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just because you two were raised by Scotch wolves
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things you need to know ·this is not the day for you to be brave with me, boy.
Jodie, 19 from Manchester & living in London. Modesty is for amateurs.
It's like the moss growing around that little light bulb there. Life finds a way.
slash owls slashing
Finney/Kelvin ficlets - Black Fang
AN: Here’s some little things that were hiding in my drafts/ask box. They’re mostly ridiculous and porny, and some of them are just things we wrote to each other so they’re not perfect or anything. I’d say sorry but I’m not, lalalalala. Old Black Fang is here.
I always imagine Finney is really into literature. Like, when he was growing up, being passed from pillar to post he’d just find somewhere quiet to read. It would take him away from everything and he could get through two or three books a week sometimes. He might not have gotten through school and he might not have a piece of paper to prove that he’s smart, but he really is one of the most intelligent and well read people Kelvin’s ever come across. He can quote from everything he’s read as well, like he remembers his favourite lines and uses them whenever he wants Kelvin to whimper deep in his throat. He’s got a magnificent love of language, and that’s why he can roll the old English definition of ‘paramour’ off his tongue at any given moment. He can use it in every way, and he can pull an amazing quote out of his mind at any moment to make Kelvin go weak at the knees, make him feel overpowered in the most glorious way. If Kelvin says something that makes Finney doubt he knows the rules, he’ll always correct him.
“Oh, my boy. When are you going to learn that you’re the exception to the rule?”
“What rule?”
“No man is by nature the property of another.”
“What? Who’s rule is that?”
“Samuel Johnson, 1777. Didn’t you learn anything at school? The point is, my boy, when Mr. Johnson wrote that, he didn’t have you in mind. Now, on your back. I’ll have no more cheek from you.”
*
“Finney, oh god, please.”
Kelvin can feel the older man’s breath hot on his neck, one hand placed on the wood near Kelvin’s head and the other wrapped around his waist, holding him in place. Kelvin’s hand are digging into the glass, and it’d be more painful under other circumstances.
Circumstances other than being slowly fucked against the cold glass of a gorgeous hotel room with the Rome skyline stretched out behind them.
“You’re quite vocal tonight, boy.”
Finney’s lips are trailing along Kelvin’s jaw, dropping small bites here and there and it’s unraveling Kelvin into pieces. The glass is still frigid against his bare back, piercing shots of chills racing through him; it’s mixing with the heat from Finney’s breath and hands and Kelvin’s genuinely not sure if he’s going to make it out alive.
“Well, you know - fuck, yes Finney - when in Rome…”
That makes the older man smile, Kelvin can tell even with his eyes closed, because Finney pulls him closer and shifts his hips, which makes Kelvin’s head fall back and hit the glass. Another bruise for the morning, but Kelvin can’t care. Finney’s thrusts are smooth and even, and when Kelvin comes it’s with Finney’s eyes boring into him and icy goose bumps covering him. This was never going to be normal, Kelvin knew that, but this was beyond anything he could’ve dreamed of.
His hand reaches up to pull Finney’s lips to his, feeling his breath hitch and his body shake against his, and Kelvin bites his lip as Finney comes. They stay just like that, neither daring to move first, breathing and existing solely in this space. Eventually they have to move, and after they clean up, Finney lays Kelvin down and wraps his arms gently around him. It’s a stark contrast from just a few minutes ago. and Kelvin can only hope that they make this go on for a long time.
*
He’s stood outside Mark’s office and he can hear Mark tell Jeremy on the phone that Finney never reported back from his last job. It’s only been a month or so since Finney took him back to his flat in Sloane Square and yet Kelvin can’t stand the feeling he gets in his chest when he hears that something might have happened to him. He isn’t fooling himself; he knows that Finney wants what he wants and he wants Kelvin there for one thing only but God, sometimes the older man looks at him in a way or touches his face that makes Kelvin believe it could be something more. It dawns on him then that Kelvin’s already falling in love with him.
