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The afterparty hums around them like a living thing.
Low golden light pools over polished floors. The DJ isn't playing anything too obvious — just bass-heavy remixes that make the room feel warm, close, charged. Glasses clink. Laughter spills in sharp bursts. Every few minutes someone calls Connor's name again, and the attention pivots toward him like a spotlight that never quite shuts off.
Connor handles it beautifully.
Measured smile. Firm handshake. Eye contact that makes every person feel like they're the only one in the room. He thanks everyone — writers, cast members, producers — with a steadiness that looks effortless.
Hudson watches him the way someone watches fireworks.
He hovers close enough to be constant but not clingy. Hand at Connor's back. Fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt whenever someone new leans in to congratulate him.
"Unbelievable tonight, man."
"Seriously, that monologue? So good."
"You looked so calm up there."
Calm.
Hudson almost laughs.
Connor was pacing backstage twenty minutes before showtime, jaw tight, breathing controlled, hands flexing like he was about to fight someone. Hudson had been the only one who saw it — the way Connor closed his eyes for half a second and centered himself.
Hudson squeezes his waist now.
Connor glances back at him briefly. The look is quick, but it lands. A silent check-in.
You good?
Hudson answers it by leaning in, brushing his mouth close to Connor's ear.
"You were so hot up there," he says softly.
Connor's posture doesn't change. He nods at someone across the room. Smiles.
But his hand finds Hudson's wrist. Then his hip.
"You're being obvious," Connor murmurs without looking at him.
Hudson beams at a passing cast member. "Obvious about how proud I am of my best friend?"
Connor's thumb presses in, just slightly.
Hudson's breath stutters before he catches it.
Someone pulls Connor into another conversation. Hudson stays tucked at his side, fingers idly tracing along the seam of Connor's shirt like he's just absentminded.
But it isn't absentminded.
It's slow and intentional.
His thumb drags across the small of Connor's back. Dips lower for half a second. Then back up.
Connor's jaw tightens.
He laughs at something someone says, but his free hand comes behind him and moves Hudson's hand from his back.
"You're enjoying this," Connor says quietly once the other person leaves, turning his head just enough that his mouth nearly brushes Hudson's temple.
Hudson shrugs lightly. "I enjoy celebrating."
"Mm."
Connor finally turns to face him fully.
They're close now. Close enough that the air between them feels thinner.
Hudson tips his head slightly, looking up at him through his lashes in a way that looks playful to anyone watching — but Connor knows better.
They lock eyes for a moment, Connor's eyes drift to Hudson's lips and back up, then he sighs deeply and pulls himself out of it. Someone else pulls Connor's attention.
Hudson doesn't stay glued to him. He drifts away, laughs with someone near the bar. Accepts a drink. Tells a story.
But every few minutes they pass each other.
A brush of shoulders.
A glance held one beat too long.
A hand landing low on a back before sliding away.
At one point Hudson squeezes past Connor in a narrow space near the lounge seating.
His palm flattens briefly against Connor's chest to move around him.
"Excuse me," Hudson says sweetly.
Connor's hand automatically finds Hudson's hip to steady him.
Their eyes meet.
It flicker's between them again.
Hudson smiles first.
"Having fun?" he asks.
Connor tilts his head. "Are you."
Hudson hums. "I love celebrating my best friend."
The words are light.
The way he says best friend is not.
Connor's mouth curves.
"Keep saying that."
Hudson's pulse jumps.
Later, near the bar, Connor is mid-sentence with someone when Hudson steps up beside him again.
Close, but not touching.
"You look good," Hudson says quietly, almost lost under the music.
Connor makes eye contact and snorts softly, leaning in a bit, voice dropping.
"You're looking at me like you want to kiss me."
Hudson smiles smugly, murmuring back.
"You're looking at me like you want me to."
Connor's composure doesn't break — but his eyes darken just slightly.
"You're bold tonight," he murmurs.
Hudson lifts his chin. "It's your night."
"And?"
"And I like seeing you like this."
