Chapter Nineteen Breaking Bad #2
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’s your home.”
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 just a 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.
Jude tugged his collar up, covering it, and they stepped out.
He smiled as he wandered towards his car.
Small, tired, but a smile, nonetheless. It softened Warren enough for him to smile back, unlocking his driver’s side, already half back in UC mode, planning how to call Naomi when he had a sliver of space.
Then Jude’s smile faltered. Fell sharply.
And Warren knew. He didn’t see it first, he smelt it. That sour tang of sweat and sharpened steel. Instinct screamed, but too late.
Cold metal kissed his throat. A blade. Warren froze, every nerve on high alert. His breath locked. One wrong move and he was gone.
“This where you been, lamb?” Reid’s voice cracked through over the cars, ugly and triumphant. “Getting yourself some prime-grade beef, huh?”
Jude stiffened. “Cal—”
Warren snapped his gaze to him, sharp, urgent, the barest shake of his head.
Stay back. The knife dug harder, biting skin.
Warren held still, muscles wound tight, baring his throat to ease away from the point, every instinct fighting to twist free, to counter, to disarm.
But training screamed restraint. One wrong twitch, Jude would pay.
“I can see he’s your type.” Reid’s breath was hot and vile at his ear, the blade grinding closer.
“Bet he does it rough.” Poison followed, spat straight into Warren’s head.
“He’s good, ain’t he? Takes it hard. You should see him with two.
Spread wide, begging for it to stop when you know he wants it harder. ”
Fury and disgust burned through the chokehold of fear.
Warren forced a swallow, felt his throat lick steel, and the threat of his own blood boiling to the edge.
Still he kept his eyes on Jude. Pinning him still, holding him there with nothing but the command in his stare. Don’t move. Don’t you dare come closer.
“But here’s the thing…” Reid twisted the blade, sharp pain sparking. “He belongs to me. And if you want him…” His grin was venom. “…you ask me first.”
Rage flared white-hot through Warren’s chest, a blaze straining through every tether of control.
“So here’s the deal…we go back inside, and you can watch me fuck him raw. You like it? You can pay me to have it. You resist, and I’ll gut you like the slippery fucking fish you are.”
“Cal, please!” Jude lurched forward. “Please don’t hurt him. I’ll do anything. Please.”
That was it. The line crossed.
Warren’s pulse slammed once, hard, then everything narrowed. Training overruled fear. No time to think. Jude was in the crosshairs, and Warren wasn’t letting him take another step towards Reid.
So he forced a laugh. Low, buying half a second of Reid’s confusion. “You think you can—”
Then he moved.
He snapped his head back, hard and fast, cracking Reid’s nose.
The blade jerked wide, enough for Warren to twist, catching Reid’s wrist and driving his thumb into the tendon until the knife clattered onto the tarmac.
In the same breath he wrenched Reid’s arm up and back, spun him, and slammed him chest-first onto his car bonnet.
Calm gone. Training took over. UC facade ripped away in a heartbeat.
“Police!” The word tore out of Warren’s chest, louder than the thunder in his ears, shredding the cover he’d built piece by piece. “Stay down!”
Jude’s sharp gasp behind him cut through, louder than Reid’s curse.
Reid bucked, blood slick down his face, snarling. Warren drove a knee into the back of his thigh, forcing him down half a step, weight crushing him to the metal. “Move again and I’ll break your arm.”
Warren’s grip was unrelenting, every ounce of his strength forcing Reid’s arm higher until tendon strained and bone ground. He needed cuffs. Now.
“Jude!” His voice cracked like a whip. “Glovebox. My car. Cuffs. Go!”
For one frozen heartbeat Jude just stared. Disbelief carved into every line of him.
“Jude, please.” Warren’s voice dropped, sharp urgency threaded with desperate coaxing. “Need you for this.”
Then Warren saw Jude’s gape from over the car. His swallow. His, “You lied to me…”
Warren hated it. All of it. And he tried to pour his regret into his eyes. “I’ll explain. I will. But please, help me detain him.”
“Don’t you fucking dare, lamb!” Reid forced up against Warren but he held him back down, overpowering him.
Jude swallowed, then bolted, shoes slapping pavement, while Warren gritted his teeth against Reid’s thrashing. He twisted Reid’s arm higher, ripping a scream out of him.
“This your game?” Reid spat through blood. “Pretend you’re filth to get filth? Disgusting cunt.”
Warren slammed Reid’s face harder into the bonnet, voice iron.
“That’s Detective Sergeant Beckford,” he barked, cold and clear.
“You want a name to spit at the station, that’s the one.
You’re under arrest for assault with a deadly weapon.
Keep fighting and I’ll add resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer.
You know how many years that’ll cost you, Reid. You know the drill.”
Jude then slid into the passenger side of his car, pulling open the glovebox and finding the cuffs.
The burner. His warrant card. And Warren watched him through the window checking it.
Reading it. Looking at the picture that showed him as someone else to the man Jude had met, maybe even fallen for, and his heart sank.
Every secret stuffed in that space, every part of him he’d hidden was now laid bare in Jude’s shaking hands.
Jude’s lips parted as he looked up over the roof of the car at Warren, eyes wide.
“I’ll explain,” Warren forced out, hauling Reid harder across the bonnet, voice taut with strain. “When he’s locked down. Please, Jude.”
Jude circled the bonnet, cuffs clutched as if they were poison in his hands. His eyes, that look of shock, betrayal, as if the ground had fallen out from under him, cut straight through Warren, but there wasn’t time to soften it.
“On his wrists!” Warren snapped, wrenching Reid’s arm until the bastard screamed.