★ aliens band AU ★ lance bishop / william hudson || light my fire ✧˖°.
[✦ AO3 link] NSFW. 5.5k count. oneshot, trans characters, post-main au canon, explicit content, smoking, semi-public, etc. see more tags on ao3. art by me!
Bishop has always approached new experiences carefully. Observe, assess, proceed (or escape). Getting accidentally stoned in the back of the tour van doesn't change that. It does however estrange his usual nerves long enough to explore this feeling with Hudson, without hesitation.
June, 1984. The early hours of Monday morning after a weekend of show after show.
At 4 AM in Santa Monica, it was barely 64 °F, but playing a full overnight set could keep anybody running hot. They could do a thousand weekends like this now, if they really wanted to. The battle with the company was over. They'd finally found their new studio. Things were looking pretty damn topside. It finally felt like old times again (only better, now — Ripley was there, and Bishop was… well, more there).
The tour van rattled down the interstate, a beast of a machine that'd seen its better days come and go. A 1972 Dodge Sportsman (originally belonging to Hicks' mom), it bore dented sides from various loading dock mishaps, its seats were patched with duct tape, and a perpetual growl rose from its engine which was so loud it vibrated through the floor. They might've been successful commercially (hell, even a bit wealthy, all things considered) but there was no replacing this junk bucket.
The usual post-gig exhaustion had settled over everyone, but Hudson was wired as always. Adrenaline was still taking its time to hike back down his nervous system. Hicks was up front driving, Frost shotgun with his usual night-ride mixtape running shoegazey new wave through the fuzzy speaker system (Hudson hated the stuff, found it slow and boring, but it sure made sleeping on the road easy). The rest of the crew was scattered across the middle seats: Ripley with her head against the window catching a nap, Drake and Vasquez draped over each other across the whole triple seat bench in the middle, in and out of snoring sessions. In the back, it was just Hudson and Bishop, crammed amongst coiled cables, amp cases, and a makeshift curtain of leftover merch and tour gear hung on a hand-installed rod (totally stable, if you didn't look too close at Hicks' dad's soldering job).
Hudson had a sizeable joint pinched between his index and middle, the centerpiece of his usual post-show decompression ritual. He was laid back against one of the bean bags they'd managed to seat against the van wall. It matched the carpet, but only because the tufted fabric had darkened to a deep burgundy from years of tread.
Hudson's smoke curled up, filling the confined area with a familiar earthy haze. He hadn't meant to fill the space up so quickly, it was just something about the way this bud burned. Or maybe he was puffing faster than he thought, which was likely. The others up front were mostly spared the secondhand smoke due to the dense clothes rack and cracked windows, but the van's seals were still shockingly tight.
Bishop sat across from him on the other (smaller) bean bag, fiddling with the floppy disk intake on the band's new E-mu Emulator. He was wearing his glasses to help himself see in the low light and focus on the small screwdriver he was using to open the machine's panels. His gangly legs overlapped with Hudson's in the close quarters. Every now and then he would adjust, fabric brushing the skin of Hudson's shins where his shorts cut off.
At first, Bishop didn't notice the smoke, focused as ever. He hardly noticed at all, really, when Hudson or the others lit up. He didn't partake himself, only because he didn't usually find himself in a position to, since he was always busy or spending time alone in the soundbooth. It was a little different, now. He spent more time with the others and had more creative capacity now that he worked alongside them and the new label. And ever since his talk with Hudson that night before the battle, Bishop had definitely become more open to new experiences. Still, this was a threshold he had yet to cross. He stalled in his work, nose wrinkling slightly as he inhaled deeper than intended. Hudson caught it immediately. Bishop's eyes blinked a fraction slower, that diligent little knot between his brows softening.
"Shit, man." Hudson waved a hand to disperse the cloud between them, though it was half-hearted and languid, a combination of Hudson's own smoked-out state and a vague realization that it wouldn't do much good either way. "Didn't mean to smoke you out back here. You good?"
