Sin título

Jobe had been your closest friend for as long as you could remember, a result of the friendship your mother and his had shared since they were teenagers. Being only a year older than him, you nearly shared everything: the same school, the same walk home, the same friends, and the same love of chasing each other through open fields.

He won most of the time.

When it came to catching you, it didn't matter how far you ran, Jobe always knew how to find you in the labyrinth of trees in Stourbridge’s parks.

When he was the one running from you, the situation was markedly different. There were only a handful of times you managed to catch him without something going wrong —very wrong for two children who couldn't see the world beyond their games.

Sometimes you ended up in Denise's arms, tearfully begging her to help you catch her son, and Jobe would get scolded for taking advantage of his long legs against your tiny ones. Other times the matter was so serious that it led you both to trespass onto private property. Mark's badge got you and Jobe out of those and many other situations. 

And lastly, there was Jude.

Asking Jude for help to catch Jobe was a low blow.

It was like a rule written into the bonds of your friendship. Never spoken, always there. With no need to say it, you both knew. 

But even so, you did it. 

Just once.

And the result was catastrophic: for an entire week, Jobe pretended you didn't exist. 

If you went to his house, he would go up to his room. If you saw each other at school, he would walk right past you. It got so extreme that you stopped talking to Jude for a month, just so your best friend would come back.

The chases and the games came to an end when Jude, like his father, started playing soccer and turned out to be exceptionally good at it.

Everything changed after that. 

Because just one year later, Jobe began training as well.

Suddenly, his routine changed completely, and the afternoons when you used to go running among trees and green fields were left behind. Then middle school came, and the days you spent together became fewer and fewer, until you only saw him on certain afternoons each month. It was then that you met María, a girl from Spain who had moved to the city because of her parents' work.

In a way, she filled that void, while for the Bellingham brothers, soccer went from being an afternoon pastime to a matter of local and national leagues, with Jude always leading the way.

If you barely ever saw Jobe, Jude was a lost cause. 

For entire months, all the things you knew about him were the things his younger brother told you. 

“He's going to play for Birmingham City, first group” 

Jude broke records from his very first match. 

Never before had a player so young taken the field for the club, and just 25 days later, he scored a goal that gave the team the victory.

Jobe and you watched all of it.

You from the stands. Jobe from the bench.

The change didn't stop there; in fact, that first season was only the beginning of what was yet to come. 

The big news arrived one afternoon like any other. It was the same crimson sky, with the same creamy clouds decorating it and the last rays of the sun caressing the same brick walls. 

You were on your way home when Jobe called you. 

“Meet me at the tree”

A place you used to go to often as children, back when Mary Stevens Park was your everyday gathering spot.

Under the same tree, with a strange U shape that united you as kids, things changed even more. 

“He's moving to Germany” he said.

You had never heard him sound so... sad. 

“Mom's going with him.” 

Your young heart, which barely understood anything about life, didn't know what else to do but hug him until the sun went down.

Everyone cried the day Jude left for Germany, but only you knew that Jobe was crying for something more than the absence of his older brother. 

It wasn't just that Jude was taking Denise with him, leaving him alone.

It wasn't just that Jude was leaving because a more prestigious team had signed him.

It wasn't just that he had to stay behind, with Dad, to keep trying to make something of himself at the same academy Jude was leaving. 

Jude's shadow was enormous—and very dark. And on that day, it grew even larger. 

You were the last person to say goodbye.

Jobe was already inside the house, locked in his room trying to deal with the situation. His father was talking with his mother in the foyer; it was the last time they would see each other face to face for several months.

That left you alone with a Jude whose smile was the same size as the sun.

Although his happiness was radiant, you couldn't match his expressions. Your heart felt far too heavy.

“Good luck” you murmured; vision blurred.

Jude hugged you before the tears wet your cheeks.

“I'm going to miss you” he whispered.

The knot inside your chest tightened a little more.

“Me too.”

After all, you had shared many moments as children with him too, the age difference did not separate you that much.

“You're going to come see me play, right?” He pulled away. The desperation in his words felt out of place, as if this wasn't the same Jude you used to know. “Like always.”

Like always.

You had never missed one of his matches, because naturally Jobe was there too. But you didn't know that he was aware of it. Of your silent presence in the stands.

“We're going to be there” you said.

Jude nodded.

And suddenly he bent down to the flower bed that was at the entrance of his house. He pulled out one of Denise's roses and… gave it to you.

“I’ll wait for you.”

The street fell silent so that your heartbeats were the loudest sound. You didn’t know what to do, until Jude stretched out the arm that held the flower and brought it closer to your hand. You took it, halfway through a breath, and he bent down to leave a chaste kiss on your cheek.

That last detail turned your face into a warm painting, right at the exact moment Denise and Mark finished their conversation.

“Let’s go, champ.”

His mother spoke to Jude so he would get into the car and then turned to you. She hugged you, only to whisper in your ear the words that would be engraved on your heart for the rest of your life.

“I know Jobe is in good hands, please take care of him.”

You nodded, carrying the heaviest flower in the world.

That night you couldn't sleep. After midnight, you called María.

“He gave you a flower and then kissed your cheek… qué hijo de puta (what a son of a bitch)”

“I don't know why he did it”

“Amiga (girl), you know it”

“No.” There was a pause “Yes. I'm going to jump off a bridge.”

“Ya, que no es para tanto (Come on, it's not that big deal)” she said. “Jobe doesn't have to know. Jude left and took his hormones with him. Don't worry.”

His hormones. Maybe María was right. It hadn't been a declaration of love either. And you were just reacting like a confused teenager. It was impossible that you saw your best friend's brother that way.

Simply no.

You thought about that the whole night.

Until a rock hit your window.

And then another.

And another.

When you looked outside, Jobe was waiting for you below, in his sports clothes. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon.

“Bet you can't catch me, shortcake.”

You were face to face with him in less time than it took you to get ready to go out.

“Fuck off, Bellingham” You hit his chest “I thought you'd spend all day in bed like the lazy ass you are”

The half-smile that emerged from his mouth eased the tension between your ribs.

“Dad talked to me all night” he confessed, at the same time that both of you set off toward wherever he was leading you. “I don't have to live in Jude's shadow. I'm going to build my own career, with my own fists.”

The morning breeze filled your lungs.

“I know.”

“What do you know?”

“That you're going to write your own story.” You touched his shoulder and then moved ahead, away from him.

You couldn't see that his half smile widened until it became an identical copy of the sunrise, toward which you both began to run, chasing each other.

Middle school ended, and so did high school. Your school life diverged from Jobe's when he focused on building his own career as a professional soccer player. Suddenly, you were no longer two annoying kids teasing each other, but two people with dreams who enjoyed making each other laugh.

Your graduation was a special day. You had completed your basic schooling, and it was time to choose a major. Jobe knew you had been looking forward to this date and he did everything possible to be with you. From the first ray of sunlight to the last, as if he didn't want to miss a single second of the happiness you radiated.

He accompanied you to the ceremony and afterward to dinner, carrying the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he could find in the entire city. María was there too, nudging you whenever she could.

“Qué majo se ha puesto este, huh (How handsome he's become, huh)”

Jude couldn't come, just like on every special occasion before this one. Jobe's birthdays, your birthdays, the matches, the competitions. With him, everything was reduced to messages and video calls.

That night, after dinner, your phone unexpectedly rang.

It was him.

“Hey.”

It had been so long since you'd heard his voice that you were surprised by how deep it sounded.

Jude was now almost nineteen years old and was a footballer renowned throughout Europe. He kept racking up records and awards you tried to ignore. 

“Hey Jude” you sang, still happy. 

His laugh tickled your ear. 

“Mom showed me the pictures” he confessed, “congratulations.”

Your lips parted. Jobe had surely sent them. Despite the distance, he was still very close to Denise; he still missed her a lot. Too much. Enough to expose Jude as a useless guy who didn't know how to drive or cook, in front of the cameras. 

“I didn't know you'd dyed your hair” he said, after your nervous laugh. 

“It's been like this for months.” 

“You didn't tell me” Jude complained.

Dramatic boy, as always. 

“You didn't ask.”

Jude clicked his tongue, knowing he wasn't going to be able to win that battle. 

“How was your day?” he asked.

You let your body fall onto the bed, your phone pressed close to you. 

“It was a …” you sighed, remembering the bouquet of flowers resting on the kitchen table. “A lovely day.” 

This Bellingham's smile was outrageous.

“I would have loved to be there” Jude admitted, with a sigh heavy with melancholy.  

“We're very happy for you, you know?”

Don't look back. You tried to tell him, and you could imagine him nodding, his gaze fixed on the ground, as he used to do every time someone comforted him after a bad game.

“I know,” he exhaled. 

“You're doing incredible things.” 

Since when had you learned to comfort people like that? Jude accepted your words with gratitude and changed the subject.

“And now what are you going to do?” he asked “Jobs told me you wanted to keep studying.”

Jobs. After all, they were still talking to each other.

Obviously, smartass, they're siblings.

“I don’t know,” you confessed. “Maybe I’ll start working for a full year and then begin university. Mom still hasn’t been promoted and Oxford isn’t cheap, you know?”

“Oxford!” he exclaimed “I didn’t know you wanted to embarrass us.”

The accusation made you laugh.

“You play in Germany, Jude.”

“It suits you, you know?” he said, suddenly. “Oxford and your hair like this. I can see it.”

“Enough with my hair, please”

“You look pretty.”

Your stomach tightened. Those were the loudest ten seconds of silence in a call.

“Shouldn't you be sleeping, Bellingham?”

“Yes, I should” he muttered, “but Mom showed me the pictures and I can't stop thinking.”

You shouldn't keep talking. You shouldn't feel curious. You shouldn't ask.

“About what?”

The line filled with noise, as if Jude had moved from where he was.

“That I wish I had been there” he chose his words carefully. Your lips dried. “With you”

“You're playing dirty, Jude” you said.

“Why?”

“Because you're not here.”

You haven’t been here to make me feel this way.

 “Would you like me to be?”

Winter nights shouldn’t be this hot. It wasn’t natural. And much less a harbinger of good things.

“Good night, Bellingham.”

You hung up before it was too late.

Too late for what?

You didn’t want to answer yourself.

2023 would be a different year.

You knew it from the New Year's celebration for several reasons.

The first—and the biggest one—, Jude was there.

Denise and he flew from Germany to celebrate like in the old days, when your mother and you would walk to his house and have dinner together before welcoming the new year.

The second, Jobe behaved differently throughout the evening. He even decided to wear a suit to a casual dinner, arguing that it brought good luck. And he didn't leave you alone for a single minute of the night.

If his hand wasn't on top of yours, his arm was around your shoulders. You didn't do anything to move him away because you had always been accustomed to his closeness, but in front of Jude, for the first time in your entire life, it felt different.

Not bad. Not good. Just… different.

You caught Jude looking at you a couple of times. Each one twisted your stomach worse than the last, because it wasn’t just a passing glance.

No.

It was the first time you had seen each other since that call, and Jude’s gaze felt heavier than lead. Throughout the entire night, it was there, boring into your body, especially the places Jobe touched.

Your families welcomed the new year with excitement. Everyone toasted to more achievements and victories to share and also gave thanks for everything both boys had accomplished in so few years of their careers. Your mother hugged them as if they were her own sons. And Denise hugged you as if she were indebted to you, because Jobe's smile was as big and bright as Jude's, even though she had been absent for so long. And as if that were entirely on you.

It was too much for one night.

And it was also only the beginning.

Jude stayed to rest for a week, before a new season that promised to be decisive for his career, after other clubs had turned their attention to him.

On the fourth day of the week, Jude invited some friends over to the house. They got together to play FIFA and the two of you joined in because Jobe insisted.

The living room was small and all the seats on the couch were taken when you arrived, which led Jobe to suggest that you should sit on his lap, as if it were the most —damn— simple thing in the world.

You wanted to think that because there were so many years of friendship between you two, because you were his best friend, it couldn’t be weird. With those thoughts in mind, you accepted.

Then Jude's hazel eyes fell upon you and followed all your movements, from the entrance to his brother's lap. He looked away when you turned to look at him. His clenched jaw was enough to make you hold your breath.

Jobe's hands wrapped around your waist and intertwined in the controller just in front of your belly.

“I’m going to fuck you up, Krane” Jobe said right beside your ear.

Jobe’s voice was deep too.

Perhaps a little deeper than Jude’s. Both brothers were still growing, and all those changes keep driving you crazy. Naturally, the shivers started at the small of your back. Every time he laughed or insulted one of Jude’s friends, it was torture to keep yourself still on his lap.

When the game ended, Jobe handed the controller to his brother, but his hands never left your hips.

Jude forcefully took the device from his hands, causing a raspy laugh from his little brother that filled your right ear. You tilted your head instinctively.

“Are you okay?” Jobe whispered with his mouth pressed against your hair.

Yes, that voice was an absolute torture.

“You're tickling me” you murmured back, laughing.

“Yeah?” he teased.

His head leaned further over you and the tickling got worse.

“Woah, Jude, you're terrible at this, mate.”

That teasing came from the left. You couldn't see what his friend was referring to, or why, because Jobe was still torturing you with his breath so close to your skin.

