Copyright © 2026 Nuno R.F.C.R. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher or author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles, reviews, and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by applicable copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), actual events, or real locales is entirely coincidental.
"You Already Do"
Hudson prowled across the mattress, muscles coiling beneath water-slicked skin. His palm slammed Liam's chest flat against the sheets, forcing a raspy gasp from his plush lips as Hudson straddled Liam's sculpted thighs.
Liam's body was a masterpiece.
Sun-kissed skin stretched over corded muscle, that thick 9-inch cock already weeping pearly precum onto his abdomen. The vein-throbbing shaft curved upward, foreskin peeled back to reveal a glistening plum-colored head that pulsed with every shift of Hudson's body. Hudson's tongue swiped greedily across his own teeth, already tasting salt and musk.
Hudson lowered himself. His lips parted, a warm breath ghosting over the flushed, straining head of Liam's cock before making contact. A sigh escaped Liam, his head falling back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. Hudson began slowly, his tongue a velvet explorer tracing the prominent ridge beneath the crown, swirling languidly around the sensitive tip where a bead of pre-cum glistened. He savored the salt-brine taste, the intimate musk flooding his senses. His gaze remained locked on Liam's face, watching the play of ecstasy, the parted lips, the tightening jaw, the faint tremor in his eyelids, as he hollowed his cheeks and drew Liam deeper into the wet, welcoming heat of his mouth.
Liam's hips lifted instinctively, seeking more of that exquisite pressure. Hudson obliged, sinking down, his tongue pressing firmly along the thick, pulsing underside vein. He felt the rigid length fill his mouth, stretching his lips wide, the heavy weight on his tongue a profound pleasure.
Gradually, Hudson's own focus shifted inward. His eyelids drifted closed, sealing him in a world defined by sensation. Soft, guttural moans vibrated around Liam's shaft, muffled yet intensely audible, a raw soundtrack to Hudson's own immersion. The sheer reality of it consumed him: the slick hardness against his palate, the head nudging the back of his throat, Liam's intoxicating, masculine scent that filled his nostrils with every breath he managed to snatch.
He pushed deeper, driven by a hunger that bordered on desperation. His throat resisted, muscles spasming as the broad crown breached the tight ring. Hudson gagged, a wet, choked sound escaping him as he pulled back sharply, saliva glistening on his lips and chin, strands connecting him to Liam's slick cock. He gasped, dragging in air, his eyes watering slightly, yet the hunger remained undimmed. Without hesitation, he dove back down, swallowing Liam deeper this time, forcing his throat to relax, to accept its presence. He repeated this rhythm, deep, choking penetration, pulling back gasping, plunging down again, each descent taking him further, each gag a sharp counterpoint to the overwhelming pleasure of being so utterly filled.
Soon, Hudson was lost.
He sucked with fervent dedication, lips sealed tight, cheeks hollowed fiercely, his head bobbing in a relentless, wet rhythm. His tongue worked constantly, laving the frenulum, swirling around the head on each upward stroke, pressing hard against the shaft on descent. Liam's cock seemed to belong there, a perfect, throbbing weight fitted to the contours of Hudson's mouth and throat. Hudson's moans grew louder, unrestrained, a continuous hum of rapture vibrating against Liam's flesh. Spit slicked Liam's balls, his groin, pooling beneath him.
The change in Liam was sudden. A sharp intake of breath. His thighs tensed like steel cables. His stomach muscles clenched visibly. His hips stuttered upwards, driving his cock impossibly deeper into Hudson's throat. "Fuck...I'm...I'm gonna..." Liam gasped, the warning thick and slurred with impending climax.
It was too late. Hudson felt it instantly, the violent, rhythmic pulse deep within the shaft filling his mouth, the sudden, urgent swell at the base. Liam's entire body arched off the bed, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as the first thick, hot spurt erupted against the back of Hudson's palate. Hudson's eyes flew open wide, locking onto Liam's face, contorted in ecstasy.
But he didn't retreat.
Instead, he pressed down harder, taking Liam impossibly deep as the floodgates opened.
The taste exploded, musky, salty-sweet, thick, and primal. Hudson groaned around the pulsing cock, the sound muffled and wet. He felt the viscous fluid coat his tongue, fill his mouth, slide hotly down his constricted throat. He swallowed convulsively, working his throat muscles to pull down each heavy, pearlescent rope Liam pumped into him. His eyes rolled back slightly, overwhelmed by the sheer physicality of it.
Liam's taste.
Liam's heat.
The texture.
The surrender.
More spurts followed, each one triggering another deep swallow from Hudson, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. Liam shuddered violently above him, muttering incoherent, lust-drunk syllables. "Holy fuck...yes...oh shit..." as his orgasm ripped through him, emptying himself completely into Hudson's devoted mouth.
The rhythm subsided, slowly, the scent of Liam's release still clinging to Hudson's lips.
Liam lay sprawled, chest heaving, a stunned grin spreading across his face. "Fuck," he rasped, voice rough. "Didn't expect to blow my load that fast."
Below him, Hudson swallowed, throat bobbing as he savored the last viscous string of cum clinging to his palate.
A lazy, triumphant smile curved his spit-slicked lips. "Tastes exactly like I imagined," he murmured, the words thick and sticky. His fingers finally released Liam's cock, but his gaze lingered on it, fascinated by the way it still pulsed, thick and flushed, refusing to fully wilt. "Guess we're still going, huh?"
Liam's eyes, dark as a shark scenting blood, locked onto Hudson. No warning. He surged forward, a powerful coil of muscle unspringing. Hands like iron bands clamped onto Hudson's shoulders, hauling him up and flipping him onto his belly in one brutal, fluid motion. Hudson gasped, the breath knocked from him as Liam's weight settled heavily across his thighs. Strong fingers dug into the yielding flesh of Hudson's ass, peeling apart the sweat-slick globes, exposing the tight, pink furl hidden within.
Liam buried his face deep into the cleft, inhaling sharply, nostrils flaring. The intimate, musky scent of Hudson's hole filled his senses: salt, skin, and something uniquely him. A low groan vibrated against Hudson's skin.
SMACK! The sharp crack echoed. Liam's palm landed hard on the left cheek, leaving an instant, blazing red handprint. SMACK! Again, on the right. Hudson jolted, a sharp gasp escaping him, followed by a breathless giggle. Liam leaned down, kissing the heated skin where he'd struck, his lips soft against the sting. Then his teeth grazed the plump flesh, nipping, claiming. Hudson shivered violently beneath him, a tremor running from his arched spine down to his curled toes.
Liam's tongue, hot and wet, soon replaced his teeth. It traced a slow, deliberate path upwards from the base of Hudson's spine, gliding over the knobs of his vertebrae, through the valley between his shoulder blades, leaving a glistening trail. It climbed higher, over the tense muscles of Hudson's neck, finally reaching the sensitive shell of his ear.
