Chapter 40
It’s not like Danny’s stalling or anything.
They just need to walk the dogs first, that’s all.
Because if they don’t, Buddy and Luna are gonna have tons of energy later, which means they’ll be begging for attention right when Danny and Sasha are breaking out the lube.
“And trust me,” he tells Sasha, “you do not want Buddy trying to play fetch with you while you’re having sex. ”
So if he takes a longer route than usual, going up and down side streets until Sasha’s almost huffing with impatience, well, better safe than sorry.
And of course, they can’t skip their post-workout smoothies.
Especially since those smoothies are now pulling double duty as post- and pre-workout smoothies.
A joke that sounds kind of stupid when he says it out loud, and Sasha sighs instead of laughing, but…
they actually are about to burn a lot of calories. It’s science. Not stalling.
“We could have, like, dinner if you—”
Sasha drains his smoothie and knocks the glass down on the counter, a clear signal for I’m done with this conversation. “I am going to take shower and get ready. Okay?”
“Yeah, totally,” Danny says. “I’ll just, uh…” But Sasha’s already gone, so he exhales and looks down at Buddy. “I guess I’ll do that, too.”
In the shower, he runs through the motions: soap, shampoo, landscape check.
Takes a deep breath, then another, and wonders what Sasha’s doing in the guest bathroom to “get ready.” He’d scrolled through a step-by-step douching guide a few days ago, and it had kind of freaked him out—like, it was talking about enemas.
And bulbs. And all this other stuff and honestly, it sounded like a huge hassle. Not to mention uncomfortable.
Which is kind of the problem, isn’t it? That no matter how much gay porn he tries to watch—lately, he hasn’t even been finishing the videos—anal just seems uncomfortable at best, and really fucking painful at worst. Like, yeah, obviously some people enjoy it, but what if Sasha doesn’t?
What if Danny hurts him? What if they have to go to the emergency room for a sex injury?
The shower’s getting suffocatingly hot, so he turns it off, grabbing a towel and stepping over Buddy onto the bathmat. As soon as the cool air hits his skin, he feels a lot better… and also a little ridiculous.
“Okay, Buddy, no one’s going to the emergency room.”
Buddy looks up at him like, If you say so.
“Yeah, exactly. I just need to, like, chill.” And also remember the advice he’d gotten from the internet, which was basically lube, lube, and more lube, plus time and patience.
Tonight, he has all of those things—so while he might not know what the hell he’s doing, he’s still going to make this as good as possible for Sasha.
And if Sasha enjoys it, then maybe Danny can enjoy it, too.
Buddy follows him from the bathroom to the bedroom as he brushes his teeth, digs in his drawers for the good underwear, and pulls on a pair of sweatpants (whatever, they’ll come off in two seconds).
Finally, he grabs the lube and a couple of condoms before doubling back to the bathroom for a clean towel.
“Okay,” he tells Buddy, who’s waiting for his next move. “I’ve got everything. Ready to go.”
Then he plays Candy Crush on his phone for seven minutes.
When he snaps out of it and finally makes his way to the guest room, it’s empty.
Sasha’s still in the shower, doing… something, and Danny’s tempted to text him to ask what.
Instead, he puts his supplies on the nightstand and sits down on the bed to wait.
And wait. And—wait, it’s still the same time it was when he got here.
But the house is so quiet without his parents’ voices downstairs, and it’s kind of freaking him out; all he can hear is running water and the rapid beat of his own pulse.
And it gets even quieter when the water stops.
Sasha’s moving around in the bathroom now, rushing through his post-shower routine—or is Danny just imagining that?
He’s barely breathing, straining to hear the sound of the door opening; his stomach feels like the time on tour when one of the rhythmic gymnasts tried to teach him how to use her ribbon, and the whole thing ended up in knots.
It’s normal to be this nervous, though, right?
Like, okay, he doesn’t remember his palms sweating this much the first time he had sex with a girl…
but that’s probably because it happened on prom night, and he and Brit Morris were giggly and tipsy, with just enough liquid courage to forget about being self-conscious.
You could tell him you’ve changed your mind, a small voice inside of him suggests. You could tell him you don’t actually—
But then Sasha appears in the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. And yeah, he was rushing—his hair’s still damp, his chest and shoulders glistening with scattered water droplets.
He’s clearly a little nervous, too, hovering there on the threshold like he’s not sure what to do next; but it’s his eagerness that gets to Danny, because there’s no way he’s letting Sasha down now.
