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Now that they have these guidelines, they don't actually Have to talk everything through, Every time before they have sex. It can be really fun to, for sure. Especially if they play don't-touch games. But also Casey says he loves when Lars surprises him, which he does all the time, apparently, whether they're in the middle of sex or doing something else entirely. Which is lovely to hear! Lars never wants to not be interesting.
Lars finds safewords more comforting that he could possibly have anticipated, considering he'd set to figuring out (at least the start of) this whole thing, mostly for Casey's sake. Lars has never doubted his own motivations - he Knows he doesn't want to bad-hurt Casey, that's never really been the issue. The issue has been, up to and including The Boyfriend Incident and everything since (-though they've had an absolutely lovely time too, of course, at the same time as some Really bad-not -good stuff, life is very peculiar that way-.) The issue is he's been a bit scared of how far Casey will let him go. That Casey might not catch him. It's really intoxicating, good-hurting Casey, shoving him around. Being controlling. Lars totally, one-hundred-percent gets what Casey means about hurting people feeling really good, sometimes. If they want it, too. It's just that when they do this, it seems like the person who isn't in control, actually needs to be the person most in control, in an "under the surface" type way, or it isn't playing. It isn't being done from love. So he needs Casey on board with that, or they just aren't going to do any of this ever again, and that's final. Lars isn't fucking around all lackadaisical with this stuff anymore.
Fortunately, Casey is one-hundred-per-cent and increasingly on board with this, "this" being safewords. He suggested safewords in the first place, even if his timing was a bit...suboptimal. Like, a good few months to a year suboptimal. Oh Casey. But he does respond so incredibly well to positive reinforcement, silly man, he absolutely thrives under it, as all good puppies do.
The point is, every time Casey uses his words, at properly opportune moments, and not just because he's let Lars work him to his very limit (or bowled right past it, like occasionally before, for goodness Sake, Casey), but just because his nose is itching really bad, or because he's "done now, Lars" and "thank you Lars", and "that was just lovely, baby, I love you so much, mwa mwa mwa!"* - it makes Lars feel confident that Casey's got him just as much as he's got Casey, now. Or vice versa or whatever. During moments like this, for instance, when he's got his teeth set into the meat of Casey's inner thigh, and Casey is howling above him like a scared little puppy dog, hands scrabbling, palms smacking repeatedly back against the wall (-thank god they have their own space- ), eyes watering, legs shaking and twitching involuntarily either side of Lars' head - he can barely keep himself standing up anymore, poor thing. Poor, pathetic, messy little thing, awwww!!
Some liquid - tears or sweat or slick or squirting or pee, Lars isn't sure and Truly doesn't care, all of it's good if it's Casey, (and isn't squirting just pee anyway?? What a stupid nonsense debate, just taste it honestly, for goodness sake) - comes trickling down from above and Lars licks it up happily. Messy, messy, Messy puppy. Gorgeous, squirmy, wriggly boy, Lars's best and wonderful boy.
He realises he's said some quantity of this out loud because Casey whimpers in response. His legs try to clamp around Lars, but he holds them apart, easily. He's really enjoying his own strength, these days - such as it is. Casey is lean and long and a little bit, edibly squishy, gorgeous and beautiful of course, and a little bit taller than him, but Lars's shoulders are broader and. Why is he thinking about this right now. He's got a job to do.
He lifts one of Casey's legs completely off the floor and hooks it over his shoulder. Casey's left nearly hopping on just the one leg, and Lars has had him in a sort-of-stand, definitely-not-sit, really tricky, very funny predicament against the wall for a good half an hour now.
Casey's been making a terrible fuss of course, whining he -
"can't" (he can).
a strangled-out, high-pitched, long-trailing "fuuuckkkkkk!!!!!!"
a "Lars-Lars-Lars-stopstopstopstop-Lars-please-stop-PLEASE-"
no :)
a drawn-out, whimpering, heartbreaking "huuurts".
duh
Poor, poor puppy. Poor, hurting Casey. But it's all just complete nonsense, isn't it Casey! Silly, fucked-out, crying, dripping Casey.
