He wants me, Don Juan thought with a degree of decadence as Hudson pulled his head back. Of course he had gambled on that being the case from the very beginning of their conversation tonight, and there had been signs of it before now — but after not having even spoken to him in months it was electrifying to feel the desire so plainly, made manifest in the pressure of Hudson's mouth and fingers. Don Juan leaned in to every kiss, even when they hurt. He let his skin become putty in Hudson's hands, entirely malleable.

Then Hudson peeled back and Don Juan fell back onto his own feet, not entirely pleased to have lost the contact. But there were worse reasons for Hudson to have stepped back. He could have been launching into their argument again. The command to strip was far preferable to that.

Don Juan rolled his head back so that he could fix Hudson with another stare. His expression hadn't changed: intense, daring, defiant. As if the sex were just the next phase of the argument they were still having, and Don Juan was determined to win it. He slipped his coat off and let it crumple carelessly on the floor. He undid the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, then the buttons; he took the vest and shirt off in the same movement, deliberate and charged. He took a step towards Hudson as he started on the waist of his trousers, then another. Eventually he stopped, standing as close as he could to Hudson and his pants held up with nothing more than his hands. He glanced to Hudson's hands, then his mouth, then back to his eyes, expression still serious. Your move.

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The defiant glint in Dempsey's eye was the challenge Dean was looking for. He thought he could stubborn his way into getting what he wanted and that was not how this worked. Dean had mastered stubborn a long time ago, had learned the art of teasing it out of people just as well. Still, there was a little bit of compliance, the clothes came off in quick succession, Dean not phased as Dempsey approached.

Instead he stuffed his hands into his pockets, subtly adjusting his pants against the growing arousal. He quirked an eyebrow at Dempsey then, eye level and close again. It was hard to ignore the heat rolling off his body, or the hard planes that Dean was intimately familiar with, had dreamt about in exquisite detail over the months without. Casually he looked down to where Dempsey had chosen to skip a step, eyes taking in the other man's form with an appreciative once-over. Dean had no qualms about letting Dempsey know just how much he was looking forward to this, but not without some build up.

His intensity may have come across as angry, but it was far from that. Frustrated sure, in more ways than one, but he didn't think he was wrong for what he'd done. He was sorry for everything that had happened, and maybe he should have just explained himself in the moment, but Dempsey was not without his fault in this either.

Now wasn't the time though, right now the battle was too intense, too even and they needed to get this out of the way. He carefully removed one hand from his pockets, very careful, to slowly and deliberately brush it against the front of Dempsey's trousers. "Did I stutter?"

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Don Juan barely suppressed a shudder as Hudson's hand ran up against him. He didn't want to give too much away, though; didn't want to give in just yet. He wanted Hudson to fuck him, obviously; he'd come into the conversation with the express goal of getting into a position like this. He still wanted to end up in his bed, or up against the wall, or bent over a table, however it shook out... but Hudson had also said he wanted to continue the conversation they'd started in the garden, and Don Juan had an opportunity here he wasn't going to miss. He hadn't gotten over how little sense Hudson's chief complaint made; hadn't figured out how a qualm like this could possibly have lead to months of avoiding each other.

He arched his eyebrows. "Aren't you worried I'll change my mind?"

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Dean's reply was automatic, drilled into his brain of his own decision, when he'd decided on engaging in this kind of lifestyle. "If you do, then I stop." He said simply. This was a power exchange, but not one that surrendered completely. It had to be willing and the terms of agreement could change at any time. Something too uncomfortable or painful, something unexpected, one word and he would stop immediately. No questions, no annoyance, nothing.

"It's an easy concept on the surface." Dean breathed out, leaning in a little. "And something I'm not willing to fuck around with." He held Dempsey's gaze meaningfully, body stilled, his fingers light on the waistband of the other man's trousers, unmoving. "Do you want to stop?" This was lower still, a mumble, expression still holding an underlying intensity. He found himself collecting the control he usually maintained after nearly losing it earlier. He wasn't going to slip, wasn't going to bend on this, no matter what Dempsey thought of him for it.

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He didn't, but the even response from Hudson was maddening. Don Juan had been hoping to catch him out, to force him to admit that there was nuance to this. It almost seemed like Hudson knew that had been his intent, since he called it an easy concept in his response... as though Dempsey were the idiot for not already having grasped it.

"If you have to ask, you haven't been paying attention," he contended, pushing his chin out slightly to hold his head out higher. Hadn't been paying attention, or was willfully misunderstanding. At least in his present state of mind, Don Juan had no intention of ever telling Hudson to stop.

