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Thursday
“You know,” Steve says, one day as he watches Danny divide pasta over two plates that he’s pretty sure he watched his mom pick out when he was twelve, before she faked her death. “Sometimes this house still doesn’t really feel like mine.”
“There’s an easy fix for that. Have lots of sex in it.” Danny hands him a plate. “Careful, that could be hot.”
Steve sure feels a little hot, just not in any of the places Danny probably expects.
*
It takes most of the game they’re watching until Steve screws up the courage to ask. “What do you mean, have lots of sex?”
Danny slants a look at him, but other than that doesn’t move a muscle. His relaxed sprawl, beer bottle resting near his hip, remains intact. “You know, break in the house. Claim all of these rooms as yours.” He waves a hand around, like he might need to indicate which house he means. “Rachel and I did it when we got our first place. It’s fun, you form positive associations, and in your case specifically you’d be giving the finger to any fears that your parents could unexpectedly walk into the room.”
Steve purposely ignores the many horrors contained in those few words – Danny married to Rachel, the very real possibility of his mom suddenly appearing in his kitchen again one day – and considers the idea behind it. “So you’re operating under the same basic principle as animals when they urinate everywhere? Marking your territory?”
“Wouldn’t have pegged you for that kind of watersports enthusiast,” Danny says, drily, so Steve punches him in the arm and tries not to let his mind get fixated on Danny pegging him for anything. That’s that for the conversational part of the evening for a while.
*
Thursday, again
For exactly two weeks, nothing happens. Then they’re at Steve’s place again for the first time in fourteen days and as Danny walks in the door, he casts a critical eye around and says, “This doesn’t look like a house that’s been debauched recently.”
“Yeah,” Steve admits, with a huff. He could play dumb and pretend he hasn’t been thinking about Danny’s piece of unsolicited advice way more than is healthy, but Danny would just call him out on it. “It’s a great plan, but it’d be even better if I had someone to have sex with. I’m not seeing anyone.”
“And with the size of this place, a one night stand wouldn’t give you enough time,” Danny adds, which is not why Steve doesn’t consider that an option, but it’s fine if that’s what Danny wants to think. Danny toes off his shoes, leaving them disorderly in the corner next to the door, like he owns the place. “You know, I guess I could do you a favor.”
Steve tears his attention away from the shoes and the unreasonably warm feeling they give him. He hopes it’s not a sign he’s developing a foot fetish. “Do me a favor how?”
“You know. Give you a hand.” The words are still ambiguous, but Danny’s visual demonstration leaves little to the imagination. “Is that a good or a bad speechless stare? It’s whatever, buddy, whatever you-”
“Uh,” Steve says, loudly. He can’t have Danny telling him he can have whatever he wants, because he might spontaneously cream his pants, and that’d be awkward. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Danny says, and curls a hand around Steve’s elbow to drag him over to the couch.
*
Danny jacks him hard and tight and good, and he scoots close enough that Steve can feel hot breath on the side of his neck with every whispered encouragement. It doesn’t feel like just a buddy helping another buddy out, but what does Steve know? Maybe this is how they do it in Jersey.
He comes too quickly, but he’s helpless to stop it.
He glances at Danny. “Want me to-”
Danny makes a help yourself gesture at his own crotch, so Steve does. Danny’s dick, once he gets it out of Danny’s pants and underwear, is silky and hot and fits in his palm perfectly. When Danny comes he clutches Steve’s thigh, digging his nails in to a point very near pain even through the fabric, and that’s pretty damn great, too.
*
“So, you up for another room?” Danny asks, once they’ve had a little while to just lay there, spent and panting.
Steve feels a tad dizzy. Up until just now, he didn’t think Danny had actually meant that he’d go through the entire house with him. Then he frowns. “Wait, was that a pun?”
*
It was a pun. Steve loudly proclaims that it was a very bad one right until Danny pushes him up against the closed shower cabin in the downstairs bathroom and mashes their mouths together. “Had to get that in now,” Danny says. “Just in case you’re one of those guys who complains about the taste after.”
He goes down to his knees and Steve almost lets his own knees buckle, too, because he wants to chase those lips, but then Danny yanks Steve’s pants down for the second time in just over an hour and every impulse to join him on the floor goes right out the tiny window above the toilet. “Not one of those guys,” Steve says, as he watches Danny lick the head of his dick, because if anything, he wants to kiss that clever mouth more now.
