Part III
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Dan's pretty sure he's lost his mind. Or maybe he never had one to begin with. Both sound like reasonable thoughts.
For some reason, he's agreed to spend the night at a random demon's house, a guy he only just met a few hours ago. And has fucked twice in that time. So then, he supposes, if Phil had any intent on doing him harm, he's had a few opportunities to do just that.
He's still surprised that Phil had even invited him to stay. For a guy who 'does this often', Phil seems far more caring than Dan had expected. But maybe that's just how he is. Dan sort of hopes he's an exception for Phil, that he's special somehow, but he feels that might be wishful thinking.
For a while, these thoughts are all that run through Dan's head - why Dan, is this normal for Phil, should Dan pretend it's normal for him as well, and why the fuck is he still so awake after two more-than-incredible orgasms in one evening?
He shifts in the bed again, a little closer to Phil but not too close, and flexes his wings out another inch behind him toward the edge of the mattress. The duvet doesn't cover them - he wouldn't be able to sleep like that - but they rest heavily on the side of the bed Dan's relegated himself to, and he stares across the pillow at the features of the guy he's just hooked up with. A second time. In a single night.
Phil's eyes have shut, of course, and his breathing comes out even and gentle, unlike it had before, when he'd been gasping out low sounds every time Dan had slid down on him, and fuck now he's getting worked up again. Which is rather inconvenient, as he'd really prefer to be sleeping.
A weird, terrified part of Dan wants to slip from under the covers and sneak out the door because this isn't normal, things like this just don't happen, but he also really doesn't want to do that, because he's quite enjoying just watching Phil sleep. As if that's a much more normal thought to have. But he can't very well turn over and face away from Phil, he's used to a bed to himself and his wings have a mind of their own; Phil will end up suffocating on a face full of feathers at some point, and then he'll definitely be kicking Dan out on his ass.
And frankly, Dan's ass is a bit sore already, he doesn't need to add to it.
He shifts again, just an inch closer to Phil so he can spread his wings out a bit further; they dangle off the edge, the joints aching without any support, and Dan can't decide if that's worse than pulling them into his back for the rest of the night. And then he's really wondering if he shouldn't just sneak out, because he's fairly certain he won't get any sleep at all at this rate.
After another very extended period of staring at Phil and lamenting his obnoxiously sensitive wings - Phil seems to have no issue keeping his squished against his back - Dan ultimately decides it's worth getting a couple hours of sleep and risking being kicked out for accidental suffocation by feather. He scoots himself back until he's at the edge of the bed, watching Phil very carefully for any signs he's woken up.
But Phil stays still, his breathing slow and even, so Dan does his best to lift himself up, turn under the covers, and tuck his wings in - he'll wait to spread them out until he's sure he's got the space. It'll still be cramped, but at least he'll have better support, and the weight of his wings won't be liable to make him fall out of the bed at some point during the night - the last thing he needs is to utterly embarrass himself in front of Phil.
Once he's properly settled on his other side and as close to the edge of the mattress as he can be, he lets his wings extend out behind him inch by inch; he keeps a glacial pace, hyperaware of the very tips and waiting for the slightest brush against something solid.
