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Ronan was starting to think he might be bad at sex.
And it certainly didn’t help that Adam tended toward the subtle.
It’s not that Adam seemed to dislike anything about the all of four times they’d had sex— in fact, that awed expression, staring up at him with wide eyes through near-invisible eyelashes, mouth slightly parted, breath hitching the first time Ronan had pressed into him, slow and careful, was tucked into Ronan’s memory forever, to pull from a shelf in his mind any day he needed it.
The proof had been written in nail indents, dug into shoulders. He’d been anticipating it, just as eager as Ronan, which was as dizzyingly gratifying as it was confusing for his predicament.
Because he was pretty fucking sure people generally regarded your partner being nearly dead silent for the entirety of the endeavor as a poor sign for the other’s performance.
That first time, Ronan had been fidgeting, with lit-up nerve endings, brain filling with white noise as he leaned over Adam, hands on the mattress as he attempted to set a steady pace. All he could manage was an occasional locking of eyes to confirm: You still with me, Parrish? Equally silent, the way he’d asked this, but less unnerving since neither of them seemed to know what to expect for their first time.
But now that he was getting used to it, body slotting against Adam’s on the backbreakingly uncomfortable mattress at St. Agnes, or the softer one at Monmouth, or the Barns, or the couch, Ronan found this out about himself: he could be quite vocal, acutely so.
Over the past few months, Ronan had been trying to rectify this, starting once with an awkward clearing of throat and asking Adam How are you? and then mentally slapping himself and bracing for the snark: Currently folded in half, Ronan, how do you think I am?
Instead, though, Adam had choked down a breath before smiling up at him, an equally awkward, Uh, good, you? And Ronan had almost burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it, talking like they hadn’t spent the better part of a year experiencing things far more harrowing than navigating sex, before burrowing his face into Adam’s shoulder instead and returning to form.
Ronan had gotten more confident in asking, since then— from pausing and stumbling over a Is this okay? to being more effortless about it, keeping up the momentum of hips moving, and looking down, meeting eyes steadily, Do you like that? and made Ronan finally feel like he had, for once, graduated from something, even if it was just in talking during sex, which, compared to actual technique, seemed minimal.
But Adam, despite all his reassurances, the jerky nod in response, tapping the side of Ronan’s thigh to indicate, keep going, was still not making a single noise that wasn’t a prompted response to a question from Ronan.
If anything, Ronan felt like he had to stifle his own low groaning, which he’d found he could be quite generous with, just to listen for the slightest change in Adam’s breathing, seeking guidance to the one question Ronan wanted most to have an answer to but hadn’t found yet:
How the hell do I get my boyfriend to let go?
Every time they’d had sex, every time Ronan thought that Adam was about to reach his breaking point, letting quiet breaths leak out with more frequency, he’d suddenly swallow, hard, flatten lips, clenched shut, back to silence.
Once, the closest he’d ever gotten to hearing it, when he figured the problem was going too fast and not giving Adam enough time to build up his arousal and had accordingly teased him while opening him up with two fingers, Adam had to throw an arm over his mouth, nestled his face in the crook of his own elbow, to stop a sound from escaping. Ronan was sure that was it, in that moment.
But then Adam had just muttered Hurry up, Ronan, and it wasn’t like he would ignore so clear a direction when Adam had never given any.
It got to a point where Ronan even did the unthinkable: used his phone and looked it up, how to get my boyfriend to moan or whine or anything, honestly, only to close the tab and chuck it across the room after reading uselessly simple answers to the question, like Have you tried asking him to and Just tell him you want to hear him.
Phones had yet to prove usefulness to him.
He knew that. He was wanting to know how he could do it without asking, how to show off that he’d made a study out of Adam Parrish’s reactions and wanted to use that knowledge to the best of his ability, to make him—
Ronan wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, he wanted to get Adam to do.
