells, "I'm gonna die alone here, or what? There was an ass-grabbing thing you promised."
Ray doesn't need asking twice. He's on his feet and in through the bathroom door. There's a reply on
his lips but it dies as he sees the cubicle door wide open and K leaning back against the wall, languid.
Hard. Touching himself as the water forms streams and rivulets down his body.
"Get in here."
Ray's found his attitude towards clothing has had to change since hooking up with Kowalski. In seconds
today's suit is chucked into the corner without sparing more than a baby pang for creases. He steps
into the shower and into K's arms. Ray is hungry for this. He takes K's face in his hands and kisses
him, hard and heavy but he's not the one in control here, K is, and he puts his hands on Ray's face,
gently pulling him back a fraction of an inch, easing off the gas, kissing Ray as if they have all the
time in the world. Which they do.
Ray gets into the rhythm of it and drops his hands to K's hips, rocking into him, dick sliding smoothly
against wet skin. K mirrors his action and it's hot, goddammit, so hot and maybe they don't have all
the time in the world after all because Ray's going to pop if they keep this up. He leans into K, grabs
his hands and lifts them, slamming them against the wall. He hears the click of the bones in K's wrist
and that's when he realizes his own wrists don't ache anymore. And then he realizes that he's feeling
good, he's feeling great. In fact his mood has been completely turned around. He squeezes K's hands and
pulls away from his lips just enough to say, "You know exactly what you're doing."
"Trying to get off before the water gets cold?"
"Your mouth on my dick?"
"Or somewhere in the neighborhood."
Oh hell, K is in control all right. In one swift movement that proves he's a seasoned cop he has Ray
facing the wall, legs spread, hands above his head. In support, not surrender, although Ray's not
entirely sure about that. Hands slide easily down Ray's sides and then over his ass as he feels K sink
to his knees behind him. Maybe it's with the water in mind but K wastes no time and Ray feels his
tongue, flat and warm against his opening. He holds it for a couple of seconds until Ray wriggles
backwards, demanding without words, then he begins to move his tongue up and down, massaging, soothing,
relaxing one part of Ray at the same time as driving another part of him wild. K speeds up. Short, firm
licks alternate with delicate, teasing touches and then his tongue darts inside, licking and stroking,
turning Ray inside out.
Streams of garbled English and Italian endearments and curses mingle and gush from Ray's mouth, joining
the water cascading over his body. He's shaking now and futilely trying to cling to the water-slick
tiles. It's going to be over for him any second now and he wants K to be inside him when he comes.
"Gotta fuck me now," he manages to get out. He almost regrets this as K's tongue retreats but there
isn't enough time because he can hear K flipping open the cap of the shower gel and then one arm is
wrapped around his waist, the other hand covering one of Ray's and his blunt, slicked-up head is
pushing at Ray's hole. Gotta hand it to the guy, he's very obliging when he isn't being a contrary
son-of-a-bitch. Smells good too.
It's an easy slide; K knows Ray's buttons backwards and Ray's more than ready. K bites at Ray's neck as
he pushes home. Ray moans, low and guttural, at the twin sharp pains, familiar and welcomed. A couple
of slow strokes to test the ground and then K's hand is grasping Ray's volatile cock and matching
rhythms. He appears also to grasp the urgency because suddenly it seems like there's pounding
everywhere, Ray's heart, his palm against the wall, the water, K's dick fast and sure, finding exactly
the right angle. And it's too much for Ray and he's seeing sparks and little detonations are firing off
inside him and he's gonna explode, he's gonna explode, he's gonna explode.
The water is cooling as K finds his own climax, buried deep in Ray, face pressed tight against the
crook of his neck. Ray lifts his head into the spray and smiles.
"You hungry?" he asks as K pulls out and reaches for the shower gel.
"Didn't you just do that?"
"Okay, can I just uninvent the fucking game?"
"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"
"Nice setup. I'm not falling for it."
"Come on, Stanley, you know you want to."
They're still bickering by the time they sit down to dinner.
Ray is content.
End One Hundred Eighty by catwalksalone
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