Dressing for Success, by Tara Keezer
Title: Dressing for Success
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: Hands! Hands in new places!
Prompt: Provided by justbreathe80, who said, “... ties. Neck ties, tied up, a tie game. Just tie them, somehow.”
Pairing: Ray/Ray
Notes: 1,600 words, give or take a few.
The first time it happened, Ray had been on his own for six months, without any kind of companionship at all, so it was understandable that he’d popped a boner at a bad time. He told himself his erection had absolutely nothing to do with Kowalski or the fact that he was dressed to do close surveillance work at the Ritz-Carlton. That last part was just a nice bonus as far as Ray was concerned, because for once, Kowalski didn’t look like a bum.
The second time it happened, two and a half months after the first time, Kowalski had shown up in the bullpen after spending the morning in court. He was wearing the same suit as before, and probably even the same shirt, but the tie was different. Instead of plain black - and fucking boring - the new tie was a deep red that worked pretty damn well with the suit. Ray tried to will away his erection by wondering who’d chosen it for Kowalski, because no way the Polack would know on his own to put that shade of red with a suit that shade of khaki, but the distraction didn’t work. In the end, he ducked into the men’s room to take care of his problem, and God, what an embarrassment that could have been if anyone had been paying attention.
The third time it happened, Ray had a long conversation with himself in the silence of his mind. Back and forth he went, with one side claiming ignorance and the other calling foul and demanding a recount. He tried. God alone knew how hard he tried to write it off as coincidence, but three erections after Kowalski showed up in a suit and tie three times was too much fucking compelling evidence. His only comfort was that Kowalski didn’t dress up that often, so the chances of anyone, including the Polack, figuring out his new and unexpected jump to the other side of the fence were small and next to none.
The fourth time was a little tricky, what with Ray standing in the hall talking to Welsh when Kowalski wandered by, dressed for some Mayor’s commission he had to give testimony to. But it was mostly okay, because Ray was not only wearing a long suit jacket, which he buttoned as casually as he could, but he also held a couple of files, which served as extra camouflage. Despite the odd look Kowalski shot at him, Ray was pretty sure no one noticed his little problem. Except - not little, as such, but - Ray cut off that line of thought before he dug himself any deeper.
That bit of comfort lasted exactly nine days, which was when Ray returned to the station to find - “Armani?! Since when do you wear fucking Armani?”
Kowalski at least had the grace to look embarrassed. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“Whose -” Ray dropped into the nearest chair and grabbed an apple. When he realized it wasn’t enough, he exchanged it for a file. “Whose idea was it?”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. What makes you ask?”
“You just grabbed Frannie’s file on breast feeding.”
Through sheer force of will, Ray managed not to send the folder sailing across the bullpen. “She’s my sister. I’m interested in how she’s planning to feed my newest niece or nephew.” He took a deep breath. “Whose idea was it - dressing you in Armani?”
Kowalski gave him a long, steady look, and Ray swore he could feel each bead of sweat as it popped out on his face.
“It was my mom’s,” he finally answered. “She didn’t like the way my suit looked on TV. Said I didn’t need to look so poor.”
“So she bought you that?” Ray wasn’t sure he could survive Kowalski in Armani. He could barely handle Kowalski in that Sears suit he owned.
“I paid half.” Kowalski looked embarrassed again. “She was gonna buy it no matter what, so - Anyway. I’m supposed to go to that commission thing again tonight. Figured it was as good a time as any to take it out for a test drive.”
Ray blinked a couple of times, and when the words settled into his brain, he blurted out, “You’re not wearing that tonight!”
“And you think you have any say in this because why?”
“You cannot - not - wear that shirt and tie with an Armani.”
“What the hell’s wrong with - What are you doing?”
Ray dropped Frannie’s file on the desk and snagged Kowalski’s arm, dragging him to the door. “You wouldn’t put retreads on the Goat, would you?”
“Of course not. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“You don’t put polyester with an Armani, that’s what. Linen and silk, yes. Polyester, no.” Ray hustled them both down the stairs and out of the precinct. He didn’t slow down until they reached the GTO. “Get in. I’ll tell you where to go.”
Miracle of miracles, Kowalski didn’t question him. Sure, he gave Ray another one of those long looks, and it was enough to perk his dick up again, but they were moving, and they had a good twenty minutes for Ray to calm down again.
