[ That hand travelling up his back feels like liquid fire on his skin. Everything is heightened, most especially the warm, solid touch of a hand softly roaming across his skin like that. Jesse melts right into it. Between the enthralling thrill of watching the piece of ship debris explode in a rainbow of fireworks, the cocaine humming through his veins, and now this, Jesse feels a million miles away from any bad thought, memory, feeling. Somewhere deep down, there's a sick sense of guilt that he's corrupting Ronan for his own selfish means, that he's excited by how small and helpless this imposing, frightful, mystifying boy is.
That guilt dissolves into the background as Ronan's fingers trail their ticklish way up his ribs, and Jesse exhales a small, shuddering breath against Ronan's ear at the toying tug at his nipple. Even if Ronan hadn't told him that he was a Catholic boy with strict rules about touching himself, disgusted at the thought of touching himself, Jesse can easily tell how inexperienced Ronan is in the fumble of his trembling hands, in his nervousness. Jesse rocks his hips into that touch between his legs, pressing his burgeoning cock into Ronan's palm. Taking his hand away from Ronan's crotch, Jesse presses that hand up against Ronan's, urging him to grope him, touch him, to not be afraid of pleasure.
Holding Ronan's hand firm to his crotch, Jesse rocks into his palm with a slow, luxurious grind. Like sex comes completely naturally to him, like it's something he doesn't fear at all. Even if this is a guy that he's with. He's not letting himself think about that. Somehow, Ronan being utterly, hopelessly virginal about this, with those soft little whimpers of his and his eager, experimental touch, makes it far easier for Jesse to just go with it. ]
Don't be afraid. [ Again, murmured into Ronan's ear, low and deep. ] Just do whatever feels good. [ Another grind of his cock into Ronan's hand while still holding it there for him, showing him. And then, because Jesse most certainly wants to snort another hit: ] Want another bump?
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That guilt dissolves into the background as Ronan's fingers trail their ticklish way up his ribs, and Jesse exhales a small, shuddering breath against Ronan's ear at the toying tug at his nipple. Even if Ronan hadn't told him that he was a Catholic boy with strict rules about touching himself, disgusted at the thought of touching himself, Jesse can easily tell how inexperienced Ronan is in the fumble of his trembling hands, in his nervousness. Jesse rocks his hips into that touch between his legs, pressing his burgeoning cock into Ronan's palm. Taking his hand away from Ronan's crotch, Jesse presses that hand up against Ronan's, urging him to grope him, touch him, to not be afraid of pleasure.
Holding Ronan's hand firm to his crotch, Jesse rocks into his palm with a slow, luxurious grind. Like sex comes completely naturally to him, like it's something he doesn't fear at all. Even if this is a guy that he's with. He's not letting himself think about that. Somehow, Ronan being utterly, hopelessly virginal about this, with those soft little whimpers of his and his eager, experimental touch, makes it far easier for Jesse to just go with it. ]
Don't be afraid. [ Again, murmured into Ronan's ear, low and deep. ] Just do whatever feels good. [ Another grind of his cock into Ronan's hand while still holding it there for him, showing him. And then, because Jesse most certainly wants to snort another hit: ] Want another bump?