know (strickler/kaz) (18+)

Kaz wonders sometimes whether Strickler loves him. Sometimes he wonders if love is something that happens for changelings at all.

Only sometimes, though. In his right mind he knows that it doesn't.

It's in moments like this, though. Moments like this, slick with sweat and breathing hard and fast, rocking his hips against Strickler's as the man stares up at him with bright hazy eyes and his mouth open in a low moan, sees adoration in his face, that he lets himself wonder.

In this moment, he changes the angle of his hips and gasps at the way Strickler's cock strikes a spot in him that sends warmth shooting through his belly, up his spine. Fuck, he murmured in Russian. He knows Strickler will understand. Fuck, you're so good. You're lovely inside me.

Strickler shudders at that, long and deep, his eyes like stars. His fingers squeeze a little tighter at Kaz's hips, and Kaz lets him; he calls the shots, he always does, but he allows it this time.

You're so lovely, he repeats, grinding his clit against the coarse hair of Strickler's lower belly. You are beautiful. Your face, your lips. He lets out a breathless little laugh. Your nose.

Strickler's face flushes even more deeply at that, and his eyebrows knit together in reflexive annoyance. Kaz reaches up to stroke away a lock of hair that's fallen in his eyes, though, and strokes away the angry wrinkle in his brow that came with it. I don't mock, he says. It is.

He touches the tip of Strickler's nose, gently, and watches the tension melt away from his face. He's used to mockery, Kaz knows. I mean it, he murmurs, sighing as he rubs the head of Strickler's cock against that spot deep inside him that makes him ache. I love your nose so much.

Strickler's ears turn even deeper pink. He doesn't get a chance to say anything before the angle gets to him too, makes him moan sharp and loud and stammering, and Kaz smiles.

I love your hands, he says, and moves one of his own to rest over Strickler's on his hip as they move together. I love your fingers. Another roll that makes him bite his lips, gets a sharp noise from Strickler under him. I love your cock, your throat. The way you show it for me.

Strickler is breathing fast, now, looking at him from underneath those long lashes with a hitch in his breath every other thrust. He's listening, with eyes a little glassy in the dim light of Kaz' quarters.

Your horns, Kaz says, planting his other hand on Strickler's chest for the leverage to move himself a little faster. Smooth and white, so long. I could kiss every nick.

Kaz' sweaty hair falls into his face, blocking his vision, and he tosses it aside so he can stare down at Strickler with his mouth a little open. Your wings. Light shines through them, I can see all of your veins.

We walk in the sun, he says. You glow in it.

Strickler's mouth works, trying to say something and coming up with nothing. Tears are welling up in his eyes now, Kaz can see. He moves a little slower for a moment, and this time he hears quiet begging, almost whispers, when Strickler groans. Kazimir.

Kaz speeds up again, slowly, faster and harder until Strickler lets out another sharp needy noise, tightens his hands white-knuckled on his hips. He'll have bruises tomorrow, Kaz knows, and is pleased.

Hair in the morning, he rasps. It is mess. It sticks straight up on one side, and you squint. Love that too.

It's Strickler's turn to bite his lip.

Love your pen. Love how you play with it. Won't put it down.

Strickler's moan breaks off into a sob, and arches his neck back against the pillow; this time it's so he can stare at the ceiling, teeth bearing down on his lip as Kaz watches him try to hold the tears in.

Love your eyes when you look at me, says Kaz. Feels thick in his throat. Feels his eyes as wet and bright as Strickler's. He feels himself nearing the edge; nearing and nearing, and then--

Then--

And then he feels himself crashing, feels his vision go white at the edges, feels his thighs draw tight and shaking around Strickler's hips, and his chest glows as hard and searing and bright as the fire in his belly. Strickler's spine stiffens underneath him, he shudders up and down the lanky length of him, and Kaz feels him cry out in his chest, in his cunt, in his heart.

In this moment, he doesn't wonder.

I love you, he gasps, his voice wracked and shaken as he comes. Love you, love you, love you.

He knows.