Chapter Twenty-One Covers Off #3
So Warren nodded once, the humour draining from his voice. “Alright, I’ll give you something real. Something that’s still locked in a file. Only a handful of people know. The thing that got me here. From the Met… to a desk… then to SEROCU. To you.”
Jude nodded. “Okay.”
“Last op I ran for the Met, I was deep inside a trafficking line. Proper heavy stuff. Guns, coke, heroin. Kids running it. The whole mess. I’d been under eighteen months, playing the loyal foot soldier.
Building trust. Waiting for the right moment.
Then found out what they were really making money on.
Girls. Kids pulled out of care, groomed into thinking they were making choices. We called them ‘clean skins.’”
Warren’s jaw flexed. “There was one girl—Aneesa. Twenty. Thought she was in love with one of the lieutenants, JD. Thought she mattered to him. I knew better. I watched him rotate her between flats, rent her out, cover up a stabbing when she got hurt. I passed intel up the chain. They told me to wait. Hold. Build the bigger case. Too many moving parts. Too many arrests to make. They wanted to use her as evidence.” He shook his head.
“I couldn’t. She wasn’t evidence. She was a girl.
And if that had been my sister, my niece, I’d want someone pulling her out. ”
Jude’s lips parted, listening intently.
“So I broke protocol. I pulled her out myself. Used my cover contacts, my own cash. Got her fake ID, transport, safe placement with a women’s charity I knew would protect her.
Told her, ‘You’re not property. You’re not collateral.
You don’t owe them anything.’” He let out a breath, heavy with the weight of it.
“Command didn’t thank me. They flagged me.
Said I was compromised. Said I’d put the op at risk.
And yeah, the arrests still happened. Twelve men inside.
Lines dismantled. But because I kept her off the books, they benched me.
Told me I was too close. Too… emotional.
Not to be trusted for operations where they need strict compliance. ”
Warren finally looked at him. “So…yeah…That’s the person I am.
The man I am. I’m not perfect. I don’t have it all figured out, despite appearances.
And I’m here, right now, as just a man with his heart pouring out of his skin, hoping you’ll believe me.
And maybe, when you’re ready, trust me. And…
fall for me. The real me.” He took a breath. “The way I have for you.”
His hands moved before he could stop them, wrapping around Jude’s, stroking his thumbs over warm skin.
“I’m in awe of you, Jude. What you’ve done.
What you’ve built. After everything. And if you let me…
I’ll show you what you actually deserve.
” He held his gaze, raw and unguarded. “Tenderness and fierce fucking loyalty.”
Silence swelled. Jude’s chest rose, sharp, and Warren’s breath stuttered at the look in his eyes.
For the first time that night, Jude looked at him not with betrayal.
Not with fury. But with the faintest hint of belief.
Then he rose and Warren’s gaze followed, slow and wary.
Was this it? Jude calling for the uniforms outside.
Ending it. Warren would take it. It would rip him open, but that was the price of laying himself bare.
Instead, Jude extended a hand.
Warren leaned back, met Jude’s gaze, then reached out, their palms locking as he pushed himself to his feet, the table scraping back.
Jude hesitated. For a breath. Long enough for Warren to wonder if he’d imagined it.
Then Jude slipped his hands around the back of Warren’s neck, under his locs, dragging him forward and their mouths met in a kiss stealing the air from Warren’s lungs.
It hit him like sparks beneath his ribs, soft explosions blooming in his chest, and he breathed into it, cupping Jude’s waist, hauling him closer until there was no space left between them.
Restraint snapped. He stumbled with the force of it, pressing Jude back, lowering him onto the sofa.
Jude went willingly, sprawling beneath him, their mouths locked as Warren climbed over him and slipped his hands beneath the hem of Jude’s shirt, finding warm skin, mapping it with shaking fingers as if needing proof that he was real. Here. His.
“Hey, hey, wait a minute.” Jude wriggled beneath him and Warren leaned back, ashamed of having forced himself on him.
“Shit, sorry. Yes. I’ll back off.” He went to get up but Jude grabbed his arm.
“No…I mean, can we…maybe…go upstairs?”
Warren breathed his relief, then clambered off him, grabbed his hand and pulled him up.
Jude led him up the stairs to his bedroom.
Least it was a double bed, but it didn’t matter.
