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Love Me Mercilessly

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Kavinsky is on the porch in a rocking chair, feet kicked up on the railing, and a cigarette burning low between his fingers when Adam finds him.

“Gansey called,” Adam leans against the railing by Kavinsky’s feet. “Ronan and Opal are staying the night at Foxway.”

Kavinsky raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

Adam shrugs one shoulder, “Blue said something about strong female role models, Ronan said something about tree people, and Gansey just said good luck.”

Kavinsky snorts and snuffs out his cigarette. “Literally none of you are good at subtlety.”

Adam leans forward and takes Kavinsky’s shades off his face. “Says the guy that asked me to choke him over breakfast.”

Kavinsky drops his feet from the railing and sits up a little straighter. “Did you ever make a decision on that?”

Adam sets the sunglasses on the porch railing. “Do you still want me to do it?”

Kavinsky gives him a salacious grin, “I’ve thought about it every night this week, babe.”

Adam leans down at the same time Kavinsky arches up and they meet in the middle for a kiss that is devouring not only for how rarely they kiss each other but how desperately each of them had been waiting for the moment they were alone. It was the sort of kiss that left their jaws aching, lungs burning, and lips slicked with spit. Adam is the first to pull back, trapping Kavinsky’s bottom lip between his teeth and nipping it before he fully lets go.

Kavinsky’s pupils are already blown, the dark color of his irises slits around them as he stands up from the chair and grabs Adam’s face between his palms. He presses another, starving kiss to Adam’s lips and pushes his lower back against the railing. Distantly, he hears the clatter of his sunglasses falling into the flowerbed below the porch, but it doesn’t matter because Adam returns the kiss fiercely and pushes him up against the side of the house by the front door.

“You’ve been thinking about it, too,” Kavinsky notes with a small laugh.

Adam slides his hand up the back of Kavinsky’s head and grabs a fistful of his hair. “Maybe more than you have,” Adam admits lowly and pulls Kavinsky’s head back while his other hand fumbles for the door knob.  He bites down on Kavinsky’s neck at the same time he gets the door open and Kavinsky’s moan nearly covers up the sound of the knob hitting the wall as they stumble inside.

Their progress toward the bedroom is a haphazard journey with frequent pauses to thrust each other against the walls, shoulders stabbed by the sharp corners of picture frames, sides caressed by eager fingers, knees knocking into each other and furniture alike until Adam’s back is pressed against the inside of their bedroom door. “Am I good in your dreams?” Kavinsky asks between kisses and pushes Adam’s shirt above his head.

“You beg me to fuck you,” Adam says and grabs the belt loops of Kavinsky’s jeans the second his arms are free of his shirt. “It’s like the only words you know are my name and please.” He pulls Kavinsky closer by the hips and flips them so he’s the one against the door.

Kavinsky wraps a leg around Adam’s waist and hooks an arm around his neck so that their flush together. “You’ve gotta be really good to make me beg.”

Adam smirks against Kavinsky’s collarbone and rolls their hips together. “Am I that good in your fantasies?”

Kavinsky’s leg tightens around Adam’s hip and he thrusts up against Adam with a small, keening noise. Even through his jeans, the hardness of his cock is unmistakable. “Fuck,” Kavinsky moans, pulling Adam’s mouth away from his neck so he can kiss him again. He lifts his other leg and Adam slides his hands under his ass to keep him up against the wall. “You’re so goddamned good in my dreams,” Kavinsky presses against him, using all the leverage he has to grind his erection against Adam’s. “You’ve got a lot to live up to.”

Adam ducks his head to nip at his jawline and pulls them both away from the wall. He tosses Kavinsky onto the bed, letting him land with a soft ‘oof.’ Adam smirks at him, “You’d better get undressed then, so we can really get started.”

Kavinsky makes a show of it. He peels his tank top off with a twist, like he’s unwrapping a present. His jeans are undone and pushed down with his boxers in the same way. He wasn’t quite as bony as he was when he first moved to the barns, but he was still smaller than Adam, and looking even smaller in a bed that usually held three people. With his clothes pooled at the end of his bed, Kavinsky leans back on his elbows and spreads his legs. “I’m ready for your ravishing,” he grins cheekily.

