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People know Hudson bums cigarettes. Every time he hangs out with a friend who smokes it's like they reserve one especially for him. Connor has taken to giving him the one in the upper left corner of a pack, for whatever reason. It might be one of the silly whimsical things he believes in, like the astrological houses and planets and the superimposing of their birth charts he's currently trying to explain to Hudson, smoke winding between his fingers as he says, "I was told the sixth house here means we were meant to meet at work."
Hudson hums as if he understands any of it, but he knows it's important to Connor, so he listens and tries to retain at least a few of the words. Something something, they’re compatible and Hudson's a bigger freak, practically a sex demon, something something.
Connor is interrupted by his sister walking by them in a hurry, telling them her Uber is here, so, “Bye, losers.”
“Bye, asshole,” Connor says with a pleased little-brother smile he reserves for her. “Text me when you get there!”
“I'll forget!” she says with a wink as she closes the door after herself.
Connor's nose scrunches up. He looks at Hudson with an expression that loudly says, can you believe her? He bares his teeth and breathes heavily like he's some sort of wild animal in a frenzy. It's such a weird, uniquely-Connor way to show annoyance. Hudson's so fond of him he feels like his skin is too tight for his body, so he has to do something to counter it, immediately.
Hudson snatches Connor's cigarette straight from his fingers. He takes a long drag as he stares at a bewildered Connor, the sound of L.A. traffic down below providing a very appropriately timed siren wail. Wee-woo, Hudson's going to jail.
“Bitch,” Connor says, their soul connection entirely forgotten by now. “You know you could’ve just asked for one.”
Hudson blows the smoke straight into Connor's face, because he's a dick. Connor coughs exaggeratedly and tries to fan it away, as if he weren't basically bathing in it daily. Hudson laughs at him, shaking his head.
“I didn't want an entire cigarette.”
Connor rolls his eyes. “Sure. Give it back, then.”
Hudson feels an evil grin forming on his face. “Say give.”
“Oh my god, you're so annoying.” Connor grabs his overpriced tote bag from the counter behind him and starts searching for his pack of cigs. Hudson was just kidding. God forbid Connor starts to actually chain smoke. He grasps the cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers and offers it to Connor. See? He's easy. He's just playing.
Connor sighs, put-upon. He accepts it, takes a puff while staring straight into Hudson's eyes.
Hudson can't stop himself. “Can you put that out on me?”
Connor snorts out a laugh, smoke escaping his mouth in one quick second. He gasps, “Freak!”
Hudson winks at him. “Yeah, for you.”
He watches Connor smoke some more. He tries to wrangle his thoughts into something more well-adjusted, but still fails to not think about Connor's lips wrapped around another entirely phallic thing, his cupid's bow stretched out, his mouth glistening with drool and something else. Connor notices him looking, of course — not that Hudson was trying to hide it. Connor licks his lips slowly, as if he's savoring the bitter smoke. Hudson wants to taste it on him. The table between them suddenly becomes a nuisance.
Connor takes a page from Hudson's book and offers him the cigarette between two of his fingers. Its butt faces Connor, meager light illuminating the spark in his eyes. Hudson, never one to back down from a challenge and instead escalating things further, doesn't grab it at all. His lips kiss Connor's fingers as he inhales, taking a hit hands-free. He sees Connor's mouth part, wanton, and the heat in his gaze sends a shiver down Hudson's back.
“Is that how we're playing?”
“Uh-huh,” Hudson says, tongue darting out to taste how bitter Connor's skin has turned.
“Fuck,” Connor whispers.
He stands up and rounds the table with two steps. He takes a final, quick and deep drag of the cigarette, grabs Hudson's nape forcefully, and smashes their mouths together, smoke seeping out between them. Hudson tries to keep some of it in, but it's not like he actually cares about that. He cares about sucking the acrid taste on Connor's tongue into his fucking soul. He cares about the bitter saliva, about the tingling in his throat that says, this is not good for you. Hudson's skin will be pissed at him in the morning, but he plans for these things accordingly— actually, where did he put his guasha? Their tongues tangle together, so Hudson stops thinking. His fingers grasp Connor's curls, pulling him closer; he wants to taste his fucking molars. He licks upwards, searching for more, deeper. Connor whines, high in his throat. Hudson's head is spinning.
