All Tied Up (prompt 06, F/K/V)
All Tied Up
F/K/V, 799 words, NC-17
Ray hated ties. He could still vividly remember the first time his mother made him wear one, for his Uncle Jimmy's wedding when he was twelve, and he could still feel the way it made him want to choke, tight around his neck. Most of the detectives wore them, every single day, but Ray couldn't. No way. Only if they made him, like undercover or to court.
When he took the Vecchio gig, he knew how Vecchio dressed, what he was like. Everyone told him. He convinced himself that if people weren't going to notice that he was a blond Polack, they weren't going to notice that he didn't wear Vecchio's fancy clothes. He stuck with t-shirts and leather jackets and jeans, and he was happy.
Fraser, well - Fraser was happy, too.
Then, Vecchio came storming back into Ray's life, back from Vegas, and he really did wear those clothes - those suits and ties that made Ray feel like his throat was closing down on him just looking at them, even after a few months of layers and more layers to keep out the biting, crippling cold. Fraser seemed to like the Style Pig's clothes, and Ray watched as Fraser casually ran his hands along the shoulders of Vecchio's suit jacket, reached out to straighten out his tie.
The ties, Ray figured out later, were actually not so bad. He could still remember the first time he stood in the bedroom, his hands a little shaky, undoing the knot in Vecchio's tie while Fraser looked on, sitting on the bed. The silky fabric grasped in his fingers, desperate to get it off already, Vecchio grinning and reaching out to run his fingers under the edge of Ray's t-shirt, hot on Ray's skin, while Ray steadied his hands, taking deep breaths, to pull the tie through the collar of Vecchio's shirt and throw it onto the floor.
"Like that, Kowalski?" Vecchio said smugly, as Ray unbuttoned Vecchio's crisp, white shirt and pushed him toward Fraser.
"Fuck you," Kowalski growled back, because he kind of did like it. A lot.
Enough that one night, Fraser's hands on his hips and his mouth sucking so sweetly and so goddamn good on Ray's cock, Vecchio grabbed his discarded tie off of the nightstand and gently tugged Ray's hands out of Fraser's soft, thick hair.
"Vecchio," Ray said, almost a warning, because Vecchio was pushing his hand against the headboard, and Ray couldn't fucking breathe anymore. He didn't want that, he didn't want to be held down, choked off, tied up.
Vecchio leaned in to brush his lips against Ray's jaw, under his ear, and Ray sighed and tried not to push too hard into Fraser's mouth when he felt the cool fabric of the tie on his forearms. "Shh," Vecchio murmured, "it's gonna be okay, baby."
Before Ray closed his eyes (there was no way he could watch this and not come apart completely), he noticed that the tie was a deep purple, and Vecchio must have taken some knot-tying lessons from Fraser at some point, when Ray wasn't paying attention, because there was no way Ray was getting out of this one anytime soon.
With his eyes closed, he felt the warm, wet heat of Fraser's mouth, the slow rhythm he'd set, and Fraser was so good, he had been for so long. As long as Ray could remember. He could also see Vecchio, though - Vecchio with his too-expensive suits and his shiny black Italian leather shoes, and the ties with perfect knots that he loosened up at the end of the day. The ties Fraser pulled him in by, sometimes before Ray could even get the door to the apartment closed behind them. The ties that Ray took his time with, if and when they made it to the bedroom.
Vecchio's hands were on Ray's chest, stroking him slowly, carefully, and he was whispering something in Ray's ear that Ray couldn't even start focusing enough to understand. Ray pulled a little, testing the bond, kind of hoping that he was wrinkling Vecchio's tie because it would serve him right. Then he was coming, shooting hot and hard into Fraser's mouth, everything whiting out behind his eyes, just from the feel of this, which shocked the hell out of him. Vecchio was laughing softly and reaching up to work the knots loose, while Fraser climbed up Ray's body, planting wayward kisses as he went.
"Ray," Fraser said, his voice hoarse and low and slightly amused, "I thought you didn't like ties."
"Well, I don't like mine," Ray replied, still breathing hard, and Fraser pulled him close as Vecchio moved behind him, tossing the tie on the floor, a promise for later.
