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: Over at Team Whimsy we realised just how little whimsical porn we had in our Match fics and decided to redress the balance. This is my attempt. If you're looking for sensitive explorations of genderfuck, you've come to the wrong place.

Story Notes: Written August, 2008.

This time Ray came home to find Kowalski absent-mindedly rubbing himself off on the corner of the kitchen table while peeling the potatoes for dinner. His face was a little flushed and his mouth had fallen open, his bottom lip reddened and shiny from where he'd obviously bitten it and licked it better, and he was letting out these short, breathy sounds that were like a Siren's call to Ray's dick. He'd probably been at this all afternoon.

"Seriously, Kowalski, come on," Ray said, trying to sound pissed and not desperate. This whole situation was screwed, he didn't want to make it worse by forcing his attentions on Kowalski when he — she — he was in this state. "I have to eat off of that surface."

Kowalski dropped the potato and peeler as if he'd been scalded, jumping back from the table and stuffing his hands into the pockets of jeans that now bagged where they once had filled out very nicely thank you. "Fuck, Vecchio, warn a guy...a gi-...a person, would you?"

Ray raised his hands in self-defense, stepping around the other side of the table to reach the coffee machine. "I don't need to knock at my own house, Kowalski, and I gotta say, if you could leave yourself alone for more than thirty seconds you would not be having to worry about me walking in on you."

"I don'TMt-" Kowalski began, but it had been a long day of lying to everyone who asked about Kowalski's whereabouts as well as trying to track down the source of this whole...thing and Ray wasn't in the mood to deal. He checked and filled the coffee machine, not that he was avoiding Kowalski's eyes or anything.

"The day it happened I let you crash here only to find you on the couch at two in the morning with a bottle of Jack in one hand and the other hand in your pants. Got off the phone to Benny two days ago and you'd put the washer on spin just for the hell of it and yesterday I walked in on you using the shower head in a way that almost certainly violates the warranty." Ray's collar was suddenly restrictive. He loosened his tie. "Then later you were straddling the arm of the couch like you could ride it all the way to Concord and then this. Today. With the potatoes." Ray shook his head. "I don't even want to know what you were thinking."

Kowalski had the good grace to look slightly ashamed. It was still him in there, Ray knew, despite the soft-swelling curves, the delicately boned wrists and the sweeter-angled jaw. Still spiky Kowalski with his spiky hair and his spiky temper and his come-hither-now-fuck off prickles. And that was kind of the problem. Because Ray had just about come to terms with the fact that he wanted that Kowalski, spikes and man-parts and all and now the goal posts had shifted and, okay, so Kowalski didn't make the most feminine of girls but he was still...not...and Ray didn't know what to do about that.

"Yeah, well," Kowalski was saying, "it feels different, I can't explain. It's like I can ride the high for hours, Vecchio, hours, and never tip over. Or if I want I can come my brains out like over and over again and it's like I'm never going to have to come back down. It's intense. God. Sorry."

It was times like these Ray wished he had hair to run his fingers through.

"Don't. You can't. Don't say stuff like that, Kowalski. I can't know that. I just- I'm going to the bathroom, don't fuck the carrots while I'm gone, okay?" He didn't wait for a reply.

Ray stood in the middle of the bathroom, unsure what to do. His hard-on pressed insistently against layers of material, determined not to be ignored, but Ray couldn't touch it because he didn't know who he was touching it for; the Kowalski that was inside or the one he could see. This was so fucked up. He closed his eyes and immediately images crowded behind his eyelids of him pushing into Kowalski, tight and wet and bodywarm and, god, her on top of him, bending down low so her taut nipples brushed his chest and then kissing him, kissing him, her stubble rasping against his cheek and- oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Ray rushed to the bath and turned the shower on full force, sticking his head under the cold, cold water. The shock of it took his breath and his thought away and for a moment, Ray was grateful. But then he shut off the water and stood up, reaching for a towel that he never quite got because Kowalski was there, leaning against the wall, one hand inside Ray's silk shirt that hung in graceful folds over her slim body, cupping her breast, thumb clearly sweeping back and forth over her nipple.

"You, you, you, you!" Ray sputtered, pointing at the offending hand and stumbling backwards until he hit the washbasin with an unpleasant crack. "Stop it. Please."

The thumb stopped moving but Kowalski left her hand where it was. Ray supposed he had to be grateful for small mercies.

