Don't Judge (Nothing Special 4)

The metal chains rattled when Switch put his arms up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fuck! I get it. Try to leave and he goes loco. Damn, just tell him to shut up!” Switch yelled, over Bookem’s barking.

Judge clicked his teeth once and all went silent. Bookem paced in front of Judge, his eyes still trained on Switch cowering behind that chair. “That was a warning.” Judge pointed at Switch. “If you do something he doesn’t like, he’ll warn you first before he attacks. I suggest you listen.” Judge gave Book a sharp, quick whistle and watched his companion immediately drop down on his haunches by the door. Judge left, closing Switch inside with his new guard. Judge almost laughed when he heard Book growl, easily letting Switch know who was in charge now.

Judge went to get the rest of their things out of his shot-up truck. His heart rate kicked up to abnormal speeds when he saw the shattered mirror on the passenger side and the spots of blood that were everywhere on the seat. He closed his eyes and tried to shake the image of Michaels clutching his head, and blood flowing down his face. Judge fell against the side of the truck; he’d thought Michaels had been shot. Fuck!

Judge stormed back inside, dropping their bags on the couch. He burst through the bedroom door and saw that Michaels had cleaned himself up but he still looked completely worn out. He had a towel around his waist and one draped around his neck. His hair was wet and laid back, looking longer than it actually was. His hands were braced on the one dresser in the room with a mirror on top of it, his chin resting on his chest like he was asleep standing up. Michaels had cleaned the wound and put four wound closure strips over it. It was red and puffy, and there were smaller, superficial nicks and scrapes along his cheek and temple. The bruises were more evident with the blood cleaned off, too. When Michaels looked up and finally met Judge’s eyes, he immediately noticed what was burning behind his ebony-clouded glare.

Michaels turned slowly and put his arm up as if that was going to ward Judge off. “I’m fine, Judge. Nothing that won’t heal in days,” Michaels whispered.

“This time.” Judge slammed their door shut and stalked over to Michaels. He gripped both ends of the towel and pulled Michaels into him. He looked down at this man who had completely upheaved his existence; this feisty, untamed badass that would challenge Judge in every way he wanted a man to. But could he handle him? His heart, his mind. He was already crazy with emotions, and it was early days. Judge carefully placed his forehead to Michaels’, mindful of his injury on the far right side. His eyes closed tight, his forehead creased in frustration. “I told you to stay inside the truck, damnit.” Judge’s voice was husky and full of emotion that he couldn’t hide.

Michaels held on tight to Judge’s shoulders. “I was backing you up. They could’ve got on the side and shot through the door. You have to let me do my job, Judge. I am your partner on this.”

Judge snarled and jerked the towel harder. “Then why were you my lover just a few hours ago?”

Michaels frowned back at him. Judge didn’t know if it was a look of hurt or anger. “I thought it’s what you wanted.”

Judge tilted Michaels chin up. “You can’t have both. My lover and my work partner. You can’t be both. It’s impossible. I can’t do it.”

“Fine. Then I won’t. I’ll only be one.”

Judge slowly released the towel and stepped back from Michaels’ sexy heat. “Okay.” He sighed, feeling emotionally exhausted and tired himself. “Work partners.”

“You misunderstood.” Michaels took the towel off his hips and let it drop to the floor. “I meant I’ll only be your lover.”

Judge swallowed hard. Fuck, this man was too damn much. He couldn’t resist Michaels standing there in all his splendid wet nakedness if he tried. If Jesus had come down right then and told Judge to choose him or Michaels, he would’ve quickly condemned his soul to hell. There was nothing he wanted more. He closed the distance again and cupped Michaels’ unbruised jaw, tilting him the way he wanted. Judge pressed his mouth against the detective’s for the very first time. A soft sigh escaped from Michaels’ mouth and Judge slid his tongue in just as easily as he’d done his cock. Fuck. The man’s mouth was so warm and delicious. A taste like he’d never had before. If powerful and wild was an actual taste.

He wrapped his big arms around Michaels’ strong frame and held him close to him, needing to feel for himself that he was safe; he was fine. Dipping his knees down, he went in at another angle, feeling and savoring those plump lips just like he’d wanted from the time he’d met the man. If Michaels was his, then he was getting ready to take full fucking advantage of his new possession. Judge’s head swam with the need to control as he devoured Michaels’ mouth, owned it inside and out, licking and nipping all over him. Michaels was passive and compliant, letting Judge have his way with him. When he couldn’t take it anymore he pulled back and gasped for breath.