au inbox; psl now

[kobes]

au; jakob alvida



USERNAME: kboy88



text ❖ audio ❖ video

Comments

[kobes]

[knowing – no, koby doesn’t know. but he’s not blind, and he's not dumb, and most siblings don’t grill their rentboys for details of how their brother fucked. there’s a streak of something dark and festering and wanting inside embry, and koby knows it damn well, knew it when he tasted it on the guy’s tongue back at the party, strung out and fucked out and swallowing whatever rot embry spat into his mouth.

and he’d do it again. because there were bruises on koby’s thighs in the shape of the greediest, hungriest hands that had ever touched him, and when he dug his thumb against the tenderest, throbbing parts of those marks, it was perfect, it was the antidote to too many years on his knees in windowless rooms, hands in his hair, some tourist’s dick barely reaching halfway down his throat, a monotonous buzz of boredom. even the ones who paid to leave marks did it with limp wrists and cringing, paunchy sunburned men who knew alvida would ruin their lives if they broke her things.

but – embry hadn’t flinched, hadn’t hesitated, had let all that ugliness spill up and out and sear itself into all that bare flesh, because he knew the only person koby belonged to was him, even before koby knew it himself. there wasn’t any going back after swallowing and opening his mouth for more. there never would be – especially when embry says –]

You’re – what? [off-guard, off-kilter, he’d thought a couple more photos, the breathy rasp of embry finishing on the other side of the phone line to carry him until whenever he missed fucking in person. and there’s no answer, but there are footsteps in the hall and the door swinging up and koby sits up for a moment, warmed and flushed and something going fluttery in his chest, something so fucking dangerous, something that was worse than whatever he could feel hollowing him out whenever he remembered embry’s taste on his tongue.

but his knees knock apart, spread, offered, and there’s no resistance, nothing but the warmed-up, slick heat of his waiting, willing cunt when embry plunges inside, that and the way koby reaches, welcoming, fingers sinking into embry’s hair for a moment, something welcome back, something i missed you in the gesture. and he’s so fucked, he is so fucking fucked, but embry fills him to gasping, to arching his back and slotting his knees tight on either side of still-clothed hips, and it’s so damn good.]

Have you – asked? [it’s punctuated by a whine at the rough thrust, the too-deep burn that makes koby shudder beneath the thoughtless weight of embry pinning him to the bed. it’s a stupid thing to ask, because embry looks wrecked, tormented, tortured, and koby’s fingers slip free of his hair, touch the line of his jaw, callused fingertips coaxing the tension out, that soft while his words are goading, daring:] Or are you – scared of the answer?

[and embry’s mouth on his feels obscene, because you don’t kiss whores, you don’t crush your perfect toxic mouth to one that’s been fucked more than it’s been kissed, it’s not how it goes, and it makes koby feel more human, more here, and that means the deep, punishing thrust of embry’s gorgeous cock inside him feels so damn good that koby moans into that kiss, stuttering breath when embry’s fingers find his clit, slip just-right around it.]

N-No. [gutpunched out of him, one hand cradled at the side of embry’s neck, the other finding the shoulder of his shirt, caught again by the fact of him looking, looking, looking, and koby’s mask slips, something carved-raw in his face, in the hitch of his chest when he gasps out:] D-Doesn’t – matter if he remembers me. S-Still gonna b-be no. [there’s little to no chance ash would, but if he did, if he offered ten times what embry can for koby in his bed instead – he may be lying to himself, to them both, but koby thinks no, no, no.]

[hymen]

[ koby takes him like he was made for this. for him. born and bred and shaped to be a fantasy too perfect to be real. that kind of thinking is dangerous, he knows, but every time he’s flush against his soft, writhing body, pressed deep inside of him, he can’t help wanting to indulge to his fucking fill. to take. worse, koby offers it so willingly, the bite of his words at odds with his soaked cunt and arching hips. ]

No. [ the word comes out like sandpaper, surprising even embry himself that he’d answered at all. would he ask? he wants that to be no too, but he knows better. he knows he would, because the press of the knife is too tempting to resist, ash’s inevitable answer a sword gutting him wide open. he stills at the unexpected touch of koby’s fingers, tracing a line of fire along his jaw. ] I don’t want to talk to him about you.

