[Ronan didn't know how to say it, but there was something about the way that Kavinsky looped an arm around him, holding him, that touched something soft and tender in him. He was ruined, twice over; no coming back from this. There's a moment where he nuzzles into his shoulder, and when Kavinsky tells him to be my guest, Ronan doesn't pull away from him. He knows that he should, because this feels-- intimate. Dangerous.
But Ronan's wrecked, and Kavinsky has his arm wrapped around him, cheek touched against his head, and it isn't difficult at all to stay like that. To just let his hand slowly palm down his chest, and then to the waist of his jeans. His fingers slowly popping the button and then tugging down the zipper. He sucks in a breath, and then he reaches in: fingers touching against the soft skin of his cock.
For a moment Ronan can't think. Because somehow touching someone else is a very different thing, and he's never done this before, hadn't expected how it would feel. But he doesn't stop- his breath just hitches for a moment as he touches the other boy's dick. And then he's slowly pulling down his underwear so that he can wrap his fingers around his cock. He feels thick in his fingers, but Ronan admittedly doesn't have much to compare it to.
Locker rooms for Ronan Lynch were generally more a challenge in trying very hard to not look at anyone's dick, more than scholarship in what to expect when someone took their pants off. Despite living with Gansey, the other boy was almost notoriously self-conscious, so it wasn't like he'd ever had an accidental eyeful trading showers in the morning or anything. So he doesn't really know how Kavinsky compares to other boys, but he knows that he likes it, likes the way that he feels in his hand. He can't help thinking about what it would be like, being stretched around him, if he could take it all. Ronan's never even had the courage to try and practice or anything like that. God he's so glad that K can't see him blush.
He's dreamed about this of course, but it wasn't- it didn't feel like this, didn't make his heart stop.
The angle's a little different. The difference between touching himself and touching someone else, touching Kavinsky. Slowly, he slides his hand up along the length of him, sliding fingers over the tip just to touch more of him. He starts to stroke him in earnest, tightening the grip of his hand a little, moving a little faster. He wants to take him apart, wants to make him come in his hand. It's inexpert, jerking him off while pressed to his side, while holding on to him, but he makes up for it with want, how much he wants not just Kavinsky, but he wants this -- he wants to make him feel good, wants to get him off, his release on his fingers.
He nips teeth against the side of his neck, not hard enough to draw blood or be actively painful, but it sure isn't gentle. Ronan sucks lightly against the mark, not quite kissing, but close- like he can't help himself.]
Is this... okay?
[The way he says it is a little unsure- maybe even insecure if you read into how his breath quivers, but maybe that's just a tease. It's anyone's guess whether he means biting him or how he's jerking him off. But his voice is heated, and it murmurs against the other boy's ear like a purr. Ronan still close against him, clinging to him with the hand that isn't sliding over Kavinsky's dick.
Getting into his car that evening he could have listed a dozen reasons for why he couldn't do this. Now he just wants to spend more time with him. He wants to go to the party and he wants to maybe even kiss him in some dark corner. Whatever he could steal.]
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But Ronan's wrecked, and Kavinsky has his arm wrapped around him, cheek touched against his head, and it isn't difficult at all to stay like that. To just let his hand slowly palm down his chest, and then to the waist of his jeans. His fingers slowly popping the button and then tugging down the zipper. He sucks in a breath, and then he reaches in: fingers touching against the soft skin of his cock.
For a moment Ronan can't think. Because somehow touching someone else is a very different thing, and he's never done this before, hadn't expected how it would feel. But he doesn't stop- his breath just hitches for a moment as he touches the other boy's dick. And then he's slowly pulling down his underwear so that he can wrap his fingers around his cock. He feels thick in his fingers, but Ronan admittedly doesn't have much to compare it to.
Locker rooms for Ronan Lynch were generally more a challenge in trying very hard to not look at anyone's dick, more than scholarship in what to expect when someone took their pants off. Despite living with Gansey, the other boy was almost notoriously self-conscious, so it wasn't like he'd ever had an accidental eyeful trading showers in the morning or anything. So he doesn't really know how Kavinsky compares to other boys, but he knows that he likes it, likes the way that he feels in his hand. He can't help thinking about what it would be like, being stretched around him, if he could take it all. Ronan's never even had the courage to try and practice or anything like that. God he's so glad that K can't see him blush.
He's dreamed about this of course, but it wasn't- it didn't feel like this, didn't make his heart stop.
The angle's a little different. The difference between touching himself and touching someone else, touching Kavinsky. Slowly, he slides his hand up along the length of him, sliding fingers over the tip just to touch more of him. He starts to stroke him in earnest, tightening the grip of his hand a little, moving a little faster. He wants to take him apart, wants to make him come in his hand. It's inexpert, jerking him off while pressed to his side, while holding on to him, but he makes up for it with want, how much he wants not just Kavinsky, but he wants this -- he wants to make him feel good, wants to get him off, his release on his fingers.
He nips teeth against the side of his neck, not hard enough to draw blood or be actively painful, but it sure isn't gentle. Ronan sucks lightly against the mark, not quite kissing, but close- like he can't help himself.]
Is this... okay?
[The way he says it is a little unsure- maybe even insecure if you read into how his breath quivers, but maybe that's just a tease. It's anyone's guess whether he means biting him or how he's jerking him off. But his voice is heated, and it murmurs against the other boy's ear like a purr. Ronan still close against him, clinging to him with the hand that isn't sliding over Kavinsky's dick.
Getting into his car that evening he could have listed a dozen reasons for why he couldn't do this. Now he just wants to spend more time with him. He wants to go to the party and he wants to maybe even kiss him in some dark corner. Whatever he could steal.]