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Philip manages to open the door to his flat in record time and soon enough they're on the other side of it. Anticipation rockets up Freddie's spine as he crowds in closer, his hands slipping up under Philips shirt, wasting no time at all in loosening the buckle of his belt and getting to the fastening of his trousers just beneath. He growls into the rough press of Philip's lips, licking past the seam, hungry for more already, every nerve in his body buzzing with want.

"Doesn't sound like too bad a job to me," he admits as he pulls back, panting slightly and then biting his lip as he loosens Philips pants enough to get his hand inside the fabric, fingers curling over the swell of his cock through his underpants as he steps in closer, close enough to breath against the curve of Philip's jaw. "Think I might even work hard at something like that. I've always been told I should do what I love. And I love fucking."

He gives Philip a good squeeze then, tracing the length of Philip as well as he's able before pressing his lips to Philip's jaw and breathing against him. "What d'you say, then? Think you can get it up for the Prince?"

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Philip drops his shirt to the floor and steps back enough to do the same with his trousers. Freddie watches intently, making no effort to hide his wandering gaze as Philip stands proud and bare before him. He's still on his knees, his mouth watering, and he lists forward just a bit before Philip curls a finger in his shirt and tugs.

Grinning, Freddie pushes to his feet, dropping his hands to Philip's bare sides as he's dragged into the front room. He takes his eyes off Philip just long enough to spot the famed arm chair and his smile spreads wider, anticipation licking hotter up his spine. In moments Philip's sat with his legs spread, his head tipped upward to grin at Freddie, oozing invitation.

But Freddie doesn't take it, not quite yet.

Instead, he nudges Philip's legs far enough apart to between them and lifts the bottom hem of his shirt, pulling it up slowly before stripping it off completely. "Don't you want to see what's on offer first?" he asks, head cocked as he drops his hands to the top button of his jeans, popping it free with a twist of his wrist. "Decide whether or not I'll be able to best please you."

He could sit here, he knows, sit here and wait for Freddie strip, let him do what he wants, continue with this silent invitation for him to crawl onto Philip's lap or sink to his knee again and suck him off, but he doesn't see the fun in just watching. Not now. There are times when Philip would much rather make someone do all the work, but it's long since become clear he wants to be here just as much as Freddie, and so he reaches out, hooking his fingers in the waist of Freddie's jeans so he can tug him forward just a little.

Sitting up in the chair, he leans forward, finds a spot of smooth skin just above the waist of Freddie's jeans where he grazes his lips, and then both his hands are on Freddie's hips, one falling to the zipper of his jeans, tugging it down, wondering why it is jeans have gotten so damn tight in the last seventy years. He laughs softly, a breath of air against Freddie's hip before his lips travel down, finding the bulge of his erection through the denim and it isn't ideal, not even remotely, but they'll get there. For now he presses his mouth to Freddie's cock through his jeans, groaning against him, at the heat, the weight, and he thinks there's little question about whether or not he'll be pleased.

"Still haven't seen anything," he murmurs after a moment, his nose nudging against Freddie's cock as he tips his head back just slightly. "Might want to get on that."

Philip isn't a passive participant, a fact that delights Freddie as unsurprising as it might be. Fingers curl into the waist of his jeans, drawing Freddie closer before warm lips press to his bare stomach, right above the denim, making the muscles in Freddie's abdomen clench as his cock jerks beneath the denim.

His breath catches as Philip takes over, his fingers slipping past Freddie's to get to the zip of his jeans, tugging it down bit by bit, just enough to reveal the white of Freddie's underpants beneath, fabric stretched tight over his erection.

"Not anything?" he asks, voice catching at the feel of Philip's warm lips against him through a single layer of cotton.

He's still grinning, can't help it, and he curls one hand through Philip's dark hair, the strands thick through his fingers as he gives a slow roll of his hips. "Bit insulting."

It's a tease, of course, much like the rest and he slides his other hand to the waistband of his briefs, hooking a thumb under the band to tug it down just enough to free his dick. He bites his lip at the brush of cool air on overheated skin as he bares just the tip, hard and leaking where it bumps lightly against Philip's cheek.

