[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. ]
[Derek isn't making this easy, but Kavinsky doesn't hate it. He lays back as Derek covers him. He's too warm and sweating, and it's--it's kind of satisfying, in a weird way, to realize Derek is kind of letting him take over even if he's still pinned down. He's not just passively letting this happen, he's trying to facilitate it.
He pulls his fingers out as Derek's weight drops onto him, strong arms wrapped around him to keep him right where he is and--fuck.
A sharp sound, almost a moan, tears from his throat as Derek's knot sinks in. Holy shit. Kavinsky wraps his arms around Derek's shoulders and neck, just holding onto him as he kisses and bites and whispers his name like that. Every grinding thrust makes his cock rub up against Derek's stomach and the friction is making him fucking dizzy.
Kavinsky gets a hand between then to stroke himself. He doesn't need much. Derek's cock is filling him and he can feel his thick knot dragging against him with every tiny movement. He tries to murmur encouragement, wants to feel Derek come when he does. He's breathless and dazed as his body gets tighter around Derek, tensing beneath him as that building feeling finally snaps loose. He feels like he whites out for a few seconds when his orgasm hits.]
[ Derek's knot is practically splitting Kavinsky in two, and it only seems to get worse when he comes. When Kavinsky tenses around him, Derek's response is a strangled, immediate moan, a shiver running down his entire body as he chokes out something hard and heavy and insanely overwhelmed. Nothing-- nothing feels better than that, the tight grip of Kavinsky's body as he blows beneath him, and Derek can't think straight as he tries to fuck deeper, further inside of him, even after having bottomed out and tied the two of them together. ]
F-Fuck.
[ Derek's weight presses down into Kavinsky, his tongue searches his out, his claws leave scratches in his hips and his shoulders as he tries to find some way to grip him as tight as Kavinsky's gripping him. When Derek comes, he shoots these hard, forceful jets of cum that paint him white and just don't seem to stop - he shoots and he shoots and he shoots, Derek's breath coming in savage, rough waves while he grips and claws and holds and watches Kavinsky's fucking face, and the thick, massive size of his knot keeps him plugged, keeps it in, keeps Kavinsky bred. Derek's this force of nature, moaning loud enough to wreck his throat, make it raw, and when the world stops spinning--
He's still hard. Still impossibly, massively hard, even as his heartbeat starts to slow, the sweat on him starts to feel cooler, his breath comes in easier takes. Derek laughs, though it sounds more like panting, reaching his hand up to smooth his own hair back from his forehead. They'll -- be like this for a while, with Derek plugging Kavinsky, keeping him streteched, keeping him connected while the load in him stays white-hot, makes him full. Derek leans down again, taking another kiss. ]
Always so good with you. Every time, no matter what.
[They try to devour each other even if they can't breathe. Kavinsky is dizzy with it, with the feel of Derek's tongue in his mouth and the claws digging at his hips and shoulders like Derek is going to hook into him completely. He grabs at Derek's hair and his blunt nails drag over his back.
As that tension passes, he slumps back, panting and losing strength in his arms as that heavy, warm feeling starts setting in. He can feel how much Derek is coming and he's vaguely aware he's going to be a mess whenever they're able to separate.]
Holy shit, [he breathes, voice raw and wrecked. His hand drops from Derek's hair, landing hard on the bed. Kavinsky cracks a grin when he hears that laugh, even if it's almost lost under how hard they're both breathing. He feels so fucking full but it's good. It's really good.
He makes the mistake of moving his hips a little and he groans, either from the way the scratch marks sting or the way the knot feels. Locked together. A year ago, two years, he might've panicked. Right now? He feels great. Full as fuck, but... steady. Stable? He's not going to think about that too hard.
Kavinsky's other hand slides off Derek's shoulder and down over his chest, pressing against where his heart is pounding away. Maybe not as fast as it was before. Then they're kissing and he leans into it as much as he can, holds to it until he has to drop back again to breathe. Dark eyes finally focus on Derek's face again and that grin softens into something else. Something fucking affectionate.]
Damn fucking right it is, [he mumbles, voice slurring just a little as he gets the words together. His hand runs over Derek's side in a slow, lazy caress.]
[ It's rare for Derek to feel sapped of his strength, but this - this is what takes him out. He's exhausted, looking, for maybe the first time, completely spent after having sex with Kavinsky. He's still kind of laughing, this shy, proud, highschool jock kind of laugh like he's immaturely stoked with himself for being able to make Kavinsky come like that. Underneath all the anger and the power and the control and the grief, Derek's still the kid he was when life fucked him up and stunted his growth - the popular boy in school who just wanted to fuck and play basketball and make everyone proud of him. Golden boy of Beacon Hills. ]
Gonna have to stay with me for a while.
