Chapter 9 #3
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Shaw’s thumb brushed over the head of his dick and Hudson nearly lost it right there.
His hands scrabbled for purchase, finding Shaw’s shoulders, gripping tight enough to hurt.
He was harder than he’d ever been in his life, terrified of what that meant and also completely unable to care because Shaw’s eyes had gone even hungrier.
“I want—” Hudson started, then stopped because he didn’t know how to finish that sentence.
“What do you want, Hale?”
“I don’t know.” His voice came out strangled. “I’ve never—I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I do.” Shaw’s free hand came up to grip Hudson’s jaw possessively. “So shut up and let me.”
His breath caught on the way Shaw said it—commanding and rough and Jesus, Hudson shouldn’t find that so hot.
Shaw shifted down and Hudson realized what was happening half a second before Shaw’s mouth closed around his dick.
“Holy shit—” Hudson was torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer because this was too much, way too much, and somehow not enough. “Shaw—fuck—”
Shaw pulled off long enough to look up at him. “Seriously, man… shut up.”
Then he went back to it and Hudson’s entire world narrowed down to sensation: heat, pressure, the wet slide of Shaw's tongue, the way his hands gripped Hudson’s thighs.
It should feel weird, but it didn’t. It felt fucking incredible. His mind tried to catch up but his body was impatient, arching into the touch, chasing more.
“Shaw—” Hudson’s voice broke. “I can’t—I’m gonna—”
Shaw moaned around him and that was it.
He came harder than he ever had in his life, hot and overwhelming, and for a few seconds his brain went completely blank.
Shaw sat back, wiping his mouth, watching Hudson with an expression that was smug and hungry and entirely too pleased with himself.
"Wow," Hudson said, still trying to catch his breath. "You—that was—"
"Yes. It was."
"Cocky bastard," he breathed.
"I’m starting to think you like it."
Shaw cupped himself trying to rearrange the undeniable bulge in his pants, and Hudson saw the tension in his neck.
He wanted to touch him. Bad. Wanted to know what Shaw felt like. Most of all, he wanted to make him lose that iron control.
"My turn," he heard himself say.
Shaw's eyes widened a fraction. "You don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to." He reached for Shaw's belt, determined.
This was insane. He had zero idea what he was doing, but Shaw had just made him come so hard his brain had gone completely offline for a solid ten seconds and Hudson wasn't letting him have all the control. "But I'm not letting you win this one."
"This isn't a competition, Hale."
"Everything's a competition." He got the belt open, movements clumsy and uncertain, but fuck it, he was committed now.
Shaw watched Hudson as he wrapped his hand around his dick for the first time. Shaw's breath hissed out, and a hot and ferocious feeling surged through Hudson.
"Like this?" He tried to sound more confident than he felt.
"Yeah." Shaw's voice was strained. "Like that."
Hudson kept going, watching Shaw's face for reactions. His eyes fluttered. His hands flexed. Hudson had never known power like this, never realized touch alone could undo someone so completely.
After a minute, Hudson hesitated, then leaned down.
Shaw's hand caught his shoulder. "Hale, you don't—"
"Stop being bossy." Hudson looked up at him. "I want to. Just—tell me if I'm doing it wrong."
He'd never considered this. But right now, with Shaw looking at him like that, Hudson wanted it more than he wanted his next breath.
He swirled his tongue experimentally around the tip. Shaw was so hard, but the skin velvety soft. The reality of it knocked the air out of him.
Shaw's entire body went rigid. "Mon Dieu—"
Hudson pulled back. "Bad?"
"No." Shaw's voice came out rough. "Definitely not bad."
Hudson tried again, more confident this time. He had no technique, no idea what he was doing, but he paid attention to the way Shaw's breathing changed, the sounds slipping out, the way his hand tightened in Hudson's hair.
It should probably have made him panic. Okay, part of him did panic. But mostly? Mostly it felt good. Hot as fuck even. And the sounds coming from Shaw? Yeah. Hudson could get used to those.
“Shit, Hale—you need to get off. I’m going to—”
Hudson had no intention of stopping, so instead he took him deeper.
When Shaw came, his control shattered completely. His head was thrown back, hand tight in Hudson's hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Hudson pulled back and stared.
He seemed wrecked. Undone. Nothing like the controlled, careful person Hudson had been watching for weeks.
"You've never—" Shaw started.
"Nope." He sat back, trying to sound casual and failing. "First time."
"Jesus." Shaw ran a hand through his hair. "That shouldn't have been that good."
"Yeah, well. Guess I'm a natural."
Shaw snorted. Actually snorted. Who was this guy?
The shelter closed in around them. There was no space to process what had just happened. He'd had sex with Shaw—not just sex, but good sex—and panic crept up his spine.
"This doesn't mean anything," Hudson blurted out. "Right? We're—I don't know. Blowing off steam."
Shaw's face went blank. "Right. Blowing off steam."
"I'm not—" He stopped, unsure how to finish. This felt important to say but he didn’t know why. “I'm not gay.”
"I didn't say you were," Shaw said, already straightening his clothes. He didn’t look at him.
Hudson wanted to say something else. To explain that he wasn't trying to be an asshole, he needed Shaw to understand that this was a one-time thing, that it didn't change anything.
But the words stuck in his throat. Shaw gave nothing back; only that careful blank expression that meant Hudson had fucked up somehow.
Great. Perfect. Just what they needed.
Neither of them said anything. They settled down to sleep, curled together in the tiny shelter because there was no other option.
He closed his eyes, his heart still racing.
Shaw's steady breathing beside him revealed he was awake too, both of them lying there pretending to sleep, the silence between them a completely different kind than it had been this morning.
They should talk about this. But Hudson kept his mouth shut, which was probably a first.
"Hale," Shaw said into the darkness.
Hudson’s eyes snapped open. "What?"
A long pause. “Nothing. Go to sleep."
"Yeah. Okay. See you in the morning."
Hudson stared at the ceiling of the shelter. What a huge fucking mess.
Shaw had looked at him before the kiss like Hudson was something he wanted. And dammit, Hudson had wanted it too. That was the problem.
Tomorrow they'd get extracted and go back to base and pretend this never happened. That was the plan. That was what made sense.
So why did the thought make him feel hollow?
When he finally drifted off, it was with Shaw's warmth pressed against his side and the taste of him lingering on his tongue.