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For lips so used to being dry, Dan’s for sure are dripping wet right now. Phil can feel it all: the few now-healed cuts he had before, the bits of soft skin around them, the taste of the last cocktail they shared and his tongue, so expert on kissing Phil after sixteen years, turning around inside his mouth and doing the same choreography he is so used to.
It’s the golden hour and the rays of sun leak through the fine curtains of their resort room. The warmth of the sunlight mixes with the cool air conditioning inside and creates a comfortable environment for the couple. Perfect for end-of-the-day activities. Perfect for slightly drunk, slightly lazy makeout sessions with his life partner. Dan seems to be of the same mind, moaning softly against his lips and breathing loudly out of his nose.
Their legs are tangled, beach shorts riding up as they move around, both attempting to hump each other but also not wanting to rush head-first into it. They are on vacation, after all. They are supposed to be taking a break, slowing things down. And if said things are the kisses going up Phil’s ear lobe, then so be it.
Vietnam has been nothing short of perfect so far. The resort they picked out, the location, the activities they’ve chosen, the funny and bold cocktails on the bar. It all feels weirdly similar to a honeymoon, in a way. They are not married, of course, but there is yet to be a word to describe the feeling of finally being out to the world after being such long-kept secrets. Guess it’s not such a relatable experience to include in the dictionary.
Now there’s a spring to their steps. The smile lines constantly mark their faces, the shadows of a smirk at all times. The way oxygen seems to find an easier way to get into their lungs and relax sore muscles, so used to the anxiety of hiding and pretending in public.
All of it mixed with the obscene amount of alcohol in the drinks they insist on trying every other hour has sparked a horniness Dan and Phil haven't felt in a long time. Not that their sex life back home is boring, because it isn’t. At all. And yet… something is different. In London, where personal life and work intertwine so closely, they are still working around the dynamic of their public relationship and the whirlwind of new projects and advertisements.
The podcast, despite being a dream come true, is often proving itself to be more of a challenge than they’ve anticipated. It all makes sex, in many instances, a second thought. Third. Fourth. Hell, Dan doesn’t remember the last time he had the opportunity to be like this. Just kissing Phil. Feeling the bulge inside his shorts fill out gradually. Cock pulsing ever so slightly from receiving all the blood that is getting out of his head, probably.
It reminds Dan of his first visit to Manchester. The feeling of kissing Phil for the first time, like they had all the time in the world, as if he – despite past experiences – was an alien experimenting with it for the first time. The haziness of the present reminds him of the past, of the light-headed feeling of kissing his favorite youtuber and long-time crush, the memories surrounding his drunk brain elicit a moan, high enough to disrupt the kiss for a second.
His eyes flutter towards Phil, embarrassed by his own noise, and Phil only huffs a quiet laugh. “What are you thinking about?” Phil asks, going back to pressing slow, languid kisses, on Dan’s jaw. The question takes much longer to process than Dan would like to admit.
“How do you know I’m thinking?” Dan replies, and cringes at his own question. It doesn’t even make sense but Phil is making it hard to think.
“You don’t think? Forgot about that.” He snickers, quickly protecting his arm from the soft and swift slap Dan is sure to give him. “Your eyebrows were scrunched down, I saw it.”
“Since when do you kiss with your eyes open?” Dan grumbles, distancing his body from Phil’s for a second. He needs to somewhat put his brain in order if they are actually going to have a conversation right now. “Creepy.” He flicks a finger against Phil’s shoulder.
Phil doesn't respond right away, using the now free space between them to stretch his body, shirt slightly riding up during the movement. The view of his stomach covered in freckles, the shorts ridiculously tight against the obvious, visible-from-the-moon bulge surrenders any plan Dan had of concentrating. His lips gravitate naturally to Phil’s once more.
“Aren’t you gonna answer?” Phil whines, leaving Dan’s wet and ever so pink lips hanging open again.
Dan rolls his eyes and grumbles once more. Nothing Phil isn’t used to, really. “Us. You, more specifically. Maybe some fucking,” he says, the mocking dry tone not hiding his very honest arousal nearly as well as he thought. “Satisfied?”
