More birthday fic! This is for my darling Anysa and it's late again, but not as bad this time! :D Feedback is delightful. Please don't favourite without reviewing - it's really annoying. This is also a oneshot and does not need to be put on story alert. Thanks! :D

It's new.

This desperate fumbling, this hard grip he has on her waist and this rough pulling of his hair. The way they are pressing infinitely closer into each other (don't want to let go of you nonono please), the hot, open-mouthed kisses tossed between them.

Normally they are slower, gentler, grinning against bare shoulders and slipping each garment of clothing off with precision so that they aren't as creased when they finally pick them up again.

This time Freddie's fingers may leave purpling marks on her hips and Carly may leave red, angry lines on his back. The back of Carly's head will most likely be tender to the touch for days (because he might just trail his tongue up her thigh and make her throw her head back against the wall he has pushed her up against). Freddie's arms will ache from holding her up despite her knees buckling.

Freddie's breathing is hitching, catching in his throat under her mouth as it memorizes the lines of his neck, her tongue licking under his Adam's apple and dipping into the crevice under his jaw. His hands, tight at her waist, are pushing up her jacket and fiddling with the fastening of her skirt. She wriggles closer, burying her nose in his neck and panting when he scoops her up and locks her legs around him.

Her breath is scalding against his skin and he whimpers, his cheek against her temple.

"Am I," he hisses. "Am I hurting you?"

"N-no," she gasps. Their hips have started grinding against each other. "No, don't stop-"

She breaks off in a moan when she feels him straining against his jeans.

"Pants," she says into his ear, before biting down on his earlobe. He jerks forward slightly into her. "Take them off."

"You too," he growls, and she complies instantly when he sets her back down on the floor. She goes to wrap her arms around his neck but he's kneeling in front of her and she goes for his hair instead.

"Freddie-"

"Shh," he gazes up at her through his eyelashes and her mouth drops open slightly. "Let me do this."

She nods and he dives for her knee, pressing kisses there and darting his tongue out to taste. She is breathing louder and her fingers twitch from where they are buried in his hair. He opens his mouth wide over her kneecap and then kisses up her leg, pausing to flick his tongue over certain spots.

Carly is putty in his hands.

"Please," she babbles. "Please, please, please, don't tease, oh God, don't tease."

"I won't," he promises into the baby-soft skin of her inner thigh. His hands are locked on her hips, keeping her upright, but now his fingers are slipping underneath the seam of her underwear, tugging them down her legs. They are white and cotton, slightly darker where she is hot and wet for him.

He licks a stripe up her thigh, tongue dipping into the crevice between her leg and her pelvis. She whines, fingernails digging into his scalp and dragging slightly.

"Don't," her teeth are clenched. "Tease. I said."

He grins into her skin and then dives for his prize.

Carly has always loved Freddie's kisses, because he's an excellent kisser. He knows exactly how much pressure is needed and his mouth isn't too wet or too dry and he knows how to match the rhythm of his hips when they're meeting hers and she is climbing to completion. He knows how to kiss her hard and desperately, slow and gently, lazy and languid. And he knows exactly what to do with his tongue.

Freddie has done this three times before, and Carly thinks he's rather good at it.

His tongue delves straight into her, caressing her gently with long, steady strokes. One of Carly's hands is flung backwards and it flaps weakly against the wall, fingers scrabbling for non-existant grip. His lips are moving, too, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her over and over again. Carly whines and keens, her head swiveling from side to side desperately.

His hands are cupped around her thighs, stopping her from her wriggling away in her state of delirium. Her fingernails are definitely scraping his scalp now, holding his head firmly in place.

His tongue laps at her greedily, as if he is quite literally trying to eat her out. Every single jolt of pleasure from his extremely talented tongue rolls up her body, tingling in her breasts and her hips and her fingertips. Blood roars in her ears and she can feel the swirling tendrils of arousal coiling tighter and tighter at the pit of her stomach.

"Pleasepleaseplease," she is sobbing now; gasping desperately for air and making small, high-pitched noises. "Freddie-"

He looks up at her through his eyelashes again, pulling back slightly –he leaves her teetering, flailing on the edge. And exhales once.

His scalding breath hits her and that's it – she's coming and it hits her like a gunshot. Her head knocks back against the wall and she is wailing hoarsely, her body shuddering and if it weren't for his hands clasped tightly round her thighs (leaving purple, flowering marks) she would have slid, boneless, to the floorboards. Her ears pop and she can only just hear Freddie's soothing murmurs of "Shh, hey, shh, Carls," over the loud ringing that echoes through her head. Sensations explode from the crevice between her legs, where she burns.

