18. Chapter 18

18

I 'll take care of you.

Nate's words could be conceived as both a comfort and a threat. In Alfie's case, the comfort to the words was the threat. Nate shouldn't make him feel good and cared for.

He'd sworn if he ever opened the hatch under Nate's say so, he would quit, but he hadn't.

The door—if he ever went inside Nate's cell alone without at least telling the others, then he would quit his job.

That was the new line he had to draw after crossing the first one so many times.

Alfie spent Saturday readjusting to sleep and Sunday lying in bed, then relocating to the sofa so he could watch TV while he drifted in and out of consciousness. He couldn't be bothered to dress in proper clothes and chose some worn joggers and a stained T-shirt to wear.

Tia whined down the phone when he told her he wasn't coming to the coffee shop like normal. He didn't tell her about his sore nose, as he knew she would come over and ask for all the details. Saturday it had ached enough to make his eyes water, but by Sunday he could breathe through his nostrils again, and when he sneezed, there was no blood. He just looked awful. The purple smears beneath his eyes didn't hurt, but they were puffy and everywhere he looked, he could see the fuzzy mass at the bottom of his vision.

The two days away from Larkwood were Alfie's only chance to get his head together after Nate had spent five days of the week reeling him in. He had to swim away as fast as he could, stretch out the line to put as much distance between hunter and prey. Alfie blinked back to awareness when he realised there was a fishing programme on the TV. He quickly changed the channel and settled back into the sofa to watch women bicker and men lather themselves in fake tan.

At six in the afternoon, there was a bang at the front door. Alfie ignored it. One programme droned into the other, and he struggled to keep his eyes open and his brain focused.

The door was struck again. Alfie groaned, then forced himself to sit up.

"I'm coming!" he yelled, getting to his feet.

He swung the door open and shrugged at the man on the other side. He was dressed in green, with his green delivery van behind him. Both the uniform and the van had the logo of an expensive supermarket, and the badge pinned to the man's fleece had the name Trent printed in white letters.

"I've got a shopping delivery for you."

He held up a bag, and Alfie eyed it suspiciously. "I haven't ordered anything."

Trent waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, he said it was a surprise. It's paid for. All you've got to do is sign."

Alfie folded his arms and frowned at the bag of shopping. "I'm not sure—"

"Just take it."

The van rumbled behind Trent, prepped to go as soon as possible.

Alfie sighed and flicked his chin out. "Fine."

He took the bag and placed it on the floor inside the house.

Trent pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen for Alfie to scribble his signature.

"Thanks, you look like you need it," Trent said, then turned and walked back to his grumbling van.

Alfie closed the door, frowning, then peeked inside the bag. There were only two items—a bag of ice and a bottle of amber liquid. Alfie pulled out the drink and plucked the post-it note off the lid of the bottle. Not the flowing thought-out font of a woman this time, but most likely Trent's messy handwriting.

If we're going to be drinking partners, get familiar with the good stuff.

A single malt scotch whisky, ten years old. The writing on the label was posh and curling, and the bottle looked expensive. Alfie searched the bag for a receipt, but there wasn't one. Alfie knew it was from Nate, and he studied the top to check its seal hadn't been tampered with.

He could pour it away, or he could try it. He had nothing else to do so moved into the kitchen to find a glass.

Alfie sniffed the whisky before knocking it back like the men in the movies. It burned, then it tickled the back of his throat up to his nose, and finally he coughed. He imagined Nate's laughing face, and that spurred him to try again. He wanted to prove he could handle a man's drink, and after his third shot, there was no tickle, and he didn't splutter.

Alfie settled back on the sofa and clicked on a western. It seemed the appropriate film when cradling a glass of spicy alcohol. He mimicked the cowboy's accent, drew his finger- shaped gun to shoot the TV and saluted the protagonist when he killed the bad guy.

His phone chirped, and he pressed down to answer without looking at the number.

"Yes?"

There was an extended pause and then Nate's toe-curling voice. "Freshman, I take it you've got my gifts."

"Gifts?" Alfie said, flicking the bottle. "There was only one. Drink."

"What about the ice for your nose?"

Alfie blinked, then struggled up on the sofa. The bag was still by the front door. "Shit."

He thought about going to get it but didn't want to take the risk. There was a whole five metres between the front door and the sofa, and he didn't trust his legs to carry him that far.

Nate chuckled. "I hope you like the drink."

Alfie hummed as he lay back down. He licked the remains of his last glassful from his lips. "Yeah, it's definitely growing on me."

"Can't be buying my date cola. You've got to share a bottle with me."

Alfie hugged the bottle to his chest. "I don't usually drink when I'm on dates."

"Why not?"

Alfie lifted his gaze to the ceiling. "I don't like feeling drunk. I don't trust being around someone when I'm drunk."

