never knew loving could hurt this good [2/23]

[thedreamthief]

They're in the Barns, in Ronan's room, the bed he's had since he was eight, a dream thing created by his father like so many other things in the house. Ronan can remember every detail, the exact pattern of the quilt, the dents and dings on the wooden bed legs made by errant skateboards and dog teeth and cat claws and carelessly discarded baseball bats. He can remember the dip of the mattress, the scent of his pillows, the strip of warmth from the sun peeking in through the window.

Adam fits as though he's always been here, the width of the bed expanding to hold him, to welcome him, blankets draping over his calves like an embrace.

They're tangled, legs entwined, bare from the waist up, Ronan with one arm under Adam's head and the other wrapped around his middle, fingertips tracing invisible patterns up the center of Adam's back. Noses brushing, Ronan breathes gently into Adam's mouth, still enthralled by the flush of pink across Adam's cheekbones, the line of his nose, the fall of dark eyelashes. Still amazed, even now, that he can have this even beyond his dreams.

In dreams, words aren't necessary. In dreams, Adam already knows what lies beneath Ronan's chest, all he wants and has to offer. In dreams, Ronan can press his lips to Adam's and paint his fingers over soft skin, can leave delicate, beautiful lines with only a touch and not worry that it's too much.

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[thedreamthief]

The muscles in Ronan's abdomen twitch and contract as Adam sneaks a hand between them to carefully take himself in hand. Ronan's aware of every knuckle on Adam's hand, the bump and brush as he starts stroking himself. His breath hitches, rhythm faltering for a second before he rocks forward again, grinding in deep.

"You first," he breathes, eyes locked on Adam's as he finds a good rhythm again, weight rested on one arm as he untucks the other from Adam's back to reach up and brush the hair from his forehead, thumb gazing the delicate line of Adam's brow. "I want-- want to watch you, to feel it around me. Fuck, I wanna come in you."

[incognoscibilis]

"I want you," he echoes. The words are distracted, Adam's eyes following the course of Ronan's gentle fingers. The tenderness in the midst of this, in the midst of fucking, is a gorgeous little paradox. Adam strokes himself faster, body alive and aching, his skin electric.

Reaching vaguely up for Ronan, hoping for a kiss but also caught up in the tight rhythm between them, Adam can only blink up at him. "You want that?"

[thedreamthief]

It seems obvious, more than obvious even, but Ronan still nods as best he can, his breathing shallow, hitching with every tight push as Adam's hand works faster between them. His thumb trails downward then, fingers outstretched to cradle Adam's.

"Why, you want me to pull out and come on you instead?" he asks, a breathless joke that soon melts into a rough groan when he has a sudden mental picture of just that, of easing out, slipping off the condom and finishing across Adam's gorgeous, tanned belly.

Later, he thinks. Maybe. Right now, he wants this.

[incognoscibilis]

"Mm..." It's supposed to be the start of the word maybe, but Ronan thrusts in again, a little deeper, and Adam's who body jumps. His head falls back, mouth open, and he's only faintly aware of the fact that he's started to come. He keeps touching himself, keeps staring up at Ronan with those wide, blown eyes.

"Ronan," he groans out, chasing up to kiss him. His skin is electric, sensitive to everything it touches, and he feels as though he can perceive every inch of Ronan's skin now.

[thedreamthief]

Adam jolts beneath him, head falling back and eyes blow wide. Ronan can feel it all over, can feel Adam's muscles coiling beneath him, thighs gripping his sides, the cord of his neck on beautiful display.

But more than that, Ronan can feel Adam clenching down around him, squeezing him tight from the inside, so tight Ronan can't do anything but grind against him, mouth open and heart pounding as Adam completely unravels, completely shatters.

"Holy fuck," he breathes, fucking in harder, chest aching as he leans down, sharing Adam's breath as he drives forward, barrels forward, foot on the accelerator-- and crashes, shuddering on a strangled moan.

[incognoscibilis]

He can and can't feel it, can see it in Ronan's expression and hear it in his voice. A dark, hungry part of his mind wonders what it would feel like without the condom, with Ronan bare against him. The idea delights and bewilders him, still riding on that pleasure as they go.

It takes a second to actually process that Ronan's actually said words. Words that are in fact typical of him, which makes Adam smile. He looks up at Ronan, grinning, eyes still wide.

"Holy fuck."

