Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4735820.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Raven_Cycle_-_Maggie_Stiefvater
  Relationship:
      Joseph_Kavinsky/Ronan_Lynch
  Character:
      Joseph_Kavinsky, Ronan_Lynch, Noah_Czerny, Richard_Gansey_III, Blue
      Sargent, Adam_Parrish
  Additional Tags:
      Street_Racing, Alcohol, Drugs, Drunk_Sex, Anal_Sex, Blow_Jobs, Rimming,
      Post-Coital_Cuddling, First_Time, Alternate_Universe, Asphyxiation
  Series:
      Part 1 of Ride_Fast,_Die_young,_Bad_Boys_Do_it_Well
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-06 Words: 4771
****** Ride Fast, Die Young, Bad Boys Do it Well ******
by greenJeanKirstein
Summary
     Ronan was bored, body aching for adrenaline, hands itching to do
     something; to hold the steering wheel, feet shaking in a motion one
     used to press down the gas pedal, stomach churning in hopes it would
     be fed beer soon.
     There was really only one way to sate his hungers at the same time.
     He wanted trouble and Kavinsky was the best kind of trouble one could
     get in Henrietta.
Notes
     Auish: *Kavinsky isn't dead
     *Nobody is dead(except Noah, but well...)
     *Ronan has the house for himself
     *Dream pack isn't anywhere near K this time(They are having a cuddle
     pile of their own)
     --------------------------
     One of my favourite pairings ever; it was a bit complicated to write
     this, but Ronan and Kavinsky are my fave dreamers.
Kavinsky never stays after sex. Ronan never texts Kavinsky first.

Adam and Gansey had gone to look for Gabeswater, Gansey insisting that Adam
needed some time out of town("No, Ronan, you can't come, he needs actual quiet
time."). Noah and Blue were hanging out together, him teaching her some of the
Latin they so frequently ended up seeing, her teaching him how to do his hair
with colourful hairpins.

Ronan was bored, body aching for adrenaline, hands itching to do something; to
hold the steering wheel, feet shaking in a motion one used to press down the
gas pedal, stomach churning in hopes it would be fed beer soon.

There was really only one way to sate his hungers at the same time. He wanted
trouble and Kavinsky was the best kind of trouble one could get in Henrietta(at
least with a 20 minute notice).

'Are you high?'

He didn't get a reply.

Ronan grabbed the keys to his car and made his way downstairs to it, the phone
staying between his fingers.

'Meet me where we raced last time, K?'

He supposed Kavinsky was drunk or high or both at the same time. He could just
race anyone whom he saw near the racing pit. But then his phone buzzed. Ronan
didn't pick up the damn thing.

'K'
 
The abandoned racing track was peaceful when Ronan parked his car at the
starting line. He checked his phone, then waited, hand curling and uncurling
around the wheel.
 
He heard and smelled him before he saw him. Bulgarian rap blasted from
Kavinsky's Mitsu's speakers; the car smelled of oil and gasoline and something
he couldn't exactly place. Something that were dreams, danger and death wrapped
into one body.
 
"Fag," Kavinsky greeted him as he rode next to Ronan, his car's windows rolled
down, his pack of dogs nowhere to be seen.
 
"Russian," Ronan rolled his eyes. Was this how they greeted each other every
time?
 
Kavinsky snorted, with his nose this time, not coke, then pressed the gas
pedal, making his car let out the noise of the engine ready to drink petrol and
race anyone to anywhere.
 
"Where's Dick, Lynch? You all alone here, Princess? Need someone to save you,
huh?" Kavinsky gave him a lousy grin and held the gas pedal down some more.
 
Ronan’s middle finger rose. Muscle memory.
 
“I thought you were here to race me, K.” Ronan said, pressing his own foot down
on the gas pedal. “Win your pride back or some shit.”
 
Kavinsky laughed, then grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the dashboard. “How
about we raise the stakes, sweetheart. I’ve still got my pride.” He put his
sunglasses on, then turned back to stare at the racetrack.
 
