the maestro and his muse

by Tarredion

Summary:

Phil is a professional artist. There are some things he has always wanted to try, and with a motto like Try New Things, it’s understandable that he’ll go through with many of them. Painting on living, breathing, naked human bodies is one of those things.

Unfortunately, he's chosen his good friend, muse, and crush Dan Howell as his subject. What could go wrong?

Notes:

• For , obv10usly, det395, americanphancakes, ElisabethSwan.

for all the peeps that wanted friends to lovers, and the ones that really liked my Artist Phil Au introduction, and especially to anyone that finds themselves indulging :3

Chapter 1

Phil Lester has always wanted to be an artist. His mother said it was his exuberantly creative mind, his neighbors that it was because he grew up with the freak show -not true- and his few friends said he just had weird aspirations and dreams. A good weird, as Phil always pointed out. He was just as often pointedly ignored by them. He’s never had many real, long term friends.

These days, Phil Lester is actually an artist. He lives in a rather luxurious London flat for a wickedly generous price, paid off by his equally generous paycheque, and works full-time with a wide range of creative mediums. On weekdays he paints and sells art, on weekends he runs his own BBC radio show, and every other week he films a YouTube video. Life for him is easy, and bursting at the seams with bright ideas involving even brighter colours. Recently he’d even been offered a deal as a scriptwriter, which he’d gladly accepted. 

There are some things he has always wanted to try, and with a motto like Try New Things, it’s understandable that he’ll go through with many of them. Painting on living, breathing, naked human bodies is one of those things. 

Having sent out an application a dozen days ago, he’s received a handful of offers with short notice. One had stood out particularly to him, not even just because the model was the only male that applied. And so, said guy has just texted, telling him he’s on his way to Phil’s flat.

He’s anxious, to say the least. Anxious, and a nervous gay wreck, of course, to meet the wildly handsome, famous model Daniel Howell, and to have him critique his work. In his own home, with his own art applied to his body.

Or at the very least, you’d think that’s the main reason why he’s antsy.

Phil and Dan, or Dan and Phil as they prefer, have actually been friends -out of the public eye- since Phil moved to London three years ago. They stumbled upon each other in a café down the block from Phil’s apartment. Dan had been trying to look for a safe space away from paparazzi, literally running, and Phil had been looking for a new muse, found in their delicious caramel macchiato.

And later Dan’s pretty brown eyes, but don’t tell anyone that!

His problem, his anxiety, doesn’t at all stem from a stranger being in his home, or having someone critique the art he makes upon their body. It’s not even about meeting a famous celebrity. Oh no, but the gay panic part is true.

See, Phil has had a pretty strong crush on Dan, from only a few months into their friendship. He has never acted upon it, even when they’ve flirted pretty heavily. And now he’s really, really nervous because he’ll have to look upon his naked body, which is hard enough, let alone painting on it. A seamless masterpiece, at that.

A river flows through Phil each time he looks at Dan, and he knows very well that his eyes light up, then, like someone has dropped the sun into a massive, living ocean, filled with creatures and colours.The feelings he gets in Dan’s presence could embody each phenomenon within and outside the universe, so vast and expansive.

And that’s the danger behind it all. Each minute more spent in his presence, clothes on or off or in any state at all, he feels like that ocean will fill up the universe he cradles in his chest. Like it’ll spill over, and he’ll spew out all of the words he wants to tell Dan, but can’t get himself to.

Sure, sometimes he’ll use those emotions to create art, and some -the non explicit nor the obvious- have even been indubiously complimented by Dan, as he doesn’t sell those pieces, but he’ll never tell him who his muse has become. Not that boldly, or straightforward.  

At this point, Phil has spiraled into silence, just waiting for the inevitable downfall. For the past two hours, all he’s been doing is sitting glumly at the dining table, furiously bouncing his leg. Nothing else seems to relieve his worries, but neither does that.

The session is meant as a ‘first’ collaboration between the two of them. Phil paints Dan, showcasing his work and his new medium, and then he takes photographs. And Dan, he showcases his wonderful skills as a model, all throughout. The pictures will be posted to both of their social medias, and Dan’s agency has even been thinking of doing a full campaign around it. 

