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When Dan goes looking for Phil the evening after their most recent podcast episode aired, he finds him in their bedroom, kneeling on the bed on all fours, naked, a concentrated expression on his face. Phil has his head turned back in a position that has to put a strain on his neck, pretty blue eyes narrowed at his own back.
Dan would like to say that he’s surprised but he’s just not. Living with Phil, it really reduces the amount of surprise a human being has left to wonder about anything with.
“Hey uh. Philly. What are you doing, sunshine of my life?” he asks, tone sweet, like he’s talking to a child who just armed itself with fingerpaint and is sitting in front of a white wall.
He supposes this is the Phil equivalent of that. Unpredictable to the last.
(Then again, Phil is known internationally for the impulsive decision to dye everything he owns green, so–)
Phil whips his head around to Dan, his concentration immediately turning into nervous giggles, while he tries – and fails – to put on an accusatory expression.
“Apparently, I don’t have a back arch.”
It’s days like these that Dan thinks about what his life would’ve become, if he married some pretty girl and studied law, the way his parents – and probably God, if only He existed – intended.
It would probably be a lot more boring, to be fair.
He raises both eyebrows and lets his eyes wander over Phil’s form on the bed suggestively, really putting heat into it. Immediately, Phil starts squirming under the attention, but he doesn’t back down. He just kneels there, head turned, and wriggles his ass this way and that, apparently curiously studying his back as he does.
And Dan will readily be the first person to admit that he’s a filthy liar, because Phil’s back is arching beautifully and it’s a little mean, but to be fair, Phil does it to him all the time. The fans have made whole compilations of Phil rage-baiting him, and what? Dan does it one time and is the villain? He says one thing and the feeds are swamped with picture after picture of Phil sluttily showing his fat ass off for the camera.
Hm.
They can look, but they can not touch. And no one but Dan will ever get this view, anyway.
Dan steps closer, smirking slightly, the bedroom door falling shut behind him.
“If a builder had come in instead of me, you’d be in a world of trouble right now,” he points out softly.
“They’ve seen worse,” Phil says immediately. “Like when I put on my pink booty shorts to–”
Dan’s hand slaps against Phil’s ass, just once, not even that hard, a quiet warning, and Phil shuts up immediately. This isn’t the podcast – there’s different rules here and Dan set up almost every single one of them.
“You’re such a brat,” he says lovingly. “Do you need a hand with that arch of yours?”
“I don’t think it looks that flat from this angle,” Phil says with a little sulk.
It sure doesn’t. In fact, the needy way Phil stretches his back makes his ass seem more prominent, making Dan’s mouth water a little.
“Stiff and flat like a plank,” he lies. “Let me take a look.”
He climbs on the bed and leans over Phil’s body. His arms give out almost immediately under Dan, and he presses his upper body into the pillows with a mewl, turning his head again, this time to catch Dan’s lips for a kiss.
“I’m beginning to think I might have fallen for a ploy,” Phil says, sounding amused.
Dan doesn’t respond, he’s got his hands full. One hand is playing with the blond locks on the back of Phil’s neck, the other is running up and down his back, thumb stroking over the dip of it, while he lets his lips hungrily explore the wide, white expanse. Phil is like a canvas sometimes, all spread out and ready to be marked.
“See? I knew I had a back arch,” Phil huffs just when Dan reaches it, licking down the dip of it with his tongue, right to the cleft of his arse. Phil shivers beneath him, and Dan places a kiss on top of the tender red lines on the skin where his pant’s waistband had laid.
“You do,” he finally concedes.
“I mean, I know I’m not exactly Heated Rivalry…”
Dan spreads his cheeks slightly, breathing down against them until Phil shivers again.
“If I wanted Heated Rivalry, I’d go out there looking for Heated Rivalry,” he says simply.
“You probably could.”
And Phil says things like these so casually – he doesn’t even sound bitter about it, just so matter-of-factly that it breaks Dan’s heart infinitely more. There he is again, his delicate little princess, needing to be glazed like a poptart.
Dan crawls up his body again, until he’s reached Phil’s head, kissing his cheek, kissing the corner of his lips, and then shaking his head at him when he’s got his attention.
“Who knows,” he shrugs. “I’ve already got everything I need right here.”
“We have Heated Rivalry at home,” Phil quips, both of them smiling at each other now, and Dan kisses him soft and slowly. “... I’m not a Sphinx, right?”
Dan sighs. “Don’t make me show you our Twitter feeds. Of course you’re not, you’re perfect.”
“I just think if I looked more like Connor Storrie, you’d have fucked me already by now.”
Dan smirks into the crook of Phil’s neck, sucking a mark into the tender skin there, just because he can – low enough to not be caught by any cameras afterwards, the way they’d been handling it for years now, out of sheer instinct more than anything else.
Phil has gotten too good at it – they’ve grown together so intertwined, they’ve evolved habits to perfectly counter-balance each other. Dan’s playful nonchalance has found the perfect match in Phil’s subtle art of baiting him into sincerity. Phil knows damn well he has nothing to be insecure about, but oh, if he doesn’t play the part perfectly to lure out Dan’s incessant need to make sure.
