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It had been three weeks, four days, and almost exactly seventy-two hours since Jude last let himself be alone with Erling.
Not that he was counting.
Every time he saw that broad blond frame rounding a corridor, every time he heard that loud, familiar laugh bounce off locker room walls, every time Erling would throw an arm around his shoulders or lean in close to hear him over the noise—heat would rush through him so fast it made his head spin, settling heavy and throbbing low in his gut, sharp and demanding and impossible to ignore. He’d turn away before Erling could see the flush climbing high on his cheeks, before he could see the way Jude’s hands would clench tight at his sides, fighting the urge to reach out and pull him closer.
It had started months ago, quiet and unassuming. Just a dream—Erling beneath him, soft and open, letting Jude take control in a way he’d never dared ask for. He’d woken up breathless, hard and aching, sheets tangled around his legs, and had stared at the ceiling for an hour, hating how much he’d wanted it. Then the dreams came more often. Clearer. More vivid. Jude would wake up remembering the way Erling’s breath hitched, the soft sounds he made, the way he looked up at him like Jude was the only thing that mattered—and every time he saw Erling after that, he felt like he was walking on thin ice.
They were both Alphas. Strong, capable, used to leading, used to being the ones in control. No one questioned it. No one looked at Jude and saw anything but a fierce, steady leader. No one looked at Erling and saw anything but a force of nature. But Jude knew. He knew that beneath all that, what he wanted was to be the one Erling leaned on. To be the one Erling let his guard down for. To be the one who got to see every part of him no one else ever did.
And fuck, it terrified him. It really did.
He couldn’t afford to slip up. He couldn’t afford to look at Erling too long, or touch him too gently, or let him see how much every little thing he did affected him. So he ran. He made excuses. He did everything he could to avoid contact with Erling as much as possible. He left events early, turned down invitations, ducked into empty corridors just to avoid a conversation he knew would leave him burning and flustered and desperate. Every time Erling texted Come over? or Grab food?, Jude’s chest would ache so badly it hurt to breathe, and he’d type out Sorry, busy or Tired tonight before shoving his phone away like it burned him.
He knew Erling would notice it at some point, he just coudn't risk what they have now.
And, well...Erling noticed. Of course he did.
At first he told himself Jude was just stressed—international duty, fixture pile-ups, the weight of expectation pressing down on him harder than ever. But days turned into weeks, and the distance only grew. Jude would smile, but it wouldn’t reach his eyes. He’d shake Erling’s hand or hug him back for exactly one second before pulling away like he’d been burned. He’d go quiet mid-laugh, staring at Erling like he was fighting a war inside his own head, then mumble something about needing rest and vanish.
Erling was worried. Very worried.
It gnawed at him. Had he said something stupid? Teased him too hard? Crossed a line he didn’t know existed? Did he do something wrong? They’d been inseparable since they were teenagers—shared hotel rooms, shared jokes, shared every high and every low—and now Jude was acting like being in the same room as him was painful. Erling tried asking, tried pressing gently, but Jude would always deflect, always change the subject, always put another few feet between them.
When Jude didn’t answer his texts for two full days, didn’t pick up his calls, and didn’t open his door even when Erling knocked for ten minutes straight, Erling reached for the spare key Jude had pressed into his hand years ago, with a quiet promise: Only use it if you really need me.
He had no idea how much he was about to need him.
The lock clicked soft, and the door swung open. The second Erling stepped inside, he knew something was very, very wrong.
The apartment was quiet, but the air was thick and heavy with Jude’s scent, sharp and dark and spiked with something needy and strained that made the hair on the back of Erling’s neck stand up. The lights were dim, curtains drawn shut against the evening sun. Jude was curled on the edge of his sofa, head in his hands, chest heaving like he’d just run a full sprint. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, collar pulled wide, skin flushed bright all the way down his throat. His hands were shaking so bad his knuckles were white.
“Jude?”
Jude flinched so hard he almost fell off the cushion. He looked up, eyes blown wide, dark and hazy and swimming with panic, and the second he saw Erling he scrambled back, pressing himself into the corner like he was trying to put as much distance between them as possible.
“Get out.”
It came out rough, broken, nothing like his usual steady voice.
Erling froze by the door, key still dangling from his fingers. “What? Jude, what’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks—did I do something? Did I mess up?”
“I said get out!” Jude’s voice cracked. He dragged both hands through his hair, breathing hard, scent spiking sharp and desperate. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”
“Safe?” Erling stepped further inside, shutting the door softly behind him. “We’re best friends. Since when am I not safe with you?”
