Archive of Our Own

“Freddie?  You alright, mate?”

“Yes, just fine,” Freddie calls back.  He’s not, actually, but he’s hardly going to admit that.  He’s always like this before a show, it’s not like it’s anything new.  He’d thought he’d been getting better lately, performing more often which meant he’d sort of gotten past the debilitating nerves he used to suffer, but tonight he’s holed up in the bathroom backstage like it’s his first ever performance all over again.  

There isn’t anything left in him to throw up, he’s hardly eaten today, but that doesn’t stop his body from trying.  He’s worried about his throat, that it’s going to be rough and sore by the time he goes on, and that makes him feel worse and he bends his head over the bowl again and thinks, for half a second, that maybe he’s not cut out for this life.  But that’s ridiculous, of course he is.  He just needs to pull himself together, take a few deep breaths, maybe a swig or five of vodka.  He’ll be fine, he always is.

He can hear people walking around outside, back and forth past the bathroom door, lugging equipment and instruments, trailing wires, making sure the last few bits are all set up.  They’re supposed to be going on in an hour but the stupid venue had had some sort of cricket or rugby lunch or something equally as absurd just before so they hadn’t been able to get in to set up any earlier.  It means they’ll have to go without any proper soundcheck because people are going to start arriving soon for the gig itself, filling out the hall.

Freddie groans and flushes the toilet, trying to will himself into some semblance of calm.  It’ll be fine, he’ll go out there as he always does and the moment he steps on stage and hears their opening chords he’ll be swept up in it, carried on a wave of pure adrenaline.  It’s just a shame it doesn’t kick in sooner; he could do with a bit of it now.

He stares intently at himself as he scrubs at his teeth with as much toothpaste as he can fit on the brush, trying to think meditative thoughts.

“Freddie!”  Mike’s hammering on the door again, rather interrupting the meditation.  Freddie’s probably lucky he hasn’t just come bursting in; the lock on the damn thing’s broken.  “Come on, I need a piss!  And there’s someone here to see you.”

That gets Freddie’s attention.  “Who?” he asks curiously, once he’s rinsed his mouth out.  

“Come on out and see,” Mike says mysteriously.

“It better be Jimi fucking Hendrix,” Freddie mutters, loud enough for Mike to hear, and the door swings open.

“Not quite.”  

It’s Brian, grinning shyly.  Freddie’s heart jumps.

“Brian!” he gasps, flinging himself at him, nearly toppling Brian over with the force of his hug.  Thankfully Brian manages to plant himself, catching hold of Freddie and only staggering back a step or two—enough to let Mike shoot past them into the loo.

“Alright, Freddie?” Brian greets, laughing, and returns the hug just as tightly.

It’s been months since Freddie last saw him, waving him off after a drunken night as he got into a taxi for the airport, suitcase in tow as he set off for Tenerife on a research trip.  Freddie had begged him not to go the night before, fuelled by far too many drinks and some rather awkward feelings he’d apparently been keeping buried that had fought their way to the surface just in time to make Brian leaving hurt that much more.

The flat just hadn’t been the same without him, one of the reasons Freddie had found it quite easy to up and move to Liverpool with his latest band.

“My God, Bri!  Look how tanned you are!” Freddie says, pulling back just enough to take him in before enveloping him in another hug because he just can’t help himself.  Brian smells amazing, just like he always does, and Freddie had forgotten just how tall he was, how long his arms were.  Did he grow more while he was away?  Or has it just been too long?

“Well,” Brian laughs, “couple months in Spain’ll do that to a man.”

“A couple of years, it’s felt like,” Freddie says, just a smidge petulantly, not letting go of Brian even while Brian starts walking them backstage so they can actually talk rather than just cling to each other in the corridor.  “What are you doing here?  When did you get back?  Did you discover any new planets?”

Brian snorts, shouldering open the door to the dressing area, which is currently empty as the rest of the band are either getting the equipment sorted or chatting up girls in the crowd.  Or taking a piss, in Mike’s case.  It’s not really much of a dressing room—there’s only one mirror, which Freddie brought himself, but it’s a room and it has chairs and a sofa for them to sit on and a few six-packs of beer that are getting steadily closer to room temperature.  

“You know I wasn’t looking for planets, Fred,” Brian says, taking one of the beers and cracking it open.  He offers a second to Freddie, who shakes his head.  Brian purses his lips.  “Nervous?” he asks knowingly.

“Bit,” Freddie admits.

“You’ll be great,” Brian assures him, taking a long swig.  

“How would you know?” Freddie asks, poking him.  “You’ve never watched me before.”

“I just know,” Brian says simply.  “And I’m gonna see you tonight.  So there’ll be at least one friendly face in the crowd.”

“You’re staying?” Freddie asks, lighting up.  “You’re going to watch?”

Brian nods, grinning at him.  “That’s why I came up here,” he says.  “Roger said you guys were playing tonight and obviously we don’t have any gigs or anything any more.”

“You’re better off without Tim, anyway,” Freddie says quickly.

