Who: Kent Brighstar and Thorne Proudfoot What: What if their time in the Library had gone differently? (AKA the AU that everyone saw coming except the participants themselves) When: April 23, 2019 Where: Reserve Library Safe Room Warnings: Language, unrepentant sexy times. NOT SAFE FOR WORK
After covering two sheets of paper, front and back, Thorne put the borrowed pen down with a sigh. He read over what he wrote and determined that there was nothing else he could add without taking a look back over his memories in a controlled environment. "For the record," he looked up at Brightstar and pointed, "your last name might be all over this place, but you are not responsible for me. I was doing my job as a member of the security team here and you are not to interfere with that, understood?"
Given the way that Thorne continued to snap at him, Kent leaned against the wall and watched him scribble out his notes without commentary, utterly disinclined to help in any way. They were about to be trapped in here for hours--overnight, really--and there was no 'making the best of it' as far as he was concerned.
Sudden, white-hot anger spiked through his head, and Kent saw red. There was a pounding between his temples and a roar in his ears. "First of all, fuck you. Secondly, I'm sorry if my instincts to do no fucking harm got in the way of your goddamn job. And, thirdly, it's cute that you think my name has any kind of power around here, when clearly your family runs the damn place."
He crossed over and grabbed the paper off the desk, read it over, then leaned down to add some notes and runes of his own, along with a couple that Thorne evidently misremembered. He shoved the pages back at him. "Oh, and also, for the record, I'm a legilimens, and this is about as controlled as an environment is going to fucking get."
Hands like iron vices around his upper arms after Kent's shoved Thorne into a wall, now evidently intent on stealing the very air from his lungs.
How they melt to the floor, but Kent keeps those hands locked over head with a hand around Thorne's thin wrists. The other shoves its way under those layer of shirts, roving over the skin of his stomach and chest, while he kisses him like he's arguing a thesis.
Thorne isn't able to hold back his moans and though he would never admit it, he's arching into the touch, skin hungry and eager
His blunt nails take over where his fingertips had been, lightly at first, testing, but each pass goes a little slower, gets a little harder, digging into him just to see the other man squirm.
It's not hard to make Thorne squirm, he has nowhere to go except forwards against Kent's body. He wants to touch––badly––but has nowhere to go. A small, broken sound emerges
The question becomes: does Kent relent, or does he continue on this course until Thorne is just a mess of quivering need?
He shoves up those shirts, exposing Thorne's torso, and sets to leaving all sorts of lovely marks with his teeth and tongue while his hand rakes down the other man's side. Pink lines crisscross his skin. Kent feels like an artist.
That answers that question…
Thoren's fists are clenching and unclenching in Kent's grasp. He feels weak in the knees and may need to sit down. Or pass out. He's breathing heavy as Kent paints his skin so easily with marks. He's getting hard and isn't even embarrassed about it.
Just a tiny wobble from the man's knees has Kent pushing his thigh between the other man's legs. Maybe it's to steady him, but more than likely it's for his own filthy enjoyment as he rolls his leg up into the stiffness and heat he can feel there. He smirks as he comes back up, lips hovering so close that when he speaks they brush one another. "Maybe I should just leave you like this... for the rest of the night. Or tease you within an inch of your life, but don't let you come until morning. What should I do with you, hm?"
Thorne is... not eloquent. Because he's experienced both options before, maybe not at Kent's hands, but he's not opposed to either. "Fuuuuuuck." Closing the gap between them, Thorne kisses like a man dying of thirst and Kent is the oasis. He doesn't answer because he doesn't want to be the one responsible for the decision. "Safe word is apogee."
Something hot and hungry flashes through Kent's eyes as he gives Thorne a quick nod of understanding. In that second, the wizard he has pressed against the wall is nothing more than prey, and he intends to have some fun before going in for the kill...
He pulls away, finally releasing the wrists he'd been holding. With a short gesture at him that could indicate everything or just his shirts, he issues one word. "Off."
Thorne lets out one long breath of air through his nose, glad that he doesn't have to explain himself further. Possibly stupid, not talking it out, but he's willing to take the risk. Consequences could come later. Taking just a moment to find his wand, it doesn't take more than a muttered spell before his clothes are coming off and folding themselves in a corner.
