Philip's not wasting any time, not bothering to tease or draw it out. He sucks wetly, greedily, and Freddie bits his lip harder as he grips Philip's hair tight and rolls his hips again, sliding in further, welcoming the press of Philip's wandering fingertip. Confined as he is in his own pants and trousers, he can't spread his legs as wide as he'd like, but that's half the appeal, too. He's stuck here just as Philip is, stuck in the middle of some family's back garden with Philip's mouth on his cock and his own knees still damp from sucking on Philip's.

It's heady, really. All of it. The idea that they may still get caught and, more so, that Philip is doing this at all, that he hadn't zipped up and gone on his way just as soon as Freddie'd swallowed.

He lets out another grunt, a choked off little groan as his cock bumps the back of Philip's throat and that finger nearly, nearly touches where he wants it most. Riled as he is, it's enough to send him over and he tugs sharply at Philip's hair, half in pure instinct and half in warning as his cock pulses and he comes, head falling back to blink blindly up at the night sky with a silent cry.