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"If you have to question me, you don't understand." Dean countered. He still hadn't moved, was centered in the moment now, more than he'd been before. He'd been thinking too emotionally earlier and that got them into trouble. It wasn't often that Dean let his emotions get the better of him, longer still since somebody had actually made him feel anything fervently enough to get that far in the first place.

Their history was colored with flirtatious, playful interactions, that mutual satisfaction that came with the comfort of being friends after a while. It had been easy and fun, but Dean wasn't always like that. Dempsey hadn't seen that side of him yet, the domineering, bruising version that had briefly surfaced a few minutes ago. There was a time and a place obviously, but Dempsey had also always willingly followed his lead without much fuss, unlike now where he was being purposefully willful and obstinate.

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Don Juan shrugged, recalcitrant. "Maybe I don't." He understood this moment well enough; crackling with tension, it was impossible to mistake. He still didn't understand what had started all of this, though. He didn't understand why Hudson had turned him away months ago. He'd said because Don Juan was high, but he still couldn't buy that it was really only that. As though Hudson had never slept with someone who was high before? As though he'd never slept with someone while he was high? Who didn't take the opportunity to get high when it arose, and who wouldn't have added sex into it if given the chance? So there had to be something else, he thought. He'd been fairly confident he'd figured it out, but then Hudson had gotten so agitated that now he wasn't sure. Whatever that was, lurking in their past — that he didn't understand.

But that wasn't going to get resolved now. Not with the heat between the pair of them.

"Make me," he said quietly.

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Dean sighed heavily. It was a heavy ask. He wasn't so sure what Dempsey knew what he was implying here. Maybe he ought to find out. There was an undeniable undercurrent here that would catch fire with just the slightest spark. Maybe it was time Dempsey got a little burned so he learned not to play with fire.

He leaned in, body pressed against Dempsey's again, the hand not on his waistband, slipping around behind him, running along his hip and lower, beneath the fabric, his fingers pressing into skin and not gently. "I can," he mumbled, lips just a breadth away from Dempsey's. "But you need to understand what you're asking and that you can say stop at any time." His eyes said he was dead serious, even if his skin was electric with the want of it. "I need you to say yes and I need you to listen." He dipped his head to brush his lips along Dempsey's jaw lightly at the same time he tugged forward on the waistband, his own hips pressing forward to add to the mounting friction.

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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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Dempsey's eagerness to please had always been one of Dean's favorite things about him, especially in the bedroom. It was perhaps the fact that he was not shy about taking the control, but Dean had never heard any complaints before, either. He'd gotten his yes and until that changed, the consent was there, and that was all he needed.

Dean rewarded Dempsey's compliance with a gentler kiss, slow, sensual, much more like they're usual. His hands gathered Dempsey's behind his back, Dean holding them there with one of his own. Dempsey's pants hung low on his hips, but Dean still had a hold of the waistband with his free hand, teasingly sliding a little lower until he was running his fingers down the length of of Dempsey's cock. Adding that pressure the the friction of before.

Breaking the kiss, Dean worked his way down, nipping with his teeth, follow up by brushing his tongue over the spot until he reached Dempsey's shoulder. He kept his hands busy, a slow sort of build up from the intensity of before. Once he had Dempsey good and warmed up again, Dean let go of his hands, grabbed the front of his pants and spun him around, giving him a little shove toward the door. The stairs were visible at the end of the hallway. "Upstairs, to the left, lose the clothes before I get there." Dean gave him a swat on the ass for good measure.

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Don Juan had been hungry for this. Now that it was finally happening it practically hurt to realize how much. He hadn't been abstinent in the months since he and Hudson had fought, but he hadn't had this either. Women, lured carefully out of their cages of propriety through days or weeks of careful flirting, didn't touch him like this. Women didn't kiss him like this. In his experience women still needed to be seduced, right up through the climax — here he could do nothing at all except surrender himself, and Hudson would devour him.

He'd closed his eyes while Hudson kissed him, losing himself in the feelings it brought up, and as a result he was disoriented when Hudson shoved him away. Don Juan stumbled, blinked, then refocused on the stairs. He'd lost hold of any hesitations he'd had before. He headed that direction, casting a sultry look over his shoulder as he went. He waited until he'd reached the top of the stairs to continue undressing — out of sight of Hudson, because he still hadn't figured out a suitably sexy way to take off shoes.

He found the right room and shut the door behind him, then hovered just to the side of the frame ready to ambush Hudson with a kiss.

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   Dean Hudson

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Dean smirked at the look tossed over Dempsey's shoulder and let him go for a moment. The wait would be agonizing and he knew it. That was the point. He took off his own shoes, ditched his shirt, vest and suspenders on the couch, but picked up the discarded tie from before. He had every intention of showing Dempsey just why he wouldn't do this with someone under the influence, but he still didn't know if Dempsey could handle it. Only one way to find out. He ascended the stairs a few moments later in nothing but his pants, tie dangling loosely from his fingertips. Dean was working through just how he wanted this to go, trying to figure out just how far to push Dempsey.