“If you win, you can get my Mitsu.”
 
He smirked. Ronan smirked as well; he knew that Kavinsky had hundreds of
Mitsubishis hidden away. It was as good as he had offered a pack of candy for
the prize.
 
“Screw that.” Ronan said, hand going to the gearshift. “You win; you can get
anything you want. I win; I can get anything I want.”
 
Instead of agreeing or disagreeing, Kavinsky pressed down the clutch pedal,
shifted gears and drove, Ronan following him after a second.
 
First gear; Kavinsky leading.
 
Second gear; Ronan catching up.
 
Third gear; Ronan didn’t care about fucking up the engine with such quick gear
shifts, he cared about winning the stupid race.
 
Fourth gear, which Kavinsky changed so quickly he gained a few metre advantage
over Ronan, but because Ronan knew his car well, he easily drove by Kavinsky.
 
They never got to the fifth gear, instead driving and racing and racing and
driving and the finish line came so quickly, neither of them noticed who the
winner was.
 
“Knew I could beat you, Lynch,” Kavinsky grinned and looked out of the window
of his car, his arm patting the car’s door like a proud owner would. Although
he had not explicitly thought what he would want if he won, Kavinsky already
had a few ideas, all involving drugs and Ronan.
 
Ronan, however, knew he had won. “Fuck off, I won, K, fair and square.”
 
He got out of his car and went to Kavinsky’s Mitsu, leaning against the door.
“I won.”
 
“Fuck you did,” Kavinsky shoved him away and got out of the car, cracking his
knuckles. He was a fighter, Ronan knew it. Maybe that was why he liked the
Bulgarian mobster street trash so much. Blood didn’t matter, bruises faded with
time, but adrenaline could get you high much better than anything that Kavinsky
swallowed or snorted up his nose.
 
Kavinsky threw the first punch, hitting Ronan in the face. Ronan’s head turned
to the side, blood spilling from his mouth, but he hit back as fast as Kavinsky
had, if not faster. He hit hard, all of his angst - not being allowed to enter
Blue’s house, not being able to join Gansey and Adam on their journey, his
brothers not wishing to talk to him - packed in the punch. Before Kavinsky
could block any other punches or hit back, Ronan shoved him against the hood of
his BMW, pressed him down and held his hands behind his back in a solid grip.
 
“I won,” He said and Kavinsky laughed, shaking his head, but not struggling in
the position he was in.
 
Ronan pressed him down more firmly and Kavinsky breathed out: “Draw. Or my win.
You can choose, Lynch.”
 
Ronan chose draw, letting go of Kavinsky’s hands and pulled away from him so
that the other boy could get back up. It took Kavinsky some time, but as he
rubbed his wrists, he smirked. “So, what do you want, Princess?”
 
As he watched Kavinsky put on his stupid sunglasses and light a cigarette,
Ronan thought about what he wanted. He wanted his father back, wanted his
friends to spend more time with him, wanted to have better dreams; Kavinsky
couldn’t give him those. Ronan wanted beer, wanted some company, to get away
from himself. Kavinsky could give him that.
 
“Just ride after me.” He said and then got into his car, waiting until Kavinsky
did the same and they turned to the highway together, riding side by side as
much as possible, Kavinsky’s rap music blasting again. Ronan tried to shout for
him to turn the ‘shitty fucking’ music down, but Kavinsky just flipped him off.
 
They drove to a store; Ronan grabbing his wallet and checking the fake ID he
had. Kavinsky got out of his car as well, arching a brow. “...You wanted to go
shopping? Really?”
 
