thisfaceismine | (no subject)

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?"

The thought is repulsive.

That's something of a surprise and it doesn't actually take anything away from Philip's enjoyment of Freddie's balls in his hand or the fingers he's running along Philip's cock and he can feel heat rushing toward his groin, his cock twitching in response, slowly beginning to harden. But the thought of being physically intimate with Todd Chad in any manner makes a slow wave of revulsion roll through Philip and he shakes his head, twisting away long enough to press the last of the cigarette into a nearby ash tray.

"I prefer to keep things strictly professional," he says before squeezing a little tighter and then ducking his head at the same time, his mouth finding Freddie's once again. The kiss isn't as hard or demanding as some of the others have been, more exploratory than anything in the moment, and Philip slowly licks his way into Freddie's mouth, teasing against his lips, searching for more of that perfect heat.

Freddie feels a pulse in Philip's dick, either from the thought of sucking off his boss or from Freddie's touch, he isn't certain. It's pleasing either way and he soon has two fingers skimming down that length even as Philip pulls away enough to stub out the remains of the cigarette. His hand fits there snuggly and Freddie gives a light squeeze, trying to encourage Philip to full hardness as the hand Philip has on him does something similar.

And then Philip's mouth is on his again, lips and breath tasting of nicotine and Freddie melts into it immediately with a soft sigh. It's slower than before, lazy, like they've got all night for this. And maybe they do. Freddie's certainly not planning on leaving anytime soon, not until he gets at least one more go.

His fingers curl more surely around Philip's length and he starts stroking gently, rocking his own hips down against Philip's hand as he tips his head enough to let Philip into his mouth, to meet every slow slide of that tongue with his own. "And this?" he asks when he pulls back enough for a breath, his lips slick as they brush Philip's. "Purely recreational?"

"Well, no one's getting paid, are they?" he asks in return, his voice hoarse as Freddie's hand strokes over his cock. In some ways he's still sensitive, but there's something so good about that, about Freddie's hand gliding over his warm and still slightly damp skin and he doesn't know if there's any lubricant left on him or if it's sweat and come left on his skin from the inside of the condom, but whatever it is, it feels good to have Freddie touching him.

The angle isn't exactly comfortable, he'd very much like to take this to somewhere with a little more room now that they're over the initial rush to just be fucking and Philip presses in again for one much longer kiss, then takes his hand and reaches past Freddie for his phone. This isn't something he's going to be so willing to give up and he presses his phone into Freddie's free hand.

"Put your number in there before we forget," he suggests, his hips rolling up once, letting his length slide through Freddie's fist. It won't be long now and he imagines by the time Freddie's number is in his phone and they've moved to the bedroom, he's going to be quite ready all over again.

"Well, I did steal half a fag off you," Freddie points before Philip's leaning in for another kiss. Freddie never once stops the movement of his hand, jerking Philip slowly from base to tip, reveling in the slow fill of that heated flesh though he gets a little distracted by the press of Philip's tongue, the press forward of his body. He breaks the kiss with a low laugh when Philip's presses Freddie's phone into his other hand.

"And here I thought you might be all talk," he says, still moving his hand slowly over Philip's cock as he thumbs his number into Philip's phone. He considers for a moment before adding in his last name as well and then taps the button to call the number he's just input, partially to prove it's not bogus, but also to ensure he'll have Philip's number as well.

He lets it ring only once before ending the call and handing the phone back to Philip with a smirk, shifting a little to get a better grip and brush his lips along the bolt of Philip's jaw. "Christ, you have a nice cock," he murmurs then, Philip's stubble tickling his lips as he gives another tight, appreciative squeeze.

When the phone is pressed back into his hand, Philip immediately discards it again, the ringing of Freddie's phone enough to assure him the number is real. It clatters to the table where he'd put out the cigarette and groans slightly at the press of Freddie's mouth against his jaw, a smirk curving his lips for a brief moment. He's been complimented plenty of time, been told all sorts of things, but he doesn't know many people who have specified his cock in this manner, and he can't deny it's rather pleasurable, knowing someone appreciates it.