My prompt table
F/K/V, 799 words, NC-17
Ray hated ties. He could still vividly remember the first time his mother made him wear one, for his Uncle Jimmy's wedding when he was twelve, and he could still feel the way it made him want to choke, tight around his neck. Most of the detectives wore them, every single day, but Ray couldn't. No way. Only if they made him, like undercover or to court.
When he took the Vecchio gig, he knew how Vecchio dressed, what he was like. Everyone told him. He convinced himself that if people weren't going to notice that he was a blond Polack, they weren't going to notice that he didn't wear Vecchio's fancy clothes. He stuck with t-shirts and leather jackets and jeans, and he was happy.
Fraser, well - Fraser was happy, too.
Then, Vecchio came storming back into Ray's life, back from Vegas, and he really did wear those clothes - those suits and ties that made Ray feel like his throat was closing down on him just looking at them, even after a few months of layers and more layers to keep out the biting, crippling cold. Fraser seemed to like the Style Pig's clothes, and Ray watched as Fraser casually ran his hands along the shoulders of Vecchio's suit jacket, reached out to straighten out his tie.
The ties, Ray figured out later, were actually not so bad. He could still remember the first time he stood in the bedroom, his hands a little shaky, undoing the knot in Vecchio's tie while Fraser looked on, sitting on the bed. The silky fabric grasped in his fingers, desperate to get it off already, Vecchio grinning and reaching out to run his fingers under the edge of Ray's t-shirt, hot on Ray's skin, while Ray steadied his hands, taking deep breaths, to pull the tie through the collar of Vecchio's shirt and throw it onto the floor.
"Like that, Kowalski?" Vecchio said smugly, as Ray unbuttoned Vecchio's crisp, white shirt and pushed him toward Fraser.
"Fuck you," Kowalski growled back, because he kind of did like it. A lot.
Enough that one night, Fraser's hands on his hips and his mouth sucking so sweetly and so goddamn good on Ray's cock, Vecchio grabbed his discarded tie off of the nightstand and gently tugged Ray's hands out of Fraser's soft, thick hair.
"Vecchio," Ray said, almost a warning, because Vecchio was pushing his hand against the headboard, and Ray couldn't fucking breathe anymore. He didn't want that, he didn't want to be held down, choked off, tied up.
Vecchio leaned in to brush his lips against Ray's jaw, under his ear, and Ray sighed and tried not to push too hard into Fraser's mouth when he felt the cool fabric of the tie on his forearms. "Shh," Vecchio murmured, "it's gonna be okay, baby."
Before Ray closed his eyes (there was no way he could watch this and not come apart completely), he noticed that the tie was a deep purple, and Vecchio must have taken some knot-tying lessons from Fraser at some point, when Ray wasn't paying attention, because there was no way Ray was getting out of this one anytime soon.
With his eyes closed, he felt the warm, wet heat of Fraser's mouth, the slow rhythm he'd set, and Fraser was so good, he had been for so long. As long as Ray could remember. He could also see Vecchio, though - Vecchio with his too-expensive suits and his shiny black Italian leather shoes, and the ties with perfect knots that he loosened up at the end of the day. The ties Fraser pulled him in by, sometimes before Ray could even get the door to the apartment closed behind them. The ties that Ray took his time with, if and when they made it to the bedroom.
Vecchio's hands were on Ray's chest, stroking him slowly, carefully, and he was whispering something in Ray's ear that Ray couldn't even start focusing enough to understand. Ray pulled a little, testing the bond, kind of hoping that he was wrinkling Vecchio's tie because it would serve him right. Then he was coming, shooting hot and hard into Fraser's mouth, everything whiting out behind his eyes, just from the feel of this, which shocked the hell out of him. Vecchio was laughing softly and reaching up to work the knots loose, while Fraser climbed up Ray's body, planting wayward kisses as he went.
"Ray," Fraser said, his voice hoarse and low and slightly amused, "I thought you didn't like ties."
"Well, I don't like mine," Ray replied, still breathing hard, and Fraser pulled him close as Vecchio moved behind him, tossing the tie on the floor, a promise for later.
My prompt table