[ Whatever, Jesse's hand is already halfway into Ronan's pocket, anyway. God, he can't stop laughing, though. His stomach hurts from laughing. His cheeks hurt. His lungs hurt. It's the best kind of discomfort. He feels so alive, for once.
Hand plunging deeper into Ronan's pocket, his fingers snag the plastic of the little baggy - and as he's yanking his hand back out, it brushes against... oh. Hand trapped halfway in Ronan's pocket, Jesse goes suddenly still. He's panting from all the laughter, which is still bubbling out of him, even though he's just realised Ronan has an erection.
Jesse quickly pushes up from Ronan's chest. The fireworks have all long died out now; it's dark as hell, save for his flashlight over there casting a lone beam off into the blackness. Only a dim glow of light spreads peripherally to where he and Ronan are, and Jesse can only just make out his face.
What possesses him to experimentally trace his thumb with a subtle stroke of his thumbnail up along the hardness pressing through the material inside Ronan's jeans pocket, who the fuck knows. The coke, probably; the hedonism coke always brings out in him. Maybe misguided, crippling loneliness simmering underneath that. Whatever the reason, it just happens without thought. ]
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[ Whatever, Jesse's hand is already halfway into Ronan's pocket, anyway. God, he can't stop laughing, though. His stomach hurts from laughing. His cheeks hurt. His lungs hurt. It's the best kind of discomfort. He feels so alive, for once.
Hand plunging deeper into Ronan's pocket, his fingers snag the plastic of the little baggy - and as he's yanking his hand back out, it brushes against... oh. Hand trapped halfway in Ronan's pocket, Jesse goes suddenly still. He's panting from all the laughter, which is still bubbling out of him, even though he's just realised Ronan has an erection.
Jesse quickly pushes up from Ronan's chest. The fireworks have all long died out now; it's dark as hell, save for his flashlight over there casting a lone beam off into the blackness. Only a dim glow of light spreads peripherally to where he and Ronan are, and Jesse can only just make out his face.
What possesses him to experimentally trace his thumb with a subtle stroke of his thumbnail up along the hardness pressing through the material inside Ronan's jeans pocket, who the fuck knows. The coke, probably; the hedonism coke always brings out in him. Maybe misguided, crippling loneliness simmering underneath that. Whatever the reason, it just happens without thought. ]