Liam paused there, breath hot and ragged. "Been wanting to do this," he growled, "since you stumbled into that table."
Hudson arched his neck back, straining towards Liam's voice. Their mouths crashed together, a messy, biting kiss full of teeth and tongues. Then, with a sigh that was pure surrender, Hudson let his face drop back into the sheets, his body pliant beneath Liam's dominance.
Liam pulled back only to return instantly to his prize. Hands gripped firm, spreading Hudson's cheeks impossibly wide, exposing the puckered, vulnerable entrance completely. Liam lowered his head. His tongue, broad and flat at first, lapped gently at the tight rim.
Testing.
Teasing.
A slow, circling pressure. Hudson moaned softly into the sheets, pushing his hips back minutely. Liam's tongue stiffened, pressing harder, tracing the intricate folds. He felt Hudson's muscles clench, then relax, inviting him deeper. The invitation was accepted.
The teasing restraint evaporated. Liam's tongue became a relentless invader. It speared forward, stiff and probing, forcing its way past the tight ring of muscle.
So warm inside, Liam thought.
He worked it deeper, fucking Hudson's hole with short, rapid thrusts of his tongue.
Hudson gasped, his back bowing, his ass pushing back harder, grinding against Liam's face. "Yes...fuck," Hudson whimpered, the sound muffled by the sheets.
SMACK! Liam's hand landed hard again on Hudson's reddened cheek, the impact jolting him. Then Liam pulled his face back slightly, gathered a thick wad of saliva in his mouth, and spat directly onto Hudson's quivering hole. The glob landed with a wet splat, dripping down the cleft. Liam watched, mesmerized, as his finger, slick with spit, found its target. The tip pressed firmly against the loosened entrance, then slid in, knuckle-deep, with obscene ease. Hudson cried out, a high-pitched sound, his body writhing. Liam smiled, a feral expression, his own cock throbbing against Hudson's thigh.
He resumed rimming with renewed ferocity, his tongue plunging deep alongside his finger, swirling, dipping, plunging, tasting the intimate salt of Hudson's hole. Ten minutes? Fifteen? Time dissolved into the slick, rhythmic sounds, the wet slurps, Hudson's choked moans. Liam breathed only through his nose, utterly consumed, his face buried deep, grinding against the smooth, heated flesh.
As he finally tore his mouth away from Hudson's glistening hole, a thick strand of saliva snapped between his lips and the puckered rim he'd worked raw. His jaw ached deliciously, the skin around his mouth flushed crimson from grinding relentlessly against the smooth, flawless moons of Hudson's ass. He wiped the back of his hand across his spit-slicked chin.
Rising onto his knees, his own formidable erection pulsed, thick veins throbbing visibly. He brought that heavy, leaking cock down hard, smacking the broad, pale canvas of Hudson's cheeks. The impact sent ripples of flesh dancing, a hypnotic jiggle that tightened Liam's balls.
Beneath him, Hudson's body coiled. Liam watched, mesmerized, as the muscles beneath that flawless skin tensed and flexed, the asshole itself clenching tight like a hungry little fist, a desperate, involuntary reaction to the promise of what was finally coming.
A grin split Liam's face. "Look at that," he breathed, voice thick with lust. "Begging for it without saying a fucking word."
And before Liam could command him, Hudson's voice shattered the heavy air, a broken whisper scraping from the depths of his throat. "Please...put it in...fuck me..."
Liam's blood ignited at the words.
He didn't hesitate.
Leveraging the powerful cords of muscle in his back and shoulders, the product of relentless, obsessive training, Liam lifted his hips, suspending his entire weight effortlessly above Hudson. His cock, a ruddy, veined pillar glistening with pre-cum, hovered directly over the target: that tight, spit-slicked crevice begging to be ruined.
Liam didn't plunge.
He descended.
With agonizing, exquisite control, inch by thick, straining inch, he fed the swollen head of his cock to Hudson's resisting hole. The flared crown kissed the clenching rim, a hot, insistent pressure. Hudson gasped, a sharp intake of breath that hitched into a low, guttural moan as the muscle yielded, stretching obscenely wide around the invading thickness. Liam felt the incredible heat, the tight, velvety vice grip threatening to milk him dry before he'd even fully sheathed himself.
Below him, Hudson's transformation was visceral. His normal tone evaporated, replaced by a continuous, submissive whimper that vibrated against the sheets where his face was pressed. His fingers scrabbled, claws digging deep into the fabric, knuckles white. His teeth sank into his own lower lip hard enough to draw a bead of crimson that smeared against his chin. Every muscle in his back and ass corded, trembling with the strain of accepting Liam into him.
Liam paused, buried only halfway, savoring the exquisite torture. He could feel the frantic flutter of Hudson's insides around the shaft, the desperate clench trying to pull him deeper. Sweat beaded on Liam's sculpted abdomen, dripping onto the small of Hudson's back, whose whimpering litany broke loose.
"Oh my god...oh fuck...fuck..."
Slowly, savoring every millimeter of resistance, every choked gasp from below, Liam began to rock his hips in tiny, shallow circles, grinding the thick root of his cock against Hudson's stretched rim. The friction was jolting, sending shots of heat and electricity up Liam's spine. He watched the way Hudson's hole clung to his shaft, the pink flesh distended, glistening obscenely. He leaned forward, his sweat-slicked chest pressing against Hudson's heaving back, breath hot on Hudson's ear.
The thick, spit-slicked crown of Liam's cockhead kissed Hudson's stretched, quivering rim, teasing the muscle. Hudson whimpered, a high, needy sound that scraped down Liam's spine like nails. "Fuck, Liam..."
Liam slammed forward, burying every thick, throbbing inch back into Hudson's hot, clenching channel in one single thrust. Hudson's back arched off the sheets, a choked scream tearing from his throat as Liam's balls slapped wetly against his ass cheeks. "Fuck, that feels amazing," Liam growled.
He didn't start slow this time. He pistoned his hips, fucking into Hudson with hard, deep, unforgiving strokes. The sound of his cock plunging into Hudson's slicked-up hole filled the room, punctuated by Hudson's ragged gasps and the wet slap of flesh on flesh. Liam leaned down, chest plastered to Hudson's back again, grinding his pelvis hard against Hudson's ass with every inward drive. He could feel the ridges of Hudson's insides massaging him, the tight ring of muscle gripping him like a hot, wet fist near the base. "You okay?" Liam hissed, biting Hudson's earlobe. "Talk to me, Arizona."
Hudson could only moan, his face mashed into the pillow, fingers clawing at the sheets. Liam watched, mesmerized, as his own thick cock disappeared again and again into the glistening, pink pucker stretched wide around him. Pre-cum and lube leaked out around the intrusion, slicking Hudson's balls and thighs. The way Hudson's hole visibly clung to his shaft, sucking it deeper, sent another jolt of raw lust straight to Liam's groin. He fucked harder, deeper, driving his cock so far up Hudson's ass he swore he could feel the head nudging against something deeper than any of Hudson's body parts.
