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[ Kavinsky's usual flavor at this place hasn't been Ronan for a long time now, but there are nights when it all becomes too much, too close to the surface and Kavinsky has to have him. Those nights are spent with various boys, buzzed head and blue eyes, some even with a black tattoo creeping up along their arms, or necks, or back. Close enough where his imagination can fill in the gaps.

The rest of the nights that he comes here, hating himself just a little bit less (or full of more drugs, which is the more likely option) he fucks anyone, everyone, it doesn't really matter as long as he gets off and he doesn't have to be alone.

But now it's only this, only Ronan, and he knows it'll be like this for a long time, because he's seen Ronan's face again and it's all even more intense than he remembers it being. Kicking Ronan out on his ass the other night hadn't helped at all and now Kavinsky hates him and wants him with a furious passion that he can't ignore.

It's why he isn't sure at first, it's not like his mind hasn't played tricks on him before, especially here. But when Ronan turns his head, their gazes locking, Kavinsky feels a rush that no one else has ever been able to cause. His heart slams into his chest while the rest of the world slows down and then Ronan is out of his view as if he really had been hallucinating it all.

The boy who follows Ronan out of the room a second after Ronan has already left looks damn familiar too, and he realizes that Ronan comes here for this. That he and Ronan have been doing the same thing at the same place because of each other. He doesn't know whether to laugh, scream, or puke, but the shock of it all has him coming hard into the lookalikes mouth without any warning. He barely even gives himself time to recover before he shoves the guy off of him and zips up, pushing through the crowd so he can find Ronan. He sure as hell isn't getting out of this one.

The few people Kavinsky passes who do know him, ask what the rush is, but Kavinsky ignores them and moves quickly down the stairs until he spots Ronan again. Kavinsky is faster than Ronan's anger or eagerness to hide, apparently, because he catches up, grabbing Ronan's arm and yanks him into one of the red light rooms, pushing him up against the wall. The lighting in this room makes Ronan's features sharp, but Kavinsky's grin is sharper]

Thought that was you, sweetheart. Did you get lost on your way to church?

[ Ronan's not sure where he's going, there's no exit in the direction his feet are carrying him and he knows that the hallway he's chosen doesn't go on forever, eventually it will come to an end and he'll have to turn right back around and go back the same way he came. Or stand there hiding forever -- and even considering hiding from Kavinsky was enough to make Ronan sick. He might have hated himself a little more than usual lately, but he hadn't dropped that low as to spend his night hiding in the corner from Joseph Kavinsky.

Why did he think the boy wouldn't be here, of all places?

And why is he even hiding for? Because that night is still as vivid in his memory as if it had only happened just yesterday? Because with all his serial monogamy, he's still creeping around in back rooms with boys that he'll never have. He's not doing anything wrong by being here -- he hasn't put his hands on anyone, hasn't let a single person put their hands on him, he's nothing more than a not-so-innocent spectator. -- he still feels humiliated by the fact that he does nothing more than watch and jerk off.

He's sure that someone like Kavinsky would have a fucking field day with that kind of information.

As though thinking his name enough times had caused him to suddenly manifest -- like some kind of Beetlejuice right out of Ronan's nightmares.... or perhaps his fantasies. -- Kavinsky's right on his heels, grabbing his arm and dragging him into an unoccupied room (and were Ronan not so concerned that Kavinsky was right fucking there, he'd be pretty pissed about how easily they'd found an empty one now.), pinning Ronan to the wall in one swift motion.

Too swift. Maybe he's a little too drunk, or maybe Kavinsky just moves more fluidly than he remembers. ]

Must have taken a wrong turn. [ For as many times as Ronan had muttered the Lord's name, the small back room could have been a mistaken for a church -- even if the actions taking place inside were anything but church-approved. ] The fuck do you want?

[ Kavinsky doesn't even realize that Ronan is headed down a hallway of dark rooms and dead ends, but it would definitely be fitting in some way. Not Kavinsky's way, though. Maybe thinking this would ever be a dead end was wrong. He should have known that at some point they'd meet again, that not even death could stop this.

All of this, of course, only strengthens Kavinsky's believe that they belong together. That there will never be anyone else, nothing else like this, no matter what Ronan wants to believe.

Oh yeah, but he still hates Ronan's guts.

Kavinsky is fast when he wants to be, when he knows what he wants. In and out, like a motherfucking thief and thieving these moments from Ronan is what he's all about tonight. What a thing he's caught Ronan in. How the other boy can deny anything after this is going to be damn near laughable, and Kavinsky will be laughing all the way. ]

Several fucking turns ago.