Hudson's eyes drag over him slowly — collar slightly open, sleeves rolled, warmth flushed into his skin from champagne and adrenaline.
Connor breathes in deeply, he knows Hudson is trying to get under his skin right now and God it's working. He needs him.
"You're staring," Hudson says calmly.
Hudson takes a sip of his drink without breaking eye contact.
"Am I?" Connor asks, playfully shocked.
Connor leans a fraction closer so their conversation doesn't have to compete with the bass.
"I've been doing it all night."
Hudson's lips twitch.
"I'm proud of you, baby." Hudson whispers softly into his ear.
Hudson studies him for a second too long.
Connor's composure flickers. Just barely.
Connor steps closer under the pretense of someone squeezing past them. His hand lands low on Hudson's back to guide him forward.
"Thank you, Huddy. You're being very supportive.” Connor murmurs.
A cast member interrupts the moment to drag Connor into another group photo.
"Just one more man for the instagram post!" The cast member clarifies.
Hudson watches him go.
Watches the way Connor's arm rests confidently around someone's shoulders. The way he smiles into the camera.
When the photo finishes, Connor scans the room.
He finds Hudson where he was before, waiting. Hudson is already looking back.
There's something about the eye contact now that feels less playful.
More intentional.
Connor crosses the room this time.
He just stops close enough that Hudson feels it.
"You look flushed," Connor says quietly.
Hudson rolls his eyes. "It's hot in here."
Connor's fingers find Hudson again, fingertips brushing briefly along his side.
"It is," he agrees.
Hudson's fingers curl in Connor's jacket instinctively.
The party feels distant for a moment — like it's happening around a glass wall.
Connor pulls back just enough to look at him fully. Hudson still has hearts in his eyes, his gaze makes Connor flush.
"You need to stop looking at me like that," Connor says softly.
"But you look so handsome," he whispers.
Connor smiles — warm, but certain.
"Do I."
Hudson's heart is kicking a bit, every interaction he has with Connor makes him blush and giggle like a schoolgirl. He’s usually good at making people flustered but he just can’t win against Connor.
He tries to recover his grin, nodding yes.
"And you're the one who keeps coming back to me."
Connor tilts his head.
"Because you're mine to come back to."
Hudson swallows hard, breaking eye contact. Connor picks up on it.
"You like celebrating me?" Connor asks.
Hudson nods once.
"Yeah."
Connor's thumb hooks briefly at the waistband of Hudson's pants — not enough to draw attention. Just enough to make the air shift.
"Good," Connor says softly.
Hudson's breath catches.
Connor brushes his knuckles once along Hudson's jaw — almost affectionate — before leaning in close again.
"You want me to let you celebrate some more?" he murmurs.
Hudson looks up at him, flushed and unraveling.
Fuck, can we leave this damn party already?
Connor's hand settles steady at the small of his back, a soft smile creeping onto his face as he mentally answers the question for Hudson.
"Say goodbye," he says softly.
Hudson's stomach flips.
Connor takes Hudson's drink and takes a sip, then sets it down.
"We're leaving."
Hudson's brain barely registers the rest of the room after that.
Connor has already turned away, already guiding him gently through clusters of people with a hand steady at the small of his back. It doesn't look urgent. It doesn't look possessive. Two besties leaving a party.
Hudson mutters quick goodbyes. Hugs someone too tightly. Laughs like he's still completely composed.
He is not.
Connor's hand never leaves him. Warm. Anchoring. Occasionally sliding just slightly lower when someone squeezes past.
"Already leaving?" someone asks.
Connor smiles politely. "Early flight."
Hudson nearly laughs at that.
They reach the exit and the cooler air outside hits Hudson's flushed skin like a shock.
Connor doesn't say anything at first. He just opens the car door and waits.
Hudson slides in.
Connor follows.
The door shuts. The city noise dulls. Privacy falls heavy and immediate.
For one second, they just look at each other.
The party glow is still on Connor's skin. His collar slightly open. His lips still curved faintly from smiling at strangers.
