The tighter Kylo holds him, the harder Ronan writhes and struggles. No, he doesn't want to escape, but his body hasn't figured that out. He's screaming again, a sharp cry bursting out of him every time Kylo rocks into him, only there's a different quality to it now, each shout dragging out into a low moan. He sounds like he's being murdered. He sounds like he's enjoying it.

He loses all coherent thought in the rush of sensory input. He's being fucked right out of his mind. His fingers claw wildly at Kylo's arms, and it's hard to tell which one of them is more savage: Kylo in his ravishment or Ronan in his attempt to combat it. Whenever his body jerks against his will, the friction between them only increases. He squeezes and shakes, twists and shudders.

Something finally breaks and Ronan ignites. All at once, the fire inside him rushes outward. His screams die and he gasps voicelessly, quaking and grinding into the thrust that pushes him over. The sheets soak through with his seed, bursts of wet heat filling the narrow space between the bed and his body, crushed beneath Kylo's weight.