Fun to think about, though. Just like it's fun to think about pinning you down in public, fucking you against a wall and letting everyone know who you really, truly belong to. Fun to think about all the guys you've fucked here - all the guys from home that matter - watching you fall apart because of me. Coming so hard you forget about everything and everyone but me.
Feels like I can never really wait when it comes to you. I mean - even now -
[ there's a delay, and then when he responds, it's with a photo. rock hard, his hard-on pressed against the fabric of his underwear, pre soaking through the tent. derek's only ever sent kavinsky faceless photos before - it's a matter of caution, not wanting this shit to spread - but he makes sure to include his face in this one. ]
Doubt I could even make it over there in time. Need it too much.
[Fuck. Kavinsky sighs and slides his hand over his cock, feeling it through his jeans. It's not just that he's getting that gorgeous shot... but Derek's face is in it.]
that sounds like quitter talk
[A picture follows: K's got his jeans unbuttoned and open enough to show his bare hip and a hand pushing beneath. Doesn't have his face, but his tattooed arm is pretty obvious.]
i want your dick, hale toys just aren't the fuckin same but i could be nice and open by the time you get here just hove it in the second you get through the door
[ there's a delay. takes a bit of time for derek to decide if he wants to completely strip down or start. he goes for the latter, texting as he gets to his car. ]
Maybe. I like stretching you open, though. Making sure every second of what you feel is something I've directly given you. Of course -
[ there's a pause, and then - ring ring. derek's switching to video, his phone balanced on the dashboard of his car as he drives. when Kavinsky picks up - ]
- if you're that desperate to start touching yourself, I want to watch.
[He's grinning when he answers the video call. He can hear the hum of that fucking engine.]
You like the fucking sounds I make when you're stretching me open, asshole.
[Tell him he's wrong. He moves and for a second the picture is unsteady, but then he gives Derek a decent view of him shoving his jeans and boxer briefs lower around his thighs. He switches the phone to his other hand, trying to keep it more steady as he finally gets his hand around his cock.]
Fuck, [he sighs.] You wanna know what really gets me?
[ Derek's never been the most careful driver, and christ, now's no different. His knuckles are white-tight from how hard he's holding the steering wheel, veering off the road a little when Kavinsky lowers the camera and shows Derek what he's doing. Derek swallows, tries to focus, eyes up. His voice is heavy when he finds it. ]
[Kavinsky keeps the camera right where it is, but he keeps talking.]
This, [he sighs.] You.
[He wets his lips as his breathing gets a bit heavier. He keeps his hand slow even as his cock leaks precome.]
The way you say my fucking name.
[There aren't a lot of people left who would say it like that. Kavinsky shifts, letting go of his dick so he can shove his clothes down further. His hand disappears, and when it comes back into frame it slides between his thighs. He can't get a better angle, so Derek is just going to have to assume what he's doing when he moans.]
You--mm. [Fucking focus.] Pretty sure you just gotta look at me the right way and I'm fucking ready to go.
[ A part of Derek knew that would be Kavinsky's answer, but it still sends a possessive, electric shock down his spine all the same. He tries not to grin, but when Derek wants to grin, he's never been good at hiding it. He drags the tip of his tongue back from his bottom lip, and answers just soft enough for the video feed to pick him up. ]
You and I aren't distant anymore. We're close. Friends, even.
[ He swallows, mouth dry when he hears Kavinsky moan. He's stopped at a light just long enough to really fucking take this in, and there's a headier quality to his voice once he's driving again. ]
I know who you are, Joey. You're someone I want to take care of. Someone whose life I want to make better. Just like I want you to know, right down to the core of you, that you'll be mine for as long as you want to be.
[Something in that sentiment still fucking terrifies him, but the edge isn't so sharp when Derek's voice sounds like that. Friends. Belonging. He isn't sure he even really had that in Henrietta.
His hand moves and his hips jump a bit, stomach briefly tensing. Maybe when he's not so fucking worked up he can even revisit that part of the conversation. Right now, though, he loses himself as Derek keeps talking, letting those words burn across his nerves.
The camera moves and Derek gets a good look at Kavinsky's face: lips parted as he breathes, eyes dark, warmth creeping into his face.]
It's not just the bruises and shit. You've got me marked up all over, Hale. I couldn't scrub you off if I tried.
[And he doesn't want to. Kavinsky groans quietly and drops his head back for a second.]
[ You're on me, too, Derek would say, if he weren't so focused. He swallows down whatever he's thinking and doesn't do much else but drive, whispering quiet words of encouragement to Kavinsky, telling him how to stroke, guiding him through touching himself in the uncomfortably long trip to his place. When he gets there, he barely has the time to shut his phone off before he's locking his car door and heading inside.
Derek left the front door to Kavinsky's place half-open, too rushed and distracted to make sure it's closed. He walked straight through the house and up to Kavinsky's bedroom, fast and crazed like he's been fucking pumping himself full of aphro shit on the way here, or something. The mattress sinks beneath him as Derek crawls on top of Kavinsky, resting his knee between Kavinsky's thighs as he drops his hand down to grip the head of his cock, and as he presses against Kavinsky's dick with the pad of his thumb in clear, circular motions, he grabs him by the base of his neck with his other hand and pulls him into a sharp and biting kiss. He barely has it in him to break away long enough to say - ]
Wearing too much. Both of us.
[ More of a demand for Kavinsky to fix that problem than a real comment. ]
[Even if the door is left open, no one is coming in without an invitation. Or if they do, they're going to find themselves walking into a decrepit building in the Down. That, or Dire will close it later. It doesn't matter though, because Kavinsky's entire world narrows the second Derek is in his room. The way the bed deeps, the fucking warmth that radiates off him when he gets like this is all familiar now but it still sends a spike of excitement through him.