Adam leaves his jeans on as he climbs over Kavinsky.

“Come on, Parrish,” Kavinsky tugs irritably at his jeans. “Take them off. I’m ready to play.”

Adam bites down on Kavinsky’s shoulder, hard enough to leave indentations and the beginning of a bruise when he pulls away. “I thought I was in charge of this dog and pony show.”

“Then take charge, man,” Kavinsky says, then yelps when Adam pulls his shoulder, flipping him onto his stomach. “What?” he huffs indignantly, “You don’t want to see my pretty face?” Kavinsky tries to prop himself up on his elbows to look at Adam, but Adam grabs the back of his neck and pushes his head down into the pillow.

“You said take charge,” Adam uses the thumb of the hand on Kavinsky’s neck to caress the shell of his ear. “This is how I want you right now.” He digs his nail into the lobe of Kavinsky’s ear and marvels at the little gasp and shiver he gets in return.

Adam keeps one hand on Kavinsky’s neck and takes the lube off the nightstand with the other. His short nails press into Kavinsky’s neck, just behind his tendon, just this side of uncomfortable and dangerous. He presses a lube-slicked finger from his other hand into Kavinsky, torturously slowly, then pulls completely out and adds another.

Kavinsky swallows thickly, pressing his head obediently to the mattress, toes and fingers curling into the sheet as Adam works him open. “Come on,” he whines, “I’m ready.” Adam hushes him and adds another finger. The hand on the back of his neck tightens, his ragged thumbnail drawing a line between Kavinsky’s ear and the juncture of his shoulder, making his breath hitch.

Adam spreads his fingers, then hooks them, rolling them in and out of Kavinsky. He hits his prostate once by accident, then twice more on purpose, eyes rapt on the way Kavinsky’s body trembles with each movement. “You’re so needy,” Adam says fondly and pulls his fingers out of him. He takes his hand off Kavinsky’s neck and leaves the bed to remove his pants and slide on a condom. Even without Adam’s weight on him, Kavinsky stays still, statuesque except for the dip of his chest where his breath comes in tiny puffs.

“Still ready?” Adam asks with one knee on the bed.

Kavinsky turns his head toward him, looking absolutely wrecked with parted lips, lidded eyes, and skin flushed pink. “God, yes.”

Adam moves fully behind Kavinsky and anchors himself with one hand on his hip. He pushes into him slowly, but steadily, carefully watching the quake of Kavinsky’s shoulders as tensions builds in them. He presses deeper until he can’t, then stops to admire the flushed skin of Kavinsky’s back and the sheen of sweat across it until Kavinsky pushes his hips back impatiently.

The first few thrusts are slow and languid to make sure that Kavinsky isn’t moving too fast for himself. Once he’s sure of this, Adam places a hand on Kavinsky’s shoulder to steady himself and thrusts in harder and deeper, leaning close so that most of his weight is on Kavinsky.

Kavinsky gasps, his spine curling up with one of Adam’s thrusts, hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Fuck,” he pants. “Adam,” he brings one hand up to cover the hand on his shoulder. “Don’t make me come without getting to the best part.”

Adam nods against his shoulder. “Yea, I know.” He wraps one arm around Kavinsky’s chest and pulls back, bringing Kavinsky up with him.

Kavinsky leans back against Adam, resting his head against his shoulder. “I’ll tap out if I need to.”

Adam presses his lips to Kavinsky’s ear. “I can’t wait to see how long it takes.”

Kavinsky groans, a full-bodied noise that sends heat curling in the pit of Adam’s stomach. “Then I’ll do my best to keep you waiting.”

Adam steals another kiss before he puts his arm around Kavinsky’s throat, his forearm and bicep pressing in, slowly cutting off his breath. He punctuates the seconds Kavinsky is breathless with sharp thrusts. Kavinsky presses his shoulders back into him and closes his eyes, his hips rocking back to meet Adam’s as his chest lurched, fighting for air that wasn’t coming.

