Kavinsky strokes his fingers through Nick's hair and down his neck.
"You're safe here, babe. No one comes in if I don't want them to."
Which gives all new meaning to the fact that he tells Nick door's open every time he comes over. But even if he didn't have his own security system here, he wouldn't let harm come to Nick. Not from some asshole with a grudge or whatever.
He lets his thumb brush along Nick's bottom lip and admires the view.
He preens, lifts his chin with the pleasure of it, because even when he's drunk and sad, he enjoys touch. "Good, I thought so," he says, and closes his eyes a little and preens. "You take the best care of me, you magical creature," he adds, catching one of Kavinsky's fingers with his teeth, but he just worries at it.
"If you call me a unicorn, I'm putting you to bed." He grins though and makes no effort to free himself from Nick's teeth. This is the kind of shit he could get used to, the stuff he holds onto when Nick's not around.
It's pathetic. He knows that.
But it's his.
His other hand takes over stroking through Nick's hair now that Nick's teasing his fingers.
"Unicorns aren't real," he says with a laugh. "And even if they were, you wouldn't be one. They don't come near sinners like me," he says. "You're better than any shitty horse with a fancy tooth. You're a nightmare thing, and it-"
He's drunk, but he still knows the limits. "You're more like a dragon. Those are probably real."
He wants to hear it, whatever it was that just died on the tip of Nick's tongue. He's not sober but he's not deaf, either, and his attention sharply hones in on that one little hesitation. His fingers are still gentle in Nick's hair and on his throat but his eyes are dark, waiting.
A dragon. Well, Nick's seen him conjure one before, it's not the worst comparison. Fire and destruction are kind of his M.O.
"It's so hot," he finally finishes, smug and pleased at once, and arching up to kiss him on the mouth, and then flopping back down, his eyes closing with pleasure.
Sometimes Kavinsky is the best thing that's happened to him here. Dorian would see right through him, make him talk about the misery. Prudence would have already kicked him out - she has no patience for his moods, or his drunkenness.
A grin cracks his face after that kiss and his hand strokes over Nick's throat and down the line of his chest.
"Fuck you," he says, full of a sharp fondness that he feels for Nick. Kavinsky's not totally blind, he knows there has to be something up if Nick's gotten himself trashed like this. But he's not going to drag it out of him. And he sure as fuck isn't going to kick him out.
His fingers start gathering Nick's shirt, pulling it higher until he can slide his palm over bare skin.
He makes a low, humming noise, and he rocks up so that his shirt can ride up just a little bit. "Do you want me to? I've never been able to not get it up in my entire life, so I could probably fuck you," he says, congenially. Sure he's drunk, but whiskeydick is for mortals.
"I always wanna fuck around with you," he answers.
He pinches a nipple before his hand slides lower, offering firm pressure over Nick's groin. He doesn't care who fucks who anymore, it just feels good when he's with Nick.
"Tell me what you want, gorgeous. I'm your host, right?"
Kavinsky grins and leans down to get another kiss. Awkward angle but he makes it work.
He raises his hips into that touch, grinding his crotch into Kavinsky's hand and kissing him with a bite. "Yeah, I know you do," he says, and he shifts a bit; he can feel his cock stirring, and the initial sensation is one of extreme desire. He wants to fuck. He wants to do it now.
He arches again, and then gets up, sluggish at first and then faster, to slide into Kavinsky's lap, to kiss him as he straddles him. "You're so good to me," he whispers, and bites at his jawline, at his throat. Hello.
Soon enough he has Nick in his lap and it's easy to just get his arms around him as teeth tease along his jaw and down his throat. Kavinsky tips his head back, baring it for Nick as his hands get under his shirt again. K's already getting hard. Doesn't take much with certain people.
Eventually he shoves a hand down the back of Nick's pants to grab his ass and pull him closer. He'll never get enough.
He kisses him again, to forget that he's sad, and it's working. He licks into Kavinsky's mouth, and he tugs his shirt off, so he's just in his trousers, his erection almost obnoxiously obvious.
He blinks, heavily.
"I want you to tie me up," he says. He doesn't usually let guys do this. Unless he knows he owns them, like he knows he owns K.
Kavinsky lifts his eyebrows at that but a grin creeps across his face. "Alright, sweetheart. I got shit upstairs." He pauses, then adds, "Or I can get real creative with this shirt."
He's not above tearing it into shreds and tying Nick up like that. It's not like he's hurting for a wardrobe.
He gets up, shifting his weight off Kavinsky's lap slowly, and then makes his way up the stairs to where he knows K's bedroom is. His trousers are low and tight, but they loosen as he opens them on the way up.
If he's getting tied up, he's definitely doing it while nude.
Kavinsky follows Nick up and, as soon as they're in his room, he grabs Nick by his pants and pulls him close for another kiss. He pushes at them and at whatever Nick's wearing beneath, far more interested in having him naked. Kavinsky turns his head and slides his mouth over Nick's throat, letting his teeth graze his pulse.