He doesn’t really need an answer; the smirk growing on Phil’s face as he comes back closer, arms snaking around Dan’s neck, says it all. “So you want to fuck me?” he singsongs.
“It’s all I’ve been doing for sixteen years, don’t sound so surprised,” Dan mumbles, nose reaching for Phil’s neck and sniffing the cologne he put on before they went out. Citric. A touch of vanilla and lavender. So Phil-like it sends a pavlovian response to his dick, painfully hard.
Phil lets out a small moan, the feeling of Dan’s teeth slightly grazing his skin doesn’t go unnoticed. He sighs and focuses his attention back to his partner, staring directly at him. “Still good to know that hasn’t changed, sixteen years and all.”
It's a stupid thought, considering there's no way Dan wouldn't still want him. He supposes it may sound surprising to some, or like a straight-up lie to others, but his unwavering and undivided attraction to Phil has been one of the few certainties in his heart. He doesn't have to think about it. It's just there, part of his whole. There's no Dan without it.
As he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror positioned against one of the walls, he once again recognizes the eighteen-years old Dan image in him. He wasn't inexperienced when he met Phil – thankfully – but his few experiments were no match to Phil's endless tales of university hookups. It had made him hot with jealousy, and yet, so eager to please. So eager to do more, be better, prove himself worthy of Phil's attention.
As these feelings swirl inside his mind, he gives no response to Phil. His nose keeps on tracking his scent, his tongue still tingles with the saltness of his skin, a result of the beaches they've visited earlier. He feels giddy, he couldn't tell what's more intoxicating: the obscene amount of alcohol the bartender put in their drinks or Phil's perfume right now. He's pretty sure it's the latter.
"You are sniffing me like a dog," Phil half-complains, half-moans. He's playing dirty, teasing Dan's quirks and kinks. The comparison makes him freeze for a second, but he remains unashamed, so what if he is Phil's dog? He could– He would sniff him all day, every day. Hump his leg when horny, lick his face to get some attention, breed– "Dan." He puts a hand on his chest, and Dan finally realizes he's been mounting him involuntarily, putting most of his body weight on top of him.
"Sorry," Dan mutters, changing his position to hold himself up with his forearms around Phil. The blonde keens at the sight: Dan's curls disheveled, cheeks pink, shoulder muscles prominent, the arms not shaking despite being in a plank on top of him. "Wanna make you feel good," he continues, voice rough, almost out-of-it. He flexes his biceps to get his mouth on Phil's collarbones, nibbling on the skin, unafraid of marking. Another perk of being on vacation.
"Yeah?" he taunts, breathlessly. "Tell me about it."
Oh, it's one of those days, Dan realizes. One of the days where Phil is almost never satisfied. The days where he wants Dan to rip his own heart out to see if it's beating just for him. Wants to hear the shakiness in his voice, so it exposes his open desire for him. Wants to know what's going on Dan's head at all times. Wants to feel exactly how much Dan needs him.
And whatever Phil wants, he gets.
"Wanna suck your cock," Dan says against his skin, and his mouth waters with the thought. It's what Phil planned all along: to make Dan work himself up with his own imagination. Dan’s cock pulses inside his shorts, agitated by his own voice and thoughts. The image is so clear in his head, too. The heaviness of Phil's cock on his tongue, the taste of it, the way his eyes would brim with tears. "Wanna gag on it. Use my spit to finger you," he continues.
"Then you will fuck me?" Phil interferes, and he is not smirking anymore, it's a full-on wicked smile. A never-ending taunt. He seems almost unfazed by his own hardness, simply admiring the haze behind Dan's eyes. The way he seems to be shaking out of eagerness to fuck him, and not tiredness from the plank position still.
"Yes, I will," he visibly nods, and then feels a little stupid for it, much like a puppy, which seems to appeal to Phil. He circles his legs around Dan to pull their bodies together, and before Dan can even worry about his weight hurting Phil, he's being pulled into another heated kiss, finally feeling the effects of all of this on Phil. The kiss is desperate, nonsensical in a way and his brain goes blank when he feels his tongue being sucked in the warm wetness of Phil’s mouth.
