everymonstrousthing | (no subject)

Jesper is only the second person he's ever kissed. He freezes, for a moment, pressed close and then he surges, leaning into it, clinging to Jesper's sleeves with both hands.

Something kicks in and Jesper feels it. Kaz goes from still to active in seconds, hands tight in his clothes. Jesper opens his mouth and gives up on telling himself to be smarter about this.

Just like that, they're kissing. Kaz has never been blind to Jesper's feelings about him, has used them from time to time, but this...this is something different. This is something purer. And Jesper feels hot enough to burn.

He stumbles in place, drunk enough that the heady reality could bowl him over. He's kissing Kaz Brekker, getting something he's desired for almost their whole acquaintance. He's kissing Kaz Brekker and there's a good chance he might get to enjoy more.

The counter and the press of Jesper's body is pretty much all that keeps Kaz standing. He leans into the kiss, reckless and hungry, makes a soft sound against Jesper's mouth.

It's soft and plaintive and so unlike Kaz that he opens his eyes to check. Opens his eyes, but doesn't pull away, doesn't stop kissing. Kaz looks as if he might go weak in the knees, which is a flattering prospect even if Jesper doubts it's entirely to do with him.

He swipes his tongue along Kaz's, tastes the sweet and the burn of the liquor he's been mixing this whole time.

It's easy, he finds, to let himself be nudged. He opens his mouth, lets Jesper kiss him as deep as he wants. He still doesn't trust himself to actually touch Jesper's skin.

He's never known Kaz to be pliant, to be warm and wanting. And Kaz is warm. His body feels as heated and taut as any other man Jesper's been with.

"My kitchen's not very comfortable," he remarks. "Especially without the alcohol" Bed. Couch. Floor. Kaz can make his choices.

Kaz draws in a shivering, delicate breath and blinks.

"Wherever you want," he says. It feels good to not have to hold himself in check.

He could drink in this version of Kaz, the one that had heretofore only existed in the sweeter of Jesper's fantasies. He'd always expected, if anything did come of this, that it would be a rough thing with Kaz's hand on his throat but this is...well, Kaz looks on the verge of swooning.

Jesper pulls back enough that Kaz can stand on his own and starts walking backward to the bedroom.

For his part, Kaz lets himself be lead. He stays pliant, focuses on the sound his boots make on the boards, the warmth of Jesper's skin and the strength of his hands.

Jesper kicks the door closed behind them and then laughs because who's going to interrupt them? The last person who was in his bed with him, Jesper had pushed and shoved and they'd been playful about it. This feels too loaded to be so flippant.

But Saints, would he love to leave Kaz Brekker with a few secret bruises.

First, Jesper peels off the t-shirt he's been wearing and throws it to the ground.

It's a lot of skin to suddenly be faced with. Kaz takes a breath. His fingers are trembling as he unbuttons his cuffs. It's not much. It's a whole world.

He's got a scattering of scars, stab wounds and bullet holes. The worst one, embarrassingly, is from tripping over a plough and he likes to make up different stories for that one but it doesn't change what he looks like. Lean, well-worn, with dark skin and light scars. All of it available to Kaz.

They're not so different - the scars, the wear. Kaz is a little broader, paler, but he wears the weight of his life, the same way as Jesper does. He fumbles, though, when he starts to undo his tie.

"Let me," Jesper says, because he's enjoying the sight of Kaz fumbling but he's also always wanted to undress Kaz too. Coming closer, he starts to tug at the knot, better at removing ties than actually tying them.

Kaz watches him, deft movements as he undoes his tie. There was refuge in crisp tailoring. Safety. He finds himself perfectly content with Jesper stripping them all away.

Jesper tries not to betray himself but his eyes are greedy as he pulls the tie away and opens Kaz's collar. It's obvious this is something he's considered before. Something he's wanted.

Forgetting to be careful, the way he always does, Jesper leans forward and kisses Kaz's throat.

It feels good to be looked at like that, good to be wanted instead of feared. Maybe he hadn't considered how much Jesper wanted this, in the end.

Jesper's breath is hot against his throat. It screams life. He lets his head fall back, acquiesces.

It shocks him to see Kaz so pliant, acquiescing. Jesper would have figured him to be sharp, pushy in bed, as commanding as he is in all ways.

It's stranger and Jesper finds himself a little delighted by it, kissing at Kaz's neck.

His hand is shaking when it comes up to graze against Jesper's bare bicep, the side of his neck and the curve of his skull as Jesper's lips slip over his skin.

"You're so warm," he mumbles.

He feels as if he's being handled carefully, something that has never been done for him and never by Kaz for sure. It makes his breath quicken and the bottom drop out of his stomach, makes him hungry for it.

"You know me," he teases. "Made of sunshine."

"And who knows what I'm made of," says Kaz, glad, for a moment, that he's still wearing his shirt, that he's got that little bit of armour left to him, even if his collar and cuffs are loose. He smooths his palm against Jesper's scalp, feels the rough texture of his hair.

Ink, blood, pure spite. Those are usually Jesper's guesses but he keeps the speculation to himself. Especially now, it seems harder to prove with the revelation of Kaz Reitvald, whoever he was.

Jesper shifts a little and tests Kaz with a bite at his throat.

The pain is sudden, present, and it makes Kaz's breath catch. His head falls back again, his eyelashes a dark smudge against his palm skin.

"Gods, Jesper," he breathes. "What are you trying to do to me?"