rockabillyboy | (no subject)

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kavinsky

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Now that he's sure Jillie's going to be okay (Dee has been a freaking God-send), Jack feels like he's climbing out of his skin. He and Poison have basically been reduced to fucking in the shower or in the backseat of one of their cars and he finds himself in desperate need of a real work out. So he texts Kavinsky, asking for exactly what he needs, asking for something nasty and knowing that Kavinsky will understand.

A text with instructions arrives and Jack feels a little shiver of relief.

He lets himself into Kavinsky's apartment and, as instructed, strips off everything he's wearing at the door. He pads naked around the bedroom and then climbs up onto the big bed. He gets into the specified position, head down, ass up, and he starts to fuck himself slowly open with slick fingers. He's intensely, achingly aware that he didn't lock the door behind him.

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The quick reactivity of it was settling. Kavinsky kept his fingers fisted in Jack's hair, and he rocked his hips, slow at first, but unyielding, building in speed and ferocity until he was fucking Jack's mouth.

"That's it," he purred. "That's it, keep your fucking hips up while you suck it."

Jack stays as still as he can, contorted into the position that leaves him utterly on display, his thighs parted to frame cock and balls, his hips up and his head pressed down. He relaxes as much as he can as Kavinsky fucks his mouth, his throat. He focuses on just becoming a hole, an orifice for the time being.

Kavinsky kept his fingers fisted, but only as much as it took to drag Jack's head around. Mostly he moved his hips, felt the way that Jack eased himself and tried to relax, and still drooled a bit as Kavinsky worked at him.

"What a messy fuckin' slut," Kavinsky growled. He shifted one of his hands, and slapped Jack's cheek. "But c'mon, Jackie. You can do better than that."

Jack can, so he does. He starts to suck Kavinsky's cock in earnest, bobbing his head, his cheeks hollowing as he works Kavinsky's cock with lips and tongue. He moans softly, the sound muffled by the press against his tongue.

Jack went for a bit more, but that didn't stop Kavinsky moving his hips. He fucked into Jack's bobbing mouth, trying to get as deep as he possibly could. He knew it wasn't as deep as Poison could probably get, but he did his best to not think about that. He just rocked his hips and pressed Jack's head down.

"C'mon Jackie. All of it." He pressed a bit. "Stick your tongue out and lick my balls when you get down there."

Kavinsky's cock isn't as big as Poison's and Jack can take him with relative ease. He follows instructions, though, drooling a little as he sticks out his tongue and laps at Kavinsky's balls every chance he gets.

"Oh, fuck," Kavinsky breathed the first time Jack did it. He laughed softly, sliding his hand down along Jack's arm, leaning over him to touch his hole alongside Jack's fingers. "Look at you, desperate fuckin' slut. Do you want another spanking before I fuck you? I don't even know if you've earned a fucking. Maybe I'll just come on your face and send you home."

It's a little difficult for Jack to answer him right then, sucking and licking as he is. He moans though, hopes it makes it clear that he'll take whatever he can get.

Kavinsky slapped a hand across Jack's ass, grinning to himself. He'd probably let Jack finger himself too much to make that an ache in and of itself, but he was pretty pleased with the red glow and progressively more apparent purple bruises, the welts, on Jack's ass that he could feel.

He pulled his hips away from Jack's mouth, smeared his cock across his cheek.

"Get your fingers out of your ass."

Immediately, obediently, Jack pulls his fingers out of his ass and presses his palm flat against the bed, still rubbing his cheek against the soft skin of Kavinsky's dick.

Kavinsky pulled away from Jack. He slid down the bed, touched Jack as he went, felt all the shapes and angles of his body. When he settled behind him, kneeling as Jack knelt, he purred and ran his fingers heavily over the glowing bruises on Jack's ass.

He nudged the head of his cock in. Jack was stretched from his fingers, and Kavinsky's sock was wet from Jack's attention, so it was easy to just sink right into him.

