More Good News/Bad News
Sep. 15th, 2007 05:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tanarillPendulum is inactive, as neither myself nor Nai seem to be able to get anything to frickin happen.
To make up for this, Haunted Past has invaded my brain. Have some pr0ns.
Title: Bubbly
Fandom: DP, which is owned by Viacom and not me. I get no monies.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Graphic gay sex and implied noncon. Look, no one said you have to read it.
A happy new year
from us to you,
Hoping that you conquer your fears,
and all your dreams come true.
Love, Mom and Dad
Danny finished reading the New Year's card, for the eighth time in a row. Happy new year. He supposed it would be a happy new year, for them. This time last year, they'd been opening one of his first letters, still not quite able to believe that he was still alive and, if not safe, then at least in no more danger than he'd ever been. They'd been finding out the bounds of Dan's patience, learning how much they could put in a letter before Dan would refuse to deliver it, and the relief of being able to tell his family that he loved them overrode the fear of rejection.
This year was different. It marked more than a year and a half now since Dan had reappeared, this time without any fear for his existence; he was outside of time, after all. Instead, he'd gone after what he wanted the with the singlemindedness and cunning of Vlad Masters mixed with the raw power of Daniel Fenton. The result hadn't even been a battle.
For the most part, Danny was used to it by now. The loneliness and isolation had gotten to him at first, before he discovered that utterly insane and overpowered Dan might be, they were still similar enough to understand each other. There was a flat screen plasma and every game system from NES to PS3 (minus the Saturn, which hardly even counted as a game system) and Dan had made it quite clear almost from the beginning that just because he was a prisoner didn't mean that he got to shirk from academics and started homeschooling him. There was also Dan's exercise room, which was more like full-fledged home gym, and once Dan had gotten him kicking and screaming over the part where he hated workouts he'd found that he didn't like it any more than he ever had but the muscle mass was worth it. There was, in short, plenty to occupy his time.
The minutes dragged.
The nights were even longer. It wasn't that Dan wasn't gentle, because he was, and always took the time to make sure he wasn't hurting Danny. It wasn't like it was every night, because it wasn't, and he did it a lot less now. It was just that Dan was as stubborn and as implacable as a glacier. He'd learned early on that struggling and screaming did no good at all, and Dan just ignored anything he said. He'd just be doing schoolwork or chores or playing a video game and find himself wrapped in big, too-warm arms and that was that, whether or not he wanted it.
What was really unfair that he was a fabulous lover, or at least, Danny had had the best orgasms of his admittedly limited experience at Dan's hands and mouth and tongue. Half the time, and he'd never figured out how Dan did it, he was really horny when Dan grabbed him and carried him to bed (like a bride) and pleasured him until it hurt, although Dan generally had at least one orgasm too. If it had been his own choice, it would probably have been wonderful. But it was a constant ordeal, even those times when all Dan would do was hold him and touch him until he shuddered and came and then hold him and nuzzle him until he fell asleep.
And it was New Years. This meant that Dan had made an even larger meal than usual, and would probably cart him off to the couch and sit there idly stroking his hip all night while they watched TV or played a video game. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, but . . .
Hours later, Dan turned the TV to a news channel, waiting for the ball to drop, and Danny surprised himself and probably Dan by asking out loud what he'd been wondering for more than a year, in various ways: "Why me?"
"Why you what?" The hand that, indeed, had been stroking his hip paused in its motion.
"Why kidnap me? Why not my Mom? I mean, you're half Vlad, right?"
"Yes, but I'm also half you, and I didn't want anyone else." The hand on his hip applied more pressure-not uncomfortable, anything but uncomfortable, and Danny felt his body stir in response. But . . .
"But-"
"Up," interrupted Dan. "Two minutes to midnight, and I have to pour the wine."
This was another thing. Dan never forbade Danny alcohol; he just rarely purchased any, and after his first hangover Danny had decided it really wasn't worth it. But the crisp, sweet desert wine was another thing entirely. Allowed up, he got out of Dan's way and sat in silence as Dan poured. It was older than he was.
