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His lips hover over the rim of his mug, eyes narrowed as he watches Phil scroll through his phone. It’s two days before Phil’s birthday—he’s turning 39 this year, and while he won’t quite say it out loud, Dan is ridiculously excited for him to turn 40 next year. Something about that age has a maturity to it that he’s very much into. But his potential Daddy kink isn’t something he wants to explore currently. No, right now, his mind is elsewhere—namely on the spoon pressed between Phil’s lips.
See, Dan has a thing. It’s not overtly scandalous, he doesn’t think—he jokes about it, sometimes, but never in a serious manner. There are probably some people who pick up on it, but—yeah, well, he’s not trying to be too subtle about it either. Phil knows; they’ve never talked about it though.
He notices it whenever Phil is speaking, and he can’t help himself. His gaze inevitably drops to Phil’s mouth, his tongue wetting his lips, saliva pooling in the back of his throat. He notices when they’re naked in bed, and Phil is already pliant and begging underneath him, and he just can’t stop. Can’t stop dragging his tongue over every inch of Phil’s body, can’t stop licking up the length of his cock, or along the crease of his ass. Or when they’re kissing, and he’s so focused on sucking Phil’s tongue into his mouth or nibbling and licking his neck. It’s there in non-sexual situations too—eating ice cream out of a cone in the summer, watching Phil suck grease off his fingers when eating crisps. Dan is like an overeager puppy, always pondering what he can put in his mouth next.
And it’s not just his own mouth, hence the spoon. They joke about it, but in some ways, Phil does feel like an extension of himself. Phil’s mouth is a place Dan wants to get lost in. In the early days of their relationship, there were a lot of blowjobs—so many of them, really. Between the fumbling of inexperience and the threat of parents or siblings, it was an easy way to get each other off. Discreet and quick, no prep necessary, very little clean up. And, to put it bluntly, Dan loves getting his dick sucked. He loves cupping Phil’s jaw, feeling the muscles work under his fingertips, trace the stretch of his lips around his cock with his thumb. Really, who doesn’t enjoy the sensation of a warm, wet tongue? So, whenever Phil is sucking on a spoon or biting his lips or chewing on a pen when he’s brainstorming, Dan gets distracted. It’s a by-proxy oral fixation at this point. He enjoys things in his own mouth—and in Phil’s, specifically.
Dan is moving before his brain even registers. He’s been so distracted by his own daydreaming, his mind is only now catching up with his body. He crawls up the bed, placing his coffee mug on the nightstand next to Phil’s, before taking the half-empty bowl of cereal and the spoon from him.
Phil laughs helplessly as Dan takes his phone and throws it to the other side of the bed. “What’re you doing?” he gasps, glasses askew, cosy jumper revealing his clavicle. His hair is damp from the shower and pushed back from his forehead. He looks utterly edible. “Honestly, what’s gotten into you?”
Dan prowls toward Phil, pressing him flat against the pillows, hands resting on either side of his head. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he murmurs, his nose gliding along Phil’s jaw as he bends down to lave along the jut of his collarbone. His tongue flicks out, wet and hot against smooth skin. He grazes his teeth along the bone. “Can’t help it if you’re fucking distracting, sitting there all pretty.”
Phil bites his bottom lip, staring up at Dan. “What’d I do?” His hands lift to slip along the bare expanse of Dan’s back, digging into his ribs and tracing the shape of his hips until he reaches the waistband of his pants. “Mmm,” he hums. “That’s the wrong question, though, isn’t it?”
Dan doesn’t have the chance to rebut because suddenly he’s on his back, and Phil’s jumper is discarded somewhere on the floor. Heat seeps through Phil’s pyjama into Dan’s thighs, as his full weight rests on him. Phil’s face is inches from his own, eyes glittering knowingly. “I should ask, what is it you want to do to me?”
“Any guesses?” Dan asks, voice breathless and rough. Saliva pools in his mouth, and he’s panting as he lifts a hand, cradling Phil’s jaw in his palm. His thumb glides over Phil’s bottom lip, pulling it downward. Phil grinds against him, the fabric between them doing little to contain the way their bodies are pressed together. Dan’s thumb presses harder against Phil’s lip. “Open,” he says.
Phil’s eyes flutter closed as he opens his mouth, and Dan pushes his finger inside. He feels the soft texture of the inside of his cheek, the wet glide of his tongue. He lifts himself on an elbow, his grip on Phil’s face tightening. His lips latch onto a spot on Phil’s neck, biting at the thin skin, dragging the wetness of his own spit over it to soothe the sting. He presses his thumb deeper, fully in a seated position now, leaning against the headboard. Phil is in his lap, eyes glassy and face flushed. Worked up, although they’ve barely started.
“What I want,” Dan says, dragging his wet thumb back over Phil’s bottom lip and tracing it over his chin. “What I want is to suck your dick. And then I want to eat you out. And then maybe I’ll fuck you.”
“Fuck.” Phil’s pupils are blown wide, his glasses lost somewhere. “Not sure I’d survive all that.”
“I’ll take care of you,” Dan promises. His determination is melting away a bit, halfway giving in to the temptation of handing the reins to Phil. “Just wanna make you feel good.” He kisses him, slipping his tongue into his mouth, pressing their lips together in a searing kiss. It tugs deep in his belly, claws against his insides. “Love to put my mouth on you.”
