#askbarnum

Phillip didn’t have to see Phineas to know that he was grinning. He groaned.

“What sort of surprise has a geographical location?” he muttered.

“Only the best.”

“You’ve already given me a new house.”

“‘Us,’ darling. I’ve given us a new house.” Phillip could hear the grin in his voice now. “That wasn’t a surprise so much as it was a necessity. I had to get you away from those wretched parents of yours, didn’t I?”

Phillip sighed again. “Phine— ow!” He ran straight into something solid, stubbing his toe, and immediately felt Phineas’s hands on him again, steadying his balance.

“Sorry, sorry. That was my bad, I got a bit... carried away. Up you go, now.”

“Up?” Phillip echoed.

“Yes. They’re called stairs, dear Phillip. Quite the helpful platform for going up and— hey!”

Phineas broke off in a laugh as Phillip turned and swatted at him, missing wildly. He didn’t even catch the older man’s coat, something Phineas insisted they both wore despite the fact that they were evidently indoors, and Phillip was beginning to get a little warm around the collar.

“Humph,” Phineas pouted in mock-annoyance, “Fine, then. I guess I’ll just leave you to climb these stairs by yourself.”

Phillip gasped and made a wild grab for him, this time latching onto and clutching his arm. “No!”

He could practically picture Phineas tapping his chin, pretending to think about it. “I don’t know—“

“Phineas, I’ll fall!”

This time, the older man chuckled and Phillip was wrapped into an invisible, strong embrace as Phineas kissed his forehead. “You know I wouldn’t let that happen.” He pulled away, this time taking hold of Phillip’s hand.  He gave it a gentle squeeze. “Now, up you get.”

Phillip clutched to Phineas for dear life as they began the slow ascend up the stairs. At first, it felt like he was walking a tightrope, but that was ridiculous. At least Anne and W.D. could see while they were up in the air.

When his feet touched solid ground that stretched out in front of him, he nearly wept with relief.

They walked for a short while down what seemed to be a hallway with no twists or turns. Finally, Phineas stopped them.

“Ah, here we are.”

A moment went by, nothing happened. Then Phillip heard a soft jangle and the sound of a knob unlocking, turning. Opening.

He gasped when the cold air hit him.

“You can take the blindfold off now, darling.”

Phillip opened his mouth to reply, but his teeth had started to chatter. Phineas chuckled, and then Phillip felt warm hands undoing the knot at the back of his head.

He gasped again once he could see.

They stood upon a rooftop overlooking New York. The city stretched on before them as Phillip gaped in wide-eyed wonder. Around them, snowflakes fluttered and fell from the sky. The stars seemed the brightest they’d ever been and he tilted his head back, lips parting just slightly, for any sight of constellations.

He turned when he felt the hand on the back of his neck, and looked up at Phineas. Phineas, who was looking down at him, awaiting his reaction.

“It’s beautiful,” Phillip mumbled. Though his fingers were already growing cold, he reached up and threaded them through Phineas’s hair, pulling him close. His lips just barely brushed against Phineas’s as he mumbled, “How did you find this place?”

Phineas’s eyes were sad and loving. He stepped back, cradling Phillip’s cheek in his hand as he spoke. “Charity and I used to live in this building. We would dance up here, for hours it seemed, until we couldn’t dance anymore.” His smile was small and sad.

“Oh, Phin...”

Phineas cleared his throat. “She would love to know that I’ve brought somebody else up here. I wish you could have met her.”

Phillip took Phineas’s hand and gently squeezed. “I would have loved to.”

Phineas nodded and cleared his throat again. Phillip thought he saw tears in his eyes. “Would you like to dance, darling?”

A small smile tugged at Phillip’s lip and he rose his hand, cupping Phineas’s cheek in his palm. “It would be an honor.”

So Phineas took him by the hand and they fell into a slow, swaying rhythm. Phillip was a little cold, but the combination of his coat (he understood the purpose now) and Phineas’s warmth kept the temperature bearable.

He was comfortable in their slow dance, just beginning to relax and lean into Phineas, when Phineas twirled him. The older man let out a laugh at his startled cry and pulled him ever closer, their noses brushing as they kissed.

