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Freddie isn't too eager for Philip to slide out right away, but he doesn't fight it any either, just bites back a quiet, disappointed sort of groan as Philip eases back, slow and slick with lube still. It feels immediately empty though it's a bit of a relief as well and he reaches down instinctively, grinning at how stretched he still is before sliding his hand up to the swell of his balls and then the mess he's made over his stomach.

Collecting a bit of it on his fingers, he reaches up then, catching Philip's eyes again before smearing it lightly across his jaw, teasing just below Philip's bottom lip.

"That was all you, mate," he says with a grin, his legs sliding down to rest over Philip's thighs now as the low afterglow slides over him, his muscles pleasantly worn and sated. "Was all set to ride you, though I can't say I regret how this turned out." He cocks his head then, smirk still unwavering. "Maybe next time I can blow you in it though. How's that sound?"

It's not often Freddie cares much about a next time, but it's also not often he finds someone who can fuck as well as Philip. There'll be a next time if he has any say in it.

Philip grins, both at the sensation of Freddie's wet fingers gliding across his skin and the suggestion of a next time. His tongue flicks out against his lower lip, tasting Freddie there, and he gives an exaggerated stretch, as if he needs time to consider his options when he knows he'd like nothing more than a repeat performance of this.

He glides one hand over Freddie's leg, up toward his thigh, feeling the heat of his skin, the way his muscles shift and jump. Whatever connection they have may be superficial, linked entirely to sex, Philip has yet to decide, but even that is entirely worth keeping.

"Think it sounds like something we might be able to arrange," he says, his voice low, and he doesn't know how it's possible, his body itself refuses to respond right now, but he can still feel a low stirring of arousal at the thought of more time with Freddie. "The things I can think to do with you..."

Philip's hand smooths up his thigh and over his hip, the touch warm and firm. Freddie stretches out a bit further, arches his back as he slides his sticky fingers down the side of Philip's neck and over his shoulder. Those eyes are still dark and locked on him and Freddie finds himself wanting to bask in it, wanting to keep them here, on him, at least for the night.

He bites his lip at Philip's promise, shifting just a bit more so he can push up onto his elbow. There's a thin layer of quickly cooling sweat all down his chest and belly and his cock is already starting to soften between his thighs. The ache in his arse is just as he likes it, pleasantly sore in that way that means he'll definitely be feeling it tomorrow and he cocks his head as he looks at Philip, biting his bottom lip briefly.

"What sorts of things are those?" he asks, squeezing Philip's thighs gently with his own, encouraging. "Not the candlelit dinner for two sorts of things, are they?"

"Not unless that's something you really want," Philip answers with a low laugh, watching the way Freddie bites his lower lip, shifting as he feels his muscles tense briefly. He has absolutely no problem treating the people he's fucking well, has no qualms taking them out for a meal if that's what they want, no issue being seen with them.

It's taken a bit of an adjustment in Darrow, given the way things were done in the thirties, but Philip thinks he's come a long way from groping Ianto under the shadows of a table. No one here is going to try to hurt him for such a thing and if they were, he'd be able to fight back without being called any number of derogatory terms.

"But what other sorts of things?" he asks musingly, flashing a brief, sated grin. "I'm already thinking about how much I'd like to fuck your mouth. Or fuck you with my tongue, until you're begging for my cock again. I'd say both of those sound like they might be fun."

It's not that Freddie dislikes candlelit dinners, really. But it's not something he'd readily choose himself if he's honest. There are other ways to pass the time and he'd rather spend a night lounging on a couch nursing a beer or a glass of cheap wine than hunched over a table of overpriced food. And anyway, he's never tasted a wine worth more than thirty-five quid.

Philip's response is rather interesting though and Freddie can't help but wonder what this might be. It doesn't feel like Philip's about to ask him on a date, but there's clearly the expectation of more. And it's an expectation Freddie very much hopes to become reality. But are they friends?

Then again, does it even matter?