Maybe it was that, the not knowing, that made him want to see a heavier reaction. Something like the groan that seemed to claw its way out of Ronan’s throat before he knew it was coming, something that only he would get to hear, to let it replay in his dreams.
It’s just that something about the distinct look of composure Adam kept up while having sex with him was incongruous with being fucked into the mattress.
It made something unpleasant clench in Ronan’s gut— the idea that Adam might be accepting bad sex that only felt good to Ronan in the same way he accepted that everything else in his life was some hardship he had to persevere through.
And Ronan…he’d already seen enough of Adam holding himself back for a lifetime.
Even without the deeper reasoning that kept Ronan up at night, Ronan just thinks it’d be incredibly sexy to see his boyfriend as undone as he felt. The two thoughts could coexist, in his opinion.
As Ronan’s luck would have it, Adam showed up at the Barns just as Ronan accidentally struck a strip of solid rock, a string of obscenities escaping from him when an intense shockwave traveled its way up the handle of his shovel.
“The hell are you doing, Ronan?”
Ronan threw down the shovel and looked up. He’d dug about four feet below the ground in the past couple of hours, and Adam peered down at him, bewildered and still in his Aglionby uniform, hair mussed from the light breeze, the last hints of the setting sun haloing the edges of it with a glint of gold light.
“Digging my own grave, it turns out,” Ronan said.
“Looks a bit shallow for that.”
Ronan threw up his hands. “I thought we could use a swimming hole. Pool, or something. I don’t know. We could show Opal how to swim.”
Adam let out a surprised laugh, and crouched down a bit, to be eye-level with Ronan standing in the pit.
“You look like you’re trying to start a fight with the dirt.”
“And winning,” Ronan couldn’t help but add.
“Losing,” Adam corrected. “Why didn’t you just use a backhoe? Isn’t there one in the—”
“Fucker won’t start. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”
Adam adjusted the messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, half-smiling.
“I could take a look at it,” he said easily. “Maybe tomorrow?”
Ronan quirked an eyebrow. “Thought you have work all day.”
“Boyd made me switch with one of the full-timers. It’ll be Sunday instead,” Adam said.
He held out his hand. Ronan took it, trudging back up and out of the hole. Seeing his dirt-coated hands meet Adam’s clean ones—although they looked a bit dry, note to self; dream Adam some more hand lotion later—made him pause. He hadn’t even realized how much of the dirt he’d dug up had landed on him.
“I should probably,” Ronan motioned a finger vaguely around himself, “Y’know. Take care of this. Not exactly trying to audition for A Charlie Brown Christmas.”
“Because you’re…” Adam tilted his head a bit, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. Media wasn’t exactly his strong suit, regardless of format. “...bald?”
“Shut up. The one with the dirt clouds. Pig-Pen.”
Adam shrugged. Character names meant nothing to him. “Sure.”
“You staying the night?”
“Am I invited?”
It felt less and less like Adam said that out of anything more than habit, at this point. Before last winter, before that night in Ronan’s room where he’d taken one look at Adam, forlorn, hunched over on the end of his bed holding a model car, overthinking so loudly Ronan could practically hear it, just had to interrupt whatever train of thought had made his face look so crestfallen in a house full of people who openly loved, who felt like family, had to let Adam know he was a part of it.
As clumsy as it was —Ronan could barely hear himself speaking to Adam, skin buzzing as he took the toy from Adam’s hands— Ronan had finally let himself take what he wanted, what wanted him, the only way he knew how to say it.
Not being able to sit still afterward, so keyed up from one gentle kiss he couldn’t let himself look at Adam’s dazed expression too long. Ronan needing air.
It had amazed him, then, that he had, for months, grown accustomed to perfecting his dreams, to a point where he was fairly confident he could conjure anything from thin air via rapid eye movement, but kissing Adam was the first time he’d truly felt limitless.
Adam had no reason, now, to believe the Barns to be a place where he would ever not be wanted. And Ronan never got tired of telling him that.
