At least, he hoped.
Fear crept in under the anticipation of seeing Jude, of touching him and kissing him and making promises he honest-to-god planned to try and keep.
But what if he was too late? What if Jude bailed? What if Hydra had shown up?
It took all of his self-control to keep his hands from shaking and to take the time to put his kickstand down before he hurried up the porch steps. Inside, the living room was quiet, and he could hear his own heartbeat as he dropped his bag by the door and moved through the house.
For a moment, he thought his worst fear had come to life, then he came to a skidding halt in his doorway when he saw Jude on the floor. He blinked, he breathed, he watched him stretch his injured leg up toward his face.
It was the PT exercises—the ones he could do on his own. He was unharmed, safe, comfortable. He was in sweats and a tank-top, showing off his muscled biceps which were flexing as he pulled.
His head tipped backward when he heard Kicks come in, and his eyes shone with happiness at the sight of him. “You’re back.”
Kicks breathed out sharply, then nodded. “I’m back.” He felt frozen to the spot as he stared, drinking in this man—this gorgeous, perfect man. And then it was like a string snapped. His shoulders sagged, and his arms felt heavy, and an outside force dragged him across the floor and onto his knees.
It hurt a little, but not enough to stop him as he draped his thighs over Jude’s and leaned in to taste him. His mouth was cooler from being outside, but Jude’s was warm, and the contrast made his head spin. Jude tasted sweet, like his tea, and mint from brushing his teeth, and he smelled soft and clean like he’d just showered.
Kicks dug his tired fingers into Jude’s curls and held tight. “I missed you.”
Jude grinned up at him as Kicks pulled his head back. “I can see that. Terrible trip, was it?”
“Productive,” Kicks said, then thrust his hips a little. He was only half-hard, but that could easily change. He wanted a shower first and maybe a good meal, but he wanted this man more. “If I remember right, I have a promise to keep.”
Jude laughed, the sound like a balm on his frazzled nerves, and he reached one hand up to cup his cheeks. “How about you unwind a little first.”
Kicks groaned, dropping his face into the crook of Jude’s neck, and he breathed him in. “I guess I should shower. I probably smell rank.”
“I don’t mind it,” Jude murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “But if you want to shower, I can make you something to eat. And then we can see about those promises.” When Kicks didn’t move, Jude grabbed him by the back of his hair and pulled. That succeeded in making his cock thicken, and he thrust a little even as he was forced back. “Do you need a firm hand?”
Kicks swallowed thickly, afraid to say yes, but more afraid to say no. “I…”
Jude released his hair and instead, pinched his chin. When his lips parted, he slipped two fingers in, resting them along Kicks’ tongue. “Mm. Good. That’s very good. I think you should shower, love. And eat. We have all the time in the world, after all.”
And god help him, but they did.
Kicks didn’t get off in the shower, and the result was coming out still heavy and thick with desire. His balls hung between his legs, too full and desperate to release. His dick was a little too sensitive, and he groaned when he pulled his jeans up over himself and zipped up. But he needed the barrier if he was going to get through a goddamn meal.
He found Jude in the kitchen standing at the stove, and for a moment, he thought the man had cooked a feast. Then he saw take-out boxes on the counter, and he doubled over with laughter.
“Oh, a fine idea. Mocking the man who is about to both feed you and give you orgasms.”
Kicks sobered, though his grin didn’t leave his face as he backed Jude up against the counter and pressed his cock into his hip. “Orgasms?”
“As I said, we have all the time in the world,” Jude answered him, just a little breathless. He touched Kicks’ face, on his blind side. It wasn’t quite startling, but there was a sort of strangeness to it, not being able to look down and see the edge of his hand. He was very aware then of just how much he had kept himself apart from people. Not out of shame and not really out of a belief that he didn’t deserve it.
Maybe, he thought, he was just waiting for Jude—because any man or woman who had come before him would have been settling.
And god, he didn’t want to think of a world where he didn’t have this.
Jude’s hand slipped between them, and he used the heel of his palm to rub against him until he was gently shaking with need for more. Then he pulled away and stepped out of his grasp, pushing one of the plates over to him.
“Go sit and eat.”
The command was soft and almost like a question, but not quite. Jude was the sort of man who naturally took control, but who was also willing to relinquish it when it was necessary. He was observant in ways that left Kicks feeling safe and calm, even when he hadn’t realized before he was wound up and nervous.
He was well aware that his attack made him a difficult person to get along with. He didn’t have the same personal relationship with the rest of the Chains that they had with each other. At least, not physically. They were willing to share their spaces, and Kicks rarely let them impose. It was easier that way, to hide all the ways that his past still—every now and again—rose up and choked him.
But with Jude, it didn’t feel that way. He wasn’t foolish enough to think it would last forever. There would be hard days, and sometimes they might even outnumber the easy ones. But the strength in the man’s eyes gave Kicks the courage to keep going.
Jude could handle it where so many would turn and run.
They settled on the sofa, and his need faded to a low simmer just under his skin. The food was a day old, but it was warmed perfectly, and it was comforting. He shoveled rice into his face and tried not to turn his head so he could see Jude watching him, content to just know that he was being observed.
He didn’t bother with anything like manners, and he liked that Jude didn’t expect it. They were so fucking different, but in that moment, it almost felt like their souls had been one and had been slashed apart by the gods.
There was a myth like that he remembered from school. How humans had been two hearts, two heads, and one body—and then they’d been split. They were cursed, for all eternity, to wander the earth in search of their other half.
He’d always found that story to be nothing more than a pile of romantic shit he wanted nothing to do with. Until now. And he wondered how much of him was going to shift and change as time went on and they loved each other a little more.
“Do you want to talk about any of it?” Jude asked after they were almost done.
Kicks shook his head and set his plate on the table, leaning back and turning his head so he could look at the other man. He looked well rested and less wound up than when Kicks had left him, and he wanted to think that maybe he really was well and truly settling in here.
“Ain’t much to say, babe. Cobras agreed to help us out. I met the brother of that kid who was shot in the alley…”
“The one Eliah saw?” Jude asked, his voice breathy.
Kicks nodded. “Guy was all kinds of fucked-up over it. They’re out for blood, and I’m a little worried they’re gonna find Hydra before Smokey does.”