Lars knows he can take it. Lars will make him take it. Casey doesn't have a choice in it whatsoever.
Apart from, of course, having absolutely All of the choices, in absolutely Everything, All The Time. Agreed. (-never again- )
Casey's legs are shaking and juddering wildly, his face and chest are flushed red with all of his blood pumping away right below the surface. A vein's throbbing in his forehead, another straining in the side of his neck. Lars wants to lick it. Nip it open, see how he tastes.
He settles for another leg bite - a really, Really good one, sucks hard and twists, too, chomping down on soft, tasty, delicate, delicious flesh. Casey actually squeaks!!!! Silly, silly puppy, he goes "eep!" and then he pants and Shouts big, punchy "Ahn, Ahn, AHN"s until Lars finally releases him. To be clear, Lars takes his time. Casey's voice is high and pitchy and panicky and so, So pained, like he's being tortured (and he kind of is), and he sounds delighted too, just underneath the surface. Masochist :) Lars knows Casey loves it, and he knows that Casey knows Lars loves him, because he's not saying "drive" and he's not saying "pause". So they're ok. They're good, they are so, So good. Especially Casey. Especially him.
Lars takes his careful sweet time with the "releasing" part. The "ahn"s are one of his very favourite Casey noises, after all.
"Lars, drive - drive, let me down, Lars." A hand comes down to caress his cheek. Oh, lovely, lovely..
Lars helps him to the floor. They'd laid down soft towels before they got started, and Casey ends up curled on one side, face nuzzling in. He's just so CUTE.
"You're just so Cute, Casey,"
Casey's all blissed out, hazy. "Cute, You. Cute guy. - Mean -, cute guy."
Lars beams. Strokes Casey's hair, smooths it neatly in place for him. He'll soothe the marks with a cool, kind washcloth shortly. Get Casey neat and tidy and properly looked after. He likes the looking-after part just as much as the good-hurting part. Casey does too <3
Casey opens up his legs, feet resting together. Sort of like a book. He cranes his neck to look at the damage. Lars looks too. It's...pretty, pretty bad. Almost like he's got patches, splotches of different coloured berry juice, all over the inside of his thighs. Like he tucked blackberries, blueberries, cherries, grapes all between there, squeezed and squeezed his legs together 'cos it felt good. Lars would Really enjoy watching that. Lars would lick him clean.
But it's not berries, it's bruising, and hickeys, and, and teeth marks. No skin broken - never doing that here, that's a firm rule with this for Lars, and Casey doesn't want that either. The marks though...they do look brutally savage though. Casey looks like he's been savaged. Lars would say his mouth waters, but its been watering since Casey shyly came over and ever-so-politely asked him for this, about an hour and a half ago.
"Fuckkkk, Lars." Casey flops his head back down on his arms. Or it collapses without his say-so, Lars can't tell which. "You're so fffFucking good at that. your Teeth."
Lars smiles, bashful, pleased. He makes himself comfortable, sits criss-crossed and as close as he can get to his naked, bitten-floppy, lovely, lovely Casey.
Casey lifts an arm, a hand, floppily, towards Lars's mouth. "Can I...?"
?
"Wan' touch your teeth." Casey mumbles. "Tell me stop?."
Lars nods, opens up. He's always hated going to the dentist. He'd scream bloody murder as a child, and part of him still wants to, whenever he has to go. Whenever Karin - and Casey too now- makes him go.
Casey's nice though, and Casey's just exploring.
His eyes fall shut and he's feeling, seeing Lars with nothing but his fingers. Just his fingertips. He'd said, "teeth", but he starts out just softly brushing over Lars' lips. Lars takes Casey's hand, guides it into his mouth himself, seeing he's going to have to do all of the work here (as usual).
Lars' mouth is familiar territory for Casey's tongue, sure, his pussy, his nipples, his thighs (oh god Yeah his thighs, they're stinging and smarting So good, like Lars has taken a whip to them, and isn't that a decadent thought), but not for his fingers. His gloved fingers - yes, occasionally. But Lars wouldn't take those in his mouth unless they were freshly, scrupulously washed And didn't have any kind of leather treatment on them, and Casey can't blame him. He's found it to be an acquired taste himself. During, ya know. situations.
