It's a light touch, a dry, gentle press of warm lips to Ronan's neck.

Ronan closes his eyes against it, against the way it makes his blood run warm and his chest tighten. He'd felt those lips against his own months ago, made the mistake of misinterpreting. He can't do it again despite the ache.

He has Adam. He loves Adam, that hasn't changed. He won't do this to either of them.

Swallowing, he shoves it all away, buries it back down where he can only hope it manages to stay for awhile and finally quirks a smile. "Well, you wouldn't have a camera," he says, trying to lighten things up a little.