burnyoudown | Open RP Post

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Open RP Post

🔥 Hit me up on plurk or via PM if you have any questions/want to run an idea by me first/what-have-you.
🔥 General squick/trigger list.
🔥 m/m for anything shippy.
🔥 General headcanon for Kavinsky. If you've got different headcanon/ideas for a psl, hit me with 'em; I'm flexible.
🔥 Kavinsky's kink list.
🔥 This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!

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[He doesn't know what he expected, but somehow it wasn't this. It wasn't the easy way that he says it, the way that sweetheart rolls off his tongue like an easy endearment. This thing that he's felt since before that night, but definitely after. Definitely when they were alone in Kavinsky's bedroom, with Elijah in just boxers and his tee-shirt, whispering I'm glad I met you as he clung to him like an anchor.

Someone that was like him, or at least someone that understood what it was like. What dreaming did to you, what it was to bend the lines of real and not real.

He shivered as Kavinsky's fingers trailed up, sliding into his hair, pulling a low murmur from his mouth as he looked at him. Stripped raw, too honest, feelings too real to be put into words. And then he kisses him and Elijah leans into it, fingers in his shirt tugging him in close. The way K kisses him is soft, but Elijah is too hungry to let it stay that way.

K isn't the only one that's a glutton for contact. Between fighting with Skov, and being here with K and the knowledge that he wants him, it's impossible to do anything but melt into him. He's ached for him, and he wants- he just wants- touch. He wants to touch, to be touched, and not feel like someone will look at him like an alien in his own skin.]

[Ronan is a strange thing. Greywaren.

Dream and a dreamer. He twists time- a circle he can shift in his fingers when he's on the ley line. He keeps secrets from himself, brothers and forests, notes written in berries and blood. Lies and half-truths; but mostly to himself. Dreams aren't built on things that are true until he makes them that way, anyway.

One awake and one dreaming, dream and the dreamer. When Ronan begs for a copy of himself with filth in his hands, Cabeswater already knows the shape of his body. It gives it to him like it already knows how; like its dreamt him before. Because Ronan is not just one thing. A raven for the one that wakes, a girl with hooves for the dream.

The ley line was jagged and uneven that night, but it's not hard to twist it carefully until he finds just the right breath. This feels risky, but Ronan's always been reckless. This is bigger than the ways he's changed things before. But more than that, it feels worth it. He's not trying to change the world, really- he just wants to steal a boy. Take something for himself, this once.

It's before the dragon. Before the terrified boy meets Kavinsky in the dream and says everything wrong.

It's a moment where he thinks he might have a chance to change the way the story goes. He doesn't know if it'll work, doesn't know if he's enough. But he's here anyway, stretching a heartbeat of a moment into a world, just for Kavinsky. The forest stops tearing at the dreamer, a low murmur in the leaves and branches as Cabeswater gives him what he needs- Ronan is is a King here.

He smiles at him a little sadly, something different in how he holds himself from the boy K left back on the racetrack, scrambling for those green pills: he loves him.]

You know how this is going to end, don't you?

[Kavinsky was fire. He was hatred and anger and self-loathing. He was acid and venom and hurt. Ronan had rejected him. He'd left him standing in the dream field and he'd ghosted him and he hadn't responded about the Fourth of July until Kavinsky had taken matters into his own hands. K'd asked nicely. He'd left him a fucking car. He'd just wanted some of Ronan's time, to feel like he mattered. All right, so he'd wanted more than that, too. He'd wanted to be Ronan's boyfriend. But it felt like it was too late for that now. They were standing on the precipice. He just needed a moment to gather his thoughts, to put together what he wanted to dream to life.

And yet he hesitated. There was something about the way Ronan was looking at him. Kavinsky lifted his chin, dark eyes burning as he regarded the other dreamer.]

How this ends is on you.

[He jabbed a finger in Ronan's direction. Kavinsky wanted to give him another chance, to keep holding onto his last scrap of hope- but Ronan had made it pretty obvious how he felt.]

You made this ugly.

