Ronan Lynch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
devilofaboy) wrote2022-01-10 09:25 pm
devilofaboy) wrote2022-01-10 09:25 pm
Entry tags:
Open RP Post
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🖤 General squick/trigger list.
🖤 m/m for anything shippy.
🖤 General headcanon for Ronan. If you've got different headcanon/ideas for a psl, hit me with 'em; I'm flexible.
🖤 Ronan's kink list.
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hey jealousy;
If it had been Skov, he could probably have shrugged this off, settled Ronan down, but it wasn't that easy.
This was all his fault really, anyway. For wanting what he thought that he couldn't have, but being unwilling to let go. Even now he wanted to fix this, he wanted to keep him. And months ago, he'd put his hands on him; he'd let Ronan put hands on him, and fuck but he couldn't stop. It had been almost an accident- well, Kavinsky had wanted him from the beginning, so accident wasn't really the right word. But it had been after a race, and he'd lost, and he couldn't even remember what he'd said.
What he did remember was Ronan's fingers around his throat, the way that he'd backed him up against the BMW. Side of the road and no one watching, just a couple abandoned bottles they hadn't finished. K had gasped in a way that wasn't pain and that had seemed to pause the other boy's brain while he tried to catch up. Kavinsky had softly curled his against the skin of Ronan's forearm -- not like he was trying to pull him away, like he was trying to pull him closer.]
Jesus. If you're gonna choke me Lynch, do it like you mean it.
[He'd expected Ronan to pull away, to flinch from the very suggestion of sexuality. And then his head is swimming, and he can't breathe. And Kavinsky shakes, his other hand curling in Ronan's black tanktop, just holding on as his strong fingers press into his throat, his blue eyes watching Kavinsky with an intensity that makes the dreamer burn. K is hard in his jeans, and he almost thinks that Ronan is going to choke him out like this, and the idea is more hot than scary, which is probably fucked, but he's always been a mess. But Ronan lets his fingers ease, stroking almost affectionately against his skin- where the bruises will be later.
Kavinsky is ruined; although he always had been for Ronan. His voice low, a little raspy from the way Ronan had just choked the breath from him.]
--Do it again.
[Things escalate, like they always do with them, and that was probably Kavinsky's fault, too.
The way that Ronan ended up sitting in the car with the door open and space enough between his long legs for Kavinsky's slim body. He was on his knees in the gravel, his mouth around Ronan's cock, lips slick and eager as Ronan's hands almost tenderly hold the sides of his face. Kavinsky slides all the way down, letting the girth of the other boy's cock slide down his throat like he was made for this, and if he could have grinned at the way that he cursed he would have. And Ronan carefully held him like that, not letting him pull back to breathe, but his fingers stroked against his dark hair.
It's maybe the softest they've ever been allowed to be with one another.
K's eyes went fuzzy, but he didn't look away from the other boy. His sight flickering dark at the edges, narrowing down to almost tunnel-vision as his throat flexed around Ronan's cock. His body struggled to breathe and Kavinsky struggled to stay like that until Ronan pulled him back and he could gasp for breath a few times. And then he'd lean back in like he needed this, eyes glassy and almost desperate -- it wasn't like he believed he'd get a second chance. It was a rhythm between them, but not one that could last very long.
Kavinsky let Ronan's release slide down his throat, taking in the way he tasted and the way that he felt. He knew he'd probably be dreaming about this for years. And then-- Ronan did not shove his hand down K's jeans or anything. No, instead he traced fingers over K's wet mouth, and then Ro was carefully choking him again, breathing a soft request into the shadows between them. He couldn't get his jeans open fast enough, shamefully hard and aching and showing him what he did to him; it the sort of careless that came from being so close to getting off as the boy he liked choked him in a way that felt as sweet as people kissed in movies.
The other dreamer pressed fingers into the soft skin of his throat, leaving bruises like fingerprints at the base of his neck. And Kavinsky shook and trembled and whined even with no sound to it. He hardly had to touch himself at all like this, just the slightest brush of his fingertips and then his orgasm hit him hard, like a sledgehammer to the face, except pleasure, like-- he couldn't think. All he could do was ache for this perfect beautiful boy that he wanted. His release on his fingers and the asphalt and he was gasping through it, but unsure when Ronan had let go.
And eventually they got in their cars.