[thedreamthief]

Ronan doesn't stop moving right away, can't seem to at all even as he empties himself in the condom, heart hammering and mind fuzzed over with pleasure. He opens his eyes slowly to find Adam staring back at him, lips curled in a grin, eyes dark.

"You mocking me, Parrish?" he says, though his tone is nothing but fond and he rocks forward one last time to lean in, his lips brushing over Adam's. It's a light kiss, Ronan's breath still coming too hard and too fast and it melts into another, awed sort of laugh before he pulls back again, his thumb once again brushing Adam's brow.

He should say something, he thinks, three words in particular threatening to burst right out of him. But the worry now is timing, he thinks. Only dicks say it during or right after sex, right? Isn't that some fucking rule somewhere?

[incognoscibilis]

"Never," he fibs. "I would never mock you." It's a slight nudge at the truth, one that makes allowances for when they tease, playfully call one another loser and shitbag, but those don't count. Ronan knows that just as well as he does.

He turns his head to those kisses like leaves to the sun, nuzzling into Ronan's palm when he breaks away. Looking at him sidelong, Adam can perceive the beams of fading sunlight through his window. They've slept and dreamed and fucked all afternoon and it's time that wasn't spent on school or work but Adam can't think of it as time wasted. Time reclaimed. Time made theirs. Time owned.

"Come on, lie down." They can curl up together. Adam can do the reading for his literature class and try and explain it to a disinterested Ronan, only to kiss him quiet.

[thedreamthief]

Adam turns toward him, chasing after each slow, easy kiss, his cheek warm against Ronan's palm. Ronan indulges for a moment before pulling away with another soft breath, still feeling light in a way he can't explain, warm and sated and whole, chest aching with an affection he can't put into words.

He grins a little at Adam's suggestion, hesitating only for the chance to stay in the heat of Adam's body for that little bit longer before conceding. He has to bite back a moan as he slides free, Adam's body clinging tight as Ronan reaches down to hold the condom in place, stripping and tying it off a moment later, discarding it in the trash can by Adam's nightstand.

"You're about to pull out some homework, aren't you?" he says as he shifts to let Adam's legs fall together and then curls in close. His tone is one of only mild disapproval, wrapped up into much fondness to be taken as a real objection. "You know, most people just fucking smoke a cigarette or something."

[incognoscibilis]

He has to bite back a small, wanting sound when he really perceives the absence of Ronan from his body. It takes a few breaths to readjust, to become only one person again as he sinks back down into the mattress and catalogues how he feels. Sore, hips adjusting from where they were before, legs tangled around Ronan's back and shoulders. His own shoulders are tense and he realizes now that he was grabbing tight to Ronan, probably scratching him deeply in a few places.

He's not sorry.

"Neither of us smokes, Ronan," Adam reminds him. He turns properly onto his side and molds himself against Ronan behind him. This, now, is a familiar shape again. Adam draws Ronan's arm towards his chest, sighing out comfortably.

[thedreamthief]

Adam shifts again, turning onto his side with Ronan easily slotting up against his back, one arm slung comfortably around Adam's middle. Ronan brushes a kiss against the back of Adam's head, nuzzling the strands there before ducking to press a kiss to his shoulder next, his fingers playing lightly over the sweat-cool skin of Adam's chest.

At least like this, it means Adam isn't reaching for a book. For at least the next few minutes, Ronan has his full attention, warm and solid and gorgeous pressed against him.

"We could come up with something," he murmurs, bending his legs so they're right up against Adam's. The fit is perfect, Adam just that little bit shorter than him, like two interlocking puzzle pieces. "Post-sex nachos. Or popcorn. Still fuckin' better than pulling out a textbook."

[incognoscibilis]

"All of those require getting up," he says, feigning pragmatism, even as he nuzzles into Ronan's bicep, fitted near his own shoulder. It had bothered him, being just slightly shorter, but now it means he gets to fit tidily into Ronan's arms. He belongs here, as surely as blood belongs in his veins and breath in his lungs.

"Post sex murder squash." Before Ronan can act on the suggestion, Adam twists in his arms to cover Ronan's mouth with a hand. The movement sends a twinge of discomfort through his body, but that's something Adam's used to negotiating. Having it come from pleasure, rather than pain, makes it a sweeter ache.

