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.
🔥 Kavinsky's kink list.
🔥 This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!
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He grinned, victorious, to hide the way his heart fluttered in his chest, and kissed Ronan hard.]
You won't regret it.
[It was a promise, not just because Kavinsky was confident in his ability to blow Ronan's mind but because he was invested in this. He didn't want to just fuck Ronan, though that was a long-running fantasy. He was head over heels for the other boy- had been since before he'd discovered he was a dreamer, too. Kavinsky just wasn't sure how to want something without making it sexual. It was easier than admitting there was a soft part of him that wanted romantic things.
He slid his hands to Ronan's hips, holding on to steady himself while he dropped to his knees. The current state of cleanliness of the room didn't matter much to him; his jeans had encountered worse than a bathroom floor. Besides, it wasn't every day he got an opportunity like this. It was more than worth it.
Taking a moment, he admired Ronan's dick, then glanced up with a filthy smirk. Wrapping a hand around the base of it, he swirled his tongue around the head, teasing at first but then slower and more thorough on a second pass. He'd done this before, on more than a few occasions, and normally he'd say he didn't get on his knees for just anyone but the truth was he didn't usually do it for free. Ronan was special though, in so many ways. Kavinsky liked to think they were friends but he wasn't sure the other boy would agree.]
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He knows that K will be good to his word, that he'll ruin Ronan in the best sort of ways. But Ronan is a complicated creature, and sometimes the very things that he wants are the things that he regrets.
But in this moment, it's impossible to regret anything. Not with the way that Kavinsky grips his hips and sinks down to his knees, and Ronan groans just from the promise and the proximity, the filthy smirk on his mouth and Ronan cursed mutedly under his breath, his long eyelashes fluttering over his blue eyes as he watches the other boy. He feels helpless, almost whines at the way that his tongue feels on his cock, like a tease, but also pleasure that burns through him. It's like the rest of the world shuts off, gives him a sort of quiet that's better than the drinking and the hangovers.
He reaches out, fingers shaking, but he catches them against Kavinsky's shoulder, steadying himself, gasping rough and hot.
Ronan didn't know what they were, what this boy was to him when he was under his skin and in his veins. This wasn't friendship, not for him, he didn't really understand the way that K was friends with his boys. Like it was somehow platonically sexual, like the touches didn't change their world. Ronan knew this was going to break him, but with Kavinsky's tongue swirling slow around the head of his cock, all he could do was moan and watch. He was captured by the touch and the feeling, the wet heat of it, the pleasure that had his legs unsteady.
He was pretty sure someone could be banging on the other side of the door and Ronan wouldn't hear them for all the world. Because his world was this: Joseph Kavinsky on his knees and sinful as anything he'd ever seen; like if this was sin, Ronan didn't think he wanted to be pure.]
Oh, fuck... Kavinsky-- please.
[His hand on his shoulder sliding up to brush against his hair, touching more than anything aggressive, he just needed something, needed to feel. Before he'd have probably said something tough-sounding about how he didn't beg, certainly didn't beg for Kavinsky, didn't beg like he didn't know what he was begging for except for more. The words almost punched from his chest like he's forgotten how to breathe, like he needs what K is doing to him more than air.]
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He took a few breaths to steady himself- not just because he was worked up over the fact that he had his hands and mouth on the other dreamer but because Ronan was going to be spending the night. It sounded stupid put like that but it was- it was very far from stupid. Maybe having Ronan spend the night would help Kavinsky get a foot in the door, so to speak. If Ronan gave him a chance, a real chance, maybe- maybe they could be something. The mere idea was enough to have his stomach in something of a knot. Him, the boy nobody would suspect of being nervous about anything.
Coming back to the moment at hand after a second too long, he made a thoughtful noise, almost a hum, he started steadily jerking Ronan off while sucking on the head of his cock. He briefly thought about pulling back to tell Ronan he could pull on his hair or whatever tickled his fancy, but decided it wasn't worth it. He didn't want to stop what he was doing right now, not any part of it.]
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It was less that Ronan didn't want to give him a chance and more that Ronan didn't think he'd hold his attention once he peeled back the layers and saw how soft he was under all the sharp edges.
But that's a worry to think about later, because-- because right now he can't think about anything. All he can do is moan, helpless as his hips stutter, twitching against K's hand as the other boy jerked him off. That sinful mouth wrapped around the head of his erection, and the sound he makes is choked on his lips. He's glad there's a locked door behind him, otherwise he's pretty sure he'd be on the floor with Kavinsky. As much as he'd tried to seem unaffected, he didn't think he was going to last long like this.
