Archive of Our Own ^beta

Adam Parrish doesn’t lie to himself. He doesn’t make a situation better than it is so he feels better in a false sense of comfort. He doesn’t lie to himself about his past, not about the decreasing number of saving money stashed away in a little box beneath one of the old floorboards of St. Agnes, not about the things he wants and what he is willing to do to get them.

Adam Parrish doesn’t lie to himself about his attraction to Ronan Niall Lynch.

It’s a dangerous attraction, one that is threatening to consume him violently, but also one Adam can’t let go of. It has been there since he met Ronan, when they were younger and Ronan was sharper, angrier. Ronan was a reckless beauty, one that predicted nothing but destruction and agony.

Adam was addicted.

That fateful day they met and the months after, Adam figured that, yes, he did notice Ronan’s rugged handsomeness, but that didn’t mean he was attracted to him. Everybody saw Ronan and there was no denying that his beauty was incomparable.

It took him months before Adam realised that shit I actually am attracted to him in a "please fucking kiss me" type of way.

If he hadn’t realised it before, he definitely would realise it now. The skin-tight, white tennis shorts were positively sinful and Ronan was starting to sweat through his white t-shirt, making the material cling to his skin.

It was indecent.

Not for the first time, Adam wondered what had possessed him to watch Ronan’s tennis practise. He should have just walked home instead. If it wasn’t for his flat tire, that he couldn’t afford to replace, and Gansey having a row club meeting, Adam wouldn’t have had to expose himself to the most erotic thing he had witnessed in his short life.

“Ronan can take you home,” Gansey had said apologetically. He hadn’t quite mastered the sad puppy dog look like Noah had but it was good enough to make Adam feel bad.

“It’s fine, Gansey,” Adam had replied with a small smile. “I can just walk home.”

Gansey had shook his head vigorously. “No, I made a promise I didn’t keep so let Ronan take you home today. I’ll come pick you up from St. Agnes tomorrow.”

Adam hadn’t felt like arguing, so he agreed and asked Gansey were Ronan was right now. He hadn’t seen him since he walked out of the classroom last period. Adam had assumed Ronan already left.

“Tennis practise,” Gansey told him with a quick look at his watch. “I really have to go. Sorry, Adam.”

And off he was.

Now, Adam was seated on a little bench, right next to the tennis court with an excellent view on Ronan and his opponent. It was Ronan’s serve and he bounced the ball on the floor a couple of times.

The wrist of the hand he bounced the tennis ball with was usually bound in leather bracelets, but Ronan had taken them off for practice. Adam could reason that it was probably annoying to have them constantly sliding up and down your arm every time you moved, but he still cursed Ronan for it as he could not concentrate on anything but the pale white of the inside of his wrist. The scars were barely visible from where Adam was sitting but he knew they were there and he wanted to kiss them softly, which was definitely the purest thought he had so far.

The poor guy looked terrified as Ronan seized him up before he reached up to serve.

I don’t blame him , Adam thought as he watched Ronan’s biceps bulge, showing off the muscles he’d gained from sleepless nights filled with training and his need for fighting every person he encountered.

A little strip of skin showed as Ronan’s shirt rode up as he jumped, part of the v leading down his abdomen visible. Adam felt his breath halter and his skin flush, desperately praying nobody would notice.

Who the fuck gave Ronan the right to look like this?

The ball shot from Ronan’s racket like a bullet, flying past his opponents own racket, despite him jumping to reach for it.

This time, it was the opponent who was given a chance to serve by an uninterested coach who spend more time on his cellphone than actually watching the game. If it wasn’t for the guy complaining that he didn’t have a chance to practice because, “Lynch keeps serving and it’s not fair!” he probably would never had the ball the entire match.

Adam couldn’t help but feel proud.

As Ronan’s opponent got ready to serve, Ronan himself bent through his knees a little, leaning forward more than Adam was capable of handling. As if Ronan knew he was staring at him, he glanced at Adam quickly and gave him a smirk that momentarily made Adam’s heart stop beating.

Adam’s hands clenched into fists as he watched the quick back and forth, each slam of Ronan’s racket deadly precise and harder than Adam now was. It took merely seconds before he made the point.

As the walked back to their place Ronan slowly lifted the edge of his white t-shirt. Adam was sure he was going to black out when more and more of his abdomen was revealed, his muscles shifting as his hand lifted the shirt farther up. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the edge of his shirt and dared to wink at him after.

Ronan ruined him from everyone else, Adam decided. There was really no coming back from this.

The match lasted both too long and not long enough. Adam could have watched him play forever, but he was in a desperate need for a cold shower. Maybe he should ask Ronan how confessionals work.

“Didn’t know you were a tennis guy.”

Well, I fucking am now.

“Ehm- yeah, I mean, I guess.” Adam was blabbering. Why was he blabbering? He felt a hot rush of warmth shot up to his cheeks which were undoubtedly even brighter red than they had been before. His embarrassment grew further at Ronan’s sharp smile, eyeing him up and down like he had him figured out entirely. Adam hated how well Ronan knew him, how easy to read he was despite trying his best to remain unknowable.

