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Heartache, like many things, comes in waves.
It’s always there—after all, it’s impossible to stand in its waters and not notice that you are wet—but it’s only when those waves crash that you feel its might most keenly. It comes with a smile, a touch, a laugh. The faintest trace of their scent. The mere mention of their name. A head of white hair. Green eyes watching you through the mirror.
A knot forms in Danny’s throat. He tears his eyes away and fumbles for the hair brush.
The castle is lively tonight. A gala to commemorate some political drivel Danny couldn’t care less about. Ghosts and humans alike scramble with last minute preparations, their constant bustle too draining for Danny’s liking, but here in the king’s bedchamber there is a modicum of peace. A slow, gloomy melody fills the air, murmured in ghost speak Danny will never understand. It’s nice—a fitting backdrop for the mess of feelings tangled in Danny’s chest. The king’s voice is pleasant, if nothing else.
Danny takes his time brushing Phantom’s hair, straightening every lock to fall exactly how Phantom likes it. It’s a simple task, yet he gets lost somewhere along the way, enamored by just how soft Phantom’s hair is between his fingers. It’s far more silken than any human hair could ever achieve, and Danny itches to bury his nose in it, to breathe in the scent of lush shampoo and selfish desire.
Phantom’s humming abruptly grinds to a stop. Danny meets his gaze again through the mirror, and flushes under the knowing stare.
“You’re dallying again,” Phantom murmurs, just as he had when Danny was bathing him, and drying him, and buttoning up his shirt.
Another wave grasps Danny’s heart. What was once a caress twists into an iron grip, a ruthless squeeze Danny can only endure. And he will. He’s had plenty of practice.
“Apologies,” Danny says just as softly, and neatens Phantom’s hair again.
He’s usually better than this, but it seems the walls around Danny’s heart have chosen today to crumble. Perhaps it’s the occasion, seeing Phantom dressed so regal. Or maybe it’s simply the excuse to tend to him more than usual. It doesn’t matter. Danny can’t afford any weakness.
With Phantom’s hair straightened out, there is only one thing left. Laid out neatly on Phantom’s bed is the mantle. It’s luxurious with its silky fabric, lined with the finest furs the Far Frozen has to offer. Intricate embroidery adorns the outside, almost imperceivable until the light hits it just right to accentuate the elegant pattern. It was made specifically for Phantom, a gift for uniting the Realms.
Danny drapes it over Phantom’s shoulders and fastens it into place, arranging it to lay just right. He doesn’t think about how close they are, or how easy it would be to slip his arms around Phantom’s neck and draw him in. He’s pictured it enough times—his fingers fisting that soft hair, Phantom’s arms holding Danny just as tight. The king would be dressed just like this in his striking regalia as he dips Danny back, their lips locked in a dance of passion in the middle of the dance floor where it’s impossible to deny their love. The world would narrow and slow until it’s just them, and when they part Phantom would breathe those three words Danny has been waiting to hear for as long as he can remember.
The thought is so idyllic it’s laughable. This isn’t a movie.
Once he’s certain there’s not a speck of dust out of place, Danny steps back before he can do something reckless, and Phantom turns to the full-length mirror to appraise his work. It’s flawless, naturally. There’s just one piece missing…
The crown appears at Phantom’s beck, floating above his head, eye-catching and extravagant. As soon as it materializes, Danny can see the shift in Phantom’s demeanor. His shoulders square, his head held high, exuding unwavering confidence and authority. He looks every bit the valiant king the Realms would expect of him.
Phantom takes it all in with weary eyes far too jaded for his youthful face. He smiles at himself, like he’s testing out the mask, then turns to meet Danny’s gaze.
“How do I look?” he asks. His smile brightens into something far more genuine when their eyes meet. It’s too much for Danny’s heart.
“You’re perfect,” Danny says stiffly, trying to strangle any hint of desire from his voice. Judging by the amused shift in Phantom’s eyes, his feelings still leaked through.