“Charity and I, we used to run around this rooftop and dance from end to end. I’d do the same now, but — well, most of the times we came up here, we didn’t have an ice issue.”

Phillip’s eyes widened and he peered around Phineas, eyeing the roof’s edge. “Don’t let me fall, Phin.”

“Never in a million years,” Phineas whispered, voice gruff. This time, when Phillip looked up, Phineas didn’t bother to hide the tears that started to roll down his cheeks.

Phillip rose up on tiptoe, pressing his lips to a tear streak. “I love you, Phineas.”

Phineas smiled sadly. Then he dipped Phillip low, muffling his startled gasp with a deep kiss, winding an arm around Phillip to keep him steady. When they straightened, Phineas broke the kiss and pressed his lips to the corner of Phillip’s mouth.

“Merry Christmas, dear Phillip.”

Phineas didn’t mean to snoop. He had meant to clean — a rarity that usually only occurred after Phillip nagged his ear off. Phillip would sigh and, with a roll of his eyes, claim that Phineas’s two little daughters, neither of them yet of double digit age, tidied up better than he did. And complained less about it, too.

But Phillip was away, dragged off to some gala by his parents in an attempt to “return him to the upper class.” He probably wouldn’t be back until the next day — he usually came back early from such events after bickering with his parents, but this particular gathering was hosted by a family across the state, and if Phillip wanted to leave early he would have to find a hotel to stay overnight. He wouldn’t be back until evening tomorrow, or late afternoon if he set off early enough.

So, because Phillip was away and no doubt having a miserable time, Phineas decided he would surprise him by cleaning the whole house — or, most of it. He could probably stand to skip a few rooms that Phillip didn’t go into. He knew that his “cleanliness standards” weren’t quite as on par with Phillip’s, but he hoped that Phillip would be so surprised and overjoyed by the simple fact that Phineas had cleaned that he would be willing to overlook a few forgotten specks of dust. 

But when Phineas decided to clean the whole 

(most of the)

(half of the)

house, he did not expect to find himself wrist-deep in some secret compartment in Phillip’s room.

All right, so the bedroom wasn’t exactly Phillip’s. Technically, it was a guest bedroom and the two slept together in Phineas’s master suite. But Phillip would duck into this second bedroom whenever Phineas’s girls spent the night and Phillip thought it best to sleep in separate beds. And, despite only being used on occasional weekends and holidays, the room had little traces of Phillip all over it — one of his combs on the dresser, a jacket and tie slung over the bed frame, and a pair of his socks in the corner, left forgotten as he packed for his overnight visit. 

These little traces of untidiness made Phineas’s lip twitch into a smirk. He chuckled as he picked up the bundled pair of socks and tossed them in the hallway to join his own pile of dirty clothing. He would take them downstairs to be washed upon making his way to the ground floor. 

He was on his hands and knees, attempting to sweep dust out from underneath the bed (how did Phillip do this?) when his thumb caught on something and he cursed, yanking his hand back. A small drop of blood was already rising against his skin, and he cursed again under his breath as he stuck his thumb in his mouth. Once satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, he carefully poked his head under the bed once more to see what had nicked him. 

A nail stuck up from an uneven floorboard and, curiosity getting the best of him, Phineas quickly realized the floorboard was loose. Lifting the wooden plank took no effort at all, and Phineas found himself wrist deep in a secret compartment he was unaware of in his own home.

The hole was small, but surprisingly deep, and Phineas’s fingers brushed against... something.

The man’s heart leapt in his throat until he realized that the questionable object was not furry. Not a rat, then. He let out a silent sigh of relief as he curled his fingers around the object and lifted it out from underneath the bed.

A journal.

The book was bound in brown leather, not yet dulled by the elements of time. The pages looked crisp and white, though many appeared creased and dog-eared, as if somebody had gone back and visited certain pages a number of times before.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Phineas flipped to a random page — one, he noted, that was dog-eared. It was dated three weeks ago and he immediately recognized the familiar cursive lettering, written by only Phillip’s neat hand.

Phineas began to read.

