Gabriel's knees are always (skinned) wrote in rooms,
Re: Ben S/Ronan X
[Those eyes, that stare, he could feel it burning against the side of his face as he waged a silent battle against the urge to meet it. Nope, turning his head to succumb to the draw of those blues eyes (not to disregard the warm little fleck of brown that sat atop one iris), that would be a failure - a checkmark in Ben's column of the game that they were playing. It was a game where they both won, and still it felt stupidly important to Ronan that he should score a point; those checks came in the form of Ben's growls, and his far-between curses, and every little moment where his infuriatingly perfect control was cracked just enough to make him do something like reaching down to palm Ronan's half-hard dick through his jeans.
And okay, maybe that was a point in his favour, but who bloody cared? All that mattered was Ben's mouth sliding against his own in sweet, slippery perfection and the press of a wide hand over his zipper, and the tortured sound that escaped his mouth because he wanted so goddamned much, too.
He saw through the mirror image of Ben's perception that people were passing by the car on the sidewalk, and he gave exactly zero shits about it, and then he accidentally bit down on Ben's bottom lip maybe a little harder than he meant to but that wasn't his fault that his boyfriend's knuckles had brushed against his balls, was it? Another whimper came, maybe in the form of a filthy word, but it was muffled against the press of soft, sweet lips.]