Work Text:
Kayn left the Discord call, then flopped back down on his bed, spread out like a starfish, and let out a relieved sigh. Somehow, in the midst of that teasing session with Sett, Aphelios, and Ezreal, Kayn had evaded scrutiny from his bandmates about his own embarrassing collection of posters and fan material. No one mentioned it. Not even Sett, who’d been the one to see the full extent of Kayn’s collection from when he helped Kayn take his boxes up to his room the day he moved into the house along with the rest of their new band.
Kayn glanced at the wall next to him. The entire space from where his bed touched the wall all the way up to the ceiling was filled with all sorts of photos. A few of them were of him and his dysfunctional ass family, but for the most part, it was filled with music stuff he’d collected over the years. As he looked through the sea of metal band posters and magazine clippings of his favorite rock stars, he locked onto one that didn’t quite fit in with the others. Ezreal’s honey-colored eyes, visible under designer sunglasses, stared back at him with a look that could only be described as beckoning.
Buy me! His eyes practically demanded, which is exactly what Kayn did when he saw the magazine at a grocery store checkout roughly a year ago. At the time, Kayn didn’t know what propelled him to buy the damn thing, but after joining the music industry himself a theory had quickly formed in his mind, and as he got to know his new bandmates, his firsthand experience only confirmed it.
In short, his theory was this: Ezreal achieved his fame through the marketing of his image alone. It was the only reason Kayn could think of that explained Ezreal’s monumental popularity after a debut track as laughably manufactured as “You’re My Museum”. It was supplemented by his personality, of course, as Kayn had learned that the little pop prince was exactly as childishly earnest in real life as he was in interviews.
Kayn stuck his tongue out at the offending image as it smiled back at him.
A deep, disapproving voice in his head said, Well, this is pathetic.
Kayn felt Rhaast’s thoughts stirring along with his own. As much as the demon wanted to think he had control because he provided Kayn’s performing voice, Kayn was the one who actually knew how the industry worked.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Rhaast?” Kayn said, exasperated. “I only keep these photos to remind myself of who I need to surpass, and what must be done in order to do so.”
So why do you have this one? Rhaast directed his attention to a magazine spread from a gratuitous underwear shoot.
Kayn groaned and flipped over onto his stomach, burying his face into a pillow.
Offering his body as a vessel for a malefic being in exchange for vocal talents came with its perks, good and otherwise. Sometimes, it was like having a roommate; inconvenient, intrusive, and annoying, but inevitable when you’re a busy musician traveling on the road trying to make it big in the industry. Other times, it was like having a nosy, overzealous friend who was a little too invested in your personal life. A friend with total access to your mind and all its thoughts, even the unwanted ones.
Kayn rationalized that this thing — obsession , Rhaast supplied unhelpfully — he had about Ezreal was simply a misunderstanding from the part of his brain that dealt with desire. Kayn desired fame (come on, name someone in this industry who didn’t) and above all else he wanted to be the best artist in the world. He refused to settle for less.
As of now, Ezreal had what Kayn wanted. Global renown, a chart-topping single, and brand deals galore. Not that the little prince deserved it. If Kayn learned anything from the two or so weeks he’d spent living with his new bandmates, it was that everything Ez had ever gotten was handed to him. The most effort he ever needed to exert to get something he wanted was as miniscule as flashing a smile. He was totally manufactured, an industry plant, most likely, watered superfluously through good PR and endorsements that capitalized on his sunny good boy image. He had the whole industry wrapped around his finger by the force of his looks and personality alone. If Kayn wanted to get for himself what the little prince of bubblegum pop had, then he had no choice but to pay attention to him.
This ‘obsession’, as Rhaast called it, was just an extension of Kayn’s own career ambitions. And if he ever got flustered when he saw the little prince, in the flesh or otherwise, it was just the wires in his brain getting crossed. That was all.
Most would call this a crush, actually, said Rhaast.
Kayn buried his face further into the pillow. A crush. How mortifying. He didn’t want to hear any more of Rhaast’s unwarranted opinions. He opened his phone and typed out a message to his sister.
Kayn : day 17 of recording w heartsteel. trying not to lose my mind.
Joining up with your competition might have been an unorthodox way to beat them, sure, but Kayn was never one to take the conventional route (if his demon deal didn’t make that obvious). The life of a rock star was dirty and gritty, but he'd been told about the importance of public image regardless of your genre, and he already messed his up by getting himself kicked out of his last band. After receiving the offer to join Heartsteel, he was quick to take it up, regardless of what he thought of the other members.
