Disclaimer and Notes: Vecchio and Kowalski and the rest from dueSouth aren't mine; they belong to Alliance, but they've been wandering through Stonyland for a while now, and it just might take them a while to wander on back. :-) No profit made, no harm meant. This is set after CoTW. Inspired by matchbox twenty's "bent". Thanks to Misha for the beta, and to Rhiannon Shaw for challenging me to make it even better. Thanks also to Lucky13 and Michelle Lellouche for the final validations.:-) TYK, folks, and the virtual chocolate's on me. :-) This has been revised since its first posting.
Rated NC-17 for Double Ray fun [that's two, two Rays in one! <weg>] (explicit m/m) sex, and adult situations.
Comments and constructive criticism adored at wenchita@gmail.com.
I picked him up about a half an hour north of the city, on my way back from a visit to a guy who'd sworn he had parts for my Riviera. The parts guy had been a total waste of my time and gas, but at least I'd gotten out of the house for a few hours. Today was the anniversary of Pop's death, and no matter what I said or did, Ma would still mourn the bastard and make the rest of us feel like we had to do the same. I didn't understand it, didn't want to get into the same stupid argument that solved nothing with my family, so I decided this year just to leave the scene. I had plans for the evening, plans that would hopefully result in me being gone all night, but I wasn't in any hurry, and I rather doubted that I would be successful anyway. Yeah, so I'm a loser, contemplating asking his ex-wife for a pity fuck. Angie would probably tell me no, but hey, maybe this time she'd say yes. Gimme a break, it had been a while since I'd gotten laid, and at least thinking about sex was a hell of a happier thought than dwelling on the day that Pop drank one too many and wrapped a perfectly good Buick around a tree. Sue me.
The last thing I expected was to see Kowalski standing on the side of the road, hitchhiking. He had a backpack slung across one shoulder, and he was smoking a cigarette. I was surprised to see that, but then I remembered how he always seemed to have a toothpick or gum in his mouth. The first time I'd seen it, I figured him for an ex-smoker trying to quit. I tried not to think about what else he could have in his mouth besides a cancer stick and focused on what he was wearing. Not that was a better distraction for my mind, which seemed stuck on a singular track. A ragged sweatshirt emblazoned with some logo I didn't recognize and unzipped slightly at the neck, ratty jeans that clung to his hips and legs like a second skin, and black combat boots served as his chosen attire. Any other day, I wouldn't dream of picking up a hitchhiker, much less one as disreputable as he looked. Any other day, I would've driven past him, except that he had on a Stetson, and the sight of it was enough to make me automatically stop, even though it had been six months since I'd seen Fraser, and twice that since I'd worked with him.
Kowalski stubbed out the cigarette he'd been smoking and stepped up to the car. He did a double take when he realized who'd stopped. "Vecchio," he greeted, surprised. "Nice car."
"Har, har," I said dryly. If he hadn't been with Fraser at the time, I might've been more inclined to be mad about the fact I'd lost a third Riviera in almost as many years. As it was, I was half-tempted to let him continue walking, but my eyes caught sight of the Stetson, now in his hands, and a mental voice that sounded suspiciously like Fraser's chided me. I bit back a sigh and asked, "Headed back to town?"
"Yeah," he answered, shrugging carelessly. "Mind giving me a ride back to my place?" He rattled off the address, though I wasn't about to tell him I already knew it; he'd asked Frannie to keep an eye on his apartment for him, and I had been almost certain that if Fraser came back, Kowalski's place would be the first stop.
"I stopped to pick you up, didn't I?" I retorted. Yeah, like I'd leave him on the side of the road at this point. Who did he think I was, Armando?
He chuckled wryly at that and stepped around the front of the car to open the passenger door. As he got in, he tossed the backpack he'd been carrying onto the backseat, along with the Stetson. As soon as I got the car moving forward again, he closed his eyes and sighed tiredly. "Thank you kindly," he told me.
I couldn't help the snicker that came out of my mouth. "Been around Fraser too long?" I teased him.
His mouth quirked into a half smile at that, but he didn't open his eyes. "And his sister."
