A/N: ….I'm not dead. I've been rping covenant shaped angst for a while now and I've been majorly slacking on my writing. Which is just plain horrid, I know. But I've created two brand new Death Note fics. And my ability to write made me giddy. Which is why I'm rebooting my covenant writing. I'm gonna start with something simple - like a one shot. And then hopefully regain the ability to delve back into my plots. I do take requests for these one shots. Actually requests help a lot. All of these one shots are slash not because I detest straight couples, but because I detest the females in the covenant.
This was a one shot I wrote for LJ's round of kinks. So sorry if you've already read it, because I posed it back in June, but I want to flush out all of my remaining Covenant one shots before starting from scratch.
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Title: Without Inhibitions.
Author: Kermitfries
Fandom: The Covenant
Pairing/character: Caleb Danvers/Tyler Simms
Rating: I forgot the ratings used so - Not Worksafe. Pretty much NC-17.
Prompt: "You have the most amazing eyes, baby boy, you know."
"Caleb, you're drunk."
Prompter: Mitsuki_Shizuka
Kink: Drunken sex/first time
Word count: 1419 including header.
Notes/Warnings: Slash. Drunken sex. There was no beta so all the mistakes are my own. Never before would have dreamed of concluding a one shot without finishing the sex…but there's a first for everything. I'm not sure if I like it much, but maybe you will, so please enjoy..
"You know what, baby boy?" Caleb Danvers drawled. "You have the most amazing eyes." He leaned forward with his announcement, and lifted a hand, maybe to see if perhaps Tyler's eyes felt as amazing as they looked.
Tyler evaded his touch easily. "You're drunk, Caleb," he said, as though the statement could do anything for either of them. He caught Caleb's outstretched hand when Caleb reached a second time.
"No," Caleb scoffed dismissively. "I jus' 'ad a little bit." He held up his thumb and forefinger to show just how little he'd drunk. No space separated the two appendages, and Tyler wondered if maybe that had been on purpose.
"Uh huh," Tyler said just as dismissively. "Right, well, c'mon, Cay, let's get you --" he paused when Caleb clumsily threw his arm around Tyler's shoulder, the force nearly knocking them both to the ground.
"Your voice's almost as pretty as your eyes," Caleb informed Tyler. His speech wasn't slurred, just slow, as if Caleb were thinking deliberately about each word he said. But he couldn't be thinking, or else he wouldn't really be saying these words. "You should talk more."
"---Home."
Sneaking Caleb into his own house was unnecessary. His mother was home, but she'd probably already passed out. It was the stairs that proved difficult. Caleb kept over stepping. Each time he missed a step, he'd fall, forcefully taking Tyler down with him, regardless of how adamantly Tyler struggled. And then each time, Tyler would have to pick them both right back up and Caleb would coo, 'wow, you're strong,' into Tyler's ear. And giggle, like a school girl, at the responsive blush.
Once in his room, Caleb fell onto the bed. The arm still around Tyler's neck brought Tyler down with him. And they both just laid there, breathing hard from the ridiculous amount of effort they'd just exerted.
Tyler didn't acknowledge Caleb's movement, not until he felt Caleb's weight settle against him; until he felt Caleb's lips on his neck and face and then finally his own lips. Caleb bit at his lips and Tyler opened his mouth. Caleb's tongue was clumsy and probing; the kiss was sloppy and wet. There was nothing romantic or earth shattering about this kiss. All that mattered was what it was…a kiss. On his lips. And everything that kiss signified but couldn't ever accomplish. A sloppy, wet, pathetically clumsy kiss that signified beauty and lust and years of restrained anguish.
Tyler found himself returning the kiss eagerly, even though he knew Caleb was just horny because he was drunk, and Tyler was conveniently close, within fucking distance. That's all it was, because it couldn't be anything else.
Caleb's hands splayed across Tyler's chest and then lowered, hurried in their clumsy search. "Take off --" Caleb panted into his kiss. "I want to fuck you. Take off your pants."