"I'm an asshole," Philip agrees with a smirk, tipping his head back when Freddie's fingers card through his hair, but his gaze is drawn back down at the tug of fabric down and away, and it isn't much, but it's enough for now. Freddie's cock bumps against his cheek and Philip laughs softly, just a breath, before he turns his head and his lips wrap around him, everything that's exposed. His hands are still both anchored at Freddie's hips, holding him close, and a low moan builds in his throat as his tongue flicks out, tasting him.

"This is better," he says when he pulls back just slightly and he gets one hand between them, cupping Freddie through his jeans and his underwear, massaging the rest of him, everything he can't get at with his mouth.

His other hand slides off Freddie's hip, slips around to roam over the curve of his ass. Even with his jeans still on, Philip can tell it's a great ass and he gives it a squeeze, grinning against Freddie's cock. The very thought of fucking him makes Philip's cock twitch between his thighs. "Come on, then," he says. "Let's see the rest of you."

Philip lets out a quiet laugh, warm breath ghosting over the exposed tip of Freddie's cock, followed swiftly by the swipe of his tongue. It's barely more than a tease, but Freddie bites his bottom lip as he stares, hand gripping tight to Philip's hair for a moment before he lets out a laugh of his own, hips rocking forward against Philip's palm as he slides a hand there, cradling and rubbing what he can't reach with his mouth.

"Much," Freddie agrees, watching intently as Philip slides a hand around to the back of Freddie's jeans, pulling him in closer with a tight squeeze.

Philip's lips whisper against his length and Freddie fights the urge to groan and surrender all control. For now at least.

He grins at the request though, Philip's eyes dark and full of want and Freddie slowly uncurls his hand from Philip's hair to slide his underwear past his hips. His movements are slow, but not teasing. Simply taking his time. He peels the waistbands of his jeans and underwear down, bends enough to tug the fabric off from where it clings to his lower legs before stepping out. Finally bare from head to foot, he gives Philip's knee a nudge with his own before slowly leaning in closer, leaning to hover with one hand pressed to the back of the chair.

"What'chu think?" he asks then, all smirk now as he drops his other hand to graze his fingertips along Philip's chest. "Good enough?"

It's enjoyable enough just to watch the way Freddie's pale skin comes into view, the slow drag of his jeans down his thighs, and Philip's gaze rakes over him hungrily as Freddie steps forward and leans closer. He's rather beautiful; slim, but well muscled, and with his cock finally free, Philip reaches down, cupping Freddie's balls first, rubbing smooth skin between his fingers before his hand wraps around his cock, giving into his desire to feel the weight of him, the heat of silky skin as he strokes him once, slowly and deliberately.

The question is posed as something playful and Philip knows he could flash a smirk of his own, a quick grin, throw something back, but he always likes to give credit where credit is due.

"Rather incredible," he breathes and then he does smile, a dark, predatory expression. The people he's fucked in Darrow have all been beautiful in their way, he's certainly not wanting for attractive partners, but he doesn't waste his time telling some of them how good they look, not when he knows it wouldn't be well received. Freddie, though, isn't on that list, Philip thinks he might like hearing how incredibly appealing he is, and he's happy enough to comply with that. Not a word of what he has to say would be a lie.

His other hand slips up, around the back of Freddie's neck, dragging him closer so he can catch his mouth in a hot, hard kiss. He wants Freddie in his lap, he wants his cock in his ass, he wants to be fucking him, holding onto his hips tight enough to bruise, but he's in no rush. His thumb sweeps under the head of Freddie's cock and he squeezes lightly, laughing against his mouth as he strokes him.

Philip wastes no time in touching him, one hand immediately reaching down to cradle Freddie's balls, feeling the weight of him before those fingers slide up to curl around his cock. His hips give an involuntary twitch and he lets out a soft gasp of a breath, the sound melting into a hiss when he tries to swallow it back.

Dark, hungry eyes lift to meet his and Freddie gets the distinct feeling he's about to be devoured. And he can't fucking wait.

Philip claps a hand to the back of Freddie's neck, drawing him in, and Freddie puts up no fight at all, letting himself be pulled forward until his lips are crashing against Philip's. It's like shattering the dam then as Freddie makes quick work of climbing into Philip's lap, a knee to either side of his thighs, pushed into the cushions. His hands smooth up Philip's chest, growling at the feel of hair and defined muscle under his palms.

