Work Text:
Ronan kissed Adam a few weeks ago. Adam kissed him back.
Ronan almost died a few weeks ago. He didn't.
Gansey did die a few weeks ago. He came back.
Everything was entirely too fucked up for Ronan to handle. Not that he wasn't used to fucked up, if anyone was, it was him. But despite the almost dying, the being strangled, the coming apart from the inside out. Despite Gansey's lifeless body being filled with life again, and Blue and Henry taking him far, far away, and Ronan suddenly having a home and a hooved child to care for, all he could seem to think about was the uncomfortable fact that Adam kissed him back.
That Adam kissed him again, really. He could understand being kissed back - how do you not kiss a person back, anyway? But there was more. There was another kiss. An entire night of it.
He replayed that evening at the Barns over and over and over again. He selfishly dreamed it, everything happening again, his favorite parts amplified. When Adam got brave and kissed Ronan deeper, harder, longer. When he pressed Ronan against the floor next to the couch and ran his tongue along the ridges of Ronan's teeth. It was kissing but it wasn't. It was searching and finding. The calculated measure of what made Ronan's hips lift off the ground, what brought sounds out of Ronan's mouth, what broke him down.
Adam broke him down. That was the truth of it.
He remembered the roll of Adam's hips between his legs, the needy, fast, consuming break of body against body. He'd never felt it before. Even over clothes, even when they hadn't done anything, not really, it was more than he'd considered. It wasn't like a punch or a scrape or fire. It was like his dreams, but more intense. Like every time he'd gone to sleep and found himself shoved against a tree in Cabeswater with Adam behind him, inside him, all around him. Like every time he'd stared at the ceiling in his bed thinking of the last time he'd slept - the weight of dream-Adam's cock in his mouth, the sounds dream-Adam made when he came.
Was that an option? Adam had kissed him back. Adam had pushed their groins together so hard Ronan almost came from the force of it. Adam had traced Ronan's tattoo and kissed low on his back and let Ronan touch him over his clothes, under his shirt, over his jeans on his thighs.
Ronan had chewed on the idea of fucking Adam that night. He'd wanted to tell him he loved him.
But then Ronan almost died.
Gansey did die.
And now Adam was on his way over, and Ronan didn't know what to do or think or say.
Adam didn't knock. He opened the door and walked in, jacket dangling from two fingers over his shoulder, shit-box keys clanking together in his other hand. He had circles under his eyes. Not deep ones, just soft blue fingerprints from restless nights and long days. His hair looked soft, swept over his brow and the tops of his ears. Ronan wanted to kiss him. He wanted to get under his clothes. But instead of kissing him or saying something nice, Ronan snorted and said, "You look like hell, Parrish."
Adam did not look like hell. He looked fucking beautiful.
"Well, you're sweet as ever, Lynch." Adam set his jacket on the table with his keys. "How're you feeling?"
"Better." Sort of. "No more black blood coming out of my ears, which is a fucking relief." It did for a few days after, though.
Adam's back straightened. His lips pursed. "That's good," he said and cleared his throat. "I heard from the trio. They're in Seattle, apparently."
"Bet they're having a clusterfuck of fun screwing in old motels," Ronan said, because all he could think about was screwing and he had to say it or it would haunt him. "You've been working, obviously."
"Yeah, I have." Adam scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. A nervous gesture. "Where's Opal?"
"With the witches."
"It's just me and you then?"
"And the cows, Parrish."
"And the cows," Adam echoed.
Ronan fiddled with the remote on the television, then the remote on the stereo. The stereo turned on, which was programed with all of Ronan's music, and loudly, violently, embarrassingly, harsh, grimy bass started playing in the living room. He played it off, he had to. "Shit, sorry," he said, mouth pulled down in an exaggerated grimace, "I didn't know it would actually turn on. Apparently, this shitty dream thing is attached to my phone, which is -"
Adam took off his shirt.
Ronan stopped fiddling.
"Why're you doin' this?" Adam asked, a small smile pulling the edges of his mouth.
Ronan's mouth went dry. "Fuck you, I'm not doing anything."
"I noticed. Are we not doing...?" Now Adam seemed less confident. The light in his eyes dimmed. His shoulders slumped, gaze shifting from Ronan to the floor.
"Doing what?" Ronan asked. His eyes pinned to Adam's jaw, his collarbones, his stomach, where the v of his hips dove into his jeans.
