[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.]
[ Derek comes first. There's no real fanfare with it, this time - he's grinding against Kavinsky like he has been until suddenly his hand stops moving and he freezes mid-kiss. His breath hitches, and the moan he makes is this overwhelmed, choking sob, head pitching forward as he scrunches his eyes tight. He breathes through his open mouth against Kavinsky's lips, nose to nose, and feels lightheaded as his knot pulsates and stretches Kavinsky out even further as another full, massive load shoots deep into him, breeding him again, still plugged in place with the last. Derek sounds weak, sounds like he's going to faint, but he keeps rocking his hips forward through the sensitivity, still sweating, still going. ]
Love seeing you like this.
[ A quiet, breathless confession, but it's all he's got. He's jacking Kavinsky off again, a little faster, now, picking up the pace in a way that's still gentle and attentive and unforced. He smears pre over the sensitive nerves with the pad of his thumb, and he squeezes Kavinsky's hand in his a little tighter. He just keeps rocking forward, even as his voice lets out these strangled, needy sounds of overstimulation, trying to watch Kavinsky's expression with whatever lucidity he has left in him. ]
[He curses against Derek's mouth, this time it's not even in English. He can't really respond other than that with Derek stroking him like that, focusing now that he's kind of scratched that itch. He's panting again, swept up in that building feeling.
It doesn't hit him quite as hard as the first one did, but it's not exactly subtle either. Kavinsky digs his blunt nails against the back of Derek's hand, clutching him as his body goes tight. He kind of curls forward as he comes, running into Derek as he spills over his hand, adding to the mess that's already on his stomach. His legs get tense against Derek's sides and Kavinsky tries not to fucking move too much as that pleasure rolls through him.
He drops back against the bed again and tries to keep his ass pushed up against Derek's hips even as the other man grinds against him with this little movements.]
Holy shit, [he breathes. If he has to, he reaches down to stop Derek's hand moving on his cock before he hits too much. Kavinsky stares at the ceiling for a second, not really focused on anything as little aftershocks flash across his nerves, dragged out of him every time Derek moves.
He feels more wrung out now, wonders if that's even fucking possible for Derek when he's like this. His free hand rubs over Derek's shoulder and down his arm, too weak just then to really grab onto him.]
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no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
Love seeing you like this.
[ A quiet, breathless confession, but it's all he's got. He's jacking Kavinsky off again, a little faster, now, picking up the pace in a way that's still gentle and attentive and unforced. He smears pre over the sensitive nerves with the pad of his thumb, and he squeezes Kavinsky's hand in his a little tighter. He just keeps rocking forward, even as his voice lets out these strangled, needy sounds of overstimulation, trying to watch Kavinsky's expression with whatever lucidity he has left in him. ]
no subject
It doesn't hit him quite as hard as the first one did, but it's not exactly subtle either. Kavinsky digs his blunt nails against the back of Derek's hand, clutching him as his body goes tight. He kind of curls forward as he comes, running into Derek as he spills over his hand, adding to the mess that's already on his stomach. His legs get tense against Derek's sides and Kavinsky tries not to fucking move too much as that pleasure rolls through him.
He drops back against the bed again and tries to keep his ass pushed up against Derek's hips even as the other man grinds against him with this little movements.]
Holy shit, [he breathes. If he has to, he reaches down to stop Derek's hand moving on his cock before he hits too much. Kavinsky stares at the ceiling for a second, not really focused on anything as little aftershocks flash across his nerves, dragged out of him every time Derek moves.
He feels more wrung out now, wonders if that's even fucking possible for Derek when he's like this. His free hand rubs over Derek's shoulder and down his arm, too weak just then to really grab onto him.]