Joseph ♔ Kavinsky (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
burnyoudown) wrote2021-07-18 04:56 pm
burnyoudown) wrote2021-07-18 04:56 pm
Entry tags:
Open RP Post
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🔥 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.
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His orgasm spills on Ronan's fingers and the rest of it on the floor, which Ronan would feel bad about if he wasn't sure that it was probably not the worst thing that had ended up on the bathroom floor. He liked the size of him, how he felt in his hand, thick and with a decent length but without being intimidating. The few times he'd risked looking up gay porn he'd both been sure he wanted someone to fuck him, and also that if anyone tried it with a dick that size he'd probably chicken out.
Almost without thinking about it, Ronan ends up sucking two of his fingers into his mouth, licking the other boy's cum from his skin. Just tasting him for a moment, and it's different than he'd imagined, but it isn't bad, either, not bitter. He doesn't say the sort of filthy shit guys say in porn videos- something about you taste so good or whatever- but he sort of thinks it, anyway. And there's something in the way that he looks at Kavinsky, flushed and flustered, but he shakes it off, looks away before Kavinsky can make something out of it.
There's a moment, after he gets cleaned up and slides his damp hands against his face like that will make him seem less like Kavinsky had sucked him off in the bathroom, when they're walking back to the parking lot, and it occurs to him that he could leave. On another night, he probably would have. He'd have been too spooked by letting him in this close, by knowing that he'd just changed things, and the idea of following that up with being around him in public would have seemed ludicrous. But tonight is... he doesn't know. It's not just because he said he'd stay the night. Maybe it's that it hadn't felt like just sex. It had felt intimate, too.
So Ronan just shrugs his shoulders and gives Kavinsky a look that's equal parts fierce and filthy, his gaze lingering on the mark he'd left on his neck and fuck-- The sight of it made him so hot he almost wanted to go down on him here in the parking lot, fuck the party. But he tries to not be obvious about it, just grins with his teeth.]
I'll race you there.
[It was both for the thrill of it, and because -- well, it was an easy excuse to keep track of each other's cars. To not have Ronan's dark BMW disappear into the sea of traffic, and he was sure that Kavinsky would wonder if he'd be there or not. And somehow he wanted him to know the answer, to not have to doubt. But maybe it was easier to take that risk now that he'd started to consider that maybe K would still be there after.]
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For a few long minutes, he was utterly wrapped around Ronan's finger and it was good, so good. Casual hookups were one thing. One-night-stands could be fun, but it was always different when it meant something, when he felt like he mattered to the other person. Ronan was making him feel like he mattered and he wouldn't trade that feeling for the world. He wanted to keep it close, memorize it, like he might never get another chance.
And then Ronan licked Kavinsky's cum off his fingers and K couldn't help but stare at him. It wasn't a bad sort of stare. It was flushed and full of heat and he could almost still feel the other boy's mouth on his neck and Kavinsky feverishly wanted to kiss him or say something, but- he held back, on both counts. It was a struggle and he had to look away after a moment, focus on getting cleaned up and presentable again. He took a moment to admire the mark Ronan had left on his neck but it didn't slow his racing heart.
When they were back in the parking lot, Kavinsky might have purposely bared his neck a little upon noticing Ronan looking, showing off the mark. He'd like to say he made it look casual, like he hadn't been intending to show it off, but it was pretty obvious it was for Ronan's benefit.]
Sounds good, sweetheart.
[That wasn't quite casual, either. It was more affectionate than anything, even if his tone remained light.]
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God, was this what it meant to like someone?
The way that Kavinsky calls him sweetheart feels anything but casual, feels like maybe he wants this as much as Ronan does. It definitely doesn't sound like someone that'll push him away when the night comes to a close, but maybe he's just being optimistic for once in his life. Maybe he just wanted it so badly he didn't want to see the storm clouds this time. But then again, Ronan was always the storm clouds, always the thing that turned everything wrong. But this time -- he didn't know. He wanted to try, at least.