“Shut up.” Ronan walked to the store, not really expecting Kavinsky to follow,
but as he chose some snacks, Kavinsky grabbed a big bag of chips and threw it
into the shopping cart. Ronan eyed him for a while, then grabbed another bag,
dumping it into the cart as well. Together they went from isle to isle, mostly
choosing snacks and drinks - Ronan lifting a six pack of beer into the cart,
Kavinsky laughing and calling him a pussy, then taking two bottles of vodka and
some rum, adding them carefully onto the sixpack - and cigarettes, a brand
Ronan had never heard about, but something that Kavinsky smoked when he was
feeling festive. Neither of them commented on how odd it was; buying snacks and
drinks with someone who was supposed to be your enemy.
 
Ronan paid, of course he did when he was the one who wished to do any shopping.
Kavinsky stood by him, arms crossed, sunglasses on his head. When they were
both asked to show ID, he simply flashed his, then waited for Ronan to do the
same.
 
"You really wanted me to tag along and get you food?" Kavinsky asked as he
grabbed his stuff and opened the vodka bottle, drinking a few sips to test it
as they walked back to the cars. "Dick not go to the store with you?" He
smirked, but then got into his car.
 
Ronan sighed, putting his stuff in the car as well before taking a sip from the
bottle Kavinsky so politely offered him. The liquid burnt, but it also felt so
good, like liquid danger and courage and more.
 
"I want you to follow me." He told Kavinsky, leaning against his car. "I'd
like.... company." There. It was finally out and if Kavinsky was going to be a
rude shit about it, Ronan could always leave.
 
Kavinsky kept smirking, then took the vodka bottle back. "Taking me home on the
first date, Princess? Want some of this, huh?" He gestured to his body and
winked as Ronan scoffed, getting back to his BWM.
 
Ronan was sure Kavinsky would tell him to fuck off and drive away, but as he
rode back to Monmouth Manufacture, Kavinsky followed close by, his music not
playing this loudly this time.
 
"Nice place." He commented as they got out of their cars, pushing his
sunglasses onto his head. "You bring all your guys here? Fuck them while Dick
is in the room over?"
 
Ronan simply led him inside and to the second floor. "Don't touch anything.
Most of the stuff is Gansey's. If you'd just..."
 
Although Kavinsky touched nothing Gansey's, he kept commenting on the stuff.
 
"Why does Dick have his shit everywhere? You did it on the desk and had to
throw the things onto the floor?" Kavinsky snorted and kicked a stack of books
with his foot, making it fall over.  Ronan grabbed onto his wifebeater and
pulled the boy closer.
 
“I said don’t touch anything,” He warned, his eyes narrowing. Kavinsky just
laughed and kicked a lamp over, making Ronan angrier to the point where he
pulled Kavinsky closer. One look, Kavinsky’s smirk widening so that Ronan could
see his teeth. Ronan bare his own teeth and leaned closer, ready to punch the
stupid grin off of Kavinsky’s stupid face.
 
Then suddenly Kavinsky’s mouth was on his and his mouth was on Kavinsky’s and
they weren’t really kissing, more like trying to bite each other, trying to
show the other how much force they could put behind their kisses. Kavinsky
tasted like cinnamon - what the fuck, Ronan thought - cigarettes and the slight
spark vodka had left into his mouth. Ronan felt Kavinsky's teeth graze his
bottom lip and when he opened his mouth, the other tugged on his bottom lip,
biting it hard enough to draw blood. Ronan moaned, just the softest noise, but
Kavinsky noticed it and smirked, pulling away just slightly.
 
"Yeah? That's how you like it, rough and dirty?"
 
Ronan's mind was screaming for Kavinsky to shut up, for him to pull the other
closer, kiss him, bite him, hurt him in all the most pleasurable ways. Instead
he just rolled his eyes and shoved Kavinsky into his room.
 
As Kavinsky looked around, Ronan fetched the bottle of vodka and the beers,
taking a shot and opening two beers, one for himself and one for K.
 
When he offered the beer to Kavinsky, the boy took it, but also reached for the
vodka, drinking both of the liquors. Ronan followed suit and could soon feel
the familiar buzz overcome him. It wasn't enough to get him tipsy, but enough
for him to shove Kavinsky onto his bed and get on top of him, leaning down for
another kiss.
 