Bishop set the emulator aside carefully, his movements measured as usual but… looser. He exhaled slowly, considering, taking mental stock of himself. The high crept in subtly. His pupils dilated just a touch, made bigger behind his lenses, a faint flush spreading across his cheeks and the high bridge of his nose. Hudson couldn't help but find the visual pretty adorable. Bishop, the unflappable Moog wizard, looking a little lost in the fog. His usual adroit presentation rounded off into something dull and relaxed. Hudson shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the unexpected spark of heat low in his gut. The way Bishop's lips parted slightly as he processed the new sensations, the relaxed tilt of his head, the twitch of his fingers as he flexed and unflexed his hands... Damn, he looks cute like this. Hudson felt a slow grin tugging at his mouth that no doubt looked goofy as hell. All wide-eyed and mellow. Makes me wanna— yeah, no, chill out.
"I'm… functional." Bishop replied slowly, voice even but spoken with a faint delay, double-checking his own words in real time. He tilted his head to study Hudson with his typically intense gaze, hazed over but no less probing. "The compound is THC, yes? The psychoactive onset is faster than expected. I'm experiencing… mild euphoria, altered perception… hm. Intriguing."
Hudson chuckled fondly, but his pulse kicked up. He'd stopped pulling the moment he noticed it'd taken to his companion, but some smoke still lingered, visible in the dim glow from the passing streetlights that flashed through the windows. Bishop wasn't freaking out, at least. If anything, he was leaning into it, brain turning the high into an object of study. Hudson stubbed out the joint in an empty energy drink can at his side, watching Bishop's fingers drum lightly on his thigh. He looked restless, exploratory, testing his own sensory reactions. He's handling it like a puzzle. Hudson fixed his eyes on that movement, the thought turning him on more than it should. Not panicking, just… curious. Kinda hot.
Bishop shifted closer, legs pressing in, the van's sway pushing them together briefly. His hand landed on Hudson's knee. At first, Hudson took it as him bracing himself against the dodgy road, but when Bishop didn't withdraw once the road smoothed, he realized it wasn't accidental.
"Hudson…" Bishop began quietly, just between them in that low resonance he loved. "This state enhances sensory input. I wonder…" He trailed off, eyes falling lazily to Hudson's mouth, then back up. There was an orderly amount of curious interest in his own eyes, paired with something unfiltered. An atypical unmasking. Partly to ground himself, and partly because the high stripped away a layer of his caution, Bishop decided to experiment. Lean in, see what happens. "May I?"
Hudson's breath caught, but he nodded, trying to play it cool even as heat flooded him. "Yeah." He shook his head slightly, hearing the hoarsely obvious need in his throat. "I mean— yeah, shoot your shot."
Bishop's hand slid up Hudson's thigh, all method, fingers tracing the seam of his denim shorts. It looked much like it did when Hudson idly watched Bishop's hands work at untangling wires, setting them into tight order, competent and quick. Hudson's body reacted instantly. A twitch, an upward shift of his hips that he didn't bother hiding. The confined space made everything feel amplified. Bishop noticed, of course. His eyes widened fractionally. He leaned in further, emboldened, mouth brushing Hudson's. The kiss was tentative at first, experimenting in pressure and angle. He was measuring the response.
Hudson hummed into it, hands coming up to hook fingers into the belt loops at Bishop's hips to pull him closer. It was hard to remain super vigilant about it, but he tried his best not to be overwhelming. The van rumbled over a rough patch that vibrated through them, and Bishop tipped a bit closer. The smoke lingered enough that Hudson could taste it on Bishop's tongue. Filtered through him, it was sweet, herbal, mixed with the faint mint of whatever gum Bishop liked to keep his mouth busy with.
Bishop deepened the kiss, so far satisfied with the results. He experimentally nipped at Hudson's lower lip, tilting his head for better access. His free hand pressed flat against Hudson's chest to feel the racing heartbeat there under the younger man's cut-sleeved King Crimson tour shirt.
"Fascinating." Bishop whispered against his mouth, pulling back just enough to observe Hudson's rosy face, blown-up pupils mirroring his own. His shaggy grown-out hair poked over the sides of his cheeks, framing him in dark gold. "Your physiological response is accelerated. Due to the position? Or the substance?"
