Skov (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
obedientdog) wrote2021-05-01 09:28 pm
obedientdog) wrote2021-05-01 09:28 pm
Entry tags:
Open Post
🐺 Hit me up on plurk or via PM if you have any questions/want to run an idea by me first/what-have-you.
🐺 General squick/trigger list.
🐺 m/m for anything shippy.
🐺 General headcanon for Skov. If you've got different headcanon/ideas for a psl, hit me with 'em; I'm flexible.
🐺 Skov's kink list.
🐺 This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!
:eyes: it's the thinggggg
Messy as the currents between them might be, loyalty runs deeper. They're his boys, his dogs not because he holds a leash, but because of their teeth. He's never really felt like he was King of anything that mattered until Swan and Skov.
He'd cut school today, trusted Swan would drag Skov to school anyway. But he stopped by before the last bell to leave both boys an envelope in their car- a plain key, and a note that simply said put it on your keychain babe in K's scrawling writing with a red gel pen. About twenty minutes after the end of school, it's followed with a text that's just a gps ping.
K is clearly in a good mood. Probably high (but when wasn't he?) but he's clearly trying to say something here. He's making an attempt, trying to say us, together even if it's in a grandiose gesture and not words, but it was almost Valentine's Day. The location is a warehouse, and K is in jeans and boots and a white cropped binder as he leans against the building. Reckless, almost inviting disaster, but he's impatient. And this area is as stolen away as the fairgrounds and the dream field. It's still in Henrietta, but the part of it that feels like the middle of nowhere. So he tells himself that it's safe.
It's his dead father's name on the lease, but that was a technicality. This was theirs. A place to go that wasn't home, where they could always find each other, spray paint the walls if they fucking felt like it. Maybe that meant more to K than anyone else, but he was hoping they'd appreciate the sentiment. He grinned when Skov pulled up, a shrug of his shoulders and a tilt of his head.]
Took you long enough.
[But he says it easy, his voice charm and not the vicious temper he could be prone to.]
/flutters hands
Skov didn't know what he expected when he followed the gps ping, but it wasn't what he got. It wasn't a warehouse and K looking hot enough to kill (K always looked hot enough to kill, in Skov's opinion). Swan would be along shortly, he knew, but for now, it was just him and Kavinsky as Skov slid out of his car.
Raking a hand through his messy hair, he looked at the building, then Kavinsky.]
Are you planning a murder or is this supposed to be romantic?
[There was nothing romantic about a warehouse. And as far as planning a murder went...well, Skov knew what it was like to have your blood boil to the point where you wanted to beat someone's face in. He'd never lost control like that, but he was vaguely acquainted with the what if. He was also of the opinion that Kavinsky could completely murder him if it was in a sexual way and not a literal murder.]
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And it's not... he doesn't know how to explain it. But he's not trying to tear them apart or something. He's a dick, yeah- Kavinsky makes a point of being a dick. He tends to think that if he's the biggest asshole in the room, no one will question the moments where he feels like a fake, like everyone can tell he's pretending. But he's not the sort of jerk that would tear them apart just to see if he could. He likes validation, but that's not what that would be. It's just.. he'd been interested in Swan when they'd first met. And then he'd shown up with Skov, and there was something in how the other boy looked at him.
So there was just this nebulous something between the three of them. Kavinsky's greedy too, yes, but he knows that the idea of choosing would be a question none of them would want to answer.]
Fuck man-- yeah, this is supposed to be romantic, okay?
[He shrugs his shoulders and scuffs the toe of his leather boot against the gravel, extinguishing the flame of his cigarette. A sigh as he runs a thin-fingered hand through his hair, his body taut with energy, feelings he has no place for.]
I suck at this shit, alright? But this-- it's ours.
You, me and Swan. Whatever we want. No nosy neighbors or noise complaints or any of that shit. We can paint dicks on the walls or string up black lights or handcuffs or whatever the fuck. I didn't put in a TV or any of that shit yet, because- I wanted us to figure it out together. We can make it anything we want.
[He reached out, just a slight touch of fingertips against the line of Skov's jaw, looking at him through dark eyelashes, K's eyes focused. He almost asked him if he would have rather had flowers and chocolates, red roses and pink carnations and white daisies, something that every other asshole was going to be doing in a day or two, but asking feels too vulnerable.
So instead he smirks and makes a joke of it, his expression wicked and playful, focused on Skov as he smooths over that flicker of insecurity. He trusts Swan and Skov more than anyone, but it still isn't easy.]
I can pick you up a shitty rose at the gas station if you're gonna be a bitch about it. And it is nice to know that you'd have shown up to a murder, too.
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He looked over the building, then back at Kavinsky when the other boy touched him. It was hard to resist the urge to lean into it. Skov thought he was sneaky and sly about things, but he still remembered what Swan had told him before- I heard you moaning my name in your sleep- he wasn't as sneaky as he thought. He wondered how obvious it was that he wanted Kavinsky, too. But he was unsure where he stood with Swan and...the whole thing was sort of messy.]
