[fic: shafted, due South, Kowalski/Vecchio, Rated MA]
For snoopypez. I conned her into making me a wallpaper with elevator!porn. :D? Thank you to inlovewithnight for the beta!
| shafted || due South || kowalski/vecchio || rated ma |
Shafted
We're on our way to the fourteenth floor when the elevator stops, shudders, and comes to a grinding halt. Thankfully the lights don't go out, but the doors don't open and I'm pretty sure we're stuck somewhere between floors ten and eleven. I'm a little freaked out--who wants to be in an elevator that's stuck?--but I'm mostly trying not to laugh at Kowalski, who just jumped up like a startled cat, his eyes wide, the spiked hair adding to the overall comic effect.
"What the hell?" Kowalski reaches out like he's about to start hitting buttons. His finger is aiming directly over the open door button, like that's going to fix the part where we're stuck.
I smack at his hand. "Don't do that, moron."
Kowalski glares at me. We're on our way to an undercover meeting, and we're supposed to be representatives from some shady-yet-classy insurance company. So we're both in suits, and I gotta admit--I am not used to seeing Kowalski like this. He's in a dark blue pinstripe suit, a grey dress shirt and a dark red tie. He's clean-shaven and smells good, and sure, his hair looks ridiculous but I've seen it when it's flat and not sticking straight up, and that looks ridiculous, too.
But the look works on him, it does, and if we're honest--I'm spending a little too much time staring at him in that suit. And Kowalski and I, we're a good team but the way we work is all about friction--there's this tension between us, it's not smooth and easy, not like it was with Benny. At first, I thought it was me and Kowalski hated my guts 'cause of Stella, but I realized after awhile it's just that Kowalski doesn't do smooth and easy. It's not personal, he's just crazy.
Well, that's mostly true. Kowalski kind of takes everything personally. "Sensitive Stanley," I call him sometimes. Guy's just emotional. He yells at perps and laughs too loud at bad jokes and I swear I've seen him get choked up when we do that Guns and Hoses charity thing with the fire department for the sick kids. Right before he goes into the boxing ring and tries to beat them up (the firemen, not the sick kids). That's my partner.
And right now, my partner is freaking out.
"I wish I had my cell phone," he's mumbling, pacing, hands shoved into his pockets. I want to tell him that's ruining the line of his suit, but he'll just flip me off. Genius with the English language, our Stanley. Besides, when he does that I can see that he's wearing his holster under his jacket, and Jesus. I'm trying not to stare because--well, having the hots for your probably-straight partner is really dumb, at least, it's never worked out all that well for me--but I can't help it. Kowalski is tense and pacing and mumbling about oxygen levels.
"Just calm down, okay?" I'm a little nervous too--I don't like tight spaces, let's blame this on my former partner and a certain locked bank vault--but this is a busy building and someone's gotta notice the elevator's broken. "Push the alarm button," I tell him, because while I'm pretty sure they're gonna know by now we're in here, at least that will give him something to do. "It's gonna be fine, Kowalski," I say, and pat him kind of awkwardly on the shoulder. His muscles are so tense, I think I could cut a diamond in half across his shoulder blade.
"Yeah, okay," he says, breathing out, pushing the button six times more than he has to. There's no actual alarm in the elevator, thank God. Kowalski breathes out, smiles a little at me, and I think it's a little hilarious that I just good-copped my own partner into calming the hell down. "Sorry, Vecchio. I just...you know. Those guys up there. I gotta sound smart and like I'm an insurance salesman. What the hell do I know about insurance? All I know is, my agent's named Steve Smith and he sends me a Christmas card."
I snort out a laugh and lean against the wall. We're going to be late for our appointment, but that's all right. Kowalski stays relaxed for about four more minutes, and then he starts pacing again. I keep trying to tell him to calm down, but he starts getting pissed at me again. So I switch from good-cop to bad-cop and pitch my voice low, move in closer. I should remember that Kowalski's response when I do bad-cop is turn into crazy-guy-with-hand-gestures-and-loud-voice cop when he's not in the mood to sweet-talk suspects. And he's obviously in no mood to be nice, so he shoves my shoulders and sends me back towards my side of the elevator.
Okay, then.
Next I try to distract him with sports, but we just end up arguing, shouting at each other. And I'm staring at him there in his suit, looking hot and pissed off and we're stuck in this elevator and maybe, fuck, maybe they found out we're cops and this is how they're gonna get rid of us. I do not want to voice this suspicion to my partner, who is now railing about Sox fans and being entitled to better parking (this is something he's ranted about before and I have never, ever understood), and so I do the only thing I can think of to make him be quiet.
I take two steps, shove him into the fake wood paneled wall behind him, and kiss him.