“Erling, you don’t understand! ” Jude’s gaze snapped to him, raw and terrified. “I can’t—when you’re close… I can’t control it. I can’t control myself around you right now. Every time you touch me, every time you look at me… I burn, Erling. I burn so bad I can barely think. And I’m scared if I stay here with you any longer, I’ll do something stupid that I shouldn’t do. Something you don’t want. Something that’ll ruin us.”
He laughed then, sharp and bitter, and looked away again. “I’m an Alpha. I’m supposed to be in control. But around you? I feel like I’m barely holding on by a thread. And the dreams… God, the dreams are anything but innocent. I wake up hard and aching and ashamed, because I shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. Not you. Not my best friend.”
Erling stood very still. He could feel it now—Jude’s pheromones rolling off him in waves, thick and pleading, fighting against every instinct he had to pull away. He was an Alpha too—big, strong, used to being the one people stepped back from—but right now all he felt was how much Jude was hurting. How hard he’d been fighting this alone.
“Jude,” he said softly, taking one slow, careful step forward. “Look at me.”
Jude shook his head, jaw clenched tight.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, Jude lifted his eyes. They were shiny, bright with unshed tears he was too proud to let fall.
“You think I’d be scared of you?” Erling asked, his voice steady but gentle. “You think I’d run if you wanted me like that? You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me? The way you touch me like you’re afraid you’ll break me if you hold on too tight?”
Jude’s breath hitched.
“I just thought…” Erling continued, taking another step, until he was standing right in front of the sofa, close enough to feel the heat rolling off Jude’s skin, “I thought you didn’t want to. I thought you only ever saw me as your friend. As your teammate. I never thought… I never dared hope you might feel the same way I do.”
That made Jude freeze. His mouth parted, breath catching in his throat like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.
“You… you feel it too?”
Erling huffed a quiet, shaky laugh. “Since Dortmund, Jude. Since you were nineteen and you’d fall asleep on my shoulder on the bus and I’d lie awake for hours just listening to you breathe. Of course I feel it.”
Before Jude could say another word, Erling reached out slowly and rested his hand lightly on Jude’s shoulder.
The contact made Jude gasp. His whole body shuddered, and for a heartbeat he looked like he might pull away—then all that iron control he’d been clinging to for weeks finally shattered. He leaned forward, burying his face hard against Erling’s chest, and let out a shaky, broken sound that tore Erling’s heart right open.
“I tried so hard to stay away,” Jude mumbled into his shirt, voice thick. “I was so scared I’d hurt you. Scared I’d ruin everything.”
“I know,” Erling soothed, rubbing slow, steady circles between his shoulder blades, holding him careful but sure. “But you could never hurt me. Not like this. And you could never ruin us.”
Jude lifted his head then, eyes dark and burning, half fear and half want, and looked up at Erling like he was seeing him for the first time all over again. His hand came up slow, trembling just a little, to rest against Erling’s jaw—thumb brushing soft over his cheekbone, like he was checking he was real.
“Can I kiss you? "Jude whispered, so quiet Erling almost missed it. “Please tell me I can.”
Erling leaned into his touch, turning his face just enough to press a soft kiss to the center of Jude’s palm.
“Yes,” he said, clear and sure. “Always yes.”
The kiss was nothing like the frantic, fleeting versions Jude had lived in his head for months. It was slow—hesitant at first, then deeper, like he was learning the shape of Erling’s mouth all over again, like he was afraid to rush a single second of it. His hand stayed cupped firm but gentle at Erling’s jaw, thumb brushing the corner of his lip every time they parted to breathe, while his other arm slid slow around Erling’s waist, pulling him closer until their chests pressed tight, until every shaky breath they took mingled together.
Erling leaned into him instantly, no hesitation, no holding back. His hands came up to rest light on Jude’s shoulders, then tangled slow into the hair at the nape of his neck, fingers grazing the sensitive skin there and making Jude shiver so hard he almost pulled away. But he didn’t. He just pressed closer, deepening the kiss, tasting mint and salt and something so entirely Erling it made his head spin.
When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Jude rested his forehead against Erling’s, eyes still closed like he was afraid this would vanish if he opened them.
“Are you sure?” he whispered again, because he needed to hear it, needed to know this wasn’t some cruel trick his mind was playing on him. “Once I start… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”
Erling pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, his blue gaze bright and steady and so full of something warm it made Jude’s chest ache. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. Just… be gentle with me? I’ve never… not like this.”