His phone pinged. Akali responded. Kayn opened the message to a photo of her and Evelynn sprawled out on a black leather couch with a half-eaten bowl of popcorn between them.
Akali : Sucks 2 suck ig
Kayn rolled his eyes. Akali was unsympathetic to his plight, what a surprise. Three dots popped up on her side of the screen.
Akali : How’re the guys
Kayn : yone’s on my ass about everything. same w ksante. its like i never left zed and shen’s place.
Akali reacted to that message with a laugh.
Kayn : sett is cool. phel is cooler.
Akali : And the lil pop star?
Kayn’s fingers froze over the keyboard. He didn’t even know where to start. Ez had everything Kayn wanted, but went about it in a way that annoyed Kayn on a deeply fundamental level. When he looked down, Akali had sent another message.
Akali : Got you speechless huh?
Actually, Kayn was in the middle of typing her a paragraph about his theory (that Ez was an industry plant who only got his fame through his public image) and his plan (to somehow achieve, no, surpass, the level of fame that belonged to his new bandmate by obviously being better and cooler than him), when she sent another text.
Akali : You still have that magazine he fronted? The one with the underwear shoot?
Kayn deleted his paragraph, huffing in annoyance.
Kayn : fuck off
It was like everyone was out to piss him off today. He threw his phone behind him. It fell into the crack between his bed and the wall of posters, and landed on the floor somewhere under his bed with a dull thud. He allowed himself one sigh of self-pity before he got up and crawled underneath his bed to retrieve his phone, feeling more agitated by the second. There was a little shit hiding beneath that princely image, if their interactions were anything to go by, and Kayn was determined to pry it out of him, along with any industry secrets he might be hiding, too.
Once he got his phone back, he put on his boots and decided to blow off steam on a walk. K’Sante had been the one to get him into the habit— he’d said something about how walking was a guaranteed mood-booster and the perfect way to clear your head, yadda yadda, whatever else his therapist suggested because K’Sante was well-adjusted like that. Kayn didn’t need a therapist. If he wanted to bare his thoughts to someone, he had Rhaast, who pretty much counted as a therapist, anyway, for all the unwanted judgment he offered about Kayn’s life, and talking to him was free.
On his way out the door, he ran into Aphelios.
“Oh, hey Phel,” he said. “You give the boss man hell? Death by a thousand plushies?”
Aphelios looked at him for a moment, as if thinking, then pulled him in for a hug.
“Uh. Okay,” said Kayn.
Aphelios was a weird guy. Obviously limited in his communication, but if Kayn had to choose a favorite of his new bandmates, Aphelios won by a long shot. He was way funnier than Kayn had expected from the quiet and serious image he had going on. Kayn didn’t know what this particular interaction was about, but he gave Aphelios a little pat on the back. For being his favorite new bandmate and all.
Aphelios squeezed him tighter, then his hands moved south and gave Kayn a generous pat on the ass.
“Hey, quit it,” Kayn said, laughing. He pulled away and gave Phel a light punch on the shoulder. “Don’t need the boss man coming after me.”
Aphelios only smiled and waved goodbye as Kayn walked out the door and went to get himself some much-needed air.
When Kayn came back, the door to his room was open just a crack, which immediately sent alarm bells blaring in his head. He always left his door locked — it was a habit he’d honed and mastered after years of living with a nosy adopted step-sister and even nosier adoptive dads — and he’d been especially careful about it since he moved in with these freaks he called bandmates. Somehow, it wasn’t enough to deter them.
Kayn opened the door, prepared to yell at whoever managed to sneak inside, but froze once he saw who was actually there. Of all people, it had to be Ezreal who stood in his room, gawking at Kayn’s wall of posters, namely at the ones of himself. Kayn desperately tried to formulate an excuse, but he couldn't come up with anything, so he took the sheer mortification coursing through him and turned it into anger.
“What in the sweet fuck are you doing in here?” Kayn demanded.
Ezreal looked at him with a shit-eating grin, way different from the sweet smiles he gave to the camera, as exemplified by the photos on Kayn’s wall.
“You know, this is what we would call ‘fan behavior’,” Ezreal said, pointing at his own photos, obviously ecstatic at this discovery.
Kayn’s voice rose as the blood rushed to his face. “How the fuck did you even get in?”
