Ray/Ray smut
For meresy's porn tag: 1000 or so words of Ray/Ray smut written for spuffyduds' prompt of "swimming pool." (Wow, writing fast dirty porn is fun. Sleeping is going to be funner, though.)
Kowalski's hands are sliding over him, sliding off of him, fumbling the wet shorts down over his ass, getting them tangled up in a sodden knot Ray's still struggling against when Kowalski pushes -- hot, wet skin against his hot, wet skin, the slick bedspread already soaked in big patches under them -- against his back, hot dick poking him hard in the ass cheek.
Ray's trying to remember if they shut the door, if Kowalski even bothered to flip the motel's rinky-dink lock, but Kowalski's already squeezing freezing cold lube on his ass, rubbing it down over his asshole and pushing his thumb inside as Ray gasps like there's no air in the room, no air left in the whole state.
"Kowalski," Ray says, desperate, but he loses the thought and his voice catches, sounds like somebody else, his throat squeezed tight like his too tight asshole, Jesus, way too tight where Kowalski's long thumb is pushing hard and slippery in and out of him, and Kowalski pulls with his other hand, his fingers rough on Ray's skin, brushing Ray's pubic hair, pulling Ray up and back, right where Kowalski wants him, face down and unsteady and completely exposed, and Ray's forehead blazes hot where he's braced against his chlorine-stinking arms.
There's this fast, strange, coarse and hot brush against his back as Kowalski shifts, and it takes him a minute to put together but Kowalski just rubbed his face against him like a cat, licking Ray's wet back as he leaned up, and Ray's shuddering as Kowalski fumbles with his dick and pushes in -- Jesus.
"Oh," Ray grinds out, a long hard shocked grunt of sound. He's breathing too hard, too fast, feels like he could pass out, because he knew it, his whole life he'd known how this -- getting bent over, getting fucked, taking it -- would be, and he still isn't ready. "Oh," he says again, hurt and hungry, and he pushes back against Kowalski, because even though it hurts, even though it hurts a lot, not getting the rest of Kowalski's dick inside him now is the worst thing he can think of.
Kowalski slides deeper, shoving and rocking his dick inside, and makes a sound, that unconscious humming like when he's driving or concentrating or just put two and two together, eyes narrowed and head bobbing like he's agreeing with himself, Ray knows that sound and -- shoving deeper, almost there, oh Christ -- and Ray wants to sock him in the face, blacken his eye and break his nose for liking this so much, for that sound and the way he's moving and his hands tight gentle on Ray's skin all but saying Ray's a good lay, a sweet fuck bent over for him like this.
Kowalski's hip jerk, a couple hard thrusts that hit Ray just right, and Ray moans again, begging and demanding and helpless to stop the noises he's making, and shifts, trying to get more, and Kowalski reads him perfectly, leans into him and shoves him harder into the damp, coarse bedspread. Ray's lower lip catches against the fabric, pulls down as he pants and gasps and takes it, and Kowalski nails him hard, again, and moves a hand to his shoulder and the side of his neck, gripping tight, clumsily brushing Ray's cheek. Ray turns his head into it, running his slack lips against Kowalski's knuckles.
"Jesus," Kowalski moans, breathless, and he pounds Ray hard, perfect, his dick huge and impossible and just right, just everything Ray knew wasn't in the cards for him, not him so forget about it and keep on forgetting about no matter how many times it took, just right, so fucking good, and Kowalski's breath catches, the son of a bitch, Ray knows that catch and he groans and turns his forehead into the mattress and wills it not to be over as Kowalski gasps and comes long and slow and jerking inside of him.
"Goddamn it, Kowalski," he says as Kowalski rocks again, slow and softening, giving Ray a taste but not what he needs. "Goddamn," Ray says again, trying for flat iron hard, trying for the fight they were having in the car all day and out by the small kidney-shaped pool when Kowalski came after him to argue some more before they came back here so Kowalski could give it to him up the ass, but Kowalski doesn't flinch, just keeps breathing against Ray's back like he just ran a marathon, then shifts and pulls out, leaving Ray wet and slippery and empty and furious.
Kowalski tips him over, easy in the way Kowalski has, knowing where Ray's center of gravity is and how to shift it. Ray sprawls on the dark cold mess where his swim trunks ended up, and instead of rolling off of them or shoving Kowalski off the bed or getting the hell out of this room, or saying something that'll cut Kowalski's soft underbelly, because he can, he's looking at Kowalski, at Kowalski's wet, half-spiky hair, the color high in his cheeks and in his lips like a pretty girl instead of the guy who just fucked Ray into the mattress, and when Kowalski pushes Ray's legs apart, Ray spreads for him right away even though his eyes stay narrow.
Kowalski says, "Yeah, it hits you like that sometimes," like this is something else he knows, like a shrug, like the shrug he gives before bending down and rubbing his lips on Ray's straining dick, before curling down between Ray's legs to suck and lick and take him deep. Ray settles back on his elbows to watch Kowalski's long body down there for him, Kowalski's scalp visible where his hair clumps together, Ray's own hands cradling Kowalski's head and stroking his neck and touching his shoulder as Kowalski shifts and slides his fingers back up inside Ray where he's still wet and sore, and it all combines for him, the hot raw feeling in his ass and the sweet wet suction on his dick and looking at Kowalski and touching Kowalski and it's so impossibly, infuriatingly good that Ray feels like he's flying apart when he finally comes, blown wide open and apart before slowly settling down back into his tired, satisfied body, the chlorine-damp bed and small ugly room, and Kowalski.