Ronan huffed. “‘Course you are.”
“Cool.”
Adam turned away as he responded, voice forcibly casual, but not before Ronan caught the edge of a brilliant smile creeping up his face. He tried to wrap one of his arms around Adam’s neck, failing, Adam sidestepping out of the way and laughing as they headed for the farmhouse.
Ronan had rinsed off in the shower, body jittery with the knowledge that Adam was staying the night, he stepped out of the bathroom, thin towel wrapped around his waist, stalked down the hall to his bedroom, only to find Adam wasn’t there.
Ronan knew exactly where he’d find him.
After hurriedly dressing himself, not fully dried off yet so his tank top and jeans were sticking in odd places, he stepped down the stairs, quickly surveying the empty main floor, and headed straight for the barn that housed the sputtering backhoe.
He stopped and staredfor a few moments before saying anything, a sort of quiet he didn’t prefer to be but relished in when it meant he could watch Adam without the returning scrutiny. He’d gotten greedy for it.
The stale air in the barn wasn’t hot, but humid. Adam had rolled up the sleeves of his Aglionby sweater to avoid staining any of it with oil or grime. As Adam bent over the engine, hood propped open in front of its cab, overgrown bangs falling into his eyes and curled with perspiration at the ends, Ronan hoped Adam didn’t notice that he needed a haircut quite yet, ever an enjoyer of having more hair to run hands through, to lightly tug at.
Adam had a rag wrapped carefully over one hand, one bony wrist reaching further down into the engine. Ronan couldn’t see his face, but he was certain from observing his boyfriend’s narrow shoulders tensed up that his face bore one of intense concentration, near-invisible eyebrows scrunched together, nose wrinkled, biting lower lip.
It was a look Ronan loved to see, even when he didn’t really see it.
Ronan kicked over an empty bucket by the entry to the barn as he approached Adam, who startled slightly, shifting backward and looking back, blue eyes wide before recognizing Ronan and relaxing.
“It’s not tomorrow yet.”
Adam rolled his eyes. Ronan noted the slight bags underneath them, light purple half-moons. They weren’t nearly as deep as they’d been in the summer, early fall, but still there. Adam ignored what he said in favor of asking, “When’s the last time you saw this thing being used?”
It’s like he hadn’t even left work, Ronan thought, slightly irritably but also strangely pleased at Adam’s dedication to a vehicle that hours ago Ronan had frustratedly accepted would never run again.
Ronan studied the backhoe for a moment. “Never.”
Adam nodded, a confirmation. “Yeah, that’ll do it. Most likely it’s air trapped in the fuel lines. We’ll have to prime and bleed it of air to get it working again. Do you have any diesel fuel?”
Grinning, Ronan gripped the back of Adam’s shirt and pulled him back from the vehicle. “C’mon, give it a rest, runt. It’s not going anywhere without you.”
“Quit calling me that, we’re dating now.”
Adam twisted a bit and threw the greasy rag at Ronan, but he caught it in time and dropped it to the floor.
“What, you want me to come up with new ones?”
Adam ignored this, turning back to look at the engine again. “You didn’t answer me. Do you have any diesel fuel?”
“No. Or, none that I’ve seen.”
“If we go get some, I could probably bleed the air out, get the backhoe running.”
“Yeah, and we can worry about it tomorrow,” Ronan said with a roll in his eyes, grabbing at one of the belt loops on the back of Adam’s khakis and tugging him flush against his chest. Adam stilled. Ronan dropped his head to be level with Adam’s hearing ear. “Just take a night off, Parrish, it won’t kill you.”
Adam exhaled a bit. “Yeah,” he said, suddenly sounding a bit out of breath before turning around and looking up at Ronan, which definitely didn’t awaken some latent fluttering in his stomach. “Okay.”
