threesecrets | post for psls;

[Prokopenko drapes his arm around Ronan's shoulders, and there's only a touch of hesitation before he shifts a little so that he can press into him properly. After everything that's happened he's a lot more willing to take the touches, the way that it feels like affection, and he's greedy for it, even if he'd never normally admit to that with anything except for fuck you. But this is- they're different.

He doesn't even protest about whether or not he can handle it when Kavinsky says not tonight, just nods in quiet agreement. Ronan's not exactly a people person under the best circumstances, anyway. And right now he thinks that Proko and Kavinsky are about all that he can stand.

And Kavinsky might not actually make an innuendo, but Ronan still flushes a little, because he's still a teenager, and there's a certain direction his thoughts go when it comes to being in a bed with two attractive boys. But that's not what he says when he looks at Kavinsky, his blue eyes wavering with uncertainty.]

Are you sure? You're not worried that I'll..

[He just lets the question trail off, figures everyone present knows what he's asking. Because Ronan is afraid of what he might pull from his dreams. Scared that one of them might get hurt because of him. The fact that he already cares about them is easy to unwind from the words, but Ronan's still like this under the venom-- couldn't give a fuck about people until he did.]

[Proko relaxed a little when Ronan leaned into him. He'd been a little concerned Ronan would pull away, but this was- he gave Ronan the ghost of a smile, a brief curve of his mouth. He wasn't concerned about the possibility of what could happen with Ronan in the same bed with him and Kavinsky, either. Maybe he just wasn't used to the threat, or maybe he sure he could handle it. He'd certainly handled Ronan's night horror alright, after all.

Kavinsky shrugged a shoulder, resting a hand on Ronan's knee. He knew exactly what the other dreamer meant, but he couldn't bring himself to be worried about the possibility of death.]

I'm not worried. If you bring something back, we can get rid of it. [He paused for a moment, considering things.] We could dream together; I could keep yours in check.

[He didn't know how that would work; he'd never actually done it before, but he wasn't about to tell Ronan that. He was confident he could keep Ronan's dreams reined in if necessary, though.]

[He shivered a little as Kavinsky pressed a hand to his knee. It was a small touch, but it still felt both comforting and electrifying. His breath catching just a little- easy to miss if you weren't watching. But there's something about Kavinsky and Prokopenko both touching him, and the way that they feel different somehow, like they touch different parts of him. But he wouldn't know how to even begin to say that outloud, let alone in a way that didn't sound impossibly sweet, softer than Ronan would stand.

And then Kavinsky talks about dreaming together.

It takes him a moment to find the words to reply to what the other dreamer says, it's so-- he doesn't know. It's so much, so much what he wants that this almost feels like a dream. But their touches keep him anchored. Real, real, real. This was something he could have. Please.]

Yeah? I think.. I'd like that, sure. I guess I trust you.

[He says it like it's half a joke, and maybe it is- does he have any choice but to trust him after tonight? His knee tilts slightly into his fingers, and he feels almost overwhelmed but it's in a good sort of way. The fact that he wants them is certainly a sin, but the nightmare they'd had to bury feels bigger, worse.]

[Proko felt more than saw Ronan's breath catch, but he made no sign that he had. He was tempted, half-tempted, to make a move. But he also followed Kavinsky's lead and the other boy hadn't given him any kind of signal. In fact, the only sort of thing he could read from Kavinsky was desperation and some sort of want. He couldn't even tell if it was sexual or the kind of want that came with being alone for as long as Kavinsky had.

The dreamer nodded slowly. So long as Ronan chose Kavinsky, he had nothing to worry about from the other boy. He'd be able to trust him with his life. If that ever changed though...things likely wouldn't be pretty.]

What am I going to do? Proko saved your life. We both helped you bury a monster. If I wanted to hurt you, I would've done it already. I want a lot of things, but not that.

[He wanted to sink his claws into Ronan, to keep him forever, but he didn't have nefarious plans. Just...he was dreaming big. The things two dreamers could accomplish together...he didn't know what kind of limits they would have, if any. They could be gods together, unstoppable.]

You can trust him. [Proko said softly. He trusted Kavinsky, but he was also aware he might be biased.]

