Page 157 of Should the Sky Fall

“Are you okay?” Cal asks, sounding like each word takes monumental effort.

Dawson gives him a dopey smile. “I’m perfect.”

Cal gives him a look that can only be described as loving. “Yes, you are.”

It’s such a cheesy line, and Dawson wants to laugh. The sound begins to form in his chest, but it comes out as a sob.

Cal’s expression absolutely shatters. “Daw—”

Dawson throws himself at Cal, as much as is possible in his position, kissing him frantically and sloppily. Cal lets out a grunt of surprise, but it doesn’t take long before he’s kissing him back, outright devouring him and god, Dawson wants to be devoured, wants everything from Cal.

A string of moans fills the space between them, and it takes Dawson an embarrassingly long time to realize they’re coming from him. At some point, he has no idea when, he started moving, rocking his hips and riding Cal’s cock. Cal’s hands are gripping his hips like a lifeline, urging him on as Dawson lifts up a couple of inches before sinking back down. Each time Cal fills him, an electric current shoots up Dawson’s spine, every single nerve in his body tingling.

He picks up the pace, relishing the burn in his thighs and the way his body shakes with exertion. It feels insanely good, but he needs more, way more. Letting go of Cal’s shoulders, he reaches for the headboard for better leverage. The movement forces him to lean forward, changing the angle, and the next time he sinks down, Cal hits his prostate dead on.

Dawson wails, gripping the headboard hard enough to hear it creak, and works his hips even harder, even faster, desperately looking for that angle that made him see stars. Every time he gets it right, his whole body jerks like he was electrocuted. His cock drags against Cal’s stomach with each pump of his hips, the combined sensations propelling him to the edge with alarming speed.

“Cal. Cal.” He’s not asking anything. He just needs to say Cal’s name, loving the way it feels rolling off his tongue.

Cal whimpers, burying his face in Dawson’s neck, his parted lips resting against Dawson’s overheated skin. He runs his hands along Dawson’s spine, making him arch into the touch. One arm wraps around Dawson’s waist, holding him tight, the fingers of his other hand threading through Dawson’s hair.

It makes it harder to move, but Dawson doesn’t care. He lets go of the headboard, wrapping his arms around Cal and working his hips as much as he can. The buildup is slower like this, but incessant, and it doesn’t stop even when it finally peaks. Instead of a wave crashing against a cliff, it feels like a high tide, rising steadily until it reaches the shore.

Cal comes first, muffling a cry into Dawson’s neck that will forever be seared in his brain. It’s almost as if Cal’s pleasure sets off Dawson’s own, his orgasm hitting him out of nowhere. The gentle waves ripple through him one by one, seemingly never-ending. It feels like he’s coming for ages, his mind foggy and his body weak. He slumps against Cal like a sack of grain, wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and drift off while Cal is holding him, kissing loving words into his neck. Another part of him wants to stay wide awake, to cherish this moment for as long as it lasts.

Cal clings to him like he has similar thoughts, his face still tucked into the crook of Dawson’s neck. “Is it—is it always like this?” He sounds utterly wrecked, some of the aftershocks still running through him. Dawson can feel them in his own body.

“No.” He wraps his arms around Cal tighter and just…holds on. “It’s never like this.”

Chapter 26

Dawsonwakesupachyand alone. Cal’s side of the bed is already cold and there’s a sweet smell coming from the kitchen. His stomach grumbles in response. The smoothie yesterday was barely sustaining.

He heaves himself up and makes a face when a certain part of his body protests. It’s been a long time, so he’s sore, but in the best way. It’s a reminder of last night, of being held in Cal’s arms and kissed to within an inch of his life. His cock is clearly on board, growing to full mast from the semi he woke up with, but Dawson’s too drowsy to do anything about it.

He gathers the strength to brush his teeth and take a quick shower, ignoring his erection that just can’t seem to take a hint. Bracing himself, he switches the knob to cold, hissing as the water becomes progressively cooler until his teeth chatter. It works, though, his erection flagging and Dawson finally starting to wake up.

Back in the bedroom, his gaze falls on divorce papers lying abandoned on the floor. Suddenly, he’s not hungry anymore, the realization of how close he was to losing Cal twisting his stomach into knots. He marches towards the papers, tearing them in half before dumping them in the bin.

He throws on a fresh pair of boxer-briefs and yesterday’s clothes and heads to the kitchen. He comes to a stop when he sees Cal, a frying pan in one hand and a spatula in the other, his blue shirt stretched taut over his broad shoulders.

The memory of what those shoulders felt like under his hands, strong and steady as Dawson held onto them, is enough to make his cock give a valiant twitch.

Stop it, you nympho.

He must make a noise, because Cal stops what he’s doing and turns around.

“Good morning,” he says, holding the spatula awkwardly in the air.

What a weirdo,Dawson thinks affectionately. “Morning.” He makes his way over. “Pancakes?”

“Not quite.” Cal nods towards the plate next to the stove stacked with what seem to be perfectly shaped—and hopefully edible—crepes.

“You made crepes? And the kitchen’s still standing?” He looks around to check if anything’s burned down.

Cal gives him a flat look. “That was uncalled for. I’ll have you know I watched a YouTube video for common beginner mistakes to avoid.” He pauses and looks away. “Also, this is the second batch. I burned the first one.”

Dawson barks out a laugh. He feels warm on a visceral level and doesn’t try to fight it when his feet carry him to Cal. He wraps his arms around Cal’s middle and presses tight against his back.