Ronan Lynch. (
weavers) wrote in
marlowemuses2016-10-31 03:33 pm
Entry tags:
who could ever learn to love a...

39 Excelsior Place was the oldest house on the road.
In fact, 39 Excelsior Place was the oldest house in the neighborhood. Through the years Henrietta, Virginia had mostly kept up with the times. Old, decrepit homes were replaced with bright white houses and wooden fences. The convenience store went from locally owned to a chain. The schools got better. Wifi was available in almost every pubic place.
39 Excelsior Place did not keep up with the times. Crouching darkly at the end of the road, squatting fiercely in its dead end, the house was every bit the past it came from. Tall with gothic architecture, unwelcoming pointed gates, and black bricks the hollow eyes on its gray and white face. Huge windows were long covered with sheets, as had been most of the furniture. Once upon a time the house had been beautiful. Once upon a time, however, was a long time ago. In 2016, most people stayed away from 39 Excelsior Place. Smartly so. Its resident monster hated everyone.
Everyone except for its sole resident, elderly Mr. Greerish. Greerish said he had a family. Nobody ever game to visit so the monster called him a liar. Greerish placidly made excuses, such as They’re very busy and It’s been a while since we’ve caught up. Apparently Greerish had a favorite nephew: a baby when they last met. It had smiled at him once. No one else in the family smiled at him.
The monster called him an idiot. Greerish laughed and returned to his books. That was how they found the old man dead. With a pleasant smile and a book in his lap.
Fine. The monster didn’t care about Greerish anyway. It had only just begun to tolerate him. With his death, 39 Excelsior Place would be free of pests and the monster could hide away from the rest of the world until it eventually died. That was what happened to monsters. He’d read the old books Greerish kept so neat in the bookcase. They all ended the same. The monster was killed, burned, staked. The handsome prince got the princess. Or, in the monster’s personal interests, prince. Not that it mattered.
What the monster did not know was that there was a Will. A thing that had been executed by the local priest out of pity for old man Greerish. There was only one stipulation.
Everything I own, including 39 Excelsior Place, will be so inherited by my nephew, Adam Parrish.

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"Kiss me," he begged, turning his head to catch Adam's lips with his own. It helped muffle his moans as he rocked his hips into Adam's hand, and helped push him over the threshold to spill himself. Ronan road it out as he came, kissing with desperation and sinking into the sweet numbness of orgasm, dizzying and overwhelming, dulling and making everything incredibly sensitive all at once. It was his first orgasm by another person and it was perhaps the most intense he'd ever had. Soon, he was a pile of sated feathers, lovely and pliant beneath Adam.
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Grinning when Ronan dissolved into panting, sated pleasure, Adam nuzzled close to him, cuddling up against his side and hugging an arm around Ronan's waist. He radiated happiness and approval, far too pleased to mind his own aching cock. "That was beautiful. I've never felt so happy before. My Ronan."
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When Adam said it was beautiful Ronan blushed deeply, hiding his face in the crook of his lover's shoulder. My Ronan. He liked that. Liked it a lot. And Adam... Adam was his. His Adam. His beautiful, smart, annoying, stubborn human. With shitty taste. Ronan would have him no other way.
Shifting closer, he accidentally rubbed his thigh up against Adam's erection. Oh.
"Lemme take care of you," he insisted, though the how he was going to achieve that was still of some debate. Maybe he should have borrowed Adam's laptop to watch porn. Then he'd have some more creative ideas, other than just using his hands.
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He smiled fondly, tracing the smaller feathers along Ronan's brow, combing through them with a gentle fingernail. "You're handsome," he murmured, hopelessly infatuated with his boyfriend.
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Then Adam called him handsome. Eyes opening, he leaned back so he could look at his lover's face. "I don't get it," he admitted, resting his head on the pillow as he looked at Adam. "I've always been called a nightmare. Scary. A monster."
He sighed, tracing the pads of his fingers up Adam's arm, "And I always thought they were right."
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Rolling his eyes sheepishly, Adam tucked his face against Ronan's throat. "I think you're handsome. I like you the way you are. I don't fucking care if anyone disagrees."
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And, maybe, if Adam liked him... maybe he wasn't so bad. Maybe it was okay to be Ronan Lynch. To not hate himself so much.
"Okay," Ronan said, cuddling up against Adam. "I like you too. Shitty taste and all."
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He scratched his nails gently through Ronan's feathers, utterly adoring. "My adorable Greywaren." Pressing a kiss to Ronan's cheek, Adam hugged close to him. He belonged somewhere. He was in love.
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"Or cute." Grinning, he showed his teeth, sharp and intimidating. "I'll take hot though. Or sexy. Or... fuckable." Flirting was new for him, but with Adam, he meant what he said. He wanted to flirt.
Bowing his head, he kissed along Adam's throat, nuzzling his feathers down against him. Once he found a spot that suited his tastes, he bit and sucked, tugged, experimented with the softness of human skin.
