The excitement for the evening built as they approached the flat, but so did the nerves. This wasn't a done thing, two men together, or at least it wasn't openly discussed — that said, he'd grown up studying Byron and Shelley and Keats and Wordsworth and Coleridge and Blake, so of course it had always been part of his vocabulary. When he was younger he'd determined that he was the same way, but a part of him had suspected he was an imposter, wistfully longing to be more artistic than he was. Puberty had proved that wasn't the case. Still, his practical experience in this area was still limited enough to make him nervous approaching the first encounter with a new partner.

But watching Hudson ahead of him on the stairs made his mouth water, so he clearly wasn't planning on backing out.

"Please," he said, about the drink. That ought to help smooth things over. "Whatever you're having."

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The following 1 user Likes Don Juan Dempsey's post:1 user Likes Don Juan Dempsey's post
   Dean Hudson

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MJ made this <3

When given the option, it was always whiskey. Dean pulled out the decanter of one of his nicer ones and poured a healthy measure in two rocks glasses. Perfectly at ease in his own space, he motioned toward the settee on the wall opposite his bed and held out the glass for Dempsey.

Flopping heavily onto the comfortable sofa, Dean got cozy. He couldn't tell if Dempsey was nervous or uncomfortable, but he hoped to exude an aura of his flat being a space for things exactly like this. Because this wasn't unusual for Dean. He was far too secure in who he was to worry about much. Sometimes he balked a little, wondering if anything would get out, but generally, at least with other men, he was less of a concern. Being discreet was paramount and nobody specifically wanted to ruin their reputation. He took Dempsey's agreement to the invitation as confirmation enough that this would be fine.

After taking a sip of the whiskey, Dean sighed, enjoying the way it sat on his tongue. "Ah, that's good." He smirked, angling himself on the sofa toward Dempsey, one ankle crossed across the other, perfectly content.

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Don Juan took the seat indicated, but the space between the sofa he had and the settee Hudson longued in felt like an impossible expanse. He could feel every inch of it; he could not imagine breaching it. If they'd been on the same bench it might have happened gradually, angling towards each other and gesticulating in ways that subtly brought them closer until eventually a knee brushed against a thigh; a moment that could have been accidental except that they'd both been building to it for an hour; except that it was entirely inevitable. Hudson gesturing towards the other sofa almost made Don Juan wonder if he had misread the evening, and this was Hudson's way of injecting space between them... but no, surely not? Hudson had to know how he looked with his knee cocked up like that; the effect he would have on someone, lounging back that way with his arm thrown up on the sofa.

Hudson had angled towards him and Don Juan did the same, mirroring his body language subconsciously. "Mmm," he agreed, about the whiskey. He could talk intelligently about whiskey, about the flavor profile and the distilling process and the quality of the label, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to talk about whiskey when they could instead be talking about Hudson himself — or better still, not talking about anything.

"It's cozy, your place," he said approvingly. "Do you actually use the kitchen?" Most people Don Juan knew didn't cook... unless one included the servants who cooked professionally. The possibility of Hudson cooking didn't seem low-class, though; it seemed adventurous, like sleeping outdoors or braving the bad part of a foreign town.

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The following 1 user Likes Don Juan Dempsey's post:1 user Likes Don Juan Dempsey's post
   Dean Hudson

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MJ made this <3

The question about the kitchen had him chuckling lowly. "I can do enough to get by, easy things though, like eggs." Breakfast seemed to be the easiest thing to cook and the foods were cheap. It really wasn't that hard to fry up some eggs and sausages at any time of day really. "Usually I get fed wherever I land, though." Which was a nice perk of bed surfing from time to time. He supposed if he'd chosen to rent a room instead of an entire flat, the food would have been included, but Dean valued his privacy far too much for that. "Easy thing to pick up when traveling, different ethnicities and the different foods, people are always so keen to share that sort of thing." It was one of his favorite parts of traveling.

Sipping at his whiskey, he watched Dempsey over the edge of the glass. "It does the trick though, I don't need much space, just the bed really." He cast a glance over there before looking meaningfully back at his company.