"What do you think you'll do?"

Alfie scrunched his face. "I won't do anything, but I don't trust them."

"Them?"

Alfie rolled his eyes. "I don't know what they'd do if I got drunk. I don't want to put myself in a stupid situation."

He thought of Liam, then pushed him away.

Nate breathed out softly. "Don't worry, I'd take care of you. I'd get you a taxi, go with you to make sure you got to your front door."

Alfie stopped cradling the bottle and placed it on the floor. He flung his head back into the squishy arm of the sofa with a sigh.

"Then what?" he asked.

"I'd take your keys from your pocket and get you inside safely."

Alfie closed his eyes and imagined the scenario. Nate would easily be able to carry him, bridal style, if he was too intoxicated to stand.

Nate would scoop him up, hold him close, and the heat of his body would soak into Alfie. It would be more of a hug than anything, and Alfie would wrap his arms around Nate's muscular neck and cling to him.

"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?"

"I'd stroke myself in front of you until you couldn't resist."

He did just as he described and rocked his hips.

"Until you just had to have me," Alfie continued.

Nate's eyes would darken, and his jaw would drop open, and he'd be so turned on by Alfie's display, he'd be panting.

"Are you getting off to this?"

Alfie ignored Nate's words. It was obvious he was getting himself off. Nate was watching him in the fantasy. "I'd make a ring with my thumb and forefinger, slip it down to the base and up to the top, and you'd see, you'd see just how wet that gets me."

He groaned with how good it felt, how arousing it was to be watched by Nate. He'd put on a good show, promised Nate he would down the phone with a breathy whine.

" Christ , Freshman."

Alfie tightened the ring of his fingers at the head of his cock, then loosened the coil as he dropped his hand down again. "I'd stroke myself until I panted, until I begged you to take over and wriggled restlessly. I'd be shivering uncontrollably."

Alfie breathed harshly, and when he heard Nate's rasping voice, it turned him on even more.

"Have you any idea…" Nate growled.

"Idea?"

"What you're doing to me right now?"

Alfie licked his drying lips and groaned. "I'm making you want me."

"I do want you. Fuck." Nate exhaled. "I told you before, if you only knew how many times I've got myself off thinking of you."

Alfie bit his lip. "First time."

"Huh?"

"This is the first time I've done this thinking of you. The first time I've touched myself like this since I saw you that night because I knew…I knew if I jerked off, I'd think of you and I knew I shouldn't."

Nate smirked. "I'm not that bad—"

"Yeah, you are. That's the problem." Alfie's strokes had stuttered. He lost the rhythm he'd been steadily building, but he quickly picked it up again, jerking faster. "But I don't want to fight it anymore."

"Fight what?"

"How much I want you. How much I want you to have me, to do whatever you want with me."

"Tell me…tell me how you'd want me to finish you?"

Alfie bit his lip and hummed. He rested the phone on his collarbone and reached for his cock with his other hand.

He gasped, licking his lips. "You'd use two hands, one firm and fast, the other barely touching my sensitive head."

Alfie used his fingertips to rub fast circles on the sensitive head of his cock. With his other hand, he rubbed up and down his length at a leisurely pace. His toes curled, and his arse clenched, so close to the edge he could no longer stop it even if he wanted to.

"You'd lean close and whisper Freshman in my ear."

Nate moaned loudly, and Alfie moaned back to him.

"Freshman," Nate whispered.

Alfie held his breath, lifted his hips, and then froze as the orgasm slammed into him. He couldn't finish his train of thought, could only feel the rush of it as it swept through him.

Alfie kept his hips hovering above the sofa and moaned loud enough to vibrate his chest. He shuddered through the waves, with his cock jerking in his hands.

Alfie tightened his grip to feel the throb, and he twitched his fingers in the warm stickiness of his cum. He wanted Nate to be there, wanted to open his eyes and see his smug smile, but all that faced him was the blank ceiling. He used his cleanest hand to grip the phone and held it in front of his face. Nate hadn't disconnected the call. The numbers were counting up, but Nate wasn't speaking.

"Nate?" he whispered.

There was a harsh breath, and then Nate's wrecked voice. "You're something else, Freshman. Drive me so fucking crazy."

Alfie rubbed his messy fingers together, shame and guilt surging in his body. "I shouldn't have done that."

Nate shushed him gently. "It's okay—"

"It's not okay," he whined. "I'm letting this happen, and I don't know how to stop it."

"Don't stop it. You don't need to stop it. I've got you."

Alfie pulled the phone away from his ear and disconnected the call. The whisky, it was the whisky's fault, had to be.

He trudged up to his bed and after a quick clean-up, fell face-first on the mattress.

He hated whisky, and he hated Nate.

Alfie walked into work on Monday with his head bowed. Looks of concern shot his way, and he was tempted to turn and run.

