TEN
“Istill think this is some kind of elaborate prank,” Kieran muttered as they reached the top of the trailhead above Black’s Beach.
Rory shaded his eyes and looked out over the cliff. “You say that like I’d commit to a thirty-minute drive and a steep descent just to mess with you.”
“That’s exactly the level of commitment that worries me.”
Rory laughed and adjusted the straps on his backpack. He was still fully clothed—tank top, shorts, hat, sneakers. Normal. Reassuring.
“Just wait for the trek back up. It’s a doozy. You’ll wish this was a prank.”
The trail wound down the cliff in tight, dusty switchbacks, steep enough to demand attention. People passed them heading up, flushed and sandy, breathing hard.
Relief moved through him. “Okay,” he said quietly. “So at least no one’s committing a crime on the way down.”
Rory glanced back over his shoulder. “Yeah, no. You earn the nudity. And even then it’s not a requirement.”
“That’s…not comforting.”
The descent was hot and close. Rory walked a few steps ahead, steady, occasionally pointing out loose gravel or a tricky step. Kieran focused on his footing and absolutely not on Rory’s shoulders or the way sweat darkened the fabric between them.
They reached the bottom and the beach opened up—wide, bright, calmer than Kieran expected. People scattered along the sand in loose clusters. Some clothed. Some not. Some half-and-half. It was surprisingly normal.
Rory dropped his backpack near a low dune and rolled out a towel. “Okay. Here’s where things diverge.”
Kieran glanced at the sand suspiciously. “You’re being ominous.”
“Relax. This is the part where it’s only fair.”
“Fair?”
Rory shrugged out of his tank top. “I saw you naked.”
The ground shifted under him. “That was an accident.”
“Still counts.” Rory stepped out of his shorts and kicked them aside. The baseball cap stayed on. “I figure the universe likes symmetry.”
Kieran looked away. Then looked back. He regretted both.
He told himself it was normal to look, even if it was Rory.
Fucking liar.
Rory stood there like the sun had personally appointed him its representative, relaxed, entirely too comfortable in a state Kieran was still negotiating terms with.
His body was lean and strong, naturally hairy in the way Kieran had noticed from across fences and driveways but never fully absorbed. His dick was there. Average. Unassuming. Like it had nothing to prove.
Looking at him made Kieran think hugging him would solve several emotional problems at once.
God damn.
What made it worse was how little Rory seemed to care. He wasn’t posing or flexing or checking for reactions. He bent to spread out a towel, stretched his arms overhead, shifted his weight in the sand with zero awareness that Kieran’s eyes had popped out of their sockets.
Then came the inconvenient awareness building below his waist. Not panic but…interest. Interest with momentum.
He forced his gaze away, then wondered if that was noticeable.
Get it together. This is a beach. A beach with significantly more dick and balls than usual, but still just a beach.
Still. He didn’t leave.
“You good?” Rory asked, settling onto his towel.
“Processing,” Kieran said. “Deeply.”
“Take your time. Nobody’s grading you.”
Kieran sat down fully clothed, legs bent, hands braced behind him like he was attending a lecture he hadn’t prepared for.
A voice called out nearby. “Rory! Haven’t seen you in a while! We need one more!”
Rory turned toward a small group setting up a volleyball net, laughing, gesturing, clearly mid-argument.
He looked back at Kieran. “You mind? Want to come along?”
“You’re going to play volleyball like that? No thanks. I brought my Kindle.”
Rory shrugged. “I don’t let clothes define my athletic ability.”
“Do you even know how to play volleyball?”
“No,” Rory said cheerfully. “But I’ve got gumption and no shame. That’s basically the same thing.”
Before Kieran could respond, Rory jogged off toward the group. Halfway there, without breaking stride, he reached up and flipped the cap backward.
“God. Damn,” Kieran muttered, involuntarily.
The game started. Loose rules, lots of shouting, more enthusiasm than skill. Rory fit right in.
Kieran told himself not to stare. He stared. With disbelief at how unfazed Rory was.
Rory glanced back, smiling.
After a few minutes, Kieran realized he was warm. Hot. His shirt clung to his back, the sun relentless.
