Page 78 of Freshman

“Then what would you do?” he asked.

“I’d put you on the sofa, get you a glass of water—”

Alfie grunted in annoyance. Nate was ruining the fantasy in his head, distancing himself from their embrace. “What if I didn’t want you to let go of me?”

Nate chuckled. “Then I’d take you in the kitchen with me, sit you up on the counter while I got you a glass of water. You’d lean on me, and I’d help you sip some water.”

Alfie nodded. He would keep his arms around Nate’s neck, sipping the water offered until he had his fill, and then he would bury his face in Nate’s shoulder.

“Would you help me upstairs?” Alfie asked.

“Yeah, I’d get you to your bed, pull back the duvet, and lay you down.”

Alfie nodded, eyes still firmly shut but tracking back and forth against his eyelids as he sank into the fantasy. Nate in his house, taking care of him in his vulnerable state. It was nice, and he was too drunk to hate it.

Too drunk to realise the danger of such a thought.

“What about my clothes?” he asked.

There was a pause, and then Nate’s mumbled, “What about them?”

“I’d still be wearing my shoes, my jeans, and my belt that digs into my hips.”

Nate hummed, then popped his lips. “Then I’d have to take them off, but I’d ask you first. I’d say, ‘Freshman, can I undress you?’ and you’d say—”

“Yes, fuck please.”

He gasped the words, then breathed heavily and fast. His shoes would clomp to the floor, his belt would make a whipping sound, and the buttons of his jeans would pop open under Nate’s eager fingers.

“I’d help you out of your clothes, get you comfortable—”

“Then what?” Alfie gasped, lifting his hips from the sofa.

“Then,” Nate purred. “Well, then I’d…let you sleep.”

Alfie frowned and shook his head against the sofa. “No, no, no.”

Nate chuckled. “What would you want me to do?”

“Touch me. I’d want you to touch me.”

“I wouldn’t take advantage like that. I’d take care of you, make sure you didn’t vomit in the night and put painkillers and water by the side of your bed for the morning.”

Alfie whined. “But what if I’m hard?”

Nate chuckled. “As tempting as that would be, I would control myself. I wouldn’t break your trust like that.”

Alfie huffed angrily. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“If I was hard and still had control of my arm, I’d do it myself.”

There was a pause, then a stuttered, “Wh-what?”

Alfie exhaled shakily and snuck his hand into his joggers. He gripped himself and whimpered at the first stroke. His cock was hard and drooling at the tip. A mixture of the alcohol, Nate’s voice and the fantasy had aroused him to the point his groin ached.

“Freshman, what are you doing?”

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