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If Ronan opened his mouth, he was going to scream. He rarely allowed himself that pleasure, that bleeding of rage, instead forcing the BMW to growl it out for him. He imagined the route he would take, up, up into the blue mountains, along wide curves and steep cliffs. At this hour, the roads would be deserted, just him, his car, and his howling frustrations. He could feel adrenaline thrumming in his veins, but not from taunting gravity.
If Ronan opened his eyes, well, that wasn’t much of an option. He couldn’t face Adam. He knew the Barns plenty well to make his escape without sight, and jogging in bare feet across the gravel of the driveway to his car was a pain he would welcome just now. He wanted to run, run, run from this, from fragile joy and rising shame. He wanted to curl into this moment and live in it forever.
He had been utterly blindsided by the orgasm. Hell, he’d been utterly blindsided by the whole night. So much had changed this day, with their reality realigning and crumbling at the edges as something rotted Cabeswater, eating it from the inside out.
Kissing Adam hadn’t been impulsive; if he had kissed Adam impulsively, it would have been last year, when Adam’s face had gone complicated after Kavinsky dropped dreamt leather bracelets on the table at Nino’s; it would have been months ago, the first time Adam opened the door of his St. Agnes apartment well past midnight; it would have been weeks ago, sprawled and aching across a parking lot, shopping cart creaking nearby. Kissing Adam was a question he’d had for ages, but hadn’t had the nerve to hear the answer. Kissing Adam was hope and promise and fear for them both, fear for Cabeswater that belonged to them both. Kissing Adam was every item on a bucket list he’d never written. Adam had kissed him back.
Adam had kissed him back, Ronan had hardly believed it. It had felt differently than it had in his dreams, weightier, more incandescent. Ronan wasn’t sure if Adam kissing him back was an answer or an instinct. After breaking the kiss, Ronan had lingered for several heartbeats before rejoining the others downstairs. He strove to hide his wonderous mood behind the same indifferent sarcasm he employed daily. With Declan and Gansey and Mathew and Blue to carry the conversation, he didn’t think anyone had noticed his attention waxing and waning. An undercurrent to all his thoughts until Declan and Mathew left: I kissed Adam, Adam kissed me, I kissed Adam.
-
When Ronan was the only Lynch at the Barns and the conversation had turned to Cabeswater, to Glendower, to Gwenllian’s vision of Neeve and the demon, unmaking their forest and everything attached to it, Adam had held eye contact with him and spoke. “I think you need to tell them, too.”
The thrill of a private conversation directly mentioned to the others was chased by rabid fear and doubt. This night could cost him everyone he loved. Adam was right, and Ronan knew it, but that didn’t lower the precipice at which he stood. He didn’t care for being backed into a corner, didn’t care to risk even more this night. Adam, it seemed, had known the thoughts racing about his mind, earnestly breaking into the melee, “It’s not gonna change anything, Ronan.”
Adam continued, while Ronan repeated that single sentence to himself. There was no reason to believe the reveal would change anything. They might suspect already. But between the thought and the admission lay a chasm. He’d leapt across a similar chasm hours before; he didn’t yet know if he’d reached the other side of that one, and now he was being asked to take a second leap of faith. Covering his reticence with rebuttal, Ronan bought himself a few breaths to build his indifferent façade. Adam let him.
Counting out the bands on his wrist, Ronan found the careless voice he used when he cared entirely too much, “Whatever. I dreamt Cabeswater.”
All sound ceased. Inhale. Beat. Beat. Exhale. Questions came, slowly, as this revelation was digested. He answered those he could, covered his open ribcage with snark when he couldn’t. Dreamt protections were out, any dream things were out for the time being. Around and around they’d gone, suggesting solutions the others gently cut down immediately, until the well of ideas ran dry and Blue’s eye drove her to suggest calling it a night. She’d headed to the kitchen, Ronan on her heels, overtaking and hip-checking her on the way. They’d both laughed, and Ronan had felt as light as he could remember being since becoming an orphan.
Gansey and Blue had left. Ronan had walked them to the Pig, needing the vast sky and fireflies to ground him. He’d stayed, leaned against a pillar, alive with potential energy, rooted to this land, branching up and out to the edges of his universe. It felt like racing, like just before the light changed, clutch and accelerator balanced on a thread, when his pulse bounded and the engine whined, desperate and ready. A moment on the cusp of becoming the past, still unwritten and full of promise.
Adam had joined him after some time, edging out onto the porch, coming to stand bare inches from Ronan. Adam rested his forearms atop the railing, saying nothing, fingers twining slowly. Possibility hummed in Ronan’s veins, hope blooming in his chest. Adam hadn’t looked angry; he’d looked like he was staring down an engine at Boyd’s, like he knew the answer lay before him, but was not yet able to lay hands on it.
