Chapter Text
“Shit, a-ah… !”
Ronan’s long-drawn moan made Adam’s heart beat even faster, the fire burn hotter. He forced himself to open his eyes, to take in the flush on Ronan’s face, his kiss-reddened lips parted as he stuttered for air, his eyes open but unfocused somewhere on the ceiling, the blue almost swallowed up entirely by his lust-blown pupils. He was a sight. Adam followed with his eyes a single drop of sweat from his forehead to his temple, to disappear in the fuzz of his buzzed head. He wished he’d licked it.
Adam adjusted his grip on Ronan’s wrists over his head, keeping his weight steady and firm so that Ronan couldn’t wriggle out—just an illusion, because at the end of the day they weren’t using restraints and Ronan was stronger than him. But the mirage, to a Dreamer, was often everything if his unrestrained groans were anything to go by. They vibrated inside Adam’s mouth when he surged downwards to kiss him, swallowing them, drinking them. When he moved away with a soft hiss of his own, Ronan surprised him with a cry that followed the rhythm of their hips, hitting a higher and higher note with increasing volume.
“ Uh, uh, uh, a-aah, fuu-aah-ck !”
He kept the angle as steady as possible, but his thrusts gained momentum as though Ronan was vocally inviting them. Enticing him. He kept his knees as balanced as possible, forcing Ronan’s legs to hold onto his waist up tighter, forcing himself in deeper —ah, fuck, that was good. They were both panting, out of air, as he gave and Ronan took.
“ Ngh, yes, fuck, har—harder, harder, nngh !”
Adam tried to laugh but the air was punched out of him when he felt Ronan squeeze. Instinctively, he looked down and his hips stuttered, faltering in their punishing rhythm, the slap of skin against skin growing clumsy, when he saw himself glide in and out of Ronan’s stretched-out hole, both of them glistening with lube, his movements almost effortless as Ronan took him in beautifully. His mouth watered at the sight of Ronan’s cock, pink and flushed, hard and big, curving up in his stomach and weeping precum at his well-aimed thrusts.
Fuck. He was close, too close.
“Shit, I’m gonna—”
“Do it, unh— fucking do it, inside me, nghh , please!”
Adam let go of Ronan’s wrists and instead wrapped his fingers around his cock, his grip tight and dry and almost painful, the way he knew Ronan preferred it when he was in a mood like this, and started stroking him, almost furiously. It took only a handful of tugs and forceful slamming of his hips before Ronan howled. His body went taut, ready to snap, before he surged, his limbs almost convulsing as he came on Adam’s hand, the white strings of his release thick and hot all over his stomach. Adam watched, mouth open in fascination, as Ronan’s eyes shut tight and a tear slid down his face, the tendons of his neck straining sharply, an inhuman-like sound ripping from his lips.
And because he knew this was what Ronan liked, he kept up even during the aftershocks, fucking him into the mattress through this seemingly neverending orgasm, his hand still pumping for the last drop of come, himself still pistoning in and out and seeking the friction that made Ronan’s nerves alight with the intensity of overstimulation.
Only then did Adam let himself go, felt his own orgasm slam into him as he ruthlessly chased the sensation amidst Ronan’s encouraging screams.
“I’m gonna feel you for days. ”
It was almost midnight, and Adam had been about to fall asleep when Ronan suddenly spoke. They were in his bedroom, in the Barns, and everything was perfect. Ronan was warm and pliant, his strong arms around his waist, his chest broad as it pillowed Adam’s head. The weather was cool at night, just enough so that a single blanket would keep them warm if they slept naked—and they always slept naked. They had all of spring break ahead of them, so Adam would be in no rush to run back to college, and Ronan’s magical farm meant that he could indulge in a late morning every once in a while.
Adam propped himself up with his elbow, watching for any signs of discomfort in his face.
“Was it too much?”
“Fuck no. It was a fucking compliment.”
Adam snorted and let himself fall back onto Ronan, earning himself an oomph. Ronan’s fingers started carding through his hair in a lazy semblance of a massage.
“What’s your favorite part of sex?” he asked.
Adam blinked. “What?”
“Your favorite part—like, what do you like the most.” Ronan rolled his eyes at what must’ve been a blank stare of Adam’s. “What’s the one thing that makes you go like ‘damn I wanna do this again as soon as I can get it up.’ Know what I mean?”
“Um.” Adam shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Is this a trick question?”
Ronan frowned. “No… The fuck would it be?”
Adam blinked. The answer was so simple he didn’t understand why it had been brought up in the first place, but Ronan’s words often had a purpose. Again he made himself lean on his elbow so that he could stare at Ronan’s face, still healthily flushed, a lazy smile on his lips. He drew a hand over Ronan’s sternum, following the lines of his chest hair, rounding up the twirls around his nipples, and drawing out a needy sigh.
“Damn, Parrish, I didn’t think it was too deep a question.”
“You.” Adam shifted until he was draped on top of him, every possible inch of their skin touching. He’d wiped them down earlier, but there was no doubt they still needed a shower. “I like seeing you, hearing you— feeling you.”
“Sap,” Ronan teased, but his face was a pretty shade of pink. “Not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment and all, but I meant… like, for you. What do you like? ‘Cause not that I’m complaining or anything, but it’s like we always cater to my uh, preferences or what-the-fuck-ever, but I don’t know what gets you going.”