Dan told him pretty firmly that the higher-ups have been talking about it ever since they found out the two of them are friends, and so he really needs to make it good. He needs to get a grip, essentially.

His hands are wringing in his lap when there’s a sudden loud knock on the door. He flies from the stool, eyes wide and already breaking out into a cold sweat.

Dan’s hair is swept into a mess of curls when he steps into Phil’s hallway. He drops his dripping jacket on the floor like he owns the place, in a way that is slightly different and more personal than his typical bossy demeanor. After slipping out of his shoes, easily falling into comfortable and excited conversation with Phil, they prance into the studio down the hall.

Golden light streams into the room through the wide, floor-to-ceiling windows opposite the door. The glass panes are tinted silvery yellow, a peculiar shade, but it’s nothing compared to the baby blue and brightly yellow walls facing each other. 

Shelves with equipment cover one wall, while a table is stood along the other. There’s enough space on the floor, as the room is elongated, for Phil to work, and there are already a couple of easels set up in the sight of light.

Though he won’t be in need of any of them today.

“You’ve really begun to take care of your equipment, huh, even polishing the table,” Dan announces absentmindedly, running one hand across the shined wood. Phil watches his smooth, big hands with intent, knowing full well Dan’s eyes are turned away and he can’t see the staring. “Shall we get started, maestro ?” 

Then the sound of buttons popping echoes throughout the room, and Phil knows he’s absolutely fucking screwed. He swallows thickly, and promptly turns around, excusing himself to prepare the moveable lights that he doesn’t even really need right now. The sound of fabric sliding down Dan’s ethereal form and hitting the ground with a soft thud pounds in his ears, making his face burn.

All he can wonder is why he agreed to this, and chose this one specific artform, when anything else in the world wouldn’t make him want to be swallowed whole by the earth. Eternal embarrassment would be an easier punishment to take, for sure. 

Dan’s humming pulls Phil out of his head, indicating that he’s undressed. 

Too soon, he thinks begrudgingly, but they really have to get started, as Dan reminds him audibly. Swallowing down the ensuing uncomfortableness, he loads his arms full with cans of paint. Not looking Dan’s way, he stoically moves across the room, and unloads.

Rinse and repeat five more times with robotic synchronization for different supplies, and the whole table is suddenly covered in a clutter of objects. For his final trip, he picks out a paint-splashed plastic mat, and rolls it out across the floor, his eyes still forced to the ground while he works. If he’s going to be able to put it off for as long as he can, then he will.

With a giggle, making Phil’s ears grow furiously hot, Dan sinks to a resting point upon the mat. “I’m not so scary, Phil, you can look at me,” he adjures, teasing glee strongly colouring his voice. “Unless there’s something else bothering you.”

As a blotch of skin enters Phil’s vision, no matter how blurry and far away, he can almost feel his insides spew themselves out. Dan giggles again, and Phil supposes he must look like an absolute mess. And he hasn’t even had the heart to look his subject’s way yet.

It’s going to be a long, long day.

Chapter 2

Phil feels himself subconsciously lick his lips, aware of the action but unable to control it. His hands wringe and fiddle with the brush, all stopping them from going wherever they shouldn’t be, and his teeth dig deep into his tongue. If there’s any danger in spewing out all of his thoughts and feelings, then it’s right now.

Legs crossed and twisted, Dan’s butt is jutting out while his torso is facing forward. His thigh hides anything inappropriate, for now, regaining him at least some decency in Phil’s eye. With his eyelids fluttering, brown orbs peering flirtatiously at Phil with faux innocence, each curve of flesh and the swell of his ass makes him look delicious, ready to be devoured whole. Phil can already feel his dick flooding with blood, half hard and swelling.   

His face pales, blood rushing south, as Dan opens his legs, and he tries desperately to keep his eyes above his collarbones. 

Lazily, Dan runs his hand across his smooth, perfectly hairless chest, coming to rest by the hipbone. ‘Like what you see?’ is what he means, Phil knows, but instead his mouth articulates: “Are we going to get started, Lester? It’s getting pretty cold .”