Ronan could’ve sworn he’d waited an hour, nearly breaking the quiet every few breaths. What could he say that he hadn’t asked already? He wouldn’t take it back, wouldn’t lie to Adam and insult him by saying he hadn’t meant it. Ronan had thought about kissing Adam since first laying eyes on him, wheeling his bike up the road to Aglionby. When the tension in his chest had finally given way, he’d exhaled, “Adam?”
Adam’d looked up at him, a thoughtful expression between his pale eyebrows and a tension about his mouth that suggested a bitten lip. Ronan had been focused upon that lip too intently to see Adam’s brow smooth in the instant before Adam had kissed him. Adam had kissed him with punctuation, certainty, and Ronan had replied with the unabridged version of his kiss from earlier that night.
They’d kissed until Adam had wound his arms around Ronan’s neck, until Ronan’s hands had raised from Adam’s hips to spread across his ribs. When Ronan’s fingertips had trailed the indents of his ribs, Adam’d drawn back just enough to break the kiss and rest his forehead against Ronan’s for a heartbeat, his hands dropping from Ronan’s neck to dig cautiously into the dip of his collar bones.
Ronan had caught Adam’s mouth again, kissing him like a prayer or a sin. It wasn’t until Adam’s hands had crept under the hem of Ronan’s shirt, brushing by hipbones on their ascent to ribs that it had occurred to either of them to go inside. Ronan had stripped off his own shirt, taken Adam by the hand, and lead him inside. Unwilling to go any further without more of Adam under his hands, Ronan had collapsed onto the living room sofa, half in the corner and made to pull Adam onto him. On a ragged breath, Adam whispered, “Turn over.”
Once Ronan had moved down the cushions enough to lay flat on his stomach, arms crossed under his head, Adam sat at his hip, tracing Ronan’s tattoo with a gentle finger. He started at the topmost hook, between Ronan’s left shoulder and neck, following a dark line down and around. It had been too long since Ronan’d seen the full design to know exactly what Adam was outlining, but he would’ve died happy if this was how he relearned the pattern inked into him. As Adam’s path meandered up Ronan’s spine, Ronan exhaled long and slow, moving one arm to reach back and grasp Adam’s thigh. Adam, dedicating himself to learning all of Ronan, not just his tattoo, had replaced his fingers with lips to descend the ladder of Ronan’s spine.
Impatient, and too long bereft of Adam’s mouth on his, Ronan had twisted himself onto his back and pulled Adam to him. A few chaste kisses had passed between them before Ronan deepened the kiss, crawling his fingers down to raise Adam’s shirt a few inches. Ronan pulled back from the kiss in question, and Adam answered, chasing Ronan’s mouth and taking Ronan’s lower lip between his teeth, before kissing him soundly.
They’d broken apart to pull Adam’s shirt over his head, Ronan holding Adam’s hips as he drank in the privileged sight of a half-naked Adam. He’d had this view a handful of times at St. Agnes, shadows and embarrassment keeping him from making any detailed study, just enough to note a smattering of moles, thin, short scars, and a faint path of hair leading from navel to waistband. A collage of snapshots had not prepared him for this, lean planes, tanned skin, lips kissed dark, and Adam looking back at him like they ought to have been doing this for moths.
Ronan had made a move to roll Adam under him, the better to explore the roughly mapped miracle that was Adam Parrish; Adam Parrish had had other ideas, bracing a hip against the back of the sofa to straddle Ronan, grabbing his hands to pin back near his head, and kissing him with a laugh. The laugh had died in Adam’s throat, pulling his mouth a whisper away from Ronan’s. When Ronan had opened his eyes, that thoughtful expression was back between Adam’s eyebrows. Adam, meeting Ronan’s eyes, closed the distance between them before retreating with his whole body, licking and kissing his way down Ronan’s neck, to his sternum.
It had occurred to Ronan that he has undeniably hard. It had occurred to him that Adam seemed to be as well. It had occurred to him that Adam might intend to address one of these circumstances, but he’d discarded that thought as one of the many, many fantasies that had kept him company some nights.
Apparently, this train of thought had distracted Ronan thoroughly, since Adam’s next bite was sharp, and decidedly closer to Ronan’s right hip than when he’d last marked Adam’s position. Two fingers had slipped under Ronan’s waistband and paused. Adam had raised his eyes to Ronan’s, lifting one eyebrow in question. Ronan answered with a single nod.