[Kavinsky's right, of course. Prokopenko saved his life, and even knowing that people call him K's guard dog, there's still a weight that comes from having the reassurance voiced from the boy that saved him from his dreams and hasn't flinched from Ronan for it.]

I owe you. Both of you. So- I do trust you.

[It's a little softer, a little bit less flippant when he says it this time, less like a joke. Solemn even, like a vow or a promise, as he looks over at Kavinsky. He hesitates for a moment, seeming to wage some silent battle with himself, then he reaches out, brushes fingers against where the other dreamer's hand presses against his knee.]

What do you want?

[It feels like a dangerous question; Ronan never knows what he wants anymore. So there's edges to it when he asks, but it's not unkind. If anything, maybe a messy sort of hopeful, even if he doesn't even really know what he's hoping for, or what the right answer is. Just that he wants to know what it is that Kavinsky wants.

He wants to know how he can fit in here, he wants this even if he doesn't quite have the words to say that. Doesn't quite understand how badly he's been aching to not be alone.]

[There were ugly things in Kavinsky's head. Prokopenko might have only seen them once, but he still knew they existed. He wasn't going to run from them just like he wasn't going to run from what he'd seen Ronan dream up.

Proko shrugged, brushing his fingers along Ronan's shoulder.]

Don't worry about it.

[Personally, he didn't want anything from Ronan, but he knew Kavinsky likely had other ideas. He hadn't saved his life in hopes of earning favors. He'd done it because...well, he'd been there and if he'd just watched, what kind of person would that have made him?

Kavinsky smiled when Ronan touched his hand.]

You. I want you.

[He couldn't stop himself from making an innuendo this time-]

In my bed. In my life. Just- fuck, man. You're like me. I've never met anyone else like us.

[He didn't want to be alone. He desperately didn't want to be alone. He wanted to share this power he had, let someone else in on his secret and just- they could do whatever they wanted together.]

I guess what I'm really asking is for you to give me a chance for us to get to know each other.

[To be friends. Maybe more.]

[Ronan leans into the way that Prokopenko touches against his shoulder, telling him not to worry about it, reaches out and brushes fingers against the other boy's leg just so he could return that bit of contact. He knew they hadn't done it just for the favor, but it was still-- he was aware that they'd very literally saved his life. And Kavinsky talking about being a dreamer too, about having people he could count on that would keep his secrets... that had the potential to save his life in a different way entirely.

And then Kavinsky answers the question, and Ronan can't help the shiver that runs through his broad shoulders, down his spine. I want you. And it feels- Ronan hardly knows how it feels honestly- but it's something, it's under his skin. His face flushes a little, but he doesn't flinch, he doesn't pull away, he doesn't seem uncomfortable when Kavinsky says that he wants him in his bed.

He curls his fingers against the other dreamer's wrist, touching, holding on a little bit more pointedly. Not tight enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to feel it.]

Fuck. Of course. I'm not- I'm here man, if you want me.

[He'd never really thought about what he'd do, what he'd want if he met another dreamer. It had always been about being like his father. His brothers weren't dreamers, none of his father's acquaintances had ever seemed to understand what it was he did- everyone else was on the outside of the secret.]

I dreamt a picture book for my mom when I was a kid. She.. told me to bury it. Forever. But I didn't want to bury it, I wanted someone I could show, that I could share it with. I still do.

[He wants this too. Maybe he hadn't thought of it consciously, but that didn't mean the need wasn't under his skin, curled in his heart.]

[Good. If Ronan had said he was splitting and never talking to them again, Prokopenko might've needed to have a word with him. He knew that walking out would hurt Kavinsky, and though he acted tough, but he had weaknesses and soft spots. He pressed his mouth against Ronan's shoulder in something like a kiss. It was a soft action but this was something of a soft moment. He didn't want to make Ronan uncomfortable, but- this was the closest he'd managed to get to him and he just. He wanted Ronan to know he was safe and there were people who cared, even if they hadn't always gotten along before.

Kavinsky's gaze flickered briefly to Proko before returning to Ronan. He shifted a little closer, knee bumping the other boy's. Of course, he wanted Ronan. He almost said he couldn't imagine being told to bury your dreams, but he could. His father had done worse.]