He cusses softly before meeting Derek in a bruising kiss. He lifts his hips, trying to encourage the hand on his cock.]
Uh huh.
[Yeah, he's on it. Kavinsky lets Derek do whatever he's going to do as he strips out of his clothes. His shirt ends up somewhere on the bed, the rest on the floor until he's naked beneath Derek's broader frame. He's not done yet, though. Kavinsky grabs the hem of the other man's shirt to drag it off, then leans up into another sharp kiss. The denim takes just a bit more negotiation. Kavinsky manages to get the button and fly undone, and maybe he uses more pressure and friction than is strictly necessary. A quiet groan escapes when he feels the swell of Derek's cock trapped behind his underwear. Kavinsky shoves the fabric down until it's all bunched around Derek's thighs. If he wants them off, he's gonna have to participate a little more.
K doesn't make it easy, though. As soon as he can he gets his hand around Derek's cock to give him a firm stroke.]
[ The second Derek realizes Kavinsky isn't going to strip them down fast enough on his own, impatience takes over. He lets out a soft, frustrated growl from the back of his throat and starts tugging at the last few inches of Kavinsky's clothes to tear them off sooner, and when he leaves Derek to kick off his underwear on his own, Derek could snipe or complain or be petty in some way, but -
But instead he just fucks up hard into Kavinsky's hand, breathing out rough as he bottoms out in the soft skin of his palm. He rolls his hips into Kavinsky's fist, slick with pre, and he only stops just long enough to kick the rest of his clothes off onto the floor, naked and overbearing as he pins Kavinsky against the bed with his silhouette alone. His hands find K's jaw, his thumbs smooth over his cheekbones, and he presses their foreheads together, trying to catch his breath while he talks. ]
Joey - fucking doesn't mean much to me anymore. Hard for it to feel like anything, after...
[ Derek hesitates, shakes his head and trails off, not even sure how to finish the thought and hoping he doesn't need to. He's always had a complicated relationship with sex, both back home and here - but it's become something casual and meaningless and disparate to his identity. He finds love and comfort and satisfaction with his boyfriend, he finds a chance to be a caretaker and a giver with some of the other people he knows, but sex with Kavinsky, christ, it's - it's something. He finds something primal and connected and rawly indefinable with him. Something more and more emotionally grand the more they do this. Something that always gets Derek's nerves shot. ]
But it's different with you.
[ One last kiss, hard enough to leave an impression of his teeth in Kavinsky's bottom lip, and then he's done. He drops both hands and puts them on Kavinsky's bare thighs, pressing against them to make him spread his legs. He lifts two fingers to Kavinsky's lips after, held out in a silent command to suck. He told him he didn't want to wait - he's going to wreck this guy. ]
[Derek's hands are on his face, holding him still as their foreheads meet. Kavinsky doesn't pull away and his hand is slow as it moves on Derek's cock. He feels like he needs to hear this.]
I know. Me too.
[The words are so fucking small but he isn't sure he has the fucking wherewithal right now to elaborate. Kavinsky's relationship with sex has probably never been all that healthy. It's a way to feel good and it's a way to have power and it's a way to get things. But it's only ever meant anything with such a small number of people. Sex with Derek used to be fucking easy: they hated each other. But Kavinsky meant it when he said Derek gets him all fucked up now, and yeah, with the right look or the right couple of words they can get each other fired up, but--but it's more complicated than that now. He doesn't know how to look at it or how to untangle the knot of whatever this has turned into, and he's kind of afraid that if he pulls the wrong thread it's going to fall apart into nothing again. So he tries not to touch it.
But he can't not do this.
He leans up into the kiss, making sure it hurts before Derek's fingers replace his lips. Kavinsky opens his mouth, licking over them before he sucks on them. He got started earlier but a little more help never hurt. He works up saliva, gets Derek's fingers as slick as he can with that alone. He wants to get wrecked.]
[ 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. ]
[Maybe it means something that he can't even think of himself with that name, but he is so desperate to hear it from someone else that isn't trying to use it to hurt him. Every time it feels like another hook catches him and he knows if he tries to pull away now it's going to fucking hurt. So he doesn't.
He focuses on Derek as his fingers push back into his mouth and it's just intense. It always is. He keeps that focus when as he pulls his hand away and it moves between his legs. Kavinsky's eyes nearly close as they push in. He cusses softly and grabs at Derek instead of the bed, getting a hold of his arm and the back of his neck as he's fucked just right. He's dedicated more energy to learning Derek than he has with most of the people he knows here. He tries to remember everything. And it's wildly obvious Derek's done his own version of that because he knows exactly what he's doing.
He can feel pre smear against his skin as his cock throbs and his hand tightens on the back of the other man's neck when he hears that whisper. He lets Derek get a few more words out before dragging him down into another kiss. He tries to keep it softer, the way Derek did earlier, even if it just--
It fucks with him. Derek fucks with him.]
Come on, [he breathes when they part, voice tight.] I need you.
[He's fine. He'll be fine. He just needs to feel closer than they are right now and it hits him with an intensity that he only gets with this man.]
[ Delaying this only adds to the intensity, and Derek responds to Kavinsky's quiet pleading for more with a quiet, pleased smile against his lips. He kisses him back, slower, this time, dragging out the intimacy they're sharing with deeper, careful thrusts of his fingers, and it's not until he starts really sensing impatience in Kavinsky that he finally progresses things further. He breaks the kiss and rearranges his position over Kavinsky as best he can without separating from him too much, and as he draws his fingers from the warmth of Kavinsky's hole, he speaks against his ear in a low, close murmur, energy intimate and private and only for him. ]
Need you too. Always.