Hudson's choked cries turned into desperate pleas. "Liam! Fuck, dude! Oh my god! Fuck!" His voice was wrecked, raw.
Liam's mind went blank.
The sound, the smell of sweat and sex, and Hudson's skin, the impossibly tight, wet heat strangling his cock, it wasn't just a fuck anymore. It was Hudson. Every gasp, every tremor, the way his insides seemed to melt around Liam's length, welcoming him, milking him.
It was transcendent.
Liam's brutal rhythm faltered. A wave of something terrifyingly raw crashed over him, shattering the cold, hard barriers he'd welded shut years ago. Guardrails built on loneliness and cheap fucks dissolved inside the furnace heat of Hudson's body. His thrusts slowed, becoming shallow grinds, his cock buried to the hilt, throbbing inside that perfect, clenching warmth.
Hudson felt the shift. He twisted his head, his face flushed, lips swollen, eyes glazed with lust and momentary confusion. "Is...everything okay?" His voice was a wrecked whisper.
Liam pulled back.
Just enough to keep the swollen head of his cock lodged inside Hudson's stretched entrance, feeling the desperate flutter of Hudson's hole trying to keep him buried. He managed to look down at Hudson's face. Sweat plastered dark hair to his forehead. His eyes, a vast and vulnerable pool of turquoise, held a depth Liam hadn't let himself see before.
"Jesus Christ..." Liam breathed, letting his forehead bump against Hudson's shoulder, the words thick with awe and a sudden, crippling vulnerability. And before Hudson could speak, Liam rasped, "Turn over. On your back."
A frantic scramble ensued.
Liam reluctantly withdrew his slick, glistening cock completely, eliciting a sharp gasp and a look of profound loss from Hudson as his hole gaped momentarily, pink and wet and empty. Liam grinned, a flash of teeth, loving the desperate disappointment on Hudson's face. He watched Hudson hurriedly flip onto his back, his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, leaking pre-cum onto his skin.
Hudson's legs fell open, an instinctive, shameless invitation. Liam wedged himself between those trembling thighs, thickly muscled and slick with sweat. He hooked his arms under Hudson's knees, yanking them high and wide, exposing Hudson completely, the flushed, stretched pucker of his asshole still glistening with Liam's spit and pre-cum, balls drawn tight against his taint.
"I..." Liam whispered, voice cracking slightly. Then he leaned even closer, breath hot on Hudson's face. "I wanna see your face while I fuck you."
And then, he slammed home.
Hudson's cry tore from his throat, a ragged, beautiful sound. Liam's thick shaft pistoned back in, balls-deep, stretching Hudson's tender inner walls wide open. The brutal rhythm started, Liam's powerful hips pistoning, driving his cock like a battering ram into Hudson's yielding heat.
Their eyes locked.
Hudson's pupils were blown black, drowning in sensation. Liam watched, mesmerized, as his own pleasure mirrored itself on Hudson's face: brows furrowing in exquisite agony, mouth slack and gasping, cheeks flushed crimson. Every brutal plunge of Liam's cock was etched in the tightening of Hudson's jaw, the flutter of his eyelids.
This wasn't just fucking.
To Liam, it was a revelation.
Liam had buried loneliness in warm holes before, but this? Watching Hudson unravel, raw, vulnerable, was transcendent. Hudson wasn't hiding. He was offering himself, his whole body clenching desperately around Liam's thickness, tears welling in those blue, wide, trusting eyes.
The sheer beauty of it hit Liam like a gut punch.
"Fuck!" Liam snarled, abandoning restraint. He drove harder, faster, his heavy balls slapping rhythmically against Hudson's ass. The bed frame screamed. Hudson's body jolted with each deep, glorious thrust, his hole fluttering wildly. Liam saw Hudson's mouth open, ready to beg or cry, or both.
And that's when he dove in.
His tongue plunged into Hudson's hot mouth, silencing him, tangling wetly. Their moans mingled, swallowed by the kiss, a filthy, desperate communion. Secrets spilled into each other's mouths, lost in the slick slide of tongues and the guttural sounds ripped from their throats.
Liam finally tore his mouth away, burying his face in the sweaty crook of Hudson's neck. His hips never slowed, hammering relentlessly. Hudson's head snapped back, eyes rolling wildly before fixing unseeing on the ceiling. Tears finally spilled over, tracing hot paths down his temples onto the soaked sheets.
A week of aching fantasy couldn't even come close to this brutal, perfect reality, Hudson thought.
Liam's cock wasn't just inside him. It owned him, filling every inch, rubbing against that deep, secret spot with relentless, brutal precision.
And Hudson surrendered to it.
Utterly.
Blindly.
Wholeheartedly.
His eyes fluttered shut. A blissful smile touched his lips as his entire body sang, every nerve ending alight, every muscle thrumming.
He wasn’t just being fucked.
He was being worshipped.
Hudson's tear-blurred gaze clung to the ceiling, slick trails of saltwater carving paths through his flushed cheeks. For seven torturous nights, he'd clawed at fantasies of this moment, but nothing could've prepared him for the brutal, glorious reality of Liam's cock splitting his soul open.
Hudson surrendered, eyelids fluttering as Liam's fingers dug bruises into his hipbones, yanking him backward onto that throbbing meat-spear.
"Liam...fuck...you're fucking me so good..." Hudson choked out, his voice shredded raw as Liam's pelvis hammered against his hole.
The bedframe screeched like a dying thing, rhythmically slamming into the wall while Hudson's fists pounded the mattress, not in protest, but in a rabid demand for more. His neglected cock bounced wildly, a leaking, pink-headed mess against his belly until, suddenly, Liam's cockhead rammed his prostate.
Hudson's spine snapped taut. A guttural sound tore from his throat as ropes of thick, creamy jizz exploded from his untouched dick, painting his abs, chest, and chin in sticky white stripes. His asshole convulsed around Liam's shaft, just as Liam roared, yanking his slick cock free with a wet pop. Fist flying over his dripping crown, Liam unleashed a geyser of cum, thick, hot spurts plastering Hudson's already drenched face, eyelids, and gaping lips.
Liam groaned, exhausted, the sound rumbling deep from his chest as though it carried the weight of everything leading up to this. His arms trembled slightly as he leaned forward, body giving in to gravity in slow motion, until he collapsed against Hudson. The impact wasn't forceful so much as a surrender, a yielding of strength, but it was enough to make Hudson let out a soft grunt.
Hudson's hands instinctively came up, one splaying across Liam's sweat-dampened back, the other curling loosely around his arm as if to steady him. Their breaths mingled. Hudson's chest heaved beneath Liam's weight, rising and falling against him like small waves.
"Jesus," Liam rasped, his voice hoarse but tinged with a faint laugh that betrayed his disbelief at how utterly spent he felt. He shifted slightly, his face half-buried against Hudson's shoulder now. "I think...I think you broke me."
