[No response to that, since a few seconds later, he's creeping into Noah's closet and locking the door behind him.]
Hey.
[He was fully clothed when that text conversation began, but now he's wearing black sweatpants and nothing else. He changed out of his street clothes so fast he's out of breath.]
[Noah laughs, joyful and exhilarated. He's always been so sure that Ronan would bolt like a deer at such a forward comment, but instead he's right here, six feet of lanky, enthusiastic, barely-clothed boyfriend.]
Hey, yourself.
[Putting down his phone, Noah takes another sip from the bottle before passing it over. He doesn't make any room on the bed, instead just laying back and ignoring the way his cheeks have gone bright pink.]
[The time for bolting has long passed. Ronan is shy and he is chaste, but he is not a eunuch, and he's not about to ignore his own boyfriend's siren song. Climbing up onto the bed and settling in beside (and kind of halfway on top of) Noah, he takes the bottle and examines it for a moment in the light.]
[Noah prods at Ronan's chest, following the line of his muscles.]
Get on my level, man.
[It's just a tease of a comment - he doesn't care if Ronan drinks any more of it, or even what happens now that he's down here. His receptiveness is comfort and excitement enough.
Sitting up on one elbow, Noah sheds the fluffy blanket, pushing it to the other side of the bed. He's left just in boxers - blue, with little flamingos - and there's a question in his smile when he looks back over.]
[For once in his life, Ronan doesn't feel like drinking more liquor. He sets the bottle aside, turning his full attention to Noah. He honestly has no idea what's expected of him now that he's here, but either way, he eases in to brush a kiss over Noah's lips first.]
[Ever since coming back to life, just over a year ago, two parts of Noah's personality have been at odds with one another. He's meek and gentle, and he's a live wire. He wants to go slowly and softly, and he wants everything all at once. It's never more apparent than when he's with someone like this, disposed to quiet whispers and faint touches, but exploding with energy.
He meets Ronan's kiss with one just as easy, but it only lasts for a moment. He deepens it almost immediately, and tugs Ronan closer, aching for the warm pressure of being beneath him.]
[Ronan obeys, giant tamed beast that he is, and folds his body over Noah while straddling him about the hips. He bows to Noah's kiss, lips parting to dip his tongue into Noah's mouth for the smallest taste of him. Every move Ronan makes is always absurdly timid, as if wanting his boyfriend too much would be a crime. Or a sin - which, technically, it is.]
[As much as he appreciates and respects Ronan's slow gestures, Noah can't ignore the itch of urgency in his stomach. He's fine with this pace for as long as Ronan needs it, but he's also curious as hell.
Show me, he whispers. Show me how much you want me.]
[Ronan's stomach does a somersault at the order. He's no good at this. Not really. Not compared to Noah or most other boys his age. He knows what he wants, but doing it is another matter.
Kisses are fine. They're wonderful, actually. Ronan knows, though, that Noah expects more than that by this point. Their intimacy has moved at a snail's pace. Ronan often finds himself too afraid to even put his hands on Noah.
But now, because Noah's asking, he relents and gives in to desire. Ronan's hands slip around to the small of Noah's back, hips rocking in a languid grind as he pulls Noah closer to him. His tongue slides deeper into Noah's mouth, still shy but only because there's a fire inside him that threatens to rage out of control. He has to take care when surrendering to passion.
He's undeniably aroused, however. Noah will feel him there, in the place their bodies collide, throbbing with want.]
[The contact pulls a gasp from Noah's threat, and he scrabbles for leverage, fingertips pressing lines into Ronan's back. Physically, the sensation is fantastic, but there's even more behind it that leaves him breathless.
No one has ever wanted him this much.
That's good, he thinks back, breathless even in thought. That's so good. He doesn't tell Ronan to keep going, but he ruts his hips upwards once, twice, trying to find an angle.]
[With that movement, Ronan moans softly into Noah's mouth. Noah doesn't have to tell him to keep going because he doesn't think he could possibly stop now. He rocks his hips again, a shiver of pleasure running through his body, and his kiss becomes more urgent. Hungry.