Brian shrugs.  “Well, regardless.  I thought I’d come and see you.  I hope you don’t mind, Mike said I can crash with you guys tonight.”

“I don’t mind at all!  Oh, Bri, I’m so glad you’re here!” Freddie says, burying his face in Brian’s shoulder for a moment because he’s in danger of getting a bit emotional and then he’ll definitely be no good at all on stage tonight.  “How was Tenerife?” he asks, because Brian talking about his research is a safer subject and he probably won’t cry.  Probably.

“Hot,” Brian says bluntly.  “It was good, though.  We got some really great recordings, loads of stuff I can use for my thesis.  I wrote quite a lot as well, came up with some song ideas.  Not that I’ve got anything to do with them any more, but still.”

Freddie sits up a bit.  “I’d love to hear them,” he tells him.  “You write such amazing songs, Bri.  Things are going to work out for you, I just know it.”

Brian ducks his head.  “We’ll see,” he shrugs.  “I’ve got to focus on uni, anyway.”

“Bloody uni!” Freddie says, waving his hand.  “You’re too good for that, Bri, you need to be on stage.  I’d sing for you if you’d let me!”  

Brian laughs lightly.  They’ve had this conversation a million times before.  “You’re here now,” he says, looking around.  “Shit dressing room, isn’t it?  What’s the stage like?”

Freddie shrugs.  “Oh, I haven’t looked, darling, it’ll only make me sick.”

“Oh, come off it!  You’ll be excited once you see it!”

Freddie shudders and clamps his mouth closed, eyes skittering toward the clock on the wall.  Thirty five minutes until showtime.  

“I don’t even want to go on any more,” Freddie says, turning back to Brian.  “I want to hear all about your trip.  Tell me everything, even the things I won’t understand.”  He loves hearing Brian talk about his research—almost all of it goes entirely over Freddie’s head but it doesn’t matter, it’s just so wonderful to see Brian so passionate and to hear him explain, to be able to listen to his voice.

After months without him, Freddie could happily sit and listen to him talk about literally anything all night long.

Brian laughs.  “After,” he promises.  “You’re a bit smudged.”  His hand comes up and he swipes a finger beside Freddie’s eye.

“Oh, fuck,” Freddie mutters, hastily going over to the mirror.  “Sorry, darling, that’s probably on your shirt.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Brian shrugs, throwing his arm out along the back of the sofa as he sits back, watching Freddie fix his make-up.  “I’ll flog it for millions once you’re famous.”

Freddie snorts.  “You’ll probably find Roger flogging it for a few quid long before that,” he says.  “Is he still running the stall?  Last time I spoke to him he said he wasn’t sure about keeping it going.”

“Not sure,” Brian admits.  “I only just got back yesterday, I pretty much came straight here.”

Freddie meets his eyes in the mirror at that.  “For me?” he asks softly.

Brian doesn’t say anything, just lets his very direct gaze be the confirmation Freddie’s looking for.

Freddie swallows and focuses back on drawing more eyeliner on.  “So...are you going to watch from backstage or out front, darling?” he asks when he finally turns back around, face perfectly touched up.  

“Out front, I think,” Brian says.  “Get the whole experience.  I’d better get out there, actually, or there won’t be anywhere left to stand.”

“Oh!” Freddie says disappointedly, standing up.  “Do you have to?  Won’t you wait with me, darling?”

Brian laughs gently.  “I’ll come and find you straight after,” he assures him, setting his beer aside and walking over, pausing just within arm’s reach.  “I want to talk to you, anyway,” Brian says quietly.  “When you’re done.  I’ve been thinking about what you said before I left.”

Freddie’s heart seizes.  “Oh, don’t worry about any of that!” he says quickly, petrified that Brian’s going to have been freaked out by the whole thing.  

“No, no,” Brian says quickly, putting both hands on Freddie’s shoulders, squeezing reassuringly, rubbing both thumbs back and forth.  “I’m not...worried.  I was just thinking...I’ve been thinking…”  He pauses and his lips curl in a self-conscious smile.  “I just kept thinking how stupid I was not to kiss you at the time.”

Oh.  Well Freddie wasn’t expecting that at all.  “Really?” he breathes.

“Really,” Brian tells him.  His face is closer suddenly, their mouths scant inches apart.  

Freddie feels like his heart’s about to beat right out of his chest.

“You could kiss me now,” he suggests breathily, and Brian’s lips meet his almost before the words are out.

It doesn’t last long but that doesn’t matter, it’s more than enough.  Freddie really doesn’t want to go and perform, all of a sudden.

Brian pulls back and presses his forehead to Freddie’s.  “Let’s talk,” he says firmly.  “After.  I’ll come and find you.”

“Mmm...okay,” Freddie agrees in half a daze.  

Brian kisses him again, just quickly, before he grins and disappears out the door before Freddie can say anything else.

After that, the show passes in something of a blur.  

Freddie gets the usual roar of adrenaline zipping through every single nerve before he steps on, only this time it feels more intense than ever, butterflies coursing through his stomach because Brian’s out there.  Brian who just kissed him. 

