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It is the second day after Dan's most recent episode and they are tangled in bed together. Tired and sated, still undressed and sweaty, Dan’s back pressed into Phil’s chest. Phil presses his fingers between Dan's, brings their hands into Dan’s chest. Dan feels a kiss to the back of his ear, “I missed this.”
Dan's stomach sinks.
He wriggles away to turn to face Phil, frowning. “I don’t want you to miss anything just because I’m not well.” He pauses for a minute, thinking about how to phrase it in a way that won’t make Phil upset. “When I’m like that you don’t have to wait for me to be in the mood. I still want you to be happy.”
“Yeah?” Phil looks thoughtful, smoothing a thumb over Dan’s brow. Dan unfurrows it.
“Yeah. I love you regardless. Even if I can’t feel it or say it. You can just take what you need.” Dan is emphatic, this feels important. He needs Phil to believe him.
Phil hums. “Okay. We’ll see.”
***
It is a few months before that conversation matters. Things are good more often than they are bad, but depression isn’t a logical or linear disease, and Dan has fallen back into a bad spell for a few days now. Two, or maybe three. He isn’t sure, the room has been kept dark and quiet the whole time.
He is face down in a pillow, more awake than asleep for right now. Only briefs on, because that’s what he had worn to bed the night before it got bad. He hears the door click open and softly shut. Then a weight on the bed that dips the corner of the mattress down.
A hand on his calf, a quick squeeze. “You up?”
Dan nods. The weight shifts around him, and then settles on top. Long lines pressing against Dan’s, Phil’s whole weight transfering into him. Dan takes a deep breath, sinks deeper into the mattress on the exhale, feels the unwinding of a tension he didn’t realize that he had been holding.
Phil is naked, the press of skin to skin along Dan’s whole back. He can feel the shape of Phil’s cock: large, hard, unrestrained. He must be just out of the shower. Skin still just barely damp, fresh and floral from his body wash. Phil rolls his hips into Dan's ass. “You’re so warm.”
Dan lays there, feeling his partner grind and grind. Growing damp from the sweat between them, a damp spot forming on the seat of his pants from Phil’s leaking cock, Phil licking and nipping where his shoulder met his neck. He rolls his head to the side to give him more room. Phil groans into his skin.
Phil pulls up off of him, and is back in moments, the click of a bottle opening.
“Legs together, bub.”
Dan moves as directed, Phil’s gentle fingers pushing him so he was laid out in a T. Like Jesus on the cross. Cool fingers slick lube between his thighs where they are thickest, just under his ass.
Phil’s weight is back, body aligned just lower now, knees straddling Dan’s legs. His hard cock slips between Dan’s thighs. “I love to feel your thighs, your muscles. You're getting so strong for me.” He rocks into Dan. Hands run down Dan’s arms until it's wrapped over Dan's hands, and pushing them down into the mattress. Phil’s cock slips back and forth, quickly warming the cool lube. Every few thrusts Dan feels the cock head nudge up against the underside of his balls, along the swell of his ass. Pressure noted, but brings no pleasure, Dan is soft. He lets himself relax into the weight, the rocking. Phil is going faster now, bracing himself against Dan’s arms. Dan squeezes his thighs together, flexing, as tight a channel as he can make. Phil moans, mouth pressed against Dan’s broad back, chasing, chasing, humping like an animal.
Then Dan feels a warm spill between his thighs, Phil shuttering above him. Phil sits up, working himself through the orgasm with his hand. Cum spilling between Dan’s thighs, painted over his pants and up his back. Phil sits back, heavy on Dan’s calves, catching his breath. Dan feels fingers push the cum between the flesh of his friction warmed thighs, rubbing it in as if it was a lotion, back and forth. A noise of contentment from above him.
Slow and firm hands pushing across his back, down his arms. A voice in his ear. “Let’s get you cleaned up now.”
He lets Phil manipulate him into the bathroom, into the shower. Stands under the spray that washes away the cum, the sweat, the past three days of nothingness. Phil washes his hair, dries him off, pulls a fresh pair of briefs onto him and brings them both into the other bedroom for a night of sleep on clean sheets.
***
A day later, and Dan is more sure about how much time has passed today. Phil had left the curtains open and Dan tracks his perception of time against the movement of the sun. The lighting in the room is different but everything feels the same. It feels of nothing. He rolls over and looks at the ceiling. There is nothing there.
