Ronan's out again, though he's not so far gone that he's silent at the touch. A breathy sigh rushes past his lips as Kylo's hand wraps around him, putting voice to his gratitude for Kylo's company. Any contact between them might have accomplished this, but even in his sleep, Ronan recognizes the particular worship Kylo is paying him. His nerves spark in answer to it. He doesn't need his consciousness for that.
The next time Kylo's soft-mouthed attention draws up Ronan's cock, he twists his tongue slowly over the head, his eyes falling shut as he lets his focus slide into his wider senses. It's a careful exploration rather than anything more generous or nefarious at first, but it's absolutely indulgence that keeps him there, basking in the warm background hum of the comfort Ronan finds in his continued presence as well as the more immediate responses to his every movement. In fact, it's all too tempting to keep toying with Ronan far longer than he'd originally intended, especially when he's deep enough or stubbornly enough in sleep not to complain.
Another vocal breath escapes past Ronan's lips and a purr of approval rumbles in his throat. Wherever he is in the haze of slumber, Kylo's tongue is reaching him. Ronan's body moves of its own accord to seek more of that warmth, a slither moving down his spine and sending his hips rocking forward. His muscles are heavy with sleep, so the movement is a subtle one, but Kylo won't miss it when Ronan's cock is pushing insistently against his lips, greedy for more than this teasing.
He can be this way - so thoroughly relaxed and restful - because he's completely entrusted himself to Kylo. His touch is a comfort like nothing else. Every slide of his tongue and brush of his lips soothes Ronan further. He's at his most content here, with his lover and protector doting on him, cherishing him.
Of all the reflected glimpses of himself he's ever caught in the minds of others, Kylo most wants to be exactly as Ronan sees him. He hoards them all— every title Ronan has ever bestowed on him, all the qualities Ronan believes him to possess, every piece of evidence he can gather from moments just like this one.
Who else but Ronan could ever have imagined Kylo Ren as a source of comfort? But he'd seen Kylo's longing to be exactly what he becomes here— worthy of Ronan's faith.
Kylo will see to his needs. They both already know that. But Kylo loves to demonstrate it all the same, responding to Ronan's urging by feeding him just a little more of what he wants. He draws the head of his cock into the wet heat of his mouth, lavishing it with the smooth glide of his tongue as he accommodates the shallow push and strain of Ronan's heavy-limbed body reaching for more. He'll get it. Everything he wants.
The fog of sleep dissipates slowly as the pillowy heat of Kylo's mouth overtakes the less tangible warmth that's enveloped Ronan. It's impossible to pinpoint the exact moment of his waking. Rather, an awareness spreads from his body to his mind, coaxing his consciousness forward until he realizes that the source of his pleasure is Kylo's tongue, massaging him to life.
The next push of his hips is more deliberate, accompanied by a drowsy moan. Ronan finds his hand and pushes it clumsily through Kylo's hair, a greeting and a grateful caress. There's no better way to wake up than in his lover's mouth.
Kylo's head turns slightly with the movement of Ronan's fingers, leaning appreciatively into his touch— but he isn't about to put an end to his indulgence now that Ronan's awake enough to experience his pleasure. What kind of message would that send, after all? No. Kylo wants to welcome Ronan back to his body. He likes the idea of being able to draw him back into reality, providing him with a tidal pull just as compelling as any dream.
"Mm, morning," he murmurs low against him, speech becoming more like lazy punctuation between a series of slow, possessive kisses to his shaft than the typical alternative. "How did you sleep?"
He doesn't wait for an answer as he begins to work his way down, tongue flitting lightly over the soft skin of his sac before twisting its way back up. He may not be ready to attempt anything like the smooth, skillful conquest of the length of him the way Ronan's often demonstrated, but he's certainly not ready to stop.
Forget about how he slept. It's inconsequential compared to the waking. Ronan attempts to articulate as much, but a pleased hum is the most he can manage. He twists his fingers up in Kylo's curls, thumb massaging against his scalp, pleading with him not to stop just because he's been caught in the act.
That Kylo hasn't had enough opportunity to perfect his technique is really an indictment on Ronan, who should probably be offering himself more often. But Ronan has no complaint about it, himself. He'd enjoy any touch from Kylo. Those plush lips wouldn't have to do more than brush his skin and Ronan would eventually be brought to climax by them. He moans at the exploration of Kylo's tongue, forcing his hips still so that Kylo can take him from whatever angle he likes.