*
They mutually decide that, for reasons related to the tragic limitations of the human body, they should probably put a cap on the number of orgasms they strive for in one night. Two each, Danny suggests, and Steve solemnly agrees, in hopes he’ll be able to hide all his giddiness at the prospect of doing this multiple nights in a row on the inside of his head.
It’s less awkward than he expects it to be when he sees Danny to the door and they confirm their plans to carpool to work together tomorrow. He also doesn’t feel as guilty as he would have predicted when he sticks a hand down his own boxers as soon as his back hits the mattress, thinking of Danny’s hands and mouth and dick.
He isn’t going to tell Danny about that, though. He could decide it’s a sign that Steve could just as happily finish this quest on his own, which is not worth the risk. He might not need a partner, but he wants one.
*
Friday
Steve and Danny go to work and do their jobs; they go out for drinks with the team; they drive the Camaro to Steve’s place, where they order a pizza, which they eat in front of the TV. Then they do the dishes. By this time, Steve is at least partially convinced that yesterday’s events were an exceptionally vivid wet dream.
Then Danny turns to him after putting away the last plate and oh, okay, that’s his erect dick, right there in his tan dress pants, outlined very nicely. Danny dresses to the left. “So,” Danny says, at which point Steve decides that they’ve talked enough and kisses him.
They do that for a while, until Danny’s hands try to wriggle their way into the back of Steve’s pants. They don’t get very far – Steve’s cargo pants are not skin tight, but if they were wide enough for a grown man to stick two hands into the waistband, they’d be around his ankles constantly. At the moment, that doesn’t even seem like such a bad idea, but Steve still has a vague notion that it would be impractical while chasing suspects. Danny’s hands do, however, reach far enough for Steve to push back into the touch.
Danny hauls Steve back in by his ass and nips Steve’s lip. “Bend over for me, would you? I’m eating out.”
One of Steve’s flipflops ends up on the kitchen counter, that’s how much force he uses to kick them off. He doesn’t care, because he’s too busy stripping down his pants and boxers. “What is it with the puns? We’ve already eaten.”
“Shut up, they’re great,” Danny says, pushing Steve around until he’s obediently bent forward, hands around the very slightly protruding tile edge of his kitchen counter. “You’re just jealous.”
“You shut up,” Steve shoots back, and Danny does, because evidently even he hasn’t figured out yet how to keep talking while he’s flattening his tongue over Steve’s hole. He licks in broad, slow strokes from Steve’s perineum to the crack of his ass, circles Steve’s opening and dips his tongue inside a few times, and Steve hardly has to touch himself before he’s painting the already white kitchen cabinets with a fresh layer.
*
“Really, the pantry?” Danny asks, when Steve – still naked from the waist down – shoves him in there. “This feels an awful lot like a closet. I don’t do closets.”
Steve unzips and untucks Danny in the half dark of the door that’s not fully closed. He licks both of his hands and gets one of them around Danny’s rock hard dick and uses the other to cup Danny’s balls. “That’s where you draw the pun line?”
“I was thinking more along lines drawn by claustrophobia, but, uh-” Danny throws his head back and bucks his hips and makes the shelf of canned food rattle. Not enough to be worrying, but enough that a dull metallic thump suddenly seems like an absurdly erotic sound. “Okay, this is- This is kind of nice. I could get used to this. Pantry it is.”
Steve, temporarily ready to abort mission, gets back to it. “Gotta be thorough,” he says.
Danny kisses him hard. “Good. Now you’re getting the spirit.”
*
“What’s next?” Danny asks, after they’ve emerged from the pantry and had some vanilla crisp power bars they found in there as a snack. It’s important to keep your strength up during periods of strenuous physical activity.
Steve herds him into the downstairs bedroom, lays him out on the thankfully made sheets and gives him a long, slow, sloppy blow job. Every time Danny is on the edge, he pulls off for a moment to set his teeth in Danny’s shoulder or lick Danny’s nipple or trail the tip of his tongue along the inside of Danny’s thigh. By the time Danny comes, he’s swearing at Steve loud enough that it can probably be heard in the entire house, which is wonderful.
Out of revenge, competitive spirit or both, Danny tackles him to the bed five minutes later and gives him the same treatment but even longer, even slower, and it’s torture and probably against the Geneva Convention, but in the end Steve comes so hard his vision whites out for a second.