With a slightly shift of his hips, he feels Philip's cock against his own, and he reaches down to wrap a hand around him, jerking him from base to tip as he ducks into the curve of Philip's neck, teeth scraping stubbled skin. "Fuck, I want this in me," he admits, dropping all pretense now, just wanting, his own cock heavy between his thighs. He hides a grin against the bolt of Philip's jaw before kissing a line up to his ear, sucking the skin just below. "Where's your lube? Can get myself all slick and ready for you. Or you can do the honours, if you'd like."

After a near disaster on the couch several weeks earlier in which Philip had tried to get away with using only saliva and had been very nearly verbally torn a new one as a result, he'd dropped a small bottle of lubricant in one of the drawers in the table between the couch and chair. There are condoms in there, too, still his most disliked new habit he's had to develop in Darrow, but he knows he's rather get his fuck than press his luck too far about going without the condom and lose his chance altogether.

For a moment, though, he can't answer, his free hand sliding around Freddie's body, fingers running over the delicious curve of his ass, smoothing into the cleft, one finger teasing at his hole. For all he truly can be an asshole, Philip doesn't hurt people unless he's being paid or unless they've asked, so he's careful, doesn't even think about trying to press his finger into Freddie's ass, but rubs the tip of his finger against the ring of muscle.

Freddie's mouth on his skin makes him shiver and moan and he tightens his grip briefly, twisting his fist around Freddie's cock before he lets go and reaches blindly to the table beside them.

"I'd very much like the honours, but I want to see you fuck yourself first," he says in a low voice, his fingers snagging the bottle of lubricant. "Fuck, I can already feel how tight you are."

In all honesty, Freddie thought he might have to peel himself off Philip's gorgeous body to go stumbling down the corridor in search of the lube, so he's delightfully surprised when instead, Philip reaches an arm out toward the top drawer of the little table right by the chair and pulls out a bottle.

Immediately, Freddie sits up a bit, taking the bottle from Philip with one hand, his other still wrapped tight around Philip's cock, indulging himself in a few more slow strokes.

"Bit greedy," he says with a smirk before reluctantly letting go of Philip's cock to pop the lid of the bottle open. He drizzles a fair amount over just two fingers before hitching himself closer, just enough so he won't risk overbalancing in the middle of the show. And it is a show, one he's more than happy to perform as he sets the bottle atop the table and curls his dry hand over Philip's shoulder. Keeping his eyes on Philip, he reaches behind himself with the other, back arching as he slips both fingers down the crack of his arse, mouth falling open on a soundless gasp as he soon reaches the tight ring of his hole.

It's always a bit more difficult doing it this way, both because of the angle as well as the effort of keeping himself upright engaging muscles he should be relaxing. But it's better for all that, too. It makes the stretch just that more delicious. Carefully, he pushes the tip of one finger up inside, easing in just a bit, letting his body adjust before sliding in a bit further, his other hand tightening on Philip's shoulder at the ache.

The second he had asked for it, he'd known what he was asking for and he had been certain Freddie would deliver. Philip isn't disappointed in the slightest, from the way Freddie arches toward him to the way his hand tightens on his shoulder to the press of his fingers against his ass. He doesn't have to see it to know it's happening, not between his hand on his shoulder and the expression on Freddie's face and he sways forward just a bit, enough that Freddie's dick rubs against the stomach.

"Christ," he breathes, reaching out both hands now, anchoring them at Freddie's hips, his fingers digging into his skin. He really is incredibly beautiful and Philip's hungry gaze drifts across him, up over his flexing thighs to his cock, hard and heavy and terribly appealing, then over his abdomen, his chest, the curve of his shoulders toward his jaw and Philip wants that mouth again. Wants to be kissing him or wants his cock sliding past those lips and he laughs softly, breathlessly, knowing he also wants what's coming.

Freddie may turn out to be one of those people Philip wants to see more than once. It doesn't happen often, but now and again he can't seem to help himself.

One of his hands slides around to Freddie's ass again, his fingers slipping down, following Freddie's hand to where he has a finger buried in his ass, and he moans, the sound low and heated. his hole is slick, his fingers slick as well and Philip rubs his against them, making sure to coat his own finger well before he carefully presses it in alongside Freddie's.

