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messy thoughts

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Dan's head is full of thoughts he knows are too much to even think of, but they're spilling out messily everywhere anyway.

It's just what happens to him when Phil's around. He should be used to it by now. He can't count on one hand anymore how many times he's shared space with Phil like this.

But it's the first time he's shared this space, and maybe that makes a difference. It feels powerful - Phil here in his childhood bedroom. Phil's laugh bouncing off the walls and Phil's body folded onto Dan's little single bed.

Phil smiles at him and his eyes are so blue and Dan's heart does things and he just can't help a thought or two from leaking out.


They're drunk and maybe that's why Dan says, "You brought Manchester air with you."

The air in Wokingham just feels thicker than it does in Manchester. Dan's not if there’s any science behind that. Why do his lungs work so much better there? Surely there's some sort of biological reasoning.

Phil laughs and breathes in Dan's face.

It's a bit gross, smells of alcohol and pizza. Dan shoves him away but before his hands leave Phil's skin he's pulling Phil right back in.


Maybe they're not drunk anymore.

Maybe Dan just can't tell the difference between drunk and in love.


(He is in love with Phil.

He hasn't said it yet, but mostly because Phil hasn't either.

But he is.)


Phil looks gorgeous and so much like a man.

It's not a revelation. Dan knows exactly how much of a man Phil is. He's seen him naked before, in person and on skype. He's licked down the flat of his stomach, bitten the sharp jut of his hipbones, he's breathed in the thick scent of musk and sweat that lingers long in intimate places.

He's felt the weight of Phil's cock on his tongue and sucked Phil's balls into his mouth. He's thought of kissing and licking and touching all the places he hasn't been brave enough to yet.

And he's thought of Phil doing all those things to him.

"Phil," he whispers.

Phil's pupils look blown. Dan would make some sort of joke about drugs if he weren't too busy marveling at the beauty in that thin ring of yellow speckled blue.


He eventually gets around to remembering what he was going to say.

"Put your finger in."


There's half a bottle of lube shoved between his mattress and his bed frame.

One day he'll get supremely unlucky and the cap will pop open or the plastic will break or something horrific like that, but he lives on the edge.

Right now it's worth any potential ruined mattress because he doesn't have to leave the sheets they're stretched out on in order to find it.

He pops open the cap in a move he hopes looks cool and drizzles it on Phil's legs.

"You've used a lot," Phil says, which isn't what Dan's expecting, and it takes him a moment to pair together the oddness of Phil's tone.

"Yeah," Dan says. "By myself."

He's answering the question Phil didn't ask.


"I put my fingers up my ass." The bluntness feels delicious on his tongue. "And I think of you."

Phil shudders. His cock bobs against his stomach, a string of precome stretching silvery against his skin. "Dan."

Making Phil sound like that is Dan's new favorite thing.


Maybe he's braver in asking because this is his home turf, or maybe it's because they just spent a night surrounded by people who seemed to look at him and see the person he wants to be and he’s high on it.

He feels like he can be that person because of Phil. Because Phil was the first person in his whole fucking life to look at Dan like he knew who Dan really was, and wanted him for it.

If Phil wants him, he must be worth something.

If Phil isn't afraid to put his arm around Dan in a room full of people.

If Phil isn't embarrassed to have people whistle at how close they're sitting.

If Phil finds him so irresistible that he'll push Dan up against a wall of a train station and snog him just because he says he can't wait until they're home...

This sort of love makes Dan feel like he has wings, but instead of flying he wants to stay grounded right here.


Phil's finger is blunt and unpredictable in a way that makes Dan squirm.

"How does it feel?" Phil asks.

He's got his left hand stroking Dan in an almost absent way, the index finger of his right buried two knuckles deep in Dan.

"Weird," Dan says. "Good. Better than when I do it?"

"Really?" Phil doesn't just sound excited. He sounds eager in a way that plucks at Dan's heart.

"Yeah." Dan clenches just to see how it feels.

It's so good.

He turns his head to the side and stares at the two toned wall he's spent most of his life waking up to. He's having sex with a boy in his family home. He's having sex with a boy, and he loves it.


His lungs hurt with every breath he sucks in and his cock is so hard it almost burns, like he's been on the razor's edge of orgasm for just this side of too long.

Which happens to be true.

He doesn't want to come yet. He's using every bit of willpower he can muster to keep it at bay. Phil's found a good spot and he's rubbing his fingers against it and Dan's absolutely sure this will break him when it happens.


It's Phil that gets impatient finally.

"My fingers are cramping," he says, and Dan will laugh at that later.

But for now he reaches down and tugs on himself. It barely takes half a minute before he's hurtling through something that makes his whole body feel like a live wire.


Phil's turn.

Dan wants to help. He wants to do more. But his brain is leaking out of his ears and besides, this works out pretty well for him. He'll wank for weeks to come at the mental image of Phil panting and sweaty and balancing himself on one arm over Dan while his other works furiously between his legs.

Phil comes on him, and leaves Dan feeling filthy used in the hottest sort of way.


"Wow," Phil pants.

Their arms are touching, skin tacky and stuck together. There's no space on his small mattress for distance even if they wanted it, but Dan doesn't want it.

He still hasn't floated back down to earth.

Prostate orgasms. That's a win in his book. Definitely one to revisit.

"Had you ever done that before?" he asks. He might not like the answer but impulsive curiosity wins.

"Sort of," Phil says.

"Sort of?"

"I've never made anyone come like that." Pride tinges Phil's words. "Except myself."

There's another mental image he'll be revisiting. "Fuck."

Phil laughs quietly.

After that there's the sound of nothing for a while, the house around them quiet.

"We should sleep," Dan says, because he knows if he doesn't, those thoughts that are gathering speed and force are going to get him ahead of himself.

When he looks over, Phil's staring sleepy-eyed at him already. "Yeah."

"What?" Dan asks, more to the look than the agreement.

Phil shrugs one bony shoulder. "Nothing. I just..." There's a space where a word could be, but it isn't quite ready. They aren't quite ready. "Like you a lot."

Dan leans in and kisses him softly. "Yeah. Me, too."