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Dinner with Neil and Andrew at their apartment has somehow become a recurring event, entirely Kevin's fault.
Not intentionally, but then again Kevin does very few things intentionally when it comes to fostering relationships. He simply accumulates people around himself over time, as steady and inevitable as gravity. So Jean is unsurprised that what started off as him helping Kevin experiment cautiously with recipes in their kitchen, has turned into Neil and Andrew appearing every Thursday evening with the casual entitlement of stray cats.
Earlier in the evening, Jean watched Kevin pad around the kitchen, humming under his breath, mildly amused by how domestic he has become over the years, although Kevin still probably does not realize it himself. Cooking, Jean has learned, is simply another extension of the way Kevin shows he cares for people.
It is certainly preferable to his usual method of deciding what is best for someone, and then shoving them toward that destiny with all the subtlety of a truck and the force of a battering ram.
Tonight, Kevin had made a healthy chicken dish with sauteed vegetables, which even Andrew seemed to enjoy. Jean absolutely was not going to give Neil the satisfaction of cooking for him, so he busied himself with sitting on the counter as Kevin worked, tugging on the strings of his apron to untie it every time Kevin brushed past him, snickering at his frustration. At Jean's laugh, Kevin's irritation melted into something sweeter, making Jean repeat the action, chasing that look in Kevin's eyes.
The apron itself was a gag gift from Allison that she gave them for their mandatory housewarming party a year ago. It is a rather ridiculous garment, with silly looping letters on the front that spell out Queen Cooks. Kevin, sincere and wholehearted in everything he does, does indeed wear it religiously when he cooks.
Now, Jean leans on the counter behind him, watching Kevin wear that stupid apron, rinsing what is, quite frankly, a ridiculous amount of dishes for four people.
“You are aware,” Jean says mildly, “that normal people use fewer pans than this.”
Kevin snorts. “Normal people don't have Neil breathing over their shoulder while they work. It was faster this way. Besides, if it's really bothering you, you could help me, you know.”
Jean ignores him. "You are doing such a good job yourself, I dare not interrupt."
Neil snorts from the couch.
Right now, Kevin is turned away from him, periodically looking up to pick up his never-ending argument with Neil, who is kicked back on their couch. Andrew, as per usual, sits next to him looking entirely checked out, nursing a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream that Kevin keeps in their freezer just for him.
The moment the topic of conversation turns to Exy, Andrew's already apathetic expression somehow grows even flatter. He reaches over to grab Neil by the collar like an unruly kitten and grumbles out something Jean cannot be bothered to strain to hear.
Instead, he chooses to study Kevin: the delicate nape of his neck, the gentle slope of his shoulders, the sureness of his movements. All of a sudden, Jean is struck with the strangest sense of déjà vu.
It’s an image so familiar to him it is easy to recall: a slightly smaller frame with Day 02 stretched in white lettering across the back of a black and red jersey. That was how it always was back then, Kevin turned away from Jean, always looking toward something else, something Jean could not yet see. Jean used to stare at Kevin’s back until his eyes ached, and if he squinted hard enough he could almost see the outline of a crown on his head, shoulders tense beneath the weight of unspoken pressures Jean did not yet understand.
Back then, Jean would have done anything to turn Kevin’s attention his way, regardless of the danger to his person. He was a desperate thing, clawing for whatever scraps Kevin would give him, living in an ever-present darkness at the whims of a temperamental sun. It would shine on him momentarily before leaving him bereft in the cold just as quickly.
It did not take Jean long to learn that the only way to keep Kevin Day's eyes on you was Exy. It was strong enough motivation that now, years later, Jean is the most skilled backliner in the league.
He is shaken out of his thoughts by Kevin turning around, those darling green eyes finding his immediately.
"Tell him, Jean," Kevin instructs. "You saw that game in person, didn't you?"
Jean hasn't the faintest clue what Kevin is talking about, and it must show because Kevin doesn't wait for his response. He sighs, but stays turned towards Jean, clearly reading something in his expression.
"Are you tired?" Kevin asks after a second. "Shall I send them away?"
From behind Kevin, Neil makes an offended noise, and Jean can't help the pleased curl in his chest. "Send us away? It's barely eight," Neil says. "You are not banishing us because Jean looks gloomier than usual."
Kevin frowns immediately. "He had a very early morning, Neil."
"Six AM is hardly that early—"
"And we had practice today," Kevin presses on like Neil has not spoken at all. "Plus travel yesterday."
Neil throws both hands up dramatically. "Sure. Why not. You hear this, right?" He turns towards Andrew. "This is blatant favoritism."