"Benny's got a sister?"
"Yeah," Kowalski replied, somehow turning the single word into an condensed explanation that told me Benny's sister wasn't too much different from Benny.
"How long you been walking?"
"'Bout an hour I guess," came the tired answer. "Maybe two. I lost track."
"Why didn't you fly back?"
"I lost a bet."
"Oh?" He didn't sound entirely too happy about it. I risked a glance away from the road, knowing that we had a few more minutes before the off ramp that I wanted. He slouched in the passenger seat, looking exhausted and worn out. The word 'defeated' came to mind. "Trying to bet against Fraser is a good way to lose," I pointed out, fumbling for something to say when Kowalski didn't take up the conversational thread.
Silence met my words, and I decided that maybe Kowalski was trying to tell me to shut up. I had a thousand questions, but I figured they could wait. The quiet ride to his apartment was only broken by the radio and the hum of the Riviera's engine. At a stoplight a few minutes into the city, I glanced over and saw that Kowalski had fallen asleep.
I didn't mind; it gave me time to think about all the things that had happened since Fraser had broken my cover and he and Kowalski went up to Canada. I'd dated Stella, and we'd even joked about going to Florida and doing something radically different with our lives, but then she'd met a senator, and that was that. She was up in D.C. now, and probably not thinking of me at all. Not that I'd admit to missing her. No, I wasn't about to do what I'd heard Kowalski did, mooning over her in public and taking her cutting refusals like he deserved it. But I sure as hell could understand why he'd done it; she'd been as passionate about sex as she'd been about the law.
It hadn't been easy, getting used to working with Frannie. Having her around had almost convinced me that maybe the early retirement the department was offering wouldn't be a bad thing. I'd thought it for all of a week before turning it down. Being a cop meant more to me now than it ever did, and I wasn't about to let my sister interfere with that. She'd laughed at me when some of the work she'd done helped me solve the first huge case I'd handled since Fraser had blown my cover. Guess I should've realized that something had to change while I'd been away. Why not my sister?
Without knowing how, I knew that Kowalski was officially on administrative leave; Welsh had warned me that when Kowalski came back I'd better expect him to be assigned as my partner. I didn't mind as much as I might've made it sound, but I wasn't willing to admit the idea terrified the hell out of me. I'd flown solo for a year and a half without him, and what I knew about him was mostly secondhand. Still, I knew he was a good cop; I had to trust that he would work as well as the brief experience I'd had with him prior to his trip to Canada had shown me.
Kowalski woke up as soon as I stopped the car. I saw panic and fear cross his face, watched a hand automatically scramble for the gun he'd apparently stashed in a holster in the small of his back, before his mind registered where he was. The expression and his action made me wonder just how long he'd been traveling to get here, and what he'd been through in the process.
"Hey, Kowalski, it's all right. You're home," I reassured him, grabbing a hold of the wrist holding the gun just as a precaution.
His eyes flickered to my hand, then my face, and I could swear I could feel him drawing back, slamming an emotional door shut before he grinned sheepishly. "Sorry," he apologized.
I let go of his wrist, only then noticing the jagged scars lining the inside of his wrist. They looked recent, and my eyes traveled up his forearm to see more scars. To be precise, they looked like someone had handcuffed him to something, drugged him, and he'd fought both and lost. I recognized them because I'd been there, a long time ago, before I'd ever heard of a certain Mountie. I looked up to see a carefully blank expression.
"It's nothing," Kowalski assured me, unconvincingly. He grabbed the backpack and quickly exited my car, heading for his apartment.
I sat at the wheel a moment, telling myself it wasn't my business. If my soon-to-be-partner wanted to keep his private life private, then he could. He certainly didn't owe me anything. I, on the other hand, owed him a hell of a lot. I glanced down at the key ring dangling from the ignition, and swore. Seconds later, I caught up with him as he rummaged through his backpack for keys he probably hadn't used since he left.
"You left them with Frannie," I reminded him. I popped the key ring he'd given her off my chain, telling him, "She gave them to me because she figured she'd lose them." So saying, I opened up the door and then handed him the keys.