Adam sputtered on a painful laugh. He turned around and reached for his discarded shirt. A blush had darkened his cheeks and spread to his throat. Ronan watched it tint the shell of his ears, before he realized what was happening, what wasn't going to happen if he didn't do something. He pulled the blank tank over his head and tossed it away as he took long strides toward Adam, who turned toward him in just enough time to be forced backward.
Ronan's nose bumped against Adam's cheek. Adam's spine slammed against the door, his hands on Ronan's face, one leg wrapped around Ronan's waist. "This," Adam breathed, tilting his head until their lips could properly meet, "this, this, this," he said quickly.
Oh, Ronan thought. His heart stampeded. Everything clicked into place. Adam Parrish wants this.
The next kiss was fiercer than the last. It was deep and wet, and sent Ronan spinning inside himself, looking for a set of directions. Adam bit cruelly into his bottom lip. Fuck. Ronan was done. Buried. This was a dream, it had to be.
"What?" Adam said. He turned, pulling Ronan by the chin.
Adam wasn't deaf in Ronan's dreams. Dream-Adam could hear him, always. Dream-Adam would never have looked at him like Adam was looking at him now. So Ronan decided he was awake, and he shook his head, chest still pressed to Adam's chest, hands still perched on Adam's hips. "I didn't know," was all he managed.
Adam's mouth opened. Ronan watched his tongue peel off the roof of his mouth. "I did," he said. "You almost died."
"Almost," Ronan echoed.
"Can I fuck you?"
Ronan heard the question. He felt it like a thousand tiny bites along his legs and arms.
"In case you almost die again," Adam added. The back of his head thumped against the door. "Or you can fuck me, either way."
"Have you always been like this?" Ronan mumbled playfully, trying to loosen the knot in his stomach.
Adam raised a brow and offered a lazy smile. "Have I always wanted to fuck you?"
"Yeah, that, and just...this," Ronan said, fighting the heat that rose into his face. "Blunt about sex with your friends."
Adam's gaze sharpened. "You're not my friend."
Ronan's top lip curled back in a snarl. "And have you always wanted to fuck me?"
"Yes," Adam said. He pressed his hips between Ronan's legs. "But I didn't know what that meant until a few weeks ago."
"We're skipping a whole lot of dates and shit, Parrish," Ronan edged out, rocking forward against Adam's thigh. "Shouldn't we go to dinner first?"
"You almost died," Adam snapped again. He gripped Ronan's face with both hands and pulled until their mouths clashed.
Ronan had never been kissed like that. Even on his birthday. Even in his dreams when he'd kissed dream-K or dream-Adam. It was nothing like that. Adam's thumb dragged along the seam of their mouths, his other hand snaked around the back of Ronan's head. He kissed hard and demanding and rough, pulling sounds from deep in Ronan's throat, making his eyelids flutter and his waist cant forward. It took a minute. A minute of being kissed like that to realize that he was allowed to touch, to want, to shove Adam harder against the door, to break the kiss and latch his mouth to Adam's pulse, to slide his hand between Adam's legs.
"This isn't just -" Ronan paused to bite Adam's throat again, to suck and chew. "It's not just sex, Adam."
"Course it's not," Adam said between heaved breaths. "But fuck, Ronan." Hearing Adam swear was a gorgeous thing. "I had Cabeswater inside me, I had you inside me. That counts for something, doesn't it?"
The thought made Ronan shiver. It made all the blood in his body head to his center, and then lower.
"I've never," Ronan gripped Adam's jaw and kissed him again. "I've never done this," he breathed, relishing the soft trail of Adam's tongue across his bottom lip.
"We're not freshman, Ronan. I think we'll manage," Adam gritted.
Ronan knew boys. He'd watched them on the screen of his laptop. He'd been with them in his dreams time and time again. The first dream had been scary, but his mind gave him what he wanted, and what he wanted was to be bent over a mattress on top of soft grass with K fucking him while he used words like worthless and broken and beautiful. Ronan wanted to be torn apart. Then it was Adam. Once it was Gansey, who turned into Adam halfway through.
Really, Ronan had done this, just not where people would know or see.
Adam pushed Ronan backward. They hit the couch and stayed there, lips on lips, fingers clumsily trying to undo zippers and buttons. Then it was stumbling toward the stairs, where Ronan shoved Adam down and pulled his jeans off him. The same place he hooked his fingers in Adam's boxers and tossed them away. The same place he kissed Adam's hipbones, and left marks on his thighs, and for the first time while he was awake, sucked Adam off.