He spots him immediately, that hair unmistakable even in the dark, and from that moment Freddie’s drawn like a magnet, his entire performance delivered to that one specific patch of audience, always returning whenever he wanders over to gyrate on a different bit of the stage.

He feels like nothing can stop him, he’s invincible, carried by the roar of the crowd and the heat that still somehow lingers on his mouth where Brian’s lips were not so long ago.  Where they might, maybe, be again after the show.

Brian’s never seen Freddie perform before.  Some of their friends went to a few of his earlier gigs but nobody seemed all that impressed and Freddie’s voice had always been a bit untrained, powerful but completely out of control even when they just used to sing together in the kitchen of their flat.

So he wasn’t really sure what to expect tonight.  Certainly not this.  Freddie’s a wild thing up there, strutting across the stage like he was born for it, riling the audience up and calming them back down, winking and prancing and gesturing with his mic stand, smirking in Brian’s direction as he mimes jerking his mic off.

Brian finds it hard to keep his place in amongst the crowd as people get more and more caught up in the performance, certain that all of the photos he’s tried to take are going to be blurry because he can’t keep still.  Not that it matters; Brian already knows this isn’t going to be a night he’ll soon forget.

There’s a moment after Freddie and the band have disappeared into the wings and the lights have come up where Brian forgets anything else and just drowns for a moment in the unshakeable hollowness of it being over before he remembers that’s his Freddie and he can go and find him.  And talk to him.

But first, he has to make a phone call.

Aware of his promise to go and find Freddie, Brian pushes through the crowd a bit more rudely than he would usually, firmly nudging people this way and that so he can weave past them and get to the corridor he walked through earlier, where there’s a payphone.

“Rog,” Brian says as soon as it’s picked up on the other end.

“Brian?  Alright?  Did you make it to Liverpool okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m there now.  Freddie’s show’s just finished.  Listen, Rog...have you ever watched him?” Brian asks quickly.

“Uuh…” Roger thinks.  “Once, maybe?  In that other band he was in, not this one.  Been meaning to get up there.  Was it good?”

“Christ, good?  Roger, he’s fucking incredible,” Brian says, shaking his head.  He can’t believe they’ve let this go so long, fucking hell they were auditioning other singers before Brian left for his trip!  “I’ve never seen anything like it before and it was Freddie.  It’s like he’s a different person out there.  We need him.”

There’s a pause.  “As in, with Smile?”

“Yes!  He always said about joining us, didn’t he?  I never really took him seriously, fucking hell I can’t believe he’s in another bloody band now!  I don’t think they realise what they’ve got, they like a lot of blues,” Brian says, leaning against the wall and running a hand through his hair.  “I’m going to talk to him, I want him to come back with me.  I think if we have him we can do something really great, Rog.  What do you think?”

Roger laughs a bit disbelievingly.  “It sounds like you really want him,” he says knowingly.  “Do you think he’ll come?”

Brian bites his lip, wondering if he should tell Roger the whole story, but decides against it for now.  He doesn’t want Roger to think that’s why he wants Freddie for Smile.  “I’m pretty sure he will.”  

“Alright,” Roger agrees.  “Ask him.  It’d be nice to have him back, I’ve missed having him around.  Nice to not have him stealing my clothes, though.  Was he really that good?”

“He was incredible, Rog, I’m telling you,” Brian says seriously.  He’s quite a bit in awe, actually.  “You’ll see.  I’ll bring him back with me.”

Roger snorts.  “Confident,” he comments.

Brian is, but he’s not about to tell Roger why.  “I have to go, I told Fred I’d meet him after.  See you soon!”

He hangs up and immediately makes his way through the building to search out Freddie and the rest of the band, which isn’t hard at all; they’ve all piled into the same room Brian was in earlier.

Freddie flings himself at Brian the moment he notices him, nearly toppling them both right back out through the door with the force of it.

Brian clutches him back, hoping his camera hasn’t just bruised Freddie’s chest, and laughs.  “You were fucking amazing, Freddie!” he gushes, clapping his back hard.  “God!  I can’t believe that was you out there, where the hell did shy little Freddie Bulsara go, huh?” he asks, pulling back and exposing Freddie to the full force of his biggest grin. 

“Oh, he’s still in here,” Freddie says, proving that by suddenly going all shy and ducking his head as he bites his lip, hastily covering his mouth.  “Did you really like it, darling?”

“Fred, it was honestly one of the best shows I’ve ever been to,” Brian tells him, then suddenly remembers the rest of the band and looks up.  “You guys were really good, too,” he says quickly, feeling horribly impolite.

One of them whose name Brian doesn’t know snorts, but it’s not unkind.  “Cheers, mate.  We know he’s the real show,” he says, coming over and hooking an arm around Freddie’s neck, pushing a beer into his hand.  “Too good for us, eh?”

“Nonsense,” Freddie says, waving a hand while Brian privately agrees with his bandmate.  Freddie is too good for them; he should be in Smile.  He’d fit better with the music Brian and Roger play, anyway, and Brian knows he wants to be in their band, Freddie’s asked him about a hundred times.  Brian just never took that request seriously before now.

