Chapter 12 #2
Cam was usually above begging. He usually didn’t have to beg.
But Dawson was making him crazy enough that he might do anything. Say anything. Be anything that Dawson asked for.
“Could take you better,” Cam muttered, digging his heels into Dawson’s back.
“Yeah? Okay. Yeah.” Dawson shuffled backwards and twisted his fingers one last time, the pads stroking his spot just right, and Cam’s cock twitched against his abs.
“Yes, please,” Cam said.
Dawson gazed down at him. “No condom?” he asked.
“Don’t need it. Bet you don’t either,” Cam said.
Dawson nodded. “Yeah. No. I’ve been tested. And you too?”
Pulling him in, Cam murmured against his mouth. “Come on, Daws. I know you want to.”
Groaning deeply, Dawson nodded and lined up, pushing in slowly.
Ever since Dawson had arrived in Toronto, this had been a satisfying and reoccurring fantasy.
Dawson’s cock carving out the perfect place inside him, deep and real and true.
But somehow the reality was even better, leaving him panting and weak-limbed, only able to lie there on his couch and take it as Dawson began to fuck into him with slow, even thrusts.
“Shit, baby, you feel so good,” Dawson said, head hanging down, hair in his eyes.
Cam reached out and tangled his fingers in it, pushing it back so he could see Dawson’s face, and that made it even better.
Everything was white hot and electric as Dawson found the angle that made him cry out and then pushed and pushed and pushed him.
Cam was aware of how much stupid nonsense he was babbling, but he couldn’t stop, it all spilling out of his mouth in a torrent, the pleasure unlocking something inside him.
He gripped Dawson’s shoulders and just didn’t care. Rode it out.
“Gonna,” Dawson panted what could have been a minute or an hour later. Cam felt so good he could float here, almost forever, he thought, Dawson’s cock a perfect weight inside him.
He wanted to come, but he didn’t need to come.
They could just keep going like this, forever.
But then Dawson sped up, thrusting fast and hard, and suddenly that need rose to the surface.
Cam reached for his cock and gave himself a stroke and then another, barely touching himself, because he knew it wasn’t going to take much.
Sex had been good, but it had never felt like this before.
It would be so easy to get addicted to this feeling, and Cam didn’t think he was alone.
Dawson’s face was creased and slack, eyes rolling behind his head as he gave one last thrust and then he shook, coming hard.
He only needed one last touch to follow, cock twitching in his hand as he unloaded onto his own stomach, clenching around Dawson’s cock as they both came down from their orgasms.
Cam flopped back onto the couch, panting.
“God,” Dawson said and carefully bracing himself on the back of the couch, pulled out. He chuckled under his breath. “We’re definitely . . .uh . . .going to make a mess.”
Cam felt a throb of satisfaction deep down at the thought they could. “Grab my T-shirt. That’ll work for the worst of the cleanup.”
Leaning down, Dawson did, haphazardly wiping up most of the mess from Cam’s stomach and between his legs.
Once that was done, he let the fabric fall back to the floor, and before Cam could suggest that he come back down with him, Dawson was already doing it, cuddling up close, an arm slung casually across Cam’s chest.
“Damn, that was so good,” Dawson murmured, reaching up a bit so he could press a kiss to one of the marks on Cam’s collarbone that he’d made last night. “You have the best ideas.”
“Your idea to come over,” Cam said, and that was still something he was going to reach for whenever he felt sad or lonely.
“Your idea earlier.” Dawson’s fingers curled into Cam’s skin. Like they wanted to dig in and not let go. Honestly, Cam would let him. Cam was beginning to think he’d let him do anything he wanted.
“Fifty-fifty on the credit,” Cam suggested.
“Sixty-forty. Sixty to you, ’cause the fucking was your idea.” Dawson snorted, and it was so cute he could barely stand it. He was that particular combination of snarky-sexy-cute that seemed to be the perfect key to Cam’s lock. Maybe that was why the sex was so good.
Maybe that was why he was beginning to wonder if he’d ever get enough.
“I’ll take it,” Cam said.
They were both quiet for a long minute.
Then Dawson spoke up again. “Had dinner with Aidan and Mo tonight.”
“How was that?”
Dawson snorted again. “Kind of horrible. Kind of awkward. But it got better. Mo seems like a good guy.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s never seen Aidan puke in a bush,” Dawson said. “But despite that, they seem like pretty good friends. Good enough that Mo had no issue helping me gang up on him.”
“I will never get used to that,” Cam said honestly.
“Yeah, you will. One day you’ll walk into the locker room and Aidan Flynn will just be another guy on your team.”
For a split second, Cam considered asking if that was how Dawson wanted Cam to see him. Just another guy on the team. A guy he hooked up with sometimes. A teammate he worked with on the field. That he could shoot the shit with. But that in a year or two or five, he’d barely remember.
But Cam didn’t, because he wasn’t sure he’d like the answer.
“But,” Dawson added, and Cam could feel him grinning even though he couldn’t see it, “you’d better never see me as just another guy in the locker room, rook.”
Cam let out an unsteady breath. He hadn’t asked, but he hadn’t had to ask. “I don’t think we’re in any danger of that happening.”
“Didn’t think so,” Dawson said smugly.
