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The flat is silent and dark at 2:34am on Saturday. The only sound is the steady ticking of the novelty Super Mario clock on the wall above the kitchen counter, its rhythmic noise as sure and definite as the knowledge that soon, all will be disturbed.
As if the silence itself has summoned them, at exactly 2:35am Phil and Dan burst through the front door, Dan nearly falling forwards as the door gives way under his weight, the key still held aloft in his hand and a sloppy grin on his face. Phil catches him before he hits the ground, his spaghetti arms barely managing to grasp hold of the younger boy as he lurches into the dark apartment.
“Dan, shhhh!” Phil stage-whispers as he hauls Dan upright, hooking a hand under his arm. “You’ll wake up whatsherface next door!”
Dan giggles and slaps a hand clumsily over his mouth, feeling around for the light switch because he knows it’s there somewhere, only it seems to have moved a little since last time.
Phil clumsily pushes the door closed behind him, managing to get the latch on after several tries, because for some reason there seem to be several different latches all swirling around in front of him, which make it very confusing to say the least. He feels something tugging his right arm, and he turns blearily to see Dan again, still grinning inanely, half hanging off his elbow because he’s clearly lost the ability to stand on his own.
The lights are on now. How did that happen?
“W-we should ‘ave some more vo’ka.” Dan slurs, his smile dropping away to reveal a sombre expression. Vodka is srs bsnss. Phil chuckles and nods emphatically, seizing one of Dan’s shoulders and pushing it hard in the direction of the kitchen, motioning for him to lead the way. The floor seems very unstable, and Phil makes a mental note to have that checked out as soon as possible, but not now, not tonight…
Somehow they make it to the kitchen, even though as he’s leaned against the counter Phil can distinctly remember falling to the floor and Dan leaning over him, his mouth open in a near-soundless laugh, pulling on his arm to get him to hurry up. Dan is rummaging in the cupboards now, and Phil knows he must be really drunk, because he’s flinging open the cupboard doors and not caring if they get closed again.
“No, no no no!” Dan’s yelling, throwing packets of cup-a-soup over his shoulder. Phil watches the minestrone powder sail through the air with an open mouth, wondering if it knows it’s flying. “Oh! I found it, Phil!” Dan cries triumphantly in a sing-song voice, holding a clear glass bottle high above his head and waving it precariously. Phil sort-of wants it to smash to the floor; wants to see the thousands of gleaming shards ricochet over the linoleum.
Dan presses something cylindrical and cold into his palm. “Come on.” He says, looping his arm through Phil’s and leading them zig-zaggedly down the hall. Phil presses himself close to Dan’s back, fearing that he will fall otherwise, and lets himself be taken.
Dan kicks open the door to his bedroom, his hands filled with other things, and despite going instinctively towards his own door, Phil finds himself being dragged through into Dan’s room, collapsing on the bed next to Dan, who has started giggling again, like he could never stop.
The bottle is still clutched in his hand, and Dan sits up suddenly, unscrewing the lid and talking, talking, telling Phil to do something – what is he saying? His lips are so puffy and pink, like a girl’s ought to be. How can anyone concentrate on words, words are boring.
“Phiiiiil! Sit. Up.” Dan sounds annoyed, and he’s half-heartedly shoving at Phil’s shoulder as he lays sprawled on the bed. The younger boy is holding the clear bottle open in his hand, little droplets spilling every now and then onto the grey-black plaid of Dan’s bedspread, peppering it with pinpricks of darkness. Phil tries hard to focus, to do as Dan is saying, because he’s wearing his impatient, bossy expression now, and Phil wants to keep the fun going. Eventually he manages, getting into a relatively upright position, leant on his hands behind him, bracing himself. “M’kay.” Dan continues, clearly now in control of the situation. “We sh’d play a game.”
Phil’s stomach instinctively flips over, a left over reaction from his ‘Freshers’ days at University, back when he was the scared, naïve and easy-to-pick-on victim of any drinking game. He was just more interested in lions and snokoplasm back in school than sexual experimentation. Apparently this made him an abnormality.
But he reminds himself he’s not, in fact, in a mouldy communal kitchen with seven other people he barely knows, he’s… where is he? His eyes focus on their friend Wirrow's familiar black and orange fox artwork, fixed on the wall. Oh yeah, in Dan’s room. On Dan’s bed. Phil blushes a little; he can’t help it, it’s another instinctive reaction to his brain’s runaway thoughts.
He refocuses on Dan, who is looking at him, perplexed. Probably because it’s been at least a minute and Phil hasn’t responded.
“Game?” He manages to splurt out.
“Yess, Philip.” Dan replies, producing two tumblers out of seemingly nowhere and balancing them on Phil’s thighs. He unscrews the vodka cap, grinning away. “Let’s play… truth or dare.”
Phil’s brain short-circuits for a second, and another whoosh of blood floods to his cheeks. “We were jus’ playing this at PJ’s!”
Dan grins again, screwing the lid back on the vodka because somehow now both of the tumblers are half-full. “I know. ‘N I’ve got some questions for you.”
“What dares are we even gonna be able to do here?” Phil asks, desperately trying to think of a way to divert Dan off of this mad track.
He’s not exactly sure why he’s so certain this game could end in disaster- no wait, that’s a lie. He totally knows. He answered every question truthfully back at PJ’s, and though no names were brought into the mix, it’s not surprising Dan has ‘questions’ about some of his answers. He gulps, looking away. He needs a distraction- ah yes! Vodka.
“We’ll think of something.” Dan says vaguely in response to Phil’s question. Phil can’t even remember what he asked now.
Phil blows a puff of air upwards, making his fringe fly for a second. “Okay, fine.” Dan grins at this response, opening his mouth to speak, but Phil cuts him off, holding up a hand. “Wait, I wanna go first.”
Dan chuckles, spreading his arms wide as if to say, ‘go ahead’. Phil stares at him intently. He’s actually got quite a lot of power over Dan right now. Dan’s drunk enough to do something pretty stupid, and might even confess something he wouldn’t normally if Phil just thinks of the right wording. Dan’s fingers drum against the side of his glass, impatient. Phil groans internally. It’s all fine and good having loads of power over Dan, but what use is it if he can’t think how to use it? If only he weren’t drunk too! Then his mind might be able to make sense of itself.
Phil takes a sip of vodka, wondering how different things might be if he weren't drunk right now. Would he be brave enough to take advantage of Dan's loosened tongue - ask him those things he's refrained from asking for years? Who knows?