Adam opened his mouth but shut it, not knowing what to say that he hadn’t said. He’d already answered the question, hadn’t he?
“Fuck, Parrish, I didn’t—It’s not—I don’t know. I wanna know what you like.”
“I just told you.”
“So I’m your kink?” Adam shrugged at Ronan’s question, because sure, that was as accurate as it could get. “Okay, what do you fantasize about us doing?”
“Fantasize?” He repeated.
“Like when you’re masturbating, what do you think about?” For some reason, Ronan was getting impatient with his answers, which was kind of unfair, and Adam himself was getting frustrated with this line of questioning. “Or, forget about that, what did you jerk off to before we got together, and please don’t answer straight sex ‘cause I don’t give a fuck about that.”
Suddenly it clicked, and Adam saw himself sitting on the lumpy mattress on the floor of his room in the double-wide. He saw himself on the lumpy mattress on the floor of his room in St Agnes. And the thought was so ridiculous and out of place with his current reality—warm, wanted—that he couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. And then he remembered his father’s footsteps in the hallway and his mother’s tendency to never knock on the door before she opened it. He remembered the nuns handling the Church’s business, their kind words, the mass he could hear from his bedroom the spare Sundays he was off work. He started laughing, and not even Ronan’s annoyed grumble was enough to make him stop.
“Oh, Lynch,” he said in between giggles, which was quite indignified for a twenty-three-year-old. But then he remembered the choir and the singing and he started laughing harder.
The thought of masturbating in the trailer or in a church had him breathless with laughter, so much so that even Ronan’s lips were twitching upwards, no doubt confounded about his reaction. Of course Ronan didn’t know—how could he? It’s not that he hadn’t . He’d been young and full of raging hormones, and Ronan didn’t want to hear about straight sex but Adam had had a thought or two about himself and Blue back in the day (which he now refused to enterntain, because nope, nope, nope). He’d had plenty of thoughts about Ronan, too.
“It wasn’t… like that for me,” he admitted after he’d gotten himself under control. He was still grinning, his stomach aching from laughter. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I did , I uh, most people do, right? So sure, but um, it wasn’t like that.”
Ronan rolled his eyes. “Like what? It’s not a complicated process, I sure as fuck know you know that.”
Adam leaned his forehead against Ronan’s, closing his eyes. He wasn’t embarrassed about what he was about to share, mostly because he hadn’t had a choice, but it was still a conversation he’d never envisioned himself having with Ronan, with anyone, for that matter.
“I didn’t have the luxury to fantasize or even take my time.” He shook his head. “I mostly did it to get it out of the way, to blow off some steam? It was never so much about sex than a biological urge.”
When he opened his eyes, Ronan was staring. When he did that, he sometimes forgot to blink, and his eyes were so blue Adam could drown in them. He rolled over to the side, still pressed against Ronan, his head on his shoulder because suddenly he didn’t want to see Ronan’s expression as he kept speaking.
“Do you think I had any sort of privacy back at the trailer park?” Suddenly his words sounded bitter, and he surprised himself because he was bitter. “And then I moved into a literal church and it kinda felt sacrilegious or something. So yeah, I was always in a hurry.”
“Fuck.”
“I got used to it, so it’s not a big deal.” But apparently, Ronan disagreed with him.
“So for you, sex has always been about the destination rather than the journey.”
Adam frowned. “No. That’s masturbating. Sex is with you , and I like you. ”
“Aw, shucks.” But the tone was dry and Ronan had that pouty look he got when he was deep in thought. What else there was to think about at this point was beyond Adam. “But even then, when you’re fucking with me, it is cause you like fucking with me, or cause you like fucking with me ?”
“Both? Fuck’s sake, Ronan, it’s too late for my brain to handle this conversation…” Adam buried his head in the crook of his neck. “What does that question even mean and why’s it even relevant at this point? Am I doing something wrong with you?” He looked up because he needed to see Ronan’s face when he answered. Ronan wasn’t a liar, per se, but sometimes he’d bend the truth if Adam wasn’t watching him like a hawk.
“Course not, asshole.” But he still looked troubled. “I wanna know what makes you tick. I know what you like , duh, but knowing what makes you come and what makes you want to come are very different things.”
“Are they?” Since when had Ronan turned into a sexology expert? He thought their sex life was fine and healthy if their early tryst was anything to go by, so Ronan’s sudden fixation on a non-issue was annoying. “Okay, so answer me this, what about you ? What makes you ‘want to come’?”
He’d perhaps been waiting for Ronan to realize how impossible that question was, but Ronan Lynch was a man made out of surprises. “Power, control.” This time he was the one turning so that they were both lying side by side, their heads on the same pillow. His voice was even and confident, as though he’d either rehearsed this speech in his head or he knew it because it was obvious. “Letting go of the world for a moment and be fucked into oblivion because the world will still be there when I come back. It’s like when I let go of the steering wheel on the highway—when everything is just reduced to a single moment in time.”
Anything Adam was going to say blanked out and all he managed was a: “Lynch, you let go of the steering wheel in the fucking highway?”