"I'm never all talk," he answers, returning to the first thing Freddie has said and he knows he's referring to the phone number, but truly, Philip prides himself on following through with what he says, and while he has no idea where the rest of this night might go, he's perfectly certain it's going to go somewhere. Preferably to the bedroom. He'd like to space to properly appreciate Freddie this time.

"Come on," he urges, pressing forward for a moment and then dragging himself back, peeling himself off the couch and rising to his feet. He's hard again, his cock bobbing between his legs when he stands and he grins, glancing down at Freddie. "Come with me."

Somehow, Freddie doesn't find it difficult to believe that in the slightest and he only smirks when Philip shifts and pulls away, watching intently as Philip stands before him, cock wonderfully hard between his legs, gorgeous enough to make Freddie's mouth water. His gaze drops and lingers for a moment before Freddie pushes himself to his feet as well, crowding into Philip's space.

"Taking me somewhere fancy?" he asks though he knows full well where Philip is planning to lead him. His fingers trail down Philip's sides then, resting on his hips for a moment before one trails inward for another teasing graze over his cock.

Before Philip can return the touch, or answer, Freddie turns to head down the corridor. It's not a terribly big flat with only a few doors to choose from and Freddie glances back over his shoulder as he goes, his expression an inviting smirk as he let his hips sway just the littlest bit.

That's one hell of a sight and Philip grins, the expression damn near predatory, then follows Freddie down the hall. It's really only the bathroom and the bedroom to choose from, both doors open, easy enough for Freddie to see where he's going, and Philip follows him readily, catching up and then pressing close, his hips fitting against the curve of Freddie's ass. His arm slips around, his palm warm against Freddie's stomach and then gliding lower, over the edge of his hip and down, his fingers pressing through coarse hair and toward his cock, but he stops short of wrapping his fingers around him.

"Fancy enough?" he asks, his voice low with amusement. His bedroom is actually relatively nice, he's gone to some lengths to make it better than it had been when he'd arrived, but he also hasn't gone overboard. He's replaced some of the furniture, bought a nicer dresser, better bedding. Nothing is over the top, nothing is extravagant, but it's nicer than it was.

"Not that it matters," he adds, pressing his mouth to the curve of Freddie's shoulder, his teeth grazing across his skin. "I doubt you're here to admire the wardrobe."

It's a nicer bedroom than Freddie's, that's immediately apparent even in the dimness of the room. It looks more like that of a man who knows what money is and how to both earn and spend it instead of that belonging to someone who still doesn't trust where much of his money's coming from. The dresser is made of a thicker, nicer wood, the bedding as though actual thought was put into its purchase as opposed to merely being the cheapest set available at the nearest department store.

He isn't given much time to admire however when he feels the press of Philip's warm body against him and he immediately relaxes back into it, breath catching as one arm wraps around him, fingers dancing low enough to tease just at the root of Freddie's cock.

"Might be," he says with a slow grin though he's already tipping his head to offer Philip better access to his neck. He reaches back with one hand, fingers carding through Philip's hair as he rocks his hips back. He grazes the fingers of his other hand along Philip's forearm, tracing a line down to his wrist and the back of his hand, guiding him just that little bit lower with a soft hiss. "Not about to get on my knees in admiration of your furniture though," he admits with a soft laugh.

With Freddie guiding him, Philip wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, teasing with a light touch for a moment before his grip tightens and he twists his hand slowly. His teeth cut into Freddie's skin for just a moment, biting down hard enough to potentially leave a mark behind, not caring in the slightest if he does.

Philip isn't possessive, he's happy enough to share, he doesn't care the slightest if most of the people he's fucking are also fucking others, but he does like to remind those others someone else has been there, too. He'd delighted leaving marks behind on Coop and Fiona both. Marking them. Making them his, just a little.