Ezreal held up his key. Kayn stuck his hand in his back pocket and found it empty. Fucking Aphelios. Kayn mentally bumped Aphelios down to the bottom of his favorite new bandmate rankings. He stomped up to Ezreal, snatched the key from his hand, then roughly grabbed him by the back of the shirt and shoved him towards the door.
“Whoa, dude,” said Ezreal. “I was just messing with you.”
Ezreal tried to turn around, to look at Kayn with those big hazel eyes, the ones that had the entire music industry in a chokehold. Kayn shoved him harder, making him stumble. As long as Kayn didn’t see those eyes, he’d be immune to their beseeching effects.
“Out. Get out!”
Kayn gave one last shove and slammed the door shut before Ezreal could turn around or say anything else. So much for cooling off during his walk. Kayn spent the next few minutes fuming silently in his room, thinking with mounting horror about the absolute shitfest he was going to get from the whole band because of this. He’d have to do something, expose somebody else of something way more embarrassing— Aphelios, maybe, since he was the one who started this. While Kayn brainstormed what kinds of embarrassing secrets Aphelios could possibly be hiding, his phone lit up with a text from Yone.
Yone : What did you do
Kayn : idk what ur talking about
Yone : Whatever you did has Ezreal pouting in the kitchen
Kayn felt offended. Why did Yone assume it was his fault?
Kayn : hes always crying about something. why tf do u think i had sum to do with it??
Yone : Go apologize
Apparently the chokehold that the little popstar prince had on the music industry included their new producer, too.
“Sensitive little baby…” Kayn muttered.
Alright. Maybe he’d been harsh, a little too rough for the delicate little prince, sure, but he really couldn’t see how he was in the wrong here. It was his room that’d been entered without his permission, while he’d been out doing something as actually guiltless as a walk. So this is what Kayn got for trying to be a better person. He made a mental note to bring up this infraction whenever Yone or K’Sante gave him the next inevitable lecture about 'misconduct' or 'questionable behavior' or whatever.
Still, there was no point trying to argue with Yone once he’d made up his mind. Kayn went to the kitchen and found Ezreal standing in front of the open fridge, pouting, as Yone described, at the empty freezer. Ezreal ignored him in favor of staring (stupidly) at the empty drawers.
“Yone told me to apologize to you,” Kayn said flatly.
Kayn waited for Ezreal to point out that it wasn’t a proper apology, but instead, Ezreal looked to the side sheepishly and said,
“It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.”
That wasn’t what Kayn expected at all. Usually, this was the point in time when Ezreal would say something sarcastic, anything, just to get the heat off himself because heavens forbid the little prince ever did anything wrong. He still had a slight pout on his face, though, and wouldn’t meet Kayn’s eyes when he said it. He must have genuinely felt bad. Kayn felt a little twitch of guilt, like somehow it was his responsibility to tell Ez that it was alright and that no, Kayn wasn’t that mad that he had snuck into his room without his permission.
“It’s not really a big deal,” Kayn said gruffly. “You just walk around like you think this whole place is your kingdom.”
Ezreal looked up at him, offended at first, and then he laughed a little.
“Keep calling me a prince and I’ll end up acting like one,” Ezreal said. Then his face dropped slightly.
“So we’re still cool?” he asked, achingly earnest.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re still cool,” Kayn relented. “Well. I’m cool. You’re okay, I guess.”
It was a good enough answer for Ezreal, if his smile was any indication. Kayn’s heart fluttered a little.
This is your chance, said Rhaast. Ask him out. Take what’s yours. DO IT!!!
Kayn chewed on his lip, thinking about what to say. He wanted to deny Rhaast and remind him that any interactions he had with Ezreal fell under the pretense of trying to be more successful than him, but Ezreal was looking at him with those eyes, waiting.
“Why don’t we… hang out?” Kayn suggested.
No! Kayn couldn’t visibly see Rhaast in his head, but he felt something that was probably the demonic equivalent of a facepalm.
“Alright,” Ezreal said, curious. “What do you wanna do?”
Kayn led him to the garage, grinning so hard it made his cheeks hurt. It was the grin that Akali always told Kayn made him look like a psychopath, but it didn’t deter Ezreal, though he did frown once they stopped in front of the motorcycle the band kept parked in the garage.
“I thought you weren’t allowed to use that outside of the music video,” Ezreal said, like the goody-two-shoes Kayn knew he wasn’t.
Kayn snorted. “You gonna tell?”