Philip's hands come to rest on Freddie's hips for a moment, steadying him as he continues to hold up the rest of his weight on just one arm, the other otherwise occupied. It's a warm touch, made all the warmer by the way Philip is looking at him, eyes dark and lips slightly parted. Wanting. Philip exhales a single word and the accent, fuck that accent, rocks right down his spine, transporting him into a dingy fucking room of a public secondary school and Freddie can nearly feel the dig of hard wood under his knees instead of soft upholstery.

His lips twitch into a faint grin and he bends his arm a bit, bends so that his face is right over Philip's, mere centimeters apart, sharing breath.

His own breath hitches sharply when he feels Philip's finger sliding along his own. Freddie pulls his own out enough to tangle with Philip's for a moment, spreading the slick, before sliding back in easily. The press of Philip's then is hardly a surprise, but it still pulls a groan at the sudden stretch and he bends further, his forehead touching Philip's as he presses back against his finger and Philip's alike, pressing back.

"Fuck," he whispers before slipping his own finger free, leaving Philip's inside, rolling his hips in a slow rhythm. His two fingers are still messy with lube, but he grabs Philip's upper arm with them all the same, shuddering slightly as the want in his belly flares hotter. "Yeah, come on. Stretch me open. Fuck, I wanna feel you."

He truly is unbelievably sexy and it's clear he knows what he's doing, which only makes Philip want him all the more. His wrist twists, pressing his finger deeper inside Freddie, a few experimental thrusts before he pulls back, taking care to coat his second finger with whatever he can get, whatever lube is leftover on Freddie's skin and his own finger, then presses back inside of him with two fingers now. With his head tipped against the back of the chair, Philip breathes out hard against Freddie's mouth, then his teeth cut into his lower lip as he bites down hard in his concentration, thrusting both his fingers deeper into Freddie's ass at the same time. He's tight and hot and Philip wants him so badly, he wants to be inside him, he wants to make sure Freddie feels this tomorrow.

"Do you feel me yet?" he asks, his gaze flicking up, though they're too close for him to really see Freddie's face. He gives another twist of his fingers, curving them inside him and his mouth twitches up into a grin for just a moment before he breathes out a soft curse, loving how warm Freddie's body is around his fingers. He wants to be inside him now, his hips rolling up, fucking up into him, and he knows he needs to get a condom, but he needs just a minute more like this.

Tilting his head forward slightly, he finally catches Freddie's mouth in another kiss, all the heat from his body feeling like it's increased tenfold by every point of contact between them. His tongue slides along Freddie's, deepening the kiss, still fucking his fingers into him, stretching him, waiting until he's ready before he reaches for the lube again.

It's a ridiculous goddamn question; Freddie can't feel anything but Philip right now. Breath hot on his mouth and cheek, broad chest under his hands, thick cock bumping Freddie's own with every rock of his hips. And those fingers. There's two now, the stretch burning through him pleasantly, driving him mindless already just with the promise of more.

He can't quite stop rolling his hips, greedy for more, breath and body hitching sharply when Philip gives a quick twist of his wrist, brushing right against his prostate. Freddie gasps, the sound quickly melting into a low, desperate sort of laugh before he bends down to meet Philip's mouth. It's bruising this time, all teeth and tongue as Freddie grasps at Philip's shoulders and chest and sides, fucking himself back against those long, glorious fingers before he blindly reaches out toward the table. His hand knocks into Philip's in the process and Freddie breaks the kiss to glance over, his laugh eager and breathless.

Giving Philip's bottom lip a playful nip, Freddie aborts reaching for the lube to open the little drawer again, searching about inside it for a moment before pulling out a single foil packet. He palms it easily in one hand before surging in for another kiss, fist curled and resting against Philip's shoulder as he presses back and away just enough to slip his other hand between them, grasping Philip's cock again in a tight, eager grip.

"Your cock is fucking gorgeous," he whispers, his voice low and appreciative. Freddie isn't one to use many superlatives in bed, often choosing to show instead of tell, as the saying goes. But he does like to give credit where credit is due and Philip's cock is absolutely one of the nicest he's seen.

"Works well with this glorious ass of yours," Philip answers with a low rumble of laughter and while he may not have seen it -- yet, he promises himself, thinking all the wonderful things he might do to that ass -- but he can feel it. He could feel it through Freddie's jeans and he can feel it now, the muscles inside him clenched tight around Philip's fingers, and he can't wait to get his dick inside him.

