. .. IC Contact | Duplicity .. .

[konstant]

                                                                 

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[konstant]

K lingers in that kiss, letting himself be pulled into it not because he doesn't beat it, but because he likes that Jesus wants it. Wants him.

He leans in once he's there though, slow and intent. He does his very best to deserve this affection, to reflect it back sevenfold.

And when he's done, he covers Jesus's hand with his own, turns his head to kiss his palm and murmur, "I already am."

[hippie_ninja]

If he's not very, very careful, he thinks he could lose his mind a bit with this man. He kisses him again, because he has no words for a moment, just this, just himself.

[konstant]

K's other hand slides around his waist, both supporting him,enjoying the solidity of him, and pulling him closer.

Which is, maybe, when the new nut subtle note to this might become more pronounced: he wants to stay here. He wants more of this, wants to be close to Jesus, wants to feel like this and whatever else comes with it for however long he has and then just one moment more.

He wants it, and he's sure he can't have it, not for long enough. So he speaks it up while he can, bittersweet and precious.

[hippie_ninja]

"The table's strong enough to hold us," he teases, but he's not really teasing. "Or wherever."

The salient point is that he wants K and he might not have him next year.

[konstant]

"Counterpoint: we've already done that," he answers, warm and teasing.

"Tell me something new you want," he bids him between kisses, easing them both back against the arm of the sofa behind him.

[hippie_ninja]

"Bend me over," he grins, but he's hooking his heels behind K already. "We always fuck face to face. ... Except I like seeing you."

Another slower kiss.

[konstant]

"So..." he drawls, and lets it trail into another kiss, pushing his hand up the back of Jesus's shirt, skin to skin.

"Fuck me face to face."

[hippie_ninja]

"Yeah?" He presses against him. "You want me to fuck you this time?"

[konstant]

"Yes." A faint twinge of a feeling, one without a name K is aware of, not uncomfortable but not comfortable either.

Giddy? He holds steady, lets Jesus rub against him as he will, and says again, "Yes I do."

[hippie_ninja]

"Have you ever been fucked before?" He asks, hand pushing K's shirt up slightly, because his answer will determine a lot.

[konstant]

"Once," K admits, and at least with Jesus, there's no uncertainty there that somehow - one way or another - this will be a flaw of some kind.

[hippie_ninja]

"We should go to the bed then," he muses, because tabletops and bent over the sofa seem like a lot for someone's second time. "I want to go slow with you."

[konstant]

"You won't hurt me," he promises; he could, it's possible of course, especially in this way when he can walk away from explosions and impalement and all manner of blunt trauma.

But he won't. All the same: "Wherever you want."

[hippie_ninja]

"Upstairs," he decides. "We'll kick Nibbles out so he can meet Mango." There are plenty of places for him to climb up to get away from her if he needs, so Jesus isn't worried about babysitting them.

[konstant]

K has worked both his hands under Jesus's clothes by now to warm skin, although it's still mostly idle - "Lead the way," he agrees. - until, anyway, he slides both his hands along the graceful curve of Jesus's spine and tuck under his waistband.

"Or I can do the work."

[hippie_ninja]

"Yeah? You think you can get us up to bed without me distracting you?" He arches up under K's touch, kissing his neck, his jaw.

[konstant]

"I'm willing to let you try," he murmurs back, humming softly in appreciation when he tips his head aside to give Jesus a better angle.

"But yes," is the subtle challenge.

[hippie_ninja]

He wraps his legs around him, he kisses him. "Try it." If Jesus wins and they trip, well, it wouldn't be the worst fall he's ever had.

He pulls at the collar of K's shirt, kissing a line along his chest there. "Watch out for the puppy."

[konstant]

"I'll watch out for the puppy," he promises. Overbalancing is partially to do with lack of strength to bear a load, and K certainly doesn't lack that; he waits for Jesus to get a good grip, hands sliding lower until he can hook just under the other man's ass and lift him properly.

He kisses him back as he turns them, as he feels his way to the first stair and eases up them until he's even with Mango. He's practiced the maneuver he does then, scooping the puppy up with the toe of his boot under her ribs and sliding her down out of his way, smoothly and gently, which just leaves the door.

[hippie_ninja]

Jesus is strong and agile enough to lean back and get the door open--Nibbles, helpful as ever, darts out to investigate Mango--and then lean right back up to kiss K again.

"You're good at wrangling her," he teases.

[konstant]

K has the common sense to stand still, to wait for all the moving parts around him - Mango, Nibbles, and Jesus alike - to resolve before he tries to pick his way through them.

It means he's kissing Jesus again by the time they're moving, by the time he takes two more steps up before he's able to lower him down onto his back and ease down himself to lean over this man he cares more for than he would have thought possible only a few short months ago.

"I'm good at wrangling a lot of things," he teases back, mouthing his way around Jesus's beard to the skin of his jaw and neck.

[hippie_ninja]

"You must be. You managed to catch me," he says, happy about it, arching his neck to give K all the access he can offer.

Sometimes, like now, the fact of K here with him--how improbable it all is, and Jesus is used to slim probabilities--makes him almost giddy with a sense of victory. They both made it here, somehow.

[konstant]

K is oblivious to the revelation happening below him, although he's aware of the effect it has on the tension in Jesus's body; he's too intent on feeling his way along the bones and muscles of Jesus's chest like there's a poem stamped there in Braille, like he's planning a masterpiece he'll have to sculpt blind.

"I've never missed a target," he teases, although it's the closest he'll get - besides their play during Tumenalia - to referencing his work lightly. Even now, he only does it because he remembers how delighted Jesus was then.

[hippie_ninja]

The effect now is no less pronounced; the way he's moving against K's hips takes on a subtle bit of urgency. He doesn't ask for more than that, though. Tumenalia was its own thing, and he doesn't want K to think he takes K's job or the life he lived at home lightly.

He knows he's meant to take the reins here a bit, but for right now he just breathes heavy, just enjoys the heat of K's mouth on his skin, the attention K gives him that he could never have imagined receiving before he knew this man.

[konstant]

That friction between them created by body moving against body is delicious, and K lets that heat build without pushing him any more rushed where his attention is. He's moved down to Jesus's shoulder with his mouth by then, lips and tongue mapping skin in a way his touch couldn't, lingering in the hollow above his collarbone and the crease where sweat catches at the junction of shoulder and neck.

The reaction makes him smile, his grip massaging into the muscles just above Jesus's hip, encouraging him even as he lays himself out long beside him.