9. Chapter Nine #2
Okay, so this is new—a bookstore fetish? Public discovery? I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s got me feeling pretty good. So I let my mind continue its new path—I imagine being pushed up against the shelves, books falling around me like Hudson’s spilled over onto the floor.
Hudson…
My mind latches onto him for some reason, and I tense, not wanting to lose my erection or my focus, but I can’t help it.
I remember those books falling to the floor, those amber eyes sparkling with excitement as I grabbed his books, our fingers brushing against one another, the damn twitch of my cock…
I remember the brief look of panic, but also something else I can’t quite place.
Remember being so close I could smell his damn cologne, feel the heat from his skin, take in the sharpness of his facial features.
I think about the way his eyes glazed over, how he looked up at me like I’d just granted his greatest wish, and…
My orgasm hits me out of nowhere, and my entire body seizes up. I barely have time to hold my hand over my cockhead, and instead, my eyes flash open as my dick erupts like a fucking volcano.
Ropes of white hot cum land on my chest as I groan. My dick throbs as I keep coming, and my eyelids feel heavy. I slowly stroke my dick, draining the remaining bits of cum.
“Fuck,” I mutter, the intensity giving way to a relief that feels so damn good, I can’t help but sigh in defeat. Maybe it’s because it’s been awhile, and I was just… pent up.
Maybe it’s because this weekend I’ve been carrying more stress than I realize, or maybe it’s something else…
My eyes fall shut, and I think I could fall asleep right here. Right now. Naked with my softening dick in this oversized bed. I let out a slow breath as the euphoria abates and in comes the remorse. The guilt.
Only it doesn’t come like it usually does. There is a moment of panic because my brain knows I just came, and the last thought before I did was about my former best friend.
But… that doesn’t mean what I think it means. It can’t. I was just too close, and my mind was distracted, that’s all. I need to be better about managing my needs.
My wires were crossed.
Nothing else. Right?
Of course not.
So, I push the thoughts aside and let slumber take me once more.
It doesn’t take me long to go through my morning routine.
I shower, do my skincare, style my hair, and get dressed, all in under an hour.
Being as I’d only packed for a few days, and I didn’t buy anything on this trip, it doesn’t take me long to pack my suitcase.
I glance at my watch, noting I’ve still got an hour or so until I’m supposed to meet Hudson in the lobby, and I debate what I should do to kill the time.
I could grab a coffee and a breakfast sandwich from the hotel cafe, maybe catch up on emails, but…
I look at my phone—or more accurately, at Hudson’s text from last night—the one I didn’t answer.
His text that felt more like a thinly veiled confession of some sort.
I think whatever it is that prompted him to do so, whatever is on his mind this weekend—today is the last chance I have to offer him support.
I mean, that’s what good friends do, right?
So I grab my suitcase and head for the lobby to grab us both coffee and something to snack on.
I settle on a pesto panini for myself and a chocolate croissant, remembering how much he raved about it after that wild ass night in Vegas.
I swear it brought him back from death’s door then, so it might help now.
It’s obvious he’s dealing with something.
Whether or not he wants to discuss it, is up to him, but I garner a little coffee and food is always a good pick-me-up no matter what.
When I reach his room, I feel a strange sense of déjà vu. I’m brought back to another place, another time. Another door.
Balancing the coffees in my arms since the barista didn’t have a carrier, and tucking the bag of food under my arm heats up my side, and I pray my clothes don’t smell like hotel fast food later.
My head is pounding, but I’ve had worse hangovers, for sure. But it’s not entirely the alcohol that has me feeling drained today.
It’s because I spent all night with Hudson in my bed.
Moaning and groaning in between bouts of sleep.
I think I dozed off a handful of times, but I didn’t sleep much.
I did my best to help comfort him, since he seemed out of it and upset.
He kept repeating how sorry he was, so much so, that I thought I heard it in my sleep.
When I woke up, he was finally asleep—and tangled up in the sheets. I knew when he woke up, he’d feel like shit, so I did the only thing I could think of. I went in search of something to make us both feel better.
Caffeine and food.
Though now I am contemplating my choices since I’d bought more than I could carry, and they were out of fucking cardboard carriers.
I do my best to knock on the door.
“Hey, Huds, you up, man?” I ask, wondering if I should have called him on the way.
When he doesn’t answer, I try again.
“It’s me… I’ve got grub,” I say, hoping the mention of food will rustle him out of my bed.
I notice the pile of comforters and sheets I’d left in the hall is gone now, which I’m more than thankful for.
When the door opens, Hudson looks at me with sad, bleary eyes.
“Hey…” I say, doing my best to appear chipper even though my head feels like I’ve put my brain through a meat grinder under these damn lights.
“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.” I adjust the cups and hand him one. He looks at it as if it’s a damn snake about to bite him.
“I got you a couple extra pumps of chocolate and extra whipped cream.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “And a chocolate croissant. I shake the bag. He looks from the bag to me, and slowly his frown reverts into something lighter.