A smirk. "Call me an overachiever."
He wants the focus back on, to see how far he can push those buttons until the other man snaps back and makes him stop.
This earns him a smirk and a long, appraising drag of his eyes as Kent makes an ever decreasing circuit around him. He takes in every inch of that pale skin, proud of the prominent marks still lingering on his chest and stomach. He doesn't stop until he's behind Thorne, brushes right up against his back, still stubbornly clothed. His hands come up around his chest from between his arms, and at first the touch is soft, caressing, so at dizzying odds from the ferocity of before.
All at once, he brings his teeth down hard on the place where neck meets shoulder, jaws snapping nearly shut around a chunk of skin. His hands slide down to that narrow waist, fingers slipping into the hollow of his hips and gripping tight enough to bruise. Kent grinds into that gorgeous ass with a growl, claiming him.
He doesn't know what to do with his hands, which is such a stupid thought. Thorne arches up against Kent like a cat in heat, finally reaching behind him to grab two handfuls of shirt, pulling him just that much closer. "Nobody has time for that gentle shit," he urges, wanting more but unable to actually ask.
His demand is almost immediately answered at the bite and Thorne is unable hold back his moan. Covering Kent's hands with his own, Thorne doesn't attempt to move them or urge them anywhere.
That sound is dangerous, and as Kent drinks it in, he thinks he could get addicted to it. Just this once... just a taste… One hand keeps Thorne firmly in place while the other slides around and down his stomach. He bathes the abused flesh on his neck with his tongue, almost in an apology--which is a lie. He drags his lips around the back of his neck, tongue flickering out here and there and nibbling on the knobs of his upper spine as he fingers inch in and down.
Finally, he relents and closes his hand around the other man, his grip certain and full of intent. But just as he does that, he viciously bites down on the other side of Thorne's neck even harder, nearly breaking the skin.
His breath catches in his throat as Kent's hand travels lower, but just north of where and what he ultimately wants. "Fucking tease." Somehow he knew that would be taken as a compliment rather than the insult Thorne meant it to be.
"No blood." Thorne warned. Because it would put an end to the happy fun time and he wanted to come, dammit, not take a pause to do a bit of healing and the both of them to remember they weren't supposed to like one another.
But then Kent is at the back of his neck and if he were to grab his hair and tug Thorne would melt, though he's almost ready to do that now.
His method of relaying his understanding is a small bump of his nose against the second bite and a kiss that's achingly tender. Almost like there are feelings there rather than mutual loathing. Fingers splay wide over lower stomach, pushing him back more against him before his hand leaves him completely.
A second later, he drags the tips of his fingers up the underside of Thorne's very interested cock. It's a barely there touch, a ghost. He frees his other hand to run his knuckles up the other man's side and then over his shoulder and up to his neck. As if he can read Thorne's mind, he threads his fingers in his dark hair and pulls his head to one side, exposing more of his throat.
But rather than attacking again, Kent licks along the outer sell of his ear before taking the lobe between his teeth with increasing pressure. "I could do so many things to you, and no one would ever know. You'd be my dirty little secret, and you'd love it."
Thorne sent a small prayer up to whatever being might be listening that in the many things wrong with him, getting and maintaining erections wasn't one of them. Because he wants and he wants bad. "Do it," he croaks, tugging against the hold Kent has in his hair, just to feel the pull.
It feels like his skin is on fire, despite the cool temperature of the room and his own tendency to run cold. He wants everything Kent is promising and more. Flashes of possibilities come to him unbidden and unwanted, because Kent was right, this was a dirty little secret and nothing beyond these four walls.
"Fuck. Make me come and I'll return the favor. Suck you right down." He'd do that regardless, but that would be Thorne's little secret.
A devil's grin curved against Thorne's neck as Kent started that downward path again. He stepped back, not touching the other man at all now, and got rid of his jacket and shirt with not even a whisper of fabric before coming around and facing him. After taking in another long, appreciative look, he reached out and, starting at the hollow of his neck, drew a path that became a deep scratch of nails at somewhere around the middle of his chest.
