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Dan will, at any point in time, be the last person to admit just how excited he is, when they adopt their little corgi baby, but he genuinely is, is the thing. He’s wanted to have a dog for so long, wanted to have one with Phil specifically, but life gets in the way when you have tour plans and don’t want to give up on them for the rest of your career.
But PJ promised them to take care of Hugo (they didn’t pick the name, the dog already listened to it when they chose him, but Dan swears he’s caught Phil whispering “Phugo” into his little, fuzzy ears several times) if they needed him to, and Martyn made similar promises, and it’s a little precarious, but Dan watches videos sometimes, of families with their pets, travelling the world and simply bringing it along. Maybe once Hugo is a little older. Who knows. Who knows.
Right now, it’s just nice, and they have no where else to be, so he can just sit back and enjoy the way Phil’s entire demeanour lights up when he plays with the puppy, when he pets the puppy, cuddles him, even feeds and walks him.
Dan has halfway expected him to be bored of it within a week and leave Dan to take the walks, because God, does that man hate walks, but more often than not, Phil is the one grabbing the leash and taking Hugo for a spin, or he accompanies Dan and they go out together.
And Dan can always do with some more dog kisses, if he’s being honest, his entire heart feeling lighter than it always has, laughter spilling from his lips unguarded whenever they playfight with Hugo.
It’s just–
There’s one thing that’s a little–
It’s ridiculous, alright, Dan fully knows that, but it sits under his skin like a rather insistent itch, never quite going away.
It’s in the way he’ll come out of the shower, wearing nothing like a towel, fully ready to curl up on his seat next to Phil on the sofa and do the mini with him, only to find there’s already someone sitting, cuddled against Phil with his little tail wagging.
It’s in the way Phil sometimes casually has his arms draped around him, like he’s done nothing else for years and years, just such familiarity.
It’s in the way Dan swears Hugo looks at him sometimes, all proud and smug as he curls up in Phil’s lap.
It’s in the way Phil will play with him, and let him lick his face and laugh “good boy” between each of the licks.
Dan feels it rise in his throat like a growl, sometimes.
So, it’s not that he’s jealous – It’s not like he expects this dog to steal Phil from him, realistically, but Dan has always had a bit of a problem with envy.
“He’s not that much of a good boy,” he mutters quietly, staring at his phone instead of at the dog as it is yet again slobbering all over Phil’s face, wagging his tail excitedly. “If all it takes is kissing your face, you’re really exceptionally easy.”
Phil doesn’t reply for a long time, but even without looking, Dan can basically feel his gaze burning into the side of his face, eyes lingering there inquisitorily.
“Am I?” Phil finally asks, with that tone he gets sometimes, “easy, Dan?”
“For the dog, apparently,” Dan huffs out and shit – that came out a note too bitter to give him a whole lot of deniability here.
He gives Phil the quickest of side glances and finds him looking at Dan with an eyebrow raised.
Well – fuck. Time to double down, then.
“I’m just saying, if you tell every guy ‘good boy’ for slobbering your face–”
“He’s a puppy, Dan.”
“Yes, well, some men are–” He cuts himself off. Okay, doubling down might have been the wrong route, in hindsight.
Phil snorts a laugh into Hugo’s fur, gives him affectionate little scratches behind his ears and doesn’t bring the issue up again for the rest of the afternoon, but Dan could swear he’s heard the occasional “Dan’s a very bad boy, isn’t he?” between all the praise.
Dan is usually the one who feeds the dog – Phil will give him treat after treat, alright, but he forgets to fill that bowl the same way he forgets to water their damn plants (just as Dan has always predicted), so it’s on Dan to keep Hugo alive. He goes all in, because of course he does. He buys three different brands of each kind of wet food, as if he’s expecting Hugo to tell him which kind of smelly chicken mash he likes best.
He’s also the one who picked the pet bed, a very large one, because he wanted Hugo to have the space to spread his legs – hell knows how much Dan hates it when he sleeps in a bed entirely too small for his long limbs – and he stuffs it with a different pillow each night. A pillow from their sofa, from their guest room, eventually Phil’s (just in case he needs the smell, alright?!), but in the end, Hugo still sleeps in their damn bed.
