What Dan doesn’t tell Pana between the bites and the bruises (unprofessional as they are, uncalled for and Dan proudly can’t undo them) is that the second his career gets some wind under its sails he’s leaving for the States. The second.
But Pana, despite being so young, so trusting of Dan (in every scene and every time he’s seen Pana on his knees, slurping busily on Dan’s cock), suspects something, but because he’s so young, doesn’t know what it is he suspects.
Dan suspects he could feel a lot more for Pana if he let himself, his treasonous heart groping for the adulation Pana gives up like some autograph-seeking fan.
But Dan can’t hear himself suspect over the slapping of his groin into Pana’s ass, can’t listen to reason when Pana’s screaming his name (so gratifying somehow, to hear it from his peer, to have Pana sigh it and stutter Dan-ee-yill, Daniel, Dan), when he’s listening out for footsteps approaching while he bends Pana over the cold hood of his car, fucking into him careless and careful of being caught.
What Dan doesn’t tell Pana is that there’s an expiration date to all of this, that brevity makes intensity possible, that Pana and Dan is impossible in the long run. There’s no long run, only short staccato thumping against the wall of Dan’s trailer when Pana hangs around and Dan lets him in.
He’s what, twenty-two when they meet? Maybe less. Dan can’t remember. And that’s the thing: this thing they’re doing wasn’t built for remembrance, not the knee-deep reminiscing of loves past.
This is for now, and to jerk off to at most later, when he’s inside some fawning fan’s dripping cunt and can’t come because she calls him Agron.
Then Pana is single and it gets complicated.
No, I’m not gay, he has to tell Pana. Hard to say with a straight face, as it were, with his dick balls deep in Pana’s ass, but he manages to get it out while he pushes it in.
No, I don’t want to be in a relationship right now, he tells Pana as he talks on the phone with his girlfriend, puts himself on mute. I don’t have the time.
Dan blows kisses to the camera and cringes when Pana looks away fast, when Blessing looks at Pana, when anyone looks at the both of them and knows. And everyone knows, and Dan feels like a monster even though there’s nothing technically wrong with it.
Listen, he tells Pana. Pana who is focused on him like a laser, who might blind him if he stares into that hazel gaze too long. He grinds himself inside while Pana whines and writhes, and it’s got to be too much, too much of Dan’s dick distracting from the message, but he can’t stop fucking Pana’s tight raw walls or stop breaking up with Pana, not at the same time, it’s asking to much, just like Pana’s asking too much:
Please, Dan. I love you. Dan. I love you.
Second to last episode, and this is the last time.
No, Dan tells him. Tries to pull out but Pana has some tricks up his sleeve after all, tightens his ass all around Dan’s length like a vise and won’t let go until Dan is groaning and sinking back in. Dan slap those thighs propped on his shoulders, smacks that ass with malice and finality, but Pana’s eyes only fall closed, and Dan sees Pana’s tonsils as he screams out Dan’s name.
The last time, Dan swears after their last scene and their last fuck. Pana’s whole body trembles, he can’t stand up. Dan helps him, slow and gentle and inside impatient for a resolution.
Pana’s arms use that opening to cling to Dan’s neck, and damned if Dan doesn’t cling back, because no matter how it looks on the outside, he isn’t a monster who won’t kiss away Pana’s tears, pull him into his lap and make nonsense comforting noises while Pana’s hoarse hopeless cries ease into hiccups, then into snores.
The last time Dan leaves is almost impossible, but he has the sense to never tell that to Pana.