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Dan looked in the mirror over the sink at Heathrow Airport, trying to see if he could do anything about his hair. It retained no sign of the care he had put into it yesterday morning, and it had gotten hopelessly squashed from his sleep on the long flight. He sighed and splashed it with some water. It would dry curly, which he hated, but at least it would look intentional.
He scrubbed at his face while he was at it, and hoped he wasn't breaking out in any spots. His face and arms were nicely tanned, though, contrasting with the pasty appearance he left England with on a grey February morning two weeks ago. In fact, his arms were even a bit sunburnt, though he didn't quite know how he'd managed that on the very last day of his family holiday in India.
He thought of how brown his skin would look against Phil's ethereal winter paleness. Phil. The holiday had been nice—India was cool and his family had been tolerable. But all he really wanted now was to be with Phil.
It was nearly a month since he had visited Phil, and the last two weeks in India had been especially hard—the hotel wifi was often so shitty that they couldn't Skype properly. Even so, Phil had surprised him with the most amazing valentine. All Dan's resolutions to be casual about their relationship—to take things slow—had evaporated when Phil had told him how much he loved him. Now all Dan wanted was to be with Phil. Forever.
Dan had insisted to his parents that he would go straight to Phil's upon landing, without going home first. He started texting Phil as soon as he was properly on the train to Manchester. Phil replied that he would meet him at the train and was so excited and could not wait to see him and they would have the best time ever. Phil. Dan felt the familiar almost-painful tightness that he got in his chest when he was about to see Phil. He thought about Phil's smile, and his eyes, and his hands, and his—
“Tickets, please!” the conductor rudely interrupted Dan's reverie. He hoped she hadn't seen what thinking of Phil had been doing to his body. When she moved on, he rested his head against the window, closed his eyes, and thought some more. Phil.
As the train started rolling into the outskirts of Manchester, Phil texted again that he was waiting and the train was one minute late and he didn't think he could stand the delay. Dan smiled and straightened his jumper and patted his hair, peering at his reflection in the window to see whether it was lying at all flat. He felt suddenly nervous—it had been so long, and in the meantime they had just happened to have declared their everlasting love for one another—what if it was awkward?
It wasn't awkward. He got off the train, and there was Phil. He had the sudden urge to run into Phil's arms like in some cheesy film. Phil was looking at him with that solemn, intent gaze of his, and then he smiled and Dan was in his arms. A corner of his mind hoped he hadn't actually run, but most of him was taken up by Phil. Phil was warm and strong and right here, wrapped around him and mumbling something that might have been “I've missed you so much” or might have been “I want to kiss you” or maybe was just “I love you, Dan”.
Dan wanted to stay that way for a million years, but he struggled to make himself pull away, so they wouldn't look like two guys in love in the middle of the train station, even if that's what they were. “Hey, Phil.” He could feel his smile get wide and all his dimples form.
Before catching the bus back to Phil's house they stopped for a quick coffee at their Starbucks. They talked about this and that, inconsequential things, mostly to keep from just staring at each other in public with goofy smiles. Dan told an anecdote from the last day in India, Phil described the plot of the book he had been reading on the bus here. Dan wasn't really paying attention to what they were saying; it was enough to just be with Phil. And it wasn't enough to just be with Phil—he needed to be alone with Phil and tangled up with Phil and one with Phil.
As they sat down on the bus seat, Phil stuffed his jacket between them, keeping his hand beneath it. Dan slid his hand under the jacket to find Phil's fingers, and got a jolt of not being able to breathe, in that way that often happened around Phil. Someone opposite was eyeing them suspiciously, so Dan reluctantly removed his hand and fiddled with his phone. Phil's hand remained under the jacket, though, and Dan could feel Phil's fingers slowly inch under his thigh. Phil stared innocently ahead as he tickled his way deeper below Dan's leg. Dan elbowed Phil hard as he put his phone in his pocket. Phil snorted and pushed back, and Dan didn't care anymore whether anyone disapproved of their tussling on the seat.
When they got to his house, Phil said, “It looks as though my mum is here to welcome you back.”
