“C’mon, baby,” he breathed into his ear. “Fall apart for me.”
Jude moaned from deep within his throat, sliding his hand under Warren’s locs, and gripped the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Possessive. Needy. And those sounds…those groans, those gasping moans and ragged pants, had Warren gluttonous, devouring every second, desperate to take Jude further, to claim every last noise he had left in him.
“Fuck…Warren…” Then Jude shattered.
Release spilled hot into Warren’s fist as Jude writhed back into him, every groan and gasp echoing off the glass, until he sagged boneless in Warren’s arms, wrung dry.
Warren held him, chest heaving, pressing kisses to his back, drunk on the feel of him broken open. He should have been satisfied. Should have stopped. But his own cock throbbed, painful with the need he couldn’t mask. Nor did he want to ask.
He didn’t have to.
Jude spun, sank to his knees on the slick tile, water running over his spent body as he looked up at Warren with eyes dark and glassy.
“Jude…” Warren’s breath faltered and he braced his palm on the cubicle wall as Jude closed his fingers around him. His cock jerked, greedy, aching, and then Jude sealed his mouth over him.
A groan ripped from Warren’s chest, and he tipped his head back to bang on the glass. The world shrank to nothing but the molten drag of Jude’s lips down his length, the slick suction pulling him deeper, the sinful swirl of Jude’s tongue.
“Christ, Jude…fuck…” His words fractured into a moan as pleasure coiled tight, fast, unstoppable.
Jude worked him mercilessly, sucking him deep one moment, drawing back to lick slow and languid the next. Every flick, every pull tuned to ruin him. Warren forced his eyes open, watching him. Awestruck. Heart hammering.What the fuck am I doing?His target, on his knees. Giving him this. Breaking every rule Warren had ever sworn to keep. And yet no one had ever undone him like this, dragged him to the edge so completely.
The heat crested, overwhelming. He fisted his hand in Jude’s soaked curls and came with a shuddering groan, every muscle drawn tight as release tore through him. Jude swallowed him down, lips sealed until Warren had nothing left to give, wrung out and trembling. Then he slumped against the glass, chest heaving, staring down at the man kneeling at his feet—drenched, beautiful, and far too perfect to ever let go.
And still, even knowing the risk, Warren couldn’t imagine walking away.
“C’mere,” he rasped, breath jagged, crooking a finger.
Jude rose, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and Warren’s chest tightened at the sight. He pulled him close, grabbed the shower gel, lathered them both, then rinsed Jude clean. He kissed him after, reminding him this wasn’t just heat, even if desire was the sharpest pull Warren had ever felt.
They stepped out together and Warren tossed Jude the towel he’d remembered to bring, then ambled back to the bedroom for another. They dried, dressed. Jude buttoning into his teacher’s armour—shirt, tie, chinos, shoes. A quick ruffle of his curls,glasses perched back on his nose, as if trying to erase the intimacy clinging to his skin. Warren tugged on shorts, polo, hoodie, trainers. Tied his locs back. Easier to pretend nothing had happened when they looked like the roles they were supposed to play.
Downstairs, the kettle clicked off. Warren poured coffee into mismatched mugs, handed one over.
“What do you usually have for breakfast?” he asked, leaning on the counter.
“I’ll grab something from the café on the way. Need to pick up lunch too.” Jude blew on his mug, keeping his eyes on the steam.
“Okay.” Warren nodded, chewed his lip. Then, “After school, we’re going to your place.”
Jude stiffened. “That’s not wise.”
“He can’t kick you out of your own home.”
“It’s complicated.”
“No.” Warren’s tone sharpened. “It’s theft. That’syourhome.”
Jude said nothing. He sipped, shoulders drawn tight.
Warren forced himself not to push harder. He couldn’t storm Reid’s territory without blowing his cover. Couldn’t tip his hand yet, no matter how badly he wanted to drag Jude back under his roof and lock him up safely there. So he thought through it like an op. Step one: get Jude to reclaim his space, even if only symbolically. Step two: make Reid feel eyes on him, pressure without exposure. Step three: keep Jude close enough so he didn’t slip through the cracks.
He softened his voice. “You don’t have to fight him head-on, not today. But you’re not sleeping in your car either. Not again. If he’s still in the house, fine—you stay here tonight. With me. Tomorrow we’ll start figuring out how to get him out for good.”
It wasn’t the whole plan. He couldn’t tell Jude that yet. But it was enough. Keep him stable. Safe. Believing Warren was justa man trying to look out for him, instead of the officer already charting the path to bring his abuser down.
He checked his watch, forcing casual. Then peered up and pointed to Jude’s neck. “Best keep the tie on, or they’ll notice that.”
Jude raised his hand to the mark Warren had left. Christ. He felt like an arsehole for that. Primitive and possessive. Even though the thought of having branded him sparked a feral need in his chest.
