Chapter Twenty-One Covers Off #4
Jude arched into him, raising his hips, urging back, offering himself up like a gift.
He tilted his arse high, hole ready and waiting in the low light, and Warren’s cock jerked at the sight, a ragged breath tearing out of him.
With trembling hands, he slicked his fingers with lube, then pressed the first one to Jude’s opening, circling his hole.
“Should I—?” His voice cracked. “Should I go in?”
“Yeah.” Jude rocked back a fraction. “Take it easy. Been a while.”
Warren swallowed hard and worked carefully. One finger, then another, easing him open. By the time he slid in a third, Jude was rocking back into him, greedy for more, and Warren’s chest constricted.
He wants me. Christ, he wants me bad.
He’d done this before, in clumsy, forgettable ways, both sides of it, but it had never felt like this. Back then it had been tests, experiments, fumbling to prove something. Always chasing the end, hoping it would be over fast enough to move on.
This wasn’t that. Not even close.
Here, with Jude, he wanted to savour it. To draw it out. Make every push, every stretch, every breath mean something neither of them would forget.
“I’m ready,” Jude panted. “You can get in me.”
Warren slicked himself up, then lined against him and braced himself as he trembled, easing his length inside Jude, inch by inch, until his hips met Jude’s.
“Fuck…” The groan ripped out of him, guttural. “You’re so tight. Christ.” He held there, buried to the hilt, gripping Jude’s hips and wondering how he was meant to get through this. “Are you okay? Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” Jude breathed out. “Move. I can take it.”
So he did. Like that. With Jude talking him through it.
“That’s it,” he breathed. “Pull out…now come back in slowly.”
Warren drew back, almost terrified of hurting Jude, then eased in again and the drag, the heat, the way Jude pushed back to meet him, was overwhelming. Every thrust built on the last, his rhythm picking up, control hanging by a thread.
Jude’s voice, rough and sure, spurred him on. “That’s it. Like that.” He eased himself up to his knees, back flush to Warren’s chest, gliding his hand up behind him and around Warren’s neck. “God, yes, you feel so good. Go faster. Fuck…yes.”
Warren’s breath came ragged, and he dropped his forehead onto Jude’s shoulder, every thrust driving him deeper into something he couldn’t have planned for, couldn’t ever give up now. His first time like this, and it was Jude. No mask. No lies. Just him.
It felt fucking right. It felt foundational.
And every time Jude whispered, “Yes… yes…fuck, yes…” it was a powerful mantra.
It was Jude re-writing the narrative of his own body, reminding himself how he was able to enjoy it.
Feel it. Want it. Warren felt those gasps, those raw, broken sounds of pleasure, like a wound closing over.
And he was gone. Every stroke, every sound Jude made had him spiralling deeper into a place he’d never been.
His first proper time with a man and it felt like the first time with anyone.
Real. Stripped back. No pretence. Just heat and skin and Jude, taking him as if he’d been waiting for him all along.
The rhythm built faster than Warren could manage. His body had its own mind, snapping his hips forward, burying his cock deep in the tight heat that made him see white. He held Jude’s hips, digging his fingers in, trying to slow down, to last.
“Fuck… Jude… I can’t—” His words splintered on a groan, body drawn taut.
Jude twisted his head. “Don’t fight it. Give yourself to me.”
That undid him. He drove in deep, one last thrust, body locking as his climax ripped through him. Pulse after pulse spilled hot into him as he pressed his forehead to Jude’s back, a groan tearing from his chest, raw and breaking.
It felt like he’d come apart entirely.
Spent, he stayed buried inside, shaking, breath ragged. His body wouldn’t let him go. Jude under him, taking him, the sheer forbidden rightness of finally doing this—it lit him up all over again.
“Christ…” His voice came rough, almost pleading. “That was… fucking unreal.”
But Jude hadn’t finished and he wrapped his hand around himself, stroking hard, desperate, chasing the sensation, his body finally listening to its own hunger.
“Wait—don’t.” Warren eased out carefully, his cock still aching, still hard. He caught Jude’s wrist, breath heavy. “Let me. Please.”
Jude rolled onto his back, curls damp over his forehead, eyes dark and glassy.
Warren’s chest clenched at the sight. He kissed down Jude’s chest, tasting sweat and salt, before closing his mouth over Jude’s cock.
The heat, the weight, the taste. God, it was fucking special.
He groaned around it, sucking deep, stroking with his hand in sync.
Jude’s cry hit him like a shockwave. “Fuck, Warren… don’t stop.
Oh, fuck—” He bucked his hips, tangling his fingers in Warren’s locs, thighs trembling as Warren worked him hungrily, desperate to give back what Jude had given him.
Then Jude’s voice broke, urgent. “Fingers. Put your fingers in me. Need it.”
Warren instantly obeyed, sliding two fingers inside him, curling into his own mess and up until he found that sweet, aching spot, stroking it in perfect time with his mouth. Jude jolted hard, moaning his name, his body straining.
“Right there—” Jude gasped, bucking down on his fingers. “Fuck, right there… so fucking good.”
Warren slipped off him with a wet pop, thrusting his fingers deep.
The whole world seemed to narrow to the raw, visceral sound of Jude chasing him.
Warren’s skin flushed hot, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against the mattress.
He felt the residual clench of pleasure, realising he was still rock hard, leaking.
God, the sheer, consuming greed.
“Jesus, Jude… I’m still hard.” His voice cracked on it, the need so raw it startled him. “I want you again. Now.”
Jude’s laugh was breathless, wrecked. He pushed down onto Warren’s fingers, eyes wild. “Then get back in me. I want it. Want you. Inside me. Filling me. Every fucking inch of you.”
That was all Warren needed. He pulled his fingers free, hauled himself up, cock still hard and leaking, then pushed back inside Jude in one slick thrust. The sound ripping out of him was guttural, and he trembled as Jude clamped around him, gripping him as if he belonged there. Right there. Nowhere else.
Control shattered. He fucked him hard, locking his hands on Jude’s waist, driving into him with everything he had.
Brutal, desperate, unable to hold back. And this time he watched Jude’s face as he came apart.
Lips parted, eyes heavy, every sound spilling free and aimed straight at Warren’s chest. God, that wrecked him.
“Jude—fuck—” his voice broke as his hips snapped forward, “I’m close—”
Jude bucked up to meet him. “Do it. Come in me again.”
That finished him. Warren slammed in deep, held there as his second climax tore through him, stronger than the first, body locking as he spilled hot into Jude for the second time.
He dropped his forehead to Jude’s, groans shaking loose from his chest. “God… baby…” His voice cracked as he trembled through it. “Fuck….”
Jude tipped back, clamping his legs around Warren’s waist, sliding his wet cock between their stomachs as he broke with him.
He came hard, spilling hot across Warren’s abs, clenching tight around Warren’s cock in pulsing waves.
Warren eased his hips in slow, rolling movements, letting Jude ride it out, milking him dry even as Warren softened inside him.
And that—that—was what undid him most.
Jude didn’t push him away when he went soft. Didn’t close off or turn cold. He let Warren stay inside, let him hold the weight of him there. Gave in to it. To him.
Warren kissed the damp curls off his forehead, chest aching with something deeper than lust. He hadn’t just fucked Jude. He hadn’t just come inside him. He’d been let in. Trusted. In the one way that mattered most.
And for a man who’d built his life on lies, that trust felt like the most dangerous, beautiful thing he’d ever been given.