“We’re off, then. There’s much to do,” Phantom says, making for the door. Danny scrambles to hold it open for him.
The king crosses the threshold without even a passing glance. The tide reels back.
Danny grinds his teeth as Phantom exchanges goodbyes with yet another inconsequential guest. Phantom’s insistence to see off every wretched soul that walks (or floats) into this damn hall was cute at one point in time, but now only serves to grate on Danny’s nerves. If it were up to Danny, they would have left hours ago.
The unfamiliar ghost rests their hand on Phantom’s arm, speaking to him like an old friend even though Danny is pretty damn certain Phantom has never seen this bastard in his life. Danny resists the urge to roll his eyes, because the king’s attendant is nothing if not gracious. That doesn’t mean Danny is above clearing his throat rather obnoxiously, though.
Phantom turns to him with a raised eyebrow. Danny keeps his expression neutral, but his eyes must still betray his frustration if the smirk toying at Phantom’s lips is anything to go by.
“It would appear I’m running behind,” Phantom says with an apologetic smile—an apology so painfully hollow, yet everyone eats it up. They fall into another round of goodbyes, and by the time the ghost finally leaves, Danny feels like he’s about to burst.
Phantom turns to Danny with a knowing look in his eyes. He leans closer, and murmurs, “Vying for my attention?”
“P-pardon?”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been staring. If looks could kill the guests would be dead—or deader.”
Danny’s jaw tightens. “You must be seeing things, Your Majesty.”
Phantom laughs, bright and melodic, and rests his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Just a little bit longer,” he says, then the touch is gone, and Phantom is brushing past Danny to tie up the last loose ends. Danny tugs at his collar, following from a respectable distance, trying his best to ignore the fire burning under his skin.
That little bit longer seems to last a lifetime. A part of Danny can’t help but feel that Phantom is dawdling on purpose. Judging by the impish smiles he keeps shooting Danny’s way, he probably is, if he has any idea of just how loud and consuming Danny’s feelings are tonight. Danny tries not to dwell on the possibility that this might be Phantom dreading what is to come, procrastinating the inevitable. No, Phantom is just being a tease.
When the king finally steps away and beckons Danny to leave, it takes everything to not groan with relief. Danny tries not to look too eager in front of the others as he follows Phantom out into the empty corridor, but as soon as the door shuts and they’re away from sight, Danny seizes Phantom’s wrist and drags him to his bedchamber, manners be damned. Phantom doesn’t fight it—surely he was expecting this outcome what with Danny’s darkening mood.
“I take it you did not enjoy the festivities?” Phantom teases. He sounds carefree, but there’s a tightness to his voice Danny can only recognize after years of serving him. This is a front.
“It’s just a poor excuse for everyone to parade their wealth and squabble for your attention,” Danny mutters darkly. “It’s a waste of time.”
“Time I could be spending with you, no?”
Danny’s grip on Phantom’s wrist tightens. The cruel grin in Phantom’s voice makes him feel ill. “Need you mock me at every turn?”
“It’s only fair.”
Danny can’t argue.
Wrenching open the door to Phantom’s bedchamber, Danny ushers Phantom inside. Before the door is even fully shut, Danny has Phantom’s garish cloak unclasped, pooling at their feet. He reaches for Phantom’s collar next, aggressively undoing the buttons. Buttons he had fastened just hours before.
“Danny,” Phantom huffs, an amused note to his voice. “Just what has gotten into you?”
Danny growls as he pushes Phantom’s coat off next and gets to work on his shirt. Why does he need so many damn layers? “They were touching you.”
“Yes. My arm.”
“And your shoulders. And your back.”
“That hardly means anything.”
Heartache hits Danny like a tsunami. “Only I get to touch you!” he snaps as he yanks Phantom’s shirt off. “You’re mine!”