“Here. Park here.”
“In this neighborhood?” Kowalski glared at Ray, which had a really disturbing effect on Ray’s dick. “Let me guess. This whole ride is because you’re pissed that I got an Armani suit, isn’t it?”
“No. It isn’t. Geez. Think the worst of a guy, why don’t you?” Ray got out of the car and buttoned his suit jacket as Kowalski got out of the car. “The neighborhood is safe. Trust me.”
Kowalski glanced around a couple of times then followed Ray into the shop. “If it’s gone when we get done here -”
“It won’t be. Stanley Kowalski, meet Louie Ruggierio.”
“It’s Ray Kowalski. Pleased to meet you.” And then Kowalski did a double take. “Wait. You mean -?”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Who the hell dressed you this morning?” Ruggierio glared hard at Kowalski. “Get that jacket off before you defile the suit anymore than you already have.”
Reacting automatically to the voice of authority, Kowalski did so, yelping a little when Ruggierio reached into his slacks and pulled up the waistband of his boxers. “Watch the package, old man. I don’t care who the fuck you’re related to.”
“Kid’s got spunk. I like that.” Ruggierio slapped Kowalski on the cheek, and it was only just this side of friendly. Ray, meanwhile, leaned against the counter and did his level best to keep a straight face. “Take your pants off, too. Polyester. I fucking hate polyester.” Ruggierio pointed at Ray. “You. Make yourself useful and find him some boxers and a decent undershirt. You know what kind.”
“You got it.” Ray was grateful for the distraction. He was having a hard enough time dealing with the sudden switch of loyalty his dick had undergone recently, so he really didn’t need to watch Louie undressing Kowalski just so he could dress him up again. On the other hand, he discovered that picking out underwear for Kowalski wasn’t much better for his state of mind.
Ruggierio called out from the back of the shop, “Ray? You got something yet?”
“Yeah, Louie.” He could do this, Ray told himself. He could take the underwear back and keep it together. He was sure of it.
Fifteen minutes later, Ray wasn’t sure of a goddamned thing except that he was glad Louie truly didn’t give a shit about what his customers did in the dressing room. As long as they paid for whatever they needed to pay for, Louie would leave them alone, and that was fucking perfect, especially with Kowalski pressing him against the wall while he had his hand in Ray’s pants to hold Ray’s dick and squeeze it in the nicest way possible.
“Jesus.” Kowalski was breathing heavy, right into Ray’s ear. “I was beginning to think this was never gonna work.”
“Yeah, like that, like - huh? What wouldn’t work?”
“Putting on a suit and tie for you.” Kowalski bit Ray’s neck just under the ear. “As soon as I get you off, we’re going back to my place.”
Ray groaned, and his hips snapped a little harder at the news of going back to Kowalski’s place. “You - shit, that feels good - you dressed up on purpose?”
“Fuck yeah.” Kowalski must have decided words were kind of useless at that point, because he zeroed in on Ray’s mouth like a fucking dive bomber, and no wonder Stella married him, if he could kiss like this.
Pretty soon, Ray stopped thinking about much of anything but Kowalski’s hand on his dick and Kowalski’s tongue in his mouth. Those two things alone were really all Ray needed in his world, and for the next minute and twenty-three seconds, he was damned happy about that. And then Ray remembered the Armani and warned, “Your suit.”
“Fuck the Armani,” Kowalski said in a harsh whisper.
Ray twisted himself around and managed to aim at the wall, because no matter what Kowalski said, you just didn’t come all over an Armani. It was like peeing on the altar at church or something. It was also damned dangerous under the wrong circumstances. Ray pulled Kowalski against his side and whispered, “You saw what Louie was like with the polyester shirt and tie. What do you think he’d do about spunk on an Armani?”
After a moment, Kowalski let out a small laugh. “Okay. Maybe you got a point. We done here?”
“Now that you’re properly dressed, yeah.” Ray batted Kowalski’s hand away in favor of tucking himself away and cleaning up.
“Good. Now let’s see about getting me properly undressed, okay?”
Ray’s mouth went dry. “Yeah. Okay.”
wordwitch, you are the next contestant on stop_drop_porn. Your prompt, should you choose to accept it, is food.
