There was so much Daniel didn't want to think about later. Or ever. He didn't want to think about shooting the man now holding him in the aftermath of their fucking. He didn't want to think about what Dylan could do to him if with a few words he could change Daniel to having a tight cunt and beautiful breasts. He didn't want to think of any of that.
He wanted to think of how much he liked being held like this, with a broad chest against his own, and strong arms around him. He wanted to think about the way Dylan sounded, all sexed up and blissed out and talking about wanting more as if he might want to do this again. Danny liked that, liked the idea of being fucked again, even if he didn't want to think about what it was that Dylan did to him so that he could have him.
How it happened shouldn't matter. He had the life he wanted, people in his life he needed and who he wanted to be with, and now he had this. A chance to be something with Dylan, to offer himself in ways maybe others would not.
Course then Dylan commented about making him hard again, and about leaving the breasts there on his chest. Daniel snorted, rolling his eyes at him, even as he rolled his hips, grinding against the softening cock and dragging his blunt nails lightly over the back of Dylan's neck.
"So it's not the face you object to but the body? How do I even explain them to the others?"
Not arguing, mostly because he thought of it as a joke. It wasn't like they could leave them. Hell, some small part of Daniel wondered if this was madness, that he had lost his mind somewhere in shooting Dylan and seeing him still alive, and maybe none of this was real. The thought wasn't as pleasant as he might have thought it should be.
He leaned in, kissing Dylan softly. "They can't stay," he said, sounding more like himself though he knew it was likely that Dylan would argue it with him. No, not argue it. Just make it happen. It wasn't as if Danny could change things, after all. Not unless Dylan did it for him.
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He wanted to think of how much he liked being held like this, with a broad chest against his own, and strong arms around him. He wanted to think about the way Dylan sounded, all sexed up and blissed out and talking about wanting more as if he might want to do this again. Danny liked that, liked the idea of being fucked again, even if he didn't want to think about what it was that Dylan did to him so that he could have him.
How it happened shouldn't matter. He had the life he wanted, people in his life he needed and who he wanted to be with, and now he had this. A chance to be something with Dylan, to offer himself in ways maybe others would not.
Course then Dylan commented about making him hard again, and about leaving the breasts there on his chest. Daniel snorted, rolling his eyes at him, even as he rolled his hips, grinding against the softening cock and dragging his blunt nails lightly over the back of Dylan's neck.
"So it's not the face you object to but the body? How do I even explain them to the others?"
Not arguing, mostly because he thought of it as a joke. It wasn't like they could leave them. Hell, some small part of Daniel wondered if this was madness, that he had lost his mind somewhere in shooting Dylan and seeing him still alive, and maybe none of this was real. The thought wasn't as pleasant as he might have thought it should be.
He leaned in, kissing Dylan softly. "They can't stay," he said, sounding more like himself though he knew it was likely that Dylan would argue it with him. No, not argue it. Just make it happen. It wasn't as if Danny could change things, after all. Not unless Dylan did it for him.