lee_fallon | AU - Clichéd Bar Meeting

Lee doesn't really mope these days, mostly because life is short and there are much better things he could be doing with his time. But, if he's honest with himself, he is feeling a little down. He's spent a lot of his life alone, and he's gotten used to it, but since he's been in Darrow and has been spending so much time with Connor, he's started to almost expect to have someone to share things with, even if the sharing is largely just sex.

He knows that he and Connor aren't exclusive, and it's better that way for everyone considered. Still, Lee's pretty sure he's not going to get another chance at a New Years Eve kiss, and even though Connor doesn't know that, there's a part of Lee that hates the idea that Connor found and went home with someone else that night. Especially after the sweet little make out session they had earlier in the evening.

So Lee's here to try and disabuse himself of the notion that he's in some kind of a relationship with Connor, because he's not. Back before he came here he'd go out to bars for hookups all the time, and it's about time he did that again. He needs someone else's hands on him, someone else's mouth and someone else's dick. And, in Darrow, this is the place to find it.

Walking up to the bar, he briefly notices someone he recognizes, a guy he met the first time he was in this bar, albeit briefly, when he danced with him and his boyfriend. Lee orders a gin and tonic, and even though he knows this guy is off limits, he turns to him once he has his drink in hand.

"Hey," Lee says, catching the guy's attention. "How are you?" he asks, keeping it simple, not wanting to intrude if the guy's waiting for his boyfriend to join him, or wanting to be alone.

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Kavinsky let out a dry, nasal sort of laugh. He pushed his shot glass closer, nodding for the refill, as he slanted his hips towards Lee's body. His jeans caught on the cut of his hips, slid down a little, flashed the color of his boxer briefs. He did nothing to conceal the boyish underwear.

"Bottom," he said without any particular hesitation. He ran his tongue along his lower lip. His eyes darted over Lee's body, taking him in slowly. "I can be convinced otherwise, but it takes me a bit more work."

Lee obliged, filling Kavinsky's shot glass with tequila, and he let his eyes fall to Kavinsky's waist, drawn there by the calculated movement of Kavinsky's hips. Unconsciously, Lee licked his lips.

"I'm good either way," Lee replied, stopping to swallow his shot, coughing once roughly once it was down, setting his glass on the counter and moving closer to Kavinsky. "No need to do any convincing," he said, reaching out to touch Kavinsky's side with his fingertips.

Kavinsky hummed, the pill finally starting to catch in his system, starting to bring out the warmth and color in Lee's voice. He could feel his breath picking up a little bit, watching Lee's tongue on his lips, watching his throat work a little bit. He picked up his own shot glass and threw back the tequila, letting it burn its way down, fiery, liquid amber, warming him through, building the heat in his body that was calling out to the heat in Lee's body.

He let out a little hum as Lee touched his side. With careful deliberation, he stacked his shot glass into Lee's, finalizing their drinks for the moment. His buzz from the bar was neatly returned, swirling with the ecstasy in him, and he let himself feel blissful for a moment.

"How were you thinking of getting that taste out of your mouth, daddy?" Kavinsky smiled, lazy and easy. "I don't have a lot of limits."

Lee licked his lower lip again when Kavinsky stacked their shot glasses, a very clear indication that he was ready to get things started. His head was starting to spin just a little from the tequila, and Kavinsky smelled so good. Reaching out again, he lets his fingers find the little strip of bare skin between Kavinsky's shirt and his boxer briefs, curling them so he could tuck his fingertips below the waistband.

"Let's start simple," he said, the way Kavinsky called him 'daddy' shivering up his spine in a different way this time, a much more pleasant sensation. He sucked a breath through his nose, shifting his hand until he caught the button on Kavinsky's jeans, working it open. He had to bring his other hand in to pull down the zipper, and once the front of Kavinsky's pants were open, he pressed his palm in against Kavinsky's cock, feeling the warmth of it, half hard in his palm.

