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Adam had watched Ronan fight enough times to know what his hands were capable of. He’d watched Ronan throw punches like baseballs and fight like it was the only think that kept him alive – only to come away with his knuckles bloody and raw. But Ronan’s hands weren’t designed for violence. The rest of him might have been, but not his hands. They were designed for creation, for building. Adam had seen hands that were meant for violence – designed to destroy everything they came into contact with – but they were not Ronan’s.
At first meeting, Adam thought that Ronan could never be gentle. He was tough and jagged – the kind of guy who would punch you in the face for looking at him wrong – there was no way he could be kind. It had been an incorrect assumption, Adam realized when he saw Ronan’s hands delicately cradling a baby bird. Tenderness was a language that Adam didn’t realize Ronan knew.
It was strange, getting to know Ronan Lynch. He was more than the angry, aggressive boy that Adam had first met. He could still be vicious, he could still be harsh, but it didn’t seem to be his default state anymore. Adam could tell when Ronan was nervous – which, to be fair, was usually when it was just the two of them – and now he knew what Ronan’s lips tasted like and how it felt when Ronan held his hand – delicately, the same way he held Chainsaw.
And now, sitting next to Adam in his apartment with the setting sun shining faintly into the window, Ronan looked like a god. The light hit his face at all the right angles, making his jaw look more defined, his cheekbones sharper. Adam could practically feel nerves coming off of Ronan in waves and, in a way, it was endearing.
They’d talked about this beforehand – they both knew what was going to happen – but when it became obvious that Ronan wasn’t going to make the first move, Adam leaned down and pressed their lips together. It was hesitant, soft, and Adam couldn’t help the slight smile that formed on his face when Ronan’s hand came up to rest on his jaw, Ronan’s calloused thumb brushing his cheek tentatively.
“You’re still okay with this, right?” Adam asked, hoping to diffuse some of the tension that he could feel hovering beneath Ronan’s skin. He chewed on his bottom lip as he waited for Ronan to answer, his blue eyes meeting Ronan’s dark ones timidly.
“Hell yeah,” Ronan replied, a grin spreading across his face and Adam felt any residual worry draining out of him.
Neither had done this before, which was how Adam had wanted it. He was glad that Ronan wasn’t way more experienced than he was. This way there were no expectations – it was all tentative kisses and hesitant touches, flushed cheeks and whispered reassurances.
All of the nervousness that Ronan had showed before they started evaporated quickly and it didn’t take long for him to surrender control completely, which was something Adam hadn’t been counting on. He didn’t mind, though, especially not when he was pressed up against Ronan – skin against skin. He was wrapped up in Ronan and it was intoxicating, better than Adam had thought it’d be.
Afterwards, as they lay on Adam’s twin-sized bed with Ronan’s chest pressed against Adam’s back and Ronan nosing at the delicate hair at the nape of Adam’s neck, he murmured, “That was nothing to be nervous about, was it?”
“Who was nervous?” Ronan asked and Adam could feel the lips pressed to the back of his neck curl up into a smile.
Adam laughed but didn’t say anything more. He let his eyes drift shut, focusing on Ronan’s breath on his neck and Ronan’s steady heartbeat against his back. Once again, Adam was surprised by Ronan’s tenderness – although he really shouldn’t be anymore. He pulled Ronan’s arms tighter around him and pressed further into him, allowing himself to fall.