[He knows that he hurt him, and he hates it. He wants to fix it, to just tell him that he wants him, but he feels like that might be too much all at once. So he takes a few steps closer, bridging some of the distance between them, his blue eyes bright as he looks at Kavinsky. Like the other boy hasn't kidnapped his brother, like he wasn't confused about what he wanted. Like even if Ronan's here to stop him, this isn't a fight.]

I don't want it to end like this.

[Kavinsky was impossible not to want. He burned as bright as Ronan. They could be kings. And he was so alone. Who else burned bright enough for a dream? Who might understand the strange creature that he was? Of course he loved him. He hadn't known how to reach out to him, but he does now. So he's trying, trying to do this better. To find a way where this doesn't end in fire, in the end of a boy who should have been so much more.]

Look, I know I did. I fucked up.

[He drags a hand against his shaved head, because this isn't easy. There's no part of Ronan that's good at this sort of thing. At talking, at saying the words, at admitting where things went wrong. But he's trying, because it matters. Because he wants this to matter, to smooth his death out into something else.]

Kavinsky. Please.

Please what?

[What was Ronan saying, exactly? What did he want? Besides just to end things without violence and destruction.

Kavinsky didn't shy away from him when he stepped closer, he just watched him, equal parts curious, wary, and angry. Ronan admitting that he'd fucked up was- it was more than Kavinsky had expected right now. It was a strange step in the right direction.]

You're going to have to be a little more clear, princess.

[Or else Kavinsky would- well, he wouldn't make good on his promise to burn Ronan down because even now he didn't want to hurt him like that. The only person who'd get hurt, probably, would be Kavinsky himself. He was unstable, unsteady, playing at being put together when he really wasn't.

Ronan was going to have to spell it out for him before Kavinsky changed his mind on what he was doing. He wasn't going to back down on a whim, on hoping he understood what Ronan wanted.]

[He knows that Kavinsky is unstable right now, that he's unsteady despite appearances. But he still flushes a little when he tells him to be more clear. Kavinsky is the one that he wants to keep from getting hurt. He doesn't shy from him, faces his anger like he can take the edge off of it. He hesitates a moment, but then he says it:]

I.. want you, alright?

[It's true. He hesitates not like he's unsure of himself, or what he wants, but like he's never said the words before. Like this is unfamiliar territory between them and he doesn't quite know how this plays out. He doesn't. But fuck, he wants this. He wants him, he wants to get this right. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he cuts himself off, and instead he holds out his hand- hopeful blue eyes and softer fingertips.

He briefly thinks of dreaming them a dark night and their cars and an endless stretch of road after the glitter of the stoplight. But he didn't want to push the dream too much until Adam fixed the flow of the leyline. But he wanted this, selfish as it was. He just wanted a boy, wanted this boy, someone that could dream with him.]

Please. Don't leave.

[He waited for the punch line. 'I want you but' or something. There wasn't one. There was just Ronan, holding out his hand, expression more hopeful than Kavinsky'd ever seen. His heart lurched. He was almost too afraid to believe it. It took Ronan now, right up until the last possible moment before what Kavinsky knew would be disaster, before he changed his mind? He didn't think it was kidnapping Matthew that had caused this.

He didn't know what had caused this.

Sneering, Kavinsky looked away, but he watched Ronan out of the corner of his eye.]

You're a fucking dick.

[But- he turned his head to look at Ronan properly. After a second, he even stepped closer and reached out, sliding his hand into Ronan's. It was good to touch him, dream or not, and he hoped the other boy didn't notice the way his fingers trembled.]

If you're fucking with me, I will end you.

[He'd probably end himself first, though.]

[There's that moment where Kavinsky sneers and looks away, and it's like Ronan's heart falls. He thinks for a moment that he hasn't done enough, hasn't gotten the words right. But then he turns back to him, and it tugs a slightly sad smile to his mouth at the words.]

Yeah, I know.

[His breath catches and comes a little rough as Kavinsky steps in closer, sliding their hands together, and he squeezes his fingers softly against his hand. He shifts in closer almost on reflex, because it feels almost magnetic being close to him like this. His other hand pressed against his side, touching his ribs through his shirt.]

I'm not fucking with you. I meant what I said.