He breaks the kiss, because unfortunately he can't have his mouth in more than one place, and he has to put it on Connor's cock, stat. Already at a lower vantage point, he kneels, pulling Connor's wide-legged pants down. No underwear, because why would he. His cock springs free, almost fully hard. Hudson smirks up at him.
Connor scoffs. “Babe, you're just as easy.”
Hudson shrugs, conceding, because he definitely is. He humps Connor's leg to show him exactly how hard he is, too, and has to stop himself from seeking more friction. Connor's cock visibly jumps, and Hudson wiggles his eyebrows up at him.
Connor sighs, putting the cigarette out on his artisanal, ceramic ashtray. “Wow, you're intolerable.”
“Big word. You'll forget all of them soon.”
Hudson sucks the tip of Connor's cock into his mouth, finally. He bobs his head up and down, slicking his way into taking all of him. He's thick, fills his mouth so nicely Hudson misses it when he's away, and when it hits the back of throat, Hudson whines, nails digging into the muscle of Connor's ass — if you give Hudson a chance, he'll take it. He pulls almost all the way off, and then all the way in, until his nose is buried in Connor's pubic hair. He stays, tries not to gag as he swallows around Connor, his tongue undulating on the underside of his cock.
“Fuck, Hudson.”
Connor pulls him off with a gentle hand on his jaw, thumb caressing the corner of his mouth where it's wet with drool. Hudson coughs a little. He rests his forehead on Connor's thigh, catches his breath, blinks tears out of his eyes.
“You like this just as much as Shane does,” Connor says as he pets Hudson's hair, as if he's thinking out loud.
Hudson laughs. He looks up at Connor and bites his lip. “I do like putting things in my mouth.”
Connor pulls the hair out of Hudson's face. “I can tell.”
Hudson tries not to hump Connor's leg again, but it's right there. His hips basically thrust up on their own. Connor laughs at him, and Hudson goes just a little bit crazier.
“Wow, you dog,” Connor says fondly, as if Hudson were someone who could be normal about that at all. He hums, gauging how far gone Hudson is. “What are you up for tonight?”
Hudson groans. He tries to mash his thoughts back together again, because this is an important choice he has to make.
“Want you to cum on my cock.”
Connor snorts. “Babe, you shoot off after like, two thrusts.”
Hudson pinches Connor's thigh in retaliation, but he can't say shit, because he hasn't had the best track record with Connor. Can he be blamed, though? It's like Connor's gorilla-grip hole has tried to suck the life out of his dick every time.
“It was at least ten the last time, asshole,” he ends up grumbling anyway. “Which is why you should suck me off and make me cum first. Asshole.”
Connor smiles condescendingly. “Aw, honey! You want to last!”
“I want to fuck you,” Hudson says honestly. “It's my turn.”
Connor visibly goes over their past times together. Hudson can see him adding things up, like he has a mental tally, eyebrows rising and dropping.
“Huh,” Connor says. “Yeah, it is.”
“Oh my god, fuck you. You really don't trust my memory.”
“Uh, no, not until you get some Adderall in you. Come on, I don't want to do this on the floor.”
Connor steps back, kicks his pants the rest of the way off, and as he saunters towards his bedroom, he takes his shirt off as well — both giving Hudson a very, very appreciated show and leaving him wanting in his living-slash-dining room. He shakes himself out of his butt-crazy stupor and frowns, now offended.
“I remember important stuff!” Hudson screams after him. Then, when he stands up, he's rudely reminded that kneeling on hardwood floors for a while isn't pleasant. “Fuck!”
Hudson hears Connor cackling at him. He stretches his legs out, cursing, but nevermind that. He grins and runs after Connor. He jumps on top of him on the bed just to try to smother him with his body weight, vengeance at last. Connor grumbles for a second or two before he flips them around, punching the air out of Hudson when he hits the mattress, and wiggles himself down, ever-present smile on, so his face is level with Hudson's crotch. He gives his sweatpants-covered dick a quick peck on the head, as if saying hello, and Hudson giggles stupidly, fondly.