“Eh, I used to, back when Kavinsky, but that’s beside the point.” It wasn’t, and Adam really wanted to keep talking about that self-destructive streak that never failed to terrorize him. “For me, Parrish, it’s about the journey. ”
There was no reason for those words to be stuck in his head like that—Adam knew that. Still, when they woke up in the morning, they were the first thing he thought about. Even as Ronan gave him a blowjob before they’d even had their coffee, whatever brain cells he’d managed to keep kept him obsessing over the words ‘destination’ and ‘journey.’ The destination was easy: orgasm. The journey , though…
“ Ahh, fuck…!”
Ronan liked it when Adam held his head while he blew him. What had he said yesterday? Power and control? It had to be the same reason why he liked the illusion of being held down. And it seemed obvious that in yesterday’s scenario, Ronan had given both of them up to Adam… However, now… Ronan was the one taking charge, except he liked Adam’s hands in his head because of the fantasy that Adam was the one keeping him there.
A hard suck had his thoughts stuttering and he hissed as Ronan went in deeper, his mouth hot and wet.
There was no doubt in his mind that he was enjoying this —his body was tight with anticipation, hot with want, and everything felt so good. But was this what ‘journey’ meant in Ronan’s mind? Because there was nothing not to be liked about a journey that ended up in an orgasm, but that wasn’t what Ronan had meant. This was the physical side of sex, which was very enjoyable, but Ronan seemed to want to know about the psychology around sex and Adam’s thoughts around it.
He gasped when he felt himself hit the back of Ronan’s throat and then all thoughts vanished into oblivion when he swallowed around him.
“ Fuck , Ronan, I’m gonn—’m gonna come…!”
Ronan sometimes moved away and finished him off with his hand—apparently, he liked watching Adam come as much as he liked watching Ronan. But sometimes, and today seemed to be one of those mornings, Ronan just swallowed.
Power. Control. It made sense for Ronan’s sex drive to revolve around those two concepts. For all of Ronan’s sharp and hardened appearance, his angry snarls and angrier words, the semblance of put-togetherness was just that, a semblance of. Ronan Lynch was a Dreamer who could make impossible things a reality, and it was often wonderful but other times it was not. He didn’t have the benefit of putting a nightmare behind him and instead often brought back monsters or injuries that would traumatize anyone.
To top it off, he thought as he got out of the shower, Ronan had been the one to find his father murdered in their home. He was no psychiatrist, but it wasn’t farfetched to believe that would give him PTSD, right? Ronan had had to hold himself together tooth and nail to make himself safe under Gansey’s wing and out of Declan’s overbearing control. Control. Control.
To have it applied to him must’ve felt agonizing for a free soul like Ronan. Like Aglionby, anything that kept Ronan caged made him self-destruct. That was, perhaps, why despite hating Kavinsky, he’d also been drawn to him. He’d offered the freedom Ronan craved while taking the reins when Ronan gave up.
What did that mean for him, for Adam? What did it mean that Ronan surrendered himself to him like that? It felt precious because there was no universe in which Ronan could not overpower Adam physically. He was bigger, stronger, had done sports from tennis to boxing and now he single-handedly managed a farm. And yet.
Wanting to give up control was something that, theoretically, Adam understood. Not having to think, not having to act, giving it up meant that someone else carried that burden. For someone who carried as many traumatic memories as Ronan did, it made sense for him to want to put his baggage down sometimes with someone he trusted.
As he walked to the kitchen where a steamy mug of coffee awaited him, he admitted to himself that he had issues with control. For Adam, letting go had never been an option—not when he lived with his parents, not when he supported himself in St. Agnes, not while he worked three jobs to keep himself afloat, and not while he studied at Aglionby to be top of the class. Not even now, as a graduate student, did he afford himself that luxury—his program was very competitive, and though his scholarships covered his courses, textbooks, board, everything else fell on his shoulders which meant work, work, and more work.
He’d only ever relied on himself to pave his own way, and now he was an adult who didn’t know how to not.
Was that what Ronan meant? About the ‘destination,’ in a broader sense of the word? Was Adam only able to see the end goal and that was why he was able to survive everything, because he kept his eyes on the ‘destination’? Was that why Adam didn’t intrinsically focus on the ‘journey,’ because to him it only meant powering through hunger and exhaustion?
No. Surely not. It wasn’t that deep.
Was it?
They’d been both so starved for affection before this reunion, that it almost felt like every second they weren’t touching was being wasted. Sex wasn’t everything in their relationship, but it was a very easy and nice way to show how much they were devoted to each other. Plus, Adam thought, they were both young and horny, and it wasn’t as though their relationship wouldn’t survive celibacy, they just chose not to put that theory to the test.
Ronan was, indeed, still sore. But that just meant that Adam wouldn’t touch him inside until he’d recovered, and he had many ideas on how to make up for it.
“ Aahn, ahh, fuck , Adam—ngh !”
He hadn’t even had to tell Ronan what to do, he’d just parted his legs, his ankles as far as they could go, knees spread unashamedly under Adam’s hands.
He took Ronan’s cock in his mouth, licking the velvety skin, pointing his tongue as he licked the slit and gathered the precum drops. He sucked gently, trying to coax more out of him, and got a loud moan instead. He glanced up and saw that Ronan’s head was thrown backward, his mouth open as he gasped dramatically for air, fingers pinching his own nipples and keeping them pink and perk and hard.
Adam wanted to praise him but instead licked a broad stripe from his balls to the tip, following the vein. As Ronan cried out, Adam inched forward, guiding Ronan’s cock up the roof of his mouth, bringing him deeper, making him wetter. He bobbed his head, forcing himself to relax his throat and not trigger his gag reflex—but he had to move his hands from Ronan’s knees to his hips to steady him in order to avoid choking.