[Yes, there was an explanation that needed to happen. But Kavinsky was distracting, and he'd never actually had to explain what he was to someone before. And he was hoping he could wait until the dreamer wasn't on the edge of dying in flames. He hadn't known how to do this right, back then.

--He really wants to kiss him.]

[This felt like a dream. Not because it was a dream but because he'd thought it would have to be a dream for Ronan to want him. Kavinsky was wary, a little suspicious, but he wanted to take this for what it was. He wanted things to be easy for once in his fucking life when it came to something he really wanted.

He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and shook his head.]

I wish you'd said this sooner.

[Before Kavinsky had done even more regrettable things than normal. But Ronan didn't seem particularly upset about what he'd done. He seemed- a little sad. Fuck if Kavinsky knew why, though.]

Figured you'd just used me, you know? You used me and then left me as soon as it was convenient for you.

[He didn't sound as angry as he could have been, though. He wanted Ronan to tell him that he hadn't used him, that he'd wanted him even then. Kavinsky knew they weren't really friends and they didn't see eye-to-eye, but fuck. He'd bared his heart to Ronan as much as he'd known how to. He'd opened up to him, shared secrets, taught him. He didn't want to take Ronan away from his friends he just wanted to be important too.]

[It's a Saturday night; most of the rush and the thrill of the party and the racing the night before has faded, but there's no school tomorrow, and the night still feels like freedom. He's cuddled up next to Kavinsky, a movie on the screen that neither of them are really watching. The rest of the boys are all scattered elsewhere-- Swan and Skov went to the store for snacks a while ago, but they haven't come back and he imagines they probably got distracted.

So it's just the two of them, Eli's legs across K's lap and his head on his shoulder and it's a thrill. The fact that he can do this- touch him and be close to him. They've been talking idly through the movie since no one seemed particularly captivated by rewatching Justice League, but it was noise and color in the background.

But eventually, he ends up bringing up the things he'd talked about with Swan. He's been meaning to talk about it, but he hasn't quite known how, and hasn't wanted to talk about it when there were other people around. So it's taken him a bit to actually bring it up. At first glance, with people he doesn't know, Elijah tends to seems like he's all venom and polish. And then you get him talking about something that matters and he struggles not to choke on his words.]

So-- I was talking to Swan about safewords? He seemed to think I should have one. And... I kept thinking about you.

[It's not quite a question, but it's part of one- sort of hanging in the air between the words.]

[The only thing Kavinsky was particularly captivated by was Elijah. He had one hand resting on Eli's knee, familiar and casual, and occasionally leaned his head on the other boy's. It was nice to be close and comfortable like this, any earlier tensions more or less fizzled out.

He looked over when Elijah spoke, letting the words sink in. Maybe it was something Kavinsky himself should've brought up with Eli--or maybe Skov should have, but lord knew Skov wasn't the right person to talk about it. Skov could barely handle himself, half the time.]

What about me? It's a good idea, though. Shit can get crazy sometimes; it's better to have a firm way to tap out.

[And there was no shame in tapping out, either. The boys could be cruel sometimes, but they understood boundaries and limits. If someone wasn't having a good time anymore there was nothing wrong with them taking steps to make themselves comfortable.

Some days, things could be tame. Others, Kavinsky could get high out of his mind and pull a gun on someone, feeling invincible. His boys were usually game to play along, but not always.]

Well, I mean- fuck. You know. Not like with Skov, but... something, maybe. If you're into that shit.

[Which is probably the messiest way to ask someone if they're into kink, but Elijah is always messy when it matters. Because when he gives a shit about things, about people, it's hard to know the right thing to say. It's one thing when it's an abstract construction. And different when it's figuring out how to get what he feels in his chest out into words, to translate it into something another human being can understand. But Kavinsky seems to get it, most of the time.

The fact that he's embarrassingly new to all of this probably doesn't help with articulating it, either.

But he wants it. And he wants it with Kavinsky- he'd realized that since the night he and Skov had pushed to where it had finally clicked that this was foreplay, not fighting. And after they pulled apart, when he was so high it felt like floating, he'd needed it to be Kavinsky. Not that he hadn't wanted to makeout with Skov, but.. He couldn't explain why. It was just that something about him felt right.

