[ Adam's groan echoes over Gansey's skin, makes his brain buzz happily, dulling any remaining thoughts and fears and anxieties. It doesn't matter that he's literally never done any of this before; it doesn't matter that they're at risk to exposure from the rest of their friends at any given moment. Gansey finds himself so lost in the warmth of Adam, the touch of skin and lips and fingers trailing, and the heaviness of Adam's weight over him.
Clothing is starting to feel like a burden. Gansey's hands find the hem of Adam's worn out t-shirt, lifting it to run fingers tentatively up the length of his torso, roaming towards his back, pulling him down against him while their mouths meet again and again. His breathing becomes erratic with his wants, and everything else pulses like a song, calling for the other boy. ]
Adam.
[ He breathes the other boy's name out into an exhale against his skin like a mantra before his lips find skin again - his mouth, his jaw, his nose, his neck. It's strangely gentle, almost romantic. ]
[All that time spent trying to erect walls and distance himself from Gansey's way of living, only to fall into the literal and symbolic place of it. He curses at himself in his head for finding himself here but then Gansey whispers his name. It's hardly even that, barely meant to be a word, but more like the natural sound of his breath, like that was all it was ever meant to sound like.
Suddenly his previous homesickness dissipates because Adam feels like he is home. Perhaps not physically, but the pulsing beat of his heart makes the claim in other ways. All from the whisper of a single name.
Don't say it like that. Don't tear me apart.
But he does. Hopelessly, with a wet gasp and clamped eye lids as Gansey kisses him from place to place, like this is the only time Adam can (wants to) offer himself.
Fingers over his torso become matchsticks, lighting the fire over his skin, the heat sinking through to his insides where he burns. It prompts the rougher shifts of his hips, no longer hesitant as it sinks hard between Gansey's legs. Let me feel you, he doesn't whisper but he sends the message nonetheless. Because Adam grows, harder and needier, and there's all too much certainty that Gansey will be able to feel it, calling out through layers of fabric.]
Gansey can feel Adam hardening against him, his need echoing his own. Gansey's mouth presses up against the skin of Adam's neck, right by his appropriately-named Adam's apple, leaving a slightly wet mark there, while his hands find another direction to explore, fumbling with the worn elastic of Adam's sweatpants.
Gansey shifts against Adam before one hand slides past the fabric, greeted by heat and Adam's desire, now a hard and tangible thing in his grip. ]
Tell me what you want me to do.
[ He whispers into Adam's ear, his words almost a plea.
What does Adam want, and how can Gansey give it to him? ]
It had been usually on the nights he'd come home from work in the late hours that he'd touch himself. He was always exhausted, desperately eager for sleep before needing to wake early for school the next month, but on rare nights that something ignited in him, he'd go in for a late shower, dampening himself before shutting the water off as to not raise the bill too high. Hands slick from the soap, he'd think of Blue. An impossibility almost that they'd ever get to such a point when she wouldn't even kiss him, but he liked her, so it was nice to think of her.
Except whenever he'd get closer and closer, blood rushing fast through him as his thoughts become beyond his control, it'd stop being Blue's soft hands he pictured stroking his length. Somehow, she'd turn into Gansey, slim and perfect and nude before him, helping him get there.
That was Adam's little secret. He couldn't come without the visual of Richard Gansey's face fluttering from his imagination.
Except it's far from an illusion now, hardly a dream. It's a hot palm and bright eyes peering up at him in the darkness. This is real. Gansey is touching him.
Adam wants control but he loses it, losing grasp of the whimper that escapes him. He tenses, unsure of whether to hold himself still or to buck. He wants it so much, to feel hands on him, to be touched, to be attended to in this way, but he's so afraid to show it. So afraid to give himself up like this, to Gansey of all people. Mostly because there isn't anyone he'd want to give it up to most. Not even Blue.]