Connor winks at him. He slips Hudson's pants off, aided by Hudson's helpful wriggling, and throws them on the floor uncaringly. Hudson takes his shirt off and tries to aim for the same spot, but he also doesn't really care where it lands. Shane would grow soft, Hudson thinks.
“Fingers, no fingers?” Connor asks him, settling between his legs once more.
Hudson furrows his brows, trying to recall if he ate anything that would compromise that. He gives up when he can't remember if he ate that day, at all. Man, maybe he really should get on meds.
“Fingers,” he decides.
Connor nods and gestures at him to grab the lube from his bedside table. Hudson twists around so he can reach it and throws it towards Connor, who fumbles a little before he catches it. Connor glares at him.
“Not a word.”
Hudson puts his hands up. “Didn't say anything.”
Connor squints his eyes in an I'm watching you sign. He slaps Hudson's legs further apart so he has better access to his hole, and gives his thigh a little bite because he knows Hudson loves it.
He looks into Hudson's eyes. "Say please."
Hudson locks in. "Please," he whimpers.
Connor grins and scrunches up his nose, breaking the tension. He puts on an exaggerated southern accent. "Those bottom eyes of yours have me beat, boy."
Hudson wiggles his eyebrows. "They're good, eh?"
Hudson regrets it immediately, knowing Connor will tease him about it. Seemingly not right now, though. His fingers, now wet with lube, circle Hudson's rim as he licks his cock from base to tip before sucking the head into his mouth. It's already looking bad for Hudson, what with the easy way Connor's mouth welcomes him in, his supreme suction prowess, and the mean way he's already up to the second knuckle inside Hudson. He has to brace himself against the headboard so he doesn't fuck up into Connor's mouth so soon — even when he knows Connor can take it, because he’s shown Hudson he's trained his gag reflex out of himself by sheer force of will, which, hot. Alas, Connor makes the choice for him after he senses Hudson relax into the intrusion, by adding a second finger and going straight for his prostate. This is entirely unfair. Hudson's hips kick up on their own, and he feels his cock reach the back of Connor's throat just once before Connor's pulling away, leaving Hudson's cock twitching up into empty air.
“Are you trying to be nice to me or something?” Connor asks, fingers still hooked inside Hudson. “Come on, baby, fuck my mouth.”
Hudson moans, reeling. He covers his face with his hands. “You're trying to fucking kill me.”
“Well, no. I do still need your cock.”
Hudson moans some more at the prospect of being just a cock for Connor to fuck himself with. To the wank bank it goes.
“Wow, you clenched super hard just now. Is that what you want? To be used?”
Hudson needs Connor to shut up immediately. He grabs a handful of curls and directs Connor's head just above his cock. Connor goes easily, but he raises his eyebrows, and Hudson knows he's fucked. Connor presses against his prostate just to see him squirm for a little while, and only then does he wrap his lips around his cock again. The warmth of his mouth, the way his lips are stretched out, his brows just slightly furrowed in concentration, how he swallows around him effortlessly… Hudson knows Connor fucking loves this, loves being the best at it, too, pulling out all of his tricks. He doesn't just let Hudson thrust into his mouth — he keeps twisting his head just enough for him to feel all of it, and when Hudson hits the back of his throat, he pairs it with a hum and a well-aimed thrust of his fingers against his prostate that has Hudson seeing fucking stars.
Connor's too good at this. The constant stimulation — fucking up into wet heat and down onto his fingers — is making Hudson delirious. His chest is heaving, sweat drips down his face and his core is stretched taut from the effort. His other hand, the one that isn't buried in Connor's hair, is gripping the sheets like a lifeline, his head entirely devoid of thoughts besides how great he fucking feels.
And then Connor digs his nails into Hudson's thigh, his blue-green-aqua eyes dark and full of power, and Hudson is gone. He cums inside Connor's mouth, buried almost to the hilt. Connor's throat flutters around Hudson as he swallows, milking him for every last drop until he shoves at him, oversensitive, offoffoff. He closes his eyes, letting his orgasm wash over him for what feels like an eternity, savouring it and the little pinpricks of aftershock he gets when he clenches down on Connor's fingers.
He blinks his eyes open when he feels Connor pull out, his sight now clear of white spots, only to find Connor hovering over him with one of his signature smiles, but it's a little too wide, his pupils dilated like a shark in a blood frenzy. Hudson starts to fear for both his and his dick’s lives, but hey, it's twitching even after coming so recently, so Hudson must be into this. Yay, self-discovery.