“Are you gonna ask me truth or dare or…?” Dan asks, and Phil wants to hit himself.
“Oh, yeah,” he laughs, a bit too hard, “truth or dare?”
There’s a glint in Dan’s eye when he smiles. “Dare.”
Phil actively has to reach in and haul his mind out of the gutter as soon as the word is out. The things he could have Dan do right now… Well, there’s no guarantee Dan would do them but, then again, Dan’s always been a flirty drunk.
Oh God, he’s got to say something. Anything, or Dan’s going to start thinking something’s wrong.
“Um, call to someone out the window!” Phil blurts, and Dan gives him one of those ‘really?’ looks. Phil continues to blush, hoping Dan will put it down to the alcohol, and says nothing more.
Dan sighs. “Fine. Pathetic dare by the way.”
He starts to move then, thrusting his drink into Phil’s empty hand, and scooting off the bed. He unsteadily makes his way over towards the window of his room, throwing glances back at Phil to show him how stupid he finds this whole situation.
Phil, on the other hand, is loving it, pathetic dare or not. It’s still hilarious watching as Dan - unsurprisingly useless in his current state - struggles with even the most basic tasks, like opening the window. Phil laughs heartily, sipping bitter vodka from a glass he hopes is his own and earning himself many glares from Dan.
Eventually, the window is flung open, and Dan leans out eagerly, peering down to the street below.
“Jesus, it’s cold!” Dan chatters, barely audible over the noise of the street. He darts one quick glance back at Phil, then leans out a little further, taking a deep breath. “Oi! Oi, you lot! Yeah, you in the coat!” Phil falls about laughing, wishing he could trust his own legs to carry him steadily over to the window to be able to see this person’s reaction. “Yeah, just wanted to say – Phil Lester loves cock! Especially yours! He lives here, apartment 2-0-”
Phil, somehow has managed to stagger over to Dan, and with all his might, drags him back inside. They land on the floor, Dan laughing so much there are honest-to-God tears in his eyes. Phil hits him in the shoulder.
“You horrible person!” Phil says, groaning, telling himself he can never leave the flat again.
Dan just laughs harder, picking himself up off the floor to go and rediscover his drink, which Phil had somehow kept safe, depositing both tumblers on the bedside table just in time.
Phil follows him not long after, pushing the window shut and trying to keep out of sight. He lands back on the bed with a thump, accepting the drink Dan hands him with a scowl.
“Hey, he looked like he was into it. And… it’s not like it isn’t true, right?” Dan says, still laughing, and Phil hits him again, on the thigh this time. “Ow! Not the last bit, I grant you-”
“Shut up!”
“Okay, okay,” Dan surrenders, hands up, “at least I did it. Truth or dare?”
Phil studies Dan as he takes another sip, wincing at the burn. “Truth.”
The blossom of a grin on Dan’s face immediately sets Phil’s nerves on edge. “Okay, so at PJ’s, yeah? You got truth’n Chris asked you if you’d ever hooked up with a guy…”
Phil’s red face does not seem to deter him. “I’ve already answered this question, Dan.”
“No, wait hold on a minute,” Dan says, rolling his eyes as he readjusts his position, tucking his legs under himself and facing Phil more directly, “I know you said you have. My truth is – how far… have you gone?”
Dan seems to get a little embarrassed about asking this at the last second, and he can’t quite meet Phil’s eye. He hurriedly takes a sip of vodka, waiting for Phil’s response. Phil just shifts uncomfortably. Why does Dan want to know this? In fact, that’s a good question. He should ask.
“Why do you want to know?”
Dan shrugs, blushing a little if Phil isn’t mistaken. “I dunno, m’just interested. You’ve never talked ‘bout it before.”
Phil laughs awkwardly. “It’d be a bit of a weird conversation.”
Dan laughs with him, and for a second the awkwardness disappears, but then they remember that Phil still has yet to answer, and a silence falls. Phil sighs – he’s got to be the one to break it.
“Um, I guess… all the way?” Phil says, his voice tilting up at the end like he’s asking Dan if it’s an acceptable answer.
Dan’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. His mouth actually falls open a little way; Phil can’t help but stare then, it’s annoying. “All th’way?” Dan repeats. “Like… fully…”
Dan makes a few vague gestures with his hands, indicating what he means. Phil can’t help it, he laughs at him, nodding, but looking away. This is weird.
“Wow.” Dan says, staring at him in awe. Phil just shifts uncomfortably under his scrutiny. What the Hell is going on here? He looks up at Dan after a moment, meeting his gaze, and seeing something hidden in his expression, something leaking out of his usual ‘awkwardly-funny’ façade. It’s a kind of hunger, Phil thinks, trying to decipher it, and then Dan blinks, and it’s gone, mask back in place. “So kinky.”
Dan grins, and Phil rolls his eyes, blushing, yet again. “Shut up. It’s my turn.”
“First, let’s down our drinks!” Dan cries, without warning, the loudness of his voice making Phil jump a little. He looks a little manic as he raises his glass up high, looking expectant.
Phil shakes his head, chuckling, but clinks his own glass against Dan’s. “You’re suicidal.”
They both gulp down the remains of the vodka, and Dan refills their glasses with lightning speed.
“Uhhh,” Phil says, swaying a little as Dan pours, “the walls are breathing.”
Dan laughs at him. “I pick truth by the way.”
The question is at the forefront of Phil’s mind before he even has time to contemplate it. Apparently this is something he’s been aching to know. He gazes into Dan’s face, the fairy lights surrounding the headboard spinning madly around his head. Dan smiles at him, fond and amused, and Phil swallows, his breaths growing deeper.
This boy, his mind says without permission. This one, annoying, infuriating, intoxicating boy. His eyes follow the familiar, well-travelled path from Dan’s ochre eyes to the fruit of his lips. He keeps his gaze trained there, watches as Dan presses them together, unable to look away.
“How far have you gone?” Phil asks softly, more softly than he means to actually. His eyes flick back to Dan’s. “With a boy, I mean.”
He knows he doesn’t mistake the blush flooding into Dan’s cheeks this time, and watches in amazement as the younger boy turns his head away, huffing an embarrassed laugh, trying to procure amusement out of the situation, to make it easier.
He’s got something to hide.
“Uh, not as far as you, that’s for sure.” Dan replies, taking a large gulp of his drink.
