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The light in Jack Swift’s apartment was low, most of the bulbs having been turned off in favour of two desk lamps and a scented candle. Morse watched the flame twist on the table between them, the whisky he had been drinking making the world a little fuzzier than usual.
“So,” Swift started, and Morse’s eyes flicked up to him. His skin flickered golden with the flame, and his eyes glowed from the light of it. “You got a girl then?”
Morse let out a brief huff. He was as bad as Jakes, speaking about women as if they owned them, as if they were collectible items. “No, no, erm- not at the moment.”
Jack nodded and gave Morse a sympathetic smile before raising his own glass and taking a quick gulp. “Yeah, I’ve gone off the birds myself, actually.”
“Oh?” Morse was surprised. “So who was that lovely lady leaving earlier?”
Even in the low light, Morse could see Jack blush. “She was… she was…”
“Just a friend?” Morse offered, mockingly, taking a generous gulp of whisky. He didn’t want to talk about women, especially not when he was almost sober. He looked down into the amber liquid in his glass and waited for Jack to speak again.
“No. Not even that.”
Morse looked up from his whisky and met Jack’s eyes, and something fizzled down his spine, the sensation so vivid Morse struggled not to wriggle in his chair.
“A bit cruel, don’t you think?” Morse muttered, tearing his gaze from Jack’s to stare at the flame between them again. “She seemed rather fond of you.”
“Well, that’s her mistake then,” Jack shrugged, pouring himself another measure. “I’m off the birds, I told her that.”
“I don’t doubt you did,” Morse muttered, wondering if it would be impolite to pour himself another glass of whisky from someone else’s bottle. He was too tired and too sober to talk at length about Jack’s girlfriends when all his own relationships went so horribly.
“I’m off the birds ,” Jack repeated, emphasising something that Morse couldn’t quite understand yet.
“Yes, you’ve said-”
Jack’s hand landed on Morse’s own, where it rested on the table. Morse looked up then, and met Jack’s eyes, feeling the passion that burned within them. He knew that look, the same smouldering gaze that Ludo had turned on him before they first slept together. Morse knew what Jack wanted.
“Mr Swift…” Morse said, making no effort to pull his hand from Jack’s grasp.
“Jack. Please,” Jack corrected Morse, gently stroking the back of his hand.
“Jack, I’m here in a position of trust, I can’t-” Morse tried to protest, if only to say he had, but then Jack gently lifted his hand and pressed a closed-mouth kiss to it, and Morse felt his resolve melt.
“It’s alright,” Jack whispered against his skin. “No one need know.”
Jack stood then, still holding Morse’s hand as he rounded the table to stand next to him, bending to drape himself over Morse’s back, their hands joining at the front. Morse could feel Jack's heartbeat against his back, and Jack’s breath in his ear.
“You're going to be here all night anyway,” Jack whispered, his lips brushing Morse’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. “How about we have a little fun with it?”
“Jack…” Morse sighed as the other man's lips pressed against his neck, his hands smoothing down the front of Morse’s shirt.
“Morse…” Jack echoed Morse’s tone, and something in him snapped.
Morse turned his head to the side, capturing Jack’s lips between his own, moaning at how good it felt to be held again, to kiss again. Jack returned the kiss with equal fervour, pulling Morse out of his chair to push him up against a wall, a leg thrust roughly between his own.
Morse wasn’t hard yet, but he was getting there, greatly encouraged by the feel of Jack’s length against his thigh. Morse’s hips thrust forward involuntarily as Jack’s tongue invaded his mouth, seeking pleasure that Morse was only too happy to provide.
But even as arousal coursed through his body, Morse felt that niggling doubt biting at his heels. What was he doing? What would Thursday say, if he knew Morse was getting off with the very man he had been assigned to protect?
“Jack-” Morse gasped as they pulled apart for air, but soon Jack moved back in and Morse moaned, putty in his hands.
Jack’s hips thrust against him more fervently, and soon Jack was reaching down to unbutton his corduroy trousers and pull his cock out, not-so-accidently rubbing the back of his hand against Morse’s crotch as he did so.
“Jack-” Morse gasped again, his conscience heavy.
“Yes?” Jack asked innocently as he pulled open Morse’s fly and slipped a warm hand into his trousers, wrapping his palm around Morse’s length.
In that moment, all of his protests left his mind, and all Morse could gasp was- “Please!”
“Atta boy,” Jack chuckled against his lips, pulling Morse’s cock out from the confines of his pants, his big hand encircling the two of them.
Morse threw his head back in pleasure as Jack swiped a thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, baring his neck for Jack to kiss and nip at. He moaned as Jack pumped them at a leisurely pace, his hands grasping for purchase on the back of the footballer’s shirt. He was close, closer than he had any right being this early on in the act, but something about Jack made all the sensations amplified by a thousand, and Morse couldn’t help the way his hips jumped into Jack’s grip, or the groans that those hands coaxed out of him.
“Fuck…” Jack moaned against Morse’s neck, his hand moving faster and faster. “So good…”
That, seemingly, was all it took to push Morse over the edge. He came with a whimper that he would have been embarrassed by, if he had an ounce of sense left in him, his cock shooting white over Jack’s hand. Morse felt Jack bite down on his neck, groaning, and then he came as well, the two of them slumping into each other.
“That was…” Jack started, but only pressed another kiss to Morse’s neck in lieu of finishing his sentence.
“Yeah,” Morse muttered, feeling boneless, as if Jack’s hands around his waist were the only thing holding him up.
But then Jack’s hands were gone as he stepped backwards to pull up his trousers, and Morse leaned back against the wall, feeling uncomfortably sticky. Jack moved in again to press another kiss to Morse’s lips, but Morse didn’t reciprocate. He let Jack take what he wanted, and then they parted.
“Look, I’ve…” Jack started as Morse tucked himself back into his trousers. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow. Last day of training before…”
“Yeah, of course,” Morse said, combing a sweat-slick hand through his hair.
“You’re welcome to join me-” Jack thrust his head in the direction of what Morse assumed was the bedroom. “But I’ll, um… I’ll just be sleeping.”
“No, no, it’s alright,” Morse said, his eyes flicking back to that table, with the sandalwood candle still burning. “I’m meant to stay up and keep watch, anyway. You go and sleep, you need it.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, sounding ever so slightly let down. “Well, the bathroom’s just down the hall if you want to clean up.”
“Thanks,” Morse replied, now gazing out of the window.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Jack said, quieter, and then he was leaning in, pressing a closed mouthed kiss to Morse’s lips. He pulled back, smirking ever so slightly. “Thanks for that. Goodnight.”
“Night,” Morse muttered to Jack’s retreating back.
Morse felt in a daze as he stumbled to the bathroom, washing himself quickly with a damp hand towel before wandering back out to the dimly-lit flat. He could hear Jack moving around in the bedroom as he sat down on the sofa, but soon the noises died down, and Morse was alone with only his own thoughts for company.
It was hard to stay awake, and eventually Morse slipped into a fitful sleep, face down on the sofa.