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The following 1 user Likes Dean Hudson's post:1 user Likes Dean Hudson's post
   Don Juan Dempsey

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Don Juan was also in the get fed wherever I land category; he was a shameless beggar when it came to hospitality (as he was shameless in most other areas), but he also liked to think he was a good enough guest that no one usually minded. What he cost in food and laundry he more than made up for in wit and charm. Not that he had been feeling especially witty or charming tonight. He'd done a fair bit better earlier in the evening, he thought — before he'd decided he cared what Hudson thought of him. Now he was too self-conscious to be as glib as he usually was; too worried about losing out on the potential he could feel bristling through the air between them. But he hadn't managed to kill the evening yet, and — the remark about the bed was difficult to misinterpret, as was the look that followed. Impossible, really. There was something about a trailing look that felt qualitatively different than any other kind of glance. Hudson had been looking at him all night, but looking at him immediately after he'd glanced at his bed was a whole different matter. Don Juan felt his stomach swoop, not at all unpleasantly.

"It is certainly a spacious bed," Don Juan observed, as though he had only just now noticed. As though he had not let his eye catch on the bed when he'd first walked into the room, its immediate presence upon entering the flat both surprising and exhilarating. As though he had not already glanced at the bed in comparison to the end table and tried to gauge its height off the floor. He was feeling nearly giddy now, and wasn't sure whether or not that was coming across in his tone. Hudson mentioning the bed, looking at the bed, meant this was more or less a sealed deal now, nerves be damned. Don Juan moved without conscious thought to the edge of his seat, as though ready to jump off of it at a moment's notice.

"Will you be offended if I drink your whiskey too fast?" His tone was teasing. He took a small sip. Whiskey wasn't meant to be thrown back like a cheap beer or guzzled like a weak cocktail, but if the pretense of the drinks was the only thing keeping them from moving the night forward... well, Don Juan would be hard pressed to keep up the charade that he cared about the drink.

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MJ made this <3

The comment about the whiskey had him chuckling. "Not at all." Dean took a healthy sip of his own glass, though didn't down it completely. He still had a pleasant buzz from the party earlier; this had just been to keep it going after the walk. It was a good, strong whiskey, it wouldn't take long to settle into his bloodstream.

"Comfortable too, very sturdy." Dean assured Dempsey with another grin, circling back to the bed. It seemed as though Dempsey may have been a little flustered, which was precisely where Dean would like him. Aside from on the bed. Dean was used to having the upper hand in these sorts of situations, he liked to take the lead whenever possible, but that said, he was open to letting the pace ebb and flow according to his chosen partner of the evening. "Would you like to find out for yourself?" Dean added after finishing off his whiskey himself.

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Sturdy. Don Juan's mouth had gone dry. A perfect excuse to make more progress on his drink... but a poor choice in the end, it turned out, because he was mid-sip when Hudson asked his next question and the frankness of it nearly made Don Juan choke on the whiskey. He set the glass down in a hurry and rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth as his initial snort of surprise turned into a laugh — of delight at the situation, or maybe at himself. He felt entirely obvious, in a way that he was unused to. Hudson had set him off-kilter as soon as they'd started up the stairs to the flat, and he hadn't found a way to right himself yet.

Not that it mattered; if Hudson found his fumbling off-putting, he wasn't signaling it very well. He'd given him a clear invitation, and he wasn't going to have to repeat it. With the whiskey glass out of the way, Don Juan launched himself from his seat and moved to straddle Hudson's lap, then brought his mouth hungrily to the other man's.

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MJ made this <3

His not-so-subtle invitation had the desired impact and it was a good thing he'd finished his own whiskey, as he hardly had time to set the glass aside before his found his hands full of Dempsey instead. The last hour or so had been building to this, but Dean loved to be as aloof as possible, working his way up to it until he needn't make the first move. It was so satisfying. Hopefully the rest of the evening would prove equally, if not more so.

Dean met Don Juan's enthusiasm with equal fervor, hands moving to the buttons of the other man's waistcoat, seeing no point in wasting any time now. The loss of clothing was always tedious to Dean when he wasn't patient enough to deal with getting the layers out of the way. His hands itched to explore skin and the fabric was simply in the way. The shirt buttons followed and Dean had found his prize, palms sliding around Don Juan to pull the shirt free of his waistband. There was something so appealing to the harder planes of a man's body that Dean enjoyed and he let his fingers wander freely. He also felt like he didn't have to be quite as gentle, though he'd never been into anything too rough, he had to be in the right mood to take his time with the ladies.

Dragging his hands down to Don Juan's hips, he pulled the other man closer, breaking the kiss to graze his teeth along that delicious jaw and down his neck, a noise of approval humming against skin at the friction between them.