He flashed a quick, grateful grin at me, and then stepped inside. I followed him through the door, shutting it behind us.
"You wanna tell me what happened?"
Kowalski shrugged. "Fraser got a promotion and a new posting. My leave was up, so I decided to come home. Said hi to Maggie -- that's Fraser's sister -- and Diefenbaker's not as deaf as Fraser thought, but I knew that already so why don't you just go home, tell your sister I'm all right, and leave me alone? I need a shower and about three weeks of sleep." His voice had quickened and risen with every word.
I held my ground. Something was off kilter here, and I wanted to know what. "Quit hiding, Kowalski. Something happened with you and Benny."
He dropped the backpack onto the coffee table and sighed deeply. Without turning to face me, he asked, "You wanna know what happened?"
"Yeah, I wanna know."
Slowly, he took off his shirt. His back was a fading mass of bruises and scars. The gasp I made echoed through the small living room.
He laughed bitterly and turned to face me. "I almost died in Canada," he told me conversationally. "Fraser and me got trapped in an ice crevasse, and we got lucky. That was the first time. The second time, I got held hostage over a bunch of baby seals. I think they were trying to see if I worked as human pincushion or something. That was a couple of weeks ago. Even if I wasn't supposed to come home, I wasn't about to stick around for a third time." He laughed again, the sound bitter, and I didn't buy a word about the seal story.
"Wanna try the truth this time, Kowalski?" I countered. Bits and pieces of things I'd seen while undercover combined with time spent in Vice detail unexpectedly fitted together. Without knowing how I knew it was the truth, I concluded that the blond man had been a half-willing partner in a lovers' game that hadn't gone quite the way he'd wanted. I decided to test my theory. "You trying out a new way to have fun or did someone just play rough?"
He stared at me with haunted eyes, as if he sensed that I had figured out what he was hiding. "No," he said flatly.
I knew then that Fraser had tried to comfort him, but had failed. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, but I wasn't sure how he'd interpret that. Suddenly, it seemed important that I knew how he would. Nothing seemed certain except the need I was feeling.
The moment stretched on endlessly.
I stepped forward, closed the distance between us. I could feel the heat rising between us, acknowledged to myself that the Stetson Kowalski had carefully set on the coffee table hadn't been the only reason I'd stopped to pick him up -- or why I continued to push. "Tell me," I challenged, staring directly into his eyes. "Why'd you stay up there for so long."
He stared back at me, not saying a word. "I thought-- I thought it would help. I didn't know -- wasn't sure I wanted to know what being your partner meant." His voice was low, as if he didn't dare to speak, but had to anyway. "I was you, and then I wasn't, and I didn't -- I didn't want to give it back. Not any of it."
"Not even Benny," I guessed.
He jerked his head up at that. "I never touched him."
"You wanted to."
His mouth twisted sardonically. I had the urge to kiss that self-deprecating smile away, and barely restrained myself. Now wasn't the time to admit I had more than a passing interest in James Dean types, and one particular blond-haired version at that. "Didn't you?"
I shook my head.
He snorted. "Liar," he accused. Whatever space remained between our bodies, he closed it now. "Tell me you didn't think about fucking that perfect Mountie ass and making him feel anything more than his precious duty."
I stared at him, trying not to show just how much those words affected me. I put on my best "you're insane" look and just stood there, feeling my heart thundering in my chest, and wondering if he could hear it. Oh, okay, so add poster boys for Prince Charming to the list of turn-ons; it wasn't like Benny was here to hear me admit that. Not that I hadn't wanted to cross that invisible line...but oh, God help me, I'd wondered, and damned myself for even thinking that maybe I could do something for Benny like that. I could see in Kowalski's blue eyes that he felt the same way.
"Just once," he whispered. "Just because you needed it."
