Fic: Grazed Knees, Heavy Hearts
Title: Grazed Knees, Heavy Hearts
Pairing: Kevin Jonas/lots of other people, Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2600 words.
Summary: AUish. Kevin’s been on his knees for so many boys now he doesn’t even feel it when he sinks to the ground and takes them into his mouth.
Note: I have no actual idea where this came from. Possibly relief out of finally finishing my SLB fic? I don’t know, but it’s weird and nonsensical and also the first explicitly sexual thing I have ever, ever written so I’m sorry if it sucks. Which it will. Heh.
Kevin’s been on his knees for so many boys he doesn’t even feel it any more when he sinks to the ground and takes them into his mouth. He’s numb to the roughness of the cold, hard floor, and the impact’s softened by his jeans anyway. He has other things to think about, to concentrate on, and eventually the pain fades as he sets to work.
(He only feels it after, when his mouth is empty and his chest is hollow and there’s nothing dulling the crusted edges of his conscience but the shivers wracking his body.)
It’s not- Kevin’s not doing this out of revenge, a casual fuck-you to the God who created him like this and had the gall to say it was wrong. It might have started off like that, but Kevin- Kevin likes this. He likes the weight on his tongue and the pressure breaching the back of his throat (he figured out deep-throating pretty early on and has never been prouder of himself) and their hands fisting in his curls and tugging, hard, and the way they moan when he sucks and licks and swallows.
And he really, really likes feeling them shudder all over when they come, gasping profanities and sometimes his name. Sometimes it’s other people’s. Kevin doesn’t mind. Sometimes, they thank him and that... that he does mind, because it feels wrong to be thanked for doing something when you’ve already gotten your reward. But Kevin smiles anyway and ducks his head, and the pride bubbling in his chest temporarily quashes the guilt that curls around his lungs and squeezes tight.
***
This time Kevin’s in a bathroom, and the guy is a little rougher than his usual. Between the moans he gasps out things like yeah, just like that you little slut and he pulls on Kevin’s hair hard enough to tug a few strands free of his scalp. Kevin doesn’t like it when they call him names but he grins and bears it because there’s nothing else for him to do.
When the guy’s done, he kisses Kevin, licking his own come out of his mouth. Kevin thinks it’s strange that people do that but he doesn’t protest about it either; it’s not that weird, and he likes it when they kiss him. It doesn’t happen often.
The guy doesn’t thank him and for that Kevin is grateful, but he feels strangely hollow when he’s left alone, the cubicle door swinging open on its hinges. Kevin sinks back onto his heels, inexplicably exhausted all of a sudden. He should move, he should close the door at least, but he can’t bring himself to, not quite yet. Instead he closes his eyes and tries to see something more than white behind his eyelids.
“Hey, are you okay?”
At the sound of the voice, curious and edged with concern, Kevin’s eyes fly open and he scrambles to his feet, lifting a surreptitious hand to wipe his mouth. His gaze flicks up, down, quietly assessing the guy standing in front of him. He’s familiar, in that vague sort of way that means Kevin’s seen him around before but they’ve never actually spoken. He’s kind of hot, if you’re into the scruffy, unwashed look. Kevin isn’t, but he likes his eyes, grey like the speckles on the tiles beneath his knees.
He says, “How do you like it?” calm, perfunctory.
The guy frowns like he doesn’t understand, like he doesn’t realise where they are. “What do you mean, how do I like-” His eyes go wide. “No, shit, that’s not what I was-”
“You could pretend I’m a girl,” Kevin offers, not unkindly. He twists the ring on his finger and bites his lip. “If you want. People do. I don’t mind.” When the guy just stares at him, incredulity creased between his brows, Kevin continues, uncertain, “Or I could use my hand, if that would-”
“No, Jesus.” The guy looks- angry isn’t the right word, but it’s the only one Kevin can think of right now. (He isn’t sure which word is the right word to describe the way the guy’s face has gone almost completely white and his hands have clenched into tight fists at his sides and his mouth is working like he’s trying to say something but isn’t sure how.) “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Kevin shrugs, hoping it covers the way his entire body has tensed. He’s going to get beaten up. He kind of wants to smack himself; he hasn’t been stupid enough to offer himself to someone who didn’t want him in a long time. It’ll be okay (he learned how to take a beating very early on too but it doesn’t fill him with the same pride) as long as the guy doesn’t kick him when he’s down.