Of course he wants Noah. He has always wanted Noah, before this place, before their first kiss by the lake. Back when Noah was merely his shy roommate with an overly tidy bedroom and a severe lack of appetite, back when Ronan understood nothing about him.
As soon as Ronan comes up for air, he pulls one hand up to caress Noah's cheek, and his gasping mouth presses kisses to the other cheek before he nuzzles it with the tip of his nose.]
[Noah reaches up to cradle Ronan's head, running his thumbs over the short hair behind his ears. It's a gentle touch, warm and adoring in the middle of an intensely heated moment. There's so much love between them, in every shared breath. How did they go so wrong last time? How did they ruin it?]
Wanted you too, [ he breaths out, a reply to Ronan's thoughts. He arches his body a little, trying to keep the rhythm.] Wanted all four of you.
[A pleading and pained whisper. Something aches in his chest and he's not sure if it's because his boyfriend is lusting over others or if it's because he's specifically lusting over Gansey and Adam, both of whom Ronan has never even allowed himself to consider.
Sitting back, Ronan takes Noah by the thighs and draws them up around his hips, pulling Noah onto his lap in one swift movement. He wraps both arms about Noah's waist, squeezing him close, and buries his face in the crook of Noah's neck.]
[The desperate, tight grip pulls an audible shudder from Noah's chest, and he skims one hand down over Ronan's back. Though he settles himself firmly on Ronan's lap, he stills the motion of his hips, trying instead to sooth and calm. His voice drops to a whisper, and his lips brush against Ronan's ear.]
[That he's a second or third choice. That he's in the way of something. That he should have been a better boyfriend and made time for Noah. That he should move out. That Adam should move in. That he's going to Hell. That he should have tried kissing Adam ages ago. That even if he had, Adam would have laughed at him the way Kavinsky did. That Noah has been wanting to kiss Adam for ages. That Adam is bound to be a better kisser than him and Noah must know it by now.
Once it's there, Ronan can't clear the image from his mind. He pictures Adam in his place, taking his spot in this bed, with Noah's legs wrapped around him and his elegant hands navigating Noah's body with the same expertise Adam applies to every scenario. Adam would be a good lover. He would study until he was sure of it and he would put Ronan to shame.
The worst part is... It feels like a wish, not a fear. Ronan doesn't understand it. Instead of being repulsed, he regrets not being there to see whatever happened between Noah and Adam. The jealousy is driving something in him, and though Ronan knows he should get up and leave, he pulls Noah closer and thrusts against him again, a half-second of relief for his frustration.]
[Noah matches the movement, grinding down and forward, wishing just that gesture could push the anxieties from Ronan's mind. His hand pulls back around, sliding low and warm on Ronan's stomach.]
You're no one's second choice, [ he says, his voice low and steady, ] and you're amazing at this, for the record. There's nothing I'd rather be doing right now.
[No one, either, he adds, playfully canting his hips forward again.]
Edited (just noticed that rogue mystery word) 2017-05-15 16:01 (UTC)
[Ronan sucks in a sharp breath as Noah moves, needy fingers gripping at Noah's thighs.]
I think "amazing" might be an overstatement.
[He suspects Noah might be mistaking a good body for sexual prowess. Ronan's clumsy and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Most boys have at least watched porn. Adam's probably done far more than that. He needs to stop thinking about Adam. It isn't right to be thinking about Adam while Noah's touching him.
Ronan picks his head up so that he can look down at Noah's face. This is his boyfriend and he loves his boyfriend. It should be that simple. Yet Ronan's gaze fixes on Noah's mouth and he can't help wondering: Did he kiss you?]
[No, Noah answers. He didn't. He doesn't add that he's pretty sure Adam hasn't kissed anyone, not unless it's buried deep in his subconscious. That's not his to tell, and Ronan doesn't seem to dislike the notion of Adam as an experienced, confident lover. Jealousy and excitement and lust are all mixed up in his head, and Noah wishes he could reach in and untangle them like a cord.
Not for the first time, he has to wonder if he was right to prod at this monster.]