This time the kiss wasn't a fight. There were still teeth, hands pulling on
each other's clothes, but this time Ronan felt how Kavinsky’s lips were chapped
and saw how he had closed his eyes right when their lips touched. They kissed
like they had all the time in the world, but just like they had been waiting
for this for so long, Ronan doing his best to not show how much he liked how
Kavinsky touched his neck for a moment, Kavinsky not having an ounce of shame
as he ground against Ronan and pulled away to wink. "You're eager, Lynch. Go on
then, get naked."
 
Before Ronan could move, however, Kavinsky was sliding his hands under his
shirt, tracing the muscles and the skin, his trademark smirk back on his face.
Ronan supposed that Kavinsky found him - at least his body - up to his
standards and he raised his hands so that K could take off his shirt. When his
shirt flew to the floor, Ronan helped Kavinsky to get rid of his own shirt and
tugged on his golden necklace, both leaning down and pulling the other into
another kiss as they ground against each other, one of Ronan's hands in
Kavinsky's hair, tugging, Kavinsky's hands touching Ronan's bare skin and
leaving white trails with his nails.
 
“Fuck,” Ronan groaned and grabbed for his beer when they pulled away. He rolled
off of Kavinsky and the boy grinned, grabbing for the vodka.
 
“We didn’t even get to that and you look like you’re going to blow it.” He
teased Ronan and cupped him through his jeans. “Hm? This all for me?” He
continued massaging Ronan, making the other moan and finish his beer as quickly
as possible.
 
Ronan let Kavinsky grope him, let him pull down his jeans, but before Kavinsky
could shove his hand down into his underwear, Ronan stopped him by grabbing his
arm. “I’m not going to be the only one who’s naked.”
 
Ronan had seen Kavinsky naked a few times; at a pool part, in the showers after
gym, had seen his lithe frame so many times before as K walked around half
naked in his home anyway, but he had never really taken his time to feel his
skin. He latched his lips onto Kavinsky’s neck, then on his collarbones as he
slowly undid Kavinsky’s jeans, pushing them down and down and off. As he
pressed his thigh between Kavinsky’s legs and rubbed his hands over the other’s
sides and arms, he could feel many little scars from fights and cigarettes. So
many stupid scars, yet so much untouched pale skin.
 
Kavinsky’s eyes were closed as he let Ronan explore his body, but he wasn’t
moaning or gasping, simply breathing a bit deeper than usually. When Ronan
finally looked up at K, he saw that Kavinsky was smirking, nursing one of the
vodka bottles.
 
What a fuckhead, Ronan thought; he was doing everything to keep Kavinsky
entertained while the other just drank vodka and smirked. There had to be a way
to get Kavinsky blurt out how much he loved it.
 
Ronan pulled K’s underwear down as well, eyeing the part of Kavinsky he had
only dreamed of(in shame, of course) and ran a finger over his inner thigh.
Before Kavinsky could say something rude or something teasing, Ronan took a
deep breath and took him in hand, giving him a few experimental strokes. It
wasn’t like Ronan had never jerked off, but he had no idea how to jerk off
someone else.
 
Kavinsky was quiet when Ronan jerked him, but as soon as he leaned down to suck
K into his mouth, the Bulgarian let out a gasp, one of his hands going onto the
back of Ronan’s head, trying to get him to suck his cock deeper.
 
Ronan would’ve smirked if he didn’t have a cock in his mouth; he had gotten the
reaction he wanted now; and instead he looked up at K, doing his best to look
sexy and like he knew what he was doing. He let Kavinsky guide him, but kept up
his own pace, hollowing his cheeks slightly as he pulled away. A lick against
the leaking slit of Kavinsky’s cock, a rough squeeze and Kavinsky was spreading
his legs, trying to pull Ronan back on his cock, moaning his name with a raspy
voice.
 
