“This place is really nice.”
Dawson signs thank you.
You’re welcome, I sign, and Dawson smiles.
I don’t mind this place, but it gets a little lonely sometimes. I really want a couple of cats, but I was worried I might forget to feed them or something, Dawson jots down on the notebook he brought with him from the beach house.
I read Dawson’s message, and my heart hurts for him.
“Do you forget things like that usually? I thought it was mostly just past memories you couldn’t recall.”
In the beginning, I forgot day to day stuff a lot. That doesn’t really happen anymore. But I still worry.
It hits me then that he’s been just as stuck in the past as I’ve been, just in a different way. He can’t get past what happened, and he hasn’t let himself move forward with his life.
“What would you name your cats?” I ask.
Scout and Atticus.
I chuckle at his answer. “I should’ve guessed it would be something like that.”
Lit nerd in the house, he jokes.
“I like it,” I assure him. “I like you.”
Dawson steps close and tilts his face up to mine, and I press a kiss to his lips.
“We were supposed to have an adventure today, but I feel like our first mission has to be decorating your place for Christmas since it’s only two days away.”
Dawson nods and looks around his apartment like he’s seeing it for the first time.
Yeah, I guess I forgot to decorate this year. Christmas just sort of snuck up on me.
“That’s okay, it’s not too late. Do you have decorations in storage or anything, or do we need to go buy some?”
There was a flood in the basement of the building a few months ago, so anything I had down there was ruined. We’ll have to go buy new stuff. We can just get a fake tree, it seems wasteful to get a live tree now. Plus, I’m sure anything left on a lot would be pretty sad by now.
“Yeah,” I agree. “This will be fun; let’s go.”
Dawson puts our adventure into his calendar and then puts the best store into my GPS, and we head out.
Dawson
Some of the items are slim pickings this close to Christmas, but we do manage to get a little fake tree that can sit on my coffee table, Christmas lights, and a few other decorations. It turns out Lando has a thing for goofy Santa statues, so we throw in a few of those as well. Lando also insists on getting a big tin full of different kinds of popcorn and ingredients to bake something called magic cookie bars.
“My mom makes them every Christmas and usually ships them to me on the road,” he explains.
Where are your parents this year? Why aren’t you spending Christmas with them?
“They’re in Europe. That was my present to them before I knew our tour would be canceled. I’ll just call them tomorrow to check in. I had planned to visit them in six months when our tour was supposed to end, but now I may make a trip out there sooner.”
You’re close with your parents? I ask.
“Yeah, they’re great. They’ve always been supportive, not just of the band but of pretty much everything. They’re the best.”
That must be nice, I write wistfully. My mom was never all that maternal. But at least I have my sister.
“I’m glad you have Parker too.” He kisses the side of my head, and I lean into him happily. “Now let’s get these decorations home and get your place looking festive.”
I nod in agreement and follow him to the checkout.
We spend the rest of the afternoon decorating and baking the cookie bars Lando wanted, and then we cuddle on the couch to watch some Christmas movies.
“This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years,” Lando says.
Why’s that? I write.
“We’ve almost always been on the road. I don’t mind touring, but it gets kind of lonely. You’d think five men crammed on a bus would be anything but lonely, but it’s been hard these last few years. We’re not best friends like we used to be.”
I’m sorry, that must be really difficult.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’m sorry, you don’t need me whining to you.”
I don’t mind, I assure him. By the way, you’re right; these cookie bars are amazing.
I wonder what it would be like if I did go to New York with Lando. What would I do all by myself while he’s on tour? I know they tour a lot and sometimes for nearly a year at a time. Would I just sit all alone in his apartment, waiting for him to come home? Or does he think the band is breaking up and that’s why he invited me to come home with him?
If I did move with you, what would I do while you were on tour? I ask.
I watch Lando take a deep inhale, a sigh? His eyes are sadder than I expected them to be when I asked the question.
“I’m not sure there’s going to be any more tours. But, if we do manage to keep the band together, you could come on tour if you wanted. That could be fun, and I bet you’d find a ton of inspiration for writing.”
I consider that suggestion. It could be pretty cool to travel with him, but I’m not going to get my hopes up about the writing part.
I still need to think about it, I warn him. I could see this working, but it still feels too fast. We’re crazy to even consider it, aren’t we?
“Take all the time you need,” he assures me.
I nod and take his hand, getting off the couch to lead him to my bedroom. My bed has seen plenty of nights where I jerked off imagining Lando there, now it’s time for the real thing.
I strip my shirt off over my head and then stalk close to Lando, who’s watching me with curiosity.
I make an O with my thumb and forefinger and mime licking it. Lando’s eyes go wide, and then he smiles with excitement. I point at the bed, and he fumbles to get undressed in a hurry, then climbs onto the bed, face down.
His enthusiasm has my cock hard as hell, aching to be buried between his nice round cheeks. But there’s something else I want to do first.
He looks just as good in my bed as I imagined he would, spread out and bathed in moonlight. His skin looks so smooth and inviting. I join him on the bed, kneeling between his spread legs. I put my hands on his thighs and run my fingers through the prickly hair there, making Lando shiver with pleasure, goosebumps popping up all over his back and ass. I lick my lips and shift, biting back a groan as my underwear rubs against my cock.