You think I have that much to compare it to?
[He leans in to rest his face against Ronan's shoulder; his cheeks are red, and his eyes are dark and wide.]
[Low standards are standards he can meet. And really, he would rather figure all of this out with someone who won't find him prudish or boring or just plain terrible at this.
With Noah hiding from him, Ronan reaches up to brush fingers through his soft hair. They're alright. Ronan's thoughts are a mess as always, but this isn't going to cause another rift between them. With Noah's legs still hugging him about the waist, Ronan lies them both down again. His other hand slides up Noah's thigh, fingers hooking in the waistband of his boxers.]
[Noah keens, soft and pleading, and nods against Ronan's neck.
With all they've done, all they've been through, it's sometimes too easy to forget - they're just boys. They're teenage messes of hormones and junk food and inexperience, and they aren't supposed to be good at this. Noah's only advantage is a knack for sneaking into people's thoughts, for knowing what they want before they do. In every other way, though, he's just as lost.]
[Ronan always tries to avoid fantasizing, even about his own boyfriend. He's too aware that his thoughts can shape reality, and beyond religious concerns, it has always felt wrong to project lust onto another person by imagining their body or what he might like to do to them. But sometimes these thoughts escape anyway, and right now he can't help but imagine making love to Noah. But for a few thin layers of cloth, they could be doing it right now. The full length of him throbs between Noah's legs, neglected as always, nudging against Noah's own erection. They both want so much.
Drawing back just enough to maneuver Noah's legs, Ronan continues tugging at his boxers with a nervous, trembling hand. He knows that Noah has wanted this for a while, but he didn't understand just how much. Maybe it was naive of him to think he was doing enough. What good is a chaste lover?
Gaining momentum, Ronan peels Noah's boxers past his hips. He avoids looking just yet, focused on drawing Noah's legs up, slipping one out and then the other, until he's free of those boxers and totally bare.
Only then does Ronan look at him. He's always found Noah to be delicately beautiful, but there is a new quality to that beauty when Ronan looks at him without any obscuration. No part of him is hidden now, and Ronan's throat emits a weak noise of desire as he settles Noah's thighs back at his hips.]
I love you.
[He says it as if it pains him, because it does. There's so much he wants to do to Noah, and so much he has to deny himself.]
[Noah's breath is ragged in his throat, panting hoarsely from the second Ronan starts to pull down his boxers. He can feel the lust and need behind Ronan's touch, thoughts and words and images. He sees what Ronan is picturing, and he can feel him hot and hard and so desperately conflicted, and it's all he can do not to reach for the band of those sweatpants.
As soon as the damp cotton slides over his feet, Noah is scrabbling for contact, pulling Ronan down as close to him as possible.]
I love you too. [He mouths it against Ronan's neck, hitching his hips hard and tight, but he's mindful of the complicated emotions behind his boyfriend's endearment.
It's okay, he thinks back. I don't want anything you aren't comfortable giving.]
[It's not okay. Noah has to understand that Ronan loves him and treasures him. It's not enough that the emotion is written on his heart, a truth that Noah can always read. Love is a constant expression.
There's a lot I want to give.
It isn't fast, the way Ronan handles him. Stripping Noah down was his boldest move. Now his hands are slow and careful, sliding up Noah's thighs and his bare hips, running along his sides and back down again.]
Tell me to stop if it's too much.
[But it's only his hands. Only his lips. Ronan kisses a line down the crook of Noah's neck while a hand drifts over Noah's ribs, over his hollow abdomen, down to his erection. He palms it gently, this tantalizing and unfamiliar thing - Ronan rarely touches himself, let alone others - and strokes it as if he's exploring it rather than intentionally pleasuring Noah.]
Okay, [Noah manages, but it comes out as more of an emotion than a word. The first touch sends a shudder down his spine, through his hips, and he chases it upwards, pressing into Ronan's hand.
It's been almost a decade since he was touched like this by anyone's hand but his own, and it's even better than he had remembered. Last time, it wasn't Ronan's hand gripping him softly, or his fingers getting to know the lay of his skin. Last time, he couldn't reach out with his mind like this, seeking intimacy in more ways than one.
