Miles of skin
summary: there’s so much dan loves, it’s hard to list it all
genre: fluff,
warnings:swearing, sexual scenes (not too detailed), lots of body imagery
hair
When Dan was 18 and dreaming up his ideal partner, it never started with black, straight hair. It was usually blonde, maybe slightly ginger, and swept away from their face. his ideal man was a model. he thought of them stood on a beach, perhaps, their hair blowing in the wind. jaw strong and chiselled, Dan much smaller, nestled in their arms like a prize.
But Phil, he wasn’t like that. Phil had hair as black as anything, in a straight fringe across his forehead. he wasn’t a chiselled model, and he certainly wasn’t much taller than Dan. when he stood on the beach, he squinted and complained that his glasses were going to blow away, and took time to swipe his hair away from said glasses. Dan couldn’t stand nestled under his arm, more like the other way round. but Phil was special. As Dan got older, he realised that the perfect guy wasn’t perfect. His Phil wasn’t perfect, either. But he was the closest, he thinks, he could ever get. He didn’t want perfect, anymore, he wanted his Phil. His Phil with the stupid straight emo hair that, when he got older, started being pushed into a quiff. Phil looked sexy with a quiff.
eyes
Dan had never been one for beautiful eyes. he didn’t look into someone’s eyes and feel taken away by their colour, or shape, or size. when he was younger, he struggled to look into people’s eyes, anyway, preferring to cast his gaze between their eyebrows or down at the floor. he struggled to feel any connections and he certainly did not believe eyes could hold pain or happiness. he just didn’t believe it. he hated his own eyes, too. he hated their colour and the almond shape, his obnoxiously long eyelashes that curled into his eyes sometimes and hurt. but, then he met Phil.
it was when Dan saw a picture of Phil that he started to doubt his own intuition. you could go swimming in those eyes he thought. in fact, he commented it, right there on the very photo. the camera he used for YouTube did no justice. when they met, it was the first pair of eyes Dan could look straight into. the first pair he could see love brimming in, focused solely on him. Dan was elated. it was the first pair he saw the pain in, shown by shed tears as they hugged goodbye at the train station. it was the first he saw untainted happiness in when Dan agreed to move in with him after announcing he would be attending Manchester university. they were, undoubtedly, just eyes. but my god, they were the most beautiful pair Dan had ever seen. though, Phil.s favourite activity was to argue that Dan's were, in fact, the “most beautiful plus 1.”
lips
Dan always thought lips were just lips. he didn’t understand why he was so chapped, he didn’t understand why people got injections to plump them up, he didn’t understand at all. the only time he really concentrated on people’s lips was when he couldn’t be bothered listening to what they were saying, so he’d lip-read instead, albeit rather unsuccessfully. he never looked at someone and thought fuck, they should do something about that or wow I wish I could kiss them. well, until he met Phil, of course.
after he’d noticed Phil's eyes, his gaze wandered down to his lips. plump and inviting, pink and so smooth. Dan suddenly felt the need to apply five tubs of Vaseline. he stared at Phil’s lips the day they met, and not just to lip read. Phil didn’t really hint at much, but Dan saw how his lips curved into a smirk, obviously. they’d gotten on the Manchester eye, hands clasped between them. Dan thought he’d been subtle. Phil had bitten his lip, Dan had reciprocated without thinking. that’s when he was kissed. soft and gentle, unsure yet so passionately. it was wonderful, chapped against smooth. Dan reiterated his apologies for his chapped lips. Phil laughed and stroked his thumb along the bottom one, pulling it and watching it ping back into place. another gentle kiss. you’re perfect.
neck
Dan didn’t have a neck kink, he told himself, he just found it really fucking arousing when someone kissed his neck. or if he was indulging himself alone, or perhaps on Skype to Phil, he swiped his thumb along the side now and then, gasping at the spark of unadulterated pleasure. but he didn’t have a neck kink. Phil changed things for him, though.
the first time they made love was wonderful. Dan experienced things he’d never felt, just taking and taking from Phil's body, only able to emit the smallest gasps of love. Phil gave it all to him, never held back. he showed Dan what he’d been missing.
they were moulded together, one entity. Phil buried deep inside him, his head tugged into his neck as he whispered encouraging words. Dan’s eyes were squeezed shut, alleviating his senses most deliciously. that’s when Phil had whimpered against his neck, the blow of hot hair making Dan tip his head back and let out an almost scream. a quiet scream, no doubt. Phil had smirked, pulling back to look at Dan’s face (which was turning more crimson by the second.)
