Disclaimer: Heh. Don't I wish.
Summary: Vecchio wanted his turn with the marmalade and the handcuffs.
Warnings: PWP with jam and handcuffs (Fraser wouldn't let go of the marmalade).
Notes: Skif said, "Oh no, let Vecchio harass you some more. He deserves some outlet." No rest for the wicked, I'm telling you.
Post-production Note: For the curious (this means you, Trille!), here's a link to more information about the American treat marshmallow fluff.
Kowalski wrapped one arm around Vecchio's waist and leaned over his shoulder. "Blackberry Preserves? What the hell is this?"
Vecchio plucked the jar out of Kowalski's hand. "I'm making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Haven't you ever gone on a picnic before?"
"What's wrong with plain old grape jelly?"
"You mean the stuff that tastes like solidified grape Kool-Aid?" Vecchio said.
"I like grape Kool-Aid," Kowalski said.
Vecchio spun around and pressed his knife against Kowalski's throat. "Yeah, well I like blackberry preserves," he said mildly.
Kowalski smirked and glanced downward. "You know that's a table knife? And you're getting that stuff all over my neck."
"Of course it's a table knife," Vecchio said, and drew it up along the line of Kowalski's jaw, leaving a deep purple streak where it touched. He set the knife aside and leaned in, licking up a bit of the preserves. Kowalski tipped his head up to let Vecchio at his throat. "I'm showing you another benefit here," Vecchio said into the top of Kowalski's neck. "You can see how grape jelly would just get messy if I tried to use it like this. But blackberry preserves," and he ran his tongue further up Kowalski's jaw, "are perfect for the situation."
"Mmm," Kowalski said. "Yeah. Okay," and he let Vecchio back him around until he was wedged between the counter and the fridge. Vecchio needed the leverage; Kowalski hadn't shaved yet today, and he had to lick and suck rather aggressively at the beard stubble to get the jam and the seeds off Kowalski's skin. On the other hand, this longish stubble felt really nice under his tongue, and Kowalski didn't seem to be objecting either. Now, if Kowalski had just been so lazy that he'd pulled on yesterday's work jeans this morning--
Bingo. There were certain advantages to having a predictable boyfriend. Vecchio ran his tongue all the way back along Kowalski's jaw and nibbled on the bottom of Kowalski's ear as he smoothly clasped Kowalski's hands, tugged them behind his back, and--
"Hey!" Kowalski said, right on schedule. Vecchio stepped back with a grin as Kowalski tried to jerk his hands free. Kowalski stepped forward, and the door of the fridge popped open, beer bottles rattling. He glared, and Vecchio grinned wider. "You cuffed me to the fridge!" Kowalski said.
"Wow. That's some detecting skill you've got there," Vecchio said.
Kowalski bit his lip, but Vecchio could see the smile anyway. "Fucker," he said.
"No, see, for that I'd have to cuff you facing the other way," Vecchio told him.
"Somebody's going to be facing the other way over the kitchen table as soon as I get these off," Kowalski muttered.
Vecchio reached out and unfastened Kowalski's jeans, pushing them down around his ankles. "How are you planning on getting the keys?" he asked. Kowalski twisted, trying to lean down and lift his feet up at the same time. "I don't think that's going to work," Vecchio said.
"Okay, so, now what?" Kowalski asked.
"Now I go back to getting ready for the picnic," Vecchio said, and enjoyed Kowalski's outraged look for a few seconds before dropping one knee onto the linoleum and pulling Kowalski's briefs down with his jeans around his ankles. A stiff and getting stiffer hard-on bobbed up toward him, and he obligingly mouthed the tip of it for a moment.
"Christ," Kowalski said, and slammed the fridge door closed hard enough to shake the whole kitchen.
"You ever have peanut butter and fluff sandwiches as a kid, Stanley?" Vecchio asked.
"Yeah, I loved 'em," Kowalski said distractedly, apparently too busy arching his hips to try and get his dick back into Vecchio's mouth to complain about the name.
"We don't have any marshmallow fluff," Vecchio told him. "You gonna give me a substitute?"
"Huh?" Kowalski said, and then, laughing, "You are one sick puppy, you know that?"
Vecchio wrapped his hand around the base of Kowalski's cock and rubbed with his fingertips, then lightly fluttered the tip of his tongue under the crown. "Is that a no?"
"Uh," Kowalski said, gasping, "what was the question again?"
Vecchio laughed. "I thought not," he said, and licked Kowalski again, more firmly. The top of Kowalski's dick poking out of his fist was already red and shiny; it didn't take much to rev Kowalski's engine, which was something Vecchio found flattering, not to mention convenient when his knees were on the floor. Hard and fast was the rule anywhere outside the bedroom, and Vecchio worked his hand up and down the shaft, appreciating the way Kowalski had 'hard' covered on his end.
Usually by this point Kowalski would have his hands on the back of Vecchio's head and be trying to run the show. Not this time, sweetheart, Vecchio thought, and sucked steadily with one arm across Kowalski's thighs to hold him in place. Kowalski shuddered. "Oh fuck, Ray," he said hoarsely. "Fuck, I'm gonna -- I'm c-c-c- Ooh!" Vecchio closed his mouth around Kowalski's cock and swallowed as Kowalski came, stroking with his tongue to draw out the last drops.
Well satisfied with himself, he let Kowalski's dick slide out from between his lips and grabbed the counter-top to pull himself back to his feet. Upright, he swiped one finger through the open jar of peanut butter and made a show of licking it off. "Hey," he said, surprised, "that does go well."
Then he had to unlock the cuffs before Kowalski fell over laughing and hurt himself.
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