[That leaves Ronan wondering once more whether Gansey truly wants any of this. He's always surrendering to another's wishes and never his own. They've been best friends for what feels like ages, but there are still so many moments Ronan wonders if he knows Gansey at all. He feels himself finding the edges of a mask and pulling it off just to find another mask underneath.
Are you ever going to really want me? Ronan wants to ask, but doesn't, because he'd hate to hear a lie.
He considers stopping there, which would be more merciful for his heart. He suspects, though, that Gansey would somehow feel guilty if he did. So Ronan kisses him again, while his right hand dips between Gansey's legs and seeks out the bulge of what he hopes is at least a half-hard cock through the fabric of Gansey's pants.]
[He's eager to return the kiss and the hand between them will find an entirely hard bulge at the front of his pants. Watching Ronan obey his command to strip his shirt so unquestioningly, while morally dubious, was incredibly hot.
Gansey isn't expecting the touch though and he groans into the kiss, hips shifting for more access.
He nips at Ronan's lower lip before pulling away a bit.]
What did you have in mind when you said you wanted to see me "abuse" my power?
[He's relieved to find Gansey wanting something, and Ronan's eyes shut for a moment while his hand explores the shape of Gansey's length. He remembers a thousand moments he'd wished he could touch Gansey like this. He wonders if Gansey had a single one of those moments while looking at him. Through the cloth, his fingertip traces the soft curve of Gansey's cockhead.
Ronan opens his eyes to look again at Gansey's face.]
[He lets out a sharp gasp when Ronan catches a particularly sensitive area. His mouth is slightly agape as he basks in the sensations. Putting thoughts together has gotten exponentially more difficult.]
I think, [he breathes out, devious smirk ghosting a corner of his mouth] you enjoy the thought of me telling you what to do.
[And saying it aloud like that makes him realize: it's not about what Gansey wants. Ronan knows Gansey will find a way to get what he wants. It's how he gets it.
It takes him another couple of seconds to answer Ronan's second question. He swallows, mouth dry.]
[The sliver of a smile cuts Ronan's face, as good as an answer to Gansey's speculation. In all honesty, he needs Gansey's orders not because he enjoys them (though he does) but because he can't guess, otherwise, what Gansey does or doesn't like. He's surprised to find Gansey reacting to him at all.
Ronan's hand continues to stroke Gansey lazily through the fabric while he admires this rare vision of his friend losing control. It's only a small slip, but this is still a Gansey who can't quite remember to hold himself together.]
[Gansey is only becoming more undone the longer Ronan continues to touch him, warmth building low in his belly.
Gansey presses his forehead to Ronan's, hot breath coming out in short puffs between them. His hand comes down between them, his own fingers tracing the outline of Ronan's cock--only just now realizing how big it is. Of course when around Monmouth Manufacturing, Ronan's sweatpants didn't leave too much more to the imagination, but up close and personal like this makes the realization more concrete.
He captures Ronan's lips in a more heated kiss, much more tongue and teeth than Ronan has probably felt from him. His other hand trails up and under Ronan's shirt in the back, wanting to feel warm skin.
[It's a more fevered response than Ronan anticipated. He hadn't expected Gansey to touch him, to reciprocate, to want him. Regardless of their arrangement, Gansey's permanently written in Ronan's mind as his best friend, with no hope for anything more. He's the straight roommate, the object of Ronan's sexual frustration. He's the kind of boy who'd accept a blowjob in the locker room and pretend it never happened the next day. Not because he's a bastard, but because boys like him don't end up faggots. They have to think about their political campaign in ten or twenty years. (How would it look?)
Ronan's breath shakes as their lips part. He reminds himself that Gansey doesn't mean it the way it sounds. His hips rock forward, pressing his erection to Gansey's palm, but his own pleasure isn't the aim here. His hands make quick work of unfastening Gansey's pants, and Ronan reaches in to free him. Once he has Gansey's bare cock in his hand, he takes a moment to enjoy it: the perfect size of it, the weight of Gansey's desire, the softness of his skin. Then Ronan resumes stroking it, unhindered.]
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Are you ever going to really want me? Ronan wants to ask, but doesn't, because he'd hate to hear a lie.
He considers stopping there, which would be more merciful for his heart. He suspects, though, that Gansey would somehow feel guilty if he did. So Ronan kisses him again, while his right hand dips between Gansey's legs and seeks out the bulge of what he hopes is at least a half-hard cock through the fabric of Gansey's pants.]
no subject
Gansey isn't expecting the touch though and he groans into the kiss, hips shifting for more access.
He nips at Ronan's lower lip before pulling away a bit.]
What did you have in mind when you said you wanted to see me "abuse" my power?
no subject
[He's relieved to find Gansey wanting something, and Ronan's eyes shut for a moment while his hand explores the shape of Gansey's length. He remembers a thousand moments he'd wished he could touch Gansey like this. He wonders if Gansey had a single one of those moments while looking at him. Through the cloth, his fingertip traces the soft curve of Gansey's cockhead.
Ronan opens his eyes to look again at Gansey's face.]
Do you want more than this?
no subject
I think, [he breathes out, devious smirk ghosting a corner of his mouth] you enjoy the thought of me telling you what to do.
[And saying it aloud like that makes him realize: it's not about what Gansey wants. Ronan knows Gansey will find a way to get what he wants. It's how he gets it.
It takes him another couple of seconds to answer Ronan's second question. He swallows, mouth dry.]
Yes. [He barely holds back a "please"]
no subject
Ronan's hand continues to stroke Gansey lazily through the fabric while he admires this rare vision of his friend losing control. It's only a small slip, but this is still a Gansey who can't quite remember to hold himself together.]
What do you want, Gansey?
no subject
Gansey presses his forehead to Ronan's, hot breath coming out in short puffs between them. His hand comes down between them, his own fingers tracing the outline of Ronan's cock--only just now realizing how big it is. Of course when around Monmouth Manufacturing, Ronan's sweatpants didn't leave too much more to the imagination, but up close and personal like this makes the realization more concrete.
He captures Ronan's lips in a more heated kiss, much more tongue and teeth than Ronan has probably felt from him. His other hand trails up and under Ronan's shirt in the back, wanting to feel warm skin.
During a brief pause in the kiss:]
I want you.
no subject
Ronan's breath shakes as their lips part. He reminds himself that Gansey doesn't mean it the way it sounds. His hips rock forward, pressing his erection to Gansey's palm, but his own pleasure isn't the aim here. His hands make quick work of unfastening Gansey's pants, and Ronan reaches in to free him. Once he has Gansey's bare cock in his hand, he takes a moment to enjoy it: the perfect size of it, the weight of Gansey's desire, the softness of his skin. Then Ronan resumes stroking it, unhindered.]