[ With Kavinsky's hand still braced against his neck, Derek reaches down with one hand to grab Kavinsky's thigh, easily moving him how he needs him before grabbing the base of his cock and aligning himself. He presses his other palm flat against the headboard for support, fingers curling against the wood of the bedframe as the head of his dick breaches the tight heat of Kavinsky's body, and Derek grunts, gritting his teeth as the warmth scrambles his thoughts and makes it hard to think.
You're okay, Derek says, breath hot against Kavinsky's ear as he slowly, slowly, slowly fucks into him, just wet enough with pre and saliva to make the tight, impossible stretch come far more easily than it would have when they first started hooking up. I've got you. ]
[Those words sear across his nerves and Kavinsky closes his eyes as Derek positions himself. It's too much. Or maybe he just wants to focus on exactly how this feels without being distracted by looking. He takes a sharper breath Derek pushes against him, then into him. All he can feel is that perfect stretch, the slick slide of Derek's cock as he eases into him. His fingers push into Derek's hair as the other man speaks against his ear.
Yeah. When he's with Derek, he's okay.
Kavinsky opens his eyes just long enough to coordinate a kiss, pulling if he has to. It isn't a hard kiss but there's still this edge of urgency to it. Need. He can't keep it going as long as he wants to: Derek pushes deeper and Kavinsky drops his head back with a quiet moan.]
Fuck--
[Dark eyes flash open and he gets his other arm around Derek's shoulders. He hates how vulnerable this shit makes him feel but he knows that Derek means it when he says I've got you. And that's fucking terrifying, too. Because he knows it's the people closest to him that can gut him the most. Even if they aren't trying. But he's given up on giving up. He wants this. He's said it and he'll keep saying it and maybe he'll figure out how to articulate something that's better.
Kavinsky rocks his hips, pushing closer until he feels Derek bottom out.]
You always feel so fucking good, [he sighs when he can finally string words together again. His arm drops from Derek's shoulders, hand sliding down over the arm that's braced against the headboard.]
[ Kavinsky doesn't need to guide Derek too much. The second Derek realizes he wants another kiss, he's diving into it, stilling the first few thrusts of his hips to take Kavinsky's lips against his own. His breathing is more ragged and he's starting to sweat already, his heart beating hard in his throat, his lungs shallow and hard to pull air from. The kiss doesn't last long, but it's not for lack of trying. Once Kavinsky keeps moving, helps him bottom out -
Derek moans, legs tensing, his hand gripping the headboard so tight that it starts to creak and splinter from the pressure. He breathes through his mouth, hard, animal pants, eyes shut tight as he tries to adjust to the feeling. Werewolf oversensitivity always makes him feel like he's on fire, but christ if Kavinsky doesn't burn the brightest. ]
So do-- so do you. Always have. Even when-- even when we weren't-- good, you were always...
[ Derek's free hand goes to Kavinsky's waist, thumb pressing into his hipbone hard enough to turn his skin white. He starts to seek out a rhythm, the tight grip of Kavinsky's body around the thick, insane girth of his cock clouding out Derek's mind and flooding him with the animal urge to just breed, and if he starts moving a little faster, progresses this past the point of trying to make Kavinsky feel good into territory where he's trying to make himself feel good, it's not a conscious decision. It's just -- fucking hard to resist, with Kavinsky, and when Derek's thumbnail digs a little harder into Kavinsky's waist, he doesn't notice his claws are starting to come out. ]
You were always someone I wanted.
[ Derek adjusts, rolls his hips back, then fucks into Kavinsky, one hard, punctuating slap of skin against skin as he bottoms out again. His hand slams open against the wall above the bedframe for balance, and then his fingers curl inwards, clawing a series of lines into the paint, digging up chips of plaster. Derek's tongue lolls out of his mouth a little, and he stares down at Kavinsky from above him, already wanting another kiss. Barely able to talk. ]
D-Don't think I could stop myself from knotting you even if I tried. Wanna breed you. Prove you're mine. Prove you're only, only, only mine.
[Every breath is edged with a moan as Derek tries to get a rhythm going. Kavinsky gets a foot planted against the bed so he can try to meet every thrust, like he needs to be absolutely fucking sure that Derek is getting deep every time. Even if Derek kind of loses himself a little, even if he's thinking only about himself, it doesn't matter. His thick cock makes him feel so damn full that feeling good isn't an issue.
His eyes flash open and he tips his head back when he hears the crack of plaster and he can feel similar pressure on his hip, claws pricking against his skin. From the start this has never scared him, has never made him think twice about this. He wants Derek, whatever the hell that looks like. Whatever it means, he wants this. Even when they were butting heads all the time, he couldn't ignore Derek Hale.
One hand flies back to press against the headboard, trying to make sure he doesn't end up shoved up against it as Derek fucks him harder. He doesn't even know how he's still talking but Kavinsky never wants him to fucking stop.]
Breed me, [he gasps out, voice ragged when he finally manages to make it work. He cusses and arches his back.] I think about it - you - all the fucking time.
[I want to be yours. He can't quite say it. It's too much, too raw, too terrifying, but God is he feeling it. Sweat beads on his skin and his cheeks and chest are flushed with heat. Kavinsky tries to kiss Derek again but it barely lasts more than a few seconds. He has to breathe.]
Fuck--I wanna come on your knot--
[It almost comes out sounding like a whine and he kind of hopes the obscene sound of skin against skin drowns that out.]