Maybe he’d never been in a relationship before, but Cam had had a decent number of hookups in his life, and it had never felt like this with any of them. Even the regular friend with benefits he’d had his junior year at Western had been totally different.
Maybe he needed to stop being so worried about freaking Dawson out, no matter what he said, because he seemed right there with Cam—no hesitation and no pulling away.
Cam relaxed into his arms. At least until Dawson said, “I told him about us, by the way.”
“What?” Cam flailed, until Dawson wrapped his arms around Cam until he went still.
“Don’t freak out,” Dawson said. Chuckled. “Guess I should’ve led with that part. It’s cool. Aidan’s cool.”
Cam craned his head so he could look Dawson in the eye. Shoot him a look because he already knew the truth. Aidan was Aidan, but Cam also didn’t really think he’d ever been cool a day in his life.
“Okay, fair. Aidan’s not usually cool. But he was cool about this. At least after I reassured him that I didn’t take advantage of you.”
“Seriously?” Cam squawked. “He thought you would? He thought you could?”
“Warned me off you and everything. But that was stupid and I told him that.”
Cam wished he wasn’t so quick to blush, because he was bright fucking red right now. “He didn’t.”
“Tomorrow you should definitely tell him how shitty that was,” Dawson said.
“Ha. No. Just . . .oh my God. He was worried about me?”
Dawson smacked him on the arm. “Stop it. You’re making me jealous.”
And that was something Cam was going to have to unpack. Later, though. “I just don’t get it. I’m fine. I didn’t need—why did he?”
“Good fucking question. The easiest answer I can give you is that you’ve met plenty of older brothers in your life, but you’ve never met an older brother who older brothers like Aidan does.
Is he better than he used to be? Sure, yeah, absolutely.
But it’s like he saw you, saw some of Riley in you, and it was like he couldn’t help himself. But he agrees that it was ridiculous.”
Cam didn’t know what to do with all of that. “He did?”
“Well. Yes. He didn’t use that exact wording—”
“No? I can’t imagine why,” Cam teased.
“Shut up, you,” Dawson said affectionately, voice gooey and fond. Something else for Cam to unpack on his next sleepless night. “But I pointed out that you know what you’re doing, and I definitely know what I’m doing—”
“Modest, too.” It was impossible not to keep teasing, not when Dawson reacted like that. Like he was offended but also delighted. And every time Cam made Dawson smile like that, it was like someone handed him a gold fucking medal.
“Are you telling this or am I?” Dawson asked archly.
“If you’d get on with it, you are,” Cam said.
Dawson laughed and tucked him more firmly into his embrace.
“Anyway, I made sure he knew that this wasn’t just because you worshipped the ground I walked on. Being older and amazing, the way I am.”
It was impossible for Cam to hold back his cackle. “Oh, sure.”
“He was very reassured by this.”
“Can I worship for the way you fuck me into the mattress?” Cam wondered.
Dawson’s fingers stroked up his arm, all the way up to his shoulder, tracing the tendon of his neck. “Not gonna stop you.”
“So he’s not gonna like . . .freak out on me?”
“On you? Nah. But, rook, he was always going to freak out on me. That’s why I told him. I didn’t want to hide it—hide you—like some dirty secret. This way he knows and he knows the score and it won’t be an issue later, if he pulls his head out of Levi’s ass and realizes what’s going on.”
“Am I supposed to be blowing you up for that, too?” Cam wondered.
Dawson made a faux-outraged sound. “I don’t know how Aidan ever thought that you had any kind of hero worship going.”
“I do,” Cam said. Because he had. But it was more than that, now.
He knew it. He’d known it, even before he kissed Dawson last night.
They were friends—more, too, but Cam shied away from identifying exactly what that more was.
It was fine and plenty enough for now that he knew the more existed.
And more than enough that they were lying here, like this.
“You’re cute,” Dawson said drowsily. “You wanna go to bed?”
Cam did. But he also knew he’d be regretting it tomorrow if they did what he’d suggested earlier. Running was already going to be a bit of a challenge.
But if he said he wasn’t interested in round two, would Dawson leave? Cam didn’t really want Dawson to leave.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, we can do that.” Maybe he could suggest he give Dawson a blowjob to stick around.
But then Dawson was crawling over Cam’s body, still naked, and offering him a hand to help him up.
“I know what you said,” Dawson said, “but uh, we can just . . .sleep? If you want. Or I could go back—”
“No, don’t go,” Cam said, and for a second he had a bad moment that he’d said too much, but Dawson’s expression softened. “And yeah, I’m good with that. Let’s just go to bed.”
Dawson smiled. Slung an arm around Cam’s shoulders. “Bed it is,” he said. “You got a toothbrush for me, rook?”
Nobody would ever know, because he was not going to be telling Dawson that he’d popped down to the corner drugstore to pick up a handful of brand-new toothbrushes just in case he worked up the nerve to ask Dawson to come over.
Just in case he worked up that nerve and about ten more—Dawson coming over and then Dawson actually wanting to stay.
But he shouldn’t have worried, because Dawson was the one who’d texted. Dawson who’d invited himself over. Dawson himself suggesting that he wanted to stay.
“Yeah,” Cam said. “I got one for you, Daws.”
Dawson smiled, unexpectedly soft and sweet, and Cam let go of another bit of the worry he’d been carrying around all day. It wasn’t just him.
He wasn’t alone in this.