No reaction. Either he couldn’t hear, or the panic had drowned everything else out. Warren slipped a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, finding the slim strip of tempered steel he kept there. A habit from years on the job. To carry bits passing off as mundane. A ruler, a scraper, or, in moments like this, something else entirely. He slid it down between the glass and seal and with one practiced click, the lock gave with a soft ping.
The moment he opened the door, Jude lunged, steel flashing in his hand.
Warren dodged. “Fuck—”
His training kicked in. He caught Jude’s wrist mid-swing, twisting it outwards. The knife skittered into the footwell, but Jude kept fighting, shoving forward, all adrenaline and instinct. So Warren had to step in hard, using his weight to pin Jude back into the seat, driving him across the upholstery. The struggle carried them both inside until Warren’s knees were jammed into the edge of the seat, one arm across Jude’s chest to hold him down, the other braced by his head.
“Easy,” Warren said, breathing hot air onto Jude’s face. “It’s me. You’re safe.”
Jude’s breathing was ragged, chest pounding under the press of Warren’s forearm, every muscle locked like a coiled spring.
“Breathe with me.” Warren held him steady. “In… and out…”
Wide, dark eyes stared up at him, but Jude obeyed. A sharp inhale, a shuddering exhale. Warren stayed where he was, body caging him in, bracing one hand in the upholstery above his head, easing the other from Jude’s chest to his jaw, cupping his face and stroking the hard line of it.
“That’s it,” Warren said softly. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Warren dropped his gaze to Jude’s mouth. His lips were parted, feathering warm breath across Warren’s skin and dragging him to the edge of whatever restraint he had left. And when Jude stopped fighting, the tension bleeding from his body, leaving him loose beneath Warren’s weight, eyes locked on his, a faint tremor ran through him and Warren hit the point of no return.
He’d made the decision long before this moment, if he was honest.
This was only the inevitable follow-through.
Still, he hesitated. Because he knew how it would look. How easily this could be misread. So he forced the words past his breath, “Fuck, Jude… can I kiss you?”
Jude answered by rising to meet him, lips finding his in a trembling, testing brush. The world fell away. Then Jude fisted the front of Warren’s jacket, dragging him down until there was no space left to think, no air left to question. And he sank fully over Jude, crushing him into the seat, the cramped space forcing them together, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, heat sparking through every point they touched until Warren could feel nothing but him.
The kiss turned urgent. All heat and hunger. The solid press of Jude beneath him was impossible to ignore. Hot, insistent, sending a sharp jolt straight through Warren’s core. He slid his palm from Jude’s jaw, over the tense line of his throat, the rise of his chest, down to the curve of his hip, and Jude arched into thetouch, a low sound catching in his throat making Warren tighten his grip.
And Warren kissed him. Again. And again.
Couldn’t fucking stop kissing him.
Then Jude slid his hand between them, palming Warren through his shorts, and the shock of it tore a grunt from Warren’s throat, followed by a low groan. Christ, he was hard. Painfully fucking hard. Every pulse in his body pounded for Jude’s touch. So he instinctively rocked his hips up and one-handedly shoved his shorts down until they caught at his thighs, freeing himself to the charged air between them.
Jude curled his fingers around him, the first stroke drawing another guttural moan from Warren. Fierce. Controlled. Working him in long, fierce pulls drawing Warren’s breath right into Jude’s mouth.
“Fuck…” Warren panted into the kiss. “Fuck,Jude…”
Weren’t a warning. It was a plea for more.
Every nerve lit under Jude’s grip, the ache deepening with each stroke. Warren should’ve pulled back, should’ve found the line he was meant to hold, but instead his hand went to Jude’s waistband, tugging at the button until it gave.
Jude kept his rhythm with one hand while shoving his own trousers and underwear down with the other, baring himself to Warren’s reach. Warren wanted toseehim. Drink in every inch, but the dark held them, leaving him to map Jude’s heat and length with his palm. Learning him by touch alone. He found him easily: hard, long, skin smooth and hot, the subtle throb in Warren’s palm making his pulse spike.
Jude was slick already, cock flexing under Warren’s grip, and Warren wanted every inch of it. He matched Jude’s strokes, pull for pull, gliding his hand over him in the same frantic rhythm Jude used on him. Every jerk, every squeeze answered in kind,the friction ratcheting higher until it was a closed circuit of need, feeding back into itself.
Warren tore his mouth from Jude’s long enough to drag in air, crushing his forehead against Jude’s, breath hot and ragged. Every stroke was heat and friction, the wet slap of skin punctuating the muffled boom of the sea beyond. It burned through every thought of how wrong this was. Because how could it be wrong when it felt this fucking good?
Other ops, intimacy had been a tactic. A means to an end. His body had gone through the motions because it had to. But this… this was different. This waswant. Raw and unfiltered. He wanted Jude. And,fuck, the only thing left was to chase that edge and deal with the fallout later. Because that edge was coming fast, and he wanted the crash as much as the climb.
Jude clamped a hand down hard on Warren’s thigh, holding him close, breath hitching with every upward pull. The car gave a faint, rhythmic rock beneath them, each movement sharper, more desperate. “Warren… fuck, Warren.”
Warren bit down on the groan that name ripped from him, swallowing it into another kiss, mouths messy, frantic. Every nerve was wired to the slick heat in his hand, to the way Jude moved under him, to the faint stutter in that rhythm saying he was right on the edge. Warren’s forearm burned with the effort, but he didn’t let up. Couldn’t. Not with Jude’s hand locked tight around him, stroking as if to wring him dry.
He’d been tossed off before. Plenty. But never like this. Never with this kind of heat, this desperation. Out in the open, danger a heartbeat away, him blowing every rule he’d ever learned about protecting himself and the target. And here he was, arse in the air, car door open, cock out, letting his target drag him under.
It was so fucking hot, Warren wondered if his sanity would survive it.
