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“Fuck, Con, you’re hogging. Is that the last hit?”
Hudson's hands are warm as they find Connor’s face and manually pull his head off its loll, cupping his cheeks and before Connor can even open his eyes, Hudson is slotting their mouths together.
Connor groans the smoke out, opening his mouth and focusing very gallantly on not coughing directly on to Hudson’s tongue.
Hudson breathes it all in deep, his broad chest expanding with the slow drawl in, and in the end they don’t even break apart to let the last of the smoke go, they just melt into slow, wet, repetitive kisses and the slide of their tongues together.
or: two broke artists in LA share a smoke, discuss fucking their coworkers, and screw around in the night air.
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Bookmark Notes:
“Jacob,” Hudson sighs, taking the smoke back when Connor offers it, “Looks at me like he wants to eat me.” Connor makes a skeptical face that Hudson either doesn’t see or completely ignores. “François looks at me like I personally voted against Québec sovereignty.”
HAHAHAHHHH
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Bookmark Notes:
When Hudson left the room, François turned on Connor, grabbed his arm and with his sallow, dead, pathetic flu eyes and a very sexy sore-throat voice he said, “Housebreak him, or I will.” So Connor had to wear his server pouch directly over his half-chub that night, which was just awesome.