“Also, you didn’t answer me earlier, so now I’m gonna come up with new nicknames. They’ll be cute as shit, they’ll make you wanna puke. And I’ll make sure to say them around Dick and Jane as much as humanly possible.”
Adam made a face. “Oh, please don’t.”
“Too late. I’m cooking them up as we speak.”
Adam shook his head, but he shifted, leaned up and pressed a kiss to the bottom of Ronan’s jaw anyways. Ronan caught the side of Adam’s face and tilted it further upward, lips meeting lips. He drew each kiss out as long as long as he could—dragging teeth against Adam’s lower lip until his mouth parted, a quiet sigh ghosting over Ronan’s chin, Adam bringing his hands up slowly to wrap around Ronan’s neck, stretching upward on the balls of his feet, nipping at the corner of Ronan’s mouth.
Ronan broke them apart with a shuddered gasp. “You wanna take this upstairs?”
Adam beamed at him, eyes shining, a rare, loose smile Ronan pined after every day, as good of an answer as any.
They hadn’t been able to properly break apart for more than a few moments on the way back up—stopping in the threshold of the house to tangle with one another, Ronan failing to suppress the urge to lift Adam off his feet and press him against the door jamb as he kissed him, Adam kicking off his shoes and pushing Ronan back and directly into the staircase, nearly causing them both to trip and fall, haphazardly dragging each other up the stairs, Ronan throwing his own shoes down the stairs to join Adam’s, laughing between breaths for air.
It was only when Adam backed himself to the end of Ronan’s bed and leaned back on his hands, crawling backward and pushing himself up toward the headboard, that nerves returned to the surface, jolting under Ronan’s skin as he followed, planting his knees on the bed and slowly shuffling forward, leaning over him.
He surveyed Adam under him, looking up with his usual mild expression, contradicted by an impatient burn of desire in his eyes.
He knew if he tried to take things slow, when that look was on his face, Adam would surely urge him to get going already. And Ronan couldn’t bring himself to say no to Adam, like that.
But if he kept hurrying up for Adam, kept taking his direction, Ronan couldn’t—
He sighed, collapsing fully on top of Adam, burying his face into his neck.
“Um.”
Adam attempted to shift under Ronan’s weight. Not much movement was managed. One of his hands was free, despite upper arm being pinned under Ronan’s chest, and he poked lightly at Ronan’s ribcage.
“You falling asleep on me, Lynch?”
Ronan shook his head a bit.
“Just…give me a second.”
No questions were asked. Adam silently brought his free hand up to the back of Ronan’s scalp, lightly treading fingers through the miniscule crop of hair that was beginning to grow there. He’d gone about a week without shaving it, probably needed to get on that soon. Ronan exhaled, breath near-unbearably warm against Adam’s sweater. But Adam hadn’t said anything, despite the fact that the heat was certainly worse for him, wrapped in the multiple layers and goddamn tie that was the Aglionby uniform Ronan had given up months ago.
“Okay,” Ronan said, lifting himself back up, bracketing both arms on either side of Adam’s head, then liftoff, grabbing with both hands the hem of Adam’s sweater and dragging upward. Adam slightly arched off the bed to help drag it off, stuck for a moment when it moved over his head, and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, the thought briefly crossed Ronan’s mind to keep him like that, before shaking it back out of his mind lifting the sweater off fully, helping Adam move his arms out of the sleeves.
Adam reached, then, for the bottom of Ronan’s tank top, but Ronan lightly pushed his hand away, now moving on undoing the tie. Adam swallowed visibly, mouth parting slightly as Ronan’s hands went to his neck, carefully pulling the knot apart. His soft blue eyes hungrily tracked the movement of Ronan’s hands as he slid the tie off easily, tossing it to the floor.
Adam reached again for the bottom of Ronan’s shirt, and Ronan didn’t stop him, but instead reached his own hands downward, hitching up the white button-down shirt that was still covering Adam’s torso, undoing a few of the buttons on the bottom of it. Adam tugged Ronan’s tank top upward, and Ronan reached his hand back to finish pulling it off, over his head and tossed backward.