Andrew looks up at them from where he is half-sprawled across the couch, somehow still eating ice cream. Jean is appalled by that man's sugar intake. "I stopped listening ten minutes ago."
"Liar," Neil says automatically.
Jean takes the opportunity to cross the kitchen quietly and drape himself over Kevin's back, hooking his chin over his shoulder.
"You heard Kevin. Shoo," he tells Neil, making a vague gesture toward the door before reaching down and hooking a thumb through a loop on Kevin's jeans, loosely possessive.
The touch makes Kevin relax into him slightly. Jean wants to eat him.
Neil looks unimpressed. "And you complain about Andrew and I?"
"Such a short man. And so very grumpy as well," Jean says mildly. "How do you get by?"
Kevin smiles before he can stop himself, soft and pleased enough to bring out the dimple in his cheek. Jean feels something warm unfurl low in his chest at the sight of it, and presses his pinky into the divot because he can.
"Oh my god," Neil says. "Never mind, we're fucking leaving."
Kevin looks a little confused, but moves towards the dining table to wrap up the leftovers for them. He then snags the ice cream Andrew left on the table in the living room and puts in the freezer where it will live until next Thursday.
Jean loves him so.
"You are both deeply unpleasant people," Neil informs them loudly as he heads backwards into the hallway. "Thank you for the food!"
"And yet you continue appearing in our kitchen," Kevin calls back. "You're welcome!"
Jean snorts helplessly against his shoulder. A second later, Andrew finally loses patience and shoves Neil fully through the door. It slams shut.
Silence settles warmly through the apartment afterwards, soft and familiar. Kevin exhales quietly and finally turns in Jean's arms, expression softer now that they are alone. He brings his hands up to cup Jean's jaw, thumb stroking under his eye once before wrapping his arms around Jean's neck and pulling him into a kiss like he's been waiting for it the whole night. Jean's hands find Kevin's waist, pulling him in closer.
This is what is different now. Jean has Kevin's attention, his companionship, his concern, his care. He wants to be greedy with it, bask in the rays of his warmth, take all the love he has to offer and then demand more and more and more. Now that he knows what it's like to have the full force of that gaze directed at him, he wants to burn in it forever.
Jean thinks, not for the first time, that he would happily spend the rest of his life memorizing every version of Kevin Day, spectacular and mundane all the same.
He breaks away to press a soft kiss to Kevin's forehead. "I will finish cleaning here. You get ready for bed."
By the time Kevin emerges from the shower, Jean has finished cleaning up the kitchen and has changed into more comfortable clothes, busying himself with replying to a long chain of texts Jeremy has left him about their latest game.
Kevin wastes no time plucking the phone from Jean's hands and climbing into his lap, bringing his lips to Jean's, making him laugh at the impatience.
"I could have been doing something important," Jean says against Kevin's lips.
"More important than this?" Kevin questions, pressing his lips to Jean's again, seemingly in no mood for his teasing. They kiss soft and slow, no real urgency in their movements. Jean strokes his arms before bringing his hands to the narrowest part of Kevin's waist to shift him closer. The position brings Kevin's hips to his, the contact makes him gasp against Jean's lips. Jean takes advantage of his open mouth, licking into it.
"Kevin," Jean murmurs, leaning down to nip at his sharp jaw before soothing the sting with his tongue. "I want to fuck you." Jean moves back to meet Kevin eyes and uses his thumb to trace the plush of Kevin's bottom lip, tugging it down to expose the white of his teeth. He notices the way Kevin's eyes dilate at that, knowing Kevin likes to be wanted, likes it when Jean tells him. "Yes?"
"Yes," Kevin replies, pressing closer and hooking his elbows around the back of Jean's neck.
Jean pats his ass lightly in reprimand. "Ask me nicely and I'll consider it. You know how be polite, don't you?"
Kevin scowls. "Don't be an asshole. That was nice, I…" He sighs like he's doing Jean a favor. "Please, fuck me, Jean."
Jean grins, Kevin's obedience sweet like sugar on his tongue. He leans in to nibble Kevin's ear, traveling down to explore the sensitive skin of his neck.
"I want to take my time tonight," Jean says. "Let me?" Kevin grips at the back of Jean's head, tilting his own back to make room for Jean to kiss down his neck.
"Say what you mean," Kevin says breathily. "You just want to tease me." Jean is not much of a liar, so he does not bother denying it.
"Yes?" Jean asks again.
"Yes, Jean. Get on with it."
