Don Juan was admittedly getting a little bit lost in the moment; he'd been internally obsessing over the taste of Hudson's tongue and hardly realized how many more clothes had come off in the meantime. His body was acting on instinct — it didn't need his brain involved to get through this. A touch from Hudson was all it took. The slightest tug and his hips ground forward, a gentle push and his back arched. By the time he was on his feet he'd realized if he wasn't careful he was going to end up physically on the other side of this encounter and mentally still caught in the swell of that first kiss, when the tension that had been building between them all night finally overflowed the dam. Be present, pay attention, he admonished himself. He ought to have done more of the work of getting himself undressed, and undone Hudson's shirt buttons as well. He was being a negligent bedfellow.

No sooner had he thought this than Hudson stripped his shirt off, and Don Juan's resolution to be more attentive went completely out the window. It was hard to think about being conscientious when faced with a chest like that. Utterly distracting. Hudson looked strong. Don Juan had maybe been vaguely aware of this, from noticing the way Hudson carried himself or from squeezing his bicep a moment ago when they'd been kissing, but... there was generally in shape; won't need to stop for breath on a tall staircase (Don Juan) and then there was strong enough to look strong, which was something entirely different. Hudson had made a note of how sturdy the bed was, and at the time it had seemed like provocative banter — now it seemed like quite a relevant question. Don Juan made an involuntary noise as he stepped backwards towards the bed; a giddy burst of laughter. He was going to be sore tomorrow, no doubt.

Hudson kissed him again and Don Juan took the opportunity to press himself up against the other man in every inch he could manage. He wound one arm over Hudson's shoulders and let his over hand moved down his back until he reached his waist and started easing his trousers down. He let one of his legs creep up Hudson's thigh like some sort of scandalous dancer. Every article of clothing still separating them was infuriating. Don Juan continued the kissing and touching as long as he could until he simply could no longer abide the fact of their pants, at which point he pulled back and hastily kicked off his own.

"Tell me what you want." His words may have stopped there, but his eyes said more: open wide and alight with lust, the message was clear. I'll do anything. "Tell me, then kiss me again."

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