Page 135 of We Are Just Us

Rory shifted beneath him, one knee sliding higher on the mattress, his hips pressing back into Kieran’s hand with less restraint now. Wanting. Asking without words.

Kieran withdrew his fingers carefully and slicked himself up, his pulse thudding hard in his throat. Then he moved closer, adjusting behind him, one hand braced near Rory’s ribs and the other settling on his hip. It took a second to find the right fit between them—Rory tall and broad beneath him, Kieran trying not to lose his mind before they’d even started.

“Lift a little,” Kieran murmured.

Rory obeyed, pushing up onto one forearm, hips tilting back. The angle changed, opened, and Kieran lined himself up with a shaky breath.

He pushed in slowly, giving Rory time to take him.

Rory’s body tightened for a fraction of a second, his face turning into the crook of his arm. Then he exhaled, long and ragged, his hips easing back to meet the pressure.

“Fuck, Kieran,” he muttered, voice muffled, thick with strain.

Kieran groaned, low and helpless, his chest coming down against Rory’s back as he sank in deeper. He had to brace himself there for a second, forehead near Rory’s shoulder, breathing hard through the shock of it.

“You okay?” he asked, voice rough.

“Yeah,” Rory gasped, his fingers fisting into the fabric of the pillowcase. “Yeah. Don’t stop. Just move.”

Kieran pushed in further. Rory stretched around him, clenched, softened, took him deeper. It was overwhelming. The heat. The tightness. The intimacy of it.

Kieran’s hand moved over Rory’s back. Soothing. Anchoring.

“You feel incredible,” Kieran said quietly.

Rory made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob.

Then Kieran started to move.

He wasn’t aggressive about it. Wasn’t trying to prove anything or establish dominance. He moved with purpose but also care. Long, measured strokes. Pulling almost all the way out, then pushing back in, angling to hit that spot that made Rory gasp.

Rory’s hands fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, but he was pushing back to meet Kieran’s thrusts now, finding the rhythm with him.

The sounds Rory was making went straight to Kieran’s gut. Half-gasps. Half-moans. Raw.

But after a few minutes, Rory shifted.

“Wait. Kieran. Wait.”

Kieran stopped. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No. I want—” Rory pulled forward, off of him.

He turned over, breathing hard, and Kieran saw his face for the first time since they’d started. Flushed. Eyes dark and wanting. But also open. Vulnerable.

“I want to see you,” Rory said quietly.

Kieran’s chest tightened.

Rory pushed at his shoulder, guiding him onto his back. Kieran went, settling against the pillows, watching as Rory climbed over him, straddling his hips. He reached back, gripping Kieran’s cock, positioning it.

Their eyes locked.

“Please,” Rory said. One word. Quiet. Raw. Trusting. Then he sank down.

Kieran’s breath punched out of him. The heat, the pressure, the impossible tightness, it was almost too much. He gripped Rory’s thighs hard enough to bruise, trying to hold on, trying not to come immediately. Above him, Rory’s head fell back, throat exposed, a low moan escaping that Kieran felt in his own chest.

Rory’s hands braced on Kieran’s chest. He stayed still, adjusting, breathing.