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They’re still laughing as they enter their— well, technically Connor’s— hotel room that night. Cheeks are flushed, and they’ll have to tear off their coats fast because the alcohol is wearing off, but they’ve danced, jumped around and had so much fun at that SNL after party, even if just for a while, that the warmth is spread all over. Or maybe it is just that fuzzy feeling that takes over every time they are together— the one that gets them head over heels.
Connor can’t believe it, really. It is the peak of his career, for now at least. Although he’s always been a dreamer, he has always known something good and special was destined to him; he couldn’t have predicted this would happen with his best friend standing right beside him. Hudson— he’s everything he could ask for and more. It has been hell trying to tone it down, to hide his previously organised cameo on the show, from everyone else. He just wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, a smile tearing his face from left to right, how of course, Hudson will be there, how I couldn’t imagine doing this without him and he’s always so supportive of me, so good to me. He couldn’t. Connor seems not to disclose much these days, in general.
“That was so fucking good, Connie.”
“Yeah?” Connor asks, and he’s nearly out of breath watching Hudson slide off his leather jacket to reveal toned biceps and tiny waist. He licks his lips, standing right behind Hudson as he discards his own. He watches Hudson nod animatedly, letting a giggle fill the otherwise silent room. Connor yearns to reach out to the strands of longish hair covering his nape and pull.
“Yes. You’re always amazing, baby,” he turns around, and Connor is faced with a sweet smile he doesn’t feel deserving of. Hudson takes a step forward and places his hands on his friend’s shoulders, caressing his palms up and down Connor’s arms to reassure him. “I’m so happy for you. And I’m flattered you wanted me there.”
“Of course I wanted you to be there,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and it actually is. To him, it is. I wouldn’t dream of doing this without you. He wants to add, but doesn’t. He has a new habit of eating up his words, to let things only stay alive in his head. Connor doesn’t really know why, nor when it started. He was fine with the whole We’re not a package deal thing, they’ve always been on the same wavelength. These days, it seems like they’re far away, and he has a big, very active role in this situation. Can’t blame anyone but himself, because although they both have a busy schedule, Hudson hasn’t stopped making an effort. He never does. Connor calls him as soon as he can, but some texts are left unread, many things unsaid. He wants to make up for it. For everything. “I was so nervous, but you… You make everything better.”
“Oh? Is that so?” Hudson giggles again, and Connor has long decided it is his favourite sound in the world. He blames it all on what’s left of the few drinks he chugged up at the party still flowing through his system when his hands find their place on Hudson’s waist, wrapping tightly around leather, hoping to tear holes in his shirt enough to leave imprints underneath. Connor can only nod, mouth agape. “I haven’t done anything, not really, Connie… well— not yet, at least,” Hudson adds, swiftly, while leaning in towards his friend’s ear, “But I can think of something, yeah?”
They kiss. Connor can’t pinpoint how or who moved first, but questions cease to exist while they’re clinging to each other, breathing into each other’s mouths like they’re their only source of life. The slow drag of tongue on tongue is thrilling; it sends shivers down their spines, making them itch for more.
“I have something to show you.” Connor finds himself nodding again, and he feels so stupid with the way he falls pliant under Hudson’s steady, calming, warm voice. The blond is hypnotised by red lips mouthing velvet words to his ear, he can’t form any thoughts before his body acts for him instead. Hudson’s palms slide down his friend’s arms until he reaches the hands placed on his waist, leading them back and lower, much lower, so that fingers can slip in the space between the shirt and his pants, where the line of his briefs is supposed to be. Instead, he finds something else; it’s lace. “I wanted to surprise you. Do you want to see?”
Connor nearly has a heart attack, he’s pretty sure of it. He ponders the prospect of falling dead at Hudson’s feet before even taking a glimpse at what he has got going on under leather pants. He imagines how glorious thick thighs would look in panties and almost comes on the spot. He can’t have that, so he clears his throat with a quick cough and tries to recompose himself. “Please, Huddy.”
He undresses painfully slow, every piece of clothing he discards to the floor feels like some personal attack or a sweetly crafted torture. His shirt goes first, and Connor can finally take a look at pointy brown nipples and plush tits that beg to be played with. His mouth waters as he catches a glimpse of the lace he knew was hiding under tight pants, a cute little bow sitting right on top, making it obvious that Hudson is his gift tonight.