She didn't call you a freak, did she? [It felt like it was implied though, telling a dreamer to bury their dreams. Especially a gift.] I wanted a puppy when I was a kid, so I dreamed a dog. Dad called me a freak and got rid of it.

[Which was the nicest way he could think of to say what his dad had actually done.]

That was the day I learned to keep quiet about what I could do, that not even my family gave a shit.

[So he'd made his own family with Proko and the other boys. They cared. They didn't think he was a freak.]

[Ronan's breath stuttered as Proko pressed what felt an awful lot like a kiss to his shoulder. It might be a soft gesture, but it felt like heat -- no one had ever touched him like this before, so he can't help the way that it shivers through him. Kavinsky's knee bumps up against his, and Ronan doesn't pull away from the contact. If this was a dream, he'd reach out, maybe curl fingers in the other dreamer's shirt, tug him in closer, but this is real- unfathomable, but still somehow real.]

No. She called me Mister Impossible. I thought it was a compliment, I dunno.

[And more than that, with the story that Kavinsky tells, he wants -- fuck, he doesn't even know. But he wants to do something. Comfort, empathy, it feels beyond him, but he wants to offer him something. So he shifts his hand from K's wrist, brushing fingers against the back of his hand. Soft, a little bit intimate. Nothing he could have seen himself offering someone, but somehow Kavinsky feels different now. Knowing that there was someone like him.]

That's fucked, K. You're not a freak.

[They're not words that Ronan could tell himself in his darker moods, but somehow it was easier to say it to someone else. There had been a time when being a dreamer, being like his father had felt like a pleasure. Not this uncertain thing that Ronan struggled with these nights. It was different being alone with it.

But maybe he wasn't, now.]

At least your mom only kind of sucks.

[He could make a joke there, it wasn't like the thought didn't occur to him, but he was being serious here. Maybe Ronan's mom hadn't called him a freak but she'd still told him to bury a dream forever.

Turning his hand over so they were palm to palm, he curled his fingers around Ronan's hand. His grip was gentle, the way he usually wasn't with people, but his gaze was intense.]

I know. But he made me feel like one.

[It was something he still struggled with but he didn't usually let other people know. His views on being a dreamer swung wildly between 'I'm a god' and 'I'm a freak' with almost no middle ground. He'd worked hard to get to the point he was at though, to be able to pull things from his dreams with the precision he had. Which wasn't to say he didn't fuck up sometimes, but it wasn't as much as he used to when he was younger.]

Neither of you are freaks. [Proko said, leaning in closer until his lips brushed Ronan's ear.]

Can I kiss you? [It was a quiet murmur, and more than Kavinsky would have done. K would have just gone for the kiss but Proko was...not polite, really, but more aware of boundaries.]

[Normally, invoking his parents in anything other than a complementary way was a fast path to a punch in the face, but it was different like this. Kavinsky knew what it was like, and it was something he remembered, something that still hurt. He thinks that she'd tried, but--

He shivers when Kavinsky turns his hand so they're palm to palm, the other dreamer's fingers curling around his hand, and Ronan shifts his grip a little so he can press their fingers together. His heart is racing as he looks him in the eyes, feels like Kavinsky looks through him, like he could devour him.

He gasps, sharp and audible and it makes his face heat in something almost like embarrassment as Proko's lips brush against his ear. And then there's that question, and his breath shakes, looking at Kavinsky for a moment, just to make sure that saying yes wouldn't be wrong. But the other dreamer doesn't seem bothered by it, so he nods, shifting on the couch so that he can face Proko a bit more properly. And well, make it easier for him to kiss him. It does put him awful close to almost being in K's lap, though.

There's a voice in the back of his head that reminds him all the ways that this is wrong, but there's something about right now and he wants the other boy to kiss him. He doesn't let go of Kavinsky's hand, but he lets his other hand press to Proko's shoulder.]

Yeah. I.. think I'd like that.

[Kavinsky smirked when Ronan gasped, and Proko was amused--though not in a cruel way. Proko wouldn't have asked in the first place if he'd thought Kavinsky would be upset about it. He knew pretty damn well how much of a bad idea it was to piss K off. They got along most of the time but even Proko wasn't perfect. He didn't think Kavinsky wanted him to be, either.