“Do you want to stay here for a bit?” Brian asks Freddie, wondering if he should get himself a beer, but Freddie shakes his head.

“Let’s go back, darling,” he says.  “I want to hear about your trip,” he adds, but the look on his face says something else.

Brian grins and lurks in the doorway while Freddie makes his goodbyes, waving at the rest of the band and the various girlfriends and mates who’ve piled into the dressing room with them for a post-show party.

Freddie’s trembling a bit when they finally get out and Brian puts an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in with a questioning little shake.  “You alright?”

Freddie nods.  “Just...after the show, you know?  I’ll have a drink when we get back.”

“What do you usually do?” Brian asks, opening three different doors before he finds the right one to get them to the little atrium with the ticket-booths.  Either Freddie is happy to let Brian keep getting lost or (more likely) also has no idea how to get out.

“Drink a lot, usually.  Go clubbing or something—you know, darling.  The sort of thing we used to do after your shows,” Freddie tells him, following Brian out once he finally finds the exit and heads over to the car he left parked outside earlier, on loan from one of Roger’s friends so he could make the trip up here.

“You drove?” Freddie says in disbelief as Brian unlocks the doors.

Brian grins at him over the roof.  “Train times were all over the place,” he said.  “I’d never have gotten up here in time.”

Freddie purses his lips and ducks his head down, shy again.  “You didn’t have to do that,” he says once they’re both in the car and Brian’s starting the engine.

“I did,” Brian says simply.  “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left.”

Freddie flushes hot at that, hands fisted together in his lap.  “Really?” he whispers.  He’s spent the months since Brian left trying hard not to remember that night, terrified that he’d royally fucked up one of the best friendships he had.

“Really.”  The car’s on but Brian doesn’t drive just yet; the street’s empty and he’s parked beneath a broken streetlight—they’re as safe as they could be.

He leans over and takes Freddie’s face in one hand, turning him to look at him and moving in slowly, so Freddie has plenty of time to realise what’s coming before Brian kisses him again.  

Freddie hums against him, his hands immediately going to Brian’s shoulders, and Brian smirks against his lips before letting his tongue rove a bit, coaxing at Freddie until he opens his mouth and lets Brian kiss him properly.

It’s the same as kissing anyone else, except it’s not.  Because it’s kissing Freddie.  And Brian’s not exactly been starved for sex while he’s abroad but just kissing him, just this, has his cock stirring with interest.  Because this is Freddie.  

He pulls back to catch his breath before he can get too distracted and make driving home irresponsible.  

Freddie’s panting and flushed, staring at Brian with wide-open eyes.  Fuck, Brian’s missed him.

“Shall we head back?” Brian asks as steadily as he’s able, putting the car in gear and pulling away without waiting for a response.

When Freddie regains himself a bit, he reaches over and trails his fingers over Brian’s hand on the gearstick and Brian jumps, needing to let out a long, calming breath.  

“Tell me about your trip, darling?” Freddie asks.  

“I can barely remember my trip right now,” Brian admits, shooting Freddie a self-conscious grin.  “I can’t believe how good you were out there, Fred.  You should come back to London.”

“I don’t have a band in London,” Freddie points out.  “I tried to get them to stay but most of them come from around here, they don’t like London.”

“You like London,” Brian points out.  “You love London.”  Freddie does; he adores the city, far more than Brian ever has.

“There isn’t anything for me in London.”

“I’m back, now,” Brian tells him.  “Come back with me, Fred, please.  It won’t be the same without you.”

Freddie stares straight ahead.  “It wasn’t the same without you,” he retorts.  “That’s half the reason I left, Bri.”

Brian feels horribly guilty at that.  “I’m back, now,” he says again.  “And if you came back...you could join Smile, sing with me and Rog.”

That certainly gets his attention.  Brian can see Freddie go still in his seat from the corner of his eye.  “What?”

“Come off it, Fred, surely you don’t plan on staying with these guys for long?  You’re streets ahead of them,” Brian says, looking over as soon as they reach a red light.  He can’t stop himself from reaching out, stroking Freddie’s cheek with the back of his finger, heart fluttering like a bird in his chest when Freddie leans into the touch.  

“You...want me to join?”  Like he can hardly believe it.  He probably can’t; Brian’s been denying him for the better part of two years.

“Freddie, I’m willing to beg you on bended knee to join,” Brian tells him bluntly.

Freddie’s quiet for a few streets, only speaking to tell Brian to turn left or right accordingly.  

“We have shows booked,” he says when they pull up outside Mike’s house.  

It’s dark, all the lights are off; they’re the only ones back.

“Cancel them,” Brian says carelessly, throwing open the door and clambering out.  “They’ll find someone else.  We need you, Freddie.  You know all our songs already, and we could write more of our own,” Brian says, knowing that’s the thing, that’s what Freddie wants more than anything, and Freddie’s face does go soft and hopeful at the thought.

“Look, just think about it,” Brian says, letting Freddie sit with it.  He wants Freddie in the band badly but he wants to get him inside more.  “Do you have a key?”

