Imposition
Title: Imposition
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Danny's going to show Steve who's boss, and then he's going to figure out how to help him.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Warnings: AU, prostitution, dub con
Word count: 1300
Author's note: More dark hooker!fic from the Fair trade series, Danny's POV. Danny is a hard bastard and Steve is very damaged.
Imposition
Danny doesn't give up easy, and that's just as well, because McGarrett's a fucking ghost.
It takes Danny two weeks to find him: two weeks of cruising the streets and putting out feelers; two weeks of asking just enough questions to get useful answers but not enough questions to raise any suspicions; two weeks of too much bad coffee and not enough sleep and really, why is Danny even fucking bothering with all this for the sake of some fucked-up two-bit street-trash whore?
A fucked-up two-bit street-trash whore who just happens to be a decorated war hero. Yeah, go figure that one out. Maybe Danny's a sucker for a hard luck story.
Two weeks of hunting and never a sign, because Danny's good but McGarrett's an ex-SEAL, he has skills and training, however fucked-up he is these days, and so in the end it comes down to luck: a lucky break, a chance sighting and Danny being in the right place at the right time.
The right place is an old office at the back of a deserted warehouse, the place where McGarrett goes to ground, and it's perfect for what Danny needs. Confronting McGarrett on the streets is too dangerous, there's too many places to run, too many variables. Danny needs the element of surprise and to hit McGarrett where he feels safest. And where there's the least danger of collateral damage if it all goes bad.
The right time is McGarrett on his knees in an alley deep-throating one guy while another one waits his turn. The johns are locals by the look of them, so they’ll want their money’s worth, and Danny reckons that should give him enough time to get into the office, take a look around, and be waiting for McGarrett when he's done sucking cock.
Danny knows an opportunity when he sees one.
*~*~*~*~*
The room's pretty bare. The window that looks over the main warehouse floor is covered up with cardboard, and the only natural light comes from two grimy windows high up in one wall. It takes a while for Danny's eyes to adjust to the dim light, but that's good, it'll give him an advantage over McGarrett when he comes in from the bright sunlight outside.
There's an old desk on one side of the room, with an office chair that doesn't look too badly broken, and a filing cabinet next to it. The filing cabinet’s locked, but it doesn’t take much force to open it. It doesn’t yield much: a half-empty bottle of rotgut whiskey, a couple of cans of beans, a battered tin cup and spoon, a cheap razor and a dried-up sliver of soap that smells like it was liberated from a gas station restroom some time ago. McGarrett obviously carries anything of value to him on him, Danny thinks, remembering the dog tags and the photo of the blonde girl.
The only other furniture is a mattress in one corner, torn and stained, with two greasy, threadbare blankets folded with precision on top of it. You can take the man out of the Navy, it seems, but some habits die hard.
Not much to show for a life of service to his country, Danny thinks, and fuck if that isn't Danny getting sentimental again. And really, he doesn't know what he's doing here, some misplaced sense of fucking duty perhaps, because why should he care if some Army dropout crashes and burns? That's war, collateral damage, whatever, and these guys know the risks when they sign up, after all, it's not Danny's problem. Or it shouldn't be Danny's problem, anyway, so what the fuckis he doing here?
*~*~*~*~*
He gets the drop on McGarrett, although he didn't think he would; McGarrett must be off his game, or maybe he's just tired and past caring. Whatever; McGarrett on his knees with his hands behind his head and Danny's gun to his temple is just what Danny needs. Not that Danny's fool enough to let his guard drop; he knows how Navy SEALs are trained.
"Why'd you run, McGarrett?"
No answer.
"Why'd you run away from me when I was trying to help you?" He emphasizes his point with the muzzle of the gun, because the truth is he's pissed, pissed at himself for caring and pissed at McGarrett for making him care.
"You're one of them. You were going to send me back there."
McGarrett's voice holds a hint of defiance, and that really makes Danny see red, because fucking McGarrett, the one fucking person who's actually trying to help him and he still doesn't get it. Well, fuck him, Danny's going to show him who's boss and then maybe the fucking whore will do what he's fucking told and they can both get on with their lives.
"I'm not one of them, and anyway, what makes you think they're interested in a used-up whore, McGarrett, huh?" He jabs McGarrett in the temple again with the gun barrel. "You're good for one thing, and that's taking my dick. Now, get up." He hauls McGarrett to his feet. There's a moment of resistance, the merest second when it feels like things could go bad, but then he's shoving McGarrett face down over the desk with the gun pushed into the back of his neck and Danny's undeniably top dog again.