After all, Ronan did interrupt a private moment by waking up.
Kylo hasn't even considered the question of blame when it comes to the remaining gaps and roads less traveled when it comes to his sexual experience. As far as he's concerned, it's simply a natural consequence of the dilemma that remains unresolved since the first time he encountered it, falling into Ronan's bed with the weight of too many desires to satisfy all at once. There are so, so many ways he wants Ronan.
But this is how he wants him now— senses full of Kylo's desire to bring him pleasure, warm and loosened with it.
The encouragement of Ronan's fingers curling in his hair coaxes a low rumble from his throat as he draws him back into his mouth. It's a vulnerable position, he realises. For Ronan, surrendering the most sensitive parts of himself to soft lips that hide the potential bite of teeth, if Kylo were that kind of monster. And maybe he is, but not now. Not this morning. This morning is all about adoring Ronan inch by generous inch, finding new ways to demonstrate his devotion. He sinks down, slow, steadying Ronan's length with softly stroking fingers, loving the way the thickness of him completely fills his mouth.
Ronan exhales a sound that could be a prayer or a curse, if it had enough form to be a word. He wants to tug at Kylo's hair and capture him like that, with a mouthful of him, but he doesn't. His body quivers with suppressed urge to thrust, an instinct he can barely deny himself. All this soft attention only makes him want more.
But what more could he even take? Kylo has worked his way down and swallowed him up. Any further and he'd be choking, which is no way to reward someone for their effort.
That mouth. He loves that mouth and the way it loves him. Kind or cruel, cushioned or scraping, Ronan will accept any form of worship. He tempers his need by focusing on what Kylo's already given him: slick heat all around him, leaving Ronan keenly aware of every muscle working, from Kylo's tongue to his jaw.
Kylo's lips would be pulling into a very satisfied curve if they weren't wrapped around Ronan's considerable girth, if he wasn't busy testing his limits, feeling Ronan tremble with the need he's balancing against his desire to reward Kylo rather than punish him as he works.
It's the smart move. As much as Kylo is completely sincere in his dedication to being the cause of Ronan's pleasure, as pleased as he is with his reactions, he'd likely be a lot less enraptured by a sudden choking. He thinks. It's not like he's ever tested the theory.
He's in no rush to test it today.
The next time he draws up Ronan's length he pulls away entirely rather than sinking down a little lower, his hand taking over the smooth, gliding strokes. He kisses his tip softly, lips gentle— but there's a deliberate tease in the gesture now that wasn't there before, and it coincides with a careful resettling of his body. Like he's considering a different angle of attack.
Ronan probably doesn't need to be telepathic to read Kylo's mind— especially not once he hooks his arms under Ronan's thighs and settles them over his shoulders.
Ronan misses the heat of Kylo's mouth the moment it leaves him, a whimper of complaint escaping him as Kylo's lips set to teasing his tip.
But before he can protest further, the mattress interrupts with the creak of shifting weight and his legs are suddenly lifted into the air. Now that Kylo's hauled him up, Ronan rescinds that complaint. Anticipating Kylo's next act, his cock pulses with excitement. The heat of arousal climbs all the way up his spine.
"No," he purrs in answer, meeting Kylo's eyes. "I think I could use a little something to get me going."
Kylo's eyes are dark. He's thinking something over.
"Could you, now," he murmurs, his head turning as he leans in to press his lips to Ronan's inner thigh, moving on a torturously slow trajectory inwards. He captures each fresh inch of pale, tender skin between his teeth, lavishing it with rich, lazy attention before allowing it to escape, tongue soothing and caressing as he moves on.
He's so close, now, nuzzling between Ronan's legs. "Coffee?" he suggests, lips parting, teeth catching lightly again. His tongue runs in loose, looping figures.
He's had a fair number of lovers by now, yet none of them compare to Kylo Ren. Not because Kylo is an expert seducer or a practiced Casanova, but because there has never been anyone else even capable of handling Ronan this way. Standing next to most, Ronan is a giant. In Kylo's arms, he's just a boy. And right now, his body feels like it's melting into the mattress, more and more of him falling victim to the cruel grazing of Kylo's mouth.
Spreading his legs just a bit wider, Ronan offers up whatever's left of him to be devoured. Nothing satisfies him like satisfying Kylo's appetite.
