[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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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.]