Page 52 of We Are Just Us

“Not great,” Rory admitted, voice edged with amusement and want.

Kieran laughed, surprised by how normal this was. “What do you need?”

“You,” Rory said simply. “If you’re up for it.”

Kieran turned his head enough to catch Rory’s eyes, dark, intent, but waiting. Always waiting for permission.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he twisted in Rory’s grip, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of his mouth before sliding down, taking the sheets with him.

“Kieran.” Rory’s voice caught, surprised.

“Shh.” Kieran’s breath was warm against Rory’s stomach, his hands finding the sharp cut of his hips. “Let me.”

Rory’s muscles tensed beneath his palms, the quick intake of breath as Kieran settled between his thighs. He took a moment to look, Rory hard and flushed and wanting, all that careful restraint finally cracking.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” Kieran said. And then his mouth was on him, and Rory stopped talking.

The sound Rory made, a low grunt, went straight to Kieran’s core. He took his time, learning the weight and taste of him, one hand pressed flat against Rory’s stomach to feel every shudder and twitch.

When they were both spent and sticky and the sheets definitely needed changing, Rory flopped onto his back with a satisfied groan.

“I’m not moving,” he said. “Possibly ever.”

Kieran turned his head, smiling before he could stop himself. “We did go twice.”

“Overachievers.” Rory’s hand found Kieran’s, fingers gripping together loosely. “No regrets.”

They lay in a comfortable silence, the morning creeping in around them. Kieran could hear birds outside. The distant sound of a lawnmower running. Life continuing, oblivious to their indiscretions.

Eventually, Rory sat up, running a hand through his hair. “I should shower. You have coffee?”

“Yeah,” Kieran said. “That sounds good.”

Rory stood, relaxed in his nakedness, and Kieran watched him move toward the bathroom, unhurried, already treating this as routine.

The door closed. Water started running.

Kieran lay there alone, trying to force his thoughts into order.

They’d slept together. Twice, technically. Three times for him if he counted the one he hadn’t planned.

By the time Rory emerged from the shower, towel slung low around his hips, Kieran had pulled on his boxers and was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands braced on his knees.

Rory paused, reading the room suddenly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kieran said. “Just...thinking.”

Rory grabbed a shirt from the floor—Kieran’s—and pulled it on without asking. It fit him differently, tighter across the shoulders, loose around the waist. He sat down beside Kieran, close but not crowding.

“Thinking good or thinking bad?” Rory asked.

Kieran exhaled. “Thinking we should probably talk.”

“Okay,” Rory said. “Let’s talk.”

They ended up in the kitchen. Coffee brewing, morning light slanting through the windows, the dogs circling their feet with hopeful energy.