mitsubishievo | (no subject)

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This was not a date. Kavinsky and Jack had agreed that they were not dating, and so this was not a date. It was this: Kavinsky worrying if he was coming on too strong with an outfit that was all tight jeans and loose shirt; Jack picking him up in his car; them laughing with the top down even though it was getting too cold for that; a club, and Kavinsky teasing Jack that he still needed to use a fake ID, and Jack teasing Kavinsky that one of his boys would need to use a fake ID for a whole extra year.

The club was noisy and dim and full of people. Kavinsky didn't think he'd really gone out in ages; he was normally working on weekends, when he would want to go out, and work and school occupied Newt, and Al, and Peter.

"Isn't it a school night?" he asked Jack, next to his ear so he didn't shout himself hoarse in the first ten minutes they were there. He gave Jack's arm a squeeze. "I'm gonna get a drink. What do you want?"

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Kavinsky sighed out, turned on more by the way Jack looked at him. He twisted his hand up at the head of his cock, stroking down his foreskin on the way back down. He felt red hot with arousal, desperate and tender in the chest. "You like it, baby?"

"I like how slutty and perfect you look right now," says Jack, his eyes roving, hungry. "I like how you're doing your best to be good."

Kavinsky let out a shivering breath. The reminder, half-unspoken, to be good reminded him that he wasn't supposed to talk unless he'd been told to. So he bit his lip and moved his hand a little more urgently. He watched Jack watch him, feeling filthy and admired. He twitched his hips up into the circle of his fist, progressively more desperate.

Jack waits until he judges that Kavinsky's pretty close to the edge and then he leans in a little.

"Now stop," he says. "Take your hand away."

Kavinsky let out a stuttering, desperate breath, but he did as he was told. He took his hand off his cock and braced it against his thigh, though all he really wanted so to reach out and grab Jack and kiss him. He bit his lip and sat there, cock out and hard, dripping precome down the shaft.

"What if I made you stop properly?" asks Jack, his head tilted. "What if I made you button up and get out of the car right now?"

Something in Kavinsky's chest ached for a second and he diverted his gaze for a moment to compose himself. Being overwhelmed with need maybe wasn't the best time to have that idea floated past him. It felt terribly like a rejection, and more importantly a mocking. He licked his lips, kept his hands still and his posture wholly accepting.

"'s your car," he breathed. He made a conscious effort of steeling his voice. "Told you you can do whatever you want with me."

Jack gives every sign of thinking it over for a moment. His eyes drift over Kavinsky's body, the lewd jut of his hard cock between rumpled clothes.

"You can come," he says, finally. "But make it quick."

Kavinsky didn't want to come like this. He wanted to come while he was spread out for Jack, while he was doing what Jack needed to get himself off. He closed his eyes briefly and wrapped his hand around his cock again. It wouldn't take much to get off. He just worried that Jack would hold onto that promise, and not let Kavinsky come again for the rest of the night.

"Come on," urges Jack, turning more firmly in his seat so that he can watch Kavinsky play with himself. "Be a good boy."

It was the urgency and command in come on rather than the praise that spiked pleasure into Kavinsky's chest. He shivered and fucked into his fist, his breathless noises taking on a bit more weight as he rushed, headlong, into his orgasm. He had the place of mind to cup his hand against the tip of his cock, so he wouldn't make a mess all over the upholstery of Jack's fancy retro sportscar.

Arousal flares through Jack as he watches Kavinsky come, as he watches it pass over his face like that. He swallows, closing his eyes for a moment, riding it out.

"Now clean up your mess."

Kavinsky was moving his hand up before Jack spoke, while his eyes were closed. So when Jack spoke, Kavinsky let out a little whimper as he sucked and licked at his fingers and palm. He made good time on cleaning himself up, and double checked his other hand. His cock was a mess, but there was nothing else he could really do about that.

Jack watches as Kavinsky licks every last spot of come off his skin. He shivers as a wave of arousal goes straight through him.

"Now put yourself away and get out of the car."

The threat hung in the air again--that Jack wouldn't let him come again, that he'd just leave him there--but Kavinsky's body moved automatically. He wished he could articulate the need for assurance, the briefest moment to solidify what this was and what was happening. Instead, the thought of it rattled around his head, and then he put it away. He put his clothes back together, smoothed everything out, and climbed out of the car.

Once they're both out of the car, Jack walks around, taking his time and then he leans against Kavinsky and takes a warm kiss, full of want and possession.

"You look beautiful when you come," he murmurs.

Kavinsky waited by the side of the car, and when Jack came around to him, and kissed him, the tension and anxiety lifted. That was the first hurdle, Kavinsky supposed. He could relax for a moment. He kissed Jack back, opening his mouth, sharing the taste of himself on his tongue.

"I don't look half bad getting fucked, either," Kavinsky promised. Then, speculatively. "Did you bring lube?"

"Yeah," says Jack, his bag slung on my shoulder. "I threw a couple of things in my bag this morning." He takes another kiss. "Shall we?"

On 7 October 2016 at 06:36, mitsubishievo - DW Comment < dw_null@dreamwidth.org> wrote:

Kavinsky nodded, pleased with that. He opened his mouth to the kiss, sighing a little, and cheekily slid a hand down between them so he could brush casually against Jack's crotch with the guise of adjusting himself.

"Let's go. We've got the whole night ahead of us."

"Damn right we do," says Jack, threading their fingers together and tugging Kavinsky away from the door towards the hotel. He's picked a relatively fancy hotel and he walks in like he belongs there.

Kavinsky was rather used to posh hotels. There weren't a lot of them in Henrietta, certainly, but he was known to treat himself when he traveled other places, because what was the point in not treating himself. Somehow, he was a little surprised that Darrow had a hotel of that standard--not quite a luxury place, but something suitably mid-tier.

He lingered at Jack's side, aware that Jack's going-out clothes were still more suiting to this place than Kavinsky's. He leaned in to Jack's ear as they stood at the front desk, Jack getting them a room, and whispered, "Looks like you picked me up for a good time, man."

"What?" says Jack, flashing Kavinsky a look, raised eyebrows and a smile twitching the corner of his mouth as he hands over his credit card. "You saying I didn't?"

Kavinsky grinned lazily, rolling his eyes. What a Goddamn line. And here he'd been trying to at least get a little bit of a fluster under Jack's skin. He leaned his back against the counter, stretching himself out into a series of long, sinuous lines. Bulking up in Darrow hadn't made him big, by any means, but he was certainly a far cry from the wiry, narrow-chested boy he'd been when he'd arrived.

He waited until the card had been run and Jack had gotten the key card and a receipt. "You know," he said. "I could have paid for that."

"Yeah, I know that," says Jack, rolling his eyes as he turns and heads towards the elevator. "But that's totally not the game we're playing here, is it?"

Kavinsky grinned cheekily. It was, actually, something he'd said to guys picking him up before that thought taking him to a fancy place would make the situation less reprehensible. But he didn't say that, because Jack didn't think this was reprehensible.

They got into the elevator, and Kavinsky leaned against the wall until Jack had put in for the floor and they started up. Then, he tucked his thumbs into the waist of his jeans and dragged them down slowly, grinning, watching Peter.

"Should I start out on my knees in here, baby?"