Phil walks in. A bad day for Dan meant a lazy day for Phil; he's in a tee shirt and his blue sonic pajama pants.
“Can you sit up for me bub?”
Dan drags himself up, back against the headboard. Phil straddles him, holds his face in his hands. “There you are, that’s my pretty boy.” He brushes a thumb over Dan’s dry lips.
Dan’s lips part, and Phil slips his thumb inside. It tastes of nothing. Phil hooks his thumb over Dan’s bottom teeth, dragging his mouth open. Dan stares back at him, eyes half focused, jaw slack.
“That’s a good boy.” Phil rises to his knees, pulls his half hard cock out from his pajamas, tucking the waistband under his balls, sliding into Dan’s mouth.
Dan lets his lips fall shut around Phil, warm and heavy in his mouth. He’s not fully hard yet, fits more easily in Dan’s mouth than he would otherwise. Dan sucks gently, little laps with his tongue as he feels him grow. Phil slides a finger in alongside, and Dan sucks on that as well, air hissing through the poor seal his lips are making.
Once he’s fully hard Phil slides his finger out and begins rocking into Dan’s mouth. Dan lets the spit gather there, keeping it wet for him.
“I wish you could feel yourself, Dan. You’ve got the most perfect mouth for this.”
Dan can hear the words but he can’t feel them. His fingers fidget with the soft fabric of pajamas where they fold at Phil's knees.
Phil is thrusting deeper now, one hand on Dan’s chin and the other on his hair. He tilts Dan’s head to get a more direct line down Dan’s throat.
Dan’s face is wet, drool and precum dripping freely down his jaw. Phil slides his fingers through the mess, against Dan’s lips, feeling the stretch and the crack of Dan’s lips where his cock meets Dan’s mouth.
“You’ll do anything I need won’t you? My perfect little sex doll.” Phil is breathless with the praise.
His throat is aching. Dan shuts his eyes, all his focus going to keeping his mouth and throat relaxed. He latches onto the ache, the relief of feeling anything at all.
Phil comes, no warning, bursting bitter and salty across Dan’s tongue and down his throat. He swallows on impulse, Phil with a few more thrust into that tightness before he pulls out hissing, having worked himself into oversensitivity.
He sits back again, hands still cradling Dan’s face. “Hey,” he says. “You’re perfect.” He ignores the mess to give a quick kiss to Dan’s lips.
He gets up and leaves the room. Dan slouches against the headboard again, as tired as he’s been all week. The emptiness hums in his ears.
Phil comes back with a tray of supplies. First a warm and damp flannel, cleaning the mess off of Dan’s face and where it had dripped to his chest. Then a bottle of water. “Drink.”
Turns out Dan is incredibly thirsty, he gulps it down quickly, the water stinging against his dry and rough throat.
There’s food too. Phil hands him each bite, one at a time. Veggies and pita, dipped in hummus, tzatziki, tirokafteri. Dan eats automatically, hand to mouth, chewing and swallowing until the plate is clear.
Phil pulls Dan’s head into his chest and plays with the curls of his fringe. “Thank you,” Phil says gently, quietly. The sun is low now. Dan closes his eyes again.
***
It’s light again. Dan thinks he must have slept through the whole night for once. Phil’s still across from him, sleeping. Dan feels restless this morning. That’s something. A dissatisfaction at not wanting to do anything is a sign that he might want to do something soon. Flat on his back, head turned to the side, he lets his hand fall to Phil’s head, brushes the fringe to the side, studying his forehead. He’s so focused on it that he doesn’t notice that Phil’s eyes have opened until he speaks.
“Hey. How are you today?”
Dan just shrugs. Phil rolls over, half on top of him. He’s hard. Dan can feel it. Phil's hard most mornings.
Phil slips a hand into Dan’s pants, grabs his cock, rubbing up and down.
“Gonna ride you.”
“Phil-” Dan’s voice is a croak. Rough from the misuse last night and the days without speaking.
“Hush.”
Phil shoves the sheets off the foot of the bed and to the floor. He brings Dan’s pants off and down along with them. Grabs a bottle of lube, slicks his fingers and reaches behind himself.
