(no subject)

[rockabillyboy]

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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[rockabillyboy]

Jack is well trained, though, and he holds the position that he's been put in, his fingers folded together, his cheek pressed against the sheet. He knows what he looks like, what a pretty picture he makes. He's seen the photographic evidence. He can feel himself slipping into that slightly spaced out, quiet place he gets.

He wants it so badly.

[mitsubishievo]

Finally, Kavinsky supposed that Jack had waited enough.

The flail made a soft woosh through the air as Kavinsky swung it. The leather slapped Jack's skin with a muted whack. Kavinsky didn't let the leather stay on Jack's skin; he followed through and pulled the flail away from his skin immediately, so all he had was the dull sting of it for a moment.

"What do you say?"

[rockabillyboy]

The impact of the flogger isn't so bad, a heat more than anything else, and Jack lets his breath out in a long, low sigh.

"Thank you, Sir."

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky settled in from there. The slap of the flogger was unpredictable, intermittent, but always with a follow through that meant the leather didn't linger on Jack's skin, that he got only the increasing strength of the strikes and the lingering heat afterward.

Kavinsky watched himself, watch Jack, for signs of pain or discomfort, for the flail becoming too much. A couple times he reversed direction, slapping the flail up between Jack's thighs more gently than he brought it down against his ass.

[rockabillyboy]

The strikes between his thighs are good, get him hot, but he finds himself wishing that everything hurt a little bit more. He needs that edge.

He thanks Kavinsky for every blow in a soft, breathy voice.

[mitsubishievo]

Jack's ass was red, pleasantly glowing, and Kavinsky could read the shifting need under his skin, the craving for more. Kavinsky softened the next couple blows across Jack's ass. But the next one he brought up between his thighs, over his cock and balls, was deliberately hard, the leather of the flail whistling before it struck him with a snap.

[rockabillyboy]

That was exactly what he needs right now, what he craves, and he's not sure that this kind of treatment, this kind of pain, is something he can go to Poison for. There's something at the heart of him that curls up guiltily at the thought of it.

His breath leaves in a soft sigh, almost a whimper.

"Thank you, Sir," he mumbles, cock twitching in thin air.

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky gave it a moment, a breath of anticipation, judging himself and that curl in Jack's shoulders that bowed him toward his middle for just a moment.

He swung the flail again, snapping the leather against Jack's crotch. Again. Again. They were close enough together now that there was no time for Jack to breathe out his thanks.

[rockabillyboy]

He can't even catch his breath, pain and pleasure breaking over him like waves, his hips squirming into the slap of the flail, everything stinging and aching and throbbing and its exactly what he needs just then.

"Fuck," he manages to get out, more moan than word. "Fuck. Amber, Kav. P-please."

It's not a stop, not a hard stop. He just needs a moment.

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky stopped as soon as Jack said it. He dropped the flogger onto the bed and ran his fingers gently, teasingly, over Jack's hot skin. He was pink and red, welted in places, and his cock looked good how it hung between his thighs.

He spread Jack's ass slowly and spat on his hole, but he didn't do more than that until Jack said he could.

[rockabillyboy]

It takes Jack a moment to settle, squirming and hurting and breathlessly, achingly turned on. He groans softly and manages to keep his hips up through sheer force of will.

"Green," he says, his voice quiet. He waits.

[mitsubishievo]

"That's right, baby," Kavinsky purred. His hands moved instantly, thumbs smoothing until they could tease at Jack's already stretching hole. He tugged and pressed gently until Jack was lewdly open, and then he spat again.

"Did good for such a slut," he murmured. "I think you have had earned sucking my cock. Put your fingers back in your ass. You haven't earned a plug yet."

[rockabillyboy]

Jack squirms at the press of Kavinky's thumbs into his asshole, putting him lewdly on display for a moment. He reaches back blindly with one hand, pressing three fingers into his ass, fucking himself with them. He's only barely slick enough. It feels so good.

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky laughed, charmed by the easy desperation of Jack's movements. He slapped his ass, just once, and then moved up toward jack's head.

Kneeling beside him, he peeled his jeans down, revealing the panties underneath, barely holding in his cock now as he got hard. He pushed his jeans down almost to his knees, and rubbed at his cock slightly as he looked at Jack.

[rockabillyboy]

The slap makes Jack's breath catch and he squirms, dipping low enough that his dick almost touches the sheets. He bites his lip with his teeth and then shuffles forward, his weight caught on one arm, nose and lips brushing the straining line of Kavinsky's cock through his panties.

[mitsubishievo]

"You like those?" Kavinsky asked as Jack got right up against him. He moved a hand, gripping Jack by the back of the neck and holding him down against his crotch for a moment. "You like looking at my cock straining these panties?"

He peeled them to the side, letting his cock out. "Maybe we should put you in 'em later. See how that red little ass looks with these panties on."

[rockabillyboy]

"Yes, Sir," says Jack, agreeing that he likes the panties, that Kavinsky can put him in them, whatever he wants. That's something that he and Poison have never actually done. It'd be something new. Jack groans softly, mouthing filthily against the shaft of Kavinsky's cock.

On 28 December 2016 at 08:24, mitsubishievo - DW Comment < dw_null@dreamwidth.org> wrote:

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky let Jack play and mouth at him for a moment, watching the vaguely rapturous look on his face. Finally, he shifted his fingers to fist in Jack's hair, pulling him into the position he wanted.

"Open your fucking mouth," he growled down at him. "Making me do all the work around here, lazy slut. Open."

[rockabillyboy]

On command, Jack opens his mouth as wide as he can make it and then slides it down onto Kavinsky's cock without waiting for further instruction, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks.

[mitsubishievo]

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."

[rockabillyboy]

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.

[mitsubishievo]

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."

[rockabillyboy]

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.

[mitsubishievo]

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."

[rockabillyboy]

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.