Ronan shakes his head, a jerk so subtle it could go overlooked if Kavinsky wanted to deny it. There won't be any admission here, though. They don't belong together. Ronan has been saving himself for Adam all this time, and Kavinsky knows it. Desire for something to happen doesn't mean it should happen.
The desire is very real, though, and Ronan incapable of resisting it, even if he's trying not to chase it. He tucks his face against the sheets to stifle the needy sounds rising up out of him. He's shaking with nerves, the vibration reverberating through Kavinsky at every point of contact. Even so, he does nothing to pull himself away from Kavinsky's cock as it drags against him, certain in its intention.
Kavinsky chases his pleasure, jaw tight as he fucks between Ronan's cheeks because this is what he can get away with. He fucks him like he dreams of doing, just to remind Ronan what he could have if he would just give in.
He uses his knees to push Ronan's thighs further apart, bringing his hips closer to the bed until he's caught between the friction of the blankets and Kavinsky's cock. He's reduced to panting breaths and quiet, urgent sounds as he hits his peak.
With a grunt, he pushes himself up more so that he can watch himself come. Kavinsky forces himself to slow down, dragging out those final, fluid movements as he spills against Ronan's skin. He lets the head of his cock slide past his hole, lets his thumb brush over it but doesn't offer any penetration.
Ronan allows himself to be used like this, as always. There's laughably little difference between this act and penetration, except that only Kavinsky receives gratification from this. And, really, if Kavinsky is getting so much pleasure out of him, what is it that Ronan's saving for Adam, anyway? Either way, Kavinsky fucks him into the bed. Either way, Kavinsky marks him with his sin.
Even when Kavinsky spills out onto his back, Ronan doesn't react. Not until he feels that brush against his hole again, when his own desire instantly sparks back to life. He lets out a soft moan at the teasing, pushing back for just the slightest increase in pressure. Everything slips and slides so easily against his skin, now that he's coated in Kavinsky's seed.
"I want..." he starts, then stops, unsure of his own request. He gropes blindly behind him, instead, until his fingers catch Kavinsky's cock - not yet softened, but safely spent. Ronan draws the head of it to his hole again, teasing himself with it some more, threatening to push it inside but maybe unsure how.
Kavinsky's lips part as Ronan's fingers curl around his cock to guide him close again. "Fuck," he breathes, and those words brand themselves in his mind: I want. He wets his lips and stares as Ronan's hips push back, asking for what he can't muster the words to say. He rocks against Ronan, teasing him with the possibility just to see what he does. He lets the tip of his thumb push in, instead.
"You want this, princess?" he asks, quietly breathless.
Ronan swallows down a moan as he nods. Only once. The barest acknowledgment of his need.
Kavinsky can take it from here, undoubtedly. Ronan's hand drops away from his cock to brace against the bed, giving him leverage to rock back and take a little more of Kavinsky's thumb into him.
"It doesn't count," he insists, in case Kavinsky gets the wrong idea in his head. "You already got off, so it doesn't fucking count. I just wanna know what it feels like."
"Doesn't count, huh?" Catholic ingenuity at its best. He lets his thumb sink deeper as Ronan pushes back against him. Kavinsky leans over Ronan and plucks up the lube off his nightstand. His head is buzzing and everything feels electric as he dribbles lube between them, making an obscene mess of it as he slides his cock through it,
He slips his thumb out and replaces it with a slick finger, and just a few breathes later, a second. He moves them lazily, looking for that spot that he knows will make Ronan feel good. He wants him to feel good.
"Fuck," Ronan hisses, pressing his forehead to the mattress as he pushes back to take that finger deeper. His body sways as he begins to fuck himself on it, incremental and experimental rolling of his hips to explore how much he can take.
Then the tip of Kavinsky's finger brushes just the right spot and it's like a fuse being lit. He gasps and seeks it again, spreading himself wider because one finger isn't enough. He grunts impatiently, "Quit fucking around."
Any more prepping and Kavinsky will go soft before Ronan gets to have him.
Kavinsky pulls back, slips his fingers free and he strokes lube over himself. He'll fucking die if he loses his erection before he gets this. He leans over Ronan as he pushes in. The obscene amount of lube help but he still feels tight and he drops his head down, forehead resting against Ronan's back as he sinks as deep as he can.
