[He goes breathless when Ronan moves against him like that, fingers going still where they're pressed against Ronan's back. All he wants is to pull Ronan even closer, to move against him and hear the sounds he makes, to feel his hands on Adam's skin. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough.
On a simple level, it's that he's never been wanted like this, with no reservations and no hesitation. He could drown in it, lose himself in the impossible pleasure of Ronan's desire, respond with his own. But it's not just that. It wouldn't be the same coming from anyone else, because he wouldn't want them as much as he wants Ronan. It would lack the months of long looks, charged silences, the careful touches and quiet balance as they felt each other out. They've earned this, he thinks, they've earned the right to fall into each other.
Isn't it fair that he wants nothing more than to touch Ronan? That he finds it almost impossible to put the brakes on things even when he knows he should? They're careless and much less cautious than they should be, it's only luck that no one's come upon them already. Adam should know better, he's always been the careful one.
Around Ronan, he loses that, and he barely even regrets it for a moment. He'll steal kisses in the streets, knowing what they might lead to, run his fingers teasingly along the inside of Ronan's arm, pull him into a quiet corner and never, ever say no. He always knows better, and he always does it anyway, because he can't get enough of Ronan.]
You know I want that.
[His own voice is a little low, a little tight with the need he feels, and he moves against Ronan, just a bit. Not enough, but something.]
What are you waiting for?
[He means it to be taunting, teasing, urging Ronan on with gentle barbs. Instead it comes out hungry and raw, like the scrape of Ronan's teeth against his neck, like his own hands where they tighten on Ronan's jacket.]
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On a simple level, it's that he's never been wanted like this, with no reservations and no hesitation. He could drown in it, lose himself in the impossible pleasure of Ronan's desire, respond with his own. But it's not just that. It wouldn't be the same coming from anyone else, because he wouldn't want them as much as he wants Ronan. It would lack the months of long looks, charged silences, the careful touches and quiet balance as they felt each other out. They've earned this, he thinks, they've earned the right to fall into each other.
Isn't it fair that he wants nothing more than to touch Ronan? That he finds it almost impossible to put the brakes on things even when he knows he should? They're careless and much less cautious than they should be, it's only luck that no one's come upon them already. Adam should know better, he's always been the careful one.
Around Ronan, he loses that, and he barely even regrets it for a moment. He'll steal kisses in the streets, knowing what they might lead to, run his fingers teasingly along the inside of Ronan's arm, pull him into a quiet corner and never, ever say no. He always knows better, and he always does it anyway, because he can't get enough of Ronan.]
You know I want that.
[His own voice is a little low, a little tight with the need he feels, and he moves against Ronan, just a bit. Not enough, but something.]
What are you waiting for?
[He means it to be taunting, teasing, urging Ronan on with gentle barbs. Instead it comes out hungry and raw, like the scrape of Ronan's teeth against his neck, like his own hands where they tighten on Ronan's jacket.]