*
Saturday
Danny shows up in Steve’s kitchen not long after Steve’s morning swim. He’s carrying a six pack, which either means he’s developing a drinking problem or that he’s staying at least until the clock’s struck a socially acceptable time for beer. Steve likes one of those options a lot better than the other one.
“Hey,” Danny says casually, dropping a handful of condoms next to Steve’s coffee cup, “want to fuck me today?”
They almost don’t make it to the first upstairs bedroom in time.
*
“Oh God,” Steve says, as he watches Danny open himself up with slick fingers in Steve’s childhood room. “Oh Jesus,” he gasps, as he sinks into Danny on the flowery thistle-colored sheets his maternal grandma bought for them just before she died. “Oh Danny, Danny, Danny,” he hisses, as he buries himself one last time, Danny’s heels digging into his ass, Danny’s eyes watching him avidly, Danny’s come already slick between them.
*
Of course the second upstairs bedroom would be the sensible place to go next. The second upstairs bedroom, it should be noted, is also the master bedroom, which Steve currently inhabits.
After they’ve both had a power nap and have regained enough strength for conversation, Danny watches Steve, head propped up on his arm. “So wanna do that again behind the next door, or do you want to skip that one?”
“Or how about-” Steve says, and licks his suddenly dry lips. Kind of hard to pretend this is a casual spur of the moment idea that he’s definitely never masturbated to before when his own body betrays him, but oh well. “How about you do me this time?”
Danny’s eyes go a little glazed, like he can already see it happen. Steve’s cock twitches.
“Yeah, okay.” Danny’s voice is dark in a good, shivers-down-Steve’s-spine way. “That works for me.”
They slip out into the hallway without a stitch of clothing, take four steps and close a new door behind themselves all in the span of three seconds.
Danny’s fingers, slippery with lube, are so good at finding Steve’s prostate that pretty soon Steve has to push him away or risk missing out on getting to come with Danny inside of him. So Danny fucks him, while Steve bites the pillow he sleeps on every night and ruts against the mattress like he’s done a hundred times before and holds on for dear life to the slats of the headboard that he inherited from his parents, like he’s never done. From now on, it’s going to be the headboard that made a dent in the wall because Danny rocked the bed too hard.
*
“I need a shower,” Danny says, when the hands of the clock are nearing dinner time. Steve can’t remember if he’s ever spent this much of a day lazing around in bed.
He stretches and waits for the tickle of guilt at the back of his mind over wasting so many hours doing nothing but Danny (and letting Danny do him), but it doesn’t come. None of it seems like a waste at all – this was probably the best possible use of his time. His feelings about it are only smug satisfaction and an unwillingness for this day to end. “Me too,” Steve says, about the shower, because smug or not, he’s also disgusting and sticky with sweat and come and lube.
Danny groans and swings his legs out of the bed. “Well, come on then. Let’s save some water.”
Once in the shower, Steve attempts to help Danny wash his hair. It does not go hugely appreciated, so he switches to helping Danny wash his back, which is appreciated so fiercely that Danny ends up turning in his arms and pushing his dick against Steve’s hip. “You know,” Danny says, while he’s licking water from Steve’s chin. “The two orgasm rule was for weekdays, when we only get the evenings to ourselves. We’ve had a full day this time, so I think it only stands to reason-”
“Yeah, totally,” Steve agrees. He attempts to line them up, but it’s complicated by their height difference, so instead he pulls Danny’s hand to his dick and slides his own over Danny’s erection. “It was more of a guideline, anyway.”
Strangely, showering together and then trading lazy hand jobs doesn’t end up saving any water.
*
Sunday
During the second half of the weekend, Danny has Grace, which is awesome, because Grace is a great kid and she’s Danny’s favorite person in the world. Steve is not even a little bit jealous. That’d be stupid and irrational and unhealthily clingy.
*
While he’s cooking, he tries to avoid the spot where he braced himself against the kitchen counter while Danny ate his ass. Of course the dancing around it just means he thinks about it more, until he pops a very inconvenient boner while chopping up some tomatoes. It goes away when he gets so distracted by daydream reenactments that he almost chops off his own finger and needs to go on the hunt for a Band-Aid.
While he’s throwing out the tomatoes – human blood was not part of the recipe – he has a silent debate with himself over whether this counts as a sex-related injury, and if that makes him feel better or worse about it.
