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If there's one thing Danny has come to be sure of in the month or so they've been seeing each other, it's that Alex is shy. Timid and innocent and sweet with it. They've been on dates – smiled at each other across the table in poncy beautiful restaurants, but nothing ever happens. They watch films snuggled together on the sofa in Danny's flat, and Danny turns his head so he can look at Alex's gorgeous aquiline profile and his lovely eyelashes fanned against his cheeks. He watches and he feels the heat of Alex's body beneath his clothes, imagines the shape of his muscles and the power in his toned body until he has to shift away a little, rearrange himself lest Alex feel how hard and wanting he is through his jeans. But nothing ever happens. They sleep in Danny's bed – Alex in his regulation crisp white jersey boxers, and Danny wearing nothing but a bleached Nirvana t-shirt and a smile. But nothing ever happens.
Danny doesn't mind. If he's honest, it's refreshing to have someone who wants him for something other than sex. It's comforting, almost, to know Alex isn't going to fuck him and leave like pretty much everyone Danny has slept with in the past few years. Wham, bam, thank you, mister. And yes, sometimes he'd asked for it. The thought of that happening with Alex, though – that crushes his heart. So the longer they go without fucking, the safer he feels.
Safer, but infinitely more frustrated. It's not as if they don't touch at all. They kiss, innocent and wet and sweet, and breathe into each other's mouths. Sometimes, they lie together and look into each other's eyes, and that's a different kind of intimacy. Alex lets himself falter, lets his mask drop, and those are the sweetest moments of all. They laugh and cuddle and eat and it's all too perfect, too wonderful. But nothing ever happens.
And then one day, something does.
**
They've been walking in Regent's Park. The air is cold and damp, making their noses and cheeks red; the warmth of Danny's flat is welcome when they get back. Danny makes room-temperature screwdrivers on the coffee table with Stolichnaya and cheap Tesco Value orange juice. He wonders if Alex has eaten anything today, because it seems to go to his head much quicker than usual. Alex is quiet and pensive, but he smiles at everything Danny says and Bridget Jones is on, and they fall together on the couch easily.
During an advert for PG Tips, Alex turns, his face against Danny's neck. Danny is instantly tense with desire, his jaw going tight, and he can't hide the sharp intake of breath he just took. He's still in Alex's arms, until Alex whispers in his perfect, plummy accent:
“I think I'd like you to sit on my lap.”
Danny wonders if he's misheard. Or if Alex intended him to hear that at all. But he won't do anything stupid, like asking if Alex is sure. He grabs for the remote, muting the TV and breathes out. And then Alex is leaning back on the sofa, face open and inviting and worried at the same time. Danny sighs, slings his leg up and over Alex's muscular thighs and sits astride him. If Alex is shocked, he doesn't show it. His hands play blindly around the small of Danny's back, just above the swell of his arse, and finally settle there. Danny's body is like a bowstring, and just that light touch makes him sing. He reaches up, tilts Alex's head back, and kisses him.
It's like their previous kisses – open and wet and warm and absolutely delicious – but there's more to it, there's urgency and coiled tension. Danny has been half-hard on and off since they've got home. The touch of Alex's body combined with the two months of not having sex – how could he be any other way? The slide of Alex's tongue against his own has him fully hard and getting wet in his loose-fitting tapered jeans. And this time - this time, he can feel how hard Alex is, too, and it makes him whimper into the kiss. He fumbles behind him, grabbing Alex by the wrists, and he pins them to the back of the couch. Alex moans at that, and arches up, rubbing the hard line of his erection right against Danny's. It's almost too much. Danny knows they're going to come too fast, they're not going to even get near the bedroom at the rate this is going. But god, it's enough, it's more than enough.
He tilts his head, mouths at Alex's neck, letting his teeth sink in just a little, and thinks how juvenile this is. They're both grown men, rutting on a couch like teenagers who's parents might walk in at any moment. And Danny has had a ridiculous amount of sex in his life – but this - this, is the horniest thing he's ever done.
“Alex,” he breathes, trying out the shape of his partner's name in his mouth. The sensation of saying it is so sweet, it almost makes him come right then and there. “Alex. I – ” He's still holding Alex's wrists to the couch, his grip hard and squeezing now.
Alex moans again in that delightfully posh voice of his, and it sounds like 'oh', and Danny shudders with need, with denied release and so much desire he thinks he might explode.
“I want you,” he says, voice shaking, “Can feel you wanting me too.”
Alex turns his head to the side, his nose and mouth against Danny's fingers where they're holding him still, closes his eyes, breathes out against Danny's flesh. Danny can practically feel his heartbeat down there, where they're almost joined – their cocks straining and aching against each other through denim and cotton.
“I wanna make you come,” Danny moans – and watches, as if in slow motion, Alex's eyes roll beneath his closed lids, his throat constrict as he gasps and swallows. His straight white teeth biting down on his plump lower lip. “I wanna hear you moan. Don't hold it back.” He's pleading as his hips rock, slow and deliberate, grinding his cock right against Alex. "Christ, you're beautiful like this. I want you so b-badly..." He's stammering, he needs this so much - but he's always been good at filthy words, always known exactly what to say to get his lover off. This is no different, and Danny thanks every deity he's never believed in. And it works. Alex licks at the fingers pressed to his lips, bites at them gently, and makes the most gorgeous, drawn-out moan Danny has ever heard. He sobs in the back of his throat, thinking that he wants to make Alex produce that sound every fucking day until they both die.
“Alex,” Danny says, again, so very aware that they're both close, and this time, Alex responds.
“Danny,” he whimpers, still not looking, his eyes still screwed shut, and then, almost inaudible: “Fuck me.”
A bolt of pure, powerful lust shoots from Danny's stomach to his groin and all over his body. His spine goes rigid, hips still moving desperately, and his teeth clench. He leans in and mouths at the corner of Alex's lips, digs his short nails into the flesh of his wrists.
“You want me to fuck you?” he gasps, and Alex scrunches up his beautiful face and nods. It's so innocent, despite what they're doing, and so gorgeous, and if he wasn't seconds away from climax, Danny would have Alex on his back on the couch and be inside him before he could even rationalize what's happening. “I'll fuck you, darlin'...” he croons, rocking against Alex, not caring that his jeans are soaked with pre-cum from both of them, not caring that they are two grown men getting off in such a ridiculous teenager way. None of it matters. It's Alex, his Alex writhing and panting beneath him, and they could be on the fuckin' moon for all Danny cares. “I'll spread your legs, put my fingers in you – eat you out, make you soaking wet, have you ready to come when I get my cock inside you...”
And Alex is coming in his smart, well-cut jeans, against Danny's cock. Jerking, moaning, staccato, thrashing his head from side to side until, finally, he catches Danny's mouth and gives him the filthiest kiss he's ever had. Lips wide open, tongue sliding in and fucking his mouth, licking and sucking and perverse and glorious...
Danny is coming too, before he can think about holding it back, or even realise it. He trembles all over, releasing his hold on Alex's wrists so he can grip the back of the couch to keep from collapsing onto the man. It's the most powerful orgasm he's ever had, and he can only imagine what it will be like when he actually gets to do those things to Alex. To have him naked and spread out on Danny's bed, make him beg for it, have him breathless, spank and lick and suck him until Danny's name is all he can remember.
**
“I'm s – ” Alex starts to say, as Danny curls in and rests his forehead in the crook of his neck. Danny slides his hand down and touches Alex's lips gently.
“Don't say sorry.” he moans, his body still thrumming from the exquisite climax. “It's perfect. You're perfect.”