And there is a second when he goes stiff under me in the not-good way, hands tangling immediately in my suit jacket, and I think to myself, Vecchio. What the hell did you just do? I pull back a little and he's staring at me, head tilted, like he can't quite make out what's going on. "Vecchio?"
"Yeah?" I stare back at him, one hand on the wall a little above his head, the other in the center of his chest. I can feel his heart racing against my palm. I could move back, but I don't. I'm not afraid and I started this, so if he's going to punch me in the face, he can damn well get it over with.
He doesn't punch me. "Didn't know you--huh." Kowalski is staring at me with that intensity I see very rarely--the kind where it's all focused on one thing instead of twenty-four. And right now, it's all focused on me. And that is doing something to me, getting me going, and I'm breathing faster and staring at his mouth.
"Yeah." It's all I can think of to say. "You--have you ever--?"
Kowalski shrugs, but he's still not pushing me away. His hand comes up and rests lightly on my tie, like he's going to start petting me. "Never wanted to."
I slide my hand from the center of his chest over to the straps of his shoulder holster. "Never?" I ask, and fuck, this is stupid, what am I doing? I tug him just a little closer using the leather strap of his holster, and he doesn't protest.
Kowalski has one hand on my tie, and the other is on my hip. He slips it under the material of my jacket and gets his fingers around my belt, and then he pulls me so we're standing even closer. "Never before right now," he says, and his voice is six kinds of fucked up and his eyes are all blurry and hot and then--
We're kissing, and his hips are pressed against mine, and I can feel how hard he is and fuck, fuck. We start slow, the kind of kissing you do when you're first getting into it and not sure who exactly you're kissing. And then, like a match, we just spark and we're kissing and I've got my tongue in his mouth and he's got both hands on my belt and his legs are spread so I can move in between them. I press my thigh against his dick through his pants and he groans against my mouth, that lean wiry body shuddering beneath my own.
"You want me to suck you off?" I ask him, my mouth next to his ear.
"Jesus Christ, Vecchio," he pants at me, pushing his hips forward, hands finally leaving my belt to slide around my back beneath my jacket.
"That a yes?" I ask, licking his ear, and then I go with my instincts and lean down and bite him just a little on his neck.
"Fuck yes," Kowalski moans, shuddering, and that's one thing I like about my partner; he just goes rolls with the punches, just leans back against the wall like he's ready for a blowjob, even though it'll be his first one from a guy. And I look at him there, panting, his hair a mess, clothes just a little bit rumpled--it's a good look on him. So is the hard-on I can see pressed against his pants. Maybe I'm not in such a hurry to get this elevator moving again. Maybe I don't care if it ever moves.
He grins at me when I slide to my knees, running his hands over my shoulders as I run my palms up his thighs. "Never figured you for a guy who gets on his knees so easy, Vecchio," he says, head tilting back, fingers tightening as I undo his belt.
"Yeah, well, you're gonna be down here next. So pay attention. Take notes." And I've got the button on his pants undone and am tugging down the zipper, and Kowalski stops saying anything that isn't a moan and Christ and hurry the fuck up, which actually makes me laugh even though I'm so hard I hurt. I've got his dick in my hand and I lean forward, and Kowalski is losing it up there, and then--
There's a loud noise, and a sudden jolt, and the fucking elevator starts moving again.
I look up at Kowalski, and he looks down at me. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, and then groans and hits his head a few times on the wall. "Jesus Christ that is not buddies."
He gives me a hand and I stand up, and there's a couple of awkward seconds while Kowalski tries to fix his clothes and we both try to calm ourselves down so we don't make it really obvious what we'd been about to do. A voice comes over the little speaker and tells us we're on our way to the top floor, to hold tight and that they apologize for the malfunction. Before the doors open, Kowalski reaches around me and hits the close doors button.
Six times in a row.
"Vecchio. I do not know what that was. I have never in my life done that with a guy, and I liked it. So you're gonna come over to my place after work, and you're gonna do that again so I can make sure I keep liking it. Got it?" He jabs me in the chest with two fingers, still breathing a little too fast, but the corner of his mouth is lifting in a grin.
"Sure thing, Kowalski," I tell him, all mock-serious. "I'll even bring dinner."
He waves a hand. "I'm not a girl, Vecchio. You don't gotta give me dinner to get me to put out." Then, a pause. "But you could bring some beer. I'm almost out." With that, he leans in and kisses me, mouth hard--and why does a grown man taste like grape bubblegum?--and then he pulls back, shaking his head. He gives me that sharp, challenging grin of his and says, "Okay. Let's go to work."
"Okay. Hey, Kowalski?"
"Yeah?" He's bouncing on his feet, ready to go.
"You gotta stop hitting the close door button," I tell him, not bothering to hide my laugh.