Smiling, Proko lifted a hand to gently touch the side of Ronan's face before leaning in to kiss him. He clearly knew what he was doing--this wasn't even close to the first time he'd kissed someone--but he was patient, too. He wasn't in any rush and he didn't want to make Ronan uncomfortable. He just- he felt drawn to him and he wasn't sure if it was only a physical attraction or something more.

Kavinsky, on the other hand, watched the two of them like a hawk. He didn't let go of Ronan's hand, but he rested his other on the boy's thigh, fingers slowly creeping higher. Maybe it was adrenaline about what'd happened tonight, or the fact he'd found another dreamer and wasn't alone anymore, or maybe he was just horny and Ronan was hot--no, it was definitely all of the above--but he desperately wanted Ronan in some way or another. He could be patient though, for now. He could let the other two kiss for now.]

[Ronan had never actually kissed a boy before- not for real. Which was to say that he'd never kissed anyone before. If this was before his life went to shit, it might have made him soft and sweet, but instead his inexperience translates into something almost needy. He tastes like a dream, like things Ronan wants without having the words for. He murmurs into the contact, hot with desire.

He wanted Proko, wanted the way that their mouths fit together, the way that his fingers almost felt like they burned where they touched the side of his face. He was drawn to him. Drawn to both of them, if he was honest. It was why he hadn't let go of Kavinsky's hand, and why he leans into the touch as the other boy presses fingers to his thigh, shifting higher. Ronan's already hard in his jeans, arousal like a flame at that first touch.

And this is more than just a touch, this is Proko kissing him and Kavinsky's hands on him, and Ronan's in over his head, overwhelmed- but in a way that he doesn't want to stop. His thumb drags up against Kavinsky's pulse, rubbing softly against thin skin, like a way to say that Proko isn't the only one here he's attracted to, even if he'd never have the words for it.

Part of it was that no one had ever touched Ronan like this before. But part of it was more than that too. There was a draw to Proko, to Kavinsky, a spark in knowing that Kavinsky was a dreamer, and he could almost imagine he could feel it in the way their fingers twined. Maybe it was adrenaline and inexperience, but it felt like so much more, like something magnetic.]

[Kavinsky was something of a voyeur--there was a reason Swan was usually the cameraman when the pack got together on drunken nights (or sober ones). Watching was almost as good as being involved. His gaze flickered from watching Proko and Ronan kiss to Ronan's neck and back again before he leaned in and pressed his mouth to his skin. His hand on his thigh crept higher until he cupped his groin, giving him a firm squeeze.

Proko wasn't entirely oblivious to Kavinsky's actions and he shifted his arm away to let the other boy reach Ronan's neck easier, instead running his fingers down Ronan's spine. He didn't yet know how things were going to go, how much control Kavinsky was going to take over the situation, but he was content (for now) with kissing. He wanted Ronan, not desperately, not like Kavinsky did, but he wanted him all the same.]

Proko's good with his mouth, [Kavinsky murmured, catching Ronan's ear between his teeth for a moment.] He could suck you off. Or I could fuck you.

[He was torn between the options, personally, though either one of them would be nice for Ronan. Kavinsky'd wanted him for a while now, weeks, but he wasn't about to leave Proko out of things, either.]

[Ronan gasped softly as Kavinsky's mouth pressed to the skin of his neck, heat a jolt through his body, and then it was so much more.. The other dreamer's fingers cupping against him, squeezing his erection through the fabric of his denims, and he moaned with the feeling. Someone else's fingers on him, and not just anyone, but Kavinsky. He didn't-- he'd never done this but he wanted it. He wanted to touch and be touched, the way that it made his body come alive.

He'd almost forgotten it was possible to feel like this. He can catch the way that they move together- Proko's hands trailing down his back so that Kavinsky can have better access to his neck, and there's a certain thrill to it. People that clearly know each other so well, the fact that they both want him with something other than jealousy. His breath catches in his throat and he doesn't know if it's at the words that Kavinsky suggests, or the sharp feeling of his teeth, which Ronan likes a lot. Far more than he would have considered, and he tilts into the sensation.