It was a weighty feeling, the softness of Adam against his tongue, the heaviness and fullness. Ronan pulled off before Adam could come, because he wanted to look at him, because his jaw hurt and his eyes were watering, and most importantly, because he wanted Adam to fuck him.
Adam's face was tense and red. His eyes glazed. Ronan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"You've done that before," Adam said simply.
Ronan nodded. "It wasn't real."
"What haven't I done to you in your dreams?" Adam asked.
Ronan swallowed hard.
Adam stood up and pulled on Ronan, tugging him until they were at the top of the stairs. "Tell me," Adam breathed. He shoved Ronan against the wall. The sofa table almost toppled over, but Ronan slapped his hand down on it to keep it in place. Adam's lips were hot on his neck. "Tell me, Ronan. Have I sucked you off?"
Ronan nodded painfully, his bottom lip snug between his teeth.
"Have I gone down on you?"
"You just asked that," Ronan gasped out.
Adam stopped and pulled back. He cocked his head to the side, rich blue eyes watching Ronan's face carefully. He licked his lips and gripped Ronan's arms, flipping him around.
Ronan couldn't breathe.
Adam shoved Ronan's jeans and boxers to his ankles. "Have I gone down on you?" Adam repeated, lips dusting the nape of Ronan's neck. His fingers dipped over Ronan's backside and between his legs. He pressed the tip of his thumb into Ronan and waited.
Ronan's hands were against the wall, his temple rolled against the top of his wrist. He shook his head, because he couldn't speak. He heard the sound of Adam's knees hitting the ground. Felt the heat of embarrassment and want pulsing in the air around them, in his chest and through the house and on his skin. Adam's teeth sank into his thigh. Ronan made a weak sound, desire coiled tight in his abdomen. The upstairs was dark, but the glow of the kitchen lights crept up to the landing. Music still pounded through the speakers. A breath came out of Ronan - fast and whimpered and quivering, because Adam, fuck it was Adam, real-Adam, this Adam, was using his mouth and his tongue and his fingers, and Ronan swore he was dead.
He had to be. Things like this didn't happen to dreamers like him.
But Adam moaned against him - into him - and Ronan couldn't have dreamed a sound like that. Hell wouldn't have given him a sound like that, either.
Adam's hands gripped the back of his thighs. His nails raked down and Ronan's back arched.
"Stop," Ronan said suddenly. Adam stopped and Ronan wished he hadn't said anything. "If you wanna fuck me, you have to stop."
"You can't come twice?" Adam said smugly.
"Fuck you," Ronan seethed. "Is this just this for you?"
Adam's mouth climbed Ronan's spine. His hands, gentler than they'd been all night, pulled on Ronan's waist until he turned around. Adam didn't answer, he leaned forward and kissed Ronan instead. His mouth tasted like flesh and copper and salt. Ronan's still tasted like Adam. He stumbled when Adam pulled him toward the bedroom, his hands still set tenderly against Ronan's hips. Ronan was brave - braver than he been in a while. He let Adam guide him. He slid his arms over Adam's shoulders, and tilted his head back when Adam wanted to kiss his throat, to leave bruises behind that matched the ones the demon had left weeks ago.
Ronan's legs bumped into the nightstand. He took the opportunity to shove his hand in the drawer and fish around, finally grasping the container that looked much like Adam's hand cream. He slid it between them and pressed it against Adam's chest.
"This isn't just this for me." Adam's voice was thick and unfamiliar. His gaze flashed to Ronan's eyes. "You sure?"
Ronan nodded. "I almost died," he teased, because apparently, that was the excuse they were using to make this acceptable.
Adam kissed him again, but they both kept looking at each other, Adam dipping his fingers into the jar, Ronan anticipating and bracing himself and hoping he wasn't as noisy as he was in his own dreams. Not that Adam would mind. Ronan didn't think he would.
"It's warm," Adam said against Ronan's jaw. "Really warm."
"It heats up. I dreamed it."
"Do you use it often?" Adam pressed his index finger between Ronan's legs.
Ronan put both hands on the nightstand behind him. Adam lifted one of Ronan's legs around his waist to make things easier.
Adam pressed another in beside the first. "Do you?"
"I've never heard you talk this much in my life," Ronan blurted. He rolled his hips against Adam's hand. The dream jelly heated slowly, but soon Ronan was gasping and panting, pushing down and biting back moans.