“Have you ever played tennis, Parrish?”

Adam briefly wondered if that was an implication of something else but reprimanded himself immediately.

Get your shit together.

Please.

“No,” Adam admitted. “But I’d like to learn.”

No, he really didn’t. He thought tennis was a sport meant for preppy rich people and he was certainly not one of them. Ronan stared at him, probably knowing what Adam was thinking but Adam held his stare, steady. Or, well, as steady as he could be in this situation.

“Come on then,” Ronan smirked, walking back to the edge of the tennis court. Adam remained frozen in his seat. Ronan made a beckoning motion and Adam moved towards him without remembering getting up.

“Here,” Ronan said, handing Adam his own racket. Adam gripped the handle tightly, his hands shaking. “I’m gonna throw you a ball and see how you handle it, okay?”

Adam nodded dumbly. He moved into a poor imitation of Ronan’s stance he had more than analysed a few minutes before. Ronan stood not too far from him, backlit by the sun. His body glistened in the reclining rays of sunlight dancing off his skin.

He’s a god.

Adam was too busy staring at the way Ronan’s glorious body moved when he threw the ball to even move his racket up in a poor attempt of hitting it. Ronan raised an eyebrow.

“You’re supposed to hit it.”

“I know that,” Adam bit out, picking the ball off the ground. He closed the distance between them and pushed the ball into Ronan’s chest, ignoring the muscles he felt through his thin shirt.

“You sure you’re ready?” Ronan asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Not even remotely.

“Yes.”

This time he managed to concentrate enough to actually hit the ball. It didn’t go far, though. Ronan shook his head as if this was the biggest disappointment in his life.

“You’re hitting it all wrong,” he told Adam moving closer. Ronan came to a halt behind Adam, stopping him with two hands on his shoulders when he tried to turn around. “Let me show you.”

Adam bit his lip and quietly thanked every god he knew that Ronan didn’t see his face right now.

Ronan’s body aligned with his, standing closer than was necessary but Adam wasn’t complaining. He tried not to lean into the touch when one of Ronan’s hands moved down his arms and gripped his wrist firmly. His touch was searing through every vessel in Adam’s body and it took everything to not turn around and jump Ronan right then and there.

“This is called the forehand stroke,” Ronan whispered in his good ear right before he swung his arm outwards and upwards in one swift motion.

“Got it?” Ronan asked softly. Adam nodded despite not remembering anything but the feel of Ronan’s skin against his.

“Good,” Ronan said normally now. He stepped back and Adam immediately felt the loss, though he was thankful for the opportunity to finally breathe .

“Now, show me.”

“What?” Adam asked, staring at Ronan who just smiled at him savagely.

“Show me the forehand stroke,” Ronan repeated, his voice dropping an octave. Adam felt his mouth open slightly. He took in Ronan’s relaxed stance, his hands buried in the pockets of those ridiculous shorts that clung to his thighs in a way that should be illegal, the way his arms nearly ripped the sleeves of his drenched t-shirt to shreds, the wicked glare in his eyes that dared Adam to take the jump.

So he did.

With a few long strides, he positively threw himself at Ronan, his hands pulling Ronan’s head down desperately. Ronan let out a soft laugh against his mouth but Adam had enough. He had been teasing him the entire afternoon and Adam needed to kiss him now or he’d lose his mind.

Adam bit Ronan’s lip in warning and relished in the moan Ronan let out. Adam took the opportunity to slot their lips together and finally get the kiss he deeply craved.

Ronan curled his arms around Adam’s lower back, pulling him flush against himself. Their kiss deepened and Adam hung on for dear life. Ronan’s lips against his sent a wave of heat through his body. The contrast of Ronan’s soft lips and the hard lines of his body left Adam trembling in his arms.

All thoughts were drown out besides fuck and more .

He broke the kiss to take a breath and took his time to angrily glare at Ronan.

“You planned this!” he said accusingly, poking his finger in Ronan’s hard chest who laughed breathlessly.

“I took an opportunity, Parrish,” Ronan had such a triumphant smirk on his lips, Adam had to kiss it off them. It was Adam’s turn to smirk when he licked into Ronan’s mouth and felt him tremble under his hands.

“Didn’t take you for an exhibitionist,” Ronan said, his voice gravelly. Adam felt his knees weaken.

“Didn’t think you knew a word as long as that one,” Adam retorted and brushed a hand through his hair. Ronan let out a surprised laugh at Adam’s snark, one he heard often when he commented on other Aglionby students. It always made Adam feel warm and proud he could make someone like Ronan Lynch laugh.

“I don’t do casual,” Ronan needlessly pointed out. Adam rolled his eyes.

“Nothing between us has ever been casual,” he replied.

This had been building for a long time and Adam knew they would ultimately come to a crashing point. This was that one point they could never return from, no matter how hard they tried and Adam was ready to let himself fall head first into this.

Ronan smiled at him, a soft smile that made Adam’s heart beat faster than it already was. It must have shown on his face because Ronan stepped closer again, letting a hand linger on the side of his face. He leaned in and whispered, “let’s get out of here”.

Adam reached for his hand and pulled him towards his car.

No holding back.