Warning: this part contains explicit sex
It was a Sunday, and Adam knew this because when he opened his eyes, Ronan was standing in front of their bedroom mirror, tying his tie, and he was wearing his crisp black suit.
It was so obviously tailored just to him; the jacket sat on his shoulders so easily, followed the careful and sculpted line of his biceps, sleeves just graced his slender wrists, whispering against skin. His tie and shirt were black too, a silver clip holding them together, and the effect was to make Ronan elegant and cutting. His tattoo curled from beneath the collar, a reminder that he was not docile despite the veneer of expensive textiles.
Back when Adam was a bitter, lonesome teenager, the sight would've been accompanied by the sharp edge of Jealousy's knife, but now he was older and Ronan's wedding band glinted softly in the light. So instead, he just felt a deep and all-encompassing awe. Ronan before mass was a quiet and contemplative creature.
Adam stretched out on his stomach, pressing his cheek into the pillow tiredly. Ronan caught his eye in the mirror, struck by the softness in his gaze, the way his eyelids drooped sleepily. "Go back to sleep."
Adam was not a religious person— not unless he was standing in Lindenmere or amongst the other wondrous and impossible objects of Ronan's creation— so he closed his eyes and relaxed into the bed. Fingers pressed into Adam's hair sweetly and then drew away, leaving him to sink back into the warm embrace of sleep.
The next thing he was aware of, lulling him gently awake, was a warm pressure around his hips and he stretched, sighing out, "Ro," and pushing his face further into the crook of his elbow.
Above him, Ronan wondered over the shift of the muscles in his back, the sharpness of cheekbone, the soft curl of hair against his neck, and answered with a delicate brush of lips against the shell of his good ear, chest pressing down on his back, and "Adam..." said softly, prayerfully, head dipping down and lips caressing the soft divet in Adam's shoulder. "The Priest was reading from Genesis today, and all I could think of was you." A confession.
Adam, still half asleep, made a soft noise to encourage further explanation.
Ronan drew himself up, hand pressing into the small of Adam's back. There was a ripe silence, full of expectation, anticipation, the cold squirming of doubt. "On the first day, God created light." The words were so quiet, like a secret. Fingers brushed up Adam's spine, where the sun was spilling over his skin, warming it to a holy glow. Ronan bent again to press a kiss between his shoulder blades, neck bowed in supplication. "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.
"Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters."
Ronan's breath tickling the back of his neck, Ronan's thighs hugging his hips, Ronan's chest, so close he could feel the heat of it: all an implication. (Lynches were known for their storytelling, for their instinct in inflection, in tone, in the sense of when to pause, how to draw in a listener, how to quiet a room. Adam's heart seemed to draw itself up to listen.)
"And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light."
In Adam's mind, he saw Ronan in the cave under Cabeswater, the ghost light over his shoulder. He saw Ronan in the yard, head tilted back as he gazed at a multitude of buzzing, dancing lights in the air. At first glance, fireflies. At second, just tiny impossibilities.
"God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness."
Ronan's black suit whispering against Adam's sun-warmed skin.
"God called the light 'day,' and the darkness he called 'night.' And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day."
Adam basked in the reverence of Ronan's voice, in the familiar way the verses formed against his lips. He had the sense of knowing, of seeing Ronan as he was. Ronan, in turn, felt known; for he was spilling truths forth like a great flood.
"On the second day, God created the firmament," he murmured, stretching to press kisses against Adam's jaw. There was something so beautiful about the way he said firmament, like he was touching it and being exalted. His eyes fell closed as he pressed their cheeks together, breathing in slowly and purposefully. "And God said, 'Let there be a vault between the waters to separate water from water.'"
Adam's mouth fell open, feeling Ronan's hips rocking against his as he breathed the last three words, making them into a moan, feeling their rhythm, pressing Adam down into the mattress.
"So God made the vault and separated the water under the vault from the water above it." He lifted himself up, pulling a wanting whimper from Adam's lips. The sharp, proud smile was clear in his voice as he said, "And it was so."
Ronan's hand tugged once on Adam's bicep, insistent and sure. He gazed down as Adam obeyed. (As if there was ever an option not to.)
"God called the vault 'sky,'" he murmured, Adam's eyes meeting his as he turned. Blue on blue, endless vast. He brushed a thumb under one eye, "And there was evening..." Then the other, "and there was morning—" He pressed it to Adam's bottom lip, "the second day."
Adam's chest was hollow and breathless as Ronan shifted above him, eyes trailing his body.