 "I had the dream again last night. It's been months since the last time, but I hesitate to mention it to Phineas since he always looks vaguely unsettled whenever he hears the word "pirate.” The start is always the same -- I am in a ship's cabin, curled up on the bunk. Some interminable time later, hinges creak as an imposing figure fills the doorway, face hidden in dark shadows, the crimson late afternoon sunlight against his back. With the sort of expository omniscience that only works in dreams, I know that he is my captain and that what is to follow has played out many times before. That does not in way diminish the anticipation, however.

He sheds his claret velvet coat first, then the ornately embroidered black waistcoat is shrugged off broad shoulders to reveal the ivory silk shirt underneath. The fabric is thin and clings to his strongly muscled arms and chest, drawstrings already pulled loose so that the deep v reveals just a glimpse of rippling abdomen. His skin glints golden in the light of the setting sun, his head is crowned wih chestnut waves limned in halcyon glory. 

Time speeds up again and he has reached the bed, his movements lithe and the glint in his amber eyes almost predatory. It's a gaze that leaves me unable to resist, rendered immobile by its warm, beckoning depths. He is on me in another moment and his lips taste of sea spray and rum. He reaches down...."

When he stopped reading, Phineas realized his face was red and hot. He swallowed, throat dry, Phillip’s face flashing in his mind.

Though the incident with the pirates had been a long while ago, the memory was still fresh in Phineas’s mind. He never would have guessed that the ship, the men that had beaten and shot at them, would have had this effect on Phillip. He tried to think back, try to recall any night that Phillip had acted out of sorts after waking or going to bed.

Phineas still sat on the ground and he shifted, realizing that his trousers had gotten uncomfortably tight. The journal still laid open in his lap and his gaze trailed down, scanning the lettering once more.

He is on me in another moment.

Slowly, his shock faded and a smirk curled at Phineas’s lip. He grunted, shifting his weight, hand falling into his lap. Circling a thumb over his rising erection, Phineas thought of Phillip once more and snickered.

Well, he thought, standing to go and properly relieve himself, if it was a show Phillip wanted, it was a show Phillip would get.

***

The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky a sea of oranges and reds, when the sound of hoofbeats along the dirt road announced Phillip’s return the next evening. He was positively exhausted, physically and emotionally, after another unsuccessful attempt to get along with his parents, and he’d barely slept the night before, in an unfamiliar hotel room with no Phineas to curl into.

Vaguely, he registered that Phineas hadn’t come out to greet him, but his mind was too tired and foggy to care. He briefly debated leaving his luggage outside and dealing with it in the morning, but he shook his head, feeling ridiculous — it was only one bag. 

Inside the mansion, the rooms were dark and empty. It looked like Phineas wasn’t home at all and at this Phillip became more attentive. Of course, he had no way of letting Phineas know the exact minute he’d be home, but... where was he? 

Slightly dejected at having nobody to greet him coming home, Phillip sighed and took his singular suitcase upstairs. He threw it in the spare bedroom, deciding to unpack later, and went down the hall to the bedroom he shared with Phineas. Even without the ringmaster here, at least he’d be able to fall asleep in the comfort of their own sheets. 

Time passed in a blur as Phillip stripped, removing his jacket and his belt and his shoes, the rest of his clothing following suit, and slipped into one of Phineas’s nightshirts. He relaxed at once with the familiarity of Phineas’s scent wrapping around him like an embrace, and sank into the large bed, pulling the sheets up to his chin.

He thought he was dreaming when the door creaked open, a figure stood at the doorway. Inwardly, Phillip’s heart leapt in his throat.

The dream. It was happening again.

But this time Phillip was... aware. 

The light from a setting sun set his hair aglow with orangey-red. Phillip’s breath caught in his throat as the man — the captain — stepped closer. The outfit he wore was familiar, Phillip having seen it in his dreams a number of times before. Neither of them spoke as Phineas shed his velvet coat first, and then the waistcoat, revealing the fine ivory shirt that was as familiar as any of Phillip’s own clothing. Phillip had this dream more than enough times before and could recite each scene as it unfolded, like a bedtime prayer.

But, a voice whispered at the back of Phillip’s mind. Despite the near-perfect recreation of the dream from nights past, something was... off.

