34. THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FOUR
He knocked twice. No answer. Rory’s truck was in the driveway. He frowned and knocked again.
Then there were footsteps and a pause. Then the door opened.
Rory was slightly out of breath, his hair a little messed up, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt that looked hastily thrown on.
“Hey,” Rory said, and his voice came out a fraction too casual. “What’s up?”
Kieran held up the box. “UPS left this on my side.”
“Oh.” Rory took it, tucking it under his arm. “Thanks.”
There was a beat of silence.
Kieran tilted his head, studying Rory’s face. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Why?”
“You seem flustered.”
“I’m not flustered.”
“You’re definitely flustered.”
Rory ran a hand through his hair. “I was in the middle of something.”
“Oh?” Kieran’s smile turned wicked. “What kind of something?”
“Nothing. Just nothing.”
“Can I come in?”
Rory hesitated for a second. But Kieran caught it.
“Sure,” he said, stepping aside.
Kieran walked in, glancing around. The living room looked normal, mostly. Except for the laptop sitting open on the coffee table in front of the couch. And next to it, unmistakable even from across the room, a familiar bottle.
Lube.
Kieran stopped. Looked at the laptop. Looked at the lube. Looked at Rory.
“Oh my god,” Kieran said, his grin widening. “I did interrupt something.”
Rory’s face went red. “No.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not!”
“Rory.” Kieran crossed his arms, thoroughly enjoying this. “You are absolutely lying.”
Rory sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. Fine. Yes. You interrupted me. Happy?”
“Extremely.” Kieran walked over to the couch and sat down directly in front of the laptop. “What were you watching?”
“The Weather Channel.”
Kieran barked out a laugh. “Bullshit.”
He reached for the laptop, and Rory lunged forward. “Don’t!”
But Kieran was faster. He angled the screen toward himself.
The video was paused. Frozen on the screen was a man, shirtless, hairy, greased up and sitting in a chair with his arms behind his head, armpits fully exposed. Below the frame, a pair of hands were wrapped around the man’s cock.
Kieran blinked. Then he looked up at Rory, who was standing there, mortified enough to disappear through the floor.
“Well,” Kieran said. “This is interesting.”
“Can we not?”
“No, no. We’re absolutely doing this.” Kieran settled back into the couch, making himself comfortable. “Sit down.”
Rory sat, looking miserable.
“So. Twitter porn. That’s your thing?” Kieran paused. “Also, you still use Twitter? I thought everyone migrated.”
Rory groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Can we please move on?”
“Absolutely not.” Kieran leaned closer, studying Rory’s face. Then, slowly, deliberately, he reached over and rested his hand on Rory’s thigh.
Rory stopped breathing.
Kieran slid his hand higher, until his palm pressed against the front of Rory’s sweatpants. And there it was. Still semi-hard.
Kieran raised an eyebrow. “You’re still turned on.”
“You interrupted me mid—”
“Mid what? Mid jerk-off session?”
“Jesus Christ, Kieran.”
Kieran grinned and squeezed gently through the fabric. “Am I not enough for you?”
“That’s not it.” Rory exhaled shakily. “I’ve been hornier than I’ve been in a long time. Constantly. It’s like you woke up a part of me I thought had gone quiet.”
Kieran’s chest tightened. “So the food poisoning is officially behind us.”
“Shut up.”
Kieran glanced back at the laptop, then at Rory. “Show me what you were watching.”
Rory’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I want to see it. The whole thing. Please?”
Rory stared at him for a long moment, clearly debating. Then he sighed, reached over, and pressed play.
Kieran watched. A man being edged, stroked to the brink, denied, brought back again, until he finally broke, begging. When he came, his cock pulsed in the hands’ grip, cum erupting in thick ropes across his thighs, dripping down his legs, splattering the floor, while he shouted and shook.
The video ended.
Kieran sat back, his own breathing now uneven. “That’s hot.”
Rory looked at him, surprised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Kieran turned to face him fully. “Is that what you like? Being edged? Begging for it?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never tried it. Not like that.”