Phil swallows thickly, once more. He’s fucked. Absolutely fucked.

He orders Dan to lay on his stomach, beginning with his backside so he’ll be able to sit while his front dries.  

Using red paint, he paints a forest of small mushrooms in a ring around Dan’s ankles. They hadn’t decided on a theme, and so he takes that as an invitation to run wild. Each brushstroke, filled with creativity and intricately crafted, helps to distract his imagination from the nakedness in front of him.

Phil moves paint up and down Dan’s legs, covering each splash of tan, smooth skin with bright colour. He’s careful enough so he doesn’t touch his thighs. Soon enough they’re covered in green and blue, a full aurora borealis dancing across them, and small specks of white stars replace his moles. 

Moving upwards, he uses bright purple to swirl a Van Gogh pattern across his buttcheeks.

Each time the bristles hit the curve of Dan’s ass a little too fast, the fat jiggles, and Dan laughs loudly. It’s excruciating.

With frustration, Phil pushes down the groan that seems to constantly rise in his dry throat. He tightens his grip around the brush, prying his needy hands away from where they really want to go. No matter how much he wants to cup, slap, or squeeze his ass, or pull the cheeks apart with such force that his fingers leave long streaks across his skin, making Dan moan, quiver, and whine, he really, really shouldn’t. And so he won’t. 

He’ll keep his composure for the whole session, stay professional, see Dan out, and then take care of the problem later. He could live with those thoughts of shame locked in his brain, but not with Dan, his friend , finding out how he feels like this . 

Phil applies more paint to his brush, tickling the sides of Dan’s arms and shoulders. He makes sure each stroke and each fleck of paint does justice to Dan’s form, and to his beauty.

On the third layer, Dan squirms beneath the touch, sighing contentedly as the bristles dance over his shoulder blades. 

“That’s good, right there...” Phil’s sure his ears have tinted red.

Eventually, his whole back is covered, and they can rest. Phil puts the brush between his teeth. “Alright..” he hums, moving back to admire his work.  

The painting embodies all his current feelings. A landscape, filled with colour and mystery and depth, spreads out across the vast canvas, from neck to ankles. A triangular pattern of trees and silver unfurls across his shoulders, folding out over his triceps. In the middle of his back is a white diamond outline, surrounding the only visible patch of skin. It glows in the light, and Phil swallows, giving in to his urges. 

He reaches out and traces along the edge with one finger, slowly and carefully. Dan gasps, nuzzling his face into the ground, and Phil feels the same sensation as he does. It runs through his hand and up his arm. 

Like a spark of electricity, it tickles him and scorches his insides.

They sit still in the sunlight, Phil simply watching Dan’s body closely as the pieces dry. Then he tells him to turn around..

Dammit.

Dan’s sweaty curls fall over his eyes and forehead, his lashes fluttering. His lips tug, and his teeth shine, and he pants so quickly that Phil can hear his lungs contract. Sweat drips down his chest, as if he’s somehow become exhausted, and his spread legs seize up as Phil’s gaze grazes his body.

“H-hi..” he whispers, breath hot and heavy on his tongue. “P-pretty good work, huh.”

The touch of the brush certainly did something to him.

“By you,” Phil says deeply, unable to stop himself. “Yes, most certainly.” Dan chuckles, stuttering, and turns his face away. His eyes are wide, and a flush streaks up from his deeply red neck. Phil can’t help but to admire him even more.

Dan’s stomach puffs out, an adorable chubby quality to it. His thighs are round and soft, Phil knows, and an excellent pillow. Between them hangs his.. hrm .. half hard dick, and in shock, Phil huffs a laugh, turning his gaze down with his cheeks burning. 

He fastens it upon Dan’s curled toes, trying his very best to push the images out of his head. Dan is gorgeous, yes, and something in the past two hours has had an effect on him, but that doesn’t give Phil permission to oogle every part of his exposed body.

Erection throbbing in his jeans, it feels like a rock rubs and chafes against the zipper. Fuck, he’s never been this hard in his life. And of course it’s worse now, with no outlet, no way to hide it.