Sasha blushes, even though Danny hasn’t spoken yet. “Uh—” He glances down at Buddy, who’s resting in his usual spot by the door. “Luna is here, too.”
“Yeah?” Danny cranes his neck, catching a glimpse of her near the stairs. “That’s okay, she won’t come in. It’s just cause my mom’s gone, she wants to hang out. She’ll be chill.”
Sasha nods, then takes another step into the room, fiddling with the edge of his towel.
Even though he isn’t saying anything, it’s obvious that he’s hoping Danny will take the lead, tell him where to go and what to do.
Which Danny normally wouldn’t mind, since he knows Sasha’s still self-conscious about the gap between their experiences…
except this is brand-new to Danny, too, and for a moment he wishes it didn’t have to be all on him.
But he won’t admit that to Sasha, because Sasha’s the one making himself vulnerable tonight, not Danny.
Sasha’s the one who’s going to be letting Danny inside of him, and he’s trusting Danny to do this, somehow, without hurting him.
So if Danny has to be in charge in order for Sasha to feel comfortable, then that’s the very least he can do.
“Come here,” he says.
Relief washes over Sasha’s expression as he crosses the room. He stops two feet shy of the bed, missing the open invitation between Danny’s legs, so Danny tugs him forward until he’s in the right place.
“Hey.” Danny runs his hands up and down Sasha’s sides, feeling goosebumps every time his fingers move from towel to bare skin—and tremors, too, Sasha’s knee jolting against the mattress when Danny’s thumb glides along the slope of his abs. “You okay?”
He has to tilt his head back so he can look Sasha in the eyes. Sasha’s paler than usual, his throat bobbing as he nods, but his gaze never wavers.
“We’ll go really slow. And if you change your mind”—Sasha shakes his head—“we can stop. Any time.”
“I don’t want to stop,” Sasha says, sounding so stubborn and sure of himself that Danny can’t help smiling.
“I know. But if we need to slow down, or if anything hurts—like, seriously, anything—just tell me, okay?”
Sasha nods, but that’s not enough. Danny wants his word.
“Sash? Promise?”
“Yes. Promise.”
One of the ribbon-knots in Danny’s stomach comes undone, and when he reaches for Sasha again, it’s to pull him down for a slow, unhurried kiss.
They have the whole night ahead of them now, and it feels like forever after years of only hours and minutes.
So Danny’s going to take his sweet time with this, not because the internet told him to, but because he fucking can.
He kisses Sasha until he doesn’t taste his toothpaste anymore.
He lingers at all the best spots on his neck, even daring to leave a small mark under his ear, where no one else will find it.
He licks the last water droplets from his shoulders, smiling when Sasha makes a strangled noise; then he heads south, following the familiar trail of Sasha’s chest and stomach, closer and closer to where they both want him to be…
…And right when Sasha’s breathing hitches, he takes a detour, curling his fingers into the towel and exposing a coral-sharp hipbone. He kisses Sasha there, and on his other side, too, as if he hasn’t noticed anything else begging for his attention.
“Danny,” Sasha says, his voice hoarse.
Danny glances up, grinning as he toys with the fold in Sasha’s towel. “Yeah?”
“I—can you—”
Danny thinks about teasing him a little longer, but Sasha doesn’t look like he can take much more, and honestly, neither can Danny’s spine. This angle sucks.
He changes his mind a few seconds later, though, when the towel hits the floor and he has a front-row view of Sasha’s dick.
It’s hard as high-bar steel, already glistening at the tip, and Danny wants his mouth on it stat, so his spine can deal with the consequences tomorrow.
He goes all in, hunching over and spreading his thighs to get a better angle as he chases the salty-sweet taste of Sasha’s skin.
It’s easy to get lost in the gasps and stifled groans, in the way Sasha’s hips keep jerking forward, his hands gripping Danny’s shoulders like he needs something to hold onto.
It’s easy (ish) to ignore the fact that gymnasts have flexibility limits, too, and this position is definitely pushing Danny’s, his neck and lower back muscles begging for a break.
It’s even almost easy enough to forget where this is going, that Sasha’s expecting more than just a blowjob from him tonight.
Until Sasha says his name again, urgently this time, and when Danny looks up, he steps back and mumbles, “No more, I-I am going to…”
Instead of finishing the sentence, he blushes and gestures to the bed.
“Can we, uh…”