“Fuck, Lynch,” Kavinsky arched his back and tilted his head back, groaning
louder when Ronan palmed him tightly again. Ronan had never seen Kavinsky like
this before - Kavinsky was so lost in pleasure, making so much noise that if
Noah or Gansey got back home, Ronan would have a lot to explain. He scratched
K’s thighs as he took him deeper into his mouth, barely keeping his gag reflex
at bay  and Kavinsky grunted, running his fingers over the stubble of Ronan’s
hair.
 
“Yeah, just like that.”
 
Rolling his eyes, Ronan pulled back again, bobbing his head up and down and
then gently scraped Kavinsky’s cock with his teeth. The effect such a little
gesture had was truly magnificent: Kavinsky’s mouth fell open in a silent long
moan and he bucked into Ronan’s mouth, making him gag a bit. It took Kavinsky a
few thrusts into Ronan’s mouth and then he came, Ronan managing to just pull
away enough not to get a mouthful of semen. Still, some of Kavinsky’s come
ended on his lips, some on his cheek and some on Kavinsky’s body.
 
He grabbed for K’s shirt that was on the floor and wiped his face clean.
“Disgusting,” Ronan said, shoving Kavinsky who was panting on his bed, riding
off the final high of his orgasm. K just smiled and then laughed. “Yeah? You
were the one who sucked my cock, Princess.”
 
Shoving him again, Ronan reached for the vodka, taking big gulps to wash down
the taste of cock and semen. The vodka burned, rolling down his throat and
making his body hot after Ronan had drank a considerable amount of it. When
Kavinsky leaned over him to grab his jeans, Ronan didn’t mind and touched K’s
cheek, cupping it and then leaning up for a kiss. Kavinsky chuckled, kissing
back, then pulled out a little bag filled with white powder.
 
“Get on your stomach, Lynch. I wanna do a line off of you. Want some?” He asked
and when Ronan shook his head, drinking some vodka and rolling over, Kavinsky
eyed his back, tracing the lines of tattoo with a hum. Although there were a
few callouses on his hands, Ronan found that Kavinsky’s touch was incredibly
gentle and that his fingers were warm, exploring the elaborate design on
Ronan’s back.
 
It was sort of like a massage, Kavinsky first running his fingers over the
black lines, making little shapes until he reached Ronan’s shoulder where the
ink found it’s end, then back down, fingers leaving for a second until a warm
palm pressed onto his back, rubbing his sides and then making their way to his
lower back where the tattoo ended. Ronan hummed softly, the gentle touch and
the buzz of vodka helping him to relax enough so that he didn’t question every
single thing Kavinsky did.
 
When Kavinsky’s hands left his body, Ronan got onto his elbows, downing another
gulp of vodka. He heard the little packet being opened, felt something being
dabbed onto his lower back and then could feel a credit card scratching his
back as Kavinsky fixed the coke into a correct line.
 
“Got a paper somewhere?”
 
Ronan gestured to his end table where a notepad stack lay and Kavinsky grabbed
one of the papers, rolling it into a little straw, nudging Ronan so that he
would not move.
 
“Stay still, yeah?” K said and then slowly did the line off of Ronan’s back,
one of his hands on the bed next to Ronan, keeping him up. He exhaled and then
leaned down again, licking Ronan’s back clean of the substance. He didn’t stop
there though, kissing the other’s lower back, then licking a line to his
shoulderblades.
 
Ronan groaned into the pillow when Kavinsky led tiny little kisses from his
shoulder blades to the centre of his back, taking his time to lick every inch
of his tattooed skin. The kisses were small, almost delicate, but after every
few of them Kavinsky sucked a dark red hickey onto somewhere they would be
visible: onto the nape of his neck, onto his shoulder, onto his lower back as
his kisses went lower. He kept tracing elaborate patterns onto Ronan’s back,
more than once stopping his fingers in the middle of the black lines of his
tattoo, then just caressing the skin there. When Ronan moaned again, Kavinsky
stopped with the kisses and got up.
 