Freddie lets them in and fumbles around until he finds the light switch, flicking it on.  Immediately, Brian’s mouth is on his again, Freddie’s back pressed against the wall as Brian kicks the front door shut behind them and groans.  

Freddie surges against him, holding onto him desperately, and Brian gently bites his lip, breathing raggedly when he pulls away.  

“Drink?” he asks.

Freddie’s dazed but he nods.  “Drink.  Yes.”  He whirls away into the front room, which is already littered with bottles and glasses from what Brian assumes was a pre-show pick-me-up.  It’s not difficult to find a bottle of vodka or shot glasses.

Freddie pours out two and drinks his before he hands the other to Brian.  He barely waits for Brian to neck the thing before he kisses him again, starving for it, and Brian tosses the empty shot glass down onto the sofa so he can run his hand down Freddie’s back, dipping lower over his ass and squeezing.

Freddie jumps and gasps beautifully into his mouth.

Brian chuckles.  “More drinks?” he asks innocently.

“Fuck the vodka,” Freddie breathes.  “My room’s upstairs.”

He tugs on Brian’s hands to show him, nearly falling up the stairs because they’re still joined at the mouth when he starts up them.

Brian laughs again and steadies him with two big hands on his waist and Freddie hurries up the rest of them, Brian chasing behind.  

He grabs him as Freddie runs through the doorway, hauls him back against his chest and Freddie lets out a scream, laughing, as Brian bodily throws him down on the bed.  

“You’re keen!” Freddie gasps as Brian follows him down, settling with both knees spread either side of Freddie’s hips.

“I’ve been thinking about this for months,” Brian tells him, kissing him almost painfully hard, his hands running over Freddie’s chest and shoulders.  “‘Keen’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.  Should’ve—done this—before I left,” he says between kisses, messy in his haste, missing Freddie’s mouth and catching his chin, then kissing him lower anyway, licking along the line of his jaw, nipping at his throat.

Freddie jumps and clings to him.  “God, Bri,” he says roughly, straining to push his hips against Brian where he’s straddling him.  “What do you want to do?”

“Anything,” Brian breathes.  “Whatever you want.”

Freddie knows exactly what he wants but he doesn’t know if Brian means that when he says anything.  He squeezes his legs around him and goes back to kissing him while he tries to get up the courage to ask.  

Brian doesn’t seem to mind, one hand cupped around Freddie’s face while the other wriggles its way under his shirt to play with a nipple, grinding slowly, almost absently, with his hips.

“Do you want to...you know…?” Freddie asks when they eventually have to pause for breath.

“What?” Brian asks.  His eyes are bright and shining and he knows what Freddie means but he’s as edgy about saying it aloud as Freddie is even while he rocks against him.  “Whatever you want, Fred,” he tells him.  “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Freddie swallows.  “You can...do you want to...I’ve got lube,” he gets out, having to turn his head to free his mouth from Brian’s long enough to speak, letting Brian loose on his neck again.

“Yeah?” Brian asks carefully, scraping his teeth against Freddie’s chin.  “You wanna use it?”  His voice is unsteady but his legs are tight around Freddie’s hips, his cock hard through his jeans where he’s kept up an easy drag against Freddie’s crotch.  

“Yeah,” Freddie says, groaning.  “Have you ever...done it with another guy before?”

“No,” Brian admits without embarrassment.  “But I’ve done anal with girls before.”

Christ.  Freddie hates knowing that Brian’s been other places but he’s very glad not to be in completely virginal hands.

“Have you?” Brian asks him.

Freddie nods.  “Twice.”  A while ago.  He’s done...other stuff with men but his nerve often fails him before he can go all the way, his insecurities get in the way or the terror of being discovered becomes unbearable.  

But it’s just them here tonight and Freddie knows the band; half of them won’t return until late tomorrow and the rest won’t be back before dawn.  It’s just the two of them and this is Brian; Freddie trusts him more than anyone else in the world.

“We’ll go slow,” Brian promises.  “Where’s the lube?”

Freddie turns under Brian’s hips to yank his bedside drawer open, blindly searching it out while Brian trails new, distracting kisses down his throat to the neckline of his t-shirt.

“Here,” Freddie says when his fingers finally close on the little pot, shoving it at Brian.

Brian takes it and sets it aside, focusing back on kissing Freddie, slowly starting to tug at his shirt until he gets it up over his head and throws it on the floor next to them.  

“Definitely should’ve done this ages ago,” he says, setting upon the newly exposed skin like he’s afraid it’ll disappear before he’s had a chance to kiss every inch.

Freddie closes his eyes and tips his head back, forcing himself to breathe slowly and calm down, stomach pulling taut as Brian’s mouth trails downward, his nose running gently along his ribcage, the touch so barely-there it makes Freddie shiver.

“God, Brian,” Freddie says hoarsely.

“You okay?” Brian checks, pausing to look up at him.  He’s flushed and grinning, boyish in his excitement.  

“I’m good,” Freddie assures him, gasping loudly as Brian hooks his fingers into his waistband and gives a hard tug that lifts his hips off the mattress for a second.  

