Tongue That’s Sharp Like A Thumbtack, R, Steve/Danny
Title: Tongue That’s Sharp Like A Thumbtack
Paring/s: Steve/Danny
Genre: Porn. Sort of.
Rating: R - not good with the ratings.
Word count: 1897
Warnings/Spoilers: Uh, contains a lot of swearing as apparently my brain commutes 3am fic into degenerative name calling and insults.
Summary: Danny’s favourite retort was his tongue, sharp and biting with jibes that hung heavy with sarcasm and frank disapproval.
---
They yelled at each other. A lot. Over just about anything. This shouldn’t have really come as a surprise to anyone who’d actually ever seen them in action. Danny’s favourite retort was his tongue, sharp and biting with jibes that hung heavy with sarcasm and frank disapproval. Steve had always preferred to let his fists do the talking - if not he talked with his gun, which was his second. Both tended to cover all situations that he found himself in.
But not this one.
Oh no, not Detective Danny Williams who always had three or four opinions of any given topic, always contradictory and delivered with a certain amount of posturing and if Steve didn’t know any better he’d think Danny was fucking with him deliberately.
But this time, Danny’s taken it one step too far, accusing Steve of not caring about any fucking thing except himself, and concept which “by the way, if you haven’t noticed, is going to get us all killed” and Steve saw red. No. Steve was here to do a job - his job - and he was going to get it done with the minimal amount of injury to any member of his team. He cared more than anyone gave him credit for, leave no man behind beating a consistent drum against his skull, so loud it was hard to drown out. As it was Steve had had the tamp down the absurd amount of guilt that boiled to the surface in his stomach every time he saw so much as a scratch.
But of course that wouldn’t be good enough for Danny, not until he played by the rules and read the manual back to front, upside down, and possibly cross-eyed just for good measure. Until then it was irresponsible, psychotic and downright insane that Steve thought for himself.
He’d played by the rules once. Rules were boring.
He lightly informed Danny of the aforementioned thought, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of diatribe that accurately described what Danny thought of the particular piece of information.
The words weren’t important Steve told himself, while tuning out Danny’s voice, they were a detail so insignificant and inconsequential in the face of what was really being said below the surface. Danny was hurting, in need of reassurance that everything would be okay, putting stock in the fact of the way Steve was Steve to give him something to cling to desperately, like he was in a sinking boat and wasn’t quite bailing the water out fast enough.
But Steve‘s done, sick of the same tired, same worn routine that they did and his response had flared deep in gut moments before it left his mouth, and freaky ninja SEAL he may be but his reflexes weren’t quite fast enough to catch it in time.
It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time - but there was the momentary flicker before it was covered and Danny’s argument had quickly shifted into Steve having no respect for human life and Steve really was finished.
“You know what? Fuck you. Your moral indignation is fun, but only in short bursts, so if you’re done trying to give yourself a hernia; I actually have a job to do.”
Danny eyes flare dangerously for a second, before he’s stalking around the desk, and punching Steve in the face and motherfucker Steve had forgotten the hell of a right hook Danny had.
“Screw you.” Danny replies quietly, as if he’d never lost his composure. And just like that he is gone, leaving Steve rubbing at his aching jaw surrounded by what amounted to any shred of respect that Danny had for him.
So the look of utter surprise on Danny’s face hours later when Steve barges into his flat is ultimately, rather gratifying.
It also immediately started another fight. Big fucking surprise.
Danny yelled, Steve tried to get in a word edgewise and was immediately shutdown, sitting there and scowling that scowl that Danny hated until the detective wilted only a fraction, enough for Steve to take advantage, enough to start on a rant of his own.
At least, that was until Danny had ducked under his securities, mentally, physically and damn well metaphorically, pushing him backwards until Steve’s back hit the wall, Danny’s arm pressed against his throat and eyes narrowed.
“You talk too fucking much,” Danny had rasped, voice hoarse, presumably from all the yelling but not that Steve was the detective here.
“You’re irritating. And a hypocrite.” Steve bit out, raising both arms to grasp the one across his throat. It would be so easy.
“I hate you.”
“Right back at you.”
“Glad we’re on the same page, princess,” Danny spat, about a half a moment before he pressed a bruising kiss to Steve’s mouth that opened automatically in response, hands hanging loose off Danny’s arm.
It was messy, spit slick and painful, too much teeth and not enough tongue, and apparently the both of them were incapable of doing anything, seriously anything, without it turning out like another fight, another battle that required victory and that neither yielded from, always pushing and prodding and trying to find weakness.
Well fuck him if he thinks he’s going to, Steve thought grimly.
This right here? This was everything.
Everything summed up in an outpouring of the little twitches and the quirks that went against the grain of the other. Everything about them that rubbed the wrong way, every pet hate and irrational fear, every self esteem issue and every single fucking cocky smirk and hand gesture that created them.
