Hudson knew what that frustration felt like, but he’d also learned a long time ago he couldn’t handle it physically. Being built like a brick shithouse the way he was, he could literally kill someone. Besides, his emotions might be the same but the intensity of Ian’s could be explosive. Like his feelings got doused in gasoline or got injected with nitrous oxide. On the plus side, they tended to burn out just as fast. It was just a matter of keeping him out of trouble until he got over it, or letting him detonate in an unpopulated area like now.
His ribs were starting to feel it now, so Hudson grabbed Ian’s wrists and held his friend an arm’s length away while the redhead struggled and twisted and snapped. He really was a wily motherfucker and managed to rotate his wrists until he could pull away and stand in the middle of the room panting, his slim chest heaving, fiery hair sticking out at all angles. Such a wild child.
When Ian wasn’t in literal danger—of hurting himself, getting kicked out of school, whatever else —Hudson fucking loved his passion. Made him feel more alive by osmosis, like some of Ian’s goofiness and, Christ, his joy might rub off. Or get sprinkled on him because Ian shed that shit like a dog blowing out its coat or a glitter bomb. Plus Ian was loyal as hell and loved his friends as hard as he blew his top when other people were being fuckmuppets.
He wasn’t surprised when Ian shot the cuffs of his button down and charged again with a roar. Yeah the impact rattled him and they grappled for a bit, Ian a red-headed and out of control hurricane with jabbing fists and kicking feet, thrown elbows and vicious knees. He could get in a decent shot or two but he was no threat, not really.
While the struggle was for real, Hudson could tell Ian wasn’t really trying to hurt him. Coulda grabbed a lamp or textbook to bludgeon him with, and Ian hadn’t. He just needed to fight and scrap and hit and feel something. Something big, something harsh.
That’s when the idea hit him, a sensation as solid and visceral as the knee Ian had just jabbed into his thigh. If what Ian was after was feeling, a way to neutralize or channel or blow out all of his emotions through his very corporeal form, he, Hudson, could give that to him. Had maybe idly considered it before. Thought about roughhousing with Ian and instead of letting his friend lash out, holding him still and heaping pain and sensation on him safely instead of letting him wander around campus or town looking for it.
That hadn’t been how or why he’d spanked people in the past, but that hadn’t been what they needed. Maybe Ian did. And maybe it would be just another way they fit together, could be what each other needed. And if not…
Well, if not and Ian freaked out over the suggestion then he could lose the best friend he’d ever had and that would suck. But Hudson didn’t feel like they’d run up against the hard limits of their relationship; not even close. So maybe there was a ton more room to play with, make use of, and it could bring them even closer than it would drive them apart.
At least he knew Ian was vaguely if not super actively kinky. And if Ryker down the hall wasn’t a kinky fuck then Hudson would eat his hat. Like, his vintage Whalers hat, not one of the half dozen Red Sox ones he had. More importantly, though, he didn’t get a whiff of the s-side of the slash from Ry, but there was something about Ian that said while he might struggle and rail against it, that being topped wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Maybe it was time to see if that idea could survive in the realm of reality…
Chapter Two
Ian had been pummeling Huds for like an hour when Hudson told him, “I can do this all day.”
It didn’t sound like a threat. More like reassurance.If you need me to do this all day, I will.
The thing was, Ian didn’t really want to throw punches at his BFF until the sun came up. He fucking well would, but that wasn’t the same. And it was hard to say what hedidwant.
He shoved away from his latest attempt at wrestling Huds to the ground—wasn’t going to happen unless he took the big guy’s knee out, and he wasn’t willing to actually hurt him—and stood in the center of their cluttered room, breathing heavy, sweat matting some of his mane. Meanwhile, Huds looked as though he’d just been chilling, maybe taking a walk through the quad. What an asshole.
Ian formed a lazy time-out sign with his hands, feeling like he’d been up against the school’s entire rugby team but still so wired and angry. The fighting had felt good but it wasn’t real and that dulled some of the satisfaction. It didn’t hurt enough, and he wanted to feel as though he’d fought hard enough to earn some pain. Black eye, sore ribs, a concussion for fuck’s sake.
Would he ever figure out a way to douse the flames that wasn’t going to get him in trouble? Or that didn’t take hours upon hours the way running for miles upon miles and then attempting to beat the shit out of a sandbag and only having bloody knuckles to show for it did? What the hell was wrong with him that the only way he could find peace after getting so riled up was violence? Shouldn’t humans as like a species have gotten over that? Didn’t seem like a super helpful impulse.
“You done?” Huds asked, his eyebrow kicking up in a way that said he didn’t think so.
“Nah. But, I dunno, man. I appreciate this, but it’s just…” Ian huffed out a breath in frustration as he bent over and set his hands on his knees.
“Not enough?”
“Are you gonna think I’m an asshole if I agree?”
“Eh, I think you’re an asshole anyway,” Huds told him with a half-hearted shrug.
Ian had to chuckle, and was pretty annoyed that he didn’t even have a stitch in his side. Seriously, what was it going to take to get this balloon of outrage and resentment to pop? And what was he supposed to say to his friend? He felt like Hudson understood him better than he had any right to expect but it still felt messed up that despite Hud’s generosity Ian couldn’t hand him the prize of “Hey, look, you fixed it!”
Huds really liked fixing broken things, patiently tinkering and steadily working until it was in even better shape than it had been before it was broken. But what if even he couldn’t fix Ian? He was clearly fucked.
Honestly, where was he supposed to go from here? Haul ass to the other side of campus where the 24 hour gym was? Ian didn’t feel like it but he was running out of options and he couldn’t possibly ask for more than Huds had already given him.
He was about to strip off his button-up and jeans he’d worn out and pull on some gym clothes when Hudson’s voice rumbled through the room.
“You trust me?”
Ian blinked up at him. “What the fuck kind of a question is that? Course I trust you.”
He trusted Hudson with his life, and bizarrely, got the impression Hudson trusted him too. Which made him want to be trustworthy. It wasn’t exactly his nature but he wanted to be decent enough for Hudson’s good opinion so he’d do what he had to do to keep it. Luckily, Huds didn’t ask him for all that much.
“Then lemme try something.”
Ian shrugged, trying not to get too hopeful in case whatever Huds had in mind didn’t work either. Wouldn’t be his fault, and Ian would appreciate the effort even if it didn’t pan out. Hudson was a good friend. Like, the best. “Alright.”