He could feel the warm leather underneath him and sweat was already trickling down his neck. He breathed in and there was a sharp, earthy smell. Ronan opened his eyes. It was dark out and he was sitting in the BMW. He couldn't remember what he was doing that led him to waking up in the car. Was this a dream? He couldn't tell yet. He looked over to the passenger seat and saw the remnants of a six pack scattered on the seat and the ground below. That would explain some things, but he didn't feel drunk. He looked out the window and saw parked cars surrounded him. There was the glow of light coming through the trees and he could hear the dull buzz of people talking and laughing and feel the faint vibrations of a bass system through his seat. His pulse quickened, he knew where he was now.
Ronan pulled himself out of the driver seat and made his way to the old fairground clearing. His steps were steady so he definitely wasn't drunk, the not yet or not anymore part was harder to tell. He could hear glass breaking and the air was thick with the smell of burning rubber and the musty, sweet smell of weed.
"Hey fuck face, you're late," a very loud and very angry voice yelled over the music. He was barely within the clearing and he knew who it was. Where was Kavinsky of all people getting off on breaking his balls for being late? Ronan could never remember when he had ever showed up on time for anything.
"Sorry, but your mom is a hard woman to satisfy," Ronan yelled to no one in particular since he was still pushing past people to get to where the action was. He couldn't see Kavinsky, or even figure out how the hell he could tell he was there. This thrilled him for a moment, but then he pushed it away thinking that the bastard probably had some sixth sense for knowing where his mortal enemies were at all times.
Once he managed to get to the edge of people he realized how Kavinsky was able to see him arrive. Standing on the hood of his Mitsubishi, Kavinsky was taking a swig of vodka from a bottle in one hand and making an obscene gesture with the other.
Gansey had been right about one thing; in this moment, here in this field, Kavinsky was king. His white sunglasses sat on top of his head like a crown with his Mitsubishi as his throne and a bottle of vodka as a scepter. Ronan allowed himself a moment to wonder what it would be like to kneel before him.
"I'm just glad Daddy Dick was kind enough to let you out of the house without a chaperone this time," Kavinsky shouted as he jumped from the hood to a rather graceless landing that caused him to fall back onto the car. Ronan noticed the bottle he was holding was close to being finished. He was vaguely aware of the spectacle of pyrotechnics and reenactments of the fast and the furious going on behind Kavinsky, but Ronan was only able to focus on the v-shape that was created by the protrusion of hipbones from the body in front of him.
Jesus Christ, this better be a dream.
Kavinsky stood up and looked away at group of people to the side of Ronan as he came up to him.
"What I'd like to know is how it is you're over 3 hours late. I know for a factDick doesn't last that long. I've seen the way that guy drives his car, he's definitely a minute man. Does he only bang you mission-," he never finished his thought since Ronan was swinging at his head, but in managing to avoid most of the impact of the punch he also lost his footing. Ronan grabbed his wife beater to both stop him from falling and pull him up to his face.
"We aren't talking about Gansey tonight."
Ronan hadn't intentionally meant to bring him as close as he did, but in his anger, he forgot just how drunk Kavinsky was and he offered no resistance at being pulled face to face.
He could smell the alcohol as Kavinsky breathed and Ronan saw something dangerous glean in the eyes in front of him. Only when he broke into half a smirk did Ronan allow himself to break eye contact and look at his mouth.
This was an arms race, where each of their actions was closely watched and analyzed by the other. Ronan and Kavinsky both knew that the first one to make a move would guarantee their mutual destruction.
"This is going to be a fan-fucking-tastic night," Kavinsky said as he pulled himself out of Ronan's grip.
" I'm glad someone finally fucked some sense into you," he quickly added a, "hey I never said who," when he saw the acidic look that Ronan shot him. Following Kavinsky back to the hood of the Mitsubishi, he watched as a ziplock bag of fine white powder was pulled out of his pocket. A generous amount was poured on the hood. It was a wonder he could do lines off his car when the coke blended in with the paint. He frowned as he thought about how much of the hood was probably already covered in the substance.
"Don't get judgey, Lynch, I don't want you getting all your Catholic guilt all over me," he leaned over and snorted long and hard, " I just want to be prepared for whatever the night gives, or takes tonight." There was something in the way that he said the last part that made Ronan's heart speed. An uncomfortable knot was beginning to form somewhere in his lower abdomen.
"So what now?" Ronan didn't want to sit here and watch him do lines all night.
Kavinsky pulled back as if coming up for air and he turned to Ronan. He saw his eyes refocus on him, like it was the first time he was really looking at him that night. They were matching pools of darkness that Ronan had to be careful not to drown in.
A shark like grin spread on the face in front of him," First, you're doing a shot for every half hour you were late."