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: Hands! Hands in new places!
Prompt: Provided by justbreathe80, who said, “... ties. Neck ties, tied up, a tie game. Just tie them, somehow.”
Pairing: Ray/Ray
Notes: 1,600 words, give or take a few.
The first time it happened, Ray had been on his own for six months, without any kind of companionship at all, so it was understandable that he’d popped a boner at a bad time. He told himself his erection had absolutely nothing to do with Kowalski or the fact that he was dressed to do close surveillance work at the Ritz-Carlton. That last part was just a nice bonus as far as Ray was concerned, because for once, Kowalski didn’t look like a bum.
The second time it happened, two and a half months after the first time, Kowalski had shown up in the bullpen after spending the morning in court. He was wearing the same suit as before, and probably even the same shirt, but the tie was different. Instead of plain black - and fucking boring - the new tie was a deep red that worked pretty damn well with the suit. Ray tried to will away his erection by wondering who’d chosen it for Kowalski, because no way the Polack would know on his own to put that shade of red with a suit that shade of khaki, but the distraction didn’t work. In the end, he ducked into the men’s room to take care of his problem, and God, what an embarrassment that could have been if anyone had been paying attention.
The third time it happened, Ray had a long conversation with himself in the silence of his mind. Back and forth he went, with one side claiming ignorance and the other calling foul and demanding a recount. He tried. God alone knew how hard he tried to write it off as coincidence, but three erections after Kowalski showed up in a suit and tie three times was too much fucking compelling evidence. His only comfort was that Kowalski didn’t dress up that often, so the chances of anyone, including the Polack, figuring out his new and unexpected jump to the other side of the fence were small and next to none.
The fourth time was a little tricky, what with Ray standing in the hall talking to Welsh when Kowalski wandered by, dressed for some Mayor’s commission he had to give testimony to. But it was mostly okay, because Ray was not only wearing a long suit jacket, which he buttoned as casually as he could, but he also held a couple of files, which served as extra camouflage. Despite the odd look Kowalski shot at him, Ray was pretty sure no one noticed his little problem. Except - not little, as such, but - Ray cut off that line of thought before he dug himself any deeper.
That bit of comfort lasted exactly nine days, which was when Ray returned to the station to find - “Armani?! Since when do you wear fucking Armani?”
Kowalski at least had the grace to look embarrassed. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“Whose -” Ray dropped into the nearest chair and grabbed an apple. When he realized it wasn’t enough, he exchanged it for a file. “Whose idea was it?”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. What makes you ask?”
“You just grabbed Frannie’s file on breast feeding.”
Through sheer force of will, Ray managed not to send the folder sailing across the bullpen. “She’s my sister. I’m interested in how she’s planning to feed my newest niece or nephew.” He took a deep breath. “Whose idea was it - dressing you in Armani?”
Kowalski gave him a long, steady look, and Ray swore he could feel each bead of sweat as it popped out on his face.
“It was my mom’s,” he finally answered. “She didn’t like the way my suit looked on TV. Said I didn’t need to look so poor.”
“So she bought you that?” Ray wasn’t sure he could survive Kowalski in Armani. He could barely handle Kowalski in that Sears suit he owned.
“I paid half.” Kowalski looked embarrassed again. “She was gonna buy it no matter what, so - Anyway. I’m supposed to go to that commission thing again tonight. Figured it was as good a time as any to take it out for a test drive.”
Ray blinked a couple of times, and when the words settled into his brain, he blurted out, “You’re not wearing that tonight!”
“And you think you have any say in this because why?”
“You cannot - not - wear that shirt and tie with an Armani.”
“What the hell’s wrong with - What are you doing?”
Ray dropped Frannie’s file on the desk and snagged Kowalski’s arm, dragging him to the door. “You wouldn’t put retreads on the Goat, would you?”
“Of course not. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“You don’t put polyester with an Armani, that’s what. Linen and silk, yes. Polyester, no.” Ray hustled them both down the stairs and out of the precinct. He didn’t slow down until they reached the GTO. “Get in. I’ll tell you where to go.”
Miracle of miracles, Kowalski didn’t question him. Sure, he gave Ray another one of those long looks, and it was enough to perk his dick up again, but they were moving, and they had a good twenty minutes for Ray to calm down again.