I like it. This is-
[No one had ever done anything like this for him before. It was a lot but it was also- he wouldn't say it, but it was sweet.]
I like it. It's good.
[He swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying to play it cool and like the idea of a boy like Kavinsky getting flowers for Skov didn't make him feel a little flustered.]
I'm not being a bitch! And come on, let's be real. If you were planning a murder you'd need help hiding the body. Dead people are heavy. I mean, I assume.
[The last part came out in a rush and fuck he hoped that didn't make him sound like an utter weirdo.]
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And sure it was messy and fucked up, but he couldn't imagine any of them walking away from each other. Not for long; not for real.
It's not that he wants to test it or something; kissing Skov is just something that curls in his head, hard not to give weight to the want. To be fair, he wants to kiss Swan too, but right now it's just Kavinsky and Skov. Who's always looked at him in a way that makes his heart skip. Like he's worth wanting, like he's someone to ache for.
His fingers linger on the boy's jaw, a gentle caress as he slides his fingers slowly so that he's cupping his face, his thumb dragging softly against skin just under his cheekbone. Kavinsky's grinning, bright and pleased just to have Skov's approval. To have some reassurance that this wasn't the wrong thing, that the other boy wanted a place they could share, too. Or at least believed in the three of them together, enough to think that they could have a home without burning it down.]
Just a little bit. But I don't mind 'cause you're cute. It's okay if you want a fucking flower.
[He says it in his Jersey accent, a grin as he leans in close. Yeah, so he's greedy. He doesn't even ask, he just- he can't help himself. Maybe it's the afternoon light, a February day that has more the feel of the coming spring than the winter they're leaving behind. Maybe it's just because he wants him. So he kisses him.
Has Kavinsky ever kissed someone that really mattered? That wasn't just-- because he could, or for the way it made his body thrill with the heat, the desire to feel like he wasn't alone or that no one would ever want him. Sometimes he felt like he was a freak because he didn't have a dick in his jeans. It'd been easier to experiment in NYC, of course. More people to talk to, or that were willing to kiss a sad and confused trans kid and skip the talking altogether.
But in Henrietta, there's no such thing as faceless. Especially not for someone like him, when he might as well bleed the word immigrant from his pores. There's just Aglionby and the public high school, and so sure, K messes around a little; trades too many kisses, gets on his knees or uses his fingers. But mostly he lets rumor and hearsay build the legend: a boy you used to hurt yourself with.
So, no. He's never really kissed someone that mattered. He'd meant to kiss Skov soft, and then pull away like a whisper or a tease. Something casual. But that's not what it is.
Kavinsky is a raging fire, always hungry, and he doesn't quite know if he wants to be devoured, or if he wants the boy against him to eat him alive. So he just kisses him harder, like he wants their mouths to bruise, curling fingers at the back of his neck. He has no right, no common sense, but he kisses him anyway because it means something.]
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Skov's heart flip-flopped when Kavinsky kissed him--or his stomach did. It was one of the two, he wasn't entirely sure, but something did something and for a moment he felt weightless. It was stupid- it was the same way he'd felt when Swan had kissed him for the first time- but he didn't stop to think if it was okay to feel that way about two different people because he didn't know what that way was yet.
Then he came back down to earth and kissed Kavinsky back, reaching up almost shyly to cup the side of his face, like the way K had touched him. Skov was still new to this kind of thing, getting to express himself physically instead of only fucking around in his dreams, but he was learning fast and he had a lot of experience already (when it came to getting railed by Swan, at least), but it was still new. Kissing Kavinsky was- it made Skov want him more. He couldn't explain his feelings, just that he knew they were there.
He whimpered into the kiss, resting his other hand on Kavinsky's hip, fingers pressing in against skin and denim. He could hardly remember what they'd been talking about right now- was it even half as important as this?]
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Kavinsky didn't know what he'd expected when he'd kissed Skov, but it was like-- it was different from kissing anyone else. It was like butterflies in his chest, heat and want that shivered along his skin. He couldn't stop kissing him, couldn't help letting the ache and the need sink into the way that Kavinsky pressed up against him so they were chest to chest, the fabric of his binder against Skov's shirt, the pressure of his breasts not entirely invisible. It was only the hormones that made it so that he looked mostly flat under a shirt, so the tight mesh shaped his chest into something more like pecs than feminine curves.
He'd have flinched, pulled away from someone else. But Skov knew. He didn't have to worry about him finding out, about what he'd think about his body. So he just kissed him harder, like he couldn't get enough. A helpless sort of moan against the other boy's mouth, shivering at the way that Skov's fingers pressed to his hip against bare skin and his touch felt like fire. In truth Kavinsky had less experience than people tended to assume- more partners, but he rarely went very far. He just didn't argue with the rumors, sometimes encouraged them himself. He wasn't virginal or anything, but that had been a one night stand back in the city, back before Aglionby.
