[fic: i'll kiss you again between the bars, mike sweeney/ray kowalski, rated adult]
title: I'll kiss you again between the bars
author: sionnain
fandom: durham county/due south crossover
pairing: mike sweeney/ray kowalski
rating: adult
warning: consensual d/s
summary: "Metal, four fucking sides, and some bars."
an: The only backstory you need for this fic is that Valerie is a colleague of Ray's, who waltzforanight and I made up for our what else would you have me be? 'verse. Val works in Vice, and is in the know about our boys kinky lifestyle. Really, though, this is pretty much just porn. I failed at Kink Bingo, but I made myself a card anyway because THAT'S HOW I ROLL. \renegade/ This is for the prompt cage, confinement, and for some reason these two having snarky, consensual kinky sex makes me :D!!
Thanks to waltzforanight for the beta! Title from the Elliot Smith song Between the Bars.
I'll kiss you again between the bars
"Kowalski, what the fuck is that thing in our living room?"
Ray finished rinsing the conditioner out of his hair, feeling a familiar hot rush as he heard Mike's voice echoing sharp off the tiled shower wall. Sure, Mike's hey, honey, I'm home! voice had been known to make people cry, but Ray was used to it by now. Mike used the same voice when he couldn't get the Tupperware to stack up correctly when he emptied the dishwasher, and there were only so many times you could hear someone yelling I will fucking end you, where is your goddamn lid? before you found it kind of endearing.
"Ooh, trivia!" Ray said, grinning and grabbing the bar of soap. "Animal, vegetable or mineral?" he asked, knowing full well what Mike was talking about. But if part of Mike's charm was that he had dishes-inspired rage, part of Ray's was playing dumb to annoy him.
A pause, and then, "Metal, four fucking sides and some bars."
Ray grinned and lathered his hands up, scrubbing them over his face. "The angry bobcat's still in there, though, yeah? 'Cause if its empty, we're gonna have a problem."
"There's no problem. I killed it with my bare hands and turned it into a hat. Two hats. Matching ones. I put yours on your pillow."
Ray laughed, turning his face up towards the spray. "I love it when you play along, Sweeney."
"Yeah, I'm real good fucking sport--Kowalski, why is there an empty cage in our living room?"
"Remember when I told you there was some kind of evil creature eating all the Tupperware lids? Thought I'd catch it and--"
"Ha, ha. Shut up about the fucking Tupperware. I know who's responsible for losing all the lids. Let's try this again--why the fuck is there a cage in our living room, Ray?"
Ray's breath caught a little--that was Mike's voice he used when Ray had a collar around his neck and Mike's cock in his mouth. Ray pulled the shower curtain back and reached for the towel automatically, but his fingers glanced against cool metal instead of cotton. Ray gave his head a good hard shake, then looked over at Mike, who was leaning casually back against the bathroom door. He was barefoot and he'd taken off his jacket, and he was holding the towel and smirking.
"Valerie," Ray answered. "Her boyfriend's parents just got into town, but Craig got called in to the hospital to do his brain-doctor thing, so Val had to pick them up. Val called me 'cause we're on the way to the airport and she knows we're...y'know. Into that stuff." Ray held his hand out. "Can I have that? S'kinda cold, Sweeney. You got dragonian rules about the heater so it's never warm in here."
"Dragonian, eh?" Mike flashed him a sudden grin, and as hot as Mike was when he was yelling at Tupperware or grilling some scumbag dirty cop, that grin of his was goddamn lethal.
Ray grinned back before could stop himself. "Yeah. Fire-breathing and scaly. What, you think I don't know how to use words?" I don't, actually, when you grin at me like that.
Jesus, Mike Sweeney made him dumb in the head.
Mike's smile faded, and he gave Ray a long, leisurely once-over that was so thorough, Ray thought he might need another shower. "I bet you do." He paused. "Do you forget how to say please?"
Ray crossed his arms and scowled, but the effect was probably ruined by his cock starting to get hard. They'd been busy the last few weeks, and while they were pretty good at finding time for really fast hot sex--actually, that was just sex in general with them--other stuff was harder to fit in. "Nope."
He was surprised--and kind of disappointed--when Mike laughed and tossed the towel at him. Ray rubbed it over his head and wrapped it around his hips, then got out of the shower. Mike started working at the knot in his tie. "So that cage. Did Valerie--" Mike paused and looked at him in the mirror. "She say what she uses it for?"
"She puts the brain doctor in the cage, yeah," Ray answered wryly, grinning at Mike in the mirror. "I asked." He grabbed the comb off the basin to run through his hair.
"Of course you did. That's what you do when you have a thought. Express it vocally." Mike slowly slid the fabric of his unknotted tie through the collar of his shirt. "We got any plans tonight?"
"Nope." Ray looked up and met Mike's cool gaze in the mirror, then sucked in a sharp breath.
"Good. Don't make any." Mike tried to stare him down, but despite the fact Ray really liked this thing of theirs--it'd been while, and he was in the mood to make Mike work for it.
Ray didn't lower his gaze an inch.
Mike smiled, pleased. "Better not make any for tomorrow, either," he said coolly, then grabbed Ray around the back of the neck and forcibly turned Ray's gaze towards the floor.
Excellent.
* * *
Sometimes, when they did shit like this, it was because Ray really needed it; some case had gotten lodged in his brain and turned into a pulp comic nightmare thing, or he was wound up from a succession of too many late nights and car chases and caffeine, or else he was just wound up from being him. Sometimes it was because Mike needed it, for similar reasons although usually with less jittery speech and restless leg syndrome.
And sometimes, like now, they just did it because it was hot.
Ray liked it any way he could get it, he didn't have a preference for one over the other, but admittedly he liked the way his head was clear enough to appreciate the beforehand stuff as well as the during-and-after stuff. Valerie had a lot of words for that, and she'd sent over a video so they could learn them, but Mike and Ray watched it and got distracted because it had half-naked girls on leashes and they were guys, hello.
It was the whole thing where they had dinner and cleaned up and watched Sportscenter, bitched about baseball and hockey just like they did every night. Except Ray knew what Mike was doing; dragging it out, making Ray wait for the second he decided they were going to start. Mike got off on that part, deciding when things went from normal to do what I say. When Ray was the one who had to tie Mike up and get him to talk about his feelings (which was the only way Mike would admit to having any that weren't anger, hunger or sex) Ray didn't really get the same kind of thrill from it.