[What does he want? Maybe he won't be so quick to lay it all out there this time, but there's definitely a lot of want in his eyes. Mostly, he wants to hear why Ronan is here]

You know, there are a lot of fucking mirrors in this place, aren't there? Just didn't expect to be looking at the one following you out of that room. What are you doing here, Lynch? I'mso fucking curious.

[ The room is silent save for Ronan's ragged breathing and the words that they're saying to one another -- in a place such as this, a little bit of soundproofing can go a long way, even the booming bass from the music playing just on the other side of the door is nothing more than a faint thudding that Ronan has to strain his ears to hear.

Ronan keeps his gaze trained on a spot just behind Kavinsky. The metal door handle of a small closet that he's sure is home to an array of things that he's both familiar and unfamiliar with (for as virginal as he might have been once before, his sexual tastes have expanded over time. And in the short time he's been frequenting The Quagmire, he's learned even more.), but for as much as he might not want to look at the boy, he can't fight it. They're mere inches away from one another, Ronan can smell cigarettes and alcohol coming off of Kavinsky in waves and it's like an aphrodisiac crafted especially for him.

His fingers itch to touch, his mouth ready to start whispering commands as though he's back in his room with the boy who was almost a clone of the one in front of him. He wobbles slightly in his drunkenness, getting his bearings back completely as his eyes move back to meet Kavinsky's and electricity crackles through him. The red lights give them an entirely different hue that leaves Ronan burning up inside.

He hates Kavinsky. He hates him and yet.... there's something else underneath all of it. Something from years ago that Ronan hasn't let go of, something he keeps burying deeper and deeper. But it always finds it way back to the surface, Kavinsky has a way of pulling it out of him. Maybe he always has. ]

Just like the one you had, right? [ Because Ronan didn't fail to notice his doppelganger on his knees in front of Kavinsky. ] I'm here for the same reason everyone else is. [ Kinda. Sorta. ] Why does it matter to you?

[ It's too silent, Kavinsky doesn't like it, but if it means getting to heat every word of Ronan's in a place like this, then he'll manage. He can practically feel Ronan's breath against his face, taking advantage of being able to get this close whenever he can without being pushed away. Ronan lack of resistance speaks volumes, as far as Kavinsky is concerned. He knows why they're here, even if Ronan is doing his best to avoid looking at him.

Kavinsky, on the other hand, has his sharpest gaze aimed right at Ronan, willing him to look at him. When he does, a slow smirks spreads across his face, his fingers curling into Ronan's shirt. He can smell the sex on him and it's dizzying. He wants to taste all of it on Ronan's skin. ]

The one I had, sure. I've never been the one trying to hide it, sweetheart.

[He may have kicked Ronan out on his ass, but his reasons have always been the same. Even that was a pure and simple reaction to it all. ]

I don't think everyone else is here to lie to themselves about what they want. Opposite, actually. Funny, though. I didn't think you had it in you. I mean, I can only imagine what you're doing back there with that guy. Letting him fuck you in the ass while you're yelling my name? That how you like it? Or maybe you get down on your knees, palms together in prayer and suck him off, wishing the whole time it was me. Gotta say, I'm flattered.

[Kavinsky, reaches out and grabs Ronan's face between his hands]

Or you could've just asked, if you wanted me that badly.

Edited 2017-05-23 07:03 (UTC)

[ There are questions sitting right at the tip of Ronan's tongue. Things that would make him sound desperate and needy in a way that he doesn't want Kavinsky to know that he is -- because the boy certainly didn't need to have another advantage over him, he'd already racked up enough as it was with their little impromptu meeting tonight. He wants to ask him why.
Why if he wanted him so much did he throw him out like yesterday's trash? (But why was he still so tormented by it? It had meant even less to him than it did to Kavinsky. He'd told the boy to get off of him in the first place.)
Why if he hates Ronan so much does he find someone who looks exactly like him? (As though Ronan hadn't uttered those same words and then came seeking out a Kavinsky body-double.)
Why the fuck couldn't he just leave him alone to wallow in his own shame and guilt on his own? (And that answer Ronan already knew: because that just wasn't Kavinsky's style.

Kavinsky starts on about Ronan's activities in the back room and immediately he's snapping off, his words as sharp as his gaze suddenly becomes, clipped and fueled by rage. ] I didn't do shit with him.

[ And it sounds like he's partially trying to convince himself -- which he is. He still doesn't completely understand how this is considered remaining faithful. There's wasn't anything weird about watching people fucking on the small screen of his phone, or a computer, but it was another thing entirely to have those actions playing out in front of him only a short distance away. Him calling the shots and telling someone (or someones, depending on how wound up he was feeling that night.) exactly what he wanted to see.

Interactive porn of the future. He might not have touched, but just being there felt like an infidelity in itself. ]

Fuck you! I don't want to do shit with you either.