With a grin, he pushes up on his elbows a bit, relaxing back as he tips his head. "Both a good start," Freddie admits, dropping his gaze down to Philip's chest for a moment. Next time you should come on me," he decides, shifting to balance his weight on one arm then as he reaches out to graze his fingers along the jut of Philip's collarbone. "All down my neck chest. After you fuck my mouth, of course."

Were it physically possible, Philip suspects he'd be near to hard all over again just based on this bit of conversation. As it is, the corner of his mouth hitches into a grin and his fingers tighten briefly, pressing into Freddie's skin before his grip relaxes and he leans back against the couch cushions, looking rather pleased with himself, Freddie, and the situation as a whole.

He'd been with men before in the thirties who had clearly hated themselves, who'd wanted to be degraded as a punishment for what they thought was an abomination of their own sexual preferences. Philip has never gone in for that, has never seen anything to be ashamed of, but he'd certainly taken advantage of men who wanted to be fucked in that manner. But it isn't like that with Freddie. Not in the slightest.

And Philip likes that much more.

"Get you all dirty," he murmurs. "Yes, that'd be something."

Philip's grip on him tightens for only a moment before he flashes a wider grin and sits back. With a groan, Freddie pulls his legs back and then rolls so he can sit upright on the sofa, his arse pleasantly sore as he shifts against the cushions.

Resting a hand atop Philip's thigh he settles back, nestling easily against Philip's arm as he brushes his fingertips along the hair of Philip's thigh, up and back down again. It'd be something alright, he thinks, tipping his head back a with a grin as he pictures it. He'd be on his knees or on his back, mouth sore and bruised, Philip hovering over him, stroking himself off, sweaty and gorgeous.

He turns his head then to grin over at Philip. "Should give you my number," he decides, his voice cool and lazy, like he doesn't care whether or not Philip agrees. "'Case you've any need to use that throne again."

"I'd tell you to put it in my phone, but damned if I know where it is right now," Philip admits with a laugh, casting a glance out toward the rest of the room. His trousers and jacket are both on the floor and it's inevitably in one of those pockets, but both are much too far away for him to have enough strength to reach at the moment. "We'll find it before you go anywhere."

Because that's certainly an offer he's not going to turn down. Darrow isn't like the rest of the world he's grown used to. Even in the thirties, when things such as this had to be kept to the shadows, there had been a grander scale available to him. He could move easily between Dublin and Swords and Malahide without much effort, not to mention finding his way to London or anywhere in France with relative ease. More people, more space, it all led to more opportunity.

Darrow doesn't have that, so he's going to take what's offered to him.

Philip's the type of liar Freddie knows well, the type that's easily missed if only because one can never be quite sure what is truth and what isn't. The type who makes lying into a constant artform of second-guessing one's own instint. He's exactly the type of liar as Christopher, exactly the type of liar as Freddie himself.

Which means, of course, there's no telling if Philip is only saying what he is at the moment to prolong the lie and make it more believable or if he does have every intent of getting Freddie's number before he leaves.

Either way, Freddie tells himself he doesn't care. It's a small enough city; if Freddie's meant to meet up with Philip again, he has no doubt it'll happen. If not...

Well, he'll just not think about the if not.

"Fancy a fag?" he asks then, still watching his own fingers trail over Philip's leg before tipping his head to grin at him.

"Well, if you're going to get up for that, you might as well get my telephone, too," Philip says with a grin. "And then we won't forget. I think it's in my jacket pocket." And his jacket is crumpled on the floor a few feet from Freddie's jeans.

Too far for Philip to want to go right now, but if Freddie is going to get up for his cigarettes, then he's welcome to the telephone as well. Not to mention the fact that Philip thinks he'd rather like to watch Freddie walk naked across the room and rifle through the articles of clothing left on the floor. He's really rather incredible, Philip had meant every word of it, and he does enjoy being able to take that in.