It was kinda cool to watch that part and appreciate it. Mike was also being more of an ass than usual, saying stuff like, "Jesus, Kowalski, could you be more desperate for it?" and "Maybe I changed my mind," which he wouldn't necessarily do if Ray's brain was telling him crazy shit like you're too much and he's going to leave you when you push too far.
It wasn't, though, so tonight Ray threw it right back at him--"Yeah, actually, but I'm not in the mood," and "Maybe you don't want to get your dick sucked, then,"--and felt the tension climb higher the longer Mike waited. Ray was pretty sure Mike wanted to catch him off guard, but that wasn't easy. Ray was a cop, Ray was used to all-night stakeouts and car chases, Ray had razor sharp focus when he wanted--
Mike got him when Ray went into the kitchen, pulled out a pack of Oreos from the pantry and got confused at how to open the stay fresh longer! packaging strip. He was hunting for the scissors--I'll just eat them before they go stale, ha, take that, fucking Nabisco--when Mike pounced at him, grabbed him by the neck and growled, "On your fucking knees, now," at him.
Ray felt a momentary pang of sadness about his lost dessert. Mike's grip was tight, but not tight enough to keep Ray from moving his head or looking up at him, which meant Mike wanted him to fight back. Ray obliged him, tilting his chin defiantly and drawling, "Make me," with a smirk.
Mike did, and Ray forgot all about the Oreos.
* * *
The thing about sadists, Ray learned, was that they could be just as fucking sadistic in a good mood as they were in a bad one. Mike still had issues with that word, and Ray knew it, but happily those issues were taking a much-needed breather for the night. Ray didn't know why, but he wasn't about to ask--fuck, Mike being so happy about hurting him was one of Ray's favorite things ever.
Never look a hot-boyfriend-with-a-belt in the mouth, that's what Ray always said.
It had been awhile, and Mike was in a good mood, so they went at it just like they did with sex--hard and with a lot of enthusiasm. Mike got him on the floor and kicked him once or twice, which he rarely ever did and Ray always really liked. Ray came up with inventive things to say to be annoying ("Remember when you kicked me and broke my rib? That was a lot better than this, what, you wearing slippers now? Going soft, old man?") and kicked back, and at one point they both ended up laughing because Ray did that and Mike caught his ankle in one hand and said, "Flexibility like that, Kowalski, you should be a stripper," to which Ray had responded, "Except I'd die when I tried to use the pole," and they both started snickering like twelve year olds.
Ray kicked him in the stomach with his heel, though, and that put things back on track.
Ray finally gave it up when he ended up on his stomach on their bed, hands cuffed behind him and a length of bondage rope (the Internet was great for their sex life, you could order anything) around his neck. Mike had one knee on Ray's back and an arm across the back of his neck, growling you ready to give it up yet, Kowalski? in his ear. He managed to sound scary and hot even though he was holding the end of the rope in his teeth. Mike was very talented.
Ray thought about struggling or trying to get out of the hold for a few seconds, but he was ready for the sex that always came after this and so he decided to give it up. Because Mike might decide when they started, but Ray--it was up to him when it was over. He gave a rough nod, felt Mike yank on the rope and heard him order answer me while he lifted his arm off of the back of Ray's neck. Ray lifted his head up enough to drawl, "Yeah," and then Mike smacked him hard across the face and okay, fuck, he was done. Ray's head snapped to the side and he moaned, pushed his hips against the mattress because he was so fucking hot for it, and said gruffly, "Yes."
"Good." Mike eased up, but he stayed where he was, then put his mouth right beneath Ray's ear. "You ready to stop?"
Confused, Ray wanted to say did you miss the yes? but he couldn't, he was too busy shivering and fucking the mattress some more. "Mmm? Um. Want you," Ray panted, and they were just playing but he had given it up, so he didn't look Mike in the eye when he said it. "Y'know. Um. Please?" He was trying to figure out what it was Mike wanted and wishing Mike would just tell him what to say, fuck, he was desperate here.
"Yeah," Mike said huskily, and Christ, he sounded so happy and proud it just made Ray want him more. "I know. You gave it up, but are you done?" Mike licked beneath Ray's ear, laughed when Ray moaned and gave a full-body shiver. "I'll fuck you right now, or we could keep going a little more. Tell me what you want." He nipped at the spot he'd been licking. "Tell me now, Ray."
As much as he wanted Mike to fuck him, and as bad as he wanted to get off, Ray surprised himself by saying, "Can go longer," because there was something in Mike's voice that told Ray yeah, it was Ray's choice, but Mike had an answer he'd really like to hear. Ray was in a good mood, too, and he wanted Mike to have what he wanted. "Mmm. You...somethin' else you want, huh?"
"Yeah." Mike kissed the spot he'd bitten. "There is."
"Mmm. 'kay." Ray thought about what it could be. "Gun?" he asked, a little hopefully.
Mike growled and his hips pushed hard against Ray's back in a way that almost made Ray regret not choosing the I'll fuck you option. "No, but I'll keep it in mind. Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? I mean it, Ray. Won't be mad, I just...wanted to try something. Okay?" Ray nodded, and then Mike's voice changed, went sharp and commanding again. "Don't say a goddamned word unless I say you can, and don't move." He took Ray's cuffs off, and Ray listened to Mike moving around the bedroom while he lay on the bed, floating in a half-sleepy, half-fuck me now daze and moving his arms around to ease the soreness. Mike came back and skillfully unknotted the rope, then slipped it free from around Ray's neck and replaced it with his collar. He gave it a tug said gruffly, "This okay? Answer me," and Ray nodded and choked out a yeah, then a yes, and heard a soft click as Mike fastened something to the buckle.
A leash.
Before Ray could work out what it was exactly Mike had planned, Mike ran a hand down his pleasantly aching back--then smacked him hard right on the worst of the bruises. "You're so hot, Kowalski," he said, which Ray barely heard over his sudden, loud moan. "You know? You really are. You're hot, and you fight me, and you give it up and make me work for it and you look so goddamn hot when I hurt you--" Mike was breathing hard, and Ray liked this let's give Ray many compliments thing they were doing but he was kind of wary, too, because Mike didn't put a collar on him and a leash just for that.
"--And you know what I am? I'm a jealous fucking bastard, Kowalski. I think I'd like it if you fucked a girl for me--Valerie, maybe, she's hot and I know she'd do it. But if she tried to hurt you and you looked like you do right now? For her?" Mike laughed in that way he had, slightly unkind and self-mocking, and it made Ray wonder briefly if there was something Mike needed to work out here, after all. "Fuck, no. No."
