Philip's still breathing heavy; Freddie can make out the rise and fall of his chest in the dark and, still grinning, he slides Philip's pants and trousers up, tucking him back in, still slick and sticky. He'll feel it all the way back to his place, Freddie knows. It's a nice thought.

There's something almost tender in the way Philip's fingers uncurl from his hair and slide to the back of his neck, encouraging him to stand. With a hum, Freddie obeys, licking some of the slick from his bottom lip as he pushes up to his feet. He's hard inside his own trousers and part of him wonders if Philip will give him a kiss and then leave him wanting. Freddie can't say he'd even mind exactly. With anyone else, yes. Not with Philip.

It's a bit fucked maybe, but Freddie hardly cares.

He steps back as Philip instructs, glancing behind him before taking a seat on the chaise. His gaze flicks to the garden beyond Philip's shoulder, the thrill of possibly getting caught still biting at his skin.

"Returning the favour then?" he asks, his voice teasing as he lays back a bit, putting himself on offer.