[Kavinsky can't help the way that he inhales sharp and shallow when Ronan says okay- his expression briefly something strangely fragile. As if he's been gifted something precious, something that he doesn't quite know if he deserves, his expression briefly touched. But then it melts into his usual easy confidence, that easy smirk curving his mouth, and he hums softly as he considers where they could go... As if he hasn't already done the mental alchemy of the best places on this train to have sex a half dozen times (he has).
It didn't take him long to work out that just making do with their personal quarters and hoping that the revered doorsock was a language that transcended interdimensional lingo was likely to end poorly. The quiet rooms would be ideal, save for the glass doors- although he could probably dream them a portable privacy curtain, in hopes of there being a next time. But for now he steps back and tugs lightly on his hand.]
C'mon. You're all sweaty anyway, oughta get you cleaned up after your workout.
[The showers were personal at least. And while they might not be soundproofed, the sound of the water should be enough to drown out anything too obscene. And really, as long as no one could see anything, it ought to be okay. He hoped. He knew Ronan well enough to know that the other boy was a little bit more prickly about this sort of thing than he was.
He sort of felt like he was dreaming. Like he was going to blink his eyes and this was all going to fall apart, but fuck he wanted it. He wanted him. And he might be greedy, but he meant what he said, too. He did want to get Ronan out of the way he was spiraling in his own head, wanted to make him feel good. He wanted to give him.. something. He didn't think that himself was good enough, but he wanted it to be.]
no subject
It didn't take him long to work out that just making do with their personal quarters and hoping that the revered doorsock was a language that transcended interdimensional lingo was likely to end poorly. The quiet rooms would be ideal, save for the glass doors- although he could probably dream them a portable privacy curtain, in hopes of there being a next time. But for now he steps back and tugs lightly on his hand.]
C'mon. You're all sweaty anyway, oughta get you cleaned up after your workout.
[The showers were personal at least. And while they might not be soundproofed, the sound of the water should be enough to drown out anything too obscene. And really, as long as no one could see anything, it ought to be okay. He hoped. He knew Ronan well enough to know that the other boy was a little bit more prickly about this sort of thing than he was.
He sort of felt like he was dreaming. Like he was going to blink his eyes and this was all going to fall apart, but fuck he wanted it. He wanted him. And he might be greedy, but he meant what he said, too. He did want to get Ronan out of the way he was spiraling in his own head, wanted to make him feel good. He wanted to give him.. something. He didn't think that himself was good enough, but he wanted it to be.]
I'll help you.