The Oil Fic (Phan)

The Low Fic

Browsing through his computer, Phil started to feel drowsier by the minute. His eyelids intently moved to the sound of a faint lullaby in his head. He smiled, going over the mundane day in his head- absolutely nothing to worry about.

"Oh, Phil!" From across the hallway, his name dragged on for a sensually long period of time. He opened his eyes, inspecting the darkening atmosphere around him. The door was ajar, bringing in light from the bulb right outside. The thud of two light feet began sounding down the corridor, approaching in a happy skip, to the rhythmic beat of a song.

Slowly, the door creaked open, showering the opposite wall with light from the hallway, and in walked Dan- like a fallen angel bathed in godly lighting.. a very dirtied fallen angel.

"I quite like them, what do you think?" Once the glow was no more blinding, Phil took his time inspecting Dan's new ripped white jeans. His legs, now looking slightly fuller and muscled up as an aftermath of his evening stroll. His thighs were obviously flexed and in need of a good oil rub-down, but it still didn't stop him from putting the jeans on for a sizing.

But that didn't matter. Not when his eyes had a lick of the cake. Just as Dan was doing his whirl, Phil halted him to notice that, for the first time, Dan's shirt was short. For the first time, Dan's jeans were belted and pulled all the way up to his waist. For the first time, his pants fully stretched around his firm apple bottom.

He's standing close enough, Phil thought, ridding his legs of the laptop then yanking the belt to bring Dan down to the couch- to his lap.
"They look great." He said, burying his face in his hair, his hands finding Dan's thighs then tracing up and down his hips.

Dan smiled and rubbed against Phil gently "Well, something is telling me that it looks a bit more than 'great'." He breathes out, smiling, satisfied to know that Phil is trying his hardest to hold his breath. One last grind made Phil groan in defeat, deflating from the stiff position he was in and pushing Dan forward with a suggestive thrust.

"Ow, easy." He breathed out another chuckle and turned around, locking Phil in with both his knees and sitting on his lap with his butt poking out- an offer for Phil to finally feel his way around.

The fabric stretched and pulled, giving Phil the near-nude experience of groping dat ass. His face was mushed to Dan's, kissing the breath out of his lungs and panting. They were both overwhelmed in a sensory overload, stacked within a wicked mix of pleasurable, ear-ringing lust. The jeans were surely no longer needed.

Article after the other, all that was left was a pair of pants. Dan knelt across the couch panting against his elbows with his butt waving Phil a delicious Hello, handsome. Just after he pulled down Dan's pants to greet back, a few red hand prints were sure to make their way into that. And shortly after, he had time tell him that it wasn't only his hand making an impression under those white apple bottom jeans.

((Inspired by Flo Rida's "Low"..who would've thought?))