*
Finney?
Yes boy?
Do you ever…I mean, if you want me to, to uh
Slow it down Kelvin, use your words.
I mean, okay. Do you ever want me to do anything particular for you?
What do you mean?
You know what I mean.
Please, enlighten me.
I mean, like, do you want me to do things…oh sod it, like this.
Christ! Yes that would be acceptable.
And what if I do this…..right here?
Fuck alright, that’s it.
No, I wasn’t done!
You fucking are, boy. It’s my turn now.
But I didn’t even get a proper tur- fuck, yes sir, alright.
*
One time, Finney took Kelvin to California for week. It was really nice and they drove up the coast in the sunny weather. They’d stay in really nice hotels every night, always with a sea front view, and Finney rented a classic American corvette to drive the old time. They at shitty food and just drove for hours. It was ridiculous and wonderful, and one of the best vacations Kelvin’s ever had. There were no pressures, no deadlines or crisis; just him and Finney and the wide open highway.
*
What if Finney had to wear a top hat for a dance once, and he danced with people and Kelvin had to stand there and watch and it was really hard for him but when they got back up to his room he danced with Kelvin even though there wasn’t any music and Kelvin laid his head on Finney’s chest and it was really lovely.
*
Years later, on a Christmas morning far away from the Glasgow one, Finney once again finds himself standing alone on an empty street in the cold. He’s waiting outside the chemist’s, the only one in town, and it’s not open yet. Finney knows he shouldn’t be irritated by this, as it is Christmas, and they were opening the shop just for him, after all. Earlier that morning, Kelvin’s niece had come down with an awful cough, and his sister and him had sat up most of the night with her. When Finney had seen how bad she was, he went to their study and made a phone call, which is what led him here, with french wind whipping harshly at his face.
He doesn’t think much about the Glasgow times anymore. It’s been years since he last stepped foot there, him and Kelvin turning their backs on that place for good after Alli died, and even longer since a lost and young scottish lad walked though streets as if they were paved with gold. It seems like a completely different life, so far removed from what he’s built now. From what they’ve built, the boy and him; that’s more correct. Finney had always thought that he never needed anyone; he was better, stronger on his own. But then Kelvin came along and destroyed every single wall he’d built, and sometime Finney feels as if he never made any effort to protest. It’s as if he knew, subconsciously, that he didn’t need to fight, not with Kelvin, because this one would be the endgame he didn’t even knew he needed.
Roughly forty minutes later, Finney pulls his car back up to the house, sacks of cough liquid and pills and various snacks and candies weighing down his hands. He’s instantly pounced upon by children, and he manages to escape with the medicine and make his way upstairs relatively unharmed. Kelvin’s there, walking slowly around one of the spare bedrooms while he holds a very sleepy little girl in his arms, and he smiles when Finney walks through the doorway. He smiles even more when Finney shows him what he’s procured at the store and, very gently, he lays his niece down and shuts the door. Sleep, finally. Finney hands him the bag, but Kelvin ignores it for the moment, opting instead to wind his arms around Finney and kiss him his thanks. And Finney feels has happy and warm, as if everything he’s been through has finally come full circle. He’s kissed and killed people on many Christmas’s before, but none of it have ever felt as good as Finney feels now, completely surrounded by his lovely boy.
*
There have been moments when Finney knew he was in trouble, deep and unavoidable trouble. All those years ago with Ally, times he doesn’t like to think about, he would constantly find himself there. The incident with the wardrobe stands out, but there were others beyond that. As he’s gotten older, facing danger has become almost routine for him; it’s a natural companion in the life he’s lead, but Finney always prided himself on being able to see clearly through the terror and trouble and find a way out. It’s what made him so good at his job, what made him so good at everything.
This time however, trouble hit Finney and he never saw it coming.