“You're very sensitive here” Jobe mumbled, sinking further into the hollow between your shoulder and your head.

You lost your breath completely.

Jobe's lips brushed against your skin, and the startle was enough for your hands to end up on his legs, searching for some support.

“Too sensitive” he corrected himself, tormenting you again with the brush of his wet mouth.

Only then did you allow yourself to look at his older brother, who was gripping the remote control so tightly that his knuckles had changed color.

The tension was also evident in his face, jaw clenched, furrowed brows and lips completely lost between his teeth.

A small gasp escaped your lips.

It was barely a murmur, which completely froze Jobe in place. Under your palms, you felt the muscles in his legs tense and his breathing changed its rhythm.

The grip Jobe had on your hips softened. His face also moved away from your skin. As if he had changed his mind, he simply withdrew.

“I prefer to play in person” Jude declared, once the match was finished. He looked at you, immediately. One glance was enough to make one thing clear that you stubbornly tried to ignore.

You were deeply embroiled in a problem that became heavier to bear with every passing minute.

English spring was synonymous with miracles. It brought with it the longest and warmest days of the year, without gray clouds or drizzles to ruin afternoon plans. It was the perfect weather for wearing tops and eating some ice cream.

On one of those days, when the sky shone a tender blue, Jobe called you to give you another piece of big news. But this time it was different, because it was his news.

It was his achievement.

“They’re going to make it official on the eighteenth.”

Sunderland A. F. C. had made him an offer of 3 million pounds. A competing club had taken notice of him and wanted to sign him.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

The workday at the bakery had never felt so long. You counted the minutes until the shift change, when you could finally run out to meet him. He, naturally, was on the field, training, burning off the excitement through runs and passes.

As soon as he saw you enter the field, he stopped everything and focused only on you and the strength necessary to counter the stampede that was approaching.

He caught you in his arms and then lifted you into the air.

“I told you!” you shouted at him.

Jobe smiled and smiled, until his cheeks hurt. It didn't matter. No pain he had ever felt in his life could compare to the happiness he felt at that moment.

Because he was writing his own story.

And because he had you in his arms.

His arms, stronger with each passing month. His arms. They enclosed you and pressed you against his body, while he rocked you from side to side, never stopping telling you how excited he was.

The embrace lasted for minutes, amid the green grass and beneath the sky that had watched you grow up. It could not have been any other way.

He rested his forehead against yours and after a sigh that brushed your cheeks, you realized how close you were. You also realized that his hands were holding your skin, beneath the loose top you were wearing. With no clothing in between. Hot skin to hot skin.

You placed your palm against his face, not wanting to break this closeness.

Jobe responded the gesture by cradling his head in your hand. The movement brought you closer, and now all it took for your lips to find his was to rise onto your toes.

No.

You didn't just think that.

You both stopped swaying, and the stillness allowed you to take in the rest of the hug a second time. It didn't seem real. Your bodies were completely pressed together, and his forehead was resting against yours. It didn't feel real.

His arms tightened around your bare back, as if he was fighting a battle behind his dilated pupils too.

Jobe tilted his head further and his nose brushed the tip of yours, parting your lips in surprise. Your palm fell to his chest when his mouth closed over your lower lip.

It was barely a caress that cut through the surface of your friendship and changed the color of the sky.

“Jobe!” Someone shouted in the distance.

You both separated in an instant.

“When were you planning to tell me, you idiot!?”

It was one of his friends. Both men hugged each other, laughing.

While they finished their celebration, you remained silent. The flush in your cheeks led you to cross your arms over your chest, as if that way you could protect yourself from what was about to happen.

Without thinking, you touched your lip with the tip of your index finger. It was still wet from Jobe's lips' fleeting caress.

“Are you okay?” the intruder asked you.

Jobe looked at you and you at him. In the midst of so much emotion, a hint of concern showed in his eyes. Your fingers were still pressed to your mouth. It was more than obvious that you were still thinking about him and what he had dared to do.

“Where are we going to celebrate?” you asked, extending your hand toward Jobe for him to take.

The smile returned to his eyes, and you never spoke about your almost-kiss again.

That happiness lasted exactly 20 days.

Only 20 days.

20 sunrises.

On the 20th sunset, after Jobe held you in his arms and swore to himself that he would be the happiest man in the universe, Jude called home.

His younger brother could only hear two words that changed everything all over again.

Real Madrid.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” It was what you said once the news reached your ears.

Jobe shook his head.

“I wish I were fucking kidding you”

“You’re fucking kidding me, Samuel.”

The air caught in his throat and tightened his pronounced jaw.

“No” he stated firmly. “It’s serious. They’re going to make it official on Friday. Dad has already bought the flights.”

“The fucking Real Madrid.”

Jobe nodded.

This time there were no tears in his eyes, nor was there a fiery sunset surrounding you. This time the sky was gray and the only thing his hazel eyes showed you was absolute coldness.

“How much…” He didn’t let you finish the question.

“One hundred and three million”

The air caught in your throat.

“Pounds?”

Jobe shook his head.

“Euros” he sighed.

“Dear fucking lord.”

His room had never felt so small. Every piece of furniture, every decoration, and every medal felt enormous. Things piled up in a tiny, dark corner.

Very few times did you hate being Jobe’s best friend.

This was one of them. Not because he was bad. No. But because you could see the enormous weight he carried in silence. You could feel his sadness, as if it were yours too.

You hated it because you loved him so much.

Enough to make you stand up and hold his face —and his heart— with both hands. 

“Hey” you murmured, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs. “That’s his story.”

Jobe was sitting on his bed; he was so tall that his face didn’t have to tilt to fit between your hands. He looked straight at you. The only light peeking into the room came from a lamp on the avenue. Although you were almost in darkness, his eyes were two stars.

“We don’t care” you stated, without realizing the weight of your words. “I don’t care.”

Two sharp stars.

“I don’t want your pity” he said, without moving.

Despite trying with all his anger to hide his sadness, you felt it.

Something broke inside your chest, but you didn’t pull away. You took a deep breath and moved closer until your foreheads touched.

“The other day in the countryside, when you told me about Sunderland…”

The interruption was imminent. So was his distance. 

“I don’t…” he began.  You didn’t let his cheeks pull away from your hands. You didn’t let him go. 

“Shhh…” you silenced him, bringing your faces together again. With no witnesses other than the intrusive yellow streetlight, you brushed your nose against his and spoke to his lips. “The only story that matters to me is yours, and I’m very proud of what you’ve achieved.” 

It was your way of telling him that it was okay. 

This closeness was okay. This light was okay. Whatever this was… it was okay.

The darkened sky thundered. The storm arrived and you touched his lower lip with the tip of your tongue. 

Her lips parted in a sigh and there was not enough strength in that tiny room to stop you. You crushed your mouth against his, changing everything. Burning everything, as it began to rain. 

“Are you?” he whispered.

You agreed, without stopping kissing him. 

“Too much.” 

Too proud. Too attached. 

The drops of water hit his window as Jobe pressed his palms to your waist and pulled you against his body, lifting you onto his lap. You kissed him again, until you both ran out of air. You weren’t chasing after each other, but it seemed like you were. 

It seemed like his mouth didn’t want to leave you alone, until it had touched every inch of you.

The constant drumming of the rain against the walls set the rhythm of this impulse. What had begun as an open kiss was now an incessant brush of damp caresses.  He kissed your cheek, then your jaw. Curses and sighs accompanied the storm as soon as he touched the skin of your collarbones. 

There he had to stop to breathe and ended up hiding in your chest, as if it were the refuge he had always been searching for. 

“I've got you here” he cried, breathing deeply. “With me.”

You hugged him closer to you. 

His fingers found the edge of your blouse and he did not hesitate to slip them inside, seeking the softness of your skin. 

“Are you sure?” he murmured. 

At the same time, the window creaked from the impact of another lightning bolt. You nodded, with the glow of the thunder and his gaze setting every part of you ablaze. 

Jobe withdrew his caresses from your skin to take off the shirt he was wearing. 

The air caught in your throat when your hands found his torso. Like a mystery to be solved, you traced the muscles of his chest, becoming more and more restless; while it rained harder and harder. You pushed him backward, until his body collapsed onto the bed.

With both legs on either side of his hips, you secured your position on top of him and bent down because deciphering it with your fingertips wasn’t enough. 

“Fuck” he muttered through gritted teeth. 

You kissed the point from which all this chaos was coming, his heart. 

And then lower. 

Lower.

And lower.

Your chin touched something hardened as your hands found the border of his shorts.

It was at that moment that his cell phone began to vibrate.

Both of you straightened abruptly, as if you had just awakened from a trance, but you didn’t separate. Your hands tangled around his neck and his around your back.

“Who’s?” you asked, still breathless.

Jobe’s chest vibrated.

“It’s mom.”

The rain stopped being a roar loud enough to hide your outburst and became a soft caress against walls and roofs. Not knowing what else to do, you rested your head against his bare chest while he spoke with his mother.

“Yes, she’s here with me…” He mentioned you at one point. His hands suddenly found your hair “She’s happy for him too… I think.”

You closed your eyes, still feeling dizzy for the touching you just shared. You fell asleep, between the gentle caress of his fingers and his voice, with the storm fading away outside and inside his room.

Mark and Jobe traveled to Spain for the club’s official announcement. It was quite a gala, broadcasted around the entire world. The pictures showed you a family overflowing with happiness. Even Jobe managed to look happy for his brother. Maybe it had something to do with that last kiss hidden in the dimness of his room.

Their happiness was outrageous.

Tender.

Contagious.

The pics seemed like reason enough for you to be the one to call Jude.

“Eres un cabrón (You’re a bastard)” you told him in Spanish.

Jude's laugh was sharp. It touched your ears and curved your lips.

“Since when do you know Spanish?” he asked, completely ignoring the subject.

“My best friend is Spanish.”

“Best friend?” he inquired. “I thought only Jobe could hold that position.”

“Stop messing with me, Bellingham. Why didn't you tell me?”

“You didn't ask.”

One of your lips ended up caught between your teeth.

“Qué cabrón eres. (You're such a bastard.)”

You had never liked his laugh so much. How could it sound so attractive? You could see him clearly in your head, smiling like the egotist he was about to become. 

“You’re going to have to teach me Spanish.”

“Why?” you asked, cynically. 

Jude tortured you again with a deep laugh. 

“Why, William?” you insisted. 

“Let’s make a deal” he said, after the teasing. Your eyebrow arched instinctively. “I’ll dedicate my first gold medal at Real Madrid to you, if and only if you come see me lift the trophy.”

Dangerous.

Inevitably, you remembered the words he told you before saying goodbye to you to travel to Germany. You’re going to see me play. You never went to one of his matches with Borussia Dortmund. Not even when he played in England.

Now the request was different. Now it was a challenge.

“Fine, but I choose which medal.”

You took the easy way out, the provocation.

“Whichever you want.” His smile could be heard through the call.

“The Champions League one.”

Jude almost moaned in response.

“You want the whole cake, greedy little thing”

That was an accusation that made your face flush. 

“I didn't start this.”

From Spain, Jude decided to complicate things a little more.

“All right, but because it's not just any cup you want to see me lift, you're going to celebrate with me once the match is over.”

Celebrate. You didn't want to imagine the context behind a single word.

“That's fair.”

“I'll show you what I'm capable of” he declared, “just to have you here.”

And that’s exactly what he did. 

He played so well in his first matches with Real Madrid that they named him Player of the Month in La Liga, and he kept up the pace until he equaled records held by Cristiano Ronaldo himself. 

Calling him became a habit for both of you. If he had a good match, he called you; if he had a bad match, he called you. Any reason was good enough for him to let the minutes slip by talking to you in the early hours of the morning. 

Madrid fascinated him from the very first day he moved there with Denise.

The team also welcomed him with more warmth than expected. Playing with them was incredible, celebrating with them was a lot—much, much—better. He told you a lot about the charm of Madrid nights, hoping you would catch a flight and experience it yourself.

Then he played his first "Clásico" and helped the team move three points ahead of their most personal rival, the F.C. Barcelona. That night, Jude was effusive and never tired of telling you how much he longed for you to be there, as if suddenly you were no longer just his brother’s best friend, but something more to him.

Something intimate enough to invite you to the last match against, no one more and no one less than the team he had played for in Germany, during the Champions League final, Borussia Dortmund.

“Go with me.”

“No.”

For an entire week, you tried to convince Jobe to come with you to London, but he refused every time you asked. 

“I’m busy. Mom and Dad will be there, that’s enough. I have to train. It’s just one more match. It’s very cold.”

Each time it was a different excuse, but always a refusal. You stopped insisting when the answer became colder. 

“I just don’t want to go.”

It no longer sounded like an excuse, but rather like a confession made from the shadows within him. He didn’t even sound angry, but you stepped back.

Maria, once again, was the person who filled that void.

“You’re not doing anything wrong” she told you, while the two of you traveled by train to the English capital. If there was anyone besides Jobe who knew how to read your expressions, it was her. Of course, she noticed the debate raging in your head.

“It’s complicated” you said, resting your head against the window, and she snorted.