A loud whine had Adam’s thoughts tumbling again, wondering what Ronan was feeling. Not just physically, but mentally, where was he at? Was he impatient? Was he burning inside, were the sensations overwhelming him, was he creeping closer and closer to the edge? When he took his nipples in his fingers and rolled them, was he feeling himself torpedo towards the climax? When Adam swallowed around him, making him keen and try to buck his hips, was he—
He almost choked on Ronan’s dick when the realization hit him.
What had he said last night? “Knowing what makes you come and what makes you want to come are very different things” ?
No way.
Except.
Adam moved away, kneeling over Ronan as he watched him writhe. Instead of cursing and complaining and moving his legs to push Adam back down, Ronan widened his stance, putting himself on display. He stilled his fingers and brought his hands to rest over his head, pawing the pillowcase impatiently. But he… He just waited, eyes still shut.
Out of curiosity, Adam used his thumb to stroke his balls until he settled on Ronan’s taint, adding just enough pressure to be felt.
But that wasn’t the point for Ronan, though, was it?
He must’ve stayed like that for longer than he thought because eventually, Ronan opened his eyes and glared at him. “You want a written invitation?”
Adam laughed and shook his head, his thumb back to applying pressure. Even after this awkward pause, Ronan was hard.
“The fuck were you thinking about?” Ronan moaned. “Better not be school because I fucking swear to God—”
“You,” Adam answered easily. “I mean, what you said yesterday.”
“I said a fuckton of bullshit yesterday, Parrish. A-aah !”
Wrapping his fingers around Ronan’s cock in a loose fist, he slowly, oh, so slowly, started pumping. The resulting whine went straight to Adam’s own erection, but he forced himself to focus. This felt like an important revelation, a breakthrough of some sort.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Ronan managed. He kept his hands still and his eyes closed.
Adam rolled his eyes, not that Ronan could see. “I mean this .” However, he did not alter his pace or his grip. “Not just the orgasm or even the build-up—you meant this. Just sex for the sake of sex.”
“Should’ve— aah —fucking known you’d take a simple question and turn it into a-an existential crisis. Yes, yes , I meant sex for the sake of sex, not just the— oh, fuuck— orgasm.”
“So I could just keep you on the brink and that would be okay?” he asked. His mouth was dry as he imagined what Ronan’s answer would be. “Like edging?”
“Oh, fuck, I’d love you to edge me,” Ronan whined. His hands were fists gripping the sheets but he wasn’t moving his hips, just allowing Adam’s light touch to stimulate him. “But even then, aah, the goal’s to come, right? I don’t think I’d— uuhh— mind if I didn’t, at all. I’m just, hahh, enjoying the ride.”
Enjoying the ride.
“It’s so aah , it’s so good, fuck. ” Ronan let out a loud moan and Adam felt it burn in his own belly. “I want you—I want you to feel this. I want you to know how I’m— ngh— feeling right now ‘cause it’s—it’s so fuckin’ good …!”
Adam swallowed drily and leaned forward, one hand supporting his weight as he got as close to Ronan without touching him, the other still pumping in a slow, loose grip. “It feels good to fuck you, Ronan. And it feels good when you fuck me, too.”
To test his theory, to test Ronan’s words, Adam kept his pace steady, kept his lips just far enough so Ronan couldn’t reach out and kiss him.
“I want to see you come like this.”
It took them a long, long time for Ronan to hit his climax, and it really felt like most of the stimulation was coming from Adam’s encouraging words rather than his hands. And as Ronan shouted and tensed and shouted again, Adam wondered what it would be like to be so turned on and so out of one’s mind and out of control that an orgasm was just a happy byproduct, rather than a goal.
He could not stop thinking about it. Ronan’s red, parted lips as he panted for air, his abs tightening under Adam’s fingertips, the filthy moans that seemed to echo in his dreams. Ronan’s experience of sex wasn’t just purely physical and emotional—it was mental, as well. Adam, on the other hand, hadn’t seemed to connect to that third dimension that seemed to propel Ronan to orgasms that were each more intense than the previous one.
And, really, he was curious.
Like now, when he had Ronan kneeling on the bed, face on the pillow, legs parted widely, his hands keeping his own cheeks parted. Adam was two fingers deep now, still not willing to put in a third in case Ronan was sorer than he let on.
“Tell me what you feel?” he asked. He was strangely breathless and his cock was hard in the confines of his boxers, but this wasn’t about Adam.
“You want a— aah —a rundown?”
Adam rolled his eyes as he kept pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm. Hard and intent enough to be felt, but not enough to make him come. “Sure.”
“It feels like you’re fucking me with your fingers, Parrish, ngh , how the fuck is it supposed to feel?”
“Humor me.”
“Tight. It, ah , it feels tight around your fingers. I can feel you— oh, fuck —move and how it catches on my—my rim and ah —when you go deep like that it makes…”
A pause. “Go on.”