Only once he'd handed a slender flute to Danny did Dan talk again. "Why you? Because I thought you might understand. Because you're cute, and because I wanted to, and because I could. Don't tell me you haven't enjoyed it." Lips quirked into a smile.
Danny wanted to shout, to throw the flute on the floor and storm off, but it would have done no good. Dan would just clean it up and come find him later, and kiss the back of his neck until one of them fell asleep. And he was honest enough with himself now that he could admit that, yes, the orgasms were good, the fact that he didn't want them (or at least, not from Dan) notwithstanding.
Besides, he'd miss the ball drop.
"I'd enjoy it," retorted Danny instead, "if I had a choice. Any kind of choice. Most people don't like being raped."
It was risky, he knew, because in the first few months using the word rape had guaranteed another one, but at this point he couldn't quite summon the energy to care.
Dan didn't say anything, simply taking his glass from him and putting it on the coffee table next to his own and pulling Danny down on his lap, albeit in such a way that he could hold and drink from his flute. He also resumed petting, only it wasn't quite because slipping a hand up under his shirt and running the barest hint of a nail up and down his spine was not petting, not just. Danny tensed, not quite sure what Dan meant.
"Ten . . . " said Dan, as the ball was dropped.
"Nine . . . eight . . seven . . . " they counted in unison.
"Six," whispered Dan in Danny' ear, and Danny turned his head to look at Dan in question.
He was kissed.
Fourteen seconds into the new year, Dan remembered that Danny needed to breathe and backed off. "There," he said, looking at Danny's confused face. "That's why."
"I don't understand," mumbled Danny, still looking at him, baby blue eyes open wide.
This time the kiss landed on his forehead, and then there were kisses on his eyelids, his cheekbones, his ears, anywhere Dan's mouth could reach.
"What's to understand. I want you. I have you. That's all."
"But-"
He was shut up by another kiss. Dan knew how to kiss, an after all this time, so did Danny. At the same time, the hand not in Danny's shirt found its way to his pants.
Danny didn't protest, because fighting did no good.
He didn't resist while Dan removed his pants, fingers tickling the insides of his thighs, and stifled a moan when Dan removed his underpants and began to touch. He closed his eyes when he was lifted, like a rag doll, and slid over a few inches and then laid down. The couch creaked as Dan deftly pushed his legs aside and settled between them. Hands ran under his shirt, pushing it up toward his head, and then went south to play. He crushed his teeth together, determined not to make a noise.
Dan was good at sex. Someone, someone to whom Danny owed both a debt of gratitude and a punch for how painless it was, had taught him to be good at sex. But Danny would have been able to really hate Dan if it had hurt.
He made an abortive motion, damn well not bucking up into the touch. He hated this, he hated being raped. There was absolutely nothing good about it except for the way Dan moved his hand.
"You are," said Dan, from somewhere that put his head half a foot above Danny's, "so very beautiful like this."
Danny's eyes snapped open. Dan didn't talk during sex; it was something he'd always been grateful for, that Dan didn't torment him with words while violating him. "What?"
"You are beautiful like this," repeated Dan. "All unwrapped and needing and not wanting to admit that you're needing."
"I need you to-" was as far as Danny got with his retort before Dan moved his hand again and dipped his head down and did something really very nice to his left nipple with that tongue, and it was too much so he moaned, head falling back against the pillow.
"Don't talk," said Dan. "Don't talk, and I'll explain it to you."
Explain what? Danny wanted to ask, but didn't.
"I didn't escape that damned thermos. Clockwork let me out, although at the time I thought I'd escaped under my own power. And the first thing I wanted, the most important thing, was revenge. On you for ruining my existence and on the Vlad I know for managing it . . . and I almost rushed in and killed you straight off before I realized that I was here, now, without one of Clockwork's medallions." He bent his head again to take the other nipple gently in his teeth, and nibbled it for an while. He did not stop stroking.