Mike grabbed the leash end and pulled, hard. "Let's go."
Ray scrambled to get up, but Mike shoved him down to the ground. "Get on all fours," he barked, then took a few steps forward while Ray shifted into position. His arms were shaking, and he had a weird feeling he knew where this was going--sure enough, Mike barked out, "crawl," and tugged on the leash. He did give Ray a brief look of is this okay?, and Ray knew better than to nod or actually answer because it would break the dynamic. Instead he lowered his head and did it, crawled after Mike into the living room.
Ray had done this before, but usually Mike wanted it when things were a lot more intense than they were now, so Ray hadn't ever really paid attention to what it felt like beyond the obvious fuck, ow, hardwood, ow. He still felt that, but there was a slow burn of something that felt like embarrassment but also felt good, too. His hands were sweaty and he slipped a little, and Mike gave the leash another sharp tug and said in a mocking voice, "You really are my bitch, aren't you?"
And there was something in his voice that made Ray drop his head and grin, and then move fast and bite Mike on his ankle. Mike cursed and kicked out, but not hard, and Ray heard him laugh. "Okay, yeah, yeah. I get it. Come on," he said, and Ray went back to crawling because his Oh, I do not fucking think so, Sweeney, message had been received loud and clear. Ray was up for a lot of shit, but if Mike tried to hit him in the nose with a rolled-up newspaper, Ray was going to safeword out of that faster than the time Ray had shown him a picture on the Internet of a tens unit and how one used it. ("I thought you said violent wand, Kowalski. I am not electrocuting you, fuck, slapshot. Click over to that picture of the girls with the strap-on again.")
Ray figured he was going to suck Mike off while wearing his collar, while Mike yanked him around a lot with the leash. They'd done that before, it was a Kowalski-Sweeney Classic, and Ray had absolutely no problem with that.
Ray had forgotten all about the thing sitting on the floor of their living room, however. Until Mike opened it, looked down at him and said, "Get in."
Oh.
* * *
Ray sat in the cage, which was a lot smaller when you were outside of it. He was still in his jeans and his collar, the lead of the leash attached to Mike's wrist. Ray had almost safeworded out of this, because what the hell kind of kink was this? They were cops. If Mike wanted to get off seeing Ray behind bars, they had jail cells they could borrow for that shit. A cage in their living room? Fucking weird.
Mike didn't say a word to him, just sat there holding the leash and staring off into space. Ray shifted a little, crossed his legs and tilted his head, looked around. He was...okay, it was strange, he wasn't--freaked out, exactly, it wasn't that. He didn't like closed in spaces, but this wasn't bad because he could see through it and, okay, having his collar on was relaxing and having Mike holding the leash made him feel completely safe, so there wasn't a problem there.
It was just sort of...boring.
He was still under the don't talk rule, but Ray wasn't dumb and this wasn't his first rodeo, so he knew how to get Mike to stop staring Off Into The Past As Exemplified By This One Wall of Our Living Room, or whatever he was doing. Ray shifted some more, so that there was a subtle tug on the leash and that Mike would look over and maybe do something before Ray fell asleep, here.
"Bored in there, Kowalski?" Mike went down on his heels, grinning at him. "I was watching the clock, you want to know how many minutes it took you to do the get my attention without breaking the rules thing?" Mike raised his eyebrow. "Oh, don't tell me you really thought I didn't notice when you did that."
Ray drew his knees up, crossed his arms over them and glared silently.
"Four minutes, twenty-four seconds. That's a good two minutes longer than I thought you'd last." Mike sat on the floor, leaned back against the couch and stretched his legs out. He'd stripped off his dress shirt at some point, and was wearing his suit pants and an undershirt. Ray was momentarily distracted with the smug my boyfriend is hot thought when Mike tugged the leash again, surprising him by saying, "You can talk now."
Ray blinked at him, confused, but predictably he recovered quickly enough to start talking. "We're--you're done? This is what you wanted to do? Seriously? Make me crawl, put me in the cage, and time me to see how long it took me to get twitchy? Wow, Mike. Wow."
Mike stared at him, then went up on his knees and jerked the leash so hard, Ray had no choice but to scramble forward. He nearly his hit head on the top of the cage as he grabbed onto the bars, and then he lost whatever comment he was going to make when Mike pulled the leash one more time, leaned forward and said in a rough voice, "I said you could talk. I didn't fucking say we were done."
There was something about being separated from Mike by the bars that made Ray feel kind of reckless. Sure, Mike could yank the leash some more but that wasn't really all that much of a threat--he couldn't really hurt Ray, or smack him, or do anything he usually did when Ray smarted off at him (usually so Mike would do those things). "You didn't fucking say we weren't, either."
Mike's face did that twisty-angry thing it did, but Ray could have sworn there was a grin there beforehand. "You think you're safe 'cause you're in there?"
"What are you going to do, throw pennies at me?" Ray asked, and what the hell--he was starting to get hard again, and this made no sense whatsoever. "You want to beat me up, you're gonna have to let me out."
"You want me to let you out, you're gonna have to stop making me want to beat you up."
"Then I'll be in here forever," Ray said with an elaborate roll of his eyes, falling back again to sit down. Mike let him, and Ray let his legs fall open so one knee was resting on either side of the cage. "You're gonna have to tell me why you wanted to do this."
"No, I'm not," Mike said calmly, leaning back against the sofa. "I don't have to tell you anything."
Ray started tapping his foot. "So you're not gonna talk and I'm not gonna shut up? Wow, this is fun. And you wanted to do this instead of fuck me?" Ray peered at him. "You feeling okay?"
"Who said I wasn't going to fuck you?" Mike smiled pleasantly at him. "And you know, you might not think it's fun but that's not the fucking point, is it? I do. And it really only matters what I want, right?"
Ray opened his mouth to say something, then remembered they were still playing and that, yeah, technically that's how this worked. "Okay, sure. You want me to...take a nap? Rattle a cup? Sing an old-timey prison song?"
Mike snorted. "Do you know any?" He held up a hand. "Never mind. You probably do. And when I want you to do something, Kowalski, I'll tell you."
Ray shrugged and sat still for about twenty seconds, then said in irritation, "You have to let me out of here if I safeword, you know."
"Yup." Mike reached down and casually ran his hand over his cock. "I know."
Ray stopped talking, because suddenly things got a lot more interesting. He let his legs fall open more, slouched down a little. "You really like me being in a cage, huh?"
