[That’s why he says it. It’s a simple observation, but one that warns him that he hasn’t been as cautious as he thinks. Joseph has seen what Gansey struggles to keep hidden. He’s seen the longing and want that’s kept carefully locked up while he provides the support that Ronan desperately needs as he grieves. Kavinsky knows his secret, prods it like a sore tooth to see which one of them will flinch away first.
It might work if they both didn’t so easily accept the roles that Kavinsky attempts to insult them with. But Joseph’s wrong. Ronan’s never been his dog. He’s more than that, the bond between them deeper than what Kavinsky can understand. Though that truth can’t seem to stop the way his heart beating with a completely inappropriate Mine. Mine. Mine..
Those words, the idea that Ronan might be his, draws him closer, the forbidden too tempting for Gansey to escape. He might have said the coveted word ‘mine’ aloud, but he isn’t certain. His pulse is too loud in his ears, drowning out everything but the sharp blue of Ronan’s eyes, the glance of teeth against Ronan’s lip, the provocative, provoking smile that Gansey never truly thought could be directed toward him.
He goes still when Ronan’s hand moves, breath hissing out in a needful sigh when fingertips alight onto his chest. The contact doesn’t seem to match Ronan nor the fire wrapped around Gansey's bones. His eyes close for a moment as he tries to memorize this strange, impossible moment. Then the illusion can be real. Ronan wanting him, wanting to be his. Something that seems surreal even as his eyes open and he sees some unknown emotion in Ronan’s gaze.
The possibilities that linger there and in the desperate sound of his name causes him to catch his fingers on the belt loops of Ronan’s jeans. Holding him close, but never binding him, never forcing him to be still. A silent request for Ronan to stay as Gansey makes a small sound at the way Ronan sounds undone by proximity and a few truthful words.]
Ronan.
[One word. A name. Simple with no implied threat, but Gansey knows how dangerous it is. Knows how easily he - they - could be hurt if he’s not careful.
Except standing so close to Ronan, feeling the warm of his fingers from the forbidden contact, he can’t quite remember why he’s supposed to keep his distance. Instead of stepping away, he smiles, bright and alluring, nervous hopes beating against his ribs.]
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It might work if they both didn’t so easily accept the roles that Kavinsky attempts to insult them with. But Joseph’s wrong. Ronan’s never been his dog. He’s more than that, the bond between them deeper than what Kavinsky can understand. Though that truth can’t seem to stop the way his heart beating with a completely inappropriate Mine. Mine. Mine..
Those words, the idea that Ronan might be his, draws him closer, the forbidden too tempting for Gansey to escape. He might have said the coveted word ‘mine’ aloud, but he isn’t certain. His pulse is too loud in his ears, drowning out everything but the sharp blue of Ronan’s eyes, the glance of teeth against Ronan’s lip, the provocative, provoking smile that Gansey never truly thought could be directed toward him.
He goes still when Ronan’s hand moves, breath hissing out in a needful sigh when fingertips alight onto his chest. The contact doesn’t seem to match Ronan nor the fire wrapped around Gansey's bones. His eyes close for a moment as he tries to memorize this strange, impossible moment. Then the illusion can be real. Ronan wanting him, wanting to be his. Something that seems surreal even as his eyes open and he sees some unknown emotion in Ronan’s gaze.
The possibilities that linger there and in the desperate sound of his name causes him to catch his fingers on the belt loops of Ronan’s jeans. Holding him close, but never binding him, never forcing him to be still. A silent request for Ronan to stay as Gansey makes a small sound at the way Ronan sounds undone by proximity and a few truthful words.]
Ronan.
[One word. A name. Simple with no implied threat, but Gansey knows how dangerous it is. Knows how easily he - they - could be hurt if he’s not careful.
Except standing so close to Ronan, feeling the warm of his fingers from the forbidden contact, he can’t quite remember why he’s supposed to keep his distance. Instead of stepping away, he smiles, bright and alluring, nervous hopes beating against his ribs.]
Would you mind being mine?