“Can I take these off you?”

“Yes, please.”

Brian doesn’t need to be told twice; Freddie’s trousers are gone in the work of a second, thrown away with his shirt, and Brian pauses, staring down at him from the end of the bed.

Freddie flushes and goes to close his legs, self-conscious, but Brian grabs his ankles.

“God, you’re perfect,” Brian tells him, situating himself neatly between Freddie’s legs so he can’t close them as he strips out of his shirt.  

“Bri...Brian, God.  Are you sure you want to do this?” Freddie asks, staring up at him.  The flush on Brian’s cheeks spreads down his neck, into his chest, his newly tanned skin charmingly pink to his collarbones.

“Freddie,” Brian tells him, popping open his button and unzipping.  “I can’t even tell you how badly I want to do this.”  He pushes his jeans down as he speaks and Freddie’s mouth goes dry because yes, okay, Brian definitely wants to do this and also he has one of the biggest cocks Freddie’s ever seen.

He’s rendered speechless for a minute as Brian kicks his jeans off onto the floor, smirking down at Freddie once he’s done, noting his line of sight, before he crawls back up the bed and lies down on top of him.

“Fuck!” Freddie breathes out, because there is a lot of skin all of a sudden and Brian’s cock hard against his thigh, and Brian’s tongue in his mouth and Brian’s hands sliding under his ass and squeezing, pulling Freddie up into him.

“Yeah,” Brian agrees, laughing into his mouth.  “Yeah, let’s.  Where did I put that Vaseline?”

He has to let go of Freddie with one hand to scrabble amongst the sheets for it, then has to let go of him entirely to get the lid off.  

“This is slippery as fuck, Fred, what’ve you been doing with it?” Brian laughs when he finally gets it off, discarding the lid as he doesn’t intend on closing the thing tonight.  

Freddie blushes.  “What do you think?”

Brian shakes his head.  “You could’ve bloody cleaned it!” he says, coating his finger in the jelly and dabbing Freddie’s nose with it, just to be an ass.

“Ugh, Brian!”

Brian laughs at himself before focusing, settling between Freddie’s thighs and using his elbows to hitch Freddie’s legs up higher so he can see what he’s doing.

“Oh my God,” Freddie mutters.

“Alright?”

“Yeah,” Freddie says quickly.  “I just can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Neither can I,” Brian replies, rubbing gently against Freddie’s hole, circling and teasing as he leans back down to kiss him, waiting for Freddie to relax a bit.

It doesn’t take long; as soon as Brian’s mouth is on his, Freddie’s focus is back there and Brian can push his finger in up to the first knuckle before Freddie squeezes, tensing.

Brian stops and carries on kissing him, slow and unhurried, until Freddie goes loose enough for him to start pressing in again.  “You okay?” Brian checks.

Freddie nods.

“Just relax,” Brian says softly.  “I’m gonna go slow, don’t worry.”  He does; the pressure is steady but gentle and the sensation’s odd but it’s not painful.  

“Kiss me again,” Freddie requests and Brian complies with a grin, bending down to recapture his lips while Freddie gets used to the finger inside him.

“I’ve been thinking about this so much,” Brian tells him, pausing to rest their foreheads together.  “I’m sorry about before, I had no idea how to react.”

“It’s fine,” Freddie says quickly.  “You were drunk.”

“I wasn’t out of my mind, though,” Brian says, carefully, casually easing his finger the rest of the way in.  “I was just surprised.  I nearly didn’t go.”  He kisses Freddie again, can’t keep away for long.  “I came to try and talk to you.”  Another kiss.  “But you were still asleep.”  His tongue darts out and Freddie’s presses shyly against it.  “Fucking plane was so early,” Brian says, shaking his head.  “Shouldn’t have gone.  Should’ve done this.”  His voice is muffled, he keeps interrupting himself to kiss Freddie some more.

“I’d never have said anything if you weren’t leaving,” Freddie whispers to him.  “God, I’ve missed you so much, darling.”

“I’ve been counting down the days to come back,” Brian replies, carefully easing his finger in and out a few times before he takes it all the way out to cover it in more lube, sliding it back in.  “How’s that feel?”

“It’s okay,” Freddie says, accidentally tensing a bit as he thinks about and having to make a mental effort to relax again.  “It’s only one finger, though, darling.”

Brian laughs.  “Impatient,” he scolds, kissing him.  “I told you, I’m gonna go slow.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’ll tell you if it hurts,” Freddie assures him.  “Give me more, darling, please, you’ll drive me mad otherwise.”

Brian sits back a bit, looking down at him.  “Tempting,” he hums, but Freddie can see how hard he is, he’s leaking precome and his cock hasn’t even come near him yet.

Brian removes his finger again and dips two into the pot this time, smearing the Vaseline over them both before settling back between Freddie’s legs.  “Tell me if it hurts,” he says firmly, rubbing at Freddie’s entrance again.

He goes slow—almost too slow but two fingers is more of a stretch so Freddie’s glad for it, closing his eyes and letting out a long, deep breath as he holds himself still and loose so Brian can work both fingers in without resistance.