It was only when he'd firmly wrapped his hand around Thorne's cock again that he stepped in and grabbed the man's hair again and forced his head back so he could devour his mouth like he'd imagined doing long before then. There was a method to the pattern of the strokes he began using as his hand moved against Thorne. It was Kent who moaned into Thorne's mouth as their tongues locked in epic battle.
Thorne mourned the loss of Kent against his back and all his warmth. Thankfully, he was not left bereft for long because soon after he was greeted with the pleasant sign of Ken's bare chest. Humming appreciatively, he put his hands on Kent for the first time. Using just the tips of his fingers, he took in the planes of the other man's body, memorizing.
For all of his sass and instinct to quip, Thorne did not try to fight Kent during the kiss. He wanted all of it, the intensity, the aggression. He would fit into wherever direction he was moulded into.
To feel that submission, that surrender, the inherent power went straight south, and Kent could have sworn that his jeans spontaneously shrunk five sizes. Thorne's touch was like ice, and his muscles jumped and twitched and flexed beneath that light touch. It settled in an ache that took up residence somewhere between his chest and his stomach, like it wasn't sure where to feel it.
He tore his mouth away and hissed out a breath. There was something vaguely accusatory in the way Kent glared at him for a moment before he sank to his knees and grabbed those narrow hips with both hands again to yank him forward. He nuzzled against his stomach--the ache grew in answer to that *what the fuck was he doing*--before licking up the underside of Thorne in a broad, flat stroke. His tongue pulsed against the tip, licks that were meant to tease but turned into tasting. He kept at this for long moments, and then pushed his lips down around him, taking him deep.
Thorne's brows furrowed in a moment of confusion at seeing an unverbalized accusation, but almost immediately became distracted by the sight of Kent down on his knees. It was then his turn to glare accusatory - that was his job, dammit - before his brain short circuited as Kent took him into his mouth.
He thrust experimentally, ready to take a mile for every inch Kent gave him. He wanted to run his hands through Kent's hair, to tug and pull like he wanted done to him. He wanted to be made to accept what he was given and nothing more.
"Mmm. yeah." Rather than tug at Kent's hair like he wanted, Thorne widened his stance slightly so his hands would fall onto Ken's broad shoulders. Had he known they were this broad and powerful? Thorne didn't think so, but now that he had a feel for them under his hands he had new fantasy fodder.
This, too, was as much a contest as everything else they did. Kent sucked him down like it was what he did for a damned living. His tongue traced curves and creases and throbbing veins, and his cheeks hollowed every time he pulled back only to go right back in again. While his shoulders bunched up under Thorne's fingers, his own hands were running over smooth thighs and around the back, kneading his ass and coaxing his hips in and out.
Make no mistake: even on his knees, Kent was in complete control.
Right now there was no competition, even if Thorne wanted to pretend otherwise. He tried to change the pace set by Kent, but to no avail. He was at the other man's mercy and they both knew it.
Unfortunately, Thorne wanted the lead pulled just a little bit tighter.
He was going to last an embarrassingly short amount of time, but it had been awhile. Of course, Kent's whispered threats - promises? - came back to haunt him. "I'm gonna.... Can I." He wanted to reach down and wrap his own hand around his cock, to either bring himself off or to stop his impending orgasm, Thorne wasn't quite sure, but he was leaving it in the hands of another.
Hooded eyes gazed up into Thorne's face, considering. Kent had no idea what kind of picture he was painting here, but he liked to believe it was well and truly debauched. He never slowed the pace of his hot mouth, but he reached out to grab one of Thorne's wrists and pulled it over until the other man's fingers brushed the base. He raised a brow. Do what thou will.
He'd heard no safe word, so he had no intention of stopping unless Proudfoot made him.
Hissing in frustration, Thorne's hand trembled as he squeezed the base of his cock. He was a man who might not have cared for rules and expectations on any given day, but preferred for them to be laid clearly and explicitly. Brightstar had given him neither. So he waited, no matter how much it pained him. He could only hope that it would pay off in the future. The near future.