“It doesn’t have to be” she reasoned. “You’re just going to watch him play. Maybe he’ll win and we’ll go out to celebrate. But that’s it. Jobe isn’t going to stop being your best friend just because his brother is a fucking champion of the most important league in Europe.”

Your eyes accused her.

“We’re going to have fun, and that’s it” she shrugged. “I know what it’s like when El Real wins, girl. That’s a party you don’t want to miss. Much less because of some asshole who doesn’t dare confess his feelings.”

“Jobe doesn't…”

Maria raised her hand, silencing you.

“Let's have some fun.”

You nodded.  

Just fun. Nothing more.

London wasn't as cool, and its landscape wasn't as green as what you were used to. It was more frigid, in its wind and its streets. The dull colors matched the cloudy sky and also the mahogany lipstick on your lips.

Maria took photographs of everything she saw, fascinated by being able to visit another city in England, so different from her native Barcelona.  

She even captured Jude when he met up with you in the hotel lobby.

It hadn’t been that long since the last time you saw him. A couple of months, at most. Even so, it was different. It felt different, because this time you finally looked at him. No longer as your best friend’s older brother, but as the passionate and successful man he was.

With a perfect smile and adidas outfits.

“You’re here” he said, before hugging you.

There it was. The husky tone that had stolen your breath over the phone. In person, it was even more devastating, because it was accompanied by a pair of shiny eyes that lit up when he recognized your silhouette in the distance. Unlike Jobe, Jude was more expressive.

“I told you I would” you replied, wrapping your arms around his waist.

One more detail, Jude was no longer the boy who had left you in England. No. His hug was no longer a careless touch, forced by the manners his mother had tried to instill in him.

This was different.

It was the first hug you had shared after so many late-night conversations.

Without thinking, you rested your head against his chest, only to be met with chaos. His heartbeat was a mess, as if he had just finished an exhausting training session.

Before you could joke about it, Maria butted into the conversation to introduce herself. You pulled away carefully, not wanting to be too abrupt.

“Jobs?” he asked, after greeting your friend.

You shook your head.

“I tried to convince him, but he couldn’t come.”

He didn't want to come.

“He stayed to train, right?” He clicked his tongue. “That brat.”

“You know him better than I do.” You raised your hands.

Jude shook his head, laughing.

“I don't think so.”

“Let her rest, please” Maria interrupted. “She's finally getting a break from Jobe and you're ruining it for her.”

“A break?” Jude asked, frowning.

“They're glued to each other all day, and if they're not together, they text each other anytime. I wish I could see her that much” your best friend huffed.

The smile you gave her was pointed, but she didn't stop.

“It's annoying, you don't know how jealous it makes me.”

Jude wet his lips.

“It was like that since we were kids” he said, cold tone. “It's always been that way.”

You tried to defend yourself. No excuse or joke seemed adequate to you to brush aside the tension in his hardened jaw.

Maria noticed it. You noticed it.

“No, it’s not the same anymore” you confessed. “A lot of things changed after football.”

It was true. You couldn’t tell what moment had transformed your friendship with Jobe. You weren’t even sure whether it had been a specific event or simply the passing of the years with such a great passion and obsession in the middle of it all.

Before Jude could inquire any further, Maria ended the tension she herself had caused.

“Is that Toni Kross!?” she almost shouted.

You rolled your eyes and at the same time thanked the football superstar for deciding to walk through the same lobby at that precise moment. It was a breath of fresh air.

“I can introduce you to him, if you want.”

“You’re kidding.”

Jude smiled.

“Only if you want.”

You rolled your eyes again. 

Maria took pictures and also asked him for an autograph. 

“I didn’t know you had a Madridista friend.” Jude touched your waist with one of his fingers. He poked you. It was a playful gesture that made you straighten your posture and feel warmth in your cheeks. 

“She doesn’t like soccer at all,” you exposed her. “Her brother is the one who’s crazy about the whole club, even about you.” 

“Then she has a good brother.” 

He teased you again with his hand, stretching his lips to one side in a smirk that made your blush even worse. You pushed him away, pressing against his chest a little. His hard chest. Your eyebrows rose instinctively. 

“We have training today,” he said, bringing you back to your senses. “Would you like to go?” 

“I don’t think…” 

Maria, once again, butted in. 

“We’d love to go.”

It was not a good idea.

From the moment you arrived, you knew it. The sky was covered by gray clouds that darkened the surroundings. Although the wind swayed your hair and cooled your cheeks, it wasn't cold enough.

Not for what was happening in front of you.

A thin layer of sweat covered Jude's skin, as he was stretching after a light training session. That was what they had said before starting. They would only move as much as necessary to stay fresh for the next day, when the big match would take place.

His chest rose and fell frantically. No matter how much oxygen entered his lungs, he still felt suffocated. He stretched his arms above his head, and the shirt lifted slightly, revealing part of his abdomen and a thin line of black curls that continued below the shorts.

“¿Por qué te tardaste tanto en venir, tía? (Why did you take so long to come, girl)” your best friend beside you complained.

“Don't say anything, please” you asked her.

Maria laughed.

“I haven't said anything!” she bellowed. “In fact, I've been pretty restrained.”

“That's better.”

The stretch changed. Now he stretched downward, wrapping his legs in his arms. That was where the real tension lay. His lower muscles were hardened enough to show every separation in detail. You were certain that, if you could touch them, they would be as hard as rock. Sitting there would be…

No.

“I need water” you got up from the bench.

Maria laughed again.

“Go get it yourself, I wouldn't miss this for anything.”

You walked slowly until you found the vending machine, and you still lingered there, letting the cold liquid pass down your throat. It did nothing to ease the burning you felt inside. Not even pressing the bottle against your face helped much to bring down the heat in your cheeks.

Jude definitely wasn't that same sixteen-year-old boy who had given you a rose from his mother's garden, never imagining that such a simple gesture would lead you to that moment, when you were trying not to think about him anymore.

Not after having make out with his brother.

Training had ended when you returned with Maria, the players were already inside the locker room. It was time to leave. You sent Jude a message, letting him know that you would spend the rest of the day with María, exploring London.

You saw him again only that night, at the hotel. Not because you happened to cross paths, but because you had politely asked him to meet you in the hallway.

Once he was standing in front of you, crossing his arms, you were direct.

“You should give your medal to Denise.”

Jude maintained his athletic stance.

“That was my original idea, but…”

You stopped him.

“Exactly. No one is going to be prouder of you than she tomorrow” you reasoned. “It can't belong to anyone but her.”

“But…” He tried to move closer.

The masculine scent of his cologne brushed your nose, and the air caught in your throat as you recognized citrus notes. Soft, but lethal after the morning image that had been etched into your mind.

His wet, glistening skin. His large silhouette, breathless.

His lips slightly parted, like now, asking for something more than oxygen.

“This is wrong, Jude.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This.” You pointed to the space between you. “You and me.”

You let it out. The words pierced the air until they struck his chest, held upright in front of you. You expected silence from him, but you got the opposite.

“He really hasn’t told you anything, has he?” he tilted his mouth.

It was your turn to furrow your brows, to plunge into the acidic waters of confusion. You didn't need the name to know who he was referring to. 

“What would he have to tell me?” you asked.

Then, his lips met silence. He used it to protect himself and at the same time to draw closer to you.

“Jude” you threatened.

Not even the edge in your tone was enough to battle against his broad figure. Before you could move away, a smooth, hard wooden wall touched your back.

“I'm going to give it all tomorrow” he whispered, looming over you. “I'm going to give everything for that medal, just as I promised you.”

You didn't like the thickness of his voice, nor did you like your body's reaction to his determination.

“You didn't promise me that” you clarified. “I only provoked you and you accepted the challenge.”

You were completely on the defensive. Willing to build an immense wall in front of you, just to stop his firmness, while you tried to ignore his bright eyes, attentive to the detail of your lips.

You savored his silence longer than you should have.

“What would he have to tell me?” you repeated the question.

That didn't stop him neither. His mouth parted slightly, not to put an end to your curiosity, but to break you down further. A glance downward, toward the deadliest place in the entire universe, set everything ablaze. His lips were glossy, asking for a kiss that could break you entirely.   

Jude leaned his face over yours, until his freshly moistened lips touched the skin of your cheek.

“See you tomorrow, shortcake.”

The atmosphere throughout the entire match was suffocating. The flags, the shouts, the cold, the tension between rivals, the beer.

Maybe you were a little dizzy when the match ended, Maria's fault for accepting every drink that other Madridistas offered her. The alcohol around you only increased when the first goal came, thanks to Dani Carvajal.

After that, the characteristic cold of the London night stopped being a concern for everyone. At most, it reached six degrees, but inside the stadium and with such a passionate fanbase, not to mention the beer, it felt like a beach day.

Jude assisted the last goal that would give Real Madrid their 15th Champions League title.

“That's your man, amiga (girl)!” Maria shouted, right after the goal. 

“Coño (fuck), María, he's not my man” you protested.

Your best friend straightened her posture.

“You're right, I'm sorry” she said, and then stretched to shout again: “That's one of your men! Arriba la poligamia y el Real Madrid, hijos de puta (Long live polygamy and Real Madrid, sons of bitches!)"

“Los jugadores no escuchan nada desde aquí ¿verdad?” (The players can't hear anything from here, right?)” you asked the man next to you.

The man laughed.

“Qué nos van a escuchar, mujer (How could they to hear us, woman)” he exclaimed “¡Vinicius, cabrón¸ cómo vas a ser tan bueno, dejaría a mi esposa por ti (Vinicius, you bastard¸ how can you be so good, I'd leave my wife for you!”

Like almost the entire game, your eyes fixed on Jude.

If the sight of the previous day was torture, the match was the cherry on top of the cake —of the enormous cake. It was impossible not to look at him when he tried so hard. Although you weren't familiar with his game as much as you were with Jobe's, you could notice his commitment to the team and to himself.

The sweat all over his body was proof of it, as was the swelling of his muscles.

You followed him all over the pitch, while he hugged the entire club and then while they lined them up to present them with their medal, just before raising the enormous trophy. The camera focused on him, showing him on the screens throughout the stadium, and Jude lifted the medal from his chest to his mouth and bit it.

“There’s your dedication,” your friend said, laughing.

You denied it, ignoring the tickling in your stomach, as you watched him move away once again. Jude leaned against one of the stands, and his athletic shorts rode up, revealing his massive thighs, with the gold medal resting peacefully on his chest.

“Well, too much testosterone for today.” Maria shook herself. “Let’s go.”

Your mouth felt dry.

“I have to look for Denise.”

She stopped you.

“No, girl, you don’t want to see the mother after that.”

The field began to empty out.

Jude was one of the last players to enter the locker room.

Suddenly he approached the stands and the camera caught him taking off his medal to hang it around his mother’s neck. The gesture was so tender that the rest of the entire stand seemed to freeze.

What paralyzed you was something very different.

“Isn’t that…?” María asked, leaning forward.

Shit.

“It is.”

Shit.

Jude hugged his younger brother and, without stopping smiling, planted a kiss on his forehead. Jobe returned the gesture with a half-smile. They both walked onto the grass, talking to each other. Then Jude pointed toward an area of the stands.

The area where you were. 

“He’s waving at you, amiga (girl)” Maria snapped her fingers in front of you.

Shit.

“Don’t you want to push me off a bridge?” you said to your friend, while raising your hand to greet both brothers.

“Those two over there would kill me if I do something like that.”

“I need water.”

You needed something more than water to soothe the dryness in your mouth.

“I’ll get you something, while you go say hello.”

Denise was the first to hug you when you arrived with them.

She was still excited about her interaction with Jose Mourinho that Jude, being the good son he was, had made happen.

“I’m glad you’re here” she told you, holding your hands. “It’s a very important moment for our family.”

“I’m so happy for you… for Jude.”

Behind her, you managed to see that Jobe clenched his jaw.

Mark greeted you, thanking you as well, and when you finally reached your best friend’s arms, he threw the champions’ towel he’d been carrying all this time at you.

“Shortcake.”

You smiled more relaxed.

When you took the fabric away from your face, his body was already on top of yours.

“Idiot” you hit his chest, laughing.

He pulled away to brush the hair from your face, and then you looked into his eyes. Those tiny sockets that held the gleam of an immense sorrow.

“I missed you” he confessed, suddenly.

It had only been a couple of days, but you wanted to understand him. You had never traveled to a place so far away, much less for so long. It wasn't the place, nor was it the length of time. It was the person you had come for.

You touched his cheek.

Before you could tell him that you had thought about him enough to miss him too, Jobe leaned down to bring his lips together with yours.

By instinct, your back arched. Jobe's palm spread across it, stopping your backward impulse. He prolonged the kiss, while your hand closed around his hoodie, clutching it into a fist.

The surprise, the shortness of breath, the worry, all had the same bitter taste.

“Finally” you heard Mark say.

“I knew it!” his mother shouted. “I always knew!”

As soon as you separated, your face swayed toward the side of the court.

There was not a single player left outside anymore, only the staff moving hurriedly to clean up the remnants of the celebration. That mess seemed like the right refuge to hide your shock.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Denise kept talking. “We need to tell the news to Jude. This is one more reason to celebrate.”

“I don’t think we’ll see him until tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“That’s better” the younger brother muttered.