With the ghost bare from the waist up, Danny wastes no time wrapping his arms around Phantom, clutching him like he’s the only thing keeping Danny from falling apart—and he is. Right away the tremor in Danny’s hands begins to quell. The feel of Phantom’s skin is just too soothing, better than any sedative. Danny nuzzles Phantom’s neck, breathing him in as some of the night’s tension ebbs.
He couldn’t stand it, standing by Phantom’s side all evening, watching the other ghosts and humans put their hands on the king so casually. They should know better than that. Phantom should know better than to allow it.
Danny wonders selfishly if he were to stand at Phantom’s side as a lover, not a servant, if the guests would keep their hands to themselves.
“No,” Phantom says slowly, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “You’re my attendant. If anything, you belong to me.”
Danny swallows, his face burning as he hides it deeper in Phantom’s neck. “You’re mine,” he mumbles.
Phantom doesn’t correct him.
Phantom doesn’t do anything, and that hurts more than anything. Danny longs for this to be one of the rare occasions that Phantom will ruffle his hair or pat his shoulder—something. But Phantom will never console Danny. Not when they’re alone. Not over this.
That’s fine.
Danny takes a deep breath to pull himself together, and reluctantly pulls away. His hands linger, trailing along Phantom’s sides as Danny drinks in the sight of him. With so much of Phantom still covered, it’s not enough to slake him, an ache welling up in Danny’s chest that he can’t possibly ignore.
“Better?” Phantom asks, teasing. The smile on his face is charming, but cautious; he’s playing with fire, and he’s well aware of what will happen if he gets burned. Yet, that never stops him from playing.
“I want you in bed,” Danny blurts, the words tumbling out of him in a rush. The warmth drains from Phantom’s eyes in an instant.
“You’re in no position to be making demands.”
Heat rises to Danny’s cheeks. He can’t think of a clever response, so he takes Phantom’s face in his hands instead and kisses him as fiercely as he can without parting their lips. There’s no magic to it—no wandering hands and ceaseless passion. Phantom’s lips move indifferently against Danny’s, going through the motions more out of instinct than want. Still, Danny tries to find some hint of lust in it, his overactive imagination struggling to conjure up flying sparks and fireworks without a flame to ignite.
When they part, Danny’s hands are shaking again, the knot of arousal in his gut tightening. Their eyes meet, Phantom’s sullen and cold. There’s no need for words; they both know how this night will end.
Phantom steps away, over the pile of clothes Danny has left on the floor. He walks to the bed, unhurried, leaving Danny to trail after him like a stray dog begging for scraps. When Phantom sits, Danny takes his rightful place at his feet, undoing the laces of Phantom’s boots with a keenness Phantom lacks. He takes each boot off, one after the other, pausing after the second to run his hand up Phantom’s ankle and under the leg of his pants. Phantom watches it all with disinterest, the apathy in his eyes almost seeming to taunt Danny—You can do better than that.
It’s become something of a game between them, Danny’s pitiful attempts at enticing Phantom. A game Danny is always destined to fail no matter how many times they play.
Phantom stands again, and Danny wordlessly unbuckles Phantom’s belt. Danny has done this enough times to anticipate what he will find, but it doesn’t hurt any less when he pulls Phantom’s pants down and is met with a flaccid dick. He meets Phantom’s eyes for just a moment, but the king’s expression is unchanged. To even hope for anything otherwise would be foolish.
Danny slowly runs his hands up Phantom’s thighs, reverently caressing his cool skin. He doesn’t bother to check Phantom’s expression again as he leans in; this is no longer about Phantom’s desires.
He nuzzles Phantom’s cock, his eyes falling shut as he breathes in Phantom’s musk. It’s comforting, the knowledge that no one else gets to have Phantom like this. That for as long as Phantom goes without a consort, Danny will be the only one to press kisses to his shaft as he patiently coaxes Phantom to fullness. No one else will taste the sweetness of Phantom’s precum on their tongue or feel the vein pulsing under his touch. Danny knows every inch of this cock, and for every day that Phantom allows him this indulgence, Danny will revel in knowing that in all of the Infinite Realms, it’s him who gets to take it.
