15. Chapter 15

15

A lfie winced as he answered the phone. Expecting an earbashing from Tia, he fisted one hand in his duvet and dragged it up to his face.

"Hello," he croaked.

There was a groan on the other end of the phone, followed by a "You sound as bad as I feel."

Unlike Tia, Alfie's sickness wasn't due to alcohol but a lack of sleep. After getting a taxi home, he'd trudged up to his room, crawled into bed, then stared at the ceiling for hours. He'd known the sun had risen from the lines of pink orange and the vibrant yellow coming from his undrawn curtains.

"I'm okay," Alfie promised. "Did you enjoy the rest of your night?"

Tia hummed. "I ended up going home with Sarah."

" Really ?" Alfie raised his eyebrow. "Well, you said you were curious…"

"And I still am on that front." Tia smirked. "She was holding back my hair while I vomited for most of the night."

"Shit."

"Too many J?gerbombs."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."

"Nah, you're fine." Tia sighed. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Alfie stiffened. He bit his lip hard enough it hurt.

"Alfie?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you're into older guys."

He blinked. "What?"

"Max saw you sneaking out the back with some guy that, according to him, looked ancient. Look, I get it, finding older men attractive, but why not tell me? If you'd have told me, I wouldn't have given Max hope."

"You shouldn't have given him hope anyway."

"You're both gay guys—"

"We're not the only gay guys," Alfie said almost desperately. "You can't match us up and assume we'll get together."

"It would've been ideal, that's all."

Alfie's brows pulled together harshly. "Ideal?"

"Yeah, you're both my friends. It would've been cool if you got together."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but it's not going to happen."

Tia hummed. "So…the guy yesterday, what was his name?"

"Liam."

"That's my third favourite guy's name. And what base did you and Liam get to?"

Alfie sighed. "Good night, Tia."

"It's eleven in the morning."

He hung up and ignored her when she called him again. Alfie silenced his phone and flung his head back down on the pillow with an oomph.

Alfie tried to slow his breathing as he approached Nate's cell. The night had been uneventful and building to the moment Alfie knocked on Nate's door.

He tapped his knuckles against cell 149. "Queenie?"

"Oh, thank God," Queenie said, rushing over to the door. "Nate has been insufferable since Friday. Have you got your baton on you?"

Alfie glanced down at his belt even though he knew he didn't have it. They were only authorised to use force in extreme cases when an officer or another prisoner's life was at risk.

"Erm, no."

"Well, you'd better go back downstairs and grab it so you can knock some sense into him."

"That's enough, Queenie," Nate growled by his door.

Alfie's head swam at his voice, and he shivered as he reached a hand out to steady himself on the wall. He ticked off Queenie's box and approached Nate's cell.

"Freshman," Nate said in greeting, but it lacked all its usual teasing and warmth.

Alfie swallowed hard and ticked Nate's box.

"Did you have a good weekend?" Nate asked.

He thought about lying. He thought about turning on his heels and strolling away like he should've done, but instead, he spoke the truth.

"Not really."

"Did you not find some stranger to tie you down, fuck you raw, and call you Freshman?"

Alfie winced at his own words thrown back at him.

"I found him," he whispered.

Nate pounded the door.

"But I didn't want him," Alfie admitted. His eyes stung, and he blamed his lack of sleep, but the stinging spread to his nose and warmed his cheeks. He sniffed and wiped furiously at his eyes.

"What happened?" Nate demanded.

His voice was no longer coming from by the top hinge; it was low, by the hatch. Alfie crouched down to hear him better as he held his emotions in check.

"Fuck, Freshman. Did he hurt you? Did somebody hurt you?"

"No," Alfie insisted. "I'm fine. Nothing happened."

"You wouldn't be upset if nothing happened."

"There was a guy at the club, and he looked at me like you do."

Nate was silent, so Alfie continued, "He asked me if I had ever been tied up, and I said I hadn't. Then he asked me if I wanted to be." He rubbed his wrist where Liam had grabbed him. "I didn't say it, but the answer is yes. Then he leaned in to kiss me, and I turned away. I couldn't. I didn't want to kiss him. I didn't want him to take me home and tie me up, but that's not because I find the idea of it terrifying, it's because…"

"Because?"

"The idea of it not being you is terrifying." Alfie pressed his forehead against the hatch. "And isn't that just so messed up? I wanted to prove to myself I could…find someone else."

"I warned you," Nate said softly. "I said you were becoming too attached."

"I know. I'm young and na?ve, but I don't want to see you as a monster, not when you make me feel so wanted."

Nate exhaled slowly. "I wanted you to read my file, see what I did, scare you off even, but that was Friday, and today is Monday, and I've gone the whole weekend torturing myself imagining you with other men. Imagining them taking advantage, or treating you badly, and I…I can't stand it. Open the hatch."

"You know I can't."

"I have to see for myself you're all right."

Alfie bit his lip and shoved his key in the hatch, knowing he shouldn't but unable to stop himself. As much as Nate claimed he needed to see Alfie, Alfie needed to see him. He lowered the hatch door, and Nate was right there, crouched on the other side. His eyes crinkled with his smile.

"There's my Freshman," he whispered.

The words made Alfie go warm all over. He lowered his gaze and bit his lip hard enough for it to bleed.

"No," Nate cooed, reaching through the hatch. He cupped Alfie's face in his hand and used his thumb to ease Alfie's lip out from his teeth. "Don't hurt yourself."

Alfie's eyes slid shut as Nate stroked his thumb gently over his bottom lip. Back and forth it went until Alfie was almost panting against it.

"Nate," Alfie gasped, gripping the hatch door with both hands. He had to slam it shut and lock it before things progressed, but Nate gently shushed him.