Something about K made him want his fingers around his throat. Which wasn't an easy desire to feel, let alone to talk about. But none of them have judged him for stumbling into this right along with Skov, so it feels- not as uneasy, or as uncomfortable, like something his skin can bear.

And Elijah sort of thought that Kavinsky with a gun in his hand was pretty fucking hot. But considering his main association was the night where he'd put down Eli's dreams that would have burned them alive, eaten them whole if given half a chance.. he might be biased. But he was a boy as damaged as the rest, anyway.]

I still haven't really figured out a safeword, though.

Yeah. I wish I had, too.

[It comes out bittersweet, but he means it. He wishes that he'd been brazen enough, selfish enough, to try this the first time around. That he'd had the grace to step in between this boy and disaster, so that Kavinsky had never died, so there wasn't anything to fix. He rubs his thumb softly against the other dreamer's fingers where they're holding hands.

But then Kavinsky talks about how he'd felt like Ronan had used him, and he hesitates for a moment, with what to say, how to say it. Because he's not wrong, really. Even if Ronan hadn't meant it like that, it had still happened. He had thought he could walk away and that things would go back to the way that they had been before, mostly because he wanted them to. Because of course it couldn't-- it had meant something to the other boy, and Ronan didn't get to walk that back just because it made him uncomfortable.]

I know. Look, I'm not-- I wouldn't have.

[Kavinsky isn't wrong about there being a catch, it's just probably not the sort of catch that he expects. And it's not exactly the sort of thing that Ronan knows how to explain well. He's never had to explain this. He wouldn't even have talked about this with himself, even if he could. He doesn't let go of the other dreamer's hand, but there's a tension in how he draws up his shoulders, but he doesn't flinch from it in the same way that the other one would have. He doesn't snarl and act like this is Kavinsky's fault.]

Ronan is-- well, I think it goes sort of like this: you can't have half a dream or half a dreamer, not really... It's like in Chemistry class, right? What do you do when something would split an atom in half? You double the whole thing. So there's two. There's always been two of us.

[Which is probably a shitty way to explain what he is, but just because his fingers are deeper in dreams than Ronan's, it doesn't change the fundamental shape of who he is. He just hasn't had to deal with the world as much as Ronan, and he hasn't had Richard Gansey or Adam Parrish in the same sort of ways. So he's more raw, a little stranger, because life hasn't made his broken pieces quite so sharp. But he still burns the same.]

I meant everything that I've said. I have always wanted you.

[The problem is that he just doesn't know if that's enough to save him, but fuck he wants it to be. He looks a little bit apologetic, and more than that, there's worry in his blue eyes. That fear of losing something you want but have never really had.]

[Whatever he'd been expecting Ronan to say, this wasn't it. Kavinsky went very still. The gears in his brain turned slowly and then faster as he tried to understand what the fuck Ronan was talking about.

He wanted to pull away. He wanted to punch him. He wanted- he wanted everything to stop feeling like it was spinning. Did Ronan really want him? Was this really Ronan in front of him? Did it matter? Proko was a dream but real- he'd always been real to Kavinsky. But there was a part of him that couldn't help but be a little heartbroken.]

You want me. He doesn't.

[Was that what he was understanding here? If there were two Ronans- was one of them more real than the other? Did it matter? Was it enough to Kavinsky? It wasn't like he'd never thought about dreaming his own Ronan. Would he have done it if he would have been able to get it right?

He felt...he didn't know. Not just heartbroken but broken. Probably, it wasn't Ronan's fault. Probably, Kavinsky had been on his way to breaking for a very long time.

He took a breath. Then another. And- he leaned his forehead against Ronan's shoulder. He shuddered with his next breath.]

I don't know-

[What should he do? What did he want to do? He wanted to be wrapped up in Ronan's arms. He wanted none of this to have gotten this bad.]

[Kavinsky leans his head on his shoulder, and Ronan doesn't pull away from him. He lets his other hand slide up his back in what's clearly intended to be comfort. But it's also affection, because he loves this boy. He's loved him since the first race, the first party, the first bonfire where he could feel how much he burned. there's also the warmth of desire in his fingertips, even if he isn't acting on it, trying to keep it as quiet as he can.

