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It is an exhilarating night for both of the rising male-leads in Hollywood: Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie. As Connor’s body buzzes with adrenaline, his mind is ringing with nerves, which is proven by the two empty cigarette packets on his vanity table. His right leg is also jumping in a concerning magnitude as he takes a hit on the half-burnt cigarette in between his fingers.
A knock came through the door.
“Come in,” he says, turning on his chair to see who it is. A wide smile forms on his lips as Hudson steps in and closes the door. “Huddieee,” he softly says whilst opening his arms for Hudson to walk into.
Hudson wraps his arms round Connor while saying, “Connorrr,” and then planting a kiss on top of Connor’s curls that lightly smell like strawberry scented dry shampoo. He leans back, looks down, caresses Connor’s cheek with his thumb, and says, “My baby.”
Connor purrs at the touch and pet name. “Have a seat,” he pats the arm of the chair next to him.
“There? Not on your lap?” Both of them snicker as Hudson takes a seat on the chair.
Connor nods and replies,”If you want to sit on a jumpy leg and get dizzy, go ahead.”
Hudson’s wide grin turns into a small smile that Connor sees to be holding concern. Connor looks away and, by instinct, puts the cigarette back in his mouth, feeling the nicotine flow from his mouth to his lungs.
“I’m okay, it’s just the adrenaline wearing off,” he explains.
“I didn’t ask you yet.”
“You didn’t have to.” Connor looks at him again. “I can see the question from your eyes.”
Hudson sighs. “You were amazing out there,” he says, starting a new subject to take Connor’s mind away from whatever it is that is making him this fidgety. “Also, that stripper sketch, that looks like the one video of you back on your clown days.”
A small smile forms on Connor’s lips that are wrapped around the cigarette stick, and someone cannot help but have his mind wander on inappropriate thoughts.
Connor cocks both his eyebrows, and says, “Yeah, I pitched it,” while removing the cigarette from his lip, then tapping out the excess ashes on the ash tray. “I didn’t expect that director to accept it and have it included in the show.”
“Of course the director would, and I’m glad he did because the idea is campy, your co-stars are phenomenally funny, and you being a sexy plumber slash stripper is a delicious cherry on top.”
“Wow. Calm your writer-critic pants, Huddie. It's just an SNL sketch.”
Hudson shakes his head and lifts a finger in an ‘um, actually’ way. “Correction: it is your idea that you pitched for your SNL debut that the director accepted, and it’ll be the most viewed SNL sketch in history.”
Connor scoffs a laugh, feeling his cheeks get warm from the passionate support Hudson is giving him. The fact that Hudson flew from Canada to New York while filming a show, then spent three days with him, accompanying him on the whole production process of the SNL episode are all huge actions that he still cannot believe Hudson, unconditionally and easily, does for him. He recalls being overwhelmed with emotion after giving his ending monologue that he feels like he is about to burst like a dam in front of thousands of audience and dozens of cast members, but suddenly someone very warm and familiar wraps him in a comforting embrace, and all his emotions steadies.
“Thank you so much for being here, Hudson,” he says. “Not just on appearing on a sketch, or introducing Mumford & Sons with me. I don’t think I’ll be able to perform well if you weren’t with me through the three days of practicing the lines, stage rehearsals, photoshoots, and just the whole time tonight. I think I’ll be a huge mess of nerves and anxiousness." He offers his hand, which Hudson quickly holds and gives a comforting squeeze.
He rubs his thumb across the back of Connor’s hand, then says, “You’re welcome, Connor. Thank you too for inviting me to be a part of your SNL debut. I’m so proud of you, baby.”
Connor feels his heart literally beating heard onto his ribcage. He is not sure if it is solely from Hudson’s reassuring words, or the pet name, but he thinks that to think about the pet name is inappropriate. To brush the thought off, he puts the cigarette on his lips again. When he pulls off the cigarette, he is caught off-guard by Hudson leaning forward and inhaling the smoke he exhales.
“Yeah, this does ease the nerves a bit,” Hudson casually says while looking at Connor’s wide eyes, but not leaning back on his chair. The second he moved his eyes at Connor’s lips, he had to swallow hard the thoughts of pressing his lips on those.
