The One with the Second Date
Title: The One with the Second Date
Author: slidellra
Pairing: Turnbull/Kowalski
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Sequel to The One with the First Date. 2937 words. Many thanks to llassah for beta.
Six days after they'd gone to the game together, Ren knocked on Ray's apartment door, then wiped his sweaty palm on his thigh. This was going to be all right. This was normal. This was friendly.
It was harder to believe his own pep talk when Ray opened the door with his wallet in his hand, a wave of music spilling into the hall. Ray just stood there with his mouth hanging open, rather like a fish stunned by illegal explosives.
Turnbull spoke, wincing slightly at the shrillness nerves put in his voice, "I'm afraid I forgot to give you Terence's present last week." He held out the small, carefully gift-wrapped package.
Ray didn't take it, just swallowed and said, "Uh."
"I hope it's not a bad time?"
Ray shook his head vigorously, more like he was trying to shake something loose than indicating a negative response. "Nah, come in."
Ren walked in and glanced curiously around the room. He'd never been here before and had actually done some snooping in Constable Fraser's office in order to find the address. It was very Ray, but could use a thorough scrubbing. He saw the turtle tank across the room and headed for it.
"I thought you were the pizza guy. I got pizza coming."
"I am not the pizza guy." Ren bit his lip. That was the wrong thing to say. He inspected the turtle. Yes, that was a turtle. Ren crouched down to get a better look. It was an attractive turtle, and it raised its head to look right at him. He smiled, eager as always to make a good impression, and set the present on the table next to the tank.
Ray didn't say anything, just went over to turn down the music, and Ren felt horribly out of place. He stayed by the turtle tank, sneaking glances over at Ray. Ray was wearing particularly ragged jeans, ones that he could never wear to work, and a thin, old t-shirt that revealed the shape of his shoulders quite nicely. His feet were bare. Ren closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.
The sudden knock was very loud. Ray accepted the pizza and paid the real pizza guy.
Still standing by the door, Ray said, "Do you want a slice?"
Ren couldn't tell if there was any actual enthusiasm in the offer, but he would take what he could get. "Oh, certainly! I am very fond of pizza."
It was excellent, as was sitting on the couch with Ray. It seemed wildly intimate somehow, both of them taking their pieces right out of the cardboard box, sitting side by side. If they were only a couple of feet closer to each other, they'd be touching.
Ray finished his slice while Ren was still working on his. He wiped his fingers on his jeans, then asked, "Beer?"
Oh. Oh. Ren rarely drank, but he swallowed a mouthful of pizza and said, "Yes, please."
After Ray fetched Old Styles for them both, Ren took a tentative sip. Thin, but not as repellent as some U.S. beers. Ren steeled himself and drank deeply, soon draining the bottle.
Ray was staring. Ren couldn't tell why. He wiped his lips nervously.
"Would you, uh, like another?"
"Yes, thank you."
Ray got up and fetched another beer, but then he just stood next to the couch, dangling the neck of the bottle between his long fingers, squinting a little. "Hey, Turnbull. Do you wanna fuck?"
Ren breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled at Ray. "Yes, yes, I do." Frowning, he added, "But I thought one of us should be drunk, and that one shouldn't ask so bluntly."
Grinning beautifully, Ray replied, "Nah. Second time rules are different. You don't want this beer, do you?"
"No, not at all."
Ray put the unwanted beer on the coffee table, then straddled Ren's lap, facing him.
Gasping at the sudden contact, he reached up with his mouth, seeking Ray's. Ray turned his head and shuffled forward slightly so their groins were pressed together. Ren was dizzy with lust and joy, especially when Ray put his hands on his shoulders and finally kissed him. It was slower than last time, but just as wonderful, their tongues entangled, their mouths open as they explored each other.
Ray pulled away, pushing his hands down on Ren's shoulders to hold him back when he tried to follow. "You done this sort of thing before?"
Ren nodded vigorously, then croaked, "Yes."
"So if I said I wanted to fuck you here on this couch, you'd be okay with that?"
Ren thought he might black out and involuntarily thrust his hips up. "Yes. I would like that very much, please."
Ray cocked his head, watching Ren's face. Then he kissed him, nodded sharply, and climbed off. "Take off your clothes, okay?"