"The third day, He brought forth the dirt..." His fingers trickling through dusty hair, "...and sprouted plants from it." There was a memory there, of Cabeswater pressing its leaves into his skull. "And God said," Finger tracing down his jaw and throat, "'Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place,'" It stopped at the hollow of his clavicle, then ghosted down his arm until Ronan could take his hand; his chapped, rough hand, "'and let dry ground appear.'" He brought it up to his lips, head tilting to press a lingering kiss against his wrist. "And it was so.
"God called the dry ground 'land,' and the gathered waters he called 'seas.' And God saw that it was good." As he spoke, he worked his thumbs into Adam's palm, eyes never leaving his, working out the deep, deep ache from years and years of overwork.
He tilted his head, fingers brushing along the lines carved into Adam's palm. "Then God said, 'Let the land produce vegetation...'" His bottom lip dragging over the heel of his hand, tongue against Adam's palm and then pulling, guiding Adam's fingers into his mouth, sucking, an expression on his face like rapture. These hands, these hands. These hands he had gazed at for hours before even touching them, these hands that had held him up, these hands that worked themselves to the bone and then some. These rough and elegant wonders. He delved his tongue between Adam's fingers and then when Adam gasped Ro— voice high and needy— he drew back, his own hands curling around Adam's fist, cheek pushed against their knuckles. "'...Seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds.' And it was so."
He opened his eyes to give Adam a little smirk. The sudden change made a laugh bubble up in Adam's chest. "There's some more pretty bullshit. It was evening, then morning. God saw that it was good. That's the third day," he drawled, handsome and careless.
Adam rose his eyebrows, mouth curling. His eyes read, And?
Ronan sighed as if feeling a great burden, leaning back and watching carefully until the man beneath him grew restless. Adam slowly sat up, chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths, hands sliding against Ronan's hips and then wandering purposefully over his abdomen and his chest, appreciating every carefully crafted dip and curve.
Pleased and shivering, Ronan lifted his hand to cup his cheek. "The fourth day was for the sun, the moon, the stars... God said, 'Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times and days and years...'" Adam's breath hitched at the intensity in his voice, the way he so purposefully lifted Adam's hand to kiss his ring, "...and let them be lights in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth.'" He leaned in, brushing his lips against the bridge of Adam's nose. "And it was so."
They stared at one another, marveling, and Adam reached up to hook his fingers behind the knot of Ronan's tie and pull it loose. He let out a breath like elation, allowing Adam to drag him closer by the silk fetter so that their noses brushed and their breaths mingled in the close space.
"God made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars." He tilted his head, thumb brushing against Adam's sharp cheekbone, the stream of his faint sun kisses which dazzled like infinitesimal specks of light in the night.
His voice was so rough as Adam let his tie slip off and started carefully, deftly unbuttoning his shirt. "God set them in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw that it was good.
"And there was evening, and there was morning—the fourth day."
"The fifth was the first of lives... And God said, 'Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the vault of the sky.'
So God created the great creatures of the sea and every living thing with which the water teems and that moves about in it, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good."
Adam's breath left him. Outside, cows begotten from Ronan's dreams gnawed on grass and breathed air into their lungs. Chainsaw squalled from another room.
Kerah.
He pressed a fervent, pleading kiss to Ronan's chest.
"And there was evening, and there was morning—the fifth day."
Adam sucked on his collarbone, relishing the way Ronan's breaths halted and then jerked back into motion. "Is this scripture?" he breathed, hands finding Ronan's hips and squeezing pleadingly.
Ronan nodded, kissing his head, hands running up his back. "Genesis." Adam's insides were a brush fire. He scraped his teeth against Ronan's throat.
"On the sixth day," His voice was breathy, beautiful. "He realized the reason for his Creation... Then God said, 'Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.'
"So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them."
Adam looked up to meet his eyes and Ronan buried his hands in his hair, pulling him up to kiss him on the mouth, tracing his soul with his tongue.
He breathed into Adam's mouth, his voice different, somehow; filled with meaning: "Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being." He did his smoker's breath, his fingertips a whisper on nerves. "His name was Adam." And, oh, that was so fitting. What was Adam if not a man built from the dust?
In his mind, Adam laid under Cabeswater's thick canopy in greasy coveralls and said, Thanks for the straight teeth. Sometimes, it struck Ronan all over again that somehow life had delivered him a person so carefully crafted to fit against his rough edges that it seemed he'd conjured him up himself. Woken up one day, paralyzed, with Adam tucked against his chest.
In Adam's mind, Matthew grinned and Ronan tousled his hair. A devoted creation. Who was this man, who could breathe life into being from nothing?
Ronan rolled his hips into Adam's again, pressing him down onto the bed and chasing after him to suck a mark under his jaw. He dragged himself downward, cheek sliding against skin, fingers running over Adam's ribs, remembering how God had stolen one to create Eve.