He knows what he likes -- or he thinks that he does, anyway.
Kavinsky pushes Skov's shirt up with his other hand, so that he can touch skin, so that he can let his short nails scratch slightly against his skin. He knows the other boy enough to know that he tends to like it a bit rough, and this probably isn't enough, but it's somewhere to start. K isn't thinking straight, or really thinking at all to be honest. Kissing Skov feels too good to stop.
This actually isn't how he'd wanted this to go. Sure, kissing Skov had been part of his hopeful fantasies for the day, but it had happened afterwards. When Swan had been there, when they'd both realized that he wanted them as more than just the sex jokes he murmured. That he meant it. But when did anything ever work out how he meant it?]
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His breath hitched for a moment when Kavinsky pressed closer, and he slid his hand around to rest his palm against his lower back, fingers splayed. Swan would be jealous, he was well aware of that, but Swan wasn't here and Skov didn't care about how jealous he would be. He was too wrapped up in the moment- maybe wrapped around other things too, like Kavinsky's finger. He didn't care if his mouth bruised or if it felt like Kavinsky was going to eat him alive; maybe Skov wanted to be devoured.
Did he want Kavinsky to be into him the same way Skov was into him? Yes, of course, absolutely. Did it feel like it mattered much in this moment, either way? Not really. Not until the magic of things was broken, and Skov kind of hoped that particular bubble would never pop.
His skin heated as Kavinsky's nails scratched his skin and he shivered slightly. He shouldn't be so easily affected but this was Kavinsky, a rough, sharp, dangerous boy, and Skov was maybe just as rough, just as dangerous- though that wasn't the point. The point was- Skov didn't know. He'd lost his train of thought, lips parting slightly in invitation, fingers sliding into Kavinsky's hair.]
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Kavinsky was a shit choice in terms of people to trust with restraint, anyway. Kavinsky was everything but restraint.
And god, but he wanted to eat Skov alive -- at least in all the ways that were pleasurable. But there was more to this than just the sexual aspect for K, and in truth it felt a little like Skov might consume him too. Because he cares so much for this boy that's one of the only two that have ever stayed. And the more that he touched him, the more that they kissed each other breathless, it felt like something that was pulling him apart. But then maybe Kavinsky had always been looking for someone that could handle his fire and his longing, because he's always been burning.
He was intensely into Skov. Just like he was into Swan -- okay, maybe more; or maybe it just felt that way right now because Skov was the only one here and so it was impossible to think much of anyone else. Either way, K's whole body ached with how turned on he was, how much he wanted the other boy. So, yeah, he shoved him up against the warehouse door with something other than grace. But he didn't break the kiss, just bit Skov's lips as they shifted. Just so he could slide his tongue into his mouth, and then he kissed him hard, like this was something he was stealing- something worth stealing.
Kavinsky murmured into it, the sound vibrating between their mouths all pleasure and desire. His hands having shifted in the process of moving the other boy so he now had both hands under the sides of his shirt- nails lovingly scratching pink furrows into the spaces between his ribs. Kavinsky was blind to the world, blind to everything except the boy against him and how their bodies fit, how he felt and tasted and how easy it was to drown himself in him. He would absolutely ruin him if Skov let him have the chance.
He was sure Skov would give him the chance if he asked for it.]
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He whimpered against Kavinsky's mouth, fingers tightening in his hair. The scratches stung but it was the best kind of pain, the sort that had his heart rabbiting. He was swiftly starting to get hard and he wasn't sure what he wanted he just- wanted.]
K.
[He only pulled his head back long enough to murmur the shortest possible variation of Kavinsky's name he had the patience for before kissing him again. His other hand crept slowly lower- he was almost shy about it- until he could grab at Kavinsky's ass.]
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He'd known that Skov had needed a place, someplace to belong, someone to belong to. Or maybe it was just that Kavinsky had wanted him since he'd first felt the way that he looked at him. Had felt that he could put a leash on his neck and that he'd like how it felt. Not that he knows how to ask about that sort of thing, but he thinks about it, sometimes. He was greedy, especially with people, but he wanted to give Skov and Swan something, to make what they gave him worth it. To make it so that he was worth it.
He wanted this to work out, because these boys mattered to him. So he doesn't want to fuck it up, he just can't help himself. He has no impulse control, especially not when it was about Skov, who was lovely and willing and felt so good against him. He carried lube with him as a habit, but he hadn't thought to move any toys into the warehouse yet. So bending Skov over and fucking his brains out was unfortunately off the table, even if the thought drifted across K's mind- even if he thought that was probably what Skov wanted.