“Hudson, what are you doing?” Connor asks, sounding breathless.
“Just inhaling the smoke.”
“You could just ask for a stick, I still have an unopened packet.”
“But I want the one that was just on your lips.” Those words came sounding like a whisper by how Hudson leans more, inhaling Connor’s cigarette breath. “Can I take a hit?”
Connor shakes himself in reality then nods and hands his cigarette to Hudson, but Hudson holds his wrist and Connor understands what Hudson is asking so he nods and parts his lips more as Huson dives in with his tongue. It starts as a slow, gentle kiss that escalates quickly to audible sounds of lips and tongue dancing sensually.
Hudson, while his eyes are closed and his mouth busy on Connor’s, takes the cigarette from Connor’s hand and blindly sets it down on the vanity table, having it leave a burn mark on the black surface. And then he cups Connor’s face with both his hands, feeling the ecstasy of holding the whole world. Connor, on the other hand, had one hand on Hudson’s face and the other on Hudson's neck.
“Fuck,” Connor says in between taking deep breaths when they pull apart. “What compelled you to?”
“I just want a taste of cigarette,” Hudson answers honestly.
Connor scoffs a laugh. “Are you sure it's the taste of cigarettes or the taste of me?”
Hudson bites his lower lip, then lets it go before giving his reply. “Both, but mostly of you.”
They can't hold back how cheesed they feel on that exchange.
Connor stands up, grabs his last cigarette packet and lighter from his black purse, and then sits on the vanity table. When he puts it on his mouth, lighter on the other end, Hudson stands up and takes the lighter from him. Wordlessly, Connor sets a space between his legs for Hudson to occupy, while Hudson lights the cigarette.
After Connor takes the first hit, he offers it to Hudson, to which Hudson accepts with his mouth while keeping eye contact. With the kind of mood they've set in this dressing room, neither of them can stop from exhaling smoke on each other's mouth until the space between disappears and they're back on slow, deep kisses that elicit occasional groans and soft moans.
Hudson passes the cigarette to Connor just so he can run both of his hands on Connor’s perfectly dark blonde curls. Connor, holding the cigarette between his fingers wraps an arm around Hudson’s shoulders, pulling him closer, which makes their chests flush.
“This is such a bad idea,” Connor says when he gets to pull his lips away from Hudson’s chasing ones. “You are a bad idea,” he adds as he pokes Hudson on the cheek, and then gives him a chaste kiss.
With a smirk, Hudson replies in his Russian accent, “What is?” His hands find their way on Connor's waist, running his hands up and down before pulling Connor’s waist at the same time he moves his forward, which elicits gasps from the two of them.
”We can’t, Hudson,” Connor says as Hudson begins to slowly roll his hips. “The door is not even locked.”
Hudson, with his face buried on the crock of Connor’s neck, whines in protest. Connor fondly smiles before softly gripping Hudson’s hair, gently prying him off of his neck. Now, they’re face to face, Connor is sure that he is just about to fold from being the subject of Hudson’s ‘bottom yearning eyes’. That kind of gaze really does have an electrifying effect.
”What, is someone not satiated from those three days in my hotel?” Connor teases, enjoying how the hold on his waist becomes tighter. To indulge the other, and himself, Connor slips his tongue in Hudson’s mouth, running it on the roof, which is something he has discovered to make Hudson shiver.
A knock from the door made them jump apart.
“Fix yourself,” he instructs Hudson in a low voice as he slides his ass off of the vanity table. He puts off the cigarette on the ash tray then turns around so that he can fix himself properly. The slight tent on the front of his pants makes him recite his lines on the Mr. Fronzi skit in his mind. He tries to focus on his reflection only and not Hudson on the mirror next to his. He is also certainly not taking a glimpse on the direction of Hudson’s pants.
Similarly, Hudson is reciting the lyrics of Take Me to Church in his mind to cool his whole body from the heat. He steps away from Connor, giving him space as he slides off the vanity table. For a hard second, when Connor’s ass slightly brushes on his front, it takes every ounce of self-control he can muster to go to the other vanity table, or else he might give SNL a run for a sketch idea about unethical RPF (Real People Fucking) in dressing rooms.