"Can I suck you?" he asked, his eyes moving to Kavinsky's face, admiring his smooth, young skin, his soft lips. He still wasn't sure if kissing was on the table or not, so he shifted his eyes quickly back to Kavinsky's, focusing there.

Kavinsky laughed, not unkindly, as Lee touched him so cautiously and gently, like he was a flight risk. It was such a contrast to what he was used to, he was expecting, especially that he'd given up limits. He didn't contest the touch, though it, more than anything, made him wary.

He slanted his hips toward Lee's touch, seeking it. "That's certainly one way to do it," Kavinsky said, that laugh still lingering in his voice, and he smiled. He didn't miss the way that Lee looked at his mouth, the way that he had been looking at his mouth and kept looking at his mouth. Kavinsky licked his lips, shifting his thumbs down to the waist of his shorts to slowly peel them down.

There was a moment, however brief, where Kavinsky let himself be a shy teenage boy about himself. He was tall and rangy, lean, but when it came to his cock he felt insufficiently average, and his European heritage had kept him uncut--a point of embarrassment throughout years of showering in gym class.

His cock didn't get the memo on being embarrassed. Almost as soon as he pushed his shorts down, he went from half to fully hard, with all the blinding enthusiasm inherent of being a teenage boy.

Lee could sense some trepidation in Kavinsky, and he had a moment of realization, seeing that the willingness to let Lee do anything he wanted with him was more of a defense mechanism than anything else. It made Lee a bit uncomfortable, which was probably a good thing, causing him to retreat just a little, to lock himself down.

Looking away from Kavinsky's face, he reached out and wrapped his hand around the girth of Kavinsky's cock, manipulating his foreskin as he stroked, using nature's genius to his advantage. His mother was first generation French-American, and his father only two years removed from his Irish heritage, so his cock was intact as well, meaning he gave no pause at all when encountering Kavinsky's.

He focused on stroking Kavinsky for a few long seconds, watching the way his dick reacted to the attention, the dampness at the tip, the flushed and flared head. It wasn't until Kavinsky started making sounds of light frustration that Lee moved to settle on his knees, pushing Kavinsky's foreskin back so he could run his tongue over the end of Kavinsky's cock, moaning softly at the taste of his skin.

Something in Kavinsky's stomach shifted as Lee looked away from him, walls isolating them from each other in a way that was wholly different from the manner in which Kavinsky regularly isolated himself from people. He watched the side of Lee's face, tried to puzzle it out, tried to figure what he'd said or done wrong with his body language that had slipped things strangely. He didn't know how to ask if he'd done something wrong.

Tentatively, as Lee stroked him, as he sank to his knees, Kavinsky touched his short hair. He ran his nails over his scalp gently, adventured the shape of his head and down to the back of his neck while he leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. His toes curled against the linoleum and he tried his best to not seem too eager, but also not too hard to get, that fine line of wanting it--he did, the feeling of wanting it coursed through him--when he had to direction.

Before they came here, and since they'd arrived, Lee had gotten the impression that Kavinsky wanted something dirty and hard, and maybe not quick necessarily, but definitely not tender. In general Lee was okay with that, had been all but subsisting on it for years, rough handjobs in bar bathrooms, a good hard fuck in the back of someone's car. It was never nameless or rude, but it wasn't lasting either, it wasn't sweet, barely something more than assisted masturbation.

Connor had been sweet. The last time they'd been together, the moments they'd shared, it felt like something real. But once Lee had gone home, walking out in the cold, reality had spun out in his mind, reminding him that it was just sex, had never been meant for anything more. It made Lee angry, not at Connor, but at himself. He wasn't a lovesick teenager, he was a grown adult, a man who had seen enough people turn their backs on him back when he still had a chance at life. Connor didn't know how short Lee's lifespan was, but he'd also not shown much of an indication that what they had was special to him. His being over invested wasn't Connor's fault, and Lee needed to put an end to those feelings as quickly as possible.

