When Jude pulled off, eyes peering up through his lashes, Warren thought he’d come undone from the look alone. “You want more?”
Warren’s chest heaved. “I want what you want. Only what you want to give me.”
The heat in Jude’s eyes nearly undid him.
“I want you inside me,” Jude said, fisting Warren’s slick cock. “I wantthisinside me. I think it’s the only way to know for sure who you are.”
“Then I’ll show you.”
Warren stripped in one go, not caring how desperate he looked. All his nerves, all his bulk, every insecurity, out in the open. He was hard, shaking with the need to do this right. Toberight. Jude reached behind him for the bedside drawer, pulling out lube with hands that weren’t as steady as Warren would expect.
He looked at him. “Are you…tested?”
Warren panted. “Yeah. Have to be. Why? You?”
“Haven’t been with anyone for a long time. I’m on PrEP. I’m all clear. Can we go just you?”
“Fuck…” Warren dragged a hand up his chest. “Yeah. Yeah. I want that.”
Then Jude sprawled out beneath him, open, unguarded, and Warren kissed him again. Pouring into it everything he hadn’t managed to say aloud. His mouth trailed lower, charting a path down Jude’s body, greedy to touch everywhere, to learn the map of skin and scar and sinew by heart. And when Jude rolled onto his front, the breadth of his back stretched wide before him, Warren almost stopped breathing. He bent to it, pressing his mouth to every line, every ridge of spine, worshipping with lips and tongue. He followed it all the way down to the ink at Jude’s lower back. The barbed wire, jagged and cruel. Warren smoothed his tongue along the pattern, as if he could lick thesharpness out of it, as if he could soothe away every memory it marked.
Jude arched into him, raising his hips, urging back, offering himself up like a gift. He tilted his arse high, hole ready and waiting in the low light, and Warren’s cock jerked at the sight, a ragged breath tearing out of him. With trembling hands, he slicked his fingers with lube, then pressed the first one to Jude’s opening, circling his hole.
“Should I—?” His voice cracked. “Should I go in?”
“Yeah.” Jude rocked back a fraction. “Take it easy. Been a while.”
Warren swallowed hard and worked carefully. One finger, then another, easing him open. By the time he slid in a third, Jude was rocking back into him, greedy for more, and Warren’s chest constricted.
He wants me. Christ, he wants me bad.
He’d done this before, in clumsy, forgettable ways, both sides of it, but it had never felt like this. Back then it had been tests, experiments, fumbling to prove something. Always chasing the end, hoping it would be over fast enough to move on.
This wasn’t that. Not even close.
Here, with Jude, he wanted to savour it. To draw it out. Make every push, every stretch, every breath mean something neither of them would forget.
“I’m ready,” Jude panted. “You can get in me.”
Warren slicked himself up, then lined against him and braced himself as he trembled, easing his length inside Jude, inch by inch, until his hips met Jude’s.
“Fuck…” The groan ripped out of him, guttural. “You’re so tight. Christ.” He held there, buried to the hilt, gripping Jude’s hips and wondering how he was meant to get through this. “Are you okay? Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” Jude breathed out. “Move. I can take it.”
So he did. Like that. With Jude talking him through it.
“That’s it,” he breathed. “Pull out…now come back in slowly.”
Warren drew back, almost terrified of hurting Jude, then eased in again and the drag, the heat, the way Jude pushed back to meet him, was overwhelming. Every thrust built on the last, his rhythm picking up, control hanging by a thread.
Jude’s voice, rough and sure, spurred him on. “That’s it. Like that.” He eased himself up to his knees, back flush to Warren’s chest, gliding his hand up behind him and around Warren’s neck. “God, yes, you feel so good. Go faster. Fuck…yes.”
Warren’s breath came ragged, and he dropped his forehead onto Jude’s shoulder, every thrust driving him deeper into something he couldn’t have planned for, couldn’t ever give up now. His first time like this, and it was Jude. No mask. No lies. Just him.
It felt fucking right. It felt foundational.
And every time Jude whispered,“Yes… yes…fuck, yes…”it was a powerful mantra. It was Jude re-writing the narrative of his own body, reminding himself how he was able to enjoy it. Feel it. Want it. Warren felt those gasps, those raw, broken sounds of pleasure, like a wound closing over. And he was gone. Every stroke, every sound Jude made had him spiralling deeper into a place he’d never been. His first proper time with a man and it felt like the first time with anyone. Real. Stripped back. No pretence. Just heat and skin and Jude, taking him as if he’d been waiting for him all along.