Sometimes, Kylo thinks, Ronan needs to feel like this. It's a difficult blend of thoughts and feelings for Kylo to process or put a name on, but Ronan almost feels at his most freed when fully at Kylo's mercy, when he can feel how helpless he is. There's a paradoxical safety for him in giving over control, and Kylo loves brushing up against it— there's nothing quite like being so completely trusted, knowing not a single part of Ronan's being is held back. Ronan surrenders entirely.
Kylo's tongue laps softly, deceptively gentle as he teases his way to Ronan's entrance, his own arousal building with the anticipation, the reflected feedback of Ronan's hunger to be taken melting into his desire to own every inch of him, to lay fresh claim everything. Ronan belongs here, with him, and he'll prove it. Again.
He circles, holding Ronan firm, and slowly, slowly eases inside.
Kylo's assessment is entirely correct. Though Ronan is highly selective in choosing his master, he's liberated by his surrender. When someone knows exactly what they want from him - exactly what they want to do with him - and makes that intention known, then his otherwise perpetual inner conflict is resolved.
This is what it means to be a dream.
And at the moment, he's an obscene one, perfectly attuned to Kylo's fantasy and elated by his part in it. A breathy moan escapes him as his hips quiver in answer to Kylo's probing tongue, begging for more - as much as he's able, while Kylo's grip on him remains so firm.
Kylo loves this. Loves it. He can feel Ronan trembling, all of him caught and held captive by the simplest movements. He delves deep and Ronan moans. His tongue twists and curls and explores, slipping free to flick wickedly over his hole, teasing as his strong hands keep their firm, solid hold— and he feels it all. The bright, electric surge of his racing pulse, the shivering tear of his breath. Pleasure and the need for more flashing through his nerves.
Here is Ronan. Alive. Here is Kylo's impossible dream in all his flesh and blood, straining and pleading in his grip. Here he is, spread and vulnerable, utterly his to enjoy. His to break and worship. His to ruin and adore.
He laps and suckles at the soft, tender stretch of skin between Ronan's entrance and the heavy weight of his neglected cock, eyes lifting to Ronan's face... and it doesn't take much, to thread in the suggestion. Ronan's hand, serving Kylo's desire to touch him as he dips back down. A slow, luxurious stroke as Kylo's tongue swirls and pushes back inside.
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He can be this way - so thoroughly relaxed and restful - because he's completely entrusted himself to Kylo. His touch is a comfort like nothing else. Every slide of his tongue and brush of his lips soothes Ronan further. He's at his most content here, with his lover and protector doting on him, cherishing him.
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Who else but Ronan could ever have imagined Kylo Ren as a source of comfort? But he'd seen Kylo's longing to be exactly what he becomes here— worthy of Ronan's faith.
Kylo will see to his needs. They both already know that. But Kylo loves to demonstrate it all the same, responding to Ronan's urging by feeding him just a little more of what he wants. He draws the head of his cock into the wet heat of his mouth, lavishing it with the smooth glide of his tongue as he accommodates the shallow push and strain of Ronan's heavy-limbed body reaching for more.
He'll get it. Everything he wants.
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The next push of his hips is more deliberate, accompanied by a drowsy moan. Ronan finds his hand and pushes it clumsily through Kylo's hair, a greeting and a grateful caress. There's no better way to wake up than in his lover's mouth.
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"Mm, morning," he murmurs low against him, speech becoming more like lazy punctuation between a series of slow, possessive kisses to his shaft than the typical alternative. "How did you sleep?"
He doesn't wait for an answer as he begins to work his way down, tongue flitting lightly over the soft skin of his sac before twisting its way back up. He may not be ready to attempt anything like the smooth, skillful conquest of the length of him the way Ronan's often demonstrated, but he's certainly not ready to stop.
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That Kylo hasn't had enough opportunity to perfect his technique is really an indictment on Ronan, who should probably be offering himself more often. But Ronan has no complaint about it, himself. He'd enjoy any touch from Kylo. Those plush lips wouldn't have to do more than brush his skin and Ronan would eventually be brought to climax by them. He moans at the exploration of Kylo's tongue, forcing his hips still so that Kylo can take him from whatever angle he likes.
After all, Ronan did interrupt a private moment by waking up.
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But this is how he wants him now— senses full of Kylo's desire to bring him pleasure, warm and loosened with it.