A moan trembles in Danny’s throat as he takes Phantom into his mouth. He risks another glance up at Phantom, but his green eyes are shut, his face blank, and Danny wonders bitterly if he’s picturing someone else. Danny just takes that as a sign to moan louder, bobbing his head and crying like a porn star, because if Danny is going to give Phantom this pleasure, then Phantom must feel his presence like a burn in his memory.
Through it all, Phantom is deathly silent. His hands stay resolutely by his sides, refusing to reciprocate in any manner. The only proof that Phantom is even experiencing any sort of pleasure is the erection that has yet to wane, if only because of Danny’s persistent stimulation.
It hurts, but if this is the closest Danny can get to Phantom’s love, then Danny will take this every time over being alone.
Gripping Phantom’s hips, Danny rocks forward and takes as much of him as he can. He pauses like that for a long moment, savoring the heady weight of Phantom’s cock on his tongue and its pleasant coolness, a feeling so welcome he wouldn’t mind staying like this forever. As tempting as that is, Danny aches for something more. He needs to feel Phantom inside of him, stretching him open like Danny was made for nothing else. Only the feel of Phantom’s release can sate the roiling heat in Danny’s heart. After a night of watching humans and ghosts alike contend for the king’s affections, Danny needs the reminder that Phantom only comes for him. It doesn’t matter if Phantom does not share the sentiment—Phantom is his.
Danny pulls back with a gasp, wiping the mess of saliva and precum from his chin. “In bed,” he says with more authority than he possesses.
Vibrant eyes open, meeting Danny’s with their harsh indifference. Phantom has no reason to humor Danny’s demands, but still he clambers into bed, lying with his head on the pillow, waiting. He must want it then, Danny reasons. He has all of the power at his disposal to send Danny away, but he never does. There’s desire there, somewhere. There must be.
The closer they get to having Phantom inside of him, the more Danny’s arousal skyrockets. He undresses with shaking hands, not bothering with putting on a show; there’s no point, not when Phantom’s eyes remain locked onto the canopy above his bed. He has no interest in watching, so Danny shucks off his clothes as quickly as possible and retrieves the lube from Phantom’s bedside drawer.
It’s only once Danny has climbed into bed, straddling Phantom’s hips, that Phantom finally looks at him again. Danny’s face warms under Phantom’s attention. It makes him feel alluring despite the blatant disinterest, like this could be the night he finally steals Phantom’s heart.
That foolish hope drives Danny as he runs his hand up Phantom’s stomach, feeling the firm muscle. With Phantom laid bare, it’s impossible not to appreciate him. He’s a marvel of perfection, everything from his snowy hair to the radiance of his glow far too immaculate for Danny’s meager presence. Still he lets Danny touch him, offering himself up as if Danny is at all deserving of this luxury. It’s a gift Danny will never take for granted. After all, he could never tire of Phantom. That fetching blend of strength and elegance captures his heart every time.
Phantom’s frame may be sleek and slender, but the scars strewn about his skin reveal a tremendous grit. He’s strong—so much stronger than Danny could ever hope to be—facing each adversity with keen judgment and a steady hand. That strength just accentuates his angelic beauty. How one can be so delicate yet hold such exceptional power is beyond Danny. But Phantom has always been one to defy all expectations. It steals Danny’s breath away.
“You’re perfect,” Danny breathes, cupping Phantom’s cheek. The words feel so laughably inadequate. They’re not nearly enough to convey Phantom’s majesty.
“So I’ve heard,” Phantom says.
“I mean it.” Danny’s hand trails down Phantom’s neck, smoothing over his chest. Just looking at him makes Danny dizzy with desire. “You’re beautiful.”