"So I realized that I existed independently of time now. I don't know quite how that happened, but I assume it had something to with you. Whatever the reason, though, I don't have to worry about turning you now. Which meant I was free to kill you, but I didn't really want to just kill you. I wanted you to suffer."
A line of kisses trailed down to his navel, and Danny jerked but refused to call out. The kisses trailed lower, turned into nips at his inner thighs, close but not close enough to what he needed-
No. He did not need that. Not from Dan, not ever.
"I came up with a better plan: capture you, and then destroy Amity Park while you watched, and then destroy you. That was the original plan, at any rate. And it went of without a hitch-" mouth, lips, amazing prehensile tongue an so much warm wet heat and Danny's breath hitched before Dan pulled back, licking his lips. "-and then I found, once I had you, that I didn't want to kill you after all. So I made you an offer."
That tongue descended again, licking a droplet of precome from his slit. He would have bucked, unable to help it, only Dan's hands on his hips held him down. "I had planned to crumble Amity Park anyway . . . but if I did, there was a slight chance that you'd go crazy enough to defeat even me. And then I planned to embarrass you the worst way I could, by raping you and making you like it. It was good, he first few months while you asked me to stop, and then I found something even better: making you moan."
Dan's fingers returned, stroking him lightly, teasingly, before dipping even lower and holding his scrotum, massaging it lightly and then harder and then a finger pressed against his perineum and Danny moaned. Dan closed his eyes, appearing only to appreciate the sound.
"It's wonderful, making you want and need so badly. I decided to keep you around, and then I decided that since I was going to keep you, you might as well be really beautiful for me and," a finger, coated in something slick and cool, pressed just a little lower, against and then into Danny, "that was it, or nearly."
Danny forced himself to relax, knowing what was coming, doing his best not to fight it when Dan slipped another finger inside, and began scissoring them.
"Because there as something else that happened, after you started trimming down and filling out. I found that I wanted you. Not just your body or the moans that you make. I want you to scream my name, I want to to get hard just from a kiss or my touch or the sound of my voice. I want you come to me when you're horny as hell and I'm the only one who can do anything. And I want other things also." A finger pressed against that spot inside of Danny that always, always sent green-white sparks of energy floating though his blood, and he shuddered, muscled tensing around the invading digits.
"I want you to come to bed at night because you can. Because you want to. Not because you have to. I want you to talk to me, to ask me whatever you want, without fear. I want you to trust me. I want you to want me. So Danny," the fingers pulled back, leaving Danny aching and empty, and then Dan was there but not pushing in yet an Danny knew what came next, "if you want a choice . . . do you want this?"
No he wanted to say. No, how could anyone ever want you? Only it wasn't true. He could see how someone could want Dan, and right at this moment, the fact that Dan had stopped was bothering him more than anything else. Did he want Dan?
Had he lived with the man, slept with the man, for more than a year to know nothing about him? To know that he did care about Danny, in a way. There were never any junk foods in the house. And Danny's grades had pulled up, even though it was college level AP credits now. He exercised every day, whether he wanted to or not, and when he lifted weights he automatically trusted Dan to spot for him. He'd read more since being here than he had in the rest of his life. He couldn't imagine life without him anymore. But did he want Dan?
Well, he didn't not want Dan.
He opened his eyes, met glowing red eyes with clear blue ones. "Yes."
Dan moaned, and pressed in. He was, as always, gentle, letting Danny adjust before pressing in further. "You're wonderful," he said, roughly, once he was fully in and before Danny could respond, he was kissed again, hard enough to bruise but he was in charge.
The kiss went on for a long time.
" . . . wow," said Dan, when it finally ended. "Are you ready?"
"Yes."
Dan moved, pulled back, urgent and quivering with the effort of holding himself back until Danny practically growled, "Dan, you want me to scream, make me scream," and he slammed forward and even though the angle wasn't quite right it wasn't wrong and Danny gasped.
Dan did it again, rolling his hips a little to get a better angle.
Danny, for the first time, moved one of his hands from gripping the couch to his own member, slick with sweat and precome, and began stroking, watching Dan with half lidded eyes. It wasn't sexy but it was incredibly erotic and Danny could not tear his eyes away.