“I think that might be my stylist or my agent looking for me,” Hudson says after untucking his shirt then hanging his jacket on his arm, subtly using it to cover the front of his pants. “I’ll, uh, see you at the after party.”
”Yeah,” Connor replies briefly whilst unbotting his silk shirt. He keeps his eyes on his reflection, completely not noticing the burning gaze of the other person on the periphery of the mirror. Innocently, he turns to the reflection of Hudson's burning gaze on the reflection of his body. “Huddie, someone is looking for you at the door,” he recalls with a small teasing grin.
Hudson blinks a couple times to pull himself back on reality. He waves at Connor then walks towards the door, greeting his stylist, who playfully scolds him for disappearing for a long time.
Alone at the back of the car, Hudson scrolls on his phone while waiting for his team. He is very happy to see mostly positive comments on Connor’s SNL debut, and the surprised reactions of the fans on his cameo. There are a lot of posts that highlight the hug he gave Connor at the ending monologue. He feels a pang of emotions in his chest as he sees Connor’s teary eyes and how he holds himself from bursting into tears. Adding to that is the memory of their hug after they step behind the curtains because Connor has to take a pause from everything ending as quickly as it began. He stands behind Connor with his arms wrapped around him in a comforting tightness—making himself a wall between the world and Connor.
Everything really does feel so fast—one day, he is on a plane landing at JFK airport, then three days flew by in a hotel room, and tonight is about Connor and SNL, and later is his flight back to Canada. Then he realizes that after tonight, he and Connor will be back on occasional texts, calls, and facetimes until an event where they’re both a part of happens because filming of HR season 2 is months away.
From spending everyday with Connor, to once or twice a month is a drastic change, but he also understands to be necessary since they have just got their names highlighted in the acting and fashion industries. They also agreed that they don’t want to be branded as a pair, they want to be branded as themselves individually so long distance it is.
As he gets himself lost in his train of thoughts, he doesn't notice someone opening the door.
“Wow, you're somewhere deep back there.”
It took his brain a second to register the innuendo because he is too distracted with the black, leather thigh-high boots.
Connor leans an arm on the door frame, then says, “My eyes are up here, Huddie.”
“Ri–Right, yeah,” Hudson nervously says. “Sorry. I dozed off for a second there.”
Connor scoffs fondly at the poor excuse. He pushes a button that makes the seat fold, then gets in and closes the door. The windows are slightly open so they won’t suffocate—well, they might be suffocating from the tension in the air between.
Hudson’s eyes travel on Connor’s boots again, mesmerized on how those make Connor’s legs even longer. “Ah, nice boots you got there.”
”Thanks. It kind of feels intimidating to wear, honestly.”
”Why?”
”Well, they’re Yvest Saint Laurent, and we’re going to a party. I just get anxious at the thought that I might spill something on these.”
”You won’t be staying that long at the party. You’ll be fine. Just have your manager hold your drink and snack.”
”That sounds like a princess treatment.”
”Hm…you deserve to be treated like a princess, every now and then.”
Something in the air becomes thicker.
Connor tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowed. “You’re doing it again.”
As much as he tries to sound innocent, Hudson fails to not sound aroused. “Doing what? Being honest? Stating the facts?” He sees Connor shake his head at him. It is not exactly a ‘no’, so he decides to go on. “Come on, you like it when I do that to you.”
Connor swallows, then says, “Treat me like one, right now.”
Hudson’s eyes dilated. Every part of his being wants to obey but, the little minx that he is, wants to play coy for a brief moment because he knows that the end result is the most frustrated Connor that he likes.
”See,” he says with a teasing tone. “You do like it. You want it.”
Connor does not reply. He just stares at Hudson as he realizes what Hudson is playing at. Since two can play this game, but with the time they have, one of them has to speed things up. Without any warning, he lifts his left leg to place it on Hudson’s lap. Thankfully the car width is long enough for him to stretch his legs, vertically.
At first, Hudson does not understand, but when Connor deliberately uses the foot of his boot to nudge his crotch, that is when Hudson understands that Connor is reminding him when ‘Connor asks for something, Hudson gives, Hudson does’. This is how easily he folds for Connor and he will fold without a second thought.