What he needed was something caring, even if none of it was real. Kavinsky probably wouldn't be interested in that, but for now Lee let himself indulge. He spent a longer time than usual experiencing Kavinsky's dick, licking and sucking at it in a way that wasn't particularly conducive to building toward an orgasm. It was more like foreplay, Lee's mouth working over the stretched, hot skin, straying off to kiss and bite hipbones, shifting low to suck at Kavinsky's balls.

Minutes later Lee's chin was dripping with saliva, his mouth tingling from the textures of Kavinsky's skin, from exquisite overuse. Pulling back for a moment to lick his lips, he didn't look up at Kavinsky, not wanting to see impatience or disapproval, just took a breath and went to work, holding Kavinsky's cock so he could slide his mouth over it, bobbing with intent now, pushing deeper with each stroke, flattening his tongue to increase the friction, humming to enhance the sensation.

Kavinsky tried to shut out the wash of guilty emotion in his chest, the pain and loss. He tried to focus on the moment, on this moment, on Lee's mouth and the feeling of his hair under his fingers. All he ended up doing was focusing on the cold stab of guilt in his stomach, that his last bit of tenderness had been in the morning of New Years Eve, and now, the next was a man try to forget himself, trying to wash a taste out of his mouth of someone else.

A breath stuttered out of Kavinsky's chest and he looked up at the ceiling of Lee's apartment, rather than down at his head. He stared for a moment, then clenched his eyes shut, trying hard just to have this moment, letting his body be sand in a desert, desperate for the contact, for the touch, for the feel of another body. It wasn't hard to be like that. That was the most frightening part was how badly his body craved the attention, the affirmation, of someone else's touch.

When Lee stopped his adorations and set to actively sucking Kavinsky's cock, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. He gripped the edge of the counter top with one hand, biting his lip, holding himself back from the edge. For all he was worth, he couldn't look down at Lee, couldn't see that avoidance, that despair that he wasn't someone else who ought to be standing here. His fingers danced on Lee's hair, trembling.

"Do you..." His voice faltered, the waters choppy and rough in his chest, and he had to heave in a breath, had to look down at least a little. "...do you want me to come or, or should I wait?"

Lee didn't mind the question, or the nature of it, especially considering the situation, but the idea of stopping what he was doing to respond seemed unfathomable. He rolled his eyes upward to meet Kavinsky's gaze, but he found it was elusive, the expression on Kavinsky's face a mirror image of the ache pervading Lee's own heart.

He closed his eyes and pushed deep, swallowing around the head of Kavinsky's dick, hoping that the fact that he wasn't stopping would answer Kavinsky's question sufficiently. His hands caught Kavinsky's hips, holding on tight, moving over Kavinsky's dick with practiced grace, hoping to bring him off, to get them both out of their heads even if only for a few blissful seconds.

It was probably karmic retribution that Lee had managed to take someone home who was as broken and lost as he was. He wished there was a way they could connect, that they could heal each other, but there was no hope of that. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to make Kavinsky come, as hard as he was trying, and the thought made something new break loose in Lee's chest, unable to stand the idea that he could fail at this, at sex, something he'd always relied on to be there to make him feel worthwhile, like there was a reason he was still here. He took Kavinsky as deeply as he could on every downstroke, his breathing harsh through his nose, voice a low whimper in his throat, giving everything he had to this moment, needing it, desperate to find worth in the culmination of his efforts.

Kavinsky whined, softly, as Lee kept going. He shifted his hand off the counter to cover one of the hands that Lee had on his hip, covering it for a moment before he shifted it up, up, gripping his shoulder instead.

He tipped his head back a moment, closed his eyes, let himself go. It didn't take much, just the slow unwinding of the tension he had around his stomach, around his heart. A soft, broken noise erupted out of him as he felt his orgasm cascade through him, sudden, a crashing sort of need seeking comfort.