There was a glimmer in his hazel eyes, and Ezreal’s concerned expression slowly morphed into a smirk. This is exactly what Kayn had suspected. Despite his pampered princely image, he had a rebellious streak, and Kayn wanted to see how far it went.
Kayn slung himself onto the seat of the motorcycle. Hanging on one of the handlebars was a helmet; only one, so he tossed it to Ez. It’s not like Kayn ever used one, anyway, and if anything happened to their precious prince, Kayn would be the one who got in trouble for it. Naturally.
Kayn waited for Ezreal to fit the helmet on his head and get settled in the seat behind him. Kayn gave Ezreal barely a moment to wrap his arms around Kayn's middle, loose and unsure, then Kayn sped out of the garage and away from the house before anyone could question what they were doing or where they were going.
With the wind rushing all around him, whipping on his face, he felt emboldened; he accelerated. Not enough for it to count as dangerous, but just enough to keep his company on edge. The grip Ezreal had around him, both on the arms wrapped around his middle and the thighs that bracketed his own, tightened. Ez even let out a little yelp, barely audible against the rushing of the wind around them. Kayn felt thrilled.
They rode a little bit out of the city to a quiet spot up a tall hill. Kayn stopped the motorcycle, pleased to find the parking lot nearly empty. Ezreal took off his helmet and laughed once he saw the retro neon lights of the sign above the sole building.
“Ice cream? Isn’t that a little tame for you?” Ezreal asked, grinning.
“I got hungry,” Kayn replied with a shrug. He elected not to mention that he got the idea to take them here after seeing Ez poking sadly through the empty freezer.
They got their orders, then sat outside to eat, perched on the motorcycle where it stood parked near the edge of the hill.
“I thought a hangout with you would have involved more lawbreaking,” Ez said in between spoonfuls of his ice cream. Strawberry— Kayn had made fun of him for it.
“You almost sound disappointed,” said Kayn, taking a bite out of his own frozen chocolate bar, because he was a freak like that. He tried not to visibly cringe as the ice cream sent a sharp flare of freezing-cold pain behind his forehead.
“Just a little surprised, is all.”
By the time they’d finished their ice cream, the sun had begun to set over the horizon, painting the sky above them in a marvelous blend of pink and violet— “The color of your hair,” Ezreal said, which Kayn swiftly denied although he made a mental note to set an appointment for a dye touch-up soon. From the top of the hill they could see the entire city skyline, a few flecks of light sprinkling in the windows of the concrete high-rises as the night approached.
“Nice,” said Kayn, at the general beauty that surrounded them because he would never be caught dead waxing poetic about the sky or some lame shit like that.
Ezreal didn’t have the same inhibitions. “It's beautiful out here. I love this feeling. Of being high up, above everyone and everything.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Kayn. “If you look real close over there—” he pointed to a random spot of gray in the distance “— I think you can see your head on that billboard, given how big it is.”
Ezreal punched him. It barely hurt.
“You’re always making fun of me,” Ez fumed. He looked real cute doing it, like a kitten trying to be angry, his face all scrunched up. “It wasn’t my choice, you know, having this— this ‘popstar prince’ image, or whatever you called it. My last label pushed me to be like that. It’s why I wanted out.”
Kayn understood. He wasn’t fond of his last gig either, and as much as Yone could be a stick in the mud, at least they were now able to make music that all of them actually liked. Well. Kayn would’ve liked to make something a little more hardcore, but they couldn’t really pull that off with Mr. Popstar over here.
Kayn chuckled. “Can’t help it. Your face is too cute for you to be anything else.”
Kayn’s eyes widened at his own words. That didn’t come out as the playful insult he meant it to be. He tried to come up with something mean to make up for it, but he was too distracted by the look in Ezreal's face, shocked at first, then amused, eyes bright and smile crooked. Kayn's phone pinged and he felt a wave of relief; he didn't know how he was going to recover from that slip up. He quickly pulled out his phone and only messed up punching in his passcode twice.
Fuck. It was a text from Yone.
Yone : Where are you
Kayn grumbled in annoyance. He quickly typed out a response.
Kayn : went out for a ride
Leave it to Yone to interrupt Kayn’s fun, even when he wasn’t around physically. Kayn put down his phone and took a deep breath, trying to quell the turning in his stomach. He focused on what he could see and feel around him. The smell of summer grass, wind blowing through his hair, the sun setting over the city skyline. A warm thigh pressed against his. When he turned to look at Ez, he was surprised to find that Ez was already looking back at him.