Hudson laughed breathlessly, one hand cupping Bishop's jaw, thumb brushing his cheek where the heat pooled and brightly colored his pale skin. He's so fucking cute. Hudson felt a flourish of affection mixing with a distinct reminder of his arousal. He became keenly aware of how Bishop's knee pressed in between his legs.
"Both, man. Mostly you." He waggled his eyebrows for effect. "I'm your willing subject."
Bishop considered the response, then nodded once, sweet smile returning. He shifted to straddle Hudson's lap carefully on the larger bean bag, mindful of the low ceiling, hands bracing on Hudson's shoulders. The van hit a bump, jostling them closer again, and Bishop ground down without meaning to. Well, he had, but he'd wanted it a bit more planned than that. The sensation was instant and altogether exquisite regardless.
Once settled, he tried again. The deliberate friction through their clothes was as Bishop predicted (utterly indescribable, and incredibly good). Hudson hissed, hips bucking up involuntarily. Bishop's expression was a mix of focus and wonder, hair slightly mussed at his temples, eyelids hooded, lips parted. "This… elicits a strong reaction." He made verbal notes to himself. His voice was a touch breathless, but he didn't stop.
He rolled his hips again, chasing points of pleasure, the high turning a potentially anxious episode into focused examination. They kept it contained as best they could under the veil of inebriety, but Hudson was lost in it. His hands roamed Bishop's back, offering praise the way he knew Bishop liked, though it came out as slurred whispers.
"You're killing me..." He stopped for a moment to make an addendum for clarity. "In the good way. The best way."
Bishop's studious composure, cracked by the occasional soft gasp, only amped his partner up more. He ground down again, mind ticking like a metronome, cataloging all physical feedback: the hitch in Hudson's breath, the subtle flex of his thighs beneath him, the way the friction built up heat between them. The van's rumble masked some of it, but Hudson was hyper-aware of the thin barrier between them and the front. Though the others were still fast asleep, Hicks' occasional laugh filtered back over the speakers, and Frost's voice chimed in about some dive bar story. Gotta keep it down. Hudson's hands tightened on Bishop's hips to guide the rhythm, tugging him closer but slower, with more control. He leaned in to capture Bishop's mouth again, muffling any potential sounds. The other responded in kind, his lips parting open to Hudson, soft and pliant. A moan escaped and passed between their mouths, more vibration than noise.
Hudson broke the kiss just enough to whisper against his ear, a low tone barely audible over the engine. "Shh, easy— keep it quiet, yeah? Don't wanna give the front row a free show."
Bishop nodded once, absorbing the information but not discouraged by it. His hand slid up Hudson's chest under his shirt, fingers tracing skin and chest hair with a feather-light touch that was teasing in its ministration. Pressure here. Drag there. Taking note of the goosebumps that rose in reply. The attention drew a stifled groan from Hudson which he bit back into Bishop's shoulder. He rocked up subtly to meet Bishop, hands roaming lower to cup his ass. His thumbs tucked into the back pockets for a firm hold, encouraging without rushing.
"Heh, you're cute like this…" Hudson drawled, so quiet it was almost just breath, his lips pressed against Bishop's nape. "Love seein' you loosen up for me."
Bishop's breath hitched on a gasp he narrowly swallowed down. Hudson leaned back just a little, only to see him averting his eyes to the side, clearly embarrassed at the recognition of his unusual boldness. Hudson somehow had the mind not to push too hard, at least not now. To bridge the gap between his want to consume Bishop in one bite and his want to treat him like a princess, he gently lifted a hand to take Bishop's chin and turn it towards him.
"Can I take these off?" He tapped a finger on the side of Bishop's glasses. The other processed for a moment, then nodded, letting Hudson slip them from his nose and set them on the flat top of an adjacent amp. He let Hudson take him in, as he wanted, despite the slightly encroaching nervousness such focused study provoked. It was only fair, he thought, reflecting on his own behavior. "You're so pretty, you know that?"
Bishop was caught off guard a little at the open admiration, but recovered quickly, stroking a hand through Hudson's soft shag (he'd actually showered post-show, thankfully). The drummer sighed into the touch, leaning against Bishop's gentle palm.