Jude’s heart clenched tight. He knew. He’d always known Erling was the one who took charge, who led, who held him through every time they’d been together before. The thought of Erling letting go of that, letting Jude take care of him for once, made something tender and fierce bloom deep inside him.
“Always,” Jude promised, voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be so gentle. I promise.”
He guided Erling back slow until he was sitting fully on the sofa, then knelt between his spread legs, hands resting light on Erling’s thighs, not pushing, just waiting for permission. Erling watched him for a long moment, then reached down, taking Jude’s hands and placing them over his own chest, right over his heart where it was beating fast and hard beneath warm skin.
“Touch me,” Erling said, quiet but sure. “Please, Jude.”
Jude obeyed like it was the only thing he’d ever been meant to do. His fingers moved slow, undoing the buttons of Erling’s shirt one by one, pushing the fabric aside to reveal broad shoulders, hard-earned muscle, and faint scars he knew the story of. He kissed every inch of newly exposed skin he uncovered—over his collarbone, down the center of his chest, over the curve of his ribs, kissing the spot right over his heart where it beat fastest, murmuring quiet praises that made Erling’s breath hitch and his hands grip tighter at Jude’s shoulders.
“So strong,” Jude whispered against his skin, kissing the jut of his hipbone where the waistband of his shorts sat low. “So beautiful. All mine.”
Erling made a soft, broken sound, tipping his head back against the cushion, baring his throat completely. Jude took his time, kissing his way down the line of his jaw, sucking gentle marks into the skin just below his ear, nipping light at the pulse point that fluttered fast beneath his lips. He knew exactly what he was doing—every little thing Erling had ever done for him, every touch that had made him shiver, every quiet word that had settled deep in his bones. He was giving it all back, ten times over, slow and careful and true.
When he finally pulled Erling’s shorts down and tossed them aside, he didn’t rush. He leaned forward, kissing the soft skin of his inner thigh, pressing open-mouthed kisses higher and higher until Erling was squirming beneath him, breath coming in short sharp gasps, hands fisting tight in the cushions. Jude reached for the bag he’d grabbed from his bedroom earlier—prepared weeks ago, just in case, never daring to believe he’d ever get to use it—and poured a generous amount of lubricant onto his fingers, warming it between his palms before touching him.
The first press of his finger made Erling jolt, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat. Jude stopped instantly, lifting his head to look at him.
“Too much?” he asked softly, ready to pull away.
“No,” Erling breathed, shaking his head, cheeks flushed bright. “Just… new. Keep going. Slow.”
Jude nodded, leaning up to kiss his lips slow and reassuring before turning his attention back. He pressed his index finger in little by little, watching Erling’s face the whole time, watching his eyes flutter shut, watching his lips part on quiet shaky sounds. He moved slow, twisting gentle, scissoring his finger carefully until Erling’s tension began to melt away, until he was pushing back just a little, letting out soft quiet sighs instead of gasps.
“More?” Jude asked, voice low and steady.
Erling nodded fast, fingers digging soft into Jude’s shoulders. “Yes. Please.”
Jude added a second finger, stretching him careful, pressing slow and deliberate until he found that spot deep inside that made Erling cry out loud, his whole body arching up off the cushions. Jude didn’t stop, keeping his rhythm steady, pressing that spot every time he pulled back, whispering how good he was, how perfect he looked, how long he’d dreamed of seeing him like this. Erling was unraveling fast, hands everywhere at once, clinging to Jude’s arms, his back, his hair, his breath coming in short broken pants, his usual confidence completely gone, replaced by something soft and open and trusting Jude had never seen before.
When Jude finally pulled his fingers out, Erling made a hiss sound of loss, reaching for him instantly. Jude just kissed him deep, distracting him while he rolled on protection and slicked himself up, every movement deliberate, every breath held like he was handling something fragile and infinitely precious. He positioned himself between Erling’s legs, pressing slow open-mouthed kisses to his inner thighs one last time before looking up, their eyes locking.
“Ready?" Jude whispered, the head of his cock resting light against him.
Erling wrapped his legs tight around Jude’s waist, pulling him closer. “Yes. Jude, please... I need you.”