It’s actually the rest that makes him almost choke on his own saliva— Hudson slides the fabric of his bottoms down his legs, and Connor finds, to his own surprise, that he’s wearing thigh highs, too. A matching total-black set. He looks like he’s out of this world, too pretty for his own good, the mere image of him is enough that Connor almost moans out loud— he hears himself beg Hudson to turn around, twirl on himself to let him take a full look at his perfect body, and that’s weird because he doesn’t even remember moving his lips.
“Did it for you, baby. How do I look?” he fulfils his request, spinning around terribly slowly, and what Connor said about being subjected to torture makes sense again now, because Hudson looks at him furtively over his shoulder, eyes half-closed and a lopsided smile on his perfect face, and Connor loses his mind.
He winks, and it's the last thing Connor realizes before his attention shifts, now focusing on another part of his friend's body. “Cat got your tongue?” he mocks, but Connor doesn’t have it in him to retort. Hudson has gotten bigger and bulkier, everywhere. The blatant contrast with a thin waist makes it all worse and— fuck. His ass looks glorious like this. He can’t wait to put his hands on it. “Maybe… you don’t like them? Don’t like how they fit me?”
Connor falls to his knees at the thought of Hudson getting dressed again and leaving. He crawls to where he’s standing in front of him, his hands desperately gripping at the flesh of his ass to let it be known that the only type of discomfort he’s experiencing at this almost divine sight is the one of his instant erection suffocating in his boxers.
Hudson didn’t have doubts beforehand, but he still loudly gasps at the rapidity with which Connor gives in. “So fucking gorgeous, Huddy,” he lets his face lie flat against Hudson’s stomach, while he mumbles an incoherent string of praises that the raven-haired boy can’t quite understand, followed by a kiss under his belly button, then another, starting a slow descent right into his junk. Connor plants open-mouth kisses on Hudson’s lace-covered dick, and in response, he grinds it hard against the blond’s face, unapologetic and bruising. It should hurt, but he’s only met with the softness of the panties and the wetness of his glistening member instead.
Hudson slips one hand under his chin, forcing his mouth to open more, while the other one finds its way to the back of his head, fingers intertwining into an iron grip between curls. They’re both hit by a wave of possession— Connor is on his knees, almost begging Hudson to shove his cock inside his mouth, thirsty like a madman, and Hudson got all dolled up, panties paired with see-through thigh highs that adorn his figure to make him look like the prettiest of angels, or the deadliest of sins, for his eyes only.
Hudson grinds his crotch upwards again, making Connor choke with the lack of space and oxygen; this time, they both moan. He tilts his hips slowly and almost imperceptibly rubs his front to Connor’s waiting tongue, asking for something the blond can’t quite place yet. And it’s different from the times he’s sucked him off, because sometimes he isn’t doing that at all. Sometimes it is— “My pussy missed you so much, Con,” he mewls, and— fuck.
Connor thinks his dick is 5 seconds away from exploding. He moans once again, as his fingertips sink deeper into Hudson’s upper thighs and the soft flesh of his ass, keeping him close and still. He finds himself wrapping his lips around the tip peeking from the rubber band of his panties, to suck eagerly on his clit. And just like that, Hudson is gone, too. Head thrown back, shaking legs that threaten to fail him any moment now, and he’s counting only on Connor’s strong arms not to fall on the ground right there and then.
They don’t have much time, not really. He knows by now that Hudson wouldn’t waste the opportunity to get fucked fast and deep, until he couldn’t remember anything but Connor’s name. He urges him up, as predicted, and their lips meet in a ridiculous attempt at a kiss, but it’s all teeth and tongue, and streams of saliva wetting both of their chins. Neither of them complains. “Let me— let me fuck you, yeah?” Connor finds himself saying at the tender skin of his neck, wrapping one arm around his middle and letting the other one travel down to Hudson’s ass. He slips it in the intimate gap between his cheeks and pushes up, roughly. “I want to— I need to fuck you, Huddy. It’s been so long. Let me take you apart.”
He’s seen how Hudson reacts to displays of strength, how easy he gets— the answer couldn’t be anything different from a Yes, please. Please fuck me.