"Hudson," Connor says, just shy of feral. He shoves a towel from his nightstand at Hudson so he can clean himself up. "Fuck me. Now."
"Hey." Hudson pats between his cheeks. He teases, "Don't rush me," trying to see how far he can take this.
Connor bites his earlobe, hard. He whispers against Hudson's skin, teeth audibly grinding: "My dick has been hard for ages and I just made you cum. I will rush you if I fucking want to. Now get. Inside me."
So the answer was not far at all. Well, mark Hudson down as scared and horny. He throws the towel in the general direction of the floor and makes quick work of Connor, flipping their positions, his knees bracketing Connor's thighs, and then motions for him to turn around so he's on his stomach. Connor doesn't even protest, lying down and arching his back, sending a look towards Hudson that says You better hurry the fuck up. Sir, yessir.
He grabs one of Connor's pillows and wraps a hand around his waist, lifting him up just enough so he can place it under him. He's a gentleman like that. No back strain for Connor — except for the one Hudson's about to put him through. He laughs at his own joke, but when he looks at Connor, he's met with a seething glare. Okay, he better make this fucking amazing for Connor so he still has some use for him; Hudson doesn't want to be killed before they even begin filming for season two.
He grabs the discarded bottle of lube and coats his fingers thoroughly — he likes it sopping wet, so much so he's amazed he hadn't stumbled into that omegaverse thing sooner. Like, self-lubricating assholes? Sign Hudson up!
He hears Connor grumbling, so he stops fucking around lest he finds out.
Hudson fingered him to orgasm just this morning after his sister went out for groceries (that included Connor's godforsaken goat cheese). He knows Connor likes it mean and rushed when he gets like this, too. So, all in all, two fingers right at the start aren't that much of a stretch. The addition of a third finger does make Connor squirm and arch his back further, muscles rippling, but the whine that escapes his mouth is needy, wanton, whining for it — he's started fucking himself on Hudson. He's ready, so ready.
"My tests came back clean," Hudson says, trying to sound casual, stroking Connor's tight, warm walls. He really fucking wants it raw this time, especially now that he's gotten an orgasm out of his system.
"Same, babe, fucking– come on."
Hudson blacks out for a second, cock jumping. He inhales deeply, sending a quick thank you to the cosmic energy Connor believes in. He takes his fingers out, biting his lip as he sees Connor's hole clench around nothing, empty and begging for something in it. Fuck, that's hot. Hudson, once more hard as a rock because his refractory period exits stage left when it comes to Connor, slicks himself up despite not really needing it — he really was too generous on the lube, and also he leaks like a faucet when he's this turned on — and lines up, his cock head kissing Connor's hole. One small push of his hips and– he's in.
The tight heat suddenly enveloping him is something that Hudson thinks about often when he feels like going analog and needs material to jerk off to. The moan that reverberates through Connor is straight up cinematic as well, his moles dancing as he adjusts to Hudson burying himself inside in a single, slow thrust, so Connor can feel all of him. Fuck, he wishes he had a camera on him; he'd love to capture the way Connor just sucks him in, his back muscles rippling, his hands scrambling for purchase. He sees it in his mind's eye: 4:3 aspect ratio so it's more intimate, black and white, sudden cut to an extreme close-up of Connor's eyes, looking up, half-lidded– he's getting distracted.
He grabs Connor's waist, takes a deep breath in. He exerts an incredible amount of restraint, doesn't just start fucking him. He knows exactly which buttons Connor wants pushed — he wants to be filled, to feel the drag of a cock inside him, in and out and in until he can no longer think about anything else. Hudson will deliver it on a silver platter. He takes himself out equally as slowly, hears Connor whine for it, and pushes himself back in with one deep thrust, until the shaved-smooth base of his cock meets Connor's skin. Fuck, he's missed this, missed the heat, missed seeing Connor take it and take it well. He repeats this process, pulling himself out so only the tip is in, feeling Connor clench on him, asking him for more, for him to fucking move– his hips roll, he thrusts back into Connor.
"Hudson," Connor calls, back arching further.