*
Monday
The weekend ends. Steve is disproportionately relieved. It’s really good to see Danny in the morning, but it’s even better to see him in the evening, when he waltzes into Steve’s house after making a brief pit stop at his own place to, or so he claimed, change shirts.
Turns out a clean shirt was not the only thing he picked up. “So seeing as we need to make up for time I spent with my other favorite person-”
Steve tries not to let that get to his head, but it creeps into his heart instead, which on balance is way more dangerous.
Danny produces something from behind his back and holds it aloft. It’s a sleek black dildo. Kind of huge.
“Oh,” Steve says.
The fingers of Danny’s free hand run over the length of the fake dick like he’s gearing up to give it a hand job. “Yes, no?” Danny asks, as if he’s inquiring about Steve’s opinion on take out options. “Your choice, obviously.”
*
“Yes,” Steve says, twenty minutes later, forearms braced on the balustrade of the upstairs landing. If he could keep his eyes open, he’d have a perfect bird’s eye view of his living room, but he keeps having to squeeze them shut against the waves of feeling that crash over him. “Yes, oh God, Danny-”
Danny, who has dragged the comfortable chair over that’s usually pushed against the wall up here and is situated in it, pulls the dildo out until it almost slips free, only the flared head catching on Steve’s rim, and then mercilessly drives it back in. “You’re doing so well, babe,” he says, his voice husky, pure sex when paired with the heart beating loudly in Steve’s ears. “You’re taking this dick so well, but I knew you would, because I’ve been right where it is now. Jesus, Steve, you’re so pretty down here, stretched open like this, letting me watch and see what it was like when it was me driving you wild. You really love this, huh?”
When Steve comes, he hits not just the edge of the landing, but also shoots right through the space between two balusters, which leads to a wet splatter down below a long second later. Danny carefully eases the dildo out and gets up to stand next to Steve, one hand on the back of Steve’s neck and the other dangling the wet, used toy. They both peer down at the living room floor.
“Impressive,” Danny says.
Steve lets his sweaty forehead drop to his arms and laughs until he has a valid excuse for the tears at the corner of his eyes.
*
He blows Danny in the walk-in closet in the master bedroom. It’s ‘walk-in’ only in the sense that two grown men can squeeze inside if they keep the door open and empty out most of the closet’s contents onto the bed, but when Danny clutches at Steve’s hair and grunts and floods his mouth with come and doesn’t even mention the cramped space they’re in, it’s more than worth the high probability of having to refold or iron half his clothes later. Even getting come on some of his jeans when he jerks off doesn’t dampen his spirits. They were old, anyway.
*
Tuesday
They’re running out of rooms. Steve is painfully aware of this, because while he’s kind of ready to maybe slow down a little bit with the marathon sex – it’s the hottest experience of his life, but also a lot of pressure – he’s not at all prepared to admit this out loud, because that might lead Danny to decide he’s done his job and that it’s time for them to return to the status quo. Admittedly, this would still leave Steve with an improved version of the world in which he knows what Danny’s skin tastes like and how Danny sounds when he comes and that he likes to kiss after sex, but that’s not enough. If given the choice, Steve is not going to be living off of memories one day sooner than he absolutely has to.
That’s why he’s kind of relieved when Danny catches him just outside the kitchen and grinds the heel of his hand against the front of Steve’s pants while licking a long stripe up Steve’s neck. Still, even though there is no part of Steve that wants to put a stop to any of this, his pedantic (and very stupid) side feels a need to say, “I thought we’d done the living room.”
Danny is not deterred in the least. “The couch is around the corner. Can’t even see it from here.” He opens Steve’s pants, shoves all fabric down and off and pushes at Steve’s hips until Steve sits his bare ass down on the dinner table. “This is a totally different area.”
“Oh.” Steve cranes his neck, but he really can’t see the couch. This logic checks out. “Right. You’re so right.”
“I know,” Danny says, and strips Steve of his shirt, but keeps all of his own clothes on while he fishes lube from a pocket and fingers Steve until Steve thinks he might black out. Danny works him through it, gently, and then jerks off a lot less gently and comes all over Steve’s ass and dick and balls.
Somewhere in the process they topple two of the chairs that were pulled up to the jolting table, but frankly Steve is just happy the table itself is still standing once they’re finished.
*
For an encore, Danny bends Steve over what used to be Steve’s dad’s desk and takes him from behind. Steve clutches the edges of the desk and angles his hips so that the tip of his dick leaves abstract wet smears all over the shiny wood every time Danny thrusts into him.
