pontmercyfriend | You're something like a phenomena. [For Freddie; backdated to the night of Nov. 30th]

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You're something like a phenomena. [For Freddie; backdated to the night of Nov. 30th]

Continued from here.

Marius delights in the huff of laughter that escapes from Freddie as he presses his hand against him, letting the breathless sound and the way Freddie's eyelids flutter wash right over him. He barely registers the noise of the door opening, clutching as he is at Freddie. He stumbles into the room, dragged by the front of his shirt, and just catches a glimpse of the space of it before Freddie has him pressed up against a wall.

He groans as their mouths meet once more, frantic and hungry; yearning for even more physical closeness, as though they could fuse together through their lips alone. Marius drinks in the sight of Freddie with eager eyes, no longer restrained by the dimly light atmosphere of the Halloween party or any sort of nerves. His mind whirls as he grasps at Freddie with desperate hands, shivering as Freddie exposes the skin beneath his shirt.

And then Freddie has his wrists pinned to the wall.

Marius' head falls back, neck arching with an elongated breath of a moan at the feeling; he shudders. He moans again into Freddie's mouth, rolling his hips forward onto the leg between his thighs, craving the friction desperately.

He whimpers into the words Freddie presses against his lips, nearly rising onto his toes and hips arching forward as Freddie squeezes his wrists. He spills curses in French and English into his mouth before he manages enough focus for coherent speech.

"As many times as you want," he whispers back, voice raw from wanting as he tries to catch his breath. He watches Freddie through heavily-lidded eyes, savoring the sight of his kiss-swollen lips and the desire radiating from all over his body. He rolls his hips again, both for the friction and to encourage Freddie further, egg him on, as the saying goes.

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Marius' cursing grows louder, and more constant, as Freddie takes more of his cock inside of his mouth. He curses blur together, an agglomeration of French and English, to the point where he doesn't even know what language he's speaking any longer. Well, moaning, any longer, really.

He shifts his legs and his hips with increasing urgency, now so close to the edge that any bit of friction against his sweaty skin feels like a slice of paradise. Freddie's laughter sparks right through his entire body, and as soon as his hand wraps around him, begins to jerk him, Marius moans, breath coming in stuttering waves. He keeps one hand tangled in Freddie's hair while the other falls to the sheets, slipping against the fabric as he tries to find purchase.

His hips roll at such a speed that they might as well be rolling of their own accord when Freddie places his mouth back down on his cock. His whole self shakes as gasps fall from between his lips, rising in crescendo as Marius feels the stars burst behind the edge of his vision and pleasure entirely overwhelms him.

"Freddie," he tries to warn him, back and neck both bowing sharply. "Oh!" One hand digs into Freddie's hair; the other, into the sheets. He pants and groans, his whole chest moving as wildly as the rest of him.

He lets out an elongated moan, a blend of more curses and Freddie's name, as his hips jerk and he spills into Freddie's lovely, amazing mouth.

The roll of Marius's hips turns wild in moments, hands buried in Freddie's hair, tugging and pulling as Freddie squares his shoulder and groans around the length of Marius's cock. He's always loved this part, this moment right before a man comes, when he loses all inhibition and turns downright primal. There's nothing like it in the world. Apart from getting fucked, maybe.

Marius is murmuring all sort of things, words in English and French and everything in between. He may be speaking in tongues for all the sense some of it makes and Freddie can't help but feel that deep in his chest, a warmth spreading outward and all through him, a warmth that makes his cock ache between his legs.

And Marius does warn him ahead of time, both in his movements and his words, tugging sharply at Freddie's hair as his legs begin to shake, whining Freddie's name.

With a grunt. Freddie sinks down deeper, as far as he can go without triggering his gag reflex, and then Marius is spilling, thick and hot and glorious. Pulling back a little, Freddie swallows and coughs just a bit before his grin turns sharp and he curls a hand tight around Marius, jerking him through it, ducking low to collect another rope of come across his tongue, eyes turned upward to watch the shape of Marius's mouth and the expression on his face, to watch as he surrenders completely to his orgasm.

Marius is always amazed by the sheer intensity of how much he feels at the moment of release. He's read myriad amounts of poetry and prose describing the "ecstasy of love." All of those words are never enough to fully capture the experience of coming undone by someone else's touch.