[ Or rather, good boys in relationships weren't supposed to. ]

Edited 2017-05-23 07:42 (UTC)

[ Everything about this situation already has Kavinsky thinking about just how desperate and needy Ronan is. Even more so because the other boy is so heavily in denial about it all that it's almost comical. Or, it would be, if he wasn't trying to do the same thing. This entire relationship- or whatever it is, it's build on desperation and need.

He wouldn't answer any of Ronan's questions though, because Kavinsky has the upper hand now and when it comes to Ronan, that seems to be a new thing, even if he acts like he's always the one on top. Either way, leaving Ronan alone about most things is just not going to happen. ]

Oh no? You expect me to believe that in a place like this? You just closed your eyes and he sat there reading you bedtime stories? I know what you smell like when you've come. I know what you taste like, too.

[He's enjoying the hell out of this, he just can't help himself. Kavinsky can only imagine this kind of shame spiral, but he loves watching it unfold in front of him. There's a whole different kind of fire in Ronan's eyes when he's trying to convince himself of something that something's not the way it is]

I bet you said that to him too. I bet you said it right before you jizzed. So fucking kinky, I like it.

[ Ronan knows that no matter what he says Kavinsky isn't going to believe him, he could have actually been in there listening to bedtime stories, or he could have been in there getting fucked senseless and it wouldn't have mattered. Kavinsky already had his own ideas of what went on behind those doors and it would have been useless for Ronan to convince him otherwise.

Hell, Kavinsky could have been in the room himself and still wouldn't have believed that Ronan did absolutely nothing. ]

I didn't do shit. [ And yet, he can't help but argue. He's Ronan Lynch, after all. ] You got me off one fucking time, I didn't even fucking enjoy it and now you're some kind of expert on what I taste and smell like? Get the fuck out of here with that. [ He jerks his head, ripping his face out of Kavinsky's grasp -- because the feeling of the other's hands on him is both revolting and arousing, making Ronan's stomach twist in a way that's familiar of that night. Disgust and want merging together in ways that Ronan hadn't thought possible.

But of course, if anyone could have found a way to make the two combine inside of Ronan, it would be Joseph Kavinsky. ]

It's none of your fucking business what I do.

[ Ronan is standing on the most uneven ground he's ever stood on, and the more adamantly he denies it all, the more Kavinsky knows there's a lot going on here. He saw that other man with his own two eyes. If it had been anyone else he might've burned this whole goddamn place down by now, but Kavinsky knew it was him. There's no denying that now. ]

You didn't do shit, sure. You just dragged a guy who looks exactly like me to the back rooms of a kink club. i think that's all either of us really need to know.

[He lets Ronan move his face away, but he still pats at his cheek. This is what it always felt like before, except here Kavinsky has even more on Ronan than he did back then. It's slowly all adding up into a nice, full picture. ]

I made you come harder than you've ever come in your life and I sure as fuck remember what you taste and smell like. Shame you've never experienced that with anyone else before, though I'm not surprised. I know who you are and what you like. Learning even more tonight.

[ And even if Ronan walks out of here right now, Kavinsky will still have this.]

I know your secrets now. What are you gonna do? Stay at home? Jerk yourself off while crying because you can't have what you really want? What a fucking pussy.

[ Ronan's not sure what would be worse, having Kavinsky think that he's back there being fucked by someone who looks just like him, or the reality of what's happening: he's getting off watching someone who looks just like him touching and fucking themselves. Neither one seems like information that Kavinsky would keep to himself, but Ronan doesn't know which would be the one the boy would be loudest about. Which one he would go around informing all the residents of San Junipero of -- and more importantly, which one he would run his mouth off to Adam about.

They might not have spoken to one another before, but Ronan's sure that Kavinsky wouldn't hesitate to strike up a conversation with this as the subject.

(And he's also sure it would probably have an opener something along the lines of: I got your boyfriend off, then guess where I found him? Stroking himself to my unofficial twin.) ]

You saw me leaving a fucking room, stop acting like you know what went on in there.

[ Kavinsky's right, though. The fact that Ronan had picked someone that looked exactly like him spoke volumes that he didn't have to physically. ]

You didn't do shit to me. [ Ronan gives Kavinsky's shoulders a hard shove, but doesn't go to leave the room yet, he just stands there against the wall staring down the boy -- all malice, anger and something else in the bright blue hues of his eyes. He hates Joseph Kavinsky. He hates him with every fiber of his fucking being, but there's something darker beneath it that's thrilled by just the thought of the boy. The darker something inside of Ronan that keeps him coming back, like Kavinsky holds the other piece and in moments like this, he can feel it becoming whole and all consuming. ] You think you're the only fucking guy to make me come?

