Epilogue Flipping Hell
Epilogue
Flipping Hell
Two months later….
Nathan growled, impatience fraying his control as he tore at Freddie’s clothes, backing him up the narrow stairs of the maisonette.
He didn’t let go. Couldn’t . Not even to breathe.
Every second his mouth wasn’t on Freddie was a second wasted.
He only broke away to rip fabric from skin, then he was back.
Biting, kissing, claiming. Desperation thrummed through him.
Just like that first time.
Freddie was back on beat. Back to nights. Last night had been his first shift after weeks trapped behind a desk, and Nathan had hardly seen him. Four on, four off, and somehow always missing each other in the spaces between.
So this morning, unable to stand anymore time away, he’d come straight from the school drop-off, ignoring his dad’s requests to get to the garage for this, that, or the other because he needed Freddie.
To touch him. Make sure the job hadn’t swallowed him whole again.
That he was still here. Still his. And judging by how Freddie yanked him closer, fumbling for his belt, he wasn’t the only one feeling it.
They were almost back to how they’d used to be.
Sneaking off. Finding stolen moments. Somehow, that was okay.
More than okay. Cause it was sorta them.
Clothes were lost along the trail to the bed and Freddie landed flat on his back, yanking Nathan down by the neck for a kiss that was all want and years of knowing exactly where to touch.
Nathan climbed on top of him, weight settling low, and a sharp twinge flared beneath his ribs.
Not pain. Just a reminder. Tight scar tissue pulling as he shifted.
He hissed quietly through his teeth, not enough to stop, but enough to brace one palm flat against the mattress.
Freddie stilled beneath him. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Nathan breathed, reaching for the lube. “Just tight. Still pulls sometimes.”
Freddie dragged his hand down Nathan’s back with a possessive pressure that made his entire body hum.
That look in his eyes. Fierce. Knowing. His .
That burned hotter than any pain ever could.
So with no fumbling with condoms anymore, Nathan slicked them both quickly, the glide of Freddie’s hand on his skin sending shivers down his spine.
Then he was inside him. Deep and gradual at first, steady even through the ache blooming across the scar.
But once he was there, settled in the heat of Freddie’s body, a low groan tore out of his chest and everything else faded.
Nathan’s thrusts met Freddie’s hips rolling to greet him, and his skin dampened with sweat as he clutched Nathan’s back.
But, out of nowhere, as Nathan was getting into the relentless rhythm of pounding him into the mattress, Freddie gasped, “Have you… ever bottomed?”
Nathan stuttered mid-thrust, blinking through the haze. “Uh… yeah.”
Freddie looked up, surprised. He clearly hadn’t expected that. They’d never really talked about their past experiences. Too busy making new ones. Too busy claiming each other in the present.
“Not often,” Nathan added as he slid deep again, burying himself to the hilt and staying there, pressed flush against Freddie’s body. His breath stuttered against Freddie’s throat as he held him still, refusing to move, to give relief. “But I have. Why?”
“Because,” Freddie bit down on his lower lip, eyes dark and glinting, “fuck me for a bit more. Let me feel it. Don’t come.” He grinned, wicked and beautiful. “Then we flip.”
Nathan arched an eyebrow at the words.
Not from nerves. From want .
“I really wanna fuck you, soldier boy.” The wildness in Freddie’s eyes hit Nathan in a way nothing else did. Not even war zones. Not even fatherhood. This was the battlefield now, and he was willingly, gladly losing.
“Okay,” Nathan said, low and rough. “But I swear to God, you say one word about how tight I am—”
Freddie laughed, breathless. “Cross my heart.”
Nathan kissed him, hard, all tongue and sweat-drenched skin, then he pulled back far enough to slam back in, driving into Freddie with fierce, relentless thrusts, holding nothing back.
Sweat trickled down his spine, muscles trembling with restraint as he fought to make it last. Freddie met him with equal hunger.
Panting, gasping, groaning into Nathan’s mouth, digging crescents into his back with his nails, matching every thrust.
Nathan was close. Too close.
With a broken sound, he pulled out, breath ragged, cock slick and flushed, desperate against the cool air. He hovered there, blinking down at Freddie and burning the sight of him into memory.
Then they moved together, a quiet storm of limbs and heated skin, shifting and rolling until Nathan was on his back, heart hammering in his chest. The world narrowed to the touch of Freddie’s hand and the look in his eyes. Focused. Tender. Reverent.
Freddie reached for the lube, warming it between his fingers before slicking them and easing one inside Nathan, gaze never leaving his face as if testing how far he could go. If this was real. If Nathan really was okay with this.
