Work Text:
Katelyn is the one who lets him in when he arrives. It's a little bit of a mindfuck actually.
"Hey Connor," she leans over the threshold and kisses him on the cheek before he steps inside like plausible deniability. It's actually kind of sweet of her. But there’s probably nobody watching, let alone taking pictures. He has to stop thinking like this. Except he can’t."Just in time. I gotta catch my flight."
"I didn't know you were still here," Connor admits.
She smiles, "I'm running a tiny bit late actually. I wanted to let you in."
"Aww you didn't have to do that," Connor tells her. Everyone is always so nice to him. Probably nicer than he deserves.
"It's okay. He's asleep, so somebody had to do it. Just go on back; he won't care. I gotta go, though that's my Uber. Bye sweetie! Have fun!" And she pushes past him with her rolling suitcase and hurries out to her Uber. Connor feels kind of rude stepping into the house and shutting the door behind him without waiting to see her get in. It's hard to shake the fear of getting papped, even when nobody knows he's here.
He stows his shoes, his hoodie, and his suitcase in the front closet and tosses his hat on the entryway table. The place is perfectly quiet and dark, and he startles when Gizmo slinks out of a shadow and presses his lithe little body against Connor's ankles.
"Hey baby, did you miss me?" He stoops to pet the cat and scratch between his ears. Gizmo purrs and purrs like he did indeed miss Connor. It feels auspicious. He picks Gizmo up to carry him along, but Gizmo springs out of his arms and trots away. "Okay bye," Connor calls quietly after him, brushing cat hair off his hands and his jeans.
The bedroom door is ajar, and Connor can hear deep, steady breathing coming from inside. He pushes the door open just wide enough to admit him, then eases it shut behind him. He sheds his jeans and t shirt, leaving them puddled on the carpet near the door.
Hudson is sprawled probably more towards the center of the bed than he should be, a shaft of light falling over him where the blackout curtains gap in the middle. His forehead is furrowed, but his mouth is loose and pink as his cheeks, flushed with sleep. It's a little too warm in the room. Connor thinks about opening a window, but the windows in this room stick and squeak, and he wants Hudson to wake up in his arms.
He feels weird about getting in on Katelyn's side, so he slides into bed behind Hudson, where there's not quite enough room. Hudson's hair is a mess, falling over his forehead. His arms are flung up, cradling his head. Connor noses along his side and gets a whiff of clean sweat. Hudson's left arm sags down and catches him around the shoulders. Connor spoons up against him, lays his head on Hudson's pillow and waits.
Hudson's mouth shuts gently. He swallows, and his Adam's apple bobs in his beautiful throat.
"Hey," he says in a croaky murmur, his eyes fluttering open and squinting at Connor through the murk of the darkish room. "I thought you were a dream."
Connor grins at him, "I'm right here, baby."
"I got morning breath," says Hudson shyly.
Connor kisses him anyway. His mouth is pretty sour, but Connor kind of loves it. His private Huddy. "You still sleepy?" Connor asks.
Hudson nods and crowds himself into Connor, despite the sliver of bed behind him and the vast emptiness of bed behind Hudson. He pushes his face into Connor's neck, nudges his knee between Connor's, presses his toes to Connor's shin, hugs him hard around the waist.
"You don't seem like you're falling back to sleep," Connor observes after a few minutes, running his fingertips down the knobs of Hudson's spine to make him shiver.
"I'm waking up," Hudson admits. "But this is nice."
"You can have cuddles when you're awake, Huddy," Connor tells him. "That's okay too."
"Hmm," says Hudson, palming Connor's dick through his boxers.
"Okay, but he's not the boss of me. You just woke up, I'm not gonna immediately be like." He jabs his fist against Hudson's bicep in a jackhammer rhythm.
Hudson grins; Connor can feel teeth against his neck, "Yeah, I'll wake up a little more and then you can fuck my arm like a gentleman."
Connor snorts, "You got the most fuckable arms in Vancouver, baby boy. That's some grade A beef. Prime steer."
