(no subject)

[thebloodyglue]

He's been fending Kavinsky off all night - though, admittedly, he hasn't been trying too hard. He's been enjoying the warmth of Kavinsky's hands through the thin fabric of the dress that he's been wearing. His hair has started to escape in tendrils, slipping down around his face and he's pretty glad to kick off his shoes when they get back into the house.

He turns around, smiling.

"You look bloody gorgeous tonight. You know that?"

Comments

[mitsubishievo]

"I do my best, sugar," Kavinsky said, laughing and thrilled from their evening out. He was not so urgent to take off his boots, but he toed them away at any rate. His eyes kept moving on Newt; he hadn't been able to stop looking at him all night. As much as he missed how Newt ought to look, this was an experience.

He stepped up to him, grabbing the cut of his hips and rubbing his thumbs over them through the thin, clinging fabric of his dress. "You ain't so bad yourself, you know."

[thebloodyglue]

"You're getting used to it, anyway," says Newt, smiling, leaning in to the touch at his hips as he reaches up to take the clips out of his hair, letting the full fall of it tumble down around his shoulders.

[mitsubishievo]

"I'm learning, yeah," Kavinsky said with a sweet laugh. He brought his hands up from Newt's hips to help with his hair--and by help, he mostly meant run his fingers through it, rubbing at Newt's scalp as he stood as close as their bodies would let them.

"There were so many people droolin' about you tonight, sugar," he murmured, leaning their foreheads together. "Even more than usual."

[thebloodyglue]

"You're the only one who gets to bring me home, though, shank," says Newt, leaning close, his tits pressed against Kavinsky's chest, the wiring in his bra digging into him slightly. They're still feeling out the edges of their new arrangement Kavinsky allowed to be gone at certain times, but Newt likes these times best - when it's just the two of them together.

[mitsubishievo]

There was a point there, a dig, but Kavinsky didn't fix on it. He got to bring Newt home, they got to bring each other home, and Kavinsky was deliberate and careful in not bringing what he did outside of this into the house, except as friends. This home was hallowed ground, and he refused to shake the foundations more than he had.

Now, he focused on Newt: warm and solid and so, so real in his arms. Even in this curious time of Newt-as-girl, Kavinsky adored him, every part of him.

He slid a hand from Newt's hair down the side of his neck slowly. "I do love bringing you home, sugar."

[thebloodyglue]

He'd never had a home before this one, and it's the most precious thing in the world to him. His eyes slip closed as Kavinsky touches him like that, gently. A smile touches the corner of his mouth.

"What're you going to do with me now we're back?"

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky shivered at the thought. Dancing with him had made him feel possessive, but here they were, safe and home and together. That was all that mattered. Except--do with me, and there was so much implication there, so much promise. Kavinsky drifted his hand down Newt's side slowly.

"Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it, sugar."

[thebloodyglue]

"Oh, you're in one of those moods," says Newt, smiling, tracing his fingers along the line of Kavinsky's jaw, scraping his nails lightly against his skin. "You want me to put you in your collar, love?"

[mitsubishievo]

The touch was soft and grounding, and Kavinsky closed his eyes with a sigh. He kept his hands where they were, hair and waist, and relished the soft contact of Newt's nails on his skin. Finally, he nodded. He would do whatever Newt asked without the collar on, but it had an extra weight of sincerity to have it on.

[thebloodyglue]

Newt strokes Kavinsky's cheek gently and then slaps Kavinsky's cheek hard enough that the sound rings out in the quiet house.

"Go and get naked. Put your collar on. Don't come back until you're hard enough for a cockring."

[mitsubishievo]

He was halfway there already.

Kavinsky nodded, did not try to kiss Newt though he wanted to, and stepped back to head down the hall. He took off his shirt on the way, but did not drop it. It was easy to slide into this space of what he needed, what they needed.

In the bedroom, he tossed his clothes into the hamper, put on his collar, and only had to stroke himself for a minute or two to get hard. It was easy. He had some great inspiration out in the other room. Once he was hard, he grabbed a cockring, and headed back out to Newt.