Their hands fly downwards, and they are sure their shorts have never come out faster. Dan also makes sure to unbutton Phil's floral shirt, intent on continuing his nibbling and biting from earlier. He follows the fine line of hair on Phil's chest all the way to his belly button, his free hands holding his hip on one side while the other plays with a nipple. He can tell Phil is more sensitive than usual, blame it on the alcohol, this not-honeymoon, Dan himself or all of the above.
He can feel Phil's dick before properly seeing it. He is holding it around the base, stroking himself slowly, and the size of it almost reaches Dan's neck when he's still leaving kisses on his stomach. He decides to tongue the head without warning, and Phil sucks in a gasp from it. The sight of the man under him is delirious, head tilted to the side, biting his lips as if he still has some shame to hold back his moans. Liar.
Dan takes no time to fully wrap his lips around the shaft, letting saliva pool around his lips and glazing it all over Phil's cock. It's embarrassing how much Dan is into it, but it's no surprise that the well-known biter also has an oral fixation. The weight of Phil on his tongue, the slight saltiness of his precome, his scent even stronger and more concentrated than before, it all leaves Dan dizzy with want. He ruts against the sheets, but Phil soon takes one hand to the curls of his mullet and pulls it lightly. It says: he comes first.
Hmph, as if Dan could forget it. It's almost insulting.
Just like he imagined, the saliva he's producing – over-producing, really – quickly gathers on Phil's groin. It slides and drops towards his balls, and Dan uses his fingers to gather it, taking it all to Phil's asshole like he planned. An exchange of looks between them makes him confident in pressing against the rim, using the blowjob to make Phil even more relaxed. He knows it's not the best lube option, and Phil only deserves the best, but he also knows him well enough to know he will whine if he stops now to go and get it.
Phil shares the same thought, adjusting his body so Dan's fingers can navigate him better. His breath grows more ragged from the double action on him and Dan prides himself on being a good multitasker, taking Phil all the way to the back of his throat. As the tip of his nose touches Phil's base, his first finger finally breaches Phil's entrance. It goes in easily, and Phil moans loudly in response.
The feeling of neediness continues to engulf Dan’s mind. He craves praise, and empties his mouth for the first time in a while to brace himself better on the bed, preparing a second finger to enter. "Feeling good?" his voice is rough, his throat clearly feeling the impact of his actions. There's a weird but satisfying feeling in knowing it isn't because Phil thrust his cock into his mouth, but because he wanted to go deep. Because he can, knows how to do it and Phil approves it. There’s something gratifying about his own submission and he needs to hear Phil say it.
"So good, you treat me so well," Phil responds, enamoured by how fast Dan folds under his praise. He sees him rut once more against the bed, as if to quiet his achingly hard cock from reacting, he knows it's not his time yet. "Put another one," his tone is commanding, and the second finger enters swiftly. With that, Dan finally has more room to stretch him out, scissoring him to accommodate his cock while still sucking every inch of skin around Phil's dick.
Phil grows impatient, his moans louder with the way Dan's fingers explore him inside out. Despite having similar hand sizes, Dan's fingers seem to have a very detailed map of Phil's body and are familiar with every button he's supposed to press. He's aware of what can make him cum right away, and what can edge him for hours. His long fingers slide easily with the spit he's drooled and whenever he feels like using more, he just goes down on Phil again, lips stretched out and tongue lapping at every vein of his cock.
It's obscene and Phil can't take the sight anymore. He desperately wants this to last longer. "Dan," he calls, breathy. Dan stops his finger mid-thrust, and his head snaps upwards like an army-trained dog.
"Uhm?"
"Can you fuck me already?" Phil asks, the commanding tone long gone. His voice sounds like a mix of patronising and desperate. He purposely words it as a challenge, knowing Dan will take the bait. "On all fours, please," he adds, and sounds every bit of the princess pillow Dan makes him out to be in public. If that's his legacy, he might as well enjoy it.
Dan seems to have lost the ability to talk, only nodding and making space for Phil. He suppresses the urge to manhandle him, take control of the situation – because Phil hasn't asked him to. He waits, knees bent and sitting on his heels, as Phil gets comfortable in his new position. It vaguely reminds him of the sphinx arch topic from their podcast, and he feels no shame about the blatant lie he’s told the public.