Looking back, he supposes it started in Prague. It was the end of his 3 weeks there, and having spent most of those in deep cover in a drug smuggling ring, Finney was enjoying the fresh air as he walked down by the river. The job was done, the marks killed, and Mark’s clean-up men had already arrived. His flight home wasn’t until morning, which Finney found he actually almost regretted. He was…..anxious to see the boy. He hadn’t necessarily missed him, or at least that’s what he kept telling himself.The parting image of Kelvin floated to his thoughts, of the boy half naked asleep on his bed in the early morning, and Finney felt a sharp pain somewhere in his chest. He hated that, that aching need for someone else, and he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as he made his way to the hotel.
About half way there, Finney suddenly stopped and turned to the small shop on his left. It was an old shop, hidden discreetly among the larger ones, and lining it’s windows was an assortment of colourful ties. They were never anything he would ever think of wearing, but the boy would. Finney can’t remember entering the shop and the next thing he remembers is leaving it with a bag full of boxes of rich and expensive cloth. He stares at the bag all night, half debating to just throw them all in the trash. This was getting ridiculous.
In the end he doesn’t, and when Kelvin shows up at his place a few hours after he does, precisely on time and carrying homemade lasagne, Finney doesn’t really remember why he was worried.
*
The view from the room where Finney and Kelvin stay when he’s on a job there. It’s small, but Kelvin doesn’t mind. Not especially when he can see the Eiffel Tower behind Finney as the older man fucks him into oblivion.
*
When Kelvin gets sick, like proper running nose and fever sick, Finney reads Dickens to him. He always found it soothing when he was a child, to curl up with one of the large, Victorian masters and just read away his aches and pains. It turns out it helps Kelvin too, since the very first time he pulled Oliver Twist off the bookshelf and sat down in the chair next to the bed. Finney would read, Kelvin would listen and drift off to sleep, then Finney would keep watch until his eyes opened again.
*
For vacation once, they went driving through Europe - Switzerland, Czech Republic, Italy; over mountains and down canyons. It was sickeningly beautiful, and not just the scenery. Finney’s never looked so handsome, with the top down on his new Mercedes and his designer shades. His grey hair is ruffled slightly, but Kelvin loves it. He stares at him for a very long time, with the magnificent views as a backdrop, and he can’t help but wonder how an ordinary kid from Surrey ended up here, in a car worth more than his house, next to a man who kills people for a living. It’s insane and mad and absolutely perfect.
*
Kelvin is waiting.
He’s been waiting for a while now, sat at the small table near the back of the nice Italian place. It’s not too busy tonight, not surprising for it being a Tuesday. His waiter has been nice, bringing him water the whole time. He even stopped asking if Kelvin wanted to look at a menu; he was just as aware of the situation as Kelvin was. Kelvin supposes he probably encounters it fairly frequently; the empty chairs, the embarrassed looks and quick exists have an hour or so.
Kelvin finishes off his sixth glass of water, then glances down at his phone. No new messages. He can’t say he’s that surprised over it. Finney never promised he would show up, never really agreed at all to the dinner. But he hadn’t said no, hadn’t refused Kelvin’s proposal entirely when he had finally worked up the courage to ask him earlier, when it was just the pair of them in the empty lunch room. Kelvin had stammered through, and he knew his hands were shaking as he spoke, but Finney let him finish then sorted of nodded. Kelvin left, feeling stupidly happy about it all.
Hours later, he’s regretting letting his hopes get too high over this. He knew what he and Finney were: paramours, nothing more than lovers when it was convenient. Finney had made that perfectly clear that first night, so Kelvin had no one to blame for his current state but himself. He’d always prided himself on being level-headed; able to face any reality with calm and grace. But looking around at the couples seated sporadically throughout the restaurant, all he can feel is small and foolish.