Mike opened the top button of his pants. "Yeah. 'Cause you're mine." He pressed his palm against his dick again through his pants, and it must have been harder this time because he hissed and pushed his hips up and whoa, fuck, that was hot. "Told you I was jealous."
Fuck, wait... "You put me in a cage because I'm too hot, that it?" Ray beamed at him.
Mike's tongue licked at his bottom lip and he nodded, his eyes going a little distant as he rubbed himself harder.
"This? This I did not know about you, Sweeney." Ray eyed him curiously. "Me in a collar and a leash, stuck in a cage, watching you rub your cock? This is a fetish? Does that even have a name?"
Mike gave a breathless laugh. "Maybe. I could look at that book Val gave us. Too bad it wasn't in the video, eh?"
Ray laughed, too, and he really didn't get this but Mike obviously liked it, so...what the hell. He lifted the leash up and licked it, watching, and okay, yeah--Mike groaned, head going back a little as his hand moved up and down the front of his pants--Ray wondered idly when he didn't just undo his zipper and go for it, but whatever.
Ray waited for Mike to look somewhat under control, and then said, "Guess if I want to do that, I gotta ask first, huh?"
Mike shook his head. "No."
Ray's eyebrows raised, but he reached down to undo the buttons on his jeans because fuck, he was taking advantage of that. Except he barely got one undone before Mike said gruffly, "You got that wrong, Kowalski. You don't have to ask because I'm not going to let you. But you can if you want. I do like to tell you no."
"Oh." Ray watched Mike finally get his zipper down and get his cock in his hand, fingers moving slowly up and down and twisting over the head. "Um. Hey. That's not--that's not buddies. At all."
"Maybe not for you." Mike was facing him, still holding onto the leash, and that was the really fucking bitchy part--every time Mike's hand moved, the leash jolted and bounced and Ray could feel it. "It's--mmm, fuck--pretty goddamn good for me. Lick that some more, like you were doing before. Don't make me ask you twice, Kowalski, you're better behaved than that."
"If I was, would I be in a cage--okay, okay. Freak," Ray said fondly, lifting the leash up and licking the metal again. Fuck, Mike looked hot, flushed and breathing hard, eyes half closed while he jerked off right there, so that Ray could see. "God, you--fuck, you're hot," Ray said, abandoning his little show to watch Mike. "Are you--thought you were gonna fuck me. Looks like you ain't gonna be able to, in a minute. Unless you're gonna do it with something besides your cock--hey, didn't you say once I should bring home a nightstick and--"
Mike groaned again, his head falling back against the couch. Mike was showing his throat and his hips were lifting up off the floor while he fucked his fist, oh holy fuck. "Maybe," he gasped out, slowing his hand and looking at Ray with half-slitted eyes. "Or maybe I'm going to get off right here, make you watch, then go to bed and leave you there."
Ray kicked at the cage door and scowled. He knew Mike wasn't serious, but he couldn't help himself from reacting as if he was. "Get me the fuck out of here."
Mike started moving his hand faster again. "No," he growled, shaking his head roughly. "You--c'mon, Kowalski--"
Ray hadn't been lying, he did have good instincts about people. And he knew Mike Sweeney really well, especially when it came to this stuff. Mike wanted Ray to get angry and yell at him, but not be able to do anything, because Mike was still in charge here. Ray was stuck in there, and Mike wanted to get off knowing Ray was pissed about it. All while he was telling Ray no.
Control freaks. Jesus.
Ray did what Mike wanted, though, because why not? He kicked and shouted as loud as he dared (they'd already had one embarrassing run-in with their very worried neighbor), threatened Mike--"I will knee you in the fucking stomach and give you a black fucking eye, Sweeney, if you don't let me the fuck out"--and thrashed around in the cage, rattled the leash and shoved his bare heels against the door.
Eventually he got inspired and said, "You're pissing me off, Sweeney, 'cause you're not gonna fuck me and I gotta watch you come and I can't do anything about it, you fucking asshole, and I want you to fuck me so bad and you're a dick for not giving it to me, and I can't do anything cause you got me in this motherfucking cage--"
Ray pulled hard on the leash while he said that--hey, hey, that was brilliant, Stanley!--and that made Mike's hand move sudden and hard. Mike cried out and came seconds later, hips arching up off the floor and okay, Ray was sad about not getting fucked but that image was going to stay with him forever and yay, this cage fetish had benefits. Mike slouched back against the couch when it was over, chest heaving as he caught his breath, messy and disheveled and sweaty.
"Jesus fuck, Kowalski," he murmured, eyes closed, one hand resting on his stomach. Mike smiled, slow and happy. "Fuck."
Ray, who was really goddamned turned on and also really pleased with himself, tugged on the leash. "I'm a-fucking-mazing, now could you...I mean, I know I just got you off so good you can't really move, I get that, but--a little help, here?"
Predictably, Mike's eyes opened at that and he gave Ray a sharp glare. It totally failed, though, because he still had that stupid grin on his face and his eyes were all drowsy. "You got me off...?"
"Yeah," Ray said, kicking at the cage door. "I did."
Mike laughed. "Okay, yeah, you did. Hang on, I gotta...what the fuck did I do with the key..."
"Mike," Ray said warningly, eyes narrowed.
Mike fixed himself up and wiped his hand on his stomach, which--well, there was something Ray had no idea he'd find hot, fuck, sometimes his life resembled a gay porn movie but who was he to complain?--and sat up, then leaned forward and opened the door. "It wasn't actually locked, moron," he said, but before Ray could do anything about that--like punch Mike in the throat, what the fuck--he reached in and grabbed at Ray's ankles and pulled him out with a sharp tug.
That was a little awkward, but it was okay because the second Ray was on his back on the floor, Mike was all over him--kissing him, pulling at Ray's jeans, finally, finally getting a hand on Ray's cock. Mike bit his neck and growled in his ear--mine, you're mine, so fucking hot, Ray, so good--and slid his fingers behind Ray's neck and beneath his collar, pulling tight over and over until Ray came in a breathless, white-hot rush. He made a lot of silly noises and kicked his heels against the hardwood (their downstairs neighbors hated them a lot, probably), and it left him shaking and totally worn out.
When he blinked his eyes open, Mike was unclipping the leash from his collar and slipping the lead from around his wrist. Ray grinned up at him--at least, that's what he tried to do--and Mike smiled and shook his head a little. "You're--fuck, Ray."
"Can't," Ray mumbled, yawning and closing his eyes. "T'morrow, maybe." He felt good; satisfied, happy, warm and content.