They should really slow down, Phil thinks, but he doesn’t want to lose this feeling of weightlessness, doesn’t want this to end. He really doesn’t want to have to slide off of Dan’s bed and slink back to his own, in the dark, the covers cold and empty when he peels them back and slips in. He smiles at Dan’s reaction, raising his eyebrows to show he needs elaboration.
Dan is blushing hard now; his hand is at the back of his neck, rubbing and scratching the skin there, probably to try and distract himself. “Uh, well there were a couple of guys…” Dan begins, and Phil swears he stops breathing. He needs to hear every syllable clearly; this is suddenly the most important conversation in the world. “I was a bit scared with the first guy, but he… we-” Dan breaks off, apparently choosing the hand gesture option rather than vivid verbal description. His demonstration doesn’t take much to work out.
“You wanked each other off.” Phil deduces, shrugging.
“Phil!” Dan cries, scandalised, apparently.
Phil raises an eyebrow. Oh, so Dan runs around telling the entire internet about placenta and forehead birthing areas, but Phil talking about two guys wanking and he’s suddenly a literal nun? This makes no sense. Unless… unless Dan gets particularly worked up about this subject for a reason? Phil tries to think on that point further, but his drink-addled mind is just not letting him.
“What about the other guy?” Phil says instead, suddenly remembering.
Dan still looks absolutely mortified from Phil’s previous statement, and takes another sip of vodka. Phil laughs at him – it’s actually kind of fun having the upper hand in this area. Dan resembles a blushing virgin bride on the eve of her wedding night but nevertheless, he seems to want to answer the question. Phil prompts him with a poke in his side.
“Okay, okay! The other guy… God, this is so embarrassing.” Dan says, shaking his head. “I was really young and scared, okay? The guy wanted to, um…” He lets out a frustrated noise, his cheeks crimson. “Y’know…” Dan makes another gesture then, this time moving his fist to and fro beside his face, whilst simultaneously poking his tongue against his cheek. Again, it doesn’t take a genius.
“He wanted you to blow him.” Phil says helpfully, or at least he thinks it’s helpful. Dan splutters madly, spilling some of his drink onto his jeans.
“Phil, for fuck’s sake!” Dan cries again, and Phil just looks amusedly at him. “Why are you so matter of fact about this stuff? It’s so unlike you!”
Phil’s eyebrows crease. “It’s just sex, Dan.”
“Yeah, but it’s you!” Dan cries, and Phil tries not to take that to heart. “I mean,” Dan jumps in, realising the damage he may have caused quickly, “not that you’re not… sexy or whatever but-”
“Woah, hold on a second,” Phil interrupts, the vodka plastering a cheeky grin on his face, “did you just call me sexy?”
The blood seems to drain from Dan’s face. “No. I mean. No. Shut up.” He coughs, taking another sip of vodka and choking on it as Phil laughs hysterically. “Look, shut up okay? Is it your go yet or what?”
The laughter dies off as Phil’s thoughts struggle back to the surface. No, wait a minute he wants to know about this second guy. He feels like Dan hasn’t told him the whole story.
“Wait a minute,” Phil says, clapping a hand down on Dan’s thigh before he can think about the fact that’s actually kind of weird, or the fact that Dan seems to gasp a little when he does it, “finish off about the second guy.”
Dan sighs, looking Heavenward, gnawing on his lip. “Okay, but… promise not t’laugh.”
Phil grins. “Nope.”
Dan makes a noise of frustration, but it sounds a little bit like a moan, so Phil, ignoring the familiar shockwaves that fly through his body, quickly removes his hand before he does something stupid. Luckily, Dan barely seems to notice.
“So, he wanted, like y’said, for me to…” Dan closes his eyes before he says it, which makes Phil laugh already, “blow him, and um… I-I did…” Phil has to try hard. He has to try really, really fucking hard not to let any visual images of that particular scenario enter his brain right now. He manages, just about, mainly by thinking of earlier in the evening when Chris was dared to moon everyone until his next turn. “But then, ugh, I was just super scared, I was only like fifteen… maybe sixteen, and I told him I couldn’t let him… y’know.” Phil doesn’t know. He creases his brow in confusion, trying to work it out. Dan sighs in exasperation. “Reciprocate. I couldn’t let him reciprocate, okay?”
Phil stares for a second, and then, true to his word, bursts into peals of laughter. Dan glares at him the whole time, looking very pissy and very embarrassed.
“So, wait,” Phil says once his laughter is under control, “you just blew this guy and then, what? Just left?”
“Basically, yeah.” Dan says, mumbling a little. “I made a ton of excuses about how I was inexperienced and not ready and blah, blah but… yeah, he was pretty weirded out. He wanted to, he said so, but I just…”
“So what was it?” Phil can’t help but ask. He hopes Dan doesn’t notice that technically Phil’s turn to ask truths is up now. “Why didn’t you want to?”
Dan blushes again. “I dunno, it just… it felt wrong I guess. He probably didn’t even want to really, he was just returning the favour.” Dan forces a false-sounding laugh. “Maybe I’m saving it.”
Phil’s eyes bulge, though really this shouldn’t be a surprise. “Wait, so you’ve never…?”
“Had a guy’s mouth on my dick? No, Phil.” Dan says, laughing, though it still sounds awkward, a little forced. Phil blushes at the wording. “Yeah, I can be crude too.”
Phil laughs then, and Dan seems to relax. Phil’s mind is buzzing though – he has so many more questions. He’s pretty sure Dan’s had sex with girls… maybe none of them have done that with him though. What had Dan meant when he said he was ‘saving it’? Phil wishes he weren’t so drunk, then maybe he could work some of it out. He realises that as he thinks this, he is in fact sipping the vodka out of his glass. So much for that, then.
“Truth or dare, Philip?” Dan says, and he carefully reaches over to place his empty glass on his bedside table.
Wow, Phil thinks, impressed at Dan’s drinking skills, watching with avid interest as Dan sprawls out on his back, t-shirt rucked up a little, exposing a strip of golden skin.
“Um, dare.” Phil says without thinking, and then has the horror of watching a wicked grin spread across Dan’s gorgeous features.
“Kiss me.” Dan says, and Phil thinks he’s dreaming.
