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Waking up in the Barns was like being enveloped in a warm, motherly hug, kindness, and love warming his skin, relaxing his muscles. It was unlike any other mornings he’d survived. It lacked the gratuitous cruelty of his parents’ trailer, it lacked the cold lonesomeness of the church. Everything about the Barns and its foundations wrapped his nights with security and softness, and allowed him to wake with something he’d lacked since always. Hope. For a new morning. For a pleasant day. For a lovely night.
Adam Parrish kept his eyes closed. He knew his alarm would ring soon—seven in the morning, get up, get breakfast, and get going. It was Sunday, so Ronan would put on a suit to go to church while Adam geared up for a shift at Boyd’s. Adam would keep the car to drive himself to his afternoon shift at the factory, and when he was done, he would pick up Ronan from Monmouth and they would drive back to the Barns.
The excuse was to return the car, but that wasn’t the reason.
The reason was to return to Ronan.
Adam sighed, content and warm in this fortress of blankets. The Barns had everything, and it especially had blankets. Smaller ones, throws, duvets. And to a man who had grown up with the cold settled in his bones, those blankets were a luxury. And Ronan, that asshole, that wonderful, generous, loving asshole, had forced Adam to indulge in the warmth of those soft fabrics, so whenever he stayed over, he’d end up tangled in a mess of velvet, wool, cashmere, and Ronan—because that guy was a cuddler, nay, an octopus.
Warmth radiated off all around him, and when he opened his eyes he saw that his hands had been fisting Ronan’s sleepshirt, like a child unable to let go. Adam wasn’t a child, he hadn’t been allowed to be one, but even as an adult he didn’t think he wanted to let go of Ronan.
Those features—Adam could look and look and never tire. And it was still a miracle that looking at this impossible man in front of him was allowed. Ronan was fire, passion, raw emotion to its purest form. He moved with intention, with a will so sturdy Adam himself might topple. He spoke with force, sometimes more articulate than others, but his rich baritone always rang with honesty, both the good kind and the cruel one. His eyes, now closed in the midst of sleep, that precious gift rarely afforded to a Dreamer like him, were clear-sky blue, icy except they burned, piercing and dangerous and hot.
Adam’s eyes followed the bow of his lips, now lax, soft, how his upper lip was thinner than the bottom one, and he knew how magical the kisses they bestowed were. The clear cut line of his high cheekbones, the angles of his sharp jaw. His throat, long, lying over his folded arm under his head, the skin ivory and translucent in the morning light; the other arm wrapped around Adam’s waist, the weight well known and welcome, the pads of his fingers still on his skin.
He, too, was buried in that mess of blankets, but Adam knew how he looked. Ronan, when awake and ready to spring into action, was a man who occupied space. He demanded it. He was seen, heard, felt in every single room he entered, every single street he walked. But when he slept, when he was deeply relaxed, Ronan became even bigger—quieter, but larger, if possible. Like those blankets Adam hid under, they were all-encompassing, comforting, present.
And now, even as he was curled around Adam, with a hand on his waist, their bare legs entangled. He kept picturing Ronan’s thighs, which were thick and muscular like a runner’s, which was unfair because Ronan only ever drove if he could help it. He thought about the dip in his hips, that darker, hollow spot that for some reason made his mouth water. The planes of his stomach, smooth and flat, a shadow in his abdomen Adam could never stop staring at, that trail of dark hair from his navel to his groin.
He wanted to move, but Adam made himself lie still. In his mind, however, he was tracing Ronan’s chest with his fingers, contouring the shape of Ronan’s pectorals, drawing the lines of his dark nipples, running over those nubs to draw sounds that Adam hungered for.
Adam had thought he’d known wants , and needs , and desires . He had, of course, because those had driven his fight to survive, to make it , but he’d never had the luxury to long for anything or anyone for the sake of longing.
His alarm sounded, startling him from his daydream.
He cursed because even if he was used to it, the truth was he was not a morning person. He also cursed because now he had a—Um. A situation.
“Fuck,” Adam and Ronan both said at the same time, for different reasons.
“It’s too fucking early,” Ronan grumbled, burying his face in the pillow. His voice was deep from sleep, the sound warm and tickling on Adam’s cheek.
