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I tugged at his clothes, pausing the kiss only long enough to yank his shirt over his head and toss it aside. He shoved off his pants and my boxers with equal urgency, no fanfare, just desperate efficiency.

The first press of skin against skin sent a shock through me. I could have screamed at how good it felt. Flesh to flesh. Solid. Warm. Real.

For a moment, we just breathed, foreheads pressed together, sharing air.

“Fuck,” I breathed, legs shaky.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Then I kissed him again. His mouth opened under mine, and I poured weeks of fear and longing into it, every night I’d reached for him and found only cold sheets, every moment I’d watched him fade, every second of the agony of cutting his thread. He took it all, kissed me back with equal desperation, his fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

I pressed him harder against the door, needing to feel every inch of him, needing him to feel me. His leg hooked around my hip, opening himself to me, and the sound he made, low and broken and wanting, shot straight through me.

“Angel.” My name on his lips, breathless and reverent. “Angel.”

I answered with teeth against his throat, with hands mapping every curve and plane of him, with the desperate press of my body against his. He arched into me, gasping, and I caught the sound with another kiss, deeper this time, consuming.

But Jude had other plans.

His hands found my hips, and before I could register the shift in power, he’d spun us. My back hit the wall beside the door, cold tile shocking against my skin, and then he was sinking to his knees in front of me, looking up through those impossibly blue eyes.

“This what you want?” he asked, fingers tracing the line of my hip. His lips brushed the inside of my thigh, featherlight, teasing.

“Yes.” The word came out desperate, broken. I threaded my hand through his hair, gripping but not pulling. I wanted all of him any way I could have him, for all eternity.

He licked up the inside of my thigh, slow and deliberate, following the line of muscle like he was mapping me. His hand wrapped around my cock, solid and warm, and I bucked into his grip before I could stop myself.

But my body ached for more. Needed more. Had been starving for him for weeks.

Jude knew. Of course he knew. He felt it through the bond, my desperation bleeding into him, and something in his expression shifted. Darker. Hungrier. That little smile that meant he was about to ruin me.

“Patience,” he murmured against my skin, and then his mouth was on me.

He swallowed me down in one smooth motion, no hesitation, no adjustment—just hot and wet and perfect—taking me to the root. I choked on a groan, my head falling back against the tile, every muscle in my body going rigid.

Fuck.

His throat worked around me, swallowing, and the sensation was so intense, so overwhelming, that I nearly came right there. His grip on my hip tightened, a warning, maybe, or encouragement, and he pulled back just enough to breathe before diving down again.

The sight of him there, on his knees, lips stretched around me, eyes bright and looking up at me like I was something precious, was almost too much. His free hand gripped my thigh, nails digging in just enough to sting, anchoring himself. Anchoring me.

His cock jutted between his thighs, hard, leaking, needing, but he refused to touch himself, even as he bobbed on mine. The wet sounds filled the air, dirty and delicious, each pulse of heat and suction nearly undoing me.

“Jude—” His name came out wrecked, not even close to coherent.

He hummed in response, the vibration traveling through me, and my hips jerked forward despite every intention of letting him set the pace. He took it. Took me, throat relaxing, hand moving in counterpoint to his mouth, working me to perfection.

His other hand slid around, fingers pressing into the curve of my ass, pulling me deeper. Demanding. He wanted this. Wanted me. The thought was almost enough to undo me entirely.

“Jude,” I gasped. “I’m⁠—”

He hummed again, sucking me to the back of his throat, half choking, but still going as his hand was moving faster, and his eyes never left mine.

The orgasm tore through me like nothing I’d ever felt, weeks of tension and fear and desperate longing finally releasing in wave after wave. Jude took it all, swallowed every drop, worked me through it until I was shaking, gasping, barely upright.

I held his hair, keeping him close, my cock only flagging a little as I was nowhere near done with him and he hadn’t come yet. Which as soon as I stopped trembling, I’d correct.

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