i see london, i see france
Aug. 19th, 2003 12:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
axiom_of_stripe posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictioni see 1266 words. drat. what happened to all my nice drabble-appropriate numbers?
oh well. at least![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
laurakaye was kind enough to beta this into shape. on to the sex!
*****
Knickers: A Study in Contrasts
Kowalski, by the end of the morning, was so streaked with grease and dirt that Vecchio, watching him step back from the engine and wipe his oily hands on his jeans, had to fight the urge to check under his own fingernails for sympathetic grime. Even as he stood there, out of the way by the far wall, Kowalski's knee nudged an open can and sent a dark stain creeping toward the vulnerable upholstery. Kowalski grabbed for a rag that wasn't there, flailed for a moment, and then tore his teeshirt over his head in one impatient move and stopped the spill with that.
Even Kowalski's stomach had a dark smudge across it, where Kowalski must have leaned against something or run his hand under his teeshirt. Rapt, Vecchio watched the muscles flex under the skin under the grease as Kowalski went back to work. It was too hot out here to get all worked up, of course, but maybe once they were inside, with air conditioning.... He drifted off into thoughts of cool showers, of Kowalski naked and wet, of kneeling on cold tiles and licking Kowalski's hot skin, still faintly salty with sweat but clean now under his tongue.
And then Kowalski bent over to rummage through his open toolbox, and Vecchio saw a flash of pink and white under the waistband of Kowalski's jeans. Dubiously, he leaned to the side and looked closer. There was no mistaking it: Kowalski was wearing lacy underwear under his old work clothes. He was wearing them when it should be too swelteringly hot for any such tease, just as if he meant to go on fixing his car right in front of Vecchio with grease smudged down his bare stomach and lace clinging to the angle of his hips--
Vecchio, with no memory of crossing the garage, was backing Kowalski up against his workbench, hands flat against Kowalski's sweaty chest. "What?" Kowalski was saying, "what the fuck?" and Vecchio held him still with both hands while he took his mouth in a frantic kiss.
"Mmmmph," Kowalski said protestingly, but then he slouched back and tipped his head up to let Vecchio kiss him, wetly and urgently. They kissed until Vecchio couldn't breathe anymore, and then Vecchio put his head down on Kowalski's bare shoulder and bit softly at his skin while Kowalski said, sounding a little irritated, "You waited this long, couldn't you wait until I finished and cleaned up?" He was sliding down onto his knees as he said it, though, not waiting for an answer before putting his mouth against Vecchio's cock through the fabric of his trousers.
Vecchio couldn't say anything; he braced his back against the worktable and hung on with both hands as Kowalski opened his trousers and pulled them down around his ankles. If he could have breathed at all he might have screamed as Kowalski wrapped his lips around the head of his cock and sucked hard and strong, just for an instant before sliding wetly away. He came back immediately, working his tongue along the base of Vecchio's cock, head tilted back and eyes slitted in satisfaction. "You, too," Vecchio managed to gasp, and Kowalski opened his eyes and looked inquiringly around the curve of Vecchio's cock. "Open your pants," Vecchio said, and Kowalski's eyes grinned. He shifted his knees around until he could kneel up and undo his zipper. Licking the very tip of Vecchio's cock, he pushed his jeans far enough down on his thighs to show off his pink and white underwear. "Yes," Vecchio breathed.
Kowalski put his mouth back around the head of Vecchio's cock and reached down to cup one hand around the bulge of his own cock, which was just growing hard. He rubbed one dirty thumb over the lace and repeated the motion with his tongue around the head of Vecchio's cock in his mouth. Vecchio's whole body jerked. Over and over Kowalski stroked himself, the motion visible mostly in the contrast between Kowalski's grease- streaked hand and the delicate fabric, and Vecchio shuddered helplessly with every curl of Kowalski's tongue.
With an abrupt gasp, Kowalski pulled back, stood up, and shoved the underwear down his thighs as well. His cock bobbed free, now very hard. Vecchio frantically kicked one foot free of his trousers as Kowalski shuffled forward and bore him back onto the worktable; Kowalski grabbed that knee in one hand and lifted it up onto his shoulder, leaving dark smudges on Vecchio's thigh and more on his hips as he lifted him into position. He didn't put on a condom, and Vecchio neither knew nor wanted to know what he was using for his rough, fast lube job, but they both groaned aloud when Kowalski put his hands back on Vecchio's hips and drove half the length of his cock into him. Vecchio twisted sideways and dug his elbows into the scarred wood of the table, trying to hold himself up off of the clutter strewn across the tabletop. Kowalski, careless of everything, rocked him back against the table with every hard thrust.
"You like watching me?" Kowalski gasped, turning Vecchio's hips slightly for better leverage. His fingers dug into Vecchio's skin and, when Vecchio looked up at him, his little-boy grin was manic. "I may be pretty but I'm man enough to fuck you. So hard," he growled, action matching words as Vecchio lost his grip on the edge of the worktable and fell back against the surface. "So hard, so hard, so hard--" and Vecchio arched his back up, shuddering. He could feel it, Kowalski driving him right along the edge of his climax, panting harshly, until suddenly Kowalski's hands were too tight and his breathing too ragged, and Vecchio had to get a hand down to wrap around his own cock and jerk, but only once, to get himself over that edge.
