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"Leave it."
Ronan submitted to Kavinsky's imperious demand and adjusted the laptop before it slid from the sheets. Kavinsky dropped himself next to him then kicked his shoes.
"Told you not to get past the porch with those."
"I forgot. Who knew Ronan Lynch could use technology," he snorted. "Did I interrupt something ?"
In that case, it was probably too late to worry. He kept his eyes closed for a moment before glancing at the screen. If anything had been interrupted, Ronan had quickly gotten over it.
"It turns you on ?"
"Yeah," Ronan answered without elaborating.
The performers on screen were in the soft side of the spectrum. Ronan could have done without the visual support. He had given his imagination some rest.
"Fucking hell," Kavinsky muttered. "Almost makes me feel like I'm putting in too much effort."
A laugh rose in Ronan's chest. Kavinsky's presence was a neutral addition today.
"Either put your tongue to proper use or let me enjoy myself and shut up."
"I'm exhausted, man."
He rolled on his side and flung his arm across Ronan's stomach, unwilling to share his attention with oblivious nude actors.
"Quiet, K."
He buried his face in Ronan's neck, was back to watching the next moment.
"Kinky. Not that, obviously."
"Jesus Mary," Ronan sighed, getting frustrated. "You're such a little shit."
He pressed his left palm over Kavinsky's lips, single-handedly holding him. It was easier now that Kavinsky's deprecative comments weren't slowing him down. Kavinsky took advantage of the post-orgasm haze to wriggle free. Ronan let him take the laptop, laughing at his scandalized glare.
"Gonna watch some too ?"
"I don't even need my hands to beat it."
"Confident," Ronan mused. "I don't see how this is going away unless you plan on taking a cold shower."
He had wiped his hands already. Kavinsky pulled his zipper down.
"I don't perform for free."
Ronan lightly tapped his cheek.
"Unless it's for me."
His voice carried an order. Kavinsky complied, all disdain gone as Ronan forced his lips to part.
"I'll bite you," he challenged before the fingers were deep enough to impair his speech.
Ronan laughed, slowly pulling his tongue out. Kavinsky emitted a breathless groan. He was released a moment later.
"Asshole."
"Keeps turning you on."
It did. Kavinsky had started working on himself, slowly picking up speed.
"Ronan."
His voice end up against Ronan's palm from this point, half vibration, half sound. At the last moment, Ronan swatted his hand away and started pumping. Kavinsky hadn't expected the change. Even the smallest surprise was enough to get him to that no-return point.
"I'm fucking gone," he repeated.
"Sleep, then," Ronan evenly answered.
"I was going to, then you came up with this vanilla shit."
"It still got you off."
Kavinsky sniffled haughtily.
"I liked watching you, not this sorry excuse for porn."
"Put the laptop down before falling asleep."
"Too late."
Ronan flicked his forehead. "Come on."
Kavinsky sighed dramatically, sat up and—
"Don't drop it."
He groaned. "Go to hell."
Ronan pulled him at his side. Kavinsky decisively rested his head on his chest.
"Lead the way."