“What are you watching?” Dawson asked, taking a seat on the couch right where Cam had been sitting.
“Uh, one of theFast and Furiousmovies. It was on,” Cam said. Not that he’d been watching it. He’d been glued to his phone instead, trying to figure out how to get Dawson here.
Well, now Dawson was here. Sitting onhiscouch, looking up expectantly at Cam.
“Never seen them,” Dawson said.
“Seriously?Seriously?” Cam told himself not to get distracted, but it was hard, because he’d thought, more than once, that Dawson was old—notgrosskind of old, but clueless kind of old—but this proved it.
“What?” Dawson was grinning, like Cam’s incredulity was cute.
“They’re moreyourgeneration,” Cam teased as he sat down next to Dawson, “but they’re classics. Kind of like someone else I know.”
Dawson was still smiling. “Been a little busy the last couple of years.”
“Still,” Cam said.
“And hey, you call me old one more time, I’m gonna have to prove the opposite.” Dawson leaned in, and it was so easy toclose the gap between them. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Dawson’s mouth opened under his and they kissed for a long moment before Cam leaned back.
“You know, you kinda kiss like an old person,” Cam joked.
Dawson’s eyes lit up, and a second later, Cam was being pushed backwards on the couch, Dawson’s thigh hot and heavy between his legs, his tongue in Cam’s mouth.
He might be shorter but Dawson was heavier, surprisingly muscled for a kicker, and Cam went limp under his weight as Dawson tangled a hand in his hair and twisted his head at precisely the perfect angle to keep kissing.
“Been thinking of this all day,” Dawson panted into his mouth. “All fucking day.”
Cam’s cock kicked in his sweatpants. “Shit. Me too.” He’d thought it would be really freaking amazing if he could convince Dawson to come to his place tonight. But Dawson wanting it just as badly as him, wanting it badly enough that he’d been the one to reach out? Cam felt like he was floating on cloud nine.
Dawson pulled back, his dark pupils swallowing up almost all of the hazel. “You’re so . . .” He trailed off, hand that wasn’t supporting him cupping Cam’s cheek.
“So?” Cam prompted, even though he wasn’t sure he could hear what Dawson thought of him, without his cock—his heart—his soul—exploding.
But instead of answering, Dawson just groaned under his breath and kissed Cam again, like he couldn’t stay away from his lips for longer than a moment.
They made out for a few minutes, the pleasure spiraling through Cam as he imagined all the different ways they might get off together. But one thought kept overriding all the others. Something he wanted so badly he nearly burned with it.
It was tough, but he broke apart, pressing another absent kiss against Dawson’s neck. He smelled so good. Like citrus and the spiced cookies that his dad always baked at the holidays.
“Hmm?” Dawson murmured. He was staring at Cam like he’d give him anything he wanted, and so it was easier than he’d expected to voice exactly what he craved.
“Would you uh . . .be interested in um . . .”
Dawson raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Fuck me,” Cam whispered. Not a question, but a statement. A declaration.
Dawson didn’t look surprised or disgusted. “Yeah? You want that?”
It wasn’t tough to nod his head. “Yeah.Yeah. Um, yeah.”
“Oh God, yeah.” Dawson rubbed a hand over his head. “Baby, you don’t gotta even ask.” Then he grinned suddenly. “Not that you actuallyasked.”
Cam flushed and reached behind him to pull his T-shirt off. The moment it hit the floor, his fingers found the buttons on Dawson’s shirt, plucking them open one by one.
“Wait,here?” Dawson asked incredulously as Cam tried to reach around to shuck Dawson’s shirt off, now that it was finally unbuttoned.
