photophobic | [IC CONTACT]

Ronan's confusion is hardly surprising— Kylo doesn't know where he's going or what he's doing, only that he wants to change direction.

Admittedly, he might have found even that realisation impossible not that long ago. So many of Kylo's mistakes have been an unwillingness to let go, an inability to see alternatives, a commitment to the chosen path no matter how far from his original goal it begins to twist. But here, slowly, in increments of barely perceptible progress, he's been trying something new.

And sometimes, usually after a painfully confusing struggle, he tumbles forwards several paces at a time.

"You don't," he says. It's a simple thing, at first. But it isn't enough. His gaze drops away, then draws up again as deliberate focus despite the heat of shame. "You don't deserve to be hurt, Ronan. You never did."

Ronan isn't sure he agrees with that assessment, but he knows Kylo isn't telling a lie.

"Okay. Now you know better."

And just like that, a mistake becomes a lesson.

He wishes he could sort his own feelings so easily. Though they've often been rough with each other - sometimes, even, with more brutal results - there's always been a spirit of playfulness to it. He's never felt Kylo hate him before. And he can't seem to get the hatred out of him. The ache inside keeps reminding him.

Ronan lays his head back down. After a moment or two of tortured silence, he says, "Don't leave me like this. I want you to finish."

"I'm not going to leave you," Kylo murmurs, seizing onto Ronan's words as they break through the silence left in the wake of his stunted and deformed understanding of apology. I'm not going to leave you. Like this, or at all. He's inside Ronan. They're inside each other. And, he thinks, it should be clear by now— for better or worse, this is what he is. He'd destroy Ronan before he'd leave him.

Maybe that's what Ronan needs to understand. Maybe that one, dark constancy he has to offer would be more safety and security than any number of strained attempts at kindness. Kylo shifts, drawing himself up, deeper, leaning in to Ronan's ear.

"You're mine," he reminds him, almost more threat than promise. His hips roll, slow. Fresh heat shudders up his spine as the words sink into him, too. Does Ronan know what it means, to belong to him? To be his prize? "You're mine. And I'm never letting you go. Never. No matter what you do. Who you turn to. You belong to me. Pain or pleasure. And I am never giving you up."

Ronan's breath hitches as Kylo pushes deeper, though it's exactly what he wants - this enduring evidence of Kylo's desire. That Kylo still wants to claim him. That he always will. A shock of relief runs through him even as his shoulders tense.

"I'll never belong to anyone else," he confirms in a sigh, with a minute tilt of his head to brush his cheek against Kylo's. As he's sworn before, he's not afraid of his beloved master. The promise of eternal captivity may sound like a threat when it leaves Kylo's lips, but all Ronan hears is an oath. He wants Kylo to keep him. He, too, would rather be destroyed by Kylo than discarded by him.

Bracing himself against the mattress, Ronan forces himself to relax despite the sharp sting of Kylo's thrusting. It's his honor to be the instrument of Kylo's pleasure, as long as that's truly what he's being used for.

There's the satisfaction he was looking for. He finds it in the way Ronan submits so much more than simply willingly— proving with every breath not just that he knows he is owned, but that he wants to be. Needs to be. Here is the pleasure only he can give him.

"Who else could possess you as I do," Kylo murmurs, allowing Ronan to nuzzle softly against him in the sweet, aching space between one surging thrust and the next. How distant and foolish his earlier misjudgment feels, now. "Who else could satisfy—"

He cuts off with a low groan, surging deep, drinking in the relief threading through Ronan's pain. His teeth sink into Ronan's shoulder as his arms coil around his body. His possession. His treasure. His chosen one.

Ronan slips one arm over Kylo's, holding on as Kylo traps him. With that embrace locking him in, there's little for Ronan to do but take every thrust Kylo gives him. It still hurts like hell, and every surge has Ronan shuddering and gasping, his eyes bright with fresh tears.

Still, there's nowhere he'd rather be. This is an exquisite torture.

"No one," Ronan moans in answer to the unfinished question. "My only master. No one could possibly..." The next few words are lost to whispers and hissing as pleasure sneaks through the pain, shocking him at his core.