His fingers petting through the strands of his hair, not pulling, but touching, curling at the back of his neck and then catching on his dark hair again. He's never done this before, and Kavinsky is taking him apart like it's easy. Ronan doesn't want him to stop for anything. This feels.. he couldn't put it into words. Like something he's needed without knowing how to ask for it, even if he could. He can't stop watching, a memory he wants to keep forever, no matter how trashy the place around them might be. All he cared about was how he touched him.]
K--
[Ronan gasps his name like a prayer.]
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He was Kavinsky's type, through and through, from the street racing to the barbs they flung at each other to the fact Ronan came to his parties. He was also painfully handsome and equally tragic. Kavinsky didn't want to 'fix' him or 'save' him from himself or any of those stupid cliche things, but he did want to be the flame in the dark, the thing that lit Ronan's life and sparked his desire. He wanted to spend long days with him and longer nights, drinking, getting high, racing- or just lying in bed together, touching. It didn't even have to be sexual.
Removing his hand from around Ronan's cock, Kavinsky leaned forward to take the rest of him into his mouth, confident about it, throat relaxed. His gag reflex was next to non-existent; there wasn't much he wasn't comfortable with. He rested both hands on Ronan's hips now, not holding him in place, just holding on.
The way Ronan said his name was- it made Kavinsky's skin flush with equal parts pride and desire. He wanted to hear and see and feel Ronan come apart, he wanted to know that he could take the other dreamer apart in the best ways.]
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Kavinsky's hands.
It was impossible to pretend that the way that he burned wasn't because of who the boy was. It wasn't like he'd let himself be pressed up against the door of a public bathroom with anyone else. But he couldn't help wanting him, being drawn to him, even if he was sure that he'd break his heart. He knew the quiet moments where they laced their fingers together was just a dream, and not one he knew how to pull into reality.
So he lets him take him apart, tongue and mouth and fingers- slick wet heat and the pressure, slow friction. It made him forget all the reasons he hurt, a moment that just felt good. It was filthy and perfect and God, God he wanted it. He knew he wasn't going to last long, and all he could do was touch him, cupping fingers against his neck and threading through his hair. Ronan's face flushed and his fingers trembling, but he touched Kavinsky in a way that was more like affection than just desire.
And then the other boy shifted, letting his hand fall away from Ronan's cock and sliding the rest of the way down, taking him down to the base, and Ronan's eyes went unfocused. Slick and wet and hot, and Ronan was ruined. Pleasure pushing him over the edge all at once. He curses softly, words that are almost more like adoration as they slip from his mouth just before his orgasm hits him. He doesn't think to give Kavinsky a warning, can't think that clearly -- but it's not too hard to have picked up on.]
..oh, fuck.
[He puts one hand to his mouth to try and muffle the sound that he makes, but it doesn't help much. At least not with how close the other boy is, impossible to pretend he isn't affected, ruined in a way that he had no defense against. The way that his voice twists into a moan, torn from his mouth almost like a sob, betraying him. Totally unprepared, although the pleasure of it all keeps him from being embarrassed about just how fast Kavinsky had him spilling down his throat.
It was- it wasn't like the boy with a mouth like sin had fucked him or something. But this was still- a few minutes ago he hadn't known what pleasure at someone else's hands- someone he liked- felt like. Now he did. It felt like a fire in his chest, an ache he couldn't explain. He wanted more, he wanted him, and he couldn't deny it.
He looked off to the side as he pulled back from K's mouth, catching his breath with a gasp. Ronan biting his lip a little awkwardly as the embarrassment finally caught up with him, his cock damp against his boxers, and he feels like a mess. He knew he should say something, but everything felt charged. Instead he softly, almost tenderly brushed his fingers against Kavinsky's cheek. He managed to arrange his face into something a little bit less transparent, almost like a smirk as he looked into his eyes. He wanted to kiss him, but instead he just dragged his fingers against his wet lips, still undone even if he's trying to pull himself together.]
Fuck, K. I- let's say that I owe you later.
[It's a little shy, even if Ronan tries to hide it. But he also means it; heart racing in his chest. I want to suck you off. Not that he'd know what he was doing, but he wants Kavinsky to give him the chance to figure it out. It's maybe the first time that Ronan's actually voiced something that actually said this thing between them was mutual, that he wanted-- That whatever weird thing this was between them, that they were chasing it together. Even if Ronan was a mess about it.
It might not have been a particularly romantic way to say it, but he was saying it.]
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He moaned even though he wasn't the one who'd just came, resisting the urge to touch himself through his jeans, though the desire was strong. His attention flickered between Ronan's face and his dick when the other dreamer pulled back, focusing finally on Ronan's face when he touched his face. Ronan's fingers brushed against his lips and Kavinsky tipped his head, tongue darting out to swipe against the pads of Ronan's fingers. A tease.]