[ Hard to hide any kind of sound from Derek, especially as alert as he is right now. Kavinsky's whine only makes Derek harder, coats the inside of his ass with more pre, and he drops his hand, dusty from the wall he wrecked, to grip Kavinsky's other hip. He puts his weight on his knees, scratches up Kavinsky's hips with the vice-like grip he has on him, and the next time he pulls back, the next time he thrusts into him, he feels - bigger. ]
I'll-- I'll take care of you.
[ Fucking Kavinsky used to be a show of power. A show of pride. He'd make him come, take out his anger on him, they'd mess with each other, talk shit all the way through it. Derek used to try as hard as he could to last, to make it longer, even though Kavinsky's been kryptonite for his self-control for years, now. It's-- not like that, now. He's not trying anything. Just wants this connection. Wants to feel good. Wants both of them to lose their fucking minds.
He pounds into Kavinsky again, and he's thicker still, stretching Kavinsky to his limit as his rhythm turns irregular with each frantic slam of his hips. He lifts Kavinsky's ass from the bed a little, pulls him forward and closer so his head drops against the mattress, and he doubles over as he fucks harder, faster, bending forward over him until they're nose to nose. ]
Take care of you. Give you anything you want. All of it. Whatever you need. Always.
[ He locks his jaw against Kavinsky's neck, the points of his canine teeth brushing dangerously close to his windpipe. He doesn't bite down, doesn't make this something he can't take back - but he bites with enough pressure to leave a mark, Kavinsky's skin now imprinted for a few days with the decidedly wolf-like impressions Derek left there. The growl from the barrel of his chest, deep and possessive and protective, makes his declaration of ownership clear even without the hiss of his voice escaping through his teeth. ]
[His back arches as claws scrape over his sides and hips, holding him in place. This used to be a challenge - it still is, in some ways - but this used to be all about taunting Derek, goading him until he snapped and gave in to whatever baser instinct made him want Kavinsky. He still wants that: still wants Derek to want him that much. But it's not about pissing him off anymore, it's not about a power struggle. It's night a fight anymore but something they're trying to do together.
Derek's hearing might be keen as ever, but Kavinsky can barely hear himself think over his own breathing and the obscene sound of skin against skin. He can hear Derek's voice even if holding on to what he's actually saying is harder. He cries out as the angle changes, as Derek fucks him franticly and he can fucking feel his cock swelling. The spike of excitement is insane and every thrust pushes him closer, makes that tension coil up in him, ready to snap.
He's dragged and bent and suddenly Derek is close again, nose to nose before teeth close on his throat. Kavinsky's hand flies up to grab Derek's hair, but he's not trying to pull him away. Just holding him where he is, trusting that he isn't actually going to rip his throat out. How far they've come.]
Derek--yes, fuck!
[Every slick drag of his cock makes him feel fucking dizzy and the stretch has him trying to arch his back like he can get closer, regardless of how pinned down he is.]
[ Everything picks up. Derek moves faster, more frantic, hammers into Kavinsky like it's the last thing he'll ever do. Somewhere in these past few mintues, his eyes have changed - lost their human hazel, gained that inhuman red. Derek bites Kavinsky harder, nearly enough to pierce skin, certainly enough to scare Derek when this is all done with how close he got to turning him while they fucked. He pounds into Kavinsky's hole like a fucking machine. Like he was made for this.
And then he knots.
It's as insane a feeling as it always has been. Something grows at the base of his dick, catching on muscle as it tries desperately to push itself into Kavinsky, incapable of breaching him without a real show of force. The bed is creaking beneath them, desperately trying to hold itself together under the unstoppable strength and speed of just how hard Derek is fucking Kavinsky. He doesn't catch into Kavinsky's hole, doesn't fully tie him, but christ, he's trying.
He's slamming against Kavinsky's hole, his whole body shivering as his knot bangs insistently against Kav's entrance, and Derek lets out a groan of need and frustration when he just can't fucking make it fit. He bites Kavinsky's neck again, but it's more of a nip, this time, a show of almost childish, canine irritation that he doesn't know how else to express. He moves Kavinsky again - pulls him up even higher, lifts half his body off the fucking mattress, holding him by the small of his back like his weight is fucking nothing - but no matter how hard he rams against Kavinsky, no matter how much he slams the top of Kavinsky's skull against the headboard, no matter how much he sweats and grunts and plows into Kavinsky with drool pooling at the corners of his mouth and teeth looking ever sharper and more dangerous, it just-- ]
Too-- too fucking tight.
[ He could make it work. He could really, really make it work, if Kavinsky let him, but even as his eyes burn red, even as it's hard to think about anything other than this-- this impulse, this need to breed and mark and claim, knock Kavinsky up, keep him as his own, tie him up and never let him leave, his, mine-- he knows he doesn't want to hurt him. He's hurting himself, just by not knotting Kavinsky. His knot's fucking insanely sensitive, and depriving himself of that perfect, perfect heat, it's almost enough to make him cry. He hisses out what he says next like he's torn between being angry and being apologetic. ]
[It doesn't take more than a few seconds for him to catch on to what exactly is getting Derek so frustrated. He can feel the knot pressing against him on every thrust but not pushing in. Kavinsky tries to move, but Derek's still got his hips and he keeps trying to change the angle like that'll help. His forearm presses against the headboard to keep his head from hitting it too hard.]
Hang on, [he gasps out. Asking Derek to stop isn't on his mind but he wants this, he wants to make it work if he can.] Hang on, slow down a little.
[Yeah he knows he's asking a lot here. Kavinsky lets go of Derek's hair so he can grab the lube he's got on the table next to the bed. He trusts Derek not to give him a concussion as he gets it open and gets his fingers slick. He reaches down, trembling just a little as he feels the knot. He gets it wet, figuring a little more lube won't hurt, but he doesn't stop there.
