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The camera clicks off.
Silence settles, thick and warm, filled by lingering laughter and alcohol. The table between them is cluttered with half-finished drinks, sticky rings—a mess neither seems ready to clean.
Dan leans back against it, exhaling through a crooked smile, running a hand through his hair, “Can’t believe you just outed me like that,” he mutters, voice soft and slurred at the edges. “Sappy emotional drunk, really?”
Phil doesn’t move far. He’s still standing right there, close, closer than necessary. His hands rest loosely at his sides, but his eyes are bright, amused.
“Well,” he shrugs lightly, lips twitching, “you are.”
Dan huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head, but he doesn’t step away.
They’re standing face to face now.
Despite the height difference, it fits. Phil tips his chin up; Dan lowers his gaze. Familiar. Easy. A charged tension just beneath the surface.
“Well…” Dan starts, the word dragging as he searches for it, pupils blown wide, expression softening into something more vulnerable. “I have always liked you. Ever since the day I met you.”
Phil’s eyebrows lift in mock surprise, the corner of his mouth curling, “Oh really?” he teases. “Tell me about it.”
Dan smiles, slow, warm, completely gone. “Ever since I saw you,” he says, voice dropping, “big, stupid ocean-blue eyes just… looking at me like that. At the train station.”
Phil lets out a quiet breath through his nose, trying and failing not to smile wider.
“Ever since you hugged me…” Dan continues, stepping closer without thinking, his words melting into each other. “Actually—”
His voice falters. His head dips lower.
Phil feels it before he processes it. Dan’s lips brushing against the side of his neck, warm and clumsy and deliberate all at once. A soft, lingering kiss pressed there, damp with alcohol and something deeper.
“Way before that,” Dan murmurs against his skin.
Phil’s breath catches.
“Ever since I saw that video of yours…” Dan continues, pulling back just enough to look at him again, eyes glassy and impossibly sincere. “I just knew.”
His hand comes up, thumb and forefinger gently catching Phil’s chin, steadying him.
“I just knew,” he repeats softly, “I had to find a way, any possible way, to make you mine.”
His other hand slides to the small of Phil’s back, grounding, pulling him in until there’s barely space left between them.
“Or I would actually fucking die.”
Phil laughs under his breath, but it’s shaky, fond, overwhelmed in a way he doesn’t even try to hide, “Wow,” he says quietly. “A bit dramatic.”
“Shut up,” Dan murmurs, but there’s no bite to it.
Phil studies him then.
Really looks.
The flushed cheeks, the gloss on his lips, the way his eyes shine, soft and unfocused, but completely locked onto him. He’s seen this before. Heard these words before, in different forms, different nights.
It comes back to him suddenly, vivid and soft around the edges.
The car ride home from Phil's birthday dinner. The first anniversary since the hard launch and living freely. The low hum of the engine, the quiet city lights passing outside the window. Phil had been half-asleep, head tipped back slightly, when he heard it, quiet, uneven breathing.
Sniffling.
He’d turned his head, confused, only to freeze.
Dan was crying.
Not loudly, just silent tears slipping down his face, his expression soft and overwhelmed, a small smile still lingering on his lips like he didn’t even realise it was there.
Phil hadn’t wanted to draw attention. The driver was right there. But when Dan looked at him, really looked, something in Phil’s chest tightened.
Dan reached out first, his hand finding Phil’s where it rested on his thigh. Phil covered it immediately with his other hand, his gaze asking the question he didn’t dare say out loud.
Are you okay?
Dan just shook his head slightly, a tiny, reassuring smile breaking through.
I’m fine.
Phil didn’t push, not until they got home.
The second the door closed behind them, Phil turned to him, concern written all over his face, “Okay,” he said gently, but firmly. “You need to tell me what’s wrong, Daniel.”
And that was it.
Dan broke.
He stepped forward, arms wrapping tightly around Phil, burying his face into his shoulder as the tears came harder this time.
“I just love you so much,” he choked out, his voice breaking apart between breaths. “So much more than I can even handle.”
Phil’s arms came around him instantly, holding him close, steady.
“And you looked so happy tonight,” Dan continued, words tumbling over each other. “And I just kept thinking about how happy you could’ve been all those years—fuck—”
His grip tightened.
“I don’t deserve you, Phil,” he whispered, shaking his head against him. “You’re everything I ever wanted, and I just— I love you. I’ve always loved you. Since the day we met, there has never been a doubt in my mind. I love you so much, it only grows bigger and bigger for you every day.”
Phil hadn’t interrupted. Hadn’t corrected him or joked about how sappy he was sounding. He’d just held him tighter, letting him cry it out, pressing quiet reassurances into his hair, his temple, his skin. soft words about how none of that was true. About how he was happy. About how it had always been Dan, and how it will always be Dan.
Phil blinks, the memory fading as he returns to the present.
That same Dan is still right there in front of him, still looking at him like that. Just a little older and wiser, maybe a little drunker, maybe a little softer. But exactly the same in all the ways that matter.
“I didn’t know you felt like that,” Phil says lightly, tilting his head, the tease obvious.
Dan’s expression shifts immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly in mock suspicion. Just a fraction, a crooked, knowing smile forming and a mock suspicion expression on his face, “Oh, you didn’t?”
“Nope,” Phil hums. “Not a clue.”
There’s a beat.
And then Dan steps even closer, somehow, until their chests brush. Phil barely has time to react before Dan leans in, lips ghosting just beside his ear.
“Then let me show you,” he whispers.
The words send a shiver straight down Phil’s spine.
When Dan pulls back, it’s only far enough to look at him again, and this time, neither of them is pretending anymore; there’s no more joking or playful teasing, all of that has turned into undying desire. The air shifts. Something unspoken, long understood, finally tipping over the edge.
Phil’s hand finds the front of Dan’s shirt without thinking, fingers curling into the fabric, “Show me, then,” he says softly.
Dan doesn’t hesitate.
He closes the distance in one smooth, certain movement, his hand tightening at Phil’s back as his lips meet his. It’s not rushed. Not messy.
It’s warm, deliberate, and just a little unsteady, like everything else about them right now. Dan kisses like he talks when he’s drunk: honest, a little overwhelming, completely unfiltered. Phil melts into it almost immediately, one hand sliding up to the back of Dan’s neck, feeling the curls that lie there, holding him there, grounding them both.