So he really is exploring new territory here - Lars is just so New, even several years in. He doesn't have Casey's battle-scars, (-at least externally, though there are actually a few long-healed silvery ones on his hands that Driver's been meaning to ask him about-) and Casey never wants him to. There's a virgin-like quality to Lars, and Casey is well aware he's getting into creepy creepy pervert territory here. But he thinks about how no one else has ever been allowed And welcomed to touch Lars in the way he has, and he feels crazed. It's so much trust for someone with so much blood on his hands. It's why he used to wear his driving gloves everywhere in the first half year of knowing him. 'Cos the world is sharp and rough and grim and dirty, sure, but Driver was dirtier still, or, perhaps. he used to be. He wore the gloves not to keep his hands clean but progressively more to keep Lars clean from him. Sometimes literally, because if you nearly get caught jerking off behind the garage you can very quickly yank them back on. And then when Lars takes your hand to show you some wildflowers that have sprung up at the back of the yard, he doesn't know your fingers are covered, in what your body just made, while you were thinking of him. Doesn't know it's separated by the thinnest, thinnest layer from his own skin. And when you take the gloves off later, privately, ashamed, you can imagine your hands are covered in him, not sticky, drying, covered in you.
Casey's hands are clean now. He'd come inside and washed off the car grime and engine oil, before having their quiet, simple dinner together, just them, like a good boy. He'd made them dinner**, in fact, then he'd cleared the table. He'd washed and dried all of the dishes and put them all away, like a good, good boy. Then he'd taken off all his clothes and knelt bare in front of a fully-dressed Lars, and told him politely what Casey would like for his reward, just as he'd been requested to do. Lars has suggested all of this that morning, whispered it into his ear as he woke up. What a way to start the day. He'd told Casey to keep thinking about it all day, too, all day working at the mechanics, and he'd started getting turned on by what he was doing to the insides of the cars, for fucks sake. Working on the engines, imagining working on Lars the same way, Lars working on him. Anyway. By telling Lars, quietly but directly, wavering, what he wants him to do to him, Casey's not being rude, or bad, or asking too much. He's still being good. Lars's good boy.
And Lars is being so accommodating to Casey's bitten-silly whims. Letting him run his finger tips over Lars' bottom teeth, top teeth. He feels the sharp edges, mountains and valleys, pointy little canines - he thinks he loves those best. These did that, did this to him. Painted his thighs like a work of art.
"Lars, would you take a photo?"
"Of course, Casey. Hold your legs open, sweetheart."
Lars's photos make him feel beautiful.
He can look at them immediately, it's an instant camera (no way these were getting printed at fucking Walgreens), but it's nice to save them for later, as a treat, to look at together in bed. Perhaps accompanying a sweet little "thank-you" handjob. They're never full body, or if they show a lot of it, Lars makes sure Casey's face doesn't show - his full face is never shown, not in these photos. This is how Casey wants it to be. Never show his (tbf pretty small) lower back tattoo, or if they do, Lars will paint over it in white out and doodle flowers (!!!) on top, which is giving Casey some dreamy little thoughts about future ink, just maybe. They also never show his genitals, even if they get pretty close indeed. Right up to the edges, in fact, pretty often.
It's not like anyone else is ever getting hold of these, because they literally get put into a locked, heavy, metal box under the bed, but this is what makes him feel safe, and they're big on safe these days. Despite what the state of his thighs might tell you.
The room is quiet apart from gentle shutter clicks. Casey moves, presents himself, stretches and poses his body under Lars's loving direction. Direction that becomes more and more like suggestion, as they ease into Lars releasing the reins of today, his day-long, torturous, heavenly game.
Lars runs out of film. Casey laughs at him. Teases. "Pervert."
(I love you so much, I love your filthy, lunatic, wonderful brain.)
Lars grins crookedly. "Takes one to know one, my dear."
(Loving you is the most fun I've ever had in my entire life. Stay forever, if you please.)