While Ren was stripping, Ray disappeared into the other room. When Ray reappeared, lubricant in hand, Ren was naked, standing next to the couch. He was both terrified and terribly aroused, and felt very exposed with his erection there for Ray to see.
Ray walked up, right up next to him, and ran a hand from Ren's shoulder down his body, resting lightly on his hip. "Jesus, Turnbull. You are a hell of a lot of good-looking guy. I wouldn't have guessed."
He didn't know what to say.
"You cool with taking it?"
Ren closed his eyes again, hoping he would remember every word. Ray's voice always did things to him, and Ray talking about sex was more potent than he could have imagined.
"Yes."
"On your knees, then. On the couch."
Ren turned and knelt on the couch, his hands resting on the back. He looked over his shoulder. "Like this?"
"Oh, hell, yeah."
Ray pulled his own t-shirt over his head, then walked up close behind Ren. "You look so good like this."
Ren could hear Ray pop the button on his jeans, unzip, and push them down his thighs. He stepped up, naked, behind Ren.
"You sure you're all right with this? You're not saying much."
"I..." Ren tried valiantly to get the words out, "I want this. Very much. I like hearing you talk. I can't, I wish I could..."
Ray chuckled. "You like dirty talk, Turnbull? You want to hear me say how much I want to fuck you, how hard I want to fuck you right here?"
He couldn't say anything, just gasped and panted. Finally, he squeaked out, "Yes, please."
"God, I want to. I didn't know I wanted to, but I've been thinking about your mouth all week, and the way you looked on the floor, naked and hot for me." Ray was rubbing up against him, running his hands over Ren's back, pushing his hard penis against Ren's perineum and scrotum. "You feel so fucking good, you look so good. I don't think I've ever fucked anybody who looked as good as you look right now. Shift your legs apart for me, okay?"
Ren did. It was strange to feel the draft on his buttocks, on his erect penis. He felt so very exposed. But feeling exposed for Ray was good, he was sure of it.
He heard a snap, then, after a pause, he felt Ray lean against his back and wrap his slick hand around Ren's penis. "You want me to touch you here, Turnbull?"
Ren nodded.
Ray grabbed Ren's hand from the back of the couch and brought it to Ren's erection, both their hands working together to stroke. Ren didn't think he could last, was sure he'd embarrass himself.
Pulling his hand away, Ray said, "Keep stroking yourself."
Then a finger was stroking lightly between Ren's buttocks, making him shudder violently. "You want me to touch you here, too?"
Ren nodded again.
"You want me to keep talking, Turnbull?"
Ren nodded harder.
"You gotta say something then. I don't want to be alone here. It doesn't have to be hot, you just have to talk, okay?"
Ray's finger was pushing now, slick and wonderful inside him.
"Call me Ren." He hadn't meant to say that.
"Huh?" Ray's finger was deeper now, twisting and turning.
"I don't want you to call me Turnbull. Please call me Ren."
Ray paused, was silent for a couple of moments. "All right, Ren. Are you touching yourself?"
Ray must have known he was, must be able to see. "Yes."
"Do you like the way it feels?"
"Yes."
"Do you like my fingers in your ass?"
"Yes." That time it came out as a squeak, to Ren's dismay.
"I like it, too, Ren. I like thinking how fucking hot and tight you're going to feel on my cock. I've had this itch all week and now you're here and I finally get to... Fuck, yeah, you feel good." Ray added another finger, finding Ren's prostate.
Ren shuddered as he stroked and pushed, the pleasure rising in him until he blurted, "No!"
Ray immediately stilled. "Something wrong?"
"If you touch me there it's too much. I can't, please!"
Ray's forehead touched the middle of Ren's back, and when he spoke Ren could feel his warm breath against his skin. "You're that close already? Fuck, that's hot. But you've got to hold it together, all right? I want you to come with me inside you. I want to feel you come on my cock. You can stop stroking now. Just hold onto yourself, okay?"
"Yes, Ray." He bit his lip. Last week Ray'd said he could use his first name, but he wasn't sure the permission still applied. Ray didn't object, though, and he relaxed again.
The fingers inside him began moving again and Ren couldn't help but thrust back against them, trying to get more inside him.
"You're so... God, do you want it? Do you want me to fuck you?"
"Yes, yes, yes. Very much so, please."