But he could stretch him on his fingers, put him on his knees or get on his knees for him, depending on how good he was. Give him K's fingers one by one until Skov told him it was too much. Of course, knowing Skov, he had a feeling that if he actually gave him that sort of choice, he'd probably have to keep him from going too far- he was nearly as reckless as Kavinsky.
Although as charming as the idea was, and as pretty as he was sure Skov would be if he could wreck him like that, fist him on his fingers, that was probably a bit much for a first date. Although it was also hot as fuck.
K took advantage of the moment when Skov broke the kiss, using it to get the other boy's shirt off. And then they were kissing again, and fuck but he liked the way that Skov said his name. A murmur, all heated, like he was asking for something and god but Kavinsky wanted to give it to him, whatever he was capable of giving. He kissed him all the harder for it, grinning into the kiss, and he lets Skov grab his ass, tilting back into it a little in what's clearly encouragement. He wants him to touch. He lets a hand cup against the other boy's cock through the fabric of his jeans.
K was a dreamer, he was good at getting creative; just because he didn't have a dick in his pants didn't mean he couldn't find a way to take Skov to pieces. He parts from the kiss just so he can trail teeth down Skov's neck, suck a bruise into his collarbone. His mouth wet and hot, the lick of his tongue against skin, occasional nips of teeth as he works on making a messy line of them along his collarbone. They were pink and red now, but they'd bruise later, starbursts of blue and purple until they healed. He rubbed the heel of his palm against Skov's cock, so he could get a bit more pressure even through the layers of clothing as he shifts his mouth up to his neck, putting one more just below his ear.]
Fuck, you're so good, Sweetheart.
[Kavinsky wanted to write his name on his skin, but he resisted the urge. For now. This was all new, uncharted territory, after all. He was trying to take it slow. But for Kavinsky that meant somewhat slower than a wildfire.]
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He moved automatically when Kavinsky pulled his shirt off, arms lifting and then dropping back to where they'd been before. Except- he skated his other hand down K's back so he could use both hands to squeeze his ass. He was almost gentle about it because he wasn't entirely sure what Kavinsky liked. He knew the rumors, stories, of course he did, but he was also smart enough to know that rumors and stories weren't always true. Kavinsky was reading him like an open book, though, but Skov had never been shy about talking about what he wanted and liked. And he didn't always have to use words; sometimes he'd show up with marks on him left by Swan and it would be obvious what he liked.
Reflexively, he pushed his hips forward into Kavinsky's hand, moaning soft but shameless. Everything was happening so fast but he wouldn't have it any other way. He wasn't good at taking things slow.
His skin felt like it was burning, Kavinsky's teeth grazing down his neck raising goosebumps along his arms. The mere idea of the hickeys thrilled him, knowing he'd be marked by this moment, however temporary. Then K praised him and Skov felt either proud or even more aroused--maybe both. Probably both.]
Please, K- I need you.
[He wasn't ashamed to beg, either. Honestly, he'd say whatever Kavinsky wanted him to if it got him something nice.
Except- except there was the sound of tires on the asphalt and Skov's eyes snapped open, relatively pale skin flushing anew. It took him approximately one second to recognize Swan's car and a second after that to lock eyes with Swan himself through the darkly tinted windshield. He couldn't read Swan's expression from this distance, so he couldn't gauge if he was upset or not, but-
Swan slid out of his car, slamming the door behind him. It didn't necessarily mean he was upset; he slammed a lot of things. In the mornings if there was a door in his way, he slammed it no matter who was still sleeping.]
Am I interrupting? Should I come back later?
[His voice dripped with venom and Skov had a distinct impression that he was, indeed, upset.]
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K knew that Swan was going to be pissed. He was possessive about Skov, and Kavinsky had left marks all over the other boy. He does remove his hand from pressing against Skov's cock- but slowly, not like he's flinching away. Not like he's ashamed. It was about control, or maybe just-- he wasn't going to pull away from Skov and leave him standing there topless and reeling. So yeah, he takes his hands and his mouth off the other boy, but there's the subtle way that he puts himself between Skov and Swan. Protective; not because he thinks that Swan will hurt him or take his anger out on him, but because he doesn't want Swan to blame Skov for this.]
Nah. Swan, c'mon, stay.
[Kavinsky takes a breath, a little twitchy as he drags a hand through his hair.]
Look, I know I fucked this up. I wanted- I was trying to say something to you both. But I got carried away and I kissed Skov and then I didn't stop kissing Skov and I know I'm an asshole.
[He does not say that he's sorry.
Kavinsky is not good at saying sorry to begin with, and there isn't a single touch that he'd take back, anyway. Admitting that he fucked this up already feels like vulnerability, but he's trying to give Swan a better target for the blame, enough that Skov and Swan can maybe still work things out if this whole wild idea of his goes to shit, crumbles to ashes in his hands. But he still-- he's not giving up, even if this was far from the way that he'd planned this going. But K was impatient, and Skov had been pretty, and his impulse control was shit. So here they were.
