deconstruct | v2 OPEN POST;

[Ronan's quietly grateful that Andyr agrees to guide him, because even this much - his hand closing around Andyr's cock, the steady pace Andyr sets - is new to him. He's barely touched himself like this, let alone someone else. Brow drawn in concentration, Ronan strokes Andyr's length with studious precision the first few times. But then he begins to understand the nuances, how a certain amount of pressure draws a certain sound out of Andyr, and the rhythm becomes more natural.]

Really?

[He can't pinpoint why exactly that surprises him. Andyr may be smaller than Ronan, but he's not small. He's thick and strong and powerful, every part of him chiseled and prepared for battle, and Ronan associates all of these things with domination. But then, he doesn't know very much about any of this.

His hand doesn't stop its work for a single moment. Every sound Andyr makes sends a wave of heat into his own cock.]

Do you like it? I mean, being on the bottom? Or is it just...

[He was going to say bad luck, but considering how much he wants Andyr inside him, it's hard to think of that position as bad luck at all.]

Just like that. [ Andyr's breathing out, sighing with the wave of stimulation and pleasure rolling through him. Ronan feels perfect against him, from the press of his chest to the hand pumping at him length, and Andyr's eyes blink closed now and again, lips parted as a shudder pulses through him. Once he seems to get the hang of that, varying pressure and speed, and seems to be comfortable with what he's doing, andyr strays a hand between them to return the gesture, palming between Ronan's legs, down low over his balls and dragging up over the shape of his cock, heel rubbing slow circles over the head of him. ]

Really. It was-- only twice. [ he's having to gasp it out, between ahs and groans. ] First time... I was 17, didn't know what the fuck I was doing. Second... Was a guy a lot older.

[ Alva, who's ten years his senior, who has two kids, who was some college fuck boy for a while, before the KN gene dismantled his life. But not only all of that - Alva's a lot of things to him, and caretaker somehow fits into all the roles he fills with Andyr, sex included, it seems.

As his finger try to curl around Ronan's length, as much as possible, at least, with the denim in the way, andyr kisses along Ronan's shoulders, continuing to rut up in his hand with encouragement. ]

It's good. Really good. [ meaning both Ronan's attentions, biting his lip between his teeth, as well as being on the receiving end of sex like this. It's... a lot, a little overwhelming, but an overwhelming andyr loves. Even still - ] On top looks pretty great too.

[ so if Ronan decides, at some point, he wants to try anyway, he has the choice of which way to go with it. ]

[Ronan's breath hitches when Andyr takes hold of him, a shiver of pleasure running through his body. His own hand forgets what it's doing for a moment, mind flooded with the awareness of Andyr's fingers massaging the most sensitive part of him. If it feels this good with jeans on, what the hell would it feel like if it was skin against skin? Should he even be allowing this?]

M-Maybe you'll get to try it someday.

[He shouldn't be promising that, but it's an honest desire. The whole prospect of sex is scary to Ronan. He couldn't submit to just anyone. Above all, it would have to be someone he loves. And nearly as important, it'd have to be someone he could trust not to hurt him.

Andyr would never hurt him.

Remembering that there's supposed to be some reciprocation here, Ronan's hand resumes stroking Andyr's length. This is getting more difficult, either because clothes are in the way or because he keeps bumping into Andyr's hand. Dully and with some delay, he realizes again that Andyr might be waiting for permission again:]

Should we... Should we take this shit off?

Maybe.

[ only that, with a small smile and a chaste kiss left just behind ronan's ear. if, some weeks or months later from now, ronan decides he wants to go that far, andyr won't tell him no - he's an adult, he's dying, and after all, andyr'd lost his even younger. sure, he'd felt something for the boy he'd slept with, but it wasn't love at the time, and a large motivator had been not wanting to die without experiencing it at least once. as huge of a hypocrite as he may be one many things, on this, at least, he'll be fair.

at the same time, he's hardly going to expect it from him, not nearly, nor is he expecting reciprocation in what they're doing now, only finding the fact ronan's distracted enough with andyr stroking him that his motor skills start to fail. it's adorable, it's hot as hell, it's everything he wants just in seeing ronan react. not that andyr's about to say no to having ronan's hands all over him, and when he asks if they should be stripping down more, andyr's flashing him a grin, lip caught between his teeth, with something of nervousness there again. yes, he's more experienced that ronan, but that isn't exactly hard, is it? ]

Yeah. If you want.