Kevin braces himself, eyes squeezing shut, but the blow he’s expecting never lands. When he flicks open an eye, cautious, the guy’s just staring at him again, but there’s something different mingled with the incredulity in his eyes this time.
“Are you going to hit me?” Kevin asks, still cautious, still wary.
The guy chokes out a laugh. “No,” he says, shaking his head, “I am not going to hit you.”
“Oh.” Kevin frowns, confused, but he only shrugs, the line of his shoulders flattening out on the way down. At least he isn’t getting a beating.
The guy’s lips curve up over very white teeth and Kevin kind of likes his smile, too. “You’re a strange kid,” he says, and Kevin wants to protest, to tell him he’s nineteen years old and he hasn’t been a kid in he doesn’t even know how long, but the guy’s already talking again. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”
And before Kevin can say anything at all he’s gone, door swinging gently shut behind him.
***
The next time Kevin sees the guy, it’s a few days later and he’s at a party of a friend of a friend of a friend’s. When he emerges from one of the spare bedrooms, flattening his mussed hair with one hand and wiping his mouth with the other, the guy’s standing in the hallway, staring at him.
Kevin stops short. Too late to pretend he hasn’t seen him or doesn’t recognise him. “Hey, what are the odds?” he laughs, hands dropping back down to his sides. It sounds high-pitched and awkward even to his own ears. “Hi.”
“You have come on your face,” the guy blurts out, then bites the inside of his cheek like oh, hey, he hadn’t actually been planning on saying that out loud. Kevin’s lips twitch. The guy’s cheeks are red when he lifts a finger and points to a spot on his own face just below his lips. “Just there.”
“Thanks,” Kevin says. He doesn’t know what makes him do it, what makes him flick his tongue out and lick around his lips, but he does it and the guy doesn’t stop staring at him but something darkens in his eyes, just a little. “I’m Kevin, by the way.”
“I- Mike,” the guy says. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Kevin echoes, and then they’re both grinning.
Moments later, Mike’s got him backed up against the wall of the room he’s just vacated, hands firm where they rest on his hips, mouth hot and wet and insistent on Kevin’s. Mike kicked the door shut on their way in and now the room’s half-dark again, shadows flickering on the walls from the light that peeks in through the slit in the curtain falling across the window.
“Been thinking about this,” Mike murmurs, breath ghosting over Kevin’s neck. Kevin shivers. “You have no idea what you look like, do you?”
Kevin’s already dropping to the ground before Mike’s even finished the sentence, but a hand tightens on his shoulder and hauls him back up again before he gets all the way down. Mike’s eyes are frustrated when they meet Kevin’s own confused ones.
“Kevin,” Mike says. Kevin likes the way Mike says his name; he holds it in his mouth for as long as he can like he thinks it deserves a place there, not like he’s trying to get it out as soon as possible. “This isn’t- I don’t want- c’mere.”
Kevin flinches away when Mike reaches for him. “I’ll just go,” he says quietly, so quietly even he can’t hear the way his voice is shaking, “if you don’t want me. I’ll just go.”
“That isn’t what I- of course I fucking-” Mike blows out a breath and slits his eyes at Kevin. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
It stings more than the first time he said it and Kevin isn’t really sure why. Mike doesn’t sound angry this time, just sort of- sad.
“Nothing,” Kevin snaps back, pushing the hurt deep down beneath the sudden fury. Where does Mike get off on being an asshole one minute and then kissing him like- kissing him like it meant something? It didn’t, of course it didn’t, it never does, but that isn’t the point, Mike isn’t allowed to do this to him, no one’s allowed to-
“Kevin,” Mike says again, his voice more of a sigh than anything else, and then he drops to his knees in a move that is instantly familiar and not at the same time, because Kevin’s never seen it from this angle. He makes a choked noise in his throat that, yeah, he’s heard countless times before, but never from his own mouth.
“No one’s ever done this for you,” Mike says softly, hand resting on the waistband of Kevin’s jeans. (They’re his favourites, dark and skinny and clinging to his hips, and even if Nick hadn’t bought them for him out of the sales of his first album, Kevin would love them to pieces.)
He nods even though it wasn’t a question, throat too tight for him to speak. Mike mumbles something under his breath, maybe a curse, maybe something worse, and then he undoes Kevin’s belt and tugs down his jeans over his grazed knees to the ground. Mike’s fingers squeeze Kevin’s thighs on the way down, stroking gently at the bared skin at the back of his knees, and Kevin makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat that makes Mike smile.
