Open Post

[obedientdog]

🐺 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!

Comments

dreampack au!!!

[richspoiledrotten]

[It was easy to think that Skov and Eli didn't get along, that he was part of K's pack despite him and not because of him. After all, if you weren't part of the pack, it sure looked like they fought all the time. Which wasn't even exactly untrue, but it was a more complicated truth than it looked like. The truth was that they were both dogs, basically puppies in human form. So sure, they snarled and they snapped their teeth, and sometimes it was with each other's skin in their mouth, fingers scratching or pressing at someone's throat, and there were always bruises.

But it was just- playing, he guessed; burning off energy that had no place else to go. Maybe calling it a game wasn't quite right. But it was something other than it looked like, anyway.

With Skov.. well, Elijah knew that it didn't hurt him when they played rough. The other boy didn't seem to mind getting hit. It was like he came alive the same way that Elijah did. A pair of dysfunctional wires humming with the sensation of every impact. He wouldn't push any of the others like this- not even Swan or K. Certainly not Jiang or Proko. With Skov it was like he knew what Eli needed on hard days without the boy having to ask for it. He wouldn't even know what to ask for.

The truth was that no matter how bitter it might look, there was never malice in it when they hit each other. There was always blood... on someone's knuckles or in their mouths, bright copper, metallic on his tongue and it coats his split lip like the only lipstick he'll ever wear. Blood never felt like a bad thing with Skov, though. They were both boys too reckless to be called careful, but they cared enough that neither of them had ever ended up in the hospital. They'd never lost a tooth or broken a bone.

Things had shifted a bit since the night with the living embers that had fallen from his dreams. He was one of them, but before he'd been carefully letting them under his skin. Now it was like he'd jumped into them, suddenly tangled deep into these boys. Because K had held him and told him he was safe and not looked at him like he was different. And he hadn't told them his secrets. It made it all feel different in a way he didn't want to name. Elijah-- well, he still didn't want to talk about it.

He didn't want to make an announcement or have a fucking conversation about what was or wasn't in his boxers, or talk about it like things were any different than they'd been.

But at this point both Kavinsky and Proko are already aware. And K told him he was safe here, and Eli believes him, and he believes in the other boy, too. It's not that he doesn't want Skov to know, he just hates the vehicle of getting the words out. So he doesn't tell him. Instead it happens like this- Skov's topless and they're circling each other. That lull where Elijah usually pulls away before things can get weird. Before he gets too tempted to kiss the bruise on his cheek or let him taste the blood on his mouth.

Fighting like this always felt a lot like foreplay. Stopping always left him trembling, feeling one step from the edge, a drop he couldn't have explained. It felt like through punching him Skov could maybe pull out the feelings inside of him that didn't fit, but he didn't know what that would feel like. Skov at least has Swan, someone he can fuck through any residual weirdness. Elijah just has the furtive, longing glances he steals at Kavinsky when he thinks no one will catch him at it. He's not nearly as good at it as he thinks he is. But tonight he just pulls his shirt off and drops it to the floor like it's nothing.

He licks the blood from his split lip lazily, like nothing has changed, because for him it hasn't. He wouldn't wear his scars openly like this in the Aglionby locker room, but here-- in this space that was Kavinsky's, but also felt of the boys he cared for, it was different. K and his boys were different. Nervous as he was, he still knew this was safe. Home, whispers a voice, like a dream he's forgotten. K wouldn't have told him he was safe if the pack were going to turn on him.

He takes a step back, but only so he can wash down the blood in his throat with the rest of his half-finished beer, so the tremble on his skin is less obvious. Skov might not be the top of his class, but he thinks the boy can figure out what the scars mean. But the truth is that they don't mean anything: everything is the same as before. He's still a boy, still has a flat chest, still so rich he's planning on a classics degree with no particular intentions about what he might do with it. He's just also rich enough that he's been able to more or less bury things like sex at birth since he was sixteen. The scars don't mean anything- the fear is that Skov might think they do.

On bad nights, sometimes even Elijah forgets they don't matter.]

Up for another round? Or are you done already?

[obedientdog]

[A lot of the time, fighting was foreplay to Skov. And the times it wasn't- well, sometimes he could hide how it made him feel, and sometimes he couldn't. Every time he clashed with Elijah it made him feel desperate for more, made him want to get on his knees for the other boy or find himself bent over the nearest suitable surface. It also made him hyper-aware of things like the blood on Elijah's face or knuckles and that alone felt like an aphrodisiac.

