[Noah's thoughts are a comfort, though not enough to undo seventeen years of self-denial. Ronan has had a very, very long time to hate himself and his desires. The act of lovemaking should be beautiful, but the guilt of wanting it follows him anytime he gets close to a boy.
That doesn't meant he intends to stop. He scatters kisses over Noah's lips and across his jaw, hot and adoring. Noah is the sweetest lover he could hope for, and Ronan's endlessly grateful for his patience and encouragement. He might be terrified if it was anyone else. He still can't forget Kavinsky's sharp, mocking laughter, and that was only after a kiss. Noah, on the other hand, doesn't mind Ronan's fumbling reluctance, and that makes this so much easier. He continues to work Noah with his hand, building him up, faster and faster. Somehow it makes him feel powerful instead of filthy.]
[Noah squeezes his legs tighter around Ronan's hips, somehow triyng to pull him closer, needing him everywhere. He grips and kneads, pressing little fingernail half-moons into Ronan's neck, shoulders, back.
don't stop don't stop please please don't stop please god
It's a purely psychic litany - his mouth is occupied with an escalating chorus of groans and curses. One thing Noah cannot do is keep quiet during sex, it seems.
Yet, for all of his noise, all of his energy and dramatics during the act itself, Noah comes with a gentle shudder and a soft, easy sigh. The world goes quiet, peaceful, early-morning-bright, and he clings to Ronan like he's everything he's ever needed.]
[No one's ever been so desperate for Ronan's touch. Of course he obeys, lovingly and indulgently, spreading hot kisses over Noah's skin between gasps for air. His mouth closes in on the sensitive spot on Noah's neck, right below his ear.
That's when something hitches and Ronan becomes aware of the warmth spilling over onto his fingers and smearing between their bodies. Ronan's free hand slips under Noah's body, embracing him and pressing him close while Ronan works the last few shudders of orgasm out of him. He seeks out Noah's lips to kiss him again, softer this time, and finally releases him. Ronan's wet hand splays itself on Noah's stomach and he thinks about bowing down, tasting him. Then he admonishes himself for being perverse.]
[Noah closes his eyes, breathing soft and slow with his limbs all still wrapped around Ronan. He's safe, sated, warm - sex was always fun in high school, but it was never like this. It never made him feel comforted to his very core. He tries to press this sentiment into Ronan's mind, drowsy with utter pleasure and gratitude.
God, it would be so hot if you did that, though, he comments, in regards to Ronan's brief thought.]
[Would it? He doesn't need more convincing than that. Ronan presses a few more slow kisses to Noah's lips before he moves, climbing down Noah's body. He traces a trail with his mouth as he goes, leaving a line of kisses over Noah's collar bone and down his chest.
When Ronan's lips meet sticky moisture, he slips his tongue out for a taste. Salty, but also a bit sweet, and a bit of something else that tingles on his taste buds. It is and isn't what he expected. He drags his tongue over Noah's abdomen, savoring it, and leaves a wet kiss there.]
I love the way you taste.
[He probably doesn't need to say it out loud, but he does anyway, without taking his lips off Noah's skin.]
[Ronan smiles and picks up his chin, directing a coy glance at Noah. Then he draws himself up and flops onto his side, his long body draping next to Noah's. He can't quite fit, bent at the knees.]
[Coming from Noah, curses have still always sounded like a borrowed habit. But next to his forward actions, next to the messy tilt of his hair and the live spark in his eyes, it's clear that the only person they're borrowed from is his former self, alive and reckless and roguish.
He presses a kiss to Ronan's shoulder, and one of his hands drifts down to brush against him through the rough fabric.]
[It's not bullshit. Before Noah, there was only Kavinsky. And Ronan still isn't sure whether Kavinsky ever wanted him or if he simply represented something. Some obstacle to overcome. Kavinsky never made him feel desirable, only usable. Ronan has been functional in the absence of other entertainment. That's all.
He could muse further on his gratitude for Noah, but the touch distracts him. Ronan's hips jerk in reflex and he ruts up against Noah's hand, exhaling a shaky breath. This is good. Ronan doesn't want to demand Noah's attention, but he wants it if Noah will give it to him.]
[You already have it, Noah answers. Ronan doesn't have to demand anything. It's been his for as long as they've known each other. All of it.
Quiet as a breath, he slips his hand past Ronan's waistband, and grips him skin-to-skin for the first time. His movements carry no urgent lust, not the way his eyes do. Instead, the gesture is slow and soft. He tucks his head closer against Ronan's neck, under his chin, like they're in a particularly intimate dance.]
[It's good that Noah's starting slow, because even that soft touch feels overwhelming for Ronan. His cock jumps in response, eager for Noah's hand, but the next roll of Ronan's hips is steady and deliberate. He's so aroused already, just from touching Noah, that he's afraid he'll come too soon if he moves any more vigorously.
Ronan's clean hand cups the back of Noah's head, holding him close. His fingers comb through Noah's hair, thankful and encouraging. He doesn't know the right words to say it out loud, but he feels so lucky to have this. Not the sex, but Noah himself. It's amazing that they can be together and touch each other. Miraculous, really.]
[Spurred by Ronan's eager response, Noah withdraws his hand just enough to shove the sweatpants down, tugging them to rest under the curve of Ronan's ass. His fingers stay there for a moment, pressing into the soft flesh, as he pulls in tighter, one leg curling around Ronan's knee. They're chest-to-chest, so close that the Noah's hand could be wrapping around either of their cocks, so close that the hitch in his breath could belong to either of their voices.
He gives a firm stroke, and tips his head a little to kiss Ronan's throat.]