And, God, is Freddie teaching him new meanings of the word 'ecstasy.'

He finds himself dizzy, lightheaded, and unable to keep from murmuring in all those languages as Freddie groans around him; as he grunts and sinks down even further on his cock, taking more of Marius in than he expects. He gasps, pulling desperately at Freddie's hair as his own head jerks against the pillow, almost in time with the movements of Freddie's hand, jerking him through his pleasure, which washes over him in so many waves.

Marius just manages to catch a glimpse of the way Freddie watches him before his eyes flutter and his head hits the pillow again.

Even as he comes down, Marius can't keep his body from squirming. From aching in the wake of his orgasm.

"Oh," he manages, voice raw and cracked and entirely debauched. He heaves from his chest all the way down to his thighs, while the world spins around him. "Fuck."

It's been too long for Freddie to remember exactly how Peter had tasted and it hardly seems to matter besides. Marius has flooded his mouth, hot and thick, shaking under the force of it and it's all Freddie can do to swallow as he catches his breath. He looks completely undone, legs spread wide and skin flushed a lovely shade of pink from neck to navel and Freddie licks his lips as he slides his hand up Marius's cock one last time, squeezing the last out of him.

Sitting back on his haunches, Freddie brings his fingers to his lips, tasting still more of Marius as he wraps his other hand around himself, indulges in a slow stroke from base to tip as he grins.

"Good then?" he asks, though he well knows the answer. It'd sure as hell been good for him, at least, and he'd like to think that's fairly obvious to Marius given how hard he is. Still, he keeps his strokes loose and slow, relishing the touch just as it is instead of pushing on to any sort of finish. He drops his other hands, fingers sticky with spit and come, to Marius's thigh, grazing up the skin.

With a cock of his head, he asks, "Gonna let me fuck you now then?"

Trouble is, of course, he's only got a couple condoms on him and no lube to speak of. There might be some lotion in the toilet, but Freddie's not checked yet and, if he's honest, he's not too keen on moving just yet. Not when Marius makes such a pretty sight.

Marius keeps on inhaling desperately, all but gulping down air as the high of his release lingers like a fog around and through him. He can feel that his hair's a mess and the flush throughout his body as Freddie swallows the last of his come, looking utterly decadent as he does so. Marius shudders, fingers catching in the sheet as he tries to ground himself.

Freddie moves languidly to sit up and back on his legs, licking his lips and stroking himself all at once. That grin sends aftershocks right through Marius; he cannot contain the whimpering noise that falls from his lips at the sight, hips shifting again against the bed. He leans up to kiss Freddie, deeply, wanting, groaning at the taste of himself as he answers Freddie's question without words.

But Marius does answer him with words, too, wanting to let him know just how good it was for him, as he savors Freddie's hand, warm and solid, against his thigh. "Amazing," he confirms, voice breathless and cracking as he tries to compose himself. He can see, by Freddie's own hardness, how much he enjoyed it, and he flushes deeper at the sight, feeling proud and glad to be the source of that arousal. He lets out a huff of laughter, his pleasure obvious in the glint in his eyes and the crinkle of his nose and smile.

"Yes," he more whispers than anything else, making to reach up to Freddie to pull him flush against him.

He doesn't realize how close he is to one of the end tables by the bed until he accidentally catches the knob of it with his elbow in the process of grabbing Freddie. He lets out a startled curse, more out of surprise than actual pain.

But he grazed the knob to accidentally open the drawer, and much to his surprise, among the obligatory Bible that always seems to come in hotel rooms (for what purpose he still doesn't understand, given that he doesn't believe anyone uses hotel rooms for praying), he finds a small bottle, labeled "Holiday Spirit" with "Under the Mistletoe" listed as the flavor.

Marius' eyes widen for a moment, once he realizes what it is. And then he throws back his head and laughs, holding up the bottle for Freddie to see. "I think Santa is real after all," he says, entirely amused and grateful for such a stroke of luck.