Tonight wasn't much different, in terms of all of those things. He never pushed though, didn't bring up his weird attraction to everything they did when they fought. Swan was the one who usually dealt with all of his excess energy and built-up sexual tension. But tonight-

His eyes tracked Elijah's motions as he pulled his shirt off, taking in the new expanse of skin before him. It took him a moment or two to even register the scars, and when he did he was distracted, gaze flickering back up to Elijah's mouth, then down again. There was so much going through his brain all he could really think was a little oh. He felt a little tangle of emotions that pinwheeled through his mind before, like a tumbleweed, it broke apart.

Taking a slightly shaky deep breath, he flexed one hand, glancing down at his knuckles.]

I could go again. Unless you wanted to make out or something.

[richspoiledrotten]

[Fighting was foreplay to Elijah too, if he was honest. It was just... well, it wasn't like he'd ever been willing to take the risk and see what it could spin into before. It might be like foreplay, but he had literally no experience with what came after. But this was-- something, and his green eyes were magnetic, bright and alive as he grinned with a flash of perfect teeth. Almost wolfish as he looked at the other boy, seeming to actually consider it when Skov asked if he wanted to makeout.

It's like the tone of the tension in his body changes at the implied question, a slight shift so it's less nerves and more interest slowly laid bare. There's probably a dozen reasons to play by the same script that they always have, but Elijah can't think of a single one in the moment. Not with the way that Skov's gaze slides across his bare chest, and up to his mouth. He's never really had anyone look at him like this before. Looking at his skin, his exposed body, and not just seeing him for who he was, but wanting him.

For the first time in his life, standing in a room like this, being exposed, doesn't mean feeling defective. His breath is rough and it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts together for any sort of reply.]

I dunno. Maybe if you manage to hit me again.

[Not quite a witty reply, but he's not quite thinking straight. It's like an invitation, or like it could be a yes. Like the way his skin hums and the blood in his mouth makes him want it.

He knows they're crossing a line, he just doesn't quite understand what it is. But to be fair, right now he's more interested in following Skov step for step, seeing where this thing they've been doing leads. He's reckless with this, once he feels like he can be. Prone to following the chemistry instead of worrying about if it's a good idea.]

[obedientdog]

[Skov smirked, flexed his neck to try and work a kink out of it.]

You don't think I can?

[He'd gladly take Eli up on the challenge, no matter how much more he'd rather mash their mouths together instead.

He'd been playing nice so far, fair, trying to take things slow. He didn't really want to hurt Elijah; he didn't want to hurt any of the boys in the pack. But that didn't mean he couldn't shake things up a little.

So, instead of swinging a fist, he flung himself at Elijah this time. Skov wanted to take him down to the floor, maybe wrestle around a little. Slightly less hitting, more skin-on-skin.]

dreampack au - more kink talk;

[richspoiledrotten]

[Ostensibly Elijah, Skov and Swan are working together on their homework for class tomorrow.

In reality there's been maybe ten minutes actually devoted to the problems from class, and a lot more of Skov making out with Swan, and then they'd all called a break. Elijah and Skov were gathering up drinks and chips and some joints while Swan was putting on music that didn't suck and was conducive for getting high.

Eli was just grabbing a couple beers and a soda for Swan, when he looked over at Skov with a slightly soft edge to his eyes.]

Hey, so.. the fighting thing. That's kinky for you too, right?

[He lifts an eyebrow, almost like he's flirting- which, okay, he sort of is- but it's a genuine question, too.

Everyone else has said it, and Eli had felt it, but he wants to hear it. If they're gonna keep doing it, he wants to know for sure. And Swan had mentioned him having a safeword, and he also sorta.. wants to know if there's more he wants, or if it's just the fighting. And if that line about making out had been a joke, or if he wants that too. Eli has a lot of questions, really.

Because he's realized that he likes it. And he's still-- trying to figure out where everyone's lines are.]

[obedientdog]

[Of all the words Skov had expected to come out of Elijah's mouth, in that order- it wasn't what he got. He nearly dropped what he was holding, staring at Eli for a beat too long. It was completely casual and completely out of the blue- Elijah's question, not Skov's response.

He bit his lip, hesitated a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't going to lie about it.]

Yeah, it- it definitely is.

[It'd been kinky for him for a long time. Sometimes, it didn't have to be an all-out brawl; sometimes it could be simpler. A single hit, a backhand- enough to get his blood pumping. He'd been sort of ashamed of it at first. Sometimes, he still was. But he'd come to terms with the fact he liked what he liked. He wasn't going to change for anyone, and no one had asked him to. The pack accepted him for who and how he was.]

What, uh. Brought this up?

[richspoiledrotten]

I dunno. Fuck. I talked to Swan a bit, but- it's not really that, I guess. It's just...

[If it's any consolation to Skov, Elijah is clearly a mess about this. Casual as the question might have come off his mouth, talking about it doesn't come easy to him. It's just that he knows that this is something that he should talk about, so he's making an attempt- clumsy as it might be. And there are things here he wants to know, even if he doesn't quite know how to ask the questions. He takes a breath, bites at his bottom lip as he tries to work out what he's trying to say here, difficult as it might be.

