[Kavinsky was sure they'd have rough moments; they were both still sharp boys, after all. A little older, a little wiser, but their blades hadn't been dulled. Though Ronan might have a leg up on Kavinsky on the 'a little wiser' front considering he hadn't spent the last however long in the dream sea. Still, K'd had a lot of time to think and reflect.
The way Ronan moaned almost made Kavinsky melt. It made him tempted to keep touching him until he came undone. The important word there was 'tempted'; Kavinsky felt like he knew they both wanted more than that. Needed it, even. They'd spent too long apart. Besides, he reasoned, they'd have plenty of time now to do whatever they wanted--after this. And if whatever they wanted happened to be sweet handjobs and kissing, then that sounded like a hell of way to spend some time to Kavinsky.
He kissed Ronan with equal desperation and need, letting it linger, drawing it out for a moment until he'd forgotten to breathe and pulled back with a little gasp. Still, he stole another quick kiss before sitting back. With great reluctance, he pulled his hand out of Ronan's pants and yanked off his own shirt, dropping it to the floor. Then he slid to the side so he could work on shimmying Ronan's pants down. And press a kiss here and there to his chest while he did so.]
You know, if I hadn't been half-sure I was dreaming before, I'd think I was dreaming now.
[Because this moment was perfect and lovely and he didn't even care whose bed they were using. He hadn't even spared a thought about it. Ronan occupied his brain, front and center, and everything else paled in comparison. Nothing could match up to Ronan, nothing and no one could ever be as good. He knew he was biased. He knew he was head-over-heels in love. He'd never felt this way about anyone else ever before.]
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The way Ronan moaned almost made Kavinsky melt. It made him tempted to keep touching him until he came undone. The important word there was 'tempted'; Kavinsky felt like he knew they both wanted more than that. Needed it, even. They'd spent too long apart. Besides, he reasoned, they'd have plenty of time now to do whatever they wanted--after this. And if whatever they wanted happened to be sweet handjobs and kissing, then that sounded like a hell of way to spend some time to Kavinsky.
He kissed Ronan with equal desperation and need, letting it linger, drawing it out for a moment until he'd forgotten to breathe and pulled back with a little gasp. Still, he stole another quick kiss before sitting back. With great reluctance, he pulled his hand out of Ronan's pants and yanked off his own shirt, dropping it to the floor. Then he slid to the side so he could work on shimmying Ronan's pants down. And press a kiss here and there to his chest while he did so.]
You know, if I hadn't been half-sure I was dreaming before, I'd think I was dreaming now.
[Because this moment was perfect and lovely and he didn't even care whose bed they were using. He hadn't even spared a thought about it. Ronan occupied his brain, front and center, and everything else paled in comparison. Nothing could match up to Ronan, nothing and no one could ever be as good. He knew he was biased. He knew he was head-over-heels in love. He'd never felt this way about anyone else ever before.]