His cock twitched but his hips were mercifully still. His knees trembled, threatening to collapse if Lee let go of his hips. Kavinsky breathed roughly through it all, trying to rein in the overwhelming, disastrous emotions in his chest that he was deliberately trying to ignore. It wasn't fair to Lee to be thinking of someone else. It wasn't fair.

The flood of Kavinsky's release filled Lee's mouth and he moaned as he worked to swallow, proud of how skillful he was at this, how much he liked it, taking in a load of someone else's release. He only kept his mouth around Kavinsky's spasming cock until the tremors began to subside, withdrawing before the sensitivity got to be too much. He kept his hands on Kavinsky's hips, pressing his face into Kavinsky's softly heaving belly, catching his own breath.

A moment later, he swallowed and shifting back, sitting on his heels. "Thank you," he said, flicking his eyes up toward Kavinsky's face but not leaving them there for long, not wanting to make Kavinsky feel like he had to look back. "I really like getting to do that," he added, liking the way his mouth tasted, the tingling of his lips and slight ache in his jaw.

Kavinsky had glanced down, just as Lee looked up, and their eyes met for a moment. Kavinsky felt too raw, too honest and open and terribly sensitive, terribly aware of every nerve in his body, the ache in his hand, the sting in his eyes. Then Lee was looking away, anywhere but at his face. A shuddering breath rattled in his chest, wet and awful, that he tried desperately to turn into a laugh.

"Yeah," he breathed. And then, with a soft delay, "Thank you."

He wanted, desperately, to kiss Lee, to have Lee kiss him. But Lee had been pointedly avoiding it since this whole thing kicked off, and it seemed selfish to ask for it now. He fused a smile onto his lips, still touching Lee's head gently, running the edge of his nails just behind his ear.

"What can I do for you?"

Lee closed his eyes when Kavinsky touched him, the feeling of his fingertips so light and gentle on such a sensitive part of Lee's body sending a shiver through him. He bit his lip as he opened his eyes again, and he realized he was the epitome of pathetic, sitting here like this, completely dressed at the feet of a beautiful, naked young man. Like so many other times in his life he wondered how he'd gotten here, how different choices had put him in this situation.

He licked his lips, and he tasted Kavinsky on his tongue, but it wasn't enough. He turned his eyes upward, waiting until Kavinsky looked down at him, until their gazes locked.

"Would you kiss me?" he asked, and he knew it was a request that could very well send Kavinsky on his way, or turn him off so utterly that they could never look each other in the eye again, if their paths ever crossed in the future. But it was really what he needed, what he'd been needing since before they left the bar. It was a vulnerable thing, to ask for something like this, but he didn't think he could get more exposed than he already was in that moment.

Kavinsky nodded at the soft question, sliding his hands down to Lee's shoulders and helping him back up to his feet. He didn't seem like he needed the help, particularly, but Kavinsky didn't want to disengage that contact while he was allowed it. He didn't know how long it would last, how much longer Lee would want him here.

When Lee was on his feet, Kavinsky twined his arms around his shoulders. It was such a young, boyish gesture, but he couldn't help himself. It was easy to lean in, to kiss Lee delicately at first. There was no rush to it.

As much as he wanted--and he did, still; he always did, and it wouldn't take much to get him ready to go a second time--he would not have been surprised to be turned out after just this. So he tried to linger in the kiss. He went slowly, gently, kissing like he'd only just started learning how with Newt and Al, the laziness of making out with boys who had no rush, no worry of getting caught or bothered. He pushed the heartache away and focused on the unfamiliar shape of Lee's lips, the slight scratch of his beard, the motion of their chests against each other, the taste of come and tequila on his tongue.

