“True, but if not for you, I wouldn’t even need the tent.”
“Sounds like someone forgot where they want my tongue to fuck them.”
Hudson sprang to his feet and stomped over to me, flung his arms around my waist and kissed my neck. “Ah, Matt, I’m joking. You’re a genius. This whole tent is a freaking genius.”
I slipped my fingers into his hair and pulled his head back. A sharp breath whoozed out of him.
“You like it that much when I rim you?” I asked softly.
He nodded. “I’ve missed it so much.”
“What’s the difference between rimming you and fucking you?”
He bit his bottom lip but said nothing.
“Tell me.”
“It feels more intimate,” he whispered. “Makes me feel vulnerable but also…” He shifted, his cheeks going a little pink. “It’s hard to explain. Just that you’re so intense when you do it, so focused, the way you use your fingers and tongue… like nothing else exists but me. I feel so open and… cherished.”
His gaze darted away for a second, then came back. “And it’s more than just how it feels in the moment. I’ll be walking around days later, thinking about it, knowing I’m carrying something you want. Makes me feel”—his mouth curved shyly, like saying it out loud was too much—“valuable. Like I’ve got this thing you can’t get enough of.”
My throat went dry, and I had to swallow before I could speak. “Get undressed,” I said, my voice low and hoarse. “I’ll roll out the bedding and turn on the lantern.”
He blinked at me like he’d forgotten how to move, then started on his shirt, fingers fumbling. I crouched to unclip the sleeping bags and spread them across the tent floor, the nylon rustling in the stillness. I dragged the pillows he’d carried inside, yanked off the plastic that had kept them dry, and tossed one toward the head of each bag, then adjusted them so they were close together.
The lantern I’d carried cast a soft gold light over everything as Hudson ducked inside, his shoulders brushing the opening. He kneeled beside the bedding, watching me withthat quiet, unreadable look, then kicked off his shoes. The warm glow caught the blush high on his cheeks as he stripped down.
When he was bare, I jerked my chin toward the bedding. “On your front.”
Hudson stretched out, arms folded under his head, the muscles of his back shifting under the warm glow.
I stayed fully dressed, crawling up beside him. “I’m not stopping,” I murmured, leaning in close to his ear, “until I’ve made you come.”
The first kiss landed between his shoulder blades, soft and lingering. Another just below it. I traced my mouth down the line of his spine, slow enough to feel his breath catch and quicken. He shifted his hips, pressing into the bedding.
By the time I reached the small of his back, his moans had gone quieter but heavier, dragging out of him like he didn’t want to let them go. I opened my mouth over the dip of his lower back, tasting salt and heat, smoothing my hands over his sides to keep him still.
He had a generous ass. Thick and full, with fine hairs running in a thin, sleek line down his crack. My palms sank into that firm muscle, feeling the flex and give under my hands. He sucked in a sharp breath when I spread him open, baring his sweet, pink hole to my eyes.
I leaned in, let my breath ghost over it, and watched the muscles flutter, his glutes clenching in instinctive reaction.
“Tell me what you want,” I murmured, holding him open with my thumbs.
“I want you to…” His voice cracked as if the words were heavy. His fingers flexed in the pillow beneath him. “Matt, I want you to lick me open. Slow at first. Make me feel it everywhere. I want you to tongue-fuck my ass until I can’t think straight, until I’m begging you to let me come.”
“Your wish is my command.” I pressed an openmouthed kiss between his cheeks, slow, deliberate, and his answering sound was a shaky whimper that made my cock ache.
I alternated between teasing him with the tip of my tongue and pressing deeper, spreading him wider to get exactly where I wanted. The sounds coming out of him, soft, desperate, each one climbing higher, spurred me on.
“Matt…” His voice broke on my name when I slid two fingers in alongside my tongue, working him open with nothing but saliva in a rhythm that had him writhing.
I switched pace, long, languid licks one moment, fast and focused the next, until his breathing turned ragged, the moans tumbling out without restraint.
Every shift of my hand, every flick of my tongue was met with a twitch of his hips, his thighs trembling, his fingers curling into the bedding. Hudson pushed up, chest still down, but on his knees now, his ass high. He reached back, grabbed both cheeks, and spread himself wide like he was offering me the only thing in the world worth taking.
“Come on, Matt.” He looked over his shoulder. “Get your tongue in me. You know you can’t get enough.”
I gripped his hips and dragged him back to my mouth, sealing over him with a wet suck that made him moan loud enough to echo inside the tent. The sounds were obscene—slurps, smacks, the slick slide of my tongue pushing past that tight ring.
