[The thing about being touch-starved due to an abusive father and a negligent mother is that any simple act of contact feels unGodly intimate. So when Ronan’s warm stomach meets Adam’s icy fingertips, he suppresses a shiver could take over his entire body if left unchecked.]

I like the sound of fire. [His voice comes out weak, slightly hoarse, and he damns that skin under his fingers. It’s all Ronan’s fault. His presence has such an effect on Adam. Stronger than Blue Sargent’s effect on him months ago— his connection to Ronan is bigger than himself.

His fingers move against Ronan’s skin, index moving in small circles, and he moves down, fingers curling into the waistline of Ronan’s pants. He maneuvers himself around Ronan, tugs on that denim.] You can explain what kind of trouble your unconscious got us into while I rummage through your empty cabinets.

[ Us not you, because they’re a unit. Ronan’s hardships can easily be Adam’s, and Adam hopes that he feels the same.

He opens the screen door and presses inside, tugging on Ronan again to get him to follow. His feet carry him through the now-familiar home and to the kitchen, where his hold on Ronan finally relinquishes in favor of opening the fridge.]

Let’s hear it.