In turn, of course, Phil makes things easier for him. Opening up used to be hard, once upon a time, and Phil has learned early how to navigate him safely around those road blockages.
Nowadays, it’s as easy as breathing, but old habits turn into running jokes, turn into banter, and keep them warm at night.
This, Dan will give him freely, though.
“Oh baby, the only reason I haven’t fucked you yet is because I was too busy staring.”
Phil is giggling again, and after sixteen years together, Dan still can’t remember ever having heard a more beautiful sound. He watches him press his face into the pillow, cheeks flushed red, and grins.
Too easy, Lester.
But, what his beautiful little slut wants, he gets. Dan draws back and pulls his shirt over his head, then slips out of his jeans and boxers, hand automatically going to his half-hard cock, bringing it to full hardness with a couple lazy strokes and heated looks at Phil, who is squirming again under the attention.
Dan leans over the bed to their bedside table, where he’s hidden the lube behind some inconspicuous stuff (he’s learned from the builder-dildo experience, thank you very much), and climbs back to his knees behind Phil, letting his hands run down his ass gently.
“All mine,” he smirks, earning himself a gentle kick from one of Phil’s feet, which momentarily threatens to throw his entire balance off. “Careful, you clumsy bitch,” Dan laughs, steadying him with a hand to his hip, while the other is squeezing lube out of the bottle. “That could’ve gotten a lot more painful for you than for me.”
“Shut up and fuck me already, my back’s getting tired,” Phil whines, and Dan laughs again.
“But it looks so pretty for me, surely you can keep it up a little longer?” he asks, his tone sweet like honey and he can basically hear Phil rolling his eyes from here, but he only arches his back a little more in response, and Dan presses a rewarding kiss to it.
“Thatta boy.”
They’ve done this a million times. Phil is relaxed under his touch, opening up easily, and as soon as Dan is lubed up, he slides right in, both of them letting out a moan.
Dan will never grow tired of it, the heat, the way Phil hungrily clenches around him, all his words leaving him for ragged, short breaths and gasps instead, the way his hands fist the sheets with open need.
He’s grown addicted to it early, the clear signs of being wanted, adored something he was so wholly unused to as a teen, and has since become something just gifted to him daily, until even the darkest pits of Dan’s brain have no choice but to believe it. He’s safe here, home here, and if he can give Phil only a fragment of that feeling back, that’s more than enough.
He starts thrusting the way he knows drives Phil crazy, slow and thorough, going deep until his eyes drift shut, lips hanging half open on the pillow, moaning out Dan’s name.
“How’s that baby, believe me now?” Dan asks, his voice coming out deeper than usual, drenched in lust.
Phil just nods his head eagerly, clearly not trusting his own voice right now.
“Can you keep it up for me if I fuck you harder?” Dan asks, trying his best to put a provoking tone into his voice, but he feels himself slipping, fading in and out of focus as pleasure shoots through his nerves with every thrust into Phil’s tight heat.
“Please,” Phil’s whine wraps around Dan like velvet. He leans forwards, kissing Phil’s back again, teeth grazing the skin beneath him softly, sliding down until he leaves a perfect teeth-mark on top of his cheek, making Phil moan out desperately.
He is keeping the arch up, and Dan is moderately impressed. He quickens up his pace as promised, making sure to hit his prostate, and he can tell from the way Phil is getting loud and frantic beneath him that he’s close, which is fortunate, because he has no idea how much longer he’s going to last, with Phil so prettily giving his all to him.
Dan wraps a hand around his leaking cock, gives him a stroke or two, and then watches Phil unravel beneath him, coming with a shudder and a moan of his name, ass clenching around him, causing beautiful friction. Dan’s hands are sticky as he grabs Phil’s hips harder, driving himself inside once, twice, then coming with a groan inside him.
“Jesus fucking–” He climbs half on top of Phil, gently helping him stretch out his legs until he’s finally lying flatly on the mattress, and wraps him up in his arms. Dan lets his hands wander to his waist, gentle fingers kneading his poor, strained back, and Phil lets out a groan of relief, curling up closer against Dan.
“Not doing that again anytime soon,” he huffs out with a laugh as soon as he’s caught his breath, and Dan chuckles.
“Yeah, no, I think maybe we’re too old to be Heated Rivalry.”
“Right, that’s it, and not the fact that we spend most of our lifetime in a sitting position. With horrible posture.”
Dan nibbles at Phil’s earlobe lazily, then kisses the tender skin behind it. He’s a bit of a hypocrite, his partner, because they both know his posture is world’s better than Dan’s, somehow.
“Hey Philly?”
“Yeah?”
“You know you’re perfect for me, right?”
Phil tries to turn his head to kiss him, winces, then turns his entire body around to face Dan, stealing his kiss that way.
Dan vows to give him a proper massage in a bit, after cleaning up.
“Yeah,” he mutters against Dan’s lips. “You know you are too, right?”
And that, Dan supposes, is the end game of Phil’s little bait and switch over the years. Because Dan does know, he really does, and Phil looks already giddy in anticipation of it.
“Yeah.”