Beyond the sound of Phillip’s own heart thudding in his ears, he vaguely registered that he could feel no sway of the ship from the waves underneath his bed. He could not smell the saltiness of ocean water in air, and the timing was off. It was early or mid-evening, not late afternoon as before. 

And then—

“Phillip,” the man before him whispered.

Alarm bells exploded in Phillip’s head.

The captain never spoke upon first entering his room. During or afterward, sure — but never before.

Phillip’s eyes rose to meet Phineas’s. He saw the playful gleam behind the seduction, saw the way the man’s lip curled into a smirk as Phillip looked at him just a little too long.

“Phineas!” he gasped, incredulous.

This was no dream.

Phillip crawled out from underneath the covers. Phineas’s nightshirt bunching up around his thighs as he sat on his knees and stared up at the... captain. Phineas didn’t bother to hide his pleasure as his eyes roamed over Phillip’s body, and he hummed in delight.

“Is that my nightshirt?” he chuckled.

“Phineas, how did you—“

The words died in Phillip’s throat as his eyes widened and his face drained of color. Horrified, his gaze flicked up to Phineas’s face.

“You didn’t!” he exclaimed.

“Hmmm?” Phineas tried to play innocent, but that damned smirk gave him away.

“Oh, no,” Phillip moaned.

Phineas chuckled again. “In my defense, I truly did not mean to stumble across your little... stories. I was cleaning, and—“

“You were cleaning?” Phillip gasped.

Phineas scowled. “Couldn’t you tell?”

Phillip was silent. His face still flamed red hot and he covered his eyes.

God. He couldn’t believe Phineas found his journal. That Phineas read it. He wondered just how much the man had seen...

A hand on his chest pushed him back on the bed and Phineas was on him, kissing his lips, kissing his neck. It took a moment for Phillip, stunned, to respond, but then he whimpered, overtaken by Phineas’s scent and hands and lips. Distantly, he smelt rum and sea foam — he wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him or if Phineas had gone those extra steps to be “in character.”

Another gasp escaped Phillip’s lips as Phineas reached down, and suddenly the younger man became aware of just how vulnerable he was. He laid in their bed — though, at the moment it felt very much like a ship’s bunk — in nothing but one of Phineas’s own nightshirts that left much of his hot, gleaming skin exposed. Phineas was still mostly clothed, save for the velvet coat and waistcoat that laid discarded somewhere on the floor. Muscles rippled underneath the thin, ivory shirt Phineas still wore, and Phillip ached to trace every inch of the captain’s skin like a map of stars.

Phineas’s hand crept up the inside of Phillip’s bare thigh, toying along the soft skin. He snickered. “Look at you. Legs spread open like a whore.”

As Phineas’s hand closed around his hardening cock, Phillip moaned. “O-Only for you, Captain.” 

The name slipped out on impulse as Phillip lost himself in the familiar fantasy. He froze and his gaze flickered to Phineas, who knelt over him, one hand still slipped underneath the nightshirt. His eyes widened for a moment, almost as surprised as Phillip, and then darkened. The hand on Phillip’s cock withdrew, slipping out from underneath the nightshirt. Phillip whimpered as Phineas stood and pulled him up. Now, Phineas stood looking down at Phillip, who sat on the edge of the bed, breathing deep, cock hard, head bowed.

Through his lowered eyelashes, Phillip watched as Phineas’s hands toyed with his belt. Excitement thrummed through Phillip’s body as the captain watched him with a smirk, no doubt knowing exactly the kind of thoughts running through Phillip’s head. Phillip watched, licking his lower lip as Phineas pulled the belt loose. Their eyes met as the belt came off and Phineas unbuttoned his trousers.

Lifting an eyebrow, the captain commanded, “On your knees, cabin boy.”

Phillip’s mouth fell open in a moan and a low, “Fuck.”

“Damned mouth of a sailor,” the captain muttered. 

Phillip came close to protesting, but the captain’s sharp look, amber eyes dark with intent, had him scrambling to the floor 

(like a harlot)

instead. He looked up at Phineas from his knees, expecting to see a trace of familiar warmth in whiskey-colored eyes, and found the very sea captain from his dreams staring down at him in his place.