“Do you want to? With me?”
Rory stared at him, raw hunger flickering across his face. “Yeah. Okay.”
Kieran smiled. “Good.” He stood and held out his hand. Rory took it.
Kieran led him toward the bedroom, heart pounding, already knowing exactly what he wanted to do. When they reached the bed, he turned to face Rory.
“Take your clothes off.”
Rory reached for the hem of his shirt, then paused. “What about you?”
“I’m staying dressed. Keep going.”
Rory swallowed hard but obeyed. Shirt first, then sweatpants, then boxers, until he was standing there naked, cock already half-hard and filling fast under Kieran’s gaze.
Kieran stepped closer, fully clothed, and ran one hand down Rory’s chest. “On the bed. On your back.”
Rory climbed onto the mattress and settled against the pillows. His cock was fully hard now, curving up toward his stomach, flushed dark and leaking at the tip.
Kieran took a moment to look at him. Spread out and naked and already desperate, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, his hands resting at his sides like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.
“You look good like this,” Kieran said. “Completely at my mercy.”
Rory’s cock twitched.
Kieran climbed onto the bed, settling between Rory’s legs but not touching him yet. He popped the cap on the lube and poured a generous amount into his palm, warming it between his hands.
“You ready?”
“Yes.”
Kieran wrapped his slick hand around Rory’s cock and stroked once. Slow and firm from base to tip.
Rory’s hips jerked off the bed. “Fuck.”
“Stay still.”
He stroked again. Setting a rhythm that was fast enough to feel good but not quite enough to build toward anything. Rory’s breathing was already ragged, his hands fisting in the sheets.
“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” Kieran said, his voice low. “Getting yourself off to porn. Wishing someone else was doing it for you.”
“Yes,” Rory gasped.
“What were you thinking about when I knocked on your door?”
“You. Your hands. Your mouth. The way you, fuck, the way you looked at me in the truck.”
Kieran twisted his hand at the head of Rory’s cock, thumb swiping over the slit, and Rory’s whole body shuddered. He kept stroking, watching Rory’s face, the way his mouth fell open, the way his eyes squeezed shut, the way his hips started to move in small, desperate thrusts.
It was building. He could see it in the tension of Rory’s thighs, the flush spreading across his chest.
And then, just as Rory’s breathing hitched, just as his cock started to pulse in Kieran’s grip, Kieran let go.
Rory’s eyes flew open. “What the fuck?”
“Not yet.”
“Kieran.”
“You wanted to be edged. So I’m edging you.”
Rory groaned, his cock twitching against his stomach, desperate and abandoned.
Kieran waited. Let Rory’s breathing slow. Let the urgency fade slightly. Then he wrapped his hand around him again and stroked with purpose. Fast and tight, giving Rory no room to recover.
“Please,” Rory gasped. “Kieran, I’m so close.”
Kieran stopped.
Rory made a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. “You’re killing me.”
“Good.”
Kieran’s hand drifted lower, past Rory’s balls, down to the sensitive skin behind them. Rory’s legs fell open wider, instinctive, giving him access. He ran his fingers through the thick, coarse hair at the base of Rory’s cock, and Rory shivered.
“I love this,” Kieran said quietly. “How unapologetically you just are.” He circled his hole with one slick finger. “You want this?”
“Yes. Please.”
He pressed gently, and Rory opened for him. Easy. Ready.
Kieran crooked his finger, finding his prostate, and Rory’s entire body jerked. His cock was leaking steadily now, a bead of pre-cum sliding down the shaft.
“More?” Kieran asked.
“God, yes. Two. Please.”
Kieran hesitated, teasing. “You sure?”
Rory’s eyes opened, dark and direct. “I’ve seen your cock, Kieran. I definitely need more than one.”
“Fuck, Rory.”
He added more lube, then pressed two fingers inside. Rory opened for him beautifully, a low groan escaping as Kieran worked them deeper. He added his other hand back to Rory’s cock, stroking in time with the movement of his fingers, and Rory’s control shattered.
