It could still be a trick, Freddie knows, an elaborate attempt to get Freddie all hot and bothered before tossing him aside.

But Noah's hand on him is warm and claiming, fondling him hard, and those lips are brushing hotly against his own. Carefully, Freddie frees one hand from under Noah's shirt to cup the side of his face instead, keeping him there as he grazes his thumb along the corner of Noah's mouth. "It's a ten minute walk back to my place," he says, a low whisper. "Can stretch you out across my bed, take my time with you. Or," he adds, nuzzling a line to Noah's ear to whisper, "I can fuck you here, in the toilet. You want it that bad?"