Yeah. He was okay, alright.
“You good?” Freddie asked, stroking his thumb along the inside of Nathan’s thigh.
“Yeah,” Nathan breathed out. “It’s good. It’s you .”
Heat flashed in Freddie’s eyes. But also something softer. Steadying . And he withdrew his fingers, guiding himself into place. Then, with a quiet sound that was half a groan, half a whispered finally , he eased inside Nathan’s body, inch by inch, until buried deep.
Nathan gasped, the sound catching ragged in his throat as Freddie pushed into him, slow, deep and unrelenting.
The stretch burned enough to steal his breath, the pressure a mix of pain and pleasure sending sparks down his spine.
It had been a long time. Longer than he’d ever let on.
Not just since being fucked, but letting someone in.
Trusting anyone enough to bare himself like this. To be open. Vulnerable.
But this was Freddie .
And with Freddie, everything was different.
He arched up instinctively, craving more, moaning as he wrapped one arm tight around Freddie’s back, anchoring himself there and twisted his other hand into the sheets, trying to hold on to something, anything , as Freddie began to move.
Every thrust pushed the air from Nathan’s lungs, driving him deeper into sensation.
Skin against skin. Sweat and heat and the staggering ache of being filled and taken.
Freddie planted his hands on either side of Nathan’s head, locked his gaze onto his, and every inch of him was focused. Feral. Beautiful . He snapped his hips harder, deliberate, claiming, and Nathan let it happen. Gave into it. Gave himself up to it. To him.
Fuck, it was everything.
He’d done this before, once or twice. Let another soldier fuck him in the dark. A fast release to scratch an itch. It hadn’t meant anything. Hadn’t felt like much either.
But this?
Freddie inside him, over him, holding him down and looking at him like he couldn’t believe how he got to be there?
Yeah…That wrecked him.
He clung tighter, voice breaking on a gasp, and whispered, “Fuck, Freddie… yeah . Keep going. Fuck me.”
The pace was cautious at first. Controlled. Exploratory. Freddie learning Nathan in this new way, memorising every shift in breath, every whispered curse and low moan, and Nathan clung to him, gasping when Freddie rolled his hips just right, finding the spot.
“Jesus, Freddie . ”
Freddie smirked, sweat beading at his temple. “You’re tight, soldier.”
“Better fuck me harder then, pretty boy. Show me what you got.”
Freddie growled. Then obeyed.
He snapped his hips forward. Hard. Fast. No mercy.
Driving into Nathan as if wanting to ruin him.
Each thrust sharp and perfect, as skin slapped skin and was only drowned by the rhythmic thud of the bed slamming into the wall.
Freddie’s name spilled from Nathan’s mouth in half-sobbed curses, his voice breaking every time Freddie bottomed out and dragged back with a slick, obscene grunt.
Nathan clawed at his back, anchoring himself to the man fucking him open.
Every inch of Freddie felt punishing. Possessive.
Perfect. And when Freddie adjusted, changed the angle, and nailed that spot again, Nathan cried out, loud and shameless, whole body tightening as Freddie fucked him through it, cock hitting deep, relentless.
Splitting him.
Owning him.
Nathan loved every fucking second of it.
“Can I come in you?” Freddie panted, beads of sweat rolling from his forehead onto Nathan’s chest.
“Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Fill me up, Buttercup.”
That made Freddie laugh, but it melted quickly into a groan as Freddie slammed into him harder, deeper. Nathan clutched at Freddie’s hips, pulling him in, urging him closer, chasing the burn and the connection and the overwhelming rightness of it all.
“Jesus…” Freddie rasped, rocking back to look between them. “Fuck. I need to see this. ”
He fumbled beside them, grabbing his phone. The screen lit up with a faint glow, and Freddie tapped record, angling it down between their bodies. The frame caught it all. The slick stretch, the raw slide, the filthy, beautiful way he disappeared into Nathan over and over again.
“You’re mine,” Freddie muttered, mesmerised by the image. “Fuck, look at that. You’re taking me so good.”
Nathan arched beneath him, with a flush that reached his ears. “Then keep going,” he growled. “Don’t stop ‘til you come.”
“Can’t believe I’m fucking the Nathan Carter.”
Nathan grinned through the haze. “You’re fucking him good .”
Freddie tossed the phone aside, then grabbed Nathan’s hips, and drove into him with everything he had. Erratic, ragged, and tense. He lost control. Growling through gritted teeth as he came, hard, spilling deep inside him.