Jack drops his head and arches his back as Kavinsky starts to push into his ass. He groans softly, squirming. His fingers fist in the sheets but he doesn't say a word.

"Louder," Kavinsky demanded. He reached a hand up and fisted his fingers into Jack's hair, grinding into him forcefully. "C'mon, slut, let me hear how much you fuckin' want this."

The pull in his hair is delicious, delightful. Jack groans louder, grinding back onto Kavinsky's cock in his ass.

"It's perfect," he says. "Its fucking perfect."

Kavinsky snapped his hips, settling quickly into a rough, quick pace. He kept his fingers into Jack's hair. This wasn't really about Jack's pleasure, at the moment; it was about using him. It was about Jack being a hole, and Kavinsky doing what he wanted.

He leaned down, mouth to Jack's ear. "Where we at, Jackie?" Kavinsky knew where the hard limits were, but he didn't want to make a new one.

"Green," says Jack, loving the arch of his back, the press of Kavinsky's dick into his ass, every place he's pulled and stretched. "Fucking hell, it's so fucking green. Don't stop."

Kavinsky shifted, nuzzling at Jack's shoulder for a moment. Then, he bit into the meat of it. He wasn't supposed to leave marks, so it was brief, but intent. A growl broke out of him. Then, he straightened his back, the only point of contact between him and Jack their thighs, and his fist in Jack's hair.

"Should probably," he grunted, "just keep that cock ring on you. You're nothin' but a fuckin' hole right now, right baby? You don't need to come. Just need to take it."

The bite is a sudden, sharp pain and Jack gasps, his back arching slightly. He squirms on Kavinsky's cock, his cheek pressed against the pillow for a moment.

"M'just a hole," he mumbles. "For you to do whatever you want to."

On 4 January 2017 at 17:27, mitsubishievo - DW Comment < dw_null@dreamwidth.org> wrote:

"That's right," Kavinsky said. He kept himself up, kept watching, kept looking at the ways Jack moved or didn't move to meet him. There were a lot of things that Kavinsky could do, he knew, to push things. Most of them would probably be right up against or over Jack's limits. Giving him a bite or two was one thing, but anything else was probably outside the bounds of even this.

"Keep talking. Say what all you're good for." Kavinsky slapped Jack's ass. "Everything isn't a fuckin' acceptable answer. Be creative. What are you good for, slut?"

"Fucking," says Jack, the word tripping off his tongue as he rocks his hip, rocking back onto Kavinsky's cock. "Sucking. Slapping around." He groans softly. "Humiliating."

Kavinsky slapped across Jack's ass, let him rock and move however he was going to but mostly kept his hips still. Every time Jack slowed a little bit, Kavinsky slapped him again.

"If you wanna get fucked, you better do it, baby. Better fuckin' ride on back like the nasty whore you are. I bet you're like something else in you, huh? Get you real fuckin' stretched out for me coming in your whore ass."

Jack picks up the speed and tempo of his hips, grinding back onto Kavinsky's cock, his head dropped down between his shoulders. His cock throbs and aches. It's perfect.

"God, yes please. Yes, Sir."

"Fuck," Kavinsky breathed, a thread of laughter working out of his chest as he started to move his hips in time with Jack rocking back on him. He let Jack lower his head, gripping his shoulder tightly. He wanted, badly, to push the limits.

He put a hand on the back of Jack's neck, squeezed there, his fingers close to the pulse in his neck.

"How much you gonna let me do, boy?"

Jack doesn't quite feel in his head at that moment, he's so turned on and lost in the mechanical shift of his hips, how badly he wants more. He twists so that he can look at Kavinsky over his shoulder.

"How much do you want?"

Kavinsky didn't say anything; he shifted his hand from the back of Jack's neck to the front of his throat, cupping without pressure but with the potential for promise. His hips kept moving. He watched Jack's face. He knew this was a hard limit, but Jack had come to him to be hurt, to be pushed, to be forced around.

He'd stop, if Jack said no.