His hands return to knead my ass cheeks as he places a chaste kiss to the tip of my cock. The bead of pre-cum that was forming there clings to his lips when he pulls away, and I moan at the sight, my balls tightening and tingling. Dawson licks his lips and makes a noise in the back of his throat that’s like a caress all its own.
His lips part, and I wait with anticipation as he drags them along the head of my cock, making me wet with his saliva.
When he finally takes me into his mouth, I nearly come on the spot after all the teasing. He tightens his lips and hollows his cheeks, taking me deep and then pulling back over and over until I’m a trembling, begging mess. His fingers dig into my ass cheeks, tugging at me, encouraging me to fuck his mouth. I groan, letting my head roll back as I hold his head in place with my fist in his hair and thrust into his throat.
A deep rumble rolls from my chest, and I wish like hell Dawson could hear what he does to me. With one more thrust, my balls draw up tight, and my cock pulses against his tongue as he swallows down my release.
He sucks me until I’m wrung out and licks his lips like my cum is the best treat he’s ever had. Fuck, he’s sexy.
Dawson stands up and tugs me to his bed. Laying down, he kicks out of his jeans and then strips his shirt off and tosses it aside.
When he rolls to turn off the light, I stop him, searching his face for more answers.
“Are we going to be okay?” I ask, glad this time that he can’t hear the raw desperation in my voice.
“We’ll figure it out,” he assures me before pressing a soft kiss to my lips and turning out the light.
Dawson
A strong hand jostles my shoulder, yanking me from a pleasant sleep. I blink my eyes open to see Lando standing over me with a smile.
“Wake up, dimples.”
I grunt in response and rub my eyes. Then I lift my head to look at the clock next to my bed, and I frown.
Too early, I sign in protest.
“Sorry, I don’t know that one yet. But you have to get up if we’re going to get there in time for our reservations.”
I raise an eyebrow at Lando, and he smiles. Instead of answering, he just drags me out of bed and starts tossing clothes at me from my dresser. I get dressed, grumbling the whole way. When I make a beeline for the kitchen, he wraps an arm around my waist and points me toward the front door instead.
“We’ll stop for coffee, but we have to get going.”
I give him the finger and then slip my shoes on.
“Where are we going?” I croak as he ushers me to the car. I turn my head to see him answering.
“It’s a surprise, and yes, it’s in your calendar, but please don’t look.”
I sigh but make no move to check my calendar. If he says it’s there, I believe him. And his last surprise was pie. How bad could this be?
Forty-five minutes later we pull into a gravel parking lot, and I look around for some hint of where we are. I didn’t catch a sign on the way in.
Where are we, I sign, and when Lando doesn’t get it, I say it out loud instead.
“You said you wanted to go bungee jumping,” he answers with a smirk.
My stomach plummets, and my palms start to sweat.
“I did say that.” I wonder if my voice comes out as unsure as I feel. Bungee jumping sounded cool in theory and a great way to give my fears the middle finger, but now that we’re here…
“If you changed your mind, it’s okay. We don’t have to do this.”
My heart batters itself against my ribcage as I suck in rapid breaths. Can I do this? Do I want to do this? If I can’t, will I still be the man Lando wants? Or will that just prove what a coward I’ve become?
“Dimples, listen to me,” Lando frames my face with his hands. “Whether we do this or not has no bearing on anything else. You said you wanted this, so I arranged it. I l-like you whether you want to jump off a bridge with me or not.”
I chuckle at his phrasing and lean into his comforting touch. I wonder what that false start was on the word like. At Christmas diner Parker had signed to me this boy is in love with you. I wasn’t sure I believed her, even if I desperately wanted it to be true. It’s too soon and it’s crazy, but I want it to be real more than anything.
“Let’s do this,” I say resolutely, pushing away from the car and squaring my shoulders.
Lando smiles and reaches for my hand, twining our fingers together. He leans forward and presses a kiss to my lips that tastes like hope and possibilities. I’m not sure if he’s in love with me or not, but there’s every possibility I’m falling in love with him.
