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There’s a pleasant warmth beginning to build in Phillip’s body.
You’re at the bar together, enjoying your first simultaneous night off in ages. Sitting together at a high table, your arm stretched across the back of his chair puts you close enough that your breath fans across his neck whenever you speak. Your low rumbling tone and the way you’re tracing circles in his arm with your fingertips send shivers down his spine on a regular basis.
He feels warm and relaxed, his third beer lowering his inhibitions enough to lean into you even in such a public place. He swallows the last dregs of his pint and sets the glass down next to yours, empty the last ten minutes.
”Ready for another, baby?” You hum, fingertips raising goosebumps on his arm. He nods.
”Yeah.” You let out a pleased sound and grab both your glasses in one large hand, the other smoothing over his shoulders to leave a squeeze on the back of his neck as you get up. Phillip feels himself melt a little under the affectionate touch.
He props his chin in his hand to watch you walk to the bar top, enjoying the breadth of your shoulders, the slight swagger in your step. His whole body feels hot at the mere sight of his boyfriend and he hums to himself, wondering how he got so lucky.
He’s a cocky son of a bitch, he and everyone else around him knows it. Anyone else asks and he’d happily proclaim that you were the lucky one, but like this, tipsy, warm, and enjoying having you all to himself for once, he’s willing to admit, if only to himself, that he’s the lucky one in this equation.
You’ve already flagged down the bartender and given him your order, passing back the used glasses in the process. You lean against the bar top to wait, body turned out towards the room so you can see everyone in the bar, including Phillip, who has to stop himself from swooning at the image you make, all long lines and strong muscles, lounging against the bar like a big cat lounging on a tree branch.
You lock eyes across the room and Phillip can tell, you can tell what he’s thinking. He flushes and ducks his head at your smirk.
He looks back up a moment later and realizes he’s not the only one who’s paying attention to you. A young woman has approached you, leaning into your space and batting her eyelashes up at you. You’re looking down at her with a quirked eyebrow and a slight downturn to your mouth. It’s the expression you make when you’re supremely unimpressed with something, typically one of Phillip’s shadows that’s done something particularly stupid.
Phillip almost laughs. Almost. He’s completely secure in his relationship with you, he has no doubt that you have less than no interest in the too-young girl, but there’s still the fact that she’s taking your attention away from him; interrupting what was supposed to be a perfect night with nothing to distract you two from each other. No missions, no Shadows, no General Shepard…
And yet, here she is, either oblivious or completely uncaring of your obvious disinterest. She’s leaning in, pushing out her chest, batting her eyes. She reaches a hand out to touch you and that’s the last straw.
Phillip’s moving before you even have a chance to shake her hand off your arm, sliding between you and her and forcing her to either take her hand away or have it knocked away.
”Sorry, sweetheart,” he drawls, not particularly sorry. “He’s already taken.”
”Oh yeah? By who?” She challenges him with a pout. “I don’t see a girlfriend anywhere.”
“By me.” Phillip sneers, feeling your arm sneak down to wrap around his waist and pull him back against you. He leans back into you easily, one hand coming up to rest on top of yours, interlacing your fingers, the other coming up to flick at the little hussy in a shooing motion. You let out a low, rumbling chuckle that Phillip can feel, dropping a kiss on top of his head and squeezing his waist. “Run along, now.” Phillip tells the girl, who glares at him and stomps off with a huff.
Phillip watches her go with a smirk which is quickly wiped from his face when you spin him around, pull him close, and press your mouth to his in a deep, claiming kiss.
“Mph!” Phillips practically squeaks, hands coming up to grab the front of your shirt as he melts into you. One of your broad palms spans the small of his back, pressing your hips together, the other cradles the side of his face, controlling the angle and pace of the kiss.
“Fuck,” you swear against his lips. Phillip can feel you pressing into his hip, half-hard, and his own cock instantly starts to chub up in response. You roll your hips together and Phillip lets out a moan at the pressure. “Love it when you get possessive, baby.”
“Yeah?” Phillip pants, tilting his head to the side when you move your kisses from his mouth down the side of his neck. He lets out a gasp as you nibble at his jugular, arching into your mouth even as his whole body heats up in embarrassment at doing this so publicly.
“Mhmm,” you hum in confirmation, “so sexy when you’re defending your territory.” Your hand slips down to squeeze his ass.
“We’re in public!” Phillip squeaks.
“Bathroom.” You growl, kissing him deeply once more. Phillip shivers, nodding before he can even think twice, because he’s pretty sure if he didn’t let you take him to the bathroom you’d fuck him right over the bar, public indecency be damned.
Without hesitation, you drag him away from the bar, into the bathroom, and then into the disability stall. As soon as the stall door is closed and locked you’re pressing him up against the wall, rolling your hips together and kissing him so hard his knees go weak. It’s only your body pressed to his, your grip on his hips, that keeps him from going down embarrassingly quickly.
