Ray figures it doesn't pay to be too
particular about who you see in the romantic sense of the word, but
that said, there is definitely a type of person that he tends to fall
for more often.
and, generally, women.
And yeah, there was one big Mountie-shaped exception in
there, back before he went to Vegas. But Fraser is the kind of guy
exceptions were invented for, okay? And besides, he's not that
far from Ray's particular type--he dresses like a human tragedy and
he only smells nice some of the time, but he's got his own kind of
class, and the smart thing was never in question.
This, though--this is something else. This
breathless whatever-it-is--this curve of skull beneath his hand and
the twist of short-cropped hair between his fingers; this bony
shoulder with the leather strap of harness and the washed-thin cotton
t-shirt underneath; this fucking mouth on him, sloppy and wet
and so goddamned perfect--all of this came straight out of
left field. Anybody ever told him he'd be getting off on the smell of
sweat and sex and the soft, muffled moans Kowalski is making around
his dick, Ray'd have punched them right in the kisser. Because he's
predictable. He's boring and straight. He is not the kind of guy who
would ever be caught dead with his pants shoved down in his partner's
car, panting helpless at the ceiling.
Kowalski shifts on top
of him, sliding an arm beneath Ray's waist and using it to pull him
closer, deeper. He breathes out heat against Ray's belly and starts
in with a whole new rhythm. Ray's mouth falls open and he hears
himself make this shuddering sigh and Jesus, Kowalski looks good with
his lips stretched around Ray's cock and his eyes closed like that,
eyelashes dark against his cheek. He looks like he's concentrating,
like he wants this, wants to suck Ray's dick so perfect in the dark,
make him feel like this, like he could go blind from this, like
everything they ever told him in parochial school was true, and so,
so worth it. He pushes his fingers deeper into Kowalski's fair hair,
slides his other hand up from Kowalski's shoulder to trace the rough
line of jaw, the creases at the corner of his tight-shut eye.
Kowalski moans again, low and soft, and picks up the pace.
The car fills with those small wet sounds and their harsh breath, and
it's obscene and strange and god, really hot, and Ray's hand
falls back to Kowalski's shoulder because he has to, has to hang on
to something, here. "Oh," he says, in a voice he doesn't
recognize. "Oh, fuck, Kowalski. Oh, Jesus."
And Kowalski's hand tightens on Ray's bare hip, fingers digging in
hard, and he pushes the flat of his tongue against the head of Ray's
dick and then swallows around him, wet and tight and fuck--fuck,
Ray has no choice about it: he has to come.
Kowalski sits up slow and casual, scratches at his head and wipes his
mouth with the back of his hand. He looks flushed, and kind of
amused, but he doesn't say anything--just slides back over to his
side of the car.
Ray takes a breath, lets it out. He fumbles
in the glove compartment for some of the napkins he shoved in there
after lunch and mops up his belly, tucks himself away with hands that
in no way are shaking. When he opens the door to throw the napkins in
the gutter, the night air comes in cool and fresh. Wakes him up a
little. Clears his head.
"So, uh," he says, pulling
the door closed again. "You going to drop me at home some time
tonight, or what?"
Kowalski's busy staring out the
windshield at the empty parking lot, one thumb rubbing thoughtfully
at the corner of his mouth. He laughs a little now, though, drops his
head. "Uh huh," he says, sitting up again, and reaches out
to start the car. "Yeah. You bet."
anything until they get to Wacker, at which point Ray shifts in his
seat, taps the dash. "It, uh. Sounds like you got a bad
Kowalski shoots a look across the car at
him. "Yeah," he says. "I was going to take a look
tomorrow. You want to help?"
Ray sniffs, shrugs. "Sure,"
he says. And he keeps his gaze on the road ahead, but he can see
Kowalski's face out of the corner of his eye, and he doesn't miss
that slow grin. He smiles, too.
"All right, then,"
Kowalski says, and a few seconds after that, he turns on the radio.