everymonstrousthing | (no subject)

Gratefully, he reaches for silverware, using them to eat. It keeps his hands clean, even if it doesn't look quite as easy as Jesper eating it straight out of the box.

"They might not know how to cook potatoes, but this is good," he comments.

"I'll have to see if I have a skillet. Maybe I'll learn." He can cook, actually. Back in Novyi Zem, he and his father both shared the duty and they'd managed simple things. Enough not to starve to death anyway.

"I haven't gotten them right, yet, but I'll keep trying," he says, taking another bite of his food and chewing thoughtfully, trying to ignore how content he feels.

Jesper laughs at the thought, if only to suppress how nice it would actually be to sit around like this all the time, trading jokes and cooking. His father had often told Jesper to get himself a wife so that he'd stop landing in trouble and have a reason to be home early. He's never found one and doubts that anyone could keep him home and domestic.

He goes into the kitchen to mix yet another drink to shake the thought away.

The food is good and Kaz feels himself warming, settling. He watches as Jesper moves around the apartment. He doesn't say anything, but he watches.

Jesper hands Kaz another drink, this one mostly sweetened red wine, and pours one for himself. When he sits, this time, it's on the sofa next to Kaz with their thighs pressed together.

"Cheers."

Jesper sits close and Kaz doesn't pull away. He finishes his pizza and sips at his wine. He leans into the touch a little.

"This is good," he says, raising the glass.

"I try." It feels good, having Kaz lean into his touch like that. It's the smallest form of affection, but it's still more than most can claim from Kaz Brekker. Pushing his luck, he traces a fingertip over the back of one of Kaz's hands, finding the shapes of bone and veins beneath the skin.

It's the tiniest touch, but Kaz's breath catches, all the same. He flexes his fingers, just a little, just so Jesper can feel the movement in the back of his hand.

Of the two of them, Jesper would say that Kaz's hands ought to be Grisha ones. His own hands are smudged and burned from a lifetime of work and gunfire but Kaz's are elegant, not dirty or scarred or deformed, no matter what the legends insist.

"They call you Dirtyhands, but you ate with a knife and fork. Very proper."

"I don't like the feel of the grease on my skin," he says, uncharacteristically honest, his nose wrinkling. He shrugs. "The myth of it was useful though."

Jesper knows what Kaz is capable of.

"What myth? You're plenty deadly. That's no legend." He smiles and enjoys the sight of Kaz Brekker wrinkling his nose like a disgusted student.

"That I was some kind of devil, instead of just a barrel boy like the rest of them," says Kaz, with a shrug. "That I had claws or my palms dripped blood."

He turns one hand over so that Jesper can see his palm.

Jesper traces the lines of Kaz's palm, as if he's some Suli fortuneteller who can read Kaz's life in them. In truth, all he can see is that Kaz's hands are elegant and fine to touch and not much else.

"Only the blood you've shed," he says.

Then, because all of this is going to his head, Jesper bends and kisses his palm.

Kaz's eyelashes flutter at the brush of Jesper's lips against his palm.

"All these things that I have done."

"They don't bother me," Jesper says. He hears the slight pause in Kaz's breath. His lips move up his palm to the length of one of Kaz's fingers, listening for a reaction.

Every brush of Jesper's lips causes an answering shiver in Kaz's belly. He swallows.

Turning his head, Jesper glances up at Kaz. As he does it, as he holds Kaz's eyes, Jesper opens his mouth over that finger, lips parted only slightly so the tip of his tongue can slide over the first knuckle. Let him be reminded, Jesper thinks, of the first time Jesper's mouth was on him.

Jesper might as well be sliding his mouth down over his cock, it feels so good. Kaz fumbles, setting his wine glass down so he can half turn towards Jesper. He doesn't pull his hand away.

He smiles around Kaz's finger and closes his lips over it now, drawing the finger into his mouth to suck. Deliberately, Jesper lets his cheeks hollow and his eyes closed, reminding Kaz again.

The sound that Kaz huffs out is part moan, part laugh.

"Tease."

Jesper's brows come together so that he can put on an expression of 'Who, me?' innocence before he pulls slowly off. "I could stop."

Kaz shakes his head, a strand of dark hair slipping over his forehead and, for a moment, he looks his age.

"Don't stop."

It's request enough and Jesper smiles, returning to the work of sucking Kaz's fingers. His tongue moves between them and Jesper holds Kaz's eyes, letting him see the intention there.

Suddenly his jeans are uncomfortably tight and his face is flushed and he can't tear his eyes away from Jesper, sucking on his fingers like that.