Phantom merely hums in response. His expression remains unchanged—not even a blush.
Fine. It’s fine.
Danny rocks back on his knees and scrabbles for the lube, trying to ignore the sickness building in his stomach. He coats his fingers, and meets Phantom’s eyes as he slips a finger inside of himself. Somehow, this is the most humiliating part. He stretches himself slowly, all too aware of Phantom’s weighty stare and flagging erection, but Danny can’t stop here. They’ve already come this far, to stop now would be torture.
By the time Danny slides a third finger in, he can’t stop whining. He must make for a pathetic sight, making such wretched sounds as his cock leaks to the mere thought of a man who will never crave him in the same way. Danny curls his fingers, smothering that shame with more pleasure. He can’t allow himself to think about their reality. He needs the safe embrace of a fantasy where Phantom is just as eager and Danny isn’t a monster for all he has done.
It’s nothing but wishful thinking, but it’s still enough to spur Danny on. He draws his fingers out, and smashes their lips together without a second thought, that sweet mouth parting with a gasp. It’s enough for Danny to slip his tongue in, and when Phantom lets out a whimper, Danny tells himself it’s one of desire, not revulsion. It’s a beautiful sound, and Danny can’t help but grip Phantom’s face, leaning over him as he pushes their kiss deeper, trying to draw out more of those noises Phantom tries so hard to stifle.
It’s a rare indulgence that can only last for as long as Phantom’s stony exterior can withstand, so Danny takes as much as he can get, rutting against Phantom’s stomach and tangling his fingers into soft hair. The glide of their tongues is luxurious, Phantom’s taste alone enough to make Danny shudder in bliss. Danny could come just like this, so riled up over a simple kiss, but he refrains. Not yet. Not yet.
They kiss until Danny’s lungs scream for air, forcing him to pull away. As soon as he does, Phantom turns his head away, his eyes screwed shut. Not quite disgust, but plenty of displeasure. Nausea rises in Danny’s throat.
He doesn’t want to stop.
When Danny hesitates, Phantom opens his eyes, giving him a long, jaded look.
“Well?” Phantom asks, his voice tired and gravelly.
Danny bites his lip and hides his face in Phantom’s neck. His hips don’t stop moving, even as he murmurs, “You’re making me feel bad.”
Phantom lets out a deep sigh. “Just get on with it.”
It’s as much of a command as any. Danny swallows the vestiges of guilt and lavishes Phantom’s jaw in gentle, reverent kisses in a show of gratitude. The grudging permission is hotter than any act, Phantom’s sufferance kindling foolish hope in Danny’s heart, just like those shaky breaths as Danny works Phantom back into arousal. Phantom may not want Danny, but at the very least, Danny can still bring him pleasure, as much as Phantom is loath to admit it.
Danny presses a giddy smile against Phantom’s skin and raises his hips, guiding Phantom’s cock until the tip kisses his entrance. Danny’s head begins to spin, every selfish night spent fantasizing fueling this moment. He feels Phantom tense beneath him, his fingers bunching in the sheets as he waits, and waits, until Danny finally lowers himself. They both gasp as the head slides in, Phantom muttering something harsh in ghost speak that Danny can only imagine is a curse, or something else he’d be far too embarrassed to admit otherwise. It’s all music to Danny’s ears. It fuels him as he pushes himself upright, feeling Phantom slip deeper inside as Danny takes as much as he can.
It’s here, sitting on Phantom’s dick, that everything finally feels right, like some missing piece has clicked into place. That hollow ache in Danny’s chest withers away, and a bright, lively elation blossoms in its place. Danny feels it deep in his soul; this is where he belongs. If only Phantom could see that, too.
But Phantom is stubborn. Even now, he lies with his eyes closed, shutting out as much as he can as if he could forget who is on top of him. That won’t do.