By means of answer, Freddie assumes, Marius pushes himself up to capture Freddie's mouth in a wet, demanding sort of kiss. With a groan, Freddie sinks into it immediately, gripping his own cock tighter as their tongues meet, as Marius tastes himself in the heat of Freddie's mouth and drinks him clean. They're still breathing a bit roughly when Marius pulls back to answer with words this time, reaching one arm forward.

The moment is interrupted briefly when Marius smacks his elbow against the edge of the night table. Freddie laughs, a sharp sound of surprise that dies away when he notices the little bottle inside the drawer that's been knocked open. Marius spots it at the same time, reaching in to show Freddie the label. There are some things about this place, good and bad, that Freddie will never understand, but the sheer convenience of some things, the regularity of happenstance, is near the top of the list.

Marius's wide smile and bright laugh are more than enough for Freddie to not question a thing right now and he own face breaks into a smile as he takes the little bottle from Marius's hand.

"Think it smells like cinnamon?" he asks, popping open the lid and taking a sniff. Turns out to smell a bit like cloves, actually, sweet with just a bit of chemical tang and he shrugs, still grinning as he squeezes a sizable dollop onto his fingers.

"Any condoms in there as well?" he asks, dropping those fingers between Marius's thighs before he can so much as look, searching for and finding the slick rim of his hole and pressing just slightly. He's tight post-orgasm and Freddie knows better than to shove in just yet. Instead, he massages, lips still curled in a grin.

That inconspicuous little bottle, laying so innocently against the leather of the token Bible, is one of Darrow's kinder tricks, Marius thinks, as he watches Freddie's reaction to said bottle. The smile that breaks across his face in response makes Marius' own smile brighten, unfurl wider with another giggle let out in a huff of air.

"Does it?" He asks, head tilted to the side on the pillow for a better vantage point of Freddie examining the lube. His breath catches and a tremor runs through him when Freddie pours a bit of the lube on his fingers. Marius' legs shift in anticipation, messing up the neatness of the sheets even further.

"Let me lo - oh!" Marius has his hand halfway to the drawer again when Freddie presses in with his slick fingers, sending another jolt through his skin. His hand curls into itself on the bed as he lifts his other hand to grasp at Freddie's face. His body curves into an arch as his eyes glaze over, unable to focus on anything but Freddie and that magnificent smile hanging on such lovely lips. Heat coils in his belly, serpentine, and he pulls Freddie to him for another wanting, greedy kiss, hips beginning to move against his fingers.

Freddie doesn't let Marius take a sniff just yet; his fingers are otherwise occupied, after all. Instead, he tosses the bottle aside for the moment, not far enough it can't be easily reached, but not close enough to get in the way either. Marius has stretched backward once more, again reaching back behind him for the drawer though he's quickly distracted by the press of Freddie's finger. Grinning at the reaction he gets, Freddie slips his finger out to only circle Marius's sensitive rim, dipping shallowly once again, teasing little by little.

He's still aching between his thighs, but watching Marius writhe beneath him is a marvel all its own. He arches gently, all pale, freckled skin and lean muscle, lips slack on a quiet moan as he rolls his hips upward, silently begging for more.

And Freddie's more than willing to provide, but not without having some fun first. He slips his finger in once again, deeper this time, twisting his wrist as Marius begins to loosen up little by little. He watches carefully, taking every cue until he can slide his finger in as far as it'll go, crooking the top knuckle, searching.

"Find any then?" he asks then, conversationally, as he nods at the drawer again. Then pulls his finger back to slide in a second along side it.

Marius sees the bottle fall and land on the other side of the bed out of of the corner of his eyes; the lube may as well vanish into thin air in the next instant for all he cares, caught up as he is with all of Freddie's teasing and that grin, making his body ebb like the tide across the bed, seeking more of that touch currently so delicate and light. In the wake of his orgasm, Marius feels even the smallest touch most keenly; his breath hitches and his thighs tremble with each circling motion of Freddie's fingers.

Freddie's gaze on him inspires more fluidity to his motions; more urgency. Marius' hand glances against the heat of Freddie's skin and he knows Freddie must be aching himself. His touch strengthens as he drags his hand down Freddie's body, down his chest, as his own hips roll and he moans.