The next thrust almost hit that spot, and the third did and after that it was gasping, sweaty, the scent of hot male and sex and wave after wave of sensation as Dan pounded into him. "Daaaaaaaan," he moaned, eventually, and there was sticky heat inside of him and Dan looking, of all impossible things, happy. Not smug or self-satisfied or victorious, happy.
Dan pulled out. "Nice," he said, "But I didn't hear a scream."
Danny's heart skipped a beat and then Dan had moved again and his hand was replaced by hot mouth and then hot throat and tongue, and one hand was on his balls and another was pushing into him, seeking out that spot, and it was too good, it hurt it was so good, and he screamed Dan's name as the world whited out.
The first thing he saw, when he could see again, was Dan licking a stray dribble of come off his chin. " . . . wow," he said.
"Wow," agreed Dan, crawling so that he could lie full-length on Danny, which felt nice and warm.
A few minutes later, Danny found the energy to ask, "So . . . what now?"
"Mm," replied Dan. "Well, right now, I want to carry you to bed and do that again, and again, and again, until sunrise. But I think right now you are going to sleep.
"Yes," yawned Danny. "I meant, what are we now?"
"Oh. I don't know. I want to do that again. And I know you liked it . . . " he trailed off, sounding almost uncertain through his cat-with-the-cream grin.
Danny smiled wearily. "How about this: I don't hate you, but after that, it's up to you."
" . . . I can agree to that. Bed?"
"Sleep."
"Sleep."
Dan picked Danny up, and carried him bridal style to the bed. He was warm and strong and right at this moment did not smell so much of burning . . . burning as of wood smoke and campfires and sex, and Danny found himself relaxing against the broad chest.
He was asleep before they even got to the bedroom.
Behind them, two glasses of untouched champagne sat on the coffee table, the only observers of the party in Time Square.
Holyshit that got long. H'okay. Someone who isn't me needs to write long detailed response pr0ns now, or RP them with me. Please.
To make up for this, Haunted Past has invaded my brain. Have some pr0ns.
Title: Bubbly
Fandom: DP, which is owned by Viacom and not me. I get no monies.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Graphic gay sex and implied noncon. Look, no one said you have to read it.
A happy new year
from us to you,
Hoping that you conquer your fears,
and all your dreams come true.
Love, Mom and Dad
Danny finished reading the New Year's card, for the eighth time in a row. Happy new year. He supposed it would be a happy new year, for them. This time last year, they'd been opening one of his first letters, still not quite able to believe that he was still alive and, if not safe, then at least in no more danger than he'd ever been. They'd been finding out the bounds of Dan's patience, learning how much they could put in a letter before Dan would refuse to deliver it, and the relief of being able to tell his family that he loved them overrode the fear of rejection.
This year was different. It marked more than a year and a half now since Dan had reappeared, this time without any fear for his existence; he was outside of time, after all. Instead, he'd gone after what he wanted the with the singlemindedness and cunning of Vlad Masters mixed with the raw power of Daniel Fenton. The result hadn't even been a battle.
For the most part, Danny was used to it by now. The loneliness and isolation had gotten to him at first, before he discovered that utterly insane and overpowered Dan might be, they were still similar enough to understand each other. There was a flat screen plasma and every game system from NES to PS3 (minus the Saturn, which hardly even counted as a game system) and Dan had made it quite clear almost from the beginning that just because he was a prisoner didn't mean that he got to shirk from academics and started homeschooling him. There was also Dan's exercise room, which was more like full-fledged home gym, and once Dan had gotten him kicking and screaming over the part where he hated workouts he'd found that he didn't like it any more than he ever had but the muscle mass was worth it. There was, in short, plenty to occupy his time.
The minutes dragged.