Hudson leans in instinctively, Connor puts a hand on his chest to keep him away. His eyes flicker to the Uber driver.
Not here.
Hudson obeys.
They scramble into the hotel, and the door shuts loud behind them as Hudson forcefully closes it.
Connor doesn't even turn the lights on.
Hudson grabs him, both hands fisting into his shirt, dragging him forward, and Connor meets him halfway, mouths colliding hard enough to knock the air out of both of them.
It's teeth and breath and hands immediately sliding under fabric like they can't move fast enough.
"God," Hudson breathes against his mouth, tugging at his collar. "You look so fucking good."
Connor answers by pushing him back against the door, one hand gripping his waist, the other sliding up into his hair.
"You're worse," Connor murmurs, kissing him again, slower, deeper, filthy. "So pretty when you're worked up."
Hudson shivers at that, hums into Connor's mouth.
"Then do something about it," he whispers, already tugging at Connor's shirt.
Connor groans softly and helps him — buttons popping loose, fabric dragged over his shoulders and thrown somewhere on the floor.
Hudson's hands are on him instantly — chest, stomach, dragging up over warm skin like he needs to feel all of it.
"Take yours off," Connor mutters against his mouth.
Hudson doesn't hesitate. He yanks his own shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside, already reaching for Connor again, pressing kisses onto his neck as they move backwards to the bed.
"Jesus," Connor breathes. "You're killing me."
Hudson grins, flushed. "Good."
Connor grabs him by the waist and turns them, continuing to walk them toward the bed, kissing him the entire way. They stumble, half-laughing, half-breathless, but Connor catches him and shoves him down onto the mattress.
He climbs over him immediately.
No space. No patience.
Hudson arches up into him, hands sliding up Connor's back, pulling him closer.
"Want you so bad," Hudson breathes as Connor kisses down his jaw, over his throat, sucking lightly at the skin just to hear Hudson gasp.
"I know," Connor murmurs. "Be good for me."
Hudson's hands drop lower, dragging down Connor's sides, gripping at his hips, over his ass.
"Take it off," Hudson says, breathless. "All of it."
Connor laughs under his breath — wrecked and warm — and reaches down, helping strip away the rest of what's in the way. His pants, boxers, socks. Clothes hit the floor without care.
They're kissing again immediately.
Connor’s slowing the pace — mouths open and greedy, tongues dragging deep and wet, hands roaming without hesitation. He loves feeling Hudson’s tongue against his own, loves when it gets slow and sloppy and spit-slicked.
Connor's palms drag over Hudson's bare skin, memorizing, squeezing, pulling him flush.
"You're so fucking hot," Connor mutters against his mouth.
Hudson moans softly at that, fingers digging into his shoulders, his legs spreading wider around Connor's hips.
"Connor please," he breathes.
Connor kisses him harder, one hand sliding down Hudson's body, the other gripping his jaw gently to angle his face just how he wants it.
"Mm," Connor hums. "So needy."
Hudson bites his lip, flushed and smiling.
"Because of you."
Connor kisses him again like that answer pleased him, hands everywhere at once — waist, chest, sliding down and back up again.
Hudson's head tips back, breath hitching when Connor's mouth trails lower, slow and intentional.
"Connor—" he exhales.
Connor looks up at him through his lashes.
"Yeah?"
Hudson swallows, wrecked already.
"Your mouth feels so good,"
Connor smiles — soft, hungry, sunshine turned feral.
"You're so easy for me." He gently teases
"Shut up." Hudson shoots back breathily, his breath breaking into a moan as Connor takes his nipple into his mouth and sucks.
Connor hums against him, warm and gentle.
Hudson's back arches off the mattress immediately, fingers fisting in Connor's hair as that slow suction sends a sharp, electric line down his spine.
"Fuck—" he gasps, voice wrecked already.
Connor glances up at him through his lashes, mouth still there, tongue dragging slowly before he pulls back just enough to press a soft kiss beside it.