They break just slightly, breath mingling, foreheads nearly touching.
Phil lets out a quiet, breathless laugh.
“Maybe,” he murmurs, eyes flicking down to Dan’s lips, then back up. “Maybe, I’m still not fully convinced.”
Who would Phil Lester be if he couldn't tease his boyfriend at any given moment?
Dan smiles against him, softer now, “Good,” he whispers. “'Cause I can still show you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And this time, Phil can feel it when Dan kisses him again. It’s immediate, like neither of them even considered doing anything else.
His hands find Phil’s hips without hesitation, settling there like they always do. Familiar. Automatic. Like muscle memory, neither of them ever unlearned, and never wanted to.
Phil exhales softly against his mouth, melting into it just as easily.
It’s almost routine. Almost.
Because tonight there’s something sharper underneath it. The alcohol still lingers on their tongues, and it’s sweet, sour, something spiced and warm, and every time their lips part and come back together, it mixes, deepens, turns into something addictive.
Phil can taste it. Can feel it. And he wants more.
Dan shifts suddenly, pulling back just enough to move, guiding and tugging, until he’s sitting on the edge of the messy table behind him. Glass clinks softly somewhere, something sliding out of place, but neither of them cares.
His knees fall open just enough. An invitation, for Phil and Phil only.
Phil steps in between them without thinking, like he’s done it a hundred times before, hands coming up to wrap loosely around Dan’s neck as he leans in again.
The kiss resumes, deeper this time, slower, like they’re sinking into it.
And then—
Dan stops.
Phil blinks, breath uneven, barely pulling back. “What—?”
“Take this off,” Dan mutters, already reaching up.
Phil doesn’t even have time to react before his orange hat is tugged off and tossed somewhere across the room, forgotten instantly. Phil doesn't care, doesn't care about anything but the man in front of him.
Dan’s hand replaces it immediately, fingers threading through his hair, pushing it back only slightly, not enough to hurt, messing it up in a way that makes Phil’s breath hitch.
“Someone’s needy today,” Phil murmurs, a smile ghosting across his lips as he leans into the next kiss.
“I need you everyday,” Dan replies instantly.
No hesitation or teasing behind his voice, just pure, raw truth and desire. And—fuck, Phil feels it land somewhere deep in his chest.
Because it’s not new. It’s not even surprising.
But hearing it like that, coming out of his lips so easily, so certain, makes something in him unravel.
His hands tighten slightly where they rest on Dan’s shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, tugging just enough to shift it, exposing a sliver of skin, the line of his collarbone.
Dan notices. Of course he does.
His hand tightens in Phil’s hair suddenly, tilting his head back just enough to break the kiss. Phil lets out a quiet, surprised breath, throat exposed before he can even think about it.
Dan doesn’t waste a fucking second.
His lips move along Phil’s jaw, slow at first, then more deliberate, leaving warm, damp kisses in their wake. Phil’s grip tightens, breath catching as Dan presses closer, trailing lower. He already knows what Dan wants.
“Dan—” Phil tries, his voice already thinner than he intended. “No hickeys…”
“Just this once,” Dan murmurs against his skin, voice softer now, almost pleading as he presses a kiss just below his ear. “Please…”
His hands slide down Phil’s back, slipping under his shirt this time, fingers warm, almost burning, against his skin as they settle again at his hips.
“Need it,” Dan adds, quieter. “Please, Phil… I haven’t done it in so long, been so good…”
Phil’s eyes flutter shut.
Because it’s true.
There was a time when Dan left marks everywhere, collarbones, neck, chest, thighs, quite literally anywhere he could get away with, always apologising right after, but never quite hiding the small, satisfied smile that came with it.
And a few weeks before they took their vacation to Vietnam, Phil had asked him to stop. Gently. Reasonably. He didn't want people thinking Phil was dating a vampire every time he had his shirt off.
Dan had listened. Of course, he had.
But now— Now he’s here, voice soft and a little wrecked, fingers pressing into his skin, asking instead of taking.
“Please?” Dan repeats, teeth grazing lightly at his ear.
Phil’s breath stutters. “Fuck—” he exhales shakily. “Yeah. Okay—yes. Do it.”
And just like that—
Dan does.
His grip tightens at Phil’s hips, pulling him insanely closer as his mouth finds that spot beneath his ear, just along his jaw. The sensation is immediate, warm, insistent, a little too much in the best way.
Phil gasps softly, his head tipping back further without resistance.
It’s not gentle. It’s not meant to be.
Dan sucks, presses, lingers, leaving something behind, something that will last, and Phil can feel it, the sharp edge of it mixing with the heat spreading through him.
“Missed this,” Dan murmurs against his skin before pulling back slightly, the quiet sound making Phil shiver, “Missed having you like this.”
His lips move again, down the other side this time, slower, like he’s savouring it.
“It drives me fucking crazy,” he adds under his breath, pressing another mark lower, near Phil’s collarbone. “Being the only one who could do this to you.” He sounds possessive; anyone who hears would think they haven’t been together for 16 years.
Phil winces faintly when he feels teeth this time, just enough to sting, but it only pulls a breathless sound from him, his hands tightening instinctively in Dan’s shirt.
It hurts.
But it hurts so right.
Before he can even recover, Dan is kissing him again.
Harder. Messier. Everything at once.
Phil meets him there immediately, just as desperate now, hands sliding back up into his hair, holding him in place like he never wants him to pull away again.
The kiss breaks, reforms, shifts, pulling, pushing, chasing.
It’s rough in places, soft in others, all tangled up with something deeper that neither of them bothers to hide. Dan’s hand is still firm at his hip, grounding him, keeping him close, like he means every word he said.
Like he always does.
Phil gives in to it completely; there’s no universe where he wouldn't.
Phil’s hands move almost on instinct. They slide down, fingers fumbling with the buttons of Dan’s shirt, clumsy and impatient as he starts undoing them one by one. It’s messy, uneven, but he doesn’t care, and judging by the way Dan smiles against his mouth, neither does he.
They’re both too far gone for precision. Too needy.
Phil gets halfway through before Dan suddenly pulls back just enough, breath uneven, hands coming up to finish the job himself. He tugs the shirt off in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought.
