"Fuck, fuck," he breathes as he comes, his fingers clenching tight in Freddie's hair and he can feel his dick pulsing, the way Freddie's mouth changes, letting Philip come into his mouth. He can feel, too, the wetness on Freddie's lips, the bit dripping down his chin, and he groans again, because although he can't quite see it, he doesn't need to.

It would be easy to walk away from this. To wipe himself clean and zip up his trousers and go without a look back and with someone else, he would do exactly that. But Freddie isn't someone else, he's not some nameless fuck Philip will never call again, and when his fingers untangle from Freddie's hair, it's only to drop to the back of his neck, to tug him up slightly.

"Move back," he says, his voice low. There's a low chaise behind them and he doesn't think they've attracted any attention yet.