A smirk tugged at the corner of Hudson's lips. "Broke you?" he repeated, his tone teasing but soft as he tilted his head just enough to glance down at Liam. A bead of sweat rolled lazily down Hudson's temple before disappearing into the curve of his jawline. "Pretty sure you're still breathing."
Liam gave a weak chuckle, his breath warm against Hudson's neck. "Barely," he muttered, though there was no real bite behind it. His fingers twitched where they rested against Hudson's side, as though testing whether he had the energy left to move them.
He didn't.
Hudson exhaled deeply, finally letting his head fall back against the mattress with a quiet thud. His fingers idly traced patterns across Liam's shoulder blades now, a subconscious motion that spoke more than any words could have in that moment. He stared up at the ceiling for a beat before speaking again, his voice quieter this time.
"You alright?" There was no urgency in his tone, just a steady kind of concern.
Liam lifted his head just an inch, enough to meet Hudson's gaze with a lopsided grin that didn't quite mask how wrecked he looked: flushed cheeks, hair glued to his forehead, eyes half-lidded but glinting with something triumphant.
"Better than alright," he said, his voice low and edged with warmth. Liam's arm tightened around Hudson, subtle but immediate, like he needed the confirmation like oxygen.
Hudson's breath stuttered. "That was..."
Liam waited, chin near Hudson's shoulder, still not moving away.
Hudson swallowed. "That was the best..." He paused, reconsidered how honest he wanted to be. Then decided to be honest anyway, because lying felt impossible at this point. "Yeah. That was the best sex I've ever had."
Liam went still for half a second.
Then, softly, he laughed, an incredulous exhale against Hudson's back. "Okay."
Hudson's head turned slightly, enough to catch Liam's expression in the corner of his vision. Liam looked pleased in a way that was almost shy, like he didn't know what to do with praise that wasn't part of a review.
Hudson added quickly, because he couldn't resist, "And I'm not saying that to inflate your ego."
Liam murmured, amused, "Too late."
Hudson rolled his eyes so hard he could feel them. Liam hummed, content. Hudson tried to shift, feeling the sticky, pleasant discomfort of afterglow, the sheets a little tangled, the room too quiet in a way that now felt intimate rather than awkward.
"You good?" Liam asked again, softer.
Hudson smiled into the pillow. "I'm good."
A beat.
Then Hudson's brow furrowed. "Actually...I need to pee."
Liam's arms tightened immediately. He pretended not to hear him. His chin tucked closer to Hudson's shoulder, his body pressing in like he could fuse them back together.
Hudson laughed. "Liam, let me go."
Liam's voice was lazy and stubborn. "No." Hudson scoffed. Liam kissed Hudson's neck, gently, almost coaxing. "Stay."
Hudson giggled again, helpless. "This is very...sweet and also extremely impractical."
Liam's arms held him. He didn't answer. He didn't need to. The message was clear in the pressure of his body.
Don't leave.
Don't make the room cold again.
Hudson softened despite himself, warmth rising in his chest that had nothing to do with the mind-blowing sex they'd just had.
Then his bladder made its own executive decision. Hudson wriggled out of Liam's hold. "I'm going. I'm one second away from humiliating myself."
Liam let out a quiet groan of protest, rolling onto his back, eyes half-lidded in the blue light. Hudson grabbed the robe from where it had fallen earlier, threw it on, and hurried to the bathroom, laughing under his breath like he couldn't believe this was his life.
He did his thing, splashed water on his hands, washed them properly, because he was still Hudson, even when his entire nervous system had been rewritten by Liam's cock. He leaned closer to the mirror, cheeks flushed, mouth swollen, eyes bright and a little dazed.
He looked exactly like he felt.
Like he'd been fucked hard.
He was still drying his hands when Liam appeared in the doorway.
Still naked, hair messier now, the kind of messy that made Hudson want to commit crimes. Liam leaned against the frame, eyes fixed on Hudson as if Hudson were the only thing worth looking at.
Hudson looked over his shoulder and sighed theatrically. "You have a problem."
Liam's mouth curved.
Hudson raised an eyebrow. "This is clingy."
Liam's eyes warmed.
Hudson turned fully, leaning back against the counter, still trying to pretend he had control of his life. "Do you need help peeing too, or are we..."
Liam cut him off by closing the distance.
He reached for Hudson, turning him gently, firm hands at Hudson's hips, no rush, no hesitation. Hudson's breath caught anyway, because Liam moved like he'd made a decision and the world simply had to go along with it.
Hudson's voice went breathy. "Liam..."
Liam lifted him. Just like that, effortless strength, a quick shift of weight, and set Hudson on the sink.
Hudson grabbed the edge for balance, startled laughter bubbling up. "Are you fucking serious?"
Liam stepped in close, their bodies fitting together again with a hungry familiarity. Liam's hands settled at Hudson's thighs, nudging Hudson's knees apart with gentle insistence, and Hudson's laughter died into a shaky inhale.
Liam's gaze held his, a flash of something possessive and bright. "Fine. We can do it here, too," Liam murmured.
Hudson tried to joke. "I literally can't feel my..."
Liam kissed him.
It was immediate and deep, all heat and urgency, like the last hour hadn't been an ending at all, just a pause. Hudson's hands found Liam's hair automatically, fingers threading through the blonde, tugging lightly, and Liam made a small sound against Hudson's mouth that felt too honest to be practiced.
Liam's lips moved to Hudson's jaw, then back, and in the space between kisses, he whispered something low, something too tender, too exposed. Hudson couldn't make it out. But he felt it. Something that sounded like it belonged to the part of Liam he had just managed to unearth. The words left his mouth, and Hudson felt Liam freeze for half a second, as if he immediately regretted letting them escape.
Hudson blinked, heart stuttering.
He chose mercy.
He pretended he hadn't heard anything.
He smiled, breathless, and kissed Liam again, soft at first, then deeper, giving Liam an escape route without making it a rejection. Liam exhaled, tension easing, and kissed Hudson back like gratitude.
Hudson's fingers slid through Liam's hair, slow and soothing. "You're insane," he whispered, affectionate now.
Liam's mouth brushed Hudson's ear. "You like it."
Hudson's laugh came out shaky. "I hate that you're right."
Liam kissed him again, and Hudson's hands tightened on him, pulling him closer as the room seemed to tilt back into heat.
Right there, on the bathroom sink, Liam fucked Hudson again.
And for the next hour, the world slowly narrowed to touch and breath and the soft thud of the bathroom door as it drifted half-closed behind them.
*
The bed had stopped being a bed and become a little country.
A pocket of air sealed off from the rest of Los Angeles. No headlights, no assistants, no headlines. Just rumpled sheets, low blue light, and the sound of two men breathing like they'd run a marathon and somehow won.