He wanted to leave teeth marks all over Kavinsky so no one could doubt who he belonged to. As much as Ronan was wound around K's fingers, he was a greedy thing. He wanted to carve out pieces of the other boy that could be his, only his. It was why despite Kavinsky's jealousy, Ronan and Gansey could never have been a thing. There was no part of Gansey that would just belong to Ronan, and he'd played a funeral march for those feelings a long time ago. Kavinsky, on the other hand... sometimes it seemed like he was aching for Ronan to give him the chance, like he wanted to make spaces in his life just for Ronan, no matter what the rumors said.
So Ronan races him to the party. But it isn't really a race so much as just a different sort of flirtation: the way that they switch the lead back and forth, but Ronan never pulls too far ahead. He doesn't speed through intersections with the light looming yellow; he waits for him, like the fun isn't in beating him but in having him at his side. He'll pull ahead on those clear straight stretches of Henrietta country road, but he keeps the Mitsubishi in his rearview, and stays close when the Friday night traffic starts to snarl.
But finally he's parking the BMW just behind K's gorgeous Mitsubishi and the sight makes his heart flutter, like it means something. Like he wants it to.]
Hey.
[His voice feels flat to his own ears, but he doesn't know what else to say. There's a terrible part of him that wants to slide his hand into the other boy's, wants to hold his hand like something he was allowed to want, allowed to have. So he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket and instead smiles at him, crooked and a little suggestive--]
You gonna show me a good time?
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Kavinsky might have seemed complicated on the surface, but really he was a simple boy when it came to his feelings. He wanted what everyone did when they liked someone; he wanted them near, wanted to lavish affection on them and make them feel special, wanted to hold their hand and kiss their bruised knuckles. He was in so deep there was no going back; he wouldn't even know how to begin.
When they reached the party, his head was buzzing and adrenaline flooded his veins. He wanted to kiss Ronan as soon as they were both out of their cars, but he held himself back, showed a little restraint. That didn't stop him from draping an arm around Ronan's shoulders though, leaning in close until they were breathing the same air.]
Baby, I'll show you the best time.
[The stop earlier had only been the pre-game show. There was so much he wanted to share with Ronan, dazzle him with. Romancing someone wasn't usually Kavinsky's style, but he wanted to make Ronan feel wanted--because he was. He wanted him to feel special and cared about and assured that Kavinsky wasn't just going to kick him out after they had sex. He wouldn't--couldn't--do that to Ronan.]
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His fingers resting on his hip, slipping through the belt loop of his jeans, like there was no one else to see them- or that he didn't care if they did. Holding onto him, keeping him close, and his blue eyes are heated and affected, no matter how much he hates to give away his disinterest, he's already in too deep. He smiles, leaning in close enough that it almost seemed like he was asking for that kiss, standing on the sidewalk outside of the distant hum of music and voices that the party promised.
Kavinsky was unraveling him, offering him the things that Ronan ached for without making him ask for it. To be wanted, to be special and cared for, someone that would stay, would be there even when Ronan was at his worst, hard to tolerate. And yet Kavinsky had never really left him, never judged him for being a difficult creature. Like they were made from the same things.]
Is that a promise? 'Cause I'll hold you to that.
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Ronan was gorgeous, even more attractive than he was frustrating at times. But he wouldn't change a single thing about him. He wouldn't be Ronan anymore, then. Kavinsky would take him, all of him, the good and the bad, because nobody was perfect and everyone had flaws. There was nothing wrong with that. It wasn't 'bad' that no one was perfect; he didn't believe true perfection existed with people, just the ability to look past someone's flaws and want them all the same. And fuck, how much he wanted Ronan. It felt like it was consuming him, a desire that would eat him alive if he let it.
He took Ronan's face in his hand and leaned in the rest of the way to kiss him, slow and warm and lingering.]
I'd like it more if you held me to your body. But yeah, I won't disappoint you.
[He hoped he wouldn't, at least. He hoped Ronan wanted the same things he did. Or at least, wanted similar enough things. Kavinsky would pluck the stars out of the sky if it would make Ronan happy--and he could do it, in a way. He could dream star lights, soft, delicate things, though he'd never really tried that sort of thing before. He would for Ronan. But one step at a time, one hurdle at a time, as it was, when the other boy didn't even know he was a dreamer.]