Ray chuckled. "We might have to work on your dirty talk skills, buddy."
Even while flushing with embarrassment, Ren couldn't help but hear the implication that they would do this again, that this wasn't the only time, and the heat and joy of it was far, far stronger than his shame.
Pressing a kiss to Ren's back, Ray said, "It's okay. You can say anything you want. I'll enjoy anything you say, okay?
"Yes."
"Yeah," Ray breathed, hoarsely, his fingers working faster, smoother. "You opened up so nicely for me, Ren. I can feel how you want it. It makes me so fucking hard."
Ren nodded again, then caught himself. "Yes."
"You ready?"
"Yes, I am. Please."
Ray pulled away, and then one hand was gripping Ren's hip and his cock was pushing against Ren, the steady, all-encompassing pressure of it making him gasp and bite his lip. Ren pushed back and willed himself to stay relaxed. Ray slipped in easily, with a low, slow "Fuuuuuck."
The sensation was overwhelming. Not pain, but not far from it in the sheer volume of feeling. Ren gasped and held still, focusing intently on the coarse fabric of the couch under his hand and knees.
"Jesus, Turnbull - Ren. Holy shit, you feel good. You good?"
Ren tried to speak but couldn't. He nodded again.
Ray put his other hand on Ren's shoulder, holding him firmly as he slid the rest of the way inside. Once Ray's hips were flush with his buttocks, the contact sending Ren even higher into dizzying arousal, Ray leaned forward and lightly touched the skin of his shoulder with his mouth, so Ren could feel his lips move as he gasped, "Oh God. You're perfect, you feel perfect."
He wanted to say the words back, wanted to tell Ray how perfect he was in Ren's eyes, but his throat was closing with emotion and pleasure and he realized, thank God for once in his life he knew the right way to behave, that Ray would not welcome Ren's ardor.
"Still good? Can I?" Ray's voice shook slightly.
"Ray, stop asking. Just, please, I need you to."
Ray obeyed, pulling slowly out and pushing back in. Ren moaned helplessly.
Moving steadily in and out of Ren's body, Ray panted heavily into Ren's ear. Ren loved hearing it, loved the feel of Ray's hands on him, the pressure when Ray was fully inside him, the thrumming, anticipatory sensation when he withdrew, and the blinding pleasure as he pushed back in.
"So good," Ray gasped. "Hot and tight and... You feel... I want to fuck you all the time."
Ren felt Ray straighten up a bit, shift his weight, then set up a harder rhythm, both hands now tight on Ren's hips. Ren bracing himself against the back of the couch to keep from being shoved into it.
"Are you stroking yourself, Ren?" He panted, his voice clipped and strained.
"No." It was just a wisp of sound.
"Are you close?"
"Yes."
"Do it, stroke yourself."
Ren did, his hand flying over his cock, twisting through the wet beaded at the tip.
"Oh!"
"Yeah." Ray was almost snarling now and moving with hard, short strokes, shocking incredible feeling out of Ren's prostate over and over.
Ren's orgasm took him suddenly, starting with the explosive pleasure from Ray's penis, and then sizzling up his own, semen splattering his hand, and, to his dazed consternation, Ray's couch.
"Oh, God, Ren. Fuuuck." Ray thrust several more times, hard and deep and fast, and then made a moaning, broken sound as he came deep inside Ren.
Trying not to fret over the stain on the couch, Ren focused on the pleasing weight of Ray's sweaty body slumped against his back. Too soon, Ray sighed and pulled out and Ren stood, his body trying to reconcile the ecstasy of moments ago with the sudden awareness of soreness, of emptiness.
Ray flopped on the couch, reclining against the arm with his legs splayed open. Ren stood, feeling awkward and still shuddery.
"Where do you keep your cleaning supplies, Ray? I'm afraid I made a mess on your couch."
Squinting at Ren, Ray said, "You are not cleaning your come off my couch. I'll take care of it later. Or not." Ray grabbed Ren by the wrist and tried to tug him down.
Ren resisted, blushing. "I'm afraid that will only make a further mess, Ray."
"You're a strange duck, Turnbull."
Ren winced slightly at the comment and the reversion to his surname, while Ray pulled himself to his feet and went to the bathroom, returning with a bath towel. Tossing the towel on the couch, he threw himself back down, pulling Ren after him.