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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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MJ made this <3

The roll of hips against his had Dean stifling a groan against Dempsey's shoulder, hands tightening their hold as his fingers pressed into skin. With the shirt out of the way, Dean let his hands and lips roam on whatever he could reach. Impatient and heated, Dean wanted more and from the position on the sofa, he found himself at a disadvantage. Dempsey only had an inch or two on him at most, which was good, even playing field, no awkward angles.

Turning his attention to his own buttons while he simmered in the feeling of lips on skin, Dean managed to undo the unnecessary layers before deciding to move this party to that aforementioned bed. The sturdiness had been tested... multiple times and he thought it would earn its stripes tonight too. Thrusting his hips forward toward the edge of the cushion, he urged Dempsey back, standing as he pulled his own shirt off, only breaking contact briefly before moving forward once more, relishing at the feeling of the cool air in the room in contrast to a warm body against his.

He pushed Don Juan back toward the bed, unafraid to be a little bossy in situations like this. He sought the other man's lips again, parting his own in a searing kiss.

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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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MJ made this <3

There was a smugness in his smirk that couldn't be hidden and Dean rather thought the desperation was more arousing than it should be. Dean got off on getting other people off, the mutual satisfaction of it, the rush and the build up.

He chuckled, a low, throaty sort of sound laced with desire as Dempsey pressed against him. Dean trailed his fingers up and down Dempsey's back, enjoying the sensation. The adventure ended with his hands firmly on the other man's ass, one sliding down to the thigh of the leg that hitched up on his own. The closeness was a little maddening, the heat between them, the growing arousal apparent.

Dempsey's offer was dangerous, especially now that he had far fewer clothes on. Dean let his hands wander back to Dempsey's hips, pushing back toward the bed again only stopping once he'd backed the other man against the wood of the frame. He wasn't exactly sure just how experienced Dempsey was here, but Dean had enough to know the possibilities. There was an undeniable eagerness that Dean appreciated, but was loath to surrender the control. He found the willingness intoxicating, drunk on driving the situation exactly how he wanted it. "Just relax," was the breathy reply that followed as blue eyes met Dempsey's. Dean complied with the request, one hand at the back of the other man's neck, the kiss an intense tangled mess of whiskey on the tongue.

Too impatient not to make good use of the moment, Dean broke off, working a slow trail down Dempsey's neck, over his collar bone and chest, sinking lower until his knees hit the floor. His eyes flickered upward only briefly, hands possessive on hips, as he took Dempsey into his mouth.

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Might wanna slap that M tag on this ;)

  

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Well, he'd been willing to do anything, but the command Hudson gave him was impossible. Relax, here? Relax, while Hudson had his hands on Don Juan's body? No, there was no chance at all of that. So he couldn't take it as a directive, but he did accept it as a gentle reproof; Hudson acknowledging that Don Juan was too eager and that they both knew it. He rocked back on his heels, chagrinned, and that was all he had time to do before Hudson made it clear where things were going next.

Don Juan hadn't been expecting this; he'd thought at this point nothing was going to slow their progress towards the main event, as it were. Hudson going down to his knees made him nervous. He was going to come too soon and leave Hudson disappointed. He absolutely couldn't do that — he couldn't bear to be forgettable. But oh, as soon as Hudson had him in his mouth he felt ready to melt right there on the spot. He'd already been hard, obviously. Now every swish of Hudson's tongue felt like it pulled blood from elsewhere in his body. His cock was throbbing, over-ready; his extremities were tingling and he was starting to feel light headed. He wrapped his fingers in Hudson's hair, partially to keep his balance. The mental image of what was happening at the moment — a beautiful man kneeling in front of him, with Don Juan breathing heavy and holding his head — made him weak in the knees.

"Ah, fuck," he muttered. "Fuck, that's — fuck." Not particularly articulate, for the son of poets, but he'd managed not to come yet and he was calling that a win.

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MJ made this <3

Dean was... particularly skilled in this area. He used his tongue for a wide variety of things, languages, pleasure, both equally as satisfying, and he had no qualms about turning out all of the tricks. Dempsey seemed to be struggling to keep control, which was exactly what Dean wanted out of him. Once he saw his new bedfellow satisfied, he would get there himself by bending Dempsey over that very sturdy bed and testing its durability. All he wanted was for them both to have a good time. Dean had always been a rather generous fuck, as long as he got something in return and right about now, Dempsey was putty in his hands, so he doubted he would be left wanting.

