[ Murphy'd used his body and sexuality to save his own skin before, and perhaps it was then when he started thinking there wasn't any real value or meaning in giving his body over. That it was just skin and nerves and fluids, something to buy leverage with. Of all people, he didn't think Kavinsky would be the one to instill some whisper of self respect back into him over the idea of his sexual integrity. An idea that sex was something worth considering, rather than a simple thing to exchange for either enjoyment or a beneficial trade.
Kavinsky's point of trying to make sure he doesn't feel bad about this later, in recognizing at all that there's some feeling to this outside of getting off, is a surprising kindness. A surprising amount of concern for him, at least in terms of friendship if not more. Which, of course, makes him want him all the more.
His lips are a warm, wet, slick and overwhelming pleasure, sealing around his cock head, the only texture the wet cloth of his boxers, but he can feel Kavinsky's lips and tongue so, so close. He whines, a keening sounds in the back of his throat, and Murphy's hips buck, and automatic response, wanting to sink deeper, get close to that tongue and hot mouth. ]
Ohmygod, fuck, that's good, K. [ he's gasping out, fingers pushing into Kavinsky's hair, and his vision feels like it's dancing, swimming with lines blurring and moving. His body feels electric, and he's dying to have more contact, to feel Kavinsky's skin on his. Watching him, a thumb brushes over k's cheek, and he pleads lowly. ] Please.
nsfwwww
Kavinsky's point of trying to make sure he doesn't feel bad about this later, in recognizing at all that there's some feeling to this outside of getting off, is a surprising kindness. A surprising amount of concern for him, at least in terms of friendship if not more. Which, of course, makes him want him all the more.
His lips are a warm, wet, slick and overwhelming pleasure, sealing around his cock head, the only texture the wet cloth of his boxers, but he can feel Kavinsky's lips and tongue so, so close. He whines, a keening sounds in the back of his throat, and Murphy's hips buck, and automatic response, wanting to sink deeper, get close to that tongue and hot mouth. ]
Ohmygod, fuck, that's good, K. [ he's gasping out, fingers pushing into Kavinsky's hair, and his vision feels like it's dancing, swimming with lines blurring and moving. His body feels electric, and he's dying to have more contact, to feel Kavinsky's skin on his. Watching him, a thumb brushes over k's cheek, and he pleads lowly. ] Please.