Adam was intoxicated by it all- the strength it took to hold Kavinsky against him, the trust it took for Kavinsky to let him do this. He bit down on Kavinsky’s shoulder, thrilled at the choked noise he made in response. “How much longer, K?” Adam’s breath is hot against his neck.

Adam sees a flicker of movement and immediately removes his arm.

“Tease,” Kavinsky coughs, his chest heaving. “We still had time.”

Adam notices now that Kavinsky had only move to start jerking himself off. “Bet we could go longer if you didn’t touch yourself,” he presses a kiss to Kavinsky’s shoulder, just above the bite mark. “Could you keep your hands still for me?”

Kavinsky groans, fingers reluctantly leaving his cock. “I bet you get off on telling me what to do,” Kavinsky breathes, lips involuntarily curving up at the corners.

Adam chuckles and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Almost as much as you get off on being told what to do.” He presses a hand against the back of Kavinsky’s shoulder and pushes him to lie down on his stomach again. He pulls out of Kavinsky slowly, savoring the frustrated noise he gets in response.

Kavinsky doesn’t move when he irritably asks: “What are you doing?”

Adam runs one hand down the back of Kavinsky’s thigh. “Turn over; I want to see more of you.”

Kavinsky rolls onto his back and looks up expectantly at Adam. “Better?”

Adam grabs Kavinsky by the hips and pulls him so that his bottom is in his lap. “You look really pretty like this, K,” he drawls, his syllables rounded and thick as his accent eeks out.

Kavinsky throws one arm over his eyes. “Christ, Parrish,” he huffs. “Don’t say things like that!”

Adam pulls the arm away and twists their fingers together, pressing Kavinsky’s hand into the mattress. “Then stop looking like that.” Adam nips at his jawline and uses his free hand to guide his cock back into Kavinsky, earning him a soft gasp.

Adam rocks into him, pressing deeper and harder to hear all the little noises that Kavinsky makes. He leans close to steal more kisses, their body’s flush together and Kavinsky’s cock poking at his stomach.

“Please, Adam,” Kavinsky moans, his fingers twitching where Adam still holds his hand. He tilts his head back, bearing his neck.

Adam thrusts hard enough to inch them closer to the headboard, “Please what, K?”

Kavinsky breath comes out in a ragged moan. “I want your hands on me.”

Adam puts his hand loosely around Kavinsky’s neck, his fingers ghosting over his pulse. “Here?”

Kavinsky arches into Adam, tilting his head back further. “Adam,” he pleads.

Adam clamps his hand around Kavinsky’s throat, fingers tight on the sides, nails pushing into the skin just slightly. “I like the way my name sounds when you say it like that,” his thrusts come sharper and more quickly. “But I like it when you’re quiet, too.”

Kavinsky squirms beneath him, little whimpers and noises trapped in his chest. Adam keeps his hand on Kavinsky’s throat and uses his other hand to push Kavinsky’s knees back so he can better fuck him, his thrusts slamming the headboard against the wall. Kavinsky closes his eyes, lips parting with silent words.

Adam lets go of his throat and Kavinsky jerks, gasping for breath. “Fuck, Adam,” he pants, chest heaving, skin reddening and hot to the touch. “Don’t stop.” He tilts his head back again.

Kavinsky moans loudly the second Adam’s fingers ghost across his neck. “I want you to look at me,” Adam commands. “I need to see those pretty eyes of yours.”

Kavinsky meets his eyes with a soft, love-drunk look. He pushes his hips back against Adam’s hips. A sound like a moan gets strangled in his chest and he curls his fingers into the mattress. Adam lets go again, adrenaline zinging through him as he watches Kavinsky gasp and sputter, shoulders shaking, chest heaving, lips parting to gulp air only to waste it when he asks Adam to do it again.