The nights were even longer. It wasn't that Dan wasn't gentle, because he was, and always took the time to make sure he wasn't hurting Danny. It wasn't like it was every night, because it wasn't, and he did it a lot less now. It was just that Dan was as stubborn and as implacable as a glacier. He'd learned early on that struggling and screaming did no good at all, and Dan just ignored anything he said. He'd just be doing schoolwork or chores or playing a video game and find himself wrapped in big, too-warm arms and that was that, whether or not he wanted it.
What was really unfair that he was a fabulous lover, or at least, Danny had had the best orgasms of his admittedly limited experience at Dan's hands and mouth and tongue. Half the time, and he'd never figured out how Dan did it, he was really horny when Dan grabbed him and carried him to bed (like a bride) and pleasured him until it hurt, although Dan generally had at least one orgasm too. If it had been his own choice, it would probably have been wonderful. But it was a constant ordeal, even those times when all Dan would do was hold him and touch him until he shuddered and came and then hold him and nuzzle him until he fell asleep.
And it was New Years. This meant that Dan had made an even larger meal than usual, and would probably cart him off to the couch and sit there idly stroking his hip all night while they watched TV or played a video game. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, but . . .
Hours later, Dan turned the TV to a news channel, waiting for the ball to drop, and Danny surprised himself and probably Dan by asking out loud what he'd been wondering for more than a year, in various ways: "Why me?"
"Why you what?" The hand that, indeed, had been stroking his hip paused in its motion.
"Why kidnap me? Why not my Mom? I mean, you're half Vlad, right?"
"Yes, but I'm also half you, and I didn't want anyone else." The hand on his hip applied more pressure-not uncomfortable, anything but uncomfortable, and Danny felt his body stir in response. But . . .
"But-"
"Up," interrupted Dan. "Two minutes to midnight, and I have to pour the wine."
This was another thing. Dan never forbade Danny alcohol; he just rarely purchased any, and after his first hangover Danny had decided it really wasn't worth it. But the crisp, sweet desert wine was another thing entirely. Allowed up, he got out of Dan's way and sat in silence as Dan poured. It was older than he was.
Only once he'd handed a slender flute to Danny did Dan talk again. "Why you? Because I thought you might understand. Because you're cute, and because I wanted to, and because I could. Don't tell me you haven't enjoyed it." Lips quirked into a smile.
Danny wanted to shout, to throw the flute on the floor and storm off, but it would have done no good. Dan would just clean it up and come find him later, and kiss the back of his neck until one of them fell asleep. And he was honest enough with himself now that he could admit that, yes, the orgasms were good, the fact that he didn't want them (or at least, not from Dan) notwithstanding.
Besides, he'd miss the ball drop.
"I'd enjoy it," retorted Danny instead, "if I had a choice. Any kind of choice. Most people don't like being raped."
It was risky, he knew, because in the first few months using the word rape had guaranteed another one, but at this point he couldn't quite summon the energy to care.
Dan didn't say anything, simply taking his glass from him and putting it on the coffee table next to his own and pulling Danny down on his lap, albeit in such a way that he could hold and drink from his flute. He also resumed petting, only it wasn't quite because slipping a hand up under his shirt and running the barest hint of a nail up and down his spine was not petting, not just. Danny tensed, not quite sure what Dan meant.
"Ten . . . " said Dan, as the ball was dropped.
"Nine . . . eight . . seven . . . " they counted in unison.
"Six," whispered Dan in Danny' ear, and Danny turned his head to look at Dan in question.
He was kissed.
Fourteen seconds into the new year, Dan remembered that Danny needed to breathe and backed off. "There," he said, looking at Danny's confused face. "That's why."
"I don't understand," mumbled Danny, still looking at him, baby blue eyes open wide.
This time the kiss landed on his forehead, and then there were kisses on his eyelids, his cheekbones, his ears, anywhere Dan's mouth could reach.
"What's to understand. I want you. I have you. That's all."
"But-"
He was shut up by another kiss. Dan knew how to kiss, an after all this time, so did Danny. At the same time, the hand not in Danny's shirt found its way to his pants.
Danny didn't protest, because fighting did no good.