When Thorne didn't move, Kent felt another thrill of triumph in his gut. He closed his hand around the man's fingers and moved both of them until his nose harmlessly bumped against his own knuckles. He set up an opposing rhythm, mouth going down, hand coming up. And then the coup de grace: precome and saliva slick fingers reaching up between his spread legs, unerringly finding his entrance and beginning to tease it open.
He let out a teasing moan, letting the vibration surround Thorne. There were definitely worse ways their entrapment could be working out. They could be at each other's throats, for example.
Thorne might be at Kent's throat soon. He was teetering on the edge of letting all his other thoughts and worries disappearing in favor of just feeling good, of making himself available to the wants and whims of his current partner. "Spell," he finally managed in between moans. Because while he was happy for a bit of spit, he knew it wouldn't be enough. Couldn't be enough.
He let go of his cock just long enough to grab and pull his sack away, squeezing slightly harder than before. He didn't want this rush to end. Thorne needed to last as long as humanly possible. And then some.
As soon as Thorne let go of himself, Kent's suddenly free hand found his wand, and he wordlessly performed the small series of spells that would make this safe (and enjoyable) for both of them. Except he was still wearing pants, and it was almost painful when one of the enchantments wrapped itself around him. To distract himself, he plunged a finger deep into that suddenly slick hole, working it in before swiftly adding another.
A part of him wondered if this was maybe escalating too quickly, but another part of him didn't really care. It was like he said, this was their dirty little secret. He pulled off Thorne with a rude pop and made the following known in an extremely rough voice: "Really wanna fuck you."
If Thorne had any shame about sex he might have been embarrassed at the wanton sound that emerged as first one finger, then a second, slid into him. He could get off on this alone—maybe later, if there was a later—but he had another goal in mind for the here and now. Consequences could come later. “Good. Because I want you to fuck me.”
It was his turn to sink down to his knees, grabbing Kent’s face to pull him into a bruising kiss. “Don’t be gentle, asshole.” He bit the other man’s lip hard, just short of breaking skin. “In fact, I’d prefer it mean.” He wanted it to hurt, to have something to remember after the fact. Thorne was under no impression that this was going to occur again, and if he was going to hatefuck an enemy (nemesis?) then he wanted it to be memorable.
A grunt left Kent as that sweet-sharp pain stoked the fire in his belly into something white-hot and almost out of control. Thorne's change in position had made him have to pull his fingers out before his arm could twist in a very impractical way, but this was fine. It just meant that Kent could snatch Thorne up against him, pulling him off balance. This allowed him to get Thorne on his back on the cold floor in just a few seconds, without much care other than a very minor cushioning charm. Accidental concussions weren't sexy.
He got his hand under one of the other man's knees and pushed it up towards his chest. This gave him access again, so he lost no time in drawing his fingers down the line of Thorne's straining cock and the divide of his sacks before he pushed against that glorious spot just behind them--another tease. This didn't last long, however, because he was there with one goal in mind: to get his fingers and then his cock inside this infuriating (and hot) man.
Three fingers slid inside without warning, flexing and stretching him. He pushed them in deep, crooking them to find and press relentlessly against his prostate. Freeing the hand that held Thorne's leg in place, Kent reached down and finally, finally got his jeans open and down his hips far enough to pull himself out with a groan that was as much relief as it was pleasure.
Being on his back was not Thorne’s first choice. If he had been given that he would have been on his knees, face down and ass up. He didn’t have much time to complain or even really think about it as Kent’s hands were back on him and Thorne’s attention refocused. He knew he should let the other man move and adjust his body as he saw fit, but he was not quite at the point where he could just accept what was given to him. He wanted––no, needed––more and would take until he was satisfied.
With the one knee held against his chest, Thorne reached down to grab the other one and tried to bat away Ken's grip. Thorne wanted to be open and spread as Kent's fingers pressed into him. He let out a whimper as his prostate was found and played with. His cock twitched against his stomach, leaving a sticky mess behind. He could die right now and die a happy man. He opened his mouth to say More. Right there. Don't you dare fucking stop. but what came out was a garbled mess of half-syllables and moans.
Thorne wanted to throw his head back and scream, but even he still had the presence of mind that despite the cushioning charm, it was still a concrete floor beneath them. He had to settle for closing his eyes and arching his back: presenting his chest and throat for whatever Kent might want. Already, the previous markings he had been left with were now a rainbow of colors. His skin was on fire, poised for the next caress or slap. Whichever came, it didn't matter to him.