“I’m gonna—Kieran, I can’t hold it.”
Kieran pulled both hands away.
Rory whimpered.
“Not yet,” Kieran said again, though his own breathing was unsteady now. Watching Rory like this was almost enough to make him come in his pants.
Rory’s hand moved toward his own cock, seeking relief.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Kieran said sharply, a smirk curling on his face.
Rory froze.
“Hands over your head.”
Rory obeyed, stretching his arms up and gripping the headboard, his entire body on display.
“Good. Keep them there.”
“Please,” Rory whispered. “Kieran, please. I need to come. I’m so close. I’ve been close for…I don’t know how fucking long.”
Kieran wrapped his hand around Rory’s cock again and stroked. Intentional now, exactly how Rory needed. He pushed two fingers back inside, crooking them into his prostate, and Rory’s entire body went rigid.
“Then come,” Kieran said. “Come for me.”
Rory shattered.
His orgasm tore through him. Hands white-knuckled on the headboard, a shout ripping from his throat that Kieran felt in his own chest. His whole body was trembling, as his cock pulsed hard in Kieran’s grip, cum shooting hot over Kieran’s fingers, across his chest, pooling on his stomach.
Kieran didn’t stop stroking. Didn’t stop moving his fingers inside him.
He held on through every wave until Rory was shaking, oversensitive, gasping for breath.
“Stop,” Rory finally choked out. “I can’t. Too much.”
Kieran eased off, pulling his fingers free carefully and releasing Rory’s cock.
Rory collapsed against the pillows, chest heaving, looking absolutely destroyed.
“Holy. Shit.”
Kieran sat back, his own cock aching in his jeans, his hand still slick and warm. “Yeah.”
Rory opened his eyes. His gaze drifted down to his own body, the mess across his chest, stomach, Kieran’s hand still wet with it, and he let out a breathless laugh. “Jesus Christ. Look at me.”
“I’m looking.”
“I’m a disaster.”
“You’re beautiful.”
Kieran leaned down and kissed him, slow and deep and thorough. When he pulled back, Rory’s hands came down from the headboard to frame his face.
“You’re incredible,” Rory said quietly.
Color rose in Kieran’s face. He didn’t have a response that wouldn’t sound like deflection, so he kissed Rory’s forehead and stood.
He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and cleaned Rory off with careful movements.
Rory watched him the whole time, his expression relaxed.
When Kieran was done, he tossed the towel onto the foot of the bed and lay down beside Rory, fully clothed and aching but satisfied in a way that had nothing to do with his own body.
Rory reached for the front of Kieran’s jeans, pressing against the obvious bulge.
Kieran sucked in a breath but caught Rory’s wrist gently. “This was for you. I wanted to do this for you.”
Rory studied his face, his expression shifting in a way Kieran couldn’t read. Then he let his hand fall back. “You’re something else, Kieran Doyle.”
Kieran didn’t know how to answer, so he didn’t. They stayed there as the evening bled into the room, watching the sky outside turn from dusk to dark.
After a while, Rory spoke. His voice was different now. Quieter. Considered.
“I want to ask you something. And I’ve been thinking about how to say it, so just let me get it out.”
Kieran turned his head to look at him.
“Have you been tested recently? For STDs?”
“Maybe a year ago,” Kieran said. “Haven’t been with anyone since then. Everything came back clean.”
Rory nodded slowly. “I got tested a couple years ago. Clean as well. And I haven’t been with anyone else.” He paused. “I want us both to go again. Together. Because I don’t want to use condoms with you anymore.”
Kieran was quiet.
“I want to feel you,” Rory continued. “Just you. And if you’re not comfortable with that, I understand. But I trust you. And I want that closeness.”
Kieran swallowed. His throat was tight. “That’s not a big ask,” he finally said. “That’s the right ask. It means you’re thinking about this like it has a future.”
Rory’s expression softened. “It is real.”
“Then we’ll go. Next week. Both of us.” Kieran reached over and laced his fingers through Rory’s.
Rory squeezed back. “Okay.”