Page 196 of Should the Sky Fall

He feels like a virgin all over again as he trots to the bedroom, perching on the edge of the bed and waiting for Cal to walk through the door. Anticipation thrums in his veins, making his cock throb and harden further without a single touch. Not even as a teenager was he so easily riled up, geez.

Hours later—okay, there’s a chance he’s being a little dramatic—Dawson hears the front door creak and click shut. His fingers twist in the sheets, heart threatening to beat through his ribcage. Then the bedroom door opens and…

Donut barrels in and throws himself into Dawson’s lap.

Dawson yelps, shielding his private parts. “Donut, no! Ow, careful with the jewels!” A rumbling laugh reaches his ears. “It’s not funny,” Dawson pouts, grabbing Donut and depositing him on the floor.

Cal just keeps grinning. He’s put his clothes on and his hair is wet. Dawson suddenly feels very under-dressed.

Which his dick seems to like.

He gulps as Cal approaches, no longer grinning. There’s heat in his gaze and tension is rolling off him, so intense Dawson can physically feel it. He stops in front of Dawson, his stiff cock level with Dawson’s face, and just looks at him. He must’ve showered upstairs because he smells fresh, not like the pool, and droplets of water are dripping from his hair and soaking the collar of his shirt.

Raising a hand, Cal tilts Dawson’s face up with two fingers under his chin and bends down for a deep, slow, toe-curling kiss. Dawson grabs him by the neck, opens up for him, letting Cal’s taste overtake his senses. He moans into his mouth when Cal flicks his right nipple, then rubs his thumb in circles over it.

Fuck. At this rate, Dawson will be glad if he lasts five minutes.

A pitiful whine escapes from him when Cal pulls away, only to drop to his knees. His eyes bore into Dawson’s as he reaches for the towel around his waist and slowly, so painfully slowly, unwraps it, leaving Dawson completely exposed. He lowers his head and, gaze never steering away, takes the leaking head of Dawson’s dick into his mouth.

Dawson’s lips part on a silent moan, the sound caught somewhere in his throat. He flops back on the bed as Cal’s mouth descends on him, taking him deeper. Cal hums, the sound reverberating through Dawson’s cock and through his whole body.

“Fuck, Cal.”

Cal must take that as encouragement, hollowing his cheeks and sucking Dawson cock so hard he nearly levitates off the bed. Then he pulls off, hooks his hands under Dawson’s knees, and pushes his legs up. Before Dawson can process what’s happening, Cal’s mouth is on his ass, tongue circling his rim.

Dawson slams his hand down, gripping the edge of the mattress and holding on for dear life as Cal eats his ass out like he’s done it a million times, not just the two, producing noises that make Dawson blush to the tips of his ears. God bless the porn industry.

When Dawson is dangerously close to coming untouched, Cal releases his legs.

“Wha—” Dawson starts to ask, his mind fuzzy.

Cal rises up and, without preamble, whips his shirt off. The joggers come off next, ending up in a pile on the floor.

Dawson takes a greedy eyeful, roaming over Cal’s muscles, chiseled from swimming, and landing on his hard, flushed cock.

Dawson's hole clenches at the sight, heat spreading through his pelvis. He moves backwards and, acting on instinct and desire, turns onto his belly. He throws Cal a look over his shoulder, hoping he’ll get what Dawson wants.

He’s rewarded with a groan and a look of pure, unadulterated lust. Yeah, Cal gets it alright. Dawson watches as Cal marches towards the nightstand to get lube, then climbs on the bed and kneels between Dawson’s spread legs. He braces himself on his hands either side of Dawson and presses a kiss to his sweaty neck.

“Like this?” he asks, voice rough with arousal.

“Yeah.”

He used to hate this position. It was degrading, disempowering, making him feel like a toy.

It’s nothing like that now.

There’s nothing degrading about offering himself up to Cal as he drags his lips over Dawson’s shoulders. Nothing disempowering about the intensity of Cal’s desire for him. He doesn’t feel like a toy when Cal slicks his fingers and brings them between Dawson’s cheeks while whispering “You’re beautiful” into his ear in that sinful voice. And when Cal fingers him open, torturously slow and sweet, it’s all he can do not to rock against him, beg him like a slut to fuck him already.

Not that he would mind being a slut for Cal. Only for him, though.

Some of his desperation must rub off on Cal, because his patience seems to have run thin. He slides a third finger inside Dawson, pumps them a few times and pulls out. Dawson gasps at the feeling of emptiness, but it’s short-lived.

The head of Cal’s cock drags along his crease, slick with lube, and presses against his hole.

Cal kisses his ear. “Ready?”

“Uh-huh.”