Oh, The Places You'll Go

Neverland

Notes: This was written to prove I was still able to not torture the boys. Of course, that depends on your definition of torture. Pre-canon. No spoilers.


Casey was comfortably numb. Well, not so much with the numb, but definitely comfortable. He lounged in the hot tub, eyes closed, arms stretched along the sides, legs slightly parted, feeling the rush of bubbles playing over his skin. A smile edged his lips as he shifted a couple of inches to the left, angling himself so that a fizzing jet of water pushed at his ass and crept underneath to tickle his balls. He brought the beer he was clutching to his lips, took a long swig and sighed. This was the life.

He'd forgotten whose idea this was, whose house this even was, but he didn't care. He thought maybe it belonged to one of the intern's parents. Pretty much every one from the station was here. Somewhere. There had been more people in the hot tub a few minutes ago, but someone had yelled something about Sonia, the production assistant, doing something obscene with a straw and a pack of Jello and now it just seemed to be him. He breathed in deeply, savouring the cool tang of the night air. There was a lot of yelling and thumping bass back in the house but he didn't feel the pull to join in. It was good. Being alone. He didn't get to be alone so much any more. Not since Lisa had convinced her parents that Living In Sin did not sound the death knell on future wedding bells. Knell. Bell. Casey knew he was drunk if he was starting to think in rhyme. He huffed a laugh to himself.

Then, a weight on his thighs, heavy and warmer than the water. An arm around his shoulder and a head tucking in to the curve of his neck. Not a delicate armful, by any stretch, but his arm went automatically to wrap itself around the body. Skin grazed skin — a broad, muscled, naked back. Something seemed off. He stroked down the body's arm, hand sliding over defined muscle, slick wet hairs. Hairs? The body moaned as Casey's fingers found the delicate skin of its elbow. It was a low moan, deep and throaty and. Male. Casey's eyes flew open, twisting his head he glimpsed dark hair, an angular nose, a mouth unusually still.

"Danny, why the fuck are you sitting in my lap?"

The body-known-as-Danny raised his head and planted a sloppy kiss against Casey's cheek and shrugged. He managed to shrug with his entire body, shifting his weight on Casey's thighs, pressing into him. Casey's cock, already half aroused by the strategically placed stream of bubbles couldn't help but get harder at the touch. Dan had moved on from Casey's cheek and had returned to his former position against Casey's neck, though this time he had added sucking and nibbling the sensitive skin to his repertoire.

"Danny. Ngghh." Casey was finding it difficult to focus. "Danny. I repeat the question. Why the fuck are you sitting in my lap?"

Dan waved a vague circle in the air.

"'S no room," he declared. "No room for Dan."

"Now that's not entirely true there, is it Danny?"

Dan shifted again, craning his neck to get a good look. It pulled his torso away from Casey's and the loss of warmth was a shock. Casey resisted yanking him back.

"It's not entirely true, no," agreed Dan after much brow-furrowing.

Casey had only known Dan a short while but long enough to enjoy what the brow-furrowing did to the corners of his mouth. It was a sort of pout, but not quite. Casey wondered how long he had wanted to kiss it and why he hadn't realised until now.

"In fact," continued Dan. "I would go so far as to say that my earlier statement was entirely facetious. Fallacious."

"Fallacious?"

"Indeed."

"Big word for such a little boy."

"Hey," said Dan, slapping his hand against Casey's chest with a wet smack. "Who are you calling little?"

The arm that Casey wasn't using to grip Dan's elbow snaked into the water and found Dan's legs, perpendicular to his own. Spreading his fingers wide, he travelled up Dan's thigh. The bubbling water eased his access, floating the material of Dan's boxers off his skin and Casey's eyes widened as his fingertips met soft, round flesh. He should have pulled back then, but he didn't. Couldn't. His hand kept moving until it was curved around Dan's shameless erection. He tried to speak, say 'no, not little at all' but Casey's mouth appeared to have instituted drought measures — a fact he found funny considering the fact that he was surrounded by water. Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to... But Dan was gasping at Casey's touch and tipping his head back and water was there. Gathered in the hollow below his Adam's apple. It was so close. Casey could just. He bent his head and licked at the spot, the water warmed by the pulse that beat against Dan's skin, against Casey's tongue.

