Ronan has escaped new scars here so far, but he hasn't escaped sins. The only real indication of this is the creeping lines of his tattoo spreading from his back up over his shoulders, as if they might send spiking vines down his front. That, and down on his hip, there's a paw print tattooed there, thanks to Kavinsky and their shared dream.

Ronan watches everything Frank does with his keen gaze, unblinking for a long time, breath sped up, pulse racing. Frank's nails leave behind faint red marks that fade immediately - for now.

He has to bite down to suppress the sound that threatens to burst out of him at Frank's mouth on him. He's already hard and wanting, impatience painted in the way he holds himself. The effect of the drink continues, driving him to want to somehow please Frank instead of give him a hard time or rail against him.

He nods. "Yes, sir," he says, softly and without his normal barbs of pretence.