"Come on, even fuckbuddies deserve an afterglow."
Sitting primly on the towel, Ren was delighted when Ray tossed his long legs over his lap. Feeling bold, Ren stroked Ray's leg from knee to ankle.
"This is great, Turnbull, sorry, Ren. I'm really glad you want to do this."
"I enjoyed it very much as well."
"Yeah, I know." Ray poked him in the side and grinned, teasing. "I guess neither of us has been getting much action lately, huh?"
"No, I certainly have not been."
"So, are you good? Do you really want to keep doing this? 'Cause that would be great for me."
"There's nothing I'd like better, Ray."
"Greatness."
After that Ray was quiet for a while, eyes shut, one arm bent behind his head, a faint smile on his lips. Ren took advantage of the moment to stare at the places he'd always admired; the fine lines of Ray's face, the sweep of his lashes on his cheek, the angle of his collarbones, the elegant fingers resting on his chest. Then, checking that Ray was still unaware, Ren let himself enjoy the sight of Ray's small nipples, his stomach, the strip of hair leading from his navel to...
"Hey, Turnbull."
Ren jerked his eyes back up to Ray's face, hoping Ray hadn't seen the expression on his own.
"Do you have my phone number? You can call next time, see if it's a good time."
To see if Ray was alone. Because they weren't friends and they certainly weren't dating. They were lovers at best, and more accurately, to use Ray's term, "fuckbuddies."
"I did take the liberty of copying your phone number when I obtained your address, Ray. I hope you don't object."
"No, that's good."
They sat in fairly companionable silence for some time. Finally, Ray stretched again and twisted, Ren's eyes following the curve of his body before realizing Ray was trying to catch a glimpse of the clock. Realizing his mistake, Ren hastily excused himself to the bathroom, grabbing his pile of clothing on the way.
When Ren reemerged, Ray was wearing his jeans.
"Thank you for a delightful time."
Ray walked him to the door and kissed him on the cheek. "Any time, Turnbull. Thanks."
Walking home, Ren had to remind himself quite firmly to be grateful for what he had, rather than regret what he lacked.
***
Continued in The One with the Present
Author: slidellra
Pairing: Turnbull/Kowalski
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Sequel to The One with the First Date. 2937 words. Many thanks to llassah for beta.
Six days after they'd gone to the game together, Ren knocked on Ray's apartment door, then wiped his sweaty palm on his thigh. This was going to be all right. This was normal. This was friendly.
It was harder to believe his own pep talk when Ray opened the door with his wallet in his hand, a wave of music spilling into the hall. Ray just stood there with his mouth hanging open, rather like a fish stunned by illegal explosives.
Turnbull spoke, wincing slightly at the shrillness nerves put in his voice, "I'm afraid I forgot to give you Terence's present last week." He held out the small, carefully gift-wrapped package.
Ray didn't take it, just swallowed and said, "Uh."
"I hope it's not a bad time?"
Ray shook his head vigorously, more like he was trying to shake something loose than indicating a negative response. "Nah, come in."
Ren walked in and glanced curiously around the room. He'd never been here before and had actually done some snooping in Constable Fraser's office in order to find the address. It was very Ray, but could use a thorough scrubbing. He saw the turtle tank across the room and headed for it.
"I thought you were the pizza guy. I got pizza coming."
"I am not the pizza guy." Ren bit his lip. That was the wrong thing to say. He inspected the turtle. Yes, that was a turtle. Ren crouched down to get a better look. It was an attractive turtle, and it raised its head to look right at him. He smiled, eager as always to make a good impression, and set the present on the table next to the tank.
Ray didn't say anything, just went over to turn down the music, and Ren felt horribly out of place. He stayed by the turtle tank, sneaking glances over at Ray. Ray was wearing particularly ragged jeans, ones that he could never wear to work, and a thin, old t-shirt that revealed the shape of his shoulders quite nicely. His feet were bare. Ren closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.
The sudden knock was very loud. Ray accepted the pizza and paid the real pizza guy.
Still standing by the door, Ray said, "Do you want a slice?"
Ren couldn't tell if there was any actual enthusiasm in the offer, but he would take what he could get. "Oh, certainly! I am very fond of pizza."