Hudson sits up, lifts one arm and flexes shamelessly, grinning at Connor.
Connor whistles, "Wowww, we are getting round." He squeezes down on the hard muscle and resists the urge to bite into it, "Did you change up your routine without telling me?"
"I added another five reps and another set," Hudson admits.
"You got a fucking sphere here."
Hudson finally eases back to give Connor a little more room, but he tugs at his waist pulling him along in the bed so they're still tangled in each other, "Do you think you could get off like that? Fucking my arm?"
Connor considers, "Do I get lube?"
"Sure. You can have whatever you want."
It's kind of a thrilling sentence even in this ridiculous context, but Connor shakes his head, "Nah. It's too hard." He gives Hudson's arm another hard squeeze and shakes his head again.
Hudson shifts back in the bed to lie almost flat on his back and passes a hand over his front, "What about my abs? Could you come from that?"
Connor kisses his chest, "We're getting warmer. Why am I fucking your abs in this scenario?"
Hudson shrugs, "I dunno. Just being weird I guess. Yes anding."
"I could try if you want," Connor offers.
"Seems like kind of a waste of come," Hudson says.
"You don't like it when I come here?" Connor teases, running his hand over the plane of Hudson's abs.
"You could probably really come on my bicep, and I'd like that. There's just other places I like better," Hudson says so sincerely that Connor starts punching his arm again without even meaning to. "That's probably tempting fate first thing in the morning though."
"What do you wanna do today?" Connor asks him, petting his arm instead of punching it.
"Get railed," Hudson says baldly. "Not yet, though. Let's take a shower."
…
They have to walk down the hall naked to get to the bathroom. Connor isn't used to that. Even at his tiny place in West Hollywood, long since upgraded, he had an en suite. Feels very bold to be bareassed in the common areas of someone else's home, even when it's almost too dark to see and pretty much empty. Hudson pulls him along by the hand like he might get lost on the ten step trip from the bedroom to the bathroom.
The shower does not fit both of them comfortably. He spends a lot of time with his ass or shoulder pressed against a clammy wall or shower door. All Connor's toiletries are in his suitcase, so he lets Hudson lather him up with his own stuff. His hair is probably going to be a frizzy mess after a round of Hudson's clarifying shampoo and that weak ass straight hair conditioner that's only supposed to sit for one minute. They're both going to smell like Sticky Dates. They make out a little, but it's not very sexy with slimy shower walls on all sides, despite the warm water rushing over them and their erections bumping off each other's hips. Hudson's mouth is still sleep-sour. Connor still loves it.
After they get out, Connor sits nude on a folded towel on the lid of the toilet and watches Hudson brush his teeth, shave, and go through his frankly ridiculous skincare routine. He's kind of talking Connor through it, kind of getting lost in staring critically at his own reflection so that he forgets to speak out loud. Connor's hair is dripping down his back. He's resigned himself to being a mess. He doesn't think there's anything like curling cream or gel or even a diffuser at hand, so he watches fondly and patiently as Hudson gets on with his own routine.
"Where's your towel, Connie?" Hudson asks, looking at Connor in the mirror.
"Under my ass, Huddy."
"No, your hair towel," Hudson points behind Connor and he turns his head to find a small pink towel hanging on a little bar over the toilet. "It's microfiber. For the curls."
"Ugh, you're cute," Connor grabs the towel and starts scrunching the water out of his hair. "I'm pretty sure the curls are cooked though. We'll try again tomorrow. You can see my routine."
When his hair is mostly dry, Hudson hands Connor a tube of his sunblock. It goes on nice and light and slippy, but Hudson makes him put on a second layer.
"That's a lil baby layer," he declares. "That's not gonna do anything."
"I'm from Texas," says Connor in a corny fake accent. "I can take your weak smart bulb Canadian sun."
"Uh huh," says Hudson dismissively. "Did you go see the dermatologist?"
"She took two moles off my back," Connor confesses.