He stood outside the door for another moment, taking his time deciding and then turned the handle to enter. Well at least he'd fully followed directions this time Dean noted as he closed the door behind him. Dean hadn't quite anticipated any rush from Dempsey but was quick enough on his feet. He stepped aside easily, using the forward momentum to push Dempsey roughly up against the door. Not so tightly that anything was overly uncomfortable, but it was a show of who was in charge. "Ah, ah." He chided gently, shaking his head as he pressed against Dempsey from behind. "You don't get to decide. You listen, can you do that?" He breathed it into Dempsey's ear, close enough to whisper. Dean's hands were on Dempsey's hips, holding him there, kneading into skin as he held him still.

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Don Juan had expected to be wrapped around Hudson in a tangled fluster as they stumbled towards the bed. Instead his cheek was pressed up against the door, and Hudson had him tight from behind. Were they fucking or fighting? Hudson had just been kissing him downstairs. There was no reason for anything to have changed.

Then Hudson explained. Oh. There was an odd feeling starting in the pit of Don Juan's stomach. Hudson had him at every advantage. Hudson was stronger anyway, and the angle between them gave Don Juan no leverage. Since he'd left his pants in the hallway he didn't have his wand. Wholly at Hudson's mercy — and that seemed to mean something different now than it had a few minutes ago.

After a beat, he nodded.

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This was exactly why Dean needed a partner with a clear head. There were directions to follow, lines to cross, pleasure to be given, or taken. He wondered if Dempsey was starting to understand that. The goal was for his partner not to have to think, just to follow the commands, to give over any need to make decisions and it would be a memorable experience.

The nod wasn't good enough. Dean needed to hear the required agreement. Still, he loosened his grip a little, easing back enough to turn Dempsey around to face him. He raised his eyebrows as he leaned in again, hands starting to wander. His touch varied from light caresses to more demanding grabs, along Dempsey's sides, over his chest, down his thighs.

He followed his hands downward, into a very familiar position on the floor, kneeling, looking up. "When I ask you a question, you need to answer me aloud." It wasn't a request, there was no wiggle room here.

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Don Juan still had the feeling in the pit of his stomach as Hudson turned him around, but it was hard to hang on to when the other man turned to touching him. By the time Hudson sank to the floor Don Juan was weak in the knees and his mouth had gone dry. The directive was a nonsensical one, but Don Juan was starting to realize that was half the point. He wasn't meant to be considering the requests and deciding whether they were reasonable to follow or not; the only thing that was meant to matter was that Hudson had demanded it, and Hudson was the one calling the shots.

"Alright," he agreed — he would have agreed to anything, he thought, with Hudson on his knees looking at him like that. "I will." He had an impulse to tousle Hudson's hair, something that he'd done dozens of times before, but stopped himself, cautious of ending up pressed up against the door again.

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"Good." Dean would keep checking in until Dempsey either told him to stop, or he realized that was the whole point. "You're learning." Perhaps not in the way he expected, but Dean was rarely short on praise, even in a simple form, when the tone had been set like this. The better part of the reward for answering was what came next, Dean expected.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to the other man's thigh, one hand pressing a thumb into the joint along that delicious line between leg and torso, just below the hip bone. His other hand ran along Dempsey's length in a firm grasp that left little to the imagination. Dean wanted Dempsey to melt under his touch, to feel the want and the need brimming until it was nearly impossible to take. Only then would Dean give them what they both wanted.

This was familiar territory and it was a good place to start. Dean knew exactly what Dempsey liked in this regard... which meant he could take it away if needed. Dean suspected Dempsey was starting to get the idea though, as he hadn't moved without permission again. Licking his lips, Dean worked his way back to the intended prize, taking Dempsey into his mouth and running his tongue against all the right spots.

He took the pace almost lazily, agonizingly slow, working up to when he could feel the tension building. This was an easy read for him, as he was intimately familiar with Dempsey's reactions, no matter how much he may or may not try to let on, there was always some sort of tell. Dean let the sensations with their way up until he had Dempsey right on the edge; which was exactly where he planned to keep him.

He eased back, working his way back up to a searing kiss, hissing in Dempsey's ear to head toward the bed, Dean already pulling him along toward the side of the bed. Stepping away just briefly to pull a silk scarf from his nightstand, he added "Turn around." and slipped the silk over Dempsey's eyes. "Alright?" The tie hanging from his pocket served another purpose, but only if Dempsey stopped following directions.

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