[ Not that his list was long, but two people technically didn't make Kavinsky the only one. ]

You think that was the hardest I've ever come before? [ If it wasn't, it was pretty damn close. But that's another one of many omitted details. ]

You aren't learning shit, you don't know shit. Like I fucking said, you saw me leaving a room with a guy who was available tonight. Don't look so deep into it. [ A guy who was available after thirty minutes of waiting and Ronan specifically asking for him. ] I never said I wanted you, quit fucking acting like I have.

[ Kavinsky wouldn't be sure which one of those things was worse either, but maybe he'd keep his mouth shut about both... just so he could use it whenever he needed to. It's always good to store useful information and he generally knows how to keep his mouth shut when it really counts. It's why most of Henrietta only knew rumors about him.

If, or when Kavinsky inevitably finds out about Adam, Kavinsky will absolutely burn this whole place down, but not before he'd tell Adam every last thing that's gone on here.]

No, really. I can come up with a whole list of things the two of you could have been doing in there. You're acting like no one has any idea what kind of place this is. How deep in denial are?

[He's never seen anyone so deep in it before. Ronan takes it to a whole new level. Kavinsky can't decide if it's the Catholic guilt, or the self hatred. Whatever it is, Ronan's got it bad. Kavinsky laughs when Ronan shoves him away and he goes to lean against the table, or bed, whatever this particular room gets used for.]

I'm sure I'm not the only guy to make you come, but the way you did? Yeah, I know that was the hardest, baby. You're so damn defensive about it you're spelling the whole damn thing out to me.

[The smirk on his face is lude and aimed right at Ronan]

The harder you protest, the more truth there is behind it and damn, every single word that comes out of your mouth is a protest. You've got it bad. It's okay, sweetheart. I've always known your secrets. Every last one of them before anyone else ever has. You can protest that too if you want. I'm getting hard just listening to all of it.

[ Anger burns hot in his veins like liquid fire meeting with gasoline and burning him up inside. He doesn't know why he stays there, why he's having this entire argument with Kavinsky rather than turning around and leaving (and going back to the tall boy who looks just like him.). It's because Ronan can't turn away, he can't back down when Kavinsky's riled him up like this, when the boy is egging him on and deliberately trying to pull more out of him. As much as Ronan hates to admit it, Kavinsky knows him, he knows more about him than maybe Ronan even realizes -- and only because Ronan's yet to completely figure out just how deep Kavinsky's obsession with him goes.

Beyond those few nights so many years ago. Deeper than the connection that the pair of dreamers naturally possesses. More than just some passing attraction, or phase that Kavinsky will grow out of. Five years had passed by them and it felt as though hardly five days had. ]

That's not fucking denial. [ Ronan spits out between clenched teeth, working his jaw as the tight tension of frustration starts to settle in the hinges and down the column of his neck to pool right at the nape of it. ] I went in there, I fucking watched him, I didn't put a fucking hand on him. You and everyone else can think whatever the fuck you want, but that's what happened.

[ That's what always fucking happens.

Which thankfully stays inside of Ronan's head, it was already humiliating enough to admit to doing nothing more than jerking off -- and paying for it, at that. -- he didn't need to add that it was a frequent occurrence. ]

I don't have shit for you. [ Except a whole mess of feelings that he doesn't want to acknowledge and hasn't acknowledged in five years. That's all. ] I don't know what kind of fantasy fucking land you're living in where you and I are something that happens, or is happening, or will happen, whatever. But this isn't that.

[ He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension and keep his gaze averted from Kavinsky. Kavinsky whose lean frame leans back against some shapeless piece of furniture with a lazy arrogance. Kavinsky who is all hollow features and sharp lines that make Ronan's gut twist with arousal and repulsion. Kavinsky who has somehow come to learn just the things that make Ronan tick and finds endless joy in exploiting them all. And, fuck it's so hard to keep from staring at him. ]

You can have all the fucking secrets you want, K. Write them down, make me a whole book of them, what does that fucking do for you? Who are you going to tell? Think anyone here gives a shit about what I'm doing?

[ He can actually think of one person who might be interested in know what Ronan Lynch is doing, but he's not currently here. And for the sake of his argument, he decides not to bring it up either. ]

[ Kavinsky has several theories as to why Ronan stays, why Ronan has been coming back to him over and over again, in more ways than one. Maybe he's finally realizing that this is how it was always supposed to be. That he never should have walked away from Kavinsky that night. The things they could have done together, it would have changed their worlds. Maybe they'd both still be alive right now, and wouldn't that be something.

All of this anger emanating from Ronan, it's pure and simple realization, especially because he knows Kavinsky knows him. That's what all of this is, as far as Kavinsky is concerned. Standing here watching him, he almost forgets how much he supposedly hates Ronan now. How can Kavinsky hate him with this much electricity between them?