“You liking this huh, Princess?” Kavinsky teased, leaning over Ronan, kissing
his ear and ground his cock against Ronan’s ass. How he had gotten hard again
was a mystery for Ronan. “You’re such a softcore fucker.”
 
Ronan just groaned and arched his back slightly, rubbing himself back against
K’s cock. He was too drunk to care about letting Kavinsky do this to him, too
drunk to think of how he hated the boy, how much he wanted to punch him.
Kavinsky laughed and then shoved Ronan’s head more into the pillow, spread his
ass and rubbed the fingers of his one hand over the cleft.
 
Before Ronan could protest, however, Kavinsky spread his legs more and got
behind him, pressing his face between Ronan’s cheeks, leaving a soft kiss onto
his hole. The touch, skin against skin was warm and wet, Kavinsky taking his
time to spread his saliva all over. He slid his tongue inside, pulling another
groan from the boy laid out before him and then added a finger, making Ronan
arch his back even more, biting his lip.
 
“K…” Ronan mumbled, the noises he was making being muffled by the pillow he was
laying on. When Kavinsky raised his hips, Ronan got onto his hands and knees,
glad that Kavinsky could finally see how aroused he was.
 
“Oh Lynch, you’re such a slut…” Kavinsky groaned and so did Ronan, the groan
turning into a gasp when Kavinsky spit onto his fingers and pressed two into
him. It hurt at first, but he couldn’t complain: it was Kavinsky who was doing
this to him and he was stroking him off as well. The hand around him was warm
and wet, squeezing and stroking him just right, using the right amount of
pressure around the shaft, a rough pad of Kavinsky’s finger rubbing his slit in
a way that made Ronan’s thighs tremble and he reached a hand back, grabbing
onto Kavinsky’s hair, pulling his face closer to his ass, almost demanding the
other to eat him out more, finger him more. Anything, just more and right now.
“S-stop shitting around, just fuck me already!”
 
Kavinsky laughed, nodding and then pressed a set of kisses onto Ronan’s butt,
his lower back and then his shoulder as he positioned himself. Ronan definitely
did not expect him to go slow, but Kavinsky bit his shoulder, stroking him
faster as he pushed inside, commenting on how tight and hot Ronan was.
 
“This the first dick you’ve had, Lynch? Fuck, you’re as tight as a virgin!”
Kavinsky leaned closer to whisper into Ronan’s ear and licked his earlobe,
gently biting it. Ronan just tilted his head back, exposing his neck as he got
used to having Kavinsky inside of him. The boy was right, it was Ronan’s first
time - Oh god, was he really losing his virginity to Joseph fucking Kavinsky!?
- and it was overwhelming at first, a cock in his ass, Kavinsky’s hand around
his cock, him kissing Ronan’s back, whispering how much he wanted to fuck
Ronan, how Ronan would surely feel this for a few days because Kavinsky was
going to pound into him like into a two dollar whore.
 
Ronan couldn’t listen to his blabbering for over a minute, his body had relaxed
enough and he pulled a bit away, then moved back, choosing the pace. Kavinsky
breathed deeper and faster, becoming more aroused with the display, then moved
too, thrusting into Ronan fast and hard, first grabbing Ronan’s hips to control
the pace, but then one of his hands moved to the other’s face, running his
thumb over Ronan’s bottom lip that still had a bit of dried blood on it.
 
“I’m going to fuck you up,” He said, his hand going from Ronan’s mouth to his
neck, squeezing it slightly as he pushed and pulled in and out of a moaning and
gasping Ronan. The squeeze around his neck made Ronan grab onto the sheets, but
to his - and Kavinsky’s - surprise, his dick twitched in Kavinsky’s hand,
dribbling a lot more precome onto his hand and making the stroking even more
pleasurable.
 