Adam cleared his throat. “We could’ve spent the night at mine.”
It was the logical choice, really. Staying at St. Agnes had the benefit of Adam being at a biking distance from Boyd’s, and Ronan could’ve brought his suit with him and gone downstairs in time for mass.
Except. Except why would they do that if they could have the Barns?
Adam’s apartment was lacking compared to anything, but compared to the Barns it was in the red. An old mattress on the ground, a blanket that was probably moldy, a hard, flat pillow. He couldn’t even afford to keep the little stove running because, no matter how much he saved, he was always short on money.
So there never was a discussion, there never needed to be.
Ronan scoffed, finally turning on his back, with an arm over his closed eyes, a gorgeous smirk on his face. Adam shifted uncomfortably when those blue eyes found his. He cleared his throat when Ronan’s long legs stretched gloriously, their shape peeking through the broken defenses of the blanket fort. Then, he turned to Adam. Not just with his head, but his whole body moved and pressed closer and closer to him, as though believing that by aligning themselves they would somehow play the game and win at life.
“Well, well,” Ronan whispered, an eyebrow arched high in a way that shouldn’t be this attractive.
“Oh, shut up.” Adam hissed, though there was no heat in the glare.
“Uh- huuuh .”
Before Adam could find a smart comeback to this silly banter, Ronan had rolled himself over, on top of him, chest to chest, his whole weight pressing down in a way that shouldn’t be this comfortable and comforting. Both grounding and soaring. He bit back a groan when touch finally made the discomfort in his groin flare. And if Ronan’s sigh was anything to go by, if the bulge pressing on Adam’s hip was anything to go by, they were both interested in the same thing.
“Fuck,” Adam cursed.
“Yeah, let’s.”
Everything about Ronan was unique. This magical boy who could dream up impossible trinkets and bring them to life, who could conjure demons with his brain and would fight them like they all fought with their nightmares inside their nightmares. Even being in the company of Ronan Lynch felt otherworldly on the simplest of occasions.
Talking to Ronan was an exercise of the mind, quick quips and bratty banter, each unwilling to give up in the battle of wits. Ronan laughed, and he cried, and he screamed with the intensity of life at its fullest—every second spent together felt like the world had unpeeled the superficial layers of humanity and instead provided the rawest, the purest, the hottest pool of magma. Kissing Ronan and being kissed by Ronan was like a freefall, like jumping off a bridge without a rope or a safety net and landing on a cloud. It was knowing it wasn’t only Adam who longed, but was longed for .
Sex with Ronan was. Words lacked in that department. It was everything, every single particle of the universe rolled up in a single human being, all the promises ever made fulfilled, all the reaching hands taken, all the songs vibrating in a never-ending crescendo. It was good as in it was excellent as in Adam really, really, really wanted it right now.
He hated his brain for being louder than his dick when he said, “You’ll be late for mass and I’ll be late for work.”
“Then we shouldn’t be wasting fucking time, yeah?”
Adam would regret this later when he would have to apologize for his tardiness but now Ronan’s mouth was on him and his stomach somersaulted with heat and greed, and Adam chased his tongue with his own. Since Ronan’s arms were keeping him upright, Adam took the opportunity to run one hand down the nape of his neck, pushing him lower so that he could drink Ronan’s moans. His other hand traveled south, and Ronan moaned louder when Adam palmed his ass, bringing their cocks together and... fuck.
“Fuck, just woke up and you’re so hard, holy fuck, Parrish, ah… ”
Ronan was so vocal. Adam was still trying to break out of his shell, his lifetime of silence still bearing heavy over his head, but Ronan—he was loud in the comfort of knowing he was and demanded to be acknowledged. He groaned, loudly, moaned, loudly, cried out, loudly. Existed. Loudly.
They were both panting and their heartbeats were loud and erratic, and Adam pressed on, taking those lips and letting them satiate his hunger.
“Fuck, you’re a fucking menace.”
Adam scoffed, but he used his arms to push Ronan back. Ronan let himself be maneuvered, compliant and waiting, until he lay on his back where Adam had been—and Adam now sat on his lap.
