Joseph ♔ Kavinsky (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
burnyoudown) wrote2021-07-18 04:56 pm
burnyoudown) wrote2021-07-18 04:56 pm
Entry tags:
Open RP Post
🔥 Hit me up on plurk or via PM if you have any questions/want to run an idea by me first/what-have-you.
🔥 General squick/trigger list.
🔥 m/m for anything shippy.
🔥 General headcanon for Kavinsky. If you've got different headcanon/ideas for a psl, hit me with 'em; I'm flexible.
🔥 Kavinsky's kink list.
🔥 This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!
no subject
He slid his hands over Ronan's skin, touching his face, his neck, his shoulders, for the sake of touching him, reminding himself he was actually there and Kavinsky wasn't wildly hallucinating.]
We're gonna have time for that. For all of that. We can make up for everything.
[Make up for all the missed time, all the times they'd been at each other's throats when they could have been holding hands and sappy shit like that. It'd been so long- he couldn't be angry anymore. Ronan had wanted him before, loved him, but he'd been scared, and fuck, if Kavinsky couldn't understand how that felt. They'd been two celestial bodies orbiting each other, but they'd crashed and burned.
They would have another chance. Kavinsky was still alive, even if he'd technically died before. He just had to get out of this place, somehow. He didn't know how. He assumed Ronan had the answers.]
You're okay. I'm okay. And we're going to get out of here and wake up.
[And then he was never leaving Ronan's side again. He might not have said it out loud, but it was woven into his tone, there between the lines.]
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He holds his hand, just gently twined with him, drifting in the strange currents of the dream sea as they talk. He tells him about how Gansey had left, about dating Adam Parrish, and then not dating Adam Parrish as he left for Harvard. He tells him he'd tried to change the world, to turn it into a place where creatures like them could live without wanting to die.
Ronan tells him about the sundogs, and his brothers. About Hennessey, and how she'd turned herself in like expecting someone to put a bullet in her head. She'd flinched- she'd been scared, which Ronan could understand. And it wasn't like she'd had much faith in Ronan, then. But the ley line, the ley line. It was gone, and whatever sort of creatures they were, they seemed to need it as much as a dream.
But he smiles at Kavinsky anyway.
He doesn't really mind if he's stuck here forever, if it means he has Kavinsky at his side.
Then something changes.
And Ronan might not have the answers, but what he does have is a fierce refusal to leave Kavinsky behind. It's not like he dreams him; they're already the most expensive sort of dreams. Instead it's more like how Ronan had been letting himself get pulled to the sweetmetals. He holds his hand and leads him down a path until the dream sea breaks around them.
He hadn't expected it to be Hennessey, but it makes him smile that it is. Despite the fact that she rolls her eyes and tells him that he needs a boyfriend so he can stop dreaming himself dreamers. He grins and says he'll take it under advisement, looking at Kavinsky. She tells him about the tattoos and how she inked a sweetmetal into his tattoo. He has her give Kavinsky one too: like his tattoo but wrapped down the boy's arm.
He knows it's greedy and possessive, but he trusts that Kavinsky will understand. And he holds him while she does it, and when the other boy stirs he kisses him, shameless, but then looks at her and says: no offense, and thanks for the ink, but get the fuck out. She laughs like a gremlin, winking at Ronan before leaving them in peace while she goes to harass her girlfriend. Which leaves them here, in a room that seems to be Hennessey's room-slash-studio.]
So, uh- do you wanna be my boyfriend?
[Ronan's a little breathless, because somehow neither of them had asked before -- it had been so obvious. But he wanted to give him this: the question, the words.]
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He'd been drifting alone for so long. Ronan had quickly become his tether, his lifeline. He'd brought him back down to full sanity and reminded him of what it was like to be himself, to have a form and words and emotions that weren't crushing loneliness. Selfishly, he would've kept Ronan there with him forever. But if they'd both been trapped--being alone wouldn't have been a good alternative.
As it turned out, they were not trapped, even though Kavinsky felt a tremor of fear at falling asleep. It felt like it was only for a moment though, and then he was awake again, really awake, in a body that was his. It felt small and limiting at first but also- right. It was him. Who he was. And even better, Ronan was there when he opened his eyes, kissing him, even. It was a hell of a way to wake up.