But Ronan has never been good at keeping his own secrets, and neither are his dreams.]

You don't have to know. I know this is fucked.

[He doesn't push him, or he tries anyway. He doesn't push him away, but he also doesn't gather him in his arms, even if he's tempted to. He doesn't ask if he can kiss him, but god he wants to. He wants to believe that he can twist this world into something where he's enough. Where Kavinsky can be hurt without dying from it.]

I couldn't help it. I wanted to try and make a better ending.

[He likes the fire, and there's a thrill at the chaos, but losing Kavinsky.. it would never be worth it. And it wasn't like things had ended well for Ronan, or for the world, either. So fixing things-- it could only make things better. He thought that he was more important than he knew.]

[It was so fucked. But- the important part- the part he wanted to cling to- was that someone wanted him. Even now, when he was on the cusp of destruction, when he was lashing out at everyone around him and making things a horrible mess.

He didn't know what Ronan was talking about- a better ending- but he didn't want to ask. He didn't want to know. Looping his arm around Ronan, he clutched the back of his shirt, holding on like he might disappear.]

All I ever wanted was to be a part of your life.

[A part of Ronan's life. Even whatever version of Ronan he was leaning on right now.]

If it's not too late-

[It wasn't. It clearly wasn't when Ronan was here, telling him he wanted him. Kavinsky still had a chance.]

I want you, too.

[Ronan's voice hitches as the other boy's fingers clutch at the back of his shirt, gripping onto him tight, and his heartbeat skips in his chest, feels like it thuds against his ribcage. Kavinsky feels warm and alive and vibrant in his hands and he just wants to keep this for however long he can. What a fucking mess this was. If only he could have been better, or Ronan could have been better now instead of when it was all too late--]

I want you in my life, K.

[It's not an easy thing to say, but it is true. Truer than Kavinsky knows, even. Because he wants him, but he also wants the thing that goes along with it. The part where he has a life to call his own, where he gets to be more than Alice's looking glass reflection. He was a dreamer, but has he ever dreamt something for his own benefit? So maybe telling Kavinsky the truth isn't just about the fact that kissing him wouldn't seem right. Maybe it's also the fact that it's the only way for him to be something more.

He laughs softly- not at K but just because the whole situation is a mess. Maybe more of a mess than K knows. He smiles at him, and it isn't quite so sad. There's a fire in him, and he burns like Ronan does, it's just not as guarded, so there's more shine. He lets his fingers against his back trail up so that he can curl them at the back of his neck, touching softly, their hands clasped as Ronan holds onto him like he's afraid of losing him, too.]

Never too late.

[He hesitates a moment, awkward and a little unsure, before he pushes it away and leans in so their foreheads touch. He can't help himself, even if he wants to. He wants to give him space or hold onto him, or whatever he needs, but he also.. his eyes are dark and they glint with the faint light through the trees. He's lovely and he wants him, and no one has ever wanted him before.]

Can I--

[He doesn't finish the question. Not with words, anyway. It's sudden and impulsive, but he's helpless and he just can't resist the desire. Kavinsky said he wanted him, and he didn't know any way to say it better. So he kisses him.

It is Ronan's first kiss.

He knows what kisses are of course, knows what they're supposed to be like, what makes them good. Because their edges bleed, and they are one another, and Ronan has kissed Adam many, many times. But it was different, somehow impossibly different, to kiss a boy because he wanted him instead of just feeling what someone else wanted. Not quite knowing if this was okay, if the timing was right, if Kavinsky was going to kiss him back.

Where all he could do was want, and hope. But he supposed that was life.]

[He felt- there was both hope and misery in his chest. Settled in the pit of his stomach. He'd been prepared to end it all, to face his doom, and now- It had felt so easy. There would be no more fighting, no more struggling, no more misery. Just...peace. This was harder. This was the hard choice but how was he supposed to turn it down? Ronan wanted him and Kavinsky never wanted to let go of him. This was his last chance, probably. There wouldn't be any more after this. It wasn't just a stupid party with a stupid kidnapped brother and a stupid almost dragon. The only thing stupid about it, maybe, would have been throwing everything away because of a boy.