My fingers dig into the firm globes of his ass, massaging and parting them to see his pretty hole. Lando’s face is buried in his arms, and I wish I could see what he was feeling. I haven’t rimmed anyone since losing my hearing, and it’s occurring to me now that it’s going to be difficult to tell if he’s enjoying what I’m doing if I can’t hear him to gauge his reaction.
I sigh with frustration and tap Lando’s shoulder. He turns his head and looks at me with a dreamy expression on his face. Seems he’s having a good time so far; that’s good news.
I consider writing him a note but that seems like a pain in the ass right now. “Can you give me a hand signal if you don’t like what I’m doing?”
Lando’s brow scrunches like my words make no sense to him. “I like being eaten out.”
“Yeah, but if I should go faster or slower…”
Lando knots his fingers in my hair and tugs me down for a kiss. “You’re overthinking.”
I nod and take a deep breath. I’m sure he’s right. I always loved rimming; I’m not going to let my insecurities ruin this for either of us.
I return to my place between his legs. Placing kisses along the back of his thighs while I squeeze and massage his ass cheeks, I smile when he starts to squirm. That’s a signal I can interpret with no problem.
I work my way up his thigh, licking and nipping at his skin. When my teeth graze the swell where his ass meets his thigh, Lando jolts, unburying his face and turning to look at me with humor in his eyes.
“Tickles,” he says, and I chuckle. I kiss the spot and then continue
my journey.
Lando’s whole body vibrates when I run my tongue along his balls and taint, my fingers still digging into the flesh of his ass. I work my tongue upward, savoring the musky flavor, until it hits the rough, puckered skin of his hole.
I drag the flat of my tongue over his entrance, lapping at it like it’s a melting ice cream cone. His hole flutters against my tongue, his hips thrusting back, demanding more. Apparently, I was just borrowing trouble earlier. It’s not exactly rocket science to figure out he’s enjoying this.
I alternate my licks, keeping him guessing if the next one will me long and slow or a quick tease with just the tip. And when I slip one finger inside, his body tenses, and he fists the sheets. His hole grips my finger hot and tight, making my cock throb between my legs. I add a second finger and work my tongue inside along with them. Lando grinds back onto my fingers. I angle downward until I find his prostate and tap against it. Lando’s entire body is shaking, his muscles taut. I tap it again, licking deep as I do so. His channel clamps down around my fingers and then spasms, slow pulses milking my fingers as he falls apart.
When the pulses end, I pull out and shove my underwear down around my thighs in a desperate motion, my balls heavy and painful and my cock dribbling pre-cum.
It only takes two hard jerks before I’m painting Lando’s back and ass with ropes of thick cum, my chest heaving with the intensity of it.
When it’s over, I shimmy the rest of the way out of my underwear and use them to wipe the cum off Lando’s backside. Then, I collapse beside him.
Lando’s hands tug gently at my hair as his chest rises and falls under my cheek. It’s just like back at the beach house a few days ago, just like a million dreams I’ve had over the years. But maybe they weren’t dreams. Maybe they were memories after all.
He stops stroking, and my eyes drift open to see what has interrupted the pleasant moment. I tilt my head back to see his face, the glow from the streetlamp outside illuminating him enough to easily see his features and read his lips.
“Can you show me how to say Merry Christmas?”
I smile and sit up, letting my sheets fall away, leaving me exposed. Lando’s eyes gobble me up with blatant desire, and a little zing of pleasure goes through me. With a smile, I tap his chin to get his eyes on my hands and then show him how to sign Merry Christmas. He tries it, and I give him a nod of approval and sign good job.
“Did it take you a long time to learn sign language?” he asks.
I grab my notepad off the nightstand and settle back against his chest before scribbling out the answer to his question.
A long time. I was grateful for texting, and still am.
Yeah, texting is convenient. But I need to learn, even if it takes a while, Lando writes next to my note.
The unspoken for you settles in my heart, and I hold it close like a treasure. None of this makes any sense to me, but I want it to be real so badly. I want to be the person Lando is desperately in love with in his songs.
Track 21: Side A
Who I Want to Be
Lando
The feeling of Dawson’s warm body curled around mine, the loud sound of birds singing right outside the window, and the cool breeze wafting in with the bird songs has me waking with a smile on my face. How long has it been since things have felt this right? I don’t care what Dawson says, some things are meant to be.
Warm lips press against the back of my shoulder, and I wiggle my ass back against his morning wood, snugging it between my ass cheeks.
“Mmmm,” Dawson makes a happy noise in the back of his throat that rumbles against my back and makes his lips vibrate against my skin. His hands quest over the plains of my chest and stomach lazily until I take one and put it against my throat, to let him feel the noises he’s drawing from me.
“I love you,” I whisper, knowing I’m safe from Dawson hearing it too soon.
He grabs my hip and rolls me onto my back. His curly hair is a wild mess, and there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his pretty pink lips, his dimples just starting to show.
“What’d you say?” he asks.