[ thankfully, it's more excited nervous, than anxious, and his fingers move to ronan's fly, popping the button open and tugging at the zipper, until he can push at the denim to shuffle the jeans from his hips, palms following as he slides them down over his thighs, pausing as that leaves the boxers alone, and mostly naked still feels like a big step from completely naked. andyr can see the stiff outline of his cock clear, and his hand returns to stroke at him, as he looks up to him with a question. ]

Everything?

[Ronan's fighting to keep his breathing steady, trying not to shake as much as his body wants to. His, too, is more excited energy than anxiety, but he's embarrassed to show it. His outbursts of emotion tend to violent, not vulnerable, and he prefers it that way. It's better to be scary than to be weak, better to be confident than completely undone. He knows Andyr isn't going to judge him, but he's judging himself.]

Everything.

[The desire to feel Andyr's hands on his bare skin is even stronger than his shame. This, he'll have to pray about later. Right now, with Andyr's hand manipulating him through the fabric of his boxers, no is not a word that exists, let alone the concept of maybe you should think about this for a second.

With clumsy hands, he begins to strip Andyr down, too. His fingers have a bit of trouble figuring out how pants work, but he gets it right after a few tries, and once that's done, he nudges and tugs Andyr's pants and boxers down an inch at a time. He's not looking at what he's doing, his eyes on Andyr's face in search of approval.]

[ they're similar in that as well, better to be feared than looked at as something to be taken advantage of. andyr's known the consequences of it, and has done all he can to ground out the pieces of him that would betray him. his life, the lot he found himself in, had no use for anything outside of that kind of violence, and the brutal slaughter that couldn't be seen as any kind of reasonable, or rational. if he'd have to worry about ronan being in that world he'll be heading back to, there'd likely be a problem, trying to choke all of that, all of this, back down. thankfully, he isn't, and he won't ever have to see. so, no, andyr won't judge ronan for coming undone, and in the same breath, he won't judge him for the want to hide that away just as well.

not that anything of the sort could even enter his head right now, with ronan's hand stripping him with such commitment, andyr's hips raising to let him slide the fabric down and off him, as andyr works at ronan's just the same. they maybe fumble a bit, and get in each other's way, but that hardly matters, just a soft laugh coming from him, before they're able to get each other completely bare. andyr can't keep his hands from him, can't stop from reaching out, to caress over the long lines on his body, from chest, over his side, his naked hip, and down his thigh. ronan's all lean muscle and power, yet elegant in a way andyr can't quite figure. ]

Come here.

[ there's a sort of reverence in his voice, as he pulls at him, tugging ronan to his chest, to lay flush and bare against him, as his hands explore his back, from shoulders, down his spine, over the curve of his ass, and back up again. he wants to touch ever inch of him, exploring his arms all over again, the slender column of his neck. they're slotted together so, so close, and it's something entirely new to feel his length up against his skin, hard and warm and pressed close to his own, andyr's hips lifting to press up against him again, as he finds ronan's lips and kisses him with a kind of adoration he can feel shaking in him. he hadn't been expecting this to happen between them, not nearly, but god, he's so fucking glad it has, right now. andyr bumps his nose against his friend's, touching this foreheads together again, and whispers quiet, in the kind of voice you'd use when whispering secrets under a blanket. ] Hey, you.

[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.]

[ to andyr, ronan's body is gorgeous, perfectly suited to him, and appealing in all the best ways. there's so much that's admirable about him, and andyr doesn't think the boy realizes it at all, but god, he wants to show him how much he does. andyr can't help reflecting that smile back, feeling like someone much younger, and much more innocent, than he is now, as well. before the houses, before he rewrote himself. back when all of this was completely new. it is for ronan, and knowing that is pushing andyr back to that place in his mind.

a hand at his cheek traces over the lines of his features, thumb passing over his lips and the sweet, shy little smile there. seeing something that looks so new and so private on him, andyr grins back, wide and happy, feeling so full of contentment he could burst with it. ]

Look at you. [ andyr whispers, pressing short, sweet kisses to him, with a laugh in the back of his throat, trailing from the corner of his lips, across his cheek, and back. his legs stretch out, moving to tangle up in ronan's again, tugging all of his body tight to his, trying to embrace him all over with a tight squeeze. andyr's head is floating in such stupid, mindless bliss, and god, he loves it. ] Feel good?