But maybe he has some impulse control because he does not point out that they both know Skov wouldn't stop him. It is in his eyes, though. Not that he thinks that Skov didn't want it or was just following his lead, but- there's been that tension between them since almost the beginning. Like Skov wanted K to put him on his knees, and all Kavinsky had to do was ask. And he wanted to. He still wants to. He can see Skov in a collar with a crown- he can see him with a crown branded on the inside of his wrist, too.
He doesn't think he has to say it. He thinks Swan knows where to put his anger.]
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Reluctantly, he took his hands away from Kavinsky, focus bouncing between him and Swan. After a moment, he picked up his shirt but he didn't put it on.
That was right; Kavinsky had invited them here for a reason. This was their place, a place for the three of them that could potentially be a real home. It might not be anything if Swan ended up pissed at both of them, though.
Swan said-]
You fucking think?
[He wasn't surprised to hear Kavinsky say he was an asshole. Swan had always known that; he'd just decided to be friends with him anyway. Besides, he could be an asshole, too.]
So what were you trying to say?
[He knew he and Skov weren't boyfriends (you had to actually talk about dating for that to happen, didn't you?). They were fuck buddies, friends with benefits, and yet...yet Swan couldn't help but feel possessive of Skov. It hadn't started with hearing the other boy moan his name in his sleep; Swan had been attracted to him before that, since the day they'd been assigned roommates at Aglionby.
Skov acted tough, but Swan knew some of that was bravado and that Skov was actually some sort of broken. Swan wanted to hold all of his pieces together, keep him from actually falling apart.
He didn't share well, not when it came to Skov. He hadn't thought Skov wanted to be shared but- maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe Skov viewed things differently or didn't feel the same or- Swan sucked in a breath, gaze flickering briefly from Kavinsky to Skov.]
cw: slight depression thoughts / suicidality
It had just seemed easier when there wasn't this tension on the air. Kavinsky was still painfully turned on and almost vibrating with it. It made it even harder to figure out where to start, how to say what he was trying to say. So he just threw himself at it, hoped he got the sentiment across, hoped that Swan-- fuck.]
I got this place for us. You me and Skov. No neighbors or noise complaints or any of that bullshit. He uh-- Skov asked me if it was supposed to be romantic or if I was planning a murder. And- yeah, this whole thing was supposed to be romantic.. but I didn't just mean for Skov. I mean- you too. And you can just tell me to go fuck myself if you want.
[There's a brief flicker there in K's dark eyes of something like insecurity, a whisper of the broken pieces he tries not to let anyone see. He wanted them, needed them, maybe. But saying it outloud was terrifying. Because it meant giving someone the power to hurt him. But he'd already done it once, and they hadn't betrayed him. And this was just his heart, the fact that he was trans was who he was.
He didn't quite know how to spell out the words that making out with Skov, wanting Skov, didn't mean he was trying to take him away from Swan; he was sort of hoping that the other boy could put the pieces together. Or that he would at least ask him a question that was easier to answer than trying to string the words together himself. He wasn't high enough for it- but he wasn't going to walk away just to set up a line- even if he wanted to.]
I'm not saying you have to move in, or that if you don't want to fuck me you can't stay here, or whatever. I'm just-- fuck. I wanted to say it. I wanted to try and do something about it. Skov seemed to think I should have started with flowers, but this.. when we're eighteen I can put our names on it. All of us; equal partners, if you want that.
[And maybe that last part said something more than just talking about the warehouse. Because he needed Swan, but he didn't need to own him, he didn't need him to be like Skov. He just wanted- they were all sharp and troubled boys, and he wanted to give them a place that was theirs, where they could be together. He wanted a place where they could belong. A place where Kavinsky could belong, because he cared for them more than anyone else he'd ever had in his life before. His was the name that everyone whispered, beyond the pulse of traffic lights; Henrietta's Dark King- a title he enjoyed, honestly. But he didn't need to rule over his boys, he just needed them at his side, to know they were his. His knights, his hunting dogs.
He needed to believe that they wouldn't leave him.
Because this was the only way where Kavinsky could actually imagine a future, honestly. He didn't know if he could stand the world without them. But he wasn't about to put that on them, wouldn't say it outloud- he tried to keep his demons as his own, for the most part. Keep the feelings that he was running from wrapped up tight. It's just.. he honestly has little tolerance or patience for moments like these. Where all of a sudden he's waiting for an answer, for someone else to tell him where they go from here. And it always scared him when that was in someone else's hands, when he had no control over what happened. Usually it was with his parents.
But he takes a breath, and refuses to let it shake, keeps his dark eyes even as he looks at Swan with a shrug of his thin shoulders-]
I mean, it's up to you, man.