He clears his throat and catches Dan’s attention. His big brown eyes flash worriedly, then run down and back up again.

Dan just smirks snidely at him, and Phil pointedly ignores him, face burning. He dips the biggest brush in black paint, preparing to cover a lot of area with one fell swoop. Without further ado, he takes Dan’s left foot in his palm, and does so.

Chapter 3

While waiting for the paint to dry up, leaving Dan sitting on a chair and playing games on his phone, Phil goes into the kitchen for an escape. He sits down on a stool, leg bouncing and his erection still uncomfortably pressing against his thigh, and begins to prepare a cup of tea and a coffee.

His hands shake beneath the pressure, but he does his absolute best at not losing control. 

There’s nothing he could do, really, to relieve himself. There’s not enough time to jerk off, and even then the walls are so thin that Dan would hear, which he doesn’t want. He’d know immediately, considering the context.

And he’ll have to go back into the studio, anyways, laying eyes upon Dan’s gorgeous naked body again. It’d be a futile attempt.

When he comes back, Dan’s leaned against one of the windows, a self-satisfied smirk tugging on his lips. Whatever for, Phil doesn’t know, but he blushes all the same, desperately pulling his eyes away as he sets the mugs down. He’s got more than an eyeful already, and doesn’t really need to give himself away.

“Ooh, service,” Dan mocks, laughing as he picks up his hot mug. The nervousness and ‘effect’ seems to have washed off his body, but Phil doesn’t even want to guess how. He himself feels ashamed of what he’s feeling. 

They drink, and he tries to forget. He’d have gone for alcohol -better effect- but Dan can’t be hungover at the event he has tomorrow. 

Once the lights are set up, he prepares his camera, making sure the memory card is empty and that the lens is cleaned, all for an optimal shoot. Dan positions himself on the floor, and Phil swallows down the guilt, blinking hard to prepare himself. He’s got to get through this. Then he can choose if he wants to run from his feelings, or break the sexual tension.

They take a few photos, Dan bossing Phil around as much as it’s the other way around. They laugh, every now and then, but the air still strained. Conversation doesn’t flow as easily as it did when he arrived earlier.

In some shots Dan’s laying on the floor, and Phil will admit he spent the most time retaking those. If he can have a few more seconds indulging in the view, then he will. In one, Dan’s legs are up in the air, and he winks at the camera. The artwork is on perfect display, and so the agency will be quite pleased, but his eyes focus mostly on the curve of Dan’s body.

He looks like a god, descended from the heavens above.

Understandable why he became a model so many years ago.

When they finish, Dan leans back, exhausted but laughter still echoing from his empty lungs. “We done?” he asks, though it’s less of a question directed at Phil and more of a throwabout phrase for the universe. Phil can only muster up enough energy to nod in his general direction, still swelling and steadily more uncomfortable. If he won’t get to undo himself soon, he’ll fall asleep with a fucking hard-on and that’s never great.

Collecting his crumpled clothes, Dan begins to move around the room, and Phil finds himself unsure if he should leave or stay. Sure, he’s just been in his naked presence for a couple of hours, and it’s his own studio, but it feels just as dangerous to see him redress. There’s shuffling, and he glances up for a second from the screen.

Bad idea - Dan’s looking at him expectantly. Phil’s heart stops, and then enters his throat.

He jumps up, breath caught up. “I’ll- I’ll just go. So you can, um, get dressed alone.” he chokes. Great.

Face falling, brown eyes crumble as they graze his form. A decision seems to be made, and there’s a shift in the air. Phil gulps, again. Great.  

Dan drops his clothes, then, and crawls to a stop in front of him. “Stay,” he whispers, eyes so wide and vulnerable and desperate and caring that Phil wonders what he ever did to deserve him. “Please, stay.” 

When Phil’s breath catches up, he forces his gaze away. Yes, he’ll stay. He’ll always stay when he asks. After all, he’s Dan’s friend. That’s what friends do. -Then again, friends don’t have crushes on one another.-

His heart cuts short as Dan shuffles closer, coming to rest on his knees. His shoulders are slumped, glittering in the light, the deep green like an extension of his dark and wild hair. The patterns across his chest rise and sink, as if he’s out of breath, and there’s a beat when Phil can’t do anything but stare. He’s just so captivating.

