Page 80 of Worth the Wait
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 knewexactlywhat 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 fuckinglovedit. Every filthy, ruthless second. Every inch of the man who held him likethis. 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 stillwas.
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 andover, 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?”
