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Kavinsky just kind of stays where he is for a minute, breathing and staring at nothing. He looks wrung out. Anger and grief make up such a big part of him - especially anger. Slowly he lifts his dark gaze to the bottle Nick is holding and he nods.

"Thanks," he says, not sure what else to say to something like that. His dark eyes meet Nick's and he leans forward to kiss him.

He takes his face and kisses him, gently. He's not normally one for getting rid of these kinds of emotions, but he knows that mortals don't always have easy ways of managing this kind of thing.

He kisses him again. "I'm right here," he says, dark eyed and genuine.

Kavinsky has plenty of ways to manage. Nick's seen some of them. He moves closer, straddles Nick where he sits and pulls him into another kiss. His anger is all bottled up outside of him and so it's not venom he feels when Nick looks at him like that. It hurts, though. A different kind of grief.

Nick's here, but for how fucking long? Kavinsky bumps their foreheads together.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Gotta make sure some dumb mortal doesn't fling himself out a window, right? Dramatic shit."

"You're not some dumb mortal," Nick says, and tugs him into his lap and kisses him again, licking into his mouth. "Come on, let me fuck you," he says, softly. "You like it," he adds.

He knows it's true.

He slides into Nick's lap and slides his arms around his neck. A little grin quirks his mouth. "Yeah, I do."

God, how long has it been? Months. Too fucking long. Kavinsky almost doesn't trust that it's going to happen and he leans closer to kiss Nick again. He's felt shut out for so fucking long.

He kisses him again, and he misses what they had, when Kavinsky wasn't bound up with another man. With a man too greedy and too cruel for words.

He might as well be a Blackwood.

But he kisses him and tangles his hands in his hair. "I'll fuck you, even if I don't like that you can't come."

There's some fleeting part of him that wants to remind Nick all he has to do is ask. That's too much, he knows. He'd balk at it, too. If it was him, he'd find a way to steal whatever it is he wanted. And maybe he isn't enough to ask for.

But he can have this now. He can take as much as Nick will give him and swallow it all to hold onto. Because Kavinsky is greedy, and he can be cruel, and all he cares about is the way Nick's fingers feel in his hair and how he tastes in every kiss.

"Fuck, I missed you," he breathes between them.

"I missed you," he whispers, and tugs him into his lap, closer, and kisses him again, open mouthed and pretty. He pulls at his shirt, at Kavinksy's, like they are virgins and he wants more of him.

"Satan, you're needy."

Kavinsky laughs, delirious with wanting and yes, needy. He straddles Nick’s lap, getting as close as he can as they kiss.. “I’m needy? You’re the one about to fuck up my wardrobe.”

He grins and pulls back enough to strip off his shirt, tossing it somewhere out of reach.

"You can dream another one," he says, opening his mouth for another kiss, and pushing him back so that he's on the floor and Nick is between his legs.

He hopes - really, he does - that Kavinsky gets out of his contract. That they can go back to this, without Nick feeling strange and displeased about it. That they can return to fucking like this and letting it real.

He leans down to bite at his throat though, leaving marks. Let the asshole know.

Kavinsky grins when his back hits the floor and he lolls his head back, leaving his throat exposed to Nick's teeth. He thinks of the fucking dream and how good it was. Kavinsky grabs Nick by the belt loops to haul him closer as he grinds up against him. He laughs, breathless, as Nick bites and sucks marks onto his neck.

"Fuck yes," he sighs. He hooks his legs around Nick and lets his hands move, pushing up along Nick's sides to get his shirt off. He's a junkie that hasn't had a hit in way too long.

He bites again, feral for a moment, even though Nick is always completely in control. At least when it comes to his boys. They have to know, to understand, there is a hierarchy here, and while K has some standing, Nick doesn't lose it. He won't, he can't.

Still, he hooks Kavinsky's leg over his elbow and pulls him up, not caring that they're both still dressed. He presses his erection, still covered in cloth, against K's ass. "This is what you want, right?" he asks, serious.

Kavinsky's fingers tangle in Nick's hair as he bites again, making sure to leave his calling card for Adam. The sharp drag that makes their bodies collide earns a quiet sound from him. Clothes don't matter: he uses what leverage he still has push against Nick, to keep their bodies tight together. His dark eyes are sharply focused when he looks up at Nick.

"You know it is."