"And I bet she told you to wear your fucking sunblock, too."
Connor applies the second layer. Hudson is still dawdling through getting ready. He stirs a tray of earrings with one finger before choosing a moonstone stud that matches the earrings Connor's wearing and a silver hoop to go with the rings he's arranged on the vanity.
"Very coupley," Connor teases, tapping his own earrings and immediately wishes he hadn't said anything.
Hudson's face clouds, "You gave these to me."
"I know baby, and they look so pretty on you," Connor soothes.
Hudson glares at him as he puts the second moonstone stud in his other ear, "And you showed up wearing your matching pair. You're a secret simp, Connie."
"I don't think it's much of a secret," Connor tells him. "I'm whipped."
"Damn right," Hudson puts on a friendship bracelet that spells out lyubimyy in those little plastic bubble letters. Connor has his matching bracelet that spells solnyshko in his suitcase and decides then and there that it's fine for them to match. They shared this experience. Everybody knows that. That was the happiest Hudson has ever been, he told Buzzfeed or something. He doesn't say that kind of stuff in private.
Hudson finally turns from the mirror, holding out a shining thumb and runs it liberally over Connor's mouth, "Vaseline," he tells him unnecessarily. "Okay. Clothes!"
…
To Connor's very great surprise, Hudson gets dressed much faster. A brown halter top that makes his shoulders look about a mile wide and a pair of loose light wash jeans. He also pulls on a pair of teal socks that match the hoodie Connor arrived in almost perfectly. Connor bites his tongue and doesn't mention the matching. Hudson was probably asleep when Connor sent the airport selfie anyway. It's not like he got out of bed and went and bought a pair of socks to match Connor's hoodie.
Connor brings his suitcase from the front closet and puts on clean underwear and a green mock neck t shirt before pulling his jeans back on. Hudson puts Connor's other clothes on hangers and hangs them up in the closet in the bedroom or puts socks and underwear in the top drawer of his dresser while Connor dresses.
"Stealing my shit again, eh?" says Connor, fastening on his solnyshko bracelet. It seems like a lot for a six day trip, but it makes him smile.
"We don't have an iron," Hudson says, smug like he's won something. Connor is debating whether to call bullshit when Hudson announces that it's breakfast time and grabs Connor by the hand again
It's not breakfast time; it's almost noon. But Hudson doesn't really serve breakfast either. He pulls two ceramic containers with silicone lids out of the fridge and microwaves them one by one, while he fries two eggs and snips up green onions with a pair of kitchen scissors. Hudson drizzles his beef bowl with garlic chili crisp oil, but he has a bottle of Cholula for Connor.
"Oh this too," Hudson says, going back into the fridge and pulling out a can of La Colombe.
"Oh did your little baby stomach grow up and now you drink coffee?" Connor teases through a mouthful.
Hudson rolls his eyes and grabs a Bloom energy drink for himself, "It's for you, Connie."
…
When Hudson pulls him back to the bedroom after they eat, Connor figures it's time to fool around again, but Hudson is only packing his fanny pack for their day out. "Vaseline, card case, keys, Sharpie, cigs, lighter, notebook, and a condom just in case," Hudson singsongs with a broad wink at Connor as he tosses everything into his bag. But he doesn't pack any lube, so Connor knows he's full of shit about fucking in public, fortunately. He puts on a blue ball cap with a big red rooster in silhouette on it, and it seems to remind him of something, "Hey I got you a present."
"Oh yeah?"
"A little welcome present," Hudson says, getting an actual gift bag down from a shelf in the closet.
It's also a blue ball cap, but baby blue instead of dark blue like Hudson's. It looks like one of those cheesy I heart NY caps they sell at the airport, but the heart is pink instead of red and there's no city, so it just says I 🩷. Connor loves it immediately and crushes it on over the mess of his hair despite the fact that it does not go with his outfit at all.
"It made me think of you," says Hudson proudly.