He's gasping for a moment when he breaks the kiss, flushed and unraveled as he looks at Kavinsky. He feels drunk, the way it makes the world flexible like taffy. Makes it easy to not worry about his choices. This feels like a dream, but better. He doesn't think he could be this greedy, this brazen even in his fantasies.]

I haven't-- but I want to.

[One hand pressed to Kavinsky, his other brushing against Prokopenko because he doesn't want to leave him out either. He doesn't know how to say I want you both; can hardly manage to admit that he'd a virgin but that he wants the other dreamer anyway.]

[Kavinsky smiled, or maybe it was closer to a smirk. He looked over Ronan's shoulder and met Proko's eyes, all heat and desire. Proko was struck with the thought that if Ronan hadn't been in between them, Kavinsky would have kissed him. A shiver rolled down his spine, both because of the look and the implication that Ronan hadn't had sex before.

Removing his hand from Ronan's crotch, Kavinsky cupped his face in his hands, pushing Proko out of the way a bit, and kissed him. He leaned into it, let it linger, committed every moment of it to memory. It was better than his dreams, better than anything he'd imagined. Usually, reality paled in comparison to the things he could create or the drug trips, but Ronan was special.]

I'll be gentle.

[He kissed Ronan again while Proko snorted, taking Ronan's hand in his and kissing at his wrist. He said, with some amusement-]

Don't lie to him.

[Kavinsky, much more interested in kissing Ronan than he was talking, sighed and pulled back just a fraction after a moment to say, mumbled against the other boy's mouth;]

I won't hurt you.

[Satisfied with that, Proko leaned in to kiss Ronan's neck instead, one hand drifting down to press against his groin. He would hold Kavinsky to that, make sure he wasn't too rough with Ronan in his enthusiasm. Sometimes, K wasn't always...responsible, and could get too into things.]

[Ronan gasped, rough and wanting as Kavinsky cupped his face and kissed him. Slipping from Prokopenko to the dreamer with the other boy's kisses still on his mouth, and there's something about it that feels different--

He wouldn't say better, but it's like a spark that sets him on fire, where Proko was slow and sweet like honey. And maybe he needs them both, if he's honest. He leans into Kavinsky, clinging to him, desire obvious and tangible in how he touches him. Heedless and eager, his kisses like a question or a request, or a please he wouldn't quite know how to say. He shudders though, at the way that Proko kisses his wrist. Weak to those sort of touches; wrists and necks and fingertips.

He can't help smiling at their slight disagreement, Ronan similarly more interested in kissing Kavinsky, but he murmurs a retort to the words, looking into his dark eyes-]

I'm not made of glass.

[Maybe a bit reckless in saying that in response to Kavinsky of all people. But Ronan is defiant, all bright eyes and lifted chin for that moment where they're breathing words instead of biting kisses into each others' mouth. And he means it- he doesn't want to be treated like he's soft. He wants Kavinsky to ruin him with pleasure, show him what it's like.

He's not so reckless that there isn't a certain amount of comfort in the reassurance that the other boy wont hurt him. But he doesn't need him to be gentle; which is probably a good thing. He isn't sure K could manage it anyway. But that's okay. And he does wants Proko too, even if that's newer, a little less desperate.

Ronan's needed someone to burn him alive for months now.]

[Kavinsky smiled, brushing his fingers across Ronan's cheeks.]

I know you're not.

[There was an unspoken but there. But Ronan had nearly died tonight. But he was new at this and that was alright. But Kavinsky wasn't usually very patient. He would treat Ronan right though, to the best of his abilities. He didn't want to hurt the other boy, not in ways that he wouldn't enjoy. Maybe Kavinsky was just weird, but he always enjoyed things more with an edge of pain. Maybe that was why Proko did, too, or maybe that had been a part of him even before Kavinsky had dreamed him back to life.

Kavinsky kissed him again, hands dropping to the bottom hem of Ronan's shirt to start pulling it up, tugging it off. Proko shifted back to make a little more room, watching the pair of them. If it was just him, he'd manage to be gentle. Slow and steady and sweet, but Kavinsky was leagues more impatient than he was, rougher around the edges. Which was saying something, since Proko was rough-edged, too.

Proko let his hands wander across Ronan's back once his shirt had been dealt with, scratching gently with his fingernails. His dreamer, on the other hand, had already moved on to kissing Ronan again, hands on the front of Ronan's pants, working on getting them open.]