They're both working eagerly toward the same thing, the condom in Freddie's free hand, the bottle of lubricant in Philip's, and he rolls his hips up just slightly, enough that his cock pushes through the circle of Freddie's fist. Philip has never felt as if he has anything to be ashamed of, he knows he's in excellent physical condition, that he's attractive, that he has a rather impressive cock, and he takes the compliment happily, hoping, too, Freddie will take his in return.

"Put it on," he groans, leaning in to catch Freddie's mouth again, giving him no chance to argue, although he doubts argument is truly on his mind at the moment. This is what they're here for, though Philip certainly won't be adverse to a repeat performance in which they take a little more time. "I can't wait to be fucking you."

There isn't a chance Freddie would argue even if he could, instead letting out a sound where between a whine and a groan against Philip's mouth as he reluctantly slides his hand off Philip's cock to work at opening the packet. It's more difficult with his still-slick fingers and he has to pull away from Philip's mouth for a moment to use his teeth instead, spitting out what he tears off as he slips the condom free.

His lips quirk into a grin as he reaches down then to slide it on, rolling the rubber down the length of Philip's shaft and holding his hand out to Philip for another squeeze of lube.

"Want me like this?" he asks, his other hand wrapped tight around the base of Philip's cock, anticipation rocketing through him already. "Facing you? Or I can turn around, take you so fucking deep that way."

Edited 2016-09-02 21:06 (UTC)

Both options are terribly appealing and while he's very much looking forward to admiring Freddie's ass in every possible way, he has to admit he'd rather have him facing forward this first time. It might not be apparent, he doesn't make any attempt to make it clear, but Philip likes to see people the first time he fucks them. He likes to watch and get a sense of what they're like in bed and whether or not this is going to happen more than once. With Freddie he already has an idea this isn't simply going to happen once, but he needs to be sure.

"Like this," he answers, his voice rough as his head tips back in pleasure at Freddie rolling the condom down over his cock. He's aching, heat coiled deep in his body, pinpricks of pleasure going off wherever Freddie is touching him and he tips the bottle, spilling more of the lube into Freddie's outstretched palm. "I want to see you when you come."

And he wants to be able to touch him like this, his fingers carefully pulling out of Freddie's ass in anticipation, gliding up his spine. He wants to be able to fist his hand in his hair or jerk him off as he fucks up into him. He wants to see everything.

In truth, Freddie doesn't have much of a preference. There are pros and cons to both, after all. He certainly can't say he's disappointed in Philip's decision, comfortable as he is like this with Philip's chest under his palms and delicious dark eyes. His lips quirk into a broader smile that falters into a groan when Philip slips his fingers free, leaving him empty and wanting.

Those slick-sticky fingers slide up Freddie's cleft and then higher, tracing a line that nearly makes him shiver as Philip squeezes a good amount of lube into his palm at the same time. Biting his lip, Freddie wastes no time in wrapping his slick hand around Philip's cock, stroking him from base to tip in a way that's likely far more indulgent than it needs to be. But Philip is thick and hot and hard and Freddie can't get enough, staring down between them for a long moment before finally the need for more urges him onward.

He shifts up then, higher onto his knees and shoves closer, one hand on Philip's shoulder and the other still wrapped around his cock. Keeping his head lowered and his eyes on Philip, he tilts his hips back, guiding Philip to his hole, mouth falling open in a soundless gasp as the blunt tip rubs over his rim. He teases himself a bit, bending slightly so his face is closer to Philip's, eyelids fluttering as he arches back slowly, taking more, welcoming that incredible, delicious burn as it washes through him, Philip's cock slowly splitting him in open.

It would be easy to just sit here and let Freddie take complete control, let him do whatever he likes and use Philip's cock in any manner in which he wants, but it actually feels close to impossible not to respond in some way. He supposes if he were made dumb with pleasure, if he were the type of man to zone out when something felt too good he might end up with his eyes closed, just letting Freddie sink down on him, but Philip simply sets the lube aside on the table, careful to close it so they it won't spill everywhere if they knock into it, then settles his hand on Freddie's hip and uses the muscles in his own pelvis to very slowly push himself up just slightly.

It isn't much, nothing more than a gentle roll of his hips, barely enough to push himself any deeper than Freddie has him already, but it's a reminder, too, that although he may be the one sitting, although he may not control everything, he still has a bit of the power.

