Fic: sweat baby, sweat baby
*squeaks in before the ds_snippets deadline*
Title: sweat baby, sweat baby
Author: waltzforanight
Fandom: Due South/Durham County
Pairing: Ray Kowalski/Mike Sweeney
Rating: R
Prompt: transfixed
Word Count: 300
There's a bead of sweat rolling down Ray's neck.
It started in his hair - or at least, that's where Mike started following it. He's not sure why it caught his attention; there's a lot of sweat, all over, everywhere. The edges of Ray's hair are almost black with it, a stark contrast to the flushed shine of his face, arms, chest, all of them slick with sweat. And Mike, too, he can feel the heat and the moisture breaking out across his forehead, and the base of his neck where it streaks down his back and gets caught in the clinging, soaked fabric of the undershirt he didn't bother taking off because he was in too much of a hurry to have this.
And now that he has it - is having it, now that he's buried deep inside Ray, holding his wrists above his head and fucking him so hard that the headboard clangs loudly against the wall. Mike knows it's loud, logically, but he can't really hear it. There's so much heat, inside Ray and all around them, it's making him dizzy. But that's what he wanted, heat to melt the ice that a bad (awful, horrible, terrible) day left behind.
Now that Mike has that, he can concentrate on the little things, like that tiny bead of sweat that started in Ray's hair then leaped across his forehead so, so slowly and then woosh, speeding down the side of Ray's face. Passing his eyebrow, gliding over his cheek and his jawline, then onto his neck. Down, down, down to the hollow of his throat, where Mike can't resist it anymore, ducks his head, catches it on his tongue.
He feels Ray's pulse pounding and licks, traces the path back to Ray's hairline, seeks out the next before it starts.
Title: sweat baby, sweat baby
Author: waltzforanight
Fandom: Due South/Durham County
Pairing: Ray Kowalski/Mike Sweeney
Rating: R
Prompt: transfixed
Word Count: 300
There's a bead of sweat rolling down Ray's neck.
It started in his hair - or at least, that's where Mike started following it. He's not sure why it caught his attention; there's a lot of sweat, all over, everywhere. The edges of Ray's hair are almost black with it, a stark contrast to the flushed shine of his face, arms, chest, all of them slick with sweat. And Mike, too, he can feel the heat and the moisture breaking out across his forehead, and the base of his neck where it streaks down his back and gets caught in the clinging, soaked fabric of the undershirt he didn't bother taking off because he was in too much of a hurry to have this.
And now that he has it - is having it, now that he's buried deep inside Ray, holding his wrists above his head and fucking him so hard that the headboard clangs loudly against the wall. Mike knows it's loud, logically, but he can't really hear it. There's so much heat, inside Ray and all around them, it's making him dizzy. But that's what he wanted, heat to melt the ice that a bad (awful, horrible, terrible) day left behind.
Now that Mike has that, he can concentrate on the little things, like that tiny bead of sweat that started in Ray's hair then leaped across his forehead so, so slowly and then woosh, speeding down the side of Ray's face. Passing his eyebrow, gliding over his cheek and his jawline, then onto his neck. Down, down, down to the hollow of his throat, where Mike can't resist it anymore, ducks his head, catches it on his tongue.
He feels Ray's pulse pounding and licks, traces the path back to Ray's hairline, seeks out the next before it starts.