[ murphy's about read to mount this douchebag in the back of some stall in the middle of the fair, just after he touches on fucking him with his own dick and a prosthetic second, shivers running through him when he thinks of how k would toy with his body back in eudio. the day he'd surprise sounded him. the kind of crap he'd pull to keep murphy teetering on the edge of too much.
his clothes could've been ripped off for as much as murphy cared when they got to the house, and there's something so comfortably kavinsky in the familiarity of the room, something that feels like belonging, maybe. every part of his buzzes and hums and aches, rolling around on the stupid huge bed, tossing game controls and lighters and toy dinosaurs off the comforter as he finds them poking against his spine or side. murphy has k's hair looking like a static mess, fingers curling in it and tugging, as they kiss, still all teeth and nails and pressure. but then there's that scrape, and murphy's tongue catches the metallicy taste of blood, mixed in with the sharp pain of a cut being dragged open on his lip. he jerks back more on instinct than anything else, hand to his lips, but he doesn't move from k's arms. ]
The fuck, how freaking hard did you bite? [ murphy asks him, dabbing at the wound that's already bleeding pretty freely. except, he knows, there hadn't been much pressure. there wasn't that build up of blunt pain. just sharp and cutting. eyes lifting, he looks to kavinsky's mouth, a hand on the side of his face reaching out a thumb to push up his upper lip above one canine. one... unnaturally sharp canine. what the actual fuck. ]
yes! that was the plan i believe :B
his clothes could've been ripped off for as much as murphy cared when they got to the house, and there's something so comfortably kavinsky in the familiarity of the room, something that feels like belonging, maybe. every part of his buzzes and hums and aches, rolling around on the stupid huge bed, tossing game controls and lighters and toy dinosaurs off the comforter as he finds them poking against his spine or side. murphy has k's hair looking like a static mess, fingers curling in it and tugging, as they kiss, still all teeth and nails and pressure. but then there's that scrape, and murphy's tongue catches the metallicy taste of blood, mixed in with the sharp pain of a cut being dragged open on his lip. he jerks back more on instinct than anything else, hand to his lips, but he doesn't move from k's arms. ]
The fuck, how freaking hard did you bite? [ murphy asks him, dabbing at the wound that's already bleeding pretty freely. except, he knows, there hadn't been much pressure. there wasn't that build up of blunt pain. just sharp and cutting. eyes lifting, he looks to kavinsky's mouth, a hand on the side of his face reaching out a thumb to push up his upper lip above one canine. one... unnaturally sharp canine. what the actual fuck. ]
K. What'd you do?