His other hand slides higher still, over Freddie's back until he's digging his fingers into his shoulder blade and he groans as his dick slips deeper inside of him. His body is tight and hot around Philip's cock, the perfect, delicious sort of heat that comes with almost nothing else. A hand is nice and a mouth is wonderful, but there's nothing like being able to sink his cock into someone else's body and feel the way he's almost pulled inside.

"Shit," he breathes, his head tipped back, his lower lip brushing Freddie's. "You feel so good."

Philip's hands settle on Freddie's hips, a warm weight that grips as Philip rocks his hips upwards, driving up into him as Freddie sinks down little by little. He stills after a moment, lifting back up just a bit before lowering once more, head tipped forward and eyes heavy-lidded as Philip slides deeper inside.

"Fuck," he breathes, the burn of it intense. Philip's hand grazes up his back, fingers digging into Freddie's shoulder. Freddie's hands are still curled around Philip's sides, locked there for leverage before he's finally fully seated. He stills for a moment catching his breath, his own cock trapped between them, thick against the hard plane of Philip's lower belly as Freddie breathes hot against his mouth.

"Like a tight little hole just made to be fucked," he says, his tone low and amused and strung out already. He turns his head just enough to skim his lips along Philip's jaw as he lifts up again then, shuddering slightly before bearing down, starting a slow, shaky rhythm as he slides a hand up to Philip's shoulder. "Fuck," he grunts again, lips just below Philip's ear before his tone melts into one more teasing again. "Christ, fuck me. Wanna feel it, Your Highness. Want-- just want you to use me."

In Philip's experience, most people find themselves incapable of speech when they're fucking, losing themselves in the sensations rippling through them, how good it feels, and while he can be undone to that extent now and again, for the most part he's still able to speak, still able to articulate how good things feel and what he wants. When other people can, too, he can't help but appreciate that, because while he loves knowing he's pulled someone apart with pleasure to the point where they can no longer speak, he also loves hearing all sorts of things come tumbling out of their mouths, as is the case with Freddie now.

"Yes," he breathes, digging his heels into the floor to give himself better leverage as he drives up with his hips. At the moment he's still taking care, making sure he isn't hurting Freddie as he pushes into him, but it doesn't seem like Freddie is particularly worried about that, his lips drifting along Philip's skin, his cock hard against his stomach. "I'll fuck you, I'll make you feel it, make you remember it for days."

And he has every intention of doing exactly that, his hand tightening on Freddie's hip, guiding him, moving him, then rolling his hips up again, a little harder this time. He turns his head, ghosting his lips over Freddie's cheek and then ducking to find his mouth, kissing him hard, his tongue sliding into his mouth.

Freddie has absolutely no doubt Philip will be good on his word, can feel it already in the way Philip's hands grab at his skin, the feel of his thick cock up inside him. He shudders when Philip's grip tightens further, when he holds Freddie in place and rolls his hips, driving in harder, skin slapping against skin as Freddie holds himself over him.

It's easily the best fuck he's had since he arrived in this strange place, Philip the first man he's found who's wanted to bend him over. Freddie enjoys fucking in every possible manner, loves getting his dick inside a tight hole almost as much as he likes being the hole.

Almost.

He feels mindless with it, every thrust sending white-hot pleasure all through him and he rocks his hips to meet each one, the movement giving him the barest friction against Philip's belly. He's panting now, murmuring a soft plea as Philip's lips graze his cheek, his head turning to meet those lips with his own. Philip's tongue shoves into his mouth and Freddie nearly whimpers, turning desperate as he struggles to keep pace with Philip's thrusts, struggles to catch his breath.

He manages a rough, "Please," between one kiss and the next, drags blunt nails down the front of Philip's chest before he bears down. He'll need to change the angle in a moment, but for now he's soaking up the feel of Philip's hot breath against his mouth, those strong, grappling hands and broad chest under his palms.

Freddie isn't much smaller than he is, but Philip is a strong man and without a thought, obeying some kind of deep seated instinct that tells him what to do and what he wants, he abruptly wraps one arm around Freddie's waist and uses the other on the arm of the chair to suddenly push himself forward. To his feet, out of the chair, and two stumbling steps across to the couch on the other side where he lowers them both to the cushions, Freddie pressed back among them, Philip with his knees on the edge. He still has that arm wrapped around Freddie, but the other he uses to brace himself against the back of the couch so he can thrust his hips forward, burying himself deeper still inside Freddie, the sound of skin against skin dragging a long groan out of him.