If he could, he’d worship Dan’s body day and night.

“There’s.. there’s something I haven’t told you,” Dan says, and his gaze is fixated.

He reaches out with one hand, laying it quietly along Phil’s side, just under the diaphragm. His touch is explosive, burning like fire, and Phil’s skin is firewood, dried out in the sunlit desert. The tips explore, treading down, down, down, down - coming to rest by the waistline of his jeans. He trembles beneath their touch.

“I’ve always wanted this .” 

There’s a zzzip , metal clinking as Dan’s flink fingers pull the zip down.

oh.

“I’m only human, and I can’t know absolutely everything- but hell, I know that everything else in this universe will mean absolutely nothing to me if I can’t have you, Phil. I think I might love you.”

oh.

Dan loves him.

Dan loves him, he loves Dan-

Dan loves him back-

Phil shivers, eyes falling closed at the sound, his breath erratic. His brain stops working, unable to focus on anything else. There’s a thump as his pants fall to the floor, unthreaded by Dan’s nimble hands. He steps out of them, only the light streaming in through the windows and Dan’s breath on his thighs retaining his warmth.

He’s beyond screwed. Way, way beyond.

Swearing, Dan moves his hands up to cup his ass, leaning his face in close. “God..” he breathes, and Phil can’t help the sparks that burst in his chest. His stomach, tepid and filled with lust, flips, and his muscles cramp at the sensation. “You’re- I- fuck, Phil, this is..”

Phil really hopes that isn’t disappointment in his voice, but he can’t really tell.

He’s scared of disappointing. If he was scared of embarrassment and shame before, then he’s now terrified of not being good enough for Dan, and always has, really. Not being as good as he thinks he is. Dan has been with way more people -re: Phil has been with none- and there’s absolutely no way that someone as basic, as inexperienced as Phil, could possibly live up to his standard, or the pleasure at least some of those other guys have given him.

 “.. it’s what?” he whispers, choked voice treading carefully across his lips. He’s so, so scared of being disappointing .

Dan seems to sense his fear. He glances up, and smiles. It shakes him to his core, unable to break the contact their eyes keep. Electricity floods the air, sending crackles straight into his fragile mind. 

“You’re -oh god- fucking big , and wonderful , and all I’ve ever dreamt of, Phil. You’re just you .”

But he is just Phil. There’s nothing impressive about him, not even his body. He’s a lanky 26 year old from Manchester, with a radio show and a studio. He doesn’t even have abs, or toned arms, for god's sake. At least nothing beyond the average. And sure, he makes decent money, but he’s nothing special .

He isn’t really as amazing as Dan makes him out to be, right? 

“You okay?”

Barely able to conceptualize his thoughts into words, rushing like a flood through his whole body, he gulps. “I’m- Dan, I’m scared..” His voice sounds so small, so timid, he’s sure it disappears into the open air.

Phil feels his hand squeeze, shaking in Dan’s grasp. It brings him some comfort, his reeling mind coming to a halt. “Do you want this?” he asks, reassuring, and Phil nods. It’s the truth. The bare and honest truth. 

“Good. Because you’re gonna do great..”

It’s only a bit of a relief, but he wants this so, so bad. It’d be torture to refuse and not shoot his shot.

Dan begins pressing wet, open-mouth kisses onto Phil’s cock, hot breath oozing through the thin material of the boxers. He gulps around Phil’s balls, working methodically up and down his erection to gain them as much pleasure as they can without removing his underwear, the thin fabric all protection they have left.

It’s so, so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

“Fuck,” Dan moans against his bulge, palms latching tighter onto his ass to keep him close. He feels his dick twitch, only kept in place by Dan’s lips. “F-fuck.”

His mouth opens and closes on -but not around- the pink head. It sticks above the waistband, already leaking precum, which rolls down Dan’s lips and trickles into his mouth, dribbling down his chin. The sight is so fucking hot that Phil feels himself nearly come undone all over his face, just by the sight and touch.