I don’t have to, he told himself.
But also, I didn’t come all this way to sit in a shirt. Fuck it.
He pulled it off. Nothing happened. No one reacted. No one even noticed. That alone was a small miracle.
He let the sun hit his fair skin, waiting for the panic that never quite arrived.
“Okay,” Rory said, stretching his arms behind his head. “I’m starving.”
“From all that gumption?”
“Gumption burns calories,” Rory said, deadpan. “It’s demanding work.”
Rory sitting there naked, deeply serious about calorie-burning gumption—it broke through before Kieran could stop it. He laughed.
Rory’s eyes crinkled at the sound, pleasure crossing his face. “You don’t do that enough,” Rory said. “You should.”
Kieran’s face went red for the umpteenth time today. “I’m just not used to all of...this.”
“This,” Rory echoed. He flopped back onto his towel, throwing his arms over his eyes.
The sun climbed higher as the minutes passed, the air thickening, heavy with salt. Around them, the beach hummed with life, music drifting faintly from a speaker down the sand, the steady hush of waves folding over themselves again and again.
Kieran shifted onto his back, closing his eyes, exposed in a way that wasn’t physical. Shirtless in front of Rory, yes, but more than that—the exposure that came from being fully present in his body, without armor. Without apology.
When he opened his eyes again, Rory was watching him, somewhere between staring and devouring. Or maybe he had sunscreen in his eye.
“You okay?” Rory asked.
“Yeah,” Kieran said. “I think I am.”
Rory smiled. “Good.”
They shared snacks from Rory’s bag, chips, oranges, a Kit Kat bar that melted a little too fast in the sun. It was easy in a way that surprised Kieran. Unforced.
Almost like a date that didn’t need to announce itself.
But it is not a date.
At some point, Kieran rolled onto his side, facing Rory. The sand stuck to his forearm, his hip, the hollow at his waist. He'd spent years trying to be less visible, and it had only made him lonelier.
The afternoon stretched on, the light beginning its slow tilt toward gold. Eventually, Rory sat up, brushing sand from his hands.
“Wanna walk?” Rory asked.
Kieran nodded as Rory gathered his bag, threw his towel over his shoulder, and didn’t put his shorts back on.
Rory started walking north as if this was simply the logical next step.
The beach thinned out the farther they went, fewer towels, more space between people, the energy shifting from public to looser and less curated.
Bodies were still everywhere, people stretched, reclined, and moved without checking who was watching.
It was the kind of place where no one apologized for existing.
They found a spot where the beach curved inward, sheltered by rocks. Rory dropped his towel and plopped flat on his back.
Kieran noticed all of it.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Rory said, his voice a rumble beside him.
Kieran glanced over. Every inch of Rory’s sun-kissed skin on display. He was all confidence and clean lines, a study in comfort. Kieran, by contrast, was a collection of awkward angles and held breaths.
“I’m not thinking anything,” Kieran murmured, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
“Bullshit. You’re cataloging every grain of sand between your ass and this towel. Relax. It’s just sun,” Rory said. “This is usually where I come when I want the sun to actually do something.”
Kieran eyed the slope. “Do something how?”
Rory sat up then, his movement fluid. He shot Kieran a grin that was pure mischief. “You ever tried perineum sunning?”
Kieran blinked. “Perineum sunning?”
“The taint. The gooch. The mystical bridge between balls and asshole.” Rory’s laugh was bright and effortless. “There’s a whole thing about it. Direct sunlight. Vitamin D absorption. Allegedly boosts testosterone, energy, all that.”
“That sounds like pseudoscience for idiots.”
“Probably,” Rory agreed, still grinning. “But it feels fucking amazing. Watch.”
Before Kieran could formulate a protest, Rory shifted. He planted his feet wide on the sand, knees bent, and let his legs fall open in a shameless, wide V. He arched his back, lifting his hips, presenting himself fully to the dying sun.
The sight of Rory splayed open and golden made Kieran’s mouth go dry.
He should look away. It would be the polite thing to do. But he couldn’t. The raw display was mesmerizing.
“See?” Rory’s voice was a little thicker now. “Heat. Right where you never think to feel it. Your turn.”