Bishop sighed. "Beautiful boy…"
He leaned in to take the outer edge of Hudson's earlobe lightly betwixt his teeth, pressing down, testing something he'd seen once but never had the chance to try. It earned him a barely stifled moan and an upturn of the other's jaw, exposing his reddened throat as he swallowed thickly down on a louder noise that would no doubt give them away. Bishop, his head buzzing with arousal and the effects of the smoke, felt himself pulse in response. Hudson noticed and chuckled deeply, giddily grinding up into the firmness between Bishop's thighs. He almost involuntarily rolled his hips back, chasing the electric shiver of contact and pressure.
Hudson got the picture and slipped a broad hand between them, palming Bishop through his pants in slow strokes, mirroring the grind, his thumb circling the bulge there with teasing pressure. Bishop's head dropped to Hudson's shoulder, disappearing a quiet gasp into his shirt, barely escaping as a deep buzz. He couldn't help it. He pushed into the feeling, grinding hard enough that Hudson could feel the stiff mouth-watering outline of him under the denim.
"Thaaat's it." Hudson praised in a hush, his own voice strained, heat coiled impossibly tight in his gut. "Nice and quiet… got ya right where I want you."
Bishop's breathing turned shallow, released in soft gasps he controlled with much effort. He hung onto his restraint by a wire. Hudson's free hand pushed up across his back, fingers splaying wide under Bishop's loose sweater. He took time to feel the warm sweat-damp skin there, the subtle tremor of muscles working in a collaborative rhythm. Shit, he really is killing me. Hudson felt his core throbbing insistently, likely slick as hell inside his shorts, but he was focused on Bishop now. Those soft gasps, bitten back to whispers, made his chest tighten in a war of desperate want and all-consuming affection. He wanted to unravel Bishop more, shudder by shudder in this liminal space between the road and home, where nothing could demand their time away from each other.
"Hey… can I touch you?" He turned his head just enough to purr against Bishop's ear, voice hidden well below the vibration of the van over interstate pavement. "Wanna feel you, make you feel good. If you want."
His hand slid down Bishop's side, hovering at the buckle of his belt, thumb brushing the shiny button below in a silent question. The front of the van laughed at something, Hicks' voice booming over the music. Hudson froze, but Bishop didn't pull away.
"Yes." He breathed out the word so soft and precious it was almost lost in the white noise. His hips stilled as he shifted to give Hudson access. The tips of his ears were tinted like a paint cup that'd been dipped with a reddened brush, spreading down to his neck. His breath quickened in anticipation. "Please."
Oh-hoh, boy did he like it when Bishop asked for what he wanted. If Hudson hadn't already sucked down a gram, he was sure he wouldn't be able to contain himself at the sight. But, being that he had, he proceeded very gentlemanly. He slid the buckle undone in two quick motions, then worked the zipper down carefully, trying not to seem too eager (and to remain mindful of the noise). The zipper's teeth parted with a controlled series of dull clicks. He eased his hand inside, wrapping around Bishop through his fitted boxers first. He allowed himself one fond laugh through his nose upon seeing they had a tasteful dark blue floral pattern.
Bishop was incredibly hot to the touch, already pulsing under his palm. His eyes fluttered, a stifled whimper escaping as he bit his lower lip to contain it. Hudson didn't make him wait any longer. He stroked him slow and firm, thumb circling the head through the fabric, feeling him twitch in response.
"Shh…" Hudson hushed, his free hand cupping Bishop's nape to pull him into another silencing kiss. "Let ol' Hudson take care of ya."
The high was peaking right about now, sharpening every sensation, emphasizing the slick slide as Hudson pushed the boxers aside, skin on skin now, stroking in earnest. Bishop's senses fragmented further under the onslaught. The firm grip, the twist at the end of each stroke, the way Hudson's thumb swiped over the tip, spreading the gathering wetness... it was dizzying. He rocked into the drummer's strong hand in slow, short thrusts, breaths turning into controlled pants against Hudson's mouth. His fingers dug into Hudson's shoulders, nails biting through his shirt. Hudson grinned lopsidedly and sped up in response.
"Doing so good… sooo fuckin' good." He whispered praises between kisses. "Don't worry your pretty head about a thing. I've got you."
