Slick (Prompt 22, Ray/Ray)
Slick
Ray/Ray, NC-17, 598 words
"Oh god." It has to be a hundred degrees in the room - the heavy, humid heat has settled over Chicago like a blanket, and Ray has to move his hand from Kowalski's hip to swipe across his forehead. To keep the sweat out of his eyes.
"God, Vecchio," Kowalski moans, pushing himself back up on his hands and knees, rearing back and taking more, deeper. Ray swallows hard and thrusts forward, anchoring himself on Kowalski's thin hips, clutching a little too hard. "Please-"
Ray slides one hand up Kowalski's spine, tracing the deep, slick line, before curling his fingers into Kowalski's hair and holding on. "Please what?" Ray says, his voice breaking but he doesn't care, doesn't give a damn, because this is perfect. Kowalski, all smooth, golden skin and heavy cock and fucking perfect ass, and Ray is getting lost in it, everything slick and wet and perfect. And Kowalski's begging for it, he wants it so much, and Ray wants to give it to him, just like this.
"I need - oh god - fuck, Vecchio." Kowalski's voice is raspy, barely there, and he's writhing around, trying to work himself further down on Ray's dick.
Ray laughs, tugging Kowalski back, getting him a little off balance. "I thought that's what I was doing." Kowalski moans and Ray takes back some of the control, pulling out almost all the way and pushing back in, hard enough that Kowalski goes non-verbal. Which is good, as far as he's concerned.
He can stay like this forever, the small fan working overtime in the corner and doing nothing at all to cut the heat, Kowalski stretched out like this for him. He knows that he can fuck Kowalski until he was quiet, until there's no sound in the room but the sounds of their skin coming together, and their breathing. He can do this all night, until there's no resistance left, and Kowalski is loose and open and taking him, over and over again, until Ray's ready to stop.
But he's too close right now, and Kowalski's tightening up, like he's right there, like he's about to come, and Ray wants that. He wants Kowalski to come all over the bed and he wants to fuck him right through it, until he's begging for it to stop, it's too much. "Okay, baby, let's go," he murmurs, leaning forward to press himself against Kowalski's sweat-slick back. "Come on, come on, come on," he urges, and he takes one hand off of Kowalski's hip to touch his dick.
That's it - that's just what Kowalski needs, just that small touch and he's crying out and coming so hard that it almost hurts, but Ray stays with him, keeps moving, doesn't let up, and holds Kowalski up while he fucks him, harder and faster than before. God, he's so fucking good like this, so good, and Ray presses a kiss to the place right behind Kowalski's ear, right below his hairline, before he comes inside Kowalski, so hot and hard and good, so fucking good. He's whispering to Kowalski, about how good he is, how good it feels to come inside him, how much he loves him.
He stays there, fighting his urge to slump down on the bed, keeping Kowalski with him, up against him, because he's not sure he can deal with how Kowalski looks after this, blown apart and open and vulnerable, so he keeps him like this, back to front, because he doesn't need to see it. He knows.
My prompt table
Ray/Ray, NC-17, 598 words
"Oh god." It has to be a hundred degrees in the room - the heavy, humid heat has settled over Chicago like a blanket, and Ray has to move his hand from Kowalski's hip to swipe across his forehead. To keep the sweat out of his eyes.
"God, Vecchio," Kowalski moans, pushing himself back up on his hands and knees, rearing back and taking more, deeper. Ray swallows hard and thrusts forward, anchoring himself on Kowalski's thin hips, clutching a little too hard. "Please-"
Ray slides one hand up Kowalski's spine, tracing the deep, slick line, before curling his fingers into Kowalski's hair and holding on. "Please what?" Ray says, his voice breaking but he doesn't care, doesn't give a damn, because this is perfect. Kowalski, all smooth, golden skin and heavy cock and fucking perfect ass, and Ray is getting lost in it, everything slick and wet and perfect. And Kowalski's begging for it, he wants it so much, and Ray wants to give it to him, just like this.
"I need - oh god - fuck, Vecchio." Kowalski's voice is raspy, barely there, and he's writhing around, trying to work himself further down on Ray's dick.
Ray laughs, tugging Kowalski back, getting him a little off balance. "I thought that's what I was doing." Kowalski moans and Ray takes back some of the control, pulling out almost all the way and pushing back in, hard enough that Kowalski goes non-verbal. Which is good, as far as he's concerned.
He can stay like this forever, the small fan working overtime in the corner and doing nothing at all to cut the heat, Kowalski stretched out like this for him. He knows that he can fuck Kowalski until he was quiet, until there's no sound in the room but the sounds of their skin coming together, and their breathing. He can do this all night, until there's no resistance left, and Kowalski is loose and open and taking him, over and over again, until Ray's ready to stop.
But he's too close right now, and Kowalski's tightening up, like he's right there, like he's about to come, and Ray wants that. He wants Kowalski to come all over the bed and he wants to fuck him right through it, until he's begging for it to stop, it's too much. "Okay, baby, let's go," he murmurs, leaning forward to press himself against Kowalski's sweat-slick back. "Come on, come on, come on," he urges, and he takes one hand off of Kowalski's hip to touch his dick.
That's it - that's just what Kowalski needs, just that small touch and he's crying out and coming so hard that it almost hurts, but Ray stays with him, keeps moving, doesn't let up, and holds Kowalski up while he fucks him, harder and faster than before. God, he's so fucking good like this, so good, and Ray presses a kiss to the place right behind Kowalski's ear, right below his hairline, before he comes inside Kowalski, so hot and hard and good, so fucking good. He's whispering to Kowalski, about how good he is, how good it feels to come inside him, how much he loves him.
He stays there, fighting his urge to slump down on the bed, keeping Kowalski with him, up against him, because he's not sure he can deal with how Kowalski looks after this, blown apart and open and vulnerable, so he keeps him like this, back to front, because he doesn't need to see it. He knows.
My prompt table