You slide one hand back, between him and the wall, to slip under his waistband and grip him skin-to-skin. Phillip gasps into your mouth, moaning your name as one of your fingers slips between his cheeks to probe at his hole. Just a dry rub over the furl of muscle, but it still sets his nerves alight, makes him arch into the touch.
“Wait,” he gasps in realization, “we don’t have lube.”
With a smirk, you pull back from him completely. Bereft, Phillip shivers with the loss of your warmth and pouts. You roll your eyes at him fondly, drop a peck on his lips, and wordlessly reach into your pocket and pull out a couple travel-packets of lube. Phillip gapes at you.
”Did you plan this?”
“You should know by now I’m always prepared, baby.” You grin. You twirl a finger in the air and Phillip rolls his eyes but follows the wordless command, turning around to face the wall.
A moment later you drape yourself over him, peppering kisses along the side of his neck and the top of his shoulder. Phillip sighs and leans back into your warmth. He keeps his palms flat on the wall for support and grinds his hips back against yours, biting his lip to stifle a moan at the feeling of your hard cock slotting between his cheeks, only separated from him by a few layers of fabric.
You reach a hand around him, grasping his jaw and stroking over his lip with the pad of your thumb, pulling the flesh out from between his teeth.
”You know I don’t like it when you hide your noises, darlin’.” You reprimand him. Phillip flushes hard, hips stuttering at the thought of letting out his noises unfiltered.
“We’re… we don’t usually do this in public.” He defends himself weakly. You drop your hand from his face to cup him through his jeans. He lets out a proper moan before he can stop himself, rocking into the touch.
“There we go,” you croon. Phillip flushes so hard his ears and the back of his neck stain red too. You nuzzle the back of his neck with a low, pleased hum, dropping kisses over the splotchy redness that make Phillip arch into your mouth.
Finally, you finagle his belt open, pop the button on his jeans and pull down the zipper. Still peppering kisses over the back of his neck, you hook your fingers in the waistbands of both jeans and boxers and pull everything down to his knees, freeing his drooling cock to the cool air and making him gasp.
You step back slightly and Phillip hears a crinkle, then a rough hand is grabbing one of his cheeks and spreading him open. Phillip whimpers at the feeling of exposure.
“So beautiful, darlin’.” You tell him, letting out an appreciative hum when the praise gets Phillip clenching around nothing, hole winking at you and precum dripping from his cock to form a puddle on the tile floor between his feet.
“Oh!” Phillip gasps as you press your now lube-covered finger back to him. You were nice enough to warm the lube in your hand before touching him with it.
You smear the lube over his entrance, practically petting him with the tip of your middle finger. Slowly, he begins to relax and push back into the touch.
Phillip lets out a heavy breath as your finger finally breaches him, slow and gentle but still inexorable, until you’re pushed all the way to the knuckle and the webbing between your fingers is pressed against his rim. Slowly you pull out, then push back in, turning your hand to stroke over his walls and coat him all around in lube. He’s trembling, clenching around the finger spearing him.
“So tight,” you coo, stepping back in close to press your bodies together and kiss the side of his head. “Relax baby.”
“It’s been a while.” Phillip whines, pushing himself back on your hand. You shush him, free hand stroking over his flank, and a moment later you’re pulling back enough the notch a second finger against his entrance. Phillip’s head drops to rest his forehead against the wall at the stretch as you push in.
For a moment you focus only on stretching him, scissoring your fingers apart and tugging at his rim. Then, those fingers crook and hone in on his prostate with diabolical precision.
“Oh, fuck!” Phillip practically yelps, knees going weak and toes curling in his boots as his cock twitches hard and splatters more precum on the ground. Liquid heat pools low in his belly, spreading through his veins and leaving his whole body feeling hot and flushed.
You don’t let up, massaging that point until the only thing holding Phillip up is your arm around his waist. He’s panting, babbling, a constant litany of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ interspersed with your name and begging for more. You pull back a moment, then come back with a third finger that has Phillip writhing in your hold, fucking himself back on your fingers.
He’s completely gone, no longer caring if anyone overhears him. His head feels stuffed with cotton, mouth open to let drool and unabashed moans both drip from his tongue.
Finally, you pull your fingers out of him and Phillip hears a zipper being pulled down, fabric rustling, another crinkle, then a few soft, wet sounds he recognizes instantly as you spreading lube over your cock.
He looks back over his shoulder and whimpers at the sight of you stroking yourself from tip to root. You haven’t pulled your pants down like you did his, instead just opening them enough to pull your cock out through the gap. A combination of lube and the precum steadily leaking from your slit glistens over the velvety skin. You catch him looking and smirk.
”Ready, baby boy?” You ask, unbearably smug, but Phillip feels too good to care right now. He nods, nearly frantic, and moans as you plaster yourself to his back again.
He feels the head of your cock notch against his loosened rim and tries to rock back, but you grab his hip and hold him still. He lets out a plaintive whine, and in that moment the bathroom door swings open.