He was surprised at how easy Kavinsky was letting him off. Six shots wasn't that bad, he was going to get drunk quickly, but he wasn't going to be wasted either, not with his tolerance. When he saw Proko pull out a bottle of 100 proof liquor he realized that he wasn't the case at all.
Things began to start blurring together, as more drinks found their way in his hand, he was unsure of how much time had passed since he got there. He watched as Molotov cocktails flew and exploded in the air, he had to duck out of the way of the flying glass more then once. His reaction time was getting slower with each drink he took down and by the time a particularly large bottle came flying by, he felt the heat from the flame sear across his face and he had to close his eyes.
For a moment he thought it had hit him, he was pushed against a car by something very solid and hot. But his body was having a rather interesting reaction to being hit with a Molotov.
"Jesus Christ Lynch, get out of the fucking way."
Ronan opened his eyes and found Kavinsky pressed up against him, with a fistful of his black tank top and he was pinned against someone's black Volkswagen Golf. This was a very dangerous position to be in given the fact that Ronan was too drunk for self control. He prayed that Kavinsky was also either too drunk or high to tell that there was a noticeable tension building between them.
Kavinsky's eyes widened ever so slightly.
Fuck it all to hell.
He had noticed.
His body had betrayed him. Kavinsky started laughing and Ronan's face was burning again, but this time from embarrassment. He let go of his tank and with the same hand reached down between his legs and grabbed a handful of him. It was too hard to be a turn on and as Ronan doubled over from the pain, he yanked up so hard Ronan was sure his balls had crawled up into his liver to die.
He crumbled to the ground and clutched a tire for support. He was still hard and he was pretty sure Kavinsky had ruptured both his balls. He saw a pair of jean legs bend down, and he heard a voice in his ear, "I'm impressed, Lynch, that's quite some heat your packing there."
He tried to focus on his breathing rather then the growing painful problem in his pants. He could see Kavinsky's white Air Force Ones walking away.
"Follow me Lynch, you owe me for saying that ass of yours."
He heaved himself up using the car hood for leverage. Kavinsky was already making his way a few yards to his white monstrosity. There was no one else there. He swore a moment ago the party was in full swing. Now it was just Kavinsky's handful of delinquents doing donuts and playing drinking games around where he stood.
Maybe this was a dream after all. Time felt like water in his hand tonight, he couldn't hold onto it no matter how hard he tried. The harder he tried to pin down his actual time frame the faster time seemed to speed up. If that's what this was, then he sure as hell was going to make the most out of it.
Well, right after this.
Ronan followed Kavinsky as he open the back door of his car. Ronan swung hard at his head again, but unlike earlier, Ronan was the drunk one and Kavinsky had enough coke in his system to put his reaction time way ahead.
Ronan's arm was painfully twisted behind him as he felt a hand push his head down over the trunk of the car.
"All you had to do was ask, if you wanted me to bend you over, Lynch."
Ronan could feel Kavinsky's hips making very deliberate back and forth thrusting motions against his exposed backside as he laughed at his own joke. Ronan was angry, but he also found his other problem returning again. The hand on his head snaked down his back, tracing the outline of his tattoo even though Ronan still had his tank on. Now the mock thrusting had turned into something more along the lines of grinding. Kavinsky had made his way to the small of his back and spread out his hand to get a better grip. At least now, Ronan wasn't the only one clearly turned on. Kavinsky lowered his torso onto Ronan's back and he could feel his bottom lip brush against his ear.
"Get your ass in the car."
He felt him get off, and before he removed himself from his backside, he ran a finger under the waistband of his protruding boxers snapped it against his skin.
"I didn't really peg you for designer boxers, silk right? They're going to look great on the floor of my car."
Ronan was afraid to move once Kavinsky had gotten off of him. If he moved, everything that had been building up since he first met Kavinsky would be unleashed. All those nights spent racing, all the mind games and coded language, the dream gifts, every touch that had been seared into his body's memory.
"I said. Get. In. The. Fucking. Car."
Ronan was pulled from the back of the truck to the open doorway. Kavinsky slid his hand from his shoulder to his neck and began thumbing the line of his jaw.
"What do you want from me?" Ronan knew this was a very dangerous question to be asking with Kavinsky's eyes bearing into his and a smile playing at his lips.
"I want you to knell before your king."
Their mouths collided. Kissing Kavinsky reminded him of a car crash; explosive. He couldn't pull away. When Kavinsky ended up breaking it off, he was gasping for breath. He wiped his mouth with one hand and directed Ronan's head into the car and pushed him backwards into the seat.
He laid there back flat against the seat, but his legs were still partially sticking out the open door. Kavinsky was peeling off his wife beater and tossed it to the side as an afterthought. He never took his eyes off Ronan.
He came in and leaned over him, the fluid motion of his back arching into him made Ronan come up to meet his mouth.
"You play hard to get Lynch, but you really are an easy little slut," he teased as he darted away from Ronan's mouth, instead moving across the middle console and popping in a cd. A loud bass line thumped and vibrated.