He didn't resist while Dan removed his pants, fingers tickling the insides of his thighs, and stifled a moan when Dan removed his underpants and began to touch. He closed his eyes when he was lifted, like a rag doll, and slid over a few inches and then laid down. The couch creaked as Dan deftly pushed his legs aside and settled between them. Hands ran under his shirt, pushing it up toward his head, and then went south to play. He crushed his teeth together, determined not to make a noise.
Dan was good at sex. Someone, someone to whom Danny owed both a debt of gratitude and a punch for how painless it was, had taught him to be good at sex. But Danny would have been able to really hate Dan if it had hurt.
He made an abortive motion, damn well not bucking up into the touch. He hated this, he hated being raped. There was absolutely nothing good about it except for the way Dan moved his hand.
"You are," said Dan, from somewhere that put his head half a foot above Danny's, "so very beautiful like this."
Danny's eyes snapped open. Dan didn't talk during sex; it was something he'd always been grateful for, that Dan didn't torment him with words while violating him. "What?"
"You are beautiful like this," repeated Dan. "All unwrapped and needing and not wanting to admit that you're needing."
"I need you to-" was as far as Danny got with his retort before Dan moved his hand again and dipped his head down and did something really very nice to his left nipple with that tongue, and it was too much so he moaned, head falling back against the pillow.
"Don't talk," said Dan. "Don't talk, and I'll explain it to you."
Explain what? Danny wanted to ask, but didn't.
"I didn't escape that damned thermos. Clockwork let me out, although at the time I thought I'd escaped under my own power. And the first thing I wanted, the most important thing, was revenge. On you for ruining my existence and on the Vlad I know for managing it . . . and I almost rushed in and killed you straight off before I realized that I was here, now, without one of Clockwork's medallions." He bent his head again to take the other nipple gently in his teeth, and nibbled it for an while. He did not stop stroking.
"So I realized that I existed independently of time now. I don't know quite how that happened, but I assume it had something to with you. Whatever the reason, though, I don't have to worry about turning you now. Which meant I was free to kill you, but I didn't really want to just kill you. I wanted you to suffer."
A line of kisses trailed down to his navel, and Danny jerked but refused to call out. The kisses trailed lower, turned into nips at his inner thighs, close but not close enough to what he needed-
No. He did not need that. Not from Dan, not ever.
"I came up with a better plan: capture you, and then destroy Amity Park while you watched, and then destroy you. That was the original plan, at any rate. And it went of without a hitch-" mouth, lips, amazing prehensile tongue an so much warm wet heat and Danny's breath hitched before Dan pulled back, licking his lips. "-and then I found, once I had you, that I didn't want to kill you after all. So I made you an offer."
That tongue descended again, licking a droplet of precome from his slit. He would have bucked, unable to help it, only Dan's hands on his hips held him down. "I had planned to crumble Amity Park anyway . . . but if I did, there was a slight chance that you'd go crazy enough to defeat even me. And then I planned to embarrass you the worst way I could, by raping you and making you like it. It was good, he first few months while you asked me to stop, and then I found something even better: making you moan."
Dan's fingers returned, stroking him lightly, teasingly, before dipping even lower and holding his scrotum, massaging it lightly and then harder and then a finger pressed against his perineum and Danny moaned. Dan closed his eyes, appearing only to appreciate the sound.
"It's wonderful, making you want and need so badly. I decided to keep you around, and then I decided that since I was going to keep you, you might as well be really beautiful for me and," a finger, coated in something slick and cool, pressed just a little lower, against and then into Danny, "that was it, or nearly."
Danny forced himself to relax, knowing what was coming, doing his best not to fight it when Dan slipped another finger inside, and began scissoring them.
"Because there as something else that happened, after you started trimming down and filling out. I found that I wanted you. Not just your body or the moans that you make. I want you to scream my name, I want to to get hard just from a kiss or my touch or the sound of my voice. I want you come to me when you're horny as hell and I'm the only one who can do anything. And I want other things also." A finger pressed against that spot inside of Danny that always, always sent green-white sparks of energy floating though his blood, and he shuddered, muscled tensing around the invading digits.