Kevin swallows hard and his mouth moves without the rest of his body’s consent. “You don’t have to-”
“Kevin,” Mike cuts him off, “just so we’re clear here, any guy who doesn’t want to blow you the second he sees you is a fucking idiot.”
“Oh.” Kevin has no idea what to do with that. The anger’s been pushed down with the hurt and now all he can feel is confusion. It must show on his face because Mike laughs softly and leans forward to kiss him through his boxers. Kevin’s hips jerk forward and he makes that noise again, but at this point he can’t bring himself to care. (He was already half-hard from the boy he sucked off and now... well, he’s a lot more than halfway there, put it that way.)
Kevin’s head knocks back against the wall when Mike’s lips wrap around his dick. His hands grasp at the air, desperately seeking purchase, until Mike reaches up and puts them on his head. He smiles - around Kevin’s dick, holyfuck holyfuck - when Kevin exhales sharply and tangles his fingers in his hair.
If Kevin weren’t, you know, getting his dick sucked, he might be able to appreciate the things Mike does differently, might pick up on the things Mike does that he doesn’t and vice versa - Mike doesn’t use his hands; he palms Kevin’s ass instead, fingers teasing at his hole, which makes Kevin whine, low and desperate in the back of his throat. As it is, he’s too busy trying not to come (yet) so he doesn’t completely embarrass himself.
That turns out to be a lost cause, however, when Mike swipes his tongue over the head of Kevin’s dick and before he can even gasp out a warning, every nerve in his body whites out. Mike sucks him through it, swallowing around him until it gets too much and Kevin starts whimpering. Grinning, Mike pulls off with a wet, dirty plop and sits back on his heels.
“That,” Kevin says, a little breathless, as he slides down the wall to collapse in a boneless heap on the floor, “was amazing.”
“Yeah,” Mike drawls, his eyes gleaming with what looks like satisfaction, “I could tell.”
“Shut up,” Kevin mumbles, cheeks flushed. “I think I did well for my first time.”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about your stamina, which, by the way, is kind of pathetic,” Mike snickers, “I meant your orgasm face.” His mouth lolls open and his eyes roll back in his head in what is obviously supposed to be an impression of Kevin. “It was a classic.”
“Shut up,” Kevin repeats, mortified. He will never be able look Mike in the face again, oh god. “Hey, do you want me to-” He motions towards Mike’s crotch but he shakes his head, cheeks pink.
“I, um, I sort of-” He breaks off, scratching the back of his head, a slightly sheepish look on his face. “I sort of already... yeah.”
“Really?” Kevin asks, unable to help the grin spreading on his face.
Mike glances away, scowling. “Yes, really. It was- you were- shut up, okay?”
Kevin bites his lip to stop himself from giggling and nods, serious as he can manage. “Okay,” he says.
This is the part where they usually leave, but Mike’s still here and Kevin doesn’t have a clue what they’re supposed to do now. Mike seems to, however, because he’s digging in his pockets, searching for something. After a few moments, he pulls out a marker pen and takes Kevin by the wrist, tugging his sleeve up gently to scrawl something on his arm. The nib of the marker tickles Kevin’s skin and when it’s gone, there are ten scrawled digits in its place.
“Call me sometime, if you want,” Mike says, rolling the pen between his fingers, hesitant. “We could do this again or, you know, just talk, or get coffee or something, I don’t know-”
“I’d love to,” Kevin says quickly, heart pounding in his chest. “Yeah, no, that’d be excellent. Thank you.”
Mike smiles at him, that same smile from before that crinkles his eyes and makes Kevin’s chest clench with something like longing. “No problem.”
“So,” Kevin says, biting his lip, “think you could get hard again?”
Mike’s smile disappears instantly and his eyes turn serious. “I didn’t do it for that, Kevin. You get that, right? It wasn’t because I wanted- I just wanted you to see-” He cuts himself off with a sigh and scrubs a hand through his too-long hair.
“I know,” Kevin says, and he thinks he does, but, “I still want to. If, you know, you want me to.”
Mike rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond smile tugging at his lips. “I want you to. Believe me. I thought that part was kind of obvious. I just- you don’t have to.”
“I know,” Kevin repeats, smiling back at him. He drops to the ground and this time, this time he feels the roughness of the carpet underneath his knees, revels in it, and when he’s done, when Mike’s shaking apart under his mouth and his hands, there’s something swelling in Kevin’s chest that pushes aside the hollowness and leaves space for nothing else.
