[It was just that they were in a strange place right now; he wasn't sure if he'd ever asked if he could kiss Kavinsky before, except as a tease, a provocation. A way to say I want your hands on me. But this wasn't that, not tonight. He wanted Kavinsky's hands on him, but just soft touches, just to feel close to him, to feel like there was a place for him at the other boy's side. Maybe a way to anchor him while they talked, or while Ronan did his best, at least.
Ronan just leaned back against the door, holding onto Kavinsky, like it had been far longer than days. But if anything, it had taught him how cruel it was when he'd ghost the other boy. Even if Ronan hadn't given in to the sort of desperation that Kavinsky would- texting him in repetition, he understood it. The hurt that ached in your chest like poison.
He nuzzled into the side of his neck, brushing bare skin with sweet whispers of kisses and the occasional tender nip of his teeth, because he couldn't entirely help himself.]
I know. It was just fucking terrifying. It had been easy to just fall into you without thinking about it too hard. It was just- sex and cars and shitty movies and more sex, right? And then you wanted to put a name to it, wanted to know what it meant and I'm a fucking mess, and I'd never dated anyone or anything. I'd never even kissed anyone before you. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but I don't-- I don't want to not have you in my life.
[His voice catches, and maybe his neck is a little more damp than it was before, Ronan holding him as close as he can without worrying about squeezing too tight. Kavinsky had been his first; been all of his firsts. Which Ronan had never lied to him about, but he had never admitted to it before, either. Always bravado about how he could take it when Kavinsky asked if he needed him to take it slow. They both tried to act tougher than they were.
He nuzzled into his neck, his voice warm as he sweetly whispered bad ideas:]
You'll cut school with me tomorrow, wont you? I wanna- get out of these wet clothes and I wanna hold you while we talk. And I wanna wake up with you next to me.
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Ronan just leaned back against the door, holding onto Kavinsky, like it had been far longer than days. But if anything, it had taught him how cruel it was when he'd ghost the other boy. Even if Ronan hadn't given in to the sort of desperation that Kavinsky would- texting him in repetition, he understood it. The hurt that ached in your chest like poison.
He nuzzled into the side of his neck, brushing bare skin with sweet whispers of kisses and the occasional tender nip of his teeth, because he couldn't entirely help himself.]
I know. It was just fucking terrifying. It had been easy to just fall into you without thinking about it too hard. It was just- sex and cars and shitty movies and more sex, right? And then you wanted to put a name to it, wanted to know what it meant and I'm a fucking mess, and I'd never dated anyone or anything. I'd never even kissed anyone before you. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but I don't-- I don't want to not have you in my life.
[His voice catches, and maybe his neck is a little more damp than it was before, Ronan holding him as close as he can without worrying about squeezing too tight. Kavinsky had been his first; been all of his firsts. Which Ronan had never lied to him about, but he had never admitted to it before, either. Always bravado about how he could take it when Kavinsky asked if he needed him to take it slow. They both tried to act tougher than they were.
He nuzzled into his neck, his voice warm as he sweetly whispered bad ideas:]
You'll cut school with me tomorrow, wont you? I wanna- get out of these wet clothes and I wanna hold you while we talk. And I wanna wake up with you next to me.