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The only thing to do 'til all my lover's dreams come true

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Sometimes when Monmouth was quiet--really quiet--Ronan's insomnia had an edge he couldn’t shake. Sometimes his skin caught on fire and his mind wouldn't spin down and nothing would break the void.

It was easier now. Easier now he knew what was gnawing at him. What woke him up hard and aching in the mornings when he did sleep.

Sometimes, when he was lucky, he could close his eyes, jerk off, get the demons away for an hour or so. Maybe luck would be with him tonight.

Gansey was off somewhere, probably with Blue, though everyone was still pretending that wasn't happening. Chainsaw was off napping in Gansey’s room. He'd have enough time. Enough space to moan if he wanted to. And Noah’d probably seen him jerk off a dozen other times already, so Ronan refused to worry about that.

He glanced at the clock from his position in bed. Adam was off-shift from the garage, and had been off-shift long enough that he was probably home and getting ready for bed.

Well, that was a place to start.

He felt like an asshole, sometimes, jerking off to the fantasies, but shit, even Parrish would say he needed the rest. Needed to quiet the noise in his head sometimes.

Parrish took a shower after the garage sometimes, he’d had to wait for him often enough to know that. Ronan wondered how he showered, if he tipped his head back in the spray. If he crossed his hands over his chest, used lots of soap. Ronan thought of Adam's nipples hardening with the touch.

The hair on Adam's chest always looked soft.

Ronan put his hand on his dick. Half-hard, like he probably had been for an hour. He pushed his boxers down a little more, closed his eyes.

Did Adam jerk off in the shower? Fuck it, Fantasy Adam was going to.

Fantasy Adam was dying for it.

Fantasy Adam rubbed his hands over his chest again, and Ronan thought about taking his hands, sucking his fingers. They'd always smell like machine oil, wouldn't they? Even with the soap, it never quite washed out. Adam scrubbed his hands raw but it wasn’t enough, was never quite enough to get the grease and the metal smell off--

Fuck. Ronan's hand wrapped around his cock, tightened. He knew the apartment at St. Agnes, knew the weird peach color of the shower stall. Adam's hair would look weird in the light. Did he close his eyes when he jerked off? Yeah, probably. To keep the water out as his face tipped back into the spray.

Sometimes Ronan thought of things he could dream, scopes, cameras. He rejected it, always. Adam deserved his privacy. Bad enough he was thinking it, fantasizing it. Bad enough he wanted to watch this much. Wanted to hear Adam moan, watch his hand work his cock.

Wanted to drop to his knees and take Adam in his mouth.

Ronan got on his knees, pushing the blankets back.

He stroked himself. Slow, easy. He was getting fucking chafed from jerking off. Maybe if he took a little more time the craving wouldn't bounce back as fast. Adam's hands were rougher. Chapped, still, though Ronan had noticed he was using the lotion. He'd wanted to offer to rub it in, touch Adam's hands, just touch him for once without having to--

Fuck. Just to touch him.

Fuck. Fuck, he didn't want to be away from this. He didn't want to just watch.

Adam, leaving the bathroom door open for him. Adam, waiting for Ronan to come in and pull his t-shirt over his head. Ronan would think about shoving his jeans off, too, but he'd be through the bathroom door by then, and Adam would be too close and too naked and too wet to resist.

Dropping down on his knees in front of Adam. He could feel the water hitting the back of his head, beating against his hair, soaking his jeans and boxers. No talking. They wouldn't need to talk.

Ronan could feel Adam's hands on his shoulders.

Would Adam pull his head closer? What would it feel like, Adam's cock in his mouth? Touching yourself couldn't tell him everything. Couldn't touch the spark Ronan felt whenever he brushed against Adam's shoulder. What Adam would taste like.

He tightened the grip on his dick. Chafing, whatever, he needed it. Adam might have been dying for it in Ronan's fantasies, but Ronan sure as fuck knew who was aching and desperate now.

He heard the downstairs door shut. Gansey.


Had he remembered to lock his fucking door?

Gansey knew to knock. Gansey was a big boy. It wouldn't be the first time one of them had jerked it, knowing they weren't alone.

Ronan closed his eyes.

No hesitating now, no worrying about making it last. He wanted this, needed this. His cock was leaking, wetting his hand as he worked himself. Probably should've gotten out the lotion.

Probably should've done a lot of different things.

Fuck. Not like he was ever known for making good choices, right?

Adam could--would--come in his mouth. Hot and wet and sour, and Ronan would swallow him down, Adam's hands on his face. Fuck. Adam slipping his fingers into Ronan's mouth, and Ronan sucking on those, too. Soap and motor oil and salt.

"Ronan?" called the voice from downstairs, and shit motherfuck goddamn that was Parrish, and Ronan came, biting his lip so he wouldn't cry out, holding himself as still as he could, not wanting to give a single sound away. Fuck. What he wouldn’t fucking give--

"Ronan, are you--"

"Hold on," he spat. "I'll be right down. Keep your fucking shirt on." He reached over and grabbed his towel from the morning, cleaned himself up as quickly as he could. He was still kind of hard, but that wasn’t going to change. Not with Parrish downstairs.

"Shirt's on," Adam called up. "Where's Gansey?"

"Don't know," Ronan said, pulling his jeans up over his ass. "Thought you were him."

"Sorry to disappoint you," he said.

"Nah," Ronan said, and opened his bedroom door. "What's up?"

Adam looked up at Ronan as he hit the stairs, blue eyes looking almost through him, and Ronan wondered if he'd heard anything, what he could smell. He shrugged. “I know you’re not actually doing homework any more, but I wanted to practice Latin, and if Gansey’s not here.”

“Sure,” Ronan said. “Not like I’ve got anything better to do.”