It happens every night. Once in a while, Dan tries to tell him no, but there’s no point, really, if barely ten seconds later, Phil pats the empty space on the bed beside him and Dan hears the dog jump up and curl up there.
And – look. They’ve been together for sixteen years. The times where you forced yourself into uncomfortable, sweaty cuddling positions just to fall asleep in your lover's arms are long over, but he can’t help but notice that Hugo sleeps cuddled up against Phil and it’s not like Dan wants that, or anything, but it doesn’t seem entirely fair.
One of those nights, Dan ends up – coincidentally – bumping against Phil in his sleep and thinks “sure, why not”, and it’s a really casual, spontaneous decision, but he decides to curl his arms around Phil, pull him close.
And Phil, the absolute bastard, pulls back again, rolling a bit further to the side and into their dog, who repositions himself with little taps of his paws and a displeased little whine.
Dan stares down at his empty arms in the dark.
“I made you coffee,” he mumbles. “And I ordered that cake for you that you liked. And I put in all the dishes. I went out with Hugo. I even thought about mowing the lawn soon.”
Phil turns his head to him, blinking at him blearily.
“Huh?” he asks.
“I’m just– I’m just saying.” Dan isn’t sulking. That would be ridiculous. But in his sleepiness, his lips might appear a little more pinched together than they usually would be.
“Okay,” Phil says, and promptly falls asleep.
Dan lies awake for a rather long time, kept up by the sound of two sets of content snores.
It’s an evening like many others. They’re spread out lying on their sofa, the TV running for background noises but neither of them watching. Dan’s on his switch, Phil on his phone, and Hugo is lying squeezed between them, chewing enthusiastically on some already severely abused looking dog toy.
“He’s gonna tear that thing into pieces one day,” Dan remarks lazily.
“That’s fine, we’ll just get him another.”
“‘We’ll just get him another’” Dan mimics, tone mocking. “Spoiled little bitch.”
Phil’s eyes meet Dan’s over the rim of his phone screen.
“What?” Dan asks. “You’re spoiling him completely.”
Instead of answering, Phil swings his legs off the sofa, putting his phone away as he walks towards their hallway. He returns with Hugo’s leash and his collar in his hands, looking slightly pissed off. Dan went for a walk with Hugo just an hour ago, but he assumes Phil decided to take the high road and walk some steam off instead of bitching at Dan – which is fair enough, he’s being an ass, he realises that.
But then Phil looks at him expectantly.
“I just went with him,” Dan says, confused, straining his neck to look up at Phil from where he’s still lying on the sofa, because he’s now oddly towering above him.
“Sit,” Phil says.
Dan turns his head to Hugo, who’s ignoring them, still busy picking apart a piece of toy rope with his teeth. He turns his head back to Phil, who’s still looking at him with both eyebrows raised.
At him, not the dog.
Oh shit.
Dan hears the sounds of his cart getting hit by koopa shells repeatedly as he basically throws his Switch to the side, but they barely even register. He scrambles into an upright position, not even thinking, thoughts immediately switched off, and finds himself kneeling on the sofa in front of Phil, who’s standing beside it, still looking down at Dan with a stern expression.
“Dogs who can’t behave go on the leash,” Phil says. “Until they learn to be good boys.”
Dan has to swallow as he feels rough leather against his throat. Phil is careful – thankfully it’s a rather large collar, and he leaves some space between throat and leather strap for Dan, eyes flitting to his face to check if he’s okay, and Dan nods softly in response.
Only then does Phil click the leash on.
“Now, you’ve been nothing but prissy for days now, and you’ve not once just asked me for what you need. What is it you need, Danny? Tell me.”
Dan swallows again, hard, at the pet name. He opens his mouth but before a word can come out, Phil interrupts him.
“Nonono, dogs don’t use words, now be a good pup.”
Jesus Christ. Dan swears he can feel his dick twitch in his sweatpants. Phil’s tone is the same as when he’s playing with Hugo – telling him if he wants the toy, he has to snatch it, tone playful yet stern.
“Come on,” he adds, his entire voice softer now, a hand cupping Dan’s cheek, thumb tracing his dimple. “What do you need from me?”
What does he need? Dan thinks about nuzzling his crotch like a dog in heat and feels like he could come in his pants, but there’s something else inside of him, something needy, something achy, like a thorn buried somewhere deep inside, and before Dan can fully grasp it, he’s already let out a desperate little whine.