Danny grabs Phantom by the jaw, forcing the king to meet his gaze. There’s a wild look in those green eyes that Danny pretends is lust as he grinds down, watching Phantom bite back what is surely a moan. Danny has no such qualms. He doesn’t stifle a single sound, letting every gasp and moan fall freely as his body slips into a ceaseless rhythm. The need for more is too overpowering, he couldn’t stop if he tried. His hips move of their own accord. He can already tell he’s not going to last long.
“Phantom,” Danny moans. “Fuck. You feel so good.”
Danny’s fingers in a cold, empty bed could never compare to the utter bliss of having Phantom inside of him. He’d nearly forgotten just how good this is. It’s been far too long.
“Danny,” Phantom calls back, breathing out the name like its barbed wire caught in his throat. He clutches the sheets tighter, still refusing to touch—refusing to even move his hips. Still, he gasps again, “Danny—”
It bolsters Danny’s confidence, more false hope welling up in his chest. “Is that good?” he coos, pushing himself to move in faster, longer strokes. “You love b-being inside me?”
Danny isn’t really expecting an answer, but he gets one. It hisses out of Phantom in ghost speak as cold as a winter’s night, biting and clawing and grating its way out of his core like the cracking of ice, all broken fractals and vicious edges. The shards are not pointed at Danny, though. He isn’t sure how he can tell, but he feels it in his chest; this hatred is not for him.
“Yeah?” Danny puts his hands on the ghost’s chest, feeling the restless thrum of his core. “You like it?”
Phantom grimaces and shuts his eyes, his mouth moving like he’s trying to speak, but more gibberish is the only thing that slips out of him. It’s warmer this time. Warm and frail like a wilting flower. It takes a few tries for it to come out in English.
“Danny.”
He says it with desperation, but Danny can’t tell what it is he’s pleading for. All Danny sees is the king, flushed and shaking, holding himself together by the skin of his teeth. He should know by now that Danny is no saint. This pleasure is the only thing he has to offer.
“Relax,” Danny says softly, brushing the bangs out of Phantom’s face. “I— I’ll take care of you.”
Judging by the look in Phantom’s eyes, that isn’t what he wanted to hear, but Danny doesn’t know what else to say. Neither of them want this, not really. Phantom wishes it were anyone else while Danny aches to be under him, for Phantom to take him from above, just once. To feel Phantom’s hips collide with his, hands gripping his thighs with insatiable lust as Phantom looms over him. Glowing eyes watching Danny writhe in pleasure like it’s the most alluring thing the ghost has ever seen. To be wanted.
The eyes watching him now are weary of it all. Phantom regards Danny like he’s counting the seconds until this is over. No adoration, no affection—nothing. His pleasure is empty.
It’s fine.
Heat builds, sweat dripping down Danny’s neck. Without Phantom helping, Danny is already beginning to tire, but he can’t stop. The rhythm is too hypnotic, that steady rock whisking him into a trance where all he knows is the slap of skin and a creaking bedframe, his breathless moans rising to join the heady melody. His nerves sing, his legs shaking. His body needs this release more than it needs air, and it won’t rest until that pleasure peaks and he’s filled with Phantom’s cum. Until there’s no doubt about who Phantom belongs to.
“You’re mine,” Danny pants, stroking himself feverishly to the idea. His muscles burn. He’s close, so close. “Only I get to have you. You’re mine. Always.”
“Always…?” Phantom mumbles drunkenly. He’s losing himself, too. Danny can see it in his hazy eyes, the timbre of his voice, yet somehow he still holds back.
Danny grits his teeth, pushing himself to the limit to get Phantom to crack, only breaking himself in the process. Each bounce strikes his prostate, his mind erupting into static. “Yes,” Danny gasps out. “Always. Always. You’re so good, Phantom. So good. I-I can’t— Fuck.”