And also, sticky.
author: sionnain
fandom: durham county/due south crossover
pairing: mike sweeney/ray kowalski
rating: adult
warning: consensual d/s
summary: "Metal, four fucking sides, and some bars."
an: The only backstory you need for this fic is that Valerie is a colleague of Ray's, who waltzforanight and I made up for our what else would you have me be? 'verse. Val works in Vice, and is in the know about our boys kinky lifestyle. Really, though, this is pretty much just porn. I failed at Kink Bingo, but I made myself a card anyway because THAT'S HOW I ROLL. \renegade/ This is for the prompt cage, confinement, and for some reason these two having snarky, consensual kinky sex makes me :D!!
Thanks to waltzforanight for the beta! Title from the Elliot Smith song Between the Bars.
I'll kiss you again between the bars
"Kowalski, what the fuck is that thing in our living room?"
Ray finished rinsing the conditioner out of his hair, feeling a familiar hot rush as he heard Mike's voice echoing sharp off the tiled shower wall. Sure, Mike's hey, honey, I'm home! voice had been known to make people cry, but Ray was used to it by now. Mike used the same voice when he couldn't get the Tupperware to stack up correctly when he emptied the dishwasher, and there were only so many times you could hear someone yelling I will fucking end you, where is your goddamn lid? before you found it kind of endearing.
"Ooh, trivia!" Ray said, grinning and grabbing the bar of soap. "Animal, vegetable or mineral?" he asked, knowing full well what Mike was talking about. But if part of Mike's charm was that he had dishes-inspired rage, part of Ray's was playing dumb to annoy him.
A pause, and then, "Metal, four fucking sides and some bars."
Ray grinned and lathered his hands up, scrubbing them over his face. "The angry bobcat's still in there, though, yeah? 'Cause if its empty, we're gonna have a problem."
"There's no problem. I killed it with my bare hands and turned it into a hat. Two hats. Matching ones. I put yours on your pillow."
Ray laughed, turning his face up towards the spray. "I love it when you play along, Sweeney."
"Yeah, I'm real good fucking sport--Kowalski, why is there an empty cage in our living room?"
"Remember when I told you there was some kind of evil creature eating all the Tupperware lids? Thought I'd catch it and--"
"Ha, ha. Shut up about the fucking Tupperware. I know who's responsible for losing all the lids. Let's try this again--why the fuck is there a cage in our living room, Ray?"
Ray's breath caught a little--that was Mike's voice he used when Ray had a collar around his neck and Mike's cock in his mouth. Ray pulled the shower curtain back and reached for the towel automatically, but his fingers glanced against cool metal instead of cotton. Ray gave his head a good hard shake, then looked over at Mike, who was leaning casually back against the bathroom door. He was barefoot and he'd taken off his jacket, and he was holding the towel and smirking.
"Valerie," Ray answered. "Her boyfriend's parents just got into town, but Craig got called in to the hospital to do his brain-doctor thing, so Val had to pick them up. Val called me 'cause we're on the way to the airport and she knows we're...y'know. Into that stuff." Ray held his hand out. "Can I have that? S'kinda cold, Sweeney. You got dragonian rules about the heater so it's never warm in here."
"Dragonian, eh?" Mike flashed him a sudden grin, and as hot as Mike was when he was yelling at Tupperware or grilling some scumbag dirty cop, that grin of his was goddamn lethal.
Ray grinned back before could stop himself. "Yeah. Fire-breathing and scaly. What, you think I don't know how to use words?" I don't, actually, when you grin at me like that.
Jesus, Mike Sweeney made him dumb in the head.
Mike's smile faded, and he gave Ray a long, leisurely once-over that was so thorough, Ray thought he might need another shower. "I bet you do." He paused. "Do you forget how to say please?"
Ray crossed his arms and scowled, but the effect was probably ruined by his cock starting to get hard. They'd been busy the last few weeks, and while they were pretty good at finding time for really fast hot sex--actually, that was just sex in general with them--other stuff was harder to fit in. "Nope."
He was surprised--and kind of disappointed--when Mike laughed and tossed the towel at him. Ray rubbed it over his head and wrapped it around his hips, then got out of the shower. Mike started working at the knot in his tie. "So that cage. Did Valerie--" Mike paused and looked at him in the mirror. "She say what she uses it for?"
"She puts the brain doctor in the cage, yeah," Ray answered wryly, grinning at Mike in the mirror. "I asked." He grabbed the comb off the basin to run through his hair.
"Of course you did. That's what you do when you have a thought. Express it vocally." Mike slowly slid the fabric of his unknotted tie through the collar of his shirt. "We got any plans tonight?"
"Nope." Ray looked up and met Mike's cool gaze in the mirror, then sucked in a sharp breath.
"Good. Don't make any." Mike tried to stare him down, but despite the fact Ray really liked this thing of theirs--it'd been while, and he was in the mood to make Mike work for it.
Ray didn't lower his gaze an inch.
Mike smiled, pleased. "Better not make any for tomorrow, either," he said coolly, then grabbed Ray around the back of the neck and forcibly turned Ray's gaze towards the floor.
Excellent.
* * *
Sometimes, when they did shit like this, it was because Ray really needed it; some case had gotten lodged in his brain and turned into a pulp comic nightmare thing, or he was wound up from a succession of too many late nights and car chases and caffeine, or else he was just wound up from being him. Sometimes it was because Mike needed it, for similar reasons although usually with less jittery speech and restless leg syndrome.
And sometimes, like now, they just did it because it was hot.
Ray liked it any way he could get it, he didn't have a preference for one over the other, but admittedly he liked the way his head was clear enough to appreciate the beforehand stuff as well as the during-and-after stuff. Valerie had a lot of words for that, and she'd sent over a video so they could learn them, but Mike and Ray watched it and got distracted because it had half-naked girls on leashes and they were guys, hello.
It was the whole thing where they had dinner and cleaned up and watched Sportscenter, bitched about baseball and hockey just like they did every night. Except Ray knew what Mike was doing; dragging it out, making Ray wait for the second he decided they were going to start. Mike got off on that part, deciding when things went from normal to do what I say. When Ray was the one who had to tie Mike up and get him to talk about his feelings (which was the only way Mike would admit to having any that weren't anger, hunger or sex) Ray didn't really get the same kind of thrill from it.
