"I wanna taste you," Freddie groans, hand lifting a knee so he can reach it with his lips. Soft, fluttering kisses trace beelines over the sensitive skin there, looping back but altogether downward on the meat of your leg. His eye contact has you wavering, wetness pooling at your center, more than ready for what he offers.
When he finds the hem of the shorts he gave you, he glares at them like they've killed someone. "I shouldn't have given you these.."
"Take them back," you say, fingers untying the waistband. He watches greedily, and you slide them down, but you can't take them off with him between your legs. You also don't want him to be anywhere else for the foreseeable future, but you have to make sacrifices.
"You wanna scoot back so I can get these off of me?" you ask. He almost just rips them off, looking at your stunning form spread beneath him, literally waiting to be eaten after all this time. Sadly though, he likes those shorts, and ripping clothes off of you seems like more of a second date event, so he relents.
When he isn't in your way, you bring your knees and legs up out of the shorts, sending your underwear with them.
You watch the life fade from his eyes as he realizes, immediately his breath quickens at the sight of you and your delicious center that he just wants to stick his tongue in fuck-
But you're an awful tease, not that Freddie doesn't love every second of it, so you fold your legs back shut. "Let me see how you take that shirt off, pretty girl."
He sends you a confident look that makes your thighs press together, a small jolt up your core from the drag.
"Okay angel, just make sure you watch me."
"The hell else could I look at when you're here, Freddie," you praise, honestly. He eats it up. He's the most eye-catching person you've ever seen standing before you, shining like the sun itself. It's enough to leave your mouth hanging open already, let alone when he grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric over his head slowly. You get to see his toned stomach, finally. The cut of his hips and the definition of his deltoids. The fabric pops over his face, hair falling back around him, and you've never seen someone look so holy but so sinful.
You whistle at him, and the kiss he blows you has you wishing you hadn't asked for an impromptu strip show, so those lips could be back on yours like they should be.
He crawls to you on all fours over the cushions, and you're pushed down until you're flat beneath him. "Your turn, kitten."
His lips seal with yours, eyes fluttering shut in satisfaction. You and he both shift your shirt up and off of your body, wanting more skin-to-skin contact. Hips buck into yours, and you can feel just how aroused he is through the layer of sweatpants. You're so wet that Freddie can feel it seep through to his cock as he grinds in repetitive motions, losing his focus to the pleasure for a second so he stops kissing you, moaning against your lips instead.
Freddie feels great against you, but he'd feel even better without his sweatpants on, you decide. Your fingers slide over his chest, moving to the elastic of his pants and shoving.
"It's only fair Freddie, they gotta go," you say when he whines, not wanting to quit humping you. But he rears back, instead licking his way down your body, over the divot before the collarbone.
"That can wait dear," he baits, and his hands edge up to your breasts, smoothing over the bottoms before cupping handfuls, thumbs stroking over the peaks. His mouth is working lower, between them, and his hands come with, kissing lines down your stomach and back up to one nipple. It's slowly making your body temperature rise, which makes you more sensitive in a cycle, the swelter from his attention on you only intensified when he meets your eyes. "Wanna taste you darling.."