Tyler smiled despite himself, his cheeks a painfully hot red. Caleb hadn't ever been so blunt, not with something like this. Sex. Not that Tyler knew. Tyler had imagined Caleb would hold sex as something serious and life-altering. Not to be done casually, or with alcohol induced clumsy hands. "You're drunk, Caleb," he repeated. Caleb was kissing him while his hands fumbled with Tyler's jeans. But the jeans weren't cooperating. "We can't have sex - not when you're --"
"Shhh," Caleb shushed, pressing his lips against Tyler's and silencing him. "None o' that." Frustrated with the unyielding button, he shoved Tyler's t-shirt up. "I want to see you strip for me," he announced in a breathy whisper against Tyler's lips, hands abrasively exploring his bare chest. "But not tonight. Tonight, we fuck. Take off you pants and -- and my pants."
In spite of himself, Tyler obediently unbuttoned his jeans and wiggled free of the confining material. He tugged off his t-shirt and Caleb went back to kissing him, any skin he could reach. Tyler's fingers moved to unbutton Caleb's jeans while Caleb sucked diligently at his neck. Every few seconds, Caleb's teeth would scrape against the bruised flesh and Tyler would jerk. He received that very un-caleb-like giggle every time. Caleb sounded so gleeful, so happy. It was unnerving and it was beautiful and it was making Tyler hard.
There was a sort of buzz to their movements, a rush, as if they both feared the realization that undoubtedly would come with their inevitable sobriety. Caleb left dark bruises across the bronze of Tyler's chest at irregular intervals. Tyler's nails bit into Caleb's suddenly bare shoulders. Their clothes seemed to merely melt away, their hands too quick with their actions for their sluggish minds to process. They were naked, and Tyler wasn't blushing anymore.
"Caleb," he gasped suddenly. Caleb didn't pause in his marking. "I've never done this --" Tyler groaned, his voice deepened with desire.
"You're a virgin," Caleb said, his lips moving against Tyler's spit-slick skin, muffled but so very loud in the room. His teeth snapped shut, nipping at an already tender bruise. The sharp intake of breath was enough to force forth an unashamed groan from Caleb. "That's adorable."
Tyler would have rolled his eyes, but Caleb's mouth was lowering, teeth nipping across his squirming stomach, and his eyes were too busy fluttering, he couldn't roll them. "It's okay," Caleb assured Tyler. His fingers lowered, stroking Tyler's inner thighs, urging his legs wider instead of moving them himself. Tyler proved compliant, as usual.
He remained still beneath Caleb and watched the older boy withdraw the lube from beneath his mattress. Caleb coated his fingers and eased one inside of Tyler. Although Caleb was being gentle, Tyler still gasped at the inevitable pain that accompanied violation. Suddenly, this drunken Caleb seemed to have unlimited patience. He waited until all traces of pain were erased from Tyler's face before adding a second finger, and proceeded to do the same before adding a third.
Tyler's fingers drew blood, digging viciously into Caleb's shoulders, when Caleb removed his fingers to replace them with something much bigger. Caleb was a gentleman about it - a tendency that persevered even while intoxicated. He cooed reassurance into Tyler's ear, and could practically feel the younger boy relax completely beneath him, despite his blatant discomfort.
It only took a few thrusts for Caleb to hit Tyler's prostate. He saw stars and dimly realized that Caleb was extremely familiar with all of this. Not just sex, but -- but this sex. Caleb's body covered Tyler's completely, and Tyler's arm wound around Caleb's neck, almost clinging, forcing Caleb to remain close, as if the boy would even dream of straying.
Their lips met again, in a blind rush of lust, kissing and biting hard enough to hurt, but the pain never reached them. The touches and kisses and bites were lost in the rush of the sex; each time Tyler's prostate was hit with the drunken force, he was sent reeling, struggling to gather his bearings without really caring to. This sex left him floating, not quite touching anything, as Caleb's body rocked against his, as Caleb's fingers touched him - sending their own electricity humming across his overheated flesh. He was formless, weightless, satisfied even though he hadn't cum yet. Satisfied within the act without the aide of a conclusion - the inevitable conclusion. Satisfied with Caleb's touches, and that whispered word in his ear, in his head. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck.