Joel slid his hand round the curve of the policeman’s arse. God, he wished he had two hands still: Aaron’s arse deserved them. He rested his left wrist on Aaron’s hip anyway, and stroked and squeezed with his right, fingers running over cloth warmed by body heat. “Where does groping your arse come in the statute book?”

“Depends on intent.”

“Intend this,” Joel said, and pulled him in, stepping closer as he did it, bodies colliding. He wrapped his left arm around Aaron’s waist, irritatingly aware of not wanting to catch him with the hook, and felt Aaron’s hands close on his back, pressing him closer. They stared at each other for a fraction of a second, and then Joel kissed him.

He felt Aaron’s lips part in a tiny gasp. Then his hands tightened, and he was kissing Joel ferociously, desperately. Joel grabbed his shoulder, hanging on for dear life as he wrapped a leg around Aaron’s thigh. Aaron’s fingers were digging in, his lips and tongue were urgent, his substantial erection hard against Joel’s stomach. They were both gasping pleasure and relief and this was fucking glorious. He’d known it would be glorious.

He moved his arm up unthinkingly, wanting to span more of Aaron’s broad back, and caught the sodding bastard hook in his coat.

“Fuck!” he said in Aaron’s mouth.

Aaron jerked his head away. “What—”

“Sorry.” He tugged unavailingly, feeling his cheeks heat. “Sorry, sorry. It’s this damned thing. I forgot about it.”

“It’s all right.”

“It’s not. It’s a bloody pain.”

Aaron put a hand to his chin, tipping it up so Joel met his eyes, dark and deep. “It is all right, Joel. If you forgot about it, I take that as a significant compliment.”

His voice was dark and deep too, and Joel’s name sounded good in it. Joel breathed out. “You...could do that. But I’m still caught in your jacket.”

“Hold still.” Aaron shrugged it off his shoulders, loosening the tension so between them Joel could get the hook out.

“Thanks,” he said. “You know, if that’s half off anyway...”

Aaron regarded him for a second, then shook the jacket past his elbows and tossed it onto a chair. He looked good in his shirtsleeves. He’d look even better out of them, in Joel’s opinion.

“You could very usefully shed the cardigan,” Aaron observed.

Joel had forgotten he was wearing the ghastly thing. Shit. “Probably for the best, yes. It may have moths.”

“It looks like it has moths.”

“They might have moved out in disgust.” Joel worked his way out of it. “Uh. How do you feel about the prosthetic?”

“If you want it on, keep it on. If you want it off, take it off.”