Hudson's hips shift automatically, grinding his hard clothed cock against Connor's abdomen, another breathy moan escaping.
"Grinding yourself against me, baby?" Connor murmurs against his skin.
Hudson whines, chest rising fast.
"Need it that bad?" Connor murmurs again, looking up at Hudson.
"Yeah— yes— please—" Hudson stammers out, his hips still moving a bit.
Connor smiles faintly and lowers his mouth again, slower this time — lapping at his nipple again, pulling back a bit and watching spit strings attach his tongue to Hudson's nipple, switching sides just to hear the hitch in his breath.
Hudson can't stay still. He writhes under him, hips still shifting, fingers tightening in Connor's hair like he needs something to hold onto.
"Jesus—," Hudson pants, head tipped back. "Your fucking tongue—"
Connor presses one last slow kiss there before trailing lower, lips brushing down Hudson's chest in unhurried, deliberate passes.
Every inch gets attention.
Hudson's breathing turns ragged, hands sliding down to Connor's shoulders, then back up again, unsure where to touch.
Connor's mouth moves lower, leaving a line of heat behind him.
When he reaches the waistband of Hudson's boxers, he pauses.
He hooks his fingers in and drags them down in one smooth motion, tossing them somewhere behind him without breaking eye contact.
Hudson's heart beats faster under that look alone.
Connor leans down, presses one slow kiss just below his navel, warm, open-mouthed, then another to the little gun tattoo at his hip.
Connor hums softly.
"Turn over," he says, voice lower now. Rougher.
Hudson swallows, flushed and breathless.
"But—"
Connor's hands slide firmly over his hips.
"Turn over," he repeats, softer this time but unmistakably sure. "I wanna eat you."
Hudson blushes a bit and rolls onto his stomach immediately, heat crawling up his neck as he shifts without even thinking about it — knees spreading, hips lifting.
Connor exhales.
"Look at you," he murmurs.
Hudson buries his face in the mattress for half a second, embarrassed and turned on in equal measure.
Connor's hands settle on his ass first, kneading into the soft plump skin, then rubs up to his hips, thumbs pressing slow circles into warm skin.
"That pretty hole," Connor says quietly.
Hudson's breath hitches, clenching around nothing, desperate, so desperate.
Connor leans up, lips dragging slow and warm along the curve of his lower back, licking into his back dimples, pressing kisses to each of them.
Hudson arches instinctively.
"Baby—"
Connor's mouth moves lower, unhurried, teasing, his hands keeping Hudson exactly where he wants him.
Hudson's fingers clutch the sheets, body already trembling in anticipation.
Connor presses another slow, deliberate kiss to Hudson's asscheek, lets his mouth linger just long enough to make Hudson gasp into the mattress.
"Relax," Connor murmurs.
Hudson tries.
He really does.
But when Connor's hands tighten on his hips and he leans in closer, his breath fanning over his puckered hole, Hudson's breath breaks entirely, a soft, desperate whine slipping out before he can stop it.
The room feels too warm. Too quiet. Too intimate.
Connor's voice drops to something softer, almost affectionate.
"You want my mouth right here," he starts to tease, just because he can't help it. "Don't you?"
Hudson melts under him.
"Yes— please I need your tongue in me," Hudson whines out, trying to squirm and push his ass back into Connor's face but Connor won't let him move.
"Been thinking about this all night please, baby please," He begs.
Connor gives in, obviously. How could he resist his baby begging so pretty and pathetic for him?
He presses one more soft kiss to the other cheek, before spitting at the top of Hudson's crack, watching the spit run down, over his hole, down to the seam of his balls, before sticking his tongue out and catching it, licking all the way back up to his hole and dipping his tongue in.
Hudson gasps the second he feels it — sharp and sudden, hips jerking forward before he can stop himself.
"Connor—" It comes out wrecked, half a moan, half a warning.
His fingers claw into the sheets, knuckles whitening as heat floods through him all at once. His back arches instinctively, muscles tightening, a broken whimper slipping out when Connor lingers there a moment instead of pulling away.
