It's a halting, stumbling, sweet thing. Frank bent low and kissed Ronan, kept his hand over his eyes. He sank into him until he was all the way in and then he lingered for a moment, holding him close. It was not intimate, specifically. It was vulgar.

He had Ronan all folded up, all bent and taking him, and he stood with his knees pressed to the edge of the cot they had. Their thighs touched. There was nowhere else for him to go. He rolled his hips to keep himself deep in Ronan and he groaned against him. If he could get any deeper, he would have tried.

He slid his hand off Ronan's eyes, over the top of his head. It took a moment to find Ronan's hands. He found them and pinned them to the mattress, held him down. When he started to move, it was slow, but it was rough. There was force. He fucked like he meant Ronan to feel it, like he meant it to last into his memory. He collected the boy's wrists together in one hand and traced the curve of his cheek, the slope of his chin, the bend of his lips.

He pressed his fingers against Ronan's mouth. "Suck."