The Name Wrapped Around my Throat

Authors Note: So I wanted to wait to post this until I had the whole fic finished, but since The Raven King release is coming so soon I wanted to start posting while it can still be considered cannon.
Also, there's some Latin in this, which I don't speak. That being said it's all from google translate, so I'm sorry for what I'm sure is butchered Latin.
Anyway, this is my first time writing in the Raven Cycle fandom, so please let me know how I'm doing!

Chapter 1

He was dreaming.

Ronan always knew when he was dreaming, but dreams like this made it especially obvious. He was sitting with Adam Parrish next to a clear lake, the kind of lake that had a mirror like quality, the breeze soft against them, and the sun kissing their skin so lightly that basking in it seemed to be the only option.

It was too perfect to be real. Too fabricated.

"Vestibulum non intendentes me." (You're not paying attention to me.)

There was also the fact that the real Adam didn't speak Latin quite so fluently. That was a pretty big giveaway.

"Ego semper vobis animadvertere." (I am always paying attention to you.)

In fact it was hard to take his eyes off of the Adam in front of him. He was drawing lines in a Latin book, his hands on full display. Ronan was obsessed with those hands, could stare at them for hours imagining how the calluses would feel against his skin. So needless to say, he was paying attention.

Still he looked up at the dream Adam's face.

Ronan never quite dreamed Adam's jaw right no matter how many times he had stared at the real thing. The bones in his face were too fine, too elegant for Ronan to ever quite do justice. This Adam was beautiful, but not so much as the real thing. But nothing compared to the real thing.

"Potero scribam ad te?" (Can I write on you?) Adam asked as he raised his pen to Ronan, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Quod vis." (Anything you want.) Because dream or not, Ronan had a hard time denying a smiling Adam anything.

Adam leaned forward and Ronan could feel his pen against the side of his throat, digging into his skin as Adam wrote. Ronan didn't mind the slight pain, barely registered it over the closeness of Adam. He could feel the even breathing on his jaw, and he wanted badly to lean forward and kiss him. But Ronan would never do that.

Nothing sexual. That was Ronan's rule.

He knew he could get away with it. He could do whatever he wanted with this dream Adam and no one would ever know. This Adam would let him do whatever he wanted. But that was part of the problem.

It was one thing to dream of kissing someone when you couldn't control your dream, but Ronan could control it. At least that much. So taking advantage was wrong. Imagining Adam giving him what he wanted was wrong. It was cheating. It was stealing. And while Ronan usually didn't have a problem with cheating or even stealing, he refused to cheat or steal from Adam.

So nothing sexual. Nothing that could be taken that way. Instead he allowed himself only to sit with Adam, to tell him things he couldn't tell the real Adam. To openly love him.

"I consummavi." (I've finished.)

Ronan looked to the water to view Adam's work. On his neck was simply Adam's name in large, black cursive writing that Ronan usually only saw when Adam wrote his signature on homework. It was beautiful, and Ronan felt a pang on want.

"Est pulcher. Pulchra es." (It's beautiful. You're beautiful.)

Ronan barely got to see Adam smile again before a large crash pulled him out of his dream.

For a few minutes he lie waiting to come back fully to his body, curling his hands and testing his body before he stood up. He was prepared to leave his room and yell at whoever caused the disturbance when he caught sight of himself in his mirror.

Adam's name was on his throat.

Ronan quickly licked his hand before wiping it against his skin. Chainsaw cawed as she watched him, wanting his attention now that he was up.

"Shut up," Ronan hissed as he rubbed franticly at his skin.

It didn't come off.

Ronan had a moment of internal panic before he threw on a pair of jeans and his highest collared leather jacket. He then grabbed his keys and called Chainsaw to rest on his shoulder, hoping she would help to hide the ink on his neck.

He stormed out of his room and past Gansey, Noah, and a sea of books on the floor.

"Sorry about the crash, Noah—" Gansey began, but Ronan didn't bother listening.

"I'm going out," Ronan slammed the door behind him and didn't feel safe again until he was in the car and pulling away from Monmouth Manufacturing.