Hudson followed seconds later, burying his face in Shaw's neck.
His hand came up to rest on Hudson's back, fingers stroking lazy circles between his shoulder blades. "That was—” He paused. “You’ve got skills.”
Hudson huffed out a laugh against his neck.
“Three years of practice.”
“Shows.”
They lay there, both breathing hard. Their bodies were still tangled together. Hudson should probably pull out and clean up. Put some much-needed distance between them before this got complicated. He just wanted to enjoy the moment for a second longer.
When he finally did, the loss of contact felt bigger than it should have.
"I'm gonna—" Hudson gestured vaguely toward the bathroom. "Shower. Quick."
Shaw nodded, already reaching for tissues to clean himself up. "Okay."
Hudson escaped to the bathroom and turned the shower on hot, standing under the spray trying to process the evening.
Was he supposed to leave or?—?
He showered fast, threw on his boxers, and came back out to find Shaw already cleaned up, sitting on the bed in his briefs looking like he was trying to figure out the same thing.
They eyed each other.
"So," Hudson said. "Should I—do you want me to go, or?—"
"No." Shaw said quickly, then seemed to catch himself. "I mean. You don't have to. Unless you want to."
He swallowed hard. "I don't want to."
"Then stay." Shaw shifted over on the bed, making room. "We should probably talk about?—"
"Tomorrow." Hudson surprised himself by saying. "Can we talk tomorrow?"
Shaw studied his face for a moment, then nodded. “Sure. Tomorrow."
Hudson crossed to the bed and lay down beside Shaw, hyperaware of every inch of space between them. Shaw turned off the light and Hudson felt him shift closer, their sides pressing together. His hand found Shaw’s and Hudson immediately laced their fingers.
Hudson's throat tightened. "This okay?"
Shaw's thumb traced a slow circle on the back of Hudson's hand. "It’s more than okay."
He closed his eyes and let himself have this—Shaw's warmth beside him, their hands linked, the intimacy of being here together. Tomorrow they'd have to figure out what this meant. Tomorrow they'd have reality and distance and all the reasons this couldn't work.
But tonight they had this.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ELLIOT
Three years after Selection
Elliot woketo Hale taking up three-quarters of the mattress, snoring softly beside him.
They'd fallen asleep with their hands linked, bodies pressed together in the narrow space, and at some point during the night Hale had decided the entire mattress was his territory. One arm thrown over his head, the other draped across Elliot's chest, legs tangled under the sheets.
He should extract himself before Hale woke up and they had to navigate whatever awkward morning-after protocol existed for situations like this.