Pairing: Kevin Jonas/lots of other people, Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2600 words.
Summary: AUish. Kevin’s been on his knees for so many boys now he doesn’t even feel it when he sinks to the ground and takes them into his mouth.
Note: I have no actual idea where this came from. Possibly relief out of finally finishing my SLB fic? I don’t know, but it’s weird and nonsensical and also the first explicitly sexual thing I have ever, ever written so I’m sorry if it sucks. Which it will. Heh.
Kevin’s been on his knees for so many boys he doesn’t even feel it any more when he sinks to the ground and takes them into his mouth. He’s numb to the roughness of the cold, hard floor, and the impact’s softened by his jeans anyway. He has other things to think about, to concentrate on, and eventually the pain fades as he sets to work.
(He only feels it after, when his mouth is empty and his chest is hollow and there’s nothing dulling the crusted edges of his conscience but the shivers wracking his body.)
It’s not- Kevin’s not doing this out of revenge, a casual fuck-you to the God who created him like this and had the gall to say it was wrong. It might have started off like that, but Kevin- Kevin likes this. He likes the weight on his tongue and the pressure breaching the back of his throat (he figured out deep-throating pretty early on and has never been prouder of himself) and their hands fisting in his curls and tugging, hard, and the way they moan when he sucks and licks and swallows.
And he really, really likes feeling them shudder all over when they come, gasping profanities and sometimes his name. Sometimes it’s other people’s. Kevin doesn’t mind. Sometimes, they thank him and that... that he does mind, because it feels wrong to be thanked for doing something when you’ve already gotten your reward. But Kevin smiles anyway and ducks his head, and the pride bubbling in his chest temporarily quashes the guilt that curls around his lungs and squeezes tight.
***
This time Kevin’s in a bathroom, and the guy is a little rougher than his usual. Between the moans he gasps out things like yeah, just like that you little slut and he pulls on Kevin’s hair hard enough to tug a few strands free of his scalp. Kevin doesn’t like it when they call him names but he grins and bears it because there’s nothing else for him to do.
When the guy’s done, he kisses Kevin, licking his own come out of his mouth. Kevin thinks it’s strange that people do that but he doesn’t protest about it either; it’s not that weird, and he likes it when they kiss him. It doesn’t happen often.
The guy doesn’t thank him and for that Kevin is grateful, but he feels strangely hollow when he’s left alone, the cubicle door swinging open on its hinges. Kevin sinks back onto his heels, inexplicably exhausted all of a sudden. He should move, he should close the door at least, but he can’t bring himself to, not quite yet. Instead he closes his eyes and tries to see something more than white behind his eyelids.
“Hey, are you okay?”
At the sound of the voice, curious and edged with concern, Kevin’s eyes fly open and he scrambles to his feet, lifting a surreptitious hand to wipe his mouth. His gaze flicks up, down, quietly assessing the guy standing in front of him. He’s familiar, in that vague sort of way that means Kevin’s seen him around before but they’ve never actually spoken. He’s kind of hot, if you’re into the scruffy, unwashed look. Kevin isn’t, but he likes his eyes, grey like the speckles on the tiles beneath his knees.
He says, “How do you like it?” calm, perfunctory.
The guy frowns like he doesn’t understand, like he doesn’t realise where they are. “What do you mean, how do I like-” His eyes go wide. “No, shit, that’s not what I was-”
“You could pretend I’m a girl,” Kevin offers, not unkindly. He twists the ring on his finger and bites his lip. “If you want. People do. I don’t mind.” When the guy just stares at him, incredulity creased between his brows, Kevin continues, uncertain, “Or I could use my hand, if that would-”
“No, Jesus.” The guy looks- angry isn’t the right word, but it’s the only one Kevin can think of right now. (He isn’t sure which word is the right word to describe the way the guy’s face has gone almost completely white and his hands have clenched into tight fists at his sides and his mouth is working like he’s trying to say something but isn’t sure how.) “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Kevin shrugs, hoping it covers the way his entire body has tensed. He’s going to get beaten up. He kind of wants to smack himself; he hasn’t been stupid enough to offer himself to someone who didn’t want him in a long time. It’ll be okay (he learned how to take a beating very early on too but it doesn’t fill him with the same pride) as long as the guy doesn’t kick him when he’s down.