It is demanding and bratty, but that will change. Jean grips Kevin's waist firmly, lifting him up to switch their positions so that Kevin is now on his back, sprawled out across the bed. Kevin is not light, and Jean can tell he enjoys the show of strength, evident from the wanting look in his eyes.
Unable to resist him ever, Jean leans down to kiss him again, groaning at the way Kevin responds enthusiastically, bringing his hands up to Jean's shoulders to grope at the muscle there. Kevin’s hands tend to wander when he thinks Jean is distracted, lingering at his arms or stomach in quiet fascination at the proof of a well-fed life, and Jean is content to not point it out so long as he continues to do it.
Once Jean has kissed him thoroughly, he pulls back and silently motions for Kevin to lift up so he can take off his shirt. Kevin obeys easily, then grabs at the hem of Jean's, urging him to follow. Jean does, easily, and as he tosses their clothes to the side, Kevin turns his head to place a soft kiss to the inside of Jean's wrist where his hand is placed to support his weight. It's such an innocent gesture of affection that Jean falters in his movements a little before continuing.
Jean starts by pressing his mouth to Kevin's collarbones, and from there leaves a path of long kisses down to his chest, before moving onto each of his pecs, hot breath brushing against Kevin’s nipples. He feels Kevin shiver under him, hand coming up to grip at his hair as he kisses over them too, biting down once playfully.
“Jean!” Kevin yelps.
“Mm?” Jean hums back, lowering his kisses to Kevin’s stomach.
"Hurry up," He whines, using one of his legs that has wrapped around Jean's waist to lightly kick him on the back. Jean hides a smile into the skin of Kevin's stomach. He's already so impatient, it stands to reason he must have been thinking of this all night. Jean's grip on Kevin's hips tightens involuntarily. The thought of Kevin serving dinner like a good little housewife, all the while thinking of Jean fucking him in their bedroom afterwards makes arousal curl in his gut.
Feeling his smile, Kevin squirms. "Don't laugh at me." He says, affronted.
"I cannot help it," Jean says, continuing to kiss at his stomach, "You are cute."
Kevin blushes again, and chooses to go quiet, probably hoping that his easy surrender will spur Jean into action. Jean cannot say he isn't amused by the attempt, and tucks his fingers under Kevin's waistband to pull them low on his hips, exposing the jut of his hipbones, but not pulling them all the way off. He instead looks up at Kevin, grey eyes meeting green, and takes his time mouthing at Kevin's lower abdomen. Jean can feel his neck brushing against where the outline of Kevin's dick is already obvious through the fabric of his sweatpants.
"Is this what you were thinking about this while serving your friends dinner?" Jean asks mildly.
Kevin flushes bright red, humiliated at the question. Unable to argue he just fumbles out, "They are your friends too." Jean can't help his snort.
"Answer me. While you were pattering around our kitchen, cooking dinner and washing the dishes like a good little housewife, were you really just hoping I would take you to our bedroom and fuck you?" Jean asks. He leaves a soft kiss, undeniably fond, on the delicate bone of Kevin's hip to soften the harshness of his words. "Is that why you rushed our guests out so quickly?"
“Jean-Yves,” Kevin hisses, looking either like he might combust or start to cry. Jean's money is on the latter. "Enough. You're not half as funny as you think you are. Stop asking ridiculous questions, and just get on with it. I know you want to.”
Jean raises an eyebrow, feeling a bit of genuine offense at that. "I am extremely funny."
Still, he indulges Kevin and takes his sweatpants all the way off. Underneath, Kevin is nearly fully hard, a bead of pre-come already pooling at the tip. Jean laves at it, spending time pressing his tongue into the slit at the head of his dick, savoring the clean, earthy taste. He glances up at Kevin, making sure to maintain eye contact, before popping the head into his mouth.
The view is incredible. From where he is in Kevin's lap, he gets an eyeful of Kevin's abdominal muscles, contracting in pleasure each time Jean sucks particularly hard. Kevin's slim fingers clench down on the bedding next to him, head is thrown back to expose the elegant column of his neck. He's obviously trying not fuck into Jean's mouth, pressing his hips down into the mattress. Wanting to reward him for his consideration, Jean moves down, fully taking him into his mouth before stopping at the base of his dick. Kevin brings the meat of his palm to his mouth, stifling a whimper. It makes Jean pull away and nip at the delicate skin of his inner thigh in reprimand.
"Do not cover your mouth, I want to hear you."
Kevin whines in protest but obeys him immediately. "Have you not embarrassed me enough for one night?" he demands.