Except, it is.
Sure, he still obscenely moans, mouth open and arching into Connor’s grip like the slut he sometimes likes to be. Somewhere between his hazy, intoxicated mindset, Hudson finds it in himself to place a hand on Connor’s chest, to push him slightly away. “I don’t know, Connie,” he battles his eyelashes at him, licking his spit-wet lips in a fake façade of innocence that Connor can’t wait to wipe off, “You haven’t been good to me, lately,” he theatrically sighs.
Connor leans in to steal a kiss from his red pout because he can’t resist him. He’s just a man, one weak of flesh at that, so he’s not opposed to the idea of starting begging to get a taste of Hudson again. “I know, Huddy. I’m sorry, but— let me make it up to you, okay? Please?” he never stops touching him, his wavering hands stroke all over Hudson’s body, from his back to his front. He doesn’t waste the chance to grope at his tits, to slide his thumbs over perky brown nipples, just to rip another delicious whimper out of the man quivering in his arms. Hudson squirms, trying to get out of his hold, but Connor doesn’t let him. “Let me make you feel good, doll. I know what you need— your pussy needs to be filled, yeah? I know you want it dripping with my cum, want it to stay dirty and wet so you can remember me until next time, right?”
Hudson kisses him in lieu of answering, fingers still gripping tightly at the curls of Connor’s nape. He can feel him smiling, as one hand travels from his chest to the wet spot he’s sporting in his grey dress pants. “Mkay, Connie. But we do it my way, yeah?”
Before he can ask what he means by that, Hudson pushes him back towards the king-size bed in the room, until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he falls into a sitting position, leaning back on his forearms. Hudson wraps his hands against one of Connor’s legs, holding it up; his fingers find the knee-high boot he's wearing and pull down, slipping it off, doing the same for the other one, followed by the pants. It shouldn’t be this hot, but Connor finds himself leaking some more at the way Hudson is handling him so easily. His attention zeroes back to the size of his biceps and— holy fuck. There’s just no way he’s surviving the night.
“These are so hot, baby,” he says, setting the boots aside, intimating to him to back off a little more on the bed. He obliges, legs open, dick hard. “Maybe next time I’ll ask you to step on me while wearing the boots only.” He moans at that, no shame whatsoever. He imagines Hudson fucking his leg covered by a leather boot, crying out at the painful friction, or Connor stepping on his chest— no, better, Hudson acting bratty for a whole day and ending up begging him to plant a foot to his cheek, to get pushed down into the ground. Connor has to grip the base of his member not to come.
Hudson notices and laughs, genuinely amused by the effect he has on Connor, who scoffs at that. “You’re going to make me come already.”
He pouts, shaking his head. “We can’t have that, can we?” he crawls like a cat on the bed, until he’s dangerously close to Connor’s erection. He sinks down, burying his face into his crotch, shamelessly inhaling, taking him in him. “I missed you so much,” he repeats, nuzzling it with his cheek, and he’s convinced Hudson is mostly talking about his dick rather than him as a person. That merely lasts a bunch of seconds, and he soon gets up to fetch his bag.
A packet of lube and a single condom are placed on the mattress next to Connor, and he’s soon crushed by Hudson’s weight again, who settles between his legs, momentarily chest to chest. Their lips meet, and it’s slower this time, like they have the whole day to themselves and not just a couple of hours before they have to take off. Connor’s hands gravitate to Hudson’s glutes again, groping at the plush meat, spreading him open; his fingertips meet something wet and sticky. Hudson has already fucked himself open for Connor. “Had high expectations for tonight, huh?” he asks, playfully slapping one of his buttocks.
“Who knows what the night will bring, right?” he replies against his mouth, sucking and pulling at his bottom lip. Connor is still wearing his shirt, and that won’t do. Impatient fingers toy with the loose tie around his collar; he sets it beside them on the bed instead of discarding it completely. As for the buttons of his shirt, Hudson shortly grows bored of undoing them one by one and decides the solution is just… ripping it open. “Oops,” he exclaims, his giggle is heard over the clinking of buttons falling against the surface of the floor, “I hope you have something else to wear later.”