“Extra whipped cream, huh?” he says, trying to hide his excitement as he opens the door and lets me in.
I knock on Hudson’s door, but there is no answer, so I try again.
“Hudson, it’s me… Trey. I know… I know I’m early but—”
I wait a second, thinking I hear footsteps, but the door doesn’t budge.
I check my watch, noting it’s nearing 11:15. We have to leave in ?half an hour…
I knock again, this time speaking louder.
“Huds, you up? Everything okay?”
There’s a loud thud, followed by a curse, and then the door flies open. Hudson stands there—with nothing but a damn towel wrapped around his waist, and I think my heart actually stops at the sight.
His dark eyes fill with panic, his hair wet and sticking out in tufts; water clinging to his jaw, his neck, his chest.
Hudson has always been a big guy, and he still is, but now he looks less like a young collegiate trying to fill out his uniform and more like the guys I sign for endorsement deals. If I’m being honest, he probably looks better than some of the guys I sign.
“Good morning,” I say, my throat going dry. My body is strangely warm.
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the lobby. Not here,” Hudson says, his voice sharp and full of edge.
He fists the side of his towel on his hip, and I realize how heavily he’s breathing.
“I got your text,” I say, my voice coming out softer than it should.
Hudson doesn’t move, and I’m acutely aware of how close we are to one another. I smell the shampoo and body wash radiating off of him, but there’s something else there, too. Something I can’t quite place, but whatever it is, I like it. It’s… oddly comforting.
“Thought maybe you could use a little pick-me-up.”
Hudson’s lips form a harsh line.
“You oversleep or something?” I ask as he looks at the cup in my hand.
For a moment, I think he’s not going to take my offering. That he’s going to tell me to fuck off, instead, or that he’s changed his mind, or maybe his flight changed, or…
“Or something,” he grumbles, and it’s only then he looks into the hall and grabs me by my shoulder, all but dragging me and my suitcase into his room.
“Get out of the damn hallway,” he snaps as the door slams shut.
I look into his room, and it’s… a bit of a mess.
Clothes strewn over the bed, the sheets upturned.
Did he…
Was someone… here? With him? Last night?
The thought makes a surge of heat strike through me.
“Looks like someone had fun last night,” I say as he snatches the coffee out of my hand.
“Hardly,” he says. “I slept through my alarm and—”
“Hey,” I set my coffee on the edge of the table with my bag of food. “It’s all good; we still have time. We’re not that far from the airport, and I promise you I’m a fast driver. Mario Andretti has nothing on me when I’m on my way to an important meeting,” I joke.
Hudson’s gaze softens as he stands there, hands wrapped around his coffee cup, his towel barely hanging on by a thread.
I look at him—really look at him—as the person he is now.
It’s clear something is still bothering him, and he looks on the verge of a breakdown or something. He stares at his coffee, his shoulders tense.
“Hey,” I say as I take a few steps toward him. “You need some help?” I ask, and I swear, when he looks at me, it’s the saddest look I’ve ever seen.
“I don’t know,” he says.
I look around the room and decide to start with the clothes on the bed.
I hold up a large black t-shirt.
“Dirty or clean?”
Hudson stares at me like I’m a ghost.
“Um… clean. Was going to wear that today.”
I toss it to him, and he catches it with one hand. I smirk.
“See you still got your reflexes, huh, Huds?”
I note the faint smirk forming on his face.
“Maybe.”
I toss a pair of dark grey sweatpants at him next.
“Get dressed. I’ll take care of this.” I nod at the disorganized pile of clothes and books on the bed, which is sprawling out of his open suitcase.
“Trey,” he protests, but I’m already folding and rolling his clothes to make them fit better. It’s a little insane how good I’ve gotten at this over the years. Too bad there isn’t a championship for how fast you can pack a suitcase.
I’m just finishing with the clothes when he comes back from the bathroom, fully dressed. I zip up his luggage as he takes a sip of his coffee, looking through the bag of treats I’ve brought with me.
“We still have five minutes,” I say as I make my way over to him.
“Huh?” He looks up from where he stands, his amber eyes meeting mine.
“See, we’re not late yet,” I say with a smirk.
Hudson’s eyes glisten as I push the bag of confectionary delights toward him.
“Besides, that’s why I got it to go,” I add, grabbing the handle of my own suitcase. I’m acutely aware, once again, how good he smells. Whatever cologne he’s using, I like it.
Might need to get myself a bottle in the future.
“Trey…” His voice is soft, almost shaky. I don’t miss the way my heart skips a beat, or the weird dryness returning to my throat.
Or the faint jump of my cock—which should not be happening since I took care of things last night…
I brush it off, shifting my stance as I move my suitcase in front of me like a shield. Heat threatens to spread through me and infiltrate my cheeks, so I turn around to avoid the weird feelings that are suddenly plaguing me.
I’m probably just tired from this long weekend.
“Come on,” I urge. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”