Dan raises his eyebrows before pulling the most ridiculous face you've ever seen. "Ruin my joke why don't you."
You shrug. "That was the most terrible excuse of a joke. Ever." You narrow your eyes, but end up laughing.
He mimics you and turns his back. "I'm not going to talk to you."
"Oh, get over it. You know it was a shitty joke." You roll your eyes and crawl over to him, kneeling and clasping your hands together. You look up at him and pout.
He puts a hand over his heart. "You sure know how to break a boy's heart."
The smile ruins your begging. You feel evil when you smile, but it's the best kind of evil. "Only yesterday you were telling me that you were a real man. And today you're nothing but a broken hearted boy?" You pout again. "Aw, Daniel."
He pushes your hands off his knees. "You're quick off the mark, aren't you?"
You throw your head back and laugh. "Oh, it's a talent alright."
"Yeah, well," you know that he's grappling for a real answer – something that will cut you down like a stalk of grass in a lawnmower, but he can't find the right insult.
You sigh and turn away, chest puffed up with pride. You showed him.
His arms wind around your waist, his mouth working on the back of your neck. He pushes your hair away and tilts your head for you.
You take his hands in your own, closing your eyes. You never want this to stop. "Wow," you mutter, running your hands over his arms.
He shuffles around you until he can kiss you on the lips. He kisses your nose, your forehead and your cheek before kissing you properly. His hand comes to a rest over your breast and he pushes his body close to yours.
Just like every other time, his kiss knocks you senseless. His lips, clique but true, like the inner petals of a rose, sweet enough that you swear you can taste honey on your lips. His mouth opens under yours and the kiss opens up into a million possibilities. His other arm is wound tightly around you, gluing you to him. You can't say that you mind.
He uses his left hand – previously on your breast – to drag the bean bag over, and then uses his vice-like grip to push you into the bean bag, his entire body over yours. It's times like these that you really appreciate how much taller he is than you; your entire body feels covered and protected.
"Are you ready?" He asks, his voice barely a whisper.
You nod, not able to trust your voice anymore – or the words that could fall out of your mouth, unprecedented. You'd probably try to say something witty if you spoke, and that would not go down well at all right now.
Slowly but surely, the items of your clothing are thrown around the room. He's ridiculous but entirely funny, flinging your bra away like a rubber band. You shake your head and pull him in close, kissing him until your breath runs completely out. You both resurface – literally gasping for breath the way you do when you resurface from the bottom of an extremely deep pool.
He massages your breasts, not giving up until you moan. You feel warm on the inside, like someone has lit a match. You don't care that your body isn't perfect; not with the look that he's giving you at the moment. You feel like the luckiest girl alive, and thinking of the thousands of screaming girls who would do anything to even meet him, you suppose that you are the luckiest girl in the world. You shiver and he blushes, lowering his head to your nipples.
As his mouth works, his hands work in a different area, throwing your pants around the room as well. He's fully clothed and you're completely naked. You pull at him until he lifts his head, and you kiss him. You unzip his jacket, pulling it off his arms as hastily as possible. He helps you take his t-shirt off, and you gaze in awe at the body he's got.
His hands go to work again, probing, prodding and rubbing. You let your head fall back against the bean bag, that polyester-squishing noise filling your ears as you sink deeper into the bean bag. The woollen cover is itchy against your skin but also the last of your worries. There's nothing like this bliss.
"Oh man," you hear yourself saying, your voice hardly above a whisper, "I need more."
Dan laughs, obliging. His body lifts off yours, lips travelling lower and lower until you can't see them anymore.
And then.
A tremendously loud moan echoes through the room, and Dan reaches up to cover your mouth. "You idiot girl, do you want Phil to come in?" He hisses, and your head starts to spin.
You shiver again. "I'll scream if you don't do that again,"
He grins – and this time he's the one who looks like the Cheshire Cat, not you, and obliges once more.
"God," You cover your face with your hands, blocking out the entire world. All you can do is feel, and feel you do. "Jesus Christ,"
"He can't help," Dan jokes, hands joining mouth.
"Shut the hell up," you say, your voice still too loud, bouncing off the walls.
From in between your legs, you feel Dan smile. "Ooh, feisty girl."
There's a cool breeze as he shifts. You hear something crack – possibly his knee or his ankle. Probably his ankle; his ankles have a habit of cracking when he's squatting. His fingers trail up and down your inner thighs.
"More, just give me more," you moan, your heart turning into a butterfly trying to escape a trap, fluttering madly.
You feel like melting into the bean bag, and you hear footsteps. You sit bolt upright, trying to shield your body from Phil, when you realise that the move you've made should have kicked Dan in the head.
Dan's standing with his hand on the door handle. "I think that's enough for today." He opens the door and closes it behind him.
Your clothes are stranded around the living room, and now that Dan's not in here, Phil will probably walk in. You can't be bothered moving – there's something you need finished before you positively expire – but you have to before you embarrass yourself to hell and back.
The door opens and you move faster than you thought you could, covering your body with the stupid bean bag. Dan pokes his head in. "Oh, and, um, my joke was totally awesome. That should teach you, shouldn't it?" His eyes twinkle like mad, but right now you want to throw a shoe at his stupid head. "I wear the pants." He winks and motions to his pants, which he's wearing and ha-ha, you're not wearing any. You poke your tongue out at him in the meanest way you can – like an offended kindergarten kid. He shuts the door once more and you bury your head in your hands.
How the hell did this make you love him more? You're a lost cause when it comes to Daniel fucking Howell.