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carlyinromeTITLE: Making Up
RATING: R
PAIRING: Ray Levoi/Walter Crow Horse
SUMMARY: On letting bygones be bygones, and hot makeup sex. For cottoncandy_bingo prompt making up.
Ray had a pair of jeans that were just a little too tight, and a little too old, but he loved them too much to part with them. He’d had them since college, and the denim was wearing thin at all the stress points—the knees, especially. After their last trip through the dryer, a small hole had worn through at the corner of the back right pocket. That hole was the reason Crow Horse lost a weeklong argument, though he ended up not minding so much.
They had been arguing for six days, long enough that neither of them remembered any of the details, just that they were mad. Either or both of them could have stopped it just by letting go of their anger, but it’d been around so long they’d grown kind of used to it. Kind of like how Jimmy had conned Ray into adopting him; he’d just stuck it out, and eventually Ray got used to having him around.
It was too damn early, and Crow Horse was fuming. The night before, Crow Horse had ignored Ray’s request that he buy fruit when he stopped by the general store, so Ray would have to go on his lunch break. In retaliation, Ray had set the coffee machine to make exactly one cup, which he then drank. Crow Horse had enough trouble with Ray’s fancy appliance as it was; with the sky still dark and no caffeine in his system, the damn thing might as well have been a sundial or abacus or some shit. He needed a damn engineering degree to make a goddamn cup of coffee.
Damn it.
Ray came back into the kitchen, freshly showered and shaved and, with a cupful of caffeine in his system, chipper. Crow Horse watched, stone still, as Ray moved around the kitchen packing himself a lunch—sans-fruit. He ground his teeth, his fingers cramping around his mug.
“Would you please,” he said stiffly, “get this thing to work?”
Crow Horse wanted to smack that slick smirk right off Ray’s face. He managed to contain himself, though, and just stepped aside mutely as Ray bent over the counter to make Crow Horse a cup of coffee.
It was then that Crow Horse noticed the hole in the seat of Ray’s jeans. He could see the thin linen of Ray’s boxers beneath the denim—light blue. Suddenly and without his permission, Crow Horse’s mind conjured up an image of the last time he’d seen Ray in those boxers—and just those, setting off his golden-brown skin as he lounged back in the pillows of their bed, grinning the way he only did when he and Crow Horse were bantering really good, or when he knew he was about to be fucked.
Crow Horse dropped his mug. The ceramic shattered loudly on the hard tile floor; Ray jumped. Crow Horse did, too, to be honest, not even realizing what had happened until he heard the noise.
“Shit,” he said, and bent to pick up the pieces. Ray knelt, too; his quick hands were faster scooping up the little shards than Crow Horse’s suddenly clumsy fingers.
“I got it,” Crow Horse said, and tried to bat Ray away, but no sooner than the words had left his mouth, than he snagged his finger on the wrong end of a piece of the mug. Pain, and then heat as blood welled up from the cut.
“Shit,” he said again. He went to stand, but Ray was on him, holding Crow Horse’s hand in place so Ray could see the damage.
Ray’s brow creased. “This looks deep.”
He took the handkerchief out of his back pocket and wound it around Crow Horse’s bleeding finger, and then he walked Crow Horse out of the kitchen, back through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Crow Horse let himself be led; it was easier dissuading a wild mustang off its course than trying to move Ray off his when he set his mind to something. Ray sat Crow Horse down on the closed lid of the toilet. Crow Horse watched Ray’s handkerchief darken while Ray pawed around under the sink for the first aid kit.
Ray lay out some bandages, some cotton, on the counter next to the sink. His hands were sure, steady, and he didn’t flinch when he slowly pulled the handkerchief away and saw the wound fresh.
“You shoulda been a doctor,” Crow Horse said weakly.
Ray smiled as he wound tape around Crow Horse’s finger. “They told me that, you know. In high school, we took this test, a career aptitude test. ’Sposed to tell you what you’re gonna be when you grow up, what your career should be.”
“And yours said doctor?”
“Actually,” Ray said, his mouth crimping sheepishly, “it said nurse.”
Crow Horse could have teased him about that for days. Instead, he looked at the neat job Ray had done on his finger. He tested the bandage with his thumb; he couldn’t even feel the wound anymore.
“I’m sorry,” Crow Horse said.
Ray looked up from putting the first aid supplies back in their little tin. “I know. Me too.”
Ray smiled a little, and then went back to his task, putting his back to Crow Horse. Crow Horse reached out, creeped his good finger into the hole in Ray’s jeans, feeling the warm, firm flesh beneath the thin fabric of Ray’s boxers. Ray jumped a little, looked back to see what Crow Horse was doing. Then he turned back to the counter, even though he’d finished putting the first aid supplies away. He set his hands flat on the countertop, blushing all the way down to the little triangle of chest peeking out of his t-shirt, and probably lower, for that matter.
Crow Horse wormed his finger into Ray’s pants, scratched the blunt head of his fingernail over Ray’s skin. Ray hissed, his breath shaky.
“Pants got a hole in ’em,” Crow Horse said. “Think we’ll have to get you out of them.”