Like he knows. Like, he knows Phil was getting desperate for this.
And the second it’s gone— Phil doesn’t hesitate.
His hands are everywhere.
Over Dan’s chest, his shoulders, down his arms, like he’s reacquainting himself with something familiar that’s somehow still new. There’s a sharpness to it now, something more defined under his fingertips.
But here’s the thing, Dan’s been working out.
That much is obvious. He's gotten noticeably buff, and not only has Phil noticed, but it's visible in their day-to-day. Dan's arms don't shake in weakness as he brings all of their groceries up the stairs all at once; he doesn't break a sweat when Phil asks him to open a stuff jar. Dan himself doesn't notice these subtle changes, but whenever Phil gets a taste of it, he goes crazy. When they cuddle, and Dan sets his big arms around him, he honestly sometimes can't get the thought of just biting the hell out of them out of his mind.
Phil’s eyes flick down; he simply can’t help it. The way his arms look now, stronger, broader, veins faintly visible beneath the skin, muscle shifting under Phil’s touch as Dan pulls him closer again.
It does something to him.
Something dangerous.
They’re not that different; they’re both tall, both solid, but Dan feels… bigger. Stronger.
And the thought hits him, uninvited but impossible to ignore.
Maybe…
Maybe if Dan keeps going like this, keeps getting stronger the way he’s been talking about—
Maybe one day he could just—
Phil’s breath catches slightly.
“Phil.”
Dan’s voice pulls him back instantly.
“Eyes up here, darling.”
There’s a grin tugging at his lips, his hands guiding Phil’s attention back up, clearly enjoying every second of being looked at like that.
Phil huffs softly, but there’s no real resistance.
“Shut up,” he mutters with no bitterness in his voice, though, before grabbing him properly this time.
His hands wrap around Dan’s biceps, firm, grounding, and then he’s kissing him again, harder, rougher, like he’s making up for getting distracted. Dan makes a soft, surprised sound against his mouth, but it melts quickly into something warmer, leaning into it just as much.
It doesn’t take long for the shift to happen again.
Dan’s the one breaking first this time, just barely, his breath uneven, lips brushing against Phil’s as he speaks.
“Off—” he mutters. “Off, please. Off.”
His hands are already tugging at Phil’s shirt, impatient now, pulling harder when Phil doesn’t move fast enough.
“Dan—” Phil barely gets out before his arms are being pushed up, fabric dragged over his head, and tossed aside just as carelessly as Dan’s had been.
The way Dan looks at him.
It stops him completely for a second. Dan’s gaze drags slowly over him, open and unapologetic, something almost reverent buried under all that hunger.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “So beautiful.”
His hands settle back on Phil immediately, pulling him closer again.
“All mine,” he adds softly.
Before Phil can even react, Dan’s mouth is back on his neck, right over the marks he’d just left, pressing into them like he’s claiming the space all over again.
“So pretty,” he murmurs against his skin. “All purple and blue for me…”
His voice is wrecked, low, needy, a little whiny in a way that goes straight through Phil.
It hits every button at once.
Phil’s grip tightens instinctively, his hands sliding back over Dan’s shoulders, down his arms again, like he can’t decide where to touch him first.
Dan pulls him closer, deeper between his legs, and the shift is immediate.
The contact and the pressure that come with it, with both of their hard-ons touching for the first time today, send both over the moon. They’ve done this possibly a million times and could do it a million times more, but that first touch is almost like they’re getting to know each other's bodies all over again.
Phil sucks in a sharp breath as their bodies press together more fully, the friction sending a shiver straight down his spine.
Dan lets out a quiet, whiny, and broken sound against his neck.
It only makes it worse.
Phil moves without thinking, trying to chase that feeling again, his hands sliding down over Dan’s stomach, pausing for just a second when he feels it.
The subtle lines there, they’re new, just like Dan's biceps.
He slides his hands further down, stopping just over the waistband of Dan's Calvin Klein pants, trying to get that contact again, trying to get a taste of anything he can get. But Dan’s grip tightens suddenly. It’s firm and tough against Phil's body; it stops him.
“Dan—” Phil breathes out, the word catching somewhere between a whine and a plea. It’s soft. Needy.
A little desperate in a way he doesn’t even try to hide.
Dan stills for just a second at the sound.
Then his hands flex against Phil’s hips, holding him there, steady, controlled, like he’s forcing both of them to pause before they go any further.
Their foreheads nearly touch again, sharing their heavy breaths with each other.
“Careful,” Dan murmurs, voice low, a little unsteady despite the control in his hands. “You keep doing that…” His thumb presses slightly into Phil’s side, grounding him. “Then I’m not stopping.”
Phil swallows. Doesn’t move back. If anything, he leans in closer.
“Then don’t,” he whispers.
Dan doesn’t hesitate.
His hand comes up to the back of Phil’s neck, fingers curling there as he pulls him in sharply, crashing their lips together again. The kiss is deeper now, a little messier, breathier, like something’s snapped and neither of them is trying to hold it together anymore.
Phil responds instantly, melting into it, but his hands don’t stay still.
They wander again, slowly at first, testing his limits. Then a little lower, it’s bolder; they rest where Dan had originally stopped him before, just over his waistband.
This time, Dan doesn’t stop him.
Phil feels it immediately, the lack of resistance, the way Dan lets him, so he keeps going, lower and lower, until he gets to Dan's bulge, his touch dragging deliberately, ghosting over him just enough to pull a reaction.
Dan hisses into the kiss.
It breaks something open.
The kiss turns sloppy, uneven, Dan’s breath stuttering, his lips parting wider like he can’t keep himself together. His shoulders drop, tension slipping out of him as his grip tightens around Phil instead, pulling him closer like he needs him there to stay upright.
Like he can’t get enough. Like he can’t function without him.
Phil feels the shift. He feels the air around them shift and thickens, the way Dan himself changes. This doesn't happen very often, Dan being like this. It didn't really start until a couple of years ago, but whenever it does happen, it hits hard.
“Ph— Phil… Phil…” Dan’s voice comes out soft and wrecked, falling apart as Phil shifts, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along his jaw, down his neck now, taking his time.
