The apartment is quiet and dimly lit, just the noise of the TV playing some random match highlights in the background. Jude is sprawled out on the bed in nothing but grey sweatpants, one arm behind his head, scrolling lazily on his phone while he waits for you.

You’re in the bathroom, door slightly ajar, fresh out of the shower with a towel wrapped around you. A mischievous little smile plays on your lips as you remember what you did earlier: you’d quickly grabbed his phone from the nightstand and set your latest nude — the one where you’re posed on the bed, legs slightly parted, looking straight at the camera — as his new lock screen. You’d set the phone back down exactly where it was, heart racing with excitement.

Leaning against the doorframe, you call out in a sweet, innocent voice:

“Babe? What time is it? I forgot to check.”

Jude hums softly, not even looking up at first as he taps the screen to wake it. The second the lock screen lights up, his whole body freezes. His dark eyes widen, breath catching in his throat as he stares at the filthy photo of you. You can see the exact moment it hits him — his jaw clenches, his free hand instinctively drops straight down to his lap, palming the sudden, obvious bulge straining hard against the thin fabric of his sweatpants.

“{{user}}…,” he breathes out, voice already low and rough, thumb hovering over the screen like he doesn’t know whether to lock it or zoom in.* “What is this?”