"Our hats go together," Connor points out so he doesn't say something unbearably cheesy.
"Oh they do," says Hudson as if he's just noticed, despite clearly having chosen his with his gift to Connor in mind. Matching again. He leans his head against Connor's and snaps a selfie of them on his phone.
"Spicy little leader for your Connie's visit insta dump," says Connor.
Hudson rolls his eyes, "Ew don't say spicy."
Connor rolls his eyes too, "Okay Shane."
Hudson looks genuinely annoyed at that and shoves his phone in his pocket, "Ready to go?"
"Uh yeah," Connor tries to sound apologetic without making too big of a thing about it. "Lead the way."
…
Hudson turns cheerful again in the car, his hand on Connor's thigh for the whole drive as he chatters over the music about a short he's writing. After a brief struggle, they find parking outside a huge park, and Connor's looking forward to wandering around there, but Hudson steers him toward a shop across the street instead.
"A little indoor fun while it's still hot," says Hudson. It is decidely not hot, just sunny and breezy and beautiful, but Connor's more than willing to let Hudson drive. And he's always curious about what Hudson has planned for him. They walk into the little shop which seems to sell mainly tabletop and roleplay games, though there are rotating racks with some very low-tech looking zines on display in the front that Connor wants a closer look at.
"Hey Hudson!" the guy behind the counter comes out and gives Hudson a hug. He's stocky with thin, light brown hair, bright brown eyes, and the longest, thickest natural eyelashes Connor has ever seen. He's wearing a yellow t shirt that says GENDER IS OVER in black block letters.
"Hey Benny," says Hudson fondly, patting Benny on the shoulder as they break the hug.
"No K today?" asks Benny.
"She's got a conference thingie in Toronto, so uh." He hesitates for a second, glances at Connor. "She imported my other soulmate," he presses one hand to the small of Connor's back.
Benny looks properly at Connor for the first time, "Ohh, you must be Connor."
"Hi yeah, I'm Connor. Nice to meet you," says Connor feeling shy because of how huge he can't help smiling.
"Nice to meet you, too," says Benny. "I've heard a lot about you."
Connor looks at Hudson, who's nodding, a big smile stretched across his face in a mirror of Connor's. "All bad things," Hudson promises.
Connor laughs, "You fucking liar."
Hudson slips one hand down and squeezes his ass before turning his attention back to Benny, "Hey we were hoping to get in on the game today. Has it started yet?"
"Nah, go on back," says Benny.
Connor resists the urge to ask what game and follows Hudson back behind a purple velvet curtain, half expecting to find something pornographic since it's obscured from view of the public. But the game turns out to be a tabletop horror storytelling game being spread out on an old-fashioned card table as they walk in. The other players seem to be mostly friends and acquaintainces of Hudson's, and they greet him with the down to earth enthusiasm normal for meeting a friend's partner and no gleam of fannishness that forces him to be Connor Storrie-whose-butt-we've-seen.
At first Hudson is a little distracted from the game by singing along with the Chappell Roan album playing on the bluetooth speakers set on a nearby bar cart, but Connor is immediately captivated. He borrows Hudson's notebook several times to take notes on the storytelling choices he finds particularly compelling. He gets genuinely choked up when Hudson's character turns out to be possessed, his mind gone, his body a puppet for the thing imitating him. He's a little relieved when Hudson kills him and gets up to pour a cup of hot tea from a glass carafe on the cart with the speakers—now blaring Good Luck Babe—and take a few yoga breaths.
He jumps when Hudson's big hand lands on his back, "You okay, Connie?"
"Yeah," says Connor. "Great game," he adds fervently. "I'm getting tons of ideas." He taps Hudson's pocket where the notebook is stashed.
"Sorry I killed you," says Hudson, rubbing his back and looking intently at him. "That was kind of intense."
"It's okay," says Connor, half laughing at how silly they're both being. "It's just a game."
"Come bleed on me?" says Hudson, dipping his head back toward the table where the game is continuing without them. Connor suddenly suspects that if he could check, he would find Hudson hard.