He was still smiling when he came back to his original position. He wanted Ronan to want it, beg for it and make the move himself.
Kavinsky looked up at the ceiling in thought, "Where were we again?"
"Shut up, you fucker."
Ronan grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked him back to his mouth. Leave it to Kavinsky to turn making out into a power struggle. Tongues darting and lips brushing for positions, this was raw and rough.
Kavinsky began to explore the areas south of his mouth. He could feel his tongue flicking against his neck and lips brushing against his Adam's apple. Teeth were also skimming across the surface, daring Ronan to move.
His head rolled back, and his breathing was becoming more labored. Kavinsky laughed into his neck, "Don't be coming before the main event," and he bit hard just where he had kissed.
"Jesus Christ what the fuck was that for?" Ronan managed to half get out. He was trying his hardest to not seem like he was enjoying this too much. He was almost positive he drew blood, yet at the same time he was trying very hard to suppress a moan. Ronan didn't recognize pleasure unless it had a source of corresponding pain.
Kavinsky's eyes flicked up from his chest as he pushed up his tank, "I'm just marking my territory."
He went back to work moving towards his nipples; flicking, teasing, biting. Ronan heaved his hips upwards, and Kavinsky's met his halfway and they began moving in synchronized motions.
Ronan had pulled him back up to his mouth, and with all the attention he had been receiving he was in danger of coming right there with all his clothes on.
Just focus on one of Blue's fashion disasters.
Luckily he didn't have to think about it long, Kavinsky tugged his bottom lip with his teeth as he pulled away and he straightened above him.
He began undoing his pants and Ronan was relieved for a moment, until he saw Kavinsky's head go down.
If Kavinsky didn't notice him fully at attention as he slipped his jeans and boxers down his legs, he definitely noticed the writhing and muffled moans as Kavinsky's mouth moved up and down his shaft. He clawed at anything he could get his hands on; the passenger seat to the right of him, the door handle above him and then lastly, he latched onto Kavinsky's hair.
Jesus, Mary, Joseph fucking Kavinsky.
The release he felt was pure ecstasy. Nearly eighteen months of sexual tension had just been released from his body. His breathing slowed, and he felt himself drifting again. Was he beginning to wake up or fall asleep?
From half closed eyes, he could see Kavinsky wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.
"You fucking pillow princess, you're seriously going to leave me hanging after that performance?" He was clearly annoyed, but Ronan couldn't do much to reciprocate since he was having trouble focusing and his eyes were completely closed now.
He was vaguely aware of Kavinsky's shifting weight above him, and he felt him lean down and give him one last rough kiss, and he felt a small object get pushed in his mouth along with a tongue.
The last thing Ronan heard was Kavinsky yelling, " Proko, get your ass or your mouth over here, I don't give a fuck which one it is."
Suddenly there was only blackness.
Ronan was jerked awake by a loud tapping on his car window. He almost thought it was Chainsaw but when he dared to open his eyes he saw a very annoyed Gansey peering in his tinted window.
He fumbled to the ignition and thankfully his car keys were still sitting there, he flipped to accessories and the window buzzed down.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?"
The onslaught of light pouring intoo the car told him it was sometime in the afternoon, and way too fucking bright. He squinted as he turned to Gansey.
" You look like absolute hell, Ronan. Have you been out here all night?"
Ronan didn't know how me managed to end up back at Monmouth, maybe he never left. He looked at the passenger seat. Gansey also got a full view of it as Ronan turned.
"When I said I didn't want you drinking in the warehouse, I didn't mean I wanted you getting shitfaced in your car."
It was too bright out and he was too hungover to be getting reamed out by Gansey.
"Dude, chill the fuck out. At least this is self contained, you've found me in worse places."
He tried to lean out the car window to show Gansey he didn't look nearly as bad as he felt, but something on his head bumped against the top. When he Gansey's face slip from muted anger to a very brief moment of abject horror, Ronan tried to pretend he didn't know what he was seeing. To his credit, Gansey recovered quickly and went right back to being annoyed.
"Ronan Lynch, what the hell is that on your neck? Wait, don't tell me, I have a feeling I really don't want to know." He was shaking his head and already making his way back to the door to the warehouse.
"Adam will be over soon, so whenever you feel like making yourself look somewhat respectable and less like you got mauled, then we can head over to Nino's."
Ronan leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes again. Maybe if he sat here long enough the marks on his neck and the object on top of his head would go away. Maybe this whole thing would go back to being just a dream.
His head was pounding and sleep wasn't going to come back to him for quite some time. He reach and grabbed what he already knew was Kavinsky's sun glasses from his head. He examined his neck in the reflective lenses. There was several large red and purple welts on his neck that weren't going to go away within the hour. He hurled the sunglasses as hard as he could out the car window.
Fucking Kavinsky.