Connor scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Brat,” he says as he slaps his ass again, harder this time. In retaliation, Hudson wraps his fingers around Connor’s wrists, holding them up in one hand over his head. With his free hand, he searches blindly for the tie lying on the sheets, never averting his gaze from Connor’s curious eyes, and ties his hands in place together with it. He raises one brow, silently asking him if he’s okay, and Connor dumbly, immediately nods at him. If that wasn’t enough confirmation already, the way his dick twitches against Hudson’s thigh tells him exactly what he needs to know.
“Stay still,” he whispers to his lips after another messy kiss, leaning down onto his broad chest again. Now that his hands are free, he slides them down, placing them at the sides of Connor’s knees, forcing them open at his mercy. He rolls his lips slowly, without prior notice, right into Connor’s aching member. He grinds once, twice, making the blond boy writhe and cry out under him. Hudson holds him open, and fucks mercilessly into him; his pace grows faster. He drinks Connor’s broken moans up, he begs him to stop but Hudson ignores him.
“Ah! Hhh—Hudson—!” he whimpers prettily, and Hudson nearly gets drunk again off of it. He hovers over Connor to take a proper view of the way he’s ruining him. Pupils blown, almost covering the blue of his irises, unfocused and closing off to lose himself in the pleasure, mouth hanging open to let all the sweet sounds out. He’s out of it already, and all it took was a little dry humping. How cute.
“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen,” Hudson spreads his own legs under Connor’s thighs, hooks his hands in the juncture between his waist and hips. “You can’t come yet, okay? If you don’t, I’ll fuck myself on your cock, I’ll make both of us feel good, and I’ll milk you until you cry,” he explains his plan to him, slow, enunciating every single word to make sure he understands. “But if you can’t wait, I’ll let you hump my leg until you come, then we’ll get dressed, and I’ll go catch my flight. Understood?” It’s easy, it really is. Connor nods, but Hudson isn’t satisfied with that type of answer. He sets his cock free from his briefs to continue his torture instead, solely because he imagines the friction of raw skin against soft lace would feel like heaven. And he’s right. “So, what do you choose?”
“I want to— haa, need to be inside— hmm— inside you, Huddy,” he swears under his breath, as Hudson doesn’t stop rubbing against his core, and his sanity degrades more and more every second. “No more— ‘s too much—” He pathetically tries not to give in completely, and as much as Hudson would like to keep this up a bit more, he knows that if he doesn’t stop now, he’ll end up coming, too. At one point, Connor grows bold, raising his hips to meet Hudson’s strokes; it sends something similar to a lightning bolt through his spine, forcing him to furrow his brows as his whole face morphs into a grimace of pleasure. “So pretty— fuck, look at you. My pretty doll, my Huddy.”
Hudson whimpers; he wants to scoff at his words, but Connor’s compliments are the only ones he manages to take seriously, most of the time, so he can’t fight the flush that spreads from his cheeks down to his chest. Still, he slaps the inner meat of one of Connor’s thighs, because he told him to stay still and didn’t obey, and then moves to straddle him, sitting his lace-covered ass directly onto his erect cock. “This shouldn’t take long,” he says, mostly to himself, as he shifts his panties to the side to reach his gaping hole with lubed fingers. He hears Connor complain about wanting to open Hudson up himself, and he gets ignored again by the latter.
“Your cunt is so pink, baby, look at her.”
Hudson gasps, looking down at Connor like he wants to slap him, and his lips twitch out of embarrassment. His body betrays him, though, and his hole clenches tightly around his fingers. “Sh— Shut up,” he tells him, high and whiney. He slips his fingers out, reaching for Connor’s dick instead. “Ready?”
“Yeah— Yes. Let me help you, c’mon,” he tries to convince him, he tries to pull at the stupid tie that keeps his hands together until his wrists bruise. Hudson shakes his head no, categoric.
“Stay still this time,” Hudson scolds him, and relaxes his face only when he feels Connor’s tip entering him, slowly sliding home. He gives it his all not to clench around his length already, but it’s been so long and the destabilising feeling of want overwhelms him like the most disruptive of storms. He sinks down completely, and the stretch is perfect— he feels split up in two, Connor’s dick fills him like he was born for that. “Oh— oh god, hmmhp,” he says, very eloquently. He has already got to that point where if he opens his mouth, only moans and curses come out. He tries to recompose himself, glossy eyes half-opened to meet his best friend’s gaze. “You’ve been— been really mean to me, Connor,” he keeps talking, somewhat still making sense, against all odds.