“Here. Park here.”
“In this neighborhood?” Kowalski glared at Ray, which had a really disturbing effect on Ray’s dick. “Let me guess. This whole ride is because you’re pissed that I got an Armani suit, isn’t it?”
“No. It isn’t. Geez. Think the worst of a guy, why don’t you?” Ray got out of the car and buttoned his suit jacket as Kowalski got out of the car. “The neighborhood is safe. Trust me.”
Kowalski glanced around a couple of times then followed Ray into the shop. “If it’s gone when we get done here -”
“It won’t be. Stanley Kowalski, meet Louie Ruggierio.”
“It’s Ray Kowalski. Pleased to meet you.” And then Kowalski did a double take. “Wait. You mean -?”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Who the hell dressed you this morning?” Ruggierio glared hard at Kowalski. “Get that jacket off before you defile the suit anymore than you already have.”
Reacting automatically to the voice of authority, Kowalski did so, yelping a little when Ruggierio reached into his slacks and pulled up the waistband of his boxers. “Watch the package, old man. I don’t care who the fuck you’re related to.”
“Kid’s got spunk. I like that.” Ruggierio slapped Kowalski on the cheek, and it was only just this side of friendly. Ray, meanwhile, leaned against the counter and did his level best to keep a straight face. “Take your pants off, too. Polyester. I fucking hate polyester.” Ruggierio pointed at Ray. “You. Make yourself useful and find him some boxers and a decent undershirt. You know what kind.”
“You got it.” Ray was grateful for the distraction. He was having a hard enough time dealing with the sudden switch of loyalty his dick had undergone recently, so he really didn’t need to watch Louie undressing Kowalski just so he could dress him up again. On the other hand, he discovered that picking out underwear for Kowalski wasn’t much better for his state of mind.
Ruggierio called out from the back of the shop, “Ray? You got something yet?”
“Yeah, Louie.” He could do this, Ray told himself. He could take the underwear back and keep it together. He was sure of it.
Fifteen minutes later, Ray wasn’t sure of a goddamned thing except that he was glad Louie truly didn’t give a shit about what his customers did in the dressing room. As long as they paid for whatever they needed to pay for, Louie would leave them alone, and that was fucking perfect, especially with Kowalski pressing him against the wall while he had his hand in Ray’s pants to hold Ray’s dick and squeeze it in the nicest way possible.
“Jesus.” Kowalski was breathing heavy, right into Ray’s ear. “I was beginning to think this was never gonna work.”
“Yeah, like that, like - huh? What wouldn’t work?”
“Putting on a suit and tie for you.” Kowalski bit Ray’s neck just under the ear. “As soon as I get you off, we’re going back to my place.”
Ray groaned, and his hips snapped a little harder at the news of going back to Kowalski’s place. “You - shit, that feels good - you dressed up on purpose?”
“Fuck yeah.” Kowalski must have decided words were kind of useless at that point, because he zeroed in on Ray’s mouth like a fucking dive bomber, and no wonder Stella married him, if he could kiss like this.
Pretty soon, Ray stopped thinking about much of anything but Kowalski’s hand on his dick and Kowalski’s tongue in his mouth. Those two things alone were really all Ray needed in his world, and for the next minute and twenty-three seconds, he was damned happy about that. And then Ray remembered the Armani and warned, “Your suit.”
“Fuck the Armani,” Kowalski said in a harsh whisper.
Ray twisted himself around and managed to aim at the wall, because no matter what Kowalski said, you just didn’t come all over an Armani. It was like peeing on the altar at church or something. It was also damned dangerous under the wrong circumstances. Ray pulled Kowalski against his side and whispered, “You saw what Louie was like with the polyester shirt and tie. What do you think he’d do about spunk on an Armani?”
After a moment, Kowalski let out a small laugh. “Okay. Maybe you got a point. We done here?”
“Now that you’re properly dressed, yeah.” Ray batted Kowalski’s hand away in favor of tucking himself away and cleaning up.
“Good. Now let’s see about getting me properly undressed, okay?”
Ray’s mouth went dry. “Yeah. Okay.”
wordwitch, you are the next contestant on stop_drop_porn. Your prompt, should you choose to accept it, is food.