Once more is all it takes. Phantom’s cock slams into him, and Danny comes apart with a scream of his king’s name. Ribbons of cum streak across Phantom’s skin, a gnarled, possessive part of Danny thrilling at the sight of his seed marking him. Phantom is his. It drags another moan out of Danny as he slumps against Phantom, his body beyond spent, but he can’t stop yet. He’ll be damned if Phantom doesn’t finish inside of him.
He buries his face in Phantom’s neck and rolls his hips, moving as fast as his legs will permit. Phantom is still so unnervingly quiet, his short breaths the only sign that he might be close. He has to be close. He must be.
Danny’s lips brush Phantom’s ear, his fingers running through damp white hair. “Phantom,” he moans, terribly desperate. “Please. Please, come for me. I need you. I— I love you. Please.”
Phantom inhales sharply, his body shuddering. He makes a strangled sound. A moment later, Danny feels his release.
Some dim, senseless part of Danny expects an “I love you, too,” but no. Not a single moan.
Tears well up in Danny’s eyes. The bright euphoria coursing through him crashes all at once, his fantasy lost in pieces. They’re both left limp and panting, Phantom’s scent mingling with the stench of sex making Danny’s stomach twist. He feels rotten, and he can’t fathom why he ever wanted this in the first place when all he’s left with is this cruel reality. It hurts now more than ever, that hollow ache gnawing away, deepening the void in his chest.
Danny chokes back a sob, hot tears dripping onto frigid skin. He wonders if Phantom even cares.
“I hate you,” Danny whispers.
Phantom says nothing, his hands still tangled in the sheets.
If only Phantom would just touch him, run his fingers through Danny’s hair and wrap him in an embrace, each touch conveying a love Phantom can’t contain. That smooth voice whispering sweet nothings, lulling Danny until his tears run dry and everything feels okay again. Even if every word was a lie, Danny would take it—he’d take anything over this dreadful rejection.
He would do anything just to hear those three words.
Danny clutches Phantom, his hands shaking, always shaking. “What will it take?” he asks. Phantom sighs.
“I can’t love you, Danny.”
Indignation boils in Danny’s blood. He lifts his head, glaring at Phantom with the brunt of his anger. “Then why fuck me? Why do any of this?”
“You insist.”
“You have all the power to stop me. You could have me sent away without even lifting a finger. You could—” Danny hesitates to even utter the idea into existence, the very thought making his heart skip a beat. “You could replace me.”
The edge to Phantom’s expression softens. “You seem to have the wrong impression,” he says. “I don’t hate you, Danny.”
“You should,” Danny blurts.
A sad smile creeps across Phantom’s face, one that Danny aches to soothe, but his touch would only make it worse. “Perhaps. But I value your company more.”
Danny shakes his head, more tears spilling. “That’s stupid. You should get rid of me, have me sent away. All I do is make you miserable. You—”
“Danny,” Phantom says, and for one, glorious moment, he touches Danny, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. It’s so chaste, yet it makes Danny dizzy, his heart hammering within its confines. “You’re my friend, Danny. I’m not going to throw you out.”
The hand drops, and Phantom clenches his fists. For a moment he almost looks misty-eyed, too, as if he could ever understand Danny’s pain.
“One of these days… you’ll be satiated,” he says softly, “and we can go back to what we had before.”
He poses it as a mere statement, but through the quiet desperation in Phantom’s eyes Danny sees it as the plea it is. Just as Danny begs for Phantom’s affection, Phantom longs for a friendship Danny cannot give him.
“I could never stop loving you,” Danny says with certainty.
The disappointment on Phantom’s face makes something like guilt wrench Danny’s heart. Phantom shuts his eyes with a sigh. The conversation is over.
Danny wipes the tears from his cheeks and slowly, achingly rises to his knees, finally letting Phantom’s cock slide out of him. Cum drips down his thighs. He feels dirty, a kind of filth no amount of washing could ever clean. He stares down at Phantom, taking in the king’s sapped appearance. He hates it just as surely as he knows that when those lively green eyes meet his in the morning, Danny will fall for them all over again.