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You were serious about this being romantic? I thought- [He didn't finish, ducking his head as his cheeks burned. He'd thought Kavinsky was just being Kavinsky. But the kissing made a lot more sense now. Skov's heart lurched anew.] Are you saying you want to date us?
[He'd never even asked Swan that. He probably should have. He'd never had a boyfriend though, or any kind of relationship. Not that he was interested in anyone but boys, but he'd never dated anyone, not even when he was still figuring out his sexuality and who he was interested in.
Swan, for a moment, looked bewildered. He'd been running on adrenaline and jealousy since even before he'd stepped out of his car but now that things were framed in a different light- now that things weren't...what, Skov cheating on him? They weren't dating. They hadn't made anything official; you couldn't cheat if there was nothing to cheat on. He hadn't ever considered that Kavinsky might be into him. Skov, on the other hand- he made things obvious even when he thought he didn't. It was the glances he snuck, the way he looked at K. Swan had been jealous for a while.
But now, faced with this, this...romantic thing, where Kavinsky was setting up a place for them and Skov was talking about dating. This was better than flowers; Swan wouldn't even know what to do with them. But more than that, it effectively popped his bubble of anger, leaving him unsure. He thought he'd be angry for a while- he usually was- but... Kavinsky and Skov were his friends. Neither of them had meant to hurt him. He just wasn't sure yet if he could wrap his mind around the idea of Skov and anybody that wasn't him without getting jealous all over again.
He sighed, scrubbed a hand through his pale blonde hair. A minute ago he'd felt like decking Kavinsky and now- He knew he wasn't part of the shitty family club but he also knew what Skov and K had been through. He understood wanting to have a place you could call your own where you could really be yourself.
He didn't know what to say. So he looked away, looking over the warehouse exterior, letting his gaze linger on a window or something while he tried to put words together.]
I could see the three of us here. [He said finally, looking back at Skov and Kavinsky. Skov was pale enough (especially for a boy who spent a good deal of time in the sun) that the marks Kavinsky had left on him stood out. It was enough to make that tangle of jealousy snarl up again, but Swan tried to stamp it down.]
But is it true? If this is a big romantic gesture and you want both of us, does that mean dating?
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[He idly kicked at the gravel, not out of anger, but it was- tactile, something that was easier to process, to understand. A distraction that bought him at least a moment of breathing room from actually having to address the part where Skov asked him if that meant dating them. From having to talk about the fact that he hadn't ever dated anyone. He thankfully wasn't particularly prone to blushing, even if he was pale skinned (or at least no one had ever had the guts to point it out) but it was still awkward, and K was a bit more shy about all of this than he liked to admit to.
It was like getting the air knocked out of him, except in a good way when Swan said that he could see the three of them here, though. It was something, it sounded like approval, and Kavinsky knew that he hadn't exactly started this off on the right foot, so he hadn't exactly assumed that Swan was going to want in on what K was offering.
But Swan echoes Skov's question, and he sighs, because he realizes that he can't get out of this without saying the words, without talking about it.]
I mean- yeah, if I can get it.
But I haven't dated anyone before, and I don't know if I'll be any good at it, but I want.. I want to. I want to try anyway, I guess. I just wasn't sure how you felt. Most people think I'm better for sex and drugs than anything- and they're probably not wrong. And I don't wanna fuck things up for you two, either. But I've never trusted anyone or wanted anyone like I do with the two of you. And so I just.. I thought that maybe I could try. 'Cause I give a shit, and I care, and I like both of you.
[He shrugs his thin shoulders, curls fingers at the back of his neck as he looks off to the side, back towards the warehouse for a moment. He couldn't say that he was in love with them, even if he thought that he probably was. The way he felt about Skov and Swan felt more like love was supposed to be than he'd ever felt for anyone else, at least. It was like the very idea that they might maybe want him back made the world brighter.]
I wasn't supposed to kiss anyone until after you both said yes, but I'm bad at waiting so I sorta fucked that up.
[Honestly, he really really wants to make a sex joke there. To say something about how he'll make it up to him, or that Swan can get a turn too, but he manages to resist the desire. He should get a fucking medal, or at least a gold star.]
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Hey, don't say that. You're great for plenty of things. I mean- [Wait, that hadn't exactly come out right. Or had it? He was doubting himself.] You're one of my best friends and that means I think you're pretty great.
[Draping his shirt over one shoulder, he went over to Kavinsky, wrapping his arms around his middle from behind and pressing a kiss to his cheek.]
And you haven't fucked anything up. Right?
[He glanced over at Swan, brow furrowed slightly. He might've been extremely biased because he was still ridiculously turned on- or maybe it was how strongly he felt about Kavinsky- but he didn't feel like K had fucked up anything at all.]
I'd date you- [He added, quieter.] -if Swan will.