It’s yet another corner of the room, with a completely separate function. That probably counts, even if Steve can see both the couch and the table from here. The landing, too, for that matter.
*
Wednesday
“Alright, so this was a bad idea,” Steve says, right before he sneezes against Danny’s shoulder for the third time. Danny squeezes his dick just a little too hard in retaliation, making Steve jump. “Careful!”
“I will be, if you stop using my shirt as a tissue, you mannerless Neanderthal.”
“Sorry,” Steve says, because yeah, fair enough. He should have dusted and aired the attic if he were planning to have sex in it, and maybe dragged a mattress up here, too. For once, Danny might have a right to complain just a little, because he’s the one on his back between stacks of old carton boxes.
Steve shifts his weight down, settling it on Danny’s legs so he can gets his hands free and make quick work of Danny’s fly. He intends to stroke Danny like Danny is doing to him, which would give him some leverage to prevent further abuse, but then Danny pushes his hips up and gets his hand around both of them and Steve sinks down with him, not wanting his dick to slip free, mesmerized by the sight of their shafts rubbing together and the two angry flushed heads poking from the circle of Danny’s fingers.
Steve moans, and then sneezes, and then comes.
*
Usually they both enjoy the afterglow, but on the dusty wood flooring that’s cut short somewhat. Danny descends the ladder first, so Steve throws all remaining items of clothing down and then follows him. They look at each other for a moment, and Steve is glad to note that Danny looks annoyed, yes, but in that way he does when he’s secretly amused, not the way he has when he’s actually mad. Steve decides not to point out that Danny’s hair has sudden grey streaks in it.
“We haven’t had the lanai,” Steve says instead, a little hopefully.
“Ugh, outdoor sex,” Danny says, but he does so while making his way to Steve’s bedroom. He’s throwing open the lanai doors there when he says, “Why am I not surprised you’re an exhibitionist?”
Steve gathers the covers and pillows from his bed and spreads them out on the lanai floor. Despite Danny’s complaints, there’s no way anybody would be able to see them up here. Trees provide ample privacy from the neighbors.
Danny eyes the setup critically for a moment. “Hmm, alright,” he decides. He drops his boxers and lies back and gives himself a hand while Steve preps, and then he lets Steve ride him. It’s in the top ten best outcomes to one of their arguments, that’s for sure.
Steve makes himself laugh a little when he thinks that. Outcome, ha. He’ll have to tell Danny that one.
*
Thursday
“Downstairs lanai,” Danny says when they set foot in the house after work. He’s very mission-oriented and it’s kind of a turn on. Steve lets him fuck his face for that.
*
After Danny comes in Steve’s throat and Steve nearly comes in his own pants (but really comes in his own hand), they have dinner, sitting on the couch – the one from those very first, fondly remembered hand jobs – and watching tv. Steve glances Danny’s direction at some point and gets a flash of insight when he spots the stairs behind Danny.
“So we’ve had this room-”
“Extensively,” Danny adds.
“Yeah. And we’ve had the upstairs landing, but we skipped the stairs.”
Danny frowns first at him and then the other way, at the stairs. “I’m not having sex with you on the stairs, Steve. That’s a recipe for disaster.” He’s quiet and contemplating for all of a millisecond. “But we could try the halfway landing.”
Steve finds himself nodding. Compromise. He can work with compromise. “That’s reasonably flat.”
“You could lean against the wall while I suck you off,” Danny offers. “Totally safe.”
Steve nods harder, which is also what his dick would be getting just from those words, had he not had a possibly unholy number of partner-assisted orgasms over the last week already. “Perfect.”
It is perfect. Steve has a good view of most of the living room, including the desk for which he has a newfound appreciation. His view of Danny going down on him is the only thing that’s even better.
*
Friday
Finally, Steve can’t think of a single new excuse for a supposed room they haven’t had yet. He’s both heartbroken and feels a slight sense of accomplishment over it, but above all he’s pleasantly surprised when Danny follows him home after work, as has become their routine. Then Danny says something very clever.
“You know what? I’ve been thinking, and if the pantry is a separate area from the kitchen, and your huge closet is not the same thing as your bedroom, then logically, the inside of the shower is not the same as the bathroom, right?”
“There’s a door,” Steve says, nodding, turning and heading for the downstairs bathroom all at once. “How could we forget there’s a door?”