Hand in hand, we make our way to the small building, to sign-in and sign about a thousand liability waivers.
Soon, we’re back outside, this time standing on a small platform with harnesses connecting us together and attaching us to the bridge. My stomach is fluttering violently, and I can feel Lando shivering slightly against me, but the huge smile on his lips tells me he’s not having any second thoughts. My pulse jumps wildly as we ease close to the edge with our arms around each other, eyes locked.
“Ready?” Lando asks and I nod, fusing our lips and pulling him with me over the edge.
The air rushes around us as we rocket toward the ground below, my stomach left somewhere behind, and the air punched out of my lungs. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt in my life— exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Not so different from how Lando makes me feel.
When the bungee jerks and we bounce back, I feel Lando’s chest rumble against mine, and the joy on his face tells me he’s laughing, and then I realize I am too. Laughing from the rush, from the relief of surviving even if the danger was never that real, laughing from the incredible feeling of living again.
Lando
When we get back to Dawson’s house in the afternoon, it’s obvious something has shifted between us. Dawson seems more upbeat than I’ve seen him since we reconnected, and I’m starting to let myself hope that things are going to work out.
Hungry? he signs.
Very hungry, I respond with a smile. I may not be anywhere near fluent, but I’m picking up more and more every day.
Dawson takes some steaks out of the refrigerator and puts them into the oven. When he opens the junk drawer to grab the special timer he has that flashes instead of rings, I remember looking at those papers yesterday. My stomach clenches with guilt, but my mind can’t let go of the questions I had.
“I wasn’t meaning to snoop or anything, but I found some papers in that drawer yesterday, and I was wondering about them,” I blurt when he turns back around.
Dawson cocks his head and scrunches his eyebrows. I go to the drawer he just opened and pull out the paperwork I found yesterday. Dawson’s eyes go wide as I hold it up.
They’re pretty self-explanatory, aren’t they? he texts.
“I’m not sure.” I sit down on the stool at the counter and look at the papers again. “This is an experimental procedure that could give you your hearing back?” I ask.
Dawson hesitates before biting his bottom lip and nodding.
My insurance wouldn’t cover it since it’s experimental. But I also wasn’t sure if I even wanted to do it. It’s brain surgery; that’s scary as hell. I’d rather be deaf than further brain damaged if something goes wrong.
My eyes go wide in understanding as I read his explanation. Thinking about what could potentially go wrong with brain surgery has my palms sweating and my heart thumping unevenly. It has me wanting to gather Dawson up and shield him from anything that could ever hurt him again.
“I understand. It’s a big risk. But if it’s something you want to do, and money is the only issue, I’d pay for it.”
It’s not cheap. It’s like $100k, at least, Dawson argues.
“Dimples, I’ve blown a hundred grand on a lot of pointless shit. I’d gladly pay ten times that if this was something you wanted. Think about it; the offer stands.”
He nods again, and signs thank you.
You’re
welcome, I sign and smile.
Over dinner we turn to more casual topics, and I resolve to leave the surgery topic alone. I put it out there that I’d pay if he ever wanted to go through with it, but ultimately, it’s his decision.
“Is there a plan for New Year’s Eve? Is Parker coming over again or anything?” I ask.
Dawson shakes his head and then types a response.
I don’t think so. I wasn’t planning on it anyway. But there’s usually fireworks at midnight that you can see from the roof of this building. If you want, we can just have a quiet night and then go up to see the fireworks?
“That sounds great.”
Dawson has a sheepish smile on his face as he writes his next message to me.
Do you think we can plan more crazy things like the bungee jumping?
“Absolutely,” I agree. “We can do anything you want—jump out of a plane, swim with sharks, jump out of a helicopter and snowboard down a mountain.”
Dawson’s eyes go wide, and I chuckle.
Maybe let’s just start with ziplining or something.
