Don Juan gasped as Hudson's teeth grazed his jaw, not from surprise but from pleasure. He felt like he'd been on edge before, but now that he was straddling the other man his skin was like lightning, each of his nerves prickling in turn when Hudson touched him. He leaned in to Hudson's hands on his body, rolling his hips forward slowly but firmly and savoring the friction. Hudson had already done most of the work of getting his shirt off and Don Juan took the break in their kiss to complete it, pulling the sleeves off impatiently and tossing it down to the floor. He turned his attention to his belt and managed to get it off and discarded as well, but then lost patience for doing anything else with his clothes. Hudson had nipped his neck and it had entirely diverted his attention; he fell on the other man again with a singular focus. He sucked Hudson's neck, caressed his face, squeezed his bicep. He ought to be doing more — Hudson had gotten his shirt off, and he ought to at least reciprocate — but his fingers felt too clumsy for buttons when he was so entirely focused on the taste of Hudson's skin in his mouth.

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