[Once they've struggled out of their clothes, Ronan feels more exposed than he ever has in his life. A flush of shame colors his cheeks even though he asked for this. He has nothing to compare himself to except Andyr, and from where he's positioned, Andyr has the body of a god from antiquity, the kind meant to be preserved for eternity in museums. Ronan imagines he must look disappointing in contrast, too young and too long and too much like he doesn't know what to do with himself.
But Andyr adores him anyway, somehow, and Ronan is amazed by it. He begins to relax as Andyr's hands glide over his body, appreciating all the details Ronan might have thought mediocre. It makes him feel beautiful to the point of transcendence. He doesn't know how to respond to such worship.
Thankfully, Andyr is still guiding him. At his invitation, Ronan presses close and nuzzles nose-to-nose. The smile on his face is entirely un-Ronan-like, a sweet and shy thing that belongs to someone more innocent. Someone like Ronan used to be before his father's death.]
Andyr, this is...
[He doesn't know how to finish that sentence, so he breathes a soft laugh. Everything about this is good. If someone had asked him before how it would feel to strip down and lie in some tent with his bare body pressed against an older man, he would have been too embarrassed to even hold the thought in his mind. But somehow Andyr has made this experience comfortable. It's warm and sexy and reassuring somehow.
It's safe.
Instead of completing the thought, he catches Andyr's lips for another kiss. Slow and deep and loving.]
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But Andyr adores him anyway, somehow, and Ronan is amazed by it. He begins to relax as Andyr's hands glide over his body, appreciating all the details Ronan might have thought mediocre. It makes him feel beautiful to the point of transcendence. He doesn't know how to respond to such worship.
Thankfully, Andyr is still guiding him. At his invitation, Ronan presses close and nuzzles nose-to-nose. The smile on his face is entirely un-Ronan-like, a sweet and shy thing that belongs to someone more innocent. Someone like Ronan used to be before his father's death.]
Andyr, this is...
[He doesn't know how to finish that sentence, so he breathes a soft laugh. Everything about this is good. If someone had asked him before how it would feel to strip down and lie in some tent with his bare body pressed against an older man, he would have been too embarrassed to even hold the thought in his mind. But somehow Andyr has made this experience comfortable. It's warm and sexy and reassuring somehow.
It's safe.
Instead of completing the thought, he catches Andyr's lips for another kiss. Slow and deep and loving.]