“Whatever you want, dimples,” I agree, tugging him forward and kissing him with a hungry, claiming force.
I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Dawson—jump off any building, out of any plane. I’d follow him anywhere.
Track 26: Side A
Say You Remember
Dawson
Sometimes, working in a bar can feel like you’re living a punishment imposed by a Greek god. I’ve wiped down the same spot on the bar at least twelve times in three hours, and it always seems to get dirty again. At least I have memories of yesterday with Lando to keep my mind occupied. I’m proud of myself for going through with bungee jumping, and I don’t want to slip back into the comfort of hiding away. I want to take more risks, chase the feeling I had when we were hanging above the ground with nothing but a bungee keeping us from falling.
With the spot clean, again, I toss my rag aside and survey the customers to see if anyone seems to need anything. There’s someone new seated in the corner now, so I make sure I have paper and a pen in my pocket and head over to greet the man.
He doesn’t look up right away when I approach, so I take a second to jot my usual Welcome to Rodney’s, what can I get you? And look up again to set the note down in front of him. Instead, I find a familiar face smiling at me.
My gut clenches and my blood runs cold. Eric Hansen, my arch nemesis in college. We were in all the same classes, always competing for the best grades or highest praise for our writing. Of course, I’d run into him again while I’m working at a bar.
I try to be surreptitious as I assess him—nice suit, expensive haircut, pearly white smile. Someone’s certainly doing well.
“Holy shit, Dawson Hayes? How the hell are you?” he says with a huge smile.
I clench my jaw and force a smile to match his. I point at my ear and shake my head. His smile falters.
“You’re deaf?” he asks, surprise evident by the way his eyebrows disappear into his hairline.
I nod and flip to a fresh sheet of paper.
Yeah, had an accident just after graduation. What can I get for you? I pass him the paper, and as he reads it, his eyes go wide.
“Can you read lips?” he asks, and I nod. “I’m sorry. I’m just surprised to see you here. I had no idea you even lived in Florida. Are you still writing?”
I waive my hand in a somewhat motion and then poise my pen over the paper to give him the hint that I’m still waiting to take his order.
“You always were a damn good writer. Not as good as me, obviously,” he says with a smug smile. “You’ll never believe this. I went on a date with this woman a few weeks ago, and it turned out she’s a romance author. You know the type, churns out half a dozen books a year of absolute drivel. When I told her, I had an MFA in literature, she started asking why I hadn’t written any books, and I told her that real literature takes time.”
I clench my pen in my fist and do my best to resist the urge to shove it into his eye. My memory didn’t do him justice. At least that woman managed to crank out words. Who the fuck knows if they’re good words or not, but the genre makes no difference. Clearly, she’s a more ambitious writer than either Eric or myself. I’d be happy to be able to get words down on paper in any damn genre at this point. At least some things never change; Eric is just as much of a pompous ass as I remember.
“Can I get a beer?” he finally requests, and I breathe a sigh of relief and nod.
There’s no doubt Eric is an arrogant prick but seeing him brings the heavy weight of failure to the forefront of my mind. This was never supposed to be my life. Maybe I was supposed to get on that plane with Lando when he asked…
I still in the process of pouring Eric’s beer. When Lando asked. He asked me to go to New York with him. I remember.
Lando
The back entrance of the bar opens, and Dawson comes flying out like a bat out of hell two minutes after the end of his shift. I smile and lean over to open the passenger door for him. When he slides into the seat, there’s palpable energy pouring from him. He turns to face me with a smile, his eyes shining in the moonlight.
“I remember,” he says, and I draw up short, my heart thundering and cautious joy blossoming in the pit of my stomach.
“You remember?” I repeat, glad he can’t hear the way my voice cracks. He nods excitedly and pulls out his phone. He must’ve pre-typed a message for me because all he does is hit send and a long message appears on my phone.
