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A gentle breeze blows through the countryside, tangling around his bare legs while he enjoys the early morning quiet, brushing against the hem of the too large button up shirt he's wearing. His hands wrap around a warm cup of coffee and he smiles to himself. Never in a million years would he have thought that he would enjoy the country with its fresh air and wildlife, with the gardens and dirt roads, with its open spaces and small towns. The country had never been a place Thomas saw himself. There was never any reason for him to. Though, he supposes everyone's life is always suspect for some change.
He's so wrapped in with listening to the morning songs from the two-winged flying birds that he doesn't notice when the soft snores coming through the open door behind him or the soft pad of feet as they get closer to him. No, he doesn't notice that Phillip's awake until he feels those large hands slide around his waist, that strong chest flush against his back as he leans down to press a kiss to Thomas's exposed shoulder.
"Morning," Phillip murmurs against his skin, lining a row of kisses along his neck, gentle, light, teasing. "I could get used to this sight every morning."
Thomas rolls his eyes. "Of course you do. Don't make me regret letting you stay the night."
Phillip chuckles, the sound vibrating against Thomas's neck, going right through him. Those fingers tighten at his waist before one hand slides down, sneaking underneath the shirt and toying with the lace of Thomas's underwear. Thomas's heart jumps. Pounds in his chest, but he ignores it.
"I can give you a reason not to," he whispers in his ear, hot breath against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.
Thomas gulps, involuntarily, as his cock starts to stir. The touch against his skin is feather light as it slides along the soft curve of his ass, teasing underneath the hem of the lace.
"Can you now?" he stammers out, trying not to lean back and relax into the touch. Trying to ignore how his cock fills out, pressing against his briefs, as Phillip daringly teases his finger under the fabric, to the crack between his cheeks.
Phillip hums a response against his neck where he's still pressing light kisses. "May I?"
He doesn't wait for a response — just presses his daring finger against the tense muscle of his hole. The soft gasp that slips out of Thomas gives Phillip all the encouragement he needs to work his finger inside of him. Thomas has to tighten his grip on his mug at the light sting. Phillip's teeth play at Thomas's sensitive skin as his finger continues to work its way in and out of Thomas. Phillip works up a steady rhythm, curling a few times, teasing, making Thomas moan and push back against his finger. And Thomas knows he should stop this, but Phillip bites down on his shoulder as he whimpers when Phillip slips his finger out.
And then all contact is lost.
Phillip pulls away from him, leaving every point where his body was on Thomas's cold in the morning air. Thomas almost whines again before he feels his briefs being pulled down, sliding against his erection, creating a teasing friction. The shirt is hiked up around his waist, and Phillip's tongue is soon on him. On his skin, teasing him. On his rim, making him shudder out a moan.
Thomas tries to keep himself composed—anyone could see them out here. Anyone who's just happening to drive by or going for their morning walk... The thought makes his cock twitch. Makes the wave of heat and arousal and pleasure grow stronger. Phillip's tongue teases its way inside of him — just the cautious tip working him open and then he grows stronger, bolder. Thomas closes his eyes, teeth bite down hard on his lip. He feels exposed out here, his ass and cock out for the world, his cheeks spread wide as Phillip licks and prods and bites. Thomas's legs shake under him. He loses his grip on his mug, letting it slip out of his hands and falling down to the ground a story below as he makes a grab for the railing to hold himself.
"Fuck, Phillip," he moans, his grip growing tight, his body rocking back against Phillip's tongue, clenching around him. "Fuck."
Phillip grips tight at the flesh, working his tongue eagerly. Thomas knows he's getting close. Knows that he won't last much longer if Phillip keeps working so feverishly. His legs will give out, and he'll finish without ever having ever been touched. It should be an embarrassment. Should humiliate him completely, but he just moans. He moans — so loud that the whole damn population of Windermere can hear him.
It's all too much, and then nothing at all.
Phillip pulls away, removing all contact, and Thomas whines. He moves back, desperate for the contact until Phillip's hands fall onto his hips and holding him still.
"Stay," Phillip instructs as he lets go of him, "just like that."
And then he's gone. And Thomas is left alone, not daring to move — his ass high in the air, shirt pooled around his waist and his underwear around his knees. He takes deep breaths. Tries to steady himself. Tries to ignore the ache of his cock and the desperate need that's flooded his system.
He takes five whole breaths before he hears Phillip come back. Hears the rip of the condom and the sound goes straight to his cock. His breathing is shaky when Phillip slides two fingers inside of him, cold and slick with lube.
"Phillip," he keens as he pushes back against those fingers — those beautiful, thick fingers sliding into him, stretching him, curling and searching until — " fuck, please."
Thomas has never appreciated Phillip more when he wastes no time in pulling his fingers away and lining himself up. In sliding right into Thomas, filling him. Fire erupts, and he doesn't care how loud he's being. Phillip thrusts into him, hard and careless. His hands grip tight on his hips, pulling Thomas along to meet him with each thrust.
"You like this, don't you?" Phillip asks, making his thrusts more deliberate. "Too bad your neighbor isn't home; we could really give them a show."
Thomas chokes out a noise. Tries not to think about it and how the thought alone has him too close to the edge.
Phillip leans forward and presses his lips against the first available inch of skin on Thomas, adjusting his angle. He brushes, just so lightly, against Thomas's prostate, making his breath hitch. Thomas bucks back against Phillip, eager and desperate. Phillip picks up his pace. Slides his hand forward and puts a firm grip on Thomas's cock.
Thomas's thighs shake as his orgasm builds up, higher and higher. He takes his hand and places it over Phillip's, working with him at jerking him off.
Phillip grunts in his ear. "You're so fucking good."
And that's all it takes.
Thomas comes with a cry into their hands, hot and warm, as Phillip shudders behind him. His heart pounds, hard, against in his chest, through his veins, in every inch of his body. Phillip presses another kiss to his skin before he pulls out. Thomas winces just a bit at the loss. Taking a moment, he takes a few breaths before he's able to stand up straight. His legs are still weak, and he's thankful that Phillip still there to lean back against. He feels Phillip's light laugh rather than hears it before there's a pair of arms wrapping around him.
"How was that for a reason?" The words are playful in his ear, and there's a soft fabric — Phillip's shirt, Thomas pieces together — at his hand, wiping the come away.
Thomas smirks. "I suppose it will do for now."
"Harsh, McGregor."
"Shut it, Altman. Maybe I'll let you try again in an hour."
"I'll hold you to it."