Kavinsky, Lee thought as he pulled the other man against him, pressing his hands firmly and tenderly against Kavinsky's warm, naked back, was a beautiful conundrum. On the outside, at first glance, he seemed so tough and self assured, almost unapproachable, willing to do anything and having no limits. But here, like this, he was like a terrified child, worried about being cast aside, unwanted, thrown away. He held onto Lee like a lifeline, but with a timidness, like he was ready for Lee to push him away, prepared to walk out without argument.

Lee wanted him to stay. He couldn't keep him for a multitude of reasons, the least of which was, despite what he'd implied before by avoiding Lee's questions, Kavinsky had a boyfriend. Things might have been on the rocks, but if they'd officially broken up Lee was sure Kavinsky would have just said so.

And, of course, Lee, for all intents and purposes, had one foot in the grave. Besides the obvious (and likely immense) age difference, someone as young as Kavinsky should never have to be so intentionally close to death.

So this night was a gift, and Lee was going to cherish it. He kissed Kavinsky back slowly and gently, his hands moving on Kavinsky's back, feeling his soft skin. He wanted to be naked too, so they could feel each other, and he moved his hands to his own fly, making certain to keep up the pressure of the kiss, leaning in and looping his tongue around Kavinsky's, tasting him, learning him. He broke away for a moment once he'd opened his jeans, just long enough to push them and his underwear down, stepping out of them. Then he moved to tug off his shirts, both layers at once, leaving him bare.

He reached for Kavinsky again, pulling him in slowly, pressing their bodies together from knee to chest as he found Kavinsky's mouth once more, kissing him more deeply now, adding just a little heat. Lee's cock, which had flagged a bit in their earlier exchange, began to stiffen again, and he rolled his hips, rubbing himself against Kavinsky's pelvis, letting Kavinsky feel that Lee wanted him.

Kavinsky sighed against Lee's mouth, his lips tingling and raw with the tenderness of it. He opened his eyes when Lee pulled back from him, taking him in, watching him as he moved and stripped naked. Slowly, he ran his fingertips over the thin skin stretched over Lee's ribs, down to his hips. As Lee leaned in to kiss him again, he dragged him in even as he pressed. He didn't squeeze--not scared of bruising, but worried of rushing, of seeming too desperate for the contact--but he held onto him.

As Lee started to gently rock against him, Kavinsky rocked back. He was still soft for the moment, and the touch was overwhelming, overstimulating, but that was half the allure of it, making his eyes roll with the sensation of it. He drew a hand from Lee's hip to his cock, touching him gently.

He was thicker than Kavinsky, longer, and neither of those were surprising to him; most men were, Kavinsky had found, who was so painfully, plainly average in that regard. The warmth of Lee's cock filled out his palm, and Kavinsky groaned into Lee's mouth, stroking him slowly, coaxing. He teased his fingers up to the head, easing the foreskin back deftly and then rubbing the crown with his thumb.

"Do you want to go lay down?" Kavinsky whispered, lips barely moving away from Lee's mouth. He didn't care if they laid down here in the kitchen, or on the couch, or in a bed. But being horizontal sounded far more appealing at the moment.

Kavinsky's touch was masterful, practiced, and Lee groaned into the kiss they shared, moving against Kavinsky's hand in a way that let Kavinsky know how much he liked this, how good it felt. Kavinsky pulled out of the kiss to speak and Lee chased his mouth, nearly cutting off the words in his desire to keep kissing, to keep feeling everything.

"Yes," Lee managed to reply before he sunk deeply into Kavinsky's mouth again, curving his hand around the back of Kavinsky's neck and holding him close. He didn't move for a few more long seconds, their tongues looping, lips catching and dragging, teeth tugging carefully between kisses. Finally, utterly breathless, Lee pulled back and looked darkly into Kavinsky's eyes.

"Come to my bed with me," he offered, and it wasn't a demand, but he desperately hoped Kavinsky would say yes. Lee needed the closeness, the intimacy of being in bed together, of having sex that would mean something, even if only for tonight. "Please," he added softly, revealing a measure of his vulnerability, too worn out to pretend to be something he wasn't.