It doesn’t feel dissimilar to a dream actually, he thinks, looking around himself at the swirling lights, the light, ‘anything-can-happen’ mood, Dan’s proximity… In Phil’s dreams Dan looks a lot like this. Spread out, inviting, smiling at him openly, a touch of mischief in his expression. Of course, in Phil’s dreams, Dan might be on his lap, or divested of clothes, or even sprouting fairy wings – Phil Lester’s subconscious is a strange, magical place – but hey, who is he to judge what his dreams conjure up for him?
He’s decided by now that he must be dreaming. It’s the only possible explanation for Dan saying what he just said. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. Yeah, he’s probably asleep on the edge of Dan’s bed right now, fallen into a vodka-induced coma. This is all just pretend. So, he can go along with it, right?
But… just to be sure:
“What?” Phil asks, hesitance in his voice. His eyes dart about wildly, and Dan soaks up his reaction, grinning up at him lazily.
“Kiss me, Phil. That’s your dare.”
“Kiss you?” Phil repeats, incredulous. “On the lips?”
Dan thinks about this for a moment, then shrugs. “Not necessarily. I tell you what, you decide where to kiss me. Yeah, that’s a really good dare.”
Phil watches, amazement in his expression, as Dan closes his eyes, waiting. Well, Phil thinks, might as well just get it over with. If he’s dreaming, this could turn into one of those wonderful, delicious dreams where he can almost convince himself he’s going to wake up in Dan’s arms, and if he’s not dreaming… well. Dan’s the one who dared him, right? He can’t get annoyed.
Phil crawls over to Dan, the bed dipping and jostling the younger boy so that he smiles. Phil’s eyes rake up and down Dan’s body; he’s overwhelmed with options. It’s so funny what the mind thinks up – the questions one would never ask oneself in the day. If Phil could kiss Dan just once, anywhere on his body, where would he choose? Phil thinks about Dan’s stomach for a long time. He imagines lifting the grey t-shirt, sliding it up until it’s rucked up under Dan’s arms, then dropping his lips to the acres of golden skin beneath. He’s drunk enough to push it, so he could close his lips over a nipple, maybe drag his teeth over Dan’s hipbone – his jeans are low enough after all.
But no, Phil thinks, dismissing the idea. He’s already decided. He’s wanted to try it for so long, he couldn’t deny himself the chance, even if it might all be in his head. He moves up a little, towards Dan’s shoulders, and suddenly, blindingly, Dan’s eyes fly open, freezing Phil in place. Dan doesn’t say anything, he just watches, intently, as Phil moves, one hand cupping Dan’s jaw, carefully, gently tilting his face to the side, exposing the area he wants.
Phil is slow and deliberate as he lowers his face towards Dan’s throat. As he nears the slender slope he hears Dan’s breath pick up speed, and his own heart starts thrumming faster to match pace. Dan is tense, the tendons in his neck straining and unstraining – he’s nervous.
Phil hovers above the skin for a moment, prolonging this. He gets one kiss, that’s all. He’s got to make it worthwhile. His breaths fan out over Dan’s pulsepoint, and he sees the younger boy tremble a little – it makes his stomach flip. Then, with the precision of an archer with his bow, he presses his lips to that very spot, kissing firmly but staying soft. It has to be perfect.
Dan gasps, and it seems to be an involuntary sound. Phil can feel Dan’s hand by his side, gripping the covers tightly, maybe holding back. Phil wants so much more, he can’t help himself, he wants to suck at the skin, to leave it reddened and bruised, he wants to scrape his teeth over every inch of Dan’s neck, wants to pepper kisses from his collarbone to his jaw, up to his ear, across to his mouth…
He pulls away. He’d never stop himself if he didn’t.
He finds himself staring straight into Dan’s eyes, the pupils blown wide. Dan is breathing heavily, and Phil almost doesn’t notice, but Dan has one hand clinging to the hem of his t-shirt.
He pulls it away quickly, and Phil retreats. Neither of them quite know what to say.
“Dare.” Dan whispers, staring up at the ceiling.
Phil shakes his head. “Pick truth.”
“Okay, truth.” Dan says, apparently too distracted by what just happened to argue.
“When…” Phil wants to ask this, he does. He just has to keep telling himself that. If he doesn’t ask it, he’ll never know and this… stuff like this is just too confusing. “Back when we first… started talking. Back before we met, or when we had just met, even.” Phil glances over at Dan, who is looking terrified. “Did you… like me?”
Dan chews his lip. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t look away this time. He doesn’t try to avert his gaze. So Phil stares straight back at him, nodding once. Well, that was easier than expected.
“Do you still?” Phil asks, because his confidence is at its peak right now, the vodka has helped, and he may never get this chance again.
Dan is quiet for a long time, just staring. “It’s your turn, Phil. Truth or dare?”
Phil breaks his gaze, frustrated. Why can’t he ever get a straight answer? He supposes it’s not unironic, given the subject matter is anything but straight.
“Truth.”
“Earlier, at PJ’s, when your question was ‘have you ever fantasised about anyone in this room’,” Dan starts to say, and Phil’s eyes slip closed, his stomach churning, “you said yes. Who were you talking about?”
“God, how can you even remember? PJ’s seems like weeks ago.” Phil replies, mainly because he’s trying to avoid answering. Dan doesn’t say anything, he just waits, and Phil can feel his stare, burrowing into the side of his head. Phil turns to him slowly, sighing. “You, Dan. Obviously.”
Dan’s eyes widen, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Phil follows it with his eyes, jealously.
“R-really?” Dan asks – an unnecessary question, Phil thinks.
Phil’s cheeks burn, but he nods. “Yeah. What did you expect?”
Dan looks at Phil, confused. He doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean. “I pick dare.”
Phil turns to Dan, seeking revenge. He starts out wanting to dare him to do something awful, just because of the humiliation he feels at having to admit that. But when he looks at Dan, all he can think about is how beautiful he is. How perfect and funny and good and just… yeah, everything.
“I dare you to do something... that scares you.” Phil says lamely, chickening out again because he can’t dare what he really wants.
To his surprise, Dan takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and then sits up, reaching out to grab Phil’s wrist. He lies back down on his back, but this time he pulls Phil with him, dragging him down until they’re beside one another. Phil is too shocked to move; he doesn’t want to jinx this, doesn’t want to ruin it, so he just stays very still, very quiet, and then Dan slides a hand around the back of his neck.
Before he knows it, he’s being pulled forward, inch by inch the distance between their faces disappearing until it’s gone completely. Dan smiles very slightly, and then Phil feels lips upon his, crashing together like the waves and the shore – inevitable and glorious.
Dan kisses like he talks, like he walks, like he laughs – just how Phil should have imagined, except that he couldn’t have, because who could possibly imagine anything this incredible? He kisses Phil like he’s about to explode from joy, but cautiously too, gently, just testing the waters, still really the same nervous, awkward eighteen year old Phil met in 2009.
Phil, on the other hand, kisses back with fervour, mainly because he’s been wanting this for so long, and he’s at least fifty percent sure he’s not dreaming. He kisses Dan like he’s about to drown, and hey, maybe he is – he’s definitely swallowed a lot of liquids over the course of the evening. The slide of their mouths together is indescribable – it’s heat and comfort and desire and yeah, actually, love. He bites at Dan’s lip, surprised at himself, though Dan seems to enjoy it, judging by the little gasp that escapes him, and hey- Phil is really starting to like it when Dan does that.
Minutes pass, maybe longer, and fingers tangle themselves in thick, artfully tousled hair, wind themselves into clothing. Their bodies move closer together with every passing second until they’re pressed flush against each other, the heat almost overwhelming, the friction definitely getting to the point of not enough.
“Phil,” Dan murmurs against Phil’s lips, and Phil moans just a little to hear his name in Dan’s voice when it’s this filled with lust, “Phil, truth or dare?”
Phil chuckles a little bit, laughing into Dan’s mouth, then being quickly silenced by Dan’s tongue. Dan’s hands are in his hair, and Phil knew Dan liked it but come on, this is ridiculous, he may even have a fetish. He struggles to get enough space between their lips to speak. “Dare.”
There’s a long period of silence, punctuated only by the sound of their kissing and the occasional creak of the bed as they adjust positioning. Dan at some point decides his vantage point is just not good enough, and so he rolls Phil onto his back and promptly climbs on top of him. This, for obvious reasons, is quite distracting for both boys, so it takes a while for Phil to even remember that it’s been a few minutes now, and Dan has yet to dare him.
That’s okay though. He has a better idea.
It’s coincidentally that exact moment that Dan first pushes his hips forwards, grinding against Phil. Through two layers of denim, one might think the sensation would be dulled, but in fact no. Phil moans, he can’t help himself, and Dan shivers on top of him, seeming to like that reaction a lot. Phil stares up at Dan, eyes glazed, their swollen, reddened mouths inches apart. Dan kisses him again, and pushes his hips forwards a second time. Sparks shoot through Phil’s body, and immediately he knows what needs to happen.
“Dan,” he says breathlessly, though Dan does not stop kissing him for a second, “I wanna dare myself. S’that okay?”
Dan pauses for a second, looking down at him. He looks mildly confused, but nods.
“Okay,” Phil says, grinning a little, “I dare myself to give you your first blowjob from a guy.” Dan’s eyes widen, and he starts to lean away, clearly scared. Phil reaches for him, making soothing sounds. “Shh, Dan it’s okay. I want to. I-” Phil pauses, shaking his head, his expression practically pleading. “God, you have no idea how much I want to.”
Before Dan can respond, Phil pulls him down for another kiss, attempting to demonstrate his eagerness through kissing technique alone. Dan makes a noise of surprise as Phil rolls him onto his back again, leaning over him, and then moans, deliciously, better than Phil could have imagined, when he trails a hand down to the waistband of Dan’s jeans.
Phil is careful, gentle, pressing kisses over Dan’s jaw, behind his ear, then just kissing him properly, but slowly, dragging it out. He doesn’t want to freak Dan out, God that’s the last thing he wants, but this… God, this is everything he’s dreamed of for years. Years.
He flicks open the button of Dan’s jeans, then pulls the zip down, kissing him all the while. Dan keeps twitching beneath him – the younger boy’s hands are tightening in his hair again. Phil pushes his hand into the warm interior of Dan’s jeans, brushing across the front of his underwear and-
“Phil!” Dan says, his voice panicky. Phil stops immediately, of course. He pulls his hand out, studying Dan, worried. “I-I just… You should know is all. This isn’t my first… you know from a guy.”
Phil looks confused. “It isn’t?”
“It’s my first… ever.”
“Ohh.” Phil says, his worry dissolving into a predatory smile. “Don’t worry.” He pushes Dan back down against the bed. “I promise you’ll like it.”
Dan stares at Phil like he’s never seen him before. It’s a nice feeling. Dan’s just never seen this side of him before. He shimmies down Dan’s body, pushing up Dan’s t-shirt and dropping a kiss to the skin below his navel, basically because he can’t help himself. He gets back to work on Dan’s jeans, working on getting them off now, because that’s a much better plan than before. To his surprise, Dan is very cooperative, lifting his hips so that Phil can slide the jeans over his bum. They get stuck around his thighs and ankles, which he should have seen coming really.
Phil just laughs as he tugs at them. “Dan. Buy looser jeans, oh my god.”
“I didn’t exactly envisage this problem when I bought them did I?” Dan shoots back without thinking, laughter in his voice, because that’s what they do, they banter back and forth.
Phil doesn’t quite know how to reply to that. He keeps tugging. With a bit of extra exertion, they slip free of Dan’s ankles, and Phil stares, reverent, at Dan’s bared legs, unable to resist sliding his hands from shin to upper thigh, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Dan’s underwear. He feels Dan mutter something breathy and indecipherable under his breath; it just spurs Phil onwards. The underwear slides off much easier, and Phil smirks at the familiar Sonic pattern as he does so – he’s got the same ones in his underwear drawer across the hall.
The feeling of release Dan feels once the underwear is pulled over his cock is almost too much – he has to squeeze his eyes closed, focusing on the sound of his own sharp, quickened breaths. Phil is apparently not one for doing things half-heartedly - and hey, look at all the fun new things he’s learning about his best friend tonight - so the older boy strips the underwear off completely, throwing it aside.
Dan can’t look at Phil right now, it’d be too much, he’s so exposed, so vulnerable right now. This is Phil, he can’t stop himself thinking, though he tries to push away the thoughts. This could literally ruin everything, all that they’ve worked for, their entire friendship. Then Phil’s hand wraps around his erection and all coherent thought flies far, far away, to be dealt with at a different time when there isn’t so much incredible, searing heat pouring through Dan’s veins.
“Oh, ff-“ Dan chokes out, incoherent as always.