For one beautiful moment, nothing outside of his orgasm mattered at all. Kowalski seemed to bend over him in slow motion, slack-jawed, with sweat caught running halfway down his chest like some posed centerfold pin-up.
Reality trickled in slowly. Kowalski's hair was damp with sweat where it rubbed into his shoulder, and he smelled like burned oil. Something was gouging his shoulder. His leg, the one that he'd slung so easily onto Kowalski's shoulder in the heat of the moment, ached sharply. And he didn't even want to think about the places on his body with grease on them. "Sorry," he said, still breathless. "I guess I couldn't wait after all."
Kowalski laughed against his shoulder, then pushed himself up to lean over Vecchio. "Yeah, I minded so much," he said, grinning smugly. "You really do love cars, don't you?"
Vecchio pushed Kowalski back and sat up, sliding off the edge of the table and back onto his feet. Cautiously he stretched his shoulder out, but it seemed to have survived. "You weren't playing fair."
Kowalski tossed his head back and laughed. When he pulled up the lacy underwear (only slightly smudged) and buttoned his jeans over them once more, leaving him standing there bare-chested in greasy jeans and slicked-up hair, Vecchio shook his head in admiration. Kowalski kissed him again, quickly, and said, "I've gotta finish this up before lunch."
"You don't always wear that underwear," Vecchio said, hopping on one foot as he tried to get his other foot back into his trouser leg. "Is it a car thing or what?"
Kowalski winked. "You need to come down to the garage more often and find out, don't you?"
"Yes," Vecchio said fervently.
END
oh well. at least
laurakaye was kind enough to beta this into shape. on to the sex!*****
Knickers: A Study in Contrasts
Kowalski, by the end of the morning, was so streaked with grease and dirt that Vecchio, watching him step back from the engine and wipe his oily hands on his jeans, had to fight the urge to check under his own fingernails for sympathetic grime. Even as he stood there, out of the way by the far wall, Kowalski's knee nudged an open can and sent a dark stain creeping toward the vulnerable upholstery. Kowalski grabbed for a rag that wasn't there, flailed for a moment, and then tore his teeshirt over his head in one impatient move and stopped the spill with that.
Even Kowalski's stomach had a dark smudge across it, where Kowalski must have leaned against something or run his hand under his teeshirt. Rapt, Vecchio watched the muscles flex under the skin under the grease as Kowalski went back to work. It was too hot out here to get all worked up, of course, but maybe once they were inside, with air conditioning.... He drifted off into thoughts of cool showers, of Kowalski naked and wet, of kneeling on cold tiles and licking Kowalski's hot skin, still faintly salty with sweat but clean now under his tongue.
And then Kowalski bent over to rummage through his open toolbox, and Vecchio saw a flash of pink and white under the waistband of Kowalski's jeans. Dubiously, he leaned to the side and looked closer. There was no mistaking it: Kowalski was wearing lacy underwear under his old work clothes. He was wearing them when it should be too swelteringly hot for any such tease, just as if he meant to go on fixing his car right in front of Vecchio with grease smudged down his bare stomach and lace clinging to the angle of his hips--
Vecchio, with no memory of crossing the garage, was backing Kowalski up against his workbench, hands flat against Kowalski's sweaty chest. "What?" Kowalski was saying, "what the fuck?" and Vecchio held him still with both hands while he took his mouth in a frantic kiss.
"Mmmmph," Kowalski said protestingly, but then he slouched back and tipped his head up to let Vecchio kiss him, wetly and urgently. They kissed until Vecchio couldn't breathe anymore, and then Vecchio put his head down on Kowalski's bare shoulder and bit softly at his skin while Kowalski said, sounding a little irritated, "You waited this long, couldn't you wait until I finished and cleaned up?" He was sliding down onto his knees as he said it, though, not waiting for an answer before putting his mouth against Vecchio's cock through the fabric of his trousers.
Vecchio couldn't say anything; he braced his back against the worktable and hung on with both hands as Kowalski opened his trousers and pulled them down around his ankles. If he could have breathed at all he might have screamed as Kowalski wrapped his lips around the head of his cock and sucked hard and strong, just for an instant before sliding wetly away. He came back immediately, working his tongue along the base of Vecchio's cock, head tilted back and eyes slitted in satisfaction. "You, too," Vecchio managed to gasp, and Kowalski opened his eyes and looked inquiringly around the curve of Vecchio's cock. "Open your pants," Vecchio said, and Kowalski's eyes grinned. He shifted his knees around until he could kneel up and undo his zipper. Licking the very tip of Vecchio's cock, he pushed his jeans far enough down on his thighs to show off his pink and white underwear. "Yes," Vecchio breathed.