Kavinsky shivered at the way that Lee sought out his touch, his kiss, his body. He soaked in the attention, feeling desirable, feeling wanted, and it was nice, even if it was only a moment, to remember that he was capable of this. A part of him knew it was only reinforcing the fight he'd had with Newt, but he needed this desperately, this connection with someone that just wanted him, and he would gladly take that, would hold onto it for whatever it was worth, as he'd ever held on to any connection he'd managed back in Henrietta.

He slid his hand into Lee's, slow and gentle, and slid away from the counter. The apartment was intuitive, and so it wasn't hard to find his way to Lee's bedroom. So, once he'd sighted the door, he turned back to Lee, stepping backward, cupping Lee's face and kissing him again.

"I like how you kiss," he said against Lee's mouth. He slid his fingers along the man's jaw, smiled, scraped his teeth gently, but didn't try to coax harshness out of him. Lee didn't seem like a hard man. That was difficult for Kavinsky to manage, in the moment, but not having limits went a lot of ways; just because he wasn't used to gentleness didn't mean it was off the table.

Before he released, his knees were back against the bed. He tottered, but didn't fall, balancing on the edge as he kept kissing Lee.

There was something sweet and sexy about the way Kavinsky lead Lee to his own bed, first by the hand and then pulling him as they kissed, their mouths working as they stepped together carefully. This was the sort of thing Lee loved, being with someone who didn't want to stop kissing him or touching him, who didn't mind Lee feeling the same way. The kisses they were sharing were so dynamic, hard and soft, fast and slow, shallow and deep, moving from one thing to another constantly. It made Lee want to keep doing it forever, and he barely let Kavinsky move away to speak.

"I like how you kiss too," Lee replied in a low whisper, his lips brushing Kavinsky's before he sealed Kavinsky's mouth in with his own again. Standing near the bed, Lee wrapped his arms around Kavinsky's middle and held him tightly, their mouths still meeting and coming apart, tongues twisting together, lips catching and sucking. After a moment Lee pulled back a fraction, releasing Kavinsky from his arms but keeping his hands on Kavinsky's hips.

"Lay down," he said softly, not an order, but nearly a soft demand, reaching up to brush his hand over the curve of Kavinsky's cheek.

Kavinsky lingered, for a moment, in the warmth of Lee's touch, the closeness of his breath against his mouth. Then, at the note of need in his voice, he sat down on the edge of the bed and started to move back. He wanted, so badly, to lay there on the edge of the bed and put his mouth to work, slowly worship the weight of Lee's cock against his lips and tongue and down his throat. He knew he only had to ask, and Lee would probably let him.

Slowly, he laid back in the middle of Lee's bed. He draped a little, a coaxing, wanton finger, watching Lee quietly, softly. Sniggering a little, he cast his arms over his head and mumbled, "Draw me like one of your French girls."

His quiet little giggles soon overtook him, until he had to turn his face into the pillow for a moment to smother them, his shoulders shaking with the suppression. Even so, it didn't stop the little shivers of anticipation running up his legs and stomach, the slow way his cock was building back toward arousal thanks to teenage libido.

Lee watched Kavinsky lay out on his bed, stretching out and lolling a bit, all long, wiry limbs and boyish smiles. When he makes his joke, Lee's caught by surprise, laughing genuinely, the feeling of it so good that if he wasn't already grateful for everything Kavinsky had offered him tonight, he would absolutely owe Kavinsky for this on its own. He bit his lip as he watched Kavinsky giggle, so sweet and sexy, naked and laughing in Lee's bed. It made Lee wish he had the option to fall in love with him, because he was everything Lee had ever wanted.

It was a line of thinking that was dangerous, so Lee shook it off quickly, but allowed himself to continue to admire how beautiful Kavinsky was, lost to his levity.