When the shirt was off, Ronan moved his mouth instantly to the tanned column of Adam’s neck, lightly biting down, not enough to leave a hickey there —Adam was especially worried about leaving any noticeable marks, best to keep those below the collar— but enough to draw a soft, haggard breath out of the boy underneath him.
He moved further down, reaching up briefly to undo the first button to trail his mouth along collarbone, pressing tongue down on the flat plane of chest beneath. Adam shuddered, still silent.
Ronan moved a hand back down to the bottom of Adam’s shirt, snaking a hand underneath it and running hands over hips, up to waist, stroking along soft skin in slow, careful motions. Adam reached for him, then, grabbed at Ronan’s face with both hands and pulling him in for a deep kiss.
“C’mon,” Adam whispered to him after pulling away, reaching down to palm at the front of Ronan’s jeans, which had steadily begun to grow tighter. Ronan suppressed a groan at the slight pressure.
“What d’you want?” Ronan asked, hands still gripping Adam’s narrow waist, hands encompassing them like protective covering.
“You,” Adam murmured, fiddling with the front of Ronan’s jeans with both hands, unbuttoning, unzipping, reaching a hand below waistband that ripped a low moan from Ronan’s mouth—
It was tempting, for a moment, to just let Adam’s hands work their way down around his hardened shaft, guide him inside, pull more sounds out of him until he came.
But then Ronan looked down to see Adam smirking up at him, one hand still slowly stroking his dick while the other rested on the waistband of his jeans, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug look off his face, turn the tables.
Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed both of Adam’s wrists and pitched forward, pinned hands over head, holding his wrists down against the pillow, near the headboard.
Adam blinked, eyes wide. “What’re you…”
Ronan didn’t respond, instead lowering his mouth to Adam’s delicately fine-boned jaw, scraping his teeth along the edge, causing Adam to inhale sharply. He got another idea, then, too, that wouldn’t require him removing his hands from Adam’s wrists.
Quickly, he brought up one of his knees, fitting it between Adam’s thighs and thrusting it up, once, twice, three times, grinding against his crotch until Adam’s legs fell open and Ronan could feel the other boy’s arousal growing. An intense thrill ran straight down Ronan’s body as he ground up. Adam bit his lip, pressed mouth in a flat line, closing his eyes as tiny hitches of breath escaped him.
Then Ronan stopped, pulled leg back, detaching mouth from jaw, where Adam lay looking up at him, mouth parted slightly. He instinctively tightened his grip on Adam’s wrists, rubbing at one of them softly with the pad of his thumb.
Adam tugged a bit, straining to inch higher on the bed, hands twitching for movement.
“You can let go, now,” Adam said, frowning slightly as he looked toward his left hand, held down by Ronan’s. “Kinda hard to do this with pants on.”
Ronan conceded, let go of Adam’s hands for a moment. In his rush to get his hands around wrists, he’d forgotten entirely about getting Adam’s pants off. He brought a hand down to slide off his belt, undo button, tugging down where fabric met thigh, catching on his boxers as well. Adam lifted his hips off the bed, helpfully, kicking off the remainder to the edge of the bed when they were low enough on his legs.
Adam lifted one hand back toward the band of Ronan’s jeans, using the other to prop himself up on the bed, tugging Ronan’s jeans and boxers down together, shuffling them down past his knees, grabbing for Ronan’s hips to push them into Adam’s, so needy, impatient, Adam certainly wanted them to progress more quickly than Ronan was planning—
But that didn’t stop Ronan from grabbing Adam’s wrists again, this time pushing them down to either side of Adam’s hips, pressing them firmly down into the mattress, dropping head to mouth at Adam’s inner thighs, drawing a sharp gasp from Adam’s lips.
“Ronan,” Adam said, voice slightly high and breathy. “We can hurry up, now.”