Kowalski put his mouth back around the head of Vecchio's cock and reached down to cup one hand around the bulge of his own cock, which was just growing hard. He rubbed one dirty thumb over the lace and repeated the motion with his tongue around the head of Vecchio's cock in his mouth. Vecchio's whole body jerked. Over and over Kowalski stroked himself, the motion visible mostly in the contrast between Kowalski's grease- streaked hand and the delicate fabric, and Vecchio shuddered helplessly with every curl of Kowalski's tongue.
With an abrupt gasp, Kowalski pulled back, stood up, and shoved the underwear down his thighs as well. His cock bobbed free, now very hard. Vecchio frantically kicked one foot free of his trousers as Kowalski shuffled forward and bore him back onto the worktable; Kowalski grabbed that knee in one hand and lifted it up onto his shoulder, leaving dark smudges on Vecchio's thigh and more on his hips as he lifted him into position. He didn't put on a condom, and Vecchio neither knew nor wanted to know what he was using for his rough, fast lube job, but they both groaned aloud when Kowalski put his hands back on Vecchio's hips and drove half the length of his cock into him. Vecchio twisted sideways and dug his elbows into the scarred wood of the table, trying to hold himself up off of the clutter strewn across the tabletop. Kowalski, careless of everything, rocked him back against the table with every hard thrust.
"You like watching me?" Kowalski gasped, turning Vecchio's hips slightly for better leverage. His fingers dug into Vecchio's skin and, when Vecchio looked up at him, his little-boy grin was manic. "I may be pretty but I'm man enough to fuck you. So hard," he growled, action matching words as Vecchio lost his grip on the edge of the worktable and fell back against the surface. "So hard, so hard, so hard--" and Vecchio arched his back up, shuddering. He could feel it, Kowalski driving him right along the edge of his climax, panting harshly, until suddenly Kowalski's hands were too tight and his breathing too ragged, and Vecchio had to get a hand down to wrap around his own cock and jerk, but only once, to get himself over that edge.
For one beautiful moment, nothing outside of his orgasm mattered at all. Kowalski seemed to bend over him in slow motion, slack-jawed, with sweat caught running halfway down his chest like some posed centerfold pin-up.
Reality trickled in slowly. Kowalski's hair was damp with sweat where it rubbed into his shoulder, and he smelled like burned oil. Something was gouging his shoulder. His leg, the one that he'd slung so easily onto Kowalski's shoulder in the heat of the moment, ached sharply. And he didn't even want to think about the places on his body with grease on them. "Sorry," he said, still breathless. "I guess I couldn't wait after all."
Kowalski laughed against his shoulder, then pushed himself up to lean over Vecchio. "Yeah, I minded so much," he said, grinning smugly. "You really do love cars, don't you?"
Vecchio pushed Kowalski back and sat up, sliding off the edge of the table and back onto his feet. Cautiously he stretched his shoulder out, but it seemed to have survived. "You weren't playing fair."
Kowalski tossed his head back and laughed. When he pulled up the lacy underwear (only slightly smudged) and buttoned his jeans over them once more, leaving him standing there bare-chested in greasy jeans and slicked-up hair, Vecchio shook his head in admiration. Kowalski kissed him again, quickly, and said, "I've gotta finish this up before lunch."
"You don't always wear that underwear," Vecchio said, hopping on one foot as he tried to get his other foot back into his trouser leg. "Is it a car thing or what?"
Kowalski winked. "You need to come down to the garage more often and find out, don't you?"
"Yes," Vecchio said fervently.
END
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no subject
Date: 2003-08-19 04:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-19 11:26 am (UTC)Very evocative prose you got there! :)
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-19 01:52 pm (UTC)::spontaneously combusting::
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-19 02:04 pm (UTC)"Combustible" does not begin to describe this piece. It's. Aah. Mmph. Unnngg. And that is A Good Thing.
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:49 pm (UTC)indeed! fashion show!
It's. Aah. Mmph. Unnngg. And that is A Good Thing.
i shall take it as a compliment, then. :)
no subject
Date: 2003-08-19 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-19 03:29 pm (UTC)Way to get my attention this morning. Wow. I now have a variety of images that will surely not get out of my head today. So freakin' hot, your story was. I love the way you write the Rays together. Yummy.
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-19 03:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-19 04:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-19 07:02 pm (UTC)There is just something so hot about Kowalski in greasy jeans and lacy underpants. I'm with Vecchio. I want me some of that!
You are the Queen of Ray/Ray. I bow to your greatness.
no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 06:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-20 02:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-21 03:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-22 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-22 04:29 am (UTC). . . there's just something SO hot about a hard cock under pretty lacy undies!
no subject
Date: 2003-08-22 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-05 03:28 pm (UTC)Seriously, a lighthearted and charming read.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-03 11:01 am (UTC)ph3ar my powerz!!!
heh.
c'mon, two rays for the price of one (free)! how can you say no? ;)
no subject
Date: 2005-01-26 01:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-11 12:38 am (UTC)