Then it seems like Dan can’t control himself any longer, for he practically rips the boxers off, his pupils erratic once his eyes fly open.

“Unbutton your shirt,” Dan gasps, planting yet another firm, long kiss on the head. Phil shivers under his touch, eyes falling shut in pleasure. He won’t last much longer, and the clear liquid rolling down Dan’s chapped, shaking lips is clear proof. Still, he has some worries that he can’t keep at bay. He’s never done this sorta thing before, after all, even if he’s gotten tested for STIs as a mandatory procedure.

“W-what about protection?” Phil just about stutters out, barely able to keep what little composure he has left. Dan simply shakes his head.

“I know you’re clean, Lester, even if safety is important,” he says, voice gravely and low, not prying his eyes away from Phil’s bulge as he begins to undo the last buttons. “But I also know that this is your first time- and fuck, I’m about to blow you , not goddamn latex, dummy. I want to make you feel good .”

Phil blinks at the unexpected words. Even if he’s actually come close to having one-night stands, none of them have ever been so adamant about the mutual satisfaction, like Dan is right now. For them it’s only ever been for personal pleasure, or as a distraction, which is why he has yet to go with the flow.

He’s wanted his first time to pleasant for both parties involved, something to look back on without a hint of uncomfortableness, maybe even laughter. It sounds weirdly sappy, even if it’s about sex, but he really has only ever wanted to take care of his partner, and vice versa. After all, he’s more of a romantic than he’s uncontrollably horny.

“Well-”

“Fuck, Phil, I’ve wanted to taste you for so fucking long.” Dan groans, leaning his forehead against Phil’s pelvis, sweat rolling down his skin. “I’ve only ever blown guys with a condom on. Let me have this at least once, for our first time, please . I only want this with you..” 

“Dan-”

“ Please .” Defeat is apparent in his voice, and so is desperation.

That stops him short. Why should he hold back? If they both want the same thing.. there’s nothing but frustration to be gained in refusing the inevitable. He definitely doesn’t have a condom anywhere in the house, not ever wanting to get his hopes up, and he can’t wait that much bloody longer to get his first ever blow job and sexual experience from the love of his life.

It seems Dan can’t either.

“Go ahead,” he urges, almost losing his breath as Dan dives right in, taking him whole. It’s hot, in his mouth, and nothing could’ve really prepared him for the swirl of his tongue. As a wave of pleasure washes over him, his vision goes murky for a second-

Holy shit

The stimulation is almost too much. All he can conclude -and barely- is that this is so much fucking better than jerking himself off. Fuck, if only he could have all his first times with Dan-

“Y’kay?” Dan mumbles as he pulls off, coming up for air with a small smile on his face. Phil can only shut his eyes for real, sweat rolling down his face, and moan in response. There’s a chuckle as Dan takes him, again, mouth moving rhythmically all the way down to the base of his swollen cock.  

God, he wasn’t kidding when he’d said he’d make him feel good..

Chapter 4

Summary:

finale, and it's as sweet as ever

Dan twirls a lock of Phil’s hair around his finger. “Sleepy?” he asks, before a yawn interrupts him, voice treading on disappearing into the abyss.

A ray of light dances across his face, lighting his chocolate curls on fire. His tired, loose smile shines pristine and white, his plump and chapped lips kissed glistening wet. Phil can still remember their phantom touch upon his own plump mouth, and elsewhere, a feeling strengthened as he leans forward again and again, reclaiming them. Dan giggles each time, vehemently kissing back.

Passion and a need for affection runs through Phil’s veins. They lay, naked limbs entangled, on the floor. Dan’s skin is still clad in the paint, but Phil knows he wouldn’t need it to be a living, breathing artwork. And it seems that Dan thinks the same of Phil, if his words and actions are any sign. 

Of course they are.

Phil releases a content sigh, Dan’s fingers tracing lovingly down his freckled, naked arms. “Y’know you’re really fit-” Dan asks, as he leans in to peck his bicep. “-and I love you?”