”Don't even think about it. I own your ass, and don’t you forget it. You do what I say and I won’t send you back there. Got that?”
McGarrett gives the barest of nods. Danny jabs him hard with the gun barrel.
"I said, have you got that?"
"Yes... sir."
"Good. Now, hands!" He cuffs McGarrett's hands in the small of his back, a little rougher than absolutely necessary, but this is all about dominance. McGarrett's pliant under him now and that's better, but he's under no illusions about what a Navy SEAL's capable of, even one who's cuffed, so he keeps the gun rammed hard against the nape of McGarrett's neck as he reaches round to flip the button and yank McGarrett's cargoes down to expose his ass.
"Like I said, you make nice with me and I won't send you back. Now, spread 'em."
It's not easy getting the condom on one-handed, but there's no way he's putting the gun down, so he manages, manages a slather of lube too, even though there's really no need to be too careful, McGarrett's been selling his ass after all, he should be used to this, and then he's ready. He tosses the lube onto the desk then lines the head of his cock up and leans forward to put his mouth close to McGarrett's ear. "You're mine now, you do what I fucking tell you and don't you fucking forget it!" And with that he shoves forward, driving his cock hard into McGarrett's body, feeling him flinch as he rams home and it feels so fucking good, how can he still feel this tight with all the cocks he's had up there? Danny pulls back and fucks into him again, hard and fast, channelling all his anger and irritation with McGarrett and with himself and with the whole fucking situation into the snap of his hips. "When I'm done here you're going to pack your shit up and you're going to come with me." And too fucking right he is. Once Danny's shown him who's boss, once Danny's made him believe that he's got no interest in giving him up to them, whoever 'they' might be, then he's going to figure out how to help McGarrett, whether he likes it or not. Because it's the right thing to do, and Danny's an honorable man.
And if in the meantime he lets McGarrett show his gratitude by paying him back with the only currency he's got left to deal in? Well, it's a fair trade, and Danny's all for that.
Next: Detention
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Danny's going to show Steve who's boss, and then he's going to figure out how to help him.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Warnings: AU, prostitution, dub con
Word count: 1300
Author's note: More dark hooker!fic from the Fair trade series, Danny's POV. Danny is a hard bastard and Steve is very damaged.
Imposition
Danny doesn't give up easy, and that's just as well, because McGarrett's a fucking ghost.
It takes Danny two weeks to find him: two weeks of cruising the streets and putting out feelers; two weeks of asking just enough questions to get useful answers but not enough questions to raise any suspicions; two weeks of too much bad coffee and not enough sleep and really, why is Danny even fucking bothering with all this for the sake of some fucked-up two-bit street-trash whore?
A fucked-up two-bit street-trash whore who just happens to be a decorated war hero. Yeah, go figure that one out. Maybe Danny's a sucker for a hard luck story.
Two weeks of hunting and never a sign, because Danny's good but McGarrett's an ex-SEAL, he has skills and training, however fucked-up he is these days, and so in the end it comes down to luck: a lucky break, a chance sighting and Danny being in the right place at the right time.
The right place is an old office at the back of a deserted warehouse, the place where McGarrett goes to ground, and it's perfect for what Danny needs. Confronting McGarrett on the streets is too dangerous, there's too many places to run, too many variables. Danny needs the element of surprise and to hit McGarrett where he feels safest. And where there's the least danger of collateral damage if it all goes bad.
The right time is McGarrett on his knees in an alley deep-throating one guy while another one waits his turn. The johns are locals by the look of them, so they’ll want their money’s worth, and Danny reckons that should give him enough time to get into the office, take a look around, and be waiting for McGarrett when he's done sucking cock.
Danny knows an opportunity when he sees one.
*~*~*~*~*
The room's pretty bare. The window that looks over the main warehouse floor is covered up with cardboard, and the only natural light comes from two grimy windows high up in one wall. It takes a while for Danny's eyes to adjust to the dim light, but that's good, it'll give him an advantage over McGarrett when he comes in from the bright sunlight outside.
