H5O fic: "Pupule Po'alima" (Steve/Danny - Rated M)
Title: Pupule Po'alima
Author: bugchicklv
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Danny/Steve
Prompt: Bodyswap
Rating: M (Mature)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. If I owned H50, or either man, there'd be a lot more than just subtext.
Author's Notes: Comment Fic word count fail. Clearly, this is all LJ's fault as the character limit is entirely too small. Un-betaed.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Danny growls, the timber of his voice strange to his own ears. "Seriously. Seriously, you think I'm kidding? I'm not. I will shoot you in the face if you don't knock it off," he forces out, the feel of his tongue odd against his teeth, like he's trying too hard to pronounce the words correctly.
Steve yanks at his tie with a grimace, practically strangling himself in the process and then gives Danny the once over, those stormy eyes lingering on Danny’s lips. Instantly Danny’s body tenses and, while this ache that's suddenly centered smack in the middle of his groin is not something he’s used to feeling, isn't sure he should be feeling, he can’t say that his body isn't enjoying it immensely and that's a terrifyingly disconcerting realization.
“You really think it's a good idea to shoot me, considering?” Steve asks, gleefully tossing Danny’s favorite tie in the trash and for a second Danny looses track of the conversation because his brain isn't really working right at the moment. For some reason he can't seem to focus on anything but the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, the dizzying feel of blood as it rushes from his head. The overwhelmingly intense desire to claim Steve, mark him, mess him up. To wrap his hands in that blond hair and steal his breath with a kiss...which, wait. No. Wrong color, wrong body. Danny gives himself a mental shake and, after writing off the inexplicable urge to do dirty, filthy things to Steve in that up-tight outfit as the particularly evil after-effects of a misanthropic wizard, a magical roofie-hangover if you will, he presses on.
“Whatever. You, you've got your "suck it, bitch" face on--"
"Technically, it's your "suck it, bitch" face."
"--like you want nothing more in life than to blow me a raspberry and say "nanny nanny boo boo, I told you so--""
"Which, for the record, I did."
"--while you wag your finger at me like I'm some wayward toddler--"
"Well, if the shoe fits."
"--which, hello? Responsible, law-abiding adult here! That's usually my job. And, just because it's technically coming from my mouth does not make it alright, damnit. This is not my fault."
Steve crosses his arms, the striped fabric riding high on muscled forearms, pulling tightly against that wide chest and Danny barely refrains from adjusting himself as his wayward cock presses against the soft cotton cargo pants like it's decided on it's own to go for what it wants, and it what it wants is Danny, er--Steve, and wow. Whammied or not, that really is gonna take years of therapy to get over considering who he's getting aroused by looking at. Crooking his left eyebrow, Steve starts, “How do you figure…”
“No. Uh uh. No way my friend." Danny cuts him off, arms gesticulating wildly as he paces. "You do not get to blame this all on me. It’s one hundred and ninety two degrees out there, with three hundred percent humidity! I’m sorry but any normal person--say, a detective for instance, which I am--would think that a guy dressed in head-to-toe black and wearing a velvet cape--at the beach-- might seem a little odd, a little suspicious and choose to detain said character in order to question him.” Danny purses his lips for a moment as he stares, frustrated. “And just how in the hell did you do that? I spent hours in front of the mirror trying to perfect that one eyebrow thing in high school!”
Danny stops in the middle of his tirade and Steve takes advantage of the break. He moves in close, placing a ridiculously rough hand over Danny's mouth to shut him up and damned if that didn't do things, too and Danny wonders if this kind of mental trauma might be covered by their health plan and makes a note to check and if so, to definitely schedule an appointment with the department shrink.
“Maybe I’m just better at being you than you are,” Steve responds with careless shrug and an irritating smirk and honestly, after only two minutes of arguing Danny doesn’t know how Steve refrains from smacking the smug from that face on a daily basis.
Steve lifts his palm and smooths it over Danny's cheek, his thumb brushing over not-so chapped lips which seem to be connected to Danny's now throbbing cock. "It'll be okay, Danno. Promise," Steve whispers.
And in that moment, damned if Danny didn't believe him. But still.
“Whatever. Just tell him we won't press charges if he reverses the spell. Pronto!” Danny orders as he struts away. He really has to pee and, no matter what his body is telling him, Danny’s just not sure he’s ready to fondle, er...handle Steve’s junk.