"Oh fuck--" His mouth hangs open and he pushes his hips against the curve of Ronan's ass like he can somehow get deeper. "Ronan--"
Ronan's breath hitches sharply. Though he's the one who demanded it, the sudden stretch and ache of Kavinsky filling him is a shock he didn't quite expect. Every muscle in his body goes tense and he squeezes tight around Kavinsky's cock, locking him in place.
"Oh, God," he gasps, shivering like he's too afraid to make another move. All he does is cradle Kavinsky inside him, stuffed to the hilt with him, overwhelmed by the intimate vulnerability of their two bodies becoming one.
For a minute it's just the two of them breathing. Kavinsky doesn't move other than to slide his hand along Ronan's side. He tries moving his hips just a little, breath catching at the resistance. "C'mon," he sighs as he runs his hands over Ronan's back, over his his hips and back up along his ribs. "C'mon, sweetheart."
He waits as long as it takes and when he can, he rocks his hips back, drawing out a couple inches before he sinks back in, nice and slow. It's agony and it's ecstasy and Kavinsky never wants it to stop.
Gradually, Ronan relaxes enough to allow for this careful movement, though he tenses all over again as Kavinsky moves to sink back in. A low moan escapes his throat. One hand seizes at Kavinsky's hip, ready to shove him away at any moment, but not yet. Not yet.
"Wait," he whispers. "Wait."
But those words seem to be meant for himself more than Kavinsky, as if he's trying to talk himself out of something and failing miserably, because in the next moment, he rocks back to take Kavinsky completely into him. Rather than throwing Kavinsky off of him, that hand encourages another slow thrust. And another. With each one, Ronan relaxes just a bit more.
Kavinsky groans when Ronan grabs his hip but he waits until he feels his hips push back and, as far as he's concerned, that's permission to move again. He keeps up the slow, easy thrust of his hips, never pulling back too far before he sinks back in. Ronan feels like a fucking dream and Kavinsky never wants to wake up. He wants to devour him whole.
"That's it, shit." He tips his head back but not for long. He doesn't want to miss a second of this and he lolls his head forward again, dark eyes intense as he focuses on the place where their bodies meet. He wants to commit this to memory. As Ronan relaxes, Kavinsky experiments with giving him longer strokes, pulling out further before he pushes in again.
Ronan says it doesn't count since he's already gotten off. Kavinsky wonders if it counts if he gets fully hard again while he's buried in Ronan's ass.
It's not long before whether or not this counts no longer appears to be a question in Ronan's mind. He seems to be savoring this just as much as Kavinsky is, his voice thick with lust every time he moans in answer to being filled again. As Kavinsky drags further and sinks deeper, the sounds leaving Ronan draw out longer, louder. He's forgetting himself, forgetting everything but the feeling of being claimed.
"Harder," he breathes, so low that the word is nearly lost amid the other sounds of ecstasy. He swallows and tries again, his voice shuddering with the request, "Do it harder."
He's dreamed of this, of those words falling from Ronan's lips. Kavinsky pushes himself up so he can get more power behind each thrust, fucking into Ronan harder, faster. This is how it could be all the fucking time if Ronan would just--
Kavinsky's hard again and all he wants to do is fuck until he comes, he wants to spill inside his dream body instead of across his skin.
"You feel so fucking good."
He wants more. The ravenous thing inside him has been given a taste and he needs more. With a sharp, frustrated sound, Kavinsky pulls back - pulls out - and wrestles Ronan onto his back. He wastes no time pushing back in, thrusting hard as his eyes lock on Ronan's face.
Ronan lets out a startled cry, thrown out of the delicious rhythm they'd been building toward only to find himself landing on his back. The instinct is to claw and fight, but just as he's seizing Kavinsky by the shoulders, Kavinsky's shoving his way back inside. Ronan's fingers temporarily lose their grip. He's paralyzed by the confusing and humiliating shock of being taken while Kavinsky is staring right into his eyes. It's like been cracked open, every one of his defenses ripped away, leaving his expression raw and vulnerable.
There's no disapproval in his body, though. Ronan's hard as a rock, ready to burst at any moment. He spreads his legs and forces himself to relax, easing Kavinsky's access though he can clearly feel this is leading somewhere he swore they wouldn't go. Kavinsky's getting stiffer, not softer. They're already beyond the pretense of preserving Ronan's virtue.