“Shit, Lynch, you’re a sick pervert.” Kavinsky said, but Ronan could hear the
smirk in his voice, could feel his smugness when the hand around his throat
tightened even more, could hear how Kavinsky was nearing another orgasm as he
bit Ronan’s shoulder so hard he drew blood, moaning against the mess the hickey
and the blood had made. Ronan couldn’t moan much, he could hardly breathe as
Kavinsky suffocated him, but his body reacted to the pleasure, bucking into
Kavinsky’s hand, onto his cock, his hands grasping the sheets and his back
arching.
 
It took just one more squeeze of K’s hand around his throat to make Ronan come.
It wasn’t beautiful - he gurgled, gasping Kavinsky’s name - “Ah, shit, Joseph…”
- and spent himself on himself and on the blanket, almost falling to the bed as
his ass clenched around Kavinsky - but it was full of emotion, raw pleasure
that washed over him.  
 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Kavinsky cursed behind him and pulled out of Ronan, quickly
jacking himself off, coming with a moan of Ronan’s name, adding speckles of
white onto Ronan’s black tattoo. He lay down next to Ronan and grinned,
reaching for a the pack of cigarettes, lighting one and looking at Ronan then.
 
“Damn, Lynch,” He said, taking a drag and Ronan just rolled his eyes, trying to
clean himself up as much as possible with Kavinsky’s shirt. The fucker deserved
to have his shirt ruined. Ronan could feel how his throat hurt and when he
spoke, his voice was rough. “Stop smoking in my bed. You’ll get that shit
everywhere.”
 
Kavinsky laughed and continued smoking, but he made sure to get the ash onto
the floor, not on the bed. He didn’t move to put any clothes on or to clean
himself, instead just watched how Ronan pulled his jeans on and drank more
vodka. Kavinsky didn’t even move when Ronan announced he was going to shower,
just continued smoking.
 
Ronan’s shower was short, but he was glad to finally wash himself. The water
was cold and helped him to sober up a bit. God, had he really had sex with
Kavinsky? And enjoyed it? Well, it had been done and he couldn’t deny that he
had loved how gentle K had been one minute and how passionate the other. He
dried off, put on a pair of fresh underwear and got back to his room.
 
Kavinsky was still laying on his bed, but he had managed to pull on his
underwear. “There you are, Princess.” He said, flicking some ash from his
cigarette onto the bed. “Thought you had left me.” He smirked and pulled
another drag, making Ronan glare at him.
 
“What the fuck are you doing, shitstain, I told you not to get ash on my bed.”
Ronan got onto his bed, ready to get some sleep, kicking Kavinsky’s leg to get
him to move over a bit. Kavinsky just laughed and kicked him back, finishing
off his cigarette. “Jesus, chill, Princess, it’s not like I’m setting your bed
on fire…” He was still smirking as he grabbed the vodka bottle, finishing off
what little was in there.
 
Although Ronan wanted to sleep peacefully, his throat hurt and he wasn’t about
to yell at K or tell him to get out of his bed. He simply lay down on his bed,
got under the blanket and turned his back to Kavinsky. Kavinsky seemed to move
ever so slightly, but he didn’t say anything and let Ronan doze off.
 
He woke up only once during the night, feeling something hold onto him. At
first he was afraid he had pulled some nightmare creatures back into real life,
but as his eyes got used to the darkness, Ronan found that Kavinsky was
sleeping on his stomach next to him, eyes closed in blissful dreams, one of his
arms tossed over Ronan’s torso. With a sigh, Ronan turned to his side, facing
Kavinsky and watched him for a while - Fuck it, K was warm and he wasn’t
getting ash on his bed when he slept. -  before dozing off as well.

Kavinsky never stays after sex. Ronan never texts first.

When Noah and Gansey got back the next day and found Joseph Kavinsky cuddling
Ronan as both of them slept peacefully, they realised that maybe on some
occasions those statements were wrong.
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