[Ronan's just trying to not make assumptions. He knows that he'd been a dick before, and he wants to make it up to him, but he also would have understood it if Kavinsky wanted space and time. If as much as Ronan wants the other boy in his arms, wants to do everything that he can to viscerally wipe away the hurt, he'd also understand if it took Kavinsky a little bit to warm up to him, to trust that Ronan wouldn't push him away again.
But he laughs, mirthful and warm, when the other boy says fuck that hooking a hand around the back of his neck, ensuring that the other dreamer wasn't going to pull away. And then Kavinsky kissed him, and Ronan murmured- it was firm and confident, but sweet too, and Ronan kisses him back without hesitation. Maybe not quite so confident, given that he has less experience. But there's a clear assurance that this is what he wants, and that he's comfortable with that. There's a softness to it as well as a heat, desire in how Ronan kisses the other boy. Because fuck, but he's dreamed about this, dreamed about more, too.
And now here they are, and yeah, Ronan is wearing fuckall except for Kavinsky's hoodie, with his ass half-exposed and his dick hardly contained behind the fabric, but for the moment he doesn't fucking care. Because they're here, together, and Kavinsky is kissing him and Ronan is kissing him back, and there's no one here to give a damn about the fact that he wants this boy. He did still want, and care about Adam Parrish, but- he was alive, and Ronan wasn't.
And Kavinsky was right here. He's breathless when they part, and he catches Kavinsky's face between his hands and kisses him again, brief but sweet, a murmur as he leans into him.]
C'mon. If we don't get out of here now, I'm gonna get distracted.
[By Kavinsky, he meant. Because it was too easy to just fall into him, into trying to show him all the things that he hadn't known how when they'd both been alive.]
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But he laughs, mirthful and warm, when the other boy says fuck that hooking a hand around the back of his neck, ensuring that the other dreamer wasn't going to pull away. And then Kavinsky kissed him, and Ronan murmured- it was firm and confident, but sweet too, and Ronan kisses him back without hesitation. Maybe not quite so confident, given that he has less experience. But there's a clear assurance that this is what he wants, and that he's comfortable with that. There's a softness to it as well as a heat, desire in how Ronan kisses the other boy. Because fuck, but he's dreamed about this, dreamed about more, too.
And now here they are, and yeah, Ronan is wearing fuckall except for Kavinsky's hoodie, with his ass half-exposed and his dick hardly contained behind the fabric, but for the moment he doesn't fucking care. Because they're here, together, and Kavinsky is kissing him and Ronan is kissing him back, and there's no one here to give a damn about the fact that he wants this boy. He did still want, and care about Adam Parrish, but- he was alive, and Ronan wasn't.
And Kavinsky was right here. He's breathless when they part, and he catches Kavinsky's face between his hands and kisses him again, brief but sweet, a murmur as he leans into him.]
C'mon. If we don't get out of here now, I'm gonna get distracted.
[By Kavinsky, he meant. Because it was too easy to just fall into him, into trying to show him all the things that he hadn't known how when they'd both been alive.]