There's nothing about Derek he can forget, no part of this that he can just put out of his head. Since that first time, he can't get this man out of his damn head. The feel of his hands on his body, his dark, sharp eyes that sometimes glow red. The cocky smirk that flashes to life and, more often, the scowl that seems permanently etched on his face. All of it is burned into his mind, all of it flares to life whenever they do this.
This is different. This is something they're doing wholly sober, because both of them are willing to admit that they want this. Each other. That ramps up the intensity in a way Kavinsky wasn't expecting, but should have. His eyes flash open at the sound of Derek's voice and he manages to meet his gaze, unwavering as he drops into Derek's lap.
Derek's grip is bruising and it keeps him grounded. He's half hard again and he doesn't think it'll take much to get him the rest of the way there at this rate. He watches Derek, deeply satisfied by his inability to speak at first. He wets his lips and shifts his weight, but he doesn't try to lift up or anything.
Slow? Jesus. Kavinsky manages to nod his head and he gives another slow rock of his hips, just to feel the way Derek's filling him.
"How slow are we talking here?" he manages after a moment. Like an experiment, Kavinsky lifts his hips slowly until he's halfway up Derek's cock before he sinks back down again, thighs trembling as he tries to keep it just as slow.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
This is different. This is something they're doing wholly sober, because both of them are willing to admit that they want this. Each other. That ramps up the intensity in a way Kavinsky wasn't expecting, but should have. His eyes flash open at the sound of Derek's voice and he manages to meet his gaze, unwavering as he drops into Derek's lap.
Derek's grip is bruising and it keeps him grounded. He's half hard again and he doesn't think it'll take much to get him the rest of the way there at this rate. He watches Derek, deeply satisfied by his inability to speak at first. He wets his lips and shifts his weight, but he doesn't try to lift up or anything.
Slow? Jesus. Kavinsky manages to nod his head and he gives another slow rock of his hips, just to feel the way Derek's filling him.
"How slow are we talking here?" he manages after a moment. Like an experiment, Kavinsky lifts his hips slowly until he's halfway up Derek's cock before he sinks back down again, thighs trembling as he tries to keep it just as slow.