It was a tough call as to what Kent was enjoying more right now: effectively rendering Thorne incoherent for once or the gorgeous picture he was painting, all open and wanting like that. His chest and stomach were a work of art as far as he was concerned, and, yeah, maybe he took a couple of seconds to admire his handiwork before leaning down to suck a few more deep bruises into his skin. Mouth finding and sealing around a nipple, his teeth clenched around that tiny bud and pulled before abusing it with harsh strokes of his tongue.
But that wasn't enough. Kent wanted inside him fucking yesterday. He pressed a soft and contradictory kiss to the area of his torment, and trailed more across Thorne's chest as he very suddenly removed his fingers. A sigh blew warm air against the other man's skin as he took himself in hand with those slick fingers, and gave himself a few preparatory strokes. A couple more open mouthed kisses led his way up to Thorne's mouth, bringing him bodily over him, chest pressing his legs even more against his pale, but now colorful chest.
"Careful what you wish for," was the only warning he gave before lining himself up and pushing roughly inside. In one snap of his hips, he was buried to the hilt. Only the teeth gripping his own lip kept him from making the sound that was clawing at his throat. He didn't want to miss a single reaction from the man underneath him.
Thorne's mind went slightly haywire at all the contradictory sensations. He could feel the fingers pummeling at his prostate. The teeth at his nipple. The familiar weight of a larger and heavier body pressing down upon him. There was one confusing moment when he wasn't being touched at all and then it was everything all at once as Kent buried himself balls deep. It was as if everything crystalized in one perfect moment and Thorne let out a scream as he finally gave himself over to sensation and feeling.
He let go of his legs, wrapping them around Kent, as his hands began to wander. Whatever skin he could reach he did, first with his fingers, followed by the bite of his nails. His breath was coming in soft little puffs, as his mouth sought for and found a patch of skin. Thorne bit down as another cry emerged and immediately his tongue went to soothe the sting. Despite the spellwork and stretching, there was still a burn and ache in getting fucked after a long period of time, which Thorne welcomed with open arms.
Acting more on instinct than anything else, Thorne's hands fell to Kent's chest, just petting and stroking. Wanting to touch and be touched. There were noises coming from him, but he couldn't care less about what he sounded like because the ache was turning into a need as it accepted Kent's thrusts.
There was no rhythm to the snap of his hips, no pattern, because he wanted to keep Thorne guessing. Sometimes it was a barely there movement; sometimes it was pulling nearly all the way out before slamming in again. His thrusts were wild, fingers roving and bruising and scratching. And when he wasn't breathing hard, he leaned down and kissed Thorne, usually at complete odds with what his body was doing. If it was a gentle movement, he was all teeth and tongue. If it was rough, brutal, it was a gentle caress. All of it was designed to keep Thorne off kilter, to not know what was happening next, to take him apart.
He left a patchwork of pretty red marks all across his chest and sides and back, clawing when the other man was almost beyond reach with pleasure, just to pull him back. Kent was surprised by how long he himself was lasting. He honestly hadn't been sure--especially when he'd wondered, before slamming himself inside--if the man would be cooler than normal. But no, he was still hot and tight and Kent wondered why they'd never done this before. Oh, wait. Right. It was because they hated each other. Still, there were a lot worse ways to pass the time.
He reached out and grabbed Thorne's hand, bringing it to his lips and his waiting mouth. He sucked in every finger, emulating what he'd done to his cock before, and then guided both their hands to surround that neglected member. His smile was vicious as he set up a hard rhythm, and there was a definite note of triumph in his gaze. "You're gonna come with my cock buried deep inside you, aren't you. And then I'm gonna come all over that pretty chest of yours."
Thorne could only answer Kent’s question with a howl as his hand was guided down to wrap around his cock. The flesh was hot to the touch and the tip an angry red, sticky with arousal. His movements were uncoordinated and driven by the other’s hand. “Please.” He finally managed a broken plea, just barely mindful of what happened when he sought his completion without permission. The prickly exterior had broken open to find a soft interior, needy with desire.