He hadn't ghosted him, hadn't walked away, but there had been a moment, alone in his bedroom where he'd wanted to. Because Ronan had hooks in him, knew things about him, knew how to take him apart. And with everyone else, Kavinsky shied away from it, because no one had ever told him that vulnerability was anything but weakness. He'd sort of expected Ronan to avoid him, so when he doesn't answer his texts for a few days he isn't surprised, even if the feeling it curls in his heart is poison. But he says hello when they see each other at school, even if it's usually with a middle finger.
What does surprise him is that after ignoring his texts, he shows to his party.
And Kavinsky had always rolled his eyes at the idea that making things sexual changed things with people, but he guessed that it was different when you cared. Because Kavinsky looked at Ronan and it felt magnetic- electric- like his heart skipped just from standing close to him. He got him a beer and he made a joke, but nothing felt the same, and they fell together because it was impossible not to. Because K had ducked his head while he talked and Ronan had said something about the bruises and K had said something back: and then they were in a back room, locking the door just so that Ronan could shove him up against it. So he could wrap his long legs around his waist and hold on.
This time they kiss.
This time it feels like they're both desperate, like Ronan needs it as badly as he does, like it's more than curiosity -- they're both pulling at zippers and fabric. And Kavinsky really would have loved to have the other dreamer fuck him up against the door, but he's trying not to rush, not to push too fast. So he gets Ronan laying down on the futon, and lets him watch as he preps himself, even if it's maddeningly slow, far more careful than he usually bothers with. But it means that when he slides down on the other boy's cock, it's slick and easy and so good it makes him whimper. At first it's K riding Ronan, and then it's Ronan's hands bruising hard on his hips, lifting him and pulling him down because he has the upper body strength and Kavinsky hardly weighs anything and they both need it.
This becomes a pattern too -- although Kavinsky does get Ronan to fuck him against a wall, and the sex gets a little less careful. Through the school week Ronan ghosts him and ignores his texts and Kavinsky curses at him across the quad, and snarls insults like filth you'd have to wash off. Things seem the same. Or well, things probably seem the same to Gansey. But every interaction, every time he calls Ronan Princess, every time Ronan shoves him- it crackles with the feelings underneath. And then Ronan shows up at his parties, or the races, and yeah, they usually have sex. But also, more than that, Ronan makes Kavinsky feel things he doesn't have the words for.
He makes him want things he doesn't dare to ask him for.
And that's why Kavinsky thinks that this is probably his fault.
Because this is not one of the days when Ronan acknowledges whatever thing this is between them. But Kavinsky had been hanging out by the dorms, waiting for Swan and Skov, and this kid on the lacrosse team had been flirting with him. He was tall, shoulders for days- but the truth was everyone came up short when he was comparing them to Ronan. But K had laughed and flirted back, although he didn't think that he'd meant it, not really. It was just how he was.
But just how he was meant Ronan had just put his fist in someone's face- which was admittedly far from shocking or unusual. But he'd grabbed Kavinsky's arm, dragged him a few yards to a dark corner where he could shove him up against the wall. Which was where they were now: Ronan's hands on his body and Kavinsky looking up into his blue eyes like they were his world.
And if Ronan had just been pissed, maybe K would have teased him about it, would have told himself it wasn't a big deal, that he was just in a bad mood. Fuck knows it happened enough. But Ronan was jealous in a way that radiated off of him. And that meant he was hurt.
Kavinsky- he hadn't thought about this. He didn't know how to handle this. Maybe most people would have started with sorry, but that wasn't something he really know how to say, let alone how you followed it. He was a little flushed, his face warm not from the kid with the lacrosse stick, but because he couldn't help it when the other dreamer manhandled him.
He reaches up, and carefully dragged fingers softly over Ronan's cheek, his heart racing in his chest. He knows he's gonna fuck this up. That he's already fucked this up, probably. But he wants to try anyway. Because the idea of losing him is intolerable.]
Did I make you jealous, Sweetheart?
[And it would be easy- so easy- for the words to be teasing, the sort of thing that Kavinsky smirked through. But it isn't. His voice is soft, almost sounds concerned if you didn't know it was him saying it.
And he is. Because he didn't want to lose whatever weird thing this is they've been doing over the past several months. He just didn't know where the lines were, what Ronan wanted, and he'd been too scared of losing it all to ask. Because he wants to date him, he wants to hold his stupid hand and make him stupid breakfast and all that bullshit.]
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It made him burn, and not in a good way, to see Kavinsky flirt with anyone else. He knew he probably didn't have a real right to be jealous, it wasn't like they were dating, but- but it wasn't that he didn't want to. That was the part he was having trouble grappling with. He wanted Kavinsky. He wanted him in bed and in their cars and against the wall and- he wanted to be able to kiss him in public and walk him to class and hold his hand.
But he'd never said anything about it.
So the reason he was glaring at Kavinsky was a mixed bag. It was because he felt betrayed, because of how badly he wanted K, because they'd never talked about this thing they had. He was somehow just as upset with himself as he was with the other boy. But what had he done wrong, exactly? Kavinsky flirted like he breathed. It didn't have to mean anything. Did Ronan mean anything to him?
Kavinsky touched his face and Ronan's expression softened for a moment. His skin was heated, flushed with jealousy and anger and embarrassment. He didn't know what he'd do if Kavinsky slipped through his fingers but he wasn't sure how to hold onto him, either. What did he have to do to keep K's attention? What if K got bored with him? What if one day he stopped scratching Kavinsky's sexual itch and they both just-
His expression tightened again, almost worried, but it was easy to cover it up with a steady, unflinching gaze. One of his best weapons next to uncomfortable silences and the venom in his veins.]
Is this a game to you?
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He could pull away, but he thinks that he'd hate himself forever for being so much of a coward. Instead, he smiles at Ronan a little bit sweetly, longing and desire and the complicated tangle of his emotions.]
You've never been a game to me, Ro.
[Then he takes a breath and says the scariest words he thinks he's ever contemplated- but leaving this up to Ronan had been a pretty dubious choice in the first place. But it had been easier, had saved him from having to be vulnerable]
You're all I want. I just didn't know what we were doing- if you wanted to date me, or if I was just your secret lover. But look, I didn't want to hurt you.
[He wants to say so much than than that, but he doesn't, because he wants to give Ronan space to talk too. He wants to know what he wants, if he's alone in this, if Ronan doesn't want to date him but doesn't want him to date anyone else.
Though Ronan having punched a kid in the face, it probably wouldn't take long for rumors to come to that decision on their own. But Kavinsky didn't give a fuck, or he wouldn't be standing here soft as anything, tracing over the line of his cheekbone, breathing under the press of his hands.
Ronan was the only part of this equation that he gave a shit about.]
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He wasn't angry at Kavinsky, not anymore. Maybe he never had been. Maybe he'd been upset with himself. Upset because he'd been too chickenshit to talk about what it was they were doing. He'd just quietly accepted it and tried not to question it too much, waited for when the other shoe would drop. He didn't want to have to keep Kavinsky a secret. He'd started out that way, a secret Ronan hadn't even admitted to himself, but he deserved better. Ronan wanted to be better, for him.
His next breath was shaky and he ducked until he could lean his forehead on Kavinsky's shoulder. He didn't think the other boy was lying. He wanted him. He cared about him. Ronan ached for him, desperately. Not just sexually, though the sex was always mindblowing, but- chastely. Sweetly. He wanted Kavinsky in the sort of way where he imagined waking up next to him in the morning, if Ronan's dreams could be trusted not to fuck things up. He was so good at fucking things up.]
Fuck, K- I thought-
[Lifting his head, he kissed Kavinsky, letting it linger for a long moment because it felt better than trying to put shit into words. The answer should have been easy. For once in his fucking life, he knew what he wanted. It was such a startling clarity that of course, he was already afraid to lose it.
After they parted from the kiss, he took a deep breath to try and steady himself. His next words were terse but honest, almost like he was being threatened to speak them. In a way, he was; if he didn't say something, he could lose this.]
I want to date you.
[How long had he wanted Kavinsky? How many days, weeks, months? Since before the sex had started, since they'd started racing. Maybe even before that. There'd always been something magnetic about the other boy, but Ronan had never quite decided if he was a sun or a black hole. It was impossible to escape his pull, but Ronan didn't want to. Not even Gansey could stop him from making this decision. He was choosing Kavinsky and that was that.]
I don't want to keep you a secret.
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So he doesn't blame Ronan for having doubts, for having thought the worst. The important part, from where Kavinsky was standing, was that Ronan seemed willing to trust him over those assumptions. That he could be honest and that Ronan would listen. And that was worth more than gold.]
I want to date you too. I just didn't want to ask and fuck up what we had.
[There's a slight pause and he leans in, nuzzling into the side of Ronan's throat with a slight brush of his mouth. His heart is racing, and he can't help smiling just at the fact that they're both standing here with the same words on their mouth. He cups Ronan's face in his hands, sweet and a little intimate as he looks up into his eyes.]
And if you don't want me to flirt with other boys I wont. Because you're the only one I want. I've never dated someone before, but I want to, and I don't wanna make you jealous. I just-- I wanna hold your hand. I wanna say I'm your boyfriend, Ro.