Dan was momentarily taken aback—he was so eager to properly get his hands on Phil that he had forgotten that Phil lived with his family. But he didn't mind too much—Phil's mum liked him and always made him feel so warm and comfortable.
“It's so good to see you!” said Kathryn Lester, as she reached up to kiss his cheek.
“What about me, Mum?” Phil said, mock-offended.
“Oh, I saw you this morning, child. But this boy—look how nice and tanned you are, Dan! Not like us pale Northerners. How was India? How is your family?” Kathryn drew Dan into effortless conversation—he wasn't sure how she always did that. He reached into his bag for a box of mahim halwa sweets that he had brought for her.
“Oh, how lovely!” She kissed him again. “Would you boys like some tea? No? All right, then. There are biscuits on the counter if you get hungry. I'm going out for a bit of shopping until dinnertime. Your dad will be home around 6:00, Philip. Make yourself at home, Dan. I'll see you later.” And she breezed out the door.
Dan and Phil looked at each other.
“Do you reckon your Mum left us alone on purpose?”
“I guess so?”
Dan turned and ran up the stairs, tossing “Catch me!” over his shoulder. Phil, surprised only momentarily, grabbed the bags and clattered up after him. He dropped the bags and continued straight for Dan, barrelling into him and pressing him up against the wall. He leant his weight against him and set his mouth against his.
Phil's tongue ran around Dan's lips and wriggled between them. Dan sighed open to an inrush of Phil. He couldn't breathe. No, really, he couldn't. Somehow, Phil's forearm was trapped between them, lying heavy against Dan's chest. Dan worked his own arm up his torso and gently levered Phil back. Phil immediately allowed himself to be pushed away and looked at him.
“I couldn't breathe, is all.”
“Sorry!”
“And now I can look into your eyes. Blue. Yellow. Green.” Dan brought his nose forward to touch Phil's.
“You're so beautiful. Let me see all of you.” Phil began to tug at Dan's jumper.
Dan helped him take it off—it had gotten rather warm—and dropped it to the hallway floor.
Phil fumbled at Dan's shirt, then gave up and pushed his trousers down off his hips. Dan lurched as his belt lassoed his ankles as he tried to step out of his shoes whilst at the same time kicking off the tangle of trousers. The shoes clattered in opposite directions down the hall and the trousers got kicked—somewhere, in a scatter of pocket contents.
Phil pulled at Dan's boxers, tented with Dan's erection. “Phil....” said Dan. He didn't say, “Your mum might come back.” He didn't say, “It's cold out here in the hall.” He did say, “I haven't had a bath in over 24 hours.”
“So you smell more like you.” Phil dropped to his knees and rubbed his nose in Dan's patch of fur. And he opened his mouth and slid it along Dan's cock before swallowing it whole.
Now Dan wished he was still pinned against the wall—his knees were weak and his belly was in free fall and he had no purchase to keep his entire being from sliding into Phil's mouth. Phil. His hands scrabbled for Phil's head and he was grateful now for Phil's arm, this time laid across his hips. He came so fast and still didn't feel as though he had come down to solid earth.
But Phil was already standing again, pushing Dan full-length against the wall. He stroked Dan's sweaty hair out of his eyes, his hands cool against Dan's flushed cheeks. Dan tried to focus on Phil's face. He was still trying to catch his breath, but it wasn't Phil's fault this time. Well, yes it was—he couldn't think clearly. As Phil came in to kiss him, tasting very much like Dan, Dan groped ineffectually at Phil's zipper, tight over his very hard cock.
Phil pulled back, his eyes shining, and shook his head. “Come with me.” He pulled Dan into the bathroom and turned on the shower. As steam filled the room, he took Dan's shirt off and slid his hands and his face down Dan's chest, and belly, and legs. He laced his fingers into Dan's to pull himself up and look in his eyes. He said, simply, “I love you, Dan.” Dan replied, “Phil.” Did he? He wasn't sure he was capable of saying anything. He lifted his hands to kiss each of Phil's knuckles. Then he slowly released his lover's hands and reached out to tear his clothes off.
