[ But it really is increasingly difficult to hold onto his annoyance when he can feel Ronan's eyes on his body like that. Honestly, he doesn't think anyone would fault him for choosing to believe Ronan had deliberately engineered the whole affair if they could feel what he feels radiating out from him right now. ]
[And he could feel something else if he'd come closer, but Ronan doesn't press. If they fall into bed now, they won't leave it for the rest of the day - which is only half-done.]
[ Not a terrible fate, really, all day in bed. He can definitely think of worse. And in this mood? He suspects Ronan might enjoy the result.
He glances back to the balled up material in his hand, spears his fingers through the tear... and turns to toss it imprecisely at his persisting smirk. ]
[Ronan is quick! He catches the shirt before it can smother him. Rather than toss it aside, he runs his fingers over the material, memorizing it (though Kylo still holds most of his attention).]
You can have anything you'll model for me.
[He strides over to the bed and takes a seat, ready to play audience.]
[ It's odd, really. Kylo's never quite sure what small, seemingly insignificant gesture of Ronan's is going to trigger a swell of strange, unexpected warmth in his core next– but his eyes catch the way Ronan touches the ripped and discarded shirt... and there it rises again.
He's caught off guard sufficiently that he breaks a laugh at what he assumes is just a snappy rejoinder, eyebrows raising as Ronan plants himself on the bed expectantly– but slowly, he realises that no, Ronan is entirely serious. Or at least, as serious as he gets with that look on his face.
It's only very, very barely there, but a hint of colour rises under his skin. He's got absolutely no issues with confidence when it comes to his body, and why would he? He worked exceptionally hard to shape it into a well-tuned, powerful and responsive machine and continues to work hard to keep it in sharp condition.
[Ronan is absolutely serious. And not even the poking-fun-at-Kylo kind of serious. The mischievous curve of his mouth has a hungry look to it. It seems he is genuinely eager to watch this show, for reasons more related to his appreciation of that well-tuned, powerful and responsive machine of Kylo's.]
[ There's an entirely different kind of heat that slams through him at that tone of voice, that look in his eyes. Ronan knows, of course. He knows exactly what it does to him.
He stalks over to Ronan's closet, opening it up to run his fingers over the various fabrics and textures. It's a little obscene, really, how much clothing he seems to have– or perhaps Kylo's meagre collection is obscenely small. He's not sure he's seen Ronan wear much of this at all, but... ]
Did you dream them?
[ His fingers settle on a leather jacket, because of course they do, before he remembers he's supposed to be stealing a shirt. Like this one. Black, naturally, and not too dissimilar in style from the one he'd been wearing before its unfortunate accident. A bit longer in the sleeves, perhaps, and definitely looser around the neck– a lot of Ronan's clothes seem to be. He pulls it out, slips it off its hanger and slides it on, smoothing his hands over the pleasantly weighted fabric. Does it look good on him? No idea. But it feels good. ]
[The vast majority. For a while, in the interest of avoiding laundry, he'd dreamt himself a new outfit several times a week. But this habit of dream-tailoring ended when Ronan gave up dreaming altogether, and now he's less frivolous and more eager to distract himself with chores. As a result, he actually wears these clothes more than once.
His fingers continue to familiarize themselves with the cloth of the ruined shirt while he watches Kylo select a new one. It fits him more tightly than it does Ronan, but of course Ronan won't be complaining about that.]
[ Next? He's still reeling from Good. It's a little unfair how much even that single word can do to his pulse when he's slipping into this new mood, somehow thick with anticipation, and maybe it's ridiculous– but he hasn't really interacted with clothing like this before, just choosing something he likes, and there's something about these being Ronan's clothes. Ronan's things. He can't explain it.
He pulls the shirt off, careful, makes something of an attempt to replace it on its hanger, and turns his attention back to the rail, rolling his shoulders before resuming his exploration. It's very tempting to just... slip into Ronan's mind to see if there's something in particular he wants Kylo to select, but he resists the urge. Just. ]
Some of these have more holes than the one I just threw at you...
[ He likes it though, the one his fingers pause at, slipping it on over his head. There's a distressed texture to the fabric he finds pleasant, and it's definitely got Ronan woven in it. He pushes the over-long sleeves up his forearms in experiment. ]
[Even if Kylo were to take a peek at Ronan's thoughts, he'd find no clues. Ronan doesn't have anything in particular he wants to see Kylo try on. What he's enjoying is the way Kylo makes his selections, the way he shuffles through the garments with such consideration and how careful he is when he puts them on and takes them off. Ronan can tell that this isn't something he does often, that it's unusual for Kylo to indulge his taste, but appreciation looks good on him. He'd be happier, Ronan thinks, if he'd just enjoy these little things now and then.]