Show me, he thinks back, his thoughts sounding just as strained. Show me what you'd give me if you could. He presses his mind forward, just the same as his hips, both seeking out touch.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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you must be really thirsty
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Hey.
[He was fully clothed when that text conversation began, but now he's wearing black sweatpants and nothing else. He changed out of his street clothes so fast he's out of breath.]
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Hey, yourself.
[Putting down his phone, Noah takes another sip from the bottle before passing it over. He doesn't make any room on the bed, instead just laying back and ignoring the way his cheeks have gone bright pink.]
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This is... really sparkly.
[He takes an experimental sip.]
And awful.
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Get on my level, man.
[It's just a tease of a comment - he doesn't care if Ronan drinks any more of it, or even what happens now that he's down here. His receptiveness is comfort and excitement enough.
Sitting up on one elbow, Noah sheds the fluffy blanket, pushing it to the other side of the bed. He's left just in boxers - blue, with little flamingos - and there's a question in his smile when he looks back over.]
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He meets Ronan's kiss with one just as easy, but it only lasts for a moment. He deepens it almost immediately, and tugs Ronan closer, aching for the warm pressure of being beneath him.]
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Show me, he whispers. Show me how much you want me.]
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Kisses are fine. They're wonderful, actually. Ronan knows, though, that Noah expects more than that by this point. Their intimacy has moved at a snail's pace. Ronan often finds himself too afraid to even put his hands on Noah.
But now, because Noah's asking, he relents and gives in to desire. Ronan's hands slip around to the small of Noah's back, hips rocking in a languid grind as he pulls Noah closer to him. His tongue slides deeper into Noah's mouth, still shy but only because there's a fire inside him that threatens to rage out of control. He has to take care when surrendering to passion.
He's undeniably aroused, however. Noah will feel him there, in the place their bodies collide, throbbing with want.]
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No one has ever wanted him this much.
That's good, he thinks back, breathless even in thought. That's so good. He doesn't tell Ronan to keep going, but he ruts his hips upwards once, twice, trying to find an angle.]
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Of course he wants Noah. He has always wanted Noah, before this place, before their first kiss by the lake. Back when Noah was merely his shy roommate with an overly tidy bedroom and a severe lack of appetite, back when Ronan understood nothing about him.
As soon as Ronan comes up for air, he pulls one hand up to caress Noah's cheek, and his gasping mouth presses kisses to the other cheek before he nuzzles it with the tip of his nose.]
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Wanted you too, [ he breaths out, a reply to Ronan's thoughts. He arches his body a little, trying to keep the rhythm.] Wanted all four of you.
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[A pleading and pained whisper. Something aches in his chest and he's not sure if it's because his boyfriend is lusting over others or if it's because he's specifically lusting over Gansey and Adam, both of whom Ronan has never even allowed himself to consider.
Sitting back, Ronan takes Noah by the thighs and draws them up around his hips, pulling Noah onto his lap in one swift movement. He wraps both arms about Noah's waist, squeezing him close, and buries his face in the crook of Noah's neck.]
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What are you thinking?
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[That he's a second or third choice. That he's in the way of something. That he should have been a better boyfriend and made time for Noah. That he should move out. That Adam should move in. That he's going to Hell. That he should have tried kissing Adam ages ago. That even if he had, Adam would have laughed at him the way Kavinsky did. That Noah has been wanting to kiss Adam for ages. That Adam is bound to be a better kisser than him and Noah must know it by now.
Once it's there, Ronan can't clear the image from his mind. He pictures Adam in his place, taking his spot in this bed, with Noah's legs wrapped around him and his elegant hands navigating Noah's body with the same expertise Adam applies to every scenario. Adam would be a good lover. He would study until he was sure of it and he would put Ronan to shame.
The worst part is... It feels like a wish, not a fear. Ronan doesn't understand it. Instead of being repulsed, he regrets not being there to see whatever happened between Noah and Adam. The jealousy is driving something in him, and though Ronan knows he should get up and leave, he pulls Noah closer and thrusts against him again, a half-second of relief for his frustration.]