Twenty seconds later she gulps in a mouthful of humid air (too lukewarm for her not to pant) and weakly loops her arms around Freddie's neck when he stands up. His mouth is glistening and swollen, and he's sort of smiling in that surprised way of his. She leans in and licks her way into his mouth, tasting herself. Like the previous three times it's kind of weird, but also kind of hot in a not-kinky-but-sort-of way.

She presses close again, and their hips slot together in such a fashion that Freddie groans loudly into Carly's mouth and jerks forward, still straining against his jeans. Her eyes flicker open and meet his dilated pupils, still half-kissing but mostly breathing against the gap between his lips. Their eyelashes brush and he hoists her up onto his hips again, pushing her back into the wall and sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. She responds immediately and rocks her pelvis into his, grinning when he moans. He bites down on her lip in retaliation, hard enough for pain to lance through her mouth briefly.

She reaches for the button on his jeans and shoves it through the slot as quickly as possible. He breaks away from the kiss and leans his forehead on hers. She holds his gaze and drags down his zipper at a snail's pace.

His breath stutters through a long exhale at the same time her fingers curl back around his very disheveled hair. He presses her even harder against the wall so he can push his jeans and boxers down. They clump around his ankles.

She reaches down to cup him, her mouth turning up in a smirk when his goes a little bit slack under her ministrations. She loves that while she is the one held against a white-washed concrete wall he is putty in her small hands.

"Ready?" she breathes.

"We need-"

"No," her thumb strokes over his mouth, her palm cupping his cheek. "We've never done this with anyone else."

He stares at her, his eyes nearly black with desire before nodding. Their foreheads still pressed together, he adjusts their hips and then sheaths himself in her with one thrust of his hips.

Carly mewls and hooks her chin over his shoulder. The small of her back bumps into the wall every three seconds, sending shooting pains up her back, but she likes that she's going to feel this tomorrow.

Freddie is breathing loud and hot and quick into her ear, matching the movement of his hips almost exactly. There is a dull thud every time her body smacks back into the wall but she barely registers it. Freddie feels incredible inside her – he hits this spot every time he slides back into her and he seems to fit perfectly. She can feel everything now, without the restricting material of the protection they normally use.

"More," she finds herself muttering. She is now curled completely around him in an effort to be as close as humanely possible. When he pulls out to the tip she whines at the loss, wishing the same pleasure could be received just from him being buried in her for a long, long time. But the push back in is worth it – Freddie stretches her and makes her feel like she is on the brink of splitting in two but at the same time he moves softly within her- this is rough, for them. It only hurts a little bit, and they'll kiss the bruises later and Freddie will bite his lip and feel guilty for a while.

They aren't noisy, normally – and even so Carly never cries out loud enough to wake up any of their neighbours and Freddie groans, low and husky, into Carly's neck. Always.

This time is no different, and Carly's cries only increase in pitch as Freddie takes her closer and closer back to the edge. Freddie is sucking at her collarbone, letting his teeth pull at her skin when their hips meet and the friction is particularly good. His breath is hitching in a familiar way that makes her pull harder on his hair and meet more of his thrusts (she's working on that).

His groans are almost silent now as they rock faster and faster together. Freddie keeps one hand on her hip and uses the other to tug her face out of his neck so he can kiss her, and seconds later she crows and crests and they aren't really kissing anymore, just smashing their mouths against each other to muffle the noises. Freddie isn't far behind – Carly clenches around him and he topples over the edge, hips stumbling and jerking as he fumbles through his orgasm.

Eventually they are left panting and spent, and Freddie slumps to the ground after pulling out of Carly with her still in his arms. She lets out a mildly indignant noise that would have been louder had she not just come twice against the wall of their hallway. Freddie only smiles slightly into her hair and tugs her underwear back up her legs as best he can as well as his own.

"Hmm," Carly mumbles against his shoulder. "I think we should do that more often."

"I don't like bruising you," Freddie frowns. "I trust you – I don't get the whole possessive thing-"

"It doesn't hurt now," Carly nestles further into the cotton of his t-shirt. "You can kiss it better later."

"We should get up."

"No," Carly scowls.

"Oh," Freddie hooks his arm over her waist and leans them against the wall. "Well, okay."