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Kavinsky was so close Ronan could taste his breath, close enough to kiss if either of them lost their heads long enough to dare to try it. Ronan grimaced, not ready to experience Kavinsky so intensely.
Ronan expected Kavinsky's breath to be sour, or stale. He couldn't imagine it would be pleasant after his smoking and drinking and lack of regard for dental hygiene. But instead he smelled nothing, and that was almost more upsetting. Was Kavinsky a dream or just a cheap imitation of Ronan's ideas?
"Hey Lynch," he said, his breath sending little shivers down Ronan's spine. "Is this your dream or mine?"
Ronan didn't relax, but he did feel a little relief. Kavinsky was in as much doubt as he was, and despite his air of control, he was confused beneath it all.
Kavinsky had him pressed up against a tree, and Ronan could hear it whispering. The bark was dry and scraped against his neck and shoulders in his thin tank top. Kavinksy's body was hot, hotter than it should be on a fall evening when he was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. The heat of his body brought out the smell of his cologne, something musky and obnoxious, similar to what many of the boys at school wore. It had long faded with the day, but when Ronan breathed in deeply, it filled his nose and made his eyes sting. Kavinsky’s baseball cap was shoved on his head, slightly askew, the logo fading and at this distance, Ronan could see tears in the fabric.
His own breath kept coming in little dry puffs, and Kavinsky tightened his grip on Ronan's wrists. There was strength in his hold, but Ronan knew his own power was bubbling beneath the surface. He straightened up, shoving Kavinsky away in the process, and enjoyed the little huff of surprise he let out at Ronan's dominant play.
He shoved his knee between Ronan's thighs and let out a little laugh, Ronan's cheeks burned and he knew he was found out. He was getting hard, having a body pressed so close, breath on his neck, warmth against his cheek. He told himself it was a common reaction, it had nothing to do with Kavinsky personally. But Kavinsky didn't seem to realize the difference and he relished in it, rubbing against Ronan and grinning at him, so proud he could hardly contain himself.
Ronan wanted to put his fist between Kavinsky's smug teeth but he just watched. He closed his eyes for a half a second while Kavinsky's knee pressed against his dick and he couldn't help but enjoy it. He hadn't gotten off in a while, and he was beginning to feel it under the skin, wanting out. Kavinsky seemed like the type of guy who jerked off constantly. No shame, and no qualms about it. He watched as Kavinsky pulled back, turned his hat backward and then dropped to his knees.
It seemed surreal enough to be a dream, as Ronan slid his hands behind him, feeling bark under his hands, trying to ground himself in something tangible. But there was Kavinsky, unbuckling Ronan's belt, pulling the zipper down, and grabbing Ronan's dick in one bloody hand.
Ronan flinched expecting Kavinsky to be rough, eager with him, but instead, he was merely firm, not cruel, and Ronan's dick appreciated the attention and slipped into his hand with ease.
"Uncut, how very European," Kavinsky remarked, running a finger over the tip. Ronan was staring at the sight, frozen, not sure what he should do, this was a dream, why was he letting this happen, and yet why wasn't it happening faster?
"Hey," Kavinsky said, grabbing Ronan by the wrist, catching him off guard. "Eyes open."
Ronan hadn't even realized his eyes were closed until Kavinsky pointed it out. He looked down and saw him scowling. Kavinsky's face was ugly in a twisted up way. He looked older than his age, and all the edges were sharp where they should have been rounded off. Ronan couldn't help but think Kavinsky had lived too easy to look this rough.
"I know you're thinking of him," Kavinsky added, tightening the grip on Ronan's hand. "But you're gonna see me."
Ronan was amused at this show of insecurity. It wasn't until Kavinsky pointed out that there was someone else to think about that Ronan decided to do it. Kavinsky waited until Ronan was looking right at him, and then he loosened his grip and licked his lips in an exaggerated manner. Ronan was starting to realize this wasn't just about getting Ronan's attention. Kavinsky was stalling.
Kavinsky was hesitating.
Kavinsky was nervous?
"It's not gonna suck itself," Ronan said. He loved the way Kavinsky's bravado was all a front, and he loved that he was able to see through it at a time like this. If their roles were reversed, Ronan would have taken the out, batted him away and picked a fight.
Instead, Kavinsky took it as a challenge and slid Ronan's dick into his mouth. Ronan's hands scrambled at the tree bark before making their way to Kavinsky's shoulders. He supposed if he was gonna let Kavinsky suck him off, a little hand on his shoulder was nothing. Ronan watched Kavinsky gag and stumble. His hesitance and lack of skill seemed to indicate this was his first time giving head, but it didn't matter to Ronan. It was his first time receiving and he didn't care if Kavinsky had sucked a million dicks or zero. Either way, it was almost too much.
Ronan closed his eyes out of habit, half expecting Kavinsky to protest but he didn't. He just kept sucking, licking, adjusting his throat. Ronan could still see him on his knees even with closed eyes. Would he really dream this? if he could have someone suck his dick for the first time would it really be Joseph Kavinsky?
"Lynch." Kavinsky was gasping for breath and Ronan grabbed the hat off his head so he could dig his fingers into that greasy hair. He tugged, feeling the scalp give, Kavinsky whimpered.
“What are-”
"Shut up," Ronan said. Being an asshole to Kavinsky didn't make him feel bad, especially when Kavinsky didn't seem to mind, and only sucked harder, the awkwardness from before beginning to fade. Maybe this wasn't his first time. Maybe it was a dream. Ronan no longer cared. He felt like all that existed was his head and his dick. He was powerful, he was macho, he was a man, he was fucking someone's throat and it was a purely sexual act, not about anyone's pleasure but his own.
He looked down and was surprised to see Kavinsky's eyes closed and his lashes dark against his cheek. There was something almost innocent about the way he looked, suckling at Ronan's dick, and the thought was enough to make Ronan groan at his own fucked up ideas. He hated himself so much at that moment, he unconsciously ground his shoulder blades harder into the tree, waiting for the burn of the bark against his skin.
Kavinsky sucked harder, digging bony fingers into Ronan's hips. The pain of the bark and his fingers did nothing to diminish the pleasure and Ronan gasped and tried to pull out of Kavinsky's mouth.
"I'm gonna--" he said. Kavinsky smiled at him, all teeth, he looked so happy with himself Ronan wanted to paint his face with come just to wipe the satisfaction away. He started to come, and suddenly he was alone in his bed.
Ronan took a few moments to catch his breath. His pajamas were wet, and the shame he felt was rawer than any other emotion he'd felt in months. Even though he was alone, he could feel his face growing hot, and he knew he must look a mess.
It didn't matter if it was a dream or not. It had still happened. Ronan felt like it was plastered all over his face. Adam would know. Gansey would know. Even Blue would know.
He reached down to bury himself in his blankets, and his hand brushed a small object. A blue and white baseball cap with a rip in the brim. The trees outside whistled at him, and he scratched at his back, finding open wounds. The cap smelled like Kavinsky's cologne, and his dick responded with an eager twitch. Ronan shoved it under the bed in disgust.
He didn’t go back to sleep that night. He didn’t want to.