[ Anyone else, any time else, and Ronan's chances would have been more than fair- but this is Kylo Ren, possessed by his own power, hungry to prove his claim.
Ronan still has his legs pinned, which is Kylo's next challenge. He attempts to wrench free without giving Ronan enough of a window to pull himself up, straining against his weight. ]
[Ronan tries, for about two seconds, to utilize his legs in any kind of effective way. Unfortunately, though very long, they aren't half as developed as his arms. He's a boxer, not a wrestler, and Kylo has the advantage of size already. It takes those two seconds for Ronan to attempt that fight before realizing the futility of it, especially when all this twisting only threatens him with injury.]
[ It's a valiant effort, something Kylo makes clear with a low, irritable sound just before he breaks free enough to finally get Ronan pinned beneath him exactly how he wanted. He releases Ronan's arm, spreading himself across his back like an exceptionally heavy oilspill- slow and inescapably possessive.
[The distress in Ronan's voice is colored with arousal. If he had any sense, he'd keep fighting. This is going to be brutal. It's going to hurt. But damned if he doesn't want the abuse. When he struggles against the weight on his back with an arch of his spine, he's pressing closer to Kylo, not throwing him off.]
[ The sound that hisses past his lips as he grinds against the arch of Ronan's struggle isn't quite a growl. It isn't quite a breathy, amused chuckle. It's something new entirely, carrying a thick, heavy satisfaction that's entirely unmistakable. Yes. He's going to ruin Ronan. Utterly ruin him. ]
[That there's a darkness in Kylo that wants to swallow Ronan up along with him? Oh, he knows. He feels it in his pulse. He feels it in the ache of his desire. He's prepared for this sacrifice.]
[ He shifts his weight onto his knees, one broad hand planting itself firm between Ronan's shoulderblades to anchor him to the mattress like a butterfly pinned to a card-- the other drags and slides, slipping under his shirt, following the borderline where his skin disappears into the tightness of his jeans, round, down, seeking the hard heat of Ronan's cock trapped under stiff fabric... ]
[A dark smile flashes across Ronan's face, there and gone as soon as Kylo's weight shifts to trap him. That press is heavy enough to reduce Ronan's breath to sharp, short gasps. By the time he adjusts to the change, Kylo's hand is grasping at his cock. It finds him just as hard as before. Harder, maybe, for how much the fight excites him. The lack of air is certainly exacerbating the situation.]
[ Let him in, reeled him in. Whatever the truth of it, Kylo breathes in his possession, delighted with the evidence of Ronan's arousal. He palms him roughly, indulging himself in the way he can feel Ronan's gasping breaths translated through his entire body.
This is his prize. He can have Ronan however he wants, and he wants, he wants--
He doesn't need to see, his fingers deft and determined as they make short work of Ronan's jeans, grip rough as he pulls and tugs them down over his hips. ]
[A moan rolls out of Ronan, eyes flitting shut and head dipping to press his face into the sheets. His hips jerk in a tug-of-war between the urge to rut up against Kylo's hand and the struggle to remove his clothes. Or - not remove, but tear away just enough to expose him, leaving him prone to Kylo's furor.]
[ Kylo certainly doesn't have the patience to strip either of them off- he just wants all this fabric out of the way. He abandons his dangerously heavy hold on Ronan's back to focus on task, working Ronan's pants down before unfastening his own- and the next time he slides in close it's to feel Ronan's skin, the rolling thrust of his hips as he grinds against him all at once a threat and a promise. ]
[Ronan shudders as Kylo climbs back over him, steeling himself as if for battle. The pressure of Kylo's weight forces a shaky exhale out of him, and Ronan wills his body to lose some of its tension or else he knows he's going to suffer. Despite that - despite the threat pressing closer and sliding against his skin - his heart skips with anticipation.]
[ The words are low, barely more than a hissed breath as he takes Ronan's hips in a strong grip, dragging them up for a better angle, one that gives him a little more room to move. And he intends to move, once he's forced himself inside. He doesn't intend to stop. ]
I know you want it, Ronan. I know. I feel it. Say it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Ronan still has his legs pinned, which is Kylo's next challenge. He attempts to wrench free without giving Ronan enough of a window to pull himself up, straining against his weight. ]
no subject
no subject
His teeth catch at Ronan's ear. ]
Better.
no subject
[The distress in Ronan's voice is colored with arousal. If he had any sense, he'd keep fighting. This is going to be brutal. It's going to hurt. But damned if he doesn't want the abuse. When he struggles against the weight on his back with an arch of his spine, he's pressing closer to Kylo, not throwing him off.]
no subject
Yes. He's going to ruin Ronan. Utterly ruin him. ]
Don't pretend you didn't know, Ronan...
no subject
[That there's a darkness in Kylo that wants to swallow Ronan up along with him? Oh, he knows. He feels it in his pulse. He feels it in the ache of his desire. He's prepared for this sacrifice.]
no subject
[ He shifts his weight onto his knees, one broad hand planting itself firm between Ronan's shoulderblades to anchor him to the mattress like a butterfly pinned to a card-- the other drags and slides, slipping under his shirt, following the borderline where his skin disappears into the tightness of his jeans, round, down, seeking the hard heat of Ronan's cock trapped under stiff fabric... ]
no subject
no subject
He palms him roughly, indulging himself in the way he can feel Ronan's gasping breaths translated through his entire body.
This is his prize. He can have Ronan however he wants, and he wants, he wants--
He doesn't need to see, his fingers deft and determined as they make short work of Ronan's jeans, grip rough as he pulls and tugs them down over his hips. ]
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
[ The words are low, barely more than a hissed breath as he takes Ronan's hips in a strong grip, dragging them up for a better angle, one that gives him a little more room to move. And he intends to move, once he's forced himself inside.
He doesn't intend to stop. ]
I know you want it, Ronan. I know. I feel it.
Say it.