Steam circled around them.
Shaw's eyes traced down Hudson’s torso, landing briefly on his dick before returning to his face. "We have formation in five hours."
“I know.”
Running a hand through his hair, Shaw turned back to the water.
Hudson studied his back, muscles contracting under his dark tattoos, all the way down to his, frankly, unreasonable ass.
That did it.
He moved in behind Shaw, close enough that the water hit them both. Hudson’s hands found his hips and he pressed him forward slowly until his palms met the tile wall. He felt Shaw's breath hitch.
"I don’t want you to risk everything, Hale." Shaw said.
"Shh." Hudson ran his hands up Shaw's sides, feeling the muscles tense under his palms. "No one is here. It’s just us."
Shaw's better judgment was clearly losing, his forehead dropping forward against the tiles.
Hudson pressed his mouth to the back of his neck. Felt him shiver despite the hot water.
"Seven days," Hudson whispered against his skin. "That's all I'm asking for."
Shaw went still. Then, slowly, the argument left his shoulders.
His hand slid around Shaw's hip and down, wrapping around his cock. Shaw's breath left him in a rush, his palms pressing harder against the tiles.
"Don't—" Shaw pleaded.
"Don't what?"
Shaw exhaled, his head dropping lower.
Hudson worked him slowly at first, then picked up the pace, committing every reaction to memory—the tension climbing through Shaw's body, the way his shoulders curved inward like he was trying to hold himself together and failing.
He was close. Hudson could feel it.
"Fuck—" Shaw's voice cracked. "Don't stop?—"
The locker room door banged open.
They separated instantly, Hudson stepping back under his own shower head. He grabbed soap and kept his hands moving. Shaw still faced the wall, forehead against the tiles, back heaving.
Novak shuffled past, hair flattened on one side, barely conscious. He grunted something unintelligible and disappeared into a toilet stall.
Hudson caught Shaw's eye. He seemed completely taken apart. His jaw was tight as he desperately tried to get his breathing under control.
Hudson shot him a slow, unapologetic smirk.
Shaw closed his eyes and shook his head. Then he finished rinsing off and left without a word.
Hudson stayed under the hot water for five more minutes.
Seven days.
They ran live-firedrills in the morning—moving through the range in pairs, covering each other, calling out targets. Hudson got paired with Fernandez, who was competent but talked too much. Shaw was with Pine two lanes over, and Hudson kept glancing at them.
"Yo. Get your head out of your ass." Fernandez's voice cut through his distraction. "Target left, ten o'clock."