Touch me. [He whispers with a breathy tone against Gansey's cheek.] Touch me as you. As no one else, just you.
[He means the real Gansey. Not the many facades and masks that the boy likes to put on depending on the company or the situation. The boy beneath all of that, the raw, naked Gansey.]
Show me. [Show me that I can mean something to someone. To you..]
[ The Adam now is such a different Adam from just hours ago, so full of anger and resentment and guilt, leaving Gansey feeling like he'd really fucked things up in a way that he might never be able to repair. It'd hurt like something burrowing itself into his chest and opening a hole from the inside, growing bigger with each horrible thing he and Adam said to each other.
Now, in the quiet of the middle of the night, cloaked in darkness and the slightest sliver of the moon outside of Monmouth's gigantic windows punched into the brickwork, they whisper promises to each other, laced with the taste of salt and skin.
Gansey captures Adam's mouth against his again while he strokes a thumb over the other boy's hardened length.
I'm here, he says. I'm here. It's me. Gansey. Just Gansey.
He kisses him fervently, pouring his whole heart into it - the fears, the anxieties, the excitement, the fascination with magic and old kings, with books, with all of the silly jokes they share, with hidden meanings behind seemingly casual fistbumps, with love.
Know me, he thinks. This is me.
He pulls his hand out from beneath the fabric, shifting in order to pull them both back up. Gansey crouches over the crumpled bed sheets on his knees, hands going back to the elastic of Adam's pants. He wants them off. ]
[And then Adam stops thinking. He can't, even if he wanted. Even if he wanted to let the gears shift and turn, calculating the rights and wrongs of his own actions, of how he needed to consider his next steps as to not fall into a hole he won't be able to get out of.
But in truth, he's already fallen. And it's down on this bed with Gansey with the boy keeps him occupied with a kiss, gentle and sweet but passionate all the same. Because it's done with the accompaniment of moving fingers, warm and inviting over several inches of yes, Gansey, please, Gansey. He tells his hips to stay put but they want to move. Gansey's fingers tightening him is what he craves, what he hungers for when he forgets every trace of anger and hate accumulated from the day. Please, Gansey.
He gasps when he receives the opposite. Fingers are pulled away and Adam swallows hard, trying to catch on to what plans are in motion when Gansey pushes him up and backwards.
Let me show you.
Toes curl against the blankets during the beat of silence once he hears that request. Heart beats a little faster and fabric scrapes over his hips as tugs down at the stretchy hem, pulled with his underwear until it slides down to his thighs and he's all bare and exposed for Gansey to see. There's nothing to hide now. Not the fragile boy he is, sensitive to touch after years of no physical senses of affection. Certainly not the lustful signs that Adam reacts so fast and easily to everything Gansey does to him. And not that quiet part of his soul that wants to be attended to, that wants to see that potential of being cared for like Gansey might just provide.]
[ For one brief moment, Gansey simply stays where he is, slightly in awe of Adam, partially in disbelief that this is really happening. He sees Adam, exposed and vulnerable and very ready, and Gansey's mouth goes a little dry. He's so beautiful, there's a slight ache in his chest somewhere. But he's here and he wants Gansey as much as Gansey wants him.
Slowly and with some care, Gansey crawls forward until he can reach out and touch him. He drags his fingers down the length of the other boy's torso, leaning in so his mouth can follow after, leaving a trail of kisses until he reaches the length of Adam, hard and throbbing. He's never done anything like this before but that kind of inexperience has never stopped him before.
He presses his lips against the crown, tongue flicking across while his fingers wrap gently around Adam's length. ]
Adam swallows hard, the self-named apple at his neck shifting as his throat dries. His fingers claw beneath his own shirt, tugging it up low at his chest, just enough to let Gansey touch, to watch Gansey. The boy in front of him moves so unpredictably because just this morning, they were friends. Just this afternoon, they were estranged. Now they're ... something. Lovers seems to be too strong a word, especially when there's no way to tell what could happen after tonight. But he can't think of that now. The future doesn't matter when all he can see is Gansey, sweet Gansey.