Kevin braces himself, eyes squeezing shut, but the blow he’s expecting never lands. When he flicks open an eye, cautious, the guy’s just staring at him again, but there’s something different mingled with the incredulity in his eyes this time.
“Are you going to hit me?” Kevin asks, still cautious, still wary.
The guy chokes out a laugh. “No,” he says, shaking his head, “I am not going to hit you.”
“Oh.” Kevin frowns, confused, but he only shrugs, the line of his shoulders flattening out on the way down. At least he isn’t getting a beating.
The guy’s lips curve up over very white teeth and Kevin kind of likes his smile, too. “You’re a strange kid,” he says, and Kevin wants to protest, to tell him he’s nineteen years old and he hasn’t been a kid in he doesn’t even know how long, but the guy’s already talking again. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”
And before Kevin can say anything at all he’s gone, door swinging gently shut behind him.
***
The next time Kevin sees the guy, it’s a few days later and he’s at a party of a friend of a friend of a friend’s. When he emerges from one of the spare bedrooms, flattening his mussed hair with one hand and wiping his mouth with the other, the guy’s standing in the hallway, staring at him.
Kevin stops short. Too late to pretend he hasn’t seen him or doesn’t recognise him. “Hey, what are the odds?” he laughs, hands dropping back down to his sides. It sounds high-pitched and awkward even to his own ears. “Hi.”
“You have come on your face,” the guy blurts out, then bites the inside of his cheek like oh, hey, he hadn’t actually been planning on saying that out loud. Kevin’s lips twitch. The guy’s cheeks are red when he lifts a finger and points to a spot on his own face just below his lips. “Just there.”
“Thanks,” Kevin says. He doesn’t know what makes him do it, what makes him flick his tongue out and lick around his lips, but he does it and the guy doesn’t stop staring at him but something darkens in his eyes, just a little. “I’m Kevin, by the way.”
“I- Mike,” the guy says. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Kevin echoes, and then they’re both grinning.
Moments later, Mike’s got him backed up against the wall of the room he’s just vacated, hands firm where they rest on his hips, mouth hot and wet and insistent on Kevin’s. Mike kicked the door shut on their way in and now the room’s half-dark again, shadows flickering on the walls from the light that peeks in through the slit in the curtain falling across the window.
“Been thinking about this,” Mike murmurs, breath ghosting over Kevin’s neck. Kevin shivers. “You have no idea what you look like, do you?”
Kevin’s already dropping to the ground before Mike’s even finished the sentence, but a hand tightens on his shoulder and hauls him back up again before he gets all the way down. Mike’s eyes are frustrated when they meet Kevin’s own confused ones.
“Kevin,” Mike says. Kevin likes the way Mike says his name; he holds it in his mouth for as long as he can like he thinks it deserves a place there, not like he’s trying to get it out as soon as possible. “This isn’t- I don’t want- c’mere.”
Kevin flinches away when Mike reaches for him. “I’ll just go,” he says quietly, so quietly even he can’t hear the way his voice is shaking, “if you don’t want me. I’ll just go.”
“That isn’t what I- of course I fucking-” Mike blows out a breath and slits his eyes at Kevin. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
It stings more than the first time he said it and Kevin isn’t really sure why. Mike doesn’t sound angry this time, just sort of- sad.
“Nothing,” Kevin snaps back, pushing the hurt deep down beneath the sudden fury. Where does Mike get off on being an asshole one minute and then kissing him like- kissing him like it meant something? It didn’t, of course it didn’t, it never does, but that isn’t the point, Mike isn’t allowed to do this to him, no one’s allowed to-
“Kevin,” Mike says again, his voice more of a sigh than anything else, and then he drops to his knees in a move that is instantly familiar and not at the same time, because Kevin’s never seen it from this angle. He makes a choked noise in his throat that, yeah, he’s heard countless times before, but never from his own mouth.
“No one’s ever done this for you,” Mike says softly, hand resting on the waistband of Kevin’s jeans. (They’re his favourites, dark and skinny and clinging to his hips, and even if Nick hadn’t bought them for him out of the sales of his first album, Kevin would love them to pieces.)
He nods even though it wasn’t a question, throat too tight for him to speak. Mike mumbles something under his breath, maybe a curse, maybe something worse, and then he undoes Kevin’s belt and tugs down his jeans over his grazed knees to the ground. Mike’s fingers squeeze Kevin’s thighs on the way down, stroking gently at the bared skin at the back of his knees, and Kevin makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat that makes Mike smile.
