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They Pretended To Dream

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When Adam kissed him, it was every mile per hour Ronan had ever gone over the speed limit. It was every window-down, goose-bumps-on-skin, teeth-chattering-cold night drive. It was Adam's ribs under Ronan's hands and Adam's mouth on his mouth, again and again and again. It was stubble on lips and Ronan having to stop, to get his breath, to restart his heart. They were both hungry animals, but Adam had been starving for longer.

Inside, they pretended they would dream, but they did not.

Adam pushed Ronan against the back of the sofa, fingers inching beneath his black tank top, tracing over ribs and muscles as Adam savored his soft gasps, urgent against his mouth. Ronan returned the favor, shoving under Adam's shirt, pushing it up, tearing it off. His short nails pressed into the small of Adam's back and he swallowed Adam's groan with another kiss.

They were moving too fast. They weren't moving fast enough. Ronan's shirt ripped as Adam pulled it off. He pressed his mouth to Ronan's clavicle and felt fingers tangle in his dust-light hair. He groaned again, biting Ronan until he echoed Adam's sound. They were so close. Adam had thought about it; of course he had; but the sensation of the other boy pressed against him sent arousal humming through his being.

“Jesus, Parrish,” Ronan gasped, shoving his hips forward. “Adam.” Adam was on fire. He was so hard it hurt, and every rock of his hips pushed him against Ronan, who was equally hard. He bit Ronan's collarbone again and raised his head. He was panting like he'd just run a mile. Ronan looked just as wrecked as Adam felt. “Adam,” he said again, helpless, his breath hitching as Adam's hips rocked into his. Their mouths crashed together and it was hard and fast and Adam's teeth scraped over Ronan's lips and the coppery taste of blood stung their tongues. Adam started to pull back, concerned. Ronan stopped him, his fingers still in Adam's hair, holding his head still. Adam's hips never stopped moving, and suddenly he couldn't stop a whine from escaping. Embarrassing, he thought, but Ronan answered with a growl, one hand leaving the back of his head to slide down and grab Adam's ass, ratcheting him closer. His legs parted and he was straddling Ronan's thigh. He whined again.

“Fuck,” he whispered against Ronan's mouth. “Fuck. Fuck!” Ronan grinned wolfishly, a sharp baring of the teeth that Adam felt viscerally.

“Jesus, Parrish,” he repeated, his tone softly mocking. His eyes told a different story. His pupils were ridiculously dilated, his gaze intense in a way that went straight to Adam's dick. “I bet I could make you come just... like... this.”

Adam was eighteen, inexperienced, and in the throes of first love, not to mention first sexual encounter. He rubbed harder against Ronan and was rewarded by Ronan's fingers tightening on his ass and hair. “I dare you,” he whispered, pleased that it came out confident and not begging. Ronan's hand slid out of Adam's hair and into Adam's hand. Fingers tangled, and Ronan lifted their hands to his mouth. He sucked the tip of Adam's middle finger into his mouth, and Adam groaned, feeling the suction everywhere. His cock jerked inside his jeans. Ronan hummed around the digit. “Ronan,” Adam choked out as he came, sudden, almost unexpected.

“Fuck,” said Ronan. “Fuck.” He pulled Adam's finger deeper into his mouth as his other hand scrabbled between their bodies, fighting with the button on his jeans. The zipper was loud, and so was his moan when he wrapped his fingers tightly around his own cock.

It took Adam a few moments to realize what was happening between Ronan's frantic movements and his own hazy mind in the aftermath of orgasm. “Oh – Ronan – let me –” He pulled his hand free of Ronan's mouth as he dropped to his knees. He didn't even think about it, just took the head of Ronan's cock, dripping with precum, into his mouth and sucked. His hand replaced Ronan's around the base of his cock without thought, and he felt fingers digging into his scalp as he worked his mouth over Ronan's dick.

“Oh, fuck,” Ronan groaned, his head falling back as he held Adam's head. His hips thrust wildly, and Adam just went with it. “Jesus, Mary... Holy Christ.” He grabbed Adam's hand again and drew two fingers into his mouth, groaning around them as he came. Adam shuddered, swallowing around Ronan's cock. Their wild movements slowed, settled, and he eased the pressure of both hand and mouth. His fingers slid moistly from Ronan's slack mouth, and he leaned back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth before leaning his head on Ronan's thigh.

Ronan was wrecked. Gasping, half collapsed on the back of the sofa, his cock still twitching as it softened. Eventually, Adam's breathing evened out, and he realized how goddamn uncomfortable come-soaked boxers inside of denim really were. “Jesus, Lynch,” Adam muttered.

They sprawled on the living room sofa and Adam studied the tattoo that covered Ronan's back: all the sharp edges that hooked wondrously and fearfully into each other.

Unguibus et rostro,” Adam said.

Ronan put Adam's fingers to his mouth.

He was never sleeping again.