And then that finger is, suddenly, inside him once again, moving deeper and at different angles. Marius moans louder, more insistent, with his body arching more sharply at the friction. All of him is flush with wanting and sensation, sprawling through him like sea foam across waves at Freddie's touch. He feels as though he hasn't yet come down from his previous bout of pleasure; his hand curls against the heat of Freddie's chest.

"Dieu, Freddie!" He exclaims as that searching knuckle brushes against a deep, soft spot in him that sends stars shooting through his veins. Marius' whole body shudders, neck arching against the pillows as he writhes into Freddie's touch, frantically craving more of it. Again, French curses fall from his mouth, in between more fervent, voluptuous cries. His chest quakes as he can't seem to catch his breath.

And Freddie is so composed, asking him again about the drawer beside them. The sort of composure that encourages Marius' lips pressing together, teeth occasionally scraping the surface of his lower lip, as he tries to form a coherent answer.

"Still looking," he manages on a huff of breath, hand shakily reaching in the direction of the drawer. His hand again pauses when Freddie slides a second finger into him, digging into the bed briefly before Marius brings it to grasp at the bare skin of Freddie's chest along with his other hand. He moves them both to grasp desperately at Freddie's back, tugging him closer as his hips move faster.

"Keeping getting distracted," he tries to tease but the crack in his voice rather gives him away.

Freddie finds that spot inside rather easily, grinning wide at Marius's delightful reaction. He's so responsive is the thing, writhing and moaning with every touch, and all of it going straight to Freddie's cock. Marius still hasn't managed to find the condoms, but Freddie supposes he can't be blamed given that Freddie is being rather distracting. And delighting in that task, of course.

"S'pose you should work on focusing then," he remarks with a teasing grin, slowly pumping two fingers within the heat of Marius's body. It's a tight fit and he goes slow until Marius gradually begins to loosen. He slides his other hand up the soft skin of Marius's inner thigh.

It might be a bit much to make Marius come like this so soon after making him come with his mouth so Freddie slows his hand soon enough, slipping his fingers free before giving him a playful slap to the hip as he shifts his weight and reaches for the drawer himself.

Whatever Santa had provided the holiday lube, has also provided holiday condoms, it seems, as Freddie pulls out a string of red and green foil packets. They're all the same size which seems a bit limiting, but they appear they'll fit and Freddie tugs off one, dropping the packet onto Marius's chest with a wide grin as he deposits the rest back into the drawer. "Do the honors," he says, his knees pressed right up against Marius's sides as he slides a hand over his cock, keeping himself hard. Keeping himself ready.

"Suppose I should," Marius replies,gasping softly and eyes glazed as though he's focusing on anything but Freddie and the teasing, knowing way he's working his fingers into Marius. The way Freddie smiles, too, self-satisfied and delighted all at once, or so it seems to Marius, makes him ache and roll his hips down toward Freddie's hand just as much as his fingers. "But you are making it rather hard." He's pleased by the fact that he manages to sound teasing as well as breathless when he says it.

Marius gnaws on his lips as Freddie moves a hand up his thigh, warm and promising. He groans a bit when Freddie pulls away, but he's also grateful for the chance to breathe a bit, for the dizzying warmth building in him to settle, as Freddie accomplishes the task he couldn't.

He laughs at the slap to his hip, shifting himself to better accommodate Freddie in between his legs. He laughs more when he sees the actual condoms, even more ridiculously festive than the lube. He grins up at Freddie as he takes the packet on his chest, carefully tearing it open so as not to rip the cargo inside. "My pleasure," he says, voice going hollow and chest tightening as he watches Freddie cradling his own cock, a sight that goes straight down to his own.

Marius leans up again to meet Freddie's lips, kissing him recklessly for a moment before pulling back to focus on the task at hand. He brings his bare hand to take over stroking Freddie's cock, giving him a fair few teasing strokes with blatant desire in his eyes and the way his body quivers in waiting. He rolls on the condom a few moments later, leaning up again for another heated kiss.

"Whenever you're ready," he whispers in between kisses and a few quiet noises of wanting.

While he's hardly expecting Marius to say no, some part of him isn't quite expecting Marius to agree so enthusiastically. He pushes himself up, one hand holding the condom Freddie had so unceremoniously dropped onto his chest, meeting Freddie's lips with a hungry, fervent kiss before replacing Freddie's hand on his cock with his own.