Adam's smile was coy and pretty, a tilt to his lips and nothing more. He watched Ronan writhe and whine, all the while pulling his lips between his teeth, cutting off sounds of his own that built in his mouth. Ronan felt him kick his legs further apart and bent forward when he slid his fingers deeper, when he curled them and scissored them and rubbed them in circles.
Ronan cursed. He hid his face in Adam's neck and threaded his fingers through Adam's hair, leaning on the nightstand and gripping the boy in front of him. If Adam continued this would be over. If he kept pushing - like that. Ronan cried out against Adam's throat, embarrassed by the high, sharp sound of his voice. If he kept on that spot - there.
"Adam," Ronan choked. He realized he was shaking when Adam withdrew his hand.
Adam bit his lip. His pupils were blown wide, breaths stuttering in his chest. He looked at Ronan, all of Ronan. His gaze swept past Ronan's face, to his chest, his hips and cock hanging heavy between his legs. "You've got no idea, do you?"
Ronan blinked. He was wound tight. His whole body was tense, muscles threaded and flexed under his skin. "What?"
Adam pulled and pushed. He shoved Ronan on the bed and crawled over him, palms guiding Ronan's legs apart, mouth hovering above Ronan's lips. "You're gorgeous, Ronan Lynch. Like a goddamn heart attack."
Adam pushed his fingers in once again, but Ronan grabbed his wrist. To feel it. To know the movements himself. Adam kept curling his fingers and Ronan kept gripping his wrist and they kept looking at each other, breathing into one another's mouths. As soon as Ronan's mouth popped open and his eyelids drooped, Adam replaced his fingers with his cock, and Ronan couldn't breathe again.
It hurt and it didn't.
It was strange and familiar at the same time, new and done before.
His body remembered what his dreams had given him, and Ronan remembered what the first time felt like.
Finally, Adam was the one who sounded wrecked when he said, "You okay?"
Ronan nodded against his shoulder before he bit down on it, encouraging Adam to move, to bend over him, to roll his hips and moan against Ronan's throat. It was messy and hot and slow. Adam didn't rush, he took his time, pressing in deep and working his hips against the back of Ronan's thighs, running his hands along Ronan's ribs where the tips of his black tattoo curved around. Ronan's heels dug into Adam's lower back. He couldn't find Adam's lips, so he grabbed his face and arched up, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him.
No dream had ever been like this.
"Touch yourself," Adam mumbled into the kiss.
Ronan shook his head. "Just don't stop."
Soon it wasn't kissing. It was Ronan giving up on trying to quiet himself. It was Adam breathing hard against his jaw and gripping his hips with a bruising force. It was Ronan's spine opening as he arched up and Adam pushing deep again, rolling his hips against Ronan hard again, and Ronan coming with his nails in Adam's back.
Adam moaned prettily into Ronan's mouth when he came, stilling inside him and digging his thumb into Ronan's hip so hard Ronan couldn't help but paw at him, trying to tell him to let go.
What came after was a surprise. Despite how confident Ronan was that this wasn't a dream, somewhere in the back of his mind the thought still lingered. But he didn't wake up. Instead, he was sticky and warm and sated in a bed next to Adam, who watched him as he tried to catch his breath.
Ronan's whole body wouldn't stop shaking. Adam put a hand on his cheek and pulled until Ronan would look at him. He didn't say anything, just studied him. His thumb stroked Ronan's cheekbone, his fingers scratched gently at the buzzed side of his head. Ronan took a deep breath. Adam kissed the exhale from him. He slid close and held onto Ronan while he quivered. The soreness was starting to set in. The heat was gone. But Adam was still warm and sure and real. He still tasted like them when he kissed Ronan. He still smelled like them and was covered in them.
"Take a shower with me," Adam whispered.
Ronan nodded. "We skipped a whole lot of bullshit."
Adam eyed him carefully. "For good reason."
Ronan didn't tell him that he felt the magic.
He didn't tell him that he felt the power or the darkness or the electricity.
Ronan didn't tell him he loved him.
They took a shower. Ronan made coffee. Hours later, Adam dropped to his knees again and sucked Ronan off. After that, Ronan climbed on top of Adam, and despite the growing soreness, rode him hard and fast, until he couldn't breathe all over again.
When they finally went to sleep, Ronan dreamed of lightening bugs. He woke up to find Adam smiling at the ceiling, watching glowing patches of light dance around the room.