“I said good morning,” I lie and then pull him down for a kiss.
Our lips move together without any hurry, drinking each other in. His hot, thick erection bumps against mine, and I moan into his mouth but don’t make any move to speed things along. Dawson digs his fingers into my ass, squeezing and massaging while my hands caress down his spine. His tongue tangles with mine, warm and wet, filling my mouth and stealing my breath.
I pull one hand from his back and tangle it in his messy curls, tugging his face closer to deepen the kiss. Dawson hitches one of his legs over my hip and grinds his cock harder against mine. The scorching steel of his erection is absolute perfection as he fucks himself against my cock. We whimper and moan against each other’s lips, our kiss quickly turning from leisurely to desperate, sweat beading on our skin as we rut together.
Dawson’s thigh tightens around my waist, his whole body growing tense. My balls are tight and aching for release, my cock throbbing as pre-cum drips from my slit, coating us both. He grunts, sucking my tongue hard and digging his fingers into my lower back hard enough to bruise. His hot release spurts against my stomach and trickles over my cock. I reach between us and wrap my fist around my cock, jerking myself roughly with his cum as lube until a low moan falls from my lips, and my cock pulses out a slow, hard release.
“Good morning,” Dawson pants with a happy smile.
We kiss a little longer, returning to the lazy kisses we started with, not caring about the cum smeared between us and on his sheets.
“I think we need a shower,” I laugh a while later when we disentangle ourselves and finally climb out of bed.
Dawson nods and crooks his finger at me to follow him.
His shower is big enough for both of us, and the hot water tank lasts just long enough for blowjobs and washing up, which was terribly convenient.
After the shower, my new phone is delivered. I don’t even want to know how much of my money Archer paid to get delivery on Christmas Eve. Not like it’s going to bankrupt me and I’d rather not think about the obscene amounts of money people charge for things when they know you can afford it.
“Mind if I call my parents really quick?” I check with Dawson. He waves at me to go ahead.
“Orlando! How are you doing, my sweet boy?” my mom answers.
“I’m good, Mom. How’s Europe?”
“We’re having a wonderful time. Although I am sick over the idea of you spending Christmas alone. I saw your tour was canceled; is everything okay?”
“It remains to be seen,” I admit. My parents have been supportive of our band from the beginning. Hell, they let us practice in the garage when we were nothing but a bunch of kids just looking to make enough noise to drown out our own adolescent dramas. “I’m not alone for Christmas though.”
“You’re not? Who are you with? Archer? Benji?”
“No, they’re both doing their own thing during our break. I’m with…um …okay, do you remember like nine years ago when I told you about that guy I met, and I was really bummed that he never called after we spent a weekend together?”
“Yes, that boy must not have had the sense God gave a goose.”
I chuckle and run my fingers through my beard.
“He’s who I’m with,” I admit. “The whole not calling thing wasn’t his fault. He had an accident after we met.”
“Oh no, is he okay?” she asks, going into mama bear mode.
“He’s okay. He’s great actually,” I say, watching Dawson move around the kitchen, making breakfast.
“I know that tone of voice. You’re in love with him.”
“Yeah, I am. He’s not quite there yet. I think I have my work cut out for me.”
“The course of true love never did run smooth, dear,” my mom reminds me, and my heart stutters. I know it’s a common quote, but what are the odds?
“You’re exa
ctly right,” I agree.
“Can I talk to him? I’d love to wish him a Merry Christmas.”
“He’s deaf.”
“Oh, goodness, I guess I’d better learn sign language if my future son-in-law is deaf,” she declares, and my throat burns with more gratitude than I’d ever be able to express.
“I’ll send you links to the videos I’ve been learning from. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, my sweet boy. You’ll have to bring him to meet us after we get home from our trip.”
“I will, I promise.”
After that she puts my dad on, and we chat for a few minutes. He tells me about the historical sites they’ve seen and all the places they’ve enjoyed so far. Then I wish them both a Merry Christmas and let them go with a promise to plan a visit soon.
Dawson turns around with a plate of eggs in his hands and a smile.
“My parents say Merry Christmas, and they can’t wait to meet you.”
His mouth drops open and his eyes go wide.
They want to meet me? he jots on a piece of paper sitting on the counter.
“Yeah, they really do.”
Why?
“Because I like you…a lot.”
Dawson smiles and bites his bottom lip.
I like you a lot too.
“I feel like we’re in middle school,” I laugh.
Do you like me? Check yes or no. Dawson writes with a smirk, and I chuckle.
Dawson
Can I ask a weird question? I text Lando as we lay on the couch watching some Rudolph movie.
“Of course.”
What’s something crazy I would’ve done when you knew me back then?
“What do you mean by crazy?”
I don’t know. Something spontaneous, outrageous, fun…
“You told me you wanted to go bungee jumping.”
Bungee jumping?! That sounds terrifying. Why would I want to do that?
“You said you were just afraid of not experiencing everything life had to offer,” Lando says with a wistful smile. He’s still in love with the person, and in a way, I think I am too. I want to be that man again.
Okay…let’s go.
“What?” Lando’s eyes go wide as he reads my message.
Play it by Ear Page 11