He drops some money on the table, more to cover the wasted time than any actual meal, and makes his way outside. It’s raining, and of course he’d forgotten his brolly back at his flat, but he doesn’t quicken his pace as he heads toward his tube stop. Maybe the rain will wash away this sense of irrational disappointment he’s still feeling. He knows what’s going to happen though. It’ll be the same as all the other times. Finney will eventually ring and ask him to come over, which Kelvin will do without hesitation. Things will be good, great even, and Kelvin will forget how he feels right now, shivering and alone out in the rain. He’d like to garner more confidence with himself, but why delude himself further. He knows he’ll come whenever Finney calls. Just maybe next time, he thinks as the thick droplets soak his hair and run down his face, he’ll be shamed in private, and not in a public restaurant. He doesn’t need anyone else’s judging eyes, just his own.
*
It’s the first time that Kelvin’s ever really heard Finney beg.
“Please Kelvin yes oh god. Right there, yesss please. Do it now, oh f-fuck yes. Kelvin I need you please. God yes fuck, please, faster.”
Kelvin doesn’t even know how to react. Finney’s eyes are glossed over, and he looks like he’s on some sort of drug. Kelvin’s never seen him like this, it’s thrilling and breathtaking. So he kisses him, letting the his desperate moans slide down this throat. He can feel Finney’s hands everywhere, too fast and quick and he knows that this, all of this, has become something entirely new.
*
When Finney and Kelvin walk in in episode 6, they totally just fucked. Absolutely. Kelvin’s got his head down so Grace can’t tell, and the way he looks totally annoyed when Finney hands him his coat. He rolls his eyes and just throws it down. He doesn’t give a rats ass about it, and is probably too distracted from the thought of Finney’s cock in his hand not 10 minutes before.
*
Also, Finney’s got a lighter cause Kelvin gave him one for his birthday and even though Finney scoffed, he really likes it and keeps it with him. “You never know when it may come in handy.” - “I’d rather have you to come in handy, boy.” Kelvin just laughed and kissed him again.
*
When Kelvin is lying on his front, Finney’s hands step from freckle to freckle across his back. It’s completely impulsive and he’s not sure why he does it. It’s not something he’s ever wanted to do before, but seeing Kelvin splayed out like that, all that skin that’s just his for the taking, well Finney can’t really help himself.
*
When Kelvin gets nervous he stutters. It was a habit he’s had since childhood, one that he’s mostly gotten rid of as he’s gotten older. It’s always been embarrassing, tripping over his words and getting flustered by it all. It’s horrid and he’s mortified that it comes back so strong when he talks to Finney. But the older man never says anything about it, as others have before. He just waits, listens to to all of what Kelvin has to say, then responds, as if nothing’s amiss at all. It means more to him than Kelvin could ever say, and he loves him for it.
He’s added it to the ever growing list of things he can never say to Finney, all of which break his heart.
*
“Oh, my boy. When are you going to learn that you’re the exception to the rule?”
“What rule?”
“No man is by nature the property of another.”
“What? Who’s rule is that?”
“Samuel Johnson, 1777. Didn’t you learn anything at school? The point is, my boy, when Mr. Johnson wrote that, he didn’t have you in mind. Now, on your back. I’ll have no more cheek from you.”
*
“Finney, oh god, please.”
Kelvin can feel the older man’s breath hot on his neck, one hand placed on the wood near Kelvin’s head and the other wrapped around his waist, holding him in place. Kelvin’s hand are digging into the glass, and it’d be more painful under other circumstances.
Circumstances other than being slowly fucked against the cold glass of a gorgeous hotel room with the Rome skyline stretched out behind them.
“You’re quite vocal tonight, boy.”
Finney’s lips are trailing along Kelvin’s jaw, dropping small bites here and there and it’s unraveling Kelvin into pieces. The glass is still frigid against his bare back, piercing shots of chills racing through him; it’s mixing with the heat from Finney’s breath and hands and Kelvin’s genuinely not sure if he’s going to make it out alive.