"I… it's…" Bishop's hips stuttered. Hudson knew the feeling intimately, and braced himself against the other to keep him stable. He came with a shuddering exhale, hot pulses spilling over Hudson's fingers. He kept his face buried against Hudson's neck to stifle any uncontrollable sounds which the man below him absorbed proudly. Hudson stroked him through it, hand incredibly gentle so as not to overstimulate him. They could have fun with that kind of thing later, under more lucidly negotiated terms.
"There y'go… good job, babe." He kissed the side of his head. Bishop slumped against him further, breaths evening out. A small, hazy smile curved the side of his mouth as the high settled into a fuzzy glow. "So cute when you let go like that."
Hudson held him through the after-shudders, his hand slowing to a gentle caress before withdrawing, wiping the mess on the edge of a discarded tour jacket without much thought towards how someone might react to that later. Bishop's breaths came deep and even now, but there was a lingering flush on his cheeks, his eyes half-lidded and glassy. Hudson pressed another soft kiss to his temple reassuringly.
"That was intense, huh?" His hand rubbed slow circles on Bishop's back in an effort to ground him. "Just ride it out."
Bishop exhaled slowly, nodding against Hudson's chest, the high making his thoughts drift. He felt… good, profoundly so, the release having left him hazy and content. His body buzzed with a residual warmth that blurred the edges of everything. As he shifted slightly in Hudson's lap, adjusting to the van's sway, he became aware of it — the unmistakable heat radiating from between Hudson's legs. Bishop could feel the insistent warmth pressing up against him even through the denim. His hand brushed against it incidentally as he moved, and he paused, processing the heat. It wasn't demanding, and Hudson didn't rub against him. His touch on Bishop's back remained soft, moving in reassuring circles that reflected patience, no expectation hanging in the air.
He rolled his head to the side to look up at him. Hudson looked back down with hooded eyes, his gaze warm with affection in the dim light. There was only quiet appreciation there. Hudson was content to ride out the moment, let Bishop come down at his own pace. But he felt an urge towards him, spent as he was. The usual knots of anxiety that twisted in his chest were dissolved. He wanted to touch Hudson, feel him come apart under his hands in the way he'd so expertly done to Bishop not moments before. The opportunity to explore Hudson's reactions while his own mind floated free of overthinking muted every hesitation into ease.
"Hudson…" A small, loose smile curved his lips. The words flowed without his usual careful editing. "You're still… affected. I want to reciprocate, to experience this with you — while I'm… like this." His hand moved down from Hudson's chest, sliding between his thighs to press flat against the denim. He shivered, feeling the intense heat radiating from him and the way Hudson's hips gave a tiny involuntary twitch at the contact.
Hudson's sedated eyes widened just a fraction, a fresh spark of heat alighting in him. Still, he didn't jump at it. "Y'sure…?"
He searched Bishop's flushed face, trying to detect any sign of anxiety, but he just nodded affirmatively back up at him. His fingers insistently pressed the seam of Hudson's shorts, studying the way the fabric clung to his strong thighs. He wanted to feel the hot skin under there, the soft curly hairs, the way they got thicker the closer they grew to the center between Hudson's legs. His hands twitched.
"I want to touch you. Experience your reactions under my hand…" He inhaled and held it, not so high that he couldn't feel vulnerable for verbally desiring such a thing. "If you'll allow it."
Any potential nerves that made their way through Bishop's buzz were dashed as he watched Hudson beam giddily, turning his head to the side to hide it under the back of his hand.
"I mean… fuck yeah, if you want." Hudson tried to laugh but gave into a shaky swallow instead. "I'm all yours."
Bishop's next breath left as a smooth, calming exhale. He shifted carefully on the bean bag, moving to Hudson's side so they were pressed together from shoulder to hip. Hudson's arm stayed draped around him, fingers pressing in a calming infinity pattern across his back. Bishop's hand trembled only once before he slid it beneath the waistband of Hudson's shorts, then under the briefs, soft palm gliding over the dense thatch of curls that grew thicker the lower he went.