They lay tangled together in the quiet aftermath of the fourth round of heat, still bare, skin warm against skin, the room smelling of sweat and the lingering sweetness of whatever candle Liam kept lit in a corner. Somewhere outside, dawn kept advancing with slow inevitability, but inside, time seemed to move at the speed of two heartbeats.
Hudson lay on his back, one arm flung above his head. Liam lay beside him, turned on his side, propped on an elbow again, studying Hudson with a calm attention that made Hudson feel like the only person on earth.
Hudson blinked up at the ceiling, then finally let out a laugh, small and incredulous.
"I just...can't wrap my mind around this," he said. Liam's mouth curved. "I mean," Hudson replied. His eyes slid to Liam. "Do you do this a lot?"
Liam lifted an eyebrow. "What. Have sex?"
Hudson snorted. "Invite waiters to your house at dawn, take their dignity apart, and then stare at them like you're doing a character study."
Liam's smile deepened, amused. "I'm not staring."
"You're staring," Hudson insisted. "It's intense. I feel like I'm being screened."
Liam's gaze flicked over Hudson's face, slow, unapologetic. "Maybe you are."
Hudson pointed at him with a lazy hand. "See? Serial killer behavior."
Liam laughed softly. "You came anyway."
Hudson groaned, rolling his head to the side. "I hate when you're right."
"I've been told," Liam murmured.
Hudson's eyes narrowed. "By who? Your publicist? Your agent? The committee of people who tell you what you're allowed to feel?"
Something passed over Liam's face, so quick it might have been nothing. A flicker of discomfort. A shadow of truth. But Liam didn't retreat. He just leaned in, closer, and brushed his knuckles lightly along Hudson's cheekbone, a touch so gentle it felt almost out of place after the night they'd had.
"They tell me what I'm allowed to say," Liam corrected. "Feeling happens whether they approve or not."
Hudson's throat tightened in a way he didn't like, so he shook his head and tried to drag the conversation back to safety. "Okay," Hudson said, voice brisk. "Teach me famous person math. Like...how many people know your exact location right now?"
Liam's eyes warmed with amusement. "Too many."
Hudson sat up a little, sheets sliding down his waist, and made a face like he'd tasted something sour. "You see...that would drive me fucking insane," he said. "The whole...constant surveillance thing."
Liam shrugged, but the motion was smaller than before. "You get used to it."
"That's depressing," Hudson said.
Liam's mouth twitched. "That's my brand, remember?"
Hudson stared at him. "Do you ever...miss being anonymous?"
Liam went quiet for half a beat, eyes drifting toward the glass wall where the sky was slowly paling.
Then he looked back at Hudson and said, "I'm anonymous right now."
Hudson scoffed. "You're naked in a fortress. That's not anonymity, that's luxury hiding."
Liam smiled, but the smile didn't fully reach his eyes.
Hudson's voice softened despite himself. "I mean, before all of it. Before...whatever this is. The gates. The driver. The panicked phone calls. The people screaming because you went off the grid for a few hours."
Liam's expression tightened at the edges.
Hudson added quickly, trying to keep it from turning too serious, "Like, do you ever just want to go buy cereal without someone photographing you choosing between Honey Nut and..."
"Cheerios," Liam said, dry.
Hudson blinked. "How did you..."
"I've been photographed holding Cheerios," Liam said, deadpan. "It was a slow news day."
Hudson stared for a second, then dissolved into laughter, falling back into the pillows. "I can't believe that's actually someone's life."
Liam watched Hudson laugh like it fed him. Like Hudson's disbelief was a kind of medicine.
When Hudson finally calmed down, he turned his head and looked at Liam again. "What did you want to be?" Hudson asked, suddenly.
Liam blinked. "What?"
Hudson shrugged. "Before you became...you."
Liam's gaze held his, searching as if he couldn't tell whether Hudson was setting him up for a joke or offering him a real question.
"Like, did you always want to be an actor? Or did you have a phase where you wanted to be a...I don't know...a firefighter? A marine biologist? A serial killer? Because I'm still getting serial killer."
Liam's laugh came out quietly. "No phase."
"Liar," Hudson said.
Liam's eyes warmed. "Okay. Fine. I wanted to be a drummer."
Hudson's eyebrows shot up. "Shut up."
Liam nodded once, almost sheepishly. "I saved up for a kit. Terrible neighbors. My mother nearly murdered me."
Hudson smiled, surprised by how much that picture pleased him, Liam, as a kid, loud and hopeful and annoying, before the polish. "Were you any good?" Hudson asked.
Liam made a face. "I thought I was."
Hudson laughed. "So you were terrible."
"I was passionate," Liam corrected.
Hudson pointed at him. "That's what terrible people call it."
Liam rolled his eyes. "What about you? What did you want to be?"
Hudson's smile softened into something more reflective. "I don't know. I wanted to be...out." Liam's gaze sharpened, attentive. Hudson shrugged as if it didn't matter, but his voice went quieter. "Out of Arizona. Out of that heat. Out of my own head."
A beat.
Liam reached out and brushed Hudson's hand with his fingertips, barely there, but enough. Hudson looked at the touch, then back at Liam. He tried to lift the mood again before the honesty could jump at him again.
"Also," Hudson added, "I wanted to be one of those guys who wear suits and have a briefcase."
Liam's eyebrows lifted. "A lawyer."
"No," Hudson said quickly, appalled. "That's too much reading."
Liam laughed. "An accountant."
Hudson's face twisted. "That's worse."
Liam's smile widened. "So what, then?"
Hudson shrugged. "Like...a guy who looks important. Like he has places to be. Like he knows where he's going."
Liam's eyes stayed on Hudson for a long moment. "Do you think you don't?" Liam asked.
Hudson blinked. The question landed in his chest with an unexpected thud.
He covered it with a scoff. "I know where I'm going. I'm going to work. Then I'm going to pay rent. Then I'm going to die."
Liam's mouth twitched. "Very inspiring."
"What can I say, I'm a poet," Hudson replied.
Liam laughed again. He seemed looser now, more himself, if this version of him was his real self at all. Hudson realized, faintly, that he hadn't seen Liam's phone once since they'd come upstairs. No buzzing. No interruptions. The storm held at bay, for now.
Hudson's gaze roamed Liam's face again, messy hair, soft mouth, eyes that looked too tired for twenty-five. "How do you do it?" Hudson asked. "Like...all of it."
Liam shrugged lightly. "You do what you have to."
"That's not an answer," Hudson said.
Liam's eyes narrowed, amused. "It's the only one I got."
Hudson huffed, then tilted his head. "Okay. Then tell me one thing. Something about it you can't stand."
Liam looked at him, silent.
Hudson waited.
Finally, Liam said, "I hate premieres."
Hudson blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah," Liam said. "I hate the carpet. I hate the posing. I hate being told where to stand and how to hold my face. I hate the screaming."
Hudson tried to keep it light, but his voice softened anyway. "That does sound...exhausting."