Ronan looked up at Adam through eyelashes, slowly licking up Adam’s inner thighs before detaching his mouth.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
Adam huffed, licking his lower lip, breaking eye contact to look up at the ceiling. “It looks like you’re stalling.”
Ronan grinned, lifting his head and shifting upward on the bed, one leg between Adam’s and the other outside, and began grinding his own erection against Adam’s thigh.
Adam instinctively bucked his hips upward, seeking friction for himself, and Ronan sat back, pulled his leg just out of reach so he couldn’t do anything substantial.
“Ronan,” he said, something on the edge of his voice that Ronan didn’t recognize but definitely wanted to hear again.
“Adam,” Ronan mimicked, before bringing mouth back to neck, settling the leg he’d pulled back over Adam’s thigh, pinning it in place. He began sucking at the skin beneath Adam’s collarbone, still low enough to hide under a shirt but high enough to be a little risky. He heard the beginnings of a small sound rising in Adam’s throat, and something that felt like an electric shock ran down his body even as Adam’s body tensed up and he swallowed down the sound before it could be let out.
He was close. He was that close to hearing him.
“Can you just—” Adam choked out, tried to move his hands again, but Ronan kept his hands steady as he lifted his head to look down at Adam again. The other boy couldn’t budge.
Adam glared up at him. “Let go of my wrists and get on with it.”
“I am getting on with it, if you’d just stay still for a second—”
“You literally can’t be going any slower.”
That close. Ronan had been that close to getting him to react the way he’d been looking for, the way Adam apparently wouldn’t let himself. It was one thing to be told not to do something because Adam didn’t like it, but it was another to have been so acutely aware of how much Adam was getting turned on by it.
Annoyance rose in his chest and before he could stop himself, he snapped, “I know you know how to listen, Parrish, so if you’d quit pretending you don’t like it and just be good for me, that’d be great, thanks.”
Adam went still beneath him, and a wave of regret washed over Ronan instantly. He knew how Adam felt about being controlled, the way he operated as an independent nation, cast afar from anyone else’s influence.
He swallowed, then, meeting Adam’s eyes. Adam’s expression is somewhat dumbfounded, a wrinkle in his eyebrows Ronan has the urge to smooth out. His apology is already queued up—
Hold on.
Ronan studied Adam a moment longer. Mouth flattened in a straight line, one tooth escaped to bite down on bottom lip, breathing shakily through nose, and a flush spreading from bright red on his ears and neck to a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.
And somewhere in that look on his face, pupils wide, dark spreading toward ring of soft blue, the apology is lost.
“I mean, I just need you to sit there and look pretty,” Ronan said quickly. Impulsively. Stupidly. “Doing a great job right now, by the way.”
Adam’s wrists slightly jerk upward in Ronan’s grasp as he gasps, flush darkening on his cheeks now, prominent.
“Cut it out,” Adam pants, as Ronan watched the rise and fall of his chest. “Don’t say…”
He doesn’t finish. Ronan had lowered himself, closer, bringing left leg back up to upper thigh, pressed up, grinding for a moment against Adam, who tilted his hips up, in to the movement. He pulled away again, holding himself slightly higher over Adam.
“Adam.”
Adam met his eyes. Listening.
“Do you actually want me to stop?”
A beat. Ronan could practically feel the heat radiating off Adam’s face, chewing on his bottom lip while his eyes wander hungrily down Ronan’s chest, flick back up to his face.
Adam ducked his head, uncharacteristically shy, avoiding eye contact as he shook his head no.
Ronan felt his lips tugging upward of their own accord, wolfish smile overtaking his face.
“You sure? I mean, you asked me to stop, I could—”
“No,” Adam interrupted. “It’s. It’s fine.”
“Fine? That’s it?”
Adam just squinted his eyes shut, lips in a tight line now like he was clenching his teeth. “Don’t be an asshole, Ronan.”