To respond, he places a hand on where the ankle is, and then slowly runs that hand up towards Connor’s inner thigh, earning a heavy sigh from him. When Connor shifts to his position so that he can open his legs, Hudson gets an idea.
He gathers Connor's legs as he scoots in Connor’s space, then he places both legs on his lap. He allows his right hand to run, up and down, on Connor's clothed thigh. When Connor lightly squirms, Hudson moves his hand in Connor’s inner thing, to which Connor reacts with a sigh and opens his legs apart.
”I don’t think this is how a princess likes to be treated,” Hudson says, in his deep voice paired with his finder that traces the outline of Connor’s tent.
Connor lets out a shaky breath before putting a hand behind Hudson’s head to pull him, but Hudson puts his other hand in between their lips. A muffled whine comes out of Connor, which makes Hudson retract his hand and smash his lips onto Connor’s awaiting ones.
Folds easily. Both of them.
Moans and clothes shuffling against leather fills the car. Connor is completely on Hudson’s lap—sideways, he can’t bend his knees with those boots—and Hudson’s hand is completely preoccupied massaging Connor through his trousers.
“God, I hate you,” Connor says but continues to kiss and fights for the lower lip. “I hate how easy you make me.”
You also make me easy, Hudson says in his mind. He decides to never say it out loud, so he lets Connor take his lower lip and Connor does not waste a second to suck and pull it with his teeth before diving into Hudson’s mouth. There is nothing graceful like a princess with the way Connor is kissing Hudson, however, there is nothing gentlemanly like a prince with the way Hudson is groping Connor.
The door of the driver’s seat opened, startling the two of them.
Hudson groans in frustration, feeling angry that they’re interrupted again. He feels Connor chuckles at his neck, then whispers, “What are you laughing at?”
Connor lifts his face, showing a flustered and kiss-drunk expression that makes Hudson coo. “You’re upset,” Connor says whilst running his thumb on Hudson’s swollen lower lip.
With furrowed eyebrows, Hudson replies, “And you’re not?”
Connor bit his lip then replied, “Stay here. I can feel your cock about to burst through those leather pants of yours.”
“And yours is not?” he emphasizes by squeezing Connor, to which he earns a stern hold on the wrist from the other man. Normally, someone would feel scolded, but to Hudson, he feels his body become more heated.
”Behave,” Connor says with a level of sternness, and then he pats him on the cheek before pulling a cigarette and lighter from the inside pocket of his jacket. He lights it up and takes the first hit before passing it to Hudson. They share a couple more before he peels himself off of his lap and transfers onto the middle seat.
Timingly, Hudson’s agent opens the door. “Oh, hi, Connor,” she greets, then she notices the knee-high boots, and says, “I love those. Uh, have you seen Hudson?”
”He’s at the back, napping,” he casually answers whilst fixing his jacket. “Let’s not disturb him,” he quickly says as she gets in and is about to look at the back. “You can take a nap too. Both of you will be flying in a couple of hours.”
His kind offer makes her smile. She is also very kind not to point out the faint smudge of Hudson’s lip tint on Connor’s lip.
As she settles on the other seat, Connor glances at Hudson. “You want to smoke?” He asks as if they hadn’t just shared one a couple seconds ago.
Hudson hums and accepts only the stick, handing the lighter back to Connor. He tucks the cigarette stick behind his ear then closes his eyes while doing some breathing exercise.
If socializing is also considered as an act of proferrionalism, Hudson is nailing it because he is eager to get out and go back to the hotel. His body is tired and his eyes feel so dry. He just hopes that the make-up his stylist put on him will cover how tired he feels internally.
Adding to the tiredness, he still feels heated from the dressing room and at the back of the car. Yeah, he will admit that those three days are not enough to fill in a month of long distance and only contact through the phone. Right now, he would just love to spend an hour in bed with Connor, does not matter if they just lay down and cuddle, because he will not feel Connor’s body heat for some time again once he steps in the car that will take him and his agent to the airport.
His social battery is running dangerously low so he tells his agent if they can leave. Once he gets a thumbs up, he sends Connor a text.
Huddie: Going to the hotel now. I am more drained than my phone, and it’s still 45%
Connie butt: Okay. I’ll go too after I shake a couple more hands.