Liam's mouth curved faintly. "It is."
Hudson stared at him, then asked, almost casually, "What about the award shows?"
Liam blinked once. "What about it?"
Hudson sat up a little again, eyes wide with sudden realization, like his brain had finally connected a cable it should've connected days ago. "Oh my God," Hudson said.
Liam's eyebrows lifted. "What?"
Hudson stared at him as if Liam had been hiding wings under the bed. "You won an Oscar," Hudson said, incredulous. "You have an actual Oscar."
Liam's expression shifted into something amused and faintly offended. "Yes."
Hudson threw a hand over his eyes and laughed, falling back into the sheets like the weight of that fact had knocked him over. "I completely forgot about that," Hudson said through laughter.
Liam laughed too, the sound bright. "How do you forget that?"
"God, my brain is just a puddle of fries and astrology...and trauma," Hudson uttered in the most adorable, self-deprecating way.
Liam's smile deepened. "Do you want to hold it?"
Hudson's laughter stopped mid-breath.
He blinked. "Hold it?" Liam nodded as if he had just offered Hudson a glass of water. Hudson stared at him, suddenly shy for the first time in hours. His cheeks warmed. "Is that...allowed?"
Liam's eyes glinted. "It's mine."
Hudson hesitated, then nodded once, small, almost embarrassed. "Fuck, yeah."
Liam's expression softened, pleased by Hudson's unfiltered awe. He looked at Hudson the way he'd looked at him in the restaurant when Hudson had danced, like Hudson's sincerity was the rarest thing in the room.
Liam rose from the bed, unapologetically comfortable in his own skin in a way that made Hudson's brain briefly stop working again. He crossed the room toward a darker corner near a built-in shelf, the blue lighting tracing the edges of his silhouette.
He glanced back over his shoulder. "Come on," Liam said, voice warm.
Hudson grabbed the robe again, because suddenly he needed something between his body and the sheer absurdity of existence, and slipped it on, belting it clumsily as he followed.
Liam led Hudson down a short corridor, the sound of their bare feet muted by soft carpeting that made the whole place feel like it had been designed to swallow noise, and, maybe, swallow evidence. Hudson followed, still half-dazed, still trying to act like it was normal to tour a private gallery of a famous actor's triumphs before sunrise.
They stopped at a door that looked almost identical to the others, clean, minimal, unmarked. Liam opened it, and a warmer light spilled out, honeyed and low.
The room was smaller than Hudson expected. Not a shrine or anything like that. More like a pocket of quiet reverence.
Built-in shelves lined the walls in dark wood, with thin recessed strips that made every object glow softly. Frames sat carefully spaced, festival laurels, magazine covers, handwritten notes from directors. There were glass cases, too, holding awards that looked as if they'd been placed with a kind of reluctant respect rather than vanity.
And in the middle of one shelf, unmistakable even to Hudson, was the Oscar.
Hudson slowed, eyes widening again, an involuntary laugh escaping him under his breath. "You just have it sitting there like it's a salt shaker."
Liam snorted softly, then reached out and lifted it. Hudson expected a dramatic flourish. But Liam just held it, casual, as if the trophy was both everything and strangely not the point.
"Here," Liam said.
Hudson hesitated, suddenly shy again. He reached out with both hands because it felt wrong to take it with one, like you might take a beer from a friend. When his fingers wrapped around it, he inhaled sharply.
"It's heavy," Hudson murmured.
Liam watched him, amused. "Yeah."
Hudson turned it slightly, the gold catching the light and throwing it back in warm flashes. He ran his thumb along the base like he expected it to hum.
Then he lifted his eyes to Liam. "I would first like to thank the Academy..." Hudson mocked with exaggerated flourish as he held the statue up slightly.
Liam chuckled and leaned against the doorframe, arms loose at his sides, that quiet, pleased expression on his face again. "You're a natural."
Hudson looked back down at the statue, then back at Liam, trying to reconcile the man from the cage booth, the guy who ate fries like it was sacred, with the reality of what stood in his hands.
"How did you not become," Hudson searched for the word, "insufferable?"
Liam's eyebrows lifted. "Maybe I did."
Hudson frowned. "No. You're...tolerable. Unfortunately."
Liam laughed softly, then nodded toward the shelves. "Come on. Since you're already in here, you might as well see the rest of it."
Hudson carefully placed the Oscar back where it had been, like returning a holy object to an altar. Then he followed Liam deeper into the room. Liam moved along the shelves, gesturing to different pieces as he spoke, and Hudson realized quickly, almost with surprise, that Liam wasn't bragging.
He was remembering.
"This one," Liam said, pointing to a sleek glass award, "Critic's Choice Awards for The Hollow City."
Hudson squinted at the engraved plaque. "That's the one where you played, what was it, like...a depressed detective who hated his dad?"
Liam's eyes narrowed. "You have watched my movies."
Hudson blinked. "It was on in a barber shop once. I was trapped."
Liam's mouth twitched, but Hudson caught the flicker of pride anyway, buried under his mock annoyance. "I didn't hate my dad in that one. I hated my brother."
Hudson nodded solemnly. "Family hatred. Classic."
Liam leaned closer to the shelf and tapped the edge of a framed photo beside the award, him, slightly younger, with shorter hair, standing between two other actors on what looked like a rain-soaked set. Everyone looked exhausted and thrilled.
"That night," Liam said, voice shifting slightly, "we filmed the rooftop scene twelve times. Wind machines, fake rain, my shoes filled up like a bathtub. The director kept saying, 'Again, again, again.' I nearly collapsed from exhaustion."
Hudson glanced at him. "And you loved it."
Liam's eyes warmed. "I loved it."
Hudson blinked. It wasn't the words. It was the way Liam said them, like the memory still had electricity in it.
Liam moved to another shelf, where a smaller, more understated award sat next to a handwritten note in a frame. The note was short, the handwriting sharp and slanted.
Hudson leaned in. "What's that?"
Liam's expression softened. "A director wrote it to me after Sunburn Saints."
Hudson read the first line, lips moving slightly. "Thank you for treating the silence like dialogue." Hudson looked up slowly. "That's...actually beautiful."
Liam shrugged, but there was tenderness underneath. "He hated the press. He never complimented anyone. He was like...allergic to sentiment."
Hudson's mouth curved. "So basically, you won his affection through emotional withholding."
Liam laughed. "Something like that."
Hudson's gaze drifted across the shelves. There were awards Hudson didn't recognize, festival honors, critics' circles, and little metallic things shaped like stars or flames. But what snagged his attention wasn't the objects.
It was Liam's face while he talked about them.
The way Liam lit up, not loudly, not like a performer under applause, but like someone returning to the only place that ever felt like home. His voice sharpened with detail. He remembered names, lighting setups, the smell of sets, the feel of costume fabric, the timing of a scene like it lived in his bloodstream. He didn't talk like a celebrity listing accomplishments.
