[ 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...
[He can feel Kylo simmering. The heat coming off of him is enough to warm Ronan, too. But Ronan remains composed, his head cocked just slightly so that he regards Kylo from the corner of his eyes rather than straight-on.]
[ Kylo's answering smile is slow as he steps in closer, lifting a hand to press against Ronan's sternum, pressure increasing slowly. It would be easy enough to slam him against the wall without touching him at all, but there's a different kind of pleasure in applying his own physical strength to achieve the same goal. ]
[Ronan resists the push, reaching up to circle Kylo's wrist with his gloved hand, to pry it neatly away from him. Still, he looks more amused than upset in any way.]
[ Oh. Kylo's eyes drop to the gloved hand coiled around his wrist, his lips parting. Unexpected, and unexpectedly exciting. He tests Ronan's grip without quite struggling against it. ]
[Ronan smiles and says nothing, his keen eyes fixed on Kylo. He may be playing around, but his grip is every bit as strong as it'd be against a serious opponent. Kylo's going to have to work for it.]
[ Somehow, that only seems right, particularly considering what Ronan's wearing, and the heat under Kylo's skin responds swiftly. He's been aching for a fight. Spoiling for one. And Ronan's grip is a good place to start.
Rather than wrenching free or pulling away, he surges forwards into Ronan's space instead, fully intending on forcing him to stagger back with the sudden weight locked in against him. ]
[In a test of brute strength, Kylo is the obvious victor. Ronan tries and fails to hold his ground, nearly stumbling to the floor before he recovers. He uses his grip on Kylo's arm to re-balance his weight, and on the way up, throws out his other fist to land a punch against Kylo's ribs.]
[ Kylo hisses out the pain, Ronan's blow only really serving to fuel him on- he pulls his arm up, dragging Ronan's hand with it as he braces the length of his forearm across Ronan's chest and pushes forward again.
Ronan's no easy prize. But Kylo would want it no other way. ]
[This time, Ronan's back hits the wall. Kylo has him effectively pinned, though he doesn't stop struggling. He squirms, trying to wrest his arm free from the place Kylo's trapped it, and grips Kylo's shoulder with his other hand in an attempt to push him back.]
[ It's been a while since he allowed himself this kind of satisfaction, indulging himself in the perfection of a good struggle- and it's clear that he's enjoying the opportunity, now. He presses in against Ronan's resistance with relentless strength, eyes blazing with something wild and absolutely dangerous begging to be set free- but he doesn't want to hurt him. No. He wants to possess him. And with their bodies crushing up against each other, there's no question how, exactly, Kylo wants to stake his claim. ]
[The battle is decidedly won. And so swiftly, too. Ronan's heart pounds with the thrill of it, the knowledge that Kylo could easily break him if he wanted to. It would hurt if Ronan tried to escape now. If he even moves an inch against Kylo's hold. He sucks in a breath between his teeth and exhales with a hiss, chin forward, lip curled.]
You think you can just take what you want from me.
[It isn't a question, really. He does. He can. As demonstrated. And taking is what he'll have to do, because even defeated, Ronan isn't compliant. He doesn't gratify the desire pressed so hard against his thigh, even though it would be simple. Just the slightest movement of his hips would bring Kylo pleasure, and he refuses.]
[ Kylo's lips twist in a triumphant smile- though he wouldn't consider this battle over. All conquests of importance are a long, involved exercise in consistently meeting resistance with superior, indefatigable strength. ]
Perhaps we should discuss it.
[ He murmurs the words, the breathless satisfaction of having Ronan under his hold swelling through his voice. He can feel Ronan's pulse racing, he can feel his defiance. It's perfection. And he has a hand free. He runs it possessively over Ronan's side, fingers playing over the familiar textures made unfamiliar as they dress someone else. ]
Taking things we want. Like these. Where did you get these, Ronan? Have you been dreaming about me?
[Yes, he has. Of course he has. That isn't any surprise now. But the real surprise, maybe, is that Ronan had been dreaming about Kylo long before they ever shared a bed. Kylo had caught his eye that very first night at the bar, drawing him over, and he'd continued to attract Ronan's attention over the course of months, in all their brief encounters.]
You'd like that, wouldn't you.
[The dreams would happen at random, as they often do when Ronan spends any amount of time pining and longing for contact. Kylo slipped into his thoughts too many times while he'd been celibate, stupidly in love with someone else who's now gone (as always) and Ronan had felt awful about it. There's hardly any difference for him, infidelity committed in his dreams versus in reality. He can't remember how many times he'd woken up sticky and ashamed, all because Kylo had taken him in his sleep.]
[ Now he understands why the idea of Ronan in his clothes is so blindingly erotic. Or at least part of why. Because he knows what's involved in taking things from dreams. And, he suspects Ronan didn't dream the clothing without its inhabitant. ]
Very much.
[ It's an agreement rather than a confession. Kylo isn't ashamed of how arousing the idea is, that Ronan had either chosen or stumbled into a dream of him. ]
I could take them from you, too. Right now. Your memories, dreaming of me. You know I could.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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[He can feel Kylo simmering. The heat coming off of him is enough to warm Ronan, too. But Ronan remains composed, his head cocked just slightly so that he regards Kylo from the corner of his eyes rather than straight-on.]
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An interrogation.
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I'm not an easy target.
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Nothing worth having ever is.
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Rather than wrenching free or pulling away, he surges forwards into Ronan's space instead, fully intending on forcing him to stagger back with the sudden weight locked in against him. ]
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Ronan's no easy prize. But Kylo would want it no other way. ]
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Better.
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You think you can just take what you want from me.
[It isn't a question, really. He does. He can. As demonstrated. And taking is what he'll have to do, because even defeated, Ronan isn't compliant. He doesn't gratify the desire pressed so hard against his thigh, even though it would be simple. Just the slightest movement of his hips would bring Kylo pleasure, and he refuses.]
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Perhaps we should discuss it.
[ He murmurs the words, the breathless satisfaction of having Ronan under his hold swelling through his voice. He can feel Ronan's pulse racing, he can feel his defiance. It's perfection. And he has a hand free.
He runs it possessively over Ronan's side, fingers playing over the familiar textures made unfamiliar as they dress someone else. ]
Taking things we want. Like these. Where did you get these, Ronan? Have you been dreaming about me?
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You'd like that, wouldn't you.
[The dreams would happen at random, as they often do when Ronan spends any amount of time pining and longing for contact. Kylo slipped into his thoughts too many times while he'd been celibate, stupidly in love with someone else who's now gone (as always) and Ronan had felt awful about it. There's hardly any difference for him, infidelity committed in his dreams versus in reality. He can't remember how many times he'd woken up sticky and ashamed, all because Kylo had taken him in his sleep.]
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Very much.
[ It's an agreement rather than a confession. Kylo isn't ashamed of how arousing the idea is, that Ronan had either chosen or stumbled into a dream of him. ]
I could take them from you, too. Right now. Your memories, dreaming of me. You know I could.
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