I couldn't say anything. I knew I should. It wasn't right that Kowalski knew exactly what I was thinking. Something was happening here, and I could feel the world tilting. There was a tingling in the pit of my stomach I recognized as desire, and though I wasn't a stranger to wanting another man, it was something I hadn't thought about in years. I'd slammed the door shut on those teenage memories, especially around Benny, and told myself that I was going to go to hell for even considering the idea. Not until I'd seen Kowalski on the side of the road, looking like someone in need of love. I clamped down hard on that thought, not wanting to go there just yet. Yeah, I was good at lying to myself, but how he could see through me so easily bothered me.
"Yeah, I thought so," he pronounced finally. His eyes dared me to argue. "So you gonna do something about it, Vecchio?"
"He's not here, Kowalski." I was rather pleased at how I made that into a sneer. God help me, but I was starting to panic a bit. He was overwhelming me with his absolute confidence that he knew where this was going, and I wasn't exactly sure. When did I lose control? I had to get it back. If I was going to act on my desire, which I wasn't about to, of course, it wouldn't be like this. Not when it felt like the lines between what I wanted and what he wanted were being blurred faster than I could recognize them.
"I'm here." The words were a challenge. I knew backing up wasn't an option at this point, and pride wouldn't let me show that weakness. "I know what you need."
"So?" It was weak as a counterattack, but it was all I could think of then.
"I bet if he was here, you'd be eating him up with your eyes, and thinking it's a sin," he challenged softly.
"I wouldn't," I retorted, but my voice lacked conviction.
"Yeah, right," he snickered. The fingers of his right hand rose to trace the outline of the gold cross I wore around my neck as that cigarette-roughened voice continued, "You think holding out is gonna get you into heaven?" His fingers seemed to burn the slight weight of the cross into my skin, and I could only watch him, half in anticipation, half in dread. "Gonna get you fucked the way you want?" He gave my body a raking gaze. "Come on, Vecchio, I know you want to. You can even pretend I'm him if you want."
A thousand fantasies unrevealed flashed through my mind, the things I wish I could've said, the things I'd wanted to do, if only I could find the right words, the right time. I stared at Kowalski, seeing the raw desire in his eyes mixed with his enjoyment of the challenge he lay before me. Abruptly, I remembered that here was the man who'd studied how to be me, who probably knew me better than I wanted anyone to know me, and how successful he'd been at protecting my cover without looking a damn thing like me. He'd read my reports, the not-always-unbiased report of what happened, and had to have read between the lines. Even if that wasn't true, that he hadn't seen how hard I'd tried not to let my feelings for Fraser show, Kowalski had spent the last six months living with the man. Suddenly, I was jealous.
"You fucked him," I accused, my breath coming heavy as betrayal sliced a path through me.
A slow, sad smile appeared on Kowalski's lips and he shook his head slightly. "Wasn't like that, Vecchio. I told you, I never touched him. He wouldn't...let me."
Something in the way he said that caught my attention. My hands, which had unconsciously become fists, now rose to grab Kowalski's shoulders. "What happened? Tell me what the fuck happened." I barely restrained myself from shaking him, holding onto my temper through sheer willpower.
"Why? Ain't gonna change a damned thing. He's up there, and I'm here, and you're here."
He was right, but I couldn't shake the sense that something had gone horribly wrong. My mind raced, caught between desire and fear, trying to figure out the angles, trying to understand. I couldn't imagine Benny hurting Kowalski, but Benny had surprised me before with Victoria. Even that hadn't been Benny hurting me directly, and I'd wanted so much to erase her memory from Benny's heart. I hadn't dared voice my yearning, not wanting to cause him more pain. By then, saving the friendship had been more important than anything else. Still, some irrepressible part of my brain floated out an image of Fraser, soaked to the skin after we'd gone careening over a waterfall, and I felt my cock harden.
As if reading my mind, Kowalski added, "It's not complicated, Vecchio. You want him, I want him, and we both need to get off. Feels better if you're not alone. So what do you say we just get it over with?"
Shocked by his bluntness, I could only stand there, trying to process what he'd said. Then he smiled. Leaned just slightly forward, as if to kiss me. I could feel his breath just a whisper above my mouth, but he didn't close the distance. I was hyperaware of the press of his lean body against my own and the bulge in his jeans. Time ticked by, and still he did nothing, letting the tension build between us.
