[Noah lets go of his waist, pressing both his palms into the mattress for stability. Closing his eyes, he starts into a slow, tentative rhythm. He's so focused on the task, on making it good, that he nearly forgets to breathe; when he finally does, it's with a stuttered groan, full of relief and desire. His head bows, and his hair tickles Ronan's chest.
It's more physically demanding than he was anticipating, but he supposes it only makes sense - love is a huge, complicated, beautiful thing, so making it can't be easy.]
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It's more physically demanding than he was anticipating, but he supposes it only makes sense - love is a huge, complicated, beautiful thing, so making it can't be easy.]