He just...looked at him for a moment, touching Ronan's face gently, tenderly. He didn't even care about where they were right now, nor did he look around. He only had eyes for Ronan. Even with the new tattoo Kavinsky had, which he would take a moment to look at after this. Because this was much more important.]
Yeah. Yeah, I do. Not to be stupidly sappy, but that'd make me the happiest I've ever been.
no subject
When he'd been pulled awake, he'd used the energy to bring something back with him. Small, inconsequential almost, but he had made a bottle of lube that was now tucked into his pocket. He might have reconsidered if he'd known he was going to be waking up to Hennessey, but she hadn't seemed to notice, thank fuck. But Ronan knew what he wanted, and he hadn't wanted something like that to get in the way. There was only one word for what Ronan wanted and it was Kavinsky's name.
God, the way that he looks at him, like Ronan's the only thing worth looking at, it makes his heart race, it makes him feel -- he doesn't know. But like maybe this will work, maybe he can live and be happy and things will work out okay. He leans in, kissing his forehead and his temple, because with how he'd been holding him in his arms, they're not exactly positioned where Ronan can kiss him properly, and so he just kisses him where he can reach, because he wants Kavinsky to feel the affection more than he wants to take the time to rearrange their bodies.]
It's not stupid. I-- it makes me happy too. Knowing that you're my boyfriend, it's--
[Probably more than he deserves. But he's changed, grown from the boy he'd been back in the dreamfield. So while he might not deserve this, there's a certain sort of comfort in knowing that he can offer him something better, that he's a boy that can love him like he couldn't before. He and Adam might not have worked out, but Ronan had tried and he'd learned, and he wasn't perfect- likely would never be- but he'd worked through some things. He never would have hurt Kavinsky like he had before, intentional and cruel.
And that's a comfort, at least.]
I want you. And I want you to be happy. I want to make it worth it, with all the sappiest hallmark shit, just 'cause I love you. And it doesn't work without you. Living doesn't work without you. So let's make a life, together.
[Ronan was absently aware that it kind of sounded more like he was asking Kavinsky to marry him, but he couldn't bring himself to be worried about it. He looks at him, all love and lust and loyalty.]
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Ronan said it wasn't stupid, and Kavinsky smiled. He felt soft and open, not like his defenses had been cracked, but like they'd been gently coaxed open with loving hands. Ronan's loving hands. Part of him wasn't sure he deserved this after how much of a shit he'd been, especially to Ronan, but the other part of him wanted to embrace this second chance and never let go. He'd been through so much, they both had.
His chest swelled with fondness all over again as Ronan talked about how much he cared, that he wanted to make a life together, and it did sort of sound like a marriage proposal. But if there was a question in there, Kavinsky's answer was yes.]
Sounds like the best idea you've ever had.
[He was trying not to get weepy again, but he couldn't help being so affected by Ronan and how fiercely he loved him. It was grounding, a soothing comfort and uplifting hands at the same time.]
My life- [Kavinsky hesitated, debating whether or not to just go for it, and huffed out a soft breath. Fuck it.] -it's nothing without you. I'm- I'm better with you. I promise I won't fuck everything up this time.
[Or at least, he would try his best. All he could really do was try, right? But so long as he had Ronan, he wouldn't self-destruct. He wouldn't do anything too stupid. He'd value his life. Because Ronan valued him.]
So, yeah. I want a life together. I want you, always.
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When he breaks the kiss, he tugs Kavinsky up to his feet gently, giving him time even when there's an urgency that pulses with his heartbeat. He knows it's been hardly any time at all since Kavinsky was something other than human; it's been hardly any time at all for Ronan, either. But if anything, that just makes him need it more. Skin and blood and bone feel so heavy and like it's so hard to say what he needs to.
But he pauses a few paces from the bed, and he wraps his arms around him, hugging him tight and a little bit desperately.]
You didn't fuck everything up, K. Not on your own. God, I didn't want it to end like that. I didn't imagine-- But it's not like it happened out of nowhere. I hurt you. On purpose. I used you and I acted like it didn't matter.
[He pauses, and he cups Kavinsky's face in both his hands, and he kisses him again, because that's easier to say, and after putting it into words like that, he needs to show him that he cares in a way that feels visceral.]
I wont. Not ever again. I can promise you that. Because I want you, too.