It’s a little weird, having dry sex in a shower cabin, but they make it work. It doesn’t feel that dry, anyway, when Danny rubs lubed-up fingers over Steve’s nipples and up and down over his dick while Danny humps his leg.
*
In the upstairs bathroom, they’ve already checked off the shower, but not the rest of the room. Steve slides in behind Danny and reaches around to jerk him off, rubbing himself against Danny’s ass. It’s very good, but there’s a huge mirror above the sink that reflects them to halfway down their thighs and that Steve can see perfectly over Danny’s shoulder, and Steve has never watched himself get off ever, let alone in this kind of HD technicolor close-up. He tries to watch his hand move on Danny’s dick, but he keeps getting distracted by the presence of his own face.
“Hey,” Danny says, and their eyes lock in the mirror. Danny brings a hand up – Steve can see it, both in front of him and out of the corner of his eye – and reaches behind himself to touch Steve’s face. He slips two fingers into Steve’s mouth and Steve swirls his tongue around them and sucks, and wow, okay, that’s what he looks like when he does that. Kind of slutty.
He really settles into the mirror thing, near the end. Enough so that he’s strangely sad when he comes on Danny’s back and Danny comes over the sink and it’s over, though that melancholy might also be due to larger circumstances at play.
*
Saturday
As much fun as all of this has been, right from the start Steve had a premonition that eventually, a regrettable point would be reached where reality sets in. It does, on Saturday, in the form of chafing. His dick is sore, but so is his ass and his lips and his balls and the area on his neck where Danny rubbed his stubble yesterday and pretty much his entire body, really. He realizes, with horror, what he’ll have to do.
Talk.
Then again, it’s talking to Danny, which is always a little less terrible than talking to anyone else. He works it all out in his head during his morning swim, and by the time Danny shows up with another six pack (but no handful of condoms, this time, Steve notes) he feels halfway ready.
“Danny,” he starts, getting them on the right track, which they’re brutally thrown off of when Danny steals his coffee cup right out of his hands. “Hey!”
Danny sips the coffee and tries to look innocent. He doesn’t succeed. They’ve had their tongues in too many places on each others’ bodies for that to fly. “What,” Danny says, “it’s not like swapping a little spit is a new one for us.”
Apparently Danny’s mind is running along much the same path, which is another, even more potent distraction.
Steve takes a deep breath and tells himself to focus. “Danny,” he says again, and this time he has no coffee for Danny to steal, so he gets a little further than before. “We’ve been doing this for almost ten days now. You’ve given me a hand and a tongue and an ass and a dick-”
“And a dildo,” Danny interjects.
“And a dildo,” Steve agrees. “And it’s been great. But I kind of want more.”
Danny hums. “More how? A vibrator? Butt plug? Cock ring?”
“No,” Steve says, unthinkingly, before his oh-so-very spent dick valiantly tries to twitch and he has to backtrack. “Yeah, okay, yes, those sound good. But I meant more of you.”
Danny puts the coffee cup down. Steve notes that it’s empty, which should annoy him, he thinks, not make him feel fond. He definitely shouldn’t feel even fonder when Danny starts acting indignant, raising his eyebrows and tilting his body. “What, you want the rest of me now, too? Jeez, you give a guy a finger, they take your whole life.”
Steve grins. It’s a little early, but he can’t help it. “You can have mine in return.”
“Your life’s a goddamn tragedy, babe,” Danny says, but not unkindly. “How about we just say we’re dating now?”
“Works for me.”
“Shake on it?”
They do.
“Great,” Danny says. “Now that that’s settled in a way that totally wasn’t awkward at all, can I stay over?”
“Sure.” Steve doesn’t say that Danny could have been staying over all this time. He sneaks closer, until he can settle his hands on Danny’s hips. “Wanna cuddle and not have sex for at least forty-eight hours?”
Danny kisses him, but it’s just a light peck on the lips. It makes Steve’s heart flip more than a dirty tangle of tongues would have, and it only gets better when Danny rests his forehead on Steve’s shoulder and a hand on his chest, over their clothes, totally chaste. “God, I thought you’d never ask.”
*
They don’t make it the full forty-eight hours. It’s pretty damn nice, anyway, to have sex in his own bed twice in a row without the need to sneak to the next room or contemplate getting major construction work done on the house if he wants Danny to fuck him again the day after that.
It’s the kind of thing that really makes a guy feel at home.