“Well, you know - fuck, yes Finney - when in Rome…”
That makes the older man smile, Kelvin can tell even with his eyes closed, because Finney pulls him closer and shifts his hips, which makes Kelvin’s head fall back and hit the glass. Another bruise for the morning, but Kelvin can’t care. Finney’s thrusts are smooth and even, and when Kelvin comes it’s with Finney’s eyes boring into him and icy goose bumps covering him. This was never going to be normal, Kelvin knew that, but this was beyond anything he could’ve dreamed of.
His hand reaches up to pull Finney’s lips to his, feeling his breath hitch and his body shake against his, and Kelvin bites his lip as Finney comes. They stay just like that, neither daring to move first, breathing and existing solely in this space. Eventually they have to move, and after they clean up, Finney lays Kelvin down and wraps his arms gently around him. It’s a stark contrast from just a few minutes ago. and Kelvin can only hope that they make this go on for a long time.
*
He’s stood outside Mark’s office and he can hear Mark tell Jeremy on the phone that Finney never reported back from his last job. It’s only been a month or so since Finney took him back to his flat in Sloane Square and yet Kelvin can’t stand the feeling he gets in his chest when he hears that something might have happened to him. He isn’t fooling himself; he knows that Finney wants what he wants and he wants Kelvin there for one thing only but God, sometimes the older man looks at him in a way or touches his face that makes Kelvin believe it could be something more. It dawns on him then that Kelvin’s already falling in love with him.
*
Finney?
Yes boy?
Do you ever…I mean, if you want me to, to uh
Slow it down Kelvin, use your words.
I mean, okay. Do you ever want me to do anything particular for you?
What do you mean?
You know what I mean.
Please, enlighten me.
I mean, like, do you want me to do things…oh sod it, like this.
Christ! Yes that would be acceptable.
And what if I do this…..right here?
Fuck alright, that’s it.
No, I wasn’t done!
You fucking are, boy. It’s my turn now.
But I didn’t even get a proper tur- fuck, yes sir, alright.
*
One time, Finney took Kelvin to California for week. It was really nice and they drove up the coast in the sunny weather. They’d stay in really nice hotels every night, always with a sea front view, and Finney rented a classic American corvette to drive the old time. They at shitty food and just drove for hours. It was ridiculous and wonderful, and one of the best vacations Kelvin’s ever had. There were no pressures, no deadlines or crisis; just him and Finney and the wide open highway.
*
What if Finney had to wear a top hat for a dance once, and he danced with people and Kelvin had to stand there and watch and it was really hard for him but when they got back up to his room he danced with Kelvin even though there wasn’t any music and Kelvin laid his head on Finney’s chest and it was really lovely.
*
Years later, on a Christmas morning far away from the Glasgow one, Finney once again finds himself standing alone on an empty street in the cold. He’s waiting outside the chemist’s, the only one in town, and it’s not open yet. Finney knows he shouldn’t be irritated by this, as it is Christmas, and they were opening the shop just for him, after all. Earlier that morning, Kelvin’s niece had come down with an awful cough, and his sister and him had sat up most of the night with her. When Finney had seen how bad she was, he went to their study and made a phone call, which is what led him here, with french wind whipping harshly at his face.
He doesn’t think much about the Glasgow times anymore. It’s been years since he last stepped foot there, him and Kelvin turning their backs on that place for good after Alli died, and even longer since a lost and young scottish lad walked though streets as if they were paved with gold. It seems like a completely different life, so far removed from what he’s built now. From what they’ve built, the boy and him; that’s more correct. Finney had always thought that he never needed anyone; he was better, stronger on his own. But then Kelvin came along and destroyed every single wall he’d built, and sometime Finney feels as if he never made any effort to protest. It’s as if he knew, subconsciously, that he didn’t need to fight, not with Kelvin, because this one would be the endgame he didn’t even knew he needed.