It might not have been the line he'd drawn over the threshold of Nate's cell, but he'd broken a new line by inviting Nate into his home and letting Nate hear him come apart over the phone.

Marie tapped his shoulder. "You're looking better."

"I feel like shit."

"Tell Ryan. He might give you a few days off to recover."

Alfie frowned, and Marie gestured to the bruises under his eyes. The strange looks from the staff suddenly made sense, but he didn't feel relieved.

"The nose is fine."

"Then why do you feel like shit?"

He doubted saying he had phone sex with a prisoner would've got him sympathy, so he just shrugged as an answer instead.

When Ryan reported the day's events, Alfie tried not to react when he mentioned the new prisoner on G-wing had been assaulted. Gary Austin's nose had been broken, the only injury on his body. Alfie knew Nate must have sent a message across to G-wing, but Ryan blamed the assault on Gary being new and rubbing the prisoners up the wrong way.

Ryan finished his droning talk by pointing at Alfie's black eyes. "Welcome to the club. It still hurt?"

Alfie shrugged. "More numb than anything."

Ryan clapped. "Good, be thankful it was some arsehole from G-wing and not Nate." He strolled from the office with the rest of day shift following.

Henry nudged Alfie with his shoulder. "Hey, Alfie, he's right. Nate would've headbutted you, then bit off your nose."

"I doubt that."

"Don't doubt it. He did far worse."

Alfie swallowed uncomfortably and lowered his gaze.

"Us and them," Henry mumbled. "And Karma chooses us, sometimes via them."

He flicked his chin out, and Alfie turned to follow his gaze. Gary was being escorted past them into G-wing. There was a nose splint on his face, and his eyes were black and puffy. He flashed a look toward the office, then cowered and hunched his shoulders.

"Karma," Henry repeated.

Alfie spent most of the shift staring at the computer screen, open on Nate's file. He thought of scenarios where the triple murder was justified. Maybe it was a tragic accident, or maybe he was drunk and didn't know what he was doing. Not justifiable, but understandable. How could Nate be evil like Henry said, the man who demanded to know he was all right, who promised if Alfie was drunk, he wouldn't take advantage of the situation?

They were words, though.

There was every chance he was being manipulated by Nate, and he was too weak to stop it.

When roll call arrived, Alfie grimaced as he tapped Nate's door. He tensed, anticipating a smug laugh or a seductive purr.

"I've got something for you."

Alfie rocked back on his heels. "What?"

A piece of paper poked through the edge of the hatch, and Alfie quickly grabbed it. It was another picture of himself, only his face, but the missing body part wasn't his lips, but his nose.

He exhaled slowly and sagged his shoulders.

"How's the nose looking?" Nate asked.

Alfie snorted, rested the piece of paper on his clipboard, and added a nose to the picture of himself. He smiled as he forced the piece of paper back through the hatch and listened for Nate's reaction.

Nate's laugh made him shiver, not in a horrible way but in a pleasant rush.

"You no longer have a nose then, but a scrotum hanging between your eyes."

Alfie rolled his eyes. "We can't all be gifted at art."

"Aww, Freshman, you think I'm gifted."

Alfie pursed his lips. "Did I say gifted? I meant…average."

"Harsh. You know I'm good, though it's not the only thing I'm good at. One day you'll find out."

A shiver of arousal snaked up Alfie's spine, followed by a rush of bitter cold. He stepped closer to the gap in the door until his lips were only a millimetre away from resting on the metal.

"About…before."

Nate chuckled darkly and used his seductive voice. "Do you want to know if I got myself off? The answer's a yes, several times, and a few times earlier. Just knowing you're down there in the office drives me crazy."

"Drink lowers inhibitions."

Nate tutted. "Oh please. You couldn't have been that drunk if you were working your hand and your mouth at the same time."

"It can't happen again. Won't happen—"

"Can't, won't, but we both know it will."

"But it shouldn't," Alfie insisted.

Nate snorted. "Yeah, you got that right. I shouldn't have fallen for you, and you shouldn't have fallen for me, but here we are, Freshman, and now I've got you, I'm not letting you go."

Alfie replayed Nate's words in his head over and over as he lay in bed. He expected a horrible emotion to rise to the surface—disgust, repulsion, shame, but Nate's promise to not let him go only made him feel good. Dare he even think it, but it made him feel special. His whole life, he had been lumped into the category of unwanted, but Nate wanted him.

The echo of Nate's words warmed Alfie until his face blushed. It was embarrassment, but good embarrassment. Someone cared about him. When he thought about who that person was, he groaned and rubbed his palms harshly down his face.

Of course, the only man to want him was a triple murderer. Nate had told Alfie he wasn't going to let him go, and it terrified Alfie when he realised he didn't want him to.