#novinsky

Noah Czerny was not the type of boy Kavinsky usually went for. Kavinsky liked the rough and rugged type, hardened inside and out, as quick to throw a punch as they were likely to take one. He liked boys with sharp smiles, bloody knuckles, crooked teeth, broken bones–

Though, to be fair, Kavinsky knew he wasn't Noah Czerny's first choice either.

But if both of them had their way, they never would've found themselves in such a compromising position and, as it was, Kavinsky had to admit he was enjoying this position very much.

When he spotted Noah across the dance floor, bathed in flashing blue and pink lights, it sparked recognition only. They knew each other from around town, passing glances, spoiled rich boys in a spoiled rich town. There wasn't anything about Noah that interested Kavinsky in the least.

Until Noah looked back and, over the crowd of warm bodies, pulsing in time with the music, their eyes met.

Kavinsky didn’t know who moved first, if he did, or if Noah did, or if it was simply gravity pulling them together, but the distance between them closed and closed and closed until nothing remained. The music pounded in Kavinsky’s head, reminiscent of a migraine with the way his vision blurred. Everything around him narrowed to only the boy standing, gyrating, in front of him. Noah's hips moved with the beat and his head fell back and he wasn't Kavinsky’s type– but for just a second, he was.

For just that moment, he was everything Kavinsky wanted.

The space between the dance floor and the grungy stall of the dirty bathroom was a blur. They kissed and Noah's mouth tasted like sweat and Coke, and they fumbled, hands moving on swaying hips as they tried to keep up the ruse of dancing. Bodies knocked into them, pushing them closer together. Noah's fingers tightened in Kavinsky's hair and Kavinsky’s hands gripped the back of Noah's shirt. Noah's teeth scraped his lip and Noah's tongue licked into his mouth and Noah's thigh slotted between his legs.

Kavinsky’s mind went blank after that.

The bathroom stall was not built for two, but they made it work. With his bare ass pressed against the cool metal of the stall door, Kavinsky’s desires beat his disgust into submission. They shouldn't do this here, he shouldn't do this with Noah Czerny…

But he wanted to. The scent of Noah's cologne was almost enough to drown out the smell of the bathroom and it went straight to Kavinsky’s head. It filled him with want, with need, with hunger. He fought with Noah's studded belt until it finally came loose and he shoved a hand down the front of his jeans.

"Fuck," Noah breathed. He pushed into Kavinsky’s touch, his forehead resting on Kavinsky’s collarbone, his sigh cool against Kavinsky’s sweaty skin, and then he bit down right at the soft spot where his neck met his shoulder.

Gracelessly, Kavinsky pushed at Noah's pants until they were around his thighs and he took both of their cocks in his hand.

Noah was right.

Fuck.

Noah leaned against him, content to let Kavinsky do most of the work. He rocked back and forth, hands braced on the stall door on either side of Kavinsky’s head, and he grunted things like shit and good and like that. He kissed Kavinsky, hard and dirty and desperate, when he came across Kavinsky’s knuckles. The warmth of his cum, slick beneath Kavinsky’s palm, felt filthier than the cramped bathroom stall.

"Wow," Noah said against his neck. His dick was going soft but Kavinsky didn't want to take his hand away just yet and Noah didn't move back to give him any space. Instead, he fell boneless against Kavinsky’s chest. His dry laugh echoed in Kavinsky’s ribcage. "That was nice. Thanks."

"Thanks?" Kavinsky repeated dumbly.

Noah pulled back, offered a grin and a wink, and tucked himself back into his jeans. "You're welcome."

He didn’t wait for Kavinsky to respond or recuperate before giving him one more quick kiss, less desperate than all the ones before, and just as searing. "I'll see you around, Kavinsky," he said, and ducked out of the stall.