P.S. I think run-on sentences are wicked hawt. Sleep now.
Kowalski's hands are sliding over him, sliding off of him, fumbling the wet shorts down over his ass, getting them tangled up in a sodden knot Ray's still struggling against when Kowalski pushes -- hot, wet skin against his hot, wet skin, the slick bedspread already soaked in big patches under them -- against his back, hot dick poking him hard in the ass cheek.
Ray's trying to remember if they shut the door, if Kowalski even bothered to flip the motel's rinky-dink lock, but Kowalski's already squeezing freezing cold lube on his ass, rubbing it down over his asshole and pushing his thumb inside as Ray gasps like there's no air in the room, no air left in the whole state.
"Kowalski," Ray says, desperate, but he loses the thought and his voice catches, sounds like somebody else, his throat squeezed tight like his too tight asshole, Jesus, way too tight where Kowalski's long thumb is pushing hard and slippery in and out of him, and Kowalski pulls with his other hand, his fingers rough on Ray's skin, brushing Ray's pubic hair, pulling Ray up and back, right where Kowalski wants him, face down and unsteady and completely exposed, and Ray's forehead blazes hot where he's braced against his chlorine-stinking arms.
There's this fast, strange, coarse and hot brush against his back as Kowalski shifts, and it takes him a minute to put together but Kowalski just rubbed his face against him like a cat, licking Ray's wet back as he leaned up, and Ray's shuddering as Kowalski fumbles with his dick and pushes in -- Jesus.
"Oh," Ray grinds out, a long hard shocked grunt of sound. He's breathing too hard, too fast, feels like he could pass out, because he knew it, his whole life he'd known how this -- getting bent over, getting fucked, taking it -- would be, and he still isn't ready. "Oh," he says again, hurt and hungry, and he pushes back against Kowalski, because even though it hurts, even though it hurts a lot, not getting the rest of Kowalski's dick inside him now is the worst thing he can think of.
Kowalski slides deeper, shoving and rocking his dick inside, and makes a sound, that unconscious humming like when he's driving or concentrating or just put two and two together, eyes narrowed and head bobbing like he's agreeing with himself, Ray knows that sound and -- shoving deeper, almost there, oh Christ -- and Ray wants to sock him in the face, blacken his eye and break his nose for liking this so much, for that sound and the way he's moving and his hands tight gentle on Ray's skin all but saying Ray's a good lay, a sweet fuck bent over for him like this.
Kowalski's hip jerk, a couple hard thrusts that hit Ray just right, and Ray moans again, begging and demanding and helpless to stop the noises he's making, and shifts, trying to get more, and Kowalski reads him perfectly, leans into him and shoves him harder into the damp, coarse bedspread. Ray's lower lip catches against the fabric, pulls down as he pants and gasps and takes it, and Kowalski nails him hard, again, and moves a hand to his shoulder and the side of his neck, gripping tight, clumsily brushing Ray's cheek. Ray turns his head into it, running his slack lips against Kowalski's knuckles.
"Jesus," Kowalski moans, breathless, and he pounds Ray hard, perfect, his dick huge and impossible and just right, just everything Ray knew wasn't in the cards for him, not him so forget about it and keep on forgetting about no matter how many times it took, just right, so fucking good, and Kowalski's breath catches, the son of a bitch, Ray knows that catch and he groans and turns his forehead into the mattress and wills it not to be over as Kowalski gasps and comes long and slow and jerking inside of him.
"Goddamn it, Kowalski," he says as Kowalski rocks again, slow and softening, giving Ray a taste but not what he needs. "Goddamn," Ray says again, trying for flat iron hard, trying for the fight they were having in the car all day and out by the small kidney-shaped pool when Kowalski came after him to argue some more before they came back here so Kowalski could give it to him up the ass, but Kowalski doesn't flinch, just keeps breathing against Ray's back like he just ran a marathon, then shifts and pulls out, leaving Ray wet and slippery and empty and furious.
Kowalski tips him over, easy in the way Kowalski has, knowing where Ray's center of gravity is and how to shift it. Ray sprawls on the dark cold mess where his swim trunks ended up, and instead of rolling off of them or shoving Kowalski off the bed or getting the hell out of this room, or saying something that'll cut Kowalski's soft underbelly, because he can, he's looking at Kowalski, at Kowalski's wet, half-spiky hair, the color high in his cheeks and in his lips like a pretty girl instead of the guy who just fucked Ray into the mattress, and when Kowalski pushes Ray's legs apart, Ray spreads for him right away even though his eyes stay narrow.
Kowalski says, "Yeah, it hits you like that sometimes," like this is something else he knows, like a shrug, like the shrug he gives before bending down and rubbing his lips on Ray's straining dick, before curling down between Ray's legs to suck and lick and take him deep. Ray settles back on his elbows to watch Kowalski's long body down there for him, Kowalski's scalp visible where his hair clumps together, Ray's own hands cradling Kowalski's head and stroking his neck and touching his shoulder as Kowalski shifts and slides his fingers back up inside Ray where he's still wet and sore, and it all combines for him, the hot raw feeling in his ass and the sweet wet suction on his dick and looking at Kowalski and touching Kowalski and it's so impossibly, infuriatingly good that Ray feels like he's flying apart when he finally comes, blown wide open and apart before slowly settling down back into his tired, satisfied body, the chlorine-damp bed and small ugly room, and Kowalski.
P.S. I think run-on sentences are wicked hawt. Sleep now.