Bonus point, he thought to himself. Since the Barns were so warm, they could easily sleep naked and wake up naked for moments like these.
“You look so good,” Adam whispered, his hands on Ronan’s hips. He was staring at Adam with heavy-lidded eyes, pupils large and cloudy with want. Ronan keened at the words, and something hot and brilliant and electrical shot up his spine and turned his guts into a pool of lust. “Shh. Don’t move.”
Ronan didn’t move, and the surge of fascination grew, almost scalding him.
They’d experimented before. They had both begun this transition from platonic to sexual at the same time, trying out things, discarding others, hitting pause. They were both versatile, happy to give with their hands and their mouths, as well as topping and bottoming. They wanted everything and gave each other everything because that’s who they were.
This was about them, so they made it about them.
Adam took a deep breath, allowing himself to savor the moment.
Ronan was taller than him, heavier, stronger. Ronan’s muscles were boosted by good genes, but his whole body was built out of exercise, and although there was no vanity in him, Adam knew Ronan liked to be liked . By Adam. On the other hand, though Adam was not small nor scrawny, his lack of proper nutrition showed. He had managed to build up some muscle after those many months lugging boxes and fixing cars, manual labor had a way of toning the body that had less to do with leisure and more to do with survival.
Which was why, when Ronan, who could overpower him easily if he wanted to, became pliant under Adam’s hands, it made the world shift in ways that defied gravity. Like staring down at a cliff before being blown up in the air instead. His blood boiled and his skin buzzed, his chest pounding so hard it should hurt his ribs, but it didn’t.
It made him feel powerful. Strong. In control. All the things he’d never been, encompassed in this one moment in time. All that was freely given to him, quivering under his fingertips.
High, without the drugs.
Drunk, without the alcohol.
There was so much he wanted to do to Ronan, so much he wanted to see , and so, so little time.
“C’mon, fuck , Adam, the fuck are you waiting for?!”
He rolled his eyes and took Ronan's hands, which were inching closer and closer to Adam’s hips. He placed them on the mattress, saw them curl around in fists, the veins and tendons protruding as he clawed them impatiently. Ronan had a thing for hands and now Adam could certainly see the appeal. It made something in his gut tug at him, impatient, impatient, impatient.
Adam was still relaxed and ready from last night’s activities, and the lack of time made the decision for them. As he reached towards the bedside table for a condom and the half-empty bottle of lube they kept; he coated his own fingers under Ronan’s burning gaze. Adam bit his lip to stop himself from either smirking or groaning at the sight, or perhaps it was the surprising ease in which his pointer finger slid inside himself. On a normal day, he would usually be more gentle with himself, or he would have Ronan prep him instead, or, really, he would be the one prepping Ronan because the sight of him sprawled below him made him thirsty.
Well, they had the night to look forward to.
Two fingers. He panted.
“Fuck, babe, look at you,” Ronan groaned. He sounded out of breath, which made Adam’s inside simmer. “Yeah, yeah, make yourself loose for me, you finger yourself so nicely, fuck , A- Adam… ”
Adam’s cheeks burned at the sound he made when he got to three fingers. He could feel himself clench and relax and adapt and clench all over again. It was nice, sure, but the way he half-sat, half-knelt over Ronan’s lap made his movement limited and awkward. There was no way for him to reach where he needed to go, but that was okay.
He knew what he wanted and knew it would be better.
He would certainly feel the burn in a moment, and he would be sore the rest of the day as he worked two-too-many-jobs. But. He didn’t care.
How could he, when Ronan was watching him, wide-eyed, jaw slack, lips pink and shiny, his whole body tense and warm and hot, his fingers wrapped in those beautiful blankets.
“ Fuck , Adam, yeah, you’re so fucking hot .”
He let out a breath as he took his fingers out, his mind almost light-headed as his body was left wanting. He wiped his hands on someone’s pajama pants, unused and useless at the foot of the bed, too impatient to care and too impatient to do anything else about it. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, Ronan didn’t seem to be bothered either by the way he canted his hips, chasing after Adam’s touch.
