[It's too much. Of course it is - how could it not be? Ronan is overwhelming when they're together, filling every sense, Adam unable to think about anything but him. He likes it, he's always liked it, because it's so rare for Adam Parrish's thoughts to be full enough that he can't think about anything else. But Ronan - Ronan does it so easily, without even meaning to, claiming every part of him and every bit of his attention.
It's different like this, with so much distance between them and nothing but Ronan's voice in his ear and his own hand on his cock. It's different, but it's not so different that Adam can drag his thoughts away. It's not so different that he has room for anything else in his mind, his heart.
And the sounds Ronan makes are too much all by themselves, even without the thought of him. Even without the knowledge of what he looks like when he comes, the way he loses himself, the animal desire and pure release. Adam loves it, Adam could probably get off just on the memory of that, but with Ronan in his ear it's so much more.
He strokes himself faster, unconsciously, his hips rising to meet his hand. Adam is quiet, usually, but he can't be now - he doesn't want to be, he wants Ronan to hear him, so he doesn't hold back, he lets himself gasp and moan, he lets himself catch his breath and he doesn't care about the edge of need in his voice.]
Ronan - oh, fuck -
[And Ronan's voice, his name, is enough to push him over the edge, enough to make him come in a sudden rush, the pleasure of it arcing through him as he bites off a sharp cry. That, at least, he has to be careful about - someone might hear - but god, it's hard to be.
He breathes hard, settling himself, a little hazy and half-stunned as he comes down from this.]
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It's different like this, with so much distance between them and nothing but Ronan's voice in his ear and his own hand on his cock. It's different, but it's not so different that Adam can drag his thoughts away. It's not so different that he has room for anything else in his mind, his heart.
And the sounds Ronan makes are too much all by themselves, even without the thought of him. Even without the knowledge of what he looks like when he comes, the way he loses himself, the animal desire and pure release. Adam loves it, Adam could probably get off just on the memory of that, but with Ronan in his ear it's so much more.
He strokes himself faster, unconsciously, his hips rising to meet his hand. Adam is quiet, usually, but he can't be now - he doesn't want to be, he wants Ronan to hear him, so he doesn't hold back, he lets himself gasp and moan, he lets himself catch his breath and he doesn't care about the edge of need in his voice.]
Ronan - oh, fuck -
[And Ronan's voice, his name, is enough to push him over the edge, enough to make him come in a sudden rush, the pleasure of it arcing through him as he bites off a sharp cry. That, at least, he has to be careful about - someone might hear - but god, it's hard to be.
He breathes hard, settling himself, a little hazy and half-stunned as he comes down from this.]