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You're no one's second choice, [ he says, his voice low and steady, ] and you're amazing at this, for the record. There's nothing I'd rather be doing right now.
[No one, either, he adds, playfully canting his hips forward again.]
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I think "amazing" might be an overstatement.
[He suspects Noah might be mistaking a good body for sexual prowess. Ronan's clumsy and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Most boys have at least watched porn. Adam's probably done far more than that. He needs to stop thinking about Adam. It isn't right to be thinking about Adam while Noah's touching him.
Ronan picks his head up so that he can look down at Noah's face. This is his boyfriend and he loves his boyfriend. It should be that simple. Yet Ronan's gaze fixes on Noah's mouth and he can't help wondering: Did he kiss you?]
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Not for the first time, he has to wonder if he was right to prod at this monster.]
You think I have that much to compare it to?
[He leans in to rest his face against Ronan's shoulder; his cheeks are red, and his eyes are dark and wide.]
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[Low standards are standards he can meet. And really, he would rather figure all of this out with someone who won't find him prudish or boring or just plain terrible at this.
With Noah hiding from him, Ronan reaches up to brush fingers through his soft hair. They're alright. Ronan's thoughts are a mess as always, but this isn't going to cause another rift between them. With Noah's legs still hugging him about the waist, Ronan lies them both down again. His other hand slides up Noah's thigh, fingers hooking in the waistband of his boxers.]
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With all they've done, all they've been through, it's sometimes too easy to forget - they're just boys. They're teenage messes of hormones and junk food and inexperience, and they aren't supposed to be good at this. Noah's only advantage is a knack for sneaking into people's thoughts, for knowing what they want before they do. In every other way, though, he's just as lost.]
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Drawing back just enough to maneuver Noah's legs, Ronan continues tugging at his boxers with a nervous, trembling hand. He knows that Noah has wanted this for a while, but he didn't understand just how much. Maybe it was naive of him to think he was doing enough. What good is a chaste lover?
Gaining momentum, Ronan peels Noah's boxers past his hips. He avoids looking just yet, focused on drawing Noah's legs up, slipping one out and then the other, until he's free of those boxers and totally bare.
Only then does Ronan look at him. He's always found Noah to be delicately beautiful, but there is a new quality to that beauty when Ronan looks at him without any obscuration. No part of him is hidden now, and Ronan's throat emits a weak noise of desire as he settles Noah's thighs back at his hips.]
I love you.
[He says it as if it pains him, because it does. There's so much he wants to do to Noah, and so much he has to deny himself.]
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As soon as the damp cotton slides over his feet, Noah is scrabbling for contact, pulling Ronan down as close to him as possible.]
I love you too. [He mouths it against Ronan's neck, hitching his hips hard and tight, but he's mindful of the complicated emotions behind his boyfriend's endearment.
It's okay, he thinks back. I don't want anything you aren't comfortable giving.]
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There's a lot I want to give.
It isn't fast, the way Ronan handles him. Stripping Noah down was his boldest move. Now his hands are slow and careful, sliding up Noah's thighs and his bare hips, running along his sides and back down again.]
Tell me to stop if it's too much.
[But it's only his hands. Only his lips. Ronan kisses a line down the crook of Noah's neck while a hand drifts over Noah's ribs, over his hollow abdomen, down to his erection. He palms it gently, this tantalizing and unfamiliar thing - Ronan rarely touches himself, let alone others - and strokes it as if he's exploring it rather than intentionally pleasuring Noah.]
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It's been almost a decade since he was touched like this by anyone's hand but his own, and it's even better than he had remembered. Last time, it wasn't Ronan's hand gripping him softly, or his fingers getting to know the lay of his skin. Last time, he couldn't reach out with his mind like this, seeking intimacy in more ways than one.
Show me, he thinks back, his thoughts sounding just as strained. Show me what you'd give me if you could. He presses his mind forward, just the same as his hips, both seeking out touch.]
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