Not even close, but Jean lets it go this time, swallowing him down in one go before bobbing his head up and down at a steady pace.
Above him, Kevin is letting out soft gasps of pleasure, bringing his scarred hand up to rest in Jean's curls—never pulling.
"Ah, ah, ah. So good Jean, it feels so good, you—you look so pretty," Kevin praises. Jean feels himself harden at that, grinding down into the mattress to relive some of the pressure. This is one of his favorite ways to please Kevin, and he loves it when Kevin accepts it so wholeheartedly.
After a few minutes under the attention of his mouth, Kevin starts to tremble. "I—I'm close."
"Already?" Jean asks, pulling off immediately. Kevin sucks out a breath at the loss, green eyes are wide and wet as he stares down at Jean. "That won't do. I have barely had any fun yet."
Kevin looks appropriately terrified, and Jean can't help but laugh lightly at his expression, before moving back down to place a kiss on his inner thigh. Wordlessly, he reaches for the lube he placed next to them before they began and liberally slicks up his fingers. Kevin follows his movements, staying silent.
Jean reaches down two fingers to tap his fingers at his rim, silently asking a question.
"Yes," Kevin breathes.
Jean bends down and takes his time spreading Kevin's cheeks apart to look at him, gently blowing air at his hole to watch it clench.
"Oh my god," Kevin exhales. Jean leans in to bite and the soft fold of skin between his ass and his thigh before finally bringing his fingers to circle his rim and slipping one finger in. Jean is not really aiming to cause pleasure yet, just letting Kevin get used to the sensation. When Kevin feels a little less tense, he slides in the second finger, making scissoring motions.
When he feels Kevin clench down hard, he slows his movements, mouthing at his balls. "Relax," Jean instructs.
"You try fucking relaxing like this," Kevin snaps, overwhelmed and understimulated.
Jean smiles against him and licks a long line up Kevin's dick, taking the tip into his mouth once again, moving up and down slowly before pulling up to use his tongue to circle the head. Kevin moans, less tense now, body begging for more. Satisfied, Jean works in a third finger, rhythmically thrusting in and out of Kevin, lightly brushing his prostate with each stroke.
Kevin is getting louder now, hands trembling in the air like he can't decide whether to push Jean down on his dick or fist the blankets and pray for mercy.
"I—can I have more?" Kevin asks. Jean pulls his mouth off him again, but leaves his fingers inside, pressing against his prostate harder.
"No." Jean replies.
"You—I—what?" Kevin struggles to get his bearings with Jean's fingers moving in him like this. "Fuck. Have I pissed you off today or something? You're being so mean."
Jean considers this. "Non. Not at all. You have been good."
"Then—then why? Don't I deserve a reward?"
"This doesn't feel like a reward?" Jean questions, bringing his other hand up to stroke his dick. Kevin seizes up, back arching beautifully.
"I—ah, ah…" Kevin trails off, nonsensical.
Jean lets off his dick, and strokes his hip in a comforting gesture. "Do you trust me?"
"Don't be an asshole," Kevin whispers, out of breath at the changing sensations.
"Do you?" Jean presses.
"Fucking yes. I do. Obviously."
"Then let me decide. Oui?"
Kevin's chest heaves, still trying to catch his breath. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."
Jean swallows him down again, setting a brutal pace, fingers moving in and out of him faster. Kevin throws his head back, thighs coming up to bracket Jean's head, whimpering. Once Kevin starts to tremble hard, obviously on the edge again, Jean pulls off him and sits up.
His own arousal is getting hard to ignore. He can feel himself throbbing, and if he looked down there would probably be a wet spot on the front of his sweatpants. He can't help it—Kevin looks so pretty splayed out on the bed like this, flushed all the way down to his chest, green eyes wide and wanting.
Jean leans down to kiss him, Kevin responding enthusiastically, moaning a little when he tastes himself on Jean's tongue. The new position brings their cocks together, and Jean grinds down on him, the friction sending shocks of pleasure up his spine.
"Fuck," Jean gasps, "I can't wait anymore. I want to fuck you now."
"Yes, yes, yes," Kevin chants. Jean makes quick work of his pants, and meanwhile Kevin reaches over and grabs the lube himself, ever the overachiever. He reaches down and slicks Jean in quick movements, the sudden pleasure making Jean bring his temple to Kevin's collarbone and pant into his chest.
Jean reaches down and moves Kevin's hand off his dick, lest he take control of the whole night here. He sits up and positions himself at Kevin's entrance, slapping the tip to his hole twice to watch the embarrassment bloom across Kevin's face.