His eyes fly open, just as Phil’s hand starts to move, gently, just caressing, being a little tease. He feels Phil’s lips every now and then, pressing themselves to his inner thighs, his hipbones, the skin around his groin, ever so chaste and gentle. It’s like torture – every kiss sends a thousand shockwaves ricocheting through him, and he can’t stop the sounds escaping his mouth, fractured little gasps.
In his mind he urges Phil to hurry up; he’s never been good at the whole patience thing, though he does admit it’s massively turning him on. He can’t remember the last time he was this desperate for release.
“You’re so pretty, Howell.”
Dan barely hears Phil over the cacophony of tiny, breathy little noises he’s making, but when he does he shivers. He remembers Phil saying that to him before, early on in their friendship, a few times, and it always made him tremble a bit. To hear it now, in this circumstance… Dan feels himself leaking, rivulets of precome trickling down his cock, lubricating Phil’s hand as it continues moving, slowly.
He can almost sense it, the moment Phil decides to end the torment. He has no previous memories of this, nothing to prepare him for the sensation he’s about to feel, so he just grips the covers tightly, heart thrumming.
Phil can’t stop himself. He’s kept up the tease as long as he could resist, but this is Dan underneath him right now. Dan, who is hard and wet and desperate, aching for Phil to do just this. He can’t possibly help himself. He leans forwards, slowing his hand, and presses his mouth to the head of Dan’s cock, kissing softly. He hears Dan cry out and tries to ignore the burn of his own hardness, still tucked away in his jeans, so incredibly turned on. He has to concentrate. He has to make this perfect for Dan.
Phil smiles to himself, thinking of how Dan must be feeling right now – his first one. He remembers, it’s incredible; the realisation of how sensitive the male sex organ is, of how beautifully it responds to the human mouth. His mouth, Phil thinks, and pulls off a little way, then carefully licking a long stripe up Dan’s length, gathering the droplet that spilled there into his mouth, savouring it.
Dan’s flavour bursts on his tongue at the exact moment the younger boy cries out loudly, his body arching off the bed. Phil licks another stripe, then another, listening intently as Dan keens and groans, storing every sound away for later, when he can dissect them all.
Dan’s fingers claw at the bedclothes, words starting to slip free of his mouth of their own volition. Phil’s mouth, God it’s like nothing on earth – warm, damp, exactly the right pressure of tongue and lips-
“Fuck!” Dan near-shouts, feeling mildly embarrassed about the curse, but knowing he couldn’t have stopped it if he tried. Phil’s mouth is sinking down on him, taking him deeper and deeper, Dan twitching and swearing with every extra millimetre. “Oh, Phil…”
That was also embarrassing, Dan can see that; he’s not the kind of person that cries out names during sex, but then again – no one has ever made him feel anything like this before. He feels everything, every slide of Phil’s tongue against him, every sensation possible he’s sure. He feels himself hit the actual, honest-to-God, back of Phil’s throat, and he always thought that was an exaggeration when people talked about that, but no, as Phil is demonstrating now, this is a real thing that actually happens.
He is going to deepthroat Dan, Phil thinks to himself, of course he is – this is the guy’s first blowjob, it has to be perfect and hey, Phil’s always been a deepthroat star. Not to mention – how fucking hot will that be? But right now, Phil is concentrating on just closing his mouth around as much of Dan as he can. He can taste Dan seemingly everywhere, tangy, sharp and fragrant - just utterly delicious. It’s clouding his senses, he wants more, wants Dan to spill down his throat, wants to hear the younger boy come as he does this, so he sucks, hard.
Dan shouts his name, for the second time, he notices, and he can’t help but get a really happy feeling in his belly hearing that. It implies Dan isn’t just enjoying the abstract notion of a blowjob, he’s enjoying Phil, specifically, giving it to him. Phil sucks again, slurping a little just to make things really filthy, and then swallowing all of the juices collected in his mouth. Dan spasms just a little when he swallows around the head of his cock, so yeah, he’s really going to enjoy the deepthroating.
Dan can’t help it anymore, he can’t, he just has to look, has to see this with his own eyes. He’s not even sure how he resisted this long. He leans up a little, a no doubt wanton expression gracing his features, and stares down at the incredible sight between his legs. Phil’s legs are tangled together behind him as he leans down to envelop Dan’s cock, the mess of black hair atop his head in disarray, covering his eyes, ruffled by Dan’s own fingers. Phil’s mouth stretches around him beautifully, and Dan moans at the sight of it, just staring, one hand threading into Phil’s hair again and gripping as he flops back down onto his back.
Phil starts to move then, withdrawing his hand from the base of Dan’s erection. He goes slowly, bobbing his head gently up and down, flicking his tongue against the underside of Dan’s cock, earning himself more little stuttered gasps. Dan is so wet that it’s easy, enjoyable, so Phil moves faster, listening again in rapture as Dan starts breathily chanting his name.
Something happens then, something Dan can’t quite seem to wrap his head around. Somehow, Phil, steadying Dan’s hips with both of his hands, manages to slide Dan in even deeper, his fingers digging in to Dan’s hips. Dan can’t describe the intensity that quadruples as soon as this happens, all he can do is cry out gibberish, grip Phil’s hair and writhe against Phil’s vicelike grip. His mind is telling him a word, it has a name for this particular utterly sinful action that’s currently taking place.
Deepthroat.
“Oh my God,” Dan calls, accidentally saying out loud because he can’t fucking believe this is happening.
Phil is deepthroating him, right here, on his bed. He can’t take it, the sensation is too much, it’s bringing tears to his eyes. Phil is moving again, faster now, and Dan can feel it as his best friend’s throat constricts around him. He winds a leg around Phil somehow, pulling him even closer. Phil makes a sound, some kind of sound, almost like a deep ‘mmmm’, and the vibrations through his throat make Dan jack-knife forwards, clinging to Phil desperately – to his shoulders, clawing at his back, anywhere he can reach.
Phil makes the sound again, tightening his hold on Dan’s hips, and Dan cries out, loud enough that he is definitely going to feel embarrassed about this later on.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, Phil I’m gonna-”
He’s going to come, and pretty fucking hard too he would guess, Dan thinks, and tries to push Phil away, to stop him before he just spills it all straight down his throat, but Phil is having none of it. If anything, he seems to swallow Dan even further, though Dan might be imagining that. It doesn’t matter though, he’s two seconds away from seeing oblivion, he’s sure, and Phil just sucks hard, once more, and it’s enough.