"This wasn't supposed to be for you," Ronan sighs, nearly mournful. Yet his blunt fingernails dig into Kavinsky's skin, dragging him closer.
For a moment he can't talk. He's dreamed of this, exactly this, since he set eyes on this boy. It only got more intense after he realized Ronan is like him. Seeing him cracked open now makes something inside him fracture, too. Kavinsky keeps moving, slower and deeper than a breath ago.
He wets his lips as Ronan's nails dig against his skin, dragging him in until they're as close as two bodies can get. The words sink in like pins; he tries to laugh.
"Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, I know."
But he doesn't apologize. He can't. Kavinsky sinks down down and runs his fingers over Ronan's hair.
Ronan lets the silence linger in the wake of those words. The only sounds to fill the space are the rustling sheets and Ronan's short gasps every time Kavinsky sinks into him.
Then he reaches up, palming Kavinsky's cheek before taking him by the chin to redirect his gaze. Their eyes meet again for just a second. Ronan pulls him in for a kiss. It's the stuff of fantasy, as heated and wanting as any kiss a dream would have given him. His whole body surges into it, hips rocking up to swallow all of Kavinsky and hold him deep inside.
He doesn't close his eyes at first, quietly disbelieving as their lips meet. But as Ronan tries to devour him, Kavinsky's eyes drift shut and he pushes into the kiss, meeting Ronan's full-body demand with fierce passion. He grinds their bodies together, barely pulling out anymore. Ronan's cock brushes his stomach every time he moves and he's content to stay low, teasing his dream boy with fleeting friction.
Kavinsky's hand drifts down Ronan's face to rest on his neck. His thumb brushes Ronan's pulse, feeling thunder beneath his touch. He never wants this to end.
It has to end, though. For Ronan, at least. There's only so much his body can take and it's this intimacy, apparently, that's enough to finally make him let go of whatever inhibitions he'd still been clinging to. The kiss and the combined sensations of rutting up against Kavinsky and being filled with him and connecting with him in every possible way all work to push him over the edge.
Ronan moans without pulling his mouth from Kavinsky's, lips parting and dragging against lips. His entire body quakes with his climax, his spine arching and his hands grasping to make sure Kavinsky isn't thrown from him in the midst of all this violent shaking. Wet heat fills the tight space between their bodies, his cock pulsing in bursts against Kavinsky's skin until he's drained dry, until Kavinsky's taken everything from him.
Kavinsky gasps sharply when he feels it start. He lets go of Ronan's throat to reach between them, wrapping his fingers around Ronan's cock as he comes between them. Kavinsky strokes him through it, watching Ronan's face through it all because he will never get enough of seeing him falling apart like this.
He's trembling finely by the time Ronan seems finished, full aroused again and desperate to come. He stops stroking when he's sure Ronan has nothing left to give and he lifts his hand to his lips to lick his fingers clean. Then he kisses his dream boy, pushes his tongue into his mouth to share the taste as he moves his hips in short, deep thrusts. He wants to fill him, he wants to find his release buried like this.
Everything feels too sensitive now, drawing soft pleading sounds out of Ronan, as if he's on the verge of begging Kavinsky to stop. He doesn't, though. Instead, he takes Kavinsky's tongue into his mouth and suckles it and greedily drinks down the traces of his own seed.
Filled from both ends, Ronan trembles with every thrust. Each shiver threatens to become a jerk back, a fight to break free, before he writhes closer instead, changing his mind over and over again. Like he can't bear to pull himself away from Kavinsky, even when he knows he should.
Ronan moving toward him and pushing away again is an apt summary of their-- whatever. Kavinsky chases him every time, moving faster, harder as he builds to his own release.
"You feel so fucking good," he murmurs, breathless. He grabs Ronan's thigh and cradles his head; his eyes close when it finally hits him and he curls over Ronan as he pushes deep, as he spills inside him. "Oh fuck--"
He rocks his hips a few times, shivering as the sensitivity ramps up. Kavinsky sinks against Ronan, finally still as he tries to catch his breath.
Ronan's body goes tense in Kavinsky's arms as it becomes clear he's hit his peak. His hands press against Kavinsky's ribs, like he's willing himself one last time to push Kavinsky away before it's too late.
