It wasn't that Ray didn't know he was attractive, intellectually. Vecchio had made it pretty clear to him that he thought Ray was attractive, and his loving attention to ears, temples, hips, knees, had slowly convinced Ray that maybe he wasn't all that hard on the eyes.
But he wasn't turned on by himself. He was turned on by Vecchio, by Vecchio's sunny grin, by the way he rasped out Ray's name during sex, by the way he sleepily smashed his face into the pillow in the morning. He was turned on by the way Vecchio studies his jackets in the morning, picking the best one out then shaking his head and swapping it for another. He was turned on by Vecchio's bitching when chasing a suspect led them through a dumpster or a snowback or -- once, memorably -- a pig wallow. He was turned on my Vecchio's attention to detail and his brilliant leaps of logic, by Vecchio's protective love for his family and the way he held each of Frannie's babies like they were the most precious thing in the world, by his tangible sensual delight as he devoured a well-made meal. He was, most of all, turned on by the way Vecchio held him, touched him, moved him him, tasted him, knew him, turned him inside out and put him back together again, leaving them both worn out and gasping, leaving Vecchio fucking glowing in the post-coital haze.
And if that meant Ray had to learn to be turned on by his own body, now that Vecchio was in it and he was in Vecchio's? Well, he could do that.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-09-20 01:06 pm (UTC)But he wasn't turned on by himself. He was turned on by Vecchio, by Vecchio's sunny grin, by the way he rasped out Ray's name during sex, by the way he sleepily smashed his face into the pillow in the morning. He was turned on by the way Vecchio studies his jackets in the morning, picking the best one out then shaking his head and swapping it for another. He was turned on by Vecchio's bitching when chasing a suspect led them through a dumpster or a snowback or -- once, memorably -- a pig wallow. He was turned on my Vecchio's attention to detail and his brilliant leaps of logic, by Vecchio's protective love for his family and the way he held each of Frannie's babies like they were the most precious thing in the world, by his tangible sensual delight as he devoured a well-made meal. He was, most of all, turned on by the way Vecchio held him, touched him, moved him him, tasted him, knew him, turned him inside out and put him back together again, leaving them both worn out and gasping, leaving Vecchio fucking glowing in the post-coital haze.
And if that meant Ray had to learn to be turned on by his own body, now that Vecchio was in it and he was in Vecchio's? Well, he could do that.