And Freddie lets him, opening his mouth to the press of Marius's tongue and grunting softly at the touch of Marius's hand. It's a sure touch, indulgent as he strokes from base to tip and Freddie rocks up just a bit, rolling his hips forward to fuck into the circle of Marius's grip, shuddering slightly.

Moments later and the condom is on him, rolled down by Marius's fingers even as Marius continues kissing him, their lips red and swollen, slick with spit. Freddie lifts a hand, curls it around the nape of Marius's neck to keep him there, nipping lightly at those pink lips and feeling the whisper of them against his own when Marius speaks again. He replies only with a nod before leaning forward to push Marius back into the mattress, rearranging slightly as he hovers over him.

He grabs the pillow from the other side of the bed, urges Marius to lift his hips up before stuffing it beneath and then grabbing one of Marius's legs, curling it high up around his waist as he kneels in close. He doesn't ask if Marius himself is ready before pressing the tip of his cock to Marius's hole, but he does watch Marius's face carefully, only teasing for a moment before pushing forward, going slow so only his tip pushes in at first, not quite breaching the tight ring of muscle before pulling back, waiting for Marius to breathe and relax and let him.

Marius sucks those soft groans into his mouth, tightening the grip of his hand as Freddie shivers into his touch, hips rocking upward into his hand. And he keeps kissing Freddie, unable to stop, their swollen lips pressing and sliding together in increasing urgency. Marius leans in to Freddie's hand around his neck, sighing at the feel of his teeth against the soft, plump surface of his lips.

He feels more than he actually sees Freddie's nod in response; his breath hitching, eyes heavily lidded, as he leans back into the mattress. He moves with Freddie, lifting his hips while Freddie places the pillow beneath them. His breath catches in a gasp again as Freddie curls his leg around his waist; Marius moves his other leg to graze against Freddie's hip, the heel of his foot brushing against the back of his thigh. He brings both hands to the sides of Freddie's face, one hand tangling in his hair and the other moving to grasp desperately at every inch of exposed skin he can reach.

Marius' back arches, Freddie's name on a breathless moan falling from his lips as Freddie teases at his entrance; he watches the man above him with wide, eager eyes. For a few moments, increasingly desperate whimpers leave his mouth as Marius concentrates on taking steadying breathes, relaxing around Freddie as he gradually pushes in; his fingers catch in his blonde hair.

In the next moment, he squeezes his leg around Freddie's waist, pushing his himself against his cock in both encouragement and need. Marius' fingers curl and uncurl in Freddie's hair and his other hand catches in the warm skin of Freddie's back; he can feel his chest heaving as he watches Freddie, drinking him in and silently pleading for more with his eyes.

It's these moments, ones just like this with Marius's legs wrapped 'round his waist, Marius's hands on his face and their eyes locked, it's these moments that Freddie loves most about sex. There's a connection here unlike any else, two people coming together as one, either near-strangers or long-time lovers, it makes no difference. The heat and intensity is different with every partner, different with every meeting even, but each one fulfilling in its own way.

Marius is especially pleasing, his eagerness overflowing as he stares up at Freddie with wide, dark eyes. He's clutching at Freddie, fingers tangling in Freddie's hair, a hand on Freddie's shoulders and side, gripping as he arches up, silently begging for Freddie to slide in further.

It's more than Freddie needs, really, breath catching quietly in his throat as he tilts his hips and sinks in. Even with all the prep, Marius is still tight so Freddie holds back a bit, easing in slow. He doesn't ask if Marius is okay, doesn't ask if he needs to go slower, but does watch Marius intently, examining his face for any flicker of discomfort, reading the pull of his muscles and hitch of his breath.

Halfway in, he stops, his heart pounding and he leans down to bite lightly at Marius's bottom lip before rolling his hips forward once again, sinking in further as he breathes out into Marius's mouth.

The intimacy of sex catches Marius off guard every time; the room shrinking to just their two bodies on the bed. The friction of their skin that sparks like kindling. It all leaves him breathless and stunned a bit.