"Oh— fuck," Hudson breathes, voice shaking.
Connor lets his mouth water, lets himself drool into Hudson, lapping it all up and pressing it all back into him. He swirls his tongue around the hole a bit, presses in a few kisses, lets his tongue work against Hudson instinctively.
"So good with your mouth," Hudson pants out. "Fuck— yes"
Connor hums against his hole, his hands pulling Hudsons asscheeks apart as he continues, spit slicking his entire mouth and chin.
Hudson's fingers claw into the sheets, his whole body starting to tremble under Connor's mouth.
"Connor—" he chokes out, voice breaking.
Connor doesn't stop. He hums again, slow and deliberate, the vibration pulling another desperate sound from Hudson's throat.
Hudson's hips twitch, then stutter, then start moving without permission — chasing the pressure, chasing the heat.
"Don't— don't stop," he gasps. "Please, don't stop."
Connor's hands tighten at his hips, steadying him, holding him exactly where he wants him.
"Come on baby," Connor murmurs, voice low and warm against his skin. "Cum for me." He reaches down to grab Hudson's cock, stroking it in time with his various licks and sucks.
Hudson whines, trembling, but not quite there.
"Cum on my tongue, baby," Connor coaxes it out of him. "You can do it."
Hudson's back arches, muscles tightening all at once. His breath turns into broken, wrecked sounds — half moans, half pleas — as the sensation builds too fast.
"I'm cumming—" he pants. "Connor— fuck—"
Connor's grip shifts, firm and grounding.
He works his tongue and hand as quick as possible, feeling Hudson's hole clench harshly around him, his hand flying back to grip Connor's.
Hudson's breath snaps out of him in a raw sound as he falls apart, body going tight and then slack all at once, hips jerking before Connor steadies him again.
Connor stays there through it, slow and patient, guiding him through the last shuddering waves until Hudson calms down, breathless.
Hudson's voice comes out hoarse.
"Holy fuck..."
Connor presses one last warm kiss before leaning up, hands sliding soothingly up Hudson's back.
"You did so good for me." Connor praises, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.
Hudson lets out a shaky breathy laugh, and sits up on the heels of his feet, his back flushed with Connor's chest.
"You okay?" Connor asks.
"'m so fucking good," Hudsons breathes out, craning his neck back to give Connor a little kiss to his smiling lips.
Hudson shifts the cum covered part of the comforter away from them, turning around to lay back flat on the sheets, pulling Connor with him into a kiss.
"Want more," He murmurs into the kiss, feeling Connors fingers already brushing low, dipping into his crack and pressing against his hole.
"You need fingers first?" Connor asks quietly, eyes searching his face. "Or you want me right now?"
Hudson swallows, flushed and wrecked but certain.
"Right now," he breathes. "Don't make me wait."
Connor smiles — soft, hungry, affectionate.
"You're so impatient."
"You love it," Hudson shoots back, already reaching for him.
Connor leans over the side of the bed to grab the lube from the nightstand, shaking it once before pressing a kiss to Hudson's mouth again.
"You sure?" Connor murmurs against his lips.
Hudson nods immediately. "Yes, Connor hurry up."
That shifts something in Connor's expression — warm and grounded, stern in response to Hudson rushing him.
"You don't get what you want by rushing me," he says softly, but firmly, leaning back and opening the lube.
"Apparently I don't get what I want by waiting either" Hudson pushes.
Connor looks up from the lube into Hudson's eyes.
"Watch your mouth, baby,"
Hudson retreats a little from the eye contact, hums softly in acknowledgment, but his eyes lock in elsewhere. lower.
Connor follows his line of sight and lets out a quiet laugh, warm and a little breathless.
"Whatcha staring at so hard, Huddy?" he murmurs, tilting his head.
Hudson doesn't even try to pretend.
"Your dick," he says immediately, voice low and wrecked. "It's so big. I want it so bad."
Connor actually freezes for half a second.
A flush creeps up his neck.