[thedreamthief]

Frankly, it's more than a little surprising that it's Adam who mentions that song and Ronan feels an immediate twist of absolute delight, his eyes lighting up and lips parting to let loose the very first verse. Except Adam turns just enough to clamp a hand over Ronan's mouth, muffling the first few words and Ronan lets the notes die away into a low laugh.

Grinning wide, he pushes forward, nipping playfully at the meat of Adam's hand before pulling away, smoothing his hand up Adam's side in the process. "Could sing something else," he says, voice teasing as he reaches his hand up to curl over Adam's, fingers twining. "Still remember a few Irish lullabies."

[incognoscibilis]

"I'd have to turn over to hear them properly." It's rare that he admits it in so many words, acknowledges that there are things which hold him back, but he also knows that Ronan is safe. More than that, he knows that Ronan is a maker of beautiful things. He is a dreamer of glossy black ravens and angelic little brothers and a singer of surprisingly heartbreaking songs. Because all the Irish songs that Ronan seems to know, even the happy ones, are always a little heartbreaking.

Sighing out, he works to turn over fully, to face Ronan with his left ear pressed into the pillow. "You're a good singer."

[thedreamthief]

As promised, Adam shifts away from Ronan's hold just enough to roll onto his other side, bringing them face to face. Ronan grins at him, though his stomach tightens a little from having Adam's focus entirely on him. He can't remember the last time he ever sang as a performance instead of as an annoyance, can't remember if he ever has for Adam at all.

And it isn't often Adam doles out praise of any sort.

Ronan considers a moment, sliding his hand up over Adam's arm and shoulder before he pulls in a quiet breath and sings, "I see the moon, the moon sees me, shining through the branches of the old oak tree," he starts, his own singing voice absolutely nothing like his mother's though she's the one who taught him the song. "Oh, let the light that shines on me," he continues, pausing for a moment, heartbeat kicking up a notch as he slides his hand up to brush his thumb along Adam's jaw, his eyes still locked on Adam's, "shine on the one I love."

[incognoscibilis]

Adam had met Ronan Lynch because he'd met Richard Campbell Gansey III. The Ronan he'd met had already been undone by Niall Lynch's death, by the distant chessboard cruelty of Colin Greenmantle. There had been a Before Ronan, who knew Irish songs and reels as well as he knew Irish boxing but Adam had never met that Ronan.

The Ronan here now sings a lullaby to him, warm and sweet for a tired child. It's easy to close heavy eyes and just listen, heart lightening. There's a kind of magic in this too and it has nothing to do with thinking forests. It's all entirely human. It's theirs.

Adam just listens, doesn't open his eyes as if limiting his sight will let him hear it better.

[thedreamthief]

"Over the mountain, over the sea, back where my heart is longing to be," Ronan continues, staring at the fall of Adam's dark lashes against his cheek and the very slight curve at the corner of his lips. Even now, Ronan can't quite believe he can have this, can stare at Adam Parrish openly whenever he wants, can touch.

He pulls in another breath for the next line and it's a lullaby, yes, a song passed down from mother to son, but the lyrics enable Ronan to sing the words he has yet to say. "Oh, let the light that shines on me shine on the one I love."

[incognoscibilis]

There's a flush of warmth across his cheeks when he hears the words. It's woven into a song but Adam knows exactly what Ronan means, thinks that maybe he's known a little while now. He peeps his eyes open and looks at Ronan through his lashes, breathing the words in.

It's the first time he's been loved, Adam thinks. Like this, like any kind of love. He thinks he's supposed to say it back, should just stand up and say it, but he can't. Adam has never been loved and, he thinks, has probably never loved anything either. As certain as he is that what he feels for Ronan is consuming and important, he fears saying it too soon.

So he looks at Ronan and doesn't say a word, just reaches up to trace the edge of his tattoo and nods, smiles.

[thedreamthief]

Adam opens his eyes and it's like being caught, part of Ronan expecting the look Adam gives him to harden over, for Adam to draw in and retreat. He holds his breath, the words and tune lingering silently between them.

And then Adam reaches for him, callused fingertips sliding over the curve of Ronan's shoulder.

He doesn't say the words. Ronan isn't expecting him to. Doesn't need him to.

But he smiles, a soft quiet thing, and Ronan finds himself mirroring it, his hand sliding warm and sure up Adam's side as he leans in, noses bumping gently before Ronan steals a soft, slow kiss.