[ that's the important part here. he wants ronan comfortable, he wants this enjoyable, he wants it to be just simply that, and no expectation or pressure for more. whatever feels good, whatever's needed.

if all he wanted to do for the next however long they're stuck in this place together, andyr thinks he'd be perfectly satisfied with it. of course, the two of them are still urgently hard against each other, cradled in the meeting curves of their hips, but andyr isn't rushing to get that tended to as of yet. they'll get there. ]

[This experience is in a category of its own. Ronan's never felt such a combination of raw sexuality and innocent affection. Previous to this, he would have said the feelings were incompatible. Sexuality by its nature was dark and mysterious and dangerous. But here in Andyr's arms, being showered with sweet words and sweet kisses, vulnerability doesn't feel like something threatening.

He could get used to this.

A purr escapes Ronan's throat as Andyr draws him close. He stretches and drapes his arms luxuriously over Andyr's shoulders, his own tattooed shoulders like volant wings.]

Feels incredible.

[Especially the place where their hips meet, radiating warmth. There's no rush, no, but Ronan is rock-hard and keenly aware of Andyr's cock against his, leaving his nerves vibrating with desire. His mouth drops to Andyr's collarbone, pressing hot, moist kisses to the hollow of his throat as his body slides against Andyr's, grinding their hips now without anything to get in the way.]

[ it's maybe unusual with andyr that he feels no interest in simple raw sexuality most of the time - if there's nothing of affection and intimacy and something of a deeper level of connection to it, even with how good just getting off feels, andyr can't fit the unease that builds in him. With Ronan, anything of that sort feels worlds away, and this closeness with him only magnifies the sensations sparking through his body tenfold. He starts to move, sliding thier hips together, and dragging his length along Andyr's in the most perfect friction, and Andyr thinks he sees stars.

His head falling back, his jaw dropping, the moan that comes out of him is deep, low, and utterly wanton. Andyr's hands clutch at Ronan's shoulders, at his arms framing his head, and he moves with him, something that feel instinctive and natural, moving with the throes of his pleasure to bring them both into something mind blowing and wonderful. ]

Fuck, fuck, fuck. [ a profane litany, babbled out as he grips at the strong muscle working in Ronan's back, hands sliding lower, to grip his hips and pull at him in the base rhythm they set. Not only for the heat building up on their skin, but spikes of pleasure and bursts of intensity that have his cock leaping, dripping precome, slick the way, everything sliding easy and amazing. Moving from his hips, andyr cups Ronan's ass, pulling him closer and into him as they grind against each other.

Eventually, it drives him mad enough that they're rolling again, Ronan laid out on his back and andyr taking his place between his thighs once more, tugging them up to wrap around his waist. Reaching between them, he takes both of them in hand, stroking as he slides against Ronan, wet skin to wet skin, and buries his face into his friend's shoulder, voice coming out in strained ahs and shuddering moans. ]

[The moans coming out of Andyr are almost as hot as the physical sensations. Ronan can hardly believe he's capable of this, drawing such a sound out of him with something as simple as a thrust of his hips. Someday - Someday he'll make love to Adam, and Adam will moan like that for him. The thought fills him with a longing he can hardly bear, and he presses closer to Andyr, bringing himself to the here-and-now. He may not have Adam, but he's not alone.

And everything Andyr's hands start doing is more than enough of a distraction from heartsickness. Andyr's doing a better job of keeping the rhythm than Ronan's capable, every thrust rocking him with a tremble of white-hot pleasure. As the space between their bodies gets wetter, sliding his cock against Andyr's becomes easier. He can feel Andyr pulsing against him. Nothing in the world has ever felt so good.

Suddenly he's on his back again, his heart leaping with a thrill as Andyr gets on top of him, and his thighs squeeze obediently at Andyr's hips. Andyr could probably do anything to his body in this moment and Ronan would happily let him.

What Andyr does next draws an unholy sound out of Ronan. If it was incredible before, it's a hundred times more so now that Andyr has the both of them in hand. Ronan's legs quake with every slick pump of Andyr's hand, and he doesn't recognize his own voice as he whimpers and cries out. He feels like he's going to die here, as if his body can't possibly handle a pleasure this intense.

He wants it to last forever.

It doesn't. With a jerking shudder and a tortured moan stifled against Andyr's skin, Ronan comes. Wet warmth shoots across his belly and chest, instantly slicking the both of them, and his thighs tighten and trap Andyr against him.]