"Oh, fuck you, Vecchio."
"Later," I say with a grin, and the doors open, and then we go to work.
| shafted || due South || kowalski/vecchio || rated ma |
Shafted
We're on our way to the fourteenth floor when the elevator stops, shudders, and comes to a grinding halt. Thankfully the lights don't go out, but the doors don't open and I'm pretty sure we're stuck somewhere between floors ten and eleven. I'm a little freaked out--who wants to be in an elevator that's stuck?--but I'm mostly trying not to laugh at Kowalski, who just jumped up like a startled cat, his eyes wide, the spiked hair adding to the overall comic effect.
"What the hell?" Kowalski reaches out like he's about to start hitting buttons. His finger is aiming directly over the open door button, like that's going to fix the part where we're stuck.
I smack at his hand. "Don't do that, moron."
Kowalski glares at me. We're on our way to an undercover meeting, and we're supposed to be representatives from some shady-yet-classy insurance company. So we're both in suits, and I gotta admit--I am not used to seeing Kowalski like this. He's in a dark blue pinstripe suit, a grey dress shirt and a dark red tie. He's clean-shaven and smells good, and sure, his hair looks ridiculous but I've seen it when it's flat and not sticking straight up, and that looks ridiculous, too.
But the look works on him, it does, and if we're honest--I'm spending a little too much time staring at him in that suit. And Kowalski and I, we're a good team but the way we work is all about friction--there's this tension between us, it's not smooth and easy, not like it was with Benny. At first, I thought it was me and Kowalski hated my guts 'cause of Stella, but I realized after awhile it's just that Kowalski doesn't do smooth and easy. It's not personal, he's just crazy.
Well, that's mostly true. Kowalski kind of takes everything personally. "Sensitive Stanley," I call him sometimes. Guy's just emotional. He yells at perps and laughs too loud at bad jokes and I swear I've seen him get choked up when we do that Guns and Hoses charity thing with the fire department for the sick kids. Right before he goes into the boxing ring and tries to beat them up (the firemen, not the sick kids). That's my partner.
And right now, my partner is freaking out.
"I wish I had my cell phone," he's mumbling, pacing, hands shoved into his pockets. I want to tell him that's ruining the line of his suit, but he'll just flip me off. Genius with the English language, our Stanley. Besides, when he does that I can see that he's wearing his holster under his jacket, and Jesus. I'm trying not to stare because--well, having the hots for your probably-straight partner is really dumb, at least, it's never worked out all that well for me--but I can't help it. Kowalski is tense and pacing and mumbling about oxygen levels.
"Just calm down, okay?" I'm a little nervous too--I don't like tight spaces, let's blame this on my former partner and a certain locked bank vault--but this is a busy building and someone's gotta notice the elevator's broken. "Push the alarm button," I tell him, because while I'm pretty sure they're gonna know by now we're in here, at least that will give him something to do. "It's gonna be fine, Kowalski," I say, and pat him kind of awkwardly on the shoulder. His muscles are so tense, I think I could cut a diamond in half across his shoulder blade.
"Yeah, okay," he says, breathing out, pushing the button six times more than he has to. There's no actual alarm in the elevator, thank God. Kowalski breathes out, smiles a little at me, and I think it's a little hilarious that I just good-copped my own partner into calming the hell down. "Sorry, Vecchio. I just...you know. Those guys up there. I gotta sound smart and like I'm an insurance salesman. What the hell do I know about insurance? All I know is, my agent's named Steve Smith and he sends me a Christmas card."
I snort out a laugh and lean against the wall. We're going to be late for our appointment, but that's all right. Kowalski stays relaxed for about four more minutes, and then he starts pacing again. I keep trying to tell him to calm down, but he starts getting pissed at me again. So I switch from good-cop to bad-cop and pitch my voice low, move in closer. I should remember that Kowalski's response when I do bad-cop is turn into crazy-guy-with-hand-gestures-and-loud-voice cop when he's not in the mood to sweet-talk suspects. And he's obviously in no mood to be nice, so he shoves my shoulders and sends me back towards my side of the elevator.
Okay, then.
Next I try to distract him with sports, but we just end up arguing, shouting at each other. And I'm staring at him there in his suit, looking hot and pissed off and we're stuck in this elevator and maybe, fuck, maybe they found out we're cops and this is how they're gonna get rid of us. I do not want to voice this suspicion to my partner, who is now railing about Sox fans and being entitled to better parking (this is something he's ranted about before and I have never, ever understood), and so I do the only thing I can think of to make him be quiet.
I take two steps, shove him into the fake wood paneled wall behind him, and kiss him.
And there is a second when he goes stiff under me in the not-good way, hands tangling immediately in my suit jacket, and I think to myself, Vecchio. What the hell did you just do? I pull back a little and he's staring at me, head tilted, like he can't quite make out what's going on. "Vecchio?"