But it's already too late. Kavinsky floods him with seed, taking him for his own, and there isn't any point in pretending Ronan was ever going to belong to anyone other than him. He slackens when the rush is over and the two of them collapse against the mattress, his eyes staring past Kavinsky to gaze up at the ceiling.
Kavinsky slumps over Ronan. He doesn’t want to pull out, he doesn’t want to be separate. That leaves room for a hundred things to come between them. Like this, there’s nothing but skin and breathing. He brushes his fingers along Ronan’s cheek and kisses him again.
“Stay,” he murmurs. Whether he means in his bed or in a contact doesn’t really matter. He wants Ronan; he feels like he has always wanted Ronan.
Ronan makes no move to separate. His legs close around Kavinsky, instead, hugging him by the thighs to keep him safe inside. In answer to that plea, Ronan kisses him again. Tender and reverent, the way he'd kiss Adam. A kiss that tells a sweet lie the real Ronan could never bear. But Kavinsky doesn't know that. Here, in the fantasy, is a Ronan who would let him inside and choose to stay.
When the kiss finally breaks, Ronan whispers like a secret, "Let's dream again. I wanna fall asleep like this."
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The desire is very real, though, and Ronan incapable of resisting it, even if he's trying not to chase it. He tucks his face against the sheets to stifle the needy sounds rising up out of him. He's shaking with nerves, the vibration reverberating through Kavinsky at every point of contact. Even so, he does nothing to pull himself away from Kavinsky's cock as it drags against him, certain in its intention.
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He uses his knees to push Ronan's thighs further apart, bringing his hips closer to the bed until he's caught between the friction of the blankets and Kavinsky's cock. He's reduced to panting breaths and quiet, urgent sounds as he hits his peak.
With a grunt, he pushes himself up more so that he can watch himself come. Kavinsky forces himself to slow down, dragging out those final, fluid movements as he spills against Ronan's skin. He lets the head of his cock slide past his hole, lets his thumb brush over it but doesn't offer any penetration.
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Even when Kavinsky spills out onto his back, Ronan doesn't react. Not until he feels that brush against his hole again, when his own desire instantly sparks back to life. He lets out a soft moan at the teasing, pushing back for just the slightest increase in pressure. Everything slips and slides so easily against his skin, now that he's coated in Kavinsky's seed.
"I want..." he starts, then stops, unsure of his own request. He gropes blindly behind him, instead, until his fingers catch Kavinsky's cock - not yet softened, but safely spent. Ronan draws the head of it to his hole again, teasing himself with it some more, threatening to push it inside but maybe unsure how.
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"You want this, princess?" he asks, quietly breathless.
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Kavinsky can take it from here, undoubtedly. Ronan's hand drops away from his cock to brace against the bed, giving him leverage to rock back and take a little more of Kavinsky's thumb into him.
"It doesn't count," he insists, in case Kavinsky gets the wrong idea in his head. "You already got off, so it doesn't fucking count. I just wanna know what it feels like."
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He slips his thumb out and replaces it with a slick finger, and just a few breathes later, a second. He moves them lazily, looking for that spot that he knows will make Ronan feel good. He wants him to feel good.
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Then the tip of Kavinsky's finger brushes just the right spot and it's like a fuse being lit. He gasps and seeks it again, spreading himself wider because one finger isn't enough. He grunts impatiently, "Quit fucking around."
Any more prepping and Kavinsky will go soft before Ronan gets to have him.
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Kavinsky pulls back, slips his fingers free and he strokes lube over himself. He'll fucking die if he loses his erection before he gets this. He leans over Ronan as he pushes in. The obscene amount of lube help but he still feels tight and he drops his head down, forehead resting against Ronan's back as he sinks as deep as he can.
"Oh fuck--" His mouth hangs open and he pushes his hips against the curve of Ronan's ass like he can somehow get deeper. "Ronan--"
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"Oh, God," he gasps, shivering like he's too afraid to make another move. All he does is cradle Kavinsky inside him, stuffed to the hilt with him, overwhelmed by the intimate vulnerability of their two bodies becoming one.
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He waits as long as it takes and when he can, he rocks his hips back, drawing out a couple inches before he sinks back in, nice and slow. It's agony and it's ecstasy and Kavinsky never wants it to stop.
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"Wait," he whispers. "Wait."
