I don't want to hurt him either. I-- you're gonna have to talk to me about that shit you said where I might have a chance.
[He says I don't want to hurt him maybe a bit more intently than someone might expect from Ronan, who spent a lot of his time doing his best to seem like he didn't give a fuck about anyone. Even his friends, even Kavinsky. But it was bullshit, of course, always had been. The words trail off into a brief quiet, like there's too much in that space for him to say it in words, and then he hides it in truth. He shivered a little at the way that Kavinsky invaded his personal space, and Ronan lets him, almost casual about it, when in truth his heart is racing, beating in his ribcage like a trapped animal. He can feel the way that he looks at his mouth, and he wants him like muscle memory. Like it hasn't been months.
Of course, he knows that isn't what this is. And he meant every word when he said that he wouldn't -- but it doesn't mean that he doesn't feel it, that heat doesn't simmer in his veins, that he doesn't want to push him up against a wall.
But even morals aside, Ronan doesn't want to fuck things up for them, when they look so good together. Happy. And Ronan knew how ephemeral that feeling was for boys like them. For Dreamers. He'd already hurt Kavinsky once by not being able to tell him that he cared. He wasn't going to do it again by saying it at the wrong time.
But what he was going to do, was kiss Joseph Kavinsky this once. He trusted him when he said it was okay, that he wouldn't hurt Adam. So he closes the distance between them, pressing their mouths together, his other hand going to Kavinsky's side, fisting in the fabric of his shirt and using it to pull him close. His other hand against his jaw is softer, but the way he kisses him is almost desperate -- affection and softness, but also needy, like he might devour him.
Ronan kisses him like he thinks that it might be the only chance he ever gets.
So he tries to kiss all the words he didn't say into his mouth, all the sweetness he was too scared to give him. He kisses him almost like he's trying to memorize this: the way their lips brush, how he tastes, the weight of his body against him- always lighter than he should be. He kisses him like he wants to shape it into a reflex, something that he can keep. At least in a dream.
His hand against his jaw shift so he can brush his fingertips against his cheek, just stroking soft skin and the line of his face, and it hits something in him. It's either.. too good or too much, he doesn't quite know, but he pulls back, breathless, trying to smear away the tears with the back of his fist. He coughs, trying to catch his breath, and he laughs with a shake of his head. He thinks he's ruined, all over again. But maybe he's fooling himself that he ever wasn't.]
no subject
[He says I don't want to hurt him maybe a bit more intently than someone might expect from Ronan, who spent a lot of his time doing his best to seem like he didn't give a fuck about anyone. Even his friends, even Kavinsky. But it was bullshit, of course, always had been. The words trail off into a brief quiet, like there's too much in that space for him to say it in words, and then he hides it in truth. He shivered a little at the way that Kavinsky invaded his personal space, and Ronan lets him, almost casual about it, when in truth his heart is racing, beating in his ribcage like a trapped animal. He can feel the way that he looks at his mouth, and he wants him like muscle memory. Like it hasn't been months.
Of course, he knows that isn't what this is. And he meant every word when he said that he wouldn't -- but it doesn't mean that he doesn't feel it, that heat doesn't simmer in his veins, that he doesn't want to push him up against a wall.
But even morals aside, Ronan doesn't want to fuck things up for them, when they look so good together. Happy. And Ronan knew how ephemeral that feeling was for boys like them. For Dreamers. He'd already hurt Kavinsky once by not being able to tell him that he cared. He wasn't going to do it again by saying it at the wrong time.
But what he was going to do, was kiss Joseph Kavinsky this once. He trusted him when he said it was okay, that he wouldn't hurt Adam. So he closes the distance between them, pressing their mouths together, his other hand going to Kavinsky's side, fisting in the fabric of his shirt and using it to pull him close. His other hand against his jaw is softer, but the way he kisses him is almost desperate -- affection and softness, but also needy, like he might devour him.
Ronan kisses him like he thinks that it might be the only chance he ever gets.
So he tries to kiss all the words he didn't say into his mouth, all the sweetness he was too scared to give him. He kisses him almost like he's trying to memorize this: the way their lips brush, how he tastes, the weight of his body against him- always lighter than he should be. He kisses him like he wants to shape it into a reflex, something that he can keep. At least in a dream.
His hand against his jaw shift so he can brush his fingertips against his cheek, just stroking soft skin and the line of his face, and it hits something in him. It's either.. too good or too much, he doesn't quite know, but he pulls back, breathless, trying to smear away the tears with the back of his fist. He coughs, trying to catch his breath, and he laughs with a shake of his head. He thinks he's ruined, all over again. But maybe he's fooling himself that he ever wasn't.]
Fuck, K-- Can we.. talk to me? Like I'm dumb.