[Ronan's heart thuds loudly in his ears, spurred by the thrill of being so close and so exposed. This level of intimacy may be new to him, but Noah makes it easy somehow, and Ronan's more excited than anxious. His shoulders lose some tension as Noah begins to stroke him in earnest, and Ronan's throat rumbles in a soft purr as Noah kisses it. Pressing himself closer to Noah's body, he can't help imagining again what it would be like to make love, and he thrusts against Noah's palm while picturing himself thrusting into Noah himself: A movement which is agonizingly slow so that he can fully appreciate the friction and the warmth and the way Noah's limbs move around him.]
[The image brushes against Noah's mind, and he chokes on a soft, stunned moan. His leg wraps tighter, his teeth graze Ronan's skin; his hand moves slower, but stronger, subconsciously replicating Ronan's imagination.
Don't stop, his thoughts beg of the fantasy. He wants to know Ronan's desires. He wants to know what this impossible wish would be like.]
[It would be warm, Ronan thinks. It would be like this, but tighter. With an edge of danger to it, because he's so big and Noah's so small, and everything is breakable when it's in Ronan's hands. He thrusts again, his fingers curling in Noah's hair and his other palm sliding along Noah's side, feeling sharp ribs beneath it. If he was inside Noah, he would never want to leave. If it feels this good to simply imagine it, attended only by Noah's mouth and his hand, then it would have to be incredible to have Noah completely. Ronan wants to be trapped in the confines of him, squeezed and held and cradled in him, two bodies locked in pleasure.]
[Noah shudders, biting down on Ronan's skin, hard enough to leave a distinct mark. His mind pushes out a litany of curses and praises, and his hand's steady rhythm skips, speeding up without intention. He tries to contribute to the fantasy, but his thoughts are disorganized, just a tangle of image and sensation - the delicious pleasure-pain of sinking down onto Ronan, the unbearable adoration, the slow, stuttered pace.]
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That doesn't meant he intends to stop. He scatters kisses over Noah's lips and across his jaw, hot and adoring. Noah is the sweetest lover he could hope for, and Ronan's endlessly grateful for his patience and encouragement. He might be terrified if it was anyone else. He still can't forget Kavinsky's sharp, mocking laughter, and that was only after a kiss. Noah, on the other hand, doesn't mind Ronan's fumbling reluctance, and that makes this so much easier. He continues to work Noah with his hand, building him up, faster and faster. Somehow it makes him feel powerful instead of filthy.]
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don't stop don't stop please please don't stop please god
It's a purely psychic litany - his mouth is occupied with an escalating chorus of groans and curses. One thing Noah cannot do is keep quiet during sex, it seems.
Yet, for all of his noise, all of his energy and dramatics during the act itself, Noah comes with a gentle shudder and a soft, easy sigh. The world goes quiet, peaceful, early-morning-bright, and he clings to Ronan like he's everything he's ever needed.]
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That's when something hitches and Ronan becomes aware of the warmth spilling over onto his fingers and smearing between their bodies. Ronan's free hand slips under Noah's body, embracing him and pressing him close while Ronan works the last few shudders of orgasm out of him. He seeks out Noah's lips to kiss him again, softer this time, and finally releases him. Ronan's wet hand splays itself on Noah's stomach and he thinks about bowing down, tasting him. Then he admonishes himself for being perverse.]
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God, it would be so hot if you did that, though, he comments, in regards to Ronan's brief thought.]
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When Ronan's lips meet sticky moisture, he slips his tongue out for a taste. Salty, but also a bit sweet, and a bit of something else that tingles on his taste buds. It is and isn't what he expected. He drags his tongue over Noah's abdomen, savoring it, and leaves a wet kiss there.]
I love the way you taste.
[He probably doesn't need to say it out loud, but he does anyway, without taking his lips off Noah's skin.]
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Mm. Well. [He reaches down to play with the still-short-but-growing tips of his hair.] Maybe you can get seconds sometime.
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You're too good to me.
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You're the one who just gave me a handjob, and I'm too good?
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[Which is very generous, as far as Ronan's concerned.]
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[Noahs voice is drowsy and muffled, but he slowly wedges one knee between Ronan's legs, easing it up to nudge gently against him.]
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Believe it or not, there aren't a lot of people out there who'd want me to touch them.
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[Coming from Noah, curses have still always sounded like a borrowed habit. But next to his forward actions, next to the messy tilt of his hair and the live spark in his eyes, it's clear that the only person they're borrowed from is his former self, alive and reckless and roguish.
He presses a kiss to Ronan's shoulder, and one of his hands drifts down to brush against him through the rough fabric.]
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He could muse further on his gratitude for Noah, but the touch distracts him. Ronan's hips jerk in reflex and he ruts up against Noah's hand, exhaling a shaky breath. This is good. Ronan doesn't want to demand Noah's attention, but he wants it if Noah will give it to him.]
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Quiet as a breath, he slips his hand past Ronan's waistband, and grips him skin-to-skin for the first time. His movements carry no urgent lust, not the way his eyes do. Instead, the gesture is slow and soft. He tucks his head closer against Ronan's neck, under his chin, like they're in a particularly intimate dance.]
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Ronan's clean hand cups the back of Noah's head, holding him close. His fingers comb through Noah's hair, thankful and encouraging. He doesn't know the right words to say it out loud, but he feels so lucky to have this. Not the sex, but Noah himself. It's amazing that they can be together and touch each other. Miraculous, really.]
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He gives a firm stroke, and tips his head a little to kiss Ronan's throat.]
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Don't stop, his thoughts beg of the fantasy. He wants to know Ronan's desires. He wants to know what this impossible wish would be like.]
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