Long, heavy, and hard, Ronan was a sight to behold. On the verge of being unraveled, a hair away from madness, his hips searching for the friction of Adam’s hands. He was hot, burning under his fingertips, and with a slow motion he thumbed away the drops of precum at the tip, running the line of his slit with purpose.
“ Ah , oh , fuck, yeah, a-aanh !”
The moan Ronan let out would haunt Adam for years to come during the nights he was lonely. It was whiny, deep, high-pitched and delirious, rough, and scorching, and it traveled all the way down Adam’s body until he curled his toes in response.
“Condom,” Adam grunted, taking it from where it lay next to Ronan’s fists.
Seeing as Ronan was happy to bathe in sensations and fantasies—and, to be honest, Adam was happy to let him—he ripped the foil with his teeth, careful not to break it, his hands too slippery to be of any practical use. He checked it and grinned at Ronan when he caught him looking, pupils blown and face flushed, and with practised ease he slid it down Ronan’s cock, carefully, slowly, securely.
And with another generous pouring of lube, he wrapped his fingers around Ronan, squeezing him tightly for a single short second, before pumping him as he coated his cock.
“ Fuuuuuck .”
“In a moment,” Adam huffed.
Suddenly, despite the vastness of his mind taking in every single second and stretching it into a mini-eternity, the rush of impatience bloomed in his chest.
Adam had to get ready to work (there was no time for breakfast) and Ronan needed to suit up for mass, and they had a long drive ahead of them before reaching their destinations. There was no time to waste. They needed this.
They needed this now.
Adam took Ronan’s cock in his hand, lined himself up, and sank, forcing himself to go slow enough to avoid any unwanted injuries, but fast enough because. Well.
“ Ah —Adam, fuckfuckfuck , ngh !”
Ronan’s words pierced through Adam’s consciousness as his whole body reacted. There was a burn, like he’d expected, eased by the generous amount of lube he’d indulged in. The slide was delicious, and his skin tingled, warm, content, as his whole being was consumed by the overpowering feeling of full. He was panting by the time he’d buried himself to the hilt, his whole groin had gone from simmering to reach a boiling point, his own cock hot and rigid and almost aching with need.
“—so fucking tight , Jesus, Adam.” Ronan was running his mouth, his eyes open but barely focused. It made Adam’s blood sing, his mind clear where his body was overwhelmed. “You feel so a-ah damn good, uh, uh , you’re taking my cock so well, I could fuck you forever, ngh , you were fucking made for me, so fucking perfect, a- aah , fuck, Adam, move !”
“Shh,” Adam used his hands and ran them down Ronan’s chest, and then up, flicked his nipples before ripping another groan from him. “I’ll make it good for you.”
“Yes, yes , please, Adam, fuck !”
Adam kept his voice cool and steady. “You’ll stay still, yeah? Take what I give you?”
“Yes, yes, yes , come on !”
“Don’t move,” Adam insisted. “Yeah? Don’t move.”
Ronan’s groan was less of pleasure and more of frustration, which made Adam bite back a laugh, which made him shift slightly backward, which made him groan when Ronan moved as well. His dick was close to where Adam wanted it to be, to that spot that would make him see white as his body surged. Close. So close.
Carefully so that Ronan wouldn’t slip out, he rearranged his legs in front of him so that he was crouching over Ronan’s groin, Adam’s back resting against bent knees. Using that leverage, he pulled himself up, the drag of Ronan’s cock whirring deliciously in him, and before Ronan could demand anything, he shoved himself down.
Hot, blinding, colorless pleasure rang up his body as this angle had Ronan rubbing his prostate, searing his nerves, the shock of it so intense the air was ripped out of him in a cry that sounded like a whine.
“Adam, ah , fuck, yeah, come on babe, hah, ah, you look so hot sitting on my cock, so fucking perfect, come on, fuck me, fuck me like you mean it, ah, uh, uh, ngh !”
He would certainly feel the burn on his thighs but any preoccupation flew out of the window as he repeated the motion, and though he’d intended to start slow and progress to a harder pace, he found that he could barely control his own body, his hips moved on their own accord, seeking that pleasure and drawing from it to chase it again. He bathed in Ronan’s loud hisses and groans of appreciation, felt a complex yet simple pleasure pool on his groin as he forced himself to move, move, move.
