"Your dad knows? About you being gay… or bi?"
Shaw's expression went blank. "Gay. And no."
"You gonna tell him?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it would complicate things." Shaw’s posture stiffened. "My father cares about reputation and results. Having a gay son doesn't fit the narrative."
Hudson studied his face. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's fine." He focused on the fire. "What about your family? How would they feel about you being into guys?"
"I'm not even sure I am."
"You didn't seem confused in the storage room.”
Hudson glared at him. "Fine. My mom would probably be okay with it. My sister definitely would. But I haven't exactly had time to process it myself."
Shaw was poking at the fire again. When he spoke, his voice was softer. "That’s good. Really. They sound great.”
Caught off guard by Shaw’s sincerity, Hudson just nodded. He realized he didn’t worry about his family’s reaction at all. If only Shaw could know what that was like too.
A sudden need to be closer to him washed over Hudson. He stretched his leg so his calf rested against Shaw’s. When Shaw didn’t respond, Hudson leaned in closer, forcing their thighs to touch.
Shaw kept his eyes on the fire, but Hudson clocked him shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
Shaw got up abruptly. “We should get some sleep. Long day tomorrow." But he didn't move toward the cots. He stayed there, looking at Hudson with an expression that was becoming familiar. Restraint mixed with want, waiting for Hudson to make the call.
"Or," Hudson said, standing too. "We could not sleep yet."
Shaw's eyes darkened. "No?"
“No.” Hudson took a step toward him. They were so close now that he breathed in Shaw’s exhale.
“Do you still want me?” There was an obvious vulnerability in Shaw’s voice that made the questions sting.
“Yes,” Hudson whispered. “I want you.” He finally put his hands on Shaw’s neck, holding him in place. Then he grazed his lips over Shaw’s, making him moan into his mouth. His tongue darted out, hot and insistent against Hudson’s, teeth catching his lip.
They stumbled toward the cots, kissing desperately, shedding layers as they moved.
The cabin was warm from the stove but the air still carried the cold of the mountains. Shaw's hands were chilled when they found Hudson's bare skin.
Shaw pushed him down and stood by the foot of the cot watching him. His eyes raked over Hudson’s naked body and Hudson squirmed beneath the stare.
They’d hooked up before—in storage rooms and dark corners, rushed and half-dressed, always listening for footsteps. But here there was no timeline, nowhere else to be. Shaw seemed to register that at the same moment Hudson did, because he slowed down. Drank him in.
Shaw crawled on top of him. His mouth moved down Hudson’s chest, lips dragging over his collarbone. His tongue traced the line of his sternum, unhurried in a way that made Hudson’s fingers curl into the blanket.
When Shaw’s teeth scraped over his left nipple, Hudson’s back bowed off the cot. A sound escaped him that he'd be embarrassed about later.
"Mhm—"
Shaw did it again. Then his mouth closed over it, tongue circling, sucking, and Hudson’s hand pushed into his hair.
By the time Shaw's hand slid lower and wrapped around his cock, Hudson's coordination went out the window. He reached for Shaw’s dick but Shaw caught his wrist without looking up.