When he slips in past the ring of muscle at the entrance, he closes his eyes at the sensation, stilling his movements. He will never get used to the feeling of Kevin wrapped around him, warm and soft and tight.
Jean thinks, not for the first time, that loving Kevin feels frighteningly close to worship.
His love for Kevin is so deeply embedded in his heart, so intertwined into the very fabric of his being, that he cannot tell where it ends and Jean begins. He could not stop if he tried. And try he did, at 14 in the Nest, young and terrified by what would happen to him should Riko find out, and again at 16, abandoned and jaded.
Unsuccessful, every time.
Jean opens his eyes to look down at Kevin, who's watching his expression closely, probably reading Jean's mind. His lips are parted, red and wet, eyes soft and open. Jean flushes slightly at the attention and looks away, abashed.
"Stop staring at me like that," he says, embarrassed despite himself.
"No. I can't help it." Kevin brushes a stray curl off his forehead. "You're so handsome, so good to me."
The blatant affection in his voice makes Jean whimper. He knows he must be redder than a tomato and tucks his head into Kevin's neck, inhaling the familiar smell of his cologne and sweat, the smell of home. There could have never been anything else, anyone else, for Jean. Only Kevin.
"Come on, Jean," Kevin urges, stroking his hair. "Fuck me. I want it. I've been waiting for it all night."
Jean sighs, pulling away from his neck and doesn't bother resisting the urge to lean closer and lightly bite at the apple of cheek. "You are a terror."
"Give it to me," Kevin demands again softly, bringing his hands up to cup Jean's face. "I can take it."
He's looking up at Jean with so much wonder in those stunning green eyes, fingers stroking his cheeks lightly, pausing at the beauty mark Jean knows is at the corner of his mouth. Jean would do anything he asked.
Jean reaches up to grab a pillow from the top of the bed, and when he lifts Kevin up to get it under him, the movement slips Jean deeper into him, making Kevin inhale sharply. No longer willing to wait, he pushes in all the way, moving his hips in slow, grinding motions, not pulling out all the way.
“Does it feel good?” Jean murmurs after a minute, leaning down to kiss at Kevin's neck. The change shifts the angle of his hips in a way that has Kevin gasping, gripping the bedsheets next to him. “You are being quiet.”
“It’s deep,” Kevin manages, breath hitching. His eyes are taking on a glassy sheen.
“Is it? I thought you said you could take it.” Jean hums, continuing to roll his hips at his leisure.
"I didn't say it's too much." He probably means for it to come out irate, but Jean can hear the whine in his voice. "Jean, Jean, faster."
"I will go as fast or as slow as I want. You will take whatever it is I give you." Jean bends down to murmur against his ear, "I thought you wanted to be good?"
"Fuck off, I am being good," Kevin whines.
He is, so Jean does quicken his movements, pulling out and thrusting deeply into Kevin, searching for the angle that makes him sound the loudest. He sits up, grabbing at Kevin's hips and sets a more brutal pace that has Kevin's breath stuttering.
When he reaches down to stroke Kevin it must be the last straw because it makes Kevin choke. "I—I'm close."
"Not yet," Jean says, but doesn't let up. Kevin whimpers, twisting his hips in an attempt to get away from the friction, desperate to obey. "What, why?"
"Because I said so," Jean says, one of his favorite phrases in the English language. Kevin lets out a frustrated noise at Jean's clipped answer.
Inspired by the steady bounce of Kevin's ass against his hips, Jean gets an idea.
"How about this? If you listen to me carefully, I will give you what you want," he proposes.
"Yeah, yeah, okay," Kevin breathes, obviously distracted with trying not to come. Jean thinks he would probably agree to anything right now.
Jean takes pity on him, taking his hand of his dick, but still thrusting in hard. "Hm. What would you do?"
"What would I....oh. Whatever you want," Kevin gasps. "Anything—just—just tell me."
Anything, Jean muses. That's not exactly true, although he can forgive the slight dishonesty. Kevin has a sense of self that he will not betray for anyone—not so much that he refuses to, more that he would not know how. No doubt it is just the way he was born—it is not a behavior anyone could ever learn or imitate, and had it been possible, it would have been beaten out of him at the Nest.
Kevin is still just as beautiful and impossible and stubborn as he was then, still staring down Jean with those lovely eyes—always demanding more than Jean was willing to give.
"Jean," Kevin says, breaking his train of thought. "Come on, tell me." Jean leans down and pecks his lips, slowing his thrusts to avoid his prostate. "You—You're trying to kill me," Kevin complains, shivering.
