Page 155 of Should the Sky Fall

It's a miracle he doesn’t trip in his hurry to get the joggers off and climb back into bed.

“Sit back against the headboard,” he tells Cal, who only blinks at him like Dawson is speaking a different language. God, it shouldn’t be this adorable. Dawson repeats himself, smiling as Cal clumsily shuffles backwards until he’s leaning against the pillows. His hands are clenched into fists by his sides and his cock strains against his dark-blue boxer-briefs.

A rush of power sweeps through Dawson’s veins. He doesn’t even care how desperate he must look as he crawls towards Cal and straddles his thighs. It’s different than before, the skin-on-skin contact heightening everything, and when Cal’s large hands land on Dawson’s naked hips, it’s all he can do not to whimper. He dives forward to feel Cal’s lips on his again, moaning into the kiss when his cock presses against Cal’s, one layer of fabric the only thing separating them. That one layer has suddenly become very annoying.

Dawson breaks the kiss, and Cal chases after him, making him laugh when he gets Dawson’s chin instead.

“Gimme a second,” he says, pressing an apologetic kiss to Cal’s mouth. Cal grunts out a complaint, but waits, slumping against the pillows with a huff. Dawson grins like a loon as he works Cal’s underwear off, nudging him to lift his hips.

Cal all but crushes Dawson to his chest afterwards, kissing the living daylights out of him. There’s no trace left of the guilt-ridden, reluctant man from only minutes before who was afraid to so much as touch Dawson. He kisses Dawson like it’s their last night on earth, like this is all they have. It’s not. It’s just the beginning.

Dawson rocks his hips, needing to move, needing…more. More of this, more of Cal.

“Cal?” he says in a shaky voice, letting his head fall back when Cal kisses his neck, then sucks a bruise above his collarbone. Warmth spreads through the place where Cal’s lips are and travels through Dawson’s whole body, gathering low in his belly and making his cock jump. “Cal.”

“Hm?” He doesn’t stop raining kisses on Dawson’s skin. Damn, is he supposed to focus?

“I need to…need to move a little.” Not that he wants to. He wants to stay like this, in Cal’s lap and in his arms, being kissed like he’s never been kissed before.

Cal stops, and even though Dawson asked him to, he can’t stop a whine that forces its way out.

“Are you okay?” Cal asks, so easily worried.

Dawson chuckles. “Yeah. More than okay.” He strokes Cal’s hair, leaning in to give him a reassuring kiss. “I just need to get to the nightstand.” Cal’s nightstand, to be precise. Thankfully, they’re close enough that he doesn’t even have to get out of Cal’s lap. He only has to lean sideways and stretch out his arm to reach the top drawer.

Warmth gathers in his cheeks when he realizes what kind of position he’s landed in, nearly sprawled across Cal’s lap with his ass on display. He ignores the sudden bout of self-consciousness, rolling his eyes at himself. With what he has planned, he can’t afford to be self-conscious.

Cal looks like a lost puppy when Dawson slides back into his lap and holds up the half-empty bottle of lube he just fished out.

“It’s to uh...aid the way,” Dawson explains awkwardly, feeling like a virgin all over again, although Cal’s cluelessness is kind of calming.

“Aid the way for…”

His face aflame, Dawson laughs. He can’t stop it, the situation utterly ridiculous. Cal’s confused face is all kinds of endearing. So endearing that Dawson has to kiss him. He just has to. He drags his lips across Cal’s, flicking his tongue out to hear Cal gasp. Feeling brave—and also quite horny—he whispers, “I want to feel you inside me.”

It takes a few moments for the meaning to sink in, but Dawson can tell when it does. Cal’s fingers dig into his hips, bordering on painful, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

“I don’t… I don’t really know what to do.”

Dawson’s heart swells in his chest, almost too big for it. He doesn’t know what he’s doing either, but he won’t say that. Instead, he kisses Cal again. “I’ll show you.”

Putting on a confident exterior that’s completely incongruous with how nervous he is, Dawson flicks the bottle of lube open, meaning to squeeze some on his fingers, but he changes his mind at the last minute. He looks at Cal’s hands still gripping his hips like he’s afraid to let go, and a surge of desire to feel those fingers inside him overrides everything else.

“Give me your hand?”

Cal lets go of Dawson reluctantly, letting him take his shaking hand.

Dawson coats Cal’s fingers with the lube and guides them between his ass cheeks, their gazes locked the whole time. He gasps when Cal touches his hole, more so from the coldness of the lube than anything else. Cal’s eyes are wide and helpless as he waits for Dawson’s instruction.

“Start—” Dawson’s voice wavers, and he clears his throat. “Start with one. I…I don’t relax easily, and it’s been a while since we…” What’s with not being able to finish a sentence, Jesus! “Just…go slow.”

Cal’s throat bobs as he swallows. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dawson’s vision blurs, and despite his best efforts, a tear slides down his cheek. A shaky smile appears on his lips and he presses his forehead to Cal’s. “You could never hurt me.”

Cal lets out an anguished sound, but his hand stays where it is. “Dawson…”

“I trust you,” Dawson says, feeling more words climb up his throat, begging to be released. He doesn’t try to fight them, not when he feels them to the marrow of his bones. “I love you.” He rakes his hand through Cal’s hair, smiling at his bewildered expression. “I love you, Cal.”