Adam had kissed his stomach, clever fingers moving to unfasten Ronan’s belt and fly. Ronan reached a hand down, curling his fingers around two of Adam’s. Adam laced their fingers together without looking up, licked the newest sliver of Ronan’s exposed skin, and used his free hand to tug Ronan’s jeans and boxers down several inches. Glancing up, Adam had seen Ronan all but holding his breath, as though afraid a strong breath would shatter this dream; Ronan had clasped Adam’s hand like a lifeline.
“Y-,” hoarse and quiet. Ronan swallowed and tried again, “You don’t have to…” His voice didn’t sound entirely his; it sounded a bit like Gansey putting on his Leadership voice, but soft around the edges volume falling over the last syllable.
Adam quirked the corners of his mouth up in a true, amused smile, wrapping his free hand around Ronan’s length and squeezing lightly before stroking him. “I know, but can I?”
“Fuck. Yes. Fucking yes, Parrish,” a whine at the fringes shaped his voice into one Ronan had never used before.
Adam had loosened his grip around Ronan’s cock, applying just a modicum of friction, and on his next upstroke, had run his tongue across the head. “Fuck!” Ronan had jerked into a partial sitting position. He’d used his free arm to brace himself in this new position, where he could see Adam better.
One side of Adam’s mouth had twitched up, but he’d only continued stroking Ronan. He took a breath and tried to take Ronan into his mouth. The angle had been weird and, really, Adam had only managed another, longer swipe of his tongue. He’d shifted a few inches toward Ronan’s chest and tried again. He wrapped his mouth around Ronan, cradling the head with his tongue, visibly thinking. He’d sucked and withdrawn a bit, before taking more of Ronan in his mouth.
Ronan had fought to keep his eyes open. They had gone 0 to 80mph in the space of hours and he’d wanted this for long. How long had Adam wanted this? Ronan had kept his eyes fixed on Adam, on his cock disappearing into Adam’s mouth - Adam is sucking my cock - and careened viciously into orgasm. It had taken him so by surprise he hadn’t a chance to warn Adam; by the time Ronan had realized what was happening, Adam was already choking, pulling off Ronan messily, upper teeth glancing off the head.
-
Ronan closed his eyes as pleasure washed over him, panicked embarrassment racing to overtake it. He couldn’t remember how to breath. He might remember how to open his eyes. He heard Adam cough, once, twice, and swallow hard.
Ronan bodily rolled off the couch, yanking his jeans up and staring at the floor. “I didn’t expect…” he made his voice gruffly unemotional. “I…I’m sorry.” His balance uncertain, Ronan stalked toward the door without bothering to grab his shirt. The BMW keys were scant yards away, the car itself not far from the porch steps. He could manage –
Something struck his back hard, center of his ribs, and the floor rushed up at him. He almost caught himself, but the weight of his body had increased somehow, too much for his arms to hold on such short notice. No, Adam had… tackled him?
Calm, serious, Adam said, “You’re not running, Lynch.”
“There isn’t shit to talk about. Fucking let me up.”
“Fine,” Adam braced himself against Ronan’s back to stand.
Ronan thought he’d won, was on his way. He was two steps from the entry table when he realized his keys were no longer there. Adam stood next to it, slipping one hand out of a pocket. “I let you up. Didn’t say I’d let you leave.”
Goddamn shit motherfucker. He wasn’t doing this. Trying to suck all emotion out of his voice and pitching it low, Ronan growled, “Parrish, fucking give me my goddamned keys.” Well, that didn’t sound nearly as unaffected as he hoped.
“No.”
Ronan glared at him then. Adam looked like he’d been sunburnt, checks and throat and upper chest bright red. It wasn’t until Adam swiped a finger over the splash of white across his right cheekbone that Ronan registered it. Ronan dropped his head, burning with shame, illicit thrill a deep undercurrent Ronan couldn’t contend with just now. “Parrish. Please. I can’t – Please give me the keys,” his voice was small, pleading now. When was the last time he’d said “please” or “sorry” more than once in a week?
“Lynch, look at me.”
Ronan shook his head, glaring at the floor like it had personally offended him.
“Ronan.” Adam took a step toward Ronan, slow but uncompromising. He knocked the fingers of his left hand against Ronan’s chin. “Ronan, look at me. ’M not mad.”
That wasn’t Ronan’s only concern, but Adam’s precise words made him look at Adam anyway. If Adam needed something from him, he could have it, whatever the fuck it was. They would never have to talk about this night, never acknowledge it. Fucking shit damn. He’d had and lost everything he’d ever wanted in the course of hours. He was casting his eyes back down when Adam knocked his chin up again.
“Ronan. Fuck,” Adam paused, closing his eyes to find his words. “Hey.”
Ronan met his eyes reluctantly. Adam sighed, then deliberately held eye contact while he licked the trace of cum off his finger. Ronan didn’t drop his eyes back to the floor.