"Not a very nice thing to say to someone currently fucking you," Jean replies.
"You call this fucking me?" Kevin asks. Jean takes it for the challenge it is.
"I see," he says condescendingly. "You think you can do a better job?"
"What?"
"I said, do you think you can do a better job, Kevin? You must work on your listening skills."
Kevin scoffs, likely irritated that Jean is doing so much talking—quite the opposite of what he asked for.
"I...no? Yes I—" Kevin breaks off, at war with himself. His own hips are coming up in an attempt to quicken the rhythm, dick bobbing against his stomach uselessly, hard and wet. The tip is so red it's almost purple and a pool of pre-come drips from the head onto his stomach. Impatiently, Kevin tugs Jean down so he's hovering over him on his forearms. The change in angle makes Kevin moan, and he pulls Jean in for a deep kiss.
Jean could get lost in this, the tight feeling of Kevin around him, the warm press of his lips.
"Tell me," Kevin murmurs, breaking away to speak into Jean's mouth. "Tell me, and I'll do it for you."
Jean shivers, giving in. "I want you to ride me," he says. "I want to watch you."
"Yes. Yes. Get on your back." Kevin replies.
Jean complies easily, and Kevin swings one long leg over him to settle on his hips. Like this, Kevin looks like a vengeful angel, flushed pink and panting, green eyes unbearably open when they settle on Jean. Not the sort painted in churches, but something reverent all the same, beautiful enough to make Jean understand why people devote themselves to impossible things.
Kevin's fingers tremble where they come to rest on Jean's shoulders, the soft inside of his thighs warm and tacky against Jean's hips. He's breathing is staggered and he takes a moment to ground himself, reaching back to stroke Jean roughly.
"Ah," Jean arches with pleasure at the harsh touch. He knows he's hard and leaking, unbearably aroused by Kevin's desperation. "Go ahead, Kevin."
Kevin aligns Jean with his hole and sinks down slowly, making Jean bite his lip so hard he thinks it may start bleeding. He somehow keeps from thrusting up into the inviting warmth, grip going so tight around Kevin's hips there will probably be fingerprint shaped bruises left there. Kevin wastes no time teasing, immediately doing his best to ride Jean into oblivion, expression as focused as it is when he's on the court. Jean feels himself reaching the edge embarrassingly fast, the heat and friction overwhelming.
"Do you like it?" Jean asks, wanting to hear him say it.
"Yes, yes. Ah, ah, yes. It's good," Kevin whines, eyes watering.
"Tell me what you like about it."
"I like...oh, oh. Jean," Kevin gasps as Jean meets his hips with his own thrusts. He whimpers, stalling his movements to give himself a break, likely trying to stave off his orgasm. He's panting hard, thighs trembling. "I—what?"
"Tell me," Jean punctuates the words with a light smack on his ass, "what you like about it."
Kevin's face brightens with embarrassment. "I don't know. I like you under me…I—I like that you like it. I just like making you feel good."
It sounds like a cop-out answer, but Jean knows it to be true. It's sincere, in that awful way that Kevin always is, and it makes Jean shiver underneath him, coil in his gut growing tighter.
"You do? Keep going, then. I do feel good." Kevin obeys, resuming his movements.
"I know. I can see it," Kevin murmurs, eyes are steady on Jean's. "You want it bad, don't you?" He reaches a hand down to thumb at Jean's lips before slipping two fingers into his mouth.
Jean, as always, folds for him with humiliating ease, whimpering around the digits. He cannot argue with that, nor does he want to. He would happily die spread out underneath Kevin like this.
Kevin isn't faring all that well either, truly crying now, clenching down on Jean so hard he can feel himself hurtling towards the edge. He tugs at Kevin, pulling him down to kiss him, the change in position making Kevin's cock brush against Jean's abs at every bounce. Kevin breaks at the touch, moaning loudly, his back instinctively arching to meet the friction, before drawing back to put space between them again. "Nonono, wait—I can't, I'll come—"
"Do you think you deserve it?"
Kevin sobs. "I—I don't know"
"Do you want to know what I think?" Jean does not give Kevin a chance to answer, though he doubts he can right now. "I think you like this, being strung up on the edge, your pleasure at my mercy. Look at you, you're doing such a good job."
Kevin drops down on Jean's cock again and again, the overwhelmed whine he's letting out music to Jean’s ears. He supposes he should not be surprised that Kevin has been able to hold out this long—he has always been relentlessly determined and single-minded when given a goal. Still, Jean can see how it affects him: the bright pink flush in his cheeks, his trembling thighs, the way he grasps and Jean's chest to keep himself from toppling over.