Phil hums quietly against his skin, “Tell me, Danny…” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”
Dan’s hands loosen slightly, not letting go, just softer, less controlled. His eyes are heavier now, glassy, unfocused in that way Phil knows too well.
“Need—” Dan swallows, breath catching. “Need to… take care of you.”
Phil stills, he knows what Dan is trying to say, he knows what Dan wants. He also knows that whenever he gets like this, he makes it his life goal to please Phil to the max, not caring about his own pleasure in the meantime. But the look on his face is soft, open, and completely undone.
It hits deeper than anything else.
“Are you sure?” Phil asks, quieter now despite everything. “We can—”
“No—” Dan cuts in immediately, shaking his head, words tripping over themselves. “No, Phil… want it now. Please…”
His hand slides down, fingers hooking at the waistband of Phil’s clothes, tugging lightly, teasing the edge like he’s already halfway gone.
“Want it…” he repeats, softer, eyes lifting to meet his. “Please.”
That pretty much does it.
“Yeah,” Phil breathes. “Okay… yeah.”
The smile that spreads across Dan’s face is instant, bright, and almost dizzy, and then he’s moving. Turning them, changing their positions, guiding Phil back until he’s leaning against the edge of the table, breath already uneven. Dan wastes no time dropping to his knees in front of him. He makes a show out of it, eyes glued to Phil, lowering himself slowly. It hits Phil all at once.
“Pretty,” he whispers without thinking, it wasn't meant to be spoken out loud even, but Dan hears it, flushes slightly, a cute pink blush creeping up on his cheeks.
But he doesn't look away from Phil; he doesn't dare. Instead, his hands slide over Phil’s thighs first, slow, grounding, squeezing lightly as they move upward, mapping, holding, feeling.
Then his attention shifts. He focuses on the large bulge in Phil's joggers, his eyes full of possessiveness and hunger.
He leans in, pressing a slow kiss trail along the fabric, following the shape there, making just enough pressure, just enough warmth to make Phil’s breath hitch sharply.
Dan glances up at him, eyes bright, watching everything. Watching Phil completely unravel under the touch and warmth of his lips.
Phil tries to look away, overwhelmed, Dan looks way too pretty, and his light touch feels way too good, but—
A quick, light smack against his thigh. It’s obviously not meant to hurt; it's just a wake-up call, a nonverbal Look at me.
Phil exhales shakily; he’s embarrassed, but obeys.
Dan smiles at that, pleased with himself, at the state he leaves his boyfriend in. And then he keeps going. Slower this time, even more teasing than before. Placing open-mouthed kisses all over the length, licking the entire thing through the fabric, leaving a huge wet spot on Phil's joggers.
Letting everything build up, every small reaction, every breath, every shift of Phil’s body as he leans back harder against the table, one hand bracing himself, the other sliding into Dan’s hair without thinking.
“Dan…” he breathes, voice thinner now, needier.
Dan hums softly in response, the vibration sending another shiver through him, his hands tightening slightly where they hold Phil steady.
Like he’s anchoring him there, forcing him to let Dan please him.
Dan takes his time, dragging it out, letting Phil feel every second of it, every inch of anticipation, every flicker of contact that never quite becomes enough.
And Phil starts to unravel. His breathing stutters whenever Dan kisses his tip. He holds back moans and whimpers whenever Dan mouths his dick over and over again, not wanting to sound desperate. His grip tightens around Dan's curls, not harsh, just how he knows Dan likes it.
His head tips back just slightly as he exhales, barely holding it together.
“Please—”
It slips out before he can stop it.
He sounds so soft, so broken, so far gone for his lover.
Exactly what Dan was waiting for. He stills for a moment, placing one last slow, lingering kiss on the tip before he looks up.
Their eyes lock, and for a second, everything else fades.
In Dan’s mind, Phil looks wrecked, in the best way. Cheeks flushed deep, lips swollen and bitten from holding himself back, neck marked in soft purples and reds that stand out against his skin like proof of everything that’s just happened.
Dan’s breath catches slightly.
His hand slides from the back of Phil’s thigh, moving up, fingers hooking into the waistband of his joggers, tugging lightly, waiting for permission he knows he doesn't need, but they always ask.
Phil doesn’t hesitate.
“Yes—yeah, just—yes,” he rushes out, breath uneven, almost tripping over the words.
That’s all Dan needs.
In one quick movement, he pulls them down, freeing him, his gaze dropping immediately, hungry, focused, completely locked in.
“Look at you, huh, pretty boy…” Dan murmurs, voice lower now, rougher. “All worked up for me…”
There’s something in his tone that makes Phil’s breath hitch again.
Dan doesn’t give him time to recover.
His hand comes back, slow at first, deliberate, dragging over him through the thin fabric of his boxers that’s left, putting just enough pressure to make Phil squirm under the smallest movement.
“Fuck, Dan—” Phil exhales, his voice breaking slightly. “You can’t just—say things like that—”
There’s no real protest in it, just pure need.
Dan glances up again, a small smirk tugging at his lips, “Why not?” he asks quietly. His hand moves again, slower this time, more intentional, like he’s testing exactly how much Phil can take.
“Why can’t I tell you how good you look like this?” he continues, voice softer but heavier somehow. “When I’m right here, on my knees for you…”
He leans in, pressing another slow kiss along the length, just enough to make Phil’s breath stutter again.
“…and you’re like this for me?”
Phil doesn’t answer.
He can’t. He can’t form a single sentence right now; his mind is blank.
His head tips back slightly, one hand bracing harder against the table behind him, the other tightening in Dan’s hair without thinking.
Dan notices. Of course he does. And it only makes his smile deepen.
“Yeah,” he murmurs under his breath. “Thought so.”
His hand finally wraps properly now, steady, slow at first, fully dragging it out, making a little show out of it, watching every reaction like he’s collecting them.
Phil’s breathing stutters almost immediately.
“Dan—” he tries again, but it dissolves into a quiet, broken sound as his grip tightens, his body shifting slightly into the touch without meaning to.
Dan hums softly, the sound low and pleased, his other hand coming up to steady Phil’s hip, keeping him right where he wants him.
“Use your words,” Dan murmurs, glancing up again, eyes darker now. “What do you want?”