He's clearly not entirely comfortable with the subject just yet. But it's more like he's still working through his own feelings about it, not like he judges Skov for it or that he thinks it's wrong or anything like that. He sighs, catching his breath and he drags his gaze over to Skov: bright and raw, heated and complicated.]

-- I like it when it's with you. It's kinky for me, too. And that's different than just.. you know. Punching each other 'cause we're burnin' off someone's bad temper.

[His accent gets a bit more Southern, for just a moment there. Unease that comes off in the edges of his words. It's notable of course, that Eli hasn't said that they should stop, just that this is different. Elijah's still figuring this stuff out, and it's easiest for him to take it a step at a time. If he and Skov are both into this thing they're doing... then what does that mean?

Swan had said that he wasn't pissed about it, so- he figures that leaves it to the two of them to figure it out. And Eli wants-- he wants something, wants more, wants to know if Skov does, too. But that's a complicated question to ask. He sets the drinks down on the counter for a moment, a slight tilt of his head as he looks at the other boy. Unsure, but interested, warmth in his green eyes. He looks like he's about to reach out to him for a moment, but then just punches one hand into the other.]

It feels like it means something if we keep pushing it. If you still want to, I guess. Fuck Skov, I'd never even thought about kink before that night, when you asked if I wanted to makeout.

[Eli is a bit slow on the uptake. But this is something he wants to figure out one way or another. Even if he rather wishes that Skov would just shove him against the fridge and hit him a little, so he wouldn't have to keep talking.]

I did, for the record. Want to, I mean.

[obedientdog]

[Well, at least they could be a mess about this together. That made Skov feel a little better. A lot better than if Elijah had been suave and collected about the subject.

He smiled, cheeks dimpling, relieved when Eli said he liked it when it was with Skov. It was usually always better going into something with company. And if it was kinky for both of them... His smile faded slowly, but it was still vaguely there as he listened to the rest of what Elijah had to say.]

It took me a while to realize it was kinky at first. Like, a year or two ago. I thought I was just-

[He sucked in a breath, bit his lower lip for a moment.]

-Thought I was just fucked up. But I'm not. And you're not. Swan isn't. None of us are.

[It was a blanket statement, covering all of their kinks, whatever they might be. He didn't want Elijah to think he was judging him 'cause he definitely wasn't. He could be gentle, too, if that got Eli going, but- that wasn't what they were talking about right now.]

We could always- I mean, we don't have to hit each other first-

[If Elijah wanted to make out with him after fighting, that meant he was okay with the idea of Skov kissing him in general, right?

Skov hesitated for a moment, biting his lip again, running a hand through his hair. Almost shyly, he stepped in closer, cupping the side of Elijah's face in his hand before kissing him.]

:eyes: it's the thinggggg

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky isn't alone against the world anymore. It's a new thing. The sort of thing where he expects he'll ruin it, if he's honest. That he'll break something, break one of them; the fragile strings that tie them together. But for the first time in his life, he cares enough to try. He actively doesn't want to. Things between them are always a little strange, but they know who he is better than anyone else at Aglionby. They still stay.

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

[obedientdog]

[Before Swan, before Kavinsky, Skov's loyalty hadn't lain with anyone. He'd had no friends and his family didn't really care about him. But everything had changed after Swan had fucked him and they changed even more after he'd introduced him to Kavinsky. It was strange, having friends, people he'd punch someone in the face for. He didn't know if he and Swan were dating- they hadn't exactly talked about it yet, but they sure had...something. And they had something with K, too.

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.]

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky dropped the cigarette, and there's a moment where he looks a little bit unsteady before he takes a breath and pushes off against the wall so that he can close the distance between them. He knew that there was a thing between Skov and Swan, and most people would probably have the sense to back off, but K didn't really know how. And common sense had never been one of his strong suits, anyway.

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.

[obedientdog]

[All of that- it sounded nice. Skov'd never really had a place that was entirely his own. There'd been his bedroom at home and then his dorm room with Swan, but neither of them really felt like home. The idea that this place would be partially his, his and K's and Swan's- it made his breath hitch for a moment.

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.]

[dreamforger]

[On the surface, it probably didn't sound like a rousing endorsement. But Kavinsky knew his boys, he knew it was always more than the words they said, the things they didn't know how to say outloud. And he could see it in Skov's body language, the way that he swallows hard for a moment and then tries to play it off. And he didn't give a shit what people thought about him most of the time- not now that he had his boys, that they had this little circle.

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.]