Phineas radiated possession and power as his trousers lowered, his cock demanding attention. Phillip whimpered again, softly, nearly dizzy with desire and disbelief that his fantasy was real and actually being played out. He almost forgot that it was a result of Phineas’s snooping.

“Get to work,” the captain snapped.

Phillip had been in this position a countless amount of times before, but now, with sea captain instead of ringmaster waiting for him, he felt closed in and very, very warm. He was hyper aware of the heat radiating from himself and from the captain, and his mouth felt suddenly dry.

But one more look up at Phineas took Phillip’s breath away and, slowly, his body relaxed. He leaned forward, kissing his lips to the smooth head of the captain’s cock.

Above him, Phineas sighed and shifted. Captain persona momentarily forgotten.

Using one hand to grip the man’s hip, Phillip slowly took more in. The familiar thickness and musky scents were comforting and Phillip relaxed further, falling into the familiar routine. He sucked eagerly, but slowly, savoring Phineas’s taste.

“Faster,” came the captain’s sharp order.

Phillip hummed, the best he could do with Phineas’s cock in his mouth, and closed his eyes as he applied more suction, sucking faster and harder and deeper. He gripped the captain’s hips, fingernails leaving little crescent-shaped marks in their wake, and took Phineas for all he was worth, until the tickling of his gag reflex forced him to slowly back off.

“Fuck,” the man above him hissed.

Then he felt the hand in his hair, then both hands, and he made a strangled noise as they tugged at his hair, abusing the strands. Phillip’s eyes snapped open as the captain gave a particularly hard yank, and the resulting moan ripped from his throat with such force that he had to pull away from the captain’s cock, leaving it wet and red and gleaming.

“Phin—“ he coughed.

A rough yank of his hair and a light, sharp slap across his face had Phillip correcting himself as he gasped.

“C-Captain!”

The captain smirked. His eyes flicked over to the bed, and then to Phillip. The younger man’s nightshirt was rumpled, much too big for him, and drenched in sweat.

“Undress, sailor.”

Phillip’s limbs trembled as he got to his feet and pulled Phineas’s nightshirt up over his head. The captain’s eyes darkened as they roamed over him, and he squirmed under the intense gaze.

“Mmm. Wait here.”

Phillip watched with wide eyes as the captain pulled up his trousers, acting as if his cock didn’t literally ache to be released, and swiftly left the room. Phillip was left alone, undressed and aching and with a thudding heart. He sat on the edge of the bed and attempted to breathe evenly.

At first, when the captain came back with red ribbons in hand, Phillip didn’t gauge the meaning. He looked up into Phineas’s eyes.

The familiar smirk returned. “You mentioned ropes in your writing, but I thought ribbons might be smoother on that delicate skin of yours.”

Phillip gaped at him. His mind raced, realizing what the words meant.

The captain approached with slow, sturdy steps. He pushed Phillip back down — Phillip made no attempt to fight back — and made quick work of tying him up, bringing his wrists up over his head. Phillip moaned and whined and whimpered. He didn’t even have exposed skin to press up against. Phineas knew this, the entire reason why he’d stayed dressed, and it drove Phillip wild.

The captain knotted the ribbons as tightly as they could be tied without causing Phillip pain. Phillip, mortified and nude and horribly aroused, watched as the captain stood back and observed him, fully clothed once more.

“Cap— Cap’n, please—“

The captain snickered, and, once satisfied that Phillip could not reach him, finally began to undress. The belt came undone for a second time, and he shrugged out of the thin white shirt, finally baring a beautifully sculpted chest. He  stepped out of his trousers and undergarments, tossing them carelessly to the floor. 

Phillip’s lips formed verbal pleas before he could stop himself. The captain was pure power and muscle and solid art and Phillip craved every inch of him. He whimpered and pulled at his restraints.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please.”

Along with the ribbons, the captain brought in a small jar of oil which he now twisted open and dipped his fingers into. Phillip whimpered again and pulled at his restraints again, spreading his legs as far as they would go. His cock stood to attention and his body yearned to be touched, knowing the pleasure that just fingers alone would bring him. 

“Such a little whore.” The captain shook his head. He bit his lip in an attempt to hide his smirk. “How many travels have you been on, boy? How many seamen have you spread open for?”

