It's not a shout by any means, Philip's groan. It's a low rumble that Freddie swears he can nearly feel against his palms where they're still pressed to Philip's thighs. Though maybe that's an actual tremble as Philip works to keep himself upright, twitching into the heat of Freddie's mouth as Freddie opens for him, taking him deeper, sucking harder and messier. Maybe Philip should be working harder at being quiet, maybe they both should be, but Freddie's not much interested in that himself.

The grass under his knees is soft and suitable cushion as he works Philip deeper, sliding one hand down low to drag his thumb along the seam of Philip's balls, pressing at the soft skin just behind. He'd grin if he could, eager and satisfied by the sound of Philip's voice, the hitch when he declares that he's close.

In response, Freddie shifts his angle slightly, hollowing his cheeks as he sinks down low. Waits.

At the first pulse, he pulls back just enough to catch Philip's come at the back of his throat, groaning as it trickles and Philip rocks forward. He lets his mouth go a bit slack, lets the wetness fill him, some of it seeping past his lips before he finally pulls off, gasping in a breath with his hand still curled around Philip's thighs.

The lower half of his face is a mess, he knows, and he swipes a finger along his chin, grinning at the slick as he glances up at Philip, gaze dark.