The fabric of Hudson's underwear clung to him. This kind of heat was unmistakable. Bishop's fingers slipped easily through the thick bush before finding the flushed length of Hudson's dick, swollen and sensitive under his touch. Bishop took careful mental note of it. He marveled at the way it twitched the second a fingertip brushed the underside, causing Hudson's hips to buck again just a little upwards, eagerly chasing the stimulus. He watched his own hand move beneath the fabric, savoring the patient drag of his fingers through the hot wet folds underneath the small cock just above. Hudson bit his lip hard, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to stay silent. His thighs tensed around Bishop's wrist. Every pass of Bishop's hand made a small wet sound, though it was quiet enough not to escape the space between them. Bishop noticed it caused his mouth to water. He licked his lips.
Hudson's bush was softer than one would expect from this type of hair. He loved the feeling of it against his knuckles as he pressed teasingly against the opening at Hudson's front. Thinking on it, Bishop mused that the man in general was softer than one might expect, especially in these moments. He likened it to petting a dog behind its ear, the way dogs tended to instantly melt and push against you until you stopped. He sighed into Hudson, nuzzling his chest. His body was so wonderfully honest about what it wanted. Every tiny shift of Bishop's deft hand drew out a flutter of inner muscles that Bishop could feel despite not having pushed in just yet.
An adoring sound rumbled from Bishop's chest into Hudson's side. He leaned up and in, pressing his face into the warm curve of Hudson's neck, breathing him in. He was endlessly thankful for having even the smallest amount of privacy to indulge in this, beyond all eyes and scrutiny. Moreover, he was thankful that his brain was too lax to surveil his own actions. He felt no shame in enjoying the faint salt of sweat at his lover's nape alongside the deeper, musky scent of his arousal. His lips brushed the sensitive skin there, then parted to press slow open-mouthed kisses along the tendon. Hudson's breath stuttered. His free hand tightened in the back of Bishop's shirt, and he turned his face into his hair, trying to muffle the shaky whines that kept escaping him. Every time Bishop's fingers stroked over his dick or dipped lower to circle his entrance, his hips rolled helplessly into the touch.
Bishop lifted his head just enough to catch Hudson's mouth with his own, opening him up with a polite lick into his lips so he could swallow the quiet moan he knew was about to rise from the younger man. He finally slid two fingers inside him, wet heat welcoming the intrusion immediately. Hudson clenched around his fingers, dripping around the length of them, and he did indeed keen into Bishop's waiting mouth. He hummed, pleased, positioning his thumb to press smooth, insistent circles atop Hudson's dick. Held closely in his arms, Hudson rocked against his palm with a muffled whimper, failing to contain sound after sound as his whole body shuddered. Bishop ate them greedily as he kissed him, keeping his fingers moving inside without rushing any feeling or reaction. Every breathless pant of his lover against his mouth provoked fierce satisfaction that grew pridefully in Bishop's chest. It was a sensation he'd scarcely experienced in his life, and he knew if he hadn't currently been far adrift from his higher senses, it would have overwhelmed him. He pressed his forehead to Hudson's and kept his voice low when he spoke against his lips.
"It's so… intense." He breathed deeply. "Every time you move, I want to press back into you."
Hudson's only answer was a desperate little moan that drowned inside another fervent kiss as Bishop's thumb pressed at a firmer angle, his middle and ring fingers thrusting deeper. Hudson's hips started moving in earnest against his hand. He let his head fall back against the bag, eyes half-lidded and glassy from the peak of his high and the building pleasure. His voice came out strained and breathy, completely undone.
"Fuck… Bishop, you— you're so good at this. Sooo fucking good. Shit, right there—" Before he could bite it back again, he whined into the empty space around them. Instantly sheepish, he pressed his face into Bishop's hair again, trying to muffle himself. "You just… know exactly how to move… you make me feel so good."
Bishop's breath caught as he processed the words. He shifted his head to watch Hudson's face with rapt attention. His cheeks were hot and red, lips parted around every affectionate word of praise he managed to get out. He kept trying (and failing) to stay quiet, but even the worry of that was far from Bishop at this moment. Something unfamiliar had bloomed in his chest. He'd always found Hudson handsome, even endearingly beautiful, but seeing him like this, completely wrecked by the mere ministrations of his hand… it did something unexpected to him. With no veil of pretense to cloud Bishop's mind, he was able to recognize a new type of confidence in himself. He liked it. More than liked it.