Phillip’s cock twitched and, having nothing to grab or hold onto, he balled his hands into fists. “Only you, my c-captain. Only you.”

He could not tear his eyes from the captain’s hand, glistening wet with oil. His body sang for it. 

Seeming satisfied with Phillip’s answer, the captain’s lip finally curled into that familiar smirk. He came to the bed and knelt in front of Phillip’s spread legs, the younger’s hips rising in eager anticipation.

“Please,” he begged again, over and over, “Please.”

The first brush of the captain’s fingers, wet with oil, had Phillip whimpering and straining to press closer. The captain’s amber eyes bore into his as he took his time pressing his finger to Phillip’s hole, then pressing in. One, then two. Phillip gasped, begged for more.

“So needy,” the captain patronized, even he pushed in a third finger. But, Phillip didn’t miss the catch in his voice, the excitement. Phineas wanted this as much as Phillip did and the thought made Phillip feel smug, even as he greedily moaned.

Phineas’s long fingers were rough and calloused from years of hard labor on the railroad, and it didn’t take much to imagine the scarred hands of a rugged sea captain were the ones that fucked into him. Phillip clenched tight around those fingers as he closed his eyes, pleased to hear the resulting low moan from the captain. 

Suddenly daring, Phillip opened his eyes and opened his mouth to gloat. But rough, soft lips pressed against his instead, and he sighed deep into the kiss. Lips warm and slightly chapped, the captain worked his tongue into Phillip’s eager mouth as his fingers worked Phillip’s equally eager body.

As they pulled back for air, Phillip sighed, “Phineas.”

“Captain,” Phineas growled. He thrust his fingers in particularly hard and Phillip gasped again, jerking upward. 

“Captain,” Phillip obediently repeated, pressing his head into the pillow as he arched his neck. The captain groaned low in approval as he dipped his head, teeth grazing along Phillip’s neck. His teeth nicked as he bit down and Phillip moaned, loudly. He could feel the captain’s smirk against his skin. 

Lips pressed to Phillip’s pulse point as the captain curled his fingers. Phillip cried out as fingertips lightly brushed against something inside him, heart rate jumping, and Phineas grinned against his pulse. In an action much too gentle for a pirate, Phineas kissed Phillip’s neck as he slowly pulled out his fingers. 

Phillip whimpered and instinctively clenched around nothing. He looked up at Phineas with wide eyes, bright and nearly brimming with tears.

“Don’t give me that face,” the captain chided. He stood and, using the same hand that had been inside Phillip moments earlier, coated his own cock with oil. He jerked himself lazily, slowly, smirking as Phillip watched. 

Phillip’s body reacted from both ends, saliva filling his mouth and hole twitching in anticipation. He licked his lips and pulled at his restraints, frustrated, a tear rolling down his cheek. His face flamed with color, though he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, arousal, or both.

He couldn’t remember ever crying in his dreams. Somehow, Phineas — his Phineas, his captain — drove him more wild than the man in his dreams ever could. 

If he could reach out to the man, he would. He no longer cared how he looked, he no longer cared how much he begged. Squirming on the bed, he pleaded, “Please, Captain. Have me. Take me.”

He watched as the captain’s eyes widened, then darkened. Hand falling from his cock, the captain climbed onto the bed and crawled over him. Wrapping Phillip’s legs around his waist, he claimed Phillip’s lips in another kiss, rougher than the last, tugging at Phillip’s lower lip. He relished in the sounds Phillip made as he moaned into his mouth. 

“Please, sir,” Phillip whispered in between a breath for air. He couldn’t wait anymore.

Phillip whimpered when the captain’s cock brushed against his ass, the tip teasing his hole. The captain pulled away from the kiss, breaking it for good, to grip his cock and slowly guide it into Phillip.

Phillip moaned, loud, louder, his heels digging into the captain’s backside, as the man entered him. Finally, finally. His fingers twitched, arms aching to wrap around Phineas, and his legs clung as tight as they could, guiding the captain as he drove into him. 

In his captain persona, Phineas wasn’t as liberal with the oil as he would have been otherwise, and, though he hadn’t noticed before, Phillip could feel it. He moaned at the new burn, the new pull, the new stretch, just enough to recognize the difference in a lot of lube versus a little without physically hurting him. The feel of Phineas’s cock, smooth and curved and so deliciously his, had Phillip attempting to bear down on it and ride Phineas for all he was worth.