Phil feels his own eyes crinkling, and he leans in close, pressing their chests together. He whispers: “ Love you too .” and marvels in the way Dan’s brown eyes sparkle, a reality so much sweeter and so far removed from his typical promiscuity.

Not that he doesn’t love all of Dan, because he does, it’s just a rarer sight, and hopefully one that’s to appear more often.

Their heartbeats rhythmically pound against each other, the evening light falling further and further down beneath the rooftops of London. Phil sucks in occasional breaths, deep and soulful, taking in the rich and musky smell of Dan. Not his subject, and not just his friend anymore. Still his muse, but mostly his lover.

He might’ve always wanted to be an artist, like he is now, but if he could choose, Phil would rather spend the rest of his existence with Dan no matter what came out of his creative career.

He’ll rather be here, in the red dusk, in the bare embrace of a naked Dan, than face the cold world outside. Even at the memory of pleasure, pure love itself rouses within his heart, stronger than his libido. A true romantic at heart.

Even if he’ll still have some concerns, until all of his firsts are gone, cradled by Dan for the rest of his life. “I almost think we should, um, get cleaned up?” he asks, then, hands clamped and clammy on Dan’s squishy cheeks. His smile doesn’t waiver.

“Mmmh..” A tan arm snakes itself around his midriff, warm like it’s almost flaming, pulling them impossibly closer. “But what if I’m comfortable here, maestro ?”

Eyes trailing downwards, Phil raises his eyebrows. 

“.. you’ve got my dried cum on your stomach..” he whispers, tone a mixture of inappropriate teasing and innocent concern. Dan rolls his eyes, whining as a quick and rough kiss is pressed against his neck. 

“ Phiwww !”

“What?” He smirks, tangling his hands into Dan’s curls. “I think we should..”

Dan pushes on his chest, pouting, but eyes invisible beneath his happy crinkles. A deep dimple digs itself into the side of his tan cheek, and the tepidness growing within Phil’s chest tells him all he needs to know. Yet another reason to savour this feeling.

Eventually, after many more minutes of chaste kisses and grumbling from Dan, claiming himself as ‘worked up’ and tired out, they stumble out of the studio and into the bathroom.

Familiar with the environment, Dan pulls away the shower curtains and clambers inside. Phil follows, breath taken from his lungs at the beauty of, well, his boyfriend . 

“You’re gonna join me, right?” Dan says, making grabby hands. Laughter bubbles from the depths of Phil’s stomach, spilling out into the room, painting the world with bright lemon-yellow happiness. “Or else I’m officially naming you worst boyfriend of the day..”

“You better hope I’m the only boyfriend of the day..” Phil responds cheekily, voice growling and gravely. Still, he follows him in, impulsively grabbing hold of the floral soap bottle, and turning the nozzle on.

Dan takes the shampoo, lathering his hands while Phil smothers his stomach, scrubbing as gently as possible. Dan practically grinds into his touch, smile on his face the whole time, the curve of his flesh and the bumps of his gorgeous, tan skin a sight for Phil’s eyes. 

“Only boyfriend for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course.” Phil smiles, heartbeat quickening as Dan’s lips tug upwards. “Until I marry you.”

“In which case.. I’ll be the only husband for the rest of your life, Phil?”

“In which case I’ll be the only husband for the rest of your life, yes.”

The water runs down their shoulders, and in the dim light of the lamp above, they glisten like angels in the rays of god. Not that Phil’s religious; he’d rather worship the arts, and maybe even Dan. And yet there’s great beauty to be found in the way the light bounces and glimmers, soaking into their skin, pale as ice or clad in bright tan-lines.

Dan tells him as much, both in words and by sweetly kissing him again. Their hands move and explore, anywhere they have yet to be that can still be called decent.

They have the rest of their lives to take it further, like they want. Like they deserve. And Phil’s incredibly content using each day to be told he deserves this. That he deserves Dan. And obviously the other way around. Dan would be more than just his lover, friend, and muse, if he could decide. 

Because he’s the one.

Notes:

thank you to anyone that has enjoyed this <3