“Making me work so— so fucking hard— Ah—haa— to get you attention, fuck— And I hate that, Connie.”
He rolls his hips experimentally once he’s seated all the way on his cock, like he’s done many times already, maybe more than he’d like to admit. He sets an impossibly slow pace, one that makes it easier for Connor’s thick length to rub his prostate again, and again, and again. "Hmmh—" every movement is a dangerous one, threatening to send him over the edge any time. His own cock is suffocating, trapped in the too-tight panties he decided to wear for the blond; they’re so wet and ruined by pre-come that he knows he’ll have to throw them in the trash by the end of the evening.
Hudson reaches his chest with his free hands, holds both of his breasts in his palms. He gropes, pushes them together and spreads them apart under his friend’s attentive eyes, knowing damn well he’s driving him to pure, irrefutable insanity. He slams down harder when he finds himself rubbing and pulling at his own pointy nipples, head tossed back; Connor’s name is on his lips at every bounce, and he inebriates all of his senses altogether.
The boy under him is forced to watch, eyes dilated, letting out breathy sounds of encouragement at every move. “I need to touch you, Huddy. Let me touch you, please. You’re so gorgeous, fuck. Taking me so well,” warmth creeps in, low in his belly, as he grinds down deeper.
He can sense Connor is fighting with all he’s got not to piston his hips in position and ram right into Hudson’s sweet spot. He’s patiently waiting for the right time, the one where Hudson gets all petulant and shaky, and begs him to take the lead, because that’s what he really needs. Hudson never makes him wait too much, anyway. “Hmhp, haa— You’re so deep, fu—uck,” his thighs burn, but he doesn’t care. He keeps bouncing up and down, wet sounds fill the room and his movements become faster, incongruous. “Can feel you here,” he cries, one hand slides down from his peck to his tummy, pressing down over the bulge, “Can feel you— mnhhh— in my womb.”
And that’s it. After a particularly deep thrust that has Hudson’s vision go white around the edges, he raises his hips to immediately sink back down again, back arched unnaturally. He suddenly feels strong, patronising hands cradling his sides, his hips too next, in a bruising manner— Connor has finally freed himself, and managed to meet Hudson halfway, making him scream. “HAA—!” He topples upwards, and one of his hands falls flat on Connor’s chest, but it doesn’t last long, because he flips them over while never sliding out of him.
“Con—” he shuts him up with a hungry, all-consuming kiss, tongue forcing its way inside, cutting all the oxygen from Hudson’s airways. Connor doesn’t waste time and fucks up into his beloved, adjusting his hips at the perfect angle: Hudson’s leg is thrown over his shoulder, the other one wrapped around his middle. He ruts ruthlessly against that spot inside that makes his eyes cross, and has no intention of stopping. Not now, not ever.
The tip of Hudson’s cock stares back at Connor, angry red and wet with his own pleasure, like it is begging to be touched. He realises it after he’s done it: wraps almighty fingers around the ruined lacey fabric and pulls, pulls it apart until it rips. The moan Hudson lets out is otherworldly and obscene, Connor never wants him to stop. “I’ll buy you new ones, prettier ones,” he promises, shushing him with his mouth, which soon latches onto Hudson’s jaw, leaving bites on his neck, hoping to leave a mark to signal his claim on him. “I’m always— always thinking about you. I’m so obsessed with you, baby,” he mumbles, in between pushes, as he licks his way inside Hudson’s mouth. “I want to stay inside you forever, Huddy. Keep you with me at all times, always wet and ready,” they both moan at the idea. Connor sees Hudson nod, mouthing a litany of yes, oh God— yes. He gives Hudson little time to catch his breath, as he turns his head to the one silk-covered leg resting on his shoulder, leaving kisses and love bites over the fabric, a particularly harsher one on his thigh. “Made for this, made to take my cock. You let me use you so well.”
