With every movement of Freddie's finger Noah can't help making a quiet sound, it's such a delicious tease, almost, almost inside, almost enough pressure, enough friction, leaving him dangling on the edge.

"I want you to," he says, his voice breathy and soft, a whispered confession. He's almost begging, even though he knows they can't, it's too much. But he isn't a hundred percent sure that if Freddie really did it, bent him over the side of the pool, that he'd be able to say no. "Please..."

Noah's heart is beating a mile a minute. Slowly, he starts to rut up against Freddie, sleepy, deliberate movements in hopes that it won't be obvious, that no one will notice, but he's achingly hard and he needs more.