“See something you like?” Kayn asked.
Ezreal’s face made that cute little scrunch again. “Shut up!”
Kayn smirked. “Make me.”
Ezreal opened his mouth, about to say something, when Kayn’s phone pinged again.
Yone : A ride on what
Kayn realized a grave error in his last text.
Yone : Kayn
Yone : A ride on WHAT
Kayn put his phone away quickly. “We should probably head back. It’s, uh, getting late.”
Ezreal licked his lips. Kayn followed the motion intently. “Okay.”
They got settled back on the bike, pressed a little closer this time — “Getting cold,” Ezreal said, shivering a little, even though it wasn’t that late into the summer — with Ez tucking his chin on Kayn’s shoulder. It was uncomfortable, since it made the plastic edge of the helmet dig into the side of Kayn’s neck, but Ez made a satisfied little noise and Kayn couldn’t bring himself to tell him to let off.
They got an earful and more when they returned. First from Yone, then K’Sante. Most of it was directed at Kayn, which he found ridiculous considering Ezreal was just as guilty, but perish the thought that the perfect prince could ever get up to any wrong; never mind that most of the yelling had been about Kayn’s lack of a helmet. On the couch, peering at them from the top of his laptop, Aphelios watched the scolding unfold with a satisfied gleam in his eyes. Kayn pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then pointed them at Aphelios, who only shrugged and went back to typing.
Later that night, after Kayn had been banished to his room with his motorcycle privileges revoked (can’t revoke privileges you didn’t have to begin with, Shieda, Yone’s voice said in his head) and several new entries added to his list of chores, he heard a soft knock at his door.
Kayn opened it and found Ezreal standing there in his pajamas — soft flannel pants and an oversized hoodie that bared more of his neck than Kayn had ever seen, he thought a little hysterically — with a determined look on his face.
“I wanted to tell you something,” Ezreal said, stepping into Kayn’s room.
Kayn scoffed a little at the impudence, but he let Ezreal in, only feeling a fraction of the embarrassment he felt earlier when he first found Ezreal staring at the posters in his room. Cat out of the bag and all.
“What is it?” Kayn asked as he closed the door behind them.
Kayn found the front of his shirt yanked suddenly, then he was shoved forward to land back on his bed. He had a retort building (something snappy, he was sure) but it died in his throat when a warm solid weight sat on his lap and Ezreal’s lips crashed into his.
Their teeth clacked together at first, making them both moan in pain more than anything else, but Ezreal was quick to loop his arms around Kayn’s neck and bury fingers into his hair, keeping his head in place for a softer, sweeter kiss.
After the initial shock of being pushed and then subsequently kissed by the person he’d been feuding with for the past two weeks died down, Kayn found his mind hilariously empty of any thoughts other than more. Kayn grabbed the waistband of Ezreal’s pants and he used them to pull him even closer, rubbing their fronts together, friction delicious from the soft flannel of Ezreal’s pajamas against the hard denim of Kayn’s jeans.
One of Ezreal’s hands moved down to palm at the bulge at the front of Kayn’s pants, making Kayn break the kiss with a choked out moan.
Kayn desperately tried to regain control of the situation. There was no way — no way, he reiterated to himself — he’d ever let the little popstar prince take charge, milking noises out of him so easily.
“Am I seeing this right?” Kayn asked, a little breathless. “The little prince wants to be bad? Is that why he agreed to go on that ride with a guy like me?”
Ezreal’s other hand, the one still in his hair, released its grip to loop a finger into the metal ring in Kayn’s collar and tug.
“Dogs don’t speak,” Ezreal said, a sternness in his voice that Kayn didn’t think he’d ever heard before.
Kayn’s face flamed. “Don’t say that,” he groaned, but the damage had already been done. He was betrayed by his dick, which twitched under Ezreal’s hand.
Before Ezreal could do or say anything about that admission, Kayn flipped them over, easily putting Ezreal on his back and underneath him. He caught one of Ezreal’s wrists in one hand, and was going for the other when Ezreal reached into his hoodie’s pocket and pulled out a little square of foil. Kayn huffed out a laugh and grabbed the other wrist anyway as he swooped down for another kiss. He licked messily at the seam of Ezreal’s lips and nipped the bottom one in lieu of asking permission, and it was granted to him. Kayn’s tongue dove into his mouth, making Ezreal sigh happily and wrap his legs around Kayn’s hips, tugging him closer. Kayn squeezed Ezreal’s wrists and held them down, feeling delighted when Ezreal entertained him by lightly struggling against his grip.