You curled your lips upward, not knowing what else to do. And you let Jobe intertwine his hand with yours, but you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“I have to go back to Maria; she must be looking for me”

No one seemed to notice your desperation to run away, not even your best friend, who had just squeezed your heart between his fists. Not even him. Thanks to that, the goodbye wasn’t so rushed.

You found Maria in a hallway near the door where you had entered, she was carrying two red cups in her hands and without saying anything you snatched one from her.

“Bloody hell, amiga (girl), what the fuck is this?!”

Your throat burned as soon as the liquid slid down it. You coughed to counteract the sting.

Maria burst out laughing.

“It’s vodka” she replied. “It was much cheaper than a bottle of water.”

“I don’t fucking believe you”

“Well, and what happened to you” she asked “I didn’t leave you like this.”

She did notice the wrinkles on your forehead and the lower tone of your voice, but you only shook your head and tipped the glass back to your mouth again.

“Let’s get out of here, please.”

With a glass of vodka in your system, the night went by faster.

You filled every space in it with different thoughts, each one farther from Stourbridge and its parks.  María didn't insist on knowing what had you so out of sorts, but she helped you not think about it either.

She straightened your hair and painted your lips, without asking once what had made you change your mind so you could go to the party with Jude more excited.

“You're not planning to wear that, are you?”

You looked at your jeans and your top with a frown.

“What's wrong with it?”

María refused.

“You’re lucky I always pack two outfits.”

She ended up lending you one of her dresses.

“Hell yes…” she nodded, as soon as she saw you wearing it. “You’re ready.”

The dress was completely body-hugging with a plunging neckline in the back. Almost your entire back was exposed, while the front closed from your neck down to your arms.

Subtle.

Dangerously subtle.

You both arrived —laughing— at the place Jude had sent you by text.

“Remind me why we’re here” you asked your friend, before entering the club.

She took you by the shoulders.

“Because you promised that Bellingham boy that when he won the Champions League, you’d celebrate with him” she said. “Do I also need to remind you who he is?”

You moved your head from top to bottom, ready to hear your sentence.

The older brother of…

“Un tío muy, muy caliente (A very, very hot guy.)”

“Maria!”

Your best friend kissed your cheek while laughing.

“Have fun, hermosa (beautiful)” she shouted. “Just have fun.”

The music enveloped you from the very first heel strike inside.

The lowest notes resonated throughout your body until they rocked it. You and Maria entered a thick layer of mist that changed color every time the melody rose in pitch.

Some pop songs quickly made you and Maria dance, mingling among the crowd, while you tried to look for Jobe's older brother. It wasn't long before Maria found her first drink, as if alcohol followed her wherever she went. It was liquor mixed with peach and lots of ice. Your mouth went cold after drinking the glass, counteracting some of the heat that was beginning to stick your hair to your forehead.

The second glass was stronger and more citrusy. It was with that taste on your lips that you found Jude among the crowd. The surprise stretched his features, and it was evident that he wasn't entirely sober either.

“Congrats, champ” you shouted into his ear.

His arms wrapped around you.

“I thought you wouldn't come” he admitted, pressed against your ear, “I thought you were going to stay with Jobs at the hotel.”

Jobs. Your arms squeezed him tighter. You knew he wasn't going to be here because he was still three months short of the required age to get in.

You knew it.

If Jude felt the tension in your body, he said nothing.

“I promised you.”

“You didn’t promise me anything” he used your words from last night “I provoked you and you accepted the challenge.”

“Asshole” you insulted him, smiling.

Jude laughed, without letting you go.

“Toast with me.”

From somewhere, he found two glasses and handed you one, then clinked them together. Once again, a citrusy and fresh flavor tormented your senses.

It was only the first one.

By the fifth glass, the music was far too much to your liking, even though they weren't playing your favorite artist. Maria got lost among the crowd, living her own party, and Jude's arms never got tired of wrapping around you. Even when he was addressing someone else, even when other players hugged him and shouted incoherent things at each other, he always found a way to touch you, to feel you close.

Suddenly, S&M by Rihanna began to play, a song you enjoyed quite a lot.

Between swaying, drinks, and incoherent ramblings, Jude ended up behind you, one arm firmly in front of your belly and the other holding a beer bottle.

Feels so good being bad, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh.

Rihanna’s voice filled the space and changed the mood to make it pink and savage.

You moved your hips from side to side, following the rhythm marked by the lyrics, and Jude's arm tensed. You took advantage of the sudden pressure to push yourself backward, without stopping dancing.

“What are you doing?” you felt his breath against your ear.

The smile that formed on your lips was wicked. As wicked as the sweet taste of the blueberry hidden in the poisonous liquor you had just consumed.

You were grateful he couldn't see it and pretended you hadn't heard him.

Your lips hummed the lyrics of the song, without stopping your body. The arm holding his drink also pressed against you tightly, as if he wanted to stop you. You once again took advantage of the force he applied to press your butt completely against his front.

“Fuck” he choked out a moan.

He stretched both palms out and separated you from him. His thumb brushed the bare skin of your back. The touch was enough to make you arch backward.

Until you felt it.

And, Dear Lord, he was huge.

Alcohol can be a son of a bitch, especially when your best friend’s older brother was behind you, wanting you so badly.

You turned on your heels and tangled both arms behind his neck.

His hands, naturally, found the bare skin of your back and settled far too low.

“You're trying to kill me” Jude said.

You were trying to kill him. Not him.

Not him giving you a flower the day he left for Germany. Not him calling you to say he couldn't stop thinking about you after seeing a photograph of you. Not him inviting you to a final that he promised to win just to see you. Not him about to kiss you the night before. Not him touching your lower back, lower and lower each time. 

“You're so beautiful” he continued, moving closer to you until his words touched your mouth. “You don't know how much…”

“Kiss me, Jude.”

His lips parted slightly.

He was breathless, just as you had seen him a few hours ago, after having tortured his body for ninety minutes.

Torture.

That’s what soccer was to you.

Jude enjoyed the exhaustion, the burning in his muscles, in his legs. He enjoyed the tension that the closeness of his opponent caused him. Just as he enjoyed the pain of wanting the only woman in the whole world he could not have.

“I can’t.”

He only said it. He didn't pull away, nor did he push you away.

You closed your eyes and the dizziness took you back to the previous day, when you watched him train. The drops of sweat soaking his face enough for him to lift his shirt and dry himself, without hiding the telling smile on his lips. The thin line of curls on his stomach, going lower and lower, toward that place.

The same one where the shape of his desire lay hidden, pressed against your body.

You rubbed yourself against his bulge and a hoarse moan wet your cheeks.

“Please” you begged “kiss me.”

And you asked so well… that his breath knew no other, more vulgar way to materialize than in a swear word.

“Fuck” he gasped, “fuck.”

No, not one but two swear words. And then…

He lunged at you, slamming his mouth against yours in a kiss that knew neither calm nor sweet flavors. No. This was pure desire. Disaster and chaos contained for so many years. His tongue began a battle against yours and you found yourself just as firm in fighting back, one hand fixed at the nape of his neck, where his perfect haircut began, and the other over his chest, pulling him toward you.

He bit you, just as he bit his championship medal, and swallowed every moan your divine lips wanted to give him.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this” he confessed against your mouth. “Fuck, how long I’ve imagined it.”

“Ah”

Your lips parted when one of his hands squeezed your ass, grinding you against his boner. His dick was so hard for you that painted your face red.

You ran your palm over his torso until you touched the buckle of his pants, eager to feel the shape of his desire.

Jude stopped your hand long before you could even brush against it.

“Not here” he declared “Let's go.”

“But your celebration…”

He silenced you.

“It just started.”

The trip back to the hotel made you realize how much alcohol you had both consumed because you couldn't stop laughing.

Not in the taxi, nor at the reception, nor in the room.

Only once the door was closed, Jude returned to brush his lips against yours, leaving you both in silence. There wasn't a single light on, but you could feel his immense figure in front of you.

“This is wrong” he muttered. 

“Very wrong” you said, catching his lower lip between your teeth.

His gasp tasted like lemon to you.

“Stop teasing me, baby”

The nickname made you press your legs together, rubbing them against each other to ease some of the wet tension there.

“I didn’t invite you to celebrate with me” you reproached, finding the hem of his shirt. You slipped your hands underneath, lifting it.

“I didn’t beg you to kiss me” he growled, finishing taking off the garment. You bit your lower lip, completely blinded by the definition of his torso.

“Do you also want me to beg so you'll fuck me?” you asked, using that tone.

Jude cursed.

He placed a finger beneath your chin and lifted it so you would look at him.

“Is that what you want from me?” he asked, leaning over you.

His eyes had never been so dark, nor his voice so deep.

“What about you?”

Provocation was once again your best ally and also the right answer to make Jude kiss you again. You moaned into his mouth when you felt one of his hands touch the skin of your thighs.

“Do you really want to know what I want?” he insisted. His finger traced circles along the inside of your leg. “What I've always wanted?”

The correction arched your back.

“I want to shut this mouth” he murmured, moving his fingers towards the hottest part of your body. “And do all the things my brother hasn't dared to do to you.”

You stopped breathing and your pussy clenched around nothing.

“Jude” Your moan sounded sharp, like a warning.

“I want to fuck you so hard” he said, making you sob. “Until you forget his damn insolence.”

The air caught in your throat. You felt suffocated. Between the wall and his perfectly sculpted body. Between the hurried kiss Jobe gave you in front of his parents and the intense desire his older brother had for you.

His fingers found your wet pussy and his lips knew no more words. You were so wet that it embarrassed you, clamping your legs shut.

Jude shook his head.

Then with both hands, he lifted the dress until your legs were completely exposed. It was your turn to curse out loud. His face hid in your neck, where he began to scatter kisses that drew more moans from you.

“He was right” he muttered, “you're too sensitive here.”

“Please.”

With his thumb, he pressed down on the most sensitive spot on your body, over your tiny underwear.

“Here too.” He repeated the torture on your clit. “But he doesn't know that, does he?”

You bit both lips, not wanting to answer him.

“Although I'm sure he'd love to know it.”

He applied more pressure, pressing his thumb against your clit this time with controlled circular movements. Involuntarily, your hips rubbed against his hand, increasing the pleasure.

“I'm also sure he'd love to find out what this pussy taste like” he whispered. You shook your head, closing your eyes. “As much as I want to.”

“Please.”

The plea was more of a sigh that accompanied the first orgasm of the night.

“So fucking beautiful.”

He kissed you again, claiming the gasps that emerged from within you after the tingling completely tensed your body. In his mouth, the climax was more intense. You used his shoulders for support so you wouldn't fall, and then, just when you thought it was over, he buried two fingers inside you.

“Jude, fuck.”

Your vision blurred.

The last thing you managed to see before you came was a smirk in his lips. The wave of pleasure swept you away with it, completely clouding your senses. Notes of lemon and blueberry filled your mouth, while hoarse gasps pierced your ears.

Those long finger were deep inside you, touching the exact point.

“What number did I play today?” he suddenly asked you.

The answer came out as a sigh.

“Five.”

His hand that wasn't torturing you found the edge of the dress on one of your shoulders and pulled it down.

“You are on two, baby.”

Two orgasms. One after another. Too much to remain standing. Enough to see fire on the completely dark ceiling of the room.

Jude kissed the newly exposed skin as you pressed both palms against the wall, seeking support. Something to hold you up so you wouldn't fall to your knees while the tingling in your belly grew and grew, giving no indication that the suffocation would stop.

The flame grew when he pushed one more finger inside your pussy and bit your shoulder, marking you. The pain mixed with pleasure, the acidity of the lemon mixed with the bitterness of the liquor, your moans mixed with his, until they became a sob.  

“Three” he said.

Gathering strength from somewhere, you pushed him away from you.

Jude staggered backward, smirk still in his lips.

His chest rose and fell, searching for air. His muscles seemed to flex toward you, so that you could see the agitation you were causing him. It wasn't the only thing pointing in your direction.

“This is your celebration” you exhaled, “not mine.”

You followed the path of curls along his stomach with your fingers until you touched the edge of his pants.

He caught his lower lip between his teeth.

With the tip of your index finger, you touch his dick, from bottom to top. It was so hard that you could feel the veins of his sharp through the fabric if his boxers.

“Don't you think I'm… enjoying this?” he asked, hissing between words from the teasing of your finger.

You shook your head. Jude grab your hand and guided it, so that you would take his bulge completely. He even felt harder than at the club.

“Once I'm inside you, I won't be able to control myself” he said, rubbing his hips against your palm. If it weren't for the fabric, you could feel how wet he was too, especially at the swollen tip.

His words and his completely dilated pupils, focused on your flushed face, made your pussy even wetter after the three orgasms. You needed him. You needed him as much as he needed you.

Inside. On top. Behind. Beneath.

Everywhere.

“Don't hold back.”

Your heart insisted with pleas, as if you weren’t his younger brother’s best friend, the same one whose lips knew the taste of Jobe.

This was so wrong. So why did it feel right?

Why did you arch your back more, surrendering yourself to him?

Why did you pull at your dress so that it slipped down your body to the floor?

Why did the kiss he gave you after seeing you half-naked taste like the most exquisite drink in the world?