Yeah, you do.
[He pushed himself up to his feet, brushing off the knees of his pants. He was a little breathless, skin a little flushed and warm, and fuck but he wanted more. He wanted to kiss Ronan but he wasn't sure if he should when he'd just had his mouth on his dick.]
Don't worry; I won't let you forget.
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He couldn't deny it, couldn't pretend that the racing had been just about the cars anymore.
When Kavinsky got to his feet, Ronan pressed up against him so that he could tuck his face into his shoulder. But he palmed his hand against the other boy's erection through his jeans, as if that would distract him from the fact that Ronan was so wrecked he couldn't resist sort of cuddling up against him while he caught his breath.]
I'm not completely selfish, if you want me to.
[His voice was uneven and heated, although he couldn't quite say the words. A bit too shy to say the specifics outloud, but he sort of wanted to do it, to feel him in his fingers. And while he wasn't up to attempting his first blowjob here, he thought he could manage jerking him off... It was similar enough to when he touched himself, at least in principal.]
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He groaned, low in his throat, and leaned his cheek against Ronan's head, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.]
Fuck, I'm not gonna say no. Be my guest.
[It wasn't like he hadn't dreamed and daydreamed about Ronan touching him, about coming apart under his hands, in his hands. The mere idea made him a little desperate, though he was playing it cool. He wasn't sure what Ronan would do if he knew how easily affected Kavinsky was by him.]
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But Ronan's wrecked, and Kavinsky has his arm wrapped around him, cheek touched against his head, and it isn't difficult at all to stay like that. To just let his hand slowly palm down his chest, and then to the waist of his jeans. His fingers slowly popping the button and then tugging down the zipper. He sucks in a breath, and then he reaches in: fingers touching against the soft skin of his cock.
For a moment Ronan can't think. Because somehow touching someone else is a very different thing, and he's never done this before, hadn't expected how it would feel. But he doesn't stop- his breath just hitches for a moment as he touches the other boy's dick. And then he's slowly pulling down his underwear so that he can wrap his fingers around his cock. He feels thick in his fingers, but Ronan admittedly doesn't have much to compare it to.
Locker rooms for Ronan Lynch were generally more a challenge in trying very hard to not look at anyone's dick, more than scholarship in what to expect when someone took their pants off. Despite living with Gansey, the other boy was almost notoriously self-conscious, so it wasn't like he'd ever had an accidental eyeful trading showers in the morning or anything. So he doesn't really know how Kavinsky compares to other boys, but he knows that he likes it, likes the way that he feels in his hand. He can't help thinking about what it would be like, being stretched around him, if he could take it all. Ronan's never even had the courage to try and practice or anything like that. God he's so glad that K can't see him blush.
He's dreamed about this of course, but it wasn't- it didn't feel like this, didn't make his heart stop.
The angle's a little different. The difference between touching himself and touching someone else, touching Kavinsky. Slowly, he slides his hand up along the length of him, sliding fingers over the tip just to touch more of him. He starts to stroke him in earnest, tightening the grip of his hand a little, moving a little faster. He wants to take him apart, wants to make him come in his hand. It's inexpert, jerking him off while pressed to his side, while holding on to him, but he makes up for it with want, how much he wants not just Kavinsky, but he wants this -- he wants to make him feel good, wants to get him off, his release on his fingers.
He nips teeth against the side of his neck, not hard enough to draw blood or be actively painful, but it sure isn't gentle. Ronan sucks lightly against the mark, not quite kissing, but close- like he can't help himself.]
Is this... okay?
[The way he says it is a little unsure- maybe even insecure if you read into how his breath quivers, but maybe that's just a tease. It's anyone's guess whether he means biting him or how he's jerking him off. But his voice is heated, and it murmurs against the other boy's ear like a purr. Ronan still close against him, clinging to him with the hand that isn't sliding over Kavinsky's dick.
Getting into his car that evening he could have listed a dozen reasons for why he couldn't do this. Now he just wants to spend more time with him. He wants to go to the party and he wants to maybe even kiss him in some dark corner. Whatever he could steal.]
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They were a pair, alright, the two of them holding onto each other like this. If he wasn't sure the door was locked, he might not have allowed himself to be so soft. But no one else could see; it was just him and Ronan.
On the subject of Kavinsky's dick, well, he wasn't small, that was for sure. He wasn't huge, either. He was- a little above average. Aesthetically pleasing in a way, long enough, thick enough. And right now, though everyone assumed Kavinsky had the power in a situation, he was putty in Ronan's hands, hips shifting slightly.
The way Ronan nipped at his neck was enough to have K moaning, unashamed but mindful of the fact they were in a public space.]
Yeah. It's more than okay. It's good.
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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.]