But he could live for that same boy. He was worth it. He was enough- more than enough. He was the fucking stars in the night sky and all of the romantic bullshit things Kavinsky probably wouldn't ever say.

So when Ronan asked can I, the answer was, without a doubt, absolutely yes. It was either Kavinsky's heart or stomach that lurched, but not in a bad way. It was in a way that made him hold on tighter to Ronan as he kissed him back.

He was crying but he wouldn't acknowledge it. The tears were silent and hot on his cheeks. They were unwanted, almost involuntary, but he could only build a dam so strong before it broke.]

What do I have to do to keep you?

[Because he wanted to. He was selfish and possessive and wanted someone who wanted him back.]

--Oh.

[Ronan was breathless and a little flushed along his cheekbones as they parted. But Kavinsky had kissed him back. He clung to the other boy softly, fingers curled against the back of his neck, holding onto him because he didn't want to let go. He didn't think that he wanted the world if it didn't involve the boy in his arms. He was heated and his heart was racing, and it was a belated realization that he hadn't really known what it was like to kiss someone at all, even if he'd thought that he did.

He cups Kavinsky's face in his hands- fingers catching his tears without either of them having to acknowledge that's what he's doing. He wants to say something, to make it better, but he doesn't know the right words. Maybe there aren't any. Maybe sometimes you hurt and all you can do is walk through it. But he's not alone for it, at least. So Ronan kisses him again, softer this time, light as a ghost or butterfly wings. Just a quiet reminder of warmth, of affection, trying to say that he's precious and wanted in the way he touches him, at least.

But Kavinsky asks a question, and that's easy. Or, easi-er at least. He pulls back a little, looking into his eyes, his body curling in toward Kavinsky. Want as sure as his heartbeat.]

Just- live. And help me figure out what the fuck that means. Together.

[He squeezes his hand softly, shrugging his shoulders like he's not asking to change the world.

But then he's always been a thief; everything he was felt stolen.]

[Ronan acknowledging his tears without actually saying anything about them did something to Kavinsky. It was a quiet sort of comfort, a feeling like maybe he was safe to feel these things and express them, at least in this moment. He'd never been very good at letting himself feel these kinds of things. They were frightening emotions, things that made him feel weak or not good enough. But Ronan- right here, right now, he made him feel like enough.

He took a slightly shaky deep breath.]

Okay.

[He could do that. He could live. He could keep facing the days as they came and maybe, eventually, things would get better. With Ronan at his side, things wouldn't be so hard, maybe.

He'd do anything for Ronan.]

I- we can do it.

[It felt like there wasn't anything a pair of dreamers couldn't do if they put their heads together. They could be kings. Together.

Foolishly, he almost thanked Ronan. He felt grateful. Because- he didn't know, exactly. Ronan was giving him a chance, he wanted him, but after all the shit they'd both put each other through, was there any point to saying 'thank you'? He swallowed the emotion down with a sniffle. Stood up a little straighter.]

[Emotions were frightening things, for sure. But were they any more terrifying than dreams? He is glad at the way that Kavinsky doesn't flinch when he catches his tears. The way that he takes a deep breath, shaky and flushed and Ronan smiles at him, his blue eyes glimmering as he looks at the other boy. He knows that the idea of life has to be fairly scary- he knows that it is for him anyway. But he wants it. He wants to figure it out.]

Yeah. We can.

[There was so much that he wanted to learn with him, so much that he wanted to teach Kavinsky. What couldn't they accomplish together? Just a small thing, this was. Just changing the world, changing the past to shift the future. And Ronan tosses his arms around his shoulders, leaning in to playfully nip teeth against his ear as he leans in to whisper-]

Now get out of here before things get worse, and come find me for real. It's some place to start, right?

[He presses a kiss to the point of his pulse, a slight flick of his tongue as he pulls away, but holds onto his hand.]

Do you know where to look?