[ Derek's voice is uncharacteristically slurred, tired as he is, and he tries to shift as best as he can. Kavinsky can feel it - they stay connected as Derek drops down and tries to lay with Kavinsky, doing his best to keep his weight on the bed but still on top of him enough to feel a little smothering. It's not the best position to be stuck in for a few hours, maybe, but that's Derek's fault. Got too into the moment to fuck Kavinsky from behind and knot him in a position he could fall asleep in. ]
If that's cool. It'll, uh -
[ It'll go down soon, he tries to say, but Kavinsky moves a little when he brushes his side, and it makes that slick, warm hole of his squeeze down against his knot. Derek grunts, surprised and overwhelmed, bucking his hips forward without thinking, his entire body shaking. He's-- extremely, extremely sensitive, and if Kavinsky isn't careful, Derek's gonna end up coming again. He takes a breath once he wills himself to calm down, then laughs like he doesn't even fully believe how good he still feels, and he rests his forehead against Kavinsky's shoulder. Fuck. ]
[He at least knows how this part works. They'd gotten a little ahead of themselves and it hadn't even occurred to Kavinsky to try to roll over, and now they're stuck. It's fine, though. He's not going to get smothered like this. Probably.
Then Derek jerks his hips like that and Kavinsky groans sharply, hand tightening against Derek's ribs until he calms down again. He closes his eyes for a few seconds and lifts his other hand to stroke it through Derek's hair, rubbing absently as the other man's forehead hits his shoulder. There's something weirdly satisfying about this. Something kind of... grounding. He's stuck here and he feels good and so does Derek and everything is fine.
Kavinsky turns his head and bumps a kiss to Derek's temple.]
How about you warn me, huh? [He sounds more amused than anything, though, that smile still in his voice. Shit. He feels... not quite worn out, but definitely like he's been knocked flat for a while. And if Derek ends up coming again? He'll live. Maybe when he's recovered enough he'll be a brat about it... or maybe sooner. Kavinsky draws a leg up until his thigh and knee can press against Derek's side. It's not a lot of movement, but it's definitely enough to make him aware of that fucking knot.]
Jesus, [he sighs, fingers going tight for just a second, giving Derek's hair a gentle pull.]
[ How about you warn me, Kavinsky says, and Derek makes this dumb, affectionate little moan of protest as if he's saying that somehow slamming a massive fucking dog dick into his hole wasn't his fault. He closes his eyes like he's annoyed by the kiss, but that's just Derek; from the way his breathing slows and the way he looks more and more comfortable and safe, it's obvious that it meant something to him.
And then Kavinsky moves, pressing his thigh to his side - ]
A-ah.
[ Derek's moan is strangled and sudden, like it's surprising even him to make. His eyes snap open, already watering, face getting red. It was an easy, insignificant movement, but it was enough to really fuck with Derek. His dick throbs, knot seeming to swell even more, the slick feeling of his own cum making it harder not to want this again. He's too exhausted, though - he can barely move. ]
J... Joey.
[ Derek's voice is strained and maybe even, for the first time, submissive. For some reason, even though they've knotted like this before, Kavinsky's probably never had this much control over Derek; he's breathing hard again, lips apart, just feeling so fucking good, all because of the boy beneath him. There's something pleading in his voice, but he doesn't know if he wants Kavinsky to stay still or keep moving. Brain's too scrambled. ]
[It's definitely never been like this before. Kavinsky's pretty sure the last time it happened they both just kind of passed out: him face-down and Derek on top of him. Face to face like this, and feeling pretty lucid, he can see the shift in the dynamic as much as he can feel it.
He rubs his fingers down the back of Derek's neck and he pulls him into another kiss, softer this time.]
Okay, [he murmurs. It's intense to feel stuck like this and to know he might be affecting Derek this much and that he might still have a little bit of power even pinned down. Kavinsky doesn't expect the little thrill he gets from the way Derek's voice sounds right now. He kisses Derek again.]
You want it again or you want me to stop? [Yeah he realizes he might be asking a little much here but he tries anyway. Maybe if he can get Derek to talk a little more he can figure it out. His dick is obviously ready to keep going and it's obvious the way Derek's breathing has picked up again. And K's pretty sure that's euphoria on his face.
