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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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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.

Kavinsky's hand slips around his throat and Jack shivers but he also finds that he's not panicking. He swallows and feels the press of Kavinsky's fingers.

"Just don't choke me out."

"Tap if it's too much," Kavinsky says, the last bit of soft he wants to give right now. Then, he squeezed just a moment over Jack's throat, sliding his hand down to the very base so that he was pressing his palm to Jack's collarbone. He kept fucking into him, rough, deep thrusts. He wasn't going to last long like this.

"Don't bruise me," says Jack, his voice a little tighter. There's a conversation that he doesn't want to have to have with Poison. "Jesus, fuck. Harder."

Kavinsky slapped Jack's ass, keeping his hand still on his throat. It was more stability than anything else, a promise, a discipline that was different than having a hand in his hair.

"I'll fuck you however I want," he hissed, and then slapped him again, as hard as he could when he was buried in him.

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