Lee moved to sit on the bed by Kavinsky's side, reaching out with a gentle hand to urge Kavinsky to roll onto his back. Once Kavinsky was laid back out, open and loose, Lee shifted to lay down, first beside him and then tipping so their bodies overlapped, one of Lee's legs slotting between Kavinsky's. He cupped the side of Kavinsky's face, stroking his cheek as he lowered his mouth to Kavinsky's again, kissing him sweetly and softly, starting slowly, working Kavinsky's lips apart with his tongue before dipping it inside, meeting Kavinsky's with a gentle brush.

Kavinsky rolled willingly, spreading out for Lee. He arched a little when Lee draped against him, pressed himself up against the warmth and weight of his body. He sighed against Lee's kiss, opening gracefully to the coaxing of his tongue and pressing into it with a careful, needy deliberation.

He wrapped a hand against the back of Lee's neck, trailing the other down Lee's neck and chest slowly. He traced the fragile arch of his collarbone, down his sternum, across to his nipple. He circled with the flat, dull edge of his nail and then trailed his fingertips down Lee's ribs.

For all he didn't want to give up Lee's mouth, he also desperately wanted to taste him the way that Lee had tasted him. He sighed into the kiss softly, scraping his teeth gently, pulling away for just a moment.

"Can I suck you?" His voice came out a plea, a desperation. He hadn't meant for it to sound like that, but he realized, as he said it, that he wanted that almost more than he wanted to be fucked, and he shivered. He kissed Lee again, brief, hard but close-mouthed. "Can I suck you, please?"

Lee gasped into Kavinsky's mouth as Kavinsky's touch moved down his body, light drags of fingertips that caused him to shiver, goosebumps rising on his arms, cock surging with the pulse of the blood in his veins. It was difficult to keep up the kisses after a while, Lee's chaotic breathing making him break the contact often, so when Kavinsky pulled away, he drew in deep breaths gratefully.

The desperate pitch to Kavinsky's voice only made Lee more breathless and he shuddered under the weight of Kavinsky's desire. Maybe it was just the need to suck a dick and Lee's was the one that was available at the moment, but Lee's body didn't care, the dick in question throbbing hard at the mere idea of Kavinsky's mouth around it.

The next kiss was part of the plea, and the 'please' at the end only showed just how much Kavinsky wanted this, needed it. Lee didn't have it in him to deny this beautiful boy anything, and the sweet, vulnerable begging only reinforced Lee's desire to say yes.

"Fuck, yes, you can, you can," Lee replied, pulling back to meet Kavinsky's gaze. "Please, I want you to," he added, his genuine desire plain in his eyes.

Kavinsky kept up the kisses for a moment, slow and soft, before he gently rolled Lee over onto his back. He pressed a last kiss to his mouth for the moment, then began the slow track down his body. There were places all over Lee's body that Kavinsky lingered to kiss, places that his fingers had lingered to touch, but his ultimate goal was further down, down, down, and so Kavinsky moved his mouth down, down, down.

He lingered at the V of Lee's stomach, just below his navel, where the slightly course hairs from his pelvis trailed up in a dark line, coaxing him down. He kissed on either side of it, his fingers massaging Lee's inner thighs. Kavinsky didn't think he'd ever gone so slowly on giving someone head before, ever explored them so thoroughly. It seemed the right way to do it, after the way that Lee had so thoroughly explored him as well. He bypassed his cock briefly, sucking at his balls, working slowly across one, then the other, and then making a good show at both of them.

When he'd finished with them and worked his mouth and tongue slowly up Lee's cock. He was not nearly as patient and deliberate as Lee had been, but he was wet and thorough, and when he reached the head, he eased back Lee's foreskin and laved at him, moaning rapturously, before he sucked at it a moment. He worked slowly, not wanting to rush down, though he knew he could. Half the fun of the deep throat, after all, was the remarkable nature of it.