“It makes my body feel so fucking, ah, ah, so fucking hot and like every nerve in my body is just gonna— aah —burn, and it makes me so fucking hard, like all the blood is just pooling in my dick, and when you— ah, yeah, right there— when you touch my prostate it’s like a brain freeze except it’s fucking hot and I can feel my eyes rolling up my skull it’s so good— yes, yes, yes —it makes me want to come right fucking now except I don’t want it to end, fuck, your fingers feel so fucking good opening me up, I want you to rub me— there, yes, there, there, aah—”
Adam kept his fingers’ motion slow and steady, his fingertips rutting against the nub that was turning Ronan’s brain into mush. He didn’t let up, just kept the circular motions as Ronan gasped and groaned and panted and moaned, the muscles in his back covered with a layer of sweat, his rippling muscles beautiful beneath a perfect tattoo. When he noticed Ronan’s toes curl, Adam had to steel himself in order not to furiously jerk off.
“ Ah—ah, AH-AAH, ngh!”
Ronan’s form crumpled as his legs stretched out with the intensity of his orgasm, kicking the sheets as he rode the waves of his climax, his fingers tight, tight, tight around Adam’s fingers. His fingers let go of his ass as he started clawing the pillowcase, his whole body tense as he surged with the movements, and Adam had caught a glimpse of the come splattering beneath Ronan’s stomach before he completely fell over it.
He kept chasing the aftershocks, his whole body grinding his spent dick against the mattress and pushing back against Adam’s fingers. When he moved them once more, Ronan’s shout was forever registered in Adam’s mind, and the whining that followed was almost enough to undo him. Ronan liked a little teasing after his climax, liked the sting of overstimulation, so the cries that followed were welcome and encouraging.
“ Ohfuckohfuckohfuck— fucking hell — that was , hah, so fucking good , ohmygod.”
Adam tried to laugh as he pulled his fingers out, but he was out of air. Strangely breathless and, now that he noticed, his mouth was dry. His whole body felt taut, almost electrical like a live wire, and he could feel himself sweat through his flannel pajamas.
Right. Only Ronan had undressed because he sometimes enjoyed it when they did that.
He tried to swallow but he almost choked on his own saliva.
Perhaps his lack of reaction was intriguing enough that Ronan, instead of lying there to recuperate, turned around, on his back, his stomach coated with his spend. His icy blue eyes were warm and sexy, pupils dilated, slightly red-rimmed from a few stray tears. His lips, raw where he’d bitten them, curved in a wide grin.
“Why, Parrish, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite this turned on.”
Adam huffed, still breathless. “You came untouched.”
“Technically,” and Ronan was still also panting. “ You made me come untouched.”
For once, for once, Adam couldn’t even think of anything, much less a decent reply.
Ronan’s arms were still trembling with the aftereffects and he was still flushed red all over, but suddenly quick hands were pulling his T-shirt over his head, and a quick pull had both his pajama pants and his boxers down to his knees. Before he even registered the cool air hitting his body, Adam had a lapful of Ronan sitting over his thighs, straddling him. He could feel Ronan’s breath over his cheeks, how hot his skin burnt, and he let himself fall pliantly on his back, the mattress a mess of blankets and pillows, as Ronan towered over him.
He looked absolutely debauched, his chest and stomach stained white with rapidly drying come, and it shouldn’t look as good as it did. Those eyes looked sharp, his grin feral, and suddenly Adam felt very much out of his mind with want. He wanted to surge upwards and take that mouth in his own, to bite that plump, lower lip, to swallow up the moans the had yet to deliver. He wanted to—he wanted to touch, to wrap his hands around Ronan’s waist, to lick those perky nipples, to suck another orgasm out of Ronan’s dick.
Adam barely registered the fact that it wasn’t Ronan who was whimpering, it was him.
Ronan watched him like he always did—those cold blues sending a hot stare, those beautiful, dark lashes unblinking as he ate up Adam’s soul with his eyes. He licked his lips, Adam studying that pink tongue as it darted out, and this time his smirk was predatory. It made Adam’s gut burn.
“Enjoy the ride, Parrish.”
Adam was about to ask something—what, he had no idea—why was it so difficult to think—he was Adam Parrish thinking was all he did sometimes —when Ronan put his left hand to Adam’s mouth. Two fingers traced the seam of his lips and when he parted them—to ask questions, to demand some answers, to moan—they were inside his mouth, curving along the flat of his tongue.
Ronan just stood there, kneeling over his trapped legs, and somehow Adam’s hands had ended up on his sharp hips, and with how pale his skin was and how tight Adam was gripping him, there would be bruises tomorrow. Not that Ronan seemed to mind those, either.
“That’s it.”
The fingers tasted salty, but nothing else seemed to permeate the bizarre fog Adam had found himself in. It was alarming, and in some ways, he wanted to snap out of it and get back in his mind and his body, but on the other hand, the curiosity to know where this would lead him urged him to keep his mind blank. It almost felt like scrying where the mind took its own path, like following the course of an unknown river, and the same way he trusted Ronan to bring his soul back from going too far, he was willing to trust him with this as well.
Adam closed his eyes as Ronan’s breath hitched, his tongue going in circles around the digits, breaking in between them and following the lines of the nail. When Ronan pushed in deeper, Adam just opened his jaw to accommodate them.
What was this? His spirit seemed to be wandering off and yet he was very aware of the confines of his body, how his skin was tightening, and Ronan’s solid weight on top of him shifting.
“Shh, don’t think.”
Adam almost asked what he meant by that, but he couldn’t, so instead, he sucked on the fingers. How could he not think? He didn’t know how not to—thinking was the core of his foundation, how he understood the world around him, how he navigated his own feelings. How did one exist without thought when— oh.
