Chapter 1?
Ronan stood, drenched, in the doorway and silently shed his clothes on the way to Kavinsky's bed. The other boy was standing in the window, leaning against the wall looking for all the world like he would crumple if his support was taken. Lighting flashed silhouetting him against the suddenly bright room. He hadn't moved from where he had watched Ronan's gray, shark nosed BMW pull up, cut the lights and break in.
"You're wet." He comments.
"And you're a fucking detective." Ronan retorted. "Are you going to stand there all night?"
Kavinsky pushed off the sill and moved over to his bed where Ronan lay propped up on his pillows, skin damp and inviting. Kavinsky pushed his boxers off and crawled up to join him, all sharp angles and pale skin.
Ronan kissed his neck and licks at the skin around the simple gold chain that is caught on his jutting collar bones and moves down. He nips at Kavinsky's pierced left nipple, eliciting a groan from the boy who arched into the pain.
Ronan smirked against his abdomen as he continued his work, eventually finding Kavinsky's erect cock. He gave it a little suck, savoring the bead of precum, fingers needing the Bulgarians ass. "Turn over." He commanded and K did as he was told with surprising little resistance which Ronan found odd yet ignored. His blunt fingers dug into his sides as Ronan rocked against him.
Ronan fished a condom out of the bedside table, momentarily crushing his fuck into the mattress before pulling up and sitting back on his heels, positioned on the back of Kavinsky's knees. He tore the package open with his teeth and rolled it out onto his dick with one hand.
He spit onto his other and wiggled a finger into Kavinsky who moaned low in his throat and squirmed slightly. He barley finish prepping the boy before pushing into him. He sat there for a moment, sheathed to the hilt, one arm looped around K's hips pulling him flush against his chest.
Ronan used his other to pull his arms above his head, pinning the thin wrists to the pillow, Kavinskys head bowed between then, open mouth and panting. Ronan fucked him, long and hard, the way he did everything. Kavinsky had never thanked him for being slow and sweet and Ronan couldn't really envision kissing the boy goodnight or bringing him breakfast in bed or even asking about his wellbeing.
That wasn't how they did things. They were mean and rich and dirty and sick and- and this wasn't love. This was loneliness. The longing for a warm body, a quiet, sweaty respite from the nauseating being that was required in Ronan's everyday life. This was a fuck. That was it. Ronan had never fooled himself into thinking this was anything deeper, more meaningful. He had never presumed to be under the blankets even. And being totally honest he was glad for the simplicity.
When he needed it he would crawl into the other dream thief's bed and fuck his brains out and leave. Or K would text him and Ronan would offer the solace only a tight ass and warm body could provide. They were only teenagers after all. Messed up, depressed kids.
Ronan felt himself getting close and bit Kavinsky on the juncture where neck met shoulder, cumming with a groan, leaving Kavinsky to his own devices. As he pulled out Kavinsky pulled off and rolled away from the wet spot. Ronan got off of him and went to throw away the full condom. That's when he noticed it. Kavinsky lay curled around a pillow, light from the window making him look gaunt and frail. His eyes were wide and staring. He was sober. Shit.
"You leaving?" Joseph whispered, his voice strange yet befitting the quiet produced by the break in thunder. He looked like a Joseph at that moment, Ronan thought. Not a Kavinsky, son of a Bulgarian mobster nor K, the title befitting the leader of a pack of dreamboys but a Joseph, an innocent refugee, wasting away on a diet of cigarettes and cocaine, lost and insecure.
Ronan's eyebrows pulled together. He had never stayed before, never been asked nor inclined. In fact they rarely mentioned it. It's just how it happened. What they did was a secret best kept under cover of darkness. What right did he have to burrow under the covers of Kavinskys bed? They weren't anything to each other, friends or otherwise.
They weren't dating or holding hands in the car or even making what they did real by talking about it when one or both of them weren't on some combination of dreamdrugs and booze. Ronan knew the situation had just become a lot less simple.
Joseph was still watching him, eye's bright and alert. Fuck. Why couldn't Ronan have realized he wasn't on something before he had done the boy? Why had he been so rough? Why did he care? Why couldn't he just laugh and leave? Why was K acting so pitiful and hurt? Where was the Kavinsky he knew, with so many painkillers in his system and a biting remark about anything, who would never have let those two words past his lips, indicating maybe just maybe he'd like more than a stiff fuck? A little company perhaps with someone who could understand him.
"I don't think-" Ronan started but stopped when Joseph look away and towards the window. He thought he heard him give a little sigh. "I have to be there when they wake up…" Fuck, why was he explaining himself? Why did he feel so fucking guilty? Christ...
Joseph was ignoring him it seemed. He pulled up the blankets, of which there were many, looking dejected. "Listen-" Ronan started again, already pulling on his jeans.
"See you in a few days." Kavinsky snaps and closes his eyes. Blindly he puts a joint between his lips and lights up. Ronan stays just long enough to watch his lips tremble against the thin paper before collecting his other boot and shutting the door behind himself.