Ray’s breath hitched, and his blush burned darker. He didn’t move a muscle, palms still flat on the counter. Crow Horse got to his feet, stepped behind Ray. He watched Ray’s reflection in the mirror as Crow Horse slowly took down Ray’s holey britches.
In the mirror, Ray’s eyes were dark with blown pupils, and his mouth was parted slightly—his breaths were coming shallow. Crow Horse palmed Ray’s ass through his shorts, feeling the muscles tense and then relax in his hand. He moved his fingertips slowly around the curve of Ray’s ass, teasing up into the cleft. Ray moaned. A rivulet of sweat fell from his dark gold hair down the corded muscles of his neck.
“Shhh,” Crow Horse crooned. He threaded the fingers of his free hand through Ray’s hair, held him in place while he kissed Ray’s neck, Crow Horse’s lips pressed against Ray’s throbbing pulse point.
“You like to be kissed there, honey?”
Ray closed his eyes, and nodded. Crow Horse tsked quietly and leaned in close, his lips against Ray’s ears.
“You open your eyes now, honey. I want you to watch this.”
Ray’s blush darkened; it was a deep, plummy red now. But he opened his eyes, watched his reflection in the mirror as Crow Horse’s hand left his hair, as it traveled down to squeeze the front of Ray’s shorts. Ray keened, breathy and desperate, and pushed into Crow Horse’s hand.
“Watch,” Crow Horse said again.
Ray nodded vigorously. “Yes.”
Crow Horse massaged Ray, pumping him slowly in his fist. Ray’s hands on the countertop balled into fists, the muscles in his arms cording, trembling. Ray pushed against the pressure, moving his hips in time with Crow Horse’s hand.
Crow Horse moved in close, his chest flush against Ray’s back, his lips tickling Ray’s ear. “Ain’t you a pretty thing?”
Ray whined, involuntary. He lowered his eyes; Crow Horse let his hand go slack until Ray’s eyes were on the mirror again.
“Good boy.”
“Please,” Ray breathed. In the mirror, he looked dark, feral, his pupils huge and his flesh flushed. Crow Horse’s hands weren’t clumsy anymore, and he brought Ray home quick, groaning and sweating and falling over the sink.
Crow Horse petted Ray’s back while his breathing worked itself back to normal, while the strength returned to his flesh. Still panting a little, Ray pulled himself up, relaxed into Crow Horse’s embrace. They each watched the other’s reflection in the mirror.
“We made up now, you think?” Crow Horse asked.
Ray chuckled. “Yeah.”
“Then how’s about my turn?”
Ray grinned that special grin, and ran to the bedroom, Crow Horse hot on his heels.
They had been arguing for six days, long enough that neither of them remembered any of the details, just that they were mad. Either or both of them could have stopped it just by letting go of their anger, but it’d been around so long they’d grown kind of used to it. Kind of like how Jimmy had conned Ray into adopting him; he’d just stuck it out, and eventually Ray got used to having him around.
It was too damn early, and Crow Horse was fuming. The night before, Crow Horse had ignored Ray’s request that he buy fruit when he stopped by the general store, so Ray would have to go on his lunch break. In retaliation, Ray had set the coffee machine to make exactly one cup, which he then drank. Crow Horse had enough trouble with Ray’s fancy appliance as it was; with the sky still dark and no caffeine in his system, the damn thing might as well have been a sundial or abacus or some shit. He needed a damn engineering degree to make a goddamn cup of coffee.
Damn it.
Ray came back into the kitchen, freshly showered and shaved and, with a cupful of caffeine in his system, chipper. Crow Horse watched, stone still, as Ray moved around the kitchen packing himself a lunch—sans-fruit. He ground his teeth, his fingers cramping around his mug.
“Would you please,” he said stiffly, “get this thing to work?”
Crow Horse wanted to smack that slick smirk right off Ray’s face. He managed to contain himself, though, and just stepped aside mutely as Ray bent over the counter to make Crow Horse a cup of coffee.
It was then that Crow Horse noticed the hole in the seat of Ray’s jeans. He could see the thin linen of Ray’s boxers beneath the denim—light blue. Suddenly and without his permission, Crow Horse’s mind conjured up an image of the last time he’d seen Ray in those boxers—and just those, setting off his golden-brown skin as he lounged back in the pillows of their bed, grinning the way he only did when he and Crow Horse were bantering really good, or when he knew he was about to be fucked.
Crow Horse dropped his mug. The ceramic shattered loudly on the hard tile floor; Ray jumped. Crow Horse did, too, to be honest, not even realizing what had happened until he heard the noise.
“Shit,” he said, and bent to pick up the pieces. Ray knelt, too; his quick hands were faster scooping up the little shards than Crow Horse’s suddenly clumsy fingers.
“I got it,” Crow Horse said, and tried to bat Ray away, but no sooner than the words had left his mouth, than he snagged his finger on the wrong end of a piece of the mug. Pain, and then heat as blood welled up from the cut.
“Shit,” he said again. He went to stand, but Ray was on him, holding Crow Horse’s hand in place so Ray could see the damage.
