[He's quickly realized he likes the way that Kavinsky smiles, but this one is even better- the way he smiles just before he kisses him twists in his chest for a moment. And then he's not thinking about anything at all, because then their mouths are touching and he can almost taste the sparks. Kavinsky's fingers cupped against his skin, gentle but with an easy confidence that takes his breath away.
Ronan is inexperienced, but he's all passion, desire that catches like a fire. His fingers curled in Kavinsky's shirt tugging just a little because he wants to be closer, wants more. He's greedy, but without the walls and defenses, doesn't care if the other boy can tell how affected he is. If they had kissed when he was older, it probably would have been a different sort of fight or a competition, and this isn't either of those things.
He gasps, murmurs against his mouth, already feels a little bit wrecked. He's almost starry-eyed as they lean in together and breathe, flushed and it feels like he's high, like when he takes something from his dreams and it turns down the volume on everything else. This was all he could focus on.
His skin still felt hot as embers, and he lets his other hand curl against the side of his neck just to touch skin. His breath rough and uneven, and he smiles. Lingers not long enough to catch his breath, but enough to remember that he should.]
Really? I didn't think you noticed me that far back.
[Ronan had noticed Kavinsky, but that wasn't remarkable- everyone did. It had been the car that caught his attention first, though: not expensive enough to be a status symbol, designed to draw attention in a way that had nothing to do with restoration and detail kits. It was as subtle as an open wound and it had racer written all over it. Ronan didn't race yet, not for real: not with a learner's permit and his father's car. But the knowledge still made every time he saw it feel like adrenaline.
The younger teen is a creature of impulse, even if it spells itself out differently now. So Kavinsky might have the caution to not try climbing into his lap, but Ronan doesn't. Just a flutter of blue eyes so he knows how to move, and then shifting so he settles on his thighs, just because he needed to be closer. This was reckless, and people would probably have said he wasn't the type to be caught up like this so quickly. But the truth was that Kavinsky knew him better in the past few hours than anyone else ever could.
He nips against his mouth with teeth, careful not to hurt, but like a tease, a provocation. He wanted everything he could, all he knew how to give, the way proximity just fueled the fire. He feels like he's flying and he just- he doesn't want to stop. He wants to pull Kavinsky off the edge of a cliff right along with him.]
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Ronan is inexperienced, but he's all passion, desire that catches like a fire. His fingers curled in Kavinsky's shirt tugging just a little because he wants to be closer, wants more. He's greedy, but without the walls and defenses, doesn't care if the other boy can tell how affected he is. If they had kissed when he was older, it probably would have been a different sort of fight or a competition, and this isn't either of those things.
He gasps, murmurs against his mouth, already feels a little bit wrecked. He's almost starry-eyed as they lean in together and breathe, flushed and it feels like he's high, like when he takes something from his dreams and it turns down the volume on everything else. This was all he could focus on.
His skin still felt hot as embers, and he lets his other hand curl against the side of his neck just to touch skin. His breath rough and uneven, and he smiles. Lingers not long enough to catch his breath, but enough to remember that he should.]
Really? I didn't think you noticed me that far back.
[Ronan had noticed Kavinsky, but that wasn't remarkable- everyone did. It had been the car that caught his attention first, though: not expensive enough to be a status symbol, designed to draw attention in a way that had nothing to do with restoration and detail kits. It was as subtle as an open wound and it had racer written all over it. Ronan didn't race yet, not for real: not with a learner's permit and his father's car. But the knowledge still made every time he saw it feel like adrenaline.
The younger teen is a creature of impulse, even if it spells itself out differently now. So Kavinsky might have the caution to not try climbing into his lap, but Ronan doesn't. Just a flutter of blue eyes so he knows how to move, and then shifting so he settles on his thighs, just because he needed to be closer. This was reckless, and people would probably have said he wasn't the type to be caught up like this so quickly. But the truth was that Kavinsky knew him better in the past few hours than anyone else ever could.
He nips against his mouth with teeth, careful not to hurt, but like a tease, a provocation. He wanted everything he could, all he knew how to give, the way proximity just fueled the fire. He feels like he's flying and he just- he doesn't want to stop. He wants to pull Kavinsky off the edge of a cliff right along with him.]