Phil exhales sharply, his head dropping forward for a second before he forces himself to look down at him again, “You—” he starts, breath uneven. “Just—don’t stop—”
Dan lets out a quiet, satisfied breath at that.
“Good answer.”
But he still doesn’t rush. If anything, he slows down more, dragging it out, letting every second stretch, every movement deliberate, controlled.
Phil feels it.
Every second of it.
“Dan—please—” he adds, softer this time, almost a whine.
Dan’s expression shifts, something softer flickering through the intensity for just a second before he leans in again, closer this time, his breath warm against Phil’s skin.
“Yeah,” he murmurs quietly. “I’ve got you.”
Dan doesn’t look away as he finally pulls Phil’s boxers down, not once. It makes Phil squirm as he watches his lover prep the final kisses along his length before he takes him into his mouth.
His hands stay firm on Phil’s thighs, grounding himself there for a second like he’s steadying his breathing, but his eyes are locked, focused, almost reverent.
Phil feels everything as Dan takes him slowly into his mouth.
The weight of it in Dan’s mouth, the way it scratches his lips and slackens his jaw automatically, the way Dan is looking at him is like there’s nothing else in the world worth paying attention to.
“Dan…” Phil breathes, softer now, his fingers tightening slightly in his hair.
Dan hums quietly in response, leaning in closer, his forehead brushing briefly against Phil’s stomach as he fully deep throats him.
This is what happens when Dan gets like it, pushes himself to his limits without thinking of the consequences. But it’s so wet and warm around Phil that makes him thrown his head back and bites his bottom lip until it bruises.
It sends a sharp shiver up Phil’s spine.
Dan takes his time. Too much time.
Dragging it out in a way that feels intentional now, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, even in this softer, needier state. His hands slide slightly higher, thumbs pressing into Phil’s hips, holding him in place as he bobs his head.
Phil’s breath stutters.
“Dan—” he starts, but it falls apart into a shaky exhale when Dan glances up at him again through his lashes.
That look, it's still a bit unfamiliar cause again, this doesn't happen that often, but Dan looks completely focused and also completely gone.
“Let me,” Dan murmurs quietly, as he pulls out.
It’s not a question.
Phil swallows, nodding slightly before he can even think about it.
That’s all Dan needs.
He swallows him again, slower this time, going down on it inch by inch, every movement of his tongue is deliberate, every reaction pulled out of Phil like he’s memorising it.
Phil’s head tips back, one hand braced on the table supporting him, his grip on it so hard his knuckles might turn white. The other tangled in Dan’s hair without thinking, not pulling, just there, grounding, holding.
“Fuck—” his voice breaks, softer now, breathier.
Dan answers without words. Just a quiet hum, the vibration enough to make Phil’s grip tighten, his breath catching again.
It’s overwhelming. Too much and not enough all at once.
Dan’s hands tighten slightly at his hips, steadying him, keeping him right where he wants him, like he’s not letting him drift too far, even as everything else starts to blur as he lets Phil hit the back of his thoart again.
Phil exhales sharply, his free hand sliding down, fingers brushing along Dan’s jaw for just a second before settling there, thumb tracing absentmindedly. Fuck, it’s almost like he can feel himself in Dan’s thoart.
“Yeah…” he murmurs, barely audible.
Dan pauses, steadying his breathing, then looks up again, and fucking smiles, mouth full of cock, and he's smiling.
He pulls back again, breath uneven, his hand taking over in a messy, impatient, but so good handjob. There’s spit glistening at the corner of his mouth, his hair completely ruined, still caught loosely in Phil’s grip.
“Wanna make you feel so good,” Dan murmurs, looking up at him.
Phil can only nod; words and thoughts are out of the window. It’s just this.
Dan takes him back in without waiting, faster this time, no teasing, no slowing down, just desperate, like he’s been holding back for too long and can’t anymore. Bobbing his head up and down, letting his tongue trace the veins along Phil’s cock, swirling it around the tip whenever he pulls back just enough to do it, before slamming his head down again and again, letting the tip hit the back of his throat.
Phil’s head tips back slightly, broken sounds leaving his lips as his grip tightens, not pulling, not forcing, just holding on so he doesn’t completely lose balance from the amount of pleasure.
Dan’s movements grow more frantic, more determined, like he’s chasing something, like he needs to push Phil right to the edge himself. The slurping and wet sounds mix with Phil's moans echo through the room. His hand stays firm at Phil’s hip, keeping him steady, grounded, even as Phil starts to come undone above him.
“Dan—” Phil tries, breath catching, but it falls apart into a moan he can’t hold back.
Dan doesn’t stop.
If anything, he goes harder, more focused, completely locked in.
Phil can feel the way Dan’s attention narrows, the way everything else fades for him. It’s not about anything else anymore. Just this. Just him.
A sharper choking sound escapes Dan for a second, and Phil reacts instantly, his hand tightening slightly, trying to pull him back just enough—
“Hey—” he breathes, softer now, worried slipping through the haze. “Calm down—”
But Dan doesn't even bug.
He pulls away just enough to shake his head, pushing Phil’s hand down to his shoulder instead, like he’s saying don’t stop me without words.
Phil exhales shakily, letting him.
Trusting him to know his own limits because he knows that whenever Dan gets like this, there's no stopping him.
Even if it’s a lot.
“Dan…” he tries again, softer, but it’s lost the second Dan keeps going, relentless, determined, as if nothing else matters.
Phil’s knees feel weaker by the second, his grip tightening on Dan’s shoulders now, grounding himself as much as he can.
“Close—” he manages, voice breaking. “Dan, I’m—close…”
It comes out like a warning and also like a plea.
But Dan doesn’t stop.
Not yet.
He keeps going, pushing him right to the edge, holding him there just long enough that it almost hurts. Going so fast makes Phil’s eyes roll to the back of his head and makes him scream.
But as Phil feels his climax getting closer and closer, his eyes squeeze shut, his whole body tensing, breath uneven, barely holding on.
“I’m—” he tries again, almost desperate now.
And then—
Dan stops.
Pulls back as he lets out a huge breath.
Phil lets out a frustrated, wrecked sound immediately, “Dan—no—don’t—” he breathes, almost whining now. “Not now, please—”
But Dan is already standing, moving close again, his hands coming up to cup Phil’s face, grounding him, steadying him, “Shh,” Dan murmurs softly, brushing his thumbs along Phil’s cheeks. “Calm down, bub.”
