Jude closed his eyes. It didn’t help. Callum’s breath was at his ear, warm and sour, his voice a snake coiling tighter.
“Fine by me, lamb,” he said. “Used to like watching you. On your knees, eyes all big, lips all wet. Passing from one to the other.”
“Don’t.” Jude’s voice cracked, the word barely there.
“Don’t what?” Callum’s tone was pure mockery. “Remind you what you are?”
It took everything Jude had to open his eyes and meet his gaze. “How long are you staying?”
“You trying to get rid of me?”
“I’m trying to find out if you have a plan. One that doesn’t involve me.”
Callum chuckled, low and knowing. Sniffed once. Then he stepped back, sauntered over to the sofa and dropped into it, stretching his arms wide along the back, hooking his ankle over one knee. The pose of casual dominance he’d perfected years ago.
“If you want to entertain, go right ahead.” He tucked his hand into his jeans, palming himself. “I’ll watch. Might even jump in. It’s been a while.”
Jude headed towards the kitchen, because if he stayed in that room he’d say something he couldn’t take back. Or worse, something Callum would twist and use and spark the match that hadn’t been lit yet.
He threw his glasses case on the counter, then braced his palms on the laminate, hanging his head. Therehadto be a way out. He couldn’t let this start again. But every time he thought about picking up the phone to call the police, his mind hit the same wall:What exactly would I tell them?
That an ex-convict, freshly out on license and supposedly rehabilitated, had let himself into his home and wasn’t leaving? They’d ask how he knew him. And he’d have to tell them the truth, or enough of it for them to guess the rest. That he’d once lived with him. That back then, he’d traded favours,sexualfavours, for safety. For food. A roof over his head when there was nowhere else to go. That staying quiet about what Callum and his mates had been doing had been part of the deal.
And that sometimes the deal didn’t matter.
Sometimes, Callum hurt him anyway. Sometimes, he’d let his friends do it.
Jude closed his eyes, memories pressing in. Hands that didn’t ask, laughter that didn’t care. He forced them back.
You’ll sound pathetic.
You’ll sound like you wanted it.
They’ll ask why you didn’t report it before.
And if the police came? What then? At best, they’d ask Callum to leave. He’d smile, all false charm, and talk his way out of it. A misunderstanding, he’d say. He thought they were still together. He’d nod politely, walk away…
Then he’d come back.
No piece of paper would keep him out. A restraining order wouldn’t silence him. If he couldn’t hit Jude, he’d go for something else. Something crueller. He’d poison the air around him. Whisper into the right ears. Use those photos to show the school exactly who they had standing in front of their kids. Jude had passed every DBS check. He was clean. Cleared. But in teaching, all it took was one whisper. One rumour. The truth wouldn’t matter. Lies had a way of staining everything they touched.
And if Callum did that, if he took away the one place Jude felt like himself, Jude didn’t know if he’d survive the next time Callum came back.
So he stayed there, braced on the counter, breathing slow and shallow, trying not to think about the inevitability of it all. The air shifted when hefty arms wrapped around his waist from behind, heavy and unyielding, lips hovering over the side of his neck.
“Don’t worry, lamb,” Callum said into his ear. “I have a plan.”
Jude tensed. Froze. The air ripped from his lungs.
“I’m owed some money.” Callum leaned back enough to speak, but he kept his arms locked around him, groin rocking into him, as if he was checking him out from behind. “Once I get what I’m owed, I’m off.” He then yanked the tails of Jude’s shirt from his chinos, tugged it up, and hummed in satisfaction. “Still there.” His smoothed his thumbs over the ink. “Yeah… still there.”
Then he pushed Jude forward over the counter.
“Don’t.” The word tore out of Jude before he could stop it. “Please… don’t.”
He’d told him no before. Politely. Begged. Even shouted it. It only ever fed him. Callumwantedto hear him plead. To stretch out the moment until Jude broke. So Jude had learned quicklythat silence was safer. That letting him take what he wanted was easier than fighting.
But right then, the fight was back. Raw. Clawing through his chest, scraping at his ribs like it wanted out. He wanted Callum gone. Out of his house. Off his skin. Nowhere near his body. The need burned so fierce it almost drowned out reason.