Jude pushed in slow. Inch by agonizing inch, stopping every time Erling gasped, letting him adjust, letting him feel every bit of Jude’s weight and heat and how much he’d wanted this. He watched Erling’s face the whole time—the way his eyes widened, the way his lips parted on a shaky moan, the way his hands flew up to grip Jude’s biceps, holding on for dear life. When he finally sank all the way in, he paused completely, resting his forehead against Erling’s, letting him get used to the feeling, kissing away the small beads of sweat that had formed at his hairline.
“Okay?” Jude asked, voice rough with emotion.
Erling nodded fast, swallowing hard. “Move. Please just move, Jude.”
Jude set a rhythm that was deep, steady, unrushed. Every thrust was deliberate, every touch sure, every kiss placed soft and intentional. He held Erling’s hip in one firm hand, anchoring him there, while the other tangled in his hair, kissing him through every gasp, every quiet sound, every time Erling’s breath hitched so hard he couldn’t speak. He didn’t chase the finish. He didn’t try to prove anything. He just loved him—slow, thorough, attentive, pouring every bit of those months of repressed want and fear and longing into every touch.
He hit that sensitive spot deep inside every time he pushed forward, making Erling cry out his name loud and unashamed, his whole body arching up to meet Jude’s thrusts, his nails digging soft into Jude’s skin. Jude leaned down, sucking gentle marks into his neck, murmuring against his skin how good he felt, how perfect he was, how Jude had never wanted anything more than this.
“Look at me,” Jude said softly, lifting Erling’s chin so their eyes met. “Want you to see it. Want you to know how much you mean to me.”
Erling looked up at him, eyes glassy and bright, full of so much emotion it made Jude’s heart ache. “You… you have no idea. How long I waited for you to see me like this.”
Jude kissed him then, deep and all-consuming, picking up his pace just a little but never losing that careful, gentle control. He knew exactly what he was doing—he’d watched Erling, learned from Erling, and now he was giving it all back, better than he ever could have imagined. He held Erling through every shudder, every broken moan, every time he seemed to lose himself completely, whispering quiet reassurances against his skin, anchoring him when he got too lost in the feeling.
When Erling’s legs began to shake and his breath came in short sharp gasps, Jude knew he was close. He kept his rhythm steady, reaching down to wrap his hand around Erling’s aching length, stroking him in time with his thrusts, watching as Erling unraveled completely beneath him, crying out Jude’s name over and over, his whole body tensing before falling apart in Jude’s arms.
Jude held him through it, kissing his face, his neck, his lips, murmuring soft praise until Erling’s breathing slowed and his grip loosened. He kept moving slow, drawing out his own pleasure, until finally he couldn’t hold back anymore, burying his face in Erling’s neck as he came, groaning low and broken, his whole body shuddering as he pressed deep and held there, letting himself feel every bit of Erling wrapped tight around him.
He stayed there for a long time after, still buried deep, their bodies pressed tight together, breathing hard in sync. Erling’s arms were wrapped firm around his back, holding him close, his face buried in Jude’s shoulder, soft and quiet. Jude kissed the side of his head, his hand rubbing slow soothing circles over Erling’s hip, careful not to jostle him too much.
When he finally pulled out slow, he grabbed a clean towel from the side table, cleaning them both up gentle and thorough, treating Erling like something precious he had no intention of ever letting go of. He pulled Erling close, wrapping them both in the throw blanket from the back of the sofa, pulling him tight against his chest so he could feel Jude’s heart beating steady and strong beneath his ear.
Neither of them spoke for a long time. The air no longer felt thick with fear or shame or repressed want—it felt light, warm, finally right.
“You really avoided me for weeks just because you were scared you’d want to take care of me?” Erling asked eventually, his voice soft and muffled against Jude’s chest.
Jude pressed a kiss to his hair, holding him tighter. “I was terrified. Scared I’d cross a line. Scared you’d hate me for it. Scared I’d lose the best thing in my life just because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”
Erling shifted, lifting his head to look up at Jude, a small soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You could never lose me. Not over this. Not over anything.”
Jude looked down at him—blond hair messy, lips swollen, skin flushed, eyes bright and soft and completely his—and felt something settle deep inside him, warm and steady and finally at peace. All those weeks of running, all those months of dreaming, all that fear and shame and longing—it had all led here. To this. To them.
He leaned down, kissing him slow and sweet, no longer holding anything back.
“Mine,” Jude whispered against his lips, quiet and sure. “You’re mine, Erling.”
Erling chuckled and smiled, wrapping his arms tight around Jude’s neck and pulling him back down for another kiss.
“And you’re mine.”