Roughly forty minutes later, Finney pulls his car back up to the house, sacks of cough liquid and pills and various snacks and candies weighing down his hands. He’s instantly pounced upon by children, and he manages to escape with the medicine and make his way upstairs relatively unharmed. Kelvin’s there, walking slowly around one of the spare bedrooms while he holds a very sleepy little girl in his arms, and he smiles when Finney walks through the doorway. He smiles even more when Finney shows him what he’s procured at the store and, very gently, he lays his niece down and shuts the door. Sleep, finally. Finney hands him the bag, but Kelvin ignores it for the moment, opting instead to wind his arms around Finney and kiss him his thanks. And Finney feels has happy and warm, as if everything he’s been through has finally come full circle. He’s kissed and killed people on many Christmas’s before, but none of it have ever felt as good as Finney feels now, completely surrounded by his lovely boy.
*
There have been moments when Finney knew he was in trouble, deep and unavoidable trouble. All those years ago with Ally, times he doesn’t like to think about, he would constantly find himself there. The incident with the wardrobe stands out, but there were others beyond that. As he’s gotten older, facing danger has become almost routine for him; it’s a natural companion in the life he’s lead, but Finney always prided himself on being able to see clearly through the terror and trouble and find a way out. It’s what made him so good at his job, what made him so good at everything.
This time however, trouble hit Finney and he never saw it coming.
Looking back, he supposes it started in Prague. It was the end of his 3 weeks there, and having spent most of those in deep cover in a drug smuggling ring, Finney was enjoying the fresh air as he walked down by the river. The job was done, the marks killed, and Mark’s clean-up men had already arrived. His flight home wasn’t until morning, which Finney found he actually almost regretted. He was…..anxious to see the boy. He hadn’t necessarily missed him, or at least that’s what he kept telling himself.The parting image of Kelvin floated to his thoughts, of the boy half naked asleep on his bed in the early morning, and Finney felt a sharp pain somewhere in his chest. He hated that, that aching need for someone else, and he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as he made his way to the hotel.
About half way there, Finney suddenly stopped and turned to the small shop on his left. It was an old shop, hidden discreetly among the larger ones, and lining it’s windows was an assortment of colourful ties. They were never anything he would ever think of wearing, but the boy would. Finney can’t remember entering the shop and the next thing he remembers is leaving it with a bag full of boxes of rich and expensive cloth. He stares at the bag all night, half debating to just throw them all in the trash. This was getting ridiculous.
In the end he doesn’t, and when Kelvin shows up at his place a few hours after he does, precisely on time and carrying homemade lasagne, Finney doesn’t really remember why he was worried.
*
The view from the room where Finney and Kelvin stay when he’s on a job there. It’s small, but Kelvin doesn’t mind. Not especially when he can see the Eiffel Tower behind Finney as the older man fucks him into oblivion.
*
When Kelvin gets sick, like proper running nose and fever sick, Finney reads Dickens to him. He always found it soothing when he was a child, to curl up with one of the large, Victorian masters and just read away his aches and pains. It turns out it helps Kelvin too, since the very first time he pulled Oliver Twist off the bookshelf and sat down in the chair next to the bed. Finney would read, Kelvin would listen and drift off to sleep, then Finney would keep watch until his eyes opened again.
*
For vacation once, they went driving through Europe - Switzerland, Czech Republic, Italy; over mountains and down canyons. It was sickeningly beautiful, and not just the scenery. Finney’s never looked so handsome, with the top down on his new Mercedes and his designer shades. His grey hair is ruffled slightly, but Kelvin loves it. He stares at him for a very long time, with the magnificent views as a backdrop, and he can’t help but wonder how an ordinary kid from Surrey ended up here, in a car worth more than his house, next to a man who kills people for a living. It’s insane and mad and absolutely perfect.
*
Kelvin is waiting.
He’s been waiting for a while now, sat at the small table near the back of the nice Italian place. It’s not too busy tonight, not surprising for it being a Tuesday. His waiter has been nice, bringing him water the whole time. He even stopped asking if Kelvin wanted to look at a menu; he was just as aware of the situation as Kelvin was. Kelvin supposes he probably encounters it fairly frequently; the empty chairs, the embarrassed looks and quick exists have an hour or so.