[ a sudden, scathing truth. you’re mine, and i’m not sharing you with him. not when everything else in his life has been inexorably tied to ash, when his heart has been tied to him and he’s never had anything for himself. he leans down, bites another kiss to koby’s bee stung lips, his hips rocking again, this time with less of a punishing pace, though just as hard, just as deep. he groans against his mouth, breathing in deeply to stave off his cresting pleasure, gathering tightly at the base of his spine. ]

He doesn’t get to see this. You. [ in a voice twisted with thorny jealousy and lust — ] He doesn’t get to see what I see. He doesn’t get to kiss you. He doesn’t get to fuck you the way I do.

[ not like this. he slides his wet fingers from koby’s cunt so that he can grip his jaw, his thumb resting on koby’s cheek, tilting his face toward him as he moves his hips. embry’s gaze nearly shutters, his eyes neat slivers of cut ice surrounded by the dark frond of his lashes. ]

I’ll always remember. [ you. grinding against him, his breath comes out in a shudder, his mercurial anger seemingly gone, replaced with molten need. mesmerized by the broken open expression on koby’s face, cursed with it. it’s not personal with ash, not at those parties where his dick makes the rounds, but with embry — everything is personal. his bitterness. his growing obsessions. all of it so sharply felt, knives in his gut, thorns in his throat. ] There’s isn’t a thing about you that you can hide from me.

[ his hand moves from koby’s jaw to his throat, caressing his damp skin, feeling the flutter of his pulse. he tightens his grip, squeezing. ]

Come for me. Now.

[kobes]

[it’d probably be easier if embry didn’t have a fucking godtier cock and mouth like an angel and didn’t move like sin and kiss and kiss and kiss. koby would be able to keep his head, able to detach himself from the act of getting fucked so good it aches, fucked like he didn’t know was allowed for someone like him. it'd make it easier for him to lie and say this wasn't everything he's ever wanted.

cause there’s silk under his back and designer shampoo scenting his hair and the attorney general of the united states is gorgeous and hungry and satiating himself with the eager spread of koby’s legs, the shuddering grip of his cunt, filled so right, toe-curling goddamn romance novel kinda good. he doesn’t have to, doesn’t need to, embry’s not going to stop fucking him now unless he’s the literal devil, but koby’s not a pillow princess on principle, damn it, and if he’s getting good dick, he’s giving good pussy in return, so he arches his hips and works against embry’s deep, thick, raw thrusts and squeezes tight and throbbing around his perfect cock to make his breath shudder and stutter, to undo him.

and embry says no and he doesn’t get to see this, and it’s not an act how koby’s whole body shudders, how his hazy eyes go bright, raw, snapped open like he’d been back at the party, embry threatening to call alvida. and he still could, he could change his mind, send koby away, back, abandon him once he’s bored and – he will, he will, hisses the darkest, most aching parts of him. koby surrenders the most vulnerable core of himself and it’ll end up shattered, because that’s what happens to boys like him.

but now – now embry’s kissing him greedy and messy, now embry’s grabbing his jaw, fingers slick from koby’s own cunt, lifting his face and there’s no hiding, no escaping, and i’ll always remember sears like a brand and koby doesn’t look away, doesn’t try to escape, surrenders, surrenders as long as he can, one hand clutching embry’s shirt, the other sinking into his hair, and he’s gone, gone, gone. he’s nothing but need, but want, but satisfaction found in embry moore staking his claim and looking him in the eyes like he matters.]

Okay. [soft, nearly tender, told he’ll be flayed open and seen completely and not caring, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of embry’s neck, like there’s a risk he’ll look away. the hand slips to his throat and koby’s sky-blue eyes go hazy, heavy-lidded, arching up to press the pulse, the gasp, the breath of him into embry’s grasp and he squeezes and for me and there isn’t a thing koby wouldn’t, right then, anything, anything, and he’ll hate himself for it in the morning, but right then he comes undone, comes apart, comes on embry’s cock with a choked-off, pleading, sobbing sound that’s almost his name.

and it’s – good, god, it’s good, but it’s almost over which means – and koby’s knees hook over embry’s hips and his grip tightens and he’s shuddering and shivering and soaking embry’s cock, and all he can think is – don’t go, not yet, not yet. and it doesn’t come out like that, but the hand in embry’s hair moves, clumsy-soft against his neck, curling there in a silent, clutching gesture that koby scarcely realizes he’s doing. stay stay stay it pleads, silent, desperate.]