It's harder to kiss Freddie from this angle, Philip moving over him, but he imagines there's plenty of time yet for them to figure out what to do with Freddie's mouth. They don't need to do everything this evening, and so he clutches at the cushions against the back of the couch, focusing instead of fucking Freddie deeper, rolling his hips to change the angle, to see if he can't at least brush up against his prostate and go from there. He still hasn't touched Freddie's dick, but there's time yet. There's time for everything.

That perfect heat is spreading through him, filling his pelvis, and Philip's fingers clench as he looks down at Freddie, at the expression on his face, the sheen of sweat on his skin. Philip's hair has long since become a mess, curling in the heat, in the damp of the room, sweat prickling his forehead and his shoulders and his chest, his skin slick with it.

Freddie can't remember the last time anyone lifted him. Aiden maybe, and he supposes that had only been a couple months ago.

But he's not thinking about Aiden now. He doesn't care about Aiden. What he cares about is Philip's arm curled around him, the strength in those thighs and abs beneath him, the laugh that punches out of his lungs when he realizes what's happening and the feel of sofa cushions against his back as Philip drops him.

It's some sort of sex miracle that keeps Philip inside him the whole time, keeps them locked together, and Freddie lets out a rough cry when Philip immediately shoves in harder. He holds his legs up high, the heel of his foot brushing Philip's side as he shifts and arches, offering himself up until Philip is fucking in just right, hitting his prostate with every thrust. It's so good, so overwhelmingly good that Freddie can barely keep his eyes open. Philip's hair is falling over his eyes, those gorgeous, dark eyes locked on Freddie's and he groans again under the weight of it.

"Fuck," he breathes, reaching back to brace himself against the arm of the couch with one hand, the other curling over Philip's shoulder for a moment before desperation makes him reach for his own cock instead, jerking himself in time with Philip's pace. "Fuck, fuck. Yeah. Just like that, oh my God." Gritting his teeth, he tightens the curl of his leg and bears down then, meeting each rock of Philip's hips.

He certainly knows what he's doing. Philip has thought that more than once tonight already, but every so often Freddie does something that reminds him and he doesn't even know what it is now, if it's the way Freddie laughs or the hitch of his legs higher or the way he speaks or jerks himself off in time, stroking with every single one of Philip's thrusts, but whatever it is, he's aware all over again of the fact that he's found himself someone rather experienced tonight and it's paying off.

Which isn't to say it's all Philip needs. He's found great satisfaction with people who have never had sex before, with people for whom it's been some time, for they often carry with them a need to please, but there are nights when all he wants is someone who can talk like this, someone who knows what to do, who knows what the other person wants without even having to ask and Freddie has more than fulfilled that role this evening.

"Look at you," he breathes, unable to do anything but look, his gaze raking over Freddie's body, over his face, the flex and shift of muscles in his chest and his shoulder as he strokes his own cock. Philip's hips are still rolling, thrusting into him harder, and if Freddie's encouragement is anything to go by, what he's doing is exactly what he wants. "Christ, just look at you." It's fucking glorious.

Philip's staring down at him, sweat-damp hair hanging over his eyes, cheeks glistening. It's hardly the first time someone's looked at him like that, definitely not the first time someone's done so while actively fucking him. But it gets to him every time, fills him up like a drug, fills him like the best cock he's ever had.

And it doesn't hurt that Philip is so hot. Hot and older and clearly capable of fucking Freddie into next week if he so much as asks for it. He's panting now, chasing every breath as Philip pounds into him, occasionally stopping his own strokes just to grip tight, to hold himself back from coming to soon. As overwhelmingly good as this is, he doesn't want it over just yet, doesn't want to come too soon.

"Like it?" he finally manages, the words rough and breathless as he shoves his hips back again, grunting sharply at how deep Philip is inside him. "Like what you see?"

He wonders if Philip likes it enough to want this again, if the next time could possibly feel even half as good.

Before Philip can even respond, he's groaning again, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he arches, muscles clamping down hard around Philip's cock, as he pulses in his own palm. He can't stop it now, doesn't even try to, just lets the wave crash over him, coming in streaks across his stomach and chest, working himself through it with stilted, rough strokes.