Good.

[Ronan can hear the but that lingers after Kavinsky's words, but he doesn't push at it. He wasn't so reckless that he wanted the other boy to hurt him- or at least not a sort of hurt that Ronan wouldn't enjoy- he'd just needed to make the point that he didn't need to handle him with kid gloves. Besides which, any possible complaints he might have made fall away when K kisses him again.

Ronan murmurs, leaning into it, kissing him back. He feels like he needs this, like he'd needed it without knowing what it was he was aching for. He shivers as the other dreamer's hands catch the bottom of his shirt, starting to pull it up and off of him, and Ronan moves as best as he can to make it easy for him, letting him draw his arms up, breaking the kiss just for a moment, and then kissing Kavinsky once the fabric has pulled free of the dark curls of his hair that fall against his jaw.

Honestly, all of them were rough-edged boys, albeit in different sorts of ways. But they were rough edges that felt like they fit together -- at least now, at least when they were all tangled together like this, hands and kisses and Ronan so in over his head, but just wanting more. More than willing to let the two boys ruin him with how his skin felt like it burned with pleasure. Even more with how Proko scratched nails against his back.

Ronan gasping softly as he leaned into his hands, the sounds muffled by how his mouth was pressed to Kavinsky. His fingers clinging against him, he wanted to pull his shirt off, get him undressed the way he was undressing him, but he couldn't focus, couldn't think of anything other than how they made him feel.]

[Prokopenko pressed kisses across Ronan's shoulders, soft and sweet, while he traced one finger slowly down his spine. He'd always expected to feel jealous at seeing Kavinsky kiss someone else, knowing there was someone else he wanted who wasn't Proko, but he just felt...happy, in this moment. Kavinsky was happy, and that was the important thing. Well, that and Ronan's comfort.

Kavinsky was also impatient, and as soon as he had Ronan's pants open, he shoved a hand into his underwear, desperate to feel and touch him. Where Proko was a slow-burning fire, Kavinsky was a hurricane. He wanted and wanted and wanted. He also took and took, and when it was Proko, he always let him. He hoped Ronan could handle him, but Proko was there too and maybe that would balance things out a little.

Groaning against Ronan's mouth, Kavinsky pulled away a fraction, a little breathless. A bed probably would have been a better place for this, but he couldn't be bothered to even suggest moving at this point. He'd make it work. He also really needed to get Ronan's pants off but he was a bit distracted.]

God, you're- [He took a breath, kissed the corner of Ronan's mouth.] -fucking hot.

[Ronan gasps, almost a whimper as Kavinsky shoves his hand into his underwear, fingers brushing against his erection and he shakes with the feeling. His head falling back as his hips tilt into the contact, the way that it feels, burning in his veins. Pleasure and want and making him feel alive and present in his own skin, and he grabs against K's shirt, his touch trembling, already overwhelmed. Be the last thing he wants right now is for him to stop. He wants more, wants more than he has words for.

He wants K to take and he wants to give, and he wants Proko, even if he's too inexperienced, too new to be good at splitting his attention between the two of them. Too caught up in kissing Kavinsky, even when it becomes more like gasping against his mouth, breathless and needy. He squirms a little, fingers shoving at the waist of his jeans, trying to kick them lower, give the other boy more access.

Eager, but he can't help himself. He needs more, and it feels like he isn't the only one.

A bed probably would have been a good idea, but Ronan has no more inclination to stop and move than either of the other two boys. He murmurs, chases that kiss when K presses one at the corner of his mouth. He's flushed and heated, and every beat of his heart feels like a cry for more.]

I-- I need you.

[Kavinsky grinned, brilliant and sharp. He had Ronan exactly where he wanted him--and where Ronan wanted to be, from the sounds of things.]

I'm getting there.

[He assured him, reluctantly removing his hand from Ronan's underwear to start shimmying his pants down.

Ronan wasn't left without contact though- while Kavinsky worked on that, Proko looped an arm around Ronan's waist and curled his fingers around his erection, firm but almost tender when he started stroking him. Hand moving slow and steady, Proko started sucking a bruise onto the side of Ronan's neck, determined to leave a mark.