"I want you to come to bed at night because you can. Because you want to. Not because you have to. I want you to talk to me, to ask me whatever you want, without fear. I want you to trust me. I want you to want me. So Danny," the fingers pulled back, leaving Danny aching and empty, and then Dan was there but not pushing in yet an Danny knew what came next, "if you want a choice . . . do you want this?"
No he wanted to say. No, how could anyone ever want you? Only it wasn't true. He could see how someone could want Dan, and right at this moment, the fact that Dan had stopped was bothering him more than anything else. Did he want Dan?
Had he lived with the man, slept with the man, for more than a year to know nothing about him? To know that he did care about Danny, in a way. There were never any junk foods in the house. And Danny's grades had pulled up, even though it was college level AP credits now. He exercised every day, whether he wanted to or not, and when he lifted weights he automatically trusted Dan to spot for him. He'd read more since being here than he had in the rest of his life. He couldn't imagine life without him anymore. But did he want Dan?
Well, he didn't not want Dan.
He opened his eyes, met glowing red eyes with clear blue ones. "Yes."
Dan moaned, and pressed in. He was, as always, gentle, letting Danny adjust before pressing in further. "You're wonderful," he said, roughly, once he was fully in and before Danny could respond, he was kissed again, hard enough to bruise but he was in charge.
The kiss went on for a long time.
" . . . wow," said Dan, when it finally ended. "Are you ready?"
"Yes."
Dan moved, pulled back, urgent and quivering with the effort of holding himself back until Danny practically growled, "Dan, you want me to scream, make me scream," and he slammed forward and even though the angle wasn't quite right it wasn't wrong and Danny gasped.
Dan did it again, rolling his hips a little to get a better angle.
Danny, for the first time, moved one of his hands from gripping the couch to his own member, slick with sweat and precome, and began stroking, watching Dan with half lidded eyes. It wasn't sexy but it was incredibly erotic and Danny could not tear his eyes away.
The next thrust almost hit that spot, and the third did and after that it was gasping, sweaty, the scent of hot male and sex and wave after wave of sensation as Dan pounded into him. "Daaaaaaaan," he moaned, eventually, and there was sticky heat inside of him and Dan looking, of all impossible things, happy. Not smug or self-satisfied or victorious, happy.
Dan pulled out. "Nice," he said, "But I didn't hear a scream."
Danny's heart skipped a beat and then Dan had moved again and his hand was replaced by hot mouth and then hot throat and tongue, and one hand was on his balls and another was pushing into him, seeking out that spot, and it was too good, it hurt it was so good, and he screamed Dan's name as the world whited out.
The first thing he saw, when he could see again, was Dan licking a stray dribble of come off his chin. " . . . wow," he said.
"Wow," agreed Dan, crawling so that he could lie full-length on Danny, which felt nice and warm.
A few minutes later, Danny found the energy to ask, "So . . . what now?"
"Mm," replied Dan. "Well, right now, I want to carry you to bed and do that again, and again, and again, until sunrise. But I think right now you are going to sleep.
"Yes," yawned Danny. "I meant, what are we now?"
"Oh. I don't know. I want to do that again. And I know you liked it . . . " he trailed off, sounding almost uncertain through his cat-with-the-cream grin.
Danny smiled wearily. "How about this: I don't hate you, but after that, it's up to you."
" . . . I can agree to that. Bed?"
"Sleep."
"Sleep."
Dan picked Danny up, and carried him bridal style to the bed. He was warm and strong and right at this moment did not smell so much of burning . . . burning as of wood smoke and campfires and sex, and Danny found himself relaxing against the broad chest.
He was asleep before they even got to the bedroom.
Behind them, two glasses of untouched champagne sat on the coffee table, the only observers of the party in Time Square.
Holyshit that got long. H'okay. Someone who isn't me needs to write long detailed response pr0ns now, or RP them with me. Please.
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Date: 2007-09-16 01:17 am (UTC)one had was on his balls Should this be hand and not had?