He didn’t recognize himself in the sounds he was making—but there was no time for that. The fingers retreated just a bit with Ronan’s movements, but Adam barely had the senses to process that when Ronan took him in his mouth. He felt Ronan’s tongue coating the head of his cock, the soft licks at the slit. Adam opened his mouth to—to something—or another—but the fingers were back so he did the only thing he possibly could and he sucked—sucked—and Ronan— fuck, was he—he was , he was mimicking—he — Ronan—
The orgasm hit him like a breath of fresh air, with the same sobering power of fresh air, but with the gentleness of a caress, it was intense where it was soft, all-consuming where it was gentle, neverending where it was warm.
They sat in the living room, Ronan’s head on Adam’s lap, his long legs across the length of the sofa, his feet peeking out from under Aurora’s handmade quilt and just over the armrest. They were watching an action film—something with explosions, and cars, and guns, and hot, shitless actors and women whose role was to hang off their beefy biceps (Blue would be so mad a this). Scratch that, Ronan was watching the film, and Adam’s head was elsewhere.
Namely, the night before, and how his mind had suddenly blanked and how it had resulted in the gentlest, fiercest orgasm he’d had in his life. (And Ronan was good at what he did so he hadn’t known that was even possible.)
Ronan had taken control of the situation—and though it wasn’t a first, per se, it was rare enough that the novelty had caught him off guard. But his own… reaction… still stumped him. He both wanted a repeat and dreaded it. Ronan taking over for Adam meant too many variables, and Adam had always been a man with a plan , and Ronan had always been the one to throw them out of the window and offer him something better.
Adam trusted Ronan. He did.
Ronan loved him furiously and he would rather chop off his own arm than let anything hurt him. He was loyal, devoted, and infuriatingly kind beneath that rough exterior. And because Adam refused to take anything he hadn’t earned, Ronan gave himself in ways Adam couldn’t reject. He took care of Adam by letting Adam take care of him.
So of course Adam gave, gave, and gave to Ronan, and in return, he took, and took, and took. Because that was Adam’s fucked up way of life and Ronan respected him enough not to call him out on it.
But that was what Ronan wanted, so it was okay. He said he wanted control and power taken away from him, that he wanted to ‘let go of the world and be fucked into oblivion because the world would still be there when he got back.’ Adam wanted that for Ronan, too. But then Ronan had wanted to know what made Adam tick and the answer was that he didn’t know.
Except… did it matter? He knew what Ronan liked so maybe he could just figure it out along the way?
“That seems fun,” Ronan said suddenly, startling Adam. His eyes were fixed on the screen where the hero and trophy-girlfriend were going at it vigorously against a bookshelf, just barely covered by a well-placed out-of-focus bouquet of red roses. “Not the chick part, but the fucking against the wall thing.”
Adam huffed a laugh. “You want me to fuck you against a wall?”
“Hell, yeah.” Adam rolled his eyes, but when he turned to look at Ronan he was staring back at him, his eyes intense and hungry.
“What, now ?”
“Sure,” Ronan replied easily. He still had that eerie look in his eyes, as if he was trying to decipher something in another language. “You know it doesn’t always have to be like that, right?”
“What?”
“Like, me saying something or wanting something and doing it, or—I dunno, if you wanted to, I could also be the one fucking you?”
Heat seared Adam’s cheeks—which was ridiculous. They talked about sex, Ronan was always forthcoming with his fantasies, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t bottomed, either. But for some inexplicable reason, embarrassment made his ears burn.
“You want to fuck me against the wall?” he countered because he had no clue what to say.
“I want to do to you what you do to me,” Ronan said easily. “Like yesterday.”
Adam’s mouth went dry.
Ronan frowned. “You didn’t like yesterday.”
“No—I, I…” The words were out before Adam could organize them in his brain and deliver them in a way that made sense. “I did.” And he had. He just hadn’t been able to process it, because every time his brain cells tried to focus on it, his mind went blank—there wasn’t anything to think about because it had all been sensation . “It was—it was like scrying.”
It was the wrong thing to say because Ronan didn’t like it when he scried. “Fuck, Parrish, why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”
“No, dammit, no, Ronan, that’s not what I meant.” How could he even begin to explain. “It was… It was good. Like an out-of-body experience without the, you know, risk of my spirit wandering off.”
“Huh.” Ronan sat up and turned to him, one hand on Adam’s cheek. He looked at Adam like sometimes Opal looked at plastic forks—with curiosity and a dash of hunger. “You liked it?”
It was silly that Adam couldn’t stop blushing, but there was no teasing in Ronan’s voice, just child-like wonder.
“Yeah.”
“You looked—fuck, you looked so blissed out and I hadn’t even touched you.” He got closer, closer, closer, until their foreheads were touching and Adam could feel Ronan’s warm breath. “It’s what you do to me every time you look at me. I just need to know you’ll be there when I open my eyes, that you’ll put me back together every time you fucking take me apart. I don’t even care if you won’t let me come as long as you’re there. I just need you to own me.”
They were both hard—which was ridiculous because they’d had so much sex already, but Adam’s body was aching with need. Ronan dipped his head to Adam’s right ear, whispering wetly, the sounds vibrating deep into his gut.