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It was only when the other boy tugged him to his feet that he looked down at himself, then around the room, then back to himself to take in the tattoo inked down his arm. He was sure there was some sort of health or safety thing that was supposed to be done with new tattoos, but he couldn't be bothered to bring that up right now. Because Ronan was here, hugging him, and Kavinsky hugged him back without needing to think about it, leaning into him.]
We all do stupid shit, Lynch. [His expression softened and he added,] Ronan. Everyone used me. [And it wasn't okay, but it'd become expected.] But I don't hold it against you. I forgive you.
[Ronan kissed him, and Kavinsky pressed into it, again, desperate for it, to feel loved and cherished.
When they parted, he looked at Ronan through his lashes.]
So, you weren't joking about wanting to fuck, huh?
[He had eyes, after all. He could see the bed, which Ronan had been leading him towards. Everything felt like it was happening so fast, yet Kavinsky didn't feel overwhelmed. He was bad with taking things slow, anyway, and this- Ronan- was perfect.]
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I'll make it up to you. I want to make it up to you. I want to show you- what you really meant to me. How much I love you.
[He laughs softly when Kavinsky says you weren't joking, huh?, his face flushing just a little bit pink. Because he's right, of course, and he kisses him again, soft and sweet and longing. Love, still so much love, but with desire simmering underneath it. He wants their skin pressed together, he wants to prove the words he says with pleasure, with bodies twined together as intimately as they'd been in the dream sea.]
Yeah, I meant it. I want you, I want to feel you. I mean- if it's okay. I can be patient if you need to catch your breath. But I want it.
[He steals another kiss, this one hotter, aching with want, his hands shifting, sliding down Kavinsky's sides to curl against his hips. And there was something a little filthy in the gesture, the slow way that his hands touched like he couldn't get enough, like he needed more of him, needed this boy against him more than he needed breath. He'd never dreamed that he'd get the chance again, that he'd get anything but the specter of Kavinsky in his dreams who might touch him, but never without reminding him of how much he'd lost, how much he'd taken from the other boy.
Reality felt better than his dreams, even without the leyline. His body was still hungry for it, but even more he was hungry for Kavinsky. For his touch, and his voice, and just the ability to be allowed to love him.]
no subject
Okay.
[He hummed, soft and happy, when Ronan kissed him again. This moment felt perfect, even if he had no idea where they were or what was going on in the world and his arm was sore. He had Ronan and Ronan loved him. That was all he needed right now.]
'Course, it's okay. I just wanna ask one thing.
[One thing that he almost forgot with the way Ronan touched him, hands sliding down to his hips. It was good. It was lovely. He just wanted to curl himself around the other boy and hold onto him forever. It hadn't escaped his notice either that Ronan was older. He'd grown a bit; he looked good.
But, as to his question, Kavinsky nodded towards the tattoo on his arm.]
More important than it seems?
[It was a lovely tattoo, beautifully inked, and he was sure he wouldn't have it if it wasn't necessary. There was something going on in the world that he could almost feel if he let himself think about it too long, something that felt like it was missing. But he didn't want to focus on it right now. He didn't want to get pulled too far out of the moment, distracted from the boy in front of him.]
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He says it's okay, and that he just wants to ask one thing, and Ronan just looks at him, adoring, and waits for him to ask. He exhales a little at the question because-- he just hadn't been able to entirely resist worrying a little. But it's just this, and so he smiles instead, nuzzles into his shoulder a little as he lets one hand lift from his hip and instead slowly trace up against his arm.]
Yeah, it is. It's... what's keeping us awake. Art, emotions, magic. Hennessey added to mine, too. And I asked her to use mine for yours. Because I wanted- because it meant something to me, having my ink on your skin. We're- different than just being dreamers. Greywaren, is what Cabeswater and Lindenmere used to call me. And I think... I think you were right; I think we're the same.
[Ronan swallows, and there's something a little bit wrecked in how he says that part, in the way that his fingertips trace the pattern up the skin of his arm. He wasn't entirely sure if Kavinsky had been asking about what it meant to Ronan, or what it meant in the context of the world, and so he just answered both.]
We're more expensive than dreams. There's more to it, but Hennessey can probably explain it better. I can't do whatever it is she's doing.