Yet.
Author: bugchicklv
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Danny/Steve
Prompt: Bodyswap
Rating: M (Mature)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. If I owned H50, or either man, there'd be a lot more than just subtext.
Author's Notes: Comment Fic word count fail. Clearly, this is all LJ's fault as the character limit is entirely too small. Un-betaed.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Danny growls, the timber of his voice strange to his own ears. "Seriously. Seriously, you think I'm kidding? I'm not. I will shoot you in the face if you don't knock it off," he forces out, the feel of his tongue odd against his teeth, like he's trying too hard to pronounce the words correctly.
Steve yanks at his tie with a grimace, practically strangling himself in the process and then gives Danny the once over, those stormy eyes lingering on Danny’s lips. Instantly Danny’s body tenses and, while this ache that's suddenly centered smack in the middle of his groin is not something he’s used to feeling, isn't sure he should be feeling, he can’t say that his body isn't enjoying it immensely and that's a terrifyingly disconcerting realization.
“You really think it's a good idea to shoot me, considering?” Steve asks, gleefully tossing Danny’s favorite tie in the trash and for a second Danny looses track of the conversation because his brain isn't really working right at the moment. For some reason he can't seem to focus on anything but the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, the dizzying feel of blood as it rushes from his head. The overwhelmingly intense desire to claim Steve, mark him, mess him up. To wrap his hands in that blond hair and steal his breath with a kiss...which, wait. No. Wrong color, wrong body. Danny gives himself a mental shake and, after writing off the inexplicable urge to do dirty, filthy things to Steve in that up-tight outfit as the particularly evil after-effects of a misanthropic wizard, a magical roofie-hangover if you will, he presses on.
“Whatever. You, you've got your "suck it, bitch" face on--"
"Technically, it's your "suck it, bitch" face."
"--like you want nothing more in life than to blow me a raspberry and say "nanny nanny boo boo, I told you so--""
"Which, for the record, I did."
"--while you wag your finger at me like I'm some wayward toddler--"
"Well, if the shoe fits."
"--which, hello? Responsible, law-abiding adult here! That's usually my job. And, just because it's technically coming from my mouth does not make it alright, damnit. This is not my fault."
Steve crosses his arms, the striped fabric riding high on muscled forearms, pulling tightly against that wide chest and Danny barely refrains from adjusting himself as his wayward cock presses against the soft cotton cargo pants like it's decided on it's own to go for what it wants, and it what it wants is Danny, er--Steve, and wow. Whammied or not, that really is gonna take years of therapy to get over considering who he's getting aroused by looking at. Crooking his left eyebrow, Steve starts, “How do you figure…”
“No. Uh uh. No way my friend." Danny cuts him off, arms gesticulating wildly as he paces. "You do not get to blame this all on me. It’s one hundred and ninety two degrees out there, with three hundred percent humidity! I’m sorry but any normal person--say, a detective for instance, which I am--would think that a guy dressed in head-to-toe black and wearing a velvet cape--at the beach-- might seem a little odd, a little suspicious and choose to detain said character in order to question him.” Danny purses his lips for a moment as he stares, frustrated. “And just how in the hell did you do that? I spent hours in front of the mirror trying to perfect that one eyebrow thing in high school!”
Danny stops in the middle of his tirade and Steve takes advantage of the break. He moves in close, placing a ridiculously rough hand over Danny's mouth to shut him up and damned if that didn't do things, too and Danny wonders if this kind of mental trauma might be covered by their health plan and makes a note to check and if so, to definitely schedule an appointment with the department shrink.
“Maybe I’m just better at being you than you are,” Steve responds with careless shrug and an irritating smirk and honestly, after only two minutes of arguing Danny doesn’t know how Steve refrains from smacking the smug from that face on a daily basis.
Steve lifts his palm and smooths it over Danny's cheek, his thumb brushing over not-so chapped lips which seem to be connected to Danny's now throbbing cock. "It'll be okay, Danno. Promise," Steve whispers.
And in that moment, damned if Danny didn't believe him. But still.
“Whatever. Just tell him we won't press charges if he reverses the spell. Pronto!” Danny orders as he struts away. He really has to pee and, no matter what his body is telling him, Danny’s just not sure he’s ready to fondle, er...handle Steve’s junk.
Yet.