@xdickgansey from (x)
ronan is a big fan of getting fucked up. it's why he drinks, why he races, why he keeps K's number in his phone and why the thought of calling that number is such a constant in his mind. but there is no sweeter ruination than the taste of Richard Gansey III's lips. the feeling of his skin against ronan's. the sound of his voice breathlessly calling out ronan's name. every touch, every kiss is bliss and pain all at once.
somewhere in the back of his mind, ronan knows there will be consequences. LATER. now there’s nothing but gansey. it’s different, it’s not something they can push under a rug and pretend it never happened. is it the light? is it the fierceness with which gansey is holding on to him? or is it just the fact that he is TIRED? tired of denying himself the things he wants. tired of starving himself for fear of breaking them, of losing the one person he can’t be without. gansey-and-ronan. never just ronan.
or maybe ronan has just spent too much time on his own, without gansey’s reasonable voice to balance ronan’s gut feeling. ronan runs on impulse, thinking is not a part of the process that drives him to action. instead he’s had k to fuel the fire. fire that runs through ronan’s veins the longer it goes on, and he’s unwilling to sit back and pretend he doesn’t WANT gansey. that shit’s gotten old.
ronan’s mind spirals in search of something to say. it’s okay. or whatever. or let’s not talk about it. even squash one, squash two... he licks his lips, focuses on gansey. a small chuckle escapes him as gansey, clueless gansey, apologizes to him. “uncomfortable. how the fuck did you get the impression that i was uncomfortable?” ronan shifts his weight, hips grinding against gansey as if to prove a point. “fuck the nightmare. what do you want?”