The captain’s pace was fast and wicked, each new caress of his cock hitting Phillip almost before he had a chance to react to the one previous. Phillip moaned, whined, called out to the man above him — every time his tongue slipped and called out Phineas instead of Captain, the captain delivered a light, but stinging slap to his cheek. It brought tears to Phillip’s eyes more than once — not from pain, but sheer arousal — and he moaned out his correction.

The bed rocked underneath the captain’s force, and the captain groaned, pressing his forehead to Phillip’s. Their kiss was sloppy and bruising, the captain biting Phillip’s lip again and swallowing his moan. All Phillip could do was moan, legs wound tight around the captain, eyes brimming with fresh tears that threatened to spill over.

The captain’s voice was rough in Phillip’s ear, telling Phillip how tight he was, how hot, how good. Every last nerve in Phillip’s body felt like it was on fire, and when the captain stopped the bruising pace, Phillip had to swallow a broken scream.

Phillip’s mouth was ready with protests as the captain, panting, moved up to untie Phillip’s ribbons. Phillip gasped, and then moaned as his wrists were finally freed, his hands immediately moving to dig into the captain’s back.

Grunting, the captain resumed his ministrations, maneuvering Phillip’s hips to fuck deeper into him, faster. Phillip had to concentrate on remembering to breathe, fingers more like claws as they scratched down the man’s back. His hands were everywhere at once, as if making up for lost time, painting Phineas’s back like a canvas. 

When the captain’s hand lowered, taking hold of Phillip’s cock, Phillip screamed out. “Ph-Ph-Phineas!”

The captain did not correct him as he spilled all over their chests.

Gasping, almost struggling to force air into his lungs, Phillip’s head fell back against the bed frame. The captain paused for the briefest moment, allowing Phillip to properly come and suck in a mouthful of air, but quickly picked up his pace just as before. He was grunting now, head bowed low, eyes squeezed shut. Phillip knew he was close.

Moaning still as the captain fucked inside him, Phillip grabbed the captain’s hands and loosely twined their fingers together. He panted and moaned as the captain squeezed his hands in an almost perfect rhythm.

The captain’s hips beginning to stutter, a high moan broke from Phillip’s lips. He clenched tight around Phineas’s cock, held him tight with his legs, and watched in utter rapture as the man’s face contorted. 

The captain’s moan was broken by a string of curses as he slammed into his orgasm. Panting, he squeezed Phillip’s hands and buried his face in Phillip’s neck, inhaling sweat and sex.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

As his hips stilled and he laid limp inside Phillip, Phillip kissed his sweaty brow. He looked up, hardened face of the captain immediately melting away into Phineas’s familiar loving gaze.

“Are you all right?” Phineas asked, voice husky. Shifting, he slowly pulled out of Phillip and rolled away, their chests a mess of Phillip’s come. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“No,” Phillip breathed. It took a moment to collect himself, but then he swore, “That was incredible, Phineas... you are incredible.”

Phineas smiled — though it looked suspiciously like a smirk. “Welcome home.”

 “God.” Somehow, Phillip found enough energy to press his hands over his eyes. “I can’t believe you—“

Phineas’s deep chuckle interrupted him, and he sighed as Phineas kissed his flushed cheek.

“You know,” Phineas mused, running a hand through Phillip’s terribly messy hair, “I still have quite a lot of material to go through...”

Phillip’s eyes widened and he shot up, meeting Phineas’s stupidly amused gaze. “You wouldn’t.”

“Are you complaining?” Phineas smirked.

Phillip groaned and flopped back against the pillows. He lifted his eyes as Phineas loomed over him.

“I didn’t hear a ‘yes,’” Phineas mumbled, before catching Phillip’s lips in a soft, languid kiss.

Phillip sighed as they broke apart. Eyelids suddenly heavy, he smiled up at Phineas.

“Whatever you want,” he promised, sleep coating his voice. “I just have one question...”

“Hmmm?”

Their eyes met.

“What, exactly, did you clean?”

——