Why did the room seem to be filled with stars and fire and medals and…

His hardened dick felt the wetness of your entrance.

Jude moaned, hidden against your ear, while his palms brushed the skin of your hips. The bed was a better support than the wall to keep from losing your balance. Suddenly, you felt that the two of you were lying on a cloud. His enormous body on top of yours, rocking into you, rubbing against you. His dick getting wetter and wetter from your fluids, preparing to condemn you both.

You kissed the skin of his jaw. Tense like his arms.

“Jude” you moaned.

The sweat made your breasts slide more easily against his when you stretched to kiss him higher up. He opened your legs. Just a few centimeters that allowed him to sink a little deeper.

The intrusion choked you.

“Fuck.”

It was too much.

“You’re so…” He buried himself deeper, “perfect.”

More and more. Until his cook was deep inside you making your vision go white.

“I’m completely lost over you” he admitted, between gasps. “I always have been.”

He penetrated you again with a devastating rhythm. It wasn’t just the size of his massive dick, but also the strength of his hips and legs, giving everything against you. Over and over. Between kisses and sobs, he managed to make your walls tighten in absolute tension around his hardness.

Four.

You screamed. Tense from the tips of your toes to the longest hair on your head. And Jude gasped, feeling his own orgasm nearing. The change in the rhythm of his thrusts drove you wild.

It heated your face.

It burned your pussy.

It drowned your breath.

“I’m close” Jude growled.

You could feel how his dick hardened even more inside you, rubbing against your pussy that swallowed him so well, like it was made for him. The controlled and devastating rhythm changed, and his grip on your body tightened.

Jude cradled you tightly in his arms and then kissed you, as he let himself go just at the same time your fifth climax hit yourself.

His intense orgasm finished condemning you both, leaving you lost in a paradise of reddish hues.

Where there were no green trees, nor open fields.

Only roses.

.

.

.

.

"Ready to break some hearts?" your friend jokes from behind you, adjusting the strap of her own dress.

You laugh, turning to face her. "Hardly. It's just a party."

One of your guy friends calls your name from the living room. "Come on, guys, we're going to be late."

As you step into the living room, his eyes widen appreciatively. "Wow, you look… wow."

Your friend snorts. "Smooth. Real smooth, dude."

"What? I'm just appreciating beauty when I see it," he says with a grin, pulling out his phone. "Come here, let's get a picture."

You roll your eyes but lean in next to him, your friend squeezing in on your other side. He holds up his phone, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he snaps the photo.

"Perfect," he declares, tapping away at his screen. "Going up on the story right now."

You grab your purse from the couch and drag your friend along with you. "Let's go before one of our friends sends out a search party."

The drive to the party is filled with laughter and music and the three of you singing along to whatever's playing on the radio. It's not until you're pulling up to the house that you notice Jude already standing by the entrance, arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face.

Your smile falters when he doesn't immediately rush to greet you like he usually does. Instead, his eyes flick from you to your friend, who's getting out of the driver's seat and back to you again.

"Hey," you say cautiously as you approach him. "You okay?"

"Can we talk?" he asks, his voice low and tight. His eyes haven't left your friend, who's now standing near the entrance.

"Jude, what's wrong?" you ask, reaching for his hand like you normally would, but he doesn't take it.

"You got ready at her place," he states. "Not at my place. Like you usually do."

Your brow furrows in confusion. "She invited me over. I didn't think you'd mind. She said she just wanted some girl time."

"But he was also there. I saw the picture he posted," he continues, his jaw clenching. "You looked…. cozy."

"It was just a funny picture, Jude. Nothing happened," you say softly.

"But he drove you here," he says, finally turning his full attention to you. "When you know that I'm the one who usually drives you everywhere."

"I thought you'd be happy not to have to drive me for once," you whisper, feeling a strange flutter in your chest.

"I would've been happy," he says, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "if you had been at my apartment. Getting ready with me. If I had been the first one to see you in that beautiful blue dress. If I had been the one taking that picture with you. If I had been driving you here while listening to your favorite music like I always do."

The raw emotion in his voice catches you off guard. "Jude, I… I'm sorry. I didn't know that would be so important to you."

"Everything that concerns you is important to me," he says simply, his eyes softening slightly.

You swallow hard. "I'm sorry if I upset you. That wasn't my intention. Is… is everything okay between us?"

He nods, his gaze intense. "Yeah. And I'm sorry that I overreacted. Everything's okay now."

"Can… can I have my hug now?" you ask shyly, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes, knowing he can't resist you if you look at him like that.

Something shifts in his expression and without another word, he pulls you into his arms. The hug is tighter than usual, longer, his face burying into the crook of your neck as he breathes you in. When he finally pulls back, his hands linger on your waist.

"Come on," he says, his voice back to its normal warmth. "Let's go inside."

The party is already in full swing, the thumping bass vibrating through the floor as soon as you step inside. Jude's arm immediately wraps around your shoulders, his body positioned slightly in front of yours as he navigates through the crowded house, creating a protective bubble around you in the sea of people.

"Watch it," he mutters as a drunk guy manages to stumble into your space, bumping hard against your shoulder and nearly spilling his drink down the front of your dress.

"Whoa, sorry 'bout that," he slurs, his eyes dragging slowly up and down your body in a way that makes your skin crawl. "But damn, worth it to run into you. Nice pair of legs you got there, sugar."

Before you can even form a response Jude has positioned himself directly between you and the drunk guy, his broad shoulders completely blocking your view.

"And I think you need to back the fuck off," Jude says, his voice low and dangerously calm, a tone you've never heard from him before. It's devoid of its usual warmth, replaced by something that sends a shiver down your spine.

The drunk guy blinks and takes a sloppy step back. "Whoa, man, chill out. I was just complimenting her."

Jude takes a step forward, invading the guy's space, his jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle twitching. "I don't care what you were doing. You don't get to touch her. You don't get to talk to her. You don't even get to look at her. Now get lost."

"Alright, alright, my bad. I'm gone," the guy mumbles, scrambling away and disappearing into the crowd.

The tension hangs in the air for a moment after he's gone. Jude stands there for a second, his back still to you, his shoulders rigid. Then he takes a deep breath and turns, his expression immediately softening as his eyes find yours.

"You okay?" he asks, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. "Did he hurt you?"

You shake your head, your heart still pounding from the whiplash of his transformation. "No, I'm fine. He just… bumped into me."

"Good," he says, his voice still a little tight as he pulls you back into his side, his arm wrapping securely around your waist. "Come on. Let's go find our friends."

You find them near the makeshift bar in the kitchen, drinks already in hand. "There you are!" your friend calls, waving you over.

Jude makes sure you're settled before grabbing drinks for both of you, his eyes never straying too far from where you're standing.

"You okay?" you ask, noting the tension still in his shoulders.

"Perfect now," he says, pressing a cold bottle into your hand.

The mood lifts as you joke around with your friends, laughter filling the small kitchen space. Jude watches from his position beside you, a soft smile on his face as he listens to you tell some ridiculous story about your week.

When your drink runs empty, he's already reaching for another, his hand brushing against your lower back as he passes it to you. "I've got you," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the fabric of your dress.

Later, as you bend down to pick up a napkin that fell to the floor, Jude's hand shoots out to cover the sharp corner of the table. When you straighten up, your head only collides with his palm instead of the wooden edge.

"Whoa," you say, laughing. "Thank you."

"No problem. Just looking out for you," he says, withdrawing his hand but not his gaze.

Your friend notices the exchange, raising an eyebrow. "Do you ever stop staring at her? It's like you're constantly on bodyguard duty, making sure nothing harms a hair on her head."

Another friend chimes in, "Seriously, last week at the mall, he practically growled at that guy who bumped into her."

Jude's jaw tightens. "She's important to me." He says it so matter-of-factly that no one interrupts. "If keeping an eye on her means I know she's safe, then yeah, that's exactly what I'm gonna do."

Your friend lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

"He's not wrong, though," another friend adds teasingly. "Remember that time at the concert when she almost got trampled? Jude turned into a human shield."

"I wasn't going to let anything happen to her," Jude says, his voice low but firm.

Your cheeks feel hot as your friends continue to recount instances of Jude's protective behavior. "Okay, okay, we get it. Jude's a good friend."

"The best friend," he corrects, his eyes meeting yours. "Right?"

You nod, unable to form words as your heart pounds in your chest.

The conversation shifts to plans for the next few weeks, someone mentioning a trip to New York. "You should come with us," they say, turning to you.

"I can't," you reply automatically. "Jude and I are planning to go to the cabin."

A few friends immediately jump in. "Ooh, cabin trip! Can we come too?"

Before you can respond, Jude cuts in. "Actually, it's going to be a small trip. Just the two of us. The cabin owner said they're doing some maintenance on the neighboring properties, so it'll be pretty quiet."

Someone nudges him playfully. "Just trying to get her alone, huh?"

Jude's eyes meet yours, his expression unreadable. "So what if I do?"

The group falls silent for a moment, your friends exchanging knowing looks. You feel your cheeks flush at his bluntness, but before anyone can respond, the subject thankfully changes.

As the party winds down, Jude insists on you staying at his place. "I didn't see you all day," he says, his voice low in your ear. "I missed you."

You tease him, "Someone's needy tonight."

He just mumbles something under his breath that sounds like, "If only you knew."

Back at his apartment, you change into one of his oversized shirts, the soft fabric smelling faintly of him. When you emerge from the bathroom, he's already in bed, propped up against the headboard.

His eyes meet yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. "That shirt looks better on you than it ever did on me."

You blush before sliding under the covers and he immediately pulls you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist. "I love having you here," he murmurs into your hair. "In my apartment. In my bed. Wearing my clothes."

You smile, resting your head on his chest. "I like being here too. It's like my second home."

"I wish someday this would be your only home," he says softly.

You pull back slightly to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he says before reaching over to his nightstand. "I actually have something for you."

He hands you a small, wrapped package with a little bow. "Jude, you didn't have to," you say before unwrapping it carefully.

Inside is a delicate necklace with a heart pendant, a small diamond sparkling in the dim light. "Oh my god," you breathe, your fingers tracing the delicate chain. "Jude, it's… that's too much."

"Turn it around," he says gently.

On the back, you can see your initials engraved next to his. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes. "It's so beautiful."

"You deserve everything and more," he says, taking the necklace from your trembling fingers. "I'd give you the world if you asked for it."

He fastens it around your neck, his fingers lingering against your skin as he gathers your hair to the side. The gentle brush of his knuckles against your nape sends a shiver through you and you can feel the warmth of his breath near your ear.

"It looks beautiful on you. Just like I knew it would," he murmurs, his voice thick with an emotion you can't quite place.

You turn to wrap your arms around him, holding him close. "Thank you," you whisper against his chest. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

When you pull back, your faces are only inches apart. The air crackles with a new tension. You notice his eyes flicker down to your mouth for just a second before meeting yours again.

Is he thinking about kissing you? Because suddenly, all you can think about is kissing him.

Your heart pounds against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that matches the throbbing in your lips. You want to lean in. You want to close that tiny gap and find out what his mouth feels like against yours.

But this is your best friend. Your Jude.

You can't fuck this up. You can't risk your friendship like that.

You pull back with a shy, awkward smile. "We should probably get some sleep," you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you shift away slightly, creating a small space between you in the bed.

The air thickens with unspoken words. Jude's eyes hold yours for a moment longer, something unreadable swirling in their depths before he nods slowly. "Right," he says, his voice rough. "Sleep."

He settles back against the pillows, turning off the lamp and plunging the room into darkness. You lie there, hyper-aware of the warmth radiating from his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the unfamiliar weight of the new necklace resting against your skin. Sleep doesn't come easily.

The next two weeks fall into a comfortable, yet slightly charged, routine. It's filled with exactly what you've always loved about your friendship, but now, everything feels tinged with a new layer of something you can't quite name. Or aren't brave enough to name.

There are multiple banana bread bake-offs in Jude's kitchen, which inevitably end with flour on your nose and his low laughter as he wipes it away with his thumb. There are Disney movie nights where you both sing along to every song, your voices harmonizing effortlessly on the couch, his arm draped across the back of it. There are spontaneous coffee dates when his schedule allows, him showing up at your door with your favorite latte in hand, his smile making your stomach do a little flip.

Before you know it, it's Friday morning. The day of the cabin trip.

You're just finishing zipping your bag when you hear the familiar rumble of his car pulling up outside. A moment later, there's a knock at your door. You open it to find him standing there, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Ready?" he asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You nod, grabbing your bag. "Ready."

Before you can even lift it, he's taking it from you, his muscles flexing under the thin fabric of his t-shirt as he hoists it with ease. "I got it."

He leads the way down to his car, opening the passenger door for you. As you climb in, you notice two things on the console: your favorite coffee from the cozy little shop downtown, still steaming hot and a fluffy throw blanket folded neatly.

"Jude," you say, touched. "You didn't have to."

"I know," he replies, his voice soft as he gets in and starts the engine. "But I wanted to. And I know you can't get comfortable without a blanket on your lap."

The drive out of the city is peaceful, the morning sun filtering through the trees. You sip your coffee, pulling the blanket around you as you lean your head against the window, the steady hum of the engine and the quiet music playing from the speakers lulling you into a comfortable state.