"What you waiting for, an invitation?" I snapped out, unable to stand it any more. I knew then I'd lost whatever grip I'd had on the situation.
His lips curved. His hands reached down and deftly freed me from my trousers and briefs. Dropping to his knees, he kissed my cockhead, literally kissed it, then twisted his neck and began pecking his lips over the shaft, down one side, then the other, before giving my balls one mouth-smacking and mouth-watering kiss. I took a deep breath, shuddering. He had yet to touch my cock, and it was turning me on more than if he had.
"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded, trying to regain some semblance of control. "You still haven't told me what happened."
Kowalski sat back on his haunches, looked up at me. Smiled, but his smile sent chills through me. I knew instantly he wasn't going to tell me -- and suddenly, I wasn't sure it mattered. "Want me to stop?" he asked. He licked a finger, then reached out and stroked the length of my cock with it. I shivered involuntarily at the feather-light touch. I wanted to shove my cock down his throat, wanted to do something, anything to get me off, wipe that smug look off his face, but all I could do was stand there, watching him, letting him do what he pleased. I was slowly forgetting why stopping was a good idea.
He lifted a hand until my balls were cradled inside, then began playing with them, massaging them while my cock stayed stiff and tingled and pulsated. "Say it," he ordered. "Tell me to stop, Vecchio."
I couldn't. My brain was in my balls at the moment, and they were pretty happy with the way things were going. Some part of my conscience was screaming that I shouldn't be doing this, that this wasn't how I wanted it to go, but the voice was too faint and easily ignored. Kowalski took my silence for assent and trailed his tongue over the crown of my cock, softly, almost like a whisper, while kneading my balls with an expert's touch. He flicked his tongue over the slit, then down behind the crown to linger over the bundle of nerves there. I shivered and groaned as he continued to lick my cock like a lollipop he wanted to savor. Time lost its meaning as my world narrowed to just the sensations thrumming through my body, to the feel of his tongue on my cock.
Soon, I couldn't take any more. I could feel my cock hardening from stiff to steel, could feel my orgasm building, and just when I thought was going to burst, Kowalski took my cock into his mouth. I couldn't stop then, and felt him swallow every drop I had to offer him as my body quaked and trembled with the force of my release.
When it was over, I pulled him to his feet, wanting to return the favor. He was breathing hard, and his eyes were glittering. I knew he had to be close, and reached for the zipper of his jeans. My fingers brushed flesh and wet cloth, and I realized he'd somehow managed to free himself while sucking me off. He'd come just from sucking me off, and his eyes dared me to comment.
There was nothing I could say. I thought I'd known what was going to happen, but this blew me away, and my mind couldn't comprehend. A secretive, pleased smile appeared on Kowalski's lips before he bent down and helped me dress, tucked his cock back into his jeans, then turned my still-shocked body towards the door.
"Go home, Vecchio. I'll see you Monday at the station."
Like an automaton, I did exactly that. I felt shattered and somehow whole. I don't know what's going to happen next. Maybe he likes it that way. I don't know. I'm scared I'll never get put back together without his help, and I thought it was going to be the other way around. I'm lying on my bed, thinking about how I want more. I want to know everything. I wanted to heal him, but instead it's me in need of healing. How could a guy like me get so twisted? I could lie to myself and say something like "what's a blowjob between partners", but I can't. God help me, but if it was that simple, I could put the memory of it out of my mind. I keep thinking it's the best damn blowjob I've had, and the look on his face afterwards, like it had been the best thing to happen to him in a long time, does things to my heart (not to mention a few other places) it shouldn't. It shouldn't be so complicated, this relationship we have, but it is. I should never have picked him up. I don't know what's going to happen on Monday, but I'll be damned if I let him know just how he's gotten under my skin.
A small voice inside my head snickered at the thought. Great. Next I'll be seeing the old man's ghost again. Maybe I'd better hope Monday gets here soon.
"shouldn't be so complicated
just hold me and then
just hold me again"
-- matchbox twenty, "bent"
*** Finis ****
© July 8, 2000; revised October 23, 2000