[thebloodyglue]

Newt is sitting by the time Kavinsky comes back, sitting back on the sofa with his knees crossed. His eyes linger on the naked lines of Kavinsky's body for a moment, the jut of his cock.

"Down on your knees, love," he says, quiet but firm. "Put that on for me."

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky shuffled closer to Newt, ended up kneeling in front of him at the foot of the couch. His breath stuttered in his chest for just a second. He arranged the cockring on himself, groaning softly as his cock throbbed and twitched.

[thebloodyglue]

Kavinsky makes such a pretty picture on his knees like that, the black ring around the base of his cock, snug against his balls. Newt bites his lip for a moment and then he reaches out, picking up the remote, clicking the TV on and starting to look, idly, for something to watch.

"Hands behind your head, love."

[mitsubishievo]

Some warm weight settled through him. Kavinsky slanted himself so that having his elbows up wouldn't block Newt's view. He laced his fingers together on the back of his neck and kept his eyes respectfully around Newt's knees.

It meant he had a view right up Newt's skirt, but that was beside the point.

[thebloodyglue]

Newt ignores him for a few minutes, still idly flicking through the TV channels. He can see Kavinsky in the corner of his eye, settled and subservient and perfect.

"I think you should start with my feet," he says, wiggling his toes. "And I'll decide when you get to work your way up."

[mitsubishievo]

The words slanted for a second, and Kavinsky looked down at Newt's feet, then up at his face. Questions bubbled and wove through his head. He licked his lips and then leaned down, hands still behind his head.

Was this right? He didn't dare ask. He pressed his lips to the side of the arch of Newt's foot, breathed out slowly, and settled himself to the task as best he could.

[thebloodyglue]

"That's good, love," says Newt, stretching a little, head tilted as he looks down at Kavinsky. "I want you to make me feel worshiped. Got it?"

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky sighed against Newt's skin, and shifted a little so that it was easier to do what he'd been asked. He didn't stop. Now that he had direction, it was easier. He settled in, licking and kissing at the curves and angles of Newt's foot, from toes to ankle. His cock throbbed lazily between his thighs.

[thebloodyglue]

"You can move up a little. But make sure you stay on all fours." Newt doesn't give him anymore guidance than that - he wants to see how far Kavinsky will let himself go.

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky shifted his hands from behind his head so he had better leverage to move. He began to work his way up Newt's long, slim legs, alternating: here one shin, than the other, back down to repeat on the calves with one side before the other. He traced Cyrillic into Newt's skin with his tongue, gently stooped to kiss the back of his knees. Newt's legs were still crossed, and Kavinsky did not try to uncross them. He did not go above his knees until he was told.

[thebloodyglue]

Careful not connect with Kavinsky, Newt uncrosses his legs, his toes touching the floor. He spreads his legs wide, aware that it'll give Kavinsky a perfect view up his skirt. They'd picked out his black lace panties together.

"Now my thighs."

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky breathed out, slow and desperate. His cock throbbed and twitched, and he crept forward. He kept his hands on the floor and began to work slowly up from his knees, making sure to spend equal time on each leg. About halfway up Newt's thighs, Kavinsky could smell him, the musky slick of his cunt, and it made him whimper softly against the skin under his open-mouthed kisses.

[thebloodyglue]

He likes this game, likes seeing how far he can push Kavinsky, how far Kavinsky can be pushed. Newt pushes his fingers into Kavinsky's hair, tugging lightly, shifting the position of his mouth against his skin.

"You prepared to spend the rest of the night on your knees, shank?"

[mitsubishievo]

"Yes," Kavinsky breathed, dazed but present, centered into only this moment. There were no doubts here, no worries, nothing but his lovely boyfriend and whatever he needed him for and this moment for them. He let Newt redirect where his mouth was on his skin, licking and scraping his teeth gently. He was very nearly to Newt's cunt now.