Summary: Out in the sun-warm grass of the Barns, everything is funny, and Ronan makes Adam wish that it would always be summer.
AN: Look! I wrote actual fic! And have parts of a bunch of others! What even is this. Title from a line one of the dozens of Pynch fics I read over the last two weeks, but goodness I couldn't tell you which one. Also I really need an RB icon instead of using Hato-kun here.
Set in between Dream Thieves and Lily Blue, but no particular spoilers for LB I don't think? Vague mention of the cows.
Hotter Than the Sun, Sweeter Than Spring
Everything smelled like grass and hay at the Barns, the sun warm everywhere it touched Adam's skin and orange against his eyelids. Soon autumn would steal away this easy warmth, but for now Adam was content to bask in it, to laze on his back in the sunshine while Ronan cursed at the cows and Chainsaw pecked about in the grass.
Shade suddenly poured over Adam. When he cracked an eye, Ronan was leaning over him, braced with his palms on either side of Adam's shoulders.
"Hm?" Adam asked, sounding more asleep than he'd actually been and feeling pleasantly half-melted. "Any luck with the cows?"
"Fuck the cows," Ronan said, voice a growl of frustration. He dropped to his elbows and kissed Adam fiercely.
This wasn't exactly new anymore, Ronan's weight pressing Adam into the soft earth or the sharp edge of his teeth against Adam's lip, but new enough that it still made Adam's heart stutter when it happened, made him breathless from more than just Ronan stealing all his air. Adam was all clinging cooperation, arms coming up to curl around Ronan's neck and mouth opening under his.
Adam slid one hand under the collar of Ronan's to stroke fingers over his tattoo, the black cotton of Ronan's tank top hot against the back of his hand, and Ronan hissed into his mouth. The lines were still every so slightly raised under Adam's fingertips, and vaguely Adam wondered if it was just because of relative newness, or whether they would stay that way since the tattoo was long healed. He hoped that they would; he liked being able to trace the faint lines without pulling his mouth away from Ronan's.
Ronan sat up abruptly, reaching back to grab his shirt and yank it over his head in one smooth pull. Adam swallowed hard and knew that Ronan had seen it. Ronan already knew he was stupidly hot, sun or no sun, and knew that it made Adam's skin crawl with want every time he did that. It was the impatient quality of the motion, Adam always thought, and how it made Adam remember the grab of Ronan's hand on Adam's hip, the press of Ronan's fingers into Adam's arm.
Sweat was trickling down Adam's back and down the curve of Ronan's throat. Adam wanted to run his tongue up that line, over the jagged line of Ronan's tattoo, all of Ronan's lines. Why was Ronan made of so many lines?
"Yours too," Ronan ordered, hands already tugging Adam's shirt up from his waist.
"Grass stains," Adam protested weakly, but let Ronan tug the shirt off and toss it aside. For a second the air felt cooler on his bared skin, before the sun fell on it directly, followed by Ronan, covering Adam's body with his own as if jealous of even the sun. Adam hummed his approval, arms coming back up, around Ronan. One hand curled over the back of Ronan's head, the brush of the short hairs tickling Adam's palm; the other hand went back to tracing the lines of the tattoo, making Ronan moan into Adam's mouth.
Of all the things Ronan did impatiently, kissing was not one of them. Ronan kissed Adam thoroughly, as pervasively as he'd kissed Adam the first time they'd made out in the grass at the Barns, as if he was trying to map every part of Adam with the wet drag of his mouth, the sharp points of his eye teeth and the brush of his tongue. It was too bright in the sun and too warm, sweat gathering between them and making Adam's jeans cling heavily as he hooked one bare foot over the back of Ronan's knee. Ronan trailed a line of sucking kisses down the edge of Adam's jaw, and Adam tilted his head back, soft noises of pleasure sneaking out. Time had gone fuzzy, melted so that Adam had no idea whether they'd been making out for five minutes or five hours. Adam only noticed that Ronan had started to slide down lower when Ronan's shoulder slipped out from under his fingers.
"Hey," Adam said, opening his eyes and having to squint in the glare. His head felt too heavy to pick up.
"Hmm?" Ronan answered, mouth occupied with the bottom edge of Adam's ribs. One of his hands was splayed half over the waistband of Adam's jeans and half over his bare skin, his palm and fingers so warm that if he lifted them Adam felt sure there would be a mark, half a handprint like a sunburn. Ronan's mouth drifted lower, the hum of his voice tickling the soft skin of Adam's belly. "Mmmm."
Adam had wanted to ask Ronan something, or tell him something? He couldn't remember, couldn't think about anything except for Ronan's mouth, Ronan's hands on the button of his jeans, easing them down his hips. "Hey…"
"Shh, grass stains," Ronan told him, as if he was helping out but really making fun of Adam. Adam did pick up his head to glare that time, but he got the impression it didn't look very fierce with him squinting into the sun and hair mussed in eight different directions. "You have grass in your hair."