"Hell yeah," Connor burns his mouth on his tea and puts the cup down, ready to see the rest of the game play out.
…
When they leave the shop an hour later, there's an outdoor screening of Ferris Bueller's Day Off starting in the park, and they wander towards it, stopping a little ways from the crowd of lawn chairs and picnic blankets under a cluster of trees so that they can only just hear the audio. Connor settles himself on the ground, leans back against a tree and pats his knee. Hudson pretends to think Connor wants him to sit in his lap, and he straddles Connor reverse cowgirl and wobbles side to side like he only has to find the right angle to get comfortable.
"Down boy," says Connor, giving him a little shove. "You're no lapdog." Hudson half turns to face Connor and lolls out his tongue and pants, then licks Connor's cheek just as he's wishing he could kiss him. "I walked right into that one," says Connor as Hudson cackles. He doesn't wipe away the moisture, though. Hudson gets off him and reclines with his head in Connor's lap and lights up a cigarette. He looks contented and very post-coital. Connor starts to get hard watching his mouth purse around the filter. He adjusts himself, and Hudson smirks and kisses his knee.
"You'd make a good Cameron," Hudson says, his eyes on the distant screen. Cameron and Ferris have just pulled up in front of their school to pick up Sloane in Cameron's dad's sports car.
"Depressive with daddy issues? You're gonna get me typecast," Connor says. He picks a leaf out of Hudson's hair and flicks it away.
Hudson holds up the cigarette, offering it to Connor, "That's like. Everybody. Everybody interesting. That's not a type."
"Are you Ferris in this scenario?" Connor asks, watching Ferris kiss Sloane passionately.
Hudson doesn't seem to like the question, "I guess." He wags the cigarette and waits for Connor to take it and drag on it. "Do you think they fooled around?"
"Ferris and Sloane?"
"Ferris and Cameron," says Hudson.
"Probably not," says Connor. He doesn't feel like yes anding about this.
"They had gay people in the 80s, Connie," says Hudson sanctimoniously.
"Yeah, no shit," says Connor. "Are you hungry? I'm starving." He stubs out the cigarette in the dirt.
Hudson sits up, his hat falling off and frowns at Connor. "Are you. Is everything okay?"
Connor smiles at him, smooths his hair back from his face, "Yeah, baby. Just hungry. You wanna get some poke?"
"You don't wanna watch the movie?"
Connor shakes his head, "I'd rather talk or—" He makes a very specific gesture that makes Hudson laugh.
"Okay," he jumps up and offers Connor a hand up. "We can do both."
…
They do find a poke place and share a seltzer drink with big chunks of melon and cucumber while they wait for their order at an outdoor table. While they're waiting a teenage girl with a copy of the Heated Rivalry novel comes up to them. They both sign it for her with Hudson's sharpie.
"Could I get a picture with you guys?" she almost whispers like she might wake up from a dream if she talks too loud.
"Sorry, no," says Hudson, sounding so sweet and regretful that Connor almost believes he really is sorry. "Not today. Connie's on vacation."
"Okay thanks," she wags the book gratefully then adds like she could die of embarrassment but she has to get it out anyway, "I like your hats."
"Thanks so much," says Connor, shooting Hudson an impish look. "They were a set."
…
Back at the apartment, Hudson opens all the blinds and curtains, so that the setting sun hits the suncatchers, filling the main room up with fragments of rainbows. He actually has one on his mouth when he stretches out on the couch, and Connor kisses and licks it like he could actually taste it if he tries hard enough. They make out lazy on the couch, Connor's hand wandering up Hudson's top and Hudson's jammed firmly down the back of Connor's jeans, squeezing his ass like a stressball. When Gizmo jumps onto Connor's back for the third time, they give up and go to the bedroom.
Hudson insists on changing the sheets, and Connor bites back several comments about how he's sure Katelyn doesn't have cooties. But he knows that sentiment is not in service of the moment, so he helps instead, and when the bed is made up again, Hudson gets his weed pen out of the nightstand drawer. He hits it first, then offers it to Connor.
