Marius seems at a loss for words for a moment or two, struggling as he breathes beneath Freddie's weight. Again, he laughs at the statement, feeling a strange and uncharacteristic sort of self-consciousness as he brushes a kiss to Marius's sweaty skin and then hums.

"I've had a fair bit of practice," he admits, turning his head then to grin at Marius, wide and flushed and sated.

If he's honest, he does take a certain amount of pride in his ability to fuck. It's perhaps the one and only thing he knows he's good at, the one thing that can remind him he's worth anything at all.

His muscles are still sore, but with some effort, he pushes up onto his elbows again. Marius is still spread beneath him, legs hitched and bent at the knee, Freddie buried within him. Freddie brushes the hair from Marius's brow with a gentle finger, grinning down at him. "Not so bad yourself," he says, and it may sound like he's just being polite, but it's true too. Freddie's had more than his fair share of sexual partners, but he doesn't often feel the need to compliment people on their prowess. Freddie isn't the type to blow smoke up people's arses.

"You really don't do this often though, do you?" he continues, honestly curious. "Copping off with random blokes, I mean. Doesn't seem your style."