everymonstrousthing | (no subject)

What are they even doing here? He catches himself wondering that. He sighs, a shivering breath and lifts his hips a little. There are so few people he'd be this exposed, this vulnerable, in front of.

Jesper holds Kaz's hips again for a moment, shifting him into a more comfortable position before he starts to guide himself in. Kaz's body is still lean and tensed and Jesper could lose himself in those shoulders, in the shift of muscle under skin and over bone.

It's still new enough that he has to remind himself to relax, remind himself that he's been thinking about this for days, that this is something that he wants. He breathes out reaches back to graze one hand against Jesper's thigh.

Jesper soothes his thumb in circles over Kaz's hip, careful to keep his leg at an angle that won't hurt him. "You feel good, Kaz," he says, low and for him to hear. "Saints, you have no idea."

"So tell me," says Kaz, finding that he really wants to hear it, that he really wants to know how Jesper sees him right then.

He laughs and kisses Kaz on the shoulder again, hips starting to move, though he's carefully still gentle about it. "I used to imagine that if we did this, you'd throw me down and have your way with me." Jesper keeps his voice low, smoky with fantasy. "And now it's me in you and I can feel you. Your whole body is an ember, Kaz. You're hot. Glowing. Hypnotic."

He sounds crazy now, making half-attempts at poetry, but Kaz feels too good.

"Are you - ah..." His breath catches for a moment. "Are you disappointed?" He doesn't think that Jesper sounds like someone disappointed, though. He thinks he sounds like someone who's getting everything he wants.

This time, he bites Kaz's shoulder, as if it's an attempt at a reproach. "How could I be?" This is more than he's ever dreamed will be real. How can he be disappointed?

The bite makes him laugh, just a little and he squirms, rocking back into the cradle of Jesper's hips. He doesn't argue, though. Who's he to question?

He loves the way that Kaz squirms, bucks back toward the touch. It encourages Jesper on, gives him the permission to start to properly fuck Kaz, hips rolling so that he thrusts deeply into Kaz.

Kaz moans when Jesper rocks into him like that, when he actually feels it. He drops his head, his weight caught on his hands.

"That's it" he mumbles. "More like that."

And he can give Kaz that, as often and as hard as he likes. Jesper moves a little faster, his thrusts a little more sharp, meant to take Kaz to the line between pleasure and pain he seems to like so much. "Like that?"

He arches his back, leaning into it as Jesper fucks him. It hurts, a little, but not in such a way that he wants him to stop.

"Saints, yes. Just like that."

Then he won't stop for all that he worries, just faintly, that Kaz will think it's too much. Jesper should know better that Kaz Brekker is made of sterner stuff in all things, especially the way he fucks. Not thinking, Jesper clenches his hands into Kaz's hips, leaving red marks from his nails.

That's what he craves - those marks, that ownership, even if just for now. He whimpers. Later, he can lie back and examine all of those marks, see how he feels about them once he's out of the moment.

"Shit." He doesn't mean to curse but Kaz makes that sound and Jesper's head falls back a little, mouth wide open and his hands tighten on Kaz's skin. "Kaz..." Because he just needs to say Kaz's name.

"Jes," he mumbles. "Love. Please."

It's just a term of endearment. It's something he calls Nina all the time. But he still blinks when it slips out. Shit.

He does pause then, can't help it. It's such a weighty word that has no place in what they're doing that Jesper almost forgets that this doesn't mean anything. Then he remembers himself and makes himself laugh, nuzzling under Kaz's ear. "I'm no heartrender. Can't butter me up like that." He punctuates it with a hard thrust of his hips, a reminder for them both.

The harder thrust is good, though, and Kaz groans softly, rocking his weight back to ride against Jesper's cock into the cradle of his hips. He doesn't say anything else.

And just like that, they fall back into equilibrium. It's just sex. It's just Jesper being useful to Kaz. In that respect, it's no different from shooting.

He slides a hand down Kaz's chest and grips his cock, beginning to stroke.

That touch is maddening. Kaz rocks between the press of Jesper's cock, the stroke of his hand. He's never been touched like this, never let himself be touched like this, and he wonders how he went this long without being this warm.

"Jes."

He can't help it. He can't swallow the name down.

"I'm here," he says. He's here and alive and as willing as ever to do what Kaz wants, to be what he needs. Even if it costs Jesper a little part of himself. He has forgiveness to beg for that Kaz doesn't know.

Jesper strokes him through it, listening to the sound of his name.

Kaz can't hold on much longer. He realises that a moment before he comes. It occurs to him just a moment before it happens that it's potentially going to make a horrible mess on Jesper's couch.

He feels it, hot and slick over his hand, and spares only a brief consideration to the couch. It's not like he bought it and, anyway, he likes the idea. Even if it's cleaned up, they'll still know what happened here.

Murmuring encouragement, Jesper keeps stroking, carrying Kaz through those last waves of it.

When he's spent, Kaz leans over the sofa, head down, still rocking back rhythmically to meet the thrust of Jesper's cock. There's more here that he wants.