Phil dragged now-shivering Dan into the shower and wrapped his arms around him as the hot water sluiced through the oh-so-tiny gaps between them. Dan grasped Phil's erection in one hand and cradled his balls in the other. There was a brief struggle—possibly punctuated by delirious giggles—as Dan wriggled his way down Phil's body, Phil never letting go of his shoulders. Dan wrapped his mouth around Phil's cock, still rolling his balls over his fingers. He had learned how to breathe through a blowjob, but it was hard to breathe anyway with so much water splashing in his face. It didn't matter, though, because Phil's orgasm was almost immediate, and Dan just needed to envelope him tightly until he was done. Phil.
Dan caught Phil as he slow-motion collapsed to the floor next to him, the water still drumming on them both.
“Phil,” he said. And he said another word: “In.”
“Would you—”
“—in—”
“—like to—what did you say?” Phil looked shocked, then a brilliant smile dawned on his face. “Yes?”
“Yes,” answered Dan, listening to make sure he was speaking aloud. “Yes, Phil.” He pulled Phil up and grabbed the soap to give them a quick wash—parts of himself, parts of Phil, anything he could reach—it was all the same.
Dan turned the water off. “There are loads of towels,” said Phil. Yes there were, even enough for Phil's towel obsession—five big fluffy towels stacked on the stool. They wrapped themselves in all of them against the quickly-cooling air. Dan rubbed his hair dryish, till Phil tangled his fingers in the curls and pulled Dan's head to him for some more kissing, managing to cause all their towels to fall to the floor. They pressed together, erections bumping against each other's bellies, and Dan was losing himself in Phil again. Phil suddenly scooped up the towels, draped one over Dan's shoulders, and, grabbing him by the arm, guided him down the hall. Dan nearly fell over one of his shoes, and kicked it into Phil's room. He reached down to grab his trousers from the floor just as Phil yanked him through the door and pushed it closed behind them.
Phil spread his four towels over his bed, pulled lube and condom out of his drawer, and turned to look at Dan. Dan hugged the fifth towel about him and looked back. Phil. Phil's black hair was damp and ruffled. The hairs on his chest and belly were dark against his pale pale skin. His penis rose toward Dan, hard and pink and beckoning. Dan's gaze traveled up to Phil's eyes, dark blue in the late-afternoon gloom. Phil's face was open and vulnerable and oh so dear. How could Dan love someone so much?
Dan closed the space between them and pushed Phil back onto the bed. He was kissing him again (how could he stop?) and reaching for the lube. He squeezed some onto Phil's fingers and positioned them to where Phil could gently play with him and help him to open up. Meanwhile, he used more lube to slide his own hand up and down Phil's hardness. When all was ready, he rolled the condom onto Phil and straddled him. They locked eyes, and Dan lowered down to Phil's cock and slowly, so slowly drew Phil into himself.
He had known what it was like to be inside somebody and feel impossibly close, and he had been inside of Phil in this way. But it felt even closer, in ways he couldn't describe, to have Phil inside of him. Boundaries had a way of dissolving whenever he was making love with Phil, but like this it was as though boundaries had never existed. And it felt so good for him, and for Phil. Phil. Dan moved up and down just a little bit, and Phil, who had barely blinked since Dan had begun, closed his eyes with pleasure. He reached up and found Dan's nipples and gave them a sharp pull. Dan's rhythm faltered at the electric shock of sensation. “Over,” he said, or tried to. Anyway, he dropped over Phil and they rolled till Phil was on top of him. Then things became a faster blur, and Phil was moving inside him and Dan was stroking himself to the same rhythm and when Phil came Dan brought himself off a moment later, making a sticky mess between their bellies.
When Dan could think again, face buried in Phil's hair (it was a little hard to breathe), the room was almost dark. The last light caught in Phil's eyes when he lifted his head to look at him.
“Phil,” Dan said, and it meant, “I love you”, and “you make me the happiest I've ever been”, and “I want to be with you forever.”