Another kiss and a lazy bite on Derek's bottom lip.]
[ Derek tries to think, but his head is this blurry mix of a dozen different wants. The only real reactions he give, at first, come from Kavinsky kissing him; he returns each one with slow, grand effort, trying to taste Kavinsky's tongue with his own, pressing their foreheads together, staying close. He doesn't know to answer, just mumbles out what he can. ]
Just want you.
[ He rolls his hips forward, small and slow and gradual, but still enough to make him shiver again. Carefully, Derek reaches his hand up to rest his palm against Kavinsky's neck, running his thumb down his throat and up to his jawline. It's intimate and affectionate, just touching for the sake of touching, too out of it and too exhausted to know what else to do. ]
[He nudges his nose against Derek's as a warm, calloused hand slides over his neck.]
You're not too much. I'm okay. [He feels okay. Way better than okay. He grins a little and runs his hand over Derek's arm.] Lay down on me a little more. C'mon.
[He might not be quite as thick as Derek is but he's not a bean pole. He can handle more weight pushing him into the bed. Hell, he's fucking filled out a little more in his two years here. His hips shift and he's not even trying to fuck with Derek when he does it. His thigh tightens against Derek's side and he can't really help the little sound he makes. Fuck that knot is just--it's pressing against some good places.]
Easy, okay? [Kavinsky kisses Derek's hair, trying to calm the hell down.] You can grind on me if you want. Just--mm.
[That slow roll of Derek's hips is kind of perfect, actually. Not frantic like earlier, just enough to get a little friction.]
[ No one fucks me like you gets to Derek just as much as the shift of Kavinsky's hips and the reactionary grip of his body. He makes quiet moans, drops his weight a little, pushes his hips forward, flexes his cock. He feels like he's being edged, but he feels like he's been drained of every drop of cum he's got - he feels like he's on fire, falling too deep into good feelings to do anything but hold onto Kavinsky and make these intermittent, subtle jerks of his hips that only bring him closer. Makes them closer. ]
That's what - that's what I want.
[ It's hard to know what he's referring to at first - Kavinsky told him to grind on him, and Derek punctuates these hard, breathless sentences with more subtle, eager flexes of his cock and gentle inward fucks, making his knot rub softly but persistently against Kavinsky's prostate, keeping him stretched, making him alive. He keeps talking, though, clarifies what he means. ]
Want to be the best. Worth remembering. Best you've had. The one that...
[ Derek's getting a bit of power back in his voice, more of that possessiveness, more of that dominance. He props himself up on his knee, as best as he can, and moves his hand down to Kavinsky's waist. When he holds his eye contact, he looks - sincere. Serious. He squeezes Kavinsky's side, makes him look at him. ]
Just want to be the best to you. Out of everyone. Your favorite person. Want you to only think of me when you're with other people. Want all your relationships with everyone else to just - matter less, than the one you have with me. I want...
[ He wants a lot of things. Selfish, demanding things, said in the heat of the moment, playing on all the shit Kavinsky makes him want to be. Alpha. ]
Fuck-- [Kavinsky breathes in sharply when Derek moves like that, subtle but still enough to send pleasant shocks through him. He's not sure if it's a victory when he feels his own cock stir, heat sinking through him as Derek gently fucks him with short, barely-there thrusts.
He's still pretty lucid, though, and he's catching everything Derek's saying as he rambles all that possessive shit. Kavinsky looks up as a hand squeezes his waist and he meets Derek's gaze. He doesn't even know what to do with all of that. In some ways it scares the hell out of him. He can't put all of that into one person again. He can't. And maybe in the end it's got fuck all to do with him.
Kavinsky gets his arm around Derek's shoulders, not wanting him to pull back too far. The worst part is Derek kind of has managed to get under his skin and stay there. He doesn't think he could excise him at this point if he wanted to. He doesn't know what to say, a little scared he'll say something he can't walk back, so he pulls Derek down into another kiss to smother himself.]
Don't stop, [he mumbles, like it's hard to get the words out as Derek grinds against him.]
[ Derek doesn't have the energy to fuck Kavinsky with the same rough, piledriving, animal force the two of them always connect with, and when he grips Kavinsky's cock, strokes the head of it with his palm to urge him back into full hardness, it's done soft and with attention and care. The fact that it's this quiet means that he can hear every breath Kavinsky takes, every sigh, he can watch him with a focus he doesn't have when he's pounding him into the mattress. He rocks his hips as best as he can, bumping the inside of Kavinsky with his knot, and he watches him as his hand moves in long, languid strokes. ]
Don't want anyone else to have you. Don't want anyone else to fuck you. Hate that I have to share you.
