Page 100 of We Are Just Us

“Rory—holy shit, Rory, please—” Kieran gasped, his body entirely yielding to the friction, his voice a desperate, breathless sound from a brain that had lost all ability to think. He arched into the movement, his thighs shaking so violently they threatened to drop from Rory’s shoulders.

Rory didn’t ease off. If anything, he doubled down, his jaw clamped, his eyes unblinking as he watched Kieran dismantle beneath him. He kept stroking Kieran’s oversensitive, ruined cock, wringing it out, while his hips snapped into him with a bruising, rhythmic finality.

It became endless. A lawless, white-hot loop of static where every pulse met the hard, unyielding weight of Rory’s body. Kieran’s chest heaved, his head thrashing back against the metal ridge of the truck bed, completely consumed by a pleasure so intense it was borderline hostile.

He was entirely at the mercy of the rhythm, pinned under the vast, blushing desert sky, coming and coming until there was nothing left but the raw, involuntary twitching of his muscles.

Kieran couldn’t even breathe, let alone be embarrassed. He was too far gone, his fingers tangled hopelessly in Rory’s hair, riding out an aftershock like a live current stitched into his spine. The sky wheeled above them, a dizzying blur of gold and pink, and Kieran came apart completely.

Rory fucked him through the very last tremor, his hand steadying him, holding him together while simultaneously wrecking him.

“Fuck,” Rory gasped, his rhythm finally faltering. “Kier, I’m gonna nut—”

He buried himself to the absolute hilt, his whole body going rigid as he came with a broken, guttural groan, Kieran’s name falling like a confession from his lips. The heavy, internal pulse of it, the heat of the friction lingering between them.

They stayed tangled together for a long moment, Rory collapsed half on top of him in the back of the truck, both of them breathing hard, hearts pounding, the desert sky slowly deepening above them.

Eventually, Rory pulled out carefully, and Kieran winced at the oversensitivity. They kissed softly. And then Rory’s tongue brushed the side of Kieran’s cheek, savoring the evidence of how thoroughly he’d undone him.

“You’re disgusting,” Kieran said, but he was smiling.

“You love it.”

Kieran didn’t argue.

He did.

Rory smiled and shifted to lie beside him, pulling Kieran into his arms. Kieran tucked his head against Rory’s chest, listening to the rapid thud of his heartbeat, their skin cooling in the evening air, the smell of sex and sweat and the dry, open scent of the desert mixing together.

Kieran looked up at the sky—darker now, the first stars beginning to appear. He was naked in the back of a pickup truck in the middle of nowhere, covered in his own cum, pressed against a man who had just blown his mind.

And he had never been less ashamed of anything in his life.

“I like this,” Kieran said finally.

“This?”

“All of it.”

Rory pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Get used to it.”

The fire had burned down to embers. The food sat forgotten by the cooler.

Neither of them moved to do anything about it.

THIRTY

They eventually climbed out of the truck bed as the sky shifted from gold to deep purple.

Rory rekindled the fire while Kieran, still loose-limbed and satisfied, finally attempted to cook the fish.

It was harder than it looked in the firelight, but they ate anyway, sitting cross-legged by the fire, plates balanced on their knees, neither of them caring much about the result.

Neither had bothered getting fully dressed. Just boxers. There was no one around to care.

The first stars appeared tentatively, then bolder, multiplying until the entire sky was scattered with them.

“Jesus,” Kieran said. He’d never seen so many.