Ronan wasn’t sure he couldn’t be an asshole, is the thing. A warm feeling pooled in his abdomen at the sight of Adam’s irritated face, so familiar a face. The matching thrill that accompanied, though, that was rushing through his body much more strongly now. He just wasn't used to seeing this while Adam was being held down by nothing more than Ronan’s weight.
He recalled, with slight annoyance, when he’d first told Blue that he and Adam were dating, months back now, and Blue had poorly coated her obvious surprise in dismissive sarcasm: Huh. Guess that’s the first time pigtail-pulling has actually worked as a method of flirting.
He didn’t like the juvenility of the term, never did, but he could see now how it applied. And at this length, a few months gone by without a cut, he could see it possible to fit Adam’s hair into that style.
He blinked that thought away for now. Focus.
He put on his best impression of innocence to counter Adam. “Well, you told me to stop. If you don’t say what you mean, how am I supposed to know what to do with you?”
“I—”
Before he could finish, Ronan ground his leg back up again, just once, and Adam exhaled with a full-body shudder as his hips pitched forward again, seeking friction that wouldn’t stay there for him. Ronan pushed down on wrists again, chastising.
“Stay still.”
Adam’s body went rigid. The concept of relaxing truly eluded him, but Ronan thought this time, he could maybe get him there. Or at least somewhere in the same zip code.
Ronan shuffled back a bit on the bed, hands still encircling Adam’s wrists, and lowered himself between thighs, brought mouth to inner thigh (Adam was particularly sensitive there), and began sucking on the tender skin there, will full intent to leave marks.
Adam’s leg twitched, aching for movement. Ronan applied more pressure with his mouth then, lightly pressing teeth in as he sucked, and before he even remembered to listen, a small, high-pitched whine pierced the relative quiet of the room. Nothing like a sound he’d ever heard from the other boy before, but unmistakably Adam.
A low, humming thrill ran through Ronan’s chest at the sound. There we go.
Every part of his body is screaming at him to stop, look up and take in how Adam’s face looks right now, savor it, but whichever singular cell in his body is reasonable stops him from doing so, scolding him to keep going so he could hear more.
Ronan trailed his mouth slowly upward, licking a stripe up toward the intersection of Adam’s thigh and pelvic region, clamping down and sucking again, drawing short, soft moans from the other boy, quiet enough one would need to stop and listen for it, but frequent enough they spilled out freely.
In one impulsive move, Ronan detached himself from the skin on Adam’s upper thigh and ghosted his lips over the head of Adam’s cock, not taking it into his mouth but moving just enough it appeared so for a moment, and a short, sudden cry punched itself out from Adam’s chest.
“Ronan,” he said, and there was an edge to his voice that suggested when he said Ronan, he meant, please.
Ronan sat up, climbing higher again on the bed to hover, nearly nose-to-nose with Adam now. His eyelids fluttered open and shut, back open to gaze up at Ronan through translucent eyelashes. Nerves tingled up his arms, and Ronan hadn’t realized how out of breath he also was until he panted, “Ready to ask for what you want?”
Adam screwed his eyes shut. “I want…Can you…”
Ronan shifted, placing the weight of his legs over Adam’s thighs. He tightened his grip on Adam’s wrists. “Can I….?”
When Adam didn’t finish or start his sentence over, Ronan leaned to whisper in his hearing ear.
“Tell me what you want.”
Adam’s lower lip trembled, and he made a helpless sound before the words tumbled out.
“I need you to fuck me,” Adam gasped, voice sounding as if it were about to crack. “Right now. I want you to…I want it. I need you.”
It took everything in Ronan not to melt at that. He thought he liked the sight of Adam begging a little too much. He rubbed a circle into one of Adam’s wrists with the pad of his thumb. He was barely able to keep his voice steady when he asked, a devilish smile overtaking him, bright red, pointy horns, pitchfork and all, “What do you say?”
“Please,” Adam whimpered.