"Get them both, see what watching you does for me," he murmurs, leaning back in close to Freddie, their lips nearly grazing as he speaks. "Maybe I'll be able to take you to the bedroom yet this evening."

Philip's lips are just a breath away from Freddie's as he speaks and Freddie doesn't move at all for a moment, soaking in that nearness, in how every word sends warmth all through him. "Think I'll be a bit insulted if you can't get it up again tonight," he says, his voice all tease as he pushes up to his feet, fingers lingering atop Philip's thigh until the last possible moment before he walks the few feet over to grab Philip's jacket up off the floor. As promised, he finds Philip's phone in one pocket and then checks an inner pocket for the pack of cigarettes, grinning when he finds it and making no effort to hide that he's bumming one. It's not like he carries them himself, after all.

Well aware Philip's still watching intently, Freddie struts a bit, grinning to himself as he wanders back the table by the armchair, the one from which Philip had earlier retrieved the lube and condoms. "You've a light in here?" he asks, already opening the drawer as he glances over his shoulder at Philip.

Sure enough, he finds a lighter near the back of the drawer, palming it in his other hand as he wanders over to stand before Philip. He offers the fag he's pulled to Philip, holding it out between thumb and forefinger and arching an eyebrow, lips still quirked in a grin.

He's going to forget all about the cigarettes and the telephone in just a moment at this rate, though he knows already he very much wants to call Freddie over here again and again. Reaching up, he takes the cigarette from Freddie, pressing it between his lips, then takes his telephone and tosses it onto the cushion beside him, never once taking his gaze off Freddie's.

It's easy now, with both his hands free, to anchor them back at Freddie's hips and tug. It may be another few minutes before either of them will be capable of much, but that doesn't mean Philip doesn't want to enjoy the warmth of his body while he has the chance.

"Come here," he says, as if Freddie is terribly far away. "And light it for me."

The mobile's tossed aside for now, bouncing lightly on the cushion of the sofa as Philip leans in to take the cigarette from Freddie's fingers, holding it between his lips. Warm hands settle on Freddie's hips then and he grins as he lets Philip tug him in a little closer.

The positioning puts Philip's face at about level with Freddie's chest and he smirks down at him as he flicks the tab of the lighter and sets the tip aflame. Still grinning, Freddie runs the fingers of his other hand through Philip's hair, tugging it back playfully away from his forehead before skimming his thumb along Philip's temple as he fiddles with the lighter in his other hand.

"You make much of a habit of this?" he asks, no judgement at all in his tone. "Taking boys back to your flat for a nice fuck."

Philip takes a deep drag from the cigarette, letting his head move with the touch of Freddie's hand, the tug on his hair, and he grins as he blows out smoke, then offers the cigarette back to Freddie.

"Boys, girls," he answers with a slow, lazy shrug, fingertips grazing along Freddie's hips before his hands fall away and he nods for Freddie to join him on the couch again. This isn't over, he's suddenly very certain of that, but he's rather looking forward to discovering just what else they can manage to get up to tonight. "Whoever might be interested and is interesting in return."

He may be what some would consider quite sexually active, but he's still discerning. Philip won't take just anyone home. There has to be something about them that draws him and in terms of wanting to see someone again, it has to be more than that. It's easy for him to find someone to spend the night with, he's never wanting for company, but he doesn't like being bored. And Freddie certainly hasn't been boring.

Freddie stares at the purse of Philip's lips around the end of the cigarette, the slight hollow of his cheeks as he breathes in and the plume of smoke when he exhales. Grinning, Freddie skims his fingers down the side of Philip's neck as the cigarette's passed back to him and he tucks it between his lips.

"Ah, so you find me interesting," he says on a quick exhale, his grin widening as he takes Philip's invitation and drops down onto the cushions beside him, lazily draping his left leg over Philip's right and leaning into him. "But you barely even know me, wouldn't you say? For all you know, sex is all I'm good for."

He hands the cigarette back then, tipping his head against Philip's shoulder to grin up at him. "Though, still might be worth it, yeah. I've been told I'm a fairly good fuck."