"I hear you don't do this in front of other people," says Connor, hitting also.
"Yeah, it turns me into a dickhungry demon," says Hudson. That's partly true, but sometimes it makes him paranoid and weepy instead. He must not be terribly worried about that outcome, though. He hits a couple more times, then when Connor declines another hit, he puts the pen away in the drawer and stretches out on the bed on his back.
Connor cuddles up to him, "You still wanna get railed, Huddy?"
"I've been thinking about that a lot lately," says Hudson, but he doesn't sound particularly sexy, so Connor waits instead of kissing him. "Do you think camp is gonna be like. Different this year?"
"Yeah," says Connor. "Of course."
"I mean do you think they'll be different? Shane and Ilya. Like is a little um. Juice gone? Or something? Because we're less," he gestures unspecifically between them. "Frantic?"
"Baby," says Connor patiently. "I don't wanna fuck Shane."
Hudson grins, "Really?"
"Come on, you know I don't."
Hudson bites his lip, "You don't think he's hot?"
Connor laughs, "I think he would be super mean to me. Not hot."
"Hmm," Hudson looks at the ceiling. "I guess that's true. I'd fuck Ilya."
"I know," Connor says. "You're really obvious when you have a crush."
"Oh the bleed," says Hudson with a mock-dramatic little sigh. "You make it so easy to be in love with you."
"Bleed on me," Connor says and squeezes Hudson's thigh just so.
Hudson glares at him, "Connie, what the fuck! I'm differentiating."
"Okay," says Connor. "Sorry." He lifts and kisses Hudson's hand, "Does that help?"
Hudson closes his eyes, "A little. Fuck, I wish I wasn't high. Why did I do that?"
"Should we put our clothes back on?"
Hudson scrunches up his face, "No! Maybe. Ugh, I wanna fuck, though."
"You could fuck me," Connor offers. "If that would help with differentiating."
Hudson's face lights up, "Really?"
"Yeah," says Connor. "Definitely. I uh. I didn't really come prepared for that, though."
"Under the bathroom sink," Hudson tells him with shining eyes.
"Okay," Connor gets up. "I'll be right back."
…
Connor wishes he hadn't gone naked as he walks back to the bedroom. He feels weirdly conspicuous.
"BBL Connor," Hudson sings as soon as Connor steps back into the room. "BBL Connie." He's clipping his nails over the dresser, also still naked. "Hey Connor, did you find the douche?"
Connor laughs, "Yeah, your look under the bathroom sink directions were impeccable, Hudson. I did find and use the douche."
"I'll be done with this in a sec," Hudson waves the nail clipper at him. "It took me a while to find the good one, and the bad one just leaves my nails really sharp."
"That's not what you want," Connor comes over and hugs Hudson around the waist. He would like to kiss his neck, but decides it won't be helpful for differentiating, so he just leans on him and puts his mouth on Hudson's ear.
Hudson smiles a little as he clips his last nail, then turns in Connor's arms and kisses him, "I'm so in love with you."
Connor laughs, "Don't worry, I'm gonna put out."
Hudson scowls, "Don't fucking be like that."
"I'm sorry!" says Connor. "I was just kidding," he leans into Hudson again and does kiss his neck this time.
"I fucking mean it," Hudson insists even as his head is rolling back to make room for kisses.
"I know, Hudson." Connor hugs him and wills and wills his voice steady, "I'm in love with you, too."
"We don't have to do it if you don't feel good about it," Hudson says, hugging Connor back.
"I feel good about it," Connor promises.
"I mean you don't have to do it as like. A favor to me," Hudson says. "We can save it. If you want."
"Baby," Connor kisses his neck again, up to his jaw, holds Hudson up more as he starts to sag in his pleasure. "Tonight's the night. The stars are aligned. I'm ready to go. Okay?"