He hummed inquisitively before leaning in to capture Hudson's mouth again. He wasn't as patient or careful this time. He tried to ride the feeling in his chest; the sense that he could allow himself to want just as much from Hudson and have that want be reciprocated in full. It was entirely mutual, and it made Bishop feel supremely centered in a way he hadn't been able to achieve before. His tongue slid against Hudson's, giving into raw affection. He felt somewhat possessive of the sounds he elicited from the other, and so had the urge to catch each one as it left him. Shifting up the seat a little, he curled his free arm tightly behind Hudson's back, pulling him in close and pinning him against his side. The taller man was effectively trapped, unable to squirm away from the relentless rhythm of Bishop's hand.
His fingers started moving with more purpose. He thrust deeper, intent on that particularly sensitive spot inside of him while he increased the pace of his strokes over Hudson's throbbing dick. The wet sounds grew louder and more frequent, filling up the small amount of semi-private space they had behind the merch rack. Hudson's hips jerked desperately, but Bishop's arm kept him right where he wanted him, where he could watch and feel every reaction as it passed through his lover's nervous system. Hudson's praise dissolved into short broken sounds against Bishop's mouth.
"Bishop, fuck, you're— you're gonna make me come so hard— babe, I can't— please don't stop, please—"
Every time Hudson tried to squirm or twist, Bishop held him close, keeping his frame pressed tight against his own.
"I like seeing you like this. Trembling for me…" He pressed a kiss at the corner of Hudson's mouth, then another against his jaw, trailing towards his ear where he could press his nose into the thick hair framing Hudson's flushed face. When he spoke next, he pressed the words to the easily-affected skin near the back of his neck. "Let go, Hudson. I want to feel it."
Hudson gasped. His body hitched up sharply, thighs started to tremble as he lost control, and then he was coming. He squeezed involuntarily tight around Bishop's fingers in strong waves, flooding over the palm as his dick twitched compulsively under Bishop's thumb. It took everything left in him to find the sense to shove his face down into Bishop's shoulder before a reflexive exclamation of pleasured relief sang from his throat. It vibrated against Bishop's neck. He absorbed all of Hudson's shakes while he worked him down slowly through every aftershock. He drew out the last tremors until Hudson finally went limp against his side, dazily attempting to catch his breath. The hormonal chemicals coursing through his body found their collective way back to homeostasis. After a few moments, Bishop carefully eased his hand free, wiping it on the small cloth he kept in the pocket of his corduroys before wrapping both arms around Hudson properly. He pulled him in close, tucking his head under his chin and pressing a settling kiss to his golden hair.
"Christ, Bishop…" Hudson let out a tired, breathless laugh against his throat.
Bishop's hand slid up and down Hudson's back, aiming to anchor any lingering overwhelm. "You were a little loud there at the end." There was a vaguely teasing note under his otherwise soft tone.
"Yeah, well… you were kind of determined to make me loud." Hudson huffed, still catching his breath. He tilted his head up, eyes half-lidded, and pressed a sloppy kiss to Bishop's jaw. "That was… really fucking good. You got all intense on me. I liked it."
Bishop went quiet as he processed for a second, before nodding shyly and tucking his face against Hudson's hair. "I liked it too… seeing you like that… being able to hear you." His arms tightened around him. "I like knowing I can do that to you."
Hudson smiled against his neck, getting increasingly sleepy now that his high was tapering alongside the afterglow. He had enough energy left to lift a lazy finger gun up with a click of his tongue to punctuate his last sentence. "You can do that to me anytime you want, baby."
They stayed curled tightly together in a sated bundle while the van carried them forward towards home. Hudson's breathing gradually slowed and deepened, his body heavy against Bishop's side. He pressed one last kiss to the top of Hudson's head and closed his eyes, letting the rumble of the freeway beneath them and the warmth of the man in his arms ease him into one of the deepest sleeps he'd ever have.
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