“One more time,” Adam promises, sealing his lips against Kavinsky before he’s caught his breath. “Then you have to come for me.”

Kavinsky’s lips chase Adam’s as he pulls away, but Adam’s hand on his neck keeps him from catching them. He tightens his grip again before Kavinsky can fully catch his breath. Kavinsky’s whole body arches, pressing himself fully against Adam, hips jerking roughly to push his aching cock harder against Adam’s stomach.

Adam groans and pushes back against Kavinsky, driving himself deeper inside him. He can feel himself getting closer to the edge, muscles twitching in small spasms from exertion. He keeps his grip on Kavinsky’s throat and drags his thumb up and down his jugular, feeling his quickening pulse pounding away there. Adam matches its tempo, thrusts growing faster and rougher as Kavinsky’s skin starts to turn redder and redder.

Kavinsky closes his eyes, then forces them back open, obviously struggling to meet Adam’s demands. Adam notices his eyes clouding over, drifting up. He lets go. Kavinsky draws in a ragged, gasping breath at the same time that he cums. His whole body spasms and he throws his arms around Adam’s neck, pulling him close and breathing hard as he rides the high of his orgasm.

Adam presses himself down against him, his pulse thrumming in his ears. He buries his noise against Kavinsky’s neck and breathes in as deeply as if he’d been the one starving for air. Kavinsky’s breath stutters against his deaf ear, the hot brush of it more feeling than sound. Tremors of heat and pleasure roll down his spine until he’s pushed to his orgasm, spilling over into the condom with sloppy thrusts. He keeps going, past oversensitivity until exhaustion overcomes him and he lies tangled up with Kavinsky, both gasping to catch their breath.

Minutes pass. Adam shifts to roll off Kavinsky.

“Not yet,” Kavinsky sighs, one arm still thrown around Adam’s neck.

Adam nods and presses his forehead to Kavinsky’s shoulder. “Good?” he asks.

Kavinsky hums and kisses Adam’s shoulder in response. He closes his eyes, breath finally starting to come easily.

They stay like that for a few minutes, then Adam shifts again. “I need to get the condom off so it doesn’t spill.”

“Fine,” Kavinsky huffs and removes his arm.

Adam pulls out and removes the condom. He ties it off and leaves the bed for just a few seconds to drop it in the trash can. Kavinsky latches onto him like he’s been gone for years when he returns.

“You okay?” Adam asks, lifting the blankets so they can slide underneath them.

“It’s cold without you,” Kavinsky says, unusually soft as he presses closer to Adam.

Adam wraps his arms around him and runs a hand up his back. “Better?”

Kavinsky nods, his nose cold against Adam’s collarbone.

Adam brings his hand to Kavinsky’s cheek and hooks a finger beneath his chin. “Let me see.” Kavinsky is strangely pliable when Adam tilts his head back, revealing the blue and purple fingerprints painting his throat. “I left marks,” Adam sighs.

Kavinsky’s brings one hand up to his throat, fingers blindly tracing the bruises there. “My favorite kind of necklace,” he grins.

“Does it hurt?” Adam rests his hand on Kavinsky’s hip, eyes softening when he asks.

“It feels good,” Kavinsky answers, arching up to press a gentle kiss to Adam’s lips. “Don’t worry about it.”

Adam wraps his arms tighter around him and tangles their legs together. “Could we do it again?”

Kavinsky’s laugh is soft against the skin of Adam’s shoulder. “Yea, Parrish, but later. Aren’t you exhausted?”

“I didn’t mean right now,” Adam mumbles apologetically. Kavinsky sighs and Adam takes the hint to stop talking. He presses a kiss to the top of Kavinsky’s head and rubs circles into his lower back, feeling oddly protective of him in the afterglow. Soon, he feels the steady rhythm of his breathing return and the soft noises he makes in his sleep. He runs a hand down Kavinsky’s shoulder, pushes his hair back from his forehead, and stares at the blissful look on his face. Once he’s sure they’ve done no lasting damage, he lays his head down and goes to sleep.