Hudson smiles sweet like a sunrise, “Okay.”
…
"I think I could do this forever," Hudson says. He has Connor gathered into his lap, and they're leaning back against a pile of pillows. One hand is on Connor's dick, and with the other, he's pressing two fingers up inside Connor. His erection is pressed against Connor's hip, hard and hot and promisingly damp at the tip. "I could live here. You feel so fucking good, Con."
Con is a special occasion name, and Connor's dick throbs against Hudson's hand hearing it. "Wanna try it with your dick, baby?" offers Connor sweetly.
"Are you ready?"
"Yeah, I'm ready," he kisses Hudson, slow, messy, too much tongue. "I'm gonna lie on my back, okay? So I can look at your pretty face."
Hudson nods and eases his fingers out so that Connor can recline onto his back. He wobbles himself between Connor's splayed knees, and Connor hands him the condom, which has tried to slip off into the sheets unnoticed. Hudson tries to tear open the package, but his hands are too slippery, so Connor sits up and does it for him, then rolls the condom down over Hudson's pretty, pink dick.
Hudson laughs shakily, "Jesus I'm so turned on even that felt good."
"Fuck me, Hudson," Connor lies back on the pillow pile. "It's gonna blow your mind." He laughs, but Hudson doesn't. He's looking down at where he's lining his dick up against Connor's hole. Connor bears down just as Hudson starts to push, and he sinks the slick, hot, fat head inside in one stroke. "Fuck!" gasps Connor. Then quickly, "Don't pull out. Just. A second."
"Oh my god Con," Hudson whines, digging his fingertips into Connor's thighs. "Jesus Christ."
Connor breathes slow. In. Out. He's clamping down hard on Hudson. He feels like warm taffy with even just the head inside.
"Are you okay?" Hudson whispers, starting to withdraw.
"Yes," Connor manages, grabbing Hudson's wrist. "Stay. Don't pull out. You feel fucking incredible, I swear. I just need a second." Hudson pets his chest, scratches bluntly at his happy trail, and it makes him shiver. "More," he says finally. "Move." Hudson closes Connor's hand around his dick first, and Connor obediently strokes himself as Hudson sinks slowly into him.
"Oh fuck, that's it," Hudson tells him when he's in to the root. "Does it feel good?"
"It feels great baby, you're doing great keep going."
Hudson fucks into him, slow, slick, smooth, and Connor feels like he's being cinched around Hudson. Tightened and tightened and tightened like a bag about to burst its contents. He leans into the feeling. Fucks his fist, fucks his hips up to meet Hudson's thrusts, and comes with a yell, his own come spattering scalding on his skin like a brand.
Hudson fucks Connor through his orgasm and keeps going when his own orgasm sends Connor into a pretty intense aftershock that actually has his softening cock belch up a little more come.
Hudson pulls carefully out, and when Connor cranes up for his kisses like a flower reaching for the sun, he crashes down into him, into his mess and his need and holds him, kisses him with a brief clash of teeth, then again more gently. And this, even more than the sex, more than the orgasm, feels like a burden thrown down, like a promise of rest.
…
"We should get our nipples pierced," says Hudson. It's the first thing Connor is fully aware of him saying afterwards, but Connor has the impression he's tried a few things like throwing spaghetti at the wall to see if it sticks. They're still tangled up in the middle of the bed, very sticky with come and lube. Hudson is holding Connor against his chest, slippery with sweat under Connor's cheek and so Hudson-fragrant it makes Connor queasy with something like homesickness. He closes his eyes.
"We don't have time for them to heal so we can take them out for shooting," Connor says. "It takes like six months for nipple piercings to heal enough to take out." Matching again, he notes in his head.
"You don't think Jacob would go for it?"
"No," Connor laughs. "After camp." Then, "Let's not talk about camp right now though, okay?"
"You'll really do that with me?" says Hudson eagerly. "Get our nipples pierced?"
"Sure baby." He kisses Hudson's chest, "Anything you want."