Eventually, after a substantial amount of messy, wet kissing, the legs coiled around his middle loosened, and Kayn let out a light grunt as Ezreal’s socked foot pushed him back by his chest, making him release his hold on Ez’s wrists as he fell backwards.
Ezreal flipped himself over on his stomach and arched his hips up. Kayn felt his mouth go dry.
“Come on,” Ezreal said, throwing a look over his shoulder. The hazel in his eyes was nearly all gone, blown black and lids heavy with desire. He reached back with the hand holding the condom. Kayn took it, dumbly, while his other hand palmed the sweet little ass in front of him, squeezing, playing a little. It looked obscenely cute in a pair of soft flannel pants. Kayn gave Ezreal’s ass a quick kiss, he couldn’t help it, then pulled his pajamas and underwear all the way down and off.
Kayn’s hand ran up the back of Ezreal's thigh, pinching appreciatively at the swell of his ass before moving towards his hole. Kayn froze when his thumb found a spot of sticky wetness.
“Did you…” he began to ask, but he couldn’t find the words to finish his question, lost at the sight of Ezreal’s hole looking back at him, wet and shiny.
Ezreal threw him a glare over his shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d be smart enough to know how to do it right, so I did it myself.”
There was an insult there, Kayn knew, but he was too preoccupied by the mental image of Ezreal fingering himself open at the thought of doing this with him to be offended. He clung to that idea for a moment— did Ezreal come to Kayn’s room expecting this, already knowing he’d say yes? Kayn wondered what that said about him, but he was more curious about what Ezreal felt like on the inside, so he stuck his thumb in, then curled it upwards, tugging, eyes glued to the pretty pink stretch of his rim.
Something about this didn't quite line up with the idea that Kayn had before, and he was too far gone to deny that he hadn't imagined this, laying with the pretty popstar whose photos were tacked onto his walls. Ezreal was as bratty and spoiled as Kayn expected, but he was also a little rougher than Kayn thought he'd be, which made Kayn both excited and a little intimidated, but only because it wasn't exactly what he imagined from the popstar prince. This was better, though, definitely better.
Ez kicked him with his heel.
“Are you just going to look?” he demanded.
That snapped Kayn out of his thoughts. He pulled out his thumb, struggling a little since Ezreal’s hole squeezed tight around the digit, keeping him inside for a moment longer and wow that was hot, and then Kayn realized that he still had all his clothes on.
Take off your shirt, Kayn! Rhaast cheered, and Kayn did, although he mentally told Rhaast to kindly fuck off for the rest of this encounter please and thank you.
Kayn fumbled with his jeans and settled for getting them most of the way down his thighs. He pulled his cock out, letting out a satisfied hiss as he finally got a hand on himself. Despite appearances, he wasn’t a completely selfish lover, so he stuck two fingers into his mouth, getting them wet before he stuck them in Ezreal, scissoring them gently to get him used to the stretch. Ez poked him with his foot again.
“I told you already, I’m ready,” Ezreal said, getting insistent.
“I— It might be too much for you, sweetheart,” Kayn said, voice going for arrogant but he knew some concern slipped in there, too.
Most of Ezreal’s face was hidden, but Kayn spotted a tinge of pink dusting the tops of Ezreal’s ears.
“It’s fine,” he said, a bit quieter, more shy. “I like a little bit of a sting.”
A small, strained noise escaped Kayn’s throat, and he had to grip the base of his cock tighter to actually keep him from shooting too soon. The little prince was gonna kill him, and Kayn didn't even get his dick inside yet. Kayn wrapped up, then yelped as the condom snapped, broken.
“Uh,” he said, as Ezreal glared at him even harder. “It’s because I’m big.”
Ezreal let out a great, exasperated sigh, which Kayn thought was completely ridiculous and unnecessary after Ez dug into his hoodie’s front pocket and pulled out another condom.
“Wow,” said Kayn. “You really came prepared.”
“I won’t come at all if you don’t hurry up,” Ezreal fumed, throwing the condom blindly behind him.
Kayn wrapped up again, successfully this time, then lined himself up at Ezreal’s entrance. He strained a little at the bite of his own jeans digging into his thighs, but he liked the thought of it, he realized, of being so gone into their fucking that they didn’t even bother to get their clothes all the way off. Ezreal still wore his hoodie, which Kayn shoved upwards to reveal the smooth skin of his back and the slim dip of his waist.