“ Uh, uh, like that, ah , yea- aahh !”
Every time Adam slammed himself down on Ronan, he could feel how his boyfriend would tense, ready to snap, ready to move, ready to chase.
But he didn’t.
And something that didn’t have anything do to with sex or orgasms or release bloomed in his chest, something he knew was affection, appreciation, adoration. Because Ronan, for all his strength, his magic, his entire being which was a force that drove the universe forward, was pliant and still and obeyed Adam’s words.
How could he not fall so desperately in love with Ronan, who gave him everything.
Adam gave back.
“ A-ah-aah !”
Still using his knees to keep himself moving, he relished on the waves of nearly-overbearing heat, allowing himself to enjoy Ronan, to feel him slide against him, crashing like the ocean on a cliff, sending him blinding shots of unadulterated pleasure as he hit his prostate and the echoes hit every single molecule in his body. It was exquisite, toeing that line between sophisticated and raw, brutal, primal. Again. Again. Again.
“Yes, yes, yes , harder, ah-ahh !”
It was too much, not enough, and he felt himself clench and Ronan moan breathlessly when impatience won and Adam’s fingers wrapped around himself, his own dick hard and weeping precum, agonizingly slow, as he stroked himself to their rhythm, matching their movements.
“ Fuuuck , Adam, you’re so ah , so fucking hot—”
Adam clung to as much sanity as he had left, balancing their needs, their pleasure, their leisure, their lack of time .
“Come, Ronan, come for me,” he groaned. “ Inside me, yeah.”
It must’ve spurred something in Ronan because suddenly those eyes, blue, icy, hot, turned sharp, his jaw, slack and open and spewing filthy words, tightened.
“Let me,” he breathed, whining, and Adam moaned again as his pleasure built and began to crest and—and—
If he hadn’t, Ronan wouldn’t move, wouldn’t budge, would have obeyed Adam’s request until the dawn of times. But.
They were both in a hurry now, for more than a thousand different reasons.
Adam nodded.
“Aa- aah — fuck , ngh !”
He felt Ronan’s legs shift behind him, planting his feet firmly on the mattress—he felt Ronan’s hands slithering to his hips, fingers soft and bruising—and then he felt Ronan meet his thrusts in the air, aided by his leverage, with a violence that rang sweet and powerful, hard, broken and whole. Adam felt, rather than heard, himself shout as they reached a new depth and a momentum, and before he had the air to recover—
“I’m… I’m gonna-a- ahh — ah , ah , ah !”
Ronan did it again, forcing Adam’s hips down to meet Ronan’s fierce pounding, and again, until Adam was running out of air as his orgasm hit him with the force of a hurricane.
He shouted, and he shouted again, until all he had left were moans and cries as thick stripes of come coated his hand and dribbled down Ronan’s skin, his cock pulsing in his grasp, throbbing with the intensity of this high, his limbs still locked in tension as he rode the aftershocks, still coursing through him like tremors, still hot, still fierce, and then warm and gentle.
He was still panting, trying to get his breath back, when Ronan howled .
Adam closed his eyes, feeling the fingers on his hips squeeze, feeling Ronan’s cock pulse inside him, still hard, still hot, still chasing, he felt the surges, how it moved and pressed against him, making Adam’s eyes water as oversensitivity made it both agony and a delicacy. He rode Ronan’s waves with him, followed his aftershocks, milking him with his body in a way that should be painful, but it really, really wasn’t.
Ronan gasped for air, a sheen of sweat making his body glisten. He was relaxed, melted into the bed, still perfect under Adam.
Oh, the things Adam wanted to do to Ronan…
“I can’t—” Ronan breathed, eyes blinking owlishly at him, still flushed. “I can’t fucking believe I have to go to Church after this.”
Adam stared, and when he started laughing Ronan joined in, both still breathless, both still in a hurry, but unable to move.
“You’re gonna be late,” Adam said, but he didn’t move. Ronan was now soft, but Adam’s legs were, as he’d predicted, sore.
“Amen,” Ronan replied.