Tugging Adam's boxers down, he let his breath ghost over his hard shaft, eyes pinned on Adam's. "God saw all that he had made, and it was very good." His voice was positively sinful around the last words and he smiled sharply before finishing, "And there was evening, and there was morning—the sixth day."
Adam laughed and then broke off into a low groan as Ronan's tongue dipped down and felt along the slit, making Adam's hips jerk and a moan spill past his lips.
Ronan smiled.
"Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array."
He dragged his tongue up Adam's length and then took it into his mouth, hands coming to assist, one grasping what he couldn't take and pumping and the other squeezing his balls, and the way Adam moaned made his head empty of everything else.
The feeling of Adam's hand clasping at the back of his skull— guiding him downward, his thumb pressing into the vulnerable spot just beneath his jaw— made a shudder of want run over Ronan's spine. He bobbed his head down and scraped his nail's along Adam's thighs when he hit the back of his throat.
Adam threw an arm over his eyes, keening and arching beautifully. "Ronan, Ronan—"
Hearing his name like that, whined and stretched with want— it was astonishing and enticing. Ronan brushed a thumb up his cock and hollowed his cheeks around it, continuing to bob his head, his left hand gently stroking his balls.
"Oh, I need you... Please, now."
Ronan pulled himself up, letting his lips and tongue have plenty of time to drag along Adam's dick, nodding and making a noise low in his throat. Adam Parrish was a man who rarely ever asked for anything, and so when he did, Ronan could never say no. "Yeah, Parrish. I've got you," he said, voice gruff with want but his tone so sweet it made Adam's heart ache in his chest.
He watched, eyelashes fluttering lazily above his cheekbones, as Ronan shrugged out of his suit jacket and unbuttoned shirt then sat up on his knees to undo his belt, appreciating every inch of skin that was unveiled before him. Ronan noticed, because nothing about Adam has ever escaped him, and tilted his head, pulling his shoulders back and pressing his hips forward, practically preening. Adam's eyes fell on the bulge pressing against Ronan's slacks and his mouth went dry as Ronan brushed his fingertips against the head and a full-body shiver passed through him.
"Fuck, Ro, just—" He pushed his own boxers down and kicked them off, spreading his legs.
Ronan's eyes dragged down him— a helpless noise sounding in the back of his throat— and the chaos of hunger and awe in them made Adam's breath shudder through his ribs like wind in barren branches.
Groaning, Ronan reached out and slid his hands up Adam's thighs. "You're just so..." He kissed the precum from the tip of his cock and then drew himself up again, desperately shucking off his pants and underwear.
He leaned over Adam, cursing as his dick slid against the other man's stomach, and pulled the drawer open to grab the lube. He popped the container open and squeezed some onto his fingers, Adam rocking his hips a bit beneath him.
Ronan laughed, leaning down over him— Have some patience, you fucker— and they kissed messily, wantingly, while Ronan pressed his slick fingers into Adam, working him open and crooking his fingers to make Adam whine.
"Godgodgod, I'm ready—"
He laughed again, softly against Adam's lips, and kissed him again. "Let me take care of you. You know I always take care of you." Adam's heart broke with it. Never had he imagined that anyone would ever care for him like this, that they would do anything for him, that he would want them to. (And it was Ronan, with all of his sharp and dangerous smiles and curses and fighting, suddenly tender and vulnerable. It got him every damn time.)
Adam nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and surrendering himself. (I sacrifice myself. I will be your hands. I will be your eyes.)
Sweet, soothing kisses were pressed against his cheeks and his jaw and when Ronan finally gave in and pressed deep inside him, Adam arched up off the mattress and thanked his god. (And rightfully so, because he was rocking on top of him, face pressed into his shoulder, pulling his legs up and moaning his name.)
Adam gripped at the back of his skull and scratched his hands down his back, breaths coming in gasps and noises slipping helplessly from him. Ronan lifted his head, lips pressing against Adam's good ear so he could hear every desperate grunt and moan that answered his own.
When Ronan lifted himself up— still rocking in and out of him, elbow braced next to Adam's head— and looked down at him, Adam pressed his fingers past his lips and felt a jolt down his spine at the way Ronan whined sinfully around them. He watched Ronan's tongue slipping between his fingers— the way his eyelids drooped and his jaw went slack with lust— and then tossed his head back and came, hips jerking as he rode out his release. And there was Ronan above him, keeling over in ecstasy at the feeling of Adams fingers pressing into his tongue and Adam tightening around him. Adam felt that he knew rapture.
Then it was just their breaths and his husband's hands carefully cleaning them up, massaging his thighs, lips pressing against his hip.
Ronan laid his head upon Adam's stomach and closed his eyes.
By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day, he rested from all his work.