“I know,” Phil replies. His fingers ghost along the shape of Dan’s throat. From his position in Dan’s lap, he’s slightly taller, looking down at him. Dan blinks up through his lashes, his mouth pink and wet. “Better get to work then, hm?”
“Okay, yeah, fuck.”
He moves Phil off his lap and onto the bed, tugging the pyjama bottoms down his long, pale legs. He kneels between his thighs, tugging his own t-shirt over his head, eyes gleaming. Slowly, he lifts his palm to his mouth, staring right into Phil’s eyes. He spits into his hand before reaching for Phil’s cock, smearing the saliva along the sensitive skin. Phil sucks air through his teeth, eyes hooded and cheeks flushed. His chest is rising and falling in quick succession, the muscles in his thighs tense.
The spit isn’t exactly a great source of lube, but Dan loves the wet shine on Phil’s skin, enjoys the idea of marking him in every way possible. He leans forward, grabbing Phil’s jaw with one hand and tilting his chin down. His thumb digs into his bottom lip.
“Open,” he says. Slowly, Phil opens his mouth, eyes never leaving Dan’s face. Dan bends lower, his mouth hovering over Phil’s as if they are seconds away from a kiss. “Wider,” he whispers, heightening the pressure on his jaw. Dan’s lips part, he swipes his tongue over his teeth as he allows saliva to pool in his mouth. “Don’t move.” His spit drips onto Phil’s tongue, trailing along the corner of his mouth and down his chin. He glides down his body without even awaiting a reaction, licking Phil from balls to tip. It’s messy and wet, with Phil’s long fingers digging into his hair, his nails scratching his scalp.
Dan loves the feel, the texture, the smell—he loves the heaviness on his tongue, the fullness of his mouth. His fingers are wet as his blunt nails press into Phil’s thighs, his tongue flicking over every vein as he sucks, his cheeks hollow and his throat aching. Spit and precum drip from his lips. His head dips lower, taking more of Phil’s cock until he’s almost choking on it. Phil’s hands roam over his shoulders, his arms, his fingers outlining the stretch of his mouth.
“Oh, fuck, Dan, fuck—” his voice is breathy, his moans barely coherent as his hips thrust upward. Dan blinks up at him, mouth full, eyes glassy with tears. Slowly, he lifts his head, strings of spit connecting his lips to the skin of Phil’s dick. “Don’t stop,” Phil practically whines. His hands are shaking, his thighs twitching in search of friction.
Dan moves up his body again, locking them in a bruising kiss as one hand reaches for the nightstand drawer, digging out the bottle of lube. He sinks his teeth into Phil’s bottom lip. “I love you,” he says quietly.
“I know,” Phil replies, jaw twitching as he suppresses a grin.
“Good. Get on your hands and knees.”
Dan finally takes his own pants off. His cock is painfully hard, and he has to press his palm against it to relieve some of the tension. Phil moves slowly as he gets into position. Dan groans and uncaps the lube. He bites Phil’s shoulder before moving down his spine, circling every jut of bone with his tongue. He nibbles at the soft part of Phil’s hip before sinking his teeth into the fleshy part of his ass. Phil yelps but doesn’t flinch.
Dan pours some lube into his palm, slicking it over his cock as he strokes himself, the other hand palming Phil’s ass. He adds some more lube to his fingers, tracing them over Phil’s hole before slowly pushing inside. He watches in fascination—it’s not new, of course it isn’t. But there’s something so intimate and singular about it. The mere concept of physically sharing another person’s body, the knowledge that it’s him alone who gets to see Phil like this.
He's up to three fingers now—and his hands are big. Phil is positively writhing below him. Slowly, he removes his fingers and pours more lube onto his cock and even more over Phil’s ass. It’s slick and messy—wet and hot and tight when he sinks inside. His arm wraps around Phil’s chest, pulling him up and closer until Dan’s chest is to his back. Dan licks along the shell of his ear, panting.
“Fuck, you’re so good. How does this always feel so good?” he murmurs into Phil’s ear. His rhythm is slow and sloppy; both their thighs are sticky with lube, spit, and sweat. He spits into his hand again, wrapping his palm around Phil’s cock as he presses deeper.
Phil’s head falls back, throat exposed as he leans against Dan’s shoulder. “That’s so good,” he slurs.
“Yeah? Are you being good for me?” Dan reaches for Phil’s hand to urge him to stroke himself. He’s gripping Phil’s hip tightly, and with his now free hand, he reaches up, hooking a finger into Phil’s mouth. “Fuck, this is perfect. Oh, fuck.”
Dan is thrusting faster now; he can feel the tension seep through his body and coil low in his belly. His mouth is buried in Phil’s neck. Everything is so warm, a trace of friction and the soft squelch of liquid. He moans, his body moving of its own accord, flesh hitting flesh as Phil is pushing back against him. He opens his eyes, blue depths staring up at Dan as he chokes on a gasp and climaxes. Phil’s entire body tenses, he’s a vice around Dan’s cock, and Dan is seeing stars. He twists Phil’s jaw toward him and slams their mouths together, pushing his tongue inside as he comes.
They both collapse onto the bed, a mess of tangled limbs and bodily fluids. Dan slings one leg over Phil’s hips, burying his face against the sweaty skin of his neck.
“We should call Grindr,” Phil says once he’s caught his breath.
Dan remerges from his hiding spot in the crook of Phil’s shoulder. “Wha’?”
“We should get an award for this.” Phil gestures between them. “This was a bloody performance.”
“Oh, shut up,” Dan groans and sinks back down.