Jean takes immense satisfaction in this, in Kevin's need to please, especially as it pertains to Jean. The fact that Kevin is working so hard—thighs trembling, breath punched out of him—just to please Jean, makes him whimper throwing his head back in pleasure.
"You feel good?" Ken asks, voice hoarse. He slips a finger around the silver chain around Jean's neck, tugging on it to draw his gaze back to his. "Then come."
Jean comes with a long drawn out groan, eyes slipping shut, filling Kevin deep inside.
When he opens his eyes again, Kevin is staring at him, eyes blown wide, one hand gripping the base of his cock. It's practically weeping now, begging for relief, the tip as red as the flush on his cheeks. He's shaking a little from the effort of holding back.
Jean strokes his flank soothingly. "You were so good," he babbles. "You are so soft inside, so warm, you feel so good, you are so pretty. Mon cherí. Mon cœr."
"Shut up," Kevin says weakly, breath trembling. Jean moves to sit up, making Kevin whimper at the sensation.
He kisses Kevin gently, once underneath his eyelid, tasting the salt of his tears, and then once again on his lips. "You were. I will give you whatever you want. Come now. On your knees."
Kevin takes his time, pulling off of Jean slowly, cum dripping down his thighs when he does.
Jean cannot help himself, he reaches down to spread it into the soft skin of his inner thigh before pushing some back into his hole.
Kevin bats Jean's hand alway and maneuvers to his hands and knees. Jean admires the view—the enticing muscles in his shoulders, elegant line of his back. He leans down to kiss one of his favorite spots on Kevin's body, a small beauty mark on the base of his spine.
"Please," Kevin begs quietly.
He will not lie and say he doesn't enjoy this. He loves to needle at Kevin, to tease and poke and prod until those gorgeous eyes water with tears just so Jean can lick them away. He loves that Kevin just takes it.
It is a wonder that Kevin allows himself this. He is always so high strung, so composed—placing so many restrictions on the pleasure he allows himself. In their bedroom, in their apartment, in their life that they have built together, Kevin lets himself go, surrenders himself to Jean. Jean will never take that for granted.
Jean pushes into Kevin in one go, erection never even flagging, the wetness from his earlier orgasm making the slide easy. He shivers a little at the sensation so soon after already coming. Kevin falls to his forearms at once, and Jean doesn't make him wait, filling him with long, hard strokes designed to make him fall apart.
Kevin has not stopped whining, quiet and pitiful, overcome by the onslaught of sensation. When Jean reaches down to stroke Kevin, he grasps back at him, reaching to still Jean's hips with his hands.
"Wait, wait, wait—," Kevin gasps. Jean stops immediately, hands coming up to stroke his sides soothingly.
"What is wrong? Did I hurt you?" he asks, concerned.
"No," Kevin pants, "No, I just want—can I see your face? Please, Jean?"
Jean feels his heart squeeze in his chest, overcome by how much he loves Kevin. Overwhelmed that he exists at all.
"Anything you want," he replies gently, shifting Kevin onto his back.
He enters Kevin again, bringing his legs up over his shoulders, the angle making his thrusts deep, brushing against his prostate every time. He feels an absurd desperation to make Kevin come. Kevin tips his head back in silent pleasure, hands sliding down from Jean's shoulders to his lower back, forcing him into Kevin harder.
"Did you like that? You just got tighter." Jean observes. "Do you like being used by me? Would you like it if I came deep inside you again, and then left you like this, hard and leaking all over yourself?"
Kevin's desperation wins out over his embarrassment, tears streaming down his face. Jean can practically feel the heat emanating off his cheeks. "Jean please, please, I've been good, I can't wait any longer, please make me come, can I—can I—please—"
Jean gives into the urge to lick a tear off Kevin's face, the salt tangy on his tongue. He loves this: Kevin's hitched sobs, the arch of his back, the slight fat of his hips pillowed in Jean's fingers.
It's intoxicating that prideful, proud, unshakeable Kevin Day would let Jean debase him like this. That it is only Jean that he would ever bear this humiliation for, trusting that he will pick up the pieces when he is done. Kevin Day's trust is an addictive thing and Jean has never claimed to be a saint.
"Yes, of course. You've done so well, you have more than earned it," Jean whispers into his ear. "You are so lovely. I want you to come, want to see your pretty face when you do."
"Jean," Kevin pleads, voice high and reedy. "Harder."
Jean obeys, wanting to give him whatever he asks for. Kevin has gone silent, mouth parted and body tense with his impending orgasm, overwhelmed at having to wait so long.