“I wanted to see you like that,” he breathed, his voice low and husky. It was doing things to Adam’s psyche. “And fuck , it was so worth it.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.” Ronan began to suck just beneath his ear, and the shy licks went straight to his groin. “I know you said you like making me come, but how do you feel about letting me make you come?”
Adam huffed a laugh. “You make it sound like it’s a sacrifice or something.”
Except that’s exactly what it was, wasn’t it? And Ronan knew it. Adam letting go was a sacrifice—their whole history as teenagers had been triggered by Adam sacrificing himself to Ronan’s magical forest. Of course it was nothing as dramatic this time—but giving into Ronan’s request meant closing his eyes and falling backward. He trusted Ronan to catch him, he just didn’t trust his own knees to bend out of balance.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Ronan said after a moment. “I’m more than happy to let you fuck me against a wall.”
“What do you want?”
Adam wanted to groan at the question because the truth was that it was simultaneously everything and I don’t know. Instead, all he could manage was to suck in air before Ronan kissed him again, pushing him against their closed bedroom door, both their pants a fallen mess over their ankles as they rutted each other through their underwear. Ronan held him tight against his chest, pressing him against the solid hardwood, as Adam’s hands scratched his back the way he knew was more teasing than ticklish.
Ronan pressed in tighter, their hips glued to each other.
Well, Adam might not be sure of what he wanted, but it seemed like Ronan had a plan mapped out.
“Seems to me,” he bit out as Ronan licked over his jugular, “that you know what you want.”
“Oh, yeah?” Ronan whispered, his hot breath raising goosebumps along his arms. “And what’s that?”
“You want to fuck me against the door.” Ronan’s breath hitched and he was grinding harder. “Am I wrong?”
“Only if you want to,” Ronan promised. “I cannot fucking stop picturing it, Parrish.” He moaned, which was unfair, because it made Adam’s whole body tingle. “Yesterday you were so fucking out of it, you were fucking beautiful.”
Adam huffed a laugh, but it sounded strangled. His stomach was tightening, and not in a bad way. “You sap,” he repeated Ronan’s words back at him.
“I want to try to get you there again,” Ronan insisted, and this time he moved away from Adam’s neck to say the words. His blue eyes were piercing, pupils blown. “I know I’m your fucking kink, and I’m pretty sure you’re mine, too.”
“I don’t really think that’s what a kink i— aah. ” A whine tore out of his throat before he could finish speaking. “Ronan, fuck. ” Ronan had made quick work of throwing their boxers onto the floor and kicking them out of the way.
“Can I?” he asked. It wasn’t fair that Ronan could make everything burn when his eyes looked like they should be cold instead. “Can I get you there?”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Adam asked, moving his hands to Ronan’s cheeks, cupping them. “Because if you’d rather let me, you know…”
“I’m so fucking sure.”
Adam had just barely the time to nod before Ronan gripped him tightly by the hips and turned him around, his chest pressing against his back, his front flush against the unmoving door. On one hand, it made sense that if they were going to do this standing, that Ronan would be the one topping—he was slightly taller and he had better leverage, which would help maintain a rhythm. He was also stronger, which had to be a bonus if things got uncomfortable, and it had been his idea, after all. Maybe he’d been entranced by the male protagonist and, instead of being tantalized by that display of raw power to make him want to submit, he’d been intrigued by the possibilities this position could offer him.
He did seem genuinely curious about Adam the day before… And Adam… He couldn’t deny that he was curious, as well. If he fell, Ronan would catch him, but he had to allow himself to cut his own strings. Would he be able to?
What if he wasn’t? What if Ronan got frustrated with his lack of trust? This was entirely Adam’s issue, his baggage , and Ronan didn’t need more on his plate already.
“I can hear you think all the way from here,” Ronan whispered in his ear. He still hadn’t moved, though Adam could feel how hard he was against his back. “That means I’m doing something wrong.”
Adam huffed a laugh. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”
“Well, you’re still thinking, so.” And just like that, Ronan’s warm (burning) heat disappeared as he crouched, his five-o’clock shadow tickling against his ass. “Shh.” Adam hadn’t said anything yet, but he hissed when Ronan parted his cheeks and licked a broad stipe over his hole.
“ Fuck… !”
There was no reprieve. Adam hadn’t even caught his breath when Ronan surged forward, his tongue hot and soft and wet, swirling messily around him, never breaching, just following the trace of his rim, teasing with small licks, quick and wild, and when Adam was about to curse, he let out a cry instead when Ronan sucked. He gasped when his arms flailed and hit the door, not hard enough to hurt himself, but loud enough to startle him out of his thoughts.
It was too hot, too wet, too good— and then Ronan maneuvered his hips so that he was tilting a bit towards him, giving him more access as he ran the flat of his tongue over his taint and ended up rubbing against his hole again, the saliva dripping wetly as Ronan had no qualms over licking and sucking and kissing him like it didn’t make Adam’s knees tremble and his fists clench over his head where he kept them still because he didn’t want to keep pounding like a madman even though that was all he could think about and— fuuck.
Ronan wasn’t being quiet, either, his hums and sighs and muffled groans almost as loud as Adam’s own curses and whines.