It was excellent, as was sitting on the couch with Ray. It seemed wildly intimate somehow, both of them taking their pieces right out of the cardboard box, sitting side by side. If they were only a couple of feet closer to each other, they'd be touching.
Ray finished his slice while Ren was still working on his. He wiped his fingers on his jeans, then asked, "Beer?"
Oh. Oh. Ren rarely drank, but he swallowed a mouthful of pizza and said, "Yes, please."
After Ray fetched Old Styles for them both, Ren took a tentative sip. Thin, but not as repellent as some U.S. beers. Ren steeled himself and drank deeply, soon draining the bottle.
Ray was staring. Ren couldn't tell why. He wiped his lips nervously.
"Would you, uh, like another?"
"Yes, thank you."
Ray got up and fetched another beer, but then he just stood next to the couch, dangling the neck of the bottle between his long fingers, squinting a little. "Hey, Turnbull. Do you wanna fuck?"
Ren breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled at Ray. "Yes, yes, I do." Frowning, he added, "But I thought one of us should be drunk, and that one shouldn't ask so bluntly."
Grinning beautifully, Ray replied, "Nah. Second time rules are different. You don't want this beer, do you?"
"No, not at all."
Ray put the unwanted beer on the coffee table, then straddled Ren's lap, facing him.
Gasping at the sudden contact, he reached up with his mouth, seeking Ray's. Ray turned his head and shuffled forward slightly so their groins were pressed together. Ren was dizzy with lust and joy, especially when Ray put his hands on his shoulders and finally kissed him. It was slower than last time, but just as wonderful, their tongues entangled, their mouths open as they explored each other.
Ray pulled away, pushing his hands down on Ren's shoulders to hold him back when he tried to follow. "You done this sort of thing before?"
Ren nodded vigorously, then croaked, "Yes."
"So if I said I wanted to fuck you here on this couch, you'd be okay with that?"
Ren thought he might black out and involuntarily thrust his hips up. "Yes. I would like that very much, please."
Ray cocked his head, watching Ren's face. Then he kissed him, nodded sharply, and climbed off. "Take off your clothes, okay?"
While Ren was stripping, Ray disappeared into the other room. When Ray reappeared, lubricant in hand, Ren was naked, standing next to the couch. He was both terrified and terribly aroused, and felt very exposed with his erection there for Ray to see.
Ray walked up, right up next to him, and ran a hand from Ren's shoulder down his body, resting lightly on his hip. "Jesus, Turnbull. You are a hell of a lot of good-looking guy. I wouldn't have guessed."
He didn't know what to say.
"You cool with taking it?"
Ren closed his eyes again, hoping he would remember every word. Ray's voice always did things to him, and Ray talking about sex was more potent than he could have imagined.
"Yes."
"On your knees, then. On the couch."
Ren turned and knelt on the couch, his hands resting on the back. He looked over his shoulder. "Like this?"
"Oh, hell, yeah."
Ray pulled his own t-shirt over his head, then walked up close behind Ren. "You look so good like this."
Ren could hear Ray pop the button on his jeans, unzip, and push them down his thighs. He stepped up, naked, behind Ren.
"You sure you're all right with this? You're not saying much."
"I..." Ren tried valiantly to get the words out, "I want this. Very much. I like hearing you talk. I can't, I wish I could..."
Ray chuckled. "You like dirty talk, Turnbull? You want to hear me say how much I want to fuck you, how hard I want to fuck you right here?"
He couldn't say anything, just gasped and panted. Finally, he squeaked out, "Yes, please."
"God, I want to. I didn't know I wanted to, but I've been thinking about your mouth all week, and the way you looked on the floor, naked and hot for me." Ray was rubbing up against him, running his hands over Ren's back, pushing his hard penis against Ren's perineum and scrotum. "You feel so fucking good, you look so good. I don't think I've ever fucked anybody who looked as good as you look right now. Shift your legs apart for me, okay?"
Ren did. It was strange to feel the draft on his buttocks, on his erect penis. He felt so very exposed. But feeling exposed for Ray was good, he was sure of it.
He heard a snap, then, after a pause, he felt Ray lean against his back and wrap his slick hand around Ren's penis. "You want me to touch you here, Turnbull?"
Ren nodded.