His fingers rub against his stretched hole, and it takes him a minute, but he manages to get both of them in alongside Derek's cock. Taking the knot is still going to be a fucking effort, but he's trying.
Kavinsky's other hand slides back into Derek's hair and he pulls him down until their foreheads touch.]
It's gonna happen, okay? Just--just give me a second. You're not gonna hurt me.
[ The second Kavinsky touches his knot, Derek becomes this incomprehensible, overstimulated mess. He's making quiet, whiny noises, shameless and red-faced as he shuts his eyes tight and leans against Kavinsky's forehead for support, all pretense of power and dominance sapping from him like it was never there. It's - impossible for him to describe just how fucking good it feels being touched there. His nerves feel fucking everything, raw and exposed like a live wire, and the slightest brush of Kavinsky's fingertips make him feel like he's been edged for fucking days. All he wants to do is come. His entire body is trembling.
He doesn't make it easy for Kavinsky to stretch himself out a little more, but it's not intentional. He just can't help but grit his teeth, bite down on the insides of his cheeks and buck his hips forward in unbidden spasms and reactionary pumps. Derek's alternating between growling, all dark and canine and intimidating, and begging Kavinsky for him to help him, for him to figure this out. He's whispering Kavinsky's name, Joey, over and over and over again, pleading and pleasured and overwhelmed with need. He says Kavinsky's name like he trusts him to make this as good as it can be. Like the trusts him at all.
He grinds against Kavinsky's fingers, trying to push in deep, blind and animal. When Kavinsky takes his hand away, it's just enough leverage for Derek to really, really, really push - he drops his entire body weight down onto Joey, moving his hands to slide underneath his back and pull him into a tight bear hug of an embrace. He's trying as hard as he can to calm down, to go slow if that's what Joey needs, but keeping Kavinsky still beneath him and using the force of his lower body to just move seems to be working. Derek's hot like he's run a marathon, his skin radiating with heat, as he just presses, feet anchored on the mattress for balance, fingers drawing fresh white lines down Kavinsky's spine -
One staggered, lucky thrust, and Derek's-- in. He knots Kavinsky entirely, ties to him and keeps him there and just fucking throbs in him, filling and hot and wet and alive. Derek's just-- out of it, moaning against Kavinsky's throat and ear and jawline between peppered kisses and accidental scratches of his teeth, and christ, if this doesn't sound like he's feeling the best he's ever felt. Derek's thighs squeeze Kavinsky, keeps him close, every breath he takes making Kavinsky's cock grind against his abs, flexed and as rock hard as the rest of him. Derek's not thinking, he's just-- touching, staying close, barely holding back the urge to shoot. He can feel it, though. He's not going to last - his balls are aching, his stomach's doing flips. ]
G-Gonna-- fucking--
[ He wants them to come at the same time. Wants Kavinsky to blow alongside him. His voice is weak and staggered from the effort of flexing his dick and struggling to tighten up against the overwhelming, rising need to breed, but he wants them to both fucking lose their minds together. Wants this moment to be theirs forever. ]
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no subject
Fun to think about, though.
Just like it's fun to think about pinning you down in public, fucking you against a wall and letting everyone know who you really, truly belong to.
Fun to think about all the guys you've fucked here - all the guys from home that matter - watching you fall apart because of me.
Coming so hard you forget about everything and everyone but me.
no subject
you know I love that shit
[That last part. Forgetting everything and everyone else. The rest is fucking great, but that...]
kinda like the idea of a whole crowd seeing how i get you off tho
how hard you get for me
can't wait, just gotta make a scene
no subject
I mean - even now -
[ there's a delay, and then when he responds, it's with a photo. rock hard, his hard-on pressed against the fabric of his underwear, pre soaking through the tent. derek's only ever sent kavinsky faceless photos before - it's a matter of caution, not wanting this shit to spread - but he makes sure to include his face in this one. ]
Doubt I could even make it over there in time.
Need it too much.
no subject
[Fuck. Kavinsky sighs and slides his hand over his cock, feeling it through his jeans. It's not just that he's getting that gorgeous shot... but Derek's face is in it.]
that sounds like quitter talk
[A picture follows: K's got his jeans unbuttoned and open enough to show his bare hip and a hand pushing beneath. Doesn't have his face, but his tattooed arm is pretty obvious.]
i want your dick, hale
toys just aren't the fuckin same
but i could be nice and open by the time you get here
just hove it in the second you get through the door
no subject
Maybe.
I like stretching you open, though. Making sure every second of what you feel is something I've directly given you.
Of course -
[ there's a pause, and then - ring ring. derek's switching to video, his phone balanced on the dashboard of his car as he drives. when Kavinsky picks up - ]
- if you're that desperate to start touching yourself, I want to watch.
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You like the fucking sounds I make when you're stretching me open, asshole.
[Tell him he's wrong. He moves and for a second the picture is unsteady, but then he gives Derek a decent view of him shoving his jeans and boxer briefs lower around his thighs. He switches the phone to his other hand, trying to keep it more steady as he finally gets his hand around his cock.]
Fuck, [he sighs.] You wanna know what really gets me?
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Tell me, Joey.
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This, [he sighs.] You.
[He wets his lips as his breathing gets a bit heavier. He keeps his hand slow even as his cock leaks precome.]
The way you say my fucking name.
[There aren't a lot of people left who would say it like that. Kavinsky shifts, letting go of his dick so he can shove his clothes down further. His hand disappears, and when it comes back into frame it slides between his thighs. He can't get a better angle, so Derek is just going to have to assume what he's doing when he moans.]
You--mm. [Fucking focus.] Pretty sure you just gotta look at me the right way and I'm fucking ready to go.
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You and I aren't distant anymore. We're close. Friends, even.