"Damn, Hudson," he mutters, half laughing, half flustered. "You don't have to say it like that."
Hudson smirks faintly, eyes still heavy and hungry. He reaches up, fingers dragging lightly down Connor's stomach, over the lines of his abs, his deep V cut, ghosting over his dick.
"I'm serious," he whispers. "I've been thinking about it all night."
Connor exhales slowly, cock twitching just a little under the touch.
"You're going to make me lose it," he says softly, pouring the lube over himself.
Hudson's lips curve.
"Then stop teasing and give it to me."
Connor leans down, brushing a slow kiss against his mouth, voice warm and steady again.
Hudson hands slide up Connor's arms as Connor settles over him, lining himself up carefully.
He pushes in slow and steady as he kissed Hudson deeper, pushing his tongue in further to distract him. Hudson's grip on his biceps tightened, groaning quietly into Connor's mouth.
He bottoms out, settling for a moment before pulling back out slowly and pushing back in, feeling Hudson clench around him. After a few slow and shallow thrusts, Hudson feels more relaxed, and Connor's movements sharpen.
He tightens his grip at Hudson's hips, pulling his hips down into him to meet his thrusts, setting the pace. His mouth drops to Hudson's again, swallowing the broken sounds spilling out of him.
Hudson's fingers dig into Connor's shoulders.
"Faster," he breathes, voice cracking. "Fuck— Connor, please."
Connor exhales hard through his nose, eyes darkening.
"You're can't even hide how desperate you are," he murmurs.
Hudson shakes his head immediately. "Don't want to."
Connor's composure slips just a little at that.
He drives forward harder, steady and deliberate. The bed shifts beneath them.
Hudson moans into his mouth, hips lifting instinctively to meet him.
"God, you feel so good," Hudson pants. "So fucking good."
Connor lets out a low groan.
"Yeah?" he mutters. "You like it like this?"
Hudson nods desperately. "I love it like this."
Connor's hand slides up, gripping Hudson's jaw gently, forcing him to look at him.
"Look at me," Connor says.
Hudson does.
And that's when Connor pushes deeper, slower for a second — controlled — just to make him feel it. Just to watch his face.
Hudson's breath stutters, his face crumples in pleasure.
"So pretty." He praises.
Then he picks the pace back up — stronger, heavier. His mouth finds Hudson's neck, his jaw, biting lightly just to hear the sharp inhale it pulls from him.
Hudson's nails rake down his back.
"You're so sexy," Hudson gasps. "Fuck."
Connor pulls back just enough to look at him — really look at him — flushed, wrecked, lips swollen from kissing.
The sight does something to him.
His hands slide down Hudson's thighs and hook underneath, lifting and pushing his knees back higher against his chest, folding him open with firm control.
Hudson's breath punches out of him at the shift.
"Connor—" it comes out wrecked.
Connor doesn't answer, he just fucks into him harder, the bed starting to rock under the force of it.
Hudson grabs onto Connor's thigh for support, fingers digging in as his body jolts with each thrust.
"Fuck—" Hudson whines, losing whatever composure he had left. "Right there— right thereright there—"
Connor's jaw tightens.
He hits that spot again — slower once, just to feel Hudson react — then faster.
Hudson's head falls back completely, throat exposed, sounds spilling out of him without restraint now.
"That's the spot?" Connor mutters low. "That's where you want me?"
Hudson nods frantically, barely coherent.
"Yes— yes— fuck—"
Connor's grip tightens under Hudson's knees, holding him exactly where he wants him. He drives in again, deeper, harder, watching Hudson unravel in real time.
"You feel so good like this," Connor breathes, voice rougher now. "All open for me."
Hudson's fingers slide from Connor's thigh up to his hip, then back down again like he can't hold onto anything.
"Holy shit," he pleads. "Please don't stop."
Hudson's eyes are glassy now. His breathing uneven. His hips jerking helplessly in rhythm.
Connor feels it — the way Hudson tightens, the way his body reacts to every movement.
It drives him crazy.
