Chapter Sixteen Under Caution #3
Nathan lost it then. He snapped his hips forward, thrusting deep into Freddie’s mouth as pleasure tore through him, white-hot and unforgiving. He held him there, groaning, shuddering, eyes fixed on the way Freddie took it. Swallowing his release down as if it was the only thing he’d ever wanted.
Nathan spilled with a curse, chest heaving, sweat prickling down his back, as Freddie milked him for every drop of torment and memory and need.
He was wrecked.
Utterly ruined.
And he didn’t want to be anywhere else.
But whoever kept calling him clearly did .
Freddie sank back on his heels, panting, lips swollen and slick. Nathan groaned, dragging himself off the wall, legs barely steady, and reached into his back pocket, swiping at his phone.
He answered, voice ragged. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“You fucking better be, son,” Ron barked down the line. “ Three MOTs backed up, a Corsa with a seized clutch, and a Golf with no spark on startup. That engine’s deader than disco and I’m not stripping it solo. Get your arse here. Now.”
Nathan scrubbed a hand through his hair.
Freddie rose from his crouch, eyes hooded, skin flushed, and leant in, mouth finding Nathan’s neck, planting kisses there, licking still-sensitive skin.
Nathan clenched his jaw, fighting a groan. He knew what Freddie was doing. The bastard.
“Alright,” he snapped, more at himself than at his dad. “I’ll be there.”
“You told me I could count on you.”
“I’m on my fucking way.”
He ended the call and dropped the phone to the counter without looking, already reaching for Freddie, grabbing him by the back of the neck to drag him in and devour him.
Mouths crashed, messy and hard, and Nathan kissed him as if he wanted to crawl inside him.
He did. And he wanted the taste of him to burn away the frustration, the years, the need that still hadn’t ebbed.
Eventually, Nathan pulled back, breath still uneven, and reached for his jeans, tugging them up and fastening the zip. “I gotta go.”
Freddie folded his arms. “You never wanted to end up there.”
“I still don’t.” Nathan tightened his belt, fingers moving quicker than his thoughts.
“But what choice do I have? I need a roof over Alfie’s head.
I need steady income.” He paused, saw the look Freddie was giving him and needed to at least try to explain why he was putting himself right back where he’d fled from.
“Yeah, alright, I’ve got leadership courses, training quals, a service record that says I can manage a platoon and keep twenty lads alive under pressure.
But civvy street doesn’t give a shit. Out here, that doesn’t translate.
Not straight away. Not when you’re a single dad with a kid in trouble and no fallback plan.
I’m good with engines. It’s something I can do now.
Something that pays now . And right now, that’s all that matters. ”
Freddie studied him. “You could join the force.”
Nathan snorted. “Yeah? You and me? Worthbridge’s answer to Line of Duty?”
Freddie shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. “As you’ve seen, there’s plenty of work, and we could use your experience.”
Nathan looked at him for a long second. Then stepped in again, kissing him softer this time. Languidly. Freddie unfolded his arms and wrapped them around Nathan’s neck, tangling his fingers into his hair.
When Nathan drew back, he pressed their foreheads together. “Get some sleep.”
He moved around the sofa, grabbed his hoodie, and tugged it on. As his head popped through the collar, he saw Freddie watching him. Shoulders tense, uncertainty in his eyes.
Nathan drew in a breath. “I hate asking, but… if there’s any way to keep Alfie’s name out of the logs, I’d be grateful. He’s had a shit hand already. I don’t want this to stain the rest of his life. I’ve got a better grip on him now.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
Nathan gave a small nod, then turned towards the stairs.
“You know how big this thing is?” Freddie called after him.
Nathan turned. Arched an eyebrow.
“The case.” Freddie rolled his eyes, then fell utterly serious. “What Alfie’s involved in…it’s big.”
“How big?”
“Graham Radley big. ”
Nathan frowned. “The property mogul? Worthbridge’s golden man?”
“The very same.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. No proof. Clean on paper. But we know. CID just gotta prove it.”
Nathan chewed on that. Then nodded. “Thanks for the heads up.” He then turned to leave again.
But Freddie circled around the other side of the sofa, trailing after him. “So… uh. You scratch the itch, then?”
Nathan paused at the top step, turning back. “What?”
“Me. You and me.” Freddie gestured vaguely between them. “Was this… closure? Like, itch scratched, done and dusted? It’s fine if it is. I’m a big boy. I… just want you to be honest. Sorta need to know what this is for you.”
“I’ve always been honest with you.”
“I know. That’s what hurt most. Sometimes I wished you’d lied. Told me it meant nothing. Cheated. Something easier to hate.”
Nathan stopped mid-step, then turned, climbed back up the single stair he’d taken, and kissed him again. Deep. Firm. With none of the heat from before. Steadier. And when he pulled back, he looked Freddie right in the eye.
“I don’t think my itch for you will ever be scratched enough.”
Freddie smiled. “Maybe you need ointment. A balm. Lubrication, maybe? What else do you mechanics use to quiet down a moaning engine?”
“Moaning engine, huh? That what you call yourself?”
“I can moan as good as any battered motor.”
“Bet you can.”
Freddie chuckled, then looked up at him through hooded lashes. “So…for clarity and transparency. We’re doing this again? ”
Nathan kissed him. “I’d say so.”
He then spun, running down the stairs and out of Freddie’ s door.