[Swan snorted, lifting an eyebrow as he stared at Skov.]
You're gonna-
Gonna what? [Skov arched an eyebrow in return, questioning.
Swan took a breath, exhaled, and looked away. His body language didn't say he was angry- just...awkward, maybe. He wasn't a person who was easily flustered and he couldn't remember the last time he'd blushed (thank god), but he felt-
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he shook his head slowly. Kavinsky wanted to date him. For real. Swan'd never had a boyfriend. A girlfriend, once, before he'd figured out he was gay, but he'd been so young then that dating had been holding hands and walking to class together and not much else. He didn't know if he'd be a shit boyfriend or not. Casual sex was easier, less frightening, and this was- his heart was pounding and his hands felt sweaty.
Which was why he made sure to scrub them dry on his jeans before walking to Skov and Kavinsky and cupping K's face in his hands. He kissed him slowly, letting it linger before he pulled back.]
Okay. You didn't fuck up, I'm just- [Swan hesitated, biting his lip.] Skov's special, you know? [Which was as close as he'd come to saying he genuinely cared about Skov- a lot.] So're you. I know this shit's not easy. [But he really appreciated that Kavinsky was willing to try and talk to them both about this and didn't just dodge the subject.] It's not easy being on this side of it either, and that's not your fault. [It was just the nature of the beast.] But I'll date you. Both of you.
[Skov's special was still repeating through Skov's head even as Swan said he'd date both of them. He smiled, bright and pleased, and tucked his face into Kavinsky's shoulder for a moment. Here he'd been worried Swan was going to punch one of them (which hurt, Skov knew from experience), and the total opposite had happened.]
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But it leaves Swan as the missing piece, waiting to see what he says, and he leans back into Skov just for the comfort of it. The warmth and the contact and the proximity, and feeling like even if this is still on unsteady ground, that he isn't alone in this, at least. But then Swan smiles and even if that isn't an answer, it feels like-- well, he didn't think that the blonde would be smiling if he was about to tell K to fuck off, at least.
And then he's cupping Kavinsky's face in his hands, and that feels even better than a smile. He murmurs at the contact, helpless and eager and wanton, but he doesn't rush it as he kisses him back. He just drinks it in, kisses him like he's trying to say the things that words are too clumsy for. Like he can tell him how much this means, how much Swan means to him. It takes him a moment to catch his breath, but he tries not to let on how affected he is. Skov and Swan might be the boys that he trusts the most in the world, but vulnerability is still difficult for him, something that he's still learning to allow, how to let them in closer.]
Yeah, I know he is. [Because addressing the fact that Skov was special was easier than the fact that Swan said that K was too. But he wrapped it up and tucked it close to his heart. But then there was that answer, and this was... Fuck, he didn't know. Like a dream. Like maybe he could be awake without hating himself, hating the world.]
That'd be.. Yeah, I'd like that.
[He was flustered, affected, even if he tried to act cool about it. He smiled too, letting Skov tuck his face into his shoulder, and he just felt like-- happy, he thinks. He thinks this is probably what being happy is.
So then he grins, filthy and wicked, lifting an eyebrow as he looks at Swan. Because teasing was easier than being genuine; Kavinsky could only manage the later in temporary stretches.]
I knew you wanted to fuck me.
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Skov knew a lot of people said you were only supposed to have one partner, and growing up he'd always considered that the 'proper' way, too. But since he'd become a teenager he'd started thinking that maybe not everyone had to subscribe to that- what was it, it wasn't a rule or a law. Popular opinion? The point was, he thought he could be perfectly happy with both Swan and Kavinsky. Maybe it made him greedy, having and wanting two people, two boyfriends, but he didn't really give a shit. He wasn't hurting anyone; he was going to do what made him happy.
Speaking of happiness, he couldn't help but laugh at Kavinsky's comment. Did it make him weird that he wasn't jealous about the idea of Swan and K fucking? It'd be hot and they were into each other and- maybe Skov was just eternally horny. Alternately, he was a supportive friend. He liked thinking of it that way better.
Swan snorted again, brushing his thumbs along Kavinsky's cheeks before pulling his hands away.]
I've thought about it.
[Didn't everyone think about what it'd be like to have sex with their friends at least once? No? Maybe he should have considered it a sign sooner...]
I could ruin you.
[Though he wasn't in the mood right now.
But Skov was and there was nothing stopping him from daydreaming about Swan's dick--which was very nice, as far as dicks went, though Skov could've been biased.]
I'd rather be ruined. [Skov mumbled against Kavinsky's shoulder.]
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He grins at the way that Skov laughs when he comments about sex with Swan, flashes a smile that's all I knew it when Swan admits that he's thought about it. But the way the blonde brushes fingers against his cheek is soft in a way that feels like affection, and that makes him feel a bit more off-balance than he'd ever admit to outloud. And then he punctuates it with I could ruin you and K honestly forgets how to think straight, because he wants that, even if he buries it along with everything else that he doesn't quite trust. He laughs with a shake of his head quips back like a reflex.]