[ Kavinsky's pulled him back into a kiss, and Derek lets it happen, but he doesn't stop grinding or talking while he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip or sucks the tip of Kavinsky's tongue. His free hand finds Kavinsky's, and he weaves their fingers together, holding Kavinsky's hand against the sheets. ]
[That promise gets a shivering breath in response. Or maybe it's the way Derek starts stroking him, gentle and slow and all the things they rarely are with each other. Kavinsky can't help the way his body goes tense or shivers when Derek moves his hips, not oversensitive but just--really aware of the way his knot is moving, the minute slide of his cock and the come that's inside him and it's all just... a lot. But not in a bad way.
There's plenty to listen to. Quiet hitches in his breath, moans and sighs and maybe a little whine in there somewhere when Derek gets a real rhythm going with his hand. He isn't really quiet when the kiss, either, but neither is Derek. He keeps talking, keeps saying all that shit that just digs into him until he can't forget it.
His hand squeezes Derek's as its pinned to the bed, holding onto him and increasingly aware that this... he hasn't exactly had sex like this in a while. He manages a strained laugh.]
Hate sharing, [he admits. He doesn't know if it's the same as what Derek's talking about, but it's true. Kavinsky has never been great at it, maybe because he's an only child or because he lost so much that whatever he gets his hands on he can't let go. Not unless it's ripped from him.]
Shit--shit-- [His breathing gets faster, pulse pounding again as Derek works him back up. It doesn't take much and he doesn't know if that should be a point of pride or embarrassment at this point.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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He pulls his fingers out as Derek's weight drops onto him, strong arms wrapped around him to keep him right where he is and--fuck.
A sharp sound, almost a moan, tears from his throat as Derek's knot sinks in. Holy shit. Kavinsky wraps his arms around Derek's shoulders and neck, just holding onto him as he kisses and bites and whispers his name like that. Every grinding thrust makes his cock rub up against Derek's stomach and the friction is making him fucking dizzy.
Kavinsky gets a hand between then to stroke himself. He doesn't need much. Derek's cock is filling him and he can feel his thick knot dragging against him with every tiny movement. He tries to murmur encouragement, wants to feel Derek come when he does. He's breathless and dazed as his body gets tighter around Derek, tensing beneath him as that building feeling finally snaps loose. He feels like he whites out for a few seconds when his orgasm hits.]
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F-Fuck.
[ Derek's weight presses down into Kavinsky, his tongue searches his out, his claws leave scratches in his hips and his shoulders as he tries to find some way to grip him as tight as Kavinsky's gripping him. When Derek comes, he shoots these hard, forceful jets of cum that paint him white and just don't seem to stop - he shoots and he shoots and he shoots, Derek's breath coming in savage, rough waves while he grips and claws and holds and watches Kavinsky's fucking face, and the thick, massive size of his knot keeps him plugged, keeps it in, keeps Kavinsky bred. Derek's this force of nature, moaning loud enough to wreck his throat, make it raw, and when the world stops spinning--
He's still hard. Still impossibly, massively hard, even as his heartbeat starts to slow, the sweat on him starts to feel cooler, his breath comes in easier takes. Derek laughs, though it sounds more like panting, reaching his hand up to smooth his own hair back from his forehead. They'll -- be like this for a while, with Derek plugging Kavinsky, keeping him streteched, keeping him connected while the load in him stays white-hot, makes him full. Derek leans down again, taking another kiss. ]
Always so good with you. Every time, no matter what.
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As that tension passes, he slumps back, panting and losing strength in his arms as that heavy, warm feeling starts setting in. He can feel how much Derek is coming and he's vaguely aware he's going to be a mess whenever they're able to separate.]
Holy shit, [he breathes, voice raw and wrecked. His hand drops from Derek's hair, landing hard on the bed. Kavinsky cracks a grin when he hears that laugh, even if it's almost lost under how hard they're both breathing. He feels so fucking full but it's good. It's really good.
He makes the mistake of moving his hips a little and he groans, either from the way the scratch marks sting or the way the knot feels. Locked together. A year ago, two years, he might've panicked. Right now? He feels great. Full as fuck, but... steady. Stable? He's not going to think about that too hard.