Ronan let go of his wrists, practically dove for the nightstand, empty water bottle and stick of deodorant clattering to the floor as he fumbled for the lube.
Adam let out a breathless laugh, and Ronan broke, too, snickering a bit even as he said “Shut up, shut up,” and popped the cap open, coating his fingers on one hand and using his free hand to push one of Adam’s knees up to chest.
When he settled back down, draped over torso, lightly tracing finger over entrance, Adam shivered a bit, teeth chattering. Ronan slid a finger in.
“How’s that?”
Adam’s closed-mouth groan answered for him. Ronan could feel him melt then, previously tense body gone pliant.
“God, Adam,” he said, working a crooked finger in and out, in and out. “You look so…”
He trailed off, finishing his sentence with light kisses to the underside of Adam’s jaw instead. Adam pulled his head back a bit so he could tilt his lips to meet Ronan’s, dragging him into a long, slow, filthy kiss, Ronan moaning into his mouth.
After a few minutes of this, overwhelming mouth on mouth, he added a second finger, and Adam keened under him, a call-and-response to his own sounds as he opened up for Ronan. His hips twitched upward, colliding lightly with Ronan’s, and he swore at the friction the movement made against his own hardened cock.
It didn’t matter what he did, Ronan would always end up desperate. At least this time, he mused as he scissored his fingers inside of Adam, the other boy panting Ronan, ah—right, ah, there, Adam was just as desperate too.
“You sound so good,” Ronan murmured, face dipped into Adam’s shoulder.
“What?” Adam’s accent came out thick, glazed over words.
Ronan removed his fingers then, and when had it become three, and Adam whined at the loss of pressure. “Ronan—”
“Just wait a second,” Ronan said shakily, reaching for more lube, dripping onto fingers, wrapping around his own dick, stroking, looking down at Adam’s dissolute face, eyes dark with want.
Adam threw his head back on the pillow. “Ronan, please—”
“You’re so needy,” Ronan said before he could stop himself, delighted, leaning back over Adam, lining up his cock, lightly pressing it up against him, not pushing in just yet, and Adam whined again, softly. “I’ve never heard you get so loud.”
“Sorry,” Adam panted. “I don’t mean to—”
Ronan gripped Adam’s shoulder with his free hand. “No. No, it’s good, Adam. Fuck, you’re being so good for me.”
Adam gasped, pupils wide, trained on Ronan with a soft expression that made him feel as if he should look away. A searing feeling struck through Ronan’s heart at the sound. No one’s ever praised Adam like this before, he thought.
But there was a reason, at least in Ronan’s mind, that he lived above a place of worship.
“Okay,” he said, again to Adam’s hearing ear. “Ready?”
Adam nodded, and pulled him into a kiss as Ronan pushed into him, both of them drawing in each others’ heavy breaths, gasps, and all Ronan could feel was the heat of Adam surrounding him, pulse quickening, throbbing in time with his cock.
Neither of them lasted long, after that. Adam’s been pent up already by Ronan, and Ronan was already imagining how he could stretch this out with him even longer the next time, different ways he could hold Adam down while he fucked him next time and the time after that—
He hadn’t realized he was saying this out loud, as he was thrusting into Adam until Adam moaned loudly, mouth wide open, digging nails into Ronan’s shoulders and coming so hard his entire body was trembling, and Ronan followed suit a few slow, deep thrusts later, collapsing into Adam as he felt the hot burst of cum rush out of him.
He could have laid like this for much longer, but it didn’t take long at all for Adam to start poking his sides, mumbling under his breath, get off.
“Thought we just did,” Ronan said, giddy.
Adam huffed. “You’re so annoying.”
Ronan cupped one of Adam’s cheeks in his hands. “You like it.”
“Yeah,” Adam said softly, and wasn’t it a wonder how adoring he sounded, how he looked back at Ronan as Ronan had been looking at him for months. “Yeah, I do.”