Sweat built up between them, and it was hard for Thorne to maintain his hold. Eventually his legs slid away, but remained open and leaving him vulnerable. The marks on his skin were beginning to fade and Thorne’s other hand fell away from Kent to his own chest. Nails raked across his stomach before finding his nipples. They were tender from the other man’s attention, but he pinched them viciously, twisting as nails bit into the tender flesh. The pain were two bright stars in an otherwise dark sky and his cock twitched in his hand, another surge of precome adding to the mess.
His eyes were open, but his gaze was blurry and unfocused. Thorne wanted what was promised him and could feel the orgasm begin to stir. Reflexively, he squeezed down to stop it, not until the word was given.
It was a little arresting, watching those deep pink and red scores bloom under Thorne's nails, how lost he was in it. Kent didn't want to find it beautiful, but want sometimes had very little to do with reality. The way that self-directed pain made the man clench down hard him left Kent dazzled and breathless. He slammed in, hard and reckless, his entire body bent to the task, to the incandescent chase of Thorne's end. Letting go of his grip on the other man's hip, he wound his hand up a slick-skinned arm, up to his throat, where Kent pressed his fingers against it, pushing up against his chin, before sliding them back to get a fist full of the man's thick hair.
He yanked him up, then, and kissed him. Once his mouth was well and truly plundered, lips red and swollen, Kent pulled away just enough to say one word. "Come."
With a cry that sounded almost more pain than pleasure, Thorne tensed for one brief moment before he flew. Pearly streaks of white coated his hand and stomach as he trembled beneath the larger man, his nerves alight with the rush of release and hormones hitting his system. As his orgasm rocked through him, everything clenched down,trying to keep Kent exactly where he was, battering his prostate and prolonging the bliss for as long as possible.
Thorne let out a long, satisfied sigh and his body went lax and open for Kent to continue to use for his ultimate pleasure. A purr of contentment rumbled through him. The cat who had the cream and the canary.
Watching Thorne unravel had very nearly done the same to him. It was easily one of the most gorgeous things he'd ever seen, and distracting, but that didn't stop him from pounding deep, relentlessly. And when it had subsided, and he was lank beneath him and so fucking...was it smug? Or was it something else? Did it matter? Kent pulled his hips up higher, went deeper, but he was already much closer than he'd thought.
Just as he'd entered, he wasn't remotely gentle upon exit. He suddenly just wanted this done, wasn't sure what this burn was in his chest, but he didn't like it. He'd come, and then they'd--what? He wasn't even sure. They were trapped there. They'd already tried talking, and it had led them here. Kent thought he'd settled on disgust as his hand sped over himself as he leaned over Thorne's body, but that wasn't it at all. The name for that feeling was just out of reach, and he was getting tired of his own head. "Goddammit."
Abandoning himself for just a moment, he pulled at Thorne's shoulders, trying to get him to sit up, to straddle his lap.
He didn't want to move and Thorne made a sound of protest as he was manhandled first into a seated position and then moved further to be positioned in Kent's lap. That was much better than the cold floor and he allowed his limbs to be rearranged. The other man was warm and at that moment didn't matter to him that they had been at one another's throats repeatedly. Thorne simply leaned into it, eyes shut, and acting almost on instinct.
Thorne remained completely still, all energy sapped from his body. Eventually small tremors began to rock through his body. He was shivering. "Cold." His hand flapped towards the pile of clothes he'd discarded earlier and hoped Kent would figure it out. HIs brain wasn't working very well at the moment. "Make the flannel bigger."
Despite the ache that was starting to build between his legs, Kent found he didn't particularly mind it now that he had his arms around a surprisingly cuddly Thorne. He chuckled, nearly silently, and summoned his wand, and then the shirt the man had so glibly indicated. Enlarging was easy enough, even through the haze of what they'd just done. It was big enough now to wrap around them both. He also conjured a few pillows and laid back against them, pulling Thorne with him. His still very hard and leaking cock bumped against one of the cool hips above him, and he hissed even as he chased that feeling. "You keep ruining all my best laid plans," he groused, but there was real amusement in his undertone. "Should be mad, but, ugh, effort."