He pushes Nick toward the bed and stays close against him, slowing just to make sure they don't kill themselves falling.
He gets rid of the rest of his clothes, and gets up on the bed, kneeling so his legs are spread and his hands are on his thighs. His eyes are darker than usual, his cock already half-risen from the curls at the base. He looks like some kind of demon; but one of the beautiful ones, impossible not to look at.
Nick lifts his chin just a little bit. "Like this?"
Kavinsky can't ignore the heat that throbs through him as he looks Nick over. Fuck.
"Hands behind your back," he says after a moment of just appreciating the view. Kavinsky moves closer to the bed and pulls a box out from beneath it. There's all kinds of things in there, restraints included. He goes for the black silk rope, thinking Nick will look good in it and that it's stronger than it looks.
Besides, he can one for a gag, too, if he wants. But he likes listening to Nick, so maybe not.
Kavinsky eases onto the bed behind Nick and guides his hands if he needs to before he starts wrapping his wrists, tying them together with some wicked knots.
He obeys without a fuss, moving his hands behind his back and crossing his wrists, and he bows his head as Kavinsky ties his hands together. He tests the knots, pulling his hands apart, and when he's sure that he won't be able to break it, he nods his head.
He doesn't normally like to have his hands tied. Witches can't do magic without use of their hands - that's the first thing that witch hunters go for. Hands, and mouths.
But Nick trusts Kavinsky. He wouldn't hurt him. He wouldn't turn him over to witch hunters.
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"You're safe here, babe. No one comes in if I don't want them to."
Which gives all new meaning to the fact that he tells Nick door's open every time he comes over. But even if he didn't have his own security system here, he wouldn't let harm come to Nick. Not from some asshole with a grudge or whatever.
He lets his thumb brush along Nick's bottom lip and admires the view.
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It's pathetic. He knows that.
But it's his.
His other hand takes over stroking through Nick's hair now that Nick's teasing his fingers.
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He's drunk, but he still knows the limits. "You're more like a dragon. Those are probably real."
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He wants to hear it, whatever it was that just died on the tip of Nick's tongue. He's not sober but he's not deaf, either, and his attention sharply hones in on that one little hesitation. His fingers are still gentle in Nick's hair and on his throat but his eyes are dark, waiting.
A dragon. Well, Nick's seen him conjure one before, it's not the worst comparison. Fire and destruction are kind of his M.O.
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Sometimes Kavinsky is the best thing that's happened to him here. Dorian would see right through him, make him talk about the misery. Prudence would have already kicked him out - she has no patience for his moods, or his drunkenness.
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"Fuck you," he says, full of a sharp fondness that he feels for Nick. Kavinsky's not totally blind, he knows there has to be something up if Nick's gotten himself trashed like this. But he's not going to drag it out of him. And he sure as fuck isn't going to kick him out.
His fingers start gathering Nick's shirt, pulling it higher until he can slide his palm over bare skin.
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He pinches a nipple before his hand slides lower, offering firm pressure over Nick's groin. He doesn't care who fucks who anymore, it just feels good when he's with Nick.
"Tell me what you want, gorgeous. I'm your host, right?"
Kavinsky grins and leans down to get another kiss. Awkward angle but he makes it work.
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He arches again, and then gets up, sluggish at first and then faster, to slide into Kavinsky's lap, to kiss him as he straddles him. "You're so good to me," he whispers, and bites at his jawline, at his throat. Hello.
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Eventually he shoves a hand down the back of Nick's pants to grab his ass and pull him closer. He'll never get enough.
"C'mon, sweetheart."
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He blinks, heavily.
"I want you to tie me up," he says. He doesn't usually let guys do this. Unless he knows he owns them, like he knows he owns K.
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He's not above tearing it into shreds and tying Nick up like that. It's not like he's hurting for a wardrobe.
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If he's getting tied up, he's definitely doing it while nude.
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He pushes Nick toward the bed and stays close against him, slowing just to make sure they don't kill themselves falling.
"Get on the bed, gorgeous."
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Nick lifts his chin just a little bit. "Like this?"
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"Hands behind your back," he says after a moment of just appreciating the view. Kavinsky moves closer to the bed and pulls a box out from beneath it. There's all kinds of things in there, restraints included. He goes for the black silk rope, thinking Nick will look good in it and that it's stronger than it looks.
Besides, he can one for a gag, too, if he wants. But he likes listening to Nick, so maybe not.
Kavinsky eases onto the bed behind Nick and guides his hands if he needs to before he starts wrapping his wrists, tying them together with some wicked knots.
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He doesn't normally like to have his hands tied. Witches can't do magic without use of their hands - that's the first thing that witch hunters go for. Hands, and mouths.
But Nick trusts Kavinsky. He wouldn't hurt him. He wouldn't turn him over to witch hunters.