[He almost felt bad for seeming so intractable back on the station, but at the same time he thought that they'd known each other for Adam to understand that was just how he was. He'd felt like he'd lost something, and he'd flinched at the idea that it was okay, that it was something they could try anyway. And then once his temper hadn't been so wounded, compounded by the strangeness of this place and the idea of intimacy as currency--
He hadn't handled it particularly well. But he didn't know how to do things partially. How to stand here and tell Adam that he wanted him and not fall into him entirely. There was so much tangled longing and quiet desire that he'd never dared give a voice to.
Of course, he's almost tempted to say something surly just to tease him at the question, but- he sort of wants to make it up to him. He wants to do it better.]
Yeah. I wouldn't have kissed you if I wasn't certain.
[The words are quiet, but there's a sincerity to it. Honest and raw- and he curls his fingers in his hair, lets his fingers against his side palm down the line of his chest. Trailing slowly over the thin layer of his shirt. There's a low sound on his mouth, all want and longing and affection. Because it isn't just about wanting to kiss him; tactile as he might be, Ronan doesn't know how to want someone just for their body.
It was part of what had made Kavinsky so fraught all those months ago.]
no subject
He hadn't handled it particularly well. But he didn't know how to do things partially. How to stand here and tell Adam that he wanted him and not fall into him entirely. There was so much tangled longing and quiet desire that he'd never dared give a voice to.
Of course, he's almost tempted to say something surly just to tease him at the question, but- he sort of wants to make it up to him. He wants to do it better.]
Yeah. I wouldn't have kissed you if I wasn't certain.
[The words are quiet, but there's a sincerity to it. Honest and raw- and he curls his fingers in his hair, lets his fingers against his side palm down the line of his chest. Trailing slowly over the thin layer of his shirt. There's a low sound on his mouth, all want and longing and affection. Because it isn't just about wanting to kiss him; tactile as he might be, Ronan doesn't know how to want someone just for their body.
It was part of what had made Kavinsky so fraught all those months ago.]