[He leaned in, kissing him again, love and longing and heat, like he could tell Kavinsky how much he wanted him, needed him, without the words. Just like this, in how they touched, in how Ronan kissed him like it was the only thing that mattered.]
no subject
[But it wasn't just cool. He was glad Ronan had been in charge of making the decision for what sort of tattoo Kavinsky had ended up with. He wouldn't have wanted just anything; there were plenty of things he could've balked at, but this was...it felt right. Not just because Ronan had picked it for him, but because it mirrored Ronan's own tattoo. The idea of potentially leaving it in the hands of a stranger didn't quite sit well with him, but it hadn't been left to a stranger and-
He kissed Ronan, soft and sweet.]
I like it.
[It would take some time to get used to it, of course, to not look at himself or in the mirror and be startled by the expanse of ink, but the same could be said about any sort of change.
Greywaren. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that word, but it felt more real now, somehow. In a better context than he'd heard it before.]
Maybe you can and you just don't know it yet.
[In his opinion, Ronan could do anything, but he was very much biased.
Taking Ronan's face in his hands, he kissed him again and nudged him a step or two towards the bed.]
We'll make up for some lost time and then we'll fix the world, yeah?
no subject
Mm, maybe. I've never done art shit like this, though. But maybe I can do something different with it. Or maybe she can do it because she's not- what we are.
[Ronan didn't know if that was possible or not, he'd have to figure out what it was that Hennessey was actually doing. He'd notably had other concerns at the moment: like Kavinsky. Even now he was far less concerned with how Hennessey was making sweetmetals than he was with the boy in his arms. Even talking about it, his eyes were all on Kavinsky, like he couldn't believe he was this lucky, and like he wanted to strip his clothes off with his teeth.
God, he wanted him so badly. He always had. How many times had he dreamt about him? Had he woke shaking with shame and desire? If he hadn't been such a coward, there wouldn't be so much lost time between them. But he grins as Kavinsky kisses him again, laughing brightly as he nods, letting the other boy lead them the last few steps to the bed.]
Yeah, yeah. Make up for everything we lost, and then-- make this place a world for us.
[He kisses him, and then crawls onto the bed, not letting go of his hand, smiling as he tugs softly to encourage him to join him. The desire is burning hotter, more insistent, and god he needs this, he needs him, he needs to touch him for days until he's sure he's stitched their lives back together. Maybe that was his sweetmetal, really.]
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[He didn't know, but he thought it was maybe less about the object itself and more about what went into it. He couldn't imagine Ronan sitting down to paint or sketch, but he could see him doing something like metalwork or maybe glass blowing. It seemed like it would fit with who Ronan was.
He also thought that they might be more likely to be able to craft these sweetmetals because of what they were. But maybe it wasn't about the power itself, maybe it was something else.]
Uh-huh. [He agreed, following Ronan onto the bed and sitting astride his hips.] And then we can do whatever we want, without worrying about the world exploding. Together.
[He was thinking a little bit selfishly right now, but could anyone really blame him when he'd spent however long drifting in the dream sea, with no one to talk to and nothing to do? It was a wonder he hadn't lost his mind, really.
But still, if they fixed the world and made it a better place for dreamers and dreams, they would, in theory, have less to worry about and more time and energy to focus on the things that made them happy. Like each other.
Leaning down, he kissed Ronan, like he was never going to get tired of it, like he was trying to commit it to memory.]
I love you.
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Mm. I want you to make my world explode.
[Ronan was a little bit distracted, with his hands on Kavinsky's hips and the other boy sitting astride him so that all that Ronan could think about was Kavinsky, the boy that he'd loved and lusted after for so long, here, here with him, here in his hands. And he just wanted- he wanted this, he wanted him, he wanted their bodies twined together, bliss and pleasure and the reassurance of Kavinsky's heartbeat under his hand.
So hopefully Kavinsky would forgive him if he was a little distracted, if his mind was in the gutter. He just couldn't help himself. He murmured, kissing him back, like an offer and an invitation, like all the things he hadn't known how to offer back when he'd had the chance. And so maybe he was a bit overt about how much he wanted him- although he did try to be subtle about slipping the small bottle of lube he'd dreamt out of the pocket of his jeans.
He kissed him, helplessly, like Kavinsky was a spark and now Ronan was burning.]
I love you too.
[It felt like the most true thing that he'd ever said in his life.]
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I'm planning on it.
[He murmured.