Intense yearning glows like phosphorescence between the press of their bodies, as Marius clutches at the softness of Freddie's hair and skin. His breath keeps stumbling over itself in his throat; his heart beats out of time as he basks in the warmth of Freddie's gaze, meeting it with his own, just as bright and just as full of wanting. There is no room for loneliness in the ways they hold each other now, and Marius is glad to lose himself to the abandon of desire.

Marius shivers as Freddie's breath catches; the press of his cock, gradual as it sinks into him, makes him ache all over, makes him moan, long and low, with the increasing pleasure it brings. Freddie's eyes, focused entirely on him, make him arch his hips forward, seek more of that beautiful ache. His thighs squeeze around Freddie's waist, his hands clutch again at Freddie's hair and his back for purchase. He can't quite catch his breath and he can't contain the noises, the moans, the whimpers, and the gasping.

He shudders again as Freddie bites his lower lip, letting the gentleness of the gesture rush right through him. He leans up himself at Freddie's breath in his mouth, letting out a groan in his, before crashing their lips desperately together. His chest heaves and his hips undulate as Freddie sinks further into him. Marius feels so alive.

Marius gasps beneath him, shudders when Freddie slides in deep, and Freddie soaks it all in, slowly building a rhythm between their bodies as Marius clutches at Freddie's skin and hair. There's nothing passive in either of them, Marius lifting his hips with every thrust, opening himself to the slide of Freddie's cock.

The kiss Marius presses to Freddie's mouth is nothing short of hungry. It's uncoordinated and a little bit sloppy and Freddie laughs against him before fucking in harder, swallowing another gasp as soon as it's breathed. The angle makes it nearly impossible for Freddie to reach between them and give Marius a good tug as he goes so he only presses closer, offers the flat of his belly for Marius to rock against with every push.

His skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, hair matted to his forehead. Marius looks much the same, his cheeks flushed pink and skin burning beneath Freddie's touch.

"You're making some wonderful little noises," he says a moment later, voice rough as he thrusts in harder. "You always sound this good?"

Marius builds on the rhythm Freddie starts, his entire body shivering and moving with a serpentine intensity to meet each of Freddie's increasingly harder thrusts; he digs his heels in a bit against Freddie's lower back, his knees and thighs grazing against the sweat-slicked skin of Freddie's hips with increasing urgency and wanting.

Marius' body creaks like the bed beneath them as their rhythm surges to a dizzying pace; he cries out, guttural noises increasing in pitch and length each time Freddie's cock slides into him. He swallows Freddie's laughter, nearly gulps it down as he keeps pressing his lips desperately to Freddie's, each kiss and attempted kiss messier than the previous one. He groans as Freddie presses closer, writhing against his toned stomach with breathy curses in French and English both.

Freddie appears as undone and wrecked as Marius feels; Marius drinks in the sight of him greedily, digging his nails into the sweaty flush of Freddie's skin and the tousled mess of his hair. He digs his heels into Freddie's back with a bit more intensity, asking without words for Freddie to fuck him even harder.

He smiles, chokes on a breath at the compliment as he arches his neck back, trying to regain some semblance of coherency in his thoughts, which is proving damn near impossible with the way Freddie and his touch and all of him absolutely surrounds Marius. The roughness of Freddie's voice goes straight to Marius' cock.

He lifts his head to all but glue his lips to Freddie's neck, sucking and nibbling on what skin he can latch onto. "Only," he manages, voice thoroughly ruined already, "only when I'm being fucked by an artist." He leans back to catch Freddie's mouth in another fervid kiss.

With each desperate grapple of Marius's hands on his skin, every ragged gasp and shuddered pull, Freddie can feel himself hurtling closer to the edge. It's building in the base of his spine even as the muscles in his thighs and back start to ache from the exertion. Panting, Freddie plants a hand next to Marius's shoulder on the bed, using it for leverage as he rocks his hips in harder. Faster. Skin slapping against skin, the very best sound Freddie's ever heard short of the sound of someone coming.

Marius's response surprises a laugh out of him, rough and breathless, altering the rhythm they've built as their mouths slide together, wet and wholly uncoordinated.

"Like how that sounds," he admits, words barely audible through his heavy breathing as the sweat rolls down the side of his face. Marius is equally flushed beneath him, eyes wide and nearly black with arousal and Freddie starts to lose his ability to hold on, shoulders curving as he bends closer, rocking in hard.