"Come now, mon amour. Let go." Jean reaches down to wrap a hand around Kevin and he lets out a broken noise, nails digging into Jean's shoulders. Jean leans down to meet his mouth, and they kiss messy and wet—Kevin doing little more than panting into Jean's mouth.
"I—I'm—oh—" Kevin seizes suddenly, clenching down as he comes hard, tremors wracking his body. His eyes shut closed, expression scrunched up in pleasure. Jean has never seen anything so stunning.
Kevin takes a while to come down, breath hitching, tears finally slowing. Meanwhile, Jean takes the time to massage Kevin's legs, hoping to bring back some of the blood flow.
Kevin looks so precious under him, so darling, with his clumped lashes and red cheeks that Jean peppers kisses all over his face, making him giggle.
"You—ah," Kevin laughs. "Get me water."
"Yes, your highness." Jean slaps his ass once before rising to get off the bed.
When he returns, Kevin hasn't moved at all, except to pull the blanket up to his waist. Kevin takes one look at the glass and makes a vague gesture that Jean interprets as not now, so he places the water on the nightstand and looks down at the mess they have made.
"You will need another shower," Jean says. Kevin sighs like he's been done a great injustice.
"Later." He makes grabby motions towards Jean. "Come here, I want you to hold me." Jean will be long dead before he ever denies Kevin that.
Settled into his arms, Kevin turns to look up at him, eyes warm and teasing. “You look pleased with yourself,” he says quietly.
“I usually am when you look at me like that.”
"Hm. What on earth got into you? Christ. I can still feel you in my stomach."
"Careful," Jean says dryly, nipping at his ear, "unless you want to go again."
Kevin wrinkles his nose. "No way. I'm already definitely going to be sore at practice."
Jean pouts a little. "I love you."
Kevin frowns, flushing a little. "Don't try and act cute now." He traces Jeans cheekbone, lingering at the number on his cheek. Jean nips at his finger.
"I just remembered something, that is all," Jean says, answering his question. He reaches down to trace circles on Kevin's chest. "I am glad you are here with me. I liked that you spent time cooking for the gremlins." He brings his thumb up to soothe Kevin's brow. "I wanted you to look at me."
"That's it? I'm always looking at you Jean-Yves."
He says it so simply, as if it is a fact of the universe, not a previous gift Jean will guard with ferocity for the rest of his life. This is just for him, Kevin's soft confessions, his awkward affection—a quiet gem given only to Jean, a vulnerability he would not show anyone else.
In moments like this he wants to keep Kevin locked away forever in their apartment, wants to steal him away from the rest of the world. They might have Kevin Day, but the man underneath is all Jean's. Stupid, beautiful, Kevin.
Jean continues to speak, needing Kevin to know. There is no room for embarrassment between them anymore.
"I like that we play for the same team together. That we have made a home together where you can snark at me while you make dinner and lecture me about my health over coffee. I like that I can wake up before you and watch you drool into the pillow, that you make me watch boring documentaries about long-dead civilizations and countless Exy matches." Jean smiles at Kevin's wondrous expression. "I like that you are the best, but I would like it if you were bad too." He pauses.
"I would like anything, I think, if it were with you."
Kevin's eyes glitter with emotion. "It's the same for me, Jean," he whispers. Yes. Yes, I know that now.
They lay in comfortable silence for a bit before Kevin breaks it again. "I didn't know it could be like this," Kevin says finally.
I did not either. Then again Jean could have never fathomed it was possible to feel this way about another, and he has full faith he would have lived his life in ignorance had he not met Kevin Day.
Jean reaches over and quickly pecks his forehead.
Kevin blinks at him, startled. “What was that for?”
“You ridiculous man,” Jean murmurs fondly. Kevin scrunches his nose and opens his mouth to respond, but Jean doesn't give him the chance.
“You are foolish,” Jean continues, pressing a light kiss to Kevin’s cheek. “Silly,” another to his temple. “Lovely.” The last word he breathes against Kevin’s lips.
Kevin might have protested, but he gets lost in the kiss, sighing happily.
When they break apart, Jean can feel himself smiling widely, unable to stop himself against the tide of emotion in him. The feeling is not as unfamiliar as it once was.
Kevin looks dazed. "I love your smile," he whispers, tracing it with his fingers.
Jean kisses him again because he does not know what to do with the unbearable softness in Kevin’s eyes when they rest on him like this.
I love you, he thinks helplessly. I loved you when I had nothing, and even now that I have so much more, I will never love anything as much as I love you.