"I think I'd like to be fucked," said Kowalski. "I could go to a bar, pick someone up, but I'm out of practice with eye-liner and they're all sleazes anyhow. I should know. So you need to do it." There was a mulish set to her jaw that Ray thought he recognized but sat somehow differently on this version of Kowalski's face.

"Are you insane?" Ray asked, his voice climbing the octave, water dripping down his neck.

"I trust you."

Really not playing fair.

"No," said Ray, gripping the washbasin so tightly it creaked under his fingers. "No way, Kowalski. No. Nu-uh. Not happening. No."

And then Kowalski was right in his space, jeans riding low and hips pushed forward like some kind of teen model. There was barely air between them. Kowalski's hand curled around Ray's ear. He didn't dare move.

"Ah, c'mon, Vecchio," and the name coiled between them like smoke, "it's not exactly hard to tell you want me." And in the brain-freeze that hit Ray as Kowalski bumped her groin into his, Ray nearly missed the most important word. "Now."

He wanted it, he wanted it, of course he wanted it. He wanted to push her legs apart with his thigh and brace himself against her rhythm, feeling the heat pour off her, urging her to take what she needed. He wanted to unbutton her jeans and slip his hand inside, push his way into the darkness, feel the slickness he'd help make. He wanted to put his mouth on her, on her breasts, her nipples darkened and tight with need. He wanted to lick her, press his tongue against her, make her come over and over until she was strung out on the tightrope that splits pleasure from pain.

But she wasn't real. This wasn't real. It wasn't what Ray wanted even when it was. And it seemed Kowalski knew that, too.

Ray pushed him away. "Now? What now?"

In one swift movement Kowalski stripped out of his shirt, letting it fall in a shimmering heap to the floor. "Like this," he said, chin jutting forward. "Like this," and he grabbed both breasts, aiming them at Ray like weapons.

Ray staggered sideways and collapsed on the toilet seat. "Will you get dressed? Christ, Kowalski. Always with the exhibitionism."

"I thought-"

"Yeah, well I warned you about that before," muttered Ray but his brain was working a mile a minute. Kowalski thought Ray wanted her as a girl but didn't seem to think Ray would go for him as a guy. Kowalski wanted Ray to fuck her, she trusted Ray. And, oh god, that shouldn't be like a punch to the gut but it was, because Kowalski trusted Ray to do the right thing by her, to be careful with this strange body he found himself in, to be good to her, but by fucking her, Ray would be betraying him.

This was so screwed up.

"Okay," said Ray, finally, dragging his eyes up to meet Kowalski's. Kowalski looked strained and puzzled. Ray figured he could understand that.

"Okay, what?"

"I'll fuck you."

And Ray knew he didn't imagine the wince that crossed Kowalski's face before the smug settled in.

"Let me clarify. I'll fuck you when you're you again and not before. Until that happens you stay fully clothed and no getting yourself off outside of your bedroom. You get me?"

The furrowed eyebrows said no.

Ray stooped down to scoop his shirt off the floor and then stood to help Kowalski into it, taking care not to touch him. "Let me try again, though I'm not sure I can pick any smaller words. I, Ray Vecchio, will fuck you, Ray Kowalski, if and when you still want me to when all of you is put back the way it's supposed to be. Yes, you are hot right now, I have eyes and a dick that says hell, yes. But if we're going to do this then we're going to start off right. Okay?"

The eyebrows seemed satisfied this time. And so did the rest of Kowalski judging by the size of his smile. The wave of relief that swept through him left Ray a little shaky. Of course, it also might have had something to do with the mind-boggling terror of where it seemed they were headed.

"Okay. But there can still be snuggling, right?"

Ray thwapped Kowalski lightly around the head. "Don't push it, asshole." He opened the door and headed for the stairs.

"Hey, ladies first."

"Yeah, if there were any ladies here."

"Nice, Vecchio. You want dinner or not?"

"Only if you scrubbed the table with bleach."

"What are you? My maiden aunt?"

Tomorrow, Ray would definitely find the source of Kowalski's difficulties. Tomorrow, Kowalski would get his dick back and Ray would get to find out how it tasted. Tomorrow, Kowalski would kiss Ray with his filthy, gorgeous mouth and then use it to curse and beg and curse as Ray opened him up and slowly, so slowly pushed into him, giving him exactly what he needed.

Tomorrow was going to be a good day.