40. FORTY #2
Kieran pulled back to breathe, to look at what he was doing to Rory. This strong, stoic man, shaking and desperate. His.
Then he dove back in, more insistent now. Tongue pushing deeper, hand stroking faster, working Rory from both ends until he was shaking.
“Kieran.” Rory’s voice was wrecked. “I can’t…I need more.”
Kieran pulled back. Reached for the lube on the nightstand with shaking hands. Not from nerves. From want.
He slicked his fingers. Pressed one against Rory’s hole, circling, not pushing in yet.
“Okay?” Kieran asked, voice rough.
“Yes, please. Yes.”
Kieran pushed in. One finger. Rory clenched around him, then opened, yielding to the pressure.
He worked him gently. Adding a second, unrequested finger when Rory’s breathing evened out. Curling them, searching, until he found that spot that made Rory’s whole body jerk.
“Fuck!”
Kieran kept going, slow enough to make Rory soften around him, careful enough to read every place his body gave. He worked him open with patient strokes, listening to the change in Rory’s breathing, the way it went rough and uneven whenever Kieran found the right angle.
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.
Then he started to move.
Slow at first. Grinding more than thrusting. Rolling his hips in a way that made Kieran see stars. Finding the angle that worked for him, that hit him right.
“Fuck,” Kieran breathed. “You’re beautiful.”
“Don’t talk,” Rory said, but he was smiling. “Feel.”
Rory rose and fell above him, the tight heat of him, the weight of his body. He felt Rory’s thighs working under his hands, powerful and steady. The rhythm building between them.
Relentless. Perfect.
Rory’s hand came up to Kieran’s face. Cupped his jaw. Then his thumb pressed against Kieran’s lips.
Kieran opened for him without thinking. Took Rory’s thumb into his mouth and sucked. Tasted salt and skin, the rough pad of Rory’s thumb against his tongue.
Rory’s eyes went dark. He groaned. “Fuck. That’s so hot.”
Kieran sucked harder, eyes locked on Rory’s, and Rory pulsed tight around his cock in response.
Rory pulled his thumb free, dragging it wet across Kieran’s bottom lip. Then his hand wrapped around his own cock, stroking in time with his movements. The sight of it made Kieran’s brain short-circuit.
Kieran gripped Rory’s thighs harder, centering him, giving him something to push against.
Rory’s head fell back, exposing the long line of his throat. His whole body shuddered. “Yes. Like that. Don’t stop.”
Kieran didn’t stop. He watched Rory work himself, watched him grind down and stroke up, chasing his pleasure from both ends.
It was the hottest thing Kieran had ever experienced.
Rory was close. Kieran could tell. Could see it in his face, in the way his rhythm was getting erratic.
“Kieran.” Rory’s voice broke. “I’m gonna come.”
Kieran’s orgasm built at the base of his spine, unstoppable now. “Me too.”
“Come inside me.” Rory’s eyes locked onto his. “I want to feel you.”
That was all it took.
Rory came first, spilling his cum between them, and when he tightened around Kieran, that was it.
Kieran buried himself deep, hips stuttering, gasping Rory’s name. His body pulsed. Rory took all of it. Everything went tight then liquid.
When he came back to himself, Rory had collapsed forward onto his chest, both of them breathless.
Neither of them moved.
Rory’s forehead was pressed against Kieran’s collarbone, his breathing still ragged, his weight settled fully onto Kieran, too spent to hold himself.
Kieran ran his fingers through Rory’s damp hair. Rory’s eyelashes fluttered against his skin.
“Hey,” Kieran said softly.
Rory lifted his head. His eyes were wet.
Kieran didn’t say anything. He held his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones.
“That was perfect,” Rory said quietly.
Kieran kissed him. Slow. Unhurried.
Then Rory smirked.
“Now...get the fuck out of me.”
Kieran collapsed back into the pillows and they both broke into thunderous laughter.
Kieran rolled them over, letting Rory’s heavy limbs settle into the mattress beside him. Rory lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, a slow, completely spent smile lingering on his face.
“Well,” Kieran said, propping his head up on his hand to look down at him. “Mind cleared?”
“Completely blank,” Rory murmured, his eyes half-closed. “But my shoulders feel like lead. If I get knocked out in the first heat tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”
Kieran grinned, tracing a slow line down Rory’s chest. “Pretty sure you told me to do it. I was just following orders, captain.”