Kell's frayed nerves smooth easily under Jesper's skilled mouth and tongue giving him blinding pleasure. He pants and moans all the way up into mind-blanking orgasm, his third this night. If they were going for the record the previous time, Kell would suspect - if he had attention to spare on idle musings like that - that Jesper is determined to beat it now. He lets Jesper to lead him to the couch, guide him down so he could wrap him in his arms. Showering him with affections and sweet kisses, as slow and tender as they are fiery. Caring and attentive, as if he was trying to tame some wild and skittish creature. That's not even far from the truth.
Kell was always painfully aware he's the odd one out. It weren't only his mismatched eyes that singled him out. It wasn't only being the only chalk-colored kid among all those beautiful dark-skinned people. It wasn't only that in contrast to Rhy he always looked like under cooked pastry, always too thin, all bones and no muscle, always a little sick. It wasn't that the Sun did not deepen the color of his skin like it did for Rhy. It scalded him. All those things stung, but he could live with them.
It was in the way the two of them engaged with people where true differences showed up. Kell never had Rhy's effortless ease for making connections. Nor his talent for languages, or ability to always know what to say and when to make the other person feel like they've just won a tournament simply by existing in the same physical space as Rhy. He was quiet, all too serious, masking his shyness with a brooding look and perpetual scowl.
It translated to all sorts of engagements. Some of them sexual. For Rhy, flirting was as easy as breathing. For Kell, it was anything but. They were both horny teenagers, heck, that didn't change even as they grew up. But it was easier for Kell to channel all this pent up energy into magic training. Something he was rewarded for anyway. Something he liked doing. Something he knew he excelled at.
So he spent more and more time away from parties and other social occasions. Going only if forced or if Rhy dragged him. And while everyone around was having a great time, and possibly great sex, he was always the brooding presence in the background. Only getting it when the person he ended in bed with was brave enough to approach the scary Black-Eyed Prince.
Most often not even falling for him, but the idea of him. This pale, exotic, fiery-haired demon, a dangerous enigma of immense power, blessed by magic, capable of crushing them under his thumb if they slipped. Kell quite liked this persona. At least it had some kernel of truth in it. He is a being of immense power, and he likes idea of crushing people under his thumb. Metaphorically. But eventually, it was just another mirage, a mask he wore to shield himself from the world.
So whenever any of his rare dalliances ended in disappointment he told himself this was the reason. That they really didn't know him. Not his fault, not his lack experience or communication skills. But then you can't really rake up experience if all you do is scare people away. It dragged him down on those rare occasions that it was him wanting someone. A dead weight, pushing him to act more desperate. All or nothing with no center. Always a walking explosion waiting to happen, a feral creature, all spiky but starved for touch.
It's the same quiet desperation that runs him now. The want, the need to make things work with Jesper. But this time, this time it melts under Jesper's expert fingers and mouth, his understanding and comforting presence. It's so much more sexy this way.
"I didn't, haven't done anything like that before."
It's Jesper gentle guidance that makes Kell feel safe enough, accepted enough, that he can admit to his lack of experience. Own the fact that he's fumbling his way through this without knowing or understanding much. Only that prevents him from clamming up and just running away pretending nothing has happened. Then avoiding Jesper for the next few months. Instead he looks up straight into his eyes. Those beautiful, shining, silver eyes that look as if they were made of seawater, borrowing their color from the dark, immeasurable depths, vast and open. That light up into pure moonlight whenever Jesper is turned on and close to coming. Kell could spent half an eternity just staring into them. Lost, entranced and very content in his captivity.
"I want," he starts that startles himself into a pause.
So rare were the chances when he could say those words. He was rarely allowed wants. Even rarer were the instances when he could actually get what he wanted.
"I want to have sex with you here, on the bed, on the table, against the wall. In every possible place we can use for that. I want to tie you to the bed and bring you so close to orgasm that you can taste it, and then withhold it from you. Keep it away until you beg me to give it to you. I want to find ways to torment you that will give you pleasure, right after I caused you pain. I want you to crawl on the floor begging me to fill you with my come. To scream my name when I fuck you, fast and rough. I want so many things I don't even know how to explain. Only that I want them."
