Thanks: Thanks to Sage for beta
Notes: For aerye, with apologies for the lack of angst
Kowalski picked up on the eighth ring. "What?" There was rock music playing in the background.
"Get your ass over here," Ray told him. "My family just went to Indiana for the weekend to visit my cousin Dolores. I got the house to myself."
"Aw, Vecchio—are you having a party while your mom's out of town? That's really cool." Kowalski's voice hummed with amusement.
Ray opened the refrigerator and eyed the cooked meals Ma had left for him. "Shut up and get over here," he said into the phone. "I've got enough carbonara to feed a family of twelve and I got plans for after that."
"Plans, huh?" Kowalski said. "I'll bring the lube."
Ray closed the fridge door. "Don't bother. I already stocked up."
* * *
Ray had spent a lot of time lying alone in his bed thinking about fucking Kowalski, and a lot of time lying on Kowalski's lumpy old mattress after he'd fucked him thinking about his own bed. This weekend—for the first and maybe only time—he was going to get the best of both worlds. He changed the sheets and got a couple of spare pillows out of the hall closet. He opened the window for a while to air the place. He even thought about setting candles on his dresser, but he figured Kowalski would spend so much time mocking him if he did that, that they'd never get down to business.
Kowalski knocked on the door while Ray was opening a twenty-dollar bottle of Merlot. Ray left the wine on the counter to breathe and went to let him in. He'd parked in the driveway, and Ray thought for a moment about what the neighbors would say—what Mrs. Buscemi would tell Ma—and then decided fuck it. He was a grown man, this was his home.
He'd come up with some kind of story or other.
* * *
They were going to eat in front of the Yankees game, but Ray overheated the carbonara and Kowalski burned his tongue, and when Kowalski complained, Ray figured the best way to shut him up was to kiss him. And maybe some days he could kiss Kowalski quick and go back to whatever they were doing, but it turned out this wasn't one of those days. Ray ended up stretched out on the couch with Kowalski sprawled on top of him, their legs tangled and their hands sneaking under each other's clothes.
Then Kowalski overbalanced and put his hand in Ray's dinner, and Ray rolled him onto the floor and said, "Come on. Let's do this right for once."
Kowalski's hair was a mess and his clothes were rumpled, but when he slowly and deliberately licked the carbonara sauce off his long skinny fingers, it took everything Ray had not to grab him and fuck him right there on the couch.
"Jesus," he said hoarsely. "Would you stop that? I've got to sit in this room with my family next week and pretend like it's normal."
Kowalski grinned wickedly and held his gaze, and sucked his thumb clean with kiss-swollen lips.
Ray shoved him toward the stairs. "Get up there."
* * *
It was mind-blowing, it was crazy. Ray had slept in this room all his life. He and Ange had put up new wallpaper after the wedding, and then Ray had painted over it after the divorce. He hadn't had sex in this room since then—not in over ten years. It had gotten to the point where it almost felt like sacrilege, like his room was part of the family home and it should stay clean and wholesome. Like Ray was always Uncle Ray here, or Raimundo.
Of course, Kowalski didn't understand the momentousness of the occasion. He looked around the room quickly, glanced back at Ray, and then started yanking his t-shirt off, not even worrying whether the bedroom door was shut.
Ray leaned against the doorframe and watched, and memorized every sharp angle of elbow and shoulder blade and knee as Kowalski undressed. He was lean and graceful, and his clothes were a mess but he wore them well. When he went to push his boxers off, he finally stopped and looked at Ray, eyebrows raised. Is this okay? he seemed to be asking. What are you waiting for?
Ray tugged his tie off, dropped it on a chair and started unbuttoning his shirt.
It was weirdly formal, this undressing before they got down and dirty. Usually it was all mixed up together, and half the time they'd end up lying side-by-side afterwards, sweaty and fucked out, with Kowalski still wearing his t-shirt and Ray with his pants around his ankles, caught on his shoes. When Kowalski started to turn the heat up, Ray got desperate real quick, and there was no time to plan or prepare. Just sex.