It was kinda cool to watch that part and appreciate it. Mike was also being more of an ass than usual, saying stuff like, "Jesus, Kowalski, could you be more desperate for it?" and "Maybe I changed my mind," which he wouldn't necessarily do if Ray's brain was telling him crazy shit like you're too much and he's going to leave you when you push too far.
It wasn't, though, so tonight Ray threw it right back at him--"Yeah, actually, but I'm not in the mood," and "Maybe you don't want to get your dick sucked, then,"--and felt the tension climb higher the longer Mike waited. Ray was pretty sure Mike wanted to catch him off guard, but that wasn't easy. Ray was a cop, Ray was used to all-night stakeouts and car chases, Ray had razor sharp focus when he wanted--
Mike got him when Ray went into the kitchen, pulled out a pack of Oreos from the pantry and got confused at how to open the stay fresh longer! packaging strip. He was hunting for the scissors--I'll just eat them before they go stale, ha, take that, fucking Nabisco--when Mike pounced at him, grabbed him by the neck and growled, "On your fucking knees, now," at him.
Ray felt a momentary pang of sadness about his lost dessert. Mike's grip was tight, but not tight enough to keep Ray from moving his head or looking up at him, which meant Mike wanted him to fight back. Ray obliged him, tilting his chin defiantly and drawling, "Make me," with a smirk.
Mike did, and Ray forgot all about the Oreos.
* * *
The thing about sadists, Ray learned, was that they could be just as fucking sadistic in a good mood as they were in a bad one. Mike still had issues with that word, and Ray knew it, but happily those issues were taking a much-needed breather for the night. Ray didn't know why, but he wasn't about to ask--fuck, Mike being so happy about hurting him was one of Ray's favorite things ever.
Never look a hot-boyfriend-with-a-belt in the mouth, that's what Ray always said.
It had been awhile, and Mike was in a good mood, so they went at it just like they did with sex--hard and with a lot of enthusiasm. Mike got him on the floor and kicked him once or twice, which he rarely ever did and Ray always really liked. Ray came up with inventive things to say to be annoying ("Remember when you kicked me and broke my rib? That was a lot better than this, what, you wearing slippers now? Going soft, old man?") and kicked back, and at one point they both ended up laughing because Ray did that and Mike caught his ankle in one hand and said, "Flexibility like that, Kowalski, you should be a stripper," to which Ray had responded, "Except I'd die when I tried to use the pole," and they both started snickering like twelve year olds.
Ray kicked him in the stomach with his heel, though, and that put things back on track.
Ray finally gave it up when he ended up on his stomach on their bed, hands cuffed behind him and a length of bondage rope (the Internet was great for their sex life, you could order anything) around his neck. Mike had one knee on Ray's back and an arm across the back of his neck, growling you ready to give it up yet, Kowalski? in his ear. He managed to sound scary and hot even though he was holding the end of the rope in his teeth. Mike was very talented.
Ray thought about struggling or trying to get out of the hold for a few seconds, but he was ready for the sex that always came after this and so he decided to give it up. Because Mike might decide when they started, but Ray--it was up to him when it was over. He gave a rough nod, felt Mike yank on the rope and heard him order answer me while he lifted his arm off of the back of Ray's neck. Ray lifted his head up enough to drawl, "Yeah," and then Mike smacked him hard across the face and okay, fuck, he was done. Ray's head snapped to the side and he moaned, pushed his hips against the mattress because he was so fucking hot for it, and said gruffly, "Yes."
"Good." Mike eased up, but he stayed where he was, then put his mouth right beneath Ray's ear. "You ready to stop?"
Confused, Ray wanted to say did you miss the yes? but he couldn't, he was too busy shivering and fucking the mattress some more. "Mmm? Um. Want you," Ray panted, and they were just playing but he had given it up, so he didn't look Mike in the eye when he said it. "Y'know. Um. Please?" He was trying to figure out what it was Mike wanted and wishing Mike would just tell him what to say, fuck, he was desperate here.
"Yeah," Mike said huskily, and Christ, he sounded so happy and proud it just made Ray want him more. "I know. You gave it up, but are you done?" Mike licked beneath Ray's ear, laughed when Ray moaned and gave a full-body shiver. "I'll fuck you right now, or we could keep going a little more. Tell me what you want." He nipped at the spot he'd been licking. "Tell me now, Ray."
As much as he wanted Mike to fuck him, and as bad as he wanted to get off, Ray surprised himself by saying, "Can go longer," because there was something in Mike's voice that told Ray yeah, it was Ray's choice, but Mike had an answer he'd really like to hear. Ray was in a good mood, too, and he wanted Mike to have what he wanted. "Mmm. You...somethin' else you want, huh?"
"Yeah." Mike kissed the spot he'd bitten. "There is."
"Mmm. 'kay." Ray thought about what it could be. "Gun?" he asked, a little hopefully.
Mike growled and his hips pushed hard against Ray's back in a way that almost made Ray regret not choosing the I'll fuck you option. "No, but I'll keep it in mind. Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? I mean it, Ray. Won't be mad, I just...wanted to try something. Okay?" Ray nodded, and then Mike's voice changed, went sharp and commanding again. "Don't say a goddamned word unless I say you can, and don't move." He took Ray's cuffs off, and Ray listened to Mike moving around the bedroom while he lay on the bed, floating in a half-sleepy, half-fuck me now daze and moving his arms around to ease the soreness. Mike came back and skillfully unknotted the rope, then slipped it free from around Ray's neck and replaced it with his collar. He gave it a tug said gruffly, "This okay? Answer me," and Ray nodded and choked out a yeah, then a yes, and heard a soft click as Mike fastened something to the buckle.
A leash.
Before Ray could work out what it was exactly Mike had planned, Mike ran a hand down his pleasantly aching back--then smacked him hard right on the worst of the bruises. "You're so hot, Kowalski," he said, which Ray barely heard over his sudden, loud moan. "You know? You really are. You're hot, and you fight me, and you give it up and make me work for it and you look so goddamn hot when I hurt you--" Mike was breathing hard, and Ray liked this let's give Ray many compliments thing they were doing but he was kind of wary, too, because Mike didn't put a collar on him and a leash just for that.
"--And you know what I am? I'm a jealous fucking bastard, Kowalski. I think I'd like it if you fucked a girl for me--Valerie, maybe, she's hot and I know she'd do it. But if she tried to hurt you and you looked like you do right now? For her?" Mike laughed in that way he had, slightly unkind and self-mocking, and it made Ray wonder briefly if there was something Mike needed to work out here, after all. "Fuck, no. No."