And now Freddie. His hand strokes slowly, moving over Freddie's cock from root to tip where he pauses and smooths his thumb over the head and sucks at his skin for another moment. Saying nothing. Nudging him toward the bed with his hips. His. Just a little.

Philip's hand curls around him, teasing at first and then gripping tight, stroking with a twist of his wrist that has Freddie's hips rocking forward. It's paired with the press of Philip's teeth to the side of his neck, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave a mark, and Freddie lets out a low, pleased laugh as he welcomes it, his fingers curling tighter in Philip's hair, encouraging.

He's nudged forward then, a rock of Philip's hips against him, that delicious cock nudging the crease of Freddie's arse and he laughs again as he steps forward, peeling his hands from Philip's hair. He's reluctant to pull from the heat of Philip's mouth, but relishes the sting as he does, bending forward to reach for the mattress as he lifts one knee onto the edge of the bed and looks back over his shoulder.

"Or maybe I will," he says an amendment to his previous statement, letting his back dip slightly, hips tilted up as he gives Philip a smirk. Granted, it's far more in admiration of Philip's cock and what more it might do than Philip's bed, but Freddie's still very nearly on his knees all the same. It counts.

"Jesus Christ," he murmurs, following Freddie toward the bed, his hands roaming over his hips, staring down at him now that his hips are tilted like that, practically an invitation for Philip to do whatever the hell he wants. Whatever has gotten Freddie here and into this position, he doesn't care, all he knows is what he wants and he crowds forward, closer to him, then ducks his head to press his mouth to the small of Freddie's back, breathing hot against his skin. Both his hands slide down, fingers gripping Freddie's ass, pressing into muscle, spreading his cheeks as his tongue slides out and he's not quite at Freddie's ass yet, but he's terribly close.

He pushes again, not particularly hard, but he wants Freddie on the bed with his ass in the air. He wants to follow him, he wants to get on his knees between his legs and spend as much time as Freddie will give him with his ass. There's no question of him getting hard again, not now, and he reaches down absently with one hand, squeezing his cock before he returns the hand to Freddie's ass and gives another push.

"Get on the bed," he murmurs, his voice low. "All the way."

There's nothing so intensely satisfying as turning someone else on, Freddie's found, and the sound of Philip's low exhale of appreciation burns inside him, nearly as fulfilling as those warm hands smoothing over his skin to curl around his hips. His eyelids flutter closed when he feels Philip press in closer and fold over him, wet lips pressing to the small of his back followed quickly by a slick, slow tongue.

He shudders slightly, breath punched from his lungs and cock hanging full and heavy between his legs. There's intent in Philip's tone, promise, and Freddie wastes no time in crawling forward as asked, stretching out atop the length of the mattress and lowering himself to his elbows as he looks back over his shoulder again. He keeps his legs carefully spread a bit and his hips raised, well aware of how he'll look from Philip's angle, hoping it'll be just as enticing as he's hoping.

"Gonna have a wank in me?" he asks with a grin, well aware that's likely not exactly what Philip has planned though Freddie can't say he'd be disappointed all the same.

Given the time he's from, Philip can say for certain he's never once encountered someone quite so willing to simply spread themselves out in such a manner just to be looked at. To be touched. In Dublin and in London, any encounters Philip had with men were hurried and rushed, frantic exchanges in bathroom stalls, never in someone's flat lest the neighbours discover they were living next to someone temperamental. It's so different here and even with everything he's done since arriving, he doesn't think there's been anyone quite like Freddie. So willing, so effortlessly alluring.

Crawling onto the mattress as well, Philip runs his hands up the back of Freddie's thighs until he reaches his ass again and he kneads his muscles, then gives a quick flash of his grin when Freddie speaks and looks back over his shoulder. "Think we can do a little better than that, don't you?" he asks just before he ducks his head, his tongue tracing the rim of Freddie's ass without a bit of preamble. He can taste the lube, taste the sweat drying on Freddie's skin and he groans against his skin, pressing his tongue deeper inside of him for more.