heated | hudson williams x fem!reader x connor storrie
⋆｡°✩ ── ✩°｡⋆
pairings ; hudson williams x fem!reader x connor storrie
wc ; ~750ish words. not proofread
summary ; you’re watching heated rivalry while hudson’s out, telling yourself it’s just hockey. except seeing hudson and connor go at each other (on the ice of course!!) is doing something to you. when they get home and catch you mid spiral, the tension doesn’t stay on the screen for long.
warnings ; suggestive themes, jealousy, rivalry tension, light possessiveness, being caught watching, flirting, implied touching, nothing explicit (unforch)
a/n ; heated rivalry has been rotting my brain and i needed to get it out. very much vibes over plot. do not take seriously <3
─────── ୨♡୧ ───────
the volume is low but it doesn’t matter. heated rivalry could be playing on mute and you’d still feel it in your teeth.
hudson on the ice is always something. controlled chaos. jaw set, shoulders loose like he’s pretending he’s not coiled tight. but tonight it’s different because connor is there too. always too close. always in his space. chirping in his ear, shoving him after the whistle, grinning like he knows exactly how to get under hudson’s skin.
and apparently under yours.
you shift on the couch, annoyed at yourself. hudson is your boyfriend. you’re supposed to be focused on him. except every time connor skates up alongside him, every time their eyes lock and something sharp and competitive sparks between them, your stomach flips in a way that has nothing to do with hockey.
“fuuuuuuuuck.”
“are you gonna fuck me?”
your breath catches. you don’t even realize you’ve leaned forward until your elbows hit your knees.
“you’re so obvious.”
you gasp and twist around.
hudson is standing in the doorway, quarter zip unzipped, hair still damp from the shower. connor is right behind him, arms crossed, eyes flicking from the tv to you with a slow, knowing look.
heat crawls up your neck. “i didn’t hear you come in.”
“clearly,” connor says using that deep russian accent you’ve been watching him wreck your boyfriend with for hours, his smirk lazy. “you’ve been busy.”
hudson’s gaze is darker now, following the paused image on the screen. him and connor frozen on top of each other. he exhales through his nose, amused and something else. something heavier.
“you like watching that?” he asks, voice low.
you swallow. honesty feels dangerous, lying feels worse. “maybe.”
connor’s eyebrow lifts. “maybe what?”
“maybe i like the tension,” you say, words tumbling out. “maybe i like seeing you two like that. intense. stupidly competitive.”
silence stretches. not awkward. charged.
hudson steps closer, close enough that you can smell his soap, feel the heat of him. “you know we do that on purpose, right?”
your heart stutters. “do what?”
connor moves in on your other side, casual but deliberate. “push each other. see who breaks first.”
you’re very aware now of being boxed in, of how the air feels thicker. hudson’s thumb hooks under your chin, tilting your face up just enough that you can’t avoid his dark yearning eyes.
“if you’re gonna watch,” he murmurs, “you should know what you’re watching does something to us too.”
connor chuckles softly. “especially when it’s you.”
your pulse is loud in your ears. the show is forgotten, the tv just background noise now. hudson leans in, forehead resting against yours, while connor’s presence is a steady heat at your back.
“next time,” hudson says, voice a promise, “we won’t let you sit alone with thoughts like that.”
connor’s grin widens. “we’ll take matters into our own hands.”
the screen goes dark as hudson reaches back and turns off the tv, and suddenly you’re very aware that the rivalry didn’t end with the game.
it’s right here in your apartment.