It doesn’t take long to feel comfortable and Freddie opens his eyes, grinning.

Brian returns his smile, swooping down to start kissing him again, slowly rotating his fingers to continue stretching Freddie out, and accidentally catches him just perfectly.

“Oh!” Freddie cries out, jerking so hard their heads collide and Brian rears back.  “Ow!  Oh, fuck!  Sorry!  I’m sorry, darling, you just—that felt amazing—”

Thankfully Brian’s only laughing, shaking his head a bit.  “Sorry, my fault,” he says hastily, kissing Freddie’s forehead.  “Think that was…”  He concentrates, searching for the same little bump he’d just found, and Freddie moans so loudly it makes Brian’s cock throb with want.

“Gotcha,” he grins, rubbing hard, and Freddie squirms.  

“Fuck, darling!” Freddie cries out, grabbing Brian’s shoulders for something to cling to.

“I love it when you’re loud,” Brian breathes against his mouth before pressing their lips together.  “Can I finger you with three?” he asks quickly, pulling out again.

“God, yes.”  Freddie grabs the lube from by his hip and all but shoves it at him.

Brian slicks his fingers up all over again and pushes them back into Freddie, the passage eased by what must be half of Freddie’s pot of Vaseline.  He doesn’t seek out his prostate again, worried that he might make Freddie come before they’ve had a chance to do this properly, but instead focuses on making sure he’s well stretched and lubed up.

He drags it out a little bit, too occupied with making out and just losing himself in the rhythm of flexing his fingers, pushing and pulling, feeling him out, subtly edging at Freddie’s rim with his thumb as well.

“Oh, Christ, Bri, use your cock for fuck sake!” Freddie pants eventually, pushing down against him.

Just that brings all of Brian’s focus right back between his legs and he’s suddenly, painfully aware of how hard he is.  

“Yeah?” he asks, breathing heavily.  “You ready for it?”

“Let me try,” Freddie says, nodding.  

Brian has to squeeze his cock hard at the base while he slicks himself up with the other hand, biting so hard on his lip he’s worried he’ll make himself bleed but he refuses to come before they’ve had at least a bit of a fuck.

“Do you wanna get on your hands and knees?” Brian asks quickly.  “It’s usually easier.”

Freddie shakes his head.  “I’ll be fine,” he says, squeezing his thighs around Brian’s waist.  “I want to see you.”

Good—Brian wants to watch his face while he does this.

“Ready?” he asks, arching his hips against Freddie so he can feel him, all his weight on his palms either side of Freddie’s head.

Freddie nods and Brian shifts to lean on one elbow, taking hold of himself with his other hand to help nudge the tip of his cock past Freddie’s entrance.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Freddie mutters, tipping his head back.  

“Okay?”

“Keep going,” Freddie hisses out.  

Brian does, slowly, carefully, watching Freddie’s face for the slightest sign of anything more than the initial discomfort.

“Okay Freddie?” Brian asks once he’s got a few inches in, holding himself still.  He can feel sweat dripping down his back with the effort.  “Do you need a minute?”

Freddie nods, his eyes closed.  “It’s okay,” he assures Brian, because he must sense his concern.  “You’re just very big, darling, and I’m not used to it.”

“I thought you’d been using your Vaseline?” Brian teases, leaning on both elbows again and kissing Freddie very softly.  

“Yes, well,” Freddie gets out, swallowing hard.  “I don’t have anything quite that size to stick up there, usually.”

Brian sniggers into his neck.  “Lucky I came back, then.”

“Lucky,” Freddie agrees, kissing him again.  “You can carry on, darling.”

Brian carries on easing into him, just as slow as before, slowly letting his hips sink down until they’re flush together, Freddie’s cock hard against Brian’s stomach and his thighs warm around his hips.

He doesn’t move once he’s fully inside, wanting to give Freddie ample time to adjust and also worried that he’s going to finish with one thrust, so Brian takes Freddie’s chin in one hand and sets to kissing him properly.

He lets their lips move together, chasing Freddie’s mouth one moment and just pulling back another, their noses rubbing together, their breathing beginning to slow down in tandem as they both try to calm themselves down.

“You can move now,” Freddie whispers to him, canting his hips a tiny bit to encourage him.

Brian moans at the movement and buries his face in Freddie’s shoulder.  “Fuck, okay,” he says.  “I’m warning you now, I’m probably gonna come really quickly.  I like you a lot.”

“I don’t mind,” Freddie grins shyly.  “Just…”  He starts trying to wriggle one hand between their stomachs and Brian pulls it away.

“Let me,” he says, and pulls himself off of Freddie enough to be able to get a hand on his cock.  

This part is rather different to being with a girl, but Brian’s no stranger to having a cock in his hand and he knows what he likes so he just does that, stroking Freddie slowly while he begins to work his hips.

It’s hard to focus on both until he finds a rhythm, pulling his hand down on Freddie as he pushes his own cock into him, and stroking back as he pulls out.  