Warren would have him anywhere and he kissed Jude again, using his bulk to walk him in until Jude’s knees hit the mattress, but before he could sit, Warren leaned his forehead on his, breath hot between them.
Then, vulnerable and raw, he said, “I want to make love to you.”
“I sort of thought that was the point of you coming here.”
“I came here for nothing more than to tell you the truth.”
Jude chewed on his lip. “I meant my bedroom.”
“Oh.” Warren let out a light laugh. “Yeah. Fair point.” He kissed him, slow and tentative, stroking behind Jude’s head. “So, we are doing this?”
“Yeah.” Jude licked his lips, breaths stuttering. “I think we should.”
“Right.” Warren’s heart skipped. “Then you’re gonna have to guide me through it.”
Jude inhaled, heart hammering against Warren’s chest. His eyes said it all: he’d been here before. With men who didn’t know what they wanted. With men who only knew how to take. Warren wasn’t here to take. He was waiting.
“First real time with a man?” Jude asked quietly.
“Not… exactly.” Warren closed his eyes, shame biting hot at his chest. “But not enough to know what I’m doing. Not when I want this to be good. Special. When I don’t want to hurt you or do anything you don’t want me to.”
There. Out in the open. The truth. He felt stripped bare already.
“Is that another story locked in a file somewhere?”
“No file. No official record other than my own.” He stroked his hand up Jude’s neck. “But let’s not ruin the mood with details. Just kiss me. Teach me.”
So Jude did. He kissed him. “Lucky I’m a good teacher. According to the Worthbridge Academy end of year awards.”
Warren kissed him again. Then, “Fuck, I want it to be good for you.” His throat closed on the words, because it mattered more than he could explain.
“It will be. You’ve already beaten ninety-nine percent of the others by not wanting to hurt me.”
That hit Warren harder than it should’ve.
He eased his grip, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
Christ, he didn’t want to be anywhere near Jude’s past. He wanted to give him something different.
A future. Then Jude sank down to sit on the edge of the bed and Warren’s heart kicked.
His breath stuttered. More so when Jude hooked his fingers into his waistband and pulled them down in one smooth motion.
He could barely think. Because he felt exposed, raw, the weight of himself in Jude’s hand making his head spin.
Then Jude’s mouth was on him. Heat. Wet.
Pressure. The way it had been that morning.
So damn good. And Warren cupped his hand on the back of Jude’s neck instinctively, but he barely touched him, stroking gently because he didn’t want to push. Didn’t want to break this.
“Jude…” His voice cracked on the name. “Fuck, Jude…”
The sound of his pleasure embarrassed him, but there was no stopping. He’d never felt anything like this. Jude’s mouth swallowed him down and every nerve in his body lit up, screaming how right this was.
When Jude pulled off, eyes peering up through his lashes, Warren thought he’d come undone from the look alone. “You want more?”
Warren’s chest heaved. “I want what you want. Only what you want to give me.”
The heat in Jude’s eyes nearly undid him.
“I want you inside me,” Jude said, fisting Warren’s slick cock. “I want this inside me. I think it’s the only way to know for sure who you are.”
“Then I’ll show you.”
Warren stripped in one go, not caring how desperate he looked.
All his nerves, all his bulk, every insecurity, out in the open.
He was hard, shaking with the need to do this right.
To be right. Jude reached behind him for the bedside drawer, pulling out lube with hands that weren’t as steady as Warren would expect.
He looked at him. “Are you…tested?”
Warren panted. “Yeah. Have to be. Why? You?”
“Haven’t been with anyone for a long time. I’m on PrEP. I’m all clear. Can we go just you?”
“Fuck…” Warren dragged a hand up his chest. “Yeah. Yeah. I want that.”
Then Jude sprawled out beneath him, open, unguarded, and Warren kissed him again.
Pouring into it everything he hadn’t managed to say aloud.
His mouth trailed lower, charting a path down Jude’s body, greedy to touch everywhere, to learn the map of skin and scar and sinew by heart.
And when Jude rolled onto his front, the breadth of his back stretched wide before him, Warren almost stopped breathing.
He bent to it, pressing his mouth to every line, every ridge of spine, worshipping with lips and tongue.
He followed it all the way down to the ink at Jude’s lower back.
The barbed wire, jagged and cruel. Warren smoothed his tongue along the pattern, as if he could lick the sharpness out of it, as if he could soothe away every memory it marked.