Ronan's eyes briefly close as Frank's slick hand brushes over him, teasing, not giving him enough just yet.

He pushes with his hands, making Frank's movement easier, going along with him. Not that Frank really needs the help; Ronan's tall, but he's all lean edges, and Frank is stronger than he is. It probably wouldn't take him too much to move Ronan around even if Ronan was resisting.

His breath comes in pants, open-mouthed and wanting. He watches Frank, though he can't see everything from this angle. He's pliant, but there's still that steel core in him, waiting under every inch of him, taut but not resistant.

He falters for a second at Frank's request. He doesn't say shit like this. He says absolutely the worst things, constantly, without remorse. Why this is different in his head is anyone's guess. He just falls into fumbling about with people, not like this at all, not articulating it too much.

But it's not like he's shy. Hesitant and hung up on his own stupid issues, sure, but not shy.

So after a few moments of Frank teasing him, he finally says, "Fuck me. I want you to fuck me." It's almost a demand, but not quite; he's still a bit deferential thanks to the drink, but he's not ever without his thorns.