He was really too distracted kissing Ronan's neck to notice him sliding the lube out of his pocket. Too distracted with feeling almost dizzy with happiness, a little overwhelmed but in the best way possible. He wanted Ronan, wanted him so bad the ache was practically in his bones. He was the sort of happy that moved people to tears, but he was determined not to cry again. Not because he thought it was weak, but because he didn't want to ruin the mood right now.
The worst part, really, was knowing he would have to move for them to get the rest of the way undressed. He didn't feel inclined to moving when he'd dreamed and daydreamed about this sort of thing so many times. Ronan beneath him, saying he loved him. He felt so full of affection and love and soft emotions. Things he wouldn't have thought possible for himself before, to feel this way, so strongly, about someone. Of course, it was Ronan. It had been Ronan for so long.
Kissing along Ronan's neck as he made his way up to his ear, he skimmed his hand down his side, shifting a bit so he could steadily work on the button and zipper of his jeans.]
I'm gonna show you how much I love you.
[It was a sweet murmur, a promise.]
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It was overwhelming for Ronan, too. This desire that simmered in his veins, down to the marrow of his bones, like the only thing saving him was the sense that Kavinsky felt it too. That Ronan wasn't the only one of them burning. He felt like he could have been happy if they just stripped down to skin, twined their bodies together and laid there on the sheets until the sun came up. But Ronan couldn't help wanting more. He almost whines or whimpers, tilting his head so that he can bare more of his neck to the other boy.
His skin under his hands, Kavinsky on top of him, leaning over him in a way that felt like the best sort of promise. His breath catching, uneven as he exhales, just from the feeling of the other boy's fingers on the zipper of his jeans.]
Oh fuck, K, please--
[His hips jerking up into the contact, unable to resist the way he's almost begging. Not even for anything specific, but just more, just this, just to be touched, for everything they've both been dying for. He loved him and he wanted it engraved on his body as surely as it was in his heart. Which was really what Ronan had been saying when he'd had Hennessey put his tattoo on Kavinsky, he supposes. God, he can't believe he gets to have this.
He palms against Kavinsky through his jeans, just to touch him, just to feel his arousal. Ronan was helplessly hard, his interest and desperation impossible to hide.]
I'm yours.
[It's all he can manage to say, but it's also helplessly true, honest. But hasn't he always been? Would he have been so terrified if it hadn't felt so all-consuming? There was nothing casual about loving Kavinsky and Ronan hadn't known how to face it. Now, he gives it to him like the easiest prayer he's ever said.]
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In the middle of tugging the zipper down, Kavinsky sucked in a breath when Ronan touched him. A shiver ran down his spine, faint goosebumps rippling across his skin. He was hard, too, had been for a bit, just from the idea of getting to have this with Ronan. It wasn't quite like his filthy fantasies from the summer he'd dreamed the dragon; it was better. Better because he knew without a doubt that Ronan loved him, and because he knew they weren't going to dance around the subject after everything was said and done. Ronan wasn't going to ghost him, they weren't going to go back to verbally sniping at each other. Kavinsky wouldn't have to desperately hope he was enough for the other boy.
His breath shook on his next exhale, and for a moment he just tucked his face against Ronan's neck, briefly overcome.]
And I'm yours. Forever.
[Remembering what he'd been doing, he finished tugging that pesky zipper down and slid his hand into them, into whatever underwear Ronan happened to be wearing. He just rested his hand on his cock for a moment, taking a moment to appreciate the feel of him, before wrapping his fingers around him. Ronan was perfect and gorgeous and the feel of him was intoxicating.
Kavinsky bit lightly at his neck, more teasing than anything.]
no subject
Kavinsky tucked his face into his neck, breathing an echo of Ronan's words, and he felt-- he didn't know. So in love, so fucking happy that he thought he might burst; not meant for these sorts of feelings. And yet he clung to them, held them like the most precious treasure, buried them under his ribs. But he'd meant what he'd said about not being a coward anymore. He loved him, and he hated so much that he'd had to lose Kavinsky once in order to face that.
He'd spend all of his life showing Kavinsky that he was worth it. Because god, he loved him. With every breath or beat of his heart.]
Yeah- Forever.
[He echoes it, looking into his eyes, reaching up to cup a hand against his face. Fuck, but he was beautiful. Even- maybe especially- with his hand down Ronan's pants. He couldn't help moaning softly, his body shaking just from the feeling of his hand against his cock. He whimpered as K bit at his neck, but it was all pleasure, all desire and want as his fingers curled around him. And fuck, it just makes him want so much more, want Kavinsky naked and pressed hip to hip. He wants it all, he wants to give him all of himself. Even if that's just this: skin and bone and love.]
