[It was maybe not the most glowing of approvals, but it was an awkward sort of acceptance. He knew he should be arguing, but he couldn't think of the words or the reasons. His skin crackled with want, and when was the last time that he'd felt like he knew what he wanted? This felt too precious to push away. So he doesn't, even if he knows that it's going to tip things, change things between them. That he'll think of this every time Kavinsky smiles that shark smile.
But K presses down with the heel of his palm, and the friction spikes heat into him, has his hips jerking so that his cock presses back into the other boy's hand. Fuck. He's fucked. He doesn't care. He keens softly, almost a whimper as K kisses against his neck, trailing against skin to nip at his ear, and it feels like a tease.]
I-- sometimes.
[He doesn't know why he answers. Maybe it's the way that Kavinsky's voice is silken, like liquid sex as he all but purrs the question against his ear. Maybe it's the way that it almost feels like a dream, and K hasn't entirely said that it isn't. Maybe it's that he's hard and turned on and Kavinsky is still touching him through his jeans. Ronan's a virgin and he can't help how he reacts, easy and helpless and wanton.]
What do you.. what's it like, when you dream about me?
[He had an idea, of course, what Kavinsky might dream about him, but he wanted to hear it. He shifts a little, and slowly curls his fingers in his shirt, and softly tugs him in a little bit closer, breathless and heated as he looks into K's dark eyes.]
I was going to take my jacket off, but if I let it touch the floor in here I'd have to burn it.
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[It was maybe not the most glowing of approvals, but it was an awkward sort of acceptance. He knew he should be arguing, but he couldn't think of the words or the reasons. His skin crackled with want, and when was the last time that he'd felt like he knew what he wanted? This felt too precious to push away. So he doesn't, even if he knows that it's going to tip things, change things between them. That he'll think of this every time Kavinsky smiles that shark smile.
But K presses down with the heel of his palm, and the friction spikes heat into him, has his hips jerking so that his cock presses back into the other boy's hand. Fuck. He's fucked. He doesn't care. He keens softly, almost a whimper as K kisses against his neck, trailing against skin to nip at his ear, and it feels like a tease.]
I-- sometimes.
[He doesn't know why he answers. Maybe it's the way that Kavinsky's voice is silken, like liquid sex as he all but purrs the question against his ear. Maybe it's the way that it almost feels like a dream, and K hasn't entirely said that it isn't. Maybe it's that he's hard and turned on and Kavinsky is still touching him through his jeans. Ronan's a virgin and he can't help how he reacts, easy and helpless and wanton.]
What do you.. what's it like, when you dream about me?
[He had an idea, of course, what Kavinsky might dream about him, but he wanted to hear it. He shifts a little, and slowly curls his fingers in his shirt, and softly tugs him in a little bit closer, breathless and heated as he looks into K's dark eyes.]
I was going to take my jacket off, but if I let it touch the floor in here I'd have to burn it.