A kiss presses against the tip of him and his heart warms. He expects to despise it, the way Gansey is so fragile and gentle with him like he just might break, like he's just another one of his belongings to protect. But that's not it, and Adam knows it.
He is fragile. And he wants nothing more than to envelop himself in this boy's hands, lips, everything.]
Gansey, ah ... [He moans, a hand reaching out to pet the top of Gansey's hair, the soft locks slipping easily through his fingers. There's a twitch against the other boy's mouth, a need in the stiffness that wets lips with small beads of precome. Adam can't remember how to breathe, but he doesn't think he'll need to anytime soon.]
no subject
Clothing is starting to feel like a burden. Gansey's hands find the hem of Adam's worn out t-shirt, lifting it to run fingers tentatively up the length of his torso, roaming towards his back, pulling him down against him while their mouths meet again and again. His breathing becomes erratic with his wants, and everything else pulses like a song, calling for the other boy. ]
Adam.
[ He breathes the other boy's name out into an exhale against his skin like a mantra before his lips find skin again - his mouth, his jaw, his nose, his neck. It's strangely gentle, almost romantic. ]
Adam.
no subject
Suddenly his previous homesickness dissipates because Adam feels like he is home. Perhaps not physically, but the pulsing beat of his heart makes the claim in other ways. All from the whisper of a single name.
Don't say it like that. Don't tear me apart.
But he does. Hopelessly, with a wet gasp and clamped eye lids as Gansey kisses him from place to place, like this is the only time Adam can (wants to) offer himself.
Fingers over his torso become matchsticks, lighting the fire over his skin, the heat sinking through to his insides where he burns. It prompts the rougher shifts of his hips, no longer hesitant as it sinks hard between Gansey's legs. Let me feel you, he doesn't whisper but he sends the message nonetheless. Because Adam grows, harder and needier, and there's all too much certainty that Gansey will be able to feel it, calling out through layers of fabric.]
no subject
Gansey can feel Adam hardening against him, his need echoing his own. Gansey's mouth presses up against the skin of Adam's neck, right by his appropriately-named Adam's apple, leaving a slightly wet mark there, while his hands find another direction to explore, fumbling with the worn elastic of Adam's sweatpants.
Gansey shifts against Adam before one hand slides past the fabric, greeted by heat and Adam's desire, now a hard and tangible thing in his grip. ]
Tell me what you want me to do.
[ He whispers into Adam's ear, his words almost a plea.
What does Adam want, and how can Gansey give it to him? ]
no subject
It had been usually on the nights he'd come home from work in the late hours that he'd touch himself. He was always exhausted, desperately eager for sleep before needing to wake early for school the next month, but on rare nights that something ignited in him, he'd go in for a late shower, dampening himself before shutting the water off as to not raise the bill too high. Hands slick from the soap, he'd think of Blue. An impossibility almost that they'd ever get to such a point when she wouldn't even kiss him, but he liked her, so it was nice to think of her.
Except whenever he'd get closer and closer, blood rushing fast through him as his thoughts become beyond his control, it'd stop being Blue's soft hands he pictured stroking his length. Somehow, she'd turn into Gansey, slim and perfect and nude before him, helping him get there.
That was Adam's little secret. He couldn't come without the visual of Richard Gansey's face fluttering from his imagination.
Except it's far from an illusion now, hardly a dream. It's a hot palm and bright eyes peering up at him in the darkness. This is real. Gansey is touching him.
Adam wants control but he loses it, losing grasp of the whimper that escapes him. He tenses, unsure of whether to hold himself still or to buck. He wants it so much, to feel hands on him, to be touched, to be attended to in this way, but he's so afraid to show it. So afraid to give himself up like this, to Gansey of all people. Mostly because there isn't anyone he'd want to give it up to most. Not even Blue.]