[ it's hardly any surprise when ronan comes fairly easily, and honestly, it's probably wonder he hadn't already with all he's been repressing, and all he isn't used to as of yet. andyr holds his head cradled into his shoulder, as rides out the waves of orgasm, every jerk and shudder against him further pushing andyr over the edge and closer to climax. it's insane, what simply hearing and feeling ronan coming apart, the hot, wet slick, the strangled moan that shakes out of him, does to andyr.

their bodies are hugged tight together, ronan's thighs holding him close and andyr completely unwilling to break that hold, only just enough to keep rocking against him, as his hand strokes with an urgency, mind a hazy cacophony of bounding pleasure and overwhelming, mounting stimulation that's making him dizzy. slick with ronan's spend hot on his fingers still, the entire picture of it is driving him mad - ronan, their bodies grinding together, the moan lost against his skin, andyr's own desperate groans and choked whimpers in want of building release, ronan and all that he is, how amazing he feels and how fucking beautiful he is, and oh god--

with a strained cry, andyr follows not long after him, with his face tucked against ronan's cheek as he comes, chest heaving and body trembling with the force of it, making more of a mess between them. andyr's arms grip tight around ronan's frame, pulling him so close, as if skin to skin just isn't enough for what he's feeling in want of him. but lord, his head is spinning in the best way, and his body feels like it's glowing.

the aftershocks of it leave him feeling too, too sensitive all over, and blissfully drained, as the two of them come down from the high of orgasm. for a long while, andyr isn't willing to move from where they're pressed together, all clinging limbs and panting breathing. his muscles feel like jello, and andyr's lips kiss languid and lazy against the side of ronan's face, sweat slicked on each of them, and bodies worn with use. maybe ronan will regret this in a couple hours, but andyr's certain he never will. selfish as that may be.

eventually, when he does get around to speaking up, andyr's voice is low and rough, as if just waking up from a nap, but there's a lopsided smile on his lips, so very, very fond. ] Pack any towels? [ h a . ]

[Everything immediately following his orgasm feels like a dream. He's swept up in the movement of Andyr's body as if being tossed by the ocean, his limbs losing strength and relaxing into the riot of it. Andyr hits his peak and a fresh wave of heat spills over onto Ronan. He would have expected it to be humiliating, his skin coated in someone else's seed, and instead he feels loved. Only loved. Especially with Andyr gasping in ecstasy against his cheek. Ronan presses hot kisses to Andyr's shoulder until he's finally spent, then turns a giddy smile skyward. He's absolutely drunk on their combined pleasure.

Ronan's thighs finally release Andyr's hips, legs tangling as the both of them go limp. He nuzzles into Andyr's kisses and returns them with dragging sloppiness while he catches his breath. Regret is far from his mind in this moment. This was something he wasn't supposed to do, that much is certain, but it was born out of honesty. When he prays later, it will be for Adam's forgiveness. For giving away something that belonged to Adam, and for doing it because he'd lost hope for their reunion. But Ronan's feelings for Andyr are true, so while he might experience guilt over the expression of them, he can't possibly regret it.

This was good. For him. For both of them.

When Andyr speaks again, Ronan laughs and hugs him around the neck.]

No, sorry. We're glued together forever.

[ A burst of snickering is let out against Ronan's jaw, completely unconcerned about the mess between them, feeling nothing but utterly satisfied and warmed with what love they've born between them - friendship and something a bit more. he isn't sure what the definition ought to be, nor does andyr particularly care. ronan is ronan, and that's enough covers all of it for him. ]

I think I'm okay with that. You think you can dream up some conjoined twin pants for us?

[ Grinning like a dork, he leaves another couple kisses against Ronan's shoulders, and strokes down his sides, over his hips and thighs, and back up, before tucking his arms to wrap behind ronan's shoulder blades, hugging at him tight. in a little while he'll grab something to clean them up, but for the moment, he just wants to bask in the afterglow of it. hold ronan tight to him and breathe all of this in.

except, his ass (and ports) are going to start getting cold soon, so an arm reaches out to yank at one of the stray blankets, and andyr tugs it up to drape over the both of them, before tucking his arm back around ronan and snuggling in. andyr nuzzles against his neck, just under his jaw, affection flooding through him that he feels so compelled to shower ronan with. ]

Thank you. [ he murmurs, quiet, against his cheek. not sure what all he means, but it's definitely more than just the intimacy. ]

[Ronan laughs at the idea of conjoined twin pants, and he files it away as a potential gag gift sometime in the future, when Andyr least expects it. For now, there's no way he's going to dream. He's too wrapped up in the present, too happy to remain filthy and trapped beneath Andyr's body. It only gets more comfortable with the blanket around them, and Ronan settles in with Andyr cradled against him. Reality is so much better than what waits for him in sleep.