[obedientdog]

[He blushed. He was standing here, alone with Kavinsky, and he blushed. On the one hand, flowers were kind of stupid because they were so temporary. They died within a few days since they were cut, but at the same time- there was something to be said about what giving flowers to someone meant. Skov would never call himself a romantic; he wouldn't know how to take someone out on dates and sit in a fancy restaurant and behave himself. But...the idea of flowers made him feel special and that wasn't an emotion he experienced very often.

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?]

[dreamforger]

[He liked the fact that Skov blushed, honestly. It was cute, and the flush looked good on him. And well- maybe Kavinsky also just liked the fact that he could make him blush. He'd never dated anyone, and was just as clueless when it came to shit like fancy restaurants and that sort of thing. His memories of that shit were all from when he was younger, wearing tights and uncomfortable shoes and dresses that he'd fucking hated. But giving flowers to someone you liked-- that was simple enough, a way to say they were important and you cared that he couldn't fuck up with words.

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?]

[obedientdog]

[Skov felt like he was going to melt. He wasn't sure if it was how ridiculously attracted to Kavinsky he was or how ridiculously attractive Kavinsky was. Maybe it was a combination of the two things. Maybe Skov was just hopeless. It was probably all of the above.

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.]

[dreamforger]

[With his hands on Skov like this, it didn't take too much to turn them around, so he could start walking him backwards towards the door of the warehouse. He wanted to have a flat surface to press him up against. He wanted- fuck, he hardly knew what he wanted. He just knew that he wanted this, that he wanted Skov, that he wanted as much as he could take from the other boy. He's been aware enough of how Skov looks at him, how easy he is when Kavinsky demands something that he'd tried not to push that line. But now he's too caught up in the moment to care; to think about anything beyond the fact that Skov is right here, and that he's so eager and willing and good.

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.]

[obedientdog]

[If Skov had known things were going to take a turn like this, he would've hurried to get here sooner. Someone probably wouldn't expect Skov to be the kind of person to get a little weak in the knees at being shoved against the warehouse door and kissed senseless (it'd been hard enough not tripping over his own two feet a moment ago). He was the kind of boy who got into fights, who came across as bristling and assertive and- he really wasn't that assertive. He was a mess was what he was. A mess who wanted to be scratched up and fucked as senseless as he was being kissed.

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.]

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky knew that Skov wasn't assertive, and he didn't mind. He was.. Kavinsky never felt that he fit in a neat box like that. He liked seeming assertive more than the truth of it, but he was more insistent about control. But he wanted to give to people, he wanted to be liked and wanted and to feel like he wasn't alone. He was there for anyone that needed him, but most people never looked beyond that. It was why Swan and Skov were special; boys that were beautifully sharp, but that saw K for more than just drugs and bonfires and cars and fireworks -- although he was all of those things, too.

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.]

[obedientdog]

[Skov really was hopeless. But how was anyone supposed to be able to resist Kavinsky? He was magnetic, impossibly handsome- Skov hadn't regretted a single day since Swan had introduced them. Really, he couldn't believe he hadn't fallen into Kavinsky's gravitational pull any sooner. The drugs didn't hurt, either, though Skov wasn't into anything hard, really. Weed and party drugs did it for him. The point was, Kavinsky had a good supply of those, which made Skov's life a little easier.

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.]

[dreamforger]

[Really, if not for the crunch of gravel and the way that Skov's body language changed, Kavinsky might have been tempted to ignore it. Because the way Skov begged like that was everything that he ached for- to be what someone needed, to feel good enough, like he deserved the world. God, but he wanted to make him beg, again, later. He just hoped-- fuck, but he hoped that he hadn't gotten carried away and ruined the very thing he was trying to explain.

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.]

[obedientdog]

[Skov felt- not ashamed, exactly. If anything, he was sort of disappointed that Swan had shown up just now because he'd liked how things had been going. But also- he didn't want to fuck things up with Swan, the first boy who'd shown genuine interest in him, not just sexually but as a friend. It wasn't that other people hadn't tried, really, but that Skov had pushed them all away. Or scared them off. Swan hadn't spooked.

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

[dreamforger]

[Kavinsky takes a breath when Swan asks him what he'd been trying to say. To be honest, he's just glad that he's giving him the chance to try and say it. He looks at Skov briefly, just a glance to see how he's managing as he picks up his shirt, but K's stance and his expression don't give away much. It's a tense moment, and K is trying to not make it worse, to not ruin the only good things that he has by asking for too much. But what happens here if he doesn't?

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.

[obedientdog]

[It was Skov who frowned. Skov, who wasn't the brightest but god if he didn't try his hardest (most of the time. He tried harder when it had nothing to do with school). The wheels were turning in his head and something clicked.]

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?

[dreamforger]

Yeah, I was serious about it. It's just- I'm not good at this part. The.. talking about it and not fucking it up.

[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.]