[ He swallows, mouth dry when he hears Kavinsky moan. He's stopped at a light just long enough to really fucking take this in, and there's a headier quality to his voice once he's driving again. ]
I know who you are, Joey. You're someone I want to take care of. Someone whose life I want to make better. Just like I want you to know, right down to the core of you, that you'll be mine for as long as you want to be.
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His hand moves and his hips jump a bit, stomach briefly tensing. Maybe when he's not so fucking worked up he can even revisit that part of the conversation. Right now, though, he loses himself as Derek keeps talking, letting those words burn across his nerves.
The camera moves and Derek gets a good look at Kavinsky's face: lips parted as he breathes, eyes dark, warmth creeping into his face.]
It's not just the bruises and shit. You've got me marked up all over, Hale. I couldn't scrub you off if I tried.
[And he doesn't want to. Kavinsky groans quietly and drops his head back for a second.]
Door's open.
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Derek left the front door to Kavinsky's place half-open, too rushed and distracted to make sure it's closed. He walked straight through the house and up to Kavinsky's bedroom, fast and crazed like he's been fucking pumping himself full of aphro shit on the way here, or something. The mattress sinks beneath him as Derek crawls on top of Kavinsky, resting his knee between Kavinsky's thighs as he drops his hand down to grip the head of his cock, and as he presses against Kavinsky's dick with the pad of his thumb in clear, circular motions, he grabs him by the base of his neck with his other hand and pulls him into a sharp and biting kiss. He barely has it in him to break away long enough to say - ]
Wearing too much. Both of us.
[ More of a demand for Kavinsky to fix that problem than a real comment. ]
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He cusses softly before meeting Derek in a bruising kiss. He lifts his hips, trying to encourage the hand on his cock.]
Uh huh.
[Yeah, he's on it. Kavinsky lets Derek do whatever he's going to do as he strips out of his clothes. His shirt ends up somewhere on the bed, the rest on the floor until he's naked beneath Derek's broader frame. He's not done yet, though. Kavinsky grabs the hem of the other man's shirt to drag it off, then leans up into another sharp kiss. The denim takes just a bit more negotiation. Kavinsky manages to get the button and fly undone, and maybe he uses more pressure and friction than is strictly necessary. A quiet groan escapes when he feels the swell of Derek's cock trapped behind his underwear. Kavinsky shoves the fabric down until it's all bunched around Derek's thighs. If he wants them off, he's gonna have to participate a little more.
K doesn't make it easy, though. As soon as he can he gets his hand around Derek's cock to give him a firm stroke.]
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But instead he just fucks up hard into Kavinsky's hand, breathing out rough as he bottoms out in the soft skin of his palm. He rolls his hips into Kavinsky's fist, slick with pre, and he only stops just long enough to kick the rest of his clothes off onto the floor, naked and overbearing as he pins Kavinsky against the bed with his silhouette alone. His hands find K's jaw, his thumbs smooth over his cheekbones, and he presses their foreheads together, trying to catch his breath while he talks. ]
Joey - fucking doesn't mean much to me anymore. Hard for it to feel like anything, after...
[ Derek hesitates, shakes his head and trails off, not even sure how to finish the thought and hoping he doesn't need to. He's always had a complicated relationship with sex, both back home and here - but it's become something casual and meaningless and disparate to his identity. He finds love and comfort and satisfaction with his boyfriend, he finds a chance to be a caretaker and a giver with some of the other people he knows, but sex with Kavinsky, christ, it's - it's something. He finds something primal and connected and rawly indefinable with him. Something more and more emotionally grand the more they do this. Something that always gets Derek's nerves shot. ]
But it's different with you.
[ One last kiss, hard enough to leave an impression of his teeth in Kavinsky's bottom lip, and then he's done. He drops both hands and puts them on Kavinsky's bare thighs, pressing against them to make him spread his legs. He lifts two fingers to Kavinsky's lips after, held out in a silent command to suck. He told him he didn't want to wait - he's going to wreck this guy. ]
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I know. Me too.
[The words are so fucking small but he isn't sure he has the fucking wherewithal right now to elaborate. Kavinsky's relationship with sex has probably never been all that healthy. It's a way to feel good and it's a way to have power and it's a way to get things. But it's only ever meant anything with such a small number of people. Sex with Derek used to be fucking easy: they hated each other. But Kavinsky meant it when he said Derek gets him all fucked up now, and yeah, with the right look or the right couple of words they can get each other fired up, but--but it's more complicated than that now. He doesn't know how to look at it or how to untangle the knot of whatever this has turned into, and he's kind of afraid that if he pulls the wrong thread it's going to fall apart into nothing again. So he tries not to touch it.
But he can't not do this.
He leans up into the kiss, making sure it hurts before Derek's fingers replace his lips. Kavinsky opens his mouth, licking over them before he sucks on them. He got started earlier but a little more help never hurt. He works up saliva, gets Derek's fingers as slick as he can with that alone. He wants to get wrecked.]
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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.
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He focuses on Derek as his fingers push back into his mouth and it's just intense. It always is. He keeps that focus when as he pulls his hand away and it moves between his legs. Kavinsky's eyes nearly close as they push in. He cusses softly and grabs at Derek instead of the bed, getting a hold of his arm and the back of his neck as he's fucked just right. He's dedicated more energy to learning Derek than he has with most of the people he knows here. He tries to remember everything. And it's wildly obvious Derek's done his own version of that because he knows exactly what he's doing.
He can feel pre smear against his skin as his cock throbs and his hand tightens on the back of the other man's neck when he hears that whisper. He lets Derek get a few more words out before dragging him down into another kiss. He tries to keep it softer, the way Derek did earlier, even if it just--
It fucks with him. Derek fucks with him.]