Andyr's gratitude takes him by surprise. He glances down, unsure of what he's meant to say. It's not like he did Andyr a favor. Ronan can only answer jokingly:]

You did most of the work.

[His fingers weave through Andyr's hair, and he presses a kiss to Andyr's forehead. Really, though, Ronan thinks he's done nothing praiseworthy. He merely took what he wanted. A selfish act, if anything.]

Edited 2016-12-11 14:19 (UTC)

[ ronan had been exactly what andyr needed, exactly when he needed it - a friend, a confidant, a bright soul to connect to and bury himself in. care and love and kindness all rolled up into one body. a friend. andyr would say he'd been just as selfish in wanting this, and taking it, but they'd both been careful with each other, hadn't they? regardless, that's a deeper talk than andyr could ever get out of himself, so he only laughs instead, nuzzling against ronan's neck fondly. ]

Fine, so I guess if we do this again, it'll be your turn to roll my fat ass around while I just soak it all up, huh?

[ which is a lie - andyr's far too busy bodied and energetic to just lay back and absorb someone else's attentions. regardless of if ronan had been more experienced or confident or not, he'd likely have acted just the same. it's just a bad habit of his to aggressively take control of things.

but in this, everything's already done, and there's nothing else to look to manage but lounging around and enjoying the warmth between them, indulging in the worn, tingly feeling all through his limbs, and the fluttering happiness that comes with each touch ronan gives him - the hands in his hair, the lips to his forehead. he feels absolutely pampered, here, and there's no will in him to give it up quickly. ]

Psh, fat ass...

[The idea is highly appealing, though. He'd been too timid to give Andyr as much attention as he deserved, but if - no, when, honestly - they do this again, Ronan intends to make it something far more enjoyable for Andyr. There's so much he wants to try, so much to explore about Andyr's body.

He finds the chain of Andyr's dogtags, twisting it idly around his fingers in the same way he tends to play with his bracelets. When he realizes what he's doing, he lifts the dogtags themselves to examine them. He'd assumed they were Andyr's, and when he sees they're not, he sets them down again without asking.]

I know. Gotta get back to working out, huh?

[ which is a joke, he knows he's built as hell. he's made a point to be, and already squawked indignantly at steve rogers for suggesting otherwise some months ago. feeling the tug at the chain dangling from his neck, andyr glances down at Ronan's hands, and the plates he pulls up to his eyes. they read "PRINCE, STEFAN", a blood type, a number, and nondenominational. ronan doesn't have to ask, andyr supplies it regardless. ]

My dad's. He was a spec ops officer, before Mom passed. Retired to take care of me and my sister. [ which is where all of andyr's combat know how and lethality comes from - Stefan Prince had made certain to prepare his son for the cruelties of the world. As much as he could, at least. Andyr's eyes drift from the tags to Ronan's hands, then to his wrists, with the worn leather wraps there, looking like they've been gnawed at and ripped up over the years. Not wanting to move his arms from where they're curled around Ronan's smaller frame, he dips his head forward, biting at the edge of one strap and giving it a light tug - a question in the motion, that could also be ignored if ronan preferred not to answer. ]

[It's difficult to imagine that Andyr ever had a family, given the pieces he knows of Andyr's history. It means too much went wrong, and too much got torn apart, and it's even more painful than imagining that Andyr was created in a lab somewhere. Ronan hums softly in response, and then the attention's turned to his wrist.

This, too, is difficult.]

It's nothing.

[Or maybe it is. It feels foolish to talk about. All he can remember is waking up in the hospital and having to try to explain it to Gansey, to the doctors, to the psychiatrists.]

My dad was murdered. I found the body. A few weeks after that, I tried to kill myself.

[Not the way most people assumed, but the end result was the same. He's realized now what it all meant, the self-loathing that manifested through his nightmares. How harmless they became once he stopped longing for death, in the months before the demon corrupted him again.]

My wrists were wrapped up for a while, so I started wearing the leather over them and just... kept wearing them after I got better. I guess I just like playing with them.