He feels like he's right back there, every single time they meet now, the two of them connected even in death. They have unfinished business and Kavinsky is determined never to let it end. ]

You know it's bad when you're even in denial about how in denial you are.

[The dark smirk reaches Kavinsky's eyes as he watches Ronan's jaw tighten. He looks almost like he did that night, dick hard and in his hand, trying to fight how good it felt. Kavinsky knows how that ended. He knows how this will end, too]

You watched him. [There's amusement on his face now, because oh, that's even better] Oh no, I believe you. All that repression, all that want and need. It's exactly who you were before, exactly what you've always been. You touched the other day, though. I guess you're better with the real thing.

[He pushes off the table and moves to the front of it, hoping up, his gaze never leaving Ronan's. He doesn't hesitate to lean back onto his elbows, sliding one hand up his chest, pushing his shirt up along with it, giving Ronan a full view of his lean frame. ]

You give a shit. That's all that fucking matters.

[He swings his legs a little, tips his head sideways and spreads his fingers as he lets them run back down his chest and into his pants, popping the button open]

Edited 2017-05-24 00:19 (UTC)

[ Ronan hates that smirk. He loathes that slight upturn of Kavinsky's lips -- and it's as though the moment that Ronan thinks about the other's lips, he can feel them again pressed against his own, the flavor overwhelmingly vodka and cigarettes and everything that's Kavinsky. He hates how easily and naturally cockiness settles onto the boy's features and how well it still looks on him.

Ronan hates even more that it reminds him of how this all started. A skinny boy leaning lazily against an Evo, a camouflage of white clothing and pale skin against the vehicle save for messily styled black hair, the glint of a gold chain, and dark eyes that made Ronan feel like he'd been hit by a freight train the moment that they locked on one another.

His hands clench into fists at his sides, Kavinsky's nowhere near him now, he could easily leave and be done with this, but he stands his ground. Leaving equates to surrender in Kavinsky's world, and Ronan's not about to let him think he has another victory under his belt. ]

I touched you because you made me. Quit acting like we spent some romantic fucking night together.

[ Kavinsky slowly drags his shirt up and Ronan feels his stomach drop -- and Thank Fucking God he's still pressed against the wall because he's sure he feels his knees buckle just a little. -- he'd only just been watching these very same actions play out a few rooms away and now he's found himself unintentionally getting an encore with the real thing. He has to force himself not to look away from Kavinsky's face, not to watch the way his fingers drag slow down his body (and, fucking Christ, why was that skinny frame so enticing?) and he swallows thickly, the air in the room feeling a thousand times heavier with tension.

Tension Kavinsky happily welcomes, while Ronan is happy to ignore it. ]

That's where you're wrong. [ His eyes briefly flick down to where his fingers are popping open his jeans, a flash of jutting hip bone causing his hands to clench even tighter before returning his attention to Kavinsky's face. ] I don't give a shit.

[ Whoa there, Ronan. ]

[ Kavinsky would be thrilled to know that Ronan is reminiscing. Sure, that was a rocky time and things didn't exactly work out all that well, but they have plenty of time to make up for it now and despite their up and downs here as well, they're off to a decent start. Kavinsky tells himself that if all he does is torture Ronan- payback for what went down in Henrietta, then he'll be satisfied with that. He'll be done with this and want nothing more.

He didn't used to lie to himself this much about Ronan. The other boy made him do this, too.]

I dunno, your dick was touching my hand a whole fucking lot, too. Don't think anyone made you do that. If we weren't in this shithole I'd probably still have bruises on my shoulder for how tight you were holding me there, keeping me in your lap, too.

[He chuckles at the thought of it being romantic, though. Neither of them need romance, that would be the weirdest thing about this. What there was, though, was lust. Pure lust and want, an understanding between the two of them,
in a way.

It's fucking delighting how hard Ronan is trying not to look down at his body, but Kavinsky can tell it's all registering anyway.
He knows how hard Ronan has to clench his fists when something is creeping up on him that he wants, but doesn't want to let himself have. ]

Mmm yeah, I can tell. Is that what you said to the other guy, too? How little you gave a shit that he wasn't himself, but someone else? I bet it wasn't the same with him though, was it?

[He slides the zipper down and pushes his hands into his briefs, palming at himself while he watches Ronan,
then lets out a soft moan. He can do this all night with Ronan looking at him like that.]

Don't worry, sweetheart. The guy I was with, his mouth had nothing on yours. I bet you could take my whole dick in your mouth. The other guy choked on it way too much.

[ Maybe somewhere deep down Ronan is a masochist, and maybe that's why he keeps allowing Kavinsky to torture him like this. He could have very well ignored the boy for all the rest of eternity, he could have just not taken the bait that Kavinsky continued to give him, but that just wouldn't have been Ronan Lynch. Maybe everyone else in the world could dismiss Kavinsky, but he couldn't. He'd never been able to for much longer than a few days back in Henrietta and now that the boy had made a grand reappearance in Ronan's life, he's finding it impossible to do so again.