His grip on the other man's hips was anything but light as he flattened out his tongue along the length of Dempsey, taking as much as he could into his mouth, sucking hard. Dempsey may be trying to hold out, but Dean was not about to let him. It was in fact, his goal at the very moment to get him to climax so they could move on to the main event. Every little noise spurred him on, hands wandering along the man's thighs, up to his chest, around to his back, pressing into skin, as he tugged Dempsey closer. He could feel every little twitch, the tremble in the other man's legs, every change in breathing just as much Dean could feel his own arousal straining against the pants he had yet to lose, just waiting for his own release.

It was almost too much and so he rocked back on his heels, craving that friction of a moment ago. Dean worked his way back up to Dempsey's neck, not done with his goal yet, but rather thought they needed to be horizonal for ease of progression afterward. He'd lost his suspenders with his shirt and so he grabbed Dempsey's hand, putting it at the button of his pants, as he turned his lips to leaving some sort of mark on the man's skin, hands still hot and wandering as he pressed his body closer to Dempsey's.

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Don Juan had been on the verge more than once in the past three minutes, and having to forcefully pull himself back. He didn't think he was going to make it, but at this point he wasn't sure what else he could do; he might just have to admit after the fact to being woefully inexperienced, if it wasn't already obvious. If he'd been doing this longer, he would have lasted longer... but then Hudson unexpectedly pulled back and started working his way back up. Don Juan felt giddy, flush with an unexpected accomplishment. He moved back on the bed without resistance — even if he'd wanted to push back, he hadn't gotten past the wobbly feeling in his arms yet. Hudson could have pushed him out the window at the moment without much fuss.

Hudson moved his hand to his trousers and Don Juan picked up the hint without hesitation. He rolled his head to one side to give Hudson better access to his neck while he slipped the button. Hudson was just as obliging with moving his hips to accommodate, and the pants were soon tossed to the floor, underthings still bunched inside. Then he had his hand wrapped around Hudson's cock. He groaned, obviously with pleasure but even more from anticipation — having the feel of Hudon's cock in his hand conjured quite a vivid picture of what it would feel like somewhere else.

I should suck him, Don Juan thought hazily — to reciprocate Hudson's hospitality, and to make it less likely tonight would get filed away in Hudson's head as just another forgettable hook- up... but Hudson had him pinned on the bed, and he was hardly in the right state of mind to put up a fight. When he had an opportunity, maybe he would — he didn't think he could do it as well as Hudson did, but it was good etiquette all the same. (He suspected, anyway; he hadn't been in enough of these situations to speak entirely confidently about the etiquette involved).

But when Hudson finally moved, giving Don Juan enough room to at least prop himself up on his elbows, it was only to go back to his previous ministrations. Don Juan whimpered helplessly. For a moment he'd been allowed to think he was capable of evening the playing field; now it seemed clear Hudson had been toying with him. Don Juan involuntarily pulled his legs up closer, and felt the stubble of Hudson's jaw graze his inner thigh. He put his hands in Hudson's hair again. He came within a minute. He was breathing heavily, body quivering. Limb by limb he uncoiled, letting each bit of him collapse towards the bedspread. He was left spread eagle; breathless; entirely at Hudson's mercy.

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MJ made this <3

Dean groaned in approval at the hand wrapped around him, had brief thoughts of letting Dempsey continue there, but he had a job to finish. Maybe later.

It didn't take long, which Dean had anticipated and he swallowed back, running his tongue along his bottom lip after, as if savoring the taste. Taking in the sight of Dempsey spent on his bed was just as thrilling, chest heaving, limbs loose, the flush on his skin. In giving Dempsey a moment to recover, Dean took in the sight of his body appreciatively, just as aroused by what he saw as by what he been feeling this evening. It left him with the throb in his own cock, aching with the anticipation of what came next.

Smirking to himself, Dean leaned down, hips pressed tight to Dempsey's thigh, to reach into the night stand for something that would make things go a little smoother. It left little to the imagination about what was to come next. Running his hands long Dempsey's thighs and up to his waist, Dean rolled him over and settled his knees between Dempsey's, pulling his hips back exactly where he wanted them. With a little careful priming, Dean slid forward, giving Dempsey time to adjust. His grip on the other man's hips was firm, holding him close as Dean began to thrust, unable to contain the moan at the sensation.

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