If you ask me, this one's still perfectly wearable.
[But Ronan will give him one without holes in it, after he takes a nap.]
[ It's out his mouth before he thinks, his eyes flicking from Ronan's face to the torn shirt he's still holding. It's a stupid thing to have said, really, spilling from his own feelings about wearing Ronan's things, and he hides his embarrassment over it by turning back to the closet, intending to close it.
But he stops short.
There's something in Ronan's closet that doesn't belong there. He freezes, breath caught in his throat. ]
[There's nothing to be embarrassed about. The offer brings a pleased smile to Ronan's face as he redirects his attention to the shirt in his hands. It'll be easier to replicate if he looks at it for a while.
After a few seconds of suspicious silence, however, he glances back over to Kylo.]
[ That's a good question. He reaches out, fingers sliding over the smooth, solid contours. This...
He picks it up. The weight of it sits familiar in his hand- as well it should. This was his face. For years. This was his chrysalis. A protective scaffold while he rebuilt himself inside it, his new identity taking slow possession of the weaknesses that had plagued the old and forging them into something new.
Snoke had been right to mock him for continuing to hide behind it. ]
Ronan.
[ He sounds oddly distant, and when he turns with the helmet in his hand, his expression is unreadable. ]
[Oh, that thing. Ronan gives a careless shrug of his shoulders. It had been a joke. He knows what it means, to everyone else and to Kylo, but he doesn't think it deserves half the weight it's been given.]
[ He looks down at it. It's his, but it isn't. Like everything else here, including the pleasant reminder of the shirt he's wearing, it's threaded through with the same stuff that Ronan is. ]
[ He absolutely did miss FanPort. And apparently, he missed something pretty spectacular. His eyes track over Ronan's face, as if he might find something there to make sense of the tangle of confused reactions his discovery is stirring up, but no.
No, he has no idea how he feels about-- ]
The rest.
[ Now he thinks about it, the helmet had been resting on top of something suspiciously like Kylo's battle robes, if they'd been folded up. He turns back, hemet tucked under his arm, and retrieves the rest.
Of the costume.
Ronan has... a costume. A Kylo Ren costume. A perfect, faithful replica. That he made.
[Probably, Ronan should have some respect. Probably, he should feel a little sorry for playing dress-up in what was essentially Kylo's prison uniform. But he doesn't. Because these are just things. They aren't important.]
[ His thumb runs over the familiar fabric in his grip, his eyes lingering on Ronan's face. It's a perfect copy. Absolutely perfect. And his pulse is racing.
[That particular look of hunger is something Ronan always enjoys seeing in Kylo. His lips curve slyly as he begins to shed layers of his clothes, dropping them to the floor until he's wearing nothing at all.
He picks the trousers up, first. They're easy enough to slip on. The shirt is considerably more fitted, hugging his muscles tightly once he's pulled it on. He doesn't linger long enough for Kylo to get a very good look before he wraps the tunic over it, then the surcoat, then the belt. The boots and the gloves come last.
Standing side-by-side in comparison, Ronan obviously isn't as broad or bulky as Kylo himself, but it's reasonable that a fan might mistake him for the real thing if he finished off the look with that helmet and hood.
He doesn't, yet. He's not sure if Kylo wants him to. Ronan looks at him, eyebrows lifted in silent question.]
[ Ronan has never had any difficulty holding Kylo's attention- but as Ronan begins to strip down, Kylo's steady gaze becomes something thick and heavy. Tangible in the way it runs over Ronan's skin and soaks in, deep.
His breath hitches as Ronan begins to dress, taking the component pieces of Kylo Ren and putting himself into them one at a time. For reasons Kylo can't identify, in this moment it's an impossibly erotic act, beyond the simple pleasure of watching Ronan's body moving to follow his command. By the time Ronan stills and waits for instruction, Kylo's heart is thudding violently in his chest. ]
I think...
[ He pauses, hearing the arousal in his voice. ]
It's fortunate. That I didn't see you like this, then.
[ In public. Ronan had worn this in public. The thought slams into him. Force. ]
[Ronan tosses his head back with a single ha! He's entirely aware that he can't exist within twenty miles of Kylo and not drive him mad with arousal, but at the moment Kylo's looking even more bothered than usual.