Kevin swallows hard and his mouth moves without the rest of his body’s consent. “You don’t have to-”
“Kevin,” Mike cuts him off, “just so we’re clear here, any guy who doesn’t want to blow you the second he sees you is a fucking idiot.”
“Oh.” Kevin has no idea what to do with that. The anger’s been pushed down with the hurt and now all he can feel is confusion. It must show on his face because Mike laughs softly and leans forward to kiss him through his boxers. Kevin’s hips jerk forward and he makes that noise again, but at this point he can’t bring himself to care. (He was already half-hard from the boy he sucked off and now... well, he’s a lot more than halfway there, put it that way.)
Kevin’s head knocks back against the wall when Mike’s lips wrap around his dick. His hands grasp at the air, desperately seeking purchase, until Mike reaches up and puts them on his head. He smiles - around Kevin’s dick, holyfuck holyfuck - when Kevin exhales sharply and tangles his fingers in his hair.
If Kevin weren’t, you know, getting his dick sucked, he might be able to appreciate the things Mike does differently, might pick up on the things Mike does that he doesn’t and vice versa - Mike doesn’t use his hands; he palms Kevin’s ass instead, fingers teasing at his hole, which makes Kevin whine, low and desperate in the back of his throat. As it is, he’s too busy trying not to come (yet) so he doesn’t completely embarrass himself.
That turns out to be a lost cause, however, when Mike swipes his tongue over the head of Kevin’s dick and before he can even gasp out a warning, every nerve in his body whites out. Mike sucks him through it, swallowing around him until it gets too much and Kevin starts whimpering. Grinning, Mike pulls off with a wet, dirty plop and sits back on his heels.
“That,” Kevin says, a little breathless, as he slides down the wall to collapse in a boneless heap on the floor, “was amazing.”
“Yeah,” Mike drawls, his eyes gleaming with what looks like satisfaction, “I could tell.”
“Shut up,” Kevin mumbles, cheeks flushed. “I think I did well for my first time.”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about your stamina, which, by the way, is kind of pathetic,” Mike snickers, “I meant your orgasm face.” His mouth lolls open and his eyes roll back in his head in what is obviously supposed to be an impression of Kevin. “It was a classic.”
“Shut up,” Kevin repeats, mortified. He will never be able look Mike in the face again, oh god. “Hey, do you want me to-” He motions towards Mike’s crotch but he shakes his head, cheeks pink.
“I, um, I sort of-” He breaks off, scratching the back of his head, a slightly sheepish look on his face. “I sort of already... yeah.”
“Really?” Kevin asks, unable to help the grin spreading on his face.
Mike glances away, scowling. “Yes, really. It was- you were- shut up, okay?”
Kevin bites his lip to stop himself from giggling and nods, serious as he can manage. “Okay,” he says.
This is the part where they usually leave, but Mike’s still here and Kevin doesn’t have a clue what they’re supposed to do now. Mike seems to, however, because he’s digging in his pockets, searching for something. After a few moments, he pulls out a marker pen and takes Kevin by the wrist, tugging his sleeve up gently to scrawl something on his arm. The nib of the marker tickles Kevin’s skin and when it’s gone, there are ten scrawled digits in its place.
“Call me sometime, if you want,” Mike says, rolling the pen between his fingers, hesitant. “We could do this again or, you know, just talk, or get coffee or something, I don’t know-”
“I’d love to,” Kevin says quickly, heart pounding in his chest. “Yeah, no, that’d be excellent. Thank you.”
Mike smiles at him, that same smile from before that crinkles his eyes and makes Kevin’s chest clench with something like longing. “No problem.”
“So,” Kevin says, biting his lip, “think you could get hard again?”
Mike’s smile disappears instantly and his eyes turn serious. “I didn’t do it for that, Kevin. You get that, right? It wasn’t because I wanted- I just wanted you to see-” He cuts himself off with a sigh and scrubs a hand through his too-long hair.
“I know,” Kevin says, and he thinks he does, but, “I still want to. If, you know, you want me to.”
Mike rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond smile tugging at his lips. “I want you to. Believe me. I thought that part was kind of obvious. I just- you don’t have to.”
“I know,” Kevin repeats, smiling back at him. He drops to the ground and this time, this time he feels the roughness of the carpet underneath his knees, revels in it, and when he’s done, when Mike’s shaking apart under his mouth and his hands, there’s something swelling in Kevin’s chest that pushes aside the hollowness and leaves space for nothing else.