[ 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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[ 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.]
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.]