Phil’s breathing is still uneven, his body still tense, caught right on the edge, “I was about to—” he tries again, but it comes out weaker this time.
“I know, darling…” Dan says gently.
His voice is different now, softer but in the same way as before, somehow even softer with an edge of intensity.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, searching his face, breath still unsteady.
Phil doesn’t even hesitate. He nods.
“Yeah…”
Dan smiles at that, small, warm, something softer slipping through everything else.
“Then let me show you,” he says quietly. “Let me show you how much I love you… yeah?”
Phil bites his lip, breath still shaky, but he nods again.
And Dan leans in, pressing a quick, grounding kiss to his lips.
The softness of the kiss lingers for barely a second before everything shifts. Phil barely has time to register it before he’s turned, his back pressed against Dan’s chest. The contrast makes him gasp softly, warmth behind him, breath against his neck, hands wrapping around his waist and holding him there as he belongs.
Because he does.
Dan’s lips trail along his shoulder, slow at first, then up, following the line of his neck until they hover just beneath a fresh hickey. He presses a damp kiss there.
“And you wanna know how I’m gonna show you?” Dan murmurs against his skin.
Phil’s breath stutters.
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. Dan already knows he could do quite literally anything to Phil, and he would happily take it.
“I’m gonna fuck you, gonna make you feel so good right here,” he continues, voice low, steady, certain. “Right here on this table.”
The words land heavily.
“Would you like that, bub?”
Phil’s eyes flick down for a second at the mess, the glasses, the equipment still scattered from filming. For a split second, he hesitates.
But then—
He wants it.
He really does.
“Y-yeah…” he breathes out finally.
“Good,” Dan replies, his voice warmer now, satisfied.
He reaches for his chin and pulls him into another kiss, deep and grounding, before pulling away again.
“Stay right there,” he murmurs. “Look pretty for me.”
And then he’s gone.
Phil’s eyes follow him instantly, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he watches Dan move across the room, rummaging briefly through the drawer that has random cables, old game controllers and remotes, and lube, before returning just as quickly with it.
“Good boy,” Dan says softly when he gets back. “Looking pretty, waiting for me.”
The praise goes straight through him.
Dan’s hands find him again, sliding down, reaching the boxers that were left by his thighs, and pulls them down gently, revealing Phil. He slides them down to his calves as he goes down with them, leaving a quick kiss on Phil's ass just before he stands up again. He does that almost every time he can.
His hands are on him again, guiding, grounding, pulling him just enough to reposition him how he wants. There’s no rush in his movements now, just control, intention.
“Gonna open you up now, okay, love? Relax,” Dan murmurs, grabbing the bottle he had previously set on the table. He hears the wet squelch of the lube coming out of the bottle, the wetness of it as Dan spreads it on his fingers, and then one arm wrapping around Phil’s shoulders, holding him steady when he squirms slightly.
Phil exhales shakily, leaning back into him without thinking, “Yes, just— Hurry, please.”
Dan takes his time. Too much time.
“Patience, my love, patience.”
Letting anticipation build, his fingers circling the others' rim, letting Phil feel every second of it.
“Dan—” Phil starts, already impatient, already needy.
“Shh, I’ve got you, bub,” Dan cuts in gently.
And he does. He pushes a knuckle inside.
Everything slows for a moment, just enough for Phil to adjust, to breathe, to feel grounded again, before the tension builds right back up. Dan pumps the knuckle in and out slowly.
Phil’s head tips back slightly, resting against Dan’s shoulder, his body reacting before he can even think about it, fitting perfectly like a puzzle. Dan places a kiss next to Phil’s lips, trying to shit Phils attention away from the slight pain and stretch of him adding a second finger. But it's literally the opposite.
“Fuck—” he exhales, voice breaking.
“Yeah?” Dan murmurs softly, close to his ear. “Tell me.” He already knows he's doing a good job at pleasuring Phil, but he fucking loves it when he tells him.
Phil can barely process anything beyond the feeling of his lover's finger pumping in and out of him faster with each oump, everything is building too fast and not fast enough all at once.
“Feels good,” he manages, breath uneven. “Need more…”
Dan lets out a quiet, pleased sound at that. And Phil doesn’t need to ask twice. He finally goes a little rough on him, slamming the two fingers in and out, making him arch his back and squirm, but Dan’s hands steady him, guide him, keep him right where he wants him.
Phil grips the edge of the table, grounding himself, his breathing already uneven, his thoughts scattered. He doesn’t feel in control of his own body; he's thrusting back into Dan's finger as he goes faster and faster, fully finger fucking him by now.
“Dan— It’s enough, I can— I can take it!” he adds, softer now, almost a whine. He’s almost tearing up from all the pleasure, his cock now dripping down all over his length. God, isn’t he a pretty sight.
But Dan doesn't stop; he goes even faster and deeper, pumping his fingers in and out of Phil at a faster speed than before, fully finger fucking him, his fingers grazing his prostate each time. The moans and pleas coming from Phil made a smirk appear on his face.
There's nothing better than watching your love get completely undone in the trust of your hands. And only he gets to see it. Only he gets to make him feel like this, stupidly horny, needy, and safe. Dan could fucking cum right now.
“Yeah, bub? You can take it?”
“Yes! Please, please, please, let me take it!”
"Tell me you can take," he says.
And without missing a beat, "I can take it!" Phil says back.
That’s what it does.
He finally pulls his fingers out, making Phil let out a huge breath and whimper at the sudden feeling of emptiness. The arm wrapped around him, holding him steady, is now gone, and he misses it already, the warmth of it, but he's quickly rewarded with the sound of Dan's zipper opening, "Who am I to deny such a request from a pretty boy like you, huh?"
Phil is holding himself steady, his arms supporting him on the table as he sees the bottle disappear from his sight again, hearing the familiar squelch and wet sounds it makes as Dan lubs himself up.
Phil can't hold himself, he looks behind him, Dan’s vein hand going up and down his cock. His cock is so hard, it hits his stomach whenever he lets go of it in the slightest. The tip is flushing red with the small drops of precum coming out slowly as he strokes.