Kavinsky's other hand slides off Derek's shoulder and down over his chest, pressing against where his heart is pounding away. Maybe not as fast as it was before. Then they're kissing and he leans into it as much as he can, holds to it until he has to drop back again to breathe. Dark eyes finally focus on Derek's face again and that grin softens into something else. Something fucking affectionate.]
Damn fucking right it is, [he mumbles, voice slurring just a little as he gets the words together. His hand runs over Derek's side in a slow, lazy caress.]
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Gonna have to stay with me for a while.
[ Derek's voice is uncharacteristically slurred, tired as he is, and he tries to shift as best as he can. Kavinsky can feel it - they stay connected as Derek drops down and tries to lay with Kavinsky, doing his best to keep his weight on the bed but still on top of him enough to feel a little smothering. It's not the best position to be stuck in for a few hours, maybe, but that's Derek's fault. Got too into the moment to fuck Kavinsky from behind and knot him in a position he could fall asleep in. ]
If that's cool. It'll, uh -
[ It'll go down soon, he tries to say, but Kavinsky moves a little when he brushes his side, and it makes that slick, warm hole of his squeeze down against his knot. Derek grunts, surprised and overwhelmed, bucking his hips forward without thinking, his entire body shaking. He's-- extremely, extremely sensitive, and if Kavinsky isn't careful, Derek's gonna end up coming again. He takes a breath once he wills himself to calm down, then laughs like he doesn't even fully believe how good he still feels, and he rests his forehead against Kavinsky's shoulder. Fuck. ]
Warn me if you're gonna move. Jesus.
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[He at least knows how this part works. They'd gotten a little ahead of themselves and it hadn't even occurred to Kavinsky to try to roll over, and now they're stuck. It's fine, though. He's not going to get smothered like this. Probably.
Then Derek jerks his hips like that and Kavinsky groans sharply, hand tightening against Derek's ribs until he calms down again. He closes his eyes for a few seconds and lifts his other hand to stroke it through Derek's hair, rubbing absently as the other man's forehead hits his shoulder. There's something weirdly satisfying about this. Something kind of... grounding. He's stuck here and he feels good and so does Derek and everything is fine.
Kavinsky turns his head and bumps a kiss to Derek's temple.]
How about you warn me, huh? [He sounds more amused than anything, though, that smile still in his voice. Shit. He feels... not quite worn out, but definitely like he's been knocked flat for a while. And if Derek ends up coming again? He'll live. Maybe when he's recovered enough he'll be a brat about it... or maybe sooner. Kavinsky draws a leg up until his thigh and knee can press against Derek's side. It's not a lot of movement, but it's definitely enough to make him aware of that fucking knot.]
Jesus, [he sighs, fingers going tight for just a second, giving Derek's hair a gentle pull.]
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And then Kavinsky moves, pressing his thigh to his side - ]
A-ah.
[ Derek's moan is strangled and sudden, like it's surprising even him to make. His eyes snap open, already watering, face getting red. It was an easy, insignificant movement, but it was enough to really fuck with Derek. His dick throbs, knot seeming to swell even more, the slick feeling of his own cum making it harder not to want this again. He's too exhausted, though - he can barely move. ]
J... Joey.
[ Derek's voice is strained and maybe even, for the first time, submissive. For some reason, even though they've knotted like this before, Kavinsky's probably never had this much control over Derek; he's breathing hard again, lips apart, just feeling so fucking good, all because of the boy beneath him. There's something pleading in his voice, but he doesn't know if he wants Kavinsky to stay still or keep moving. Brain's too scrambled. ]
Nn. Joey.
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He rubs his fingers down the back of Derek's neck and he pulls him into another kiss, softer this time.]
Okay, [he murmurs. It's intense to feel stuck like this and to know he might be affecting Derek this much and that he might still have a little bit of power even pinned down. Kavinsky doesn't expect the little thrill he gets from the way Derek's voice sounds right now. He kisses Derek again.]
You want it again or you want me to stop? [Yeah he realizes he might be asking a little much here but he tries anyway. Maybe if he can get Derek to talk a little more he can figure it out. His dick is obviously ready to keep going and it's obvious the way Derek's breathing has picked up again. And K's pretty sure that's euphoria on his face.
Another kiss and a lazy bite on Derek's bottom lip.]
You feel really good.
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Just want you.
[ He rolls his hips forward, small and slow and gradual, but still enough to make him shiver again. Carefully, Derek reaches his hand up to rest his palm against Kavinsky's neck, running his thumb down his throat and up to his jawline. It's intimate and affectionate, just touching for the sake of touching, too out of it and too exhausted to know what else to do. ]
Don't want to be too much.