Dan gasped for a second time and shifted his body again, one hand sliding into Casey's hair, pulling at it so that Casey's mouth came away from Dan's neck, still shaped in a crooked O. Before he could close it, Dan had covered Casey's mouth with his own and his tongue was slipping, sliding against Casey's. There was a muffled groan. Casey was fairly sure that it had been him, but he couldn't have sworn to it. His hand tightened, almost involuntarily, around Dan's cock. Dan squirmed again, his thigh pressing against Casey's own straining erection.

Casey let his arm drop to Dan's hip, thumb painting broad strokes across the skin. Water colour, Casey thought. Dan seemed to fold up against his hand, sliding with a little bump into the gap between Casey's legs, drawing up his own, a capital N from Casey's perspective. Casey's lips and hands followed, unwilling to be parted even for a second. But Dan pushed on his chest, dragging his mouth from Casey's, looking at him with eyes that Casey decided were shining with starlight, though the more likely possibility was that they were reflecting the lights on the porch of the summerhouse. Reality was far too prosaic, Casey decided. Reality had a job and a fiancée and responsibility. Danny was too good to be true, a fantasy. And Casey knew this was a fact because only fantasies said things like,

"I could come just looking at your face," and Casey was sure that was exactly what Dan had said.

And if Dan was a fantasy, and this was all unreal then it was OK that he replied by beginning to jerk Danny's cock in long, slow strokes. That he used his other hand to push at Dan's boxers, indicating the need that they be gone, right now, that he almost passed out with pleasure when the wriggling, undressing Danny brushed again and again over Casey's sensitive cock head. It was OK that wrapping his hand back around the dick of this boy he barely knew felt like coming home, that watching Danny's face as the pressure and sensations built in him was better than any ten porn movies he had ever seen, better even than Rocky I through IV. That the sensation of Dan's mouth on his, of his tongue sliding over Casey's lips, over the roof of his mouth, claiming, wanting, was activating myriads of dormant synapses. That Dan's hands, skating friction free across Casey's shoulders, his chest, his arms, his neck were fast becoming Casey's favourite things ever. It was all OK.

And when Dan tensed and groaned and pulled at Casey's head once more until forehead met forehead and babbled Casey's name over and over, an amulet against harm; when his fingers gripped and his balls tightened and his cock spurted liquid, its own jet stream in the water — then — it was more than OK. But when Dan scrambled off Casey's lap and out of the hot tub then it wasn't. It wasn't OK at all. Because it felt like real life might be crowding back in and Casey was sure that was not what he wanted. He leaned back, panting, cock hard and aching. In a minute he'd calm down and then he could get out and. What then? Look for Danny? Go home and jerk himself to sleep?

Before his heartbeat had even had a chance to slow to normal he felt a hand on his head, fingers pulling his hair up into peaks, flopping over like gently beaten egg whites. He heard a giggle and a splash and then there was Dan in front of him, arm behind his back, grinning, eyes impish but soft.

"Danny." Casey returned the smile, thanking god or someone that there was still time for his happy ending, and reached out a hand to pull Danny back into his lap.

"Present for you," Dan said, perched on Casey's thighs, bringing the hidden arm into view and holding out his hand, palm up. A square of foil lay in the centre. Casey's eyes widened.

"You want to. You want me to. Do. That?"

"Don't you want to?" Dan's brow furrowed again, his mouth creasing into the not-quite-pout and this time Casey took full advantage of it, his tongue licking the slight frown away, sucking Dan's upper lip out to meet the lower one. He pulled back and viewed his handiwork.

"Better," he declared. And, "yes, I want to, I just wanted to make sure that you wanted to too." He stopped and screwed up his eyes. There were too many wantings and tos in that sentence for him to be sure he was making sense. But Danny was smiling at him and kissing him and - oh! - touching him so he must have given the right answer.

"You have too many clothes on, Casey," murmured Dan into his ear as he licked around it.