And Phil looks so good right now, chest and head resting on the mattress, spine curved so perfectly and ass pointing high. His butt looks huge like this, and the idea of anyone but him having this image in their head makes him sick. Sphinx arch it is, then.
He wastes no time holding both buttcheeks in his hands, spreading them apart until he can see the result of his fingering. Phil's asshole is twitching lightly, eager to take him inside, and he knows he doesn't have much time before the next callout. He licks an overly wet strip from Phil's balls to his rim, then quickly spits into his own hand to lubricate – as much as he can – his cockhead.
When he deems it wet enough, he presses the head against his asshole. Phil lets out a series of "oooohs" as Dan bottoms out slowly, gaze locked on the way his dick shines against him, on the movements of Phil's ass trying to accommodate his size. He’s taking him up so slowly it makes Dan delirious with the heat of his body around his shaft.
Finally filled to the brim, Phil lets out a loud gasp and looks back over his shoulder. What he sees is a sight for sore eyes: Dan, spine straight, muscles taut, hands shaking while holding his hips, and eyes – oh how Phil loved those brown eyes – desperately looking for permission, praise, anything. He looks so disgustingly well-behaved that Phil almost wants him to snap, but appreciates the attitude nonetheless. "Good boy. Go on."
He doesn't see the brightness in Dan's eyes when he's given permission, quickly burying his face in the pillow to hide the inevitable moan from the first thrust. It's a useless attempt; his muffled moans are still loud, only spurring Dan on. The stretch is delicious, and Phil's greediness is shown in the way his ass seems to hug Dan in a vice grip. Dan takes one hand from his hips and presses it against Phil's chest, back to pinching one of his nipples. The reaction is immediate, and he relaxes just enough for Dan to thrust even faster.
The impact of his hips against the back of Phil's thigh makes a pleasant slapping sound, and his gaze drifts over the multitude of freckles and moles scattered around Phil's body. Despite all their protections against the intense Vietnamese sun, his skin has already taken a slight tan, getting a new, healthier tone that greatly appeals to Dan. He wishes they were like this forever. Drunk in love, skin shiny from the sun, glued to each other and so, so free. Free not only from work, but the immense baggage they've been carrying for God knows how long.
It feels like the start of something new.
Dan's nostalgic and hopeful line of thought is interrupted by Phil's exclamation. "Fuck, that felt good."
A shiver runs down Dan's spine. That's what he wants, has always wanted. For Phil to feel good, get whatever he wants whenever he needs. Phil has scolded him on this, not wanting him to feel like he needs to pay something back for their relationship, for his endless patience all this time; and yet, it’s second nature for Dan, this desire to be good, to be Phil’s, now and forever.
With that in mind he tries to copy the same movement, angle, and intensity again, addicted to the sounds coming out of Phil’s mouth.
“Like this, mhm. Now harder,” Phil whines, his tone of voice bratty and Dan wants to huff in mild annoyance. Be a little mad that Phil keeps on taking, taking, taking. But what can he do, if all he knows is to keep giving, giving and giving? A strained moan comes from the back of his throat, and his hand tightens around Phil’s waist.
It has been sixteen years of this, and he is sure Phil has chemically altered his brain into being the service top of his dreams. It’s a role Dan takes great pride in. He keeps this thought in mind when he changes his tempo, slowing his movements in order to give it to him harder. He slips out until only the tip is inside, then slams back in hard enough to bruise the backs of Phil's thighs. He hopes it does. Phil’s response is fulfilling enough to make his balls tighten up, his orgasm drawing closer.
His eyes bore into Phil’s ass, the way it's hitting his hips rhythmically; into his back, and the little drops of sweat on the curve of his spine; his face and the way he’s scrunching his eyebrows together, visibly close to his own climax. He wants to get closer, press his chest against Phil’s back and rut against him, make a mess of such a pillow princess. So demanding, so sexy, so thoroughly his.
The other hand, still tightly holding Phil’s waist, moves forward and slides up to wrap around his chest as Dan shifts his entire body to mount on top of him. He manages to do it without slipping out, and a wave of confidence washes over him when Phil continues to moan as they move into the new position.
