[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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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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