Page 115 of Freshman

It was a different kind of thump, not laced with fear, but with need and urgency, and the feeling that release was right there, but Nate was keeping him from it.

The whole time they’d been on the run, Alfie had been unable to relax. Sleep evaded him, and he tensed at the smallest of sounds, but when the cabin had appeared on the horizon through their Land Rover windscreen, he’d pinched himself, thinking it was all a dream.

Nate had noticed. Nate had heard Alfie’s gasp and seen him nipping the skin on the back of his hand between his thumb and forefinger.

“Freshman,” he’d whispered, taking Alfie’s hand. The vital hand that had proved what lay in front of him was real. He’d kissed the back of it, raised his eyebrow and delivered his trademark smug smile.

It wasn’t a dream, and Alfie’s fantasy was no longer that, a fantasy.

He was bound, on his knees, with the heavy weight of Nate’s hand between his shoulders.

Sometimes it slid up and gripped the back of Alfie’s neck.

Alfie moaned when Nate did that and arched his back to give more of himself to fingers, lips and teeth. He didn’t care that he looked and sounded desperate, not when Nate himself was so desperate to give Alfie what he wanted.

The cabin was small, but it had all they needed. A kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom up a ladder overlooking the living space, and then there was the sofa and the all-important fire.

They’d put the necessities like food, clothes, and toiletries away.

Nate had lit the fire and told Alfie to take a shower.

He’d stepped back into the living room wearing one of Nate’s hoodies and a pair of flannelette drawstring bottoms. It only took the sight of the rug laid down in front of the fire for him to get hard. Embarrassment had flared in his cheeks, but then he saw the hunger in Nate’s eyes and the rope he kept wrapping and unwrapping around his hand.

They both needed this release.

Nate had told him to remove his clothes, and he’d not hesitated, not even for a second. Alfie approached him with his palms together, ready for his wrists to be tied.

“Are you sure?” Nate had asked.

“Yes.”

At first Alfie had been hesitant, unsure, embarrassed for Nate to see him like that for real. Nate had staggered back as if pushed when Alfie had told him and growled out in a husky voice for Alfie to get down on his knees.

Alfie had dropped like a stone.

That had been hours ago.

Nate licked, and sucked, and pressed his lips against Alfie’s hole. He pressed his tongue inside, and at first there had been resistance, at first Alfie had clenched, but hours had passed, and Nate’s slow seduction had taken its toll.

Alfie had stopped feeling self-conscious and had begun doing things even his fantasy self hadn’t, like push back against Nate’s tongue and whimper for more.

Alfie’s cock leaked pitifully from the tip. He wanted to rub it against the rug, but on his knees and bent over with his cheek on the rug, he couldn’t do anything to get himself off. His bound arms were tucked beneath him, useless, just how Nate wanted them.

Alfie was at Nate’s mercy, vulnerable, and exposed. He watched the flames dance and shadows jump before lubed fingers pushed inside to stroke him and his eyes shut again.

“You’re doing so good,” Nate whispered.

Alfie had given up talking a while back. He could only vocalise moans and groans, and his slack mouth stayed open so he could drag in air and pant it out again. By his lips, the rug was damp from his desperate breaths. He was getting dizzy, and he didn’t know whether that was because of the pleasure, his hyperventilating, or a combination of both.

“I know the last few months have been difficult,” Nate said, pumping his fingers in and out. Alfie was loose with Nate’s spit and lube and the slow stretch. “But you’ve been amazing. The whole time you’ve been amazing.”

Nate sank his fingers deep and pushed his thumb against Alfie’s drawn-up balls. They were tight and tingling. He rubbed circles against them while twitching his fingers inside.

“I promise you things will get easier,” Nate said, pulling his fingers out and adding a third.

He pushed them in and out a few times until a raw sob pulled itself from Alfie’s throat.

“Shhh, someone might hear us,” Nate said, then he chuckled, and Alfie thought of Larkwood, of cell 150 and their whispered conversations.

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