Phil is blushing, he knows it, he feels his whole body warm, the view of his lover stroking himself, knowing what’s gonna happen next gives him chills.
"Darling." Dan says.
Phil's head snaps up to look at him.
"You look so cute like that," he says, a sort of softness coming through as a softer smile appears, but it's not long until—
"Pretty little slut."
Oh.
He hides his now even redder face away. Embarrassed at how much he liked that last name.
Dan chuckles at him.
The firm grip on his hip is back again, as Dan's other hand is pressing firmly on the end of his back, forcing him to arch slightly. Dan’s hands tighten just slightly, steadying Phil, grounding him before anything else, “Just stay like that for me, good boy.”
Phil does, high off the praise.
Phil is arching beautifully. And yes, he does have a back arch. Dan just doesn't want anyone to know that. That’s just for him.
Phil supports himself on the table again, Dan's hand on his back now going up and down in a way to soothe him as he feels the blunt tip of Dan's cock pressing against him.
But Dan is a fucking tease. He can’t help but tease Phil, going in circles and sliding his dick across his ass. He makes Phil whimper out of pure neediness.
“Dan—”
“I know, bub, I know.”
Finally, he presses his tip into Phil, both moaning when it goes in.
He slides in inch by inch, letting Phil get used to feeling so fucking full. He looks down and watches his cock slide in so perfectly inside that it makes his head fucking spin. He doesn't until he fully bottomed out, pulling Phil against his chest, letting him feel full to the brim.
“Fuck—” Phil lets out a broken moan.
And when Dan finally moves again, Phil’s breath catches sharply, his grip tightening on the table as everything else fades into the feeling.
“Yeah…” Dan murmurs softly behind him. “There you go…”
Phil lets out broken sounds, his whole body reacting instantly, tension and relief mixing together in a way that makes his head spin.
Dan starts slow. Every movement is measured like he’s making Phil feel every second of it, like he wants him to fall apart piece by piece instead of all at once.
Phil already is.
His grip on the table tightens, breath uneven, soft sounds slipping out of him before he can stop them.
“You can move—” he tries, but it comes out broken, barely a word.
It doesn’t matter, though, Dan understands anyway. He always does.
Dan pulls back, just long enough to make Phil aware of the absence of it, before pushing forward again with a force that knocks the breath right out of Phil, a sharp sound tearing from his throat before he can catch it.
Dan lets out a low, pleased sound behind him.
“Yeah…” he murmurs, voice rougher now. “That’s it.”
The pace changes completely after that.
No more slow. No more teasing.
Now it’s relentless, each movement stronger, faster, building into something overwhelming, something that fills the room along with the sound of their breathing, their movement, everything blending together into one continuous rhythm.
Phil’s head falls back against Dan’s shoulder, his body giving in completely, letting himself be held there, guided, taken care of, and loved.
Dan’s arm wraps around him again, holding him close, keeping him steady while everything else starts to blur.
“Gonna show you…” Dan breathes out between movements, his voice low and unsteady in a way that makes Phil shiver. “Show you how much I fucking love you…”
Phil can barely respond, “Yeah—” he manages, voice breaking. “All— all of it—” The words don’t fully form, but Dan understands anyway.
“Good boy,” Dan murmurs, almost to himself.
There’s something different in his tone now, something deeper, something that makes Phil’s chest tighten even as everything else spirals.
Fucking into Phil faster and harder with each thrust, the sounds of slapping skin almost overpower their moans.
“You’re doing so well,” he adds, softer this time.
That nearly undoes Phil completely.
His fingers scramble for something to hold onto, settling on Dan’s forearm, gripping tightly like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
Every movement feels sharper now, more intense, like everything is building too quickly and he can’t slow it down, as the new angle lets Dan fuck right into the precious bundle of nerves.
“Dan— Oh my god!” he gasps, the words falling apart in his mouth.
Dan tightens his hold on him instinctively.
“Giving you all my love, aren’t I?” he murmurs again, right by his ear.
“All the love!” Phil said, but the words barely sounded coherent, except for Dan, who could understand Phil with a single look.
“Such a pretty little slut.”
Dan groans, going somehow faster. The skin of Phil's ass checks now, feeling hot and tingling from the slapping, but it's so good.
“Such a good boy too, letting me show him all my love…”
The words run laps in Phil's mind; the praise and degradation combined make him almost fucking combust. It feels so good, impossibly good.
Phil believes him completely.
There’s a shift again, subtle, but enough to make Phil’s breath hitch, his whole body reacting all over again. Dan's hand is now on his cock, gripping it tight but not moving. The powerfull thursts doing the work for him.
“Too much—” Phil tries, the words barely there.
Dan slows, just slightly, just enough to check, his grip easing for half a second, “Want me to stop?” he asks quietly.
Phil’s response is immediate, “No—no, don’t—” he breathes, almost panicked at the thought.
Dan huffs out a soft breath at that, something like a smile in it, “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Thought so.”
His hold tightens again, grounding, steady, his thumb now pressing firmly against the slit, precum already dripping all over Dan's hand.
The pace picks back up, not reckless, but sure, controlled, like he knows exactly how far to push without letting Phil fall apart too soon.
“Look at you, so fucking wet,” Dan says quietly, almost in awe. “Making such a pretty fucking mess, what a good boy.”
Phil whines softly at that, his head tipping back further, his grip tightening. The praise hits just as hard as everything else.
“Dan—please—” he breathes again.
Dan leans in, pressing a slow kiss just beneath his ear, “I know,” he whispers.
Phil is about to explode. Dan is fucking right into his prostate, fucking him just right, never making him feel empty, only full and loved.
Phil is shaking in Dan’s hold.
Completely gone, his body tight, clinging, every breath uneven as he tries to hold on just a little longer. It’s written all over him, the way he grips Dan's cock, the way he presses back without thinking, like he’s chasing something he can’t quite reach.
“Close, baby?” Dan murmurs, voice low, right against his ear.
Phil can barely get the words out.
“Yes—yes, yes—” he gasps, the sentence breaking apart before it’s even finished.
Dan feels it.
“Then let go, bub,” he says softly, but there’s weight behind it. “Show me how much love I gave you.”
That’s all it takes.
Phil falls apart.