But this time, they were taking it slow. Getting naked first. Looking at each other.
Ray turned down the bedspread, and felt Kowalski's hand feather down his spine, unbelievably gentle. Ray's breath caught and he stopped moving, paid close attention to the touch and let his anticipation build and build. His heart started racing. Christ, he wanted this.
Then there were two hands, stroking down his sides, and Ray's lips parted and he started panting. He felt like he hadn't got laid in a year, though it'd only been a week. A week was too long.
"I could do you," said Kowalski, like he didn't care either way. "Or whatever."
Ray's ass tingled. "Yeah," he said, and the next moment, Kowalski's fingers were brushing over his ass, rubbing and stroking, and Ray groaned and reached back to grab Kowalski and pull him onto the bed. They landed in a heap and Ray shifted around and pulled free and got up on his elbows, turning Kowalski onto his back so he could lean over him and kiss him. "Christ," he said. "Just—"
Kowalski pinched Ray's nipple and licked into his mouth, kissing him sweet and dirty. They moved together, rubbing and writhing, and it felt so good—smooth skin everywhere and Kowalski's hands teasing him mercilessly—that Ray groaned and had to grasp Kowalski's hips and hold him still so Ray didn't come yet.
Kowalski grunted, taut and trying to break free of Ray's grip and keep moving. "Changed my mind," he said. "Fuck me." He rolled onto his back, pulling Ray over with him, and spread his legs. "Come on."
"Jeez, always in such a hurry," Ray muttered, and lay on top of him, letting his full weight settle and trying to slow things down with luxurious kisses. Which worked fine until Kowalski started stroking Ray's ass again, and then Ray forgot all about slow and knocked his alarm clock and half the other shit off his nightstand trying to find the lube.
* * *
Kowalski swore and blinked up at Ray with sex-glazed myopia. He was grasping the headboard with both hands, bracing himself against Ray's even thrusts. Ray had a rhythm going and was trying to stick to it, keep it steady, instead of getting sucked under and losing it. He pushed Kowalski's knees further apart and moved deeper, changing the angle, and Christ, yeah, that was it, that was it.
Kowalski's eyes widened, startled. "Jesus Christ!" He raised his head and thumped it back on the pillow. "Fucking—Yeah, I—"
Ray thrust again, slid home, and Kowalski twisted his head to the side, the tendons in his neck standing out, gleaming with sweat. He moaned loudly, and when Ray started jerking him off, he came pretty much straight away, splattering on his chest and the sheets, his ass clenching tight around Ray's cock.
Ray wasn't far behind. A few ragged thrusts, his hands on Kowalski's slippery chest and his shoulders, touching him, feeling him, and Ray was lost, coming hard, the edges of his vision darkening. He gasped and pulsed, the pleasure-pain of his orgasm tugging at him and changing him, like he was sloughing off an old skin. He pulled out as carefully as he could given how his arms had turned to jelly, and collapsed next to Kowalski feeling different from before. Free or new or something. Younger.
When he glanced sideways, Kowalski was grinning at the ceiling, his breathing gradually slowing to normal.
"Jeez, I'm hungry."
"Whose fault is that?" said Ray, smacking him on the shoulder. "Come on. I'll reheat the food. We can catch the rest of the game." He got a couple of robes from the closet, and handed the older scruffy one to Kowalski, who shrugged into it.
"Yeah." Kowalski stretched his arms and yawned. "Got to get our strength up for round two." He smacked Ray's ass and then tugged him into his arms and kissed him lazily.
Ray kissed him back for a long minute, pressing against him, already half turned on again. The room smelled of sex and sweat—and the way Kowalski was groping him was about as far from wholesome respectability as you could get. Ray laughed and pulled away. "I thought you were hungry" He bundled Kowalski downstairs. "Don't burn out too early. We've got all weekend."