[ Kavinsky doesn't know who Ronan's been with, nor does he care, but whatever that ever was, it wasn't this. Nothing could ever be this, no matter how hard Ronan tries. If they met five years or ten years, or even twenty years down the road, it would always be exactly this. No matter how angry Kavinsky is, no matter how betrayed he feels, he can't deny that either.
It's not completely the way he ever imagined it, but it's close enough, Ronan's body rocking into his so freely, moaning so loudly, like there's nothing else in this whole damn world holding him together but Kavinsky. That look in Ronan's eyes, it's the same as the look in his and maybe he'll hate himself later, but he's fucking missed that look all these years. He's fucking missed Ronan's blood on his fingers and his name on his tongue.
Kavinsky starts bucking forward with more purpose, the pressure almost too much to bear. If Ronan doesn't want to kiss him, or to hear him talking, the least he can do is help him out. He owes him that much. Letting go of his neck, he grabs Ronan's hand and shoves it into his boxers, then leans in to bite at his neck. ]
Fucking touch me.
[He commands, and he knows Ronan won't do much protesting if he wants Kavinsky to finish him off, especially with that look on his face like he's about ready to come. He's close enough himself where the heat of Ronan's hand is more than enough and he strokes harder so they can both get their release. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, so desperately wanting, and finally having at least some of what he wants. He may have stopped talking, but he won't stop moaning and he wouldn't ever let Ronan pretend he isn't here.]
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It's not completely the way he ever imagined it, but it's close enough, Ronan's body rocking into his so freely, moaning so loudly, like there's nothing else in this whole damn world holding him together but Kavinsky. That look in Ronan's eyes, it's the same as the look in his and maybe he'll hate himself later, but he's fucking missed that look all these years. He's fucking missed Ronan's blood on his fingers and his name on his tongue.
Kavinsky starts bucking forward with more purpose, the pressure almost too much to bear. If Ronan doesn't want to kiss him, or to hear him talking, the least he can do is help him out. He owes him that much. Letting go of his neck, he grabs Ronan's hand and shoves it into his boxers, then leans in to bite at his neck. ]
Fucking touch me.
[He commands, and he knows Ronan won't do much protesting if he wants Kavinsky to finish him off, especially with that look on his face like he's about ready to come. He's close enough himself where the heat of Ronan's hand is more than enough and he strokes harder so they can both get their release. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, so desperately wanting, and finally having at least some of what he wants. He may have stopped talking, but he won't stop moaning and he wouldn't ever let Ronan pretend he isn't here.]