You're drifting somewhere between sleep and wakefulness when you feel his hand gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. You don't open your eyes, just lean into the touch slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"Get some sleep," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. "We've got a long week ahead."

You're already running late and you know Jude will be pacing in your living room, radiating impatience. The soft click of your lipstick tube closing breaks the silence of your bedroom as you give yourself one final look in the mirror.

"Almost ready!" you call out, slipping into your heels and smoothing down a nonexistent wrinkle before heading out the door.

You find him exactly where you expected, standing by the window, arms crossed with a frown etched on his face. He turns when you enter the room and his expression immediately softens. It always does that when he looks at you.

"Finally," he says, but there's no real bite to his words. He closes the distance between you, his hands coming to rest on your waist. "You look incredible."

You smile up at him. "You clean up pretty well yourself, Bellingham."

His fingers trace the bare skin of your back where your dress dips low. "Maybe we should just skip it. Stay in."

You swat at his arm playfully. "No way. Everyone's expecting us."

Jude sighs dramatically but keeps his hands on you as you grab your purse from the couch. "Fine. But I'm driving."

"Obviously," you reply with a laugh.

It's always been this way, Jude driving you everywhere, his hand occasionally finding your thigh during the drive, his eyes flicking to you more often than the road.

The restaurant is already buzzing when you arrive, your friend group occupying a long table near the back. As soon as you walk in, heads turn and people wave you over.

"There you are!" someone calls from the middle of the table.

Jude's arm immediately wraps around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side as he navigates through the crowded space. He leads you to two empty seats, making sure to take the one next to you before anyone else can claim it.

"Sorry we're late," you say, greeting everyone with hugs and smiles. Jude watches each interaction closely, his hand never straying far from your back or arm.

As the evening progresses, you find yourself deep in conversation with a few friends across the table, laughing and sharing stories. You're so absorbed that you don't notice Jude growing quieter beside you, his jaw tightening slightly.

"Hey," he says, his voice low in your ear. "Remember that thing we needed to sort out for next week?"

You turn to him, confused. "What thing?"

He gives you a look that you can't quite decipher. "The tickets. Come outside with me for a minute."

You excuse yourself, following him out into the cool night air. A shiver runs through you instantly, the evening breeze raising goosebumps on your bare arms.

"What's up? Is everything okay?" you ask, rubbing your arms for warmth.

"Everything's fine," he says, his eyes narrowing as he notices your reaction to the cold. Before you can protest, he's shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. "I just wanted a minute alone with you before everyone else steals all your attention."

You laugh, pulling the jacket tighter around yourself, not noticing the intensity in his gaze as he watches you wear something of his. "They're not stealing my attention. I'm just being social."

"I know," he says, his hands flexing at his sides as if resisting the urge to touch you. "I just don't like sharing you."

Before you can respond, one of your guy friends comes stumbling out of the restaurant. "There you are! We're ordering shots if you want in."

Jude's posture stiffens, his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly. "She's good. We'll be back in a minute."

Your friend looks between you both, an awkward smile on his face. "Right. Well, don't be too long."

When he's gone, you turn to Jude with a raised eyebrow. "That was a bit much."

"He'll live," Jude says dismissively, stepping closer. "You're still cold." Without waiting for a response, he pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you and rubbing your back. "Better?"

You nod against his chest, breathing in his familiar, clean scent. "Much better. Thanks."

"Anything for you," he murmurs, his chin resting on top of your head. "You know, you look incredible tonight. Not that you don't always look incredible, but tonight… something's different."

Your cheeks flush at his compliment. "It's just the dress."

"It's not just the dress," he says softly, his arms tightening around you. "It's you. You always shine, but tonight you're blinding."

You pull back slightly to look up at him, your heart fluttering at the raw emotion in his eyes.

"Jude…we should probably go back inside. Before they send out a search party."

He sighs but follows you back to the table, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back. For the rest of the dinner, he keeps you close, his arm draped across your chair, his fingers occasionally tracing patterns on your shoulder.

When it's time to leave, Jude helps you with your jacket, his hands lingering on your arms as he adjusts the collar. "You're staying at my place tonight," he says, not a question but a statement.

"I am?" you ask, surprised.

"You are," he confirms. "It's too late for you to go home alone."

You don't argue, it's easier to agree than to fight with him when he gets like this. Besides, you've stayed over countless times before.

The drive back to his place is quiet, a slow R&B track playing softly in the background. Jude's hand rests on your thigh, his thumb stroking back and forth in a rhythm that's both comforting and distracting.

"You were quiet at dinner," you say, breaking the silence.

He glances at you before turning his attention back to the road. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Things," he says vaguely. "Us."

Your heart skips a beat at his words. "What about us?"

"Nothing bad," he reassures you, his fingers squeezing your thigh gently. "Just… how much I love having you around."

You smile, relieved. "I love being around you too. You're my best friend."

Something flashes in his eyes at your words, but it's gone too quickly for you to identify. "Yeah," he says, his voice suddenly tight. "Best friends."

At his apartment, he immediately takes your jacket, his fingers brushing against yours as he does. "Make yourself at home," he says, disappearing into the kitchen.

You curl up on his couch, pulling a blanket over yourself. When he returns with two mugs of tea, he sits right beside you, his arm immediately wrapping around your shoulders.

"You know," he says, handing you a mug, "I've been thinking about that trip we talked about taking."

"To the coast?" you ask, sipping the warm tea.

"Yeah. Maybe we could go next month? Just the two of us."

"That sounds amazing," you say enthusiastically. "But what about everyone else? They'll want to come too."

"I was thinking it could just be us this time," he says, his voice casual but his eyes watching you intently. "Like old times."

You consider it for a moment. "That would be nice. It's been a while since it's just been the two of us."

A small smile plays on his lips. "Exactly. Just us."

The next day, you're at the mall with a few of your friends, including Jude. As usual, he sticks close to your side, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as you walk through the crowded stores.

"I need to find a dress for that party next week," you say, pulling him toward a clothing store.

"I'll wait outside," one of your guy friends says. "Clothes shopping isn't really my thing."

"Me neither," another agrees. "We'll grab coffee and meet you guys back here in an hour."

As they walk away, Jude's arm immediately wraps around your waist. "Good. Now it's just us."

You laugh, used to his constant need for physical contact. "You're impossible."

"Maybe," he admits, his fingers tracing circles on your hip. "But you love it."

You don't deny it, because you do, in a way. You've always loved how protective he is, how he always makes sure you're safe and comfortable. You've just never questioned why he needs to be so close, why he seems to relax when it's just the two of you.

In the dressing room, you hold up a few options, seeking Jude's opinion on each one.

"That one," he says immediately when you step out in a deep green dress. "Definitely that one."

You turn to look at yourself in the mirror. "Really? It's a bit more revealing than what I usually wear."

"It's perfect," he insists, coming up behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. "You look incredible."

His eyes meet yours in the mirror and for a moment, you see something there, something that runs deeper than friendship. But it's gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual easy smile.

"Fine," you say, turning back to face him. "I'll get this one."

His hands rest on your waist as you look at yourself again. "You know, if you wear that to the party, I might have to fight some guys off."

You roll your eyes. "You're so dramatic."

"Am I?" he asks, his voice suddenly serious. "Or am I just being honest about how other guys see you?"

Before you can respond, your other friends return, coffee in hand. "Find anything good?" one asks.

Jude's arm tightens around your waist. "She found the perfect dress. But no one else is allowed to see it until the party."

Your friends exchange knowing looks, but you miss it completely.

"Hey, I'm gonna grab a pastry from that stand," one of your guy friends says, gesturing toward the kiosk across the walkway. "Want to join me?"

"Ooh, yes please!" you reply, already turning to go with him. "I'm starving."

You start to walk away, but Jude's hand on your arm stops you. You look back at him questioningly.

"I'll come too," he says, his eyes already fixed on your friend.

Your friend holds up his hands in mock surrender. "No need, man. We'll just be a minute."

Jude's jaw tightens, but he forces a smile and lets go of your arm. "Fine. Don't be long."

You roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness but hurry to catch up with your friend. As you walk away, you can feel Jude's eyes on you, but you don't turn back around.

Left alone, Jude turns his attention back to the remaining friend, who's watching him with an amused expression.

"What?" Jude asks, his voice defensive.

you kicked at the grass, wavering side to side until jobe passed you the ball, tricking it up until you passed it back for him to catch. you both touch-passed, volleying the ball across his family home’s front yard. 

“aye, should we go to the rec?” 

you nod, putting your hair up with the few strands falling. the blistering summer heat was not relaxing anytime soon, in fact it was so scorching that you and jobe were both pondering shirtlessness at this point. you wore your butter yellow sports bra with a pair of athletic shorts while jobe defaulted to his dark athletic short with our uni team’s jersey. 

he tosses you your water bottle when you both soon crash, choosing to settle in the hot, dry grass. jobe squirts you with his water, a habit he swears is short-term but worth the waste of drinking water. you two had a common quarrel over football habits you swore were just careless thirst traps during games. jobe teased you about it often, insisting you were just a dirty-minded amateur. 

you watch him check the time on his apple watch, not asking but noting it in the back of your mind. surely he didn’t make plans for today, you guys had the day set, but you did forget what today’s plans entailed since today was planned months ago— you simply forgot to jot down the nature of today’s hangout, but it seemed casual.

“what are you two doing out here?” a familiar voice, light but deep inquired from our left.  

it was his older brother, jude. that was today?

jobe got up, offering you a hand to lift you up. still, jude towered you despite being slightly shorter than jobe. you forgot, but he still seemed so big. 

“what are you doing here so early?” jobe asks, leaning into his brother’s handshake and hug. they share a tight embrace despite the younger’s obviously sweaty state. jude’s eyes open after a while and he looks to you, processing the changes before answering his brother’s question.

“i heard we were all going to go out for dinner, so i wanted to get situated nicely for company.”

he looks at you while saying the last part of the sentence, licking his bottom lip while looking down then up at his brother. he firmly places his hands on jobe’s shoulder, admiring him. 

“you got so big, look at you. i must have been gone for too long.” 

you finally step forward, folding your arms with expectation of much needed attention. unknowingly, it pronounced your chest, which became much more noticeable to jude. your gaze narrows towards him. 

“and you— wow, you still somehow managed to not grow a single inch.” 

his playful grin pulled you in with his arm as you braced yourself for his embrace, rolling your eyes. jobe took in the sight with joy, feeling reunited with his family entirely. “but you’ve grown up alot,” jude finally says, inhaling before pulling away.

his gaze feels different and you feel a little bit more nervous, knowing your grade school crush on him was long gone. 

“i hear both of you are playing for uni,” you both nod, jobe knocks himself into your shoulder gently before placing and arm around.

jude takes notice, his smile faltering for a moment.

“i reckon you both have some schedule, yeah?”

you nod, feeling the stress of your summer training weigh on your consciousness again. you relax your head on jobe’s shoulder as he explains the overlap in their schedules, it was almost impossible for him to see you as often. he expresses his gratitude for you being here to welcome jude home. 

“cheers,” jude smiles, winking before holding up a bag with goods. 

“these are for mum, you can have one— just try to leave some for her, okay?” jobe nods, taking the bag and task in mind before walking back inside the house. 

for some reason the sun was starting to sleep under the clouds but you felt a little hotter. jude drinks in the sight of you discreetly, trying to remain respectful of the girl who he was raised with as almost family. but you had changed much since starting uni. your hair grew out more and you grew into your features, body much more toned and tan from hours of football since the season was starting. 

more importantly, he noticed your black and yellow theme. “you’ve got a nice little theme going on here.”

jude mentions, his calloused hand gently on your forearm. you push down any assumptions that he meant it any other way. it had been a while since you saw him, he had changed much himself. he changed the way he grew his facial hair, making himself look much more youthful in a way.

“thanks,” you look down, laughing softly at the random mention. “do you miss it?”

his brows raise and he brings his hand up to the back of his neck, nodding. his lips pout as he ponders. 

“i reckon,” his eyes meet yours and he smiled. “clearly i’ve missed alot more.”

you flush seemingly innocent as you tilt your head while raising a brow. you can’t help but nervously laugh, “sure, what does that mean?”

“you look good.” 

this expression of his was unfamiliar to you. he seemed forthcoming yet hesitant, clearing his throat to interject with his own suggestion. jobe jogs back, crumbs on his cheek. you turn your head, amused by his state.

“how were they?” you ask. he shrugs, shaking his head. 

“i didn’t have the chance to try any,” his face was slightly serious, forcing stifled laughter when you looked back at jude who wasn’t amused at his brother’s shenanigans. luckily, he brought extras, knowing how eager jobe was with treats. “you dog.” 

you look at jobe, gesturing towards your own face as to where he needed to wipe. clumsily he wipes the wrong side first, smiling charmingly after getting the right one. 

“huh, wonder how that got there— the rec, right. we were going to the rec. but maybe we should get ready instead?”

jobe looks at you, but then you realize that you took transit to get to his place which wasn’t close by transit’s metric whatsoever. you wanted to take your time to get ready, knowing it would take longer. jobe beats you to the thought, asking on your behalf.

