Warren let that sit for a while. Then, “Okay…Do you want me to give you something else to think about?”
Jude froze.
The words landed like a match dropped on dry leaves and he turned to face Warren, heart pounding so hard, it could crack his ribs. “Do you mean that?”
Warren didn’t answer.
But he didn’t look away either.
And that was enough for Jude’s empty, lonely heart.
He moved before he could think. Before the voice of reason could drag him back. And he closed the space between them,slow enough to give Warren the chance to stop him, to pull away, to shut the door before it opened.
But Warren didn’t.
So Jude kissed him.
It was meant to be tentative. Testing. He knew the risk. The betrayal of self, the threat to his carefully built walls.But the second their lips met and Warren let out a low, rough rumble from deep in his chest, it tore straight through Jude and made his guarded heart pounce. He wanted to hear more of it. Wanted to chase that moan, draw it out of Warren until he broke, raw and unguarded. He didn’t want to flinch. Didn’t want to hide. Nor run away. He didn’t want this to end.
He just wantedhim.
Warren.
And he wanted to stay there, in that fragile moment between fear and surrender.
Then Warren tilted his head, catching Jude’s lower lip, not just returning his kiss but deepening it enough to burn. And he slid his hand to the back of Jude’s head, threading his fingers through his hair and pulling him in, closing the last inches between them to push his tongue into Jude’s mouth.
Jude let himself fall then.
All in.
Drowning.
No escape.
The solid bulk of Warren’s chest against his own, the friction between them climbing fast and sharp, was somehow too much and still nowhere near enough. So he shifted, half-straddling Warren’s thigh, needing more. Needing everything. The hard muscle under him. The heat. The way his whole body thrummed. He couldn’t stop the gasp when he ground down, couldn’t hide how hard he was, and heknewWarren could feel it.
“Jesus,fuck…” Warren rasped into his mouth, and it was so deep, so feral, so gravelly, Jude could have come on that alone.
It fed him. Fuelled him.
He kissed harder, hungrier, every part of him pressed into Warren, his body greedy for the heat burning without leaving bruises. Warren shifted under him and Jude rolled against his thigh, the friction sending a shiver all the way up his spine. His pulse was frantic, his skin prickling, the air between them thick with sweat and breath and need.
Then—Warren’s hands changed.
One second they were holding him there, keeping him close; the next, they were on his shoulders. Still warm, still gentle, but easing him back.
“Jude…” Warren’s voice was hoarse, breath ragged. “God, I’m so sorry. We can’t. We shouldn’t…”
The words didn’t feel like ano.
But they still landed like a drop through ice.
Jude froze. His brain stuttered, caught between the rush of everything he’d just felt and the cold reality bleeding in at the edges. He eased back a fraction, enough to see Warren’s face in the dark. Lips swollen, eyes dark and wanting, yet not moving towards him anymore. And the shame came quick. Violent. Cold in his chest, in his stomach. He rolled off Warren and onto his back, staring hard at the ceiling, willing his breathing to slow.
“Right. Yeah. No, of course.” His voice was thinner than he wanted. “That was… fuck, sorry. I shouldn’t…that was stupid.”
“No.” Warren pushed up on one elbow, close enough for Jude to feel the heat of him. “That’s not what I meant.”