Another purr as the soft fabric enveloped them, warm and lightly scented with his soap. His skin was almost too sensitive and the idea of facing supply cabinet blankets wasn't something he looked forward to. He relaxed further, hoping to hold onto this feeling for as long as possible. The real world would hit him soon enough.
An inquisitive noise left Thorne's mouth as he felt Kent's still hard and still wet cock bump against his hip. He peered down at the healer, lips pursed. "Want to fuck my mouth? Or do you like denial, too?" The questions were direct, though it was hard to say if was a result of his own blunt nature or the still hormone-laden blood flowing through his body or both.
He leaned down and rested his chin on Kenth's shoulder, tongue darting out to lick a stripe along the man's jaw, enjoying the heady mix of salt and sex.
The sensation caused him to groan, electric sparks flying across his nerve endings. It was definitely Kent's turn not to be able to cobble words together. "Didn't you… mouth offer before?" He squeezed his eyes shut and tried again. "Finding more ways to shut you up is definitely an avenue I'd like to explore, given the success of that first venture."
It came out with a bit more of a sting than he'd really meant, so he reached for Thorne's chin and tipped it up to kiss an apology he wasn't sure he'd be able to say out loud.
Thorne, for his part, did not quite pay attention to the full context of Kent's words. He submitted to the kiss before squirming down the man's body, intent on his promised prize. Still buzzing with the otherwise out of character nature of needing to please, he basked in the feeling and waited for Kent's hands to fall upon him once more. To direct him. To confirm he was doing the right thing.
There was no teasing when Thorne took Kent into his mouth, lingering only long enough to acquaint himself with the taste of the man's spend. One moment he hovered before the man's cock and the next his mouth was upon it, the tip bumping the back of his throat. Thorne swallowed and began to bob, slowly, in the hopes that Kent would eventually set the tempo.
"Fuck!" the shout was ringing, especially in this enclosed space. He was especially glad he'd created those pillows, because his head had just thrown itself back hard enough that he would have given himself a serious concussion if there had only been a charm between it and the concrete floor. Kent's hands flew down, wrapping around Thorne's head. He held him in place for a second, just so he could scoop his brain back into his ears. Just like when he'd been fucking the other man, he wanted to be sensible enough to remember this. It wasn't like it would happen again.
Tugging at Thorne's hair and raising his hips, he set about a shallow pace. His legs were already trembling under the man's slight weight, parted slightly so he could settle in between them. "You're… you're really fucking good at that."
Thorne hummed at the praise. Yes, he was very good at giving head. He'd been taught well and had plenty of practice, but that did not have an impact on this exact moment. Instead, he just made himself more at home in the space Kent had allowed for him. He was unable to think much beyond the current moment and he didn't want to. Thinking often led to trouble.
His hips rolled against the floor, letting the little zing of overstimulation race up his spine. Thorne didn't necessarily want to get off again, but it was always fun to tease himself. But for now, Kent's pleasure was his pleasure. He wanted to taste sin, and once Thorne put his mind to something it was very hard to dissuade him from it.
This was not going to be a marathon by any stretch of the imagination. The other man may have been extremely pliant and willing right now, but Kent was utterly unwilling to do Thorne any lasting damage. So when his hips began to thrust on their own, he had to make himself very, very conscious of that fact and put a stop to that. A grunt turned into a gasp as that wicked tongue pulsed against his head. His back arched sharply, and he cried out. As much as he'd undone Thorne, Thorne was now completely unraveling him.
"I'm… I'm--" he tried to warn him, but Kent was choking on the words, utterly inarticulate under the strain building inside him. He knew that crash would be devastating, but absolutely worth it. "Thorne!"
The warning was welcomed, but Thorne did not pull back or otherwise move from his position. He had been enjoying the thrusting, the lack of control Kent allowed. He wished it hadn’t been modulated, but there hadn’t been time for him to make his displeasure known.
Despite his dogged approach to providing pleasure, Thorne was carefully cataloguing each response to a lick here or increased pressure there. His goal lay within reach.