If he were coherent, Dan might be surprised at the ferocity with which he comes straight into Phil’s mouth, Phil swallowing and swallowing, so determined to get every last drop. Dan shoots forwards, raking his hands over Phil’s back, then falls backwards onto the bed, moaning and writhing as he rides the high. His every nerve ending is on fire, sparking with the most intense pleasure he can ever recall feeling; he feels like he just exploded pure energy, and now he’s drained, spent, the orgasm still prickling at the edges of his skin, making him twitch and shiver.
He feels Phil moving off of him, sees his shape vaguely near the edge of the bed and, without words, Dan reaches towards him. Phil comes obediently, walking on all fours towards him and then flopping down by his side. He’s smirking, the smug asshole, and Dan rolls his eyes half-heartedly.
“Yeah, okay, that was…” Dan shakes his head, lost for any kind of wording.
“Amazing?” Phil supplies helpfully, and Dan stares at him.
“Better than amazing.”
“You do know that’s why they call me AmazingPhil though, right?”
Dan splutters, bursting into laughter. He swats at Phil, then blushes because he’s embarrassed at his own weakness. His limbs are leaden, much heavier than normal he’s sure, and he knows it’s in no small part down to the way Phil wore him out just now.
Phil’s hands are starting to wander again, slipping underneath the hem of Dan’s t-shirt, fingers trickling softly over his abdomen. He’s still so sensitive, his skin feels rubbed raw, his nerves practically exposed, responding to the slightest of touches. He shifts and twitches as Phil’s hand sweeps over him, rucking his t-shirt right up around his chest. He’s not even concentrating as Phil moves him a little, lifting him as though he weighed nothing, then pushing the t-shirt right off of him, over his head, leaving him wearing nothing – not a stitch.
Dan doesn’t realise at first, he’s still too caught up in the sensations Phil is creating inside of him, yet again, but then he does realise, and his instinct is to curl away, to cover himself because he’s so exposed, and Phil is just… well he’s still fully dressed, that’s what. He should do something about that, Dan thinks, just as Phil grazes a delicate hand over his nipple. He gasps, clasping at Phil’s t-shirt, hoping he might scoot a little bit closer so they can make out again. Yeah, that’d be nice.
Like the freaky mind-reader he is, Phil immediately obliges to Dan’s silent request, closing his mouth over Dan’s with a mildly frustrated noise. They kiss, slowly, languorously, Dan fascinated by the lingering taste of himself on Phil’s tongue, when all at once, Phil pulls away.
The look on his face is pained, desperate even, and Dan stares in confusion.
“Dan, I… Can I just…” Phil near-whispers, seeming not to be able to get the words out. He bites his lip. “Ugh, Dan that was so… I just need to…” Realisation dawns on Dan’s face, his gaze flicking down to Phil’s crotch. God, Phil must be dying right about now. “Do you mind if I just…?”
Dan, at a loss for how to respond, shakes his head. Phil lets out a sigh of relief, immediately shifting his position and scrabbling frantically at his jeans, trying to flick them open. Dan knows he should be helping, he’s so aware that his own hands should be working open Phil’s fly right now, but he can’t, he’s transfixed, gaze glued to the spot where Phil’s hand disappears into his jeans, a look of relief passing over the older boy’s features.
“Phil,” Dan whispers as Phil’s hand works its way inside of his underwear, “Phil, take off your shirt.”
Phil pauses in his movements, watching Dan curiously. He seems hesitant to comply, but Dan stares him down, an urgency in his expression. He needs this – needs Phil at least partly as vulnerable as himself, otherwise he fears he’ll go crazy. Phil moves, eventually, pulling the t-shirt up over his head, exposing acres of naked skin, paler than Dan’s, just as Dan always knew, but utterly flawless, unblemished – the kind of skin that begs to have lips pressed against it.
Dan has to have his hands on him, there seems to be no other option, so he presses his palms against Phil’s chest and pushes, Phil falling onto his back, surprise on his face. Okay, Dan thinks, okay he can do it now, he’s able. He wants to. His hand smooths down Phil’s chest, over his stomach, past his hips, until he’s burrowing into the warm cavern of Phil’s open jeans.
Phil is practically whimpering under Dan’s touch, sending goosebumps rippling over Dan’s skin, and at the last second, just before Dan makes the final plunge inside his underwear, he grabs hold of Dan’s wrist.
“Dan, you don’t have to-”
But Dan shrugs him off, impatient now, wondering why the Hell he didn’t get on with this sooner. This is incredible, having Phil underneath him like this, holding this power over him, it’s no wonder Phil got off on it, it’s invigorating. He breaks out of Phil’s grasp easily, sliding his fingers teasingly slowly underneath the waistband of Phil’s underwear.
Impatient and turned on or not, Dan isn’t really prepared for the moment he feels his fingers graze Phil’s cock for the first time. The older boy moans beneath him, just at this smallest of touches, grabbing hold of Dan’s other hand, squeezing it hard. Dan pauses for a moment, gathering himself, his heart thrumming and face heating – he just touched Phil’s dick. This is actually something that just happened.
Then again, Dan thinks, Phil literally had your entire dick down his fucking throat two minutes ago. He should get it together really. He shakes off his nerves, his doubts, every coherent thought really, and goes back to exploring the depths of Phil’s underwear. He brushes his fingers along Phil’s entire cock, breaths quickening as he feels the length, the girth of him, not to mention the heat, the dampness. His fingers curl around the shaft, squeezing lightly, and Phil’s reaction is violent – he arches his head back, exposing his neck, sucking a breath through his teeth.
Okay, Dan thinks, trying to be logical about this, though it’s pretty much impossible given that all the blood from his brain is plummeting towards his dick at lightning speed. He needs to see. He needs to get a look at the situation here, it’s the only way he can even hope to get through this in one piece.
Gently, carefully, freeing his other hand from Phil’s grasp in order to adjust Phil’s jeans, pushing the material aside, Dan pulls Phil’s cock free of its confines, eyes fixated on it as it springs into view for the first time. Dan sucks in a breath at the sight – Phil is fucking gorgeous, all flushed and heavy, leaking fluid onto Dan’s fist, thick with arousal and frustrated desire… all for Dan.
Dan can’t help himself, he moans at the sight. By now, his own cock is back at full mast, and this kind of recovery time hasn’t happened to him since he was in his teen years, but then again he hasn’t been this turned on in what feels like centuries, possibly ever. He moves his hand, not playing around now, just jerking Phil slowly, watching everything he can – the sight of his hand smearing precome over the shaft, Phil beneath him, writhing, filthy things that Dan wouldn’t have dreamed of just dripping from his lips.