Now Phil is completely flat on his stomach, his cock pressed against the sheets, edging closer to oversensitivity as Dan continues to thrust mercilessly. “Phil,” Dan whimpers, so pathetically, and he doesn’t even need to say the rest. Phil knows he’s close, filled with his cock that is desperately twitching. He tries holding himself back because he doesn’t get to come first. Not now, not ever if he can help it.
“Kiss me,” Phil demands, turning his neck to the side, and Dan quickly comes even closer, lips messily reaching for Phil. The positioning is tricky, and Dan focuses all his strength into his thighs and legs, intent on fucking Phil within an inch of his life as he kisses, licks and bites at Phil’s lips.
Dan can tell the noises in the room are downright filthy despite the ringing in his ears. There’s a symphony composed of the sounds of their skin slapping against each other, the bedframe hitting the wall as Dan thrusts forward, the wet sounds of their tongues meshing and Phil’s moans escaping his mouth.
It doesn’t take long for Phil to feel his body go rigid, muscles tensing as his body tries – uselessly – to respond to everything being done to him. He lets himself chase the high of his orgasm, and his ass grips Dan in a way he can’t help but growl on top of him. He cums as Dan huffs against his ear, the warmth of his own cum pooling against the sheets and his belly.
“Please,” Dan whispers, his mouth is pressed to the back of Phil’s ear, his mind clouded by the citrus scent and the way Phil is still clutching him, a remnant of his climax. “C-Can I cum?” it comes out broken, through gritted teeth. He knows Phil will let him, he knows he has been a good boy so far, but still wants to hear it. Needs to hear it. Knows it will be the last push to send him over the edge.
Phil’s mouth is still open, his throat incapable of holding back his moans as his body goes into overdrive from the continuous stimulation. Despite that, he swallows the spit in his mouth, breathes as deep as he can in his position and looks back at Dan. His sweet Dan. Messy and mouthy, so keen on treating him right, devoted to his body and soul. “Cum inside, pup. Wanna feel you.”
The words ring in Dan’s ears like a siren. He quickly adjusts his body to an upright position and plants his hands on Phil's back. Uses his entire torso as leverage to push his cock in and out of him. For a second, he feels high on the control Phil has allowed him for the moment, how good it feels to use Phil as a fleshlight for his own needs. It is his reward. He’s a good pup and he earned this. Before he can even say anything, his entire body shakes and falls forward, his orgasm ripping out a moan he’s sure to be teased for later.
As soon as he regains control of all of his senses, he drops down beside Phil. He can’t tell if it’s the post-sex haze or the lack of oxygen in his brain, but the ceiling won’t stop spinning and his partner looks pretty much like the eighth wonder of the world next to him.
A feeling of gratefulness sweeps over him. He feels small against the magnitude of this emotion, small compared to the room itself. His eyes fly to Phil’s face, checking if he’s satisfied, if he got hurt somehow by his reckless loss of control in the end. He almost feels like crying, because how can this be his life? How is he deserving of this?
Phil, the ever-present partner, recognizes all of the sentiments in Dan’s eyes that he himself can’t quite describe yet, coming closer to hug him and ground him back to reality. “You were so good, pup, do you know that?” he whispers against Dan’s sweaty temple. He doesn’t mind it. “I love you so much,” he continues, only interrupted by the ticklish feeling of Dan’s curls in his neck as he nuzzles him in response.
A few seconds go by until Dan visibly relaxes against him; body pliant, the only sound coming from him now the occasional sniff as he breathes in Phil’s scent. It has always relaxed him, even before any kind of weird sex dynamic they created over the years. “Love you too,” he mumbles eventually, unable to leave Phil without a response. “‘M hungry.”
Phil tries to stifle a laugh and still fails, so infatuated with his partner. Yes, sixteen years and all. Outside, the sun has already started to set, and soon the room will be too dark without any lamps on, but the thought of not holding Dan close feels insulting at the moment. He only uses one arm to reach for his phone on the bedside table and order something for the both of them. All dips and olives included. They are good, and they deserve that.