[ Everything they do these days toes the line between magnetic, baseline attraction and whatever-the-fuck-else they've turned into together. Joey kisses him, bites his lip, makes it hurt, but Derek leans into the kiss with soft, soothing flicks of his tongue, caring more about tasting Kavinsky and tangling their tongues together in something deep and shameless and sloppy and nice than about hurting him again. He responds with this intimate, needy affection, softly laughing when they break apart, bringing his fingers back to Joey's lips. ]
Look at me, Joey.
[ If Joey doesn't have it in him to say how he's feeling - and Derek gets it if he doesn't, he feels the same way - then he at least wants to look him in the eyes while they do this. He watches Kavinsky wet his fingers, torn between the aggressive need to fuck and just being straight up mesmerized, and when he's done, he snatches his hand back and drops it between Kavinsky's legs.
He's not rough, exactly, but he's not gentle, either. They've done this enough times now that Derek knows exactly how Joey likes it, even when he's only using his fingers. He fucks into his hole at just the right speed, just the right angle, pressing against him with the precision that only comes from really fucking knowing someone's body, really fucking caring about it feeling good. He holds eye contact, barely even blinks, jaw slightly apart as both fingers drag in and out of him. Joey is his. Mine, Derek whispers, barely aware he's saying it. ]
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Look at me, Joey.
[ If Joey doesn't have it in him to say how he's feeling - and Derek gets it if he doesn't, he feels the same way - then he at least wants to look him in the eyes while they do this. He watches Kavinsky wet his fingers, torn between the aggressive need to fuck and just being straight up mesmerized, and when he's done, he snatches his hand back and drops it between Kavinsky's legs.
He's not rough, exactly, but he's not gentle, either. They've done this enough times now that Derek knows exactly how Joey likes it, even when he's only using his fingers. He fucks into his hole at just the right speed, just the right angle, pressing against him with the precision that only comes from really fucking knowing someone's body, really fucking caring about it feeling good. He holds eye contact, barely even blinks, jaw slightly apart as both fingers drag in and out of him. Joey is his. Mine, Derek whispers, barely aware he's saying it. ]
So fucking pretty.