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You're not too much. I'm okay. [He feels okay. Way better than okay. He grins a little and runs his hand over Derek's arm.] Lay down on me a little more. C'mon.
[He might not be quite as thick as Derek is but he's not a bean pole. He can handle more weight pushing him into the bed. Hell, he's fucking filled out a little more in his two years here. His hips shift and he's not even trying to fuck with Derek when he does it. His thigh tightens against Derek's side and he can't really help the little sound he makes. Fuck that knot is just--it's pressing against some good places.]
Easy, okay? [Kavinsky kisses Derek's hair, trying to calm the hell down.] You can grind on me if you want. Just--mm.
[That slow roll of Derek's hips is kind of perfect, actually. Not frantic like earlier, just enough to get a little friction.]
Fuck, sweetheart. No one fucks me like you.
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That's what - that's what I want.
[ It's hard to know what he's referring to at first - Kavinsky told him to grind on him, and Derek punctuates these hard, breathless sentences with more subtle, eager flexes of his cock and gentle inward fucks, making his knot rub softly but persistently against Kavinsky's prostate, keeping him stretched, making him alive. He keeps talking, though, clarifies what he means. ]
Want to be the best. Worth remembering. Best you've had. The one that...
[ Derek's getting a bit of power back in his voice, more of that possessiveness, more of that dominance. He props himself up on his knee, as best as he can, and moves his hand down to Kavinsky's waist. When he holds his eye contact, he looks - sincere. Serious. He squeezes Kavinsky's side, makes him look at him. ]
Just want to be the best to you. Out of everyone. Your favorite person. Want you to only think of me when you're with other people. Want all your relationships with everyone else to just - matter less, than the one you have with me. I want...
[ He wants a lot of things. Selfish, demanding things, said in the heat of the moment, playing on all the shit Kavinsky makes him want to be. Alpha. ]
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He's still pretty lucid, though, and he's catching everything Derek's saying as he rambles all that possessive shit. Kavinsky looks up as a hand squeezes his waist and he meets Derek's gaze. He doesn't even know what to do with all of that. In some ways it scares the hell out of him. He can't put all of that into one person again. He can't. And maybe in the end it's got fuck all to do with him.
Kavinsky gets his arm around Derek's shoulders, not wanting him to pull back too far. The worst part is Derek kind of has managed to get under his skin and stay there. He doesn't think he could excise him at this point if he wanted to. He doesn't know what to say, a little scared he'll say something he can't walk back, so he pulls Derek down into another kiss to smother himself.]
Don't stop, [he mumbles, like it's hard to get the words out as Derek grinds against him.]
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[ Derek doesn't have the energy to fuck Kavinsky with the same rough, piledriving, animal force the two of them always connect with, and when he grips Kavinsky's cock, strokes the head of it with his palm to urge him back into full hardness, it's done soft and with attention and care. The fact that it's this quiet means that he can hear every breath Kavinsky takes, every sigh, he can watch him with a focus he doesn't have when he's pounding him into the mattress. He rocks his hips as best as he can, bumping the inside of Kavinsky with his knot, and he watches him as his hand moves in long, languid strokes. ]
Don't want anyone else to have you. Don't want anyone else to fuck you. Hate that I have to share you.
[ Kavinsky's pulled him back into a kiss, and Derek lets it happen, but he doesn't stop grinding or talking while he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip or sucks the tip of Kavinsky's tongue. His free hand finds Kavinsky's, and he weaves their fingers together, holding Kavinsky's hand against the sheets. ]
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There's plenty to listen to. Quiet hitches in his breath, moans and sighs and maybe a little whine in there somewhere when Derek gets a real rhythm going with his hand. He isn't really quiet when the kiss, either, but neither is Derek. He keeps talking, keeps saying all that shit that just digs into him until he can't forget it.
His hand squeezes Derek's as its pinned to the bed, holding onto him and increasingly aware that this... he hasn't exactly had sex like this in a while. He manages a strained laugh.]
Hate sharing, [he admits. He doesn't know if it's the same as what Derek's talking about, but it's true. Kavinsky has never been great at it, maybe because he's an only child or because he lost so much that whatever he gets his hands on he can't let go. Not unless it's ripped from him.]
Shit--shit-- [His breathing gets faster, pulse pounding again as Derek works him back up. It doesn't take much and he doesn't know if that should be a point of pride or embarrassment at this point.]
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