thisfaceismine | (no subject)

[continued from here]

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?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Even without being profiled extensively by Agent Reid, Philip understands he experiences emotions in a different manner than most people. He knows the technical terms of what he's like, what they would call him if they were to get him into an institution and study him. It doesn't bother him, nor does he see anything particularly wrong with it. It's only ever been a benefit to him, from allowing him to leave home, to care for himself, to being able to make money where many others wouldn't be able to.

This applies to how he feels about others, too. He doesn't know that he's ever loved someone by the regular standards one would apply to the emotion. People have to be of some use to him for him to even like them, but he's made his connections over the years and they've all manifested in different ways. He's under no illusions, has no interest in monogamy or finding one person alone to fulfill his needs, but he looks at Freddie now, long and lean and pale, and he feels a flare of possessiveness.

Freddie's his now. At least in part. It's likely as close to affection as Philip gets most days.

"Sleep," he says. "Don't steal anything when you wake up."

Freddie lets out a snort at that, his gaze lingering on Philip's face for a moment or two. Stealing is the absolute last thing on Freddie's mind at the moment, but there's something in Philip's tone he finds amusing, something that's almost casually condescending. It calms the unwelcome coil of warmth in his belly, stops it from becoming something it has no business being as Freddie stretches out further and lets his eyes slip shut.

"Nicking your wallet for sure," he says, his tone sleepy and not in the least bit serious.

In truth, if he has his way, he'll wake up early enough to spend a few minutes with Philip's cock in his mouth before he has to leave. They've exchanged numbers, at least, and Freddie certainly has every intention of checking in here and there. He's not certain what this might be, but Philip is absolutely the best fuck he's had since his arrival here and Freddie's not keen to let that go anytime soon.

And, for now, he won't let himself think of anything else.