The bed rocks harder now, rhythm heavy and relentless and deep, Connor holding him exactly where he wants him.
Hudson's composure finally shatters.
"Oh my god—" he chokes out, voice breaking completely. "Connor— fuck— it's too much—"
His hands scramble for purchase, gripping Connor's arms, his waist, anywhere he can hold.
"I can't— I can't take it—" Hudson gasps, half-laughing, half-whining.
Connor's eyes darken, but he doesn't slow.
He leans down, pressing their foreheads together, breath hot against Hudson's mouth.
"Yes, you can," he says low.
He thrusts again — deliberate, controlled, deeper.
Hudson cries out, back arching.
Connor's grip tightens under his knees, holding him open.
He keeps the pace brutal but controlled, bed creaking, skin slapping, breath filling the room.
"You wanted this so bad," Connor mutters. "You begged for it."
Hudson nods helplessly.
"Yeah— yeah—"
Connor leans down close again, voice low and heated right against his mouth.
"Then take it."
Hudson shakes his head frantically, not refusal but delirium. It's too much and not enough at the same time.
"It's too good—" he whines, words slurring together. "Fuck, baby—"
Connor kisses him hard, swallowing the rest of it.
"You can take me," Connor says against his mouth. "You're so good at it."
He keeps the pace brutal but measured — never sloppy or out of control — just enough to keep Hudson right on the edge.
Hudson can't form full thoughts anymore — just sensation.
Connor's weight.
Connor's voice.
The way he's being held exactly where he needs to be.
It feels like falling without ever hitting the ground.
Hudson's fingers dig into his thigh again as the bed creaks under them.
"I'm gonna—" Hudson gasps.
Connor leans back just enough to watch his face — flushed, glassy-eyed, lips parted.
"Connor— I'm gonna— I'm gonna cum—" he chokes out, voice breaking completely.
Connor's composure starts to finally crack.
"Yeah?" he breathes, eyes dark and fixed on Hudson's face. "Gonna make a mess on me?"
Hudson's head falls back, throat exposed, a raw sound tearing out of him as the tension snaps.
"Yes—!" His back arches deeply as his thighs tremble and grip around Connor, holding him there.
"Come on baby," Connor mutters, voice rough now, almost wrecked. "Cum on me, Cum on my cock like a good boy." He babbles out.
Hudson can't even answer. His mind is blank except for heat and Connor's name echoing somewhere inside him.
Connor leans down, pressing their foreheads together, pace faltering just slightly as he starts losing himself too.
"That's it," he breathes. "I've got you—"
Hudson's body jerks, breath breaking into sharp, desperate sounds as he falls over the edge, fingers clutching at Connor like he needs to anchor himself.
Connor watches him unravel — flushed, trembling, completely open — Something in him starts giving in.
"Fuck—" Connor groans softly, hips stuttering, composure dissolving. "You feel so good."
Hudson barely registers the words, too far gone, but he feels the way Connor's control slips, the way his movements turn messy instead of measured.
"Cum in me, please—" Hudson says softly in his ear, and they tip over together, heat and breath and the overwhelming rush of losing themselves in each other at the same time.
Connor buries his face against Hudson's neck, breath ragged now.
Hudson's hands slide weakly down his back, shaky and wrecked.
Connor stays over him for a moment, both of them still catching their breath, skin warm and flushed.
Hudson reaches up first.
He pulls Connor down into a slow kiss — nothing frantic now. Just warm, lingering. Their mouths move together softly, like they're coming back to earth in sync.
Connor kisses him back just as gently, one hand sliding up to cradle the side of Hudson's face.
"You're so good to me," Hudson murmurs against his lips, voice quiet and sincere.
Connor's expression softens immediately. He presses a kiss to Hudson's mouth, then his cheek.
"I love you," Connor says softly.
Hudson smiles, eyes still hazy but steady now. "I love you too," He pulls Connor in for another kiss.
"Let's go shower." Hudson says with a smile
"Round 2. Perfect." Connor shoots back.