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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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He's still getting used to the fact that this is allowed, no part of it illicit, everything they do permitted. He's getting used to the differences, the way Poison feels different to Kavinsky, the differences between their cocks, the ways that they react to pleasure. He bends his head hair slipping across his forehead as he brushes his lips against the shaft of Kavinsky's cock.

"Fuck," Kavinsky breathed. He tucked his fingers under his head, rather than drag Jack around. They both knew that Jack would like that and, hell, Kavinsky would like it too. But he was supposed to be being good. He had not slipped all the way from the role Jack wanted him in, some slutty boy he'd picked up and taken somewhere private. Isn't that what he was?

Just as softly, he said, "Don't tease. Please, Jack."

Jack hadn't been intending to, if he's honest, and he parts his lips, sliding his mouth down over the first few inches of Kavinsky's cock, his cheeks hollowing as he starts to suck. One hand slides up Kavinsky's belly, teasing his nipple with the edge of a thumbnail.

Kavinsky breathed out, gustily and wanting, a little shaky. Jack's mouth was a perfect wet heat, a wonderful mess of attention, and his hands felt sure and heavy on Kavinsky's skin. He squirmed, a little, pressing more toward that touch, shuddering breath in and out as he tried to keep from flying apart.

"'m I allowed to come from this?" It seemed important to ask right now, before he made an ass of himself.

"Yeah," says Jack, breathily, his hand sliding over spit slick skin before he ducks his head again, licking the head of Kavinsky's cock like a lollipop. "In my mouth. On my face. What do you want?"

Kavinsky huffed, looking up at the ceiling silently for a moment, trying to compose himself. He could feel the slow, tightening wind in his stomach, and he didn't want that yet. He just wanted to hold on.

"In your mouth," he groaned. His hips hitched up toward Jack. "God, c'mon. Please."

Jack smiles at the lift of Kavinsky's hips, the hint of desperation. He ducks his head and slips his mouth down over Kavinsky's cock, taking him all the way down, as deep as he can. He squeezes Kavinsky's hip, encouraging.

Kavinsky groaned--more whined then anything--as Jack slipped down on him again. He gripped the underside of the pillow he had his hands tucked under now, focusing instead on just his hips, on letting Jack lead the pace of this with his bobbing mouth and his gripping fingers.

"Shit," he breathed, eyes slipping closed. He was so close already. "Shit, Jack..."

They haven't been doing this for very long but Jack loves the way that Kavinsky sounds when he's starting to come undone like that. He moans in encouragement, bobbing his head faster, keeping up the pace.

Kavinsky finally couldn't quite hold back any more. He slipped a hand out from under the pillow and touched Jack's hair, sighing a bit, gripping tight but not holding or tugging--he wanted Jack to keep moving like that, keep sucking, keep bobbing his head as he--

"Fuck." His hips jerked up as he came, the groaned, sobbed word the only warning he could manage.

Jack's had enough practise at that over the last six months that he doesn't need warning - he manages to swallow smoothly, bobbing his head until Kavinsky's dick starts to soften and Jack's sure he's spent.

Kavinsky slumped back in the pillows a bit, trying to steady his breathing. It only worked so far, before he was laughing softly. He ruffled his fingers in Jack's hair as he finally pulled off.

"Thanks, baby," he murmured. And then, rather embarrassingly, he said, "You didn't have to do that."

"Did I ruin the game?" Says Jack, blushing a little. He's still grinning. "I just really wanted to go down on you, man."

"No, that's not--"

He grabbed Jack under the arms and hauled him up, kissing him. He could taste himself on Jack's mouth, and he groaned a little. His arms wound around Jack's shoulders, holding him close.

"I ain't complainin', baby."

"Couldn't help myself," says Jack, his face flushing as he rocks closer, dropping kisses along the side of Kavinsky's neck.

"I ain't complainin'," Kavinsky assured again. He tilted his head back and wrapped his arms around Jack's shoulders. The roll and rock of their hips against each other, even just that little bit, was overwhelming and spectacular. He ran his nails against Jack's nape. "Please say you're still gonna fuck me at some point, yeah?"

"I am absolutely going to fuck you," promises Jack. "And I'm totally going to stick my tongue in your ass.I am all about my own enjoyment this evening."

Kavinsky breathed out a bit of a laugh. He kept his fingers on Jack's nape for a moment. There were words, heavy and waiting, on his tongue and he couldn't say them. He let them live in his chest, in the back of his throat, and when he spoke, it was a soft, rapturous, "That sounds real good, baby. Whatever you want."

"You," says Jack and, right then, he means it utterly because, right them, it's just the two of them and nothing exists out of his room. "You're what I want."

Kavinsky closed his eyes and breathed through a wave of swooping, reeling feelings in his chest. He slatted his legs apart easily, inviting Jack even closer than he was, and hugged his knees against his sides. He kept his eyes closed for a long, trying minute, until he could make sure his eyes weren't too soft, too considering, too full of hope for something that he knew wasn't there.

When he looked again, it was through his eyelashes. He licked his lips. "Sounds good, baby. How d'you want me?"

Jack slips comfortably between Kavinsky's thighs, rocking down against him, taking a kiss. He tilts his head, looking down at him.

"Like this?" he asks, and it comes out as a question. "Just like this?"

Kavinsky shivered and closed his eyes again. He breathed and rolled his hips to meet Jack's on each gentle, coaxing rock. They were working themselves, each other, back up, and they were young enough that it wouldn't take too much time.

"Yeah," he breathed. The game was lost entirely on Kavinsky now. His chest was all full of heat and light, a hundred things to wide to fit in his ribcage. He breathed each one out on a sigh.

There's a lot to be said about this, about taking their time, about grinding against Kavinsky like this.

"I want to take my time with you."

"We've got time," Kavinsky assured. He'd need to check in with Newt at some point, but not yet. He wasn't expected home anytime soon. He nudged his knees gently at Jack's sides and just thought about this: the splash of colorful ink on Jack's skin, the weight and warmth of his body, the softness of their raspy breathing.

"I'm whatever you need me to be, tonight, baby."

"I need you right here," says Jack, kissing down Kavinsky's neck again, his cock getting harder with every shift against Kavinsky's body. "I need to fuck you until you can't even remember your name."