Ray’s brow creased. “This looks deep.”
He took the handkerchief out of his back pocket and wound it around Crow Horse’s bleeding finger, and then he walked Crow Horse out of the kitchen, back through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Crow Horse let himself be led; it was easier dissuading a wild mustang off its course than trying to move Ray off his when he set his mind to something. Ray sat Crow Horse down on the closed lid of the toilet. Crow Horse watched Ray’s handkerchief darken while Ray pawed around under the sink for the first aid kit.
Ray lay out some bandages, some cotton, on the counter next to the sink. His hands were sure, steady, and he didn’t flinch when he slowly pulled the handkerchief away and saw the wound fresh.
“You shoulda been a doctor,” Crow Horse said weakly.
Ray smiled as he wound tape around Crow Horse’s finger. “They told me that, you know. In high school, we took this test, a career aptitude test. ’Sposed to tell you what you’re gonna be when you grow up, what your career should be.”
“And yours said doctor?”
“Actually,” Ray said, his mouth crimping sheepishly, “it said nurse.”
Crow Horse could have teased him about that for days. Instead, he looked at the neat job Ray had done on his finger. He tested the bandage with his thumb; he couldn’t even feel the wound anymore.
“I’m sorry,” Crow Horse said.
Ray looked up from putting the first aid supplies back in their little tin. “I know. Me too.”
Ray smiled a little, and then went back to his task, putting his back to Crow Horse. Crow Horse reached out, creeped his good finger into the hole in Ray’s jeans, feeling the warm, firm flesh beneath the thin fabric of Ray’s boxers. Ray jumped a little, looked back to see what Crow Horse was doing. Then he turned back to the counter, even though he’d finished putting the first aid supplies away. He set his hands flat on the countertop, blushing all the way down to the little triangle of chest peeking out of his t-shirt, and probably lower, for that matter.
Crow Horse wormed his finger into Ray’s pants, scratched the blunt head of his fingernail over Ray’s skin. Ray hissed, his breath shaky.
“Pants got a hole in ’em,” Crow Horse said. “Think we’ll have to get you out of them.”
Ray’s breath hitched, and his blush burned darker. He didn’t move a muscle, palms still flat on the counter. Crow Horse got to his feet, stepped behind Ray. He watched Ray’s reflection in the mirror as Crow Horse slowly took down Ray’s holey britches.
In the mirror, Ray’s eyes were dark with blown pupils, and his mouth was parted slightly—his breaths were coming shallow. Crow Horse palmed Ray’s ass through his shorts, feeling the muscles tense and then relax in his hand. He moved his fingertips slowly around the curve of Ray’s ass, teasing up into the cleft. Ray moaned. A rivulet of sweat fell from his dark gold hair down the corded muscles of his neck.
“Shhh,” Crow Horse crooned. He threaded the fingers of his free hand through Ray’s hair, held him in place while he kissed Ray’s neck, Crow Horse’s lips pressed against Ray’s throbbing pulse point.
“You like to be kissed there, honey?”
Ray closed his eyes, and nodded. Crow Horse tsked quietly and leaned in close, his lips against Ray’s ears.
“You open your eyes now, honey. I want you to watch this.”
Ray’s blush darkened; it was a deep, plummy red now. But he opened his eyes, watched his reflection in the mirror as Crow Horse’s hand left his hair, as it traveled down to squeeze the front of Ray’s shorts. Ray keened, breathy and desperate, and pushed into Crow Horse’s hand.
“Watch,” Crow Horse said again.
Ray nodded vigorously. “Yes.”
Crow Horse massaged Ray, pumping him slowly in his fist. Ray’s hands on the countertop balled into fists, the muscles in his arms cording, trembling. Ray pushed against the pressure, moving his hips in time with Crow Horse’s hand.
Crow Horse moved in close, his chest flush against Ray’s back, his lips tickling Ray’s ear. “Ain’t you a pretty thing?”
Ray whined, involuntary. He lowered his eyes; Crow Horse let his hand go slack until Ray’s eyes were on the mirror again.
“Good boy.”
“Please,” Ray breathed. In the mirror, he looked dark, feral, his pupils huge and his flesh flushed. Crow Horse’s hands weren’t clumsy anymore, and he brought Ray home quick, groaning and sweating and falling over the sink.
Crow Horse petted Ray’s back while his breathing worked itself back to normal, while the strength returned to his flesh. Still panting a little, Ray pulled himself up, relaxed into Crow Horse’s embrace. They each watched the other’s reflection in the mirror.
“We made up now, you think?” Crow Horse asked.
Ray chuckled. “Yeah.”
“Then how’s about my turn?”
Ray grinned that special grin, and ran to the bedroom, Crow Horse hot on his heels.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-08 08:36 pm (UTC)After a while, it's easy to say "I'm sorry," especially if they do it at the same time.
*pets them*
no subject
Date: 2012-09-09 11:50 pm (UTC)They're good boys, really.
Thanks for reading!
no subject
Date: 2012-09-09 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-09 11:50 pm (UTC)Aw, thank you so much!