"Yeah?" I stare back at him, one hand on the wall a little above his head, the other in the center of his chest. I can feel his heart racing against my palm. I could move back, but I don't. I'm not afraid and I started this, so if he's going to punch me in the face, he can damn well get it over with.
He doesn't punch me. "Didn't know you--huh." Kowalski is staring at me with that intensity I see very rarely--the kind where it's all focused on one thing instead of twenty-four. And right now, it's all focused on me. And that is doing something to me, getting me going, and I'm breathing faster and staring at his mouth.
"Yeah." It's all I can think of to say. "You--have you ever--?"
Kowalski shrugs, but he's still not pushing me away. His hand comes up and rests lightly on my tie, like he's going to start petting me. "Never wanted to."
I slide my hand from the center of his chest over to the straps of his shoulder holster. "Never?" I ask, and fuck, this is stupid, what am I doing? I tug him just a little closer using the leather strap of his holster, and he doesn't protest.
Kowalski has one hand on my tie, and the other is on my hip. He slips it under the material of my jacket and gets his fingers around my belt, and then he pulls me so we're standing even closer. "Never before right now," he says, and his voice is six kinds of fucked up and his eyes are all blurry and hot and then--
We're kissing, and his hips are pressed against mine, and I can feel how hard he is and fuck, fuck. We start slow, the kind of kissing you do when you're first getting into it and not sure who exactly you're kissing. And then, like a match, we just spark and we're kissing and I've got my tongue in his mouth and he's got both hands on my belt and his legs are spread so I can move in between them. I press my thigh against his dick through his pants and he groans against my mouth, that lean wiry body shuddering beneath my own.
"You want me to suck you off?" I ask him, my mouth next to his ear.
"Jesus Christ, Vecchio," he pants at me, pushing his hips forward, hands finally leaving my belt to slide around my back beneath my jacket.
"That a yes?" I ask, licking his ear, and then I go with my instincts and lean down and bite him just a little on his neck.
"Fuck yes," Kowalski moans, shuddering, and that's one thing I like about my partner; he just goes rolls with the punches, just leans back against the wall like he's ready for a blowjob, even though it'll be his first one from a guy. And I look at him there, panting, his hair a mess, clothes just a little bit rumpled--it's a good look on him. So is the hard-on I can see pressed against his pants. Maybe I'm not in such a hurry to get this elevator moving again. Maybe I don't care if it ever moves.
He grins at me when I slide to my knees, running his hands over my shoulders as I run my palms up his thighs. "Never figured you for a guy who gets on his knees so easy, Vecchio," he says, head tilting back, fingers tightening as I undo his belt.
"Yeah, well, you're gonna be down here next. So pay attention. Take notes." And I've got the button on his pants undone and am tugging down the zipper, and Kowalski stops saying anything that isn't a moan and Christ and hurry the fuck up, which actually makes me laugh even though I'm so hard I hurt. I've got his dick in my hand and I lean forward, and Kowalski is losing it up there, and then--
There's a loud noise, and a sudden jolt, and the fucking elevator starts moving again.
I look up at Kowalski, and he looks down at me. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, and then groans and hits his head a few times on the wall. "Jesus Christ that is not buddies."
He gives me a hand and I stand up, and there's a couple of awkward seconds while Kowalski tries to fix his clothes and we both try to calm ourselves down so we don't make it really obvious what we'd been about to do. A voice comes over the little speaker and tells us we're on our way to the top floor, to hold tight and that they apologize for the malfunction. Before the doors open, Kowalski reaches around me and hits the close doors button.
Six times in a row.
"Vecchio. I do not know what that was. I have never in my life done that with a guy, and I liked it. So you're gonna come over to my place after work, and you're gonna do that again so I can make sure I keep liking it. Got it?" He jabs me in the chest with two fingers, still breathing a little too fast, but the corner of his mouth is lifting in a grin.
"Sure thing, Kowalski," I tell him, all mock-serious. "I'll even bring dinner."
He waves a hand. "I'm not a girl, Vecchio. You don't gotta give me dinner to get me to put out." Then, a pause. "But you could bring some beer. I'm almost out." With that, he leans in and kisses me, mouth hard--and why does a grown man taste like grape bubblegum?--and then he pulls back, shaking his head. He gives me that sharp, challenging grin of his and says, "Okay. Let's go to work."
"Okay. Hey, Kowalski?"
"Yeah?" He's bouncing on his feet, ready to go.
"You gotta stop hitting the close door button," I tell him, not bothering to hide my laugh.
"Oh, fuck you, Vecchio."
"Later," I say with a grin, and the doors open, and then we go to work.