Mike grabbed the leash end and pulled, hard. "Let's go."
Ray scrambled to get up, but Mike shoved him down to the ground. "Get on all fours," he barked, then took a few steps forward while Ray shifted into position. His arms were shaking, and he had a weird feeling he knew where this was going--sure enough, Mike barked out, "crawl," and tugged on the leash. He did give Ray a brief look of is this okay?, and Ray knew better than to nod or actually answer because it would break the dynamic. Instead he lowered his head and did it, crawled after Mike into the living room.
Ray had done this before, but usually Mike wanted it when things were a lot more intense than they were now, so Ray hadn't ever really paid attention to what it felt like beyond the obvious fuck, ow, hardwood, ow. He still felt that, but there was a slow burn of something that felt like embarrassment but also felt good, too. His hands were sweaty and he slipped a little, and Mike gave the leash another sharp tug and said in a mocking voice, "You really are my bitch, aren't you?"
And there was something in his voice that made Ray drop his head and grin, and then move fast and bite Mike on his ankle. Mike cursed and kicked out, but not hard, and Ray heard him laugh. "Okay, yeah, yeah. I get it. Come on," he said, and Ray went back to crawling because his Oh, I do not fucking think so, Sweeney, message had been received loud and clear. Ray was up for a lot of shit, but if Mike tried to hit him in the nose with a rolled-up newspaper, Ray was going to safeword out of that faster than the time Ray had shown him a picture on the Internet of a tens unit and how one used it. ("I thought you said violent wand, Kowalski. I am not electrocuting you, fuck, slapshot. Click over to that picture of the girls with the strap-on again.")
Ray figured he was going to suck Mike off while wearing his collar, while Mike yanked him around a lot with the leash. They'd done that before, it was a Kowalski-Sweeney Classic, and Ray had absolutely no problem with that.
Ray had forgotten all about the thing sitting on the floor of their living room, however. Until Mike opened it, looked down at him and said, "Get in."
Oh.
* * *
Ray sat in the cage, which was a lot smaller when you were outside of it. He was still in his jeans and his collar, the lead of the leash attached to Mike's wrist. Ray had almost safeworded out of this, because what the hell kind of kink was this? They were cops. If Mike wanted to get off seeing Ray behind bars, they had jail cells they could borrow for that shit. A cage in their living room? Fucking weird.
Mike didn't say a word to him, just sat there holding the leash and staring off into space. Ray shifted a little, crossed his legs and tilted his head, looked around. He was...okay, it was strange, he wasn't--freaked out, exactly, it wasn't that. He didn't like closed in spaces, but this wasn't bad because he could see through it and, okay, having his collar on was relaxing and having Mike holding the leash made him feel completely safe, so there wasn't a problem there.
It was just sort of...boring.
He was still under the don't talk rule, but Ray wasn't dumb and this wasn't his first rodeo, so he knew how to get Mike to stop staring Off Into The Past As Exemplified By This One Wall of Our Living Room, or whatever he was doing. Ray shifted some more, so that there was a subtle tug on the leash and that Mike would look over and maybe do something before Ray fell asleep, here.
"Bored in there, Kowalski?" Mike went down on his heels, grinning at him. "I was watching the clock, you want to know how many minutes it took you to do the get my attention without breaking the rules thing?" Mike raised his eyebrow. "Oh, don't tell me you really thought I didn't notice when you did that."
Ray drew his knees up, crossed his arms over them and glared silently.
"Four minutes, twenty-four seconds. That's a good two minutes longer than I thought you'd last." Mike sat on the floor, leaned back against the couch and stretched his legs out. He'd stripped off his dress shirt at some point, and was wearing his suit pants and an undershirt. Ray was momentarily distracted with the smug my boyfriend is hot thought when Mike tugged the leash again, surprising him by saying, "You can talk now."
Ray blinked at him, confused, but predictably he recovered quickly enough to start talking. "We're--you're done? This is what you wanted to do? Seriously? Make me crawl, put me in the cage, and time me to see how long it took me to get twitchy? Wow, Mike. Wow."
Mike stared at him, then went up on his knees and jerked the leash so hard, Ray had no choice but to scramble forward. He nearly his hit head on the top of the cage as he grabbed onto the bars, and then he lost whatever comment he was going to make when Mike pulled the leash one more time, leaned forward and said in a rough voice, "I said you could talk. I didn't fucking say we were done."
There was something about being separated from Mike by the bars that made Ray feel kind of reckless. Sure, Mike could yank the leash some more but that wasn't really all that much of a threat--he couldn't really hurt Ray, or smack him, or do anything he usually did when Ray smarted off at him (usually so Mike would do those things). "You didn't fucking say we weren't, either."
Mike's face did that twisty-angry thing it did, but Ray could have sworn there was a grin there beforehand. "You think you're safe 'cause you're in there?"
"What are you going to do, throw pennies at me?" Ray asked, and what the hell--he was starting to get hard again, and this made no sense whatsoever. "You want to beat me up, you're gonna have to let me out."
"You want me to let you out, you're gonna have to stop making me want to beat you up."
"Then I'll be in here forever," Ray said with an elaborate roll of his eyes, falling back again to sit down. Mike let him, and Ray let his legs fall open so one knee was resting on either side of the cage. "You're gonna have to tell me why you wanted to do this."
"No, I'm not," Mike said calmly, leaning back against the sofa. "I don't have to tell you anything."
Ray started tapping his foot. "So you're not gonna talk and I'm not gonna shut up? Wow, this is fun. And you wanted to do this instead of fuck me?" Ray peered at him. "You feeling okay?"
"Who said I wasn't going to fuck you?" Mike smiled pleasantly at him. "And you know, you might not think it's fun but that's not the fucking point, is it? I do. And it really only matters what I want, right?"
Ray opened his mouth to say something, then remembered they were still playing and that, yeah, technically that's how this worked. "Okay, sure. You want me to...take a nap? Rattle a cup? Sing an old-timey prison song?"
Mike snorted. "Do you know any?" He held up a hand. "Never mind. You probably do. And when I want you to do something, Kowalski, I'll tell you."
Ray shrugged and sat still for about twenty seconds, then said in irritation, "You have to let me out of here if I safeword, you know."
"Yup." Mike reached down and casually ran his hand over his cock. "I know."
Ray stopped talking, because suddenly things got a lot more interesting. He let his legs fall open more, slouched down a little. "You really like me being in a cage, huh?"