Ray grabbed Ren's hand from the back of the couch and brought it to Ren's erection, both their hands working together to stroke. Ren didn't think he could last, was sure he'd embarrass himself.
Pulling his hand away, Ray said, "Keep stroking yourself."
Then a finger was stroking lightly between Ren's buttocks, making him shudder violently. "You want me to touch you here, too?"
Ren nodded again.
"You want me to keep talking, Turnbull?"
Ren nodded harder.
"You gotta say something then. I don't want to be alone here. It doesn't have to be hot, you just have to talk, okay?"
Ray's finger was pushing now, slick and wonderful inside him.
"Call me Ren." He hadn't meant to say that.
"Huh?" Ray's finger was deeper now, twisting and turning.
"I don't want you to call me Turnbull. Please call me Ren."
Ray paused, was silent for a couple of moments. "All right, Ren. Are you touching yourself?"
Ray must have known he was, must be able to see. "Yes."
"Do you like the way it feels?"
"Yes."
"Do you like my fingers in your ass?"
"Yes." That time it came out as a squeak, to Ren's dismay.
"I like it, too, Ren. I like thinking how fucking hot and tight you're going to feel on my cock. I've had this itch all week and now you're here and I finally get to... Fuck, yeah, you feel good." Ray added another finger, finding Ren's prostate.
Ren shuddered as he stroked and pushed, the pleasure rising in him until he blurted, "No!"
Ray immediately stilled. "Something wrong?"
"If you touch me there it's too much. I can't, please!"
Ray's forehead touched the middle of Ren's back, and when he spoke Ren could feel his warm breath against his skin. "You're that close already? Fuck, that's hot. But you've got to hold it together, all right? I want you to come with me inside you. I want to feel you come on my cock. You can stop stroking now. Just hold onto yourself, okay?"
"Yes, Ray." He bit his lip. Last week Ray'd said he could use his first name, but he wasn't sure the permission still applied. Ray didn't object, though, and he relaxed again.
The fingers inside him began moving again and Ren couldn't help but thrust back against them, trying to get more inside him.
"You're so... God, do you want it? Do you want me to fuck you?"
"Yes, yes, yes. Very much so, please."
Ray chuckled. "We might have to work on your dirty talk skills, buddy."
Even while flushing with embarrassment, Ren couldn't help but hear the implication that they would do this again, that this wasn't the only time, and the heat and joy of it was far, far stronger than his shame.
Pressing a kiss to Ren's back, Ray said, "It's okay. You can say anything you want. I'll enjoy anything you say, okay?
"Yes."
"Yeah," Ray breathed, hoarsely, his fingers working faster, smoother. "You opened up so nicely for me, Ren. I can feel how you want it. It makes me so fucking hard."
Ren nodded again, then caught himself. "Yes."
"You ready?"
"Yes, I am. Please."
Ray pulled away, and then one hand was gripping Ren's hip and his cock was pushing against Ren, the steady, all-encompassing pressure of it making him gasp and bite his lip. Ren pushed back and willed himself to stay relaxed. Ray slipped in easily, with a low, slow "Fuuuuuck."
The sensation was overwhelming. Not pain, but not far from it in the sheer volume of feeling. Ren gasped and held still, focusing intently on the coarse fabric of the couch under his hand and knees.
"Jesus, Turnbull - Ren. Holy shit, you feel good. You good?"
Ren tried to speak but couldn't. He nodded again.
Ray put his other hand on Ren's shoulder, holding him firmly as he slid the rest of the way inside. Once Ray's hips were flush with his buttocks, the contact sending Ren even higher into dizzying arousal, Ray leaned forward and lightly touched the skin of his shoulder with his mouth, so Ren could feel his lips move as he gasped, "Oh God. You're perfect, you feel perfect."
He wanted to say the words back, wanted to tell Ray how perfect he was in Ren's eyes, but his throat was closing with emotion and pleasure and he realized, thank God for once in his life he knew the right way to behave, that Ray would not welcome Ren's ardor.
"Still good? Can I?" Ray's voice shook slightly.
"Ray, stop asking. Just, please, I need you to."
Ray obeyed, pulling slowly out and pushing back in. Ren moaned helplessly.