[He drew in another shaky deep breath as Ronan nipped his ear, equal parts still a wreck and turned on. It didn't take much sometimes, especially not when it was his dream boy. He closed his eyes, let himself have a moment to try and put his thoughts in order. Everything was still a mess but- he owed a lot to this Ronan, already, though he wouldn't say as much.

Honestly, it took a lot for him to not make some sort of lewd joke inspired by the kiss to his neck, the kind he'd crack when he was feeling better. Ronan should be impressed; Kavinsky should get a medal.

But at the question, he hesitated, then shook his head.]

I don't.

[He didn't have the faintest clue. He figured though, that Ronan was going to tell him. This wasn't a time for games and he didn't think there was going to be one.]

[Kavinsky hadn't gone into this expecting to be told Elijah cared about him like that, either. But he didn't regret a thing. K'd wanted him, probably, since that night with the dead dreams in his bedroom. Since before that. But K had always been lonely and greedy and wanted. Was it really that greedy to want to be cared about, though? Or was it natural? He liked to think it was the latter, no matter how many times people told him it was the former.

He didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, fingernails scratching gently at Elijah's scalp, again. A light brush of his thumb. Kissing him felt right, like he should've done it weeks ago. He'd been letting Eli find his place in the pack though, get used to all of them without anyone pushing him about something sexual. Anyone else, Kavinsky would've been pushing, himelf, but- he knew when someone shouldn't be tested, when they might bolt. He'd just- he'd been being careful. He was capable of it, contrary to popular belief.

Right now, he wanted whatever Elijah was comfortable with, whether that was some kissing or something more. Sometimes, just making out was nice. Even if K was a sexual creature. Proko had cracked jokes about him being an incubus or deity before, after all.]

[Maybe it was the messiest way to ask someone if they were into kink, but Kavinsky was more amused than anything. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. Elijah's awkwardness was endearing, as it always was. K could've poked fun at him for it, but... he didn't think Eli would take it the same way one of the other boys would. He didn't want to ruin anything between them. Especially not when it was just beginning.]

Yeah, I am. I'm not really vanilla.

[He could be, but making things kinky was so much more fun. And he wouldn't hurt Elijah- not on purpose. But that was part of why safewords were important in kink; to make sure no one accidentally crossed a line. Kavinsky didn't want to have to look any of his boys in the eye and know he'd hurt them sexually. That was a vastly different hurt than the fights they got into sometimes. A bruised face could be easily forgiven. But bruised trust? That was more complicated.]

Pineapple? Anchovies? Fuck, why am I thinking about food-

[Was he hungry? Maybe he was hungry. But also both of those words were definitely not going to come up normally during a sexual encounter. If they did, he'd have some questions.]

[For what it was worth, Elijah didn't think it was greedy. Or at least, not a sort of greedy that he couldn't handle, because if it was, then he was greedy too. But then he'd always known that about himself, it was just that normally he didn't admit to it, didn't talk about it. Because admitting to it would mean admitting what he wanted, would mean talking about what he was, and why being greedy was uncomfortable.

But they'd already jumped that hurdle. So it wasn't scary now. Not with Kavinsky, not with the other boy's mouth on his, nails scratching against his scalp, and Eli's body leaning in to him like an ache that says more. To be honest, he appreciated the fact that Kavinsky had given him time, given him the space to find himself, to figure out where he belonged between all of them. Elijah would snarl if someone implied that he needed to be handled with a delicate touch, but the truth was that sometimes he did. Careful was what had let them get here, his fingers clutching against him, clinging to K's shirt.]

I.. I want you.

[He says it soft, gasped in between kisses. The words almost a little bit shy with how they murmur against the other boy's jaw. Because he's a sexual creature too, it's just-- complicated. Usually that means being alone behind closed doors. But with Kavinsky.. he trusts him. He wants more than that. But he's never-- it's tentative, even if it's honest, even if he means it. Something he probably couldn't have said if K had pushed him about it.

He covers it with a kiss, with an edge of something hungry and maybe wanton. It feels good, feels right, feels like Kavinsky out of anyone makes sense. Maybe that's ridiculous, but he knows and he wants Elijah anyway, has yet to look at him like it makes him different.]

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forth of july, but weird;

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dreampack au - kink talk;

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