Touch me. [He whispers with a breathy tone against Gansey's cheek.] Touch me as you. As no one else, just you.
[He means the real Gansey. Not the many facades and masks that the boy likes to put on depending on the company or the situation. The boy beneath all of that, the raw, naked Gansey.]
Show me. [Show me that I can mean something to someone. To you..]
no subject
Now, in the quiet of the middle of the night, cloaked in darkness and the slightest sliver of the moon outside of Monmouth's gigantic windows punched into the brickwork, they whisper promises to each other, laced with the taste of salt and skin.
Gansey captures Adam's mouth against his again while he strokes a thumb over the other boy's hardened length.
I'm here, he says. I'm here. It's me. Gansey. Just Gansey.
He kisses him fervently, pouring his whole heart into it - the fears, the anxieties, the excitement, the fascination with magic and old kings, with books, with all of the silly jokes they share, with hidden meanings behind seemingly casual fistbumps, with love.
Know me, he thinks. This is me.
He pulls his hand out from beneath the fabric, shifting in order to pull them both back up. Gansey crouches over the crumpled bed sheets on his knees, hands going back to the elastic of Adam's pants. He wants them off. ]
Let me show you.
no subject
But in truth, he's already fallen. And it's down on this bed with Gansey with the boy keeps him occupied with a kiss, gentle and sweet but passionate all the same. Because it's done with the accompaniment of moving fingers, warm and inviting over several inches of yes, Gansey, please, Gansey. He tells his hips to stay put but they want to move. Gansey's fingers tightening him is what he craves, what he hungers for when he forgets every trace of anger and hate accumulated from the day. Please, Gansey.
He gasps when he receives the opposite. Fingers are pulled away and Adam swallows hard, trying to catch on to what plans are in motion when Gansey pushes him up and backwards.
Let me show you.
Toes curl against the blankets during the beat of silence once he hears that request. Heart beats a little faster and fabric scrapes over his hips as tugs down at the stretchy hem, pulled with his underwear until it slides down to his thighs and he's all bare and exposed for Gansey to see. There's nothing to hide now. Not the fragile boy he is, sensitive to touch after years of no physical senses of affection. Certainly not the lustful signs that Adam reacts so fast and easily to everything Gansey does to him. And not that quiet part of his soul that wants to be attended to, that wants to see that potential of being cared for like Gansey might just provide.]
no subject
Slowly and with some care, Gansey crawls forward until he can reach out and touch him. He drags his fingers down the length of the other boy's torso, leaning in so his mouth can follow after, leaving a trail of kisses until he reaches the length of Adam, hard and throbbing. He's never done anything like this before but that kind of inexperience has never stopped him before.
He presses his lips against the crown, tongue flicking across while his fingers wrap gently around Adam's length. ]
no subject
Adam swallows hard, the self-named apple at his neck shifting as his throat dries. His fingers claw beneath his own shirt, tugging it up low at his chest, just enough to let Gansey touch, to watch Gansey. The boy in front of him moves so unpredictably because just this morning, they were friends. Just this afternoon, they were estranged. Now they're ... something. Lovers seems to be too strong a word, especially when there's no way to tell what could happen after tonight. But he can't think of that now. The future doesn't matter when all he can see is Gansey, sweet Gansey.
A kiss presses against the tip of him and his heart warms. He expects to despise it, the way Gansey is so fragile and gentle with him like he just might break, like he's just another one of his belongings to protect. But that's not it, and Adam knows it.
He is fragile. And he wants nothing more than to envelop himself in this boy's hands, lips, everything.]
Gansey, ah ... [He moans, a hand reaching out to pet the top of Gansey's hair, the soft locks slipping easily through his fingers. There's a twitch against the other boy's mouth, a need in the stiffness that wets lips with small beads of precome. Adam can't remember how to breathe, but he doesn't think he'll need to anytime soon.]