But those words seem to be meant for himself more than Kavinsky, as if he's trying to talk himself out of something and failing miserably, because in the next moment, he rocks back to take Kavinsky completely into him. Rather than throwing Kavinsky off of him, that hand encourages another slow thrust. And another. With each one, Ronan relaxes just a bit more.
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"That's it, shit." He tips his head back but not for long. He doesn't want to miss a second of this and he lolls his head forward again, dark eyes intense as he focuses on the place where their bodies meet. He wants to commit this to memory. As Ronan relaxes, Kavinsky experiments with giving him longer strokes, pulling out further before he pushes in again.
Ronan says it doesn't count since he's already gotten off. Kavinsky wonders if it counts if he gets fully hard again while he's buried in Ronan's ass.
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"Harder," he breathes, so low that the word is nearly lost amid the other sounds of ecstasy. He swallows and tries again, his voice shuddering with the request, "Do it harder."
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Kavinsky's hard again and all he wants to do is fuck until he comes, he wants to spill inside his dream body instead of across his skin.
"You feel so fucking good."
He wants more. The ravenous thing inside him has been given a taste and he needs more. With a sharp, frustrated sound, Kavinsky pulls back - pulls out - and wrestles Ronan onto his back. He wastes no time pushing back in, thrusting hard as his eyes lock on Ronan's face.
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There's no disapproval in his body, though. Ronan's hard as a rock, ready to burst at any moment. He spreads his legs and forces himself to relax, easing Kavinsky's access though he can clearly feel this is leading somewhere he swore they wouldn't go. Kavinsky's getting stiffer, not softer. They're already beyond the pretense of preserving Ronan's virtue.
"This wasn't supposed to be for you," Ronan sighs, nearly mournful. Yet his blunt fingernails dig into Kavinsky's skin, dragging him closer.
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He wets his lips as Ronan's nails dig against his skin, dragging him in until they're as close as two bodies can get. The words sink in like pins; he tries to laugh.
"Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, I know."
But he doesn't apologize. He can't. Kavinsky sinks down down and runs his fingers over Ronan's hair.
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Then he reaches up, palming Kavinsky's cheek before taking him by the chin to redirect his gaze. Their eyes meet again for just a second. Ronan pulls him in for a kiss. It's the stuff of fantasy, as heated and wanting as any kiss a dream would have given him. His whole body surges into it, hips rocking up to swallow all of Kavinsky and hold him deep inside.
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Kavinsky's hand drifts down Ronan's face to rest on his neck. His thumb brushes Ronan's pulse, feeling thunder beneath his touch. He never wants this to end.
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Ronan moans without pulling his mouth from Kavinsky's, lips parting and dragging against lips. His entire body quakes with his climax, his spine arching and his hands grasping to make sure Kavinsky isn't thrown from him in the midst of all this violent shaking. Wet heat fills the tight space between their bodies, his cock pulsing in bursts against Kavinsky's skin until he's drained dry, until Kavinsky's taken everything from him.
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He's trembling finely by the time Ronan seems finished, full aroused again and desperate to come. He stops stroking when he's sure Ronan has nothing left to give and he lifts his hand to his lips to lick his fingers clean. Then he kisses his dream boy, pushes his tongue into his mouth to share the taste as he moves his hips in short, deep thrusts. He wants to fill him, he wants to find his release buried like this.
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Filled from both ends, Ronan trembles with every thrust. Each shiver threatens to become a jerk back, a fight to break free, before he writhes closer instead, changing his mind over and over again. Like he can't bear to pull himself away from Kavinsky, even when he knows he should.
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"You feel so fucking good," he murmurs, breathless. He grabs Ronan's thigh and cradles his head; his eyes close when it finally hits him and he curls over Ronan as he pushes deep, as he spills inside him. "Oh fuck--"
He rocks his hips a few times, shivering as the sensitivity ramps up. Kavinsky sinks against Ronan, finally still as he tries to catch his breath.
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But it's already too late. Kavinsky floods him with seed, taking him for his own, and there isn't any point in pretending Ronan was ever going to belong to anyone other than him. He slackens when the rush is over and the two of them collapse against the mattress, his eyes staring past Kavinsky to gaze up at the ceiling.
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“Stay,” he murmurs. Whether he means in his bed or in a contact doesn’t really matter. He wants Ronan; he feels like he has always wanted Ronan.
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When the kiss finally breaks, Ronan whispers like a secret, "Let's dream again. I wanna fall asleep like this."
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