Page 168 of Should the Sky Fall

Dawson stares at him with disbelief. “You’re not carrying my 68 kilo ass anywhere anytime soon.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’m not calling you an ambulance and explaining to them how you got hurt.”

“I’ve been exercising,” Cal says, aware he’s pouting.

Dawson sighs, kissing him apologetically. “I know. And I promise, when you’re all healed up, I’ll let you carry me up damn Everest. Bridal style. But not now.”

Cal can live with that. “Deal.”

Dawson shakes his head fondly. “I should really cut down on your Netflix time.”

“You watch it too.”

“Yeah, but unlike you, I have common sense.”

“That was mean,” Cal grumbles, pretending to be hurt.

Dawson’s teeth sink into his lower lip. He ducks his head, looking up at Cal through the dark fan of his eyelashes. “It was, wasn’t it?” A shy smile grows on his lips. “Let me make it up to you.” His gaze locked with Cal’s, he removes himself from Cal’s lap and slowly, so slowly, sinks to his knees between Cal’s legs.

If this happened yesterday, Cal would have no clue what Dawson is doing, but his short educational session in Ellis’ office has given him quite a clear idea.

“Dawson.”

When he watched the videos, he imagined doing this to Dawson, wanting to find out what kind of sounds he could draw out of him simply by using his mouth.

But seeing Dawson on his knees—for him—leaves him at a complete loss. Well, maybe not a complete loss. His body seems to have opinions on the current development. He feels his jeans tighten around his groin, all his blood rushing in the same direction.

“Tell me if you don’t like something,” Dawson says and starts undoing Cal’s jeans.

Cal swallows a hysterical laugh. As if he could ever not like something Dawson does.

He watches, speechless and hardly breathing, as Dawson gets the fly open and hooks his fingers in Cal’s underwear, giving it a tug. Cal bites back a moan when the fabric rubs over his cock, fully hard and only inches from Dawson's face. He has to grip the edge of the mattress for support.

Dawson's expression is a mixture of nervous and aroused when he glances at Cal before he leans forward, his breath gusting over Cal’s sensitive cock. Then it’s not just Dawson’s breath, but his wet, hot lips wrapping around him in an imitation of a kiss.

The sound that comes from Cal isn’t even human. It’s something broken, and desperate, and for whatever reason, it makes Dawson’s face light up in delight. He gives Cal a grin that’s just short of feral and dives back in. Except this time, he opens wide and swallows Cal down, half of his cock disappearing inside Dawson’s beautiful, talented mouth.

Time ceases to exist. Dawson’s lips are tight around him, his tongue slick and hot and absolutely sinful as it works Cal over. Sometimes he pulls up for a breath, but then he’s back at it, slowly taking Cal apart. Each time he sinks down on Cal’s cock is pure bliss, and whenever he pulls back, his cheeks hollowing, it’s all Cal can do to keep still, to not thrust into his mouth like he never wants to leave it.

Dawson does something particularly wicked with his tongue, and one of Cal’s hands shoots up, threading through Dawson’s hair. The need to touch him is overwhelming, and he pets Dawson’s hair, his thumb brushing the soft skin behind Dawson’s ear.

A whimper leaves his throat when Dawson suddenly pulls off. His lips are obscenely red, his eyes hooded.

Cal snatches his hand back. “I’m sorry. Did I—”

Dawson shakes his head. “It’s okay. You can touch me. Just…don’t hold me in place. I have a shitty gag reflex.”

Sagging with relief, Cal’s hand reluctantly returns to Dawson’s hair. He loves the feel of it, so silky and thick, and always smelling like citrus.

His head falls back when Dawson takes him in his mouth again, setting up the same leisurely pace as before. It’s the sweetest kind of torture, leaving Cal hovering on a precipice that could drive him mad with want. His thighs tremble when Dawson rubs his palms over them, one hand stroking the skin of his inner thigh and the other finding his hip.

Dawson pulls off with a particularly powerful suck, his lips brushing over the head as he fixes his dark eyes on Cal.

“Good?” he asks, voice absolutely wrecked. There’s a glint in his eye that tells Cal he knows all too well what kind of effect he has on him.

“Incredible.” Now that Dawson’s mouth isn’t driving him to the edge of sanity, his mind clears up a bit. “I want to do that to you.” He wants it more than he wants to feel Dawson’s mouth again.