[That's an endearment he hadn't used before this conversation, not Lynch or a pretty piece of sarcasm, but just the way that it rolled off his name soft. But he can't help leaning up to steal another kiss, because it is easier than the words. It's also easier to kiss him in the space after, to take some edge away from that sharp anticipation. The nerves that come with waiting to hear his reply. He's earnest, giving as much of himself as he knows how, just for Ronan.]
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He didn't ask why talking about dating would've fucked up what they had; he could understand the potential for disaster there. But Ronan didn't do anything casually, especially not sex. When he gave himself to someone, he gave all of himself, every piece. And he wanted- he wanted to trust Kavinsky with his heart. Thief that he was, he'd already stolen it.
His breath caught when Kavinsky nuzzled his neck, and his skin flushed when he took Ronan's face in his hands. It was softer than they usually were but that just made Ronan want it even more. Want him. That wasn't the entire reason why he'd flushed, though-]
You were my first kiss.
[Which felt vulnerable to admit, but how else could he say he'd never dated anyone before, either? He wasn't going to know what he was doing but he was going to give it his all.
He lifted his other hand, the one not on Kavinsky's chest, and cupped the side of his face. Words might not have been one of his strong suits either when it came to anything that wasn't spitting venom, but he was trying, he really was.]
Fuck, let's be boyfriends.
[They'd already felt like boyfriends before, in a way. Halfway boyfriends. But now, the chance to make it official, to stop having to sneak around- it filled Ronan with a warm feeling.]
You've already put up with me this long, after all.
[It was an attempt at some lighthearted humor because somehow he had a feeling Kavinsky had been doing a lot more than just putting up with him.]
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He was almost breathless, when Ronan said that he'd been his first kiss. He'd known, of course, that he was inexperienced, but he'd thought-- he'd been wrong, was the point. And he gets what he's saying with that, of course, but there's such vulnerability to it that Kavinsky can't help but offer something back. And it's not the same of course, but Ronan knew that from the beginning.]
You're the only person I really-- you know, the kinky shit, like when you choked me. I don't do that with anyone else. I mean, I figured it out scuffling with Skov, but we're not like that. I never did it for real. Just with you.
[Which was maybe a spectacularly fucked up way to tell someone they were special, but Ronan was. And he was also the only person whose fingers he wanted around his neck, that he wanted leaving bruises in his skin. Because he trusted him, and he thought that Ronan understood him in ways no one else did. And he liked how it felt, how softly Ronan touched him and how Kavinsky felt like he could be soft for him.
He tilts into Ronan's hand and the way that he cups his face, and he smiles when Ronan says it. It makes his heart skip to hear it, to think it. That they were dating, that Ronan Lynch was his boyfriend. And he wasn't dreaming, he was here, awake, and for once the world felt like someplace he wanted to exist in.]
Mm. Luckily, you happen to make it worth it.
[Teasing lightly in return, but mostly he was just happy. Not having to sneak around, feeling like a secret he hid in his closet, being able to say it outloud. He knows he's a mess, but fuck he wants to try, he wants to be good at this for him.]
Do you wanna come over to my place?
[He says it before he can even think about it, just looking at Ronan, into those blue eyes. He'd been supposed to hang out with Swan and Skov, but he was pretty sure they'd understand, even if Skov would probably look tragically wounded about it for a few minutes the next time they met up. But he just wanted... he didn't know. To make an offer that was different. That was just the two of them, with no parties or pretenses, just... inviting him over because Ronan was his boyfriend and he was allowed to do it.]
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I always thought-
[It didn't matter what he'd thought, did it? He'd been wrong. The rumors about Kavinsky were wrong, in some regards. He wasn't a master of kink, an encyclopedia of filth. He was...just a boy, in some ways. A boy who had Ronan wrapped around his finger.
He took a breath, tracing his fingers against the other dreamer's cheek, soft and careful. There'd been a time when he'd thought Kavinsky only brought out the worst in him. Now he thought he brought out the best in him, too. Or...something like the best. He wasn't sure what his best looked like, most of the time.
Kavinsky said he was worth it and Ronan couldn't help but smile. K made putting up with him worth it, too. No matter how many times he got on Ronan's nerves. Ronan's affection for him was stronger than any annoyance.]
Yeah.
[He leaned in, kissing Kavinsky- because he could, because they were boyfriends now. Ronan had a boyfriend. It was hard to imagine someone wanting him that much but easier to think about when it was Kavinsky.]