Chapter Fifteen Aftershocks #2
Tilly beamed angelically, then clenched her tiny fists, scrunched up her face, and punched the air like a mini prize-fighter.
“Uncle Freddie taught her that. Meant to scare off the bullies but has other uses.”
Nathan threw up his hands in surrender. “Warning received.”
* * * *
Freddie couldn’t eat.
Couldn’t sit still. Breathe properly.
The sick coil of worry in his gut had twisted tighter since he’d left the station.
He thought about an early gym session, but he knew all the school mum drop offs would be in there soon, and he preferred it quieter.
So he showered, scrubbing hard enough to leave red streaks across his skin, trying to wash away the shift, the mistakes, the shame, then collapsed onto his bed, naked, damp, exhausted.
Sleep was a joke.
Not even his blackout blinds could hold back the miserable, grey daylight clawing at the edges of his mind. He rolled over, punched the pillow flat, tried to slow his breathing. Tried not to think about Nathan. About what might’ve happened. What still could .
The buzz of the doorbell cut through the flat.
Freddie ignored it. Let it ring out .
Probably Piper.
Or his mum back from her retreat. He wasn’t in the mood for either.
The bell rang again. Longer this time. Louder. Demanding.
“Fuck sake!” He kicked the covers off, hauled himself up, tugged on a shitty pair of boxers, and staggered out of the bedroom, heavy-footed down the narrow stairs.
Another impatient jab at the buzzer.
Freddie yanked open the front door, annoyed as fuck. “I’m on nights you fucking wank…” He stopped. Swallowed.
Nathan .
For a long, breathless second, neither of them moved. Only Nathan’s eyes did, trailing over Freddie from head to toe, then back up again. Freddie opened his mouth to say something. Some half-formed thought caught between relief and panic, but he never got the words out.
Because Nathan surged forward.
No words. No warnings.
He shoved his way inside, grabbed Freddie by the scruff of his neck, kicked the door shut with a bang rattling the frame and probably disturbing Mrs Crow’s morning cuppa next door, then slammed Freddie against the wall and kissed him.
It was a seizure . Brutal, desperate, all teeth and crushed mouths and groaned curses swallowed between them. Nathan devoured him. Owned him.
Freddie clutched his shoulders, digging his fingers into the hard muscle, kissing him back as hungrily, gasping into the brutal press of it, clawing him closer, needing more, needing everything .
Nathan tasted of strawberry jam and adrenaline and something bitter. Fear, maybe? Or fury. And Freddie drank it down as if starved of it. Of him .
Nathan broke the kiss long enough to drag a wrecked breath across Freddie’s jaw, fisting his hand in the waistband of Freddie’s boxers, hauling him impossibly closer, until there was no space, no air, no thinking.
Freddie tilted his head back, chest heaving, heart hammering as he let Nathan take whatever he needed. Christ, he wanted him to, because he needed it as badly. As brutally.
Hands scrabbling, Freddie tore at Nathan’s hoodie, yanking it over his head in a rough, clumsy motion.
Nathan emerged flushed and wild, muscles flexing under golden skin, the ink on his chest shifting as he moved.
That tattoo, those ridged scars, the dusting of dark hair across his chest. God, he was devastating.
Older now. Heavier. Harder. Brutal in a way he hadn’t been when they were kids sneaking kisses in the dark.
Nathan didn’t stop, didn’t give Freddie a chance to breathe him all in.
He kissed down the line of Freddie’s jaw, teeth scraping, lips dragging heat across his throat, planting desperate, claiming kisses at the base of his neck.
He slid his hands low, pushing inside the loose hang of Freddie’s boxers, gripping the taut globes of his arse in a rough, possessive hold.
Freddie grunted, jerking his hips helplessly, cock already aching, inflamed, pressing hard against the rough denim of Nathan’s jeans.
Too much.
Not enough.
He tried to get his hands between them to fumble with Nathan’s belt, but Nathan had him crushed to the wall, heavy body pinning him there, radiating heat and intent.
So, growling low in frustration, Nathan took over.