Hudson bites the corner of his lip as he reconsiders if he should text what is on his mind or not. Fuck it.
Huddie: Can you get out there faster? I really want to finish what we were doing awhile ago.
Three dots appear on his screen. He waits, then the dots disappear. He waits for a good five seconds, the dots did not reappear again.
On his ride back to the hotel, his phone buzzes. A text notification appears on his screen.
Connie butt: We’re just waiting for a car
A smirk forms on his lips, feeling victorious and excited.
Hudson did not let Connor get past the small hallway before he pounced on him. Connor reciprocates with the same hunger, grabbing Hudson by the waist to make their bodies flushed on each other as they blindly walk to the bed. For the three days they spent, they pretty much memorized the entire interior of the room (don’t ask how).
They stumble on the bed, pulling a piece of clothing off of each other’s body, only taking a long time on pulling Connor’s leather boots and Hudson’s leather pants. Both groan in frustration, then giggles victoriously afterwards.
Hudson takes his place on Connor’s lap, grinding his cock to his. “Fuck me,” he rasps, “please, I need to feel you one last time.”
Connor feels an ache deep down with that sentiment—it is a reminder that they only have an hour or two before Hudson has to fly back to Canada, and they won’t be seeing each other, physically, for a significant time. It is bittersweet, but it is expected for the different routes they’re taking on their individual careers.
“Okay,” he replies before grabbing Hudson by the waist and putting him on the bed. He looks down, meeting Hudson’s sparkly eyes that make his cock twitch. “Wait here,” he says as he reaches on the drawer for a condom and lube.
“Just get in,” Hudson says, breathing raggedly while his right hand is scratching Connor’s knee. “We don’t have time. I think I’m still pretty loose down there.” The slight smugness in his voice earns a shit-eating grin from Connor.
After putting the condom on and slicking himself and Hudson’s hole with lube, he lines his cock then slowly pushes in. Both of them gasp as Connor’s cock slides in easily, proving Hudson’s sentiment to be true.
Hudson hooks his legs on Connor’s side, wraps his arms around Connor’s shoulders, then he says, “Connor, fucking please.”
Connor, the man that easily folds on anything that Hudson asks him to do, hums and moves his hips, building a rhythm where he is thrusting hard but not rough, just enough that makes Hudson a moaning mess under him.
A lot of sounds and mindless words fill the room. Hudson has his nails marking red lines on Connor's back, while Connor has his mouth busy on Hudson’s chest. Their breathing becomes ragged as Connor sits up, grabs Hudson’s waist and thrusts. An idea pops in his head; he moves his left hand to press on Hudson’s lower stomach at the same time he thrusts again, and that sends Hudson on the edge of pleasure.
With a loud moan, Hudson’s cock spurts cum on his stomach whilst his whole body shakes wildly. The spasms and the way Hudson clenches, Connor chases his high then finishes with a loud groan.
They take a couple minutes to breathe before Connor helps Hudson clean up quickly because his agent just sent him a text that they have to leave in thirty minutes. They make haste by putting on clothes. Connor chuckles at Hudson shoving a sweat shirt, sweat pants, and boots on.
“Your airport photos will be so funny,” Connor says, sitting on the edge of the bed where he watches Hudson fix himself in the mirror.
Hudson glares at him. “And you? You’ll be walking in the airport with just a white t-shirt and boxers on? You’ll look more funny than me.” He walks to the small couch by the window and grabs his backpack and leather jacket.
“I guess we will see each other at the end of March?” He asks as he steps in front of Connor. “Everyone online is now saying that we only reunite at the end of each month.”
Connor gives him a small smile. “Maybe. Let’s just wait and see what’s on the horizon.”
Hudson smiles. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, baby.” As Hudson was about to lean down, Connor stood up and cups his face, giving him a feather kiss. “Take these with you,” he says, handing Hudson his packet of cigarettes.
A knock on the door breaks their moment.
Connor scoffs a laugh. “At least they didn’t knocked when we fucking.”
Hudson laughs as if that is the funniest thing he has ever heard. “Bye,” he says, then kisses Connor one more time.
“Bye.”
Connor chuckles at Hudson walking funny to the door. Hudson pauses then turns around and gives him the middle finger while smiling giddily.