Come on, [he breathes when they part, voice tight.] I need you.
[He's fine. He'll be fine. He just needs to feel closer than they are right now and it hits him with an intensity that he only gets with this man.]
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Need you too. Always.
[ With Kavinsky's hand still braced against his neck, Derek reaches down with one hand to grab Kavinsky's thigh, easily moving him how he needs him before grabbing the base of his cock and aligning himself. He presses his other palm flat against the headboard for support, fingers curling against the wood of the bedframe as the head of his dick breaches the tight heat of Kavinsky's body, and Derek grunts, gritting his teeth as the warmth scrambles his thoughts and makes it hard to think.
You're okay, Derek says, breath hot against Kavinsky's ear as he slowly, slowly, slowly fucks into him, just wet enough with pre and saliva to make the tight, impossible stretch come far more easily than it would have when they first started hooking up. I've got you. ]
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Yeah. When he's with Derek, he's okay.
Kavinsky opens his eyes just long enough to coordinate a kiss, pulling if he has to. It isn't a hard kiss but there's still this edge of urgency to it. Need. He can't keep it going as long as he wants to: Derek pushes deeper and Kavinsky drops his head back with a quiet moan.]
Fuck--
[Dark eyes flash open and he gets his other arm around Derek's shoulders. He hates how vulnerable this shit makes him feel but he knows that Derek means it when he says I've got you. And that's fucking terrifying, too. Because he knows it's the people closest to him that can gut him the most. Even if they aren't trying. But he's given up on giving up. He wants this. He's said it and he'll keep saying it and maybe he'll figure out how to articulate something that's better.
Kavinsky rocks his hips, pushing closer until he feels Derek bottom out.]
You always feel so fucking good, [he sighs when he can finally string words together again. His arm drops from Derek's shoulders, hand sliding down over the arm that's braced against the headboard.]
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Derek moans, legs tensing, his hand gripping the headboard so tight that it starts to creak and splinter from the pressure. He breathes through his mouth, hard, animal pants, eyes shut tight as he tries to adjust to the feeling. Werewolf oversensitivity always makes him feel like he's on fire, but christ if Kavinsky doesn't burn the brightest. ]
So do-- so do you. Always have. Even when-- even when we weren't-- good, you were always...
[ Derek's free hand goes to Kavinsky's waist, thumb pressing into his hipbone hard enough to turn his skin white. He starts to seek out a rhythm, the tight grip of Kavinsky's body around the thick, insane girth of his cock clouding out Derek's mind and flooding him with the animal urge to just breed, and if he starts moving a little faster, progresses this past the point of trying to make Kavinsky feel good into territory where he's trying to make himself feel good, it's not a conscious decision. It's just -- fucking hard to resist, with Kavinsky, and when Derek's thumbnail digs a little harder into Kavinsky's waist, he doesn't notice his claws are starting to come out. ]
You were always someone I wanted.
[ Derek adjusts, rolls his hips back, then fucks into Kavinsky, one hard, punctuating slap of skin against skin as he bottoms out again. His hand slams open against the wall above the bedframe for balance, and then his fingers curl inwards, clawing a series of lines into the paint, digging up chips of plaster. Derek's tongue lolls out of his mouth a little, and he stares down at Kavinsky from above him, already wanting another kiss. Barely able to talk. ]
D-Don't think I could stop myself from knotting you even if I tried. Wanna breed you. Prove you're mine. Prove you're only, only, only mine.
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His eyes flash open and he tips his head back when he hears the crack of plaster and he can feel similar pressure on his hip, claws pricking against his skin. From the start this has never scared him, has never made him think twice about this. He wants Derek, whatever the hell that looks like. Whatever it means, he wants this. Even when they were butting heads all the time, he couldn't ignore Derek Hale.
One hand flies back to press against the headboard, trying to make sure he doesn't end up shoved up against it as Derek fucks him harder. He doesn't even know how he's still talking but Kavinsky never wants him to fucking stop.]
Breed me, [he gasps out, voice ragged when he finally manages to make it work. He cusses and arches his back.] I think about it - you - all the fucking time.
[I want to be yours. He can't quite say it. It's too much, too raw, too terrifying, but God is he feeling it. Sweat beads on his skin and his cheeks and chest are flushed with heat. Kavinsky tries to kiss Derek again but it barely lasts more than a few seconds. He has to breathe.]
Fuck--I wanna come on your knot--
[It almost comes out sounding like a whine and he kind of hopes the obscene sound of skin against skin drowns that out.]
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I'll-- I'll take care of you.
[ Fucking Kavinsky used to be a show of power. A show of pride. He'd make him come, take out his anger on him, they'd mess with each other, talk shit all the way through it. Derek used to try as hard as he could to last, to make it longer, even though Kavinsky's been kryptonite for his self-control for years, now. It's-- not like that, now. He's not trying anything. Just wants this connection. Wants to feel good. Wants both of them to lose their fucking minds.
He pounds into Kavinsky again, and he's thicker still, stretching Kavinsky to his limit as his rhythm turns irregular with each frantic slam of his hips. He lifts Kavinsky's ass from the bed a little, pulls him forward and closer so his head drops against the mattress, and he doubles over as he fucks harder, faster, bending forward over him until they're nose to nose. ]
Take care of you. Give you anything you want. All of it. Whatever you need. Always.
[ He locks his jaw against Kavinsky's neck, the points of his canine teeth brushing dangerously close to his windpipe. He doesn't bite down, doesn't make this something he can't take back - but he bites with enough pressure to leave a mark, Kavinsky's skin now imprinted for a few days with the decidedly wolf-like impressions Derek left there. The growl from the barrel of his chest, deep and possessive and protective, makes his declaration of ownership clear even without the hiss of his voice escaping through his teeth. ]
Mine, Joseph.