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Ronan's feathers curtained down around him, narrowing his world to feathers, blue eyes, and love. "Ronan," he sighed, hands skimming down Ronan's back as Adam squirmed beneath him, yearning for more. "Ronan."
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"You taste good," Ronan muttered, tongue darting out and flicking against Adam's chest as he looked up at him from underneath his eyelashes.
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His fingers rubbed at the base of Ronan's wings, fascinated by it and overflowing with affection for his boyfriend. "You're so pretty like this, Casper," Adam said, happy and relaxed in the safety of Ronan's arms as Ronan explored his body. "I could get lost in those blue eyes."
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Nails grazing Adam's chest, Ronan went quiet with thought. "I'd eat you. If I was the kind of monster that ate people. You'd be a steak." The thought of devouring Adam was tempting regardless.
So, driven on by that thought, he pushed himself down even more until he was even with Adam's cock. Hands weren't safe, but his mouth was, wasn't it? Adam's scent was muskier, heavier, and Ronan nuzzled his face against the base of the other boy's cock before licking up along the side.
"... You taste good here, too."
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Adam laughed at the metaphor, giggling like a kid at how absurd it was. "A steak? That's the most fucking romantic thing I've ever heard. A steak."
His giggling stopped as Ronan moved farther south, nuzzling and licking at the side of his cock. "Fuck," he breathed, eyes widening with awe and desire. "Ronan."
Utterly trusting, Adam's fingers skimmed again and again over the feathers of Ronan's head, urging him on and showering him with affection. "Ronan," he said, like a prayer, all love and wonder.
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Then he turned his attention back onto Adam's cock. Utterly fascinated, he wrapped his lips around the head and rolled his tongue, wondering what sorts of things felt good. He only knew about oral sex from one of the old man's books; it had been a romance, and there had been one sex scene, where the woman sucked the man's cock and reduced him into a whimpering mess. He'd switched pronouns in his head to relate to it more (the story was awful, but if it was about men, it held his interest) and ever since then, it'd lingered at the back of his mind.
Pushing his mouth down, he experimented in a number of ways. Mostly with his tongue but eventually adding the inside of his mouth, sucking, moving up and down to see if anything got a better response than the act before.
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Adam unraveled fast beneath him, gasping and keening at each touch of tongue, each brush of heated lips. He babbled Ronan's name, undulating beneath him and quivering. It felt better than he could have imagined, and the devoted fascination on Ronan's face made Adam's heart feel like it was going to burst.
He had no stamina, having indulged himself only rarely in self-pleasure and never with anyone else. "Ronan," he whined, pleading and whimpering as he tried to manage words against the onslaught of ecstasy. "Going to... going to come..."
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When Adam managed to whimper out his warning Ronan hummed, continuing to work his mouth up and down on Adam's cock. Desperate to fully taste his boyfriend, Ronan didn't pull back, wanting to know what it would be like to swallow.
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"Ronan," he cried, devastated by the pleasure and affection. "Ronan."
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As Adam came, Ronan swallowed, trying to keep the mess as small as possible. Some come escaped his lips and trickled down his chin. Only when Adam was finished and satisfied did Ronan sit up on his knees and lick at what had escaped, wiping with the pad of his thumb and tongue.
With Adam's semen warm in his belly, Ronan dropped down onto the pillows beside his lover, equally sated. God, Adam tasted good.
"Was that good?"
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Hugging tight, Adam nuzzled at him, refusing to ever let go of his precious lover. Ronan was the most wonderful thing in the world.
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Murmuring, he curled possessively around his lover, stroking along his spine once more with his nails. Whoever had been at the door earlier apparently hadn't quite given up, and the doorbell rang again, twice in a row. Grunting, Ronan refused to untangle himself from Adam's embrace.
"Why're you so popular?"
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Sighing sleepily, he nuzzled again at Ronan, breathing in the scent of him. "I feel so lucky," he mumbled, yawning as they cuddled.
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Jesus and God, it was wonderful when Adam nuzzled up against him. Feathers puffing, Ronan made a noise from deep in his throat, one of pleasure, as he pressed his face into his boyfriend's hair.
The doorbell rang again and Ronan cursed, yet chose to continue ignoring it.
"I'm the lucky one. You're ... fucking great. Shit." He brushed his lips against the side of Adam's face.
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He smirked a little, ruffling the feathers on Ronan's chest. "I don't, um. I don't know what I'm doing. I just want to keep touching and kissing you. And sex. Somehow."
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Chainsaw squawked again, though the noise was from downstairs, no longer at the attic door.
Ronan nodded when Adam admitted to not knowing what he was doing. He liked knowing that he was Adam's first. And, if he had his way, only. "The old man had some books," Ronan murmured against Adam's ear, "that I read. They were shitty, and mostly had sex between men and women, but that's the best I've got. Didn't exactly get the talk once I grew into my adult feathers." Not that he wanted anything like that from Greerish. It'd have been fucking weird.
"What... else can we do?" He felt stupid for having to ask, face red, but he simply didn't know. Touching and kissing was good. But there had to be more, right?
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