Page 96 of Free Fall

And then—like a beautiful dream—he hits a wall of pleasure. Going perfectly rigid, he accepts my ramming cock like a sheath as his body locks up. A spasm rips through him, knees collapsing under his weight, elbows going out so that I’m holding his torso up by my grip on his hair, and he screams.

I feel his cum paint my bare feet as his anus grips wildly, and I realize he’s hit both at once—anal climax and penile orgasm. He quakes like he’s having a seizure while I shove my cock in as deep as I can, hold tight, and grunt. I twitch all over as I shoot my load into his perfect, beautiful, writhing body.

I imagine my jizz coating his insides and I groan, shaking as this orgasm steals my sanity for gloriously long bursts of pleasure. It’s intense, and it takes time for me to return back to myself. I pant against his heaving back, blinking wetly as he hauls in breaths beneath me. Wow, weird, I’ve got tears in my eyes too. I kiss his shoulder blades, his spine, and his wet cheek before I heave myself back onto my heels and tug free of his body.

“Fuck,” he says, reaching back to spread his ass open for me, showing off how I’ve left him fucked open.

I grin as his hole clenches helplessly on air and a dribble of my cum slides out. I use my index finger to push it back in. Irrationally, I want it all to stay inside, to be absorbed into him, to be part of him forever.

“Oh, God,” he whimpers, and trembles some more. I finger his hole lightly until he’s closing up around me, and then pressmy thumb against the twitching pucker of it as if I’m sealing it closed.

I help him stand up, and he leans against me, our height difference making it so that he has to wrap his arms around my shoulders while I steady him with an arm around his waist. His hair swings around us both, soft and tickly. I love it. “Let’s go clean up. Peggy Jo’s got great water pressure.”

“Can I walk?” he mutters, huffing against my hair. “I don’t think I can walk?”

“I got you, Doc,” I say, squeezing him tightly. “I got you.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a small sob seeming to wrack his body as he leans more heavily against me. “Yeah, you do.”

I fight back a weird lump in my throat. I hope I have him. In every way. It’s a lot of responsibility, and…

I don’t want to let him down.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Sejin

In bed withDan the first night at Peggy Jo’s is a little strange. The sheets smell different from the ones in the van or the ones I’m accustomed to at Martin and Leenie’s, but I suppose I can get another brand of detergent and wash everything I use if it bothers me. Which I’m not sure it does. It’s just different.

Another oddity is how I feel after playing house with Dan all afternoon post-fuck over the sofa—which, holy shit, how does sex with Dan keep on being so stupidly good? I’d have thought we’d start hitting a rut by now, but I come for him like that’s what I’m put on this earth to do. It’s ridiculous. But, yeah, after we’d showered and cleaned up our mess and then napped on the sofa to recover, we’d woken to three mad cats yowling for dinner. Once I’d fed them, Dan and I got wildly domestic.

We made dinner together and watched a TV show. We built a fire in the woodstove. We chatted and rubbed each other’s feet, and we cuddled. We brushed our teeth next to each other at the vanity sink in the bathroom, and we climbed into the queen-sized bed in Peggy Jo’s bedroom with a series of yawns and goodnight pecks on the lips.

It feels right. Like we’ve shared space like this a thousand times before. I mean, I’ve slept over in his van, but it’s hardly the same thing. It always feels so temporary, so much like a break from reality for me, as if when I climb into his van I’m stepping outside of time.

Today in Peggy Jo’s house, though, it’s more like a vision of what could be. A future that I don’t know if I have the guts tohope for, but I want to try for anyway. But how? Dan’s a climber, and I’m an overemployed-but-broke prodigal son with no real life plan.

I might be terrified of Dan’s willingness to risk so much, but at least he has a goal. One thatcouldearn money if he were willing to take on sponsorships.

I turn onto my side and watch him sleep in the light of the nearly full moon pouring in from the crack in the curtains. I wonder about the possibility of a future for us. A real one. With a home. And little rituals. A way of being that’sus.

I start to list all the things that would have to happen for a dream like that to come true:

I’d need a real job.

Dan would need an income.

We’d have to find a house we both liked.

We’d have to want the same things from life.

Dan would have to survive his Heart Route free solo.

My eyes fill with tears. It’s amazing how much hinges on that.

Only everything.

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