Nate's hand slipped from his cheek to round the back of Alfie's head where he applied pressure, bringing Alfie closer, making him stretch and angle his head to one side. Alfie watched Nate's lips with twitching eyebrows, reading the words from them rather than hearing them.

Come here, come here, come he—

Alfie closed his eyes again, and a helpless sound escaped him before their lips touched.

Nate's lips were soft, pillowed, and surrounded by the scratch of stubble. There wasn't much room, only space for their mouths to caress and one of Nate's hands to cup his cheek again. It was all lips gently pressing and teeth scraping, but then Nate moaned and threaded his fingers through the back of Alfie's hair as he deepened the kiss.

The wet sound they made flushed Alfie's blood south. They were both conscious of the noise and tried to keep it slow, but the need kept building and building, until it was loud exhales and muffled groans.

Alfie flinched at the first stroke of tongue, too overwhelmed by all that was happening, but then he pressed himself impossibly closer to the hatch, begging with soft gasps for more. Nate stroked their tongues together again, and Alfie cursed into his mouth as the taste of him hit. He licked into Nate, not caring that it lacked control. It was wet and messy, and their lips smeared.

"Fuck," he murmured, breaking off to breathe. Nate pulled him as close as he could get him, trying to kiss Alfie's throat and beneath his jaw, but there wasn't enough room, and he groaned in frustration.

"I've never hated this door more in my life."

Alfie snorted, still trying to breathe. Nate's nimble fingers plucked the hair on the back of his head, sending pleasant tingles across his scalp.

"Maybe you could…" Nate started.

"Could?"

Alfie ducked down to see through the hatch. Nate breathed heavily too, and his pupils were blown as he darted looks at Alfie's mouth.

He licked his lips. "Unlock the door and slip inside."

Alfie stilled. He leaned back on his knees, escaping Nate's grip, but Nate tried to cling on, tried to keep his hold on Alfie's hair.

"Don't," Nate whispered. "Don't go yet."

Alfie lifted the hatch door and locked it on Nate. He collapsed to his arse and swivelled to lean his back against the wall.

"Easy," Nate said close by. "You're okay. Everything is okay."

It wasn't, but he knew what Nate was trying to do. Alfie's breathing came in fast rasps, and his heart fluttered like a bird in a cage.

"I shouldn't have done that," he said. "I…"

"Shhh," Nate said. "Breathe."

Alfie knocked his head to the wall, closed his eyes and slowed his breathing so he could at least get back to his feet and escape Nate's pull. He hurried away and made enough noise that it was obvious he was leaving.

"What was the hold-up?" Henry asked.

"Oh," Alfie swallowed. "Rick in cell 147 was complaining about the roaches in his cell."

"Roaches." Henry smirked. "He should count himself lucky; there's rats as big as cats in the ground floor cells."

"As big as cats?" Glen said. "I don't believe it."

"I swear on my life," Henry said.

Alfie perched on the desk, listening to Glen and Henry as they went back and forth in their argument. He stole glances at the clock above the office door, willing time to go faster and relieve him of the tension that being near Nate built within him.

His lips tingled; he could still taste Nate, and he hated that he wanted more.

He hated that when Nate asked him to open the door, a part of him had been tempted.

Nate didn't ask Alfie to open the hatch, and he didn't bring up what had happened between them for the rest of the week. Alfie stopped in front of cell 150, asked for the prisoner's name, and ticked a box once the right name was given.

That was how it always should've been, but Alfie had crossed lines.

Unforgivable lines.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he left Larkwood after his final shift of the week. Saturday, predictably, he spent in bed, recovering from the night shift hours, and on Sunday, instead of catching a bus to visit Tia at the café, he texted her to say he had a cold and didn't want to risk spreading it to her.

He hated to lie, but he didn't want to face her questions over Liam, and it was easier to stay hauled up in his bed for the weekend.

That afternoon, he was woken by a persistent press of his doorbell. He groaned, stumbled out of bed, and plodded down the stairs.

Before he answered, he took a deep breath in preparation for Tia drilling him with questions.

He swung the door open, "Hey—"

A pizza box was shoved into his chest, and he blinked in confusion. He looked up at the delivery man dressed all in red.

"I didn't order this."

The man shrugged. "This is the address that was given. It's all been paid for."

Alfie shook his head. "But it's not mine."

"I'm going to be late for my next call. Do you want it or not?"

Alfie took it from his hands and stood statue still in the doorway. The delivery man rushed to his bike and took off down the road. Alfie closed the door with his foot and moved toward the sofa. The smell of pizza woke his stomach, and it bubbled with impatience.

Alfie settled the box on the coffee table, then flicked the lid back, braced for the pizza to explode. His mouth flooded at the sight of melted cheese and the smell of fatty junk food. There was a yellow post-it inside the lid, covered in spots of grease. Alfie narrowed his eyes to read the words.

Eat up, Freshman.

Alfie rubbed at his head with a groan, and his stomach responded with its own pitiful whine. He thought about throwing out the pizza, Nate might have laced it with poison, but his gut demanded he at least sniff it to see if it was dangerous. It didn't smell suspicious or look it. It was in the correct box, came with a delivery driver, and the handwriting on the post-it was pretty, more likely from a woman than a man. Nate hadn't had any contact with the pizza; he just ordered it and got someone on the outside to pay for it.

Alfie pulled a slice up and nipped his lip at the tantalising strings of cheese. He couldn't resist biting into the slice, and his mouth flooded with saliva.

His stomach and his sluggish brain both agreed it was the best pizza he had ever tasted, and it would be a shame to throw it away.