Mike opened the top button of his pants. "Yeah. 'Cause you're mine." He pressed his palm against his dick again through his pants, and it must have been harder this time because he hissed and pushed his hips up and whoa, fuck, that was hot. "Told you I was jealous."
Fuck, wait... "You put me in a cage because I'm too hot, that it?" Ray beamed at him.
Mike's tongue licked at his bottom lip and he nodded, his eyes going a little distant as he rubbed himself harder.
"This? This I did not know about you, Sweeney." Ray eyed him curiously. "Me in a collar and a leash, stuck in a cage, watching you rub your cock? This is a fetish? Does that even have a name?"
Mike gave a breathless laugh. "Maybe. I could look at that book Val gave us. Too bad it wasn't in the video, eh?"
Ray laughed, too, and he really didn't get this but Mike obviously liked it, so...what the hell. He lifted the leash up and licked it, watching, and okay, yeah--Mike groaned, head going back a little as his hand moved up and down the front of his pants--Ray wondered idly when he didn't just undo his zipper and go for it, but whatever.
Ray waited for Mike to look somewhat under control, and then said, "Guess if I want to do that, I gotta ask first, huh?"
Mike shook his head. "No."
Ray's eyebrows raised, but he reached down to undo the buttons on his jeans because fuck, he was taking advantage of that. Except he barely got one undone before Mike said gruffly, "You got that wrong, Kowalski. You don't have to ask because I'm not going to let you. But you can if you want. I do like to tell you no."
"Oh." Ray watched Mike finally get his zipper down and get his cock in his hand, fingers moving slowly up and down and twisting over the head. "Um. Hey. That's not--that's not buddies. At all."
"Maybe not for you." Mike was facing him, still holding onto the leash, and that was the really fucking bitchy part--every time Mike's hand moved, the leash jolted and bounced and Ray could feel it. "It's--mmm, fuck--pretty goddamn good for me. Lick that some more, like you were doing before. Don't make me ask you twice, Kowalski, you're better behaved than that."
"If I was, would I be in a cage--okay, okay. Freak," Ray said fondly, lifting the leash up and licking the metal again. Fuck, Mike looked hot, flushed and breathing hard, eyes half closed while he jerked off right there, so that Ray could see. "God, you--fuck, you're hot," Ray said, abandoning his little show to watch Mike. "Are you--thought you were gonna fuck me. Looks like you ain't gonna be able to, in a minute. Unless you're gonna do it with something besides your cock--hey, didn't you say once I should bring home a nightstick and--"
Mike groaned again, his head falling back against the couch. Mike was showing his throat and his hips were lifting up off the floor while he fucked his fist, oh holy fuck. "Maybe," he gasped out, slowing his hand and looking at Ray with half-slitted eyes. "Or maybe I'm going to get off right here, make you watch, then go to bed and leave you there."
Ray kicked at the cage door and scowled. He knew Mike wasn't serious, but he couldn't help himself from reacting as if he was. "Get me the fuck out of here."
Mike started moving his hand faster again. "No," he growled, shaking his head roughly. "You--c'mon, Kowalski--"
Ray hadn't been lying, he did have good instincts about people. And he knew Mike Sweeney really well, especially when it came to this stuff. Mike wanted Ray to get angry and yell at him, but not be able to do anything, because Mike was still in charge here. Ray was stuck in there, and Mike wanted to get off knowing Ray was pissed about it. All while he was telling Ray no.
Control freaks. Jesus.
Ray did what Mike wanted, though, because why not? He kicked and shouted as loud as he dared (they'd already had one embarrassing run-in with their very worried neighbor), threatened Mike--"I will knee you in the fucking stomach and give you a black fucking eye, Sweeney, if you don't let me the fuck out"--and thrashed around in the cage, rattled the leash and shoved his bare heels against the door.
Eventually he got inspired and said, "You're pissing me off, Sweeney, 'cause you're not gonna fuck me and I gotta watch you come and I can't do anything about it, you fucking asshole, and I want you to fuck me so bad and you're a dick for not giving it to me, and I can't do anything cause you got me in this motherfucking cage--"
Ray pulled hard on the leash while he said that--hey, hey, that was brilliant, Stanley!--and that made Mike's hand move sudden and hard. Mike cried out and came seconds later, hips arching up off the floor and okay, Ray was sad about not getting fucked but that image was going to stay with him forever and yay, this cage fetish had benefits. Mike slouched back against the couch when it was over, chest heaving as he caught his breath, messy and disheveled and sweaty.
"Jesus fuck, Kowalski," he murmured, eyes closed, one hand resting on his stomach. Mike smiled, slow and happy. "Fuck."
Ray, who was really goddamned turned on and also really pleased with himself, tugged on the leash. "I'm a-fucking-mazing, now could you...I mean, I know I just got you off so good you can't really move, I get that, but--a little help, here?"
Predictably, Mike's eyes opened at that and he gave Ray a sharp glare. It totally failed, though, because he still had that stupid grin on his face and his eyes were all drowsy. "You got me off...?"
"Yeah," Ray said, kicking at the cage door. "I did."
Mike laughed. "Okay, yeah, you did. Hang on, I gotta...what the fuck did I do with the key..."
"Mike," Ray said warningly, eyes narrowed.
Mike fixed himself up and wiped his hand on his stomach, which--well, there was something Ray had no idea he'd find hot, fuck, sometimes his life resembled a gay porn movie but who was he to complain?--and sat up, then leaned forward and opened the door. "It wasn't actually locked, moron," he said, but before Ray could do anything about that--like punch Mike in the throat, what the fuck--he reached in and grabbed at Ray's ankles and pulled him out with a sharp tug.
That was a little awkward, but it was okay because the second Ray was on his back on the floor, Mike was all over him--kissing him, pulling at Ray's jeans, finally, finally getting a hand on Ray's cock. Mike bit his neck and growled in his ear--mine, you're mine, so fucking hot, Ray, so good--and slid his fingers behind Ray's neck and beneath his collar, pulling tight over and over until Ray came in a breathless, white-hot rush. He made a lot of silly noises and kicked his heels against the hardwood (their downstairs neighbors hated them a lot, probably), and it left him shaking and totally worn out.
When he blinked his eyes open, Mike was unclipping the leash from his collar and slipping the lead from around his wrist. Ray grinned up at him--at least, that's what he tried to do--and Mike smiled and shook his head a little. "You're--fuck, Ray."
"Can't," Ray mumbled, yawning and closing his eyes. "T'morrow, maybe." He felt good; satisfied, happy, warm and content.
And also, sticky.