Kelvin finishes off his sixth glass of water, then glances down at his phone. No new messages. He can’t say he’s that surprised over it. Finney never promised he would show up, never really agreed at all to the dinner. But he hadn’t said no, hadn’t refused Kelvin’s proposal entirely when he had finally worked up the courage to ask him earlier, when it was just the pair of them in the empty lunch room. Kelvin had stammered through, and he knew his hands were shaking as he spoke, but Finney let him finish then sorted of nodded. Kelvin left, feeling stupidly happy about it all.
Hours later, he’s regretting letting his hopes get too high over this. He knew what he and Finney were: paramours, nothing more than lovers when it was convenient. Finney had made that perfectly clear that first night, so Kelvin had no one to blame for his current state but himself. He’d always prided himself on being level-headed; able to face any reality with calm and grace. But looking around at the couples seated sporadically throughout the restaurant, all he can feel is small and foolish.
He drops some money on the table, more to cover the wasted time than any actual meal, and makes his way outside. It’s raining, and of course he’d forgotten his brolly back at his flat, but he doesn’t quicken his pace as he heads toward his tube stop. Maybe the rain will wash away this sense of irrational disappointment he’s still feeling. He knows what’s going to happen though. It’ll be the same as all the other times. Finney will eventually ring and ask him to come over, which Kelvin will do without hesitation. Things will be good, great even, and Kelvin will forget how he feels right now, shivering and alone out in the rain. He’d like to garner more confidence with himself, but why delude himself further. He knows he’ll come whenever Finney calls. Just maybe next time, he thinks as the thick droplets soak his hair and run down his face, he’ll be shamed in private, and not in a public restaurant. He doesn’t need anyone else’s judging eyes, just his own.
*
It’s the first time that Kelvin’s ever really heard Finney beg.
“Please Kelvin yes oh god. Right there, yesss please. Do it now, oh f-fuck yes. Kelvin I need you please. God yes fuck, please, faster.”
Kelvin doesn’t even know how to react. Finney’s eyes are glossed over, and he looks like he’s on some sort of drug. Kelvin’s never seen him like this, it’s thrilling and breathtaking. So he kisses him, letting the his desperate moans slide down this throat. He can feel Finney’s hands everywhere, too fast and quick and he knows that this, all of this, has become something entirely new.
*
When Finney and Kelvin walk in in episode 6, they totally just fucked. Absolutely. Kelvin’s got his head down so Grace can’t tell, and the way he looks totally annoyed when Finney hands him his coat. He rolls his eyes and just throws it down. He doesn’t give a rats ass about it, and is probably too distracted from the thought of Finney’s cock in his hand not 10 minutes before.
*
Also, Finney’s got a lighter cause Kelvin gave him one for his birthday and even though Finney scoffed, he really likes it and keeps it with him. “You never know when it may come in handy.” - “I’d rather have you to come in handy, boy.” Kelvin just laughed and kissed him again.
*
When Kelvin is lying on his front, Finney’s hands step from freckle to freckle across his back. It’s completely impulsive and he’s not sure why he does it. It’s not something he’s ever wanted to do before, but seeing Kelvin splayed out like that, all that skin that’s just his for the taking, well Finney can’t really help himself.
*
When Kelvin gets nervous he stutters. It was a habit he’s had since childhood, one that he’s mostly gotten rid of as he’s gotten older. It’s always been embarrassing, tripping over his words and getting flustered by it all. It’s horrid and he’s mortified that it comes back so strong when he talks to Finney. But the older man never says anything about it, as others have before. He just waits, listens to to all of what Kelvin has to say, then responds, as if nothing’s amiss at all. It means more to him than Kelvin could ever say, and he loves him for it.
He’s added it to the ever growing list of things he can never say to Finney, all of which break his heart.
*