“Dan, oh-”
“Ah! Dan, don’t stop… oh, ff-”
For a second Dan thinks Phil is going to swear, and he almost stops in pure shock, but Phil seems to stop himself just in time, and Dan smiles. Okay, it’s time to move this along, he thinks, climbing on top of Phil, aligning their hips so that his own hardness brushes against Phil’s thigh. Phil cries out at that, bucking into him a short way, a silent plea for more.
Okay, Dan thinks, it’s time for the jeans to go. Definitely. Reluctantly, to the sound of Phil’s agonised whimpers, Dan releases his grasp on Phil’s erection, and climbs off Phil in order to tug the offending material off Phil’s legs. It takes him longer than he would have liked – Phil might complain about the tightness of Dan’s jeans but they both know they shop in the skinny jeans section of the store – but eventually, after what seems like forever, Dan has stripped Phil of both his jeans and underwear, leaving him utterly, completely, wondrously naked.
He stops for a moment, just marvelling. They’re both naked right now. On his bed. The thought makes Dan’s eyes glaze, his gaze wandering incessantly over Phil’s every body part, right up until Phil makes a noise of frustration, reaching for him, and Dan remembers what he’s doing. He clambers back on top of Phil in lightning speed, sending their cocks sliding together already, which is enough to have them both crying out, and then Dan lowers himself slowly, bringing their mouths together for a kiss, which they sink into eagerly, desperately.
Dan pushes his hips forward, the sensation vastly improved now without the layers of material separating them. Phil’s hands grip Dan’s back, raking against the skin there slightly as Dan thrusts forwards again, chasing that indescribable feeling, sparks shooting through both their intertwined bodies.
The sounds Phil is making are bordering on nonsensical now, though Dan thinks he hears his name occasionally. The guy looks desperate, and Hell he probably is, so Dan decides to speed things along, even though it means this glorious moment has to end. He snakes his hand down between their bodies, grasping hold of them both in one loose, slippery fist. He continues moving his hips, fucking them both slowly in his grasp, and moves his hand too, increasing the friction, knowing it’s worth it when he feels Phil’s nails digging into him, a silent sign of his rapture.
He’s not as verbal as Dan, the younger boy notices, but that’s not to say he’s not expressive. His face is the picture of ecstasy, his eyes screwed shut or wide, cobalt and pleading, his pupils blown huge. Dan speeds up his rhythm, dipping his head to Phil’s neck and sucking at the skin, his teeth scraping at the sweat-slicked flesh. Phil starts crying out, louder than he has so far, and Dan knows he must be close.
“D-Dan…” Phil stutters out, and Dan leans back a little to watch his expression. “O-oh! Ah, Dan!”
That’s it, Dan thinks smiling to himself, and watches eagerly as Phil dissolves, tipping over the edge of and freefalling into his high, his body tensing while he groans. Phil’s release covers Dan’s hand, his thighs, everything, and all Dan can think about is how incredibly hot it’s going to be to try and get the stains out of his bedclothes, and just remember this moment.
Dan follows pretty quickly, not able to last much longer what with Phil literally orgasming underneath him, and he can’t quite believe the intensity of his own release, especially after the first. As it happens, he can’t hold himself up, his arms become spindly, wracked with blinding pleasure, and he falls directly onto Phil, probably winding him in the process.
It takes a while, a few minutes possibly, but eventually the boys summon the strength to look into each other’s eyes, just staring for a while, assessing.
“Sorry,” Dan whispers, “am I crushing you?”
“No.” Phil answers, quirking a small, timid smile. He brings a hand up and strokes it lightly over Dan’s hair. “You’re sleepy.”
Dan’s eyebrows knit together defiantly. “No, I’m not.” Phil, the smug bastard that he is, waits for a few moments, and then, like clockwork, Dan is fighting to stifle a yawn. He fails. “Shut up.”
Phil laughs at him affectionately. Suddenly, as if only just realising, Dan is barely able to hold his eyes open. Man, Phil is really comfortable – how come he never knew that before?
“You always get sleepy after drinking.” Phil says, the hand still smoothing through Dan’s hair. It’s not helping with the whole trying-to-stay-awake thing. “With you, you have to keep drinking or I’ll find you snoozing in the corner somewhere.”
Dan can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. “Hey, in my defence, we did just partake in some strenuous activity.”
Phil laughs, leaning in to kiss the top of his head. “True.”
There’s a minute of silence then, and Phil knows it’s because Dan is slowly but surely drifting into the dream-world. If he doesn’t ask, then things could be weird, things could turn out terribly.
“Dan?”
“Mm.”
Phil smiles. Dan is literally sprawled naked on top of him, eyes closed, head on Phil’s shoulder. Is this how he’s going to have to sleep tonight? Apparently so.
“In the morning… promise not to be weird, yeah?” Phil makes himself say.
Phil can feel Dan’s confusion radiating up at him. “What?”
“Just… even if you regret this tomorrow… it doesn’t have to change anything, we can just carry on as normal.” Phil says, hating himself for it a little. “We’ll find a way. It’d like, suck, to not have you as my best friend cause of this.”
All is silent for a moment, and Phil wonders if Dan is asleep. Then he feels the younger boy shift, and all too soon he’s staring into Dan’s open eyes, right above his. Dan kisses him so suddenly it takes him by surprise – he makes a startled sound before relaxing into it. He’d better savour this while it lasts after all.
After a while, Dan breaks away, but doesn’t move too far. “I don’t regret it, Phil. All those truths you were asking me and you still don’t get it?” Dan shakes his head, smiling slightly. “I want this. I pulled you in for a kiss, remember? I dared you to kiss me. I want…” Dan colours, and he buries himself in Phil’s shoulder again, breaking their gaze. “I want you.”
Phil can’t stop the smile spreading onto his face. His insides heat up in degrees like gradually melting chocolate. Dan wants him? But he’s always been the one who wanted Dan. How can this be happening?
“Really?” Phil makes himself ask. His voice is barely a whisper.
“Yeah, you peasant.” Dan replies, and Phil splutters a little. “Wake me up in the morning… and you have my full permission to be creative about how you do that.”
Phil laughs again, wrapping his arms around Dan, who is steadfastly not moving from this position, and resigning himself to a night spent pinned naked to the bed, holding Dan in his arms.