It was this little dig of Thorne's fingers in the hollow of one hip that sent Kent right over the edge. The sensation hadn't even been all that erotic, but it had set him off all the same. He came with a choked cry, his spine a perfectly bowed curve that left the floor entirely as his shoulders mashed the pillows absolutely flat. Noisy gasps left his parted lips, and his hand clenched in Thorne's hair as he drove his hips against the other man's mouth, chasing that feeling to the very last second.
Now Thorne's face was a picture of smugness and satisfaction. He snaked up along Kent's body, still needing the feeling of sweat-slicked skin against his. The feeling would pass soon enough, but Thorne knew that if he didn't partake now then hunger would settle in his belly and gnaw at him. Reaching out, he took Kent's chin and turned it towards him before pressing their lips together so the other man could taste himself. The kiss was of the lazy sort.
His arms went around Thorne without anything approaching thought, and he groaned against the other man's mouth, eyes rolling behind closed lids at just how filthy that was. Kent pulled him in tight against his chest, hand roving in small patterns over his back. He hooked a leg over Thorne's calf, as though to say you're not going anywhere, and kissed him back, tongues twisting around each other, but missing that instinctual need that had been so prevalent just moments before.
Thorne felt other parts of him stirring, but he shoved the desire to the back of his mind. They had hours yet, as Kent had pointed out earlier and he just wanted to wallow in the pleasant ache of his body and the gentle haze that settled in his mind. He pressed his face against Kent's shoulder as he yawned and made an attempt to grab at their improvised blanket. "Cold," he murmured, voice plaintive when he couldn't quite arrange it to his liking.
The laugh that Kent huffed held no note of mocking or cruelty. Anyone listening would have called it exasperated fondness. But no one was listening, so he went about the business of shifting one of the pillows from beneath them and changing it into a down comforter that was more than large enough for the pair of them. Even so, he still kept his arms and legs wrapped around Thorne, letting him absorb the furnace of his body. He brushed his lips along the other man's still-damp hairline. "Remind me again why we haven't done this sooner?"
"Unresolved sexual tension is hotter." Thorne's eyes slid closed, his body holding no more tension. Kent's body was chasing the worst of the chill away. His tone was matter of fact, not yet wanting to address whatever might lay beyond the walls of their…. He wasn't going to call it prison. Their shelter. Port in the storm. Insert the metaphor here that didn't make them sound like star-crossed lovers or some other romantic trope. He snorted, more to himself than anything Kent might have done or said. "Hypothesis on resolved sexual tension?"
Kent considered it a moment while he drew tiny patterns with his fingertips against Thorne's back. He was enjoying the other man's weight far more than he was even remotely prepared to admit aloud. "There's definitely something satisfactory about resolutions, sure, but I wouldn't necessarily discount your ability to annoy me right back into said tension, whether it's sexual or not." He grinned even though Thorne had no way of seeing his face, but the tease was obvious in his voice. "And yours?"
Stretching, Thorne considered the options, wiggling his toes. "Oh, I'm very annoying." He was convinced of his own superiority in that. "But you need to stop using big words now. Or I'm going to be forced to take extreme measures and I'm tired."
Because, of course, everything was about him. And maybe he just wanted to continue feeling Kent's fingers at his back. It was far too relaxing. If they weren't careful he was going to fall asleep right here.
"Remind me of those 'extreme measures' when you've regained consciousness." He tightened his arms around Thorne, but never stilled those fingers. The fact, as it occurred to him in a dim haze, was that Kent actually really enjoyed this version of Thorne almost as much as he liked the snark: relaxed and pliant and, well, snugly. He tried not to think about it too hard as he smirked against Thorne's forehead. "Although I'm really starting to wonder if we have the same concept of severity in mind on the scale of 'extreme measures'. I'm thinking a thorough testing of the veracity and efficacy of your methods is in order."
The movement of lips against his forehead wasn't a kiss. Thorne knew that much. It felt like a smile, but that seemed out of character. A smirk? Much more likely. Much more them. His fingers twitched, wanting to pinch Kent, but finding the effort wasn't worth it. He could tell when he was being teased. "Shut up."
Kent grinned up at the ceiling, chest shaking with a silent laugh. Sleep was tugging him down, lulled by the body against his. "Make me in the morning."