Having spilled his desperate litany of need, Kell buries his face in the crook of Jesper's neck. To hide away from any judgement or ridicule into comforting rhythm of Jesper's pulse under his lips when he presses them to his skin. His scent, his warmth, soothing and comforting when he's still shaking from finally having said all that was on his mind from the first time they met.
no subject
Kell was always painfully aware he's the odd one out. It weren't only his mismatched eyes that singled him out. It wasn't only being the only chalk-colored kid among all those beautiful dark-skinned people. It wasn't only that in contrast to Rhy he always looked like under cooked pastry, always too thin, all bones and no muscle, always a little sick. It wasn't that the Sun did not deepen the color of his skin like it did for Rhy. It scalded him. All those things stung, but he could live with them.
It was in the way the two of them engaged with people where true differences showed up. Kell never had Rhy's effortless ease for making connections. Nor his talent for languages, or ability to always know what to say and when to make the other person feel like they've just won a tournament simply by existing in the same physical space as Rhy. He was quiet, all too serious, masking his shyness with a brooding look and perpetual scowl.
It translated to all sorts of engagements. Some of them sexual. For Rhy, flirting was as easy as breathing. For Kell, it was anything but. They were both horny teenagers, heck, that didn't change even as they grew up. But it was easier for Kell to channel all this pent up energy into magic training. Something he was rewarded for anyway. Something he liked doing. Something he knew he excelled at.
So he spent more and more time away from parties and other social occasions. Going only if forced or if Rhy dragged him. And while everyone around was having a great time, and possibly great sex, he was always the brooding presence in the background. Only getting it when the person he ended in bed with was brave enough to approach the scary Black-Eyed Prince.
Most often not even falling for him, but the idea of him. This pale, exotic, fiery-haired demon, a dangerous enigma of immense power, blessed by magic, capable of crushing them under his thumb if they slipped. Kell quite liked this persona. At least it had some kernel of truth in it. He is a being of immense power, and he likes idea of crushing people under his thumb. Metaphorically. But eventually, it was just another mirage, a mask he wore to shield himself from the world.
So whenever any of his rare dalliances ended in disappointment he told himself this was the reason. That they really didn't know him. Not his fault, not his lack experience or communication skills. But then you can't really rake up experience if all you do is scare people away. It dragged him down on those rare occasions that it was him wanting someone. A dead weight, pushing him to act more desperate. All or nothing with no center. Always a walking explosion waiting to happen, a feral creature, all spiky but starved for touch.
It's the same quiet desperation that runs him now. The want, the need to make things work with Jesper. But this time, this time it melts under Jesper's expert fingers and mouth, his understanding and comforting presence. It's so much more sexy this way.
"I didn't, haven't done anything like that before."
It's Jesper gentle guidance that makes Kell feel safe enough, accepted enough, that he can admit to his lack of experience. Own the fact that he's fumbling his way through this without knowing or understanding much. Only that prevents him from clamming up and just running away pretending nothing has happened. Then avoiding Jesper for the next few months.
Instead he looks up straight into his eyes. Those beautiful, shining, silver eyes that look as if they were made of seawater, borrowing their color from the dark, immeasurable depths, vast and open. That light up into pure moonlight whenever Jesper is turned on and close to coming. Kell could spent half an eternity just staring into them. Lost, entranced and very content in his captivity.
"I want," he starts that startles himself into a pause.
So rare were the chances when he could say those words. He was rarely allowed wants. Even rarer were the instances when he could actually get what he wanted.
"I want to have sex with you here, on the bed, on the table, against the wall. In every possible place we can use for that. I want to tie you to the bed and bring you so close to orgasm that you can taste it, and then withhold it from you. Keep it away until you beg me to give it to you. I want to find ways to torment you that will give you pleasure, right after I caused you pain. I want you to crawl on the floor begging me to fill you with my come. To scream my name when I fuck you, fast and rough. I want so many things I don't even know how to explain. Only that I want them."
Having spilled his desperate litany of need, Kell buries his face in the crook of Jesper's neck. To hide away from any judgement or ridicule into comforting rhythm of Jesper's pulse under his lips when he presses them to his skin. His scent, his warmth, soothing and comforting when he's still shaking from finally having said all that was on his mind from the first time they met.
[ooc: this tag has a soundtrack]