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Derek's hearing might be keen as ever, but Kavinsky can barely hear himself think over his own breathing and the obscene sound of skin against skin. He can hear Derek's voice even if holding on to what he's actually saying is harder. He cries out as the angle changes, as Derek fucks him franticly and he can fucking feel his cock swelling. The spike of excitement is insane and every thrust pushes him closer, makes that tension coil up in him, ready to snap.
He's dragged and bent and suddenly Derek is close again, nose to nose before teeth close on his throat. Kavinsky's hand flies up to grab Derek's hair, but he's not trying to pull him away. Just holding him where he is, trusting that he isn't actually going to rip his throat out. How far they've come.]
Derek--yes, fuck!
[Every slick drag of his cock makes him feel fucking dizzy and the stretch has him trying to arch his back like he can get closer, regardless of how pinned down he is.]
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And then he knots.
It's as insane a feeling as it always has been. Something grows at the base of his dick, catching on muscle as it tries desperately to push itself into Kavinsky, incapable of breaching him without a real show of force. The bed is creaking beneath them, desperately trying to hold itself together under the unstoppable strength and speed of just how hard Derek is fucking Kavinsky. He doesn't catch into Kavinsky's hole, doesn't fully tie him, but christ, he's trying.
He's slamming against Kavinsky's hole, his whole body shivering as his knot bangs insistently against Kav's entrance, and Derek lets out a groan of need and frustration when he just can't fucking make it fit. He bites Kavinsky's neck again, but it's more of a nip, this time, a show of almost childish, canine irritation that he doesn't know how else to express. He moves Kavinsky again - pulls him up even higher, lifts half his body off the fucking mattress, holding him by the small of his back like his weight is fucking nothing - but no matter how hard he rams against Kavinsky, no matter how much he slams the top of Kavinsky's skull against the headboard, no matter how much he sweats and grunts and plows into Kavinsky with drool pooling at the corners of his mouth and teeth looking ever sharper and more dangerous, it just-- ]
Too-- too fucking tight.
[ He could make it work. He could really, really make it work, if Kavinsky let him, but even as his eyes burn red, even as it's hard to think about anything other than this-- this impulse, this need to breed and mark and claim, knock Kavinsky up, keep him as his own, tie him up and never let him leave, his, mine-- he knows he doesn't want to hurt him. He's hurting himself, just by not knotting Kavinsky. His knot's fucking insanely sensitive, and depriving himself of that perfect, perfect heat, it's almost enough to make him cry. He hisses out what he says next like he's torn between being angry and being apologetic. ]
Don't want to hurt you.
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Hang on, [he gasps out. Asking Derek to stop isn't on his mind but he wants this, he wants to make it work if he can.] Hang on, slow down a little.
[Yeah he knows he's asking a lot here. Kavinsky lets go of Derek's hair so he can grab the lube he's got on the table next to the bed. He trusts Derek not to give him a concussion as he gets it open and gets his fingers slick. He reaches down, trembling just a little as he feels the knot. He gets it wet, figuring a little more lube won't hurt, but he doesn't stop there.
His fingers rub against his stretched hole, and it takes him a minute, but he manages to get both of them in alongside Derek's cock. Taking the knot is still going to be a fucking effort, but he's trying.
Kavinsky's other hand slides back into Derek's hair and he pulls him down until their foreheads touch.]
It's gonna happen, okay? Just--just give me a second. You're not gonna hurt me.
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He doesn't make it easy for Kavinsky to stretch himself out a little more, but it's not intentional. He just can't help but grit his teeth, bite down on the insides of his cheeks and buck his hips forward in unbidden spasms and reactionary pumps. Derek's alternating between growling, all dark and canine and intimidating, and begging Kavinsky for him to help him, for him to figure this out. He's whispering Kavinsky's name, Joey, over and over and over again, pleading and pleasured and overwhelmed with need. He says Kavinsky's name like he trusts him to make this as good as it can be. Like the trusts him at all.
He grinds against Kavinsky's fingers, trying to push in deep, blind and animal. When Kavinsky takes his hand away, it's just enough leverage for Derek to really, really, really push - he drops his entire body weight down onto Joey, moving his hands to slide underneath his back and pull him into a tight bear hug of an embrace. He's trying as hard as he can to calm down, to go slow if that's what Joey needs, but keeping Kavinsky still beneath him and using the force of his lower body to just move seems to be working. Derek's hot like he's run a marathon, his skin radiating with heat, as he just presses, feet anchored on the mattress for balance, fingers drawing fresh white lines down Kavinsky's spine -
One staggered, lucky thrust, and Derek's-- in. He knots Kavinsky entirely, ties to him and keeps him there and just fucking throbs in him, filling and hot and wet and alive. Derek's just-- out of it, moaning against Kavinsky's throat and ear and jawline between peppered kisses and accidental scratches of his teeth, and christ, if this doesn't sound like he's feeling the best he's ever felt. Derek's thighs squeeze Kavinsky, keeps him close, every breath he takes making Kavinsky's cock grind against his abs, flexed and as rock hard as the rest of him. Derek's not thinking, he's just-- touching, staying close, barely holding back the urge to shoot. He can feel it, though. He's not going to last - his balls are aching, his stomach's doing flips. ]
G-Gonna-- fucking--
[ He wants them to come at the same time. Wants Kavinsky to blow alongside him. His voice is weak and staggered from the effort of flexing his dick and struggling to tighten up against the overwhelming, rising need to breed, but he wants them to both fucking lose their minds together. Wants this moment to be theirs forever. ]
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