It didn’t feel fair—it didn’t feel fair that Ronan was giving him all of this and he was just… there, standing, taking it all, greedily, not giving back—and he was about to say something when Ronan’s fingers parted him even wider and he pointed his tongue and he—
He had his eyes closed but he was shutting them so tightly that he could see purple spots behind his eyelids, and he felt his own body tense, his shoulders pulling upwards, his calves burning though it made no sense why they would, his breaths stuttering as Ronan’s tongue breached him, and he was already half-deaf so it was unfair that his hearing ear was ringing as he was hurled into a deeper dimension where self disappeared and only sensation governed.
Was this what Ronan kept talking about?
Because if there was indeed a universe where only this remained and he could trust himself to come back from this high safe and sound then—then—Ronan worried at him with his tongue, rubbing it and coating him with spit, sucking in ways that made Adam’s vision whiten and his knees threaten to buckle.
Perhaps it wasn’t about Adam letting himself fall into Ronan’s arms, perhaps it was about Adam letting Ronan sweep him off his feet.
Sometimes. He was, still, Adam Parrish.
His fist hit the door again when he felt something long and familiar breach him, barely able to contain a moan as Ronan’s lubed finger lazily buried itself up to the last knuckle, and completely unable to stop himself from gasping as Ronan bit him lightly in the thigh. He moved, slowly, the movement dragging and slow and purposeful, and he could feel the second finger circling around him once before joining in next, sliding easily, deeper, deeper.
“You’re so tight,” Ronan hissed, and it was unfair that he sounded so in control when Adam’s brain was teetering to the edge. Was this how it was for Ronan? “Shh.”
The third—it was a third? Adam still had his eyes tightly shut, his arms bent around his lowered head, his legs trembling and parted, knees wobbly as he felt the stretch. Everything was on fire, his skin, his gut, his cock—fuck, he hadn’t even been thinking about it, right? He was achingly hard yet all he could focus on was how Ronan’s knuckles opened him wide and twisted his slick fingers and—
“ Fuck !”
Adam almost lost his balance as he felt pressure on his prostate, light and almost shy, but constant and soft and inviting. It was calling to him, making the pressure in his abdomen roar as he gasped for air.
“I can’t wait to fuck you,” Ronan whispered. Adam’s brain almost short-circuited when he realized that Ronan sounded like he usually did when Adam was the one calling the shorts. He sounded wrecked , whiny, his breaths heavy and high-pitched as if he was the one melting into a puddle.
“Don’t know what you’re— aah— waiting for,” he hissed, his stomach whooping at another well-aimed thrust of his fingers. He was about to combust and he wasn’t sure what that would mean.
Ronan let go of Adam’s hips, but before he could topple to the side, he pressed one arm against Adam’s back, trapping him against the door. And honestly, it should’ve been even a bit painful, but all he could think about was the sound of a bottle popping open and Ronan’s slick cock sliding against his cheeks. Adam made a sound that was in between a moan and a whine, and Ronan cursed.
Adam kept his legs parted and his knees slightly bent, but he was still pretty much immobile, with just the minimum space—an arm cushioning his forehead, the other clawing at the polished surface with no purchase.
Ronan kept one hand over his back and with the other, he guided himself in.
“ Fuuuck, you’re so fuckin’ tight, aah, Jesus, ngh… !”
Adam didn’t bother responding because he could barely breathe as he felt Ronan’s dick inch deeper and deeper, splitting him open, the stretch burning just enough to be felt but not enough to hurt. And it had been a while since Adam had been the one bottoming, because he couldn’t remember how deep he could go, how thick he was, how it felt to accommodate for his girth, how the slide seemed so easy and felt so good, how hot Ronan’s breath was against the back of his neck, how his rim accommodated every time Ronan moved, how, when he finally bottomed out, his voice would get all strangled and he would give one last push that would make Adam choke.
They were both panting.
“You okay?” Ronan gasped.
“It’s been a while,” he confessed. “It’s good. Just—just give me a moment.”
Ronan stayed still, keeping Adam immobile, breathing into his hearing ear like he was trying to calm his breathing, slow, deep, purposeful. Adam allowed himself to lean fully against the door, held up completely by Ronan’s hold on his back and the support of his hips. He was in so, so deep, and Adam forced himself to follow Ronan’s inhales in order to adjust to him.
“Am I hurting you?” Ronan asked.
“No, no, you’re not.” Fuck, it had been too long and it was overwhelming him, all of his senses were pooling southward and his brain felt deprived of oxygen. “You can move.”
“I dunno man, I feel pretty snug up here.”
Adam choked a laugh. “Asshole.” And then he gasped when he felt Ronan’s palm pressing against his back and the other wrapped itself awkwardly around his waist. “Shit, aah .” The moan made it past his lips unbidden when Ronan’s hips began to move.
The slide was tight, aided by the lube, but Adam could feel Ronan’s dick against his walls, the glide hot and slippery. He sighed, which turned into a surprised ‘oh’ as Ronan almost completely slid out, only to then thrust .
Ronan whined, which was unfair . “You good?”
“Yes, fuck, yes, I’m— nghh .”
Still immobile, Adam’s hands flung for purchase against nothing as Ronan panted and whined and cursed against his ear, his breath hot and wet, his movements stilted as he tried to find a good rhythm while standing. It was too awkward, they were both too tall and probably out of practice. Ronan tried shifting Adam’s legs, which had him almost tipping over to the side, and then he accidentally slid out and Adam’s shoulders were hunting too much.
“Goddammit,” Ronan cursed after they’d given up, both too sore to continue.