“What is it, pup?” Phil asks softly.
So Dan pulls. He takes the hand still resting on his cheek and pulls Phil towards him until he stumbles, toppling over the sofa with a laugh, and Dan immediately jumps into his lap, leans his chest against Phil’s, buries his face in the crook of his neck, and just breathes.
Phil hesitates for only a moment, and then there’s soft hands on Dan’s back, stroking, petting, caressing, hands in his hair, running through his curls lovingly, sending tingles down his spine. There’s reassuring praise and whispers like he likes to give Hugo, there’s little kisses against his temple and Dan feels himself sink into it, melting into the embrace, nothing but a boneless, floppy, content little creature existing under Phil’s affectionate touch.
“See? You can be such a good boy when you try,” Phil hums. “You know you can always have cuddles if you just ask for them, right?”
Dan whines again, nuzzles Phil’s neck with wet lips, tries to bury his nose in his smell. Within seconds, he feels one of Phil’s hands leaving him and a tug at his neck pulling him back carefully yet firmly, Dan finding himself pulled off Phil forcibly to look at him.
“Right?” Phil asks, voice stern now.
It’s funny. They’ve done this a couple times, and Dan has never sunk into the headspace the way he’s sunk now, in a way that words seem to come to his mind sluggish, slow, feeling wrong.
He lets out a little bark, and Phil chuckles softly, ruffling his hair.
“Good.”
Dan could spend the night like this – it’s comfortable, it’s easy, it’s safe. Nothing to think about, nothing to worry about, nothing haunting his thoughts. The entire world seems peaceful like this, trapping Dan in the moment rather than his ever churning thoughts.
But he shifts on Phil’s lap and feels him half-hard beneath him, underneath his silly, thin-layered Minecraft pyjamas, and Dan, simple dog that he is, gets hard in response like he’s being fed by Pavlov.
He whines and shifts again, then again, getting restless in Phil’s lap as he feels him harden even more beneath him, until there’s a familiar hand pinning him down with just a simple hand to his back. Phil grinds up ever so softly, and Dan yelps excitedly.
“This what you want, pup?” Phil asks, his voice hoarse.
God, Dan does, he really does. Dan lets instincts take over, and licks a large stripe up Phil’s cheek, watches him wrinkle his nose and laugh in response.
“Okay, okay! Best keep that tongue of yours occupied, huh?”
Dan slides down, in more ways than one. Slides off Phil’s legs until he kneels on the floor, face buried in his crotch, making little noises of impatience as he slobbers all over the polyester of his pyjamas, tongue tracing the outline of his hard dick. And by sliding down, Dan finds himself at the bottom of something, head light, thoughts heady, nothing but want steering him.
Phil has a hand in his hair, breathing heavily.
“God, you’re–” He tugs at Dan’s leash again, and Dan doesn’t want to resist, he wants to be a good boy so badly, but he doesn’t want to be pulled off that delicious hard cock, and he doesn’t want the tugs to stop, not when every single one makes his cock twitch and his head fill with hazy bliss.
Eventually though, he complies, letting himself be pulled off long enough for Phil to quickly slip off his pyjama pants.
Dan watches with laser focus as Phil’s cock springs free, beautiful and leaking pre-cum, and Dan has never wanted anything more than to close his lips around that wet tip and lick it all off.
He lets out a loud whine, sitting back on his heels, eyes never leaving Phil’s dick, though he can hear him giggle softly.
“Go on then.”
If Dan had a tail, he’d be wagging it. Instead, he shows his enthusiasm the only way he knows how – he licks up Phil’s cock in long stripes, feels it twitch beneath his tongue, hears Phil huff out a helpless moan, and gets high off the feeling. Dan does what he wanted to do so desperately – sucks in the tip and takes in the taste of him, tongue twirling around it excitedly, and feels Phil’s involuntary, aborted thrust in response.
Dan pulls off, looks up at him, and sticks out his tongue like a dog pleading for water, panting heavily.
“You sure?” asks Phil, understanding him without words, the hand in his hair stroking him tenderly. “You’re pretty far under.”
Dan barks.
“Alright, but you tap my knee if it gets too much. Show me you can do that?”