He talked like a craftsman.
"This one," Liam said, pointing to a framed still from a film Hudson did recognize, Liam's face in close-up, eyes red, mouth trembling. "Ash Wednesday."
Hudson's stomach fluttered. It was the one Liam had won the Oscar for.
Liam's gaze stayed on the still. "It wrecked me."
Hudson glanced at him. "In a good way?"
Liam exhaled. "In the only way that mattered."
Hudson's humor softened. "What was it like?"
Liam turned toward him slightly, and Hudson saw something.
Liam's guardrails hadn't disappeared, but they had shifted. They seemed less defensive. More open.
"I read the script, and I knew," Liam said quietly. "Not that it would win anything. That part is, you know...noise. But I knew it would be hard. The kind of hard that changes you."
Hudson nodded slowly.
Liam continued, eyes drifting as if he could see the set again. "We shot it in six weeks. No trailers. No comforts. The director didn't want anything polished. We rehearsed like theatre, hours and hours, until I felt like I could breathe inside the character without thinking about it."
Hudson's eyes widened. "You rehearsed? Like...seriously rehearsed?"
Liam gave him a look. "Yes, Hudson."
Hudson grinned. "Sorry. I just pictured Hollywood as...vibes and mirrors."
Liam snorted. "That's the fame shit."
There it was again, that faint edge in Liam's voice when he said fame. Not anger exactly. More like fatigue. A bruise pressed too often.
Hudson leaned a shoulder against the shelf, studying him. "So you like the work."
Liam's gaze snapped back to Hudson. "I love the work."
Hudson held his eyes. "But you hate the rest."
Liam didn't deny it. He just exhaled, slow, as if Hudson had just pointed out something he tried not to look at directly.
"The rest feels like..." Liam said, pausing to taste the sourness of the words in his mouth. "People don't want the work. They want the lie. They want the version of me that exists for them."
Hudson swallowed. He thought of the flashes at the restaurant, the screaming voice on the phone, the wolves outside, waiting.
"So in here...all this..." Hudson said, "This is the part that's yours."
Liam's expression softened, almost relieved. "Yeah."
Hudson's eyes wandered again, catching on something smaller tucked near the back of a shelf, a crumpled wristband, an old laminated pass, a cheap plastic badge that looked wildly out of place among the polished awards.
Hudson pointed. "What's that?"
Liam smiled, really smiled. "My first set pass."
Hudson leaned closer. The lanyard looked worn, cracked at the edges. "You kept it."
"I stole it," Liam admitted.
Hudson laughed. "Of course you did."
Liam's eyes warmed. "I was twelve. I thought if I lost it, I'd stop being real."
Hudson's laughter softened into something gentler. "That's...weirdly sweet."
Liam's gaze held his for a beat.
Hudson shifted, suddenly aware again of where he was, that he was in Liam's robe, that their bodies still carried the echo of what they'd done for the last few hours, and wanted to do again. But the room felt different now, with less heat and more honesty.
Hudson glanced at the Oscar again. "So when you won," he said, "did you cry?"
Liam's mouth twitched. "No."
Hudson narrowed his eyes. "Liar."
Liam gave in with a small exhale. "I cried. Not on stage."
Hudson grinned. "So you're human."
Liam stepped closer, and his hand brushed Hudson's hip lightly through the robe tie, casual contact that sent a little spark anyway. "Unfortunately."
Hudson laughed, then looked at Liam again, the awe still there, now layered with something else.
Recognition.
He understood it more. The contradiction. The reason Liam could be so commanding and so lonely at the same time. The reason he could be fearless in front of a camera and desperate for quiet in the dark.
Liam caught Hudson staring.
"What?" Liam asked.
Hudson shook his head. "Nothing." His humor flickered back because he still couldn't live in sincerity for too long without having to come up for oxygen. "So you invited me here to witness your trophy room."
Liam laughed. "No."
Hudson lifted an eyebrow. "No?"
Liam stepped in closer. "I invited you here because I wanted you here."
Hudson's breath caught. He made a face like he disapproved of tenderness. "Gross."
Liam's smile deepened.
Hudson's mouth opened, then closed.
Damn him.
Liam turned and took a step toward the far end of the room. "Come on," Liam said. "I wanna show something else."
Hudson grabbed the robe tighter and followed.
Liam guided Hudson out of the trophy room and down another quiet corridor, one hand still occasionally finding Hudson's lower back like it was the most natural place for his hand to rest. Liam pressed a hidden panel on the wall, and a door swung inward with a soft hush.
Hudson stepped inside and immediately froze. "Oh, my fucking God," he breathed.
They stood inside a built-in screening room, small but perfect. Tiered seating with deep, black leather recliners. A massive screen took up the front wall, matte and pristine, framed by sleek acoustic panels. The lighting was low and warm, set into the floor and ceiling. There were shelves on one side stocked with films, not just digital copies, but actual physical cases, lovingly arranged.
Hudson wandered in, eyes wide, turning slowly as if the room might vanish if he moved too fast. "You have a movie theater," Hudson said, voice pitched somewhere between awe and accusation.
Liam leaned against the doorway, watching Hudson with quiet amusement. "It's called a screening room."
"No," Hudson insisted, pointing at the recliners. "This is a movie theater. Those chairs look like they have health insurance."
Liam laughed softly. "Do you want to sit?"
Hudson didn't answer. He was already rushing toward the seats like a pilgrim.
He ran his fingers along the armrest, then glanced over at the shelves again, drawn to them. He trailed closer, reading spines, recognizing titles, classics, old films, things he didn't expect Liam to own because they weren't flashy, weren't modern, weren't designed for trending clips.
Hudson's mouth softened. "I used to sneak into my local movie theater back in Arizona," he said, almost casually, but the memory carried warmth. "Like...all the time. They used to do these runs of old, golden age stuff."
Liam's eyes sharpened with interest.
"I'd climb through the back window. Staff didn't care. They were bored out of their minds anyway, and the popcorn was always stale." He smiled faintly. "I'd go by myself, sit in the back, and watch stuff on a loop. Anything black and white. Anything with women who looked like they could burn a man alive just by blinking."
Liam's eyebrows lifted, amused. "That's very specific."
Hudson grinned. "Bette Davis."
Liam's expression brightened. "Of course."
Hudson nodded, suddenly animated, like the subject had turned a light on inside him. "God, she was everything. Like...sharp. Raw. Dangerous. Funny. And still heartbreaking. I watched All About Eve so many times I could recite it."
Liam's mouth curved. "Don't."
Hudson blinked. "Don't what?"
"Don't tempt me," Liam said, as if he was only half joking. "If you start, I'll join in."
Hudson's eyes widened. "You love that movie too?"
Liam nodded, stepping into the room now, the door closing softly behind him. "My acting coach gave me a copy when I was nineteen. Along with a few others." His voice shifted inward. "He said if I ever wanted to take acting seriously, I'd have to reach that level of greatness. That kind of...precision."