Connor hunches forward, wrapping his hand under Hudson’s chin; his mouth is already wide open, but he still creeps his thumb and index finger at the corner of each side, to ensure he doesn’t feel the need to change that. He can feel his fingers get wet with spit as he delineates every sharp edge of Hudson’s teeth. He reaches for the velvety walls of his inner cheeks, reminding him of the softness of the hole he’s fucking right now. As soon as Hudson’s gaze clears a bit, and he’s met with teary, impossibly big, brown eyes, Connor stares down and spits right into his waiting throat, receiving a loud moan of approval in return.
Hudson comes like this, with Connor, who keeps mercilessly ramming his prostate, filling him up every way he possibly can. “Hmph— hmm—” he reaches his high, choking on spit, and Connor’s fingers pushing under the roof of his mouth, and cum dirties his whole chest, soaking his tits with his own release.
“Mine,” he says, something mean and possessive settles itself in the pit of his stomach, “Say you’re mine,” he tells Hudson again. The poor boy can only nod and try to juxtapose words that make some kind of sense together. Connor buries his face between Hudson’s glistening breasts, pushing them together as he previously did, and licking at what’s left of Hudson’s semen. He follows shortly after, overwhelmed with such perfect sight of submission, and fills the condom inside impossibly hot walls that haven’t stopped sucking him in for an instant.
“I’m— ‘M yours. Thank you, thank you, hmm— thank you.”
Hudson is so painfully perfect that Connor feels the need to carve him open and make him his permanent home. He can’t believe the universe decided to make his existence better with such a gift, but he has no intention of inquiring how, nor why. He just lies there, over his chest, hoping this warmth he feels inside would never leave him. Not even in a million years.
He kisses him all over, and he takes care of him, carefully keeping him grounded. “I’m yours, too,” he tells him, even if he’s not so sure Hudson can hear him yet, as he waits for him to come down from this peak, lost in a dimension he knows little about. “‘M gonna eat you out now,” he whispers to his ear, as he pets his sweaty locks away from his face. He receives a sound that’s something in between shocked disapproval and renewed interest. He shushes him, holds him fiercely against him. “Give me another one, baby, I know you can.”
He buries his face in the wet mess between Hudson’s legs, forced to stay indecently open thanks to Connor’s vigorous hold on him. He locks both of his thighs over his shoulders, tongue slipping easily inside to lap at the mixture of lube and his own cum. He’s so motivated to make Hudson come again, he’s genuinely convinced he can reach his overstimulated prostate with his tongue. “No— noo— I can’t, too much, too much,” he tries to break free, in vain, because Connor is really keen on dying between the pressure of thick thighs at the side of his ears. Hudson’s cries and incessant writhing decrease as pleasure starts washing over him again; his hands cover his flushed face, and he damps his pathetic whimpers against his palms, but when he takes a peek at the boy who’s going down on him, he’s done for.
Connor keeps licking non-stop, lapping at his hole and sucking like he wants to devour him whole. At one point, he raises slightly, replacing his tongue with two fingers that get sucked into the suffocatingly warm canal, much to Hudson’s delight, “Missed her, too,” he says, locking eyes with the latter, as he licks his erection in one fat swipe until he reaches its tip. Hudson tries to push him away, but Connor’s too fast. He wraps his lips around it, around Hudson’s clit, and shallows it whole quickly. When a second later it hits the back of his throat, he doesn’t even gag; he stays there, engulfing Hudson’s spasming member, letting him come for what seems like an eternity, never distorting his gaze. He almost drowns in thick ropes of cum, he feels it fill his esophagus, and residues of it spurt out the sides of his mouth while he’s still keeping Hudson’s intimacy inside. When he finally gets off, he feeds everything into Hudson’s mouth, “You’re so pretty when you squirt, doll.”
“Sleep now, baby. We have an early flight. I’ll wake you up later how you like it.”
—
He keeps his promise, because of course Connor would.
How you like it means that Hudson finds himself waking up to Connor’s erection pressing insistently against his prostate, set so deep inside he can feel him rearranging his guts. And God, oh my fucking God. It’s so good— both the slow, persistent pace of his cock sliding in and out easily from Hudson’s hole, still ravaged from their previous session, and the pressure of Connor’s right hand wrapped around his throat, fingers hovering over his pulse point. It keeps him anchored, as he listens to the disgustingly hot squelches of himself getting fucked for the third time that night. The sounds fill the room, mixing with their huffs and moans, and Hudson really does feel a little easy at the way his member, dripping with pre-come even though the lack of attention, slaps against his own stomach at every movement.