Moving steadily in and out of Ren's body, Ray panted heavily into Ren's ear. Ren loved hearing it, loved the feel of Ray's hands on him, the pressure when Ray was fully inside him, the thrumming, anticipatory sensation when he withdrew, and the blinding pleasure as he pushed back in.
"So good," Ray gasped. "Hot and tight and... You feel... I want to fuck you all the time."
Ren felt Ray straighten up a bit, shift his weight, then set up a harder rhythm, both hands now tight on Ren's hips. Ren bracing himself against the back of the couch to keep from being shoved into it.
"Are you stroking yourself, Ren?" He panted, his voice clipped and strained.
"No." It was just a wisp of sound.
"Are you close?"
"Yes."
"Do it, stroke yourself."
Ren did, his hand flying over his cock, twisting through the wet beaded at the tip.
"Oh!"
"Yeah." Ray was almost snarling now and moving with hard, short strokes, shocking incredible feeling out of Ren's prostate over and over.
Ren's orgasm took him suddenly, starting with the explosive pleasure from Ray's penis, and then sizzling up his own, semen splattering his hand, and, to his dazed consternation, Ray's couch.
"Oh, God, Ren. Fuuuck." Ray thrust several more times, hard and deep and fast, and then made a moaning, broken sound as he came deep inside Ren.
Trying not to fret over the stain on the couch, Ren focused on the pleasing weight of Ray's sweaty body slumped against his back. Too soon, Ray sighed and pulled out and Ren stood, his body trying to reconcile the ecstasy of moments ago with the sudden awareness of soreness, of emptiness.
Ray flopped on the couch, reclining against the arm with his legs splayed open. Ren stood, feeling awkward and still shuddery.
"Where do you keep your cleaning supplies, Ray? I'm afraid I made a mess on your couch."
Squinting at Ren, Ray said, "You are not cleaning your come off my couch. I'll take care of it later. Or not." Ray grabbed Ren by the wrist and tried to tug him down.
Ren resisted, blushing. "I'm afraid that will only make a further mess, Ray."
"You're a strange duck, Turnbull."
Ren winced slightly at the comment and the reversion to his surname, while Ray pulled himself to his feet and went to the bathroom, returning with a bath towel. Tossing the towel on the couch, he threw himself back down, pulling Ren after him.
"Come on, even fuckbuddies deserve an afterglow."
Sitting primly on the towel, Ren was delighted when Ray tossed his long legs over his lap. Feeling bold, Ren stroked Ray's leg from knee to ankle.
"This is great, Turnbull, sorry, Ren. I'm really glad you want to do this."
"I enjoyed it very much as well."
"Yeah, I know." Ray poked him in the side and grinned, teasing. "I guess neither of us has been getting much action lately, huh?"
"No, I certainly have not been."
"So, are you good? Do you really want to keep doing this? 'Cause that would be great for me."
"There's nothing I'd like better, Ray."
"Greatness."
After that Ray was quiet for a while, eyes shut, one arm bent behind his head, a faint smile on his lips. Ren took advantage of the moment to stare at the places he'd always admired; the fine lines of Ray's face, the sweep of his lashes on his cheek, the angle of his collarbones, the elegant fingers resting on his chest. Then, checking that Ray was still unaware, Ren let himself enjoy the sight of Ray's small nipples, his stomach, the strip of hair leading from his navel to...
"Hey, Turnbull."
Ren jerked his eyes back up to Ray's face, hoping Ray hadn't seen the expression on his own.
"Do you have my phone number? You can call next time, see if it's a good time."
To see if Ray was alone. Because they weren't friends and they certainly weren't dating. They were lovers at best, and more accurately, to use Ray's term, "fuckbuddies."
"I did take the liberty of copying your phone number when I obtained your address, Ray. I hope you don't object."
"No, that's good."
They sat in fairly companionable silence for some time. Finally, Ray stretched again and twisted, Ren's eyes following the curve of his body before realizing Ray was trying to catch a glimpse of the clock. Realizing his mistake, Ren hastily excused himself to the bathroom, grabbing his pile of clothing on the way.
When Ren reemerged, Ray was wearing his jeans.
"Thank you for a delightful time."
Ray walked him to the door and kissed him on the cheek. "Any time, Turnbull. Thanks."
Walking home, Ren had to remind himself quite firmly to be grateful for what he had, rather than regret what he lacked.
***
Continued in The One with the Present