Page 99 of We Are Just Us

Rory let out a rough chuckle, the sound vibrating against Kieran’s skin as he rolled on the condom. “I didn’t plan it. But I did spend the entire three-hour drive staring at the road and losing my goddamn mind thinking about you spread open in the back of my truck. There’s a difference.”

He slicked his fingers and pressed one inside slowly. Kieran’s back arched; after the rim job, he was so sensitive that even one finger was overwhelming.

“More,” Kieran gasped.

Rory added a second, crooked finger, and found the spot inside that made Kieran see stars.

“There,” Kieran breathed. “God, right there.”

He worked him open until Kieran was trembling and desperate.

Then he pulled his fingers out. Slicked himself again, and repositioned one of Kieran’s legs flat on the sleeping bag, the other lifted onto Rory’s shoulder, opening him up.

Rory lined himself up and pushed forward.

The stretch was intense, more than fingers, a burn that made Kieran’s breath catch. But Rory didn’t stop, didn’t ask, steadily sinking in until he bottomed out.

“Fuck,” Kieran whispered.

Above them, the sky was turning a deeper gold, streaked with pink. A bird called somewhere in the distance.

And Rory was inside him, filling him, and Kieran had never been so present in his own body. So connected to another person. So part of the world instead of hiding from it.

Rory gave him a moment and then he started to move. Pulling out before pushing back in. Each thrust was deliberate, controlled, the angle letting him hit deep. Kieran felt split open, claimed, completely at Rory’s mercy. The drag of him, the fullness, the obscene wet sound of their bodies connecting. Kieran heard his own breathing turn ragged, heard Rory’s low grunt with every thrust, heard the sleeping bag bunching beneath them, and the faint, heavy groan of the truck’s suspension absorbing their rhythm.

Then Rory picked up the pace, his hips snapping harder, and Kieran couldn’t think anymore. Could only feel.

The force of it pushed them across the truck bed, the sleeping bags bunching beneath them, Kieran’s shoulders sliding against the metal where the padding had shifted. He didn’t care. The bite of it only made everything sharper, more real.

His hand moved toward his own cock, desperate for friction.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Rory growled.

Kieran’s hand froze.

“That’s mine,” Rory said. He wrapped his hand around Kieran’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.

The dual sensation was too much. Kieran found himself thrusting up into Rory’s fist, then back onto his cock, caught between two points of overwhelming pleasure. Each snap of Rory’s hips drove them further across the truck bed, the metal biting into Kieran’s back, and he wanted to feel this tomorrow, wanted proof that it had happened.

“Look at me,” Rory demanded.

Kieran forced his eyes open, meeting Rory’s gaze, dark and intense and focused entirely on him.

“I want to see your eyes when you come,” Rory said. He shifted the angle, driving in deeper, ruthless and heavy, hitting that exact, swollen knot of nerves until Kieran’s vision fractured at the edges. “Let me see what I do to you, Kier.”

“I’m gonna come…don't stop,” Kieran whispered, his fingers clawing blindly into the muscle of Rory’s shoulders.

“Come then,” Rory growled, his fist tightening, matching the frantic snap of his hips. “Give it to me.”

Rory didn’t just hit the spot—he stayed on it, anchoring himself deep and grinding his pelvis forward, relentless and heavy, overloading Kieran’s nervous system until the distinction between pleasure and pain completely dissolved.

The orgasm didn’t just break over him; it trapped him.

Kieran’s back arched violently off the bunched sleeping bags, his jaw locking as a choked, broken shout tore from his throat. He came hard, a blind, full-body seizure of pleasure that started where Rory was buried inside him and tore outward through every nerve. Cum shot up across his chest, his neck—his cheek.

“Oh fuck.” Rory laughed, the sound breathless, and utterly delighted, his eyes scanning the mess on Kieran’s skin, his own hips shaking as the tightness inside Kieran began to pull him under too.

But instead of the usual sharp release and comedown, the rhythmic, devastating pressure of Rory’s hips kept the peak frozen in place. Every heavy, blunt thrust inward slammed directly into his prostate, triggering a fresh, violent wave of contractions before the last one could even recede.