"I'm about to have it in a lot more places," Adam complained as his bare ass dropped back to the ground. It was funny how being naked in the grass at the Barns didn't bother him, but he couldn't imagine doing it anywhere else. Maybe in Cabeswater, if they were sure they'd be alone, and for a few moments Adam let his mind drift over that possibility, what the forest would make out of their heated tangle. Would it always be the bright, humid press of August there if they did? Once the weather in Henrietta started to turn they would have to try it; Adam was betting that they could turn it from snow to full summer if Ronan so much as pushed him up against a tree.
"It's hot," Ronan said, and by the time Adam figured out Ronan was still talking about the grass in his hair, Ronan was already sucking a small bruise just beside Adam's navel, hands framing Adam's hips.
And then without warning, Ronan rolled them over, hands still tight on Adam's skin so that Adam was the one pressing Ronan into the grass. Adam blinked away the slight dizziness of being moved suddenly.
"Oh yeah," Ronan said, grin sharp as a paper cut as he ran eyes up the length of Adam looming over him. The view looked pretty good from Adam's side too, Ronan stretched out like a indolent god, arms thrown back over his head in an invitation to take advantage of him. When Ronan offered one of these small surrenders, it always made Adam's blood rush, which of course was why Ronan did it.
Still, there was no need to give Ronan exactly what he wanted before he even asked for it. Keeping his eyes on Ronan's face and his hands on himself, Adam curled a hand around his cock and stroked himself leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world.
"Jesus, Parrish," Ronan groaned, staring openly. He bucked his hips a little, but Adam's weight was enough to keep them mostly pinned to the ground, Adam digging in his knees a little to make sure it stayed that way. He really was going to have some spectacular grass stains.
"Voyeur," Adam accused. He thumbed his tip, slicking it with precome; Ronan's avid gaze made Adam think about sliding his thumb over Ronan's lips, Ronan's tongue curling around his fingers. Or maybe he should just slide up and have Ronan taste for himself.
"Fucking exhibitionist," Ronan shot back. He was digging his fingers into the grass above his head, as if Adam was giving him a lapdance and he wasn't allowed to touch.
"Maaaaaybe," Adam drew out his vowels, letting his much-hated Henrietta accent have its way for once, because he knew for a fact that Ronan liked it. "Should I keep going, hm? Until I come all over you?"
"Fuck, who are you?" Ronan asked, because Adam never talked like that. If he'd known it would make Ronan squirm like that underneath him, he might have tried it earlier. "Don't stop talking, come on."
"It'd look so nice against your skin. You're so flushed," Adam said, and Ronan was, the pink creeping down from his shoulders and over his chest from the heat and Adam's teasing. Adam reached with his free hand to draw fingertips from Ronan's throat down his sternum, tracing the path of it. "You like it that much? Don't get too excited now, since you didn't have the brains to take off your own jeans when you were fucking about with mine."
"You're a monster." Ronan sounded half delighted and half tortured. Adam grinned down at him, enjoying it immensely.
"You could ask for what you wanted," Adam suggested. He shifted so that the hard line of Ronan's cock was centered underneath him, so that every movement of Ronan's hips pushed up against Adam's ass. Adam wondered if Ronan would ask for that—they hadn't done it yet but they were getting close, probably. "I might consider saying yes. If you don't hurry up though…"
"Do it," Ronan said, instead of asking for anything, surprising Adam. He curled his arms behind the back of his head, lifting it just enough that he could watch without straining his neck.
Adam cursed and flushed darker under Ronan's expectant gaze, knowing his bluff had been called and unwilling to back down now that it had. A little talk was one thing, but it really did seem exhibitionist to get himself off while Ronan Lynch, off all people, had his dark, hungry eyes glued to nothing but Adam's fist around his cock. As turned on as Adam was, as good as Ronan looked under him, sudden nerves pushed his orgasm back, not as close as he'd thought.
Somehow Ronan seemed to sense Adam's hesitation, lifting his eyes up to Adam's face and smirking. "Need some help?" He pulled one arm out from under his head and skimmed fingers from the inside of Adam's knee up along the soft skin of his thigh, lingering close to where Adam's own fingers were wrapped around himself. "Some hands-on assistance?"
"Fuck you," Adam snapped, narrowing his eyes, his sense of competition overcoming some of the embarrassment. Ronan laughed and stroked the soft, hot skin there for another few seconds before moving it. Adam thought Ronan was going to wrap his hand around Adam's and help out after all, but instead he swiped his thumb over the tip of Adam's cock, slow and deliberate enough to wipe away the bead of precome there. When he brought his thumb up to his mouth and slid it past his lips, eyes still locked with Adam's, Adam nearly went out of his mind. "Jesus, Lynch, fuck."