Impatiently, Dan taps his knee, and then nuzzles his face against it, just because he can, cheek on the inside of Phil’s thighs, rubbing and caressing.
Phil lets out a shaky breath.
“God, you’re so perfect like this. Okay. Open up, pup.”
Dan flops back onto his heels again, tearing his mouth open and Phil groans as he feeds him his cock, wide eyes never leaving Dan’s mouth as if glued to it, never even blinking.
“So pretty,” Phil says, sounding awed, “so good for me.”
Phil starts slowly, clearly still scared to hurt him. He takes shallow little thrusts, giving Dan time to get used to it. Dan slacks his jaw, lets him set the pace, and just relaxes – he likes this part. Having no control, Phil’s fingers literally curled around his leash, the other hand buried in his curls, holding him in place. Phil’s hips determining the speed, Phil’s encouraging, affectionate words guiding Dan like a beacon, his noises everything he craves. In moments like these, he’s Dan’s entire world, the thing he consistently orbits around, and he can just switch off his brain.
Phil’s thrusts get deeper, grow more erratic, little moans spilling from his lips and Dan feels dizzy from it. He lets his tongue stick out, enjoying the rough slide of heavy cock on it, enjoying the feeling of Phil’s tip hitting the back of his throat, lets it close around it for just a moment, and the pressure on his own cock is almost unbearable. Desperately, instinctively, Dan drives his own hips forwards, only to be pulled back by his leash. Dan whines around his cock.
“Shhh,” Phil manages to mutter out between thrusts. “Come on, take my leg.”
He feels himself be slightly redirected, feels Phil shift in turn, and then there’s his left leg pressing against Dan’s crotch and oh my God. Oh God, that’s so much better, that feels so right – Before Dan can process anything, he’s humping desperately against Phil’s leg while he uses his mouth, tears shooting to his eyes from the relief and overwhelm. He groans around Phil with every thrust of his own hips, feels him fill him up, feels him around him, holding him, feels him everywhere really, and comes with a shout that might as well have been a bark, his cum sticky and hot in his boxershorts.
“Fuck, Dan–” Phil comes down his throat with incoherent mumbles filling the air, and Dan swallows it down eagerly, tongue lapping around Phil as if to try and entice him to stay inside, even as he pulls out. Dan lets out a little whine, immediately burying his head in Phil’s crotch again, until the winces.
“Enough, come on up. We gotta clean you up, yeah?”
Phil unclips the leash and reaches for the collar, but Dan’s hands shoot up immediately, grasping his and pulling them off. Phil raises an eyebrow, but lets up immediately.
“Okay, we keep it on a little longer, but you’re not sleeping in that thing, it’ll hurt.”
Dan just licks his hand in response.
“Jesus,” Phil laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sink that deep? You okay? A verbal answer, please?”
Dan needs a moment to find his voice, and finds it comes out hoarse and wrecked, but he manages a short little “never better”.
Phil nods, leans down and kisses his temples. “Well, you were great.”
Damn right, he was.
Movement comes sluggish to Dan and he doesn’t really feel like walking on two legs right now, so he crawls beside Phil, who lets him. He strips him of his sticky shorts and cleans him with a wet towel in their bathroom. Right now, the prospect of getting to curl up naked with Phil in cool, clean sheets sounds absolutely heavenly. They make it to the bedroom, and Dan props himself up the side of it with his hands, only to see – Hugo, lying comfortably on top of Phil’s pillow, curled to a fuzzy, furry ball and snoring happily.
Dan growls low under his throat.
“None of that, you jealous little pup,” Phil grins. “There’s plenty of space here for both of you.”
It’s the sound of Phil’s giggle that tears him out of it, immediately soothes something in his heart. Dan climbs onto the bed, pointedly lying down on his half and giving Phil an almost challenging look. With a sigh, Phil pulls at the pillow Hugo is lying on, until it’s at the very edge of the bed, and lies down between him and Dan, opening his arms.
Dan crawls in immediately, head heavy resting on Phil’s shoulder, and sticks his tongue out to Hugo where he knows Phil can’t see.
Hugo doesn’t notice, still fast asleep, but Phil somehow does, kissing his head with a sigh.
“You’re lucky you’re so cute, you know that?” he says.
Dan does know.
He steals Phil’s lips for a kiss and falls asleep comfortably.
Whatever, he was here first.