Page 54 of Until We Fall

Jesus, what? Hold on for what? I’mtrying.

The world fragments as he squeezes at the link between us, then slides his cock out, the billow of his cum trapped in my foreskin, slick and hot and too fuckinggoodaround my head. He scoots down, and I don’t know what he’s doing, but whatever it is, I’m half a step from the edge.

He swallows my cock, letting loose the capture of his own cum into his mouth, and holy shit, I can’t hold back. Hepractically mewls as he takes me, his tongue smoothing the slippery mixtures of cum and saliva around my shaft.

My release quivers once, and then it just goes. It’s all I can do to keep braced over him, falling partway down to my elbows, my cock throbbing deep in his mouth as he swallows the mixture of our cum.

I fall.

Halfway onto him, halfway onto my side.

I’m breathing. I think? I’m alive. I think? I’m in heaven. Iknow.

He crawls up to me, and both of us struggle to breathe as I drag him close. I’m practically swallowing him in my arms, our skin clammy and slick with sweat, but I don’t care. I just want to keep holding onto him.

I bury my nose in his neck, holding onto him so hard that my arms ache, so hard that it’s difficult to breathe. So hard that maybe it’ll leave an impression after we leave here, after we go back, after we graduate. Maybe leave an impression so deep that somehow, even if we have all the distance of New York and California between us, we’ll still feel it.

“D,” he whispers, long after the sweat has dried on my skin. “I’m starting to believe you.”

Tears slip out of my eyes and wet his neck.

I cry. I just fucking cry.

And I hope that he keeps hearing me. That he understands. That he, and everyone else on this planet, can manage to believe, even if it’s only for a fraction of a second, that they’re exactly as they should be. That they’re amazing. That they’re beautiful.

That they’re enough.

15

The last day.

I grip onto the ferry railing as I climb the stairs behind Rory, hauling our bags, the heat of the sun on my shoulders, and the echoing horn so loud that we both jump.

We’re still docked, but we’re seconds from leaving. I guess that’s what the horn means. Carter and Theo are somewhere behind us. They stopped on the boardwalk for no reason that I could tell, but they’re gonna miss the boat if they don’t get their asses moving.

I’m focused on Rory though, the wind lifting his hair as he reaches the top of the stairs, a smile breaking across his face as he turns to take me in.

“I could have carried my bag,” he says.

“I know.” I haul them up the rest of the way and stow them on a rack. “I’ve no doubt you could have.”

We head out to the railing. We’re silent for a moment, looking off toward the ocean in the direction we’ll be traveling. Away from Clua.

But it’s notreallyover. It can’t be, right?

Rory accepted the invitation to my family chat. He did it while we were waiting for the Uber, slipping out his phone and pressing a quick button and then showing me.

Jesus, I about cried. Again.

I might still. My hands were shaking when another round of welcomes came in from my family, all of them asking Rory to send more pictures.

That’s good. I love him being in the chat.

But I want more.

I swallow thickly and slide in behind him, setting my hands on either side of him on the railing and leaning close to his ear. “I think we’ve left port.”

There’s a growing weight in the back of my thoughts. What happens when we get home?

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