Then again no one was connected to Kavinsky in the same way that Ronan is. The only two dreamers out there -- as far as he knows -- the only connection that ran deeper was the one that he had with Adam. A mixture of such deep love and devotion, combined with the magic of Cabeswater flowing through the boy.

Two entirely different connections, both just as consuming. ]

Your hand was on my dick, that's not exactly something I had control over. [ He refuses to acknowledge the fact that he was holding tight to Kavinsky, battling with how much he both wanted to pull the boy closer and indulge in all those things he wanted so long ago, and also push him away because he knows how too late it is now to try and do so. ]

I didn't tell him shit.

[ Except for urging him to continue speaking vile and vulgar things, muttering out choked words that he'd never dare repeat to Kavinsky himself, and giving explicit instructions on how to touch himself. But otherwise, yeah, he didn't tell him shit.

And while it was definitely close. It wasn't the same. And in a typical Ronan Lynch fashion, he ignores the question rather than confirming. ]

You wish you fucking knew what that felt like.

[ Why isn't he moving? Why won't his feet carry him out of the room? Why is he frozen on the spot, his eyes alight with intoxication, repressed desire, and rage? His breath catches in his throat as that soft moan echoes out of Kavinsky, his eyes darting to the boy's hand in his pants before returning to his face, and he can feel his own burning hot from the very base of his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. ]

[ This will always be how the two of them operate and maybe that's why Kavinsky never made it. Ronan wouldn't allow this fire to burn bright, so Kavinsky snuffed it all out. Maybe now, though, Ronan's no longer able to dismiss it all, because there's so much more to it than seventeen year old Ronan could ever imagine. But now, things are different. Now, maybe Ronan knows more and he's still here, unmoving from his spot against the wall.

Kavinsky would argue that their connection runs even deeper than the one he has with Adam. They have that magic, they have their dreaming and if they let it? They could have so much more than that. Kavinsky would devote his life and death to this boy.]

Do you even hear yourself? My hand was on your dick and you couldn't control it? [He laughs, letting his head fall back, his Adam's apple bouncing under his skin] The lady doth protest too much, dickshit.

[And still, Ronan is here. Still, he's watching him while pretending not to. Kavinsky was there. He knows what's in Ronan's head, even if he wants to deny what happened the other night, and those nights five years ago. Nothing will ever be the same as the two of them together.]

Why don't you come fucking show me, princess?

[He pushes his pants down off his hips and pulls his dick out, another obscene moan escaping as he strokes himself, his gaze locking with Ronan's again]

Those swollen pink lips of yours wrapped around my dick, tasting me. You've thought about it, haven't you. My hands dragging down your head, pushing in deeper, telling you just how damn good you are.

What's it fucking matter if there's no one to tell here? If no one gives a shit? Who are you hiding from?

[ Ronan doesn't realize just how stupid his logic sounds until it's repeated back to him -- he wasn't completely without control that night. Kavinsky weighs about as much as a small child, and Ronan has a good amount of height on him, so why hadn't he used all that weight and height to his advantage? Why had he just sat there and let Kavinsky jerk him off and bring him to orgasm?

He knows that he isn't completely innocent in the situation, he knows he's just as guilty as Kavinsky (and, to be truthful, he feels even more so. Thanks for that, Catholicism.) and while he can admit that over and over to himself, it's impossible to utter those words out loud.

He punishes himself for his sins in private, and maybe that's what all of this is. Some sick form of punishment for wanting Kavinsky. For allowing Kavinsky to touch him. For letting his hands touch the boy at all, even non-sexually. For coming harder than he had before. For replaying it over and over in his head. Ronan had more reasons why he deserved to be punished than he had time to actually list them all. ]

Fuck no.

[ Which acts as the answer to the invitation Kavinsky gives him -- because he would sure as hell be lying if he said he'd never thought about it. A teenage boy that he was had very little control over the wet dreams that haunted him at night. -- and for as much as he wants to fight it, his eyes immediately drop to where Kavinsky wraps his fingers around his cock, stroking himself slowly. He hadn't exactly looked at Kavinsky that night, but now he's got a full show of it all and, despite how much he hates the little control he has, he's drinking it all in. Licking his lips as his throat suddenly dries up. ]

Don't fucking worry about it.

[ Which is a slightly different tune than he'd been singing a short time ago. He's hiding from Adam and that thought alone makes nausea mix with arousal in a way that's unsettling -- and thankfully helps keep him from getting fully hard right there. When had he started this? Lying by omission was still lying and he'd been doing a shitload of that lately. ]

I just don't fucking want to.