Kieran shook his head in protest.
“Come on, Doyle. Live a little.” Rory’s head was tilted back, eyes closed, a smile playing on his lips. “No one’s here. But you don’t have to.”
That did it. A quiet challenge from Rory. It landed low in his gut.
He wasn’t scared. He was just careful. Always so careful.
He let out a sharp breath and untied the drawstrings around his shorts. In as confident a manner as he could manage, he dropped them, kicked them aside, and sat quickly on his half-folded towel. He lay back. Planted his feet. Let his knees fall apart.
The air brushed skin that had never seen daylight. It was a bizarre, intimate sensation.
“You’re still all clenched up. You have to let go.” He shifted onto his knees beside Kieran. “Can I—?”
Kieran nodded before he could think about it. He could say no and Rory would stop. The problem was, he didn’t really want him to.
Rory’s hands, sweaty and sure, came down on the inside of Kieran’s thighs. He pressed, gently but firmly, spreading Kieran open to the sky, lifting his legs until Kieran had nowhere to hide.
A choked cough escaped Kieran’s throat.
Rory’s thumbs were a breath away from touching him, stroking the trembling skin of his inner thighs.
“There,” Rory murmured, his voice husky. “Now breathe. Let the sun in.”
“How long,” Kieran asked carefully, “does one…sun?”
“Thirty seconds,” Rory said. “It’s not a lifetime commitment, man.”
“Okay,” he said, before he could reconsider. “But if I combust, that’s on you.”
“Deal.”
Kieran focused on the sky. On breathing. On not thinking about how exposed he was.
It was happening before he could admit it to himself. There was a distinct internal shift—the kind his body made without consulting him first. A sudden rush. A traitorous sense of oh no, not now, followed by oh god, it’s already too late.
He stared at the sky like it might intervene.
Nope.
There was no pretending this away. No subtlety. No polite ambiguity. His body had made a clear, confident decision and was standing by it. Literally.
Cool, cool, cool.
Kieran let out a slow, defeated breath.
You absolute menace, he thought at himself. We are outside. In daylight.
He risked a glance downward and regretted it.
This was a full, unmistakable response—his body reacting as if it had been handed a live wire and decided to grab it with both hands.
Which meant this wasn’t just an erection. It was a declaration.
His brain began filing incident reports.
Cause of incident: sun, vulnerability, Rory
Location: public, unforgiving
Witness: Also Rory
“Oh my god,” Kieran muttered under his breath.
He became acutely aware of every sensation at once, the temperature of the sand, the sun pressing down, the breeze moving across his skin in a way that suddenly became overwhelming. His body was loud. Enthusiastic. Absolutely not taking cues from his desire to remain chill.
Do not look at Rory. Do not look at Rory! Do not make eye contact like this.
Too late. Rory noticed.
Not with shock. But a quiet pause, the pause of someone clocking a fact they hadn’t expected but now couldn’t unsee.
“Oh,” Rory said softly.
Kieran squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry. I swear this isn’t…I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Rory lowered his hands, careful, respectful. “Hey,” he said, calm as ever. “You’re fine.”
Kieran rolled onto his side, mortified, sand sticking to places he was suddenly very aware of. “I knew this would happen. I literally told myself, ‘don’t do this,’ and here we are.”
Rory lay back beside him, close but not touching, giving him space without making it weird, which somehow made it worse.
“Kind of flattering,” Rory said lightly.
Kieran let out a weak laugh. “Please don’t say that.”
“I’m serious. You’re nervous. Exposed. Your body’s just…reacting.”
Kieran cracked one eye open.
Rory was staring up at the sky now, relaxed. But not as unaffected as he was pretending to be.
Oh…so we’re both like this.
They lay side by side, completely still, the air between them humming with everything they weren’t acknowledging.
“Well,” Kieran said weakly. “If wellness was the goal…”
Rory bit his lip, eyes still on the clouds. “Yeah?”
“I feel extremely alive.”
Rory’s smile widened. “Same.”
And Kieran couldn’t tell, wouldn’t let himself decide, whether Rory had known exactly what would happen.
Or if this was simply what happened when he let the sun in.