"Mmhmm," Ronan said, either agreeing or just making a noise. Adam squeezed his eyes shut and still saw it, Ronan licking Adam off his fingers and staring like he couldn't wait to taste the rest.
He was coming before he understood properly that it was happening, a sudden rush of molten heat poured right down his spine as if the sun itself was dripping down his back. The only thing that felt real was the hard length of Ronan underneath him, Adam's head spinning a little as he tried to peel his eyes back open, as if he'd stood up too fast. When his eyes could make sense of anything, he saw that he really had come all over Ronan, drips of white scatted a surprising length up Ronan's flushed chest.
"Fuck," Adam repeated weakly, unsure whether he was about to say "sorry" or "you love it, don't you." Ronan saved him from saying anything by sitting up suddenly and grabbing Adam's face to yank him into a bruising kiss. Adam moaned helplessly, head still spinning and skin oversensitive everywhere, especially everywhere that Ronan was touching him. Ronan dragged his palm down Adam's spine and Adam felt like he might go entirely to pieces. Instead he grabbed for Ronan's shoulders and dug his fingers in until Ronan shuddered against him.
Ronan tipped them over onto their sides and fumbled with his jeans one-handed since his other hand was clutching at Adam's waist, but the sweat-soaked denim was having none of that. Adam laughed helplessly at Ronan's growl of frustration when he had to stop touching Adam. He shoved the jeans down in rough, annoyed pushes, and then flung them away like they had personally offended him. His cock was hard enough that it was pulling up towards his stomach, and when he rolled back into Adam it pressed between their stomachs like a brand, somehow even hotter than Ronan's hands.
One of Adam's hands wrapped around Ronan as if it had a mind of its own, and Ronan curled a hand over top of Adam's. They were both so sweat-slicked that their palms moved over Ronan's skin easily, Ronan cursing into Adam's ear like other people whispered endearments.
"Want me to—" Adam started, thinking about Ronan tasting him, thinking about returning the favor.
"Don't fucking move," Ronan interrupted, and whatever else he said after that was more moan than words, except for an occasional mention of Adam's name as if he were the blackest curse of them all.
Ronan came between them soon enough, spilling between them and over Adam's hand, the two of them pressed so close that it ended up everywhere, bellies and chests and hands sticky by the time Ronan flopped onto his back, panting for air. Adam stayed on his side, waiting for Ronan to crack an eye open, and when he was sure he had Ronan's attention, Adam brought his hand to his mouth to lick the back of it clean with a slow pass of his tongue.
"Fuck, fuck you," Ronan gasped, chest still heaving. The flush of his skin had spread everywhere Adam could see, and Adam took his time looking over every sweat-damp inch of it. When it didn't stop after a few seconds, Ronan groaned and closed his eyes. "Quit that, it's too fucking hot."
"You started it," Adam said mildly. He was going to be sunburned all over, places where nobody should ever be sunburned. Again. At least this year he had avoided the farmer's tan. Ronan was going to be even worse off if he didn't at least roll over. Adam thought about making a joke about a sunburned dick with a sunburned dick, but it seemed like too much effort.
In the grass, Ronan's hand bumped into Adam's, and Adam stretched out his fingers to run them over Ronan's palm, pressing them against the inside of Ronan's wrist to feel the way his pulse was still racing.
"You started it," Ronan growled belatedly. "Just lying there, all spread out, like anybody could just—OW! Chainsaaw, what the fuck!"
Adam rolled over just in time to see Ronan waving his hands and Chainsaw flapping back at him, reddening scratches over the curve of Ronan's non-tattooed shoulder where she had tried to land on him. Adam curled up on his side, laughing so hard he could barely breathe while Ronan glared at him. Landing on the grass, Chainsaw eyed both of them balefully, dropping the dead mouse she'd been carrying right on Ronan's foot.
"She brought you a present!" Adam said, still chuckling. "Jealous, huh?" Chainsaw gave a scornful kraawk as an answer. "Good luck, girl. Daddy should have dreamed you the other gender."
"Go fuck yourself, Parrish. Ten seconds ago you were begging to suck my dick."
That made Adam snort with laughter too, because it was true, and because everything seemed funny in the sun-warm grass here, the smell of earth and hay almost as appealing as the smell of Ronan's skin when he flopped back on top of Adam to demand more lazy kissing. Adam buried his nose in the curve of Ronan's neck, mouthing the jagged lines of Ronan's tattoo and wishing for it to be summer always.
Adam grinned against Ronan's skin, because he knew a certain magical forest that could definitely make that wish come true.