That's his cue. His thumbs dig into the meat of Connor's ass for leverage, and he starts fucking him in earnest, thrusting at an angle so he can nail Connor's prostate, that pesky little thing. Every time he bottoms out, Connor lets out a breathy whimper, fingers tangling in the sheets; says, yes, yes, yeah, only spurring Hudson on.
"More," he demands. Hudson is good, so good, so of course, he complies.
He changes up the rhythm, pushing halfway in and fucking him shallow and fast. By the increasing volume of Connor's moans, it's bullseye on his prostate. Hudson starts to feel the strain in his core, but it's the sort of burn that he can enjoy when it's paired with the delirium-inducing warmth enveloping him, tight and wet and hot and perfect.
"Fuuuuck, Connor," he grunts. "You feel so fucking good."
"You know it– hah, that's good, Hudson, fuck– baby."
Hudson needs to fucking bite him. His hands leave their position on Connor's ass so he can place them on either side of his back, lowering himself down with the sole purpose of leaving teeth marks on Connor's nape. He bites down three times, feels sufficiently accomplished, and suddenly Connor's writhing, humping the pillow underneath him and fucking himself back on Hudson's cock. Hudson knows just what will take him past the edge.
He leans further down and whispers into Connor's ear: "Fuck, Connie, you're amazing." He buries himself in to the hilt. "You're the best, you're perfect, I want to be inside you all the time, need to feel you around me, I can't keep myself away, need you, you're mine–”
Connor grunts into the pillows as he cums, open mouthed and loud. He reaches out backwards with a flailing hand. He holds Hudson's hip so he can push him deeper in somehow, grip telling him stay there, making him feel every minute twitch of his skin. He's evil, Hudson decides.
"Connor, let go, babe, I'm gonna burst."
Connor holds him tighter, sends him a look over his shoulder that Hudson can't decipher entirely. But it's permission, and he clenches down on Hudson, and suddenly Hudson can't see straight. He holds onto Connor's hand, grips his shoulder, and that's it for him. His vision whites out, he feels shivers down his spine as he spurts inside Connor. He moans, loud and unbidden into his skin, hips moving on their own, Connor clenching on him as he milks him for all he's worth. Greedy fucker.
Hudson collapses on top of him, strength sapped out of him. He kisses Connor's shoulder as a thank you. They catch their breaths, bodies moving up and down in sync, until Connor shakes him off his back. He slides beside him, cock slipping out; his entire body feels liquid. He feels tender and vulnerable, like he needs to crawl inside Connor's skin. He settles for the next best thing: he wriggles himself under Connor's arm and nuzzles into the crook of his neck and shoulder, as close to him as possible. Connor twists his head and kisses his forehead, his nose, slips his tongue inside Hudson's mouth, languid and slow. Hudson giggles into the kiss, feeling high off his mind. Connor pets his hair; Hudson sighs contentedly.
"Two pump chump no more, huh?"
Hudson huffs out a laugh. He sneaks in a noisy little peck. "I learn well," he whispers against his lips.
Connor licks Hudson's cheek, for whatever reason. "Hmm, for me?"
"For you," Hudson says with a smile he knows Connor can feel. He also knows Connor won't take it seriously, but it's the truth.
“Such a good boy, Hudson,” Connor whispers. He bites Hudson's lip possessively. “Mine.”
“Yours,” Hudson admits.
They breathe each other in, basking in the afterglow, time feeling like molasses.
Okay, that's enough feelings. Back to normal now.
“Tell me I'm good again.”
Connor furrows his brows, wary (and with good reason). “Good boy?”
Hudson moans exaggeratedly and humps the bed, joking but also not really. (Sue him, he likes praise. One of these days he'll even remember to bring his leash). Connor laughs at him, shoves his face away with his hand. Hudson licks his palm. Of course he does, and Connor should've known better.
“You're disgusting,” Connor tells him.
“Sure am.”
“Fuck, I feel gross, like, actually. I'm taking a shower.”
Hudson kisses his palm, and misses him already when he gets up. He watches him go, wishing he could see some of his cum dripping out. Maybe he'll ask Connor to let him eat it out of him some other time.
Hudson groans. He buries his head in the pillows and breathes in the smell of smoke. He needs a shower, too.