Freeing the Freshman
The first draft of The Freshman was so different to the last.
It wasn't set in a prison.
It didn't have a dark edge to it and I wrote in Nate's voice.
It was set in a huge manor house, Alfie was an escort (To pay for college) and was a favorite of one of Nate's friends (who owned the manor), and a smitten Nate paid to draw him in various erotic poses.
Alfie was the seducer, and Nate fell under his spell.
Did Alfie ever like Nate or was he using his obvious desire to get more money....
Definitely a role refusal to The Freshman, here's an extract to prove it:
“No.” Nate breathed, but temptation dangled between them and he swallowed hard at the sight of Alfie on his knees. “We can’t.”
Alfie ran his hand up Nate’s leg, and grinned smugly as if he knew the impact his slow movements were having. Nate spread himself wider and bit his lip at how well Alfie fit between his thighs. He resisted the urge to trap and squeeze him.
“Call me it again.”
Nate shook his head.
Alfie’s wandering hand pressed firmly against his crotch, and there was no hiding his arousal.
A rush spread through Nate’s skin, and he sunk lower in the armchair.
“I called you Freshman. The Freshman.”
“How about your Freshman?”
Nate tried to hide his shiver with a shuffle but Alfie knew, of course he knew.
“You’re not mine.”
Alfie bit his thigh and sloshed his tongue over the denim. “I could be…for a little while at least.”
The warning escaped his lips as a helpless whisper.
He could’ve shoved Alfie away, stood and briskly left the room, but he didn’t. Alfie kneeled before him, offering himself up on a plate, and for all his strength and muscle, he was powerless.
Beams of light crept through the crack in the curtains highlighting Alfie’s sharp cheek bones and giving his brown hair a golden glow. Nate twitched his fingers wanting to venture through the soft stands and pull them tight. Instead he gripped the arms of the chair and tried to ignore the hand rubbing him.
“You like me touching you.”
Nate breathed deep through his nose to calm himself, but with each rub from Alfie, he weakened. There were so many reasons why it was a bad idea to indulge in Alfie’s offered relief, but with his blood rushing south, Nate struggled to act on any of them.
He had to stop, had to walk out and never speak of the incident again, but he couldn’t move.
Alfie dragged his nails over Nate’s jeans and he shivered at the scratch, bucking his hips.
The warnings in his head were murmurs at the end of a tunnel, and Alfie was the train, presence and sound blocking out everything as it raced towards him.
Nate peered through half-lidded eyes and found Alfie fluttering his lashes, as if saying ‘pretty please’ between his legs.
He dipped his head forward, rubbing his forehead into Nate’s heated lap.
Nate grunted at the contact which spurred Alfie to do more. He marched straight up to Nate’s line of control and stamped on it.
Nate scrunched his face up tight. “No.”
Alfie moaned as he ran his tongue over Nate’s jean cladded erection. Each lick and bite and suck chipped away at Nate’s control. He couldn’t feel it through the material, but Alfie’s head bobbing, and the sound of his licks were sweet torture.
Alfie’s tongue sought out the buttons of Nate’s jeans, and he circled the metal, leaving the buttons shinny wet when he pulled away.
Nate stared at them before his hands moved on their own accord. His thumb slipped on the top button, but he managed to grip it and undo the first—the second—the last.
"Yes," Alfie breathed. "That's it, Nate. Give it to me."
Nate shuffled his jeans down, lowered his boxers, and pulled out his jolting cock.
He shivered, not from the cold air of the manor, but pure anticipation. Alfie's lips climbed into a cocky smile, but Nate was done being played with.
He gripped the back of Alfie’s neck, tugged him closer and smeared his excitement all over his face. He didn't stop until Alfie pulled back, wet and shinny like his buttons.