“’M not mad. God,” he swallowed. “This’s wild, but, damn,” he placed both hands on Ronan’s face, pinkies under his jaw, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “Can I kiss you?”
Adam didn’t move until Ronan nodded. This kiss was more like their first, as much a question as a prayer. “We don’ have to talk-talk about this,” Adam said, accent rounding his words as he pulled away. This was no time for posturing, not if this was going to be anything, everything. “But if we’re gon’ do this, we gotta do it together, ‘kay?
“Sure, goddamn Parrish. Now give me my fucking keys,” Ronan was petulant. He was still angry at himself.
Adam walked over to pick up their shirts, threw Ronan’s to him. “Put your shoes on, asshole.” Fine, he’d posture just enough to get Ronan to engage.
“I want my keys. I fucking live here, whatcha gonna do, drive me to Monmouth and kiss me on the fucking porch?” Snark hadn’t worked nearly as well on Adam since the manibus, but it’s worth a fucking shot.
“Shoes.” Aggravation was leaking into Adam’s voice, “Then get in the damn car.” Adam walked out the front door, closing it harder than strictly necessary, but not quite slamming it.
It wasn’t Adam’s fault. Ronan wasn’t mad at Adam. Ronan just wanted to destroy something, anything that wasn’t the glowing possibility of having Adam as he’d always wanted him. He put his shoes on.
The car was dark. He didn’t see where Adam had gone, but since Adam’s mood was tolerating no argument, Ronan walked over to the BMW and opened the passenger door to get in. Adam was buckled in the seat already. Ronan narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.
“You’re driving,” intoned Adam.
Color Ronan confused. Whatever. He sauntered back around the car and slide into the driver’s seat. Adam chucked him the keys. Ronan almost missed them in the dark. “So, Parrish, where the hell we going?” Ronan asked, starting the car. Quiet though it was, the purr of the engine put a tiny dent in his agitation.
“You’re the one who’s pissed. We’re gon’ drive ‘til you simmer down.”
“How exactly do you figure into this?”
“I’m coming with you. When you’re done being a little shit, we’ll come back. I don’t want tonight to end with you in mood.”
“I’m always in a ‘mood,’” Ronan deadpanned. If he wasn’t shifting into gear to back out into the drive, he probably would have used air quotes. EDM was playing, but not so loud they couldn’t hear each other.
“You weren’t on the porch.” Adam sighed, not his physically exhausted sigh, but like a balloon deflating. Ronan looked him but said nothing.
When they hit the highway, Ronan urged the BMW on, not shifting into fourth until the RPMs climbed past 4500. His agitation receded a little further. It was late enough into the night that deer probably wouldn’t be out, but he kept watch for them anyhow. Hitting a deer at this speed would be messy, and he didn’t know if his dad had dreamt the car with airbags.
“If it wouldn’t just encourage you to be reckless, I’d say you should put 5-point harnesses in here.” Adam’s voice betrayed no emotion as he turned up the volume until he could feel it in his chest. He might hate EDM, but he needed something to drown the doubt invading his head.
They drove. And drove. They drove until Ronan pulled into a roadside lookout and turned down the music. He rested his right hand on the gear shift, staring straight ahead. “Why are you here, Adam?”
Adam looked at him, “Would you have pretended none of this,” he gestured between them, “had happened tomorrow if I wasn’t?” When Ronan didn’t answer, Adam grazed his left index finger along the side of Ronan’s hand, leaving his own accessible when he was done. “That’s why,” Adam faced forward before continuing, “And I thought I might pretend that, too, if you left.”
Ronan finally caved, glancing sidewise as he threaded his fingers between Adam’s. “I don’t want to pretend it never happened. Shit, most of it, at least. Do you?” Ronan looked away.
“No,” Adam tugged at Ronan’s hand and leaned across the gearshift to kiss his cheek.
Ronan lifted their entwined hands to kiss Adam’s fingers. “Will you stay tonight? We don’t have to,” his voice cracked, “do anything.” He separated their hands so he could put the car in gear.
Resting his hand over Ronan’s on the gearshift, Adam answered, “I’ll stay. But we could, ya’ know, do stuff if you wanted… Unless you’re gon’ make me sleep in Declan’s room.”
Ronan scoffed. Once they were on a straight stretch as they descended into the valley, he reached over to tap Adam’s shoulder before softly grasping his neck to bring him close enough to kiss. Adam kissed back for a moment, before pulling away with a judgmental noise.
“Just one reason not to put harnesses in,” Ronan said with a smirk. In the dark, Adam rolled his eyes but took Ronan’s hand again.