Hudson stared at him, surprised by the reverence in his tone. "What were the other ones?" Hudson asked, curious.
Liam's gaze drifted toward the screen as if the titles were projected there. "A Streetcar Named Desire. On the Waterfront. Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" He glanced back at Hudson. "He made me watch them until I hated them. Then he made me watch them until I loved them again."
Hudson laughed softly. "That sounds like sweet torture."
Liam shrugged, but his eyes warmed. "It was."
Hudson turned, taking in the seats again, the screen, the perfect quiet. The room felt like a deep confession: this is what Liam cared about when no one was looking.
Hudson's voice softened without him meaning it to. "Do you ever get to do the projects you're most into?"
Liam's face tightened, subtle but immediate. The easy amusement dulled.
He shook his head once. "No," he said simply. Hudson watched him, waiting. Liam exhaled, as if the truth weighed more than it should. "I got...swallowed by the business." He spoke like it was an accident he kept repeating. "It starts small. One role you take because it's the smart thing to do. Then another to keep the momentum going. Then suddenly you're in meetings about 'brand alignment' and 'global markets,' and suddenly you're choosing projects based on what makes the studio comfortable instead of what makes you feel alive."
Hudson's chest tightened. "But you won. You did the work. You..."
"I did," Liam said, and something regretful flickered in his eyes. "And then I kept doing what I thought I was supposed to do. What everyone told me was the right next step."
Hudson looked around the room, the private theater, the perfect sound system, the house that looked like it had been designed by a man trying to build safety out of architecture.
Hudson swallowed and said gently, "Your choices bought you all this."
Liam didn't look at the room when Hudson said it. He looked at Hudson. His mouth curved faintly, but it wasn't amusement. It was something sadder. Something tired.
"Yeah," Liam murmured. "They did."
Hudson tried to make it lighter because he didn't want Liam to slip into that place. "So maybe you should be grateful."
Liam's eyes held Hudson's.
"Having everything doesn't mean shit if you don't have anyone to share it with."
Hudson went still.
There it was.
The truth Liam seemed embarrassed to say out loud.
Hudson looked at Liam, this beautiful, magnetic man surrounded by awards, space, security, staff, a whole system built around him.
And for the first time, Hudson understood it with painful clarity.
Liam was surrounded by people.
And yet he was utterly alone.
Hudson's chest tightened. He didn't know what to say that wouldn't cheapen it.
So he said nothing.
He just stood there, robe tied loosely at his waist, heart steadying itself around the shape of Liam's loneliness, realizing he'd stepped into something much bigger than a night, much bigger than desire.
So Hudson did the only thing he could do.
He crossed the room in two quick steps, reached for Liam's hand, and laced their fingers together. "C'mon," Hudson said, as if Liam were the one who needed herding.
Hudson led him to one of the leather recliners and, with a theatrical little shove, pushed Liam down into it. Liam fell back with a soft grunt and a surprised chuckle, hands resting on the armrests. He looked up at Hudson like Hudson was something reckless and improbable that had wandered into his life by mistake and luckily refused to leave.
Hudson pointed at Liam, and then, with a grin that returned the room to playfulness, he lifted his chin and began. "Fasten your seatbelts," Hudson said, adopting a dramatic cadence, "it's going to be a bumpy night."
Liam didn't speak, but his mouth moved with Hudson's, silently forming the words in perfect sync.
Hudson leaned in closer, voice lowering as if the room itself were an audience. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
Liam's lips mouthed it with him again, dead accurate, the ghost of a laugh in his eyes.
Hudson smiled, adding. "Casablanca, nineteen..."
"Forty-two," Liam finished.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Hudson looked at Liam.
Liam looked at Hudson.
And they finally saw each other.
Hudson stepped closer. His fingers found the knot at his waist. He slowly undid the robe, a nervous courage, letting it loosen around him.
Liam watched without blinking.
Hudson climbed into Liam's lap like it was the most natural place in the world, settling there with a soft, sure movement that made Liam inhale sharply. Hudson straddled him, knees on either side, the robe slipping open, skin meeting skin in warm contact.
Liam's hands rose, hesitant for only a fraction of a second, then slid inside the robe and found Hudson's back, palms broad and steady. He drew the fabric down, the top falling behind Hudson's shoulders, exposing him to the warm attention of Liam's gaze.
"You're not alone," Hudson said. "You have Bette. Marlon. Richard. Paul. Elizabeth. Humphrey. Katherine."
Liam's mouth curved, small, fond, and his hands tightened a little at Hudson's waist, pulling him closer, as if the names had warmed something inside him.
Hudson added, softer now, because the humor only went so far. "You have...all of them."
Liam looked at him like he understood what Hudson was really saying. Then Liam leaned in and kissed Hudson's chest, one slow kiss, then another, then another, each one gentle.
These kisses didn't ask to take.
They offered.
They soothed.
They lingered like Liam was trying to say something without words.
Hudson's fingers slid into Liam's hair, combing through it slowly, anchoring him there. He could feel Liam's breath against his skin, warm and steady, and the tenderness of it threatened to undo him more than the hunger ever had.
Hudson swallowed, voice unsteady despite his best efforts. "Hey…"
Liam paused, forehead hovering near Hudson's ribs, as if listening to Hudson's heartbeat.
Then, out of nowhere, soft, raw, almost accidental, Liam whispered, "I wish I could have you too…"
Hudson went perfectly still. His heart seemed to stop for a beat, as if stillness was the only thing his heart could do to understand what it had just heard. He gently lifted Liam's chin, guiding his face up until their eyes met.
Liam's eyes glistened.
Not tears falling, just that thin, dangerous brightness of a man who had never allowed himself to ask for anything that wasn't safe.
Hudson stared at him, throat tight, not knowing what to say that wouldn't sound too small.
So he didn't say anything.
He kissed him.
A kiss whose only purpose was to prevent Liam from taking those beautiful words back.
Liam responded instantly, hands gripping Hudson, mouth opening for the kiss with a hunger that stitched tenderness and despair together.
Hudson's robe slid farther down his back, forgotten.
Their bodies pressed together with a familiar heat, but the feeling underneath was different now, less about the thrill of wanting and more about the ache of being wanted back.
Hudson broke the kiss only long enough to breathe against Liam's mouth. "You already do," he whispered, voice shaking with a truth he didn't know how to disguise anymore.
Liam's eyes closed for a second. Then he kissed Hudson again, slower, deeper, pulling him closer, holding him like the house around him might finally mean something if Hudson was in it.
And for a while, there was only the chair, the hush, the warmth of skin, and the way two lonely people finally stopped pretending they didn't need each other.
The rest could wait.
(To be continued...)
Hudson and Liam’s story doesn’t end here. If you’re reading along, I’d love to hear from you.
Leave a comment with your thoughts, feedback, and your favorite moment. Your feedback is appreciated.
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