Kavinsky got Ronan's pants, underwear, and shoes off, albeit with a bit of struggling, and dropped them all unceremoniously to the floor. He took a moment to admire the sight of the other boy, nude, Prokopenko's hands and mouth on him, and then leaned in to kiss him again.

Letting it linger, he pondered the best way of doing this, how he was going to position everyone to get the most out of the moment. He could be selfish but- he didn't want to leave Proko out. His dream boy was sharing so well, after all.]

[Ronan was flushed, but- he wasn't really embarrassed, even if he was vaguely aware that he probably should be. But he trusted Kavinsky, Prokopenko. They'd saved his life, invited him into theirs, so letting them get him naked didn't even feel like the most revealing thing that had happened tonight.

He murmurs in understanding, agreement, when Kavinsky says he's getting there, and manages not to protest when he pulls his touch away to start working his pants down.

But Ronan sighs in soft pleasure, breathes the boy's name onto the air as Proko replaced K's touches. Fingers curled around his erection, firm but somehow it felt a little sweet, too. He was all soft sounds, his hips jerking unevenly up into his touch. He does his best to move how Kavinsky needs to get his clothes off, but it's hard to not be distracted.

He tilts his head, giving Prokopenko better access to his neck, almost like an invitation as he starts sucking a mark into his neck. It felt hard enough to linger, but more than that it was hot in a way he couldn't have explained. Something about having the boy's touch marked on his skin, like something he could touch. Like this wasn't transient- it was something he could hold onto.

He wants to touch Proko, to get his hands on the other boy. But in order to do that he'd have to move out of his lap, stop leaning up against him, and he doesn't want to lose the safety of his body. Kavinsky kisses him again, and he almost purrs, kisses him back, eager and needy. He didn't quite know how this would work, but he trusted them. He wanted-- he wanted them both. He wanted to keep them, to wrap himself between them.

He felt greedy, he wanted all that he could have, enough to wrap him in safety and pleasure. He was inexperienced, maybe a little clumsy, but he was eager.]

Edited (words are hard okay) 2022-03-02 05:54 (UTC)

[Nothing about this was temporary or fleeting to either Kavinsky or Prokopenko. They both wanted Ronan in their life though for slightly different reasons. Kavinsky was more selfish, but he'd been lonely for longer. Proko...there was something that drew him to Ronan, made him want to hold onto him and keep him safe. He was a little like a dragon with its hoard, but instead of riches, he collected dreamers.

Kavinsky touched Ronan's knee, a slight brush of his hand, and broke away from the kiss reluctantly.]

Need to get you lying down.

[Stretched out on the couch, he meant. He didn't seem particularly in a rush though--if anything, he seemed distracted by watching Proko working on leaving a mark on Ronan's neck. Eventually, though, he did say-]

Proko.

[With great reluctance, Proko lifted his head, peering at Kavinsky over Ronan's shoulder. Right. Moving. His hands stilled, sliding to Ronan's hips instead. He shifted a little, gently nudging the other boy. He'd cradle Ronan's head in his lap after all was said and done as far as repositioning went, but they had to get there, first.]

[Ronan wanted them both with an intensity that surprised him. He thought that he'd forgot what wanting was when his father died. But these two boys pulled at him in ways that he couldn't have explained. Magnetic. Something essential, that curled in his heart.

A dreamer and a dream; of course he needed them like breathing.

He murmured when Kavinsky pulled back from the kiss, but managed to let that be his only protest, breathing a soft agreement to his instruction. But it was hard to move with Proko's mouth on his neck, intent on sucking a mark into his skin, and Ronan so very willing to let him. His body was all heat, all want- but when Proko did finally stop, Ronan cooperated. Easily shifting under the boys' hands as he was laid out on the couch, flushed and breathless.

He ends up with his head in Proko's lap, looking up at Kavinsky all helplessly starry eyed. He wants this, he wants them. He's sure someone would tell him it was wrong, but he needs it too much to care. He needs to touch them, to feel Kavinsky inside his skin.

Ronan doesn't think he's ever wanted anything the way that he wants them.]

post for psls;

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/wanders in 2 months late with starbucks

I always accept Starbucks! <3

:3

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changed my journal name :eyes:

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