[ A flare of gay panic is immediately what follows. He's not a faggot. What the fuck is he doing? That hand in Ronan's pocket twists its way sharply out the moment Ronan is seeking more of that touch, baggy of coke forgotten in the surprise of where this has suddenly shifted to.
That little touch of Ronan's fingers sneaking up under his shirt, though - it's barely there, yet it's sharp and bright like fingernails being dragged across that very spot. If Ronan were a woman, Jesse wouldn't think twice about pushing his hand into those jeans, wouldn't think twice about leaning down and claiming that mouth. He'd be heady, dizzily aroused, eager to stoke the promise of coked-out sex.
What he'd give to feel warm hands on him. Anybody's hands. Anybody who wants him. A sudden heaviness starts to swell in the base of his balls at the thought of getting off. He could jerk off later to relieve tension but he feels alive and hedonistic now; and there's something... extremely hedonistic about making Ronan - this tough, impenetrable, magnificent, terrifying creature, who allows himself no pleasure - weak with desire. How human it makes him.
Jesse runs his tongue across his top lip while staring down at Ronan through the near blackness, then the hand he'd just yanked out of Ronan's pocket moves Ronan's waist. With tentative curiosity, that hand travels down, down, until it's sliding over the hard swell of Ronan's erection trapped beneath his jeans; an entirely alien sensation to Jesse, to be touching a man there. Knowing exactly what feels good, though, he's groping with a kneading squeeze that never fails to get himself hard whenever he's fondled himself like that. ]
no subject
That little touch of Ronan's fingers sneaking up under his shirt, though - it's barely there, yet it's sharp and bright like fingernails being dragged across that very spot. If Ronan were a woman, Jesse wouldn't think twice about pushing his hand into those jeans, wouldn't think twice about leaning down and claiming that mouth. He'd be heady, dizzily aroused, eager to stoke the promise of coked-out sex.
What he'd give to feel warm hands on him. Anybody's hands. Anybody who wants him. A sudden heaviness starts to swell in the base of his balls at the thought of getting off. He could jerk off later to relieve tension but he feels alive and hedonistic now; and there's something... extremely hedonistic about making Ronan - this tough, impenetrable, magnificent, terrifying creature, who allows himself no pleasure - weak with desire. How human it makes him.
Jesse runs his tongue across his top lip while staring down at Ronan through the near blackness, then the hand he'd just yanked out of Ronan's pocket moves Ronan's waist. With tentative curiosity, that hand travels down, down, until it's sliding over the hard swell of Ronan's erection trapped beneath his jeans; an entirely alien sensation to Jesse, to be touching a man there. Knowing exactly what feels good, though, he's groping with a kneading squeeze that never fails to get himself hard whenever he's fondled himself like that. ]