The thought behind his make me, if there had been any conscious thought behind it at all, was to provoke Hudson again; perhaps to kindle some of that same flustered passion he'd displayed in the garden when he'd abruptly stopped their conversation and decided to relocate it. What he got was what he expected... and not, at the same time. Hudson moving up against him was exactly what he'd wanted, and while the hand that dug into the back of his waist was a bit jarring at first, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. The pressure itself might have bordered on uncomfortable, but what it meant — Hudson trying to pull him close enough that there was no air between their skin anymore — was not. So this part he liked well enough, but — but that warning. You need to understand what you're asking. Under other circumstances Don Juan would have brushed words like those off, or perhaps even found it insulting that someone had presumed him so innocent. There was something in Hudson's tone and in his eyes that gave him pause, though. Something that made him think there was at least a chance he really didn't know what he was asking.

The thought ought to have alarmed him, but Hudson was grinding against his hips and kissing his jaw. It was difficult to keep his thoughts on anything at the moment; it was impossible to be alarmed. Hudson could probably hurt him if he wanted to. He was strong, with those bulging muscles in his arms that Don Juan had noticed right away, and their typical bedroom activities had Don Juan in a number of vulnerable positions while Hudson towered over him. Hudson could have hurt him at any point along the way, but he never had. He'd made a point of saying multiple times tonight that he would stop if Don Juan asked him to. So did it matter that maybe Don Juan didn't know what he was hinting at when he said make me? What reason did he have not to trust Hudson?

He let go of his pants and slid his hands to rest on top of each of Hudson's, and couldn't help thrusting forward slowly into the hand Hudson still had at the front of his trousers. "Yes," he breathed, leaning as far into Hudson as he could manage. "Yes."

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