A drag race in the middle of the night always called upon his hidden demons. Kavinsky’s veins dripped adrenaline and he had snorted enough cocaine to overdose three times over. It was his own brand of coke, you couldn’t overdose on it or have the side effects, just the bliss. The wakeful buzz was everlasting. It was a dreamt substance, it didn’t last long and you had to do more than necessary to keep the high going. If it had been real cocaine, he’d be foaming at the mouth and half dead right now.
A familiar engine roared next to him, his pinky flicked at his left nostril in an attempt to wipe off the evidence. Lynch pulled up, revving his BMW in response to K’s Evo. “Let’s play chicken, Lynch.” He sneered out the window, speaking over both the beast engines. His vehicle was also a dream, making noises like a dragon, buzzing to life like a neon demon. He could afford to play chicken, he had an endless supply of the same car to go through. All he had to do was dream it up.
One thing he could never dream up was Ronan Lynch’s smile paired with such raging eyes. (Not that he’d tried…yet.) They were seafoam green in the dark, the light from his BMW’s dashboard made them come more alive. He looked like Scar from the Lion King in the hyena scene. He was sure Ronan was more dangerous than a fictional villain could ever be. Ronan cut daggers into him with just a glance of his ocean eyes.
“Go.” Ronan yelled back, speeding off. Kavinsky followed, revving and shifting with pure muscle memory. His heart thundered with adrenaline. None of the drugs he dreamt would ever make him feel like Ronan did. He felt alive. Everything else was just a half assed imitation of the word. The night was an entity, breathing with every tick on Kavinsky’s speedometer. He could hear laughter in the shadows as he drifted in a circle after Lynch stopped his car. Kavinsky ran right into the BMW.
“Fuck you.” Lynch muttered, taking a peek over the driver’s side window to look at the damage. “Time and place?” Kavinsky sneered at him, getting out of his Evo, and draping himself halfway inside the BMW. Ronan’s eyes were on fire, an ice cold blue now. Ice could burn at a touch and Kavinsky was begging to be set on fire with it. Ronan pushed him out of the window but got out of his BMW instead of pulling off like he usually did. Their mouths quickly found each other and their hands reahced for any tangible limb the other could grasp. Kavinsky went straight for Ronan’s neck, wrapping his right hand against his nape. His left was placed flat against his chest.
They tasted blood between their tongues and Ronan pulled away, pushing Kavinsky back. He stared at him for a moment, wiping the crimson drip off of his lips. “Not everything has to become a fight between us, K.” He blinked at Ronan, confusion creeping into his belly like a wicked poison. Here was a Celtic god of war, trying to smile at him with red painted wolf’s teeth.
Kavinsky’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to comprehend what Ronan meant. “I’m not fighting.” This made the other boy lose his shit. “You drew blood from a kiss, that’s a fight.” Kavinsky grinned, “Maybe I have a blood kink.” Ronan rolled his eyes. “I knew that, but you don’t seem to know anything about being soft.”
Again Kavinsky was startled. Soft? What was the point of being soft if he wanted his dick hard? He had never had anything soft or gentle when it came to sex. All he knew was fists to the mouth and clutching sheets in painful bliss. It hadn’t always been willing, on his part, depending on who was the deliverer. That chapter had finally been closed in his life, buried six feet under the earth of his rose garden. Ronan was growing impatient with Kavinsky’s silence.
He grabbed K’s face, cupped between his palms, unexpectedly careful. Kavinsky was still sort of high and his drugs were making things move even slower than usual. The drug induced stupor was ended when Ronan’s soft kiss rendered Kavinsky completely useless. When Ronan broke the kiss, he leaned his forehead against K’s. They were breathing the same air in close quarters. It was one of the most intimate things K had ever done without violence.
Kavinsky tentatively touched Ronan, like an archeologist trying to uncover an ancient artifact. He tried for a gentle kiss again, unsure of how to move. His body was used to harsh and untamed. This new experience was exhilarating. He could feel his heart clench in anticipation as Ronan reciprocated his kiss. They kissed lazily, they kissed carefully. It was another side of Ronan that K hadn’t expected. It was a side of himself that he hadn’t been aware was there. They didn’t do anything other than kiss and for once, Kavinsky wasn’t unhappy about it.
When he went home at three in the morning, he cried. It was in that moment he knew he had fallen in love with Ronan Lynch.
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