"Nggh," Casey managed. He pushed up with his knees, dislodging Dan from his perch and divested himself of his briefs as quickly as he could. Sitting back down the bubbles burst across his skin, sending shivers of pleasure up his spine. Dan clambered back on to his lap, this time straddling Casey, kneeling either side of his thighs. Casey tipped his head up to meet Dan's lips, drowning in lust as Dan's hands stroked down Casey's chest, over the hairs that narrowed in a path over his abdomen, grazing Casey's cock, finger tracing the vein that ran along its length. There was no way Casey was going to be able to take much more of this.

He wrapped one arm around Dan's hips to keep him close while his other hand slid palm upwards under Dan's parted legs, the smooth sac of skin curiously light and springy in the water. He pushed up into it, across it, one finger pressing hard against resisting flesh, slipping backwards and up, Dan's murmurs into his mouth encouraging him to push harder, aim deeper. And then he was inside Dan and it felt. Unreal. Hot and tight and nothing like Lisa. He crooked his finger and stroked the smooth skin, Dan shuddering against him, grinding down, pushing Casey further into him, then pulling out, fucking himself on Casey's finger.

"Danny," Casey muttered. No response, just Danny moving slowly up and down, the erect cock that signalled a horny teenager bobbing in the water. It tapped at Casey's cock like a magic wand — all it would take was the magic word and Casey knew he would spill like a nervous virgin.

"Danny," he tried again when they parted for air. Dan's eyes met his, wide, almost unseeing and he nodded in answer to the unspoken question. Getting the condom on under water was not the easiest of manoeuvres, Casey's hands were unsteady, desperate and Dan was not much better. But soon enough Dan was rising up on his knees and Casey's hands were busy, one holding his own cock steady, one on the curve of Danny's ass, guiding him. Casey let Dan set the pace, the slow, millimetre by millimetre entry of his cock into Dan the kind of torture Casey thought he wouldn't mind being inflicted on him over and over. And then he was in, and they both held still, balanced on the edge of a moment. But Danny was a born fidget and he could not hold it. He ground down, his cock stroking down Casey's belly and as Casey watched Dan's head loll back, his eyes rolling and closing, Casey thought his head might explode from desire.

And if his head didn't? Casey started to recite basketball stats in his head, trying to take his mind off the intense pleasure that was spreading through him, St. Elmo's fire. Dan pushed up again, then sank down, changing the angle, more friction, more pleasure. Nothing in real life felt this good, Casey knew that. Nothing.

Dan's cock stroked Casey's belly again, gently reminding Casey of its presence. Casey was startled out of his recitation of scores and moved his hand to take hold of his new favourite toy. He jacked it in time to Dan's rhythm and was rewarded by a guttural groan ripped from deep in Dan's guts. Danny changed his angle again, leaning forward, using Casey as fulcrum to his lever. He began to move faster, harder and it was all too much. Breathless, Casey tried to say something, but Danny was far away, surfing on an imaginary sea. Wanting to join him there Casey let himself go and shattered, dissolving into spume. Dan's hand slipped from Casey's shoulder to encircle the one around his cock. Through drifting, scattered thoughts, Casey could sense Dan urging him on and he pulled himself together and followed Danny's lead. Dan bent his head down, planting sloppy kisses along Casey's collarbone, sucking and licking at his neck. He rocked back and forth to the rhythm they built up together and bit down hard as he jerked upwards into their entwined hands; the liquid ghosting over Casey's fingers before becoming lost in the water, churned around and around by the bubbles until nothing was left.

Dan collapsed, his head resting against Casey's chest, their hands still entwined around Danny's softening cock. Casey felt himself slipping out of Dan and he didn't like it. He tightened his grip around Dan's hips. It wasn't time. Not yet. Danny muttered something against his skin, his warm breath tickling the damp hairs.

"What, Danny?" asked Casey, his voice low and gentle.

"Clap your hands if you believe in fairies," said Danny.

"Umm?"

"Clap your hands if you believe in fairies," repeated Danny patiently, as if Casey was five years old. And Casey remembered being five years old. And he remembered something about bells — but it didn't seem important what.

He clapped his hands.


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