"Fuck," he grunts, reaching down with his free hand to grab Marius by the thigh, hiking him up higher to give Freddie a better angle. "Fuck, fuck-- ahhh."

His orgasm crashes through him as he shoves in, spilling into the sheath of the rubber. He doesn't quite stop moving, jerking in a few more thrusts, buried in the blissfully tight heat of Marius's body as it crashes over him.

Marius feels himself beginning to spiral to the edge, the movements of his hips growing more erratic in response to Freddie's increasing pace. His hands slip against Freddie's sweat-soaked skin as he tries to hold on, so that he winds up digging his fingers into his flesh. Each pant Freddie makes runs right through him, down to his toes that curl against where he has his feet wrapped around Freddie. He moans as Freddie moves his hand next to his shoulder, bringing him closer as the sounds of their bodies coming together grows louder in the quiet of the room.

And God, that laughter. Marius groans, inhaling the roughness of Freddie's laughter as their mouths slide and press together, as messy and as haphazard as the rest of their movements. He attempts to smile around their kissing, but it rather gets lost in the shuffle as pleasure and heat combine intensely in his stomach, sprawling out to the base of his spine and his chest.

He tries to reply to Freddie but words fail him as the sparking heat builds to a crescendo between them.

"Oh," he gasps as Freddie grabs his thigh, starts moving in harder, faster. He angles himself better to help with Freddie, presses up the best he can against the flat expanse of Freddie's stomach, increasingly desperate for that friction as he can feel Freddie start to come apart. His own cursing increases in both volume and quantity, voice cracking with each thrust. His whole body quivers and jerks as Freddie falls apart.

He moves his hands to soothe through Freddie's sweat-soaked hair, to smooth down the sides of his face and help carry him through his orgasm, though he feels the brink of his own pleasure looming. His legs tighten around Freddie's waist, and his hands clutch at his skin. His breath keeps catching in his throat, and he can't stop gasping for breath.

Marius keens, body bows, neck and back both arched sharply, as he follows Freddie in his orgasm moments later, a string of curses and moans falling from his lips as his body trembles.

He can feel Marius's hands on him, fingers curling through his hair, not grabbing anymore, but soothing, a gentle touch as Freddie spills himself. Those hands are soon on his shoulders and sides again, pulling Freddie in with every last, aching thrust. Marius's breath is ragged as well, shattered as it catches in his throat and Freddie struggles to open his eyes again, the pleasure still rolling through him as he stares down at Marius's flushed face.

And then he's coming.

Freddie feels it first in the tight hold around his cock and the bow of Marius's back beneath him, the tremor in his muscles. Hears in next in the sharp gasp and gorgeous bi-lingual curses that fall from Marius's lips. And sees it in the expression that crosses Marius's face, the roll of his eyes and the shape of that wide, gorgeous mouth.

Unable to hold himself up any longer, Freddie collapses a moment later, his heart still pounding and body absolutely covered in sweat. He pants against the sharp curve of Marius's shoulder, the muscles in his back and thighs crying out in relief as he struggles to catch his breath.

"Fucking hell," he manages after a long moment, swallowing tightly, and then laughing again. "Did you seriously just come un-touched?"

Marius is torn between watching and trying to aid Freddie along in falling apart and falling apart himself. He keeps choking on air as he attempts to catch his breath in between the various curses falling from his lips. He shudders, feeling the sweat and come both sink into his skin as he clutches at Freddie desperately, trying to focus on his eyes, still heavy and lidded with his own pleasure.

As much as his own thighs ache, Marius' hips keep rolling towards Freddie, his legs still squeezing the defined sharpness of his hips as the world blurs and spins around the edges of his vision.

Marius feels raw and he aches, but God does he feel so wonderful in the wake of such pleasure.

He cradles Freddie to him when he collapses, moving his hands to stroke along his shoulders and through the dampness of his hair. Marius keeps letting out little pleased noises at the sensation of Freddie panting against his own shoulder, his entire body still shivering in the aftermath.