You wish.
[He's affected though, even if he plays it off. He acts like the words roll off his skin, even if it's anything but true. The only sign he really gives away is the way that he shivers, but it's slight enough that it might be hard to see. Certainly easier to feel with Skov pressed against him.
He does catch that comment, smirks a little bit playfully, turning into a grin that blossoms across his lips.]
Poor boy. I'm sure if you ask nice he'll give it to you.
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You'd be lucky to have my dick.
[Or lucky to be able to take it- Swan wasn't that big, but he was, well, proportionate. And Kavinsky had a narrow frame, like Skov. Of course, Skov handled him just fine, but Skov handled pretty much everything just fine. He never even complained- except when he wasn't getting what he wanted.
His point was, though, that somedays Swan had daydreamed about fucking Kavinsky senseless, either just because he wanted to or because K was usually running his mouth and Swan wanted to see if he could make him make better noises instead.
Though he didn't catch the shiver, Skov did. Skov only smirked though, before looking vaguely flustered.]
I didn't say I wanted Swan to ruin me. I mean, I usually do! I just-
[He didn't finish. He didn't think he had to finish, though.]
I have Swan all the time! Which is- it's fine, it's great, I'm really happy with that, there's nothing wrong with it-
[Swan lifted an eyebrow but he looked more amused than insulted. Skov, on the other hand, kept going.]
We just had a thing going before and it was really nice and I was thinking-
[Oh god, please someone shut him up before he properly embarrassed himself.]
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Maybe just the assurance that he seems like the boy he tries to be.
Kavinsky's gaze flicks to Swan first, who thankfully seems more amused than insulted by Skov's rambling. He was trying to not spark his jealousy five minutes into this odd little agreement, seeing if the three of them together could be as good as it felt they should be.]
...So, are you saying you wanna pick up where we left off?
[Not that he minds, of course. It's just-- not quite what he'd expected. If he knew how to handle this sort of stuff better, maybe he'd ask Skov what he was into, what he liked, what he wanted from him. But Kavinsky didn't really know how to have those conversations. Not yet anyway, because he does learn, later. But at the moment he just smirks a little bit, even if Skov can't see it; he can probably hear the faint amusement in the question, though.
His gaze settles on Swan, a lift of an eyebrow like an invitation.]
I dunno. There's three of us now. It seems like it'd be rude to leave someone out.
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[He looked at Kavinsky, then Swan. Okay. So maybe wanting to pick up where they left off was a little rude now that Swan was here. Technically, Swan had interrupted, but he'd also been invited here. It wasn't his fault. And Skov wasn't stupid nor did he want to hurt Swan. Leaving him out would make him jealous.
Tucking his face against the back of Kavinsky's shoulder again, Skov took a breath.]
Let me give you what you need, babe.
[Swan said, reaching out to comb his fingers through Skov's hair. He was trying not to be jealous but he also didn't want to just boot Kavinsky out of things, either. He'd never participated in a threesome; he didn't immediately know how to include a third person.
Almost shyly, Skov looked up, considering that for a moment. Yeah, okay, he'd be down for Swan fucking him, even though he really wanted Kavinsky right now. Going at it with K would probably only make Swan jealous.]
Okay. Yeah. What about-
[Good question. They both looked at Kavinsky, as if he would be able to figure it out or know the answer.]
Yeah, K. What can I do for you?
[Skov wanted to make him feel good, too.]
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He pauses, though, when they both look at him, when Skov asks him what he can do for him.
Kavinsky has never really been in a threesome, not that he was going to admit that. He'd been close enough that it didn't even feel entirely like a lie, but he'd always been a secondary participant, an enabler, maybe someone there just to hold you in the midst of it all. He always kept his pants on, though. Threesomes were always a little bit too unpredictable for him to actually just give in and enjoy the pleasure.
So he shakes his head, but it's with a smile, aiming for something like comforting, and the way that he says it is all charm. That way he has where people let him get away with far more than he deserves. Silver-tongued and slippery, and sometimes a little bit false. It was easier to pick up on when you knew who he was aside from the boy that drew in everyone, his mouth a promise for whatever you needed. He doesn't mean to try and charm them, like this is something else that he can give them, it just feels like the easiest way to glue them all together if no one has to worry about how he fits.]
You don't have to make this about me. You're the one that wanted to be ruined, remember?
[His voice is a whisper against Skov's ear, his voice as warm as a caress.]
I can help, open him up on my fingers and help slide him onto your dick?
[His words are a question aimed at Swan, but the way that he says them is meant for Skov; slippery with misdirection and trying to pull their focus away from him. He might not have his sunglasses on, but for a moment he wears them on his heart.]
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