mitsubishievo | (no subject)

Newt is under no illusion that some of this is performative, and all of it is for him. Thorugh the opened door, he watches Kavinsky cleaning in the office, the smooth skin of his back, the stretch of sweats over his ass, the thin collar around his throat. A lazy heat builds under his skin as he works on accounts until, eventually, he can't stand it anymore.

"Can you come out here for a moment, love?"

Kavinsky nodded, and then called out his affirmative softly from the office before he padded out. He ruffled his fingers through his hair as he tracked down Newt in the house, which wasn't hard. He'd been sitting where he could easily spy on him working, and he was still sitting just there.

When he reached him, he leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss. "Hey sugar."

Newt lets his knees fall apart as he leans up to kiss Kavinsky, his fingers curling around the side of his neck.

"You're a shucking tease. And you know it."

Kavinsky leaned in for the kiss, sliding right into the space between Newt's legs as naturally as if he were made to fit there. He sank down onto his knees in the next moment, not really giving up the kiss. "Teases don't follow through, sugar."

He has to lean forward to keep the kiss going, but he does it easily, his fingers still curled against the side of Kavinsky's neck, holding him to it.

"So it's not teasing when you're cleaning dressed like that? Where you know that I can see bent over?"

"Definitely not teasing when I'm dressed like this," Kavinsky sighed, eyes half shut and blissful, leaning his head toward the side that Newt had his touch on. He was tempted to be saucy, flippant, even if he had no plans to be a tease. But it was more comfortable to just sink into this glorious gentle warmth.

He loves it when Kavinsky is like this - pliant and easy, and he knows he could do anything and it would be okay. "Definitely not. Everyone cleans house in sweats and a collar."

"I mean, when they've got a hot ass husband, I wouldn't blame them." He turned his head and pressed a kiss against Newt's palm, soft and sweet and lingering.

"You are asking to be bent over this table," says Newt, and undertone of growl to his voice, as he leans forward to drop a kiss into Kavinsky's dark hair.

"We do want to make the most of our time alone, after all," Kavinsky pointed out, all sweet and mock innocence. He grinned against the skin of Newt's palm, then leaned in. He pushed his shirt up gently and kissed his belly, a few soft, gentle kisses on soft, warm skin, relishing the quiet of it.

Newt sighs and leans back in hi schair, looking down as Kavinsky's mouth moves over his skin. "Like I said," he says. "Tease."

Kavinsky smiled against Newt's skin, mouth moving slowly as he worked his way down. He didn't say it again, that it wasn't teasing if he followed through. Instead, he just made his way down and opened Newt's jeans, pulling him out with slow, warm fingers.

Newt shifts his weight in his chair, letting out a soft breath that's almost like a sigh as Kavinsky opens his jeans.

"You look beautiful," he says," and means it, with every fibre of his body.

Kavinsky looked up at Newt and grinned. He stroked him and licked his lips, and then slowly bent his head down to lick and suck obscenely at the head of his cock. He didn't take anything more than that into his mouth, just getting the tip nice and wet and sloppy.

It's slow and lazy, comfortable in the way that familiar things are. Newt holds his hips still as Kavinsky sucks the head of his cock, the only sound in the kitchen their breath and the wet, filthy sounds of Kavinsky's mouth on him.

Newt groans softly.

The soft, filthy noise of it, and of Newt's quiet groan of pleasure, rock an answering noise out of Kavinsky. He strokes Newt slowly, still just playing with the head. It was definitely teasing at the moment, even if he was going to follow through. But that was fun too, at least for him. Working Newt up until he got pushy about it.

For that moment, Newt is quite content to lean back in his chair and let Kavinsky's mouth work over him, sloppy and obscene. He shifts his hips slightly, nudging another inch of his cock into Kavinsky's mouth.

"How filthy do you need to be treated?" he asks, smoothing his fingers against Kavinsky's cheek. "What're you craving?"

Kavinsky pulled his mouth off slowly, making quite a wet noise as he goes. He smooths his hands up and down Newt's legs for a moment, looking up at him, considering the question. "Real filthy," he finally settles on, "but it doesn't need to be real rough."

Newt nods, looking down at him, calibrating.

"Don't need to be slapped around," says Newt, brushing his fingers over Kavinsky's spit-slick lips. "Just need to be treated like a slut."

Kavinsky sighed and nodded, eyes drifting half shut. He leaned his head down just a little and caught Newt's fingers in his mouth, licking and sucking at them obscenely.

He knows what Kavinsky needs, can always tell and, for a moment, he just lets Kavinsky suck on his fingers like that, crooking them to fuck his mouth a little.

"Get up on the table, baby," he says.

Kavinsky lingers for just a moment longer, then slowly rises to his feet. He gets to the table and sits on the edge of it, toes just brushing the tile under his feet. He spreads his legs wide enough to accommodate Newt between them.

"Like this? Or face down?"

"Like that," says Newt, his eyes drifting over his husband's body. "But take your sweats off and then get your heels up there too."

Kavinsky purred a little and did as he was told. He shimmied and slid out the sweats, as much a striptease as he could manage when there was only one article of clothing. And when it was off, he sat on the edge of the table again, bracing his hands back so he wouldn't off-balance it when he brought his heels up to the edge.

It was a gloriously exposed posture. He bit his lip slightly.

Newt sits back and just looks at him for a moment, and then he tugs his shirt over his head.

"Feeling slutty yet, baby?"