“you’re beautiful,” Phil had whispered, kissing the corner of Dan’s mouth before moving back to his neck. he started kissing at first, barely applying much pressure, revelling in the short intake of breath from Dan’s mouth. then he applied more pressure before he was nibbling at Dan’s neck, moving along until he found the place that made Dan tense up, letting out a shrill moan and a large breath of air. Phil kept at this spot, sucking and sucking until the mark bloomed up against the pale skin of Dan’s neck.
Dan had come with a shout and then a whisper of Phil's name, Phil's mouth against his neck and his tip pressing against the most sensitive place inside of him. Dan vowed to never let anyone love him the way Phil did ever again.
shoulders
shoulders were never something Dan thought about. they usually resided underneath someone's clothes, occasionally flexing when the person lifted something or wrote. it was never anything special, nothing that made Dan want to strike up a conversation with a person or beg them to pin him down to a mattress. they were shoulders.
when he met Phil, he noticed that Phil's shoulders were broad. they were the type of shoulders you would associate with a man, though stereotypical. when Dan hugged him for the first time, he allowed himself to notice the muscle under his shirt, allowing his hands to find a home on top of them when they pulled away, not-so-discretely squeezing. Phil was his boyfriend, his man. he was the one Dan cuddled up to, a hand placed over his heart, head bracketed between Phil's chin and his shoulders, loved and protected from the whole world. dan felt pretty damn undefeatable with his head nestled there. he was the one who let Dan throw his arms around his neck when he was happy or encased him when he cried or screamed. he was the one who used the strength within those shoulders and arms to carry Dan to bed when he fell asleep on the sofa. he was nothing less than the love of dance life and his shoulders, though minor, were strong. they were Dan’s favourite place to sleep and his favourite place to wake up.
tummy
Phil always joked over messenger about actually having a dad bod hidden beneath the camera.
“id love you all the same,” Dan insisted every time, fondness twinkling in his eyes. Phil would smirk, leaning closer to the camera with his tongue caught between his teeth. Dan longed to be with him.
when Dan saw the first full body picture of Phil, his jaw literally dropped. Phil was beautiful, Dan had known that even just from looking at his face, but seeing his whole body was something Dan kept locked in his mind all the time. Phil was hot. not just hot, but hot. he was something Dan would've never dreamed of because his mind wasn't capable of conjuring something so wonderful. Phil had sent it to him shyly, telling Dan to check his messages whilst they were on Skype. Dan had stared at the picture for too long, only remembering he was on a video call when he heard Phil cough. he looked up just in time to see Phil cast his eyes down, blushing and his lip pulled between his teeth.
“you're fucking beautiful, Phil Lester,” Dan had whimpered, tears in his eyes. “I want to be with you so bad right now.”
“what, you don't think I'm too fat, hm?” Phil had whispered. Dan suddenly realised all of his jokes, were actually issues. Dan had stared at the screen, not quite sure what to say, not quite sure how to articulate what a fucking masterpiece Phil Lester was.
“I say this with all the love I can muster,” Dan had said. “shut the fuck up.”
Phil had giggled, finally looking back at Dan.
“Phil, how’d I get so lucky?” Dan settled on, shaking his head in disbelief.