Phillip freezes at the sound of footsteps. The person is whistling to themselves, the same tune Phillip can hear playing in the bar for the brief moment before the door swings shut once more. By the direction of the footsteps, the interloper is heading for the urinals.
You don’t hesitate. Even as the stranger is audibly pulling down their zipper you’re pushing into Phillip, making him gasp and slam a fist into the wall next to his head in response to the overwhelming stretch. The whistling stops immediately, and for Phillip it feels like time stops as well, except for where you’re still pushing into him.
You bottom out a moment later, hips pressed flush to Phillip’s, and you’re big enough to press insistently against his prostate without even trying. It has Phillip letting out a wholly embarrassing, whorish moan and clenching down hard enough to make you grunt. His cock is continuously dripping precum now.
“What the fuck?” The stranger slurs.
One of your hands releases its grip on Phillip’s hip and slides forward to rest on his belly, palm splaying wide over where he can feel you deep inside, rearranging his guts in a public restroom. Phillip’s face flames red, his breath hitching, and then you pull back and rock forward slowly until Phillip can feel the head of your cock pressing into your hand through his belly. He lets out a nearly hysterical whimper.
”Are you guys fucking?” The stranger realizes drunkenly. The pit of Phillip’s stomach drops out at being caught, but then you’re starting up a steady, mind-melting rhythm and he can’t bring himself to care anymore. His toes curl, his eyes cross, the coil in his belly winding tighter and tighter. Every strike to his prostate has him moaning and a glob of precum spurting from his cock, hanging uselessly between his thighs, untouched aside from when it bounces high enough to tap the back of your hand on his belly every time you bottom out.
A moment later, through his haze, he’s able to make out frantic footsteps, then the door swinging open and shut once more. Finally, silence, aside from the wet slap of skin-on-skin and Phillip’s high, frantic noises as you stuff him so thoroughly he swears he can feel your cock in the back of his throat.
“Please,” he slurs, cock-drunk.
“Shhh,” you croon, but still you pick up the pace until you’re slamming into him hard enough that Phillip has to brace himself against the wall with his arms crossed. He buries his face in his arms, muffling the high ‘ah, ah, ah’s he lets out with each of your thrusts, and this time you don’t reprimand him for it. Instead, your hand moves again and wraps around his cock.
“Oh, fuck!” He wails, arching, as the coil in his belly snaps instantly at the touch. He cums, all over the wall and floor, eyes rolling back in his head. His vision blanks out, his ears ring. All he can feel is pleasure, rolling through him lava-hot from the top of his head all the way down to his toes, centering in his belly and groin.
When he comes back to himself you’re still, buried deep in his body as your cock paints his insides. He can feel every twitch, every spurt of cum, and he whimpers and trembles at the feeling of being claimed so deeply. You’ve eased him away from the wall, holding him close against your chest, your strength and the cock spearing him open the only things keeping his limp body from collapsing fully onto the floor.
He turns his head and cranes back to nuzzle his face into the side of your neck. You rumble a pleased sound and nuzzle him back, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his flanks from where you hold his hips.
“Okay?” You ask, and Phillip nods and mumbles something affirmative into your skin.
Slowly, without separating your chest from his back, you begin to pull your hips away. Phillip whimpers and sniffles through the process of you pulling gently out and you soothe him through it by rubbing your hands up and down his sides.
“There we go,” you croon, as finally your cock slips free. Phillip whimpers at the rush of cum and lube that follows, dripping from his loose hole to paint the insides of his thighs. Phillip yelps at the rough palm that lands on his cheek and pulls him open, the other pressing between his shoulders to bend him forward. He flushes at the dark, appreciative sound you let out at the sight of the mess you’ve made of him. The calloused pad of your thumb traces where he’s gaping.
“Wait, wait!” He gasps, trembling, as even the gentle touch sends oversensitive sparks shooting up his spine.
”Just making sure you didn’t tear.” You tell him.
“I’m fine.” Phillip insists, reaching back to bat at your hand.
“Alright, alright.” The hands disappear, and despite himself Phillip almost mourns the loss. There’s a jostle, a tearing sound, then Phillip jumps as rough paper touches the back of his leg. You’re wiping up the mess of cum and lube with a wad of toilet paper, he realizes. He sighs and relaxes into your care, though not without a few complaining wiggles when you dab at his sore hole.
Finally, as clean as he’s going to get without a proper shower, you pull him up to stand and lean him back against you again. Phillip relaxes into your chest as you pull his pants back up for him. As you zipper, button, and buckle him back up he turns his head to press a soft, lingering kiss against your jaw. You rumble appreciatively and nuzzle against his temple.
“Love you,” Phillip mumbles.
“Love you too.” You turn him around to kiss him. Phillip sighs into the kiss, melting into you, then jumps and squeaks as a hand gropes him through his jeans again. He smacks your chest and hisses,
“Bastard,” while you laugh uproariously.