It's awfully exciting.
He steps closer, putting himself within arm's reach. He doesn't touch Kylo, though. He merely allows himself to be examined close up, to let those hungry eyes feast on him until Kylo can't bear it any longer.]
[ He murmurs it softly, quietly– but it isn't gentle. There's nothing gentle about him or the blaze in his eyes as he drinks in the sight of Ronan approaching him.
Torn for a moment between two equally promising paths he could take, his gaze drops from Ronan's face to the perfect detailing of his costume and back up again. He wets his lips. Does he tell Ronan what kind of response he would have earned with this... stunt of his? Or does he show him. ]
Until you turned a corner and found yourself somewhere a little more secluded. Out of sight of the crowd, but not too far from all those people, the very first opportunity I saw to give you the attention you deserve. I would have had... a lot of questions for you, Ronan...
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[ But it really is increasingly difficult to hold onto his annoyance when he can feel Ronan's eyes on his body like that. Honestly, he doesn't think anyone would fault him for choosing to believe Ronan had deliberately engineered the whole affair if they could feel what he feels radiating out from him right now. ]
...I can feel that, too.
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[And he could feel something else if he'd come closer, but Ronan doesn't press. If they fall into bed now, they won't leave it for the rest of the day - which is only half-done.]
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And in this mood? He suspects Ronan might enjoy the result.
He glances back to the balled up material in his hand, spears his fingers through the tear... and turns to toss it imprecisely at his persisting smirk. ]
You realise I'm taking one of yours.
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You can have anything you'll model for me.
[He strides over to the bed and takes a seat, ready to play audience.]
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He's caught off guard sufficiently that he breaks a laugh at what he assumes is just a snappy rejoinder, eyebrows raising as Ronan plants himself on the bed expectantly– but slowly, he realises that no, Ronan is entirely serious.
Or at least, as serious as he gets with that look on his face.
It's only very, very barely there, but a hint of colour rises under his skin. He's got absolutely no issues with confidence when it comes to his body, and why would he? He worked exceptionally hard to shape it into a well-tuned, powerful and responsive machine and continues to work hard to keep it in sharp condition.
Fashion, however. That's definitely Ronan's arena. ]
You want me to... model. For you.
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[Ronan is absolutely serious. And not even the poking-fun-at-Kylo kind of serious. The mischievous curve of his mouth has a hungry look to it. It seems he is genuinely eager to watch this show, for reasons more related to his appreciation of that well-tuned, powerful and responsive machine of Kylo's.]
Work it.
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Ronan knows, of course. He knows exactly what it does to him.
He stalks over to Ronan's closet, opening it up to run his fingers over the various fabrics and textures. It's a little obscene, really, how much clothing he seems to have– or perhaps Kylo's meagre collection is obscenely small. He's not sure he's seen Ronan wear much of this at all, but... ]
Did you dream them?
[ His fingers settle on a leather jacket, because of course they do, before he remembers he's supposed to be stealing a shirt. Like this one. Black, naturally, and not too dissimilar in style from the one he'd been wearing before its unfortunate accident. A bit longer in the sleeves, perhaps, and definitely looser around the neck– a lot of Ronan's clothes seem to be. He pulls it out, slips it off its hanger and slides it on, smoothing his hands over the pleasantly weighted fabric. Does it look good on him? No idea. But it feels good. ]
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[The vast majority. For a while, in the interest of avoiding laundry, he'd dreamt himself a new outfit several times a week. But this habit of dream-tailoring ended when Ronan gave up dreaming altogether, and now he's less frivolous and more eager to distract himself with chores. As a result, he actually wears these clothes more than once.
His fingers continue to familiarize themselves with the cloth of the ruined shirt while he watches Kylo select a new one. It fits him more tightly than it does Ronan, but of course Ronan won't be complaining about that.]
Good. Next.
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It's a little unfair how much even that single word can do to his pulse when he's slipping into this new mood, somehow thick with anticipation, and maybe it's ridiculous– but he hasn't really interacted with clothing like this before, just choosing something he likes, and there's something about these being Ronan's clothes. Ronan's things. He can't explain it.
He pulls the shirt off, careful, makes something of an attempt to replace it on its hanger, and turns his attention back to the rail, rolling his shoulders before resuming his exploration.
It's very tempting to just... slip into Ronan's mind to see if there's something in particular he wants Kylo to select, but he resists the urge. Just. ]
Some of these have more holes than the one I just threw at you...