[ Andyr's listening quietly, realization of it all dawning on him, and it's something achingly familiar to him. pulling a hand up, andyr's palm wraps over the bracelets at one of ronan's wrists, thumb caressing over the skin underneath, at his wrist, and for a long moment he's silent. When he starts to speak, it's quiet, soft, something only the two of them would hear, pressed this close together. ]

My dad and me, we went to get my twin sister from Hapsburg. We found her, but... she shot him. Point blank. Turned me in to the labs.

[ Staring at his still body on the cold tile of the House, and back to Jehanne's blank, emotionless expression, it had felt like a nightmare. all the way, dragged through the halls, kicking and screaming, until they'd stripped him down and strapped him to the lab table, he'd been praying to just wake up. by the time the next hour had eclipsed, he'd already lost hope. ]

Spent about a month in there before I got my cell, and after that they... did stuff. [ His voice croaks at the end of the sentence, and there's an involuntary shake that goes through him, despite all andyr tries to hold down. if he'd thought andyr was some kind of fearless before, he hasn't seen this. just trying to assign words to it, just letting the memory of it sift up from the dark corners of his mind he shoves it all too, is a physical terror that creaks through him. in the end, he hides from it, doesn't explain. only swallows back against the ache in his throat, and skips to the point. ]

Two months in, I tried to hang myself. Almost managed it, but there's cameras everywhere. Guards got in and stopped me. [ for the last six years, he's wanted to die, that's the secret he doesn't tell any of the others. they won't let him. he knows the agony in that - of wanting so just lay down and be done with it, but not being allowed. he knows what urges that leaves lingering, and he wants ronan to know he isn't alone in it. ]

You still want to, sometimes?

[There aren't words to ease a memory like that. Ronan knows. Plenty of people tried, after his father's murder. They showered him with all kinds of sad words, pitying words, reassuring words. Hopes and promises for a better tomorrow. Bullshit and bullshit and bullshit. Sometimes things are just horrible. Sometimes they stay horrible forever.

Of course, Ronan can only do slightly better when he puts his I'm sorry into a kiss against Andyr's temple. It's still inadequate. It's too late to save Andyr from his life, so in the end, Ronan is as useless as anyone else.

He doesn't have an immediate answer to Andyr's question.]

I used to think his death was my fault. Dad could have saved himself if he'd given me up. It would've been easy. I thought it must have been evil, the secret he was protecting. Whatever he was, whatever I am... If evil people wanted us so badly, I figured we must be evil things. That meant the world was better without me in it.

[Ronan's voice doesn't shake. It's soft and contemplative, marveling at how he seems to have come full circle. After all, he does carry something truly evil inside him now.]

I didn't understand my real responsibility back then. I thought it was just my life on the line. But it's not. If I die, everyone I've created goes with me. So it doesn't matter what I think about myself. I have to protect those lives. As long as I can, at least.

[ things that scar you that deep never leave - that's what andyr knows. that's what being on the moira has taught him. maybe it's in the past, maybe you're far removed from it, but it's still in your head, on constant replay. all the worse for ronan, whose mind is so much more vivid and real than andyr's. no, there aren't words to make it better, or to erase it.

but ronan's hardly useless to him - no, he can't fix what's happened, but he's giving him reprieve now. He's put a bright, soothing light into and otherwise dim and violent life, and it's a memory that'll keep andyr warm and strong for years to come, he thinks. Just knowing he had Ronan once. That this beautiful, gift of a boy cared for him and loved him, once. Somewhere in the multiverse, he'll know this was true, and feel a little less alone, and a little less empty. Just that small piece of something could be enough to save him, some days.

what ronan tells him about his reality, about what paths his mind has taken and where he's left now - not particularly wanting one thing or the other, but knowing an obligation, is a sad truth, that Andyr can understand all the same. lifting his head, Andyr's hands caress over Ronan's cheeks again, pushing back over his hair, and repeating the motion, as he kisses his forehead, and then over his eyelids, and finally, his lips. ]

You're good, Ronan Lynch. [ he tells him quietly, holding him like something sacred and precious. ] You're noble, and kind, and caring, and brave. You're a nurturing creator, and a devoted protector, and no matter what's coming for you, or what you might fail to do, you will always be good.

[ Their foreheads press together, and Andyr aches to be able to do something for him, even knowing he can't. it's a fight he doesn't have the power to butt into, but so fucking help him, he'll be here to hold onto him and remind him that he's loved, and that he's done right, to the bitter end of it. He kisses all over his face - his cheeks, his temple, his lips - murmuring to him in a too honest whisper. ] You're good, you're good, you're good, and I'm so goddamn proud of you.

v2 OPEN POST;

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