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“Can’t have you screaming down the house, though,” he informed the man beneath him and looped the scarf around his head, easily sliding it between Freddie’s parted lips. The dark-haired man made a surprised sound, eyes flying open as he lifted his head up for a moment. Roger was pretty sure that even with the scarf he'd be able to make out a genuine protest, if Freddie decided to voice it...
Taking his cock in hand, he positioned himself and brushed the tip over Freddie’s hole, giving him a chance to stop him. He knew that given the right situation and state of mind, Freddie didn’t need a whole lot of foreplay, as it were, and in fact occasionally had a go at him for not getting on with it fast enough. Because sometimes, he craved that edge of pain. And Roger walked a fine line, between wanting to give him what he was asking for and not wanting to actually hurt him beyond his limit. Wherever the fuck that limit lay, Roger genuinely had no idea. He hoped that it existed.
Freddie was straining a little beneath him, eyes screwed shut, but he made no sound of protest. And Roger steadied himself and pushed inside.