Freddie is fantastically tight around him and makes the most arousing sounds as Brian touches him, rolling his head from one side to the other and moaning loudly, arching into Brian’s hand one moment and pushing down onto his cock the next, not sure which sensation to chase after.

“Christ, Fred,” Brian says hoarsely.  “You’re so fucking hot.  You feel so good.  Can I go harder?”  He doesn’t want to hurt him but the urge to really thrust is getting more and more difficult to deny.

Freddie nods and lets out a strangled sound when Brian immediately gives in and jacks his hips into him just the way he wants to.  

He lets out a loud moan, himself, and does it again, feeling Freddie jerk under him and the bed shake.  

“Oh, darling,” Freddie cries out.  “Brian!  Bri, please—”

“What?” Brian asks breathlessly, rocking into him.  “What do you want?”

“I don’t—”  Freddie arches his back so hard he nearly dislodges Brian and comes with a loud shout, raking his nails down Brian’s back as he wets both of their stomachs.

“Fucking hell, Freddie,” Brian chokes out, shuddering.  Fuck, that was hot; he can feel come on his stomach and Freddie’s cock still between them as he pauses, looking down at him.

“Don’t stop,” Freddie tells him breathlessly, holding him tight.  “You finish, too.”

Brian nearly cries with relief, hearing that, and puts both his hands under Freddie’s ass to angle him nicely against his hips, thrusting into him as hard as he dares.  

Freddie lets out a sweet little, ‘Oof!’ sound, blinking rapidly, and it’s simultaneously the hottest and most adorable thing Brian’s ever seen.  

He means to ask Freddie if it’s okay to come inside him, he really does, but it takes him by surprise; that look on Freddie’s face as Brian pulls back to thrust again and he loses control of himself, pressing back in as he comes.

He curls one arm under Freddie’s shoulders to hug him close until he’s done, keeping them entwined even after he pulls out and leaks come all over Freddie’s thighs.

Freddie doesn’t seem to mind; he’s clinging to Brian just as hard as he’s holding onto him, though his legs go loose and relaxed, no longer wound around Brian’s hips.

It takes a while before either of them recover enough to speak.  

“That was...God,” Brian says dumbly.  He rolls onto his back, carefully because Freddie only has a single bed and now he’s not lying on top of him there’s a lot less room for them both, and stares up at the ceiling. He can feel that he has the biggest, stupidest grin on his face but he can’t stop himself.  “That was.  Fucking.  Amazing.”

“It was,” Freddie agrees dazedly.

Without looking, Brian searches around for Freddie’s hand and entwines their fingers, still trying to get his breath back.  “We’re gonna do that again, right?” he asks, jerking himself back to reality just enough to turn his head so he can look at Freddie.

“Yeah,” Freddie says, with a silent, Duh.  “We may need to buy some more lube,” he adds, sitting up a bit and making a face as he looks down at himself, shifting so he can feel it properly.  “Did you use the entire fucking pot, Brian?  I’m going to be cleaning this off for weeks!”

Brian grins apologetically.  “Better to be safe than sorry,” he intones.  “Some of it was me as well,” he adds, glancing at Freddie’s exposed thighs where his come is still drying.

The thought of that makes his cock stir and Brian swallows, reaching out to grab Freddie as he goes to roll out of bed.  “Not yet,” he says quickly, dragging him back so he’s lying down.

“Bri!” Freddie laughs, though he doesn’t struggle to get out of his grip.  “I need to shower this off.”

“Not yet,” Brian says resolutely, holding onto him.  “Just lie down with me for a bit.  I’ve missed you.”  He kisses the top of Freddie’s head and Freddie melts into him.

“Just for a few minutes, then,” Freddie concedes, cuddling into him and tucking his head under Brian’s chin.

Brian rubs a soothing hand up and down Freddie’s back, just enjoying the closeness, letting his eyes drift closed.  He thinks Freddie’s nearly asleep as well when he feels a not-gentle prod in the shoulder.

“What?” he asks without opening his eyes.

“Brian,” Freddie says, shaking him.  “We have to get up, it’s all wet here, I’m not sleeping like this.”

Brian grunts noncommittally, very nearly asleep, before he drags his eyes open.  “C’mere,” he says, pulling Freddie on top of him and wriggling over.  “I’ll sleep on the bloody wet patch.”

Freddie laughs softly but he relaxes on Brian and lets his head rest on him again.  “You’re so gross, darling.”

“Do you wanna switch places?”

“I mean I’m so grateful, darling,” Freddie corrects, kissing the side of his neck.  

Brian laughs and wraps an arm around Freddie’s waist to keep him close, letting his other hand drift down just casually to rest on the curve of his arse.  He really does have a lot of lube on him, Brian can feel it on his thighs, but he seems to have forgotten any desire he once had to get out of bed to go and shower and Brian’s not going to remind him; he’s never been more pleased or comfortable in his life.

“Do you think you’ll come back to London?” Brian asks after a few minutes, disturbing the quiet of their steady breathing.

Freddie lets out a soft, amused sigh.  “Yes,” he says sleepily, holding Brian tighter, “I think I’ll be coming back to London.”