"I'm a good judge of character," Philip answers simply and that's the truth. It might prove that Freddie isn't of any particular use to him the way Coop has turned out to be, but that isn't the only reason Philip likes to keep people around. Sometimes he just likes to watch, to see how a person works, what makes them tick, and there's no use pretending all people are equally as interesting. That simply isn't true. More people are boring than aren't. Most people are vacant and insipid and terribly dull.

Freddie isn't. Philip doesn't need to know him well to know that.

His hand drops to Freddie's thigh, fingers curling over warm skin, and there are times when he's presented with such a smooth, unblemished expanse of skin that he just wants to leave marks all over. Somehow he doubts Freddie would mind much. Blowing smoke into the air, he tips his head back, then looks over at Freddie, appraising.

"No," he says, agreeing with himself. "You are a good fuck, but that isn't it. We'll find out what it is."

Philip drops a hand to Freddie's thigh, fingers curling just a bit as Freddie rests his arm lightly over Philip's, tracing fingertips along the veins at the back of Philip's hand. It's still a bit too soon for him to get hard again, though he can feel the familiar warmth settling between his thighs, and not all from the fucking he's gotten already.

"Mmm, a hidden talent," he says with a smirk, taking in the lines and shadows of Philip's profile once more. It's a nice face, one of the nicest he's seen here and that's saying something about this town, he's found.

The accent is almost nicer.

"But what about you?" he asks with a tip of his head, gaze lingering once more on the red of Philip's lips, the dark of his stubble. "Know you're good at fucking, obviously. But what else? Is it hard to find work when all the technology's changed? What is it you do anyway? Lawyer? Business tycoon? Painter?"

"I work for Todd Chad," he admits with a smirk, taking another drag from the cigarette before holding it back out to Freddie, offering it to him to take straight to his mouth from Philip's fingers if he wants. "Part of his personal security team. Mostly that means I stand around and occasionally make it known I carry a pistol. Nothing more. It's terribly boring, but it pays incredibly well."

And it's legitimate work, which leaves him open to taking other jobs without making it obvious he's doing anything illegal. It keeps his income looking legal, too, which is important. Philip does not want to end up in prison in a city where he can't even leave.

"It's more or less what I did in Ireland," he says. "I tended to offer my security services wherever they were most needed and to whoever paid the best."

Smirking, Freddie leans in to take the proffered cigarette with his lips, taking a quick puff before plucking it away so he can speak easier. He's still rested against Philip, fingertips of his other hand still grazing over Philip's arm.

"Does that make you a rent-a-cop or a bodyguard?" he asks, just to be cheeky. "Because one's a lot more glamorous than the other, I'd say."

He cocks his head then though, brow furrowing as the name catches up to him. "Todd Chad. Why's that awful name sound so familiar? He a celebrity here? D'you just follow him around and keep him from being shot?"

"Most of the time it makes me very bored," Philip answers with a soft breath of laughter. The term rent-a-cop isn't one he's heard before, but the implication is rather clear and he imagines it's meant as an insult for men who couldn't become actual police officers. Philip, though, has never once fallen into such a category. He's not interested in law enforcement, because often the men who require his services aren't on what most would consider the right side of the law.

That's not something Philip has ever had a problem with. He's willing to do things most men aren't.

"He's a celebrity here," he agrees. "For the most part I keep close to him and do nothing. There are other security teams that take care of his fans. I'm simply there for... extreme cases." His fingers slide down, between Freddie's thighs, purposely seeking the more sensitive skin there as he leans over and plucks the cigarette from his fingers again. "There's been no extreme cases yet, which is why I'm mostly just bored."

Freddie listens as Philip explains, finding himself actually interested. He can't picture this Todd Chad or what it is he does to make himself a celebrity, but he can picture Philip in one of those nice suits with a gun hidden in his jacket like those American films always show. He takes another few puffs of the cigarette before Philip plucks it straight from his lips and slides his fingers higher up the inside of Freddie's thigh, up to softer, more sensitive skin.