Phil had never needed to complain about his appearance after that, because every day, Dan told him he was beautiful.
to this day in 2020, Dan tells him he's beautiful. whether its when Dan wakes up first and watches Phil for a while before carding a hand through his hair and muttering a “you're pretty, Lester,” or whether it's after a shower when Phil's skin is dry and flaky, and he's squinting trying to see through the fog without his glasses (Dan will usually slip his glasses back on, kiss the tip of his nose, unravel the towel from around his waist, and drop to his knees. Phil doesn't need words at times like this.)
legs
growing up, Dan had always had little stumpy legs that kept him below shoulder height of everyone. people made jokes about how his little legs couldn’t keep up in the playground, or his mother would tell him his legs were too little to climb the trees, and the workers at the fair told him he could ride when he grew a few more inches. it was frustrating for Dan... well until he hit 14. it was as if overnight, he became a lanky 6-foot-something lad, who didn’t quite know how to control his long limbs, constantly carving his shin off the coffee table and walking into open doors because he couldn’t see them at eye level. Dan hated long legs. well... his own.
Phil was also 6-foot-something. if Dan thought he was tall when he met Phil he was the short one. he had to look up at Phil and when they hugged, Dan's head just about reached his shoulder. Dan loved to run his hands up and down Phil’s legs when they were lying together on the bed, Phil giggling and tugging at Dan’s fringe with a “get back up here.” Dan wasn’t sure what it was, but Phil’s legs set off some kind of primal, animalistic urge within him. he wanted to cover every inch with his lips, kiss and nip his shins till they were red, suck on his thighs and leave bruises that still wouldn’t be faded by the time he got back to Manchester. he loved to hang behind Phil so he could watch how his legs moved, long and lean as he took clumsy steps downstairs or long strides down the streets of London. he loved to watch Phil try to fold his legs up in the bathtub, insisting that they could both fit. even when Dan's legs length surpassed Phi’ls, he was never quite as mesmerised. Phil's favourite part of Dan's body was probably his thighs, as he spent most of his time caressing them and squeezing and kissing them, but Dan didn’t understand how he could love Dan's so much, but hate his own. it was something they could argue about though when they lay sated and naked, curled up together.
“I love your thighs,” Phil would mutter.
“Yeah, well, I love yours more,” Dan would grin, kissing the top of his head.
“in this essay, I will explain why yours are better...” Phil would joke. they never took it much further though, just silently knowing that they were right.
bum
Dan kind of understands this one. he wouldn’t date someone based off their ass, but it didn’t hurt to feel the appeal. Dan's own wasn’t too flat until he crammed it into his obnoxiously tight skinny jeans that pushed it down so much that it looked like nothing. he didn't mind though, anything for fashion. Phil would usually pout quite a bit though, pulling Dan forward by the belt loops and kissing him, trying to sneakily undo the button and tug them back down.
“looser ones,” Phil always murmured against Dan's lips, crossing his arms when Dan would roll his eyes at him.
“what do I do for you?” Dan would sigh dramatically, kicking them off and putting Phil's favourite pair on.
but Phil's ass was perfect. it was impossible to crush as, even when he’d wear a pair of Dan's jeans, it was still there. Dan usually always slapped his ass when he bent over as a joke, giggling as Phil would jump and whine “Dan!” Dan couldn’t help it though.
when they kissed, his hands usually started on the small of Phil’s back. ever since he’d grown, Phil’s go to was to stand on tippy toes so he could reach around Dan's neck, insisting it brought them closer together when Dan would complain that his back hurt. he was only joking really though, as this way, when it got heated, Dan could move his hands down over the curve of Phil's ass, pulling him closer to press flush against each other, or even grind their bodies together if things got especially heated. it was just a wonderful part of Phil that Dan loved so much (especially whenever he was big spoon at night time and he could feel it pushed up against his body)
everything
Before they met, Dan never appreciated the beauty of the human body. with Phil, he appreciated it. because contained within that body, was the most beautiful soul, the funniest personality and the most gentle, loving giant he’d ever known. It was the perfect body for Dan’s favourite person in the whole world. He wouldn’t change a thing about it, ever. from his brilliant blue eyes down to the tips of his toes, Phil was beautiful, inside and out.
and Dan never tried to stop himself from falling deeper in love every day..