“ah, right.. jude, she took the bus to get here. do you mind?” you look at the taller, smiling while giving a silent thanks. 

“i don’t mind at all, plus i get to see your new flat.” you took a deep sigh of relief, glad you cleaned up before leaving after a date you went on two days ago. you had yet to text him back after the date, hesitant to tell jobe about how terrible of a date his teammate was. you nod, looking at jobe who had your shirt in hand, tossing it to you.

“let’s meet back later, we have plenty of time so don’t stress,” jobe smiled, placing a hand on your back. you looked up at him nodding— another friendly gesture gone noticed by jude. he places his hand under jobe’s lower and unfamiliar to you while you walk towards the oldest who holds his keys up.

“bring her back in one piece, please,” the playful plea raised concern.

“ah. decisions– i could..” jude smiled, knowing exactly what jobe was referring to.  he turns to you, tapping the small of your back. “i will bring you back safely, don’t worry.” 

you suddenly remembered the inside joke all three of you had regarding jude’s incident of mistaking the gas for the brakes after a draining practice. thinking about it, he worked so hard growing up, it never went unnoticed by you especially since you looked up to him. he was like family after all. nothing more. your best friend’s brother was off limits then and still is now. 

the car ride seemed like forever, your conversation jumping from tells of your adventures to rides of nostalgia between the both of you.

your place your house keys on the hooks by the door, watching as jude kicked his shoes off and neatly placed them aside. he follows you inside, making himself home before you could offer, sitting on your sofa with his arms grand along the top. jude spreads his legs naturally, looking around before getting up to follow you into your room. he analyzed your flat and choice of decoration, not surprised by your choice and taste.

“aye.” you stopped him. he raises his hands, smiling before placing them together to ask for a peek inside.

your room was still made for an unexpected night with your date and it was suspicious to him. he had always known you to be a mess– in fact, the first thing he did was investigate. “when did you get yourself together so neatly?”

you couldn’t even pretend to be offended as he sat on your bed. you walk over to grab a towel and look at him, “i can’t be neat now?” he scoffs, shaking his head quickly. “a lazy donut like you? never..” your jaw drops, barely hiding the smile as you remove your sweaty shirt and throw it in his face. he was back to looking at your torso again, still in disbelief of how much he missed. 

you failed to notice, looking for dresses in your closet to toss onto the bed. 

“help me out here?” you asked, “i’m going to shower, just pick like.. three maybe?”

he nods, jutting his lower lip at the stack of dresses. he didn’t know it was possible to see this many variations of reds, yellows, and blues. in fact, he hadn’t recalled the last time he imagined someone in a dress. jude took his time as your showered, stepping out after what felt like centuries.

“i didn’t know you wore dresses,” the taller started.

“or that this many existed.”

you forgot that jude grew up seeing you in the most awkward phases of your life especially when you started taking football seriously. you cared less about looks until highschool when jude got alot hotter, but still, you never expected him to notice. 

“here. my big three.”

the three dresses neatly laid out on your bed were all seemingly modest and longer than expected. you had a couple of dresses from home that were usually worn at events calling for the approval of old geezers, and in this case, mormons. you sigh, looking at him as if to ask if he was serious. 

“what? these are nice..”

you picked up the white and blue floral one with puffy shoulders, “i don’t recall the last time i wore this.. at a church?” 

“it has a delicate touch to it.”

this man was not serious. you tossed those dresses aside, pulling out a couple of satin and halters. jude’s brows furrowed almost immediately at the length, his protective older brother instinct almost naturally forced an expression of repulsion.

“what? these are so much better than the ones you chose!”

“what’s wrong with the ones i chose?” he raised his shoulders, looking around unseriously. 

you could not believe him, looking at the dresses again to see if you were imagining just how horrendous they were. you hadn’t worn much of these since highschool for recital or formal purposes and it was terribly obvious. of course he didn’t remember your attempts at femininity– perhaps it was better this way. 

“we’re going to dinner, i need something fit for my figure.. not my sunday best. plus, i need to throw out my older clothes.”

jude couldn’t help but laugh at that one, “so you are still a mess.”

you nodded, picking up the dress you wore on your date. “occasionally, but i couldn’t let my date know that last weekend…” you mumbled, realizing you let it slip, remembering jobe’s forewarning about mentioning anything regarding his teammate and you to his brother.

“oh?”

“i just wanted the place to look decent.” 

he looks around your room, picking up the photo frame of you and your families together. jude looks at it, reminding himself that his curiosity is purely protective and has nothing to do with this new unfound feeling. except this feeling wasn’t new, it was one he was failing to hide after last summer before he went off to madrid. you picked out a black halter dress, dinner casual and an appropriate enough length in your opinion. your curls slightly damp and ready to style.

you brush the top half back into a half up look, leaving strands to fall to the side. walking back over, you notice jude getting a little more curious about your room. 

“had to tidy your bed as well?” he reaches over to your bedside drawer, taking a peek before you slam it shut. 

only for a moment, he catches a glimpse. condoms, lube, and what seemed to be anything that one would need for a good night– but not after a first date. you had only planned to use these after a couple of dates and were a ‘girlfriend’ kinda person, but your girls insisted that it didn’t hurt to be casual with your best friend’s team mate, especially because it made things less complicated outside of the pitch. 

jude looks away, pretending he saw nothing since the crack of the drawer was so slim. you worried anyways, knowing how good of an eye he had. he never missed anything, including the way your dressed hugged your body perfectly. he changes the subject, affirming in your mind that he absolutely saw your drawer. 

“fancy anyone lately?” he asks, knowing the obvious answer was yes. you sat next to him on the bed, clumsily slipping your earrings on.

the one on the ear closest to him was much more difficult to put on for some reason, so he takes it upon himself to help you. you look up, nervously playing with your hands. there was no way he was not going to lecture you on dating jobe’s mates. surely, jobe would hear the other half of it if not the entire thing about how he would be jeopardizing with his team. 

“he’s just a friend of jobe’s,” you start. 

his hands stop for a moment and he watches the simple jewelry hang from your lobe. you hadn’t put on your makeup yet, but for some reason jude began to notice the huge difference up close. you hand him your necklace that he gave you before leaving for madrid, asking him if he minded. 

“‘course.” he says gently, taking the thin chain to his larger palm. 

you turn slightly away from him, seemingly bothered by his hand that gently moved your hair to the side. the gold plated charm caressed your collarbone. you reach up to fix it, nervously flipping it between your fingers.

“one of his mates? he know about this?” 

your silence was an answer enough, even if you were using it to come up with a believable reason. jude, bitter, shakes his head. 

“it’s a bad idea,” jude says, his voice protective, careful not to come off too upset.

“oh but jude, c’mon.. i haven’t had a boyfriend yet and plus– he asked me out first.” you turned back to him, touching knees when he finished placing the necklace. 

“you know how it was for me growing up,” he shakes his head at your attempt to reason. “you wouldn’t understand. you had it so much easier.”

he never really recalled your looks growing up now that he realized. honestly, he never really formed an opinion on it and that was the issue. now, he cared too much about the way you looked and the way you laughed or tried not to look at him to long.

“not many guys fancy me,” you start, “i want to give dating a chance. it’s embarrassing being in uni and not yet having my first kiss..”

you trail off near the end of the sentence and to jude’s surprise you hadn’t had your first kiss. another concept he hadn’t really sat down to think about. for one, he found you stunning, even from the moment he saw you at their family home, dampened in sweat. and especially now– he didn’t believe it. but you just started uni and wanted to try anything at this point. 

“you’ve grown alot.” he starts, his lips part again to continue as if he was hesitant. 

“you look amazing– right now even– but, even generally..” you were surprised by his compliment, knowing high school you would be gushing and dying to hear these words. still, even now you felt your heart begin to beat out of your chest as he spoke, placing your hand on his knee. you look at him, wondering if he was being serious or just trying to make you feel better. 

your hand on his knee forced him to perk up slightly, but noticeably. he was unsure of what to do, coming to terms with the slippery slope he was heading down. but he could see the genuine comfort his words brought you, knowing it would be selfish to continue. 

you two were so close and have sat this close before, but it was usually with family around or under tents as kids. the real madrid player was simply just jude in this moment, he didn’t feel like a protective older brother– just jude. and it felt wrong. for some reason he wanted to be your first kiss, not some random kid who likely didn’t know your favorite movie or the fact that you hated mushrooms. 

it felt intrusive.

this was intrusive.

“since when did you get all soft?” you said quietly, watching as he focused on your lips. you looked at him, feeling the air change with your hand on his knee and his hand grazing yours.

what was happening?

your heart was beating out of your chest, breathing shallow and nearly impossible to keep stable for some reason. jude swallows rather harshly. you both shift even closer to each other, still hesitant and careful as if each next move could break the world you lived in. you couldn’t do this. especially to jobe— he practically took you in like family. he could barely give you his blessings for the date last weekend. he would flip. do what? what were you even imagining? 

“do you wanna finish getting ready?” you hear him say, placing his hand respectfully on your arm and up your shoulder. it brings a shiver up your spine as his fingers gently drag back. 

these were only friendly, comforting gestures. from jude using your head to lean on in high school to him kissing your head after devastating losses and being the shoulder you slept on during long car rides, this was nothing. right? the problem was clearly you and your feelings towards him that you clearly left unresolved. you had known it was always jude. you couldn’t pretend as if there was nothing between the both of you from the moment he came back home. 

control yourself. 

jude makes a sharp inhale, watching you get up and finally breathing again once you make your way to your vanity. you sit, pulling out your makeup bag, warranting a small fit of laughter. the tension is cut by your lighthearted glare, curious as to what was so funny.

“what?” 

“nothing, i just remembered a specific person telling me how makeup is poison to the mind and a… what was it?— ah, a facade for the heart!” 

he recited a piece of your poetry you wrote that won a school art award and ultimately recognition beyond football while selecting universities. jude found your poem to be insightful, but found your era of rejecting femininity to be silly after seeing how amazing you looked after a single layer of mascara. 

“i’m going to kick you out, jude…” you mumbled, too embarrassed to be loud about your protest. he stands up, grabbing at his keys in his pocket to walk over and place both of his hands on your shoulders. 

jude leans down, his lips near your ear and eyes locked on your through the vanity’s mirror. “i’ll be back to pick you up for the dinner. be ready by 8, alright?”

for some reason you felt the words fail to come out of your mouth, so you nod. 

“there’s no way they don’t have anything with red meat here,” jobe huffs, looking around after catching his volume. he cups his mouth, looking back down at the menu with great focus.

you saw an entire section dedicated to red meats in the back of the menu that he failed to look at thoroughly. gently, you take his menu and flip it over, pointing to the section he claims to have brushed over despite staring at the same side for the last ten minutes. he sat across from you and in between his mates. 

what you thought would be a dinner with just the bellingham brothers was a small group meet with jobe’s friends, including the mate you happened to almost kiss last weekend. what a mess. you were sitting right in between your childhood crush and the boy you fancied for the last couple of weeks since uni started. 

this was the definition of awkward. felix kept his arm on your chair and over your shoulder, brushing his thumb over your bare skin. it was comforting until you felt jude’s knee against yours. truly, you were caught in the middle with no room. 

but you clearly had a preference for one over the other, and it wasn’t even close.

“felix.”

“jude.”

“i know, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“sure.”

you spent the entire night making yourself invisible, which was not only strange to felix but to jude. you were usually easygoing and interactive with his team to the point jobe checked in on you to ask if everything was okay with you and felix. he was willing to check any one of his mates for you— after all, you were his bestest friend.

for some reason the reminder didn’t make you forget about the ways jude made you feel. you could only boil the tension down to your anxiety when it came to pleasing the bellinghams. even though you grew up being seemingly care-free, you cared alot about making sure they still loved you as much as you did with them.

for a moment, you excused yourself from the table after everyone was done eating. felix holds your hand gently when you stand up, asking if you’re okay. you nod, insisting you don’t need the company. 

jude notes the gesture, happy that he was gentle while bothered by the contact all at once. jobe looks back and forth from the boys, catching the slightest hint but not sure how or what to investigate, instead, he goes to check on you.

jobe catches you after you exit the restroom, leaning against the wall in a secluded. 

“you were chatty,” he says sarcastically with an undertone of concern. his arms cross, “did you two hook up or something?” 

you looked at him, still in your tracks.

“what?”

“you don’t have to tell me, that’s my mate after all.”

right, felix. 

i shook my head. “it’s just weird hanging with all of you at the same time after the date and all..”

he caught what you were saying, nodding. jobe understood jude’s protective tendencies, reaching to touch your shoulder. “i will make sure he doesn’t cock block you for the rest of the night if that’s what—“

“what? no— it’s just— i think i’m ready to call it. preferably not with felix or anyone else for the night.”

the taller nods, “gotcha. i’m gonna go to afters with my mates, jude can take you home. he’ll join us after i’m sure.”

you nod, fixing your hair subtly, feeling a deep sense of shame for lying to jobe. it’s not like you could say, your brother who is also my best friend is making me feel things i haven’t felt in years in front of your mate who you took weeks to let me go out with. 

jobe gives you a hug, forcing you to shove the guilt further down and receive the love in the meantime. you look over, seeing jude stand with his hands in his pockets, “you alright?”

nodding, the taller pulled away and presented you to jude. “take her home for me. the boys want to go for drinks with you but i’ll let them know you’ll catch up.” jude nods, welcoming his brother’s embrace and pressing his face to his temple with a deep affection. 

every interaction with them reminded you of why you shouldn’t do anything to sabotage your friendship with them. 