Biting his lip, Freddie shifts a bit to slouch further in the sofa and spread his legs wider, inviting Philip's touch, his own fingers sliding down over Philip's hand to guide him higher yet. He can feel himself starting to stir a bit, can imagine it won't take too much for Philip to get him hard again even if nothing comes of it.

"How close is close?" he asks, his eyes on Philip's as he quirks a grin. "D'you have to check his trousers for explosives."

"This is not a person whose trousers you would want to explore," Philip answers with a smirk, letting Freddie guide his hand, his fingertips still light against his skin, although he can feel that heat radiating from between his thighs, the same sort of heat everyone seems to carry there. It's like he's being called, summoned, drawn somehow toward that terribly desirable warmth everyone holds and as Freddie spreads his legs wider, Philip lets out a slow breath. People are so endlessly interesting, intricate puzzles made up of insecurities and arrogance.

"There's something wrong with him," he continues and his hand inches higher, fingers grazing Freddie's balls, and he shifts, letting his palm cover them, not bothering to massage or squeeze or anything. Not yet. "I'm not sure what it is. I'm not sure I want to know, so long as he keeps paying me."

He knows how to not ask questions and if the price is right, he'll keep his mouth shut. Eventually boredom and curiosity will get the best of him, but for now Philip is content to save the money they give him and work side jobs that keep him from getting too restless.

Philip lets his hand be guided higher and Freddie fights the impulse to let out any sound at all save for the slight hitch of his breath when Philip grazes warm fingers against his balls and then lightly cups them. His fingers barely move at all then, just holding the heavy swell of them as heat pools low in Freddie's gut, his cock thickening little by little.

He sinks down a bit further, still inviting as his hand falls away from Philip's, the other reaching then to skim up Philip's thigh, above where Freddie's leg is already draped over him, smoothing inward over softer skin, mirroring where Philip's hand had just been on him.

"Mentally, you mean?" he asks, still interested despite the distraction of Philip's hand. "Feel like there's something wrong with every celebrity, honestly. All that attention goes straight to the head, doesn't it? Probably just has no idea how to act like a normal person. Likely even worse here with so little else for people to focus on.

"Among other things," Philip agrees, because he doesn't give a shit about Todd Chad and whatever might be wrong with him. Not now anyway, not when Freddie is so much more interesting and inviting. He shifts on the couch cushions, his legs spreading in response to Freddie's fingers crawling up his inner thigh and he's only partly aware he's still holding a burning cigarette, but they're something of a second nature to Philip and he brings it up to his mouth with his free hand, taking a long, slow drag as his head tips back and he just lets himself enjoy the sensation of this moment. Freddie's hand is warm, the weight of his balls in Philip's palm stirs something low in his belly and he can feel himself trying to get hard again in response.

It won't take much more, not at this point.

"His most important trait for me is his money," he adds, tilting his head toward Freddie and then his hand tightens, massaging his balls, enjoying the slide of warm skin under his fingers. "Oh which there is plenty."

Philip takes another drag from his cigarette, smoke billowing past his lips when he exhales and Freddie tips his head back to stare, gaze caught on the wet of Philip's bottom lip, the bare glimpse of his tongue when he speaks. His fingers find the crease where Philip's thigh meets pelvis and he grazes his fingers there for a moment before trailing just the tip of one over Philip's soft cock, nothing more than a tease.

Though that tease stills a bit when Philip's touch on him tightens, a gentle squeeze of Freddie's balls before he starts fondly lightly.

Freddie's breath hitches and he rocks his hips slightly for more as his one fingertip drags along the head of Philip's dick, tracing loosely. "Are you saying he pays well?" Freddie asks, the tone of his voice a bit darker now, betraying his growing interest in other things. His lips twitch into something a bit more wicked then as he adds, "Bet he'd pay even more if you sucked him off. You ever done that?"