The encouragement of Ronan's fingers curling in his hair coaxes a low rumble from his throat as he draws him back into his mouth. It's a vulnerable position, he realises. For Ronan, surrendering the most sensitive parts of himself to soft lips that hide the potential bite of teeth, if Kylo were that kind of monster.
And maybe he is, but not now. Not this morning. This morning is all about adoring Ronan inch by generous inch, finding new ways to demonstrate his devotion. He sinks down, slow, steadying Ronan's length with softly stroking fingers, loving the way the thickness of him completely fills his mouth.
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But what more could he even take? Kylo has worked his way down and swallowed him up. Any further and he'd be choking, which is no way to reward someone for their effort.
That mouth. He loves that mouth and the way it loves him. Kind or cruel, cushioned or scraping, Ronan will accept any form of worship. He tempers his need by focusing on what Kylo's already given him: slick heat all around him, leaving Ronan keenly aware of every muscle working, from Kylo's tongue to his jaw.
God, he could live here.
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It's the smart move. As much as Kylo is completely sincere in his dedication to being the cause of Ronan's pleasure, as pleased as he is with his reactions, he'd likely be a lot less enraptured by a sudden choking. He thinks. It's not like he's ever tested the theory.
He's in no rush to test it today.
The next time he draws up Ronan's length he pulls away entirely rather than sinking down a little lower, his hand taking over the smooth, gliding strokes. He kisses his tip softly, lips gentle— but there's a deliberate tease in the gesture now that wasn't there before, and it coincides with a careful resettling of his body. Like he's considering a different angle of attack.
Ronan probably doesn't need to be telepathic to read Kylo's mind— especially not once he hooks his arms under Ronan's thighs and settles them over his shoulders.
"Feeling awake yet?" he asks, low and wicked.
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But before he can protest further, the mattress interrupts with the creak of shifting weight and his legs are suddenly lifted into the air. Now that Kylo's hauled him up, Ronan rescinds that complaint. Anticipating Kylo's next act, his cock pulses with excitement. The heat of arousal climbs all the way up his spine.
"No," he purrs in answer, meeting Kylo's eyes. "I think I could use a little something to get me going."
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"Could you, now," he murmurs, his head turning as he leans in to press his lips to Ronan's inner thigh, moving on a torturously slow trajectory inwards. He captures each fresh inch of pale, tender skin between his teeth, lavishing it with rich, lazy attention before allowing it to escape, tongue soothing and caressing as he moves on.
He's so close, now, nuzzling between Ronan's legs.
"Coffee?" he suggests, lips parting, teeth catching lightly again. His tongue runs in loose, looping figures.
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He's had a fair number of lovers by now, yet none of them compare to Kylo Ren. Not because Kylo is an expert seducer or a practiced Casanova, but because there has never been anyone else even capable of handling Ronan this way. Standing next to most, Ronan is a giant. In Kylo's arms, he's just a boy. And right now, his body feels like it's melting into the mattress, more and more of him falling victim to the cruel grazing of Kylo's mouth.
Spreading his legs just a bit wider, Ronan offers up whatever's left of him to be devoured. Nothing satisfies him like satisfying Kylo's appetite.
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Kylo's tongue laps softly, deceptively gentle as he teases his way to Ronan's entrance, his own arousal building with the anticipation, the reflected feedback of Ronan's hunger to be taken melting into his desire to own every inch of him, to lay fresh claim everything. Ronan belongs here, with him, and he'll prove it. Again.
He circles, holding Ronan firm, and slowly, slowly eases inside.
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This is what it means to be a dream.
And at the moment, he's an obscene one, perfectly attuned to Kylo's fantasy and elated by his part in it. A breathy moan escapes him as his hips quiver in answer to Kylo's probing tongue, begging for more - as much as he's able, while Kylo's grip on him remains so firm.
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Here is Ronan. Alive. Here is Kylo's impossible dream in all his flesh and blood, straining and pleading in his grip. Here he is, spread and vulnerable, utterly his to enjoy. His to break and worship. His to ruin and adore.
He laps and suckles at the soft, tender stretch of skin between Ronan's entrance and the heavy weight of his neglected cock, eyes lifting to Ronan's face... and it doesn't take much, to thread in the suggestion. Ronan's hand, serving Kylo's desire to touch him as he dips back down. A slow, luxurious stroke as Kylo's tongue swirls and pushes back inside.