“Good morning, babydoll,” is the only thing Connor tells him, focused on fucking him from the side, reaching deeper and deeper with every thrust, keeping him open and accessible with a hand under his thigh. Hudson’s mind is still a little fuzzy, and he’s so overwhelmed in the best way possible, he can’t help but throw his head back on Connor’s shoulder, tilting it to the side to ask for a kiss. Connor is more than happy to accommodate his request, giving it to him erratically and sloppily, sucking on Hudson’s tongue as a reward for how good he’s been.
As his mind clears a bit more, he notices something that makes the whole world tilt and get back on track an eternity later— Connor isn’t wearing a condom this time. He’s fucking into him, ramming his sweet spot, raw. His hand flies to wrap at the base of his dick not to come on the spot, but he can’t stop himself from clenching down on Connor’s dick mid-thrust, making him hiss loudly behind him. “Fuck, Huddy,” his moans are a jolt of pure ecstasy for him, that low voice fills his ears, and he enters a dangerous zone of no return.
“Connie,” he drawls, high-pitched and lewd, arching back to meet Connor’s relentless movements. His mind is corrupted by images of his friend filling him up to the brim like he promised to do hours ago. He thinks about not even washing up after and arriving home to fuck his cum back inside again, like the pervert he is. He clenches again, and again, until the pace isn’t so calculated anymore. Connor resorted to sporadic, maddeningly slow pushes, torturing Hudson’s nipples as punishment. "Yes—yes—oh god, please, please— Connie, I want you to fill me up— fill me up, please.”
“Do you deserve it, hm?” Connor somehow managed to push him down into another position, and Hudson is now plastered flat into the mattress. The blond’s big hands are a comfortable, burning presence on his skin that hold him exactly where he wants: Hudson’s aching dick straining the sheets, legs open enough for Connor to never cease the in-and-out slide of his cock, while the raven-haired boy’s cries are muffled by his pillow. Hudson wants to tell him that yes, he’s been nothing but good for him, but only trembling whimpers come out of his mouth. Connor is aware of that, he’s just playing with him some more, but he always gives him what he deserves in the end.
“Shh, shh. Take it. Just take it, doll. Like this— good. You’re so perfect, Hudson. My perfect baby,” his praises do nothing to stop the uncontrollable slide of Hudson’s tears that finally escape his pretty doe eyes, wetting the pillowcase, mixing with his own spit. "So pretty. So easy. Look at you, crying for my cock, begging for my cum,” he coos, one hand moves up from gripping his back dimples to shove his head down against the pillow some more as he uses his hole over and over again.
“Hhh— Connor—!”
“I fucked you so loose, babygirl. I wish you could see,” a guttural moan leaves his mouth, “I could slip my whole fist inside, and there’d still be space for more.” He doesn’t know whether it’s the nickname or the overstimulation, but Hudson screams, convulses under the weight of his soulmate, and Connor has to muffle the sounds down with a sweaty palm placed over his mouth.
He can’t take it anymore; he needs Connor to come inside him right in this moment or else he’ll die. Hudson somehow manages to raise his hips, to fuck himself back into Connor’s cock, and moans in a way he never deemed possible. Connor lowers himself until he’s lying flat on Hudson’s back, his whole body weight squishing Hudson it’s what does it for him— one last, unbelievably deep thrust makes both of them come at the same time, Hudson dirtying the sheets and Connor, finally, inside his warm, used hole, letting his boy milk him completely.
As they both come down from their highs, Connor can’t stop stroking, caressing and kissing Hudson’s skin. He mumbles praise to his ear, to his mouth, kisses him sweetly and tenderly like he’s the most precious thing in the world— and he is, to Connor. When he carefully pulls out, Hudson whines about feeling so, so empty, and Connor feels almost obliged to shove his own cum back inside Hudson’s puffy hole with his fingers.
Hudson giggles, and it seems crazy, considering the situation they’re in. It would be, if he didn’t know his Huddy like the back of his hand. He relaxes briefly against dirty sheets, clinging to his ruined pillow, sighing dreamily, “I think you just knocked me up.”
“Sneaking out of the SNL party to fuck has got to be one of our best ideas ever.”