Fuck, I love you.
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Ronan had experienced the world, at least to a degree. He'd seen some of the things it could offer. And here he was, choosing Kavinsky over every other possibility. At least, that was the impression he'd gotten from listening to everything Ronan had told him while they'd still been in the dream sea. The world hadn't been kind to Ronan, but that was why they were going to fix it after this. Together.]
I love you, too.
[He didn't think he was ever going to get tired of hearing it or saying it. He cared about Ronan too damn much to get tired of anything to do with him. He wanted him so much, more than anything.
His breath stuck in his chest for a moment and he smiled, lifting his head a bit to rest his forehead against Ronan's while he stroked his cock slowly, almost reverently. They were both vastly overdressed and Kavinsky would address that issue--just as soon as he could keep his hands off Ronan long enough to focus on anything else.
His boyfriend. Kavinsky felt it with every beat of his heart.]
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But he didn't want him to have to. Or he at least wanted to prove to Kavinsky that it was worth it.
He didn't have enough faith in himself to believe that he'd never lash out, say something cruel that the other boy didn't deserve. But he wanted.. he wanted to love him enough that he could tell the difference. What he meant and what was just Ronan lashing out at the world.
He didn't think he'd ever wanted anything as much as he wanted Kavinsky. He murmured sweetly as their foreheads rested together, moaning softly into the space between them, and he curls fingers at the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Desperate and hungry, all heat and want and need; his hips pressing into Kavinsky's touch, his pale skin flushed with arousal and pleasure, letting the other boy ruin him so sweetly.
God, he wanted this forever. Wanted him forever.]
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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.]
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He wanted to... he wanted to finally remake it into a place that felt like his own. Where he could keep the warmth of childhood days, but lose some of the ghosts. Make it into a place that didn't feel so empty, because he wouldn't be there alone, wouldn't be the only dreamer that called it home.
But sweet thoughts of the future could wait for later.
For the moment-- all he could think of was the two of them, here, like this, and how much he wanted him. He whined, but not quite in protest when Kavinsky's fingers pulled out of his pants. He couldn't help it, just a knee-jerk from the fact that he was no longer touching him. He did his best to help Kavinsky get his pants off, also palming against his cock, undoing the button and the zipper, pressing a kiss whenever he could steal one.]
It's too good to be a dream. It feels too good. And you're too perfect. I'd never-- I'd never have been able to get you right.
[His breath catches in something that's not quite a sob, and his blue eyes are wet but he isn't quite crying. He smiles, uneven and overwhelmed, and just shaking with so many feelings. He says the last part like a confession. Because he'd thought about it, of course. Imagined it. But he'd always known it was beyond him. Worse than the Camaro, or Matthew, or even Bryde. Every person he dreamed had been a response to a desire. Kavinsky... he was a response to most of Ronan's desires, and he was a complicated creature, sharp and soft and filled with a million threads of wants and experience, feelings and pain.
Kavinsky would never be something he could dream like he had by wanting a better brother or needing a better dreamer. Maybe part of it was that he loved him too much to ever be able to see him clearly. So he knew this was real, that it had to be real. He squirmed, managing to kick off his jeans and his boxerbriefs, leaving him completely naked, and he didn't even care that it wasn't his bed, that he'd have to wash Hennessey's sheets later.
All he cared about was that he was naked, here, with the boy that he loved. And that he needed, desperately, for Kavinsky to ravish him. Wanted their bodies twined together, so they could give each other what they needed, so that they could fulfill that ache that had been gnawing at him.]
I want you- I want everything. I brought some lube back with us, just in case.
[He admitted it with his face flushing, a little bit embarrassed as he slipped Kavinsky the small container.]
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That's why it feels like a dream. It's so good.
[It was exactly the sort of self-indulgent thing he would dream for himself, a reality where Ronan loved him and was sweet to him. But he probably wouldn't have been able to get Ronan right, either. It'd been hard enough with Prokopenko, and they'd been a lot closer at the time. Speaking of- he tucked Prokopenko away as a subject to ask about in the future.