“i don’t like him.”

you laugh lightheartedly at jude’s sudden evaluation, looking over at him. “you barely know him.”

since getting to your flat you and jude immediately crashed on your bed, exhausted from today’s social obligations and mental gymnastics. your hands rested on your lower stomach, hair spread onto the sheets, totally zen. 

“sure,” jude props his head up with his hand, looking down at you. 

from your messy hair laid out on the sheets to the way your dim lighting glowed over your features, he was no longer denying the deep adoration he had felt all day. it was beyond surface, but undeniably clear that he was starting to become a bit too enamored.

“he’s touchy.” 

“says you,” you scoff, tilting your head over to look at the madrid player. 

you couldn’t help but notice that the lighting in your room happened to compliment his features just as well as he’d seen yours. you shared an infatuation with his beauty as many girls did, but yours was much different. knowing jude and seeing jude were the same thing to you at this point. so much so that you could feel his gaze burning into your cheeks.

he gently fixes your hair. 

“yeah, but it’s different.”

“how different?” you asked, voice softening at how much closer you both seemed to be getting. 

“when i touch you, you lean into me. with him you seem careful,” jude pushes a strand out of your face as if the view was ten times clearer than before.

for him it was. he studied your face, realizing how much it remained the same and you were still the cute girl his brother would bring home. but you were also the girl who made it incredibly hard for him to take other girls home without proper consideration for your likeness. stubborn hearted with a softness only he saw, even in the walls you put up around him.

and it was with good reason. you felt your walls slowly lower, a doe-like expression flickering in your eyes that nearly sent him over the edge. 

“i like seeing you like this.” his hand cradled your chin gently, brushing the pad of his thumb over your skin.

that’s when you knew. you were not imagining the passive glances or excuses to make contact all day— in fact, your hunch on his possessive desires to keep you away from felix all night were anything but far fetched. but it confused you when you were both alone.

“jude…” your heart was beating out of your chest again, but so was his. not out of fear, but a nervousness that could only be described as a drum urging him to listen to the beckoning of its sound. 

“may i?”

his brown eyes flickered over yours, seemingly closer for a moment until you shut your eyes, only feeling his warmth when he closed this distance. you nod, almost forgetting to answer verbally as you already caved to your shared desire.

jude’s lips were soft, careful at first not to be forceful, testing the fragility of your nerves. when you kissed back with a deeper need that he anticipated his hand cupped your face as if to hold you steady from what he could only cautiously assume was an overzealous need from the soft moan. 

but it wasn’t at all. it was a raw but conscious reaction to the feeling of your heart finally connecting back with its body that had no option but to react to every thought that came to mind. he takes you in, tongue brushing against your lips once, twice, before you respond to brush yours against his. 

what was a sweet kiss struggled to maintain its innocence even despite its passion. jude pulls away, worried that this was fleeting. for whom, he was unsure, but he wanted to be sure that this was something you could both stand to gain and lose from.

oh, how he was willing to risk it all.

“we should stop,” he says, his face saying anything but that. 

jude’s nose brushes yours, holding his breath almost as your lips barely grazed each other. your eyes met once again and for the first time his intentions and thoughts on you were clear, but surprising. jude needed you. but he remained a gentleman, soft by choice as if he could turn it off only if you demanded it. 

you could only shake your head, placing your hand to the side of his face to kiss him again. your breaths were heavy before pulling him down by the nape into a wet embrace once again. your teeths clashed momentarily, easily brushed over with a small smile from the both of you, realizing how clumsy of a kisser you were— but luckily very quick to learn.

the taller practically lifts you onto his lap when you roll over slightly, keeping your lips onto his. you let out a small laugh, tightening his grip on your sides, telling how every sound and look you gave him required some sort of tug on his sanity to keep him gentle. 

but it was a thin thread that you tugged on.

though unsure, you thought to push your hips down onto jude’s crotch, forcing out a groan from him. his fingers dig into you again, this time to stop you. your breath hitches with his, worried that you had done something wrong. 

“you- are you teasing me?”

he asks, eyes searching yours for any sort of hesitance or even a glint of mischief. all he saw was a glint of raw need and adoration, giant in innocence still as you smiled, shaking your head. “i’m not teasing. i want this.” his hands slide up your dress, resting on your thighs.

you sat on top of him, sheer layer of his pants and your panties leaving little room for second guessing once removed. you could tell he was hesitant only out of consideration and you could only reassure him.

“jude, i need you.”

his eyebrows furrowed, pulling you back into a kiss that was still as passionate but slower. it was deep, his hands molding into the crevices on your body and over your sides as if to measure your sensitive reactions. without a doubt you were, small gasps swallowed by his kisses.

jude tugs on your bottom lip as if to ask for room to be rough. you respond with a provoking mew, his mind trying to remain still though it was nearly impossible. his hips bucked upwards at your cute attempts to grind your hips downwards. he keeps his hands steady over your sides as if to guide you for what was to come next.

you both pulled away, trying to relish in the feeling of your heated cores being rubbed against one another. just when you began to miss his voice he moves a hair behind your ear, taking in your beauty. 

“you’re driving me insane. i’m… i want this to be special for you. tell me what you want.” 

his voice was gentle but demanding, eyes attentive to even your lips that fixed to say what you wanted. his ultimate need to satisfy you and place consideration above all despite its intimidating presence against your ass gave you the smallest, yet most audacious piece of confidence to lean in. you kiss the nape of his neck, keeping your lips close to his ear. “i want to ride you.”

jude sits up, adjusting you on his lap. he reaches over to your bed side to grab the bottle of lube and a condom fit enough to hold between his teeth, quietly but quickly adjusting the both of you closer to the headboard.

he leaves the rubber and bottle near the both of you, looking up at you with an expectation of you grabbing what it was that you wanted. to his surprise, the small moment of confidence was weakly gone in just moments. he smiles, finding your inexperienced attitude adorable and all the more tempting. jude pecks your lips, leaving his belt unbuckled for you to undo.

his fingers graze your underwear underneath the dress as you pull apart the leather from his jeans, fingers pushing the button undone. his eyes fixed over your chest that failed to keep his thoughts at bay all night. jude felt a small affirmation in his perversions, watching you slowly reach up to untie the back of your halter and let the top half of your dress fall. 

“fuck.”

the intrusion of his bulge seemed much more evident outside of his jeans. you lift yourself slightly to allow him to pull down his pants and underwear comfortably, figuring you would remove your underwear. instead he wanted you still over him, removing the underwear with a force that pressed against your skin just right.

jude, in the moment, mumbled an apology realizing he could have pushed it aside but you shake your head and cup his face to kiss him again. your mouths were hot with need but your bodies were much louder despite not yet joined, your bare ass sat against his lap.

his fingers snake underneath, finally giving your body the touch it craved the most. the pads of his fingertips were confident, tracing the folds of your skin while his eyes focused on the ways your lips parted and eyes shut in focus. his lips curled into a smile, eager to see the ways you sounded once he was finally inside of you.

yet patiently, he slid one finger inside, holding your waist close as you breathed out his name. the closer he got to you and more he learned about the ways you sound and felt, the deeper in he felt. he had never felt anything this intimately beyond a fleeting lustful tendency he had with other girls previous. 

maybe it had been so long for him. 

“you sound so perfect, but..” he worked his finger all the way through, enjoying the way you opened up. “you’re getting worked up baby. will you last?” 

you look at him for the first time in a moment, seeing the playfully cocky grin on his face and pushing your fingernails deeper with a pout. he slides another finger in, forcing you another gasp out of you. “careful.”

he gathers you in his hands when you melt straight into him, the pace of his fingers working in and out of you quickening as if it were going straight to the place he wanted to feel it the most. you make small pleas of his name warm against his skin before feeling empty again, your core throbbing with a need.

jude kisses the side of your face as you heave, using his teeth to carefully open the rubber and slide it over his cock. for the first time, you look down to catch a glimpse, almost paling at the sight. he catches you staring, tilting your face up with his other hand, looking for any sight of second guessing. 

the taller was more than happier with obliging to your needs, even if they didn’t meet his. he offers reassurance through kisses, hands holding your sides before pulling away to uncap the bottle of lube and carefully apply just enough to the tip of his covered length.

“you okay?” he checks on you, receiving a nod. but it wasn’t enough, even amongst the haze he wanted to know you were okay, knowing your mind and body were disconnected with eachother. you verbally answer, kissing him after. you lift your hips upwards onto your knees, feeling a shudder when his rough hands became gentle and steady. 

you allow him in, slowly and through with your pace. and even as you do, a slow, simultaneous moan is shared between the both of you. you harmonize with his deep, low groan, feeling a slightly higher part of your voice urge a whimper. you lower your hips, pushing your fingers deeper into his shoulders.

jude holds you close, kissing your forehead before taking you into an embrace that places your hands over his back. you both wait for a moment.

“you can move whenever you want, i got you.”

his voice is low, hugging you through the mixture of a stretch that would have been otherwise painful without the lubricant. you were just quiet, trying to take in deep breaths before laughing softly into his neck. it was from nerves and the slight embarrassment but didn’t feel as embarrassing when you could hear the smile in his voice.

“you need help?”

you nod, holding onto him tightly still, earning an amused huff. jude gently brushes your hair back behind your shoulders before wrapping his hand in it firmly, slowly pushing up into you. you both start again, this time the sound of your arousal being much louder. 

it earns another thrust. jude pulls back on your hair, forcing your head up and your hands to move back to his shoulders. your back arches, flushing your chest against him.

thrust. 

“oh my god.”

“you’re taking me so well,” his lips mumble against your collarbone as he swallows in your sounds, inhaling with a hiss from the restraint he held, trying now to plow into you all at once. 

jude kept the steady flow for your consideration despite your encouraging sounds, being all but silent in your ear. you could feel yourself taking in deeper strokes with him talking you throw it, thrusting vulgar praise into your ear, only tugging your hair enough to elicit a string of breathy whines within your moans that endlessly pushed out with the rhythm of your ass slapping his skin. 

you began to find yourself rocking back and forth, his grip loosening from your hair to fall to your hips. he relaxes against the headboard, watching you through hooded eyes, lip bitten as he admired the way you lost yourself in the tempo of your hips.

just as you began to feel comfortable, a nudge in your stomach prodded at your nerves with each rise and sink of your hips. jude immediately noticed, smiling when you tried to cop out with shallow strokes. he pushes you all the way down, the slick from your arousal sticking to his thighs messily. 

it almost felt a tight string of your sanity was being plucked at, the tightness in your chest unable to release with each breath. you were nearing your climax that seemed different than usual. you’d never imagine your body would feel like this- uncontrollably tingling in your legs and numb to your toes that you yet were curling subconsciously. 

“jude!”

you placed your hands on his chest to pull away, whining when his hands kept you in place, thrusting unbearably into that same spot over and over. again, until you begged for the feeling to resolve itself. 

“i’m not letting you go this time. not when you like it this much”

his voice was low, focused on the way your breath hitched and your moans came out in their rawest purest form. you came about your conscious ability to think again when jude licked you from your collarbone to your neck and up to your ear.

“i love how you say my name…” so much so that when he wasn’t planning on stopping after you came. “you sound so sweet, angel.”

you pleaded, practically on the brink of tears as he changed the held your hips down while thrusting upwards. his groans smoothed into long drawn moans, encouraging you to be forthcoming. your voice pitched, fingernails digging into jude’s shoulders as you shook your head.

“i think— jude, i think i’m gonna…” he nods, humming affirmatively before helping you finish your sentence.

jude’s hips slap against yours, urgent to meet his own climax as your legs trembled on his sides. you whined pathetically, tossing your head back, eyes rolling back as well. he seizes the moment to place his face into your neck and gently kiss, biting where he pleased. 

he’s anything but quiet, talking you through your climax, letting you know that even though you thought your body was spent he insisted you had much more left in you. your body could only shiver and twitch in response. you slump into his arms, feeling him slow down as a courtesy. 

“do you need a moment before i continue?” he laughs softly, holding your hair back in a ponytail with his hands.

you pant breathlessly, simply nodding. 

“alright beautiful,” he places butterfly kisses all over your exposed skin. “i can wait for now. but i want you on your hands and knees next.”

you whined as if to say your body was entirely spent, simply pouting to be cooed over. and it works, but you tell jude that you don’t want to stop. in fact you could keep going all night until he broke you in completely, molding your body into his usefully. 

in the mean time, jude takes his time to allow you to cock warm before sliding out of you. you whine when left empty, hearing your drawer slide open once again.

“don’t worry, i’ll be back inside you.” 

it seemed unreal watching how hard he got for you again, body ready for another round that surely felt less restricting. your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth when you feel him slip back between your folds, welcoming him back. you let out a soft thank you, brushing your hair back before he kissed your temple.