Something in him twists like he's expecting another shoe to drop, for a condition to appear. You want this? Then give me something.

"Good," he says, because he won't be able to get him off and it'll make Nick crazy, so he needs to know that K is okay with that. He flicks his fingers, and Kavinsky's pants are gone, and Nick is reaching down to undo his own fly. "Where do you have lube?" he asks, because there are limits and for Nick this is one of them.

"You can magic my fuckin' pants off but you're gonna make me find the lube?" Kavinsky grins and rolls his hips to get more friction. "It's next to the bed. Been that long you don't fuckin' remember?"

He reaches to get his hand into Nick's pants as soon as his fly is down. God, he's missed his dick.

"You can't expect me to do all the work, Joseph," he says, and laughs a little, but then his hand is on Nick's dick and he groans a little, too happy to be touched to fight more. He rocks his hips up, and looks around, unsure for a moment. "Bless you, I'm going to have to go get it," he says, because he can't summon it if he doesn't know exactly where it is.

Kavinsky slides Nick's cock free so he can stroke him. "Nightstand. Left side of the bed. Right next to the light."

Maybe that won't help but it's worth a shot. "Fuck I missed how you feel," he sighs. He remembers how fucking good it felt in the dream. It's real to him. It will always be real to him.

Nick looks at Kavinsky for a moment, his smile sly, and he flicks his hand again. It appears in his fingers, the container held up victoriously. "Yeah?" he asks, and he kisses him under the jaw, on his collar, and then he works his way down to a nipple. He licks, flat, and with his hands he takes the lube, warms it on his fingers, and starts to open K up.

"Satan I missed everything about you."

"There you go."

He's gotta admit, it's a good trick to have. Kavinsky lets his head drop back as Nick's mouth trails down neck, ending with the perfect slide of his tongue. He hears the cap click and just a moment later he's got Nick working on him. He looks euphoric and he moves his hips to meet every push of Nick's fingers, like he could get him deeper.

His breath catches and he grabs Nick's head to haul him into another kiss.

"I didn't go anywhere."

He hates whoever it is that took K away from him, because he didn't go anywhere, but his world narrowed away from Nick. It wasn't meant to be punishment, but they both know that's what it turned into.

He keeps opening him, adding another finger, huffing as he kisses him and kisses him. "Don't," he says, softly. Don't make him think about the fact that he won't be able to make him come.

Kavinsky tries to remember where his phone is. He put it down before Nick appeared. It doesn't matter: he's pretty sure Nick wouldn't like him firing off a message just to get off any more than something more overt. It's the principle of the thing. What a bullshit way to take a stand.

"Fuck--" He arches beneath Nick, losing himself in the feeling between breathless kisses. "Lemme have you, c'mon."

He doesn't care if this part is a rush job, he needs to fucking feel Nick in him again. It's what he wants.

"Yes," he says, and he pushes his trousers down, tugs them down, and doesn't hold back much more than that, slicking himself up fast before he pushes into Kavinsky, closing his eyes when he enters him, and huffing a breath. "Heaven-" he swears, and he knows it doesn't sound like it to mortal ears, but that's what it is, a hissing swear.

It's so good. "You're so tight," he mutters, and thrusts again, pushing into him with more force.

"Oh, fuck." Kavinsky grabs for Nick, gets hold of his thigh as he sinks in. It's a stretch but he doesn't fucking care, it feels good. His breath catches as Nick snaps his hips, pushes deeper. "Holy shit, Nick."

He likes hearing Nick swear, likes his weird blasphemies. Likes that he can inspire them in both anger and ecstasy.

"You feel so fucking good."

"Unholy," he says, giving Kavinsky a little slap, just for invoking holiness into this. There's nothing here but sin, but the kind that feels so good, the kind that makes Nick a little crazy. He bites at K's shoulder, at his chest, he kisses his mouth and hopes that there's swelling, afterwards.

"Oh fuck you," he whines, a laugh on the edge of his voice. "Let me fuckin' blaspheme how I want."

That's the point, after all: to make the holy profane. Nick leaves bites and bruises and Kavinsky returns the favor: he wants to bruise Nick's lips, he wants to leave the shape of his mouth on his neck. He feels good, riding that edge he's gotten used to and finding pleasure there despite it all.

VOICE	TEXT	ACTION
Kavinsky You know what to do. <

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