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For one stupid second, he thought Harrison might say something. Then Harrison drew himself up. Shoulders back. His face closed off. Whatever had almost made it through disappeared behind that familiar composure.

DI Black, back on duty.

And Jake had absolutely no fucking idea what that made him.

So he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “You better get moving then, before someone clocks you leaving here and makes up a better story than whatever your lot are dealing with.”

There.

Easier if Jake were the one telling him to go.

Harrison drew a breath at that. Fierce. As if it hit somewhere it shouldn’t. Then he pressed one knee onto the mattress and leaned back over Jake, bracing his hand near Jake’s hip and kissed him. Languidly. As if holding on and letting go at the same time. Jake felt it everywhere. Like a warm stream running through his veins. And he lifted his hand, sliding it up the back of Harrison’s neck to keep him close. Hold him in it a second longer. Stretch the moment before it slipped away and made them both cold again.

“I’ll call you later,” Harrison whispered against his mouth.

“I’ll be on your roof.”

“Then don’t fall off it.”

Jake huffed a quiet breath. “You worried about me?”

Harrison kissed him again. “More than I should for a man who scales roofs for a living.”

Jake brushed his thumb along Harrison’s jaw, the stubble rasping his tip. “Don’t like the idea of you knocking about with murderers either.”

Harrison stilled.

It was brief. Barely there. But Jake felt it.

Then he pulled back. Decisively. Clicked back into place. And he stepped off the bed, turned away, putting space between them where there had been none minutes ago. He made it to the door, ready to open it, ready to go when he paused. Looked back.

He wanted to say something.

And Jake wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it.

So he tipped his chin, feigning nonchalance. “Piss off, Detective. Some of us have actual graft to get to.”

Harrison snorted under his breath, shaking his head as he opened the door.

Then he was gone.

Jake tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling, trying not to sit in the silence too long. That strange, hollow dip left behind when something good ended too quickly.

Brilliant idea.

Pining over a grieving detective. In secret. Genius.

Then he thought about the kiss. Harrison’s hand on him. The way he’d taken his time and guided him through the most intimate hand job he’d ever had, and the memory brought out a small, almost reluctant smile.

Alright. He could do this.

And if his body hadn’t quite caught up with reality yet, well… that wasn’t exactly a problem. He could finish himself off. So he shuffled down the bed, tucking one arm behind his head, wrapping his other hand around his erection, and drifted his eyes closed as he tried to hold on to that memory. The way Harrison had felt, the gravity of his touch, the quiet control in it. The control Jake wanted him to lose.

His phone shattered the moment.

He swore under his breath, scrambling across the bed to grab it before it stopped ringing, nearly tangling himself in the sheet as he caught it just in time.

“Aye?”