Dan watches Phil start to open himself. The most beautiful man he’s ever seen, fucking down desperately backwards on his fingers. It feels like he’s watching through a screen. He knows what his response should be, but he’s not actually there.
“I need you Dan. Nothing else feels like you, there's no dildo like you. Don’t want to be empty today.”
Phil leans over and takes Dan, soft, into his mouth. It’s warm, and tight. Feels good, but it’s like the connections are broken inside him. Sensation to brain, brain to response, it’s not happening. He watches, distant. Phil’s looking up at him, blown out blue eyes. A moan and Phil’s eyes flutter shut as he works a third finger inside of himself.
Despite the slow start Phil is persistent. Works Dan with his tongue. Phil is fucking himself on both ends. With Dan’s dick in his mouth and his own fingers up his ass.
It’s becoming enough stimulation that his body doesn’t need the brain in the loop. The sounds of Phil’s fingers, slicking wet into his tight hole. The wet warmth of his mouth, vibrating as he moans. It’s Pavlovian, and Dan finally grows hard.
Phil pulls off, resting his head against Dan’s thigh, starts jerking him with his free hand. “That’s it Danny. Hard just for me, exactly what I need.” He sounds near reverent at the simple biological reaction. Dan closes his eyes and lets out a shuttering breath.
Phil climbs up, straddles his hips, facing towards Dan. Dan doesn’t think he’s opened himself enough, it’s not nearly as much as what he would do. But Phil is lazy, impatient, and undeterred. He positions himself over Dan’s dick and starts to slide down.
They both hiss. It’s slow and halting. Phil is leaning back, bracing himself against Dan’s thighs. His fingernails bite into the flesh, working himself down against the stretch. Dan reaches up and rubs circles into Phil’s thighs with his thumb, watching the light hair there swirl with his movement.
Eventually Phil is fully seated, his full weight pressing down on Dan’s hips. He’s like a Roman sculpture from this angle. All marble skin and sculpted lines, cock standing proud. His head thrown back and eyes shut, mouth gaping as he takes in shallow breaths. The morning light through the window glows on his skin.
With a huff Phil starts to move. First a rolling grind of his hips, working into the stretch. Then up and down, groaning into the feeling. Dan watches him work, the flex of his thighs, the flutter of his eyes, the twitch of his mouth as he hits the angle where Dan’s cock head rubs against his prostate. Dan feels like he could do this forever. It’s tight and hot, and feels good. But the layer of mental removal had the build of heat just low and slow in his stomach. It’s good to watch Phil.
Phil is really moaning now, but his movement is slowing. The up and down motion falling back into a grind, small circles of his hips.
“You’re tired,” Dan observes.
Phil’s eyes open in surprise. He smiles down at Dan, huffing a laugh. “I’m not used to doing all the work.”
“Come here.”
Phil leans forward, resting his weight on Dan’s chest rather than his thighs. Dan braces his feet on the bed, snaps his hips up into Phil.
Phil’s elbows nearly buckle. “Oh my god Dan. Just like that.”
Dan reaches towards Phil’s cock but Phil slaps his hand away. “No. We’re gonna fuck this orgasm out of me. All I need is your dick.”
So instead Dan wraps his hands around Phil’s wrists, feeling the strain as Phil holds his weight up. He snaps his hips up, again and again, watching Phil’s face. Watching his eyes pinch closed, his focused furrowed brow, mouth hanging open. Sees his flushed chest, the hair darkened from his sweat, watches the sweat drop from Phil’s chest to his.
“You’re made for me Dan, oh my god. Just like that. I’m so close. Keep going.”
Dan didn’t even notice he was close, but he comes when Phil comes. The clench of Phil’s ass, or the ecstasy on his face, or the desperate whine, or the feeling of Phil’s cum spurting up his chest and onto his chin; something there was enough to set him off. He fucks them both through the end of the orgasm, then lets Phil fall heavy onto both of them. Dan holds him tight.
Once again, the weight across him brings him to unwind. He listens to Phil’s breath, matches his own to that rhythm. Better than any meditation app this: just in, and out.
Phil is listening to his breath too.
“I love you, Dan.”
Dan closes his eyes. He runs his fingers through Phil’s hair. He knows it. Maybe tomorrow he will be able to feel it.