Kylo gasps sharply as the reflected shock translates through Ronan's senses to reach his own, his hold tightening. He has him now.

"No-one," Kylo agrees raggedly, chasing that thrill of pleasure with another snap of his hips. Another. On, and on, relentless in the pursuit. He wants Ronan writhing with it. Trembling. "You could be a hundred dreams. A thousand. All of them nothing but soft, sweet mouths. But this is what you'd want. This. Is what you need. With me. Say it."

"Fuck," Ronan gasps. "Fuck..." Not in answer to Kylo's order, but in answer to the assault. Every snap is a lightning strike. He starts to curl in on himself, to retreat from the raw power that's setting his spine on fire. Kylo's arms are there to stop him, forcing Ronan to remain stretched flat beneath him.

He gathers up his strength to choke out, "This is what I need." And it is. Nothing - man or dream - has ever given him anything close to the pleasure that Kylo inflicts on him every single day. It would be impossible.

Because no one else possesses him. No one else can take command of every nerve, control every inch of his body, drive him to pure ecstasy and share in the pleasure. When Kylo takes him, they become a single being caught in a cycle of pursuit and release, Kylo racing to fulfill Ronan's need because Ronan's need is also Kylo's.

"Ruin me," he begs, shivering violently. His spine curves. His legs splay. He wants Kylo as deep as he can possibly take him. He would have Kylo climb into his skin, if he could. "I want everything you have for me."

The sweet and the terrible.

There's no escape. Kylo locks Ronan in against himself as he drives into him, crushing any attempt to twist away from the overload— because that isn't really what Ronan wants, only what his trembling body believes it has to do to survive. Kylo will subdue the instinct for him.

They will meet the raw, electric shock of each powerful, slamming thrust together. Kylo holds Ronan under as if he means to drown him, seizes him by every nerve and fibre as he pours himself into becoming not Ronan's undeserved punishment, but his hard-earned reward. He can endure this. He can suffer it— Kylo knows he can, no matter how violently his body shakes for mercy.

"Mine," Kylo hisses, the building pressure of all this bright, blinding pleasure aching to burst forth sparking under his skin. He can feel the devastation rushing towards them. This is an ecstasy they can only face together. This is being his. And it's only for the two of them— what they become, together.

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.

Kylo's rough, torn-edged gasps blend into the growing urgency of Ronan's thickly delirious cries as he pushes and pushes and pushes, ruthless and indefatigable. More. More is all he gives in response to Ronan's desperate, shuddering pleas. More is all Ronan will earn for every scrabbling, futile attempt to break free he can't help but make, the building weight of the promised release they're surging towards pressing in on all sides and crushing them together.

Kylo drags them to the summit, but it's Ronan who pulls them over the edge. His body seizes tight around him, trembling, searing, Kylo's coiled grasp tightens as leverage to drive every last fraction of himself deep, deeper, buried— and the break bursts through the both of them in wildfire.

He shatters apart, gasping, bleeding into Ronan's senses as he shudders and spills in wild, violent pulses, spending himself utterly in the claiming heat of Ronan's body. He's filled. He's so full of him, saturated to the core as they fold and collapse together, heaving with exertion in the aftermath.

The euphoria of his own climax carries Ronan through those final moments of brutality. Kylo's seed warms him in throbbing bursts, deep at the center of him, and Ronan voices wordless praise as he exhales. He's so grateful. In spite of everything that came before, it's a holy act to receive Kylo, and he never forgets to be thankful for it.

They sink onto the bed as one. Ronan hugs Kylo's arms against his chest, in case he had any notions of escape (though he probably didn't) and basks in the inundation. Kylo is over him and inside him and around him. Ronan would always have him this way, if he could.

It's not long before the buzz and the adrenaline fade enough for the agony to creep back into his senses. Kylo's conquest has absolutely destroyed Ronan. He's good for nothing now but laying here in Kylo's embrace. Probably, he should fade away rather than attempt to extract his maimed body from spear that's driven through him. Eventually, that's what he'll do. For now, though, he'll endure the ache and keep Kylo cradled inside him for as long as possible. He'd rather be a ruined boy in Kylo's arms than a pleasant and aimless dream.

[IC CONTACT]

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