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Dec. 22nd, 2006 10:14 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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llassah
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ray/Ray
Length: 480 words
Prompt: 61. Ray/Ray "If you say anything..."
llassahRating: NC-17
Pairing: Ray/Ray
Length: 480 words
Prompt: 61. Ray/Ray "If you say anything..."
“Vecchio, I-”
He stops at the look on Vecchio’s face. The shelves are cutting into Ray’s back, the cut on his cheek throbbing. Vecchio’s got one hand pressing into his shoulder, the other drawn back in a fist, like he wants to punch him but is fighting against it. He’s shaking, eyes wide and frightened, a complete contrast to his usual smooth Italian smug and in control ‘I passed for a few years as a scary-ass Mob guy, and my pyjamas are Armani’ cop. This is him angry, scared-
This is him honest. Ray takes a breath, wants to know what the fuck’s happening here, but Vecchio’s got his hand over his mouth before he can say anything, and is leaning in, close, so close Ray can smell his cologne, feel him pressed right up against him.
“If you say anything, anything at all about this, about us, about Benny or Stella, or pity fucks, or being second best, I swear to God I’ll- Christ, Kowalski, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I- I can’t- Fuck. I don’t know. Just- just let me think this is about us, ok? Let me pretend you’re not- Let me think you chose this.”
He still won’t let Ray speak, kissing him hard, rough, as the hand that was over his mouth comes down to the fly of his jeans. Vecchio’s hand is shaking as he undoes the top button, the zip far too loud, a metallic counterpoint to their breathing. He tastes of coffee, and faintly of alcohol. Vecchio’s hand is warm around Ray’s cock, and he tries to remember how to speak as Vecchio jerks him off, fast, hot, messy. It’s wrong, and not in the right way either- it’s angry, it’s Vecchio taking from him, taking away power, making him come so he’s out of control, trying to prove something and Ray doesn’t want that any more. He doesn’t know if he ever did.
He pushes away from the shelves, swings them around so Vecchio’s the one against them. Before he has a chance to fight back, Ray’s undoing his trousers, letting them slither to the floor, then doing the same to his boxers. Ray moves in again, moves so their cocks are lined up, so there’s pleasure on both sides, then wraps his arms around Vecchio in a near-hug. He whispers in Vecchio’s ear as he moves. He whispers words like ‘want’, and ‘need’, until he’s stopped trembling and starts gasping, moaning, moving with him. Vecchio’s hands are stroking, warm, steady. Coming is sweet and strong, gasped out on Vecchio’s shoulder as Vecchio trembles once more, moving into Ray’s hip, whispering words like ‘God’, and ‘please’, and ‘yes’ as his eyes squeeze shut and his hands cling. Ray lets him lean, kissing his neck just because it’s there, and wonders how many words they really need.
He stops at the look on Vecchio’s face. The shelves are cutting into Ray’s back, the cut on his cheek throbbing. Vecchio’s got one hand pressing into his shoulder, the other drawn back in a fist, like he wants to punch him but is fighting against it. He’s shaking, eyes wide and frightened, a complete contrast to his usual smooth Italian smug and in control ‘I passed for a few years as a scary-ass Mob guy, and my pyjamas are Armani’ cop. This is him angry, scared-
This is him honest. Ray takes a breath, wants to know what the fuck’s happening here, but Vecchio’s got his hand over his mouth before he can say anything, and is leaning in, close, so close Ray can smell his cologne, feel him pressed right up against him.
“If you say anything, anything at all about this, about us, about Benny or Stella, or pity fucks, or being second best, I swear to God I’ll- Christ, Kowalski, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I- I can’t- Fuck. I don’t know. Just- just let me think this is about us, ok? Let me pretend you’re not- Let me think you chose this.”
He still won’t let Ray speak, kissing him hard, rough, as the hand that was over his mouth comes down to the fly of his jeans. Vecchio’s hand is shaking as he undoes the top button, the zip far too loud, a metallic counterpoint to their breathing. He tastes of coffee, and faintly of alcohol. Vecchio’s hand is warm around Ray’s cock, and he tries to remember how to speak as Vecchio jerks him off, fast, hot, messy. It’s wrong, and not in the right way either- it’s angry, it’s Vecchio taking from him, taking away power, making him come so he’s out of control, trying to prove something and Ray doesn’t want that any more. He doesn’t know if he ever did.
He pushes away from the shelves, swings them around so Vecchio’s the one against them. Before he has a chance to fight back, Ray’s undoing his trousers, letting them slither to the floor, then doing the same to his boxers. Ray moves in again, moves so their cocks are lined up, so there’s pleasure on both sides, then wraps his arms around Vecchio in a near-hug. He whispers in Vecchio’s ear as he moves. He whispers words like ‘want’, and ‘need’, until he’s stopped trembling and starts gasping, moaning, moving with him. Vecchio’s hands are stroking, warm, steady. Coming is sweet and strong, gasped out on Vecchio’s shoulder as Vecchio trembles once more, moving into Ray’s hip, whispering words like ‘God’, and ‘please’, and ‘yes’ as his eyes squeeze shut and his hands cling. Ray lets him lean, kissing his neck just because it’s there, and wonders how many words they really need.