Marius leans his head forward against Freddie's, laughing himself. His voice comes out even more cracked than before, worn from such thorough use. Still, he can't quite bring himself to care, caught up as he is in Freddie and the press of their sweat soaked bodies.

"I did," he admits, pausing for a beat. "Seriously." And then he's laughing again, still in disbelief that he actually did come like that. "Thanks to you. God, I haven't...that was..." He struggles to find adequate words to sum up just how incredible that was; how fantastic Freddie was. "You really are an artist in fucking," he says, still rubbing his hands across the expanse of Freddie's back.

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."

Marius blinks, deliberately and slowly, as he attempts to catch up with his own breath, a whirlwind just barely contained in his chest as he laughs with Freddie above him. He smiles at the kiss to his skin, savoring it as he lets out a long breath, caught up at last. A lazy haziness hangs around them in the afterglow, like a curtain, cutting them off from the rest of the world. This, Marius finds, is just as pleasurable as the act itself, and he enjoys it greatly.

"Yes?" He says, still letting his hands wander, soft and aimless, across Freddie's heated skin, as warm as the steam rising above a kettle of tea. He watches Freddie, still smiling, takes in the flush satisfaction of his appearance. "Well, you probably don't need to hear it from me, but the practice has clearly paid off. You're wonderful." And he means it, truly. He might be excessive in his compliments occasionally, but Marius is especially earnest in the wake of fucking.

Marius hasn't had as much practice with different people as Freddie has, but with the one person he'd previously been intimate with, they'd had sex enough times for him to know what he's doing. But he appreciates the compliment, feels it unfurl in the burst of confidence he feels. "Thank you," he says as Freddie moves to his elbows again. Marius smiles again at that touch, leaning into it as he brings one hand up to smooth through Freddie's own tangled hair.

He's surprised by the question, though he supposes he shouldn't be. Marius has never been one for subtlety.

"No," he answers honestly. "I can't say that it is 'my style,' so to speak. But I thought, what's the harm in trying something new?"

"Not that you're just 'something new,'" he adds, not wanting to cause offense. "I've really enjoyed our conversations, on top of everything else."

Possibly, he is ruining what books have called 'the moment,' but Marius finds he can't help himself.

Marius is just earnest enough that Freddie very nearly doesn't doubt his sincerity. It's easy to lie in these moments, Freddie's found. Once all the hunger has been sated, once a person's been stripped down to sweat and breath and come, it's easy to say things one doesn't entirely mean, to make promises, however small.

Not that Marius is making any sorts of promises, of course. Thank Christ.

"What conversations?" Freddie remarks instead, laughing just a bit because it's easier to do that than face the weight of whatever it is Marius is actually saying. "The art stuff? You realize I'm just talking out my arse on all that. It's not like I've had any training."

Not really, at least. Yes, he'd gone to uni, but it hadn't been for art, exactly. And he'd left almost straight away, fed up with the theory and the classes and a dozen other reasons, one's he'll never tell anyone if he has his way. The point is, he's not an artist despite what Marius or Noah might think. He draws on his walls because he gets bored, no other reason. He's not about to make it a bigger deal than it is.

"We can just fuck, you know," he points out then, still draped heavy over Marius. "No reason it's got to be anything more than it is. You don't have to pretend you like me for more than my cock."

Marius knows he doesn't really know Freddie; this is only the second time they've met, and, again, by chance, really. Still, he finds himself intrigued by him, curious. Wanting to know him better, beyond just liking him for his cock, which he does, actually, already; he admires his confidence, his wit. Merely friendly, he insists to himself.

He can do this, he tells himself, determination underlying his thoughts. He can absolutely sleep with someone and want to get to know them better without falling for them. People, people like Freddie, even, do it all the time, so why can't he?

"Well, quasi-conversations, I suppose would be more accurate," Marius admits with a sheepish grin, flushing a bit with embarrassment. "Considering. But even still. Pretty clever for talking out of your ass." He eyes flash with amusement as he attempts to mimic Freddie's accent, teasing.

"Fair enough," he agrees, content still with Freddie draped over him. "But is liking you for your cock and finding you interesting as a person mutually exclusive, out of curiosity?"

You're something like a phenomena. [For Freddie; backdated to the night of Nov. 30th]

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