[ He likes it though, the one his fingers pause at, slipping it on over his head. There's a distressed texture to the fabric he finds pleasant, and it's definitely got Ronan woven in it. He pushes the over-long sleeves up his forearms in experiment. ]
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If you ask me, this one's still perfectly wearable.
[But Ronan will give him one without holes in it, after he takes a nap.]
Keep that if you want it. It fits you better.
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[ It's out his mouth before he thinks, his eyes flicking from Ronan's face to the torn shirt he's still holding. It's a stupid thing to have said, really, spilling from his own feelings about wearing Ronan's things, and he hides his embarrassment over it by turning back to the closet, intending to close it.
But he stops short.
There's something in Ronan's closet that doesn't belong there. He freezes, breath caught in his throat. ]
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After a few seconds of suspicious silence, however, he glances back over to Kylo.]
What is it?
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He picks it up. The weight of it sits familiar in his hand- as well it should. This was his face. For years. This was his chrysalis. A protective scaffold while he rebuilt himself inside it, his new identity taking slow possession of the weaknesses that had plagued the old and forging them into something new.
Snoke had been right to mock him for continuing to hide behind it. ]
Ronan.
[ He sounds oddly distant, and when he turns with the helmet in his hand, his expression is unreadable. ]
Where did you get this?
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Where do you think?
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Why did you make...
[ Is it a gift? ]
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[It can be a gift.]
I wore the whole thing. The rest of it's in there somewhere.
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No, he has no idea how he feels about-- ]
The rest.
[ Now he thinks about it, the helmet had been resting on top of something suspiciously like Kylo's battle robes, if they'd been folded up. He turns back, hemet tucked under his arm, and retrieves the rest.
Of the costume.
Ronan has... a costume. A Kylo Ren costume. A perfect, faithful replica. That he made.
Kylo breathes out, slowly. ]
You wore this?
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[Probably, Ronan should have some respect. Probably, he should feel a little sorry for playing dress-up in what was essentially Kylo's prison uniform. But he doesn't. Because these are just things. They aren't important.]
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Because he just imagined Ronan wearing it. ]
Show me.
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[Ronan sets aside Kylo's torn shirt and picks himself up off the bed.]
You want me to put it on?
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The way Kylo's eyes follow Ronan as he moves suggests that yes, yes it is. He's not quite sure why, though.
But they can find out. ]
I want to see you put it on.
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He picks the trousers up, first. They're easy enough to slip on. The shirt is considerably more fitted, hugging his muscles tightly once he's pulled it on. He doesn't linger long enough for Kylo to get a very good look before he wraps the tunic over it, then the surcoat, then the belt. The boots and the gloves come last.
Standing side-by-side in comparison, Ronan obviously isn't as broad or bulky as Kylo himself, but it's reasonable that a fan might mistake him for the real thing if he finished off the look with that helmet and hood.
He doesn't, yet. He's not sure if Kylo wants him to. Ronan looks at him, eyebrows lifted in silent question.]
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His breath hitches as Ronan begins to dress, taking the component pieces of Kylo Ren and putting himself into them one at a time. For reasons Kylo can't identify, in this moment it's an impossibly erotic act, beyond the simple pleasure of watching Ronan's body moving to follow his command. By the time Ronan stills and waits for instruction, Kylo's heart is thudding violently in his chest. ]
I think...
[ He pauses, hearing the arousal in his voice. ]
It's fortunate. That I didn't see you like this, then.
[ In public. Ronan had worn this in public. The thought slams into him. Force. ]
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It's awfully exciting.
He steps closer, putting himself within arm's reach. He doesn't touch Kylo, though. He merely allows himself to be examined close up, to let those hungry eyes feast on him until Kylo can't bear it any longer.]
What would you have done?
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[ He murmurs it softly, quietly– but it isn't gentle. There's nothing gentle about him or the blaze in his eyes as he drinks in the sight of Ronan approaching him.
Torn for a moment between two equally promising paths he could take, his gaze drops from Ronan's face to the perfect detailing of his costume and back up again. He wets his lips. Does he tell Ronan what kind of response he would have earned with this... stunt of his?
Or does he show him. ]
Until you turned a corner and found yourself somewhere a little more secluded. Out of sight of the crowd, but not too far from all those people, the very first opportunity I saw to give you the attention you deserve. I would have had... a lot of questions for you, Ronan...
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