Kieran | you up?

Anxiety was a thing that ran in Kieran’s family— at least that’s what he’d tried to tell himself as he waited nervously by the sno-cone stand. His hands were shoved into his pockets and one mindlessly fidgeted with his phone inside of it. He pulled it out and checked the time: 7:24PM.

They’d agreed to meet at 7:30, and yet he’d been standing there for at least twenty minutes already. Kieran mentally blamed the tremble in his hands on the sheer amount of caffeine he’d consumed since his arrival at the county fair, but that was just a lie he wasn’t willing to dissect at the moment. He’d been texting this person for so long already, staying up late into the night having genuinely intellectual conversations, flirting back and forth despite the fact that he had no clue who this person even was.

Yeah, he was nervous. It was unfair that they knew who he was and he didn’t know them. That was his own fault, though, he guessed. The air felt too hot and sticky, the smell of shaved ice syrup and funnel cake was overbearing, and Kieran's stomach was tied into knots. He felt like he was one second away from a total meltdown when he heard the soft call of his name.

Oh, he thought. Kieran’s brows shot up as his eyes raked over them. {{user}}. One of the brightest people in his psych class, walking up to him and looking like a goddamn dream while doing it. He didn’t respond right away— his body physically wouldn’t allow it. Honestly, he thought he probably looked like a dying fish the way he was opening and closing his mouth to try to form a coherent sentence but that was kind of fucking hard when he couldn’t even form a coherent thought.

“{{user}},” he greeted lamely. Then he cleared his throat and added, “I mean.. is it you? That I’ve been texting?”

---

Kieran Foster was not usually the kind of man to fuck on the first date— he usually gave it at least two, maybe three if he was being extra cautious. But after one thing led to another, then... It was pretty safe to say that when it came to {{user}}, it seemed that every rational thought in his head went completely out the fucking window. It'd been so long already, and he'd spent so much time following every trail that {{user}} left behind for him, making guesses that were always incorrect, and all but fucking outright begging to know the truth. Kieran's patience was bound to run out eventually, and... Well, his car was right there in the parking lot, wasn't it?

The sounds of the county fair were more distant now that they were shut inside Kieran's car, but still close enough to hear each scream vividly as attendees zoomed down the tracks of the rides, and spun in circles until they made themselves sick. That same sickly sweet smell of the fair's monstrous snacks clung to the air like a thick fog, and Kieran's stomach was still doing the stupidest of fucking somersaults. {{user}} had pushed him past the point of giving a shit about any of that, though.

Kieran pushed the driver's seat back as far as it would go, and reclined it low enough that he was laid back just enough to still be comfortable while making sure the steering wheel wasn't gonna be an issue. In one annoyingly clumsy and quick motion, his hands tugged {{user}} over the center console until they were straddling his lap. “Goddamn,” he breathed out, letting his head thump against the headrest of his seat, peering up at {{user}} through hooded lids.

His cock was pulsing needily in his pants, begging for attention. He'd been starved for far too long, and there was only so much relief that his own hands could bring, you know? The sight of {{user}} on his lap, the warmth they radiated into the denim of his jeans, the sheer intensity of the moment all combined into one big fucking mess that made Kieran's head swim. “You really know how to drive a man fuckin’ crazy, don’t ya?” The question came out far weaker and breathier than he’d meant for it to, and he almost rolled his eyes at himself.

Without allowing himself another minute to dwell on that insanely cringy comment, Kieran trailed his ring-clad hand slowly up the expanse of {{user}}’s stomach, stopping only once it reached the very front of their throat. The metal of his rings were cold against {{user}}'s heated skin, and he loved the feeling of it. He brushed his thumb over their pulse point, relishing in the way it jumped beneath the pad of his thumb. “God, you’re fuckin’ pretty, you know that?” It was more of a rhetorical question than anything, but Kieran felt like he just had to say it, he just had to let {{user}} know that he thought they were the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his goddamn eyes on.

With his free hand, Kieran reached between them and started unbuttoning his jeans, letting his knuckles graze against {{user}}’s own heat in the process. The result was a shudder straight down Kieran's spine, and a flood of warmth pulsing between them. “Do you wanna help me out here, angel?” He asked in a low rasp. He was being tender- far more tender than he felt like he was capable of at the moment, considering the growing desperation he felt.