There's an old desk on one side of the room, with an office chair that doesn't look too badly broken, and a filing cabinet next to it. The filing cabinet’s locked, but it doesn’t take much force to open it. It doesn’t yield much: a half-empty bottle of rotgut whiskey, a couple of cans of beans, a battered tin cup and spoon, a cheap razor and a dried-up sliver of soap that smells like it was liberated from a gas station restroom some time ago. McGarrett obviously carries anything of value to him on him, Danny thinks, remembering the dog tags and the photo of the blonde girl.
The only other furniture is a mattress in one corner, torn and stained, with two greasy, threadbare blankets folded with precision on top of it. You can take the man out of the Navy, it seems, but some habits die hard.
Not much to show for a life of service to his country, Danny thinks, and fuck if that isn't Danny getting sentimental again. And really, he doesn't know what he's doing here, some misplaced sense of fucking duty perhaps, because why should he care if some Army dropout crashes and burns? That's war, collateral damage, whatever, and these guys know the risks when they sign up, after all, it's not Danny's problem. Or it shouldn't be Danny's problem, anyway, so what the fuckis he doing here?
*~*~*~*~*
He gets the drop on McGarrett, although he didn't think he would; McGarrett must be off his game, or maybe he's just tired and past caring. Whatever; McGarrett on his knees with his hands behind his head and Danny's gun to his temple is just what Danny needs. Not that Danny's fool enough to let his guard drop; he knows how Navy SEALs are trained.
"Why'd you run, McGarrett?"
No answer.
"Why'd you run away from me when I was trying to help you?" He emphasizes his point with the muzzle of the gun, because the truth is he's pissed, pissed at himself for caring and pissed at McGarrett for making him care.
"You're one of them. You were going to send me back there."
McGarrett's voice holds a hint of defiance, and that really makes Danny see red, because fucking McGarrett, the one fucking person who's actually trying to help him and he still doesn't get it. Well, fuck him, Danny's going to show him who's boss and then maybe the fucking whore will do what he's fucking told and they can both get on with their lives.
"I'm not one of them, and anyway, what makes you think they're interested in a used-up whore, McGarrett, huh?" He jabs McGarrett in the temple again with the gun barrel. "You're good for one thing, and that's taking my dick. Now, get up." He hauls McGarrett to his feet. There's a moment of resistance, the merest second when it feels like things could go bad, but then he's shoving McGarrett face down over the desk with the gun pushed into the back of his neck and Danny's undeniably top dog again.
”Don't even think about it. I own your ass, and don’t you forget it. You do what I say and I won’t send you back there. Got that?”
McGarrett gives the barest of nods. Danny jabs him hard with the gun barrel.
"I said, have you got that?"
"Yes... sir."
"Good. Now, hands!" He cuffs McGarrett's hands in the small of his back, a little rougher than absolutely necessary, but this is all about dominance. McGarrett's pliant under him now and that's better, but he's under no illusions about what a Navy SEAL's capable of, even one who's cuffed, so he keeps the gun rammed hard against the nape of McGarrett's neck as he reaches round to flip the button and yank McGarrett's cargoes down to expose his ass.
"Like I said, you make nice with me and I won't send you back. Now, spread 'em."
It's not easy getting the condom on one-handed, but there's no way he's putting the gun down, so he manages, manages a slather of lube too, even though there's really no need to be too careful, McGarrett's been selling his ass after all, he should be used to this, and then he's ready. He tosses the lube onto the desk then lines the head of his cock up and leans forward to put his mouth close to McGarrett's ear. "You're mine now, you do what I fucking tell you and don't you fucking forget it!" And with that he shoves forward, driving his cock hard into McGarrett's body, feeling him flinch as he rams home and it feels so fucking good, how can he still feel this tight with all the cocks he's had up there? Danny pulls back and fucks into him again, hard and fast, channelling all his anger and irritation with McGarrett and with himself and with the whole fucking situation into the snap of his hips. "When I'm done here you're going to pack your shit up and you're going to come with me." And too fucking right he is. Once Danny's shown him who's boss, once Danny's made him believe that he's got no interest in giving him up to them, whoever 'they' might be, then he's going to figure out how to help McGarrett, whether he likes it or not. Because it's the right thing to do, and Danny's an honorable man.
And if in the meantime he lets McGarrett show his gratitude by paying him back with the only currency he's got left to deal in? Well, it's a fair trade, and Danny's all for that.
Next: Detention