[ Kavinsky knows that Ronan could have moved him that night, any night. He's experienced it first hand when he's been shoved around or punched in the face. The fact that Ronan is acting like he was completely out of control just proves that he wanted to be there that night. He wanted to be under Kavinsky's weight, getting jerked off by him.

Ronan doesn't have to say it out loud, Kavinsky already knows and with each and every protest, that knowledge gets stronger. Even if Ronan acts like he doesn't want to come over here, like he doesn't want to run his tongue up along Kavinsky's dick. Kavinsky knows. ]

Uh huh. Sure.

[he purs out, putting on a damn good show for Ronan when the other boys gaze slides down to his cock. He does exactly what he did to Ronan the other night, giving him a nice full view of his erection as he strokes himself. Hey, he's getting off on this too, watching Ronan watching him. He's pretty sure he can start to hear Ronan's breathing getting ragged, just like it did the other night. ]

Oh, I'm not worried. Nothing about this worries me. Fuck, Lynch. I'm just wondering what you tell that guy to call you. Is it Lynch? Ronan? Sweetheart? Princess?

[Ronan's protests are getting old, even if Kavinsky's having a damn good time teasing him]

You want to. You've always wanted to. This is the Quagmire, sweetheart. No one else ever has to know.

[ Every single sound that Kavinsky makes sends a shock through Ronan, his hips shifting against the wall in an attempt to relieve the pressure that he feels building in the front of his jeans. For as much as he hates Kavinsky, he can't fight the way that his body reacts to the boy: the way that he looks, the way that he sounds, that brief flavor that Ronan had tasted in the short seconds that their lips had met. Some carnal part of him wants it, almost feels like he needs it, like of the very few things in this world that he actually craves, this one is the strongest in the moment.

And fuck, if that doesn't terrify him. He's nothing more than a male, after all, and a slave to his sex drive. He knows better than to think his resolve can win out in the battle against lust. (It wasn't considered one of the deadly sins for no reason, and when attached to someone like Kavinsky it felt like the deadliest of all.)

Kavinsky hits the nail right on the head and a brief wave of sickness goes through him. He'd told the mirror image of the boy in front of him to call him all of those things -- and he so obediently followed along, which ruined the fantasy but helped Ronan's denial that he was even fantasizing about Kavinsky in the first place.

Ronan gives the truth to the people he cares about and saves all his lies for himself. ]

Bullshit. Like you'd keep any of that shit to yourself. You'd run right to him and give up every fucking detail.

[ And Ronan feels as though it's the biggest form of betrayal to even allude to Adam in the moment. The object of his worship, the center of his universe, the thing that Ronan loves so much it feels like it's physically crushing him sometimes. And here he is, daring to even speak of him while Kavinsky's only a short distance away, his hand on his dick and Ronan's desire raging on inside of him, leaving his words breathless as his heart pounds away in his chest and even louder in his ears. ]

[ Kavinsky has spent enough time watching Ronan where he knows what those small shifts could mean and he can see the strain on both Ronan's face and in his pants. Ronan never got the full scope of how much Kavinsky was into him back then. He didn't want to see it, Kavinsky could tell, even if he had been hoping that things would be different for the two of them.

Maybe Ronan craves him enough to see it now.

What he doesn't get though, is why Ronan is resisting so much. It really doesn't matter here. It's just the two of them and even if Ronan is filled with all that Catholic guilt over sucking dick, or whatever the fuck, none of that counts anymore. Ronan is fighting this too damn hard and Kavinsky is still trying to figure out why.

He's getting really into Ronan watching him jerk off though and he has a feeling that a little more time, and Ronan's hand might be sliding down the front of his pants as well. He wants to see just how far this no touching rule will go with the real thing, especially after Ronan broke that rule the other night.

It's the way Ronan says him that catches his attention and his hand slows, eyes narrowing just the slightest. Him. The first person Kavinsky thinks of is Gansey and he wants to call on a fire dragon to kill him all over again. But he doesn't let it show. Still, he has to ask. He can't help himself. ]

Him who?

[ Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Ronan's done a laundry list of stupid things in his life, but this had to be the stupidest one. Why would he just assume Kavinsky knew about Adam? Adam had hardly been a blip on the other's radar back in Henrietta, nothing more than "the trailer park boy that hung around with Dick Three and company.". Kavinsky's focus had always been on Gansey, this insane notion that Ronan and Gansey were so much more than just a pair of close friends, almost brothers. Maybe Ronan might have wanted that at one point in time, but he's feelings had long since shifted from an unrequited desire to the strictly platonic and nearly familial.