His head drops backwards, hiding between Dan’s shoulder and the curve of his neck as a broken sound leaves him, his whole body tightening before finally giving in, everything unravelling at once. His words dissolve into nothing but breath and soft, incoherent sounds, completely overwhelmed. Dan holds him through it, his hand getting covered in cum. But he doesn't let go.
“Yeah… that’s it,” he murmurs, steady, grounding, even as Phil clings to him as he might fall otherwise.
“There you go…”
Phil trembles in his arms, every small movement sending another wave through him, his grip tightening again before slowly loosening as it fades.
Dan stays with him, fucking him through it. Never pulling away.
“Such a pretty boy,” he adds quietly, softer now, more affectionate than anything else, but still fucking into him with an unbelievable pace. “All mine…”
Dan begins to slow, his grip softening just slightly, like he’s about to pull away—
But Phil feels it immediately.
“Don’t—” he breathes, voice still unsteady, his hand reaching back weakly, stopping him. “No… please, come inside…”
Dan pauses, “Phil…” he says quietly, unsure for a second.
“Please,” Phil whines, softer now, almost desperate. “Stay… just—stay.”
There’s something in his voice, something raw, open, that makes Dan still completely. And just like that, any hesitation is gone.
Dan exhales shakily, his hands tightening again at Phil’s waist, pulling him back against him, grounding him.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”
The movement resumes, not rushed, not frantic this time, but deep, steady, and intentional, like he’s giving Phil exactly what he asked for, exactly what he needs.
Phil melts into it instantly. His head falls back against Dan’s shoulder, completely gone, his body giving in all over again, every breath soft and broken.
Dan groans behind him. The sight of his boyfriend taking him like this is too good to be true. The sound low, overwhelmed, his grip tightening as he holds him there, close, like he doesn’t want even a second of distance between them.
“Yeah…” he breathes, almost to himself.
A few more slow, deep movements—
And then Dan is cumming inside of Phil, filling him up to the brim.
His breath catching as he leans forward slightly, holding him there as everything settles all at once.
For a moment, neither of them moves.
Just breathing. Just feeling it.
Dan’s arms slide around Phil properly now, pulling him fully back against his chest, his hold no longer urgent, just warm, steady, protective.
His head drops to rest on Phil’s shoulder.
Phil exhales slowly, his body still soft, still heavy, leaning back into him completely.
They stay like that. Quiet. Close. Letting everything come back down together.
Dan is the first to stir, pulling out slowly.
“Okay…” he murmurs softly, pressing a slow kiss to Phil’s shoulder. “Let me get you cleaned up, darling.
Phil lets out a weak, breathy laugh, his head still tipped back against Dan, “Five more minutes,” he mumbles.
Dan huffs quietly. “You say that every time.”
“Please?”
Dan smiles against his skin, but his hands are already moving, gentler now, careful, helping Phil straighten up slowly.
“C’mon,” he says softly. “Before you fall asleep standing up.”
Phil groans but lets himself be guided, legs a little unsteady as Dan keeps a firm hand on his waist.
“Rude,” Phil mutters. “I’m perfectly functional.”
Dan raises an eyebrow.
Phil nearly trips.
“…mostly functional.”
That earns a quiet laugh from Dan as he steadies him again, pressing a quick kiss to the side of his head.
“Yeah, thought so.”
They move slowly, unhurried, Dan grabbing a cloth, running it under warm water while keeping half an eye on Phil, who’s leaning against the table now, blinking like he’s still halfway somewhere else.
“Stay there,” Dan says, softer.
Phil gives him a lazy salute. “Yes, sir.”
Dan rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips.
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything,” Phil replies innocently, though his voice is still wrecked.
Dan just shakes his head and steps closer again.
“Alright,” he murmurs, tone shifting automatically—gentler, more careful. “This might be a bit hot.”
Phil hisses lightly at the first touch, shoulders tensing for a second before relaxing again.
“Okay, maybe very hot,” Dan amends.
“Wow,” Phil breathes. “You really know how to ruin the mood.”
Dan snorts. “You were literally about to pass out.”
“Worth it.”
Dan glances up at him for a second, something softer flickering across his face.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Same.”
The moment lingers, but not too long.
They fall back into an easy rhythm, Dan taking his time, making sure Phil’s alright, his touches careful but familiar, grounding him fully back into his body.
Phil watches him the whole time.
“What?” Dan asks after a second, catching the look.
“Nothing,” Phil says, smiling slightly. “Just… you.”
Dan huffs, but there’s a faint blush there, “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Dan flicks a drop of water at him.
Phil gasps. “Rat.”
“Bitch.”
By the time they’re done, the room feels calmer, quieter, like everything’s settled back into place.
Dan tosses the cloth aside and immediately reaches for Phil again, instinctively, pulling him into a loose hug.
“You good?” he asks softly, one hand rubbing slow circles into his back.
Phil nods against him, “Yeah… really good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Dan hums, satisfied.
“Bed?” he suggests.
Phil perks up slightly. “Finally.”
“Oi,” Dan nudges him lightly. “You’re the one who stalled.”
“Strategically delayed.”
“Sure.”
They make their way there slowly, still half-attached to each other, bumping into things along the way and laughing quietly about it.
By the time they collapse onto the bed, it’s messy, blankets half-pulled, limbs tangled, but neither of them cares. Phil immediately curls into Dan’s side, like it’s second nature. Dan wraps an arm around him just as easily.
Silence settles again, but this time it’s softer.
Phil traces absent shapes against Dan’s chest, his breathing finally steady.
“Hey,” he murmurs after a minute.
“Mm?”
“…you really meant all that, didn’t you?”
Dan tilts his head slightly, looking down at him, “Meant what?”
Phil huffs softly. “Don’t be annoying.”
Dan smiles faintly, “Yeah,” he says simply. “I do.”
Phil nods, like that was the only answer he needed.
“Good,” he murmurs.
A beat passes.
Then—
“You’re still a menace, though.”
Dan lets out a quiet laugh.
Dan tightens his arm around him slightly, pressing a soft kiss into his hair, “Get some sleep,” he murmurs.
Phil doesn’t argue.
Doesn’t need to.
He’s already halfway there.
And Dan stays awake just a little longer, listening to his breathing even out, fingers absentmindedly tracing along his arm, grounding them both in the quiet after everything.