most armadillos can't actually roll up into balls to protect themselves [Nick/Kevin PWP]

Title: most armadillos can't actually roll up into balls to protect themselves
Pairing: Nick/Kevin
Rating: Filthy
Ingredients: Hatesex, Dubcon, Facial

Written for the JB Kink Meme. ~1500 words

Kevin has absolutely no idea what's going on – one minute he was trying to cheer Nick up with a story about this really cute armadillo he saw on tv, and he thought it was working 'cause Nick's face had gone from "I'm gonna burn holes in you with my eyes" to "I hope you can see just how much I hate you" (maybe he'd gotten it wrong and reversed the order? He had trouble with Nick's angry faces sometimes), and then all of a sudden Nick was growling at him to shut the Hell up and had him against the wall.

And this was totally not where the armadillo story had been supposed to go, cute animal stories weren't supposed to end with Kevin pressed too-hard into the wall, arms above his head with Nick's fingers digging into his wrist, but he couldn't protest 'cause Nick had told him to shut the Hell up in that voice that meant if he didn't Nick would probably rip his throat out and there wouldn't be any more cute animal stories ever, and he couldn't complain about the slow loss of circle...of blood flow circle whatever to his hands for the same reason.

Uh.

"Do you ever shut up?"

Kevin opens his mouth to answer, 'cause maybe if he says yes Nick'll let him go. Except at the last minute he remembers he's still supposed to be shut the Hell up. So instead of saying yes, he's about to tell Nick that was a crafty move, but he's not falling for it...

...except he can't, 'cause Nick's kissing him. Really hard. Really good.

Uh.

- - - - - -

Nick knows better than to ask; he learned years ago there are three ways to make Kevin shut up.

One, he can kick his ass, 'cause even before he was bigger and stronger than his older brother Kevin never really fought back. But aside from the fact that unless Kevin really pushes him over the edge he feels like shit about smacking him around (he can't remember the last time he's seriously hit the guy; it's like beating on a puppy), the businessman in Nick knows the negative impact any marks have on photo shoots and appearances, so that's pretty much out for a number of reasons.

If he can keep his cool, which is a constant challenge around Dumb and Dumber, the easiest way is to make up some stupid game that requires complete silence. Pretend you're a fucking oyster, Kevin, and you have to be totally silent to make a pearl. That one had led to a full seven hours of blissful peace and quiet.

Of course, since he's already angry enough to have Kevin against the wall, that one's out of the question, so he's left with option three, shove something in Kevin's mouth so he can't talk. And since there's no food in the immediate area, might as while shove something in there that'll let Nick work out some of the pissed-off energy coiling in his muscles.

When Nick kisses him – hard, brutal, so their teeth click together for a second before he scrapes them over Kevin's plump bottom lip – Kevin pushes against him for a second, tries to tug his arms out of Nick's grip, but even before he stops pulling he's sucking Nick's tongue into his mouth and then his body goes slack against Nick's and even if the other options were viable he's pretty sure this would be the right choice.

- - - - - -

Kevin likes his kissing sweet and romantic, the kind that are best accompanied by violins and roses. He's never been kissed with his hands going numb by someone who keeps pulling back to nibble, suck, chew until his lips are sore and probably swollen, who's been swearing at him, who's grinding so hard against him he's sure the wall's bruising his butt. If someone suggested it to him, he would've said no, because nothing about that sounds romantic or sweet or violin-appropriate.

But even though he'd still kind of like to say no (except you don't say "no" to Nick when he's in this mood, 'cause of the throat ripping out thing), he's gone painfully hard in his slacks, dick pressed against Nick's thigh.

Nick stops kissing him and half of Kevin wants to protest the loss of lips, half of Kevin wants to take the opportunity to insist on the loss of the rest of Nick, and the other half just wants to catch his breath. The third half wins, and Kevin takes deep, gasping breaths, unable to hold back a groan when Nick's teeth scrape against his neck. Whoops, he's still supposed to be shut the Hell up.

But Nick just grins – Kevin can't see it, but he can feel it, Nick's slickswollen lips curving against his sweaty neck – and lets Kevin's wrists go. His arms drop limply at his sides, hands go tingly a second later. And then they start to hurt, why does so much of this have to hurt?

Nick pulls away, completely, and Kevin whines, arches his hips, ok he changes his mind the hurt is totally fine if he needs that for the rest of it. Nick's flushed, color high on his cheeks – he colors the same way when he's turned on as when he's angry. Or maybe he's still angry and not turned on enough. Or maybe he's just both. He leans back against the wall, next to Kevin, and reaches over to get a good handful of Kevin's curls.

Ow Kevin said he'd take the hurt with the rest, not just the hurt.

At least he's smart enough to figure out what Nick's trying to do before Nick has to turn him around and get him to his knees with just that handful of hair (that's attached to a very sensitive scalp thank you very much). And figuring that out gets Nick's hand out of his hair, at least long enough for Nick to unzip his fly and work his dick out of his pants.

"You," Nick mumbles, as he digs his fingers back into Kevin's hair (dangit) and guides his lips to the dripping head, "are a fucking pain in the ass."

- - - - - -

Nick hasn't really gotten that much head in his life, but so far the best has come from Kevin. If he'd stick to using his mouth for that and avoid the constant stream of oblivious idiocy he usually used it for, they'd get along much better.

Because it's very, very easy to forget how annoying he could be when Nick's dick is enveloped in sucking wetness, fingers wrapped in soft curls so he can hold Kevin still every now and then to fuck into his mouth, make Kevin take it at Nick's pace.

Nick lets his head drop back against the wall, holding it up taking way too much energy away from focusing on the tight clasp of Kevin's lips around his oversensitive dick, from the soft moans (Kevin's still trying to be quiet, the little shit) vibrating around the shaft, from the slow boil building in his veins. When Nick loosens his grip Kevin takes over, a few strokes of his tongue punctuated by a hard suck here and there, but he's happy to just yield, to let Nick fuck his mouth when Nick tightens his fingers in Kevin's hair and thrusts his hips forward.

And when Nick doesn't stop pushing, Kevin just breathes out hard through his nose (air cool against Nick's way-too-hot skin, making him shiver almost violently, fuck) and gives in even more, swallows, takes him in, and then his nose is pressed against the curls at the base of Nick's shaft and knowing that Kevin just lets him take it 'cause Nick wants it is almost as good as the hotwetsuction around his dick.

Kevin's moving, just a little, just enough Nick knows he's jerking himself off, and for just a second he's tempted to make him stop, to take just that much more control, but he's feeling so fucking good he lets it go. His whole body pulses in time with his dick, and he yanks Kevin's hair – hard, enough to make him pull back, slip all the way off , sucking so hard he just pulls Nick's orgasm right out of him.

He hadn't planned it, but the sight of his come splashing over Kevin's face is almost as fucking good as the feeling of Kevin's hand wringing the last few spurts out, Kevin's desperate filthy moans between slick lips as he comes himself so good Nick briefly consideres (through the po­st-orgasm haze) releasing an album of just Kevin's sex noises.

After he's wiped his face a little with his sleeve (Stella's gonna kill him, now there's come all over his khakis and his new shirt), Kevin rises on shaky legs and flops down in the nearest chair. "So," he says, voice as unsteady as his legs, "armadillos. Not as cheery-uppy as I thought?"