But, as Ronan's mouth has always seemed to do, here it is getting him into shit once again. He's nowhere near as talkative as Kavinsky, but he has the same problem when it comes to not being able to keep his mouth shut sometimes -- an instigator and a fighter right down to the core, even if it means shooting himself in the foot.

Ronan's eyes dart back up to meet Kavinsky's narrowed gaze and while the reaction is slight, he knows he's hit a nerve. Kavinsky can say he doesn't care about Ronan, that he doesn't give a shit, that he's completely over whatever they once had (or didn't have.) but the way that he reacts tells an entirely different story. He can almost see the jealousy beginning to creep in, anger starting to form where there had been nothing but arrogant triumph and dark desire.

A very brief turning of the tables. ]

Adam.

[ One word that leaves Ronan in a tone barely louder than a whisper, guilt and shame crushing him as though with just saying his lover's name, he would appear right there with them -- and thank fucking Christ he doesn't. Adam's name doesn't belong here, it doesn't belong on Ronan's lips when he's standing there staring at Kavinsky and battling some long buried desire inside of himself. Adam's name doesn't even belong on his mind when the thought of Kavinsky occupies some of that space as well.

Ronan feels completely unworthy of even thinking of the boy currently, much less calling him his own. ]

[ Kavinsky's notion that Ronan was stuck on someone else wasn't all that sane, he just never had any idea about the other boy. Even as Ronan says that name, Adam, Kavinsky has absolutely no idea who he's talking about. He has no idea, but he hates Adam all the same. He wants to find this boy and strangle the life out of him, over and over again.

The way Ronan says Adam's name, though, it's like he's ashamed. Ronan should be, if he's in back rooms jerking off to Kavinsky, or sitting on Kavinsky's couch with him in his lap. ]

This Adam must be a real fucking winner.

[Kavinsky laughs, the edges laced with venom. ]

So he doesn't know about your extracurriculars, then. Doesn't know whose face you jerk off to every night. And I'm guessing... [Kavinsky starts, yanking his pants up a bit as he slides off the table and strides back over to Ronan, his hand moving to rest against the wall near Ronan's head] That he isn't dead, so he's fucking irrelevant and it's still just you and me, princess.

[ It's probably for the best that Kavinsky doesn't remember Adam, that he's nothing more than a minor footnote somewhere in the vast History of Ronan Lynch that Kavinsky's been writing all this time. Then again, at that time Adam had been on the very edges -- he was so caught up with Blue that Ronan hadn't thought they'd end up as anything more than friends the same way that he and Gansey were.

But, oh how things had changed quickly. How Ronan's feelings for Adam became deeper, filling in the cracks and spaces where there had been nothing, pushing the memories of Kavinsky away in favor of making entirely new ones with this boy who he didn't think he deserved. ]

Shut the fuck up.

[ Because Kavinsky doesn't get to say that name and it sounds as though it's coming straight from the lips of the devil himself as it leaves him. Ronan wants to rip the words out of the air, pull the sound of them out of his brain, and burn them up until they're out of existence completely. ]

I'm not jerking off to your fucking face every night. [ Which was the truth, usually the face resembled Adam's, it was only lately that he'd started straying from his routine. Kavinsky moves closer and Ronan's never felt more like trapped prey. He has a good amount of height on the boy, but Kavinsky's size doesn't seem to matter when his presence alone is so much more. So much larger than life. His cockiness filling the spaces in a way that shouldn't have been intimidating coming from someone like him -- and maybe it was only intimidating because of that wild glint in Kavinsky's eyes.

Insanity could intimidate anyone, he supposes. ]

How many fucking times do I have to tell you this? [ His voice is still ragged, desire still somewhere underneath everything else and their sudden closeness is pulling it to the surface. ] It's not going to be you and me. Even if he was never here.

[ Kavinsky didn't pay any attention to unimportant people back in Henrietta. He especially wouldn't pay attention to some plain looking trailer park trash when there were better to people to focus on, such as Ronan. Five years has been a long time and really, only Gansey remains at the tip of Kavinsky's tongue. He figured now that the object of what Ronan really desired was dead and buried, Ronan would shack up with Gansey for sure.

He smirks, tilting his head, watching every minute reaction on Ronan's face. He's good at this, he always has been, even if he attributes all his talents to his dreams.]

Adam. [He says again, the name sounding like a dirty word as it leaves his lips. ] Got a picture? Maybe I can jerk off to him instead, if he's good enough to occupy your head. Oh, every other night. My bad.

[Kavinsky's over this. Really fucking over it and he tucks himself back in, zipping up. His amusement has gone icy cold, his mischievous smirk turning into something more deadly]

But he is here, right? A visitor? That's good. I'd love to meet him, because you're right about one thing. I'm in control here and I have you by the balls. [He really does, as he reaches down between them and grabs Ronan's groin] And I'm going to tell him everything.

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