Hudson hadn't relaxed even slightly, and Don Juan thought he had been particularly charming. This tactic clearly wasn't going to work; he could tell before Hudson even spoke. For all his bluster about being touched, Don Juan really didn't like to see Hudson in this state. He liked even less that it was entirely his fault.

The remark about taking advantage didn't land as hard as it should have — it had never happened before, so in the eyes of youthful folly it could not possibly happen. The next sentence, though: too much, Hudson said, and he sounded so desperate about it. He had a sudden frantic thought, which he pushed down before he could even properly finish it: he could leave me.

That wasn't going to happen. This was fine. He was fine. He could get this back under control.

"Okay," he said, tone and posture shifting. "Let's make it not too much." He still had one hand on Dean's arm and moved the other to his cheek, caressing softly. "What do you need?"

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