He yanked his belt, jerking it loose, shoving his jeans down his thighs with furious haste.
The denim bunched around his boots. Heavy, scuffed steel-toe monsters he didn’t bother to kick off.
And fuck , Freddie nearly combusted at the sight.
Nathan, brutal and beautiful, standing there with his jeans tangled around his ankles, his underwear stretched tight over his cock, already straining for release, jaw clenched as if he was barely holding himself back.
It was messy. Primal. Fucking perfect .
Freddie wanted him more than he’d ever wanted anything.
Nathan was back on him, sliding his hands into Freddie’s underwear, gripping his arse cheeks, rough and possessive, digging his fingers in hard enough to leave bruises, then lifted him clean off the floor.
Freddie gasped, clutching Nathan’s shoulders as Nathan shoved him harder against the wall, bodies crashing together, skin on skin, and burning heat where their cocks strained, desperate for friction.
Fifteen fucking years.
Fifteen years of want and regret and unsaid things poured out in every brutal kiss, every frantic clutch of hands, every slam against the wall.
Nathan buried his face in Freddie’s neck, breathing him in, biting the delicate skin, mouthing down to his collarbone while Freddie writhed against him, panting, hard and helpless, legs flung around him and utterly his.
“Fucking missed you ,” Nathan growled into his neck. “God, I fucking missed you —”
“Missed you more,” Freddie whimpered, scraping his nails down Nathan’s bare back, gasping when Nathan ground their hips together, the friction setting him alight, blinding, scorching. It was a mess of fists and mouths and dragging clothes, desperate to get closer, to erase the years apart.
Nathan then let go of him, dropping Freddie back to his feet as he grabbed the waistband of Freddie’s boxers behind his back, yanked hard, ripping them apart in one rough, reckless move.
The tearing of fabric split the air, and suddenly, as Nathan tossed the useless cotton aside, Freddie was bare, skin flushed and burning, pinned naked between Nathan’s body and the wall.
Panting, Freddie shoved Nathan’s boxers down, dragging them over his hips until Nathan’s cock sprang free. Flushed, hard, fucking glorious .
Nathan growled low in his throat, shoving his thigh between Freddie’s legs to keep him there, grinding against him as if he was staking a claim he had no intention of giving up.
And Freddie barely had time to suck in a breath before Nathan’s hand wrapped around them both, cocks pressed tight together, hot and slick and leaking, and stroking them with rough, frantic pulls.
Freddie choked on a gasp, thudding his head back, vision whiting out with the sheer force of it. Of the thick, callused drag of Nathan’s palm, the brutal heat between them, the raw, guttural sounds Nathan let slip every time Freddie bucked into his grip.
“Jesus fuck, Nate —”
Nathan wasn’t the same boy he used to be. Gone was the uncertainty. The careful fumbling of youth. Those frantic, secret tangles behind locked doors. This Nathan moved like he knew exactly what he was doing, what he wanted and how to take it.
He was a force.
A beast in control .
Every stroke, every grind, every scrape of teeth a relentless gluttony, mouth finding Freddie’s with a hunger so deep it bordered on violent.
Freddie fucking loved it. Every filthy, ruthless second.
Every inch of the man who held him like this .
Kissed him as though ravenous. As if he’d waited years to get his hands back on him.
God , he wanted to say it. Wanted to tell Nathan everything he’d never been able to back then. That it had always been him. That it still was .
But he couldn’t speak.
Because Nathan slammed their mouths together again, swallowing every curse, every groan, every broken sound spilling out of Freddie as if he was trying to devour the truth before it escaped.
Then he shifted, bearing down harder, hand a relentless rhythm between them, driving Freddie up and up and over , until the coil inside him snapped viciously, pleasure crashing through him, ripping a hoarse shout from his throat as he came hard, spilling a hot mess between them.
Nathan cursed into Freddie’s mouth, jerking helplessly as he followed him over the edge, convulsing with the force of it. He clung to him, both of them shaking, wrecked, breathing each other’s air in the heavy, electric silence that followed.