How small was he there? Kayn put both hands on Ezreal’s waist, admiring how little of it there was, and how obscene it looked when both of Kayn’s hands splayed as he gripped him tight. Kayn wasn’t a big guy himself — he hated admitting it — but knowing and seeing that Ezreal was so much smaller than him stroked his ego in just the right way, sending pleasure straight to his dick as he pushed past the first ring of muscle, meeting so much tightness that he went a little lightheaded with it.
Kayn pushed in, slowly, carefully, watching Ezreal as he made a few pleased moans and fisted the sheets next to his head; he didn't seem at all intent in touching his own cock, which Kayn noted with keen interest. As Kayn pushed in, his hands rubbed soothingly up and down Ezreal's waist, and he gave a small kiss to the spot between Ezreal’s shoulder blades right under the pushed-up folds of his hoodie. Kayn groaned once his hips and the rough fabric of his jeans were flush to Ez’s ass and thighs and he couldn’t push forward any further.
He was content to stay there a moment, giving them both time to adjust, when Ezreal said, “I expected you to be rougher,” looking back at Kayn petulantly like the demanding little brat he was. Kayn pulled out about halfway and sharply snapped his hips in retaliation, starting a fast, demanding rhythm, all short, tight strokes, making Ezreal hum, pleased. He caught the sight of Ezreal’s eyes rolling back before he closed them.
Kayn wouldn’t have that, especially not after the little brat started running his mouth. He grabbed Ezreal’s hair where it was long and pulled back, hard enough for Ezreal to yelp and his eyes to open, shocked-wide, shiny with tears that threatened to fall at the corners.
Those were the same eyes that haunted Kayn’s nights, looking at him from the glossy sheen of posters and magazine covers— only, they weren’t so teasing and coy now. Kayn felt drunk on power, on the idea that he was taking Ezreal down from the high horse of his perfect pop star image and reducing him to a moaning, crying mess beneath Kayn. He twisted Ezreal’s hair around his fist, pulling on it so that Ez’s head tilted upwards, forcing him to look up at Kayn at a painful angle. It allowed Kayn to clearly see the desperation in Ezreal's face as his eyes rolled back, lashes wet, half-moons of moisture layered on the skin underneath.
“Open your mouth,” Kayn demanded, and his heart caught in his throat when Ezreal did just that, and made a show of sticking his tongue out, too.
Kayn spat into his open mouth. Ezreal gasped, surprised and maybe a little indignant, but then he swallowed what Kayn gave him with a satisfied moan. Kayn slammed into him, hard, and stayed there for a little bit to talk down on him.
“You’re a little fucking freak, aren’t you? That’s why you came here, to me, yeah? Knew you’d get this?”
Ezreal giggled, his eyes half-lidded as he bit his bottom lip.
“Yeah,” he said. “I knew.”
He looked up at Kayn, a wicked little gleam in his eyes that said what Kayn had known about him all along: I always get what I want.
Kayn only felt more determined to wipe that look off of him. He grabbed the sides of Ezreal’s ass, so hard that it made the skin beneath the grip of his fingertips white, and hauled it up higher, changing the angle of his strokes.
Ezreal’s moans pitched higher. “Oh, yeah, like that, please, like that!”
Kayn liked the sound of that — the begging, he desperately wanted to hear it again — but he was too lost in the warm heat of Ez’s hole, the light ripple of his skin on every stroke, the grip Kayn had on his ass that would surely bruise. Too quickly, Kayn could feel his orgasm building, and he had to force himself off to keep from getting there. Ezreal whined at this, as Kayn pulled out and stepped back off the bed. Kayn silently tried to get the feeling back in his legs; the strain of his pants must have cut off his circulation, but Ezreal didn’t need to know that.
“Relax, princess, I’m just turning you over,” Kayn grinned, feral and bright. “Wanna see your face when I make you come,” he added.
Ezreal let himself be flipped onto his back (without putting any effort into it himself, the lazy brat), then made a show of looking at the wall of posters next to Kayn’s bed.
“Don’t you think you see enough of me?” he said, wearing a cheeky little grin that mirrored the one on the magazine cover right next to his face.