I don’t remember everything, but I remember the last day. You asked me to go back to New York with you and I wanted to say yes so badly. I almost agreed, and I wish I had. I was supposed to be with you, not wasting away here. I’m making the right decision this time, if it’s not too late?
My throat grows dry as I read his message and the blooming joy turns into a full-fledged garden of rapture.
“It’s never too late. Please come to New York? Say you’ll come.”
“Yes.”
I grab Dawson and drag him over the center console and into my lap, both of us laughing. His lips find mine, and he tastes like hope and happiness as his tongue slides against mine, hot and full of excitement. His moan vibrates into my mouth as I cup his ass and press him closer.
Fuck, I hoped so hard that I’d be able to convince him to come back to New York with me. But after the bullshit with our texts leaking, a huge part of me thought fate was going to fuck me over a second time.
His ass bumps the horn and startles me into a laugh. Dawson cocks his head at me.
“You honked the horn with your ass,” I explain.
“Is that a euphemism?” he asks, and I laugh harder.
“Yup, let’s go back to your place, and I can show you.”
Dawson
All the time I spent the last two days asking myself if I could live with the media up my ass, I never asked myself the more important question…can I live without Lando? Because that’s the real choice here—deal with the media or give up Lando for good. I know he said he’d give up the band if I asked him to, would move here to be with me. But none of that would make him happy, and honestly, it wouldn’t make me happy either.
I’ve let myself hibernate here for nine years. and it’s time to wake up. It’s time to leap.
Our lips move together with hunger and desperation as Lando backs me toward the bedroom.
He mutters something against my lips, and I pull back, so he can say whatever it was again.
“Is this real? You’re going to move with me?” His eyes are filled with hope and insecurity that makes me want to kiss him silly until he believes that we’re going to get it right this time around.
“It’s real,” I assure him, taking his lips again. “We’re real,” I murmur into his mouth, and his body shudders against mine as if he’s so full of happiness he’s about to burst. And I think maybe I am too.
The memories of the last time I saw Lando aren’t particularly
pleasant, but I hold them close to my heart anyway like a precious gem. I remember him. I remember what it felt like to watch him walk away and know I was making the wrong choice. I won’t make the wrong choice again when it comes to Lando. Wherever he goes, I go.
We strip each other slowly for a change, our lips moving together in a sweet dance that speaks of something much deeper than either of us seem ready to speak.
Lando reaches over to the bedside table to grab the condoms and lube and then turns onto his side with his back toward me. He looks back at me over his shoulder with a sultry smile that sets my blood on fire.
“Like this?” he asks, and I nod.
I squirt the lube on my fingers and then toss the bottle aside. I slip my slicked fingers into Lando’s cleft and drag my lips along his shoulder and the back of his neck, peppering him with kisses—quick pecks and slow sweet explorations. Lando’s lips are parted, and the vibrations I can feel with his back pressed to my chest lets me know he’s making delicious little noises.
I work two fingers inside, and he turns his head so our mouths can meet. I move my free hand to his chest so I can feel his heartbeat speeding up when the pads of my fingers brush against his prostate. His head falls back against my shoulder, and I let my teeth graze the pulse point in his neck.
With his head tilted back, I can read the word please as it falls from his lips over and over. His body trembles as I work my fingers deeper, not just opening him, but teasing him, drawing out his pleasure. His chest is heaving now with panting breaths, his face full of agonized pleasure. My cock flexes against the swell of his ass, and with my free hand, I roll the condom on, then pull my fingers out and press the head of my erection to his hot opening.
Lando’s hand grasps at my hip, tugging at me and urging me to hurry. I chuckle low in my throat and press another kiss to his shoulder. God, I’m so in love with this man.
I push inside with one smooth thrust. Lando stills, his channel gripping me like a vise. He turns his head and my lips find his. The kiss is all lips and tongue as Lando relaxes enough for me to move inside him again. Even then, our lips remain glued together, our legs tangled as I grind against him, buried deep inside.
Play it by Ear (Replay Book 2) Page 14