Smiling softly, with the sweetest expression he'd maybe ever worn, he took Ronan's face in his hands and kissed him gently. He ached for him, and not just sexually, but in a sympathetic, understanding sort of way. He understood the desire and the thought to have wanted to dream a copy of him, and he was both touched and glad Ronan hadn't tried. Things seemed to be working out, so far.]
I love you, so much.
[He murmured, kissing Ronan on the forehead, then again on the lips. He had so many emotions he felt like he was going to burst. How was he supposed to contain all of them? His other form seemed to have been better for holding everything he felt, but this one was better for loving and living. Those were both things he wanted to do with Ronan.
Pulling back, he took a moment to admire Ronan's nakedness, the lines of his body, bones and muscle and alright, his cock, too. But it was about more than that. It was the sheer beauty and wonder of his existence. And then Ronan said he'd dreamed lube and Kavinsky started to laugh, warm and pleased.]
I like the way you think.
[And it saved them a hell of a lot of trouble.
He took the lube from Ronan, flopping back next to him so he could work on getting his own pants off. It wasn't very graceful, but he didn't have the patience for it right now. He could worry about being sexy about undressing some other time, when they were both a little less desperate for this.]
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Because fuck, he knows they both need it.]
Mm, maybe you should show me, later. After we fix the world. 'Cause I was never as good at that- good dreams. Not without Lindenmere. Or you.
[He flushes a little bit, and when Kavinsky takes his face in his hands, he kisses him back, sweet and gentle, a hand pressing to the side of the other boy's face, letting his other hand slide up along his spine, caressing, but also just- soaking up the feel of him in every touch. Not because he wanted to dream him, but because he wanted to remember. He wanted to be able to feel him and remember what his kisses felt like, how drunk he felt just on proximity when they were near each other. No matter what happened, he wanted... he wanted to keep this. He wanted to bury it in his heart like a truth no one could take from him.
His boyfriend.]
I love you too, forever.
[He knew he'd said it before, but somehow it felt like it meant more every time he said it, not less. It felt like he suddenly understood everything he'd lost, everything he'd been denying Adam by refusing to say I love you. He gasped, helpless, because there was something about having the boy kiss his forehead. It felt nostalgic, not quite enough to remind him of his mother, but it did remind him of that sweetness. Ronan was struggling too with the sheer feeling of how many emotions he had running through him. It made him think that maybe there were things that other form was better for expressing; that maybe tendril-to-tendril it'd be easier to tell/show Kavinsky just how much he felt for him, how much he loved him. Show him the things he'd felt when he was young and foolish and scared.
But Kavinsky laughs and Ronan grins, wicked and suggestive and almost a little bit proud.]
I thought you might appreciate the gesture. And I had no idea where the fuck we'd end up, and so I wanted- to make sure nothing got in the way. I knew I wouldn't be able to dream it after.
[The way that Kavinsky strips might not be overly graceful, but Ronan still thinks that it's beautiful. Because he's beautiful. And every exposed inch of skin sends a desperate surge through his heart. This amazing, wonderful, gorgeous creature, and Ronan got to keep him. Got to offer him his skin and trust that Kavinsky wanted it as much as he did. His boyfriend. And he meant it, really meant it, in all the ways that had been why Adam broke up with him. If anything, this soothed the last jagged pieces of that break, not just because he had someone else, but because he understood it better now, why they'd fallen apart, what it had been supposed to feel like. It made him even more assured that he and Parrish had always been best as friends.
But that isn't who he's thinking about at the moment. He's laying back, all bedroom eyes, his body like an invitation as he whimpers his name. God he needs this. He needs him.]
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Yeah, I'll show you everything.
[It was a promise. He would give Ronan things to have good dreams about. They'd build a life together, compile good experiences and memories and make up for everything that'd happened before.
And god, but every time they said I love you, it felt a little more true and real and meaningful. Kavinsky's chest swelled with fondness every time and he didn't care in the slightest that they'd become the sort of couple he'd tease and poke fun at back in Henrietta. The kind who made heart eyes at each other all the time and couldn't keep their hands off each other. He understood it all now.]
Yeah, good point. You gotta go for what you want.
[He wrestled out of his pants and boxers successfully, dropping them to the floor (though it was closer to flinging them over the side of the bed), and smiled as he sat up again.]
Fingers first or-?
[Impatient, him? Nah, never. He asked while skimming a hand over Ronan's hip, up his side, and back down again, touching him for the sake of it, because he needed something to do with his hands and Ronan was literally right there.]