One day. One day, because they sure as fuck were going to do this again, Kayn would get something to make Ez shut up for real, but for now he’d let the little prince crack his jokes, while he still could. Some achingly soft part of Kayn’s brain that he really considered punching right now added that it’d be a shame to cover up his mouth and hide his smile.
Kayn got back on the bed in between Ezreal’s legs, and leaned over to flick Ezreal’s forehead.
“Just shut up and take it.”
“I will, once you decide to give it.”
Kayn growled, then grabbed Ezreal’s hips and hauled him down into Kayn’s lap.
Ezreal let himself be manhandled, seemingly pleased by the treatment, but once he got comfortable Kayn noticed that there was hunger in his eyes, which Kayn didn’t see before when he had Ezreal laid out on his stomach. Ezreal made it clear now as he looked at Kayn, eyes raking up and down, his hands palming appreciatively at the hard planes of muscle on Kayn’s stomach, up his chest.
Kayn’s ego positively sang with delight. He sat back on his haunches, flexing a little before he spread Ezreal’s legs apart and fitted himself back into his hole.
The angle was different like this; not as easy to hit the spot that had Ezreal begging for it, but this was closer, more intimate, both of their expressions visible to the other. Kayn liked what he saw from there, Ezreal spread out underneath him with his green hair a little sticky from sweat, fanning out of his face messily on Kayn’s bed. Ezreal caught Kayn’s stare — reverent, Kayn was sure — and gave him a cheeky little smirk, knowing exactly what this image was doing for Kayn.
Kayn grabbed the hands roaming on his chest and pinned Ezreal's wrists down on either side of his head like he did earlier. He leaned over, letting his weight press slowly and heavy over Ezreal, dragging hard and deep into him. Kayn got close to the side of Ez’s head, lips catching roughly on his ear with every slow, hard grind of Kayn’s hips.
“What would your fans, what would everyone say if they saw you like this now, begging for someone to take you and treat you rough, fuck you hard?”
Ezreal didn’t answer, couldn’t, when the only noise he was capable of making was a sweet little moan every time Kayn brushed into that spot inside him. Kayn nipped at the hinge of his jaw, the shell of his ear, basking in the delighted little shivers his bites elicited.
Kayn pressed a kiss to Ezreal’s cheek and said, voice low, mockingly gentle and sweet, “I think they’d call you a slut.”
Ezreal made a noise, somewhere between a gasp and a sob, and Kayn groaned at the sudden tightness that surrounded him as Ezreal came between them, come splashing hot on both of their stomachs.
“Baby,” Kayn said, before kissing him on the lips as he came down from his high. Kayn loosened his grip on Ezreal’s wrists and moved up to his hands, lacing their fingers together.
Ezreal pulled away and started to say something, but Kayn kissed him again, muffling his words. Kayn felt him smile under the kiss. Eventually, Ez wiggled his hips a little, making Kayn break the kiss on a moan.
“Use me,” Ezreal said.
“Huh?” Kayn felt a little dumb, a little slow as if he were the one who came already.
Ezreal glared at him, but it looked pinched and cute and pouty in his post-orgasm glow. “You made me come, so now you get to use me. Don’t make me say it again.”
Kayn laughed, but it was more of a huff than anything, as he wondered, genuinely, what he possibly could have done to deserve something as good as this.
“You got it, princess,” Kayn said, bracing himself on his knees as he went back to fucking into Ezreal’s warm, pliant heat. Ez wrapped his legs around Kayn, crossing them at his back, hips tilting up to meet his thrusts. He let out a messy string of moans as he did it, oversensitive from having already come, but still determined to make it good for Kayn. Kayn felt a wave of affection washing over him, and he pressed their bodies together, chest to chest, and buried his face into the crook of Ezreal’s neck to kiss him open-mouthed there.
Kayn felt his orgasm approaching, and bit hard at the junction between Ezreal’s neck and shoulder when it finally reached him.
So his theory was right. Ezreal, through the force of his sickeningly sweet personality and the sheer magnetism of his ridiculous everything, had the entirety of the music industry whipped for him. And as Ezreal dozed on Kayn’s chest, wearing one of the pullovers he’d begged Kayn to let him borrow, Kayn found that he was among them, too, helplessly wrapped around Ezreal’s little finger.
Told you, said Rhaast, unhelpful as always, and that’s the last thought Kayn had before he drifted off to sleep, somehow not even a little bit mad.
Kayn woke up the next morning to warmth plastered on his side, an arm thrown over him, and a text.
Aphelios: You’re welcome ;)