“Jesus, Carter.” Freddie pressed their foreheads together, panting, feeling Nathan’s heart hammer against his own. “Warn a fella, yeah?”
Nathan stepped back with a dazed, crooked smile. “Didn’t look like you needed warning?” He gestured to Freddie’s naked state.
“This is my midnight.” Freddie prodded Nathan’s chest. “I was asleep.”
“Would say I’m sorry.”
“But you’re not. ”
Nathan breathed through a laugh. Low and genuine. And Freddie swore it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Nathan flushed and happy, hair a mess, lips kiss-swollen, still trying to catch his breath.
Nathan stumbled back a step, almost tripping with his jeans and boxers still tangled around his boots and glanced down between them. “Made a bit of a mess of your carpet.”
Freddie smirked, pushing off the wall. He dropped to a crouch without thinking, grabbing the shredded remains of his boxers to wipe up the worst of the spilled come, putting his face level with Nathan’s cock, still slick and flushed.
Freddie couldn’t help himself.
He licked his lips and leant in, flicking his tongue out to clean Nathan up and savouring the salt and heat of him. Nathan groaned, sliding his hand through Freddie’s hair.
“Fuck, Webb,” he rasped, half-laughing, “Don’t think even your mouth can get me up again this quick.”
Freddie smirked, tracing his tongue in lazy circles around his dripping tip. “Sounds like a challenge.”
Nathan groaned, deep in his chest, but tugged at Freddie’s hair.
Not to push him away, but to pull him up.
Freddie rose, dragging his mouth along Nathan’s stomach, his ribs, the cut of his chest, leaving a trail of damp, open-mouthed kisses on flushed, overheated skin.
By the time he was standing again, chest to chest, Nathan grabbed him by the face, palms rough, fingers framing his jaw, and crushed their mouths together.
The kiss slowed, but it didn’t soften.
Still desperate and messy. All teeth and tongues, stubble scratching stubble, breathing each other in as if they couldn’t remember where one ended, and the other began .
Until the doorbell buzzed and Nathan jerked back. “Fuck.”
Freddie broke into a laugh, dropping his head to bite Nathan’s bare shoulder and curtail his churlish giggles.
He peered towards the small, frosted window near the door.
“Postman,” he said, and kissed Nathan’s shoulder.
“Lucky escape.” But realising he couldn’t exactly open the door stark bollock naked, Freddie jerked his head towards the stairs. “Come on.”
Nathan yanked his jeans and boxers up, grabbed his hoodie off the floor, and followed, still breathing hard. By the time they hit the landing, Nathan was half-struggling to pull the hoodie over his head.
“Oi, no,” Freddie caught it and yanked it back off. “If I’m standing here naked ‘cause you ripped my boxers, you don’t get to cover up. Least let me enjoy the view.”
Nathan chuckled, glancing down at his open fly, belt hanging loose. “Can I at least do this up, officer?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether we’re heading to the bedroom…” Freddie hesitated, voice dipping a little, “or if you’re here to talk.”
Nathan raked a hand through his hair. “Believe me. I’d love nothing more than to see your bedroom right now.
Check if you still have those same posters.
Same duvet cover. That little bottle of shit lube in the drawer…
but…” He glanced away, guilty. “I kinda came to talk. I gotta be back at the garage before the old man kicks off.”
Freddie snorted. “Nothing’s changed then.”
Nathan met his gaze, letting the seriousness take over. “Some things have.”
The words hit heavier than they should, and Freddie suddenly felt very naked and not in a good way. So he jerked his thumb towards the open-plan kitchen-living room. “Go sit in there. I’ll grab some pants.”
“Don’t have to on my account.”
“If we’re talking serious shit, like the grownups we’re meant to be now,” Freddie cupped his manhood in both hands, “I’d rather you weren’t staring at my willy.”
Nathan barked a laugh, and it cut through the tension.
Freddie pointed a finger at him, backing towards his room. “Top stays off, though. ”
Nathan saluted. “Sir, yes, sir.”