Steve adored it as much as he hated it, and the dichotomy created the low churning in his gut. Hated the way Danny dropped so casually to his knees, even through the little twinge at the back of Steve’s skull over Danny’s torn ACL. Hated the sound of the zip in the sudden silence. Loved the look on Danny’s face as he freed Steve’s cock from its confines (somewhere between awe and the tiniest hint of jealousy) and wasted no time in sucking him down. Hated the way his own head hit the wall, the groans that Danny somehow managed to tease from him and the way his fingers curled instantly in blonde hair and tugged.
Mostly, he loved the way Danny refused to move when Steve’s groans stuttered to a halt and his hips jerked forward of their own accord, spilling down Danny’s throat. Steve had about a half a moment to recognise the fact the Danny had swallowed, almost greedily, before the man in question was sitting back and having the nerve to smirk up at him.
Steve's never, ever, going to let that pass.
He slams Danny backwards into the floor and straddles him, ignoring the muffled yelp that escapes when Steve sinks his teeth into the column of that neck, feeling the prickle of stubble under his tongues as he sucks a mark into it.
He has to show Danny, feels the need consume him like wildfire. Steve has to have the upper hand, he has to, and before his knows it, his hand is wrapped around Danny’s cock, jacking him roughly. The fucking almost illegal sounds that are pouring out of Danny’s mouth is something Steve’s fairly certain he won’t forget, especially as they seem to be burning into his brain. His other hand wraps tugs on the tie, pulling Danny up to meet his mouth.
“You,” he says against those lips, “are the most annoying person I have ever had the liberty of knowing. You don’t like me, but you stick around, and you are slowly becoming the voice in my ear that questions every damn thing I do. I hate you, and occasionally I want to kill you, but you’re good for me, Detective Danny Williams.” He punctuates the last sentence by twisting his grip ever so slightly and feels Danny’s hips arch of the own accord, panting in response to Steve’s words though for once he is gloriously silent.
Steve mashes their lips together again, sliding his tongue into Danny’s mouth without waiting for permission even as he speeds up his strokes. He swallows the moan Danny makes and waits a heartbeat, two, three, before letting go and sliding down Danny’s body in one swift movement and taking him in his mouth, ignoring the sweet Jesus Christ that explodes a second after he does.
It doesn’t take long, Danny’s strung out and on edge and it takes Steve figuratively playing him like a harp with his tongue that makes it all come undone. He scrambles backwards and rises to his feet, staring down at Danny who looks thoroughly debauched and almost devastatingly attractive.
“Don’t you ever question my loyalty to my team. I would give anything to keep you safe.”
Danny snorts, the faintest rumble of laughter around exhausted breaths.
“You had to give me a blowjob to prove that?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as his eyes finally focus on Steve’s face, full of questions Steve doesn’t know how to answer so he ignores.
“Nah, that was on the house.” He replies with a smirk instead.
“Jesus, McGarrett. You have no sense of self-restraint.” Danny retorts, but there’s no edge to his words, just worn-out affection.
“I’ve been told. Numerous times.” He drops to one knee, and looks at Danny with an expression that he knows Danny has mentally catalogued and stored, probably with a ridiculous name. “I wouldn’t put you guys in harm’s way without knowing I can get you out.”
“Of course, the invincible SEAL makes a reoccurrence,” Danny notes tiredly.
“I wouldn’t.”
“I believe you,” Danny says simply, and Steve instinctively knows he’s telling the truth but the joy is short lived. “But this is not really the appropriate place for this conversation.”
“Why?”
“You’re still kinda hanging out there babe,” Danny points out diplomatically, “and I know you have this grand speech planned, and really, it warms my heart to see that you have feelings like the rest of us plebeians, but I’m finding it very hard to take you seriously.”
Steve would blush and desperately wants to look away, but he raises his chin as if daring the embarrassment to move further and instead tries to rectify the situation as quietly as possible. Which is difficult when Danny is smirking knowingly in his direction.
“Shut up.” He says instead, and Danny breaks out into immediate mocking laughter, which inevitably leads to Steve socking him in the arm and just like that it seems the whole situation has disintegrated into something that can be dealt with.
There’s a lot to talk about, so many complications and issues that surround this whole type of thing. Red tape and warnings written in bold and underlined but Steve doesn’t care. He’s tired, and he’d much rather talk about it in the morning - a sentiment finally shared by Danny who is about a half second away from going to sleep on the floor.
They’ll figure themselves out in the morning - what to do, who to tell, if it was a mistake, whether or not Danny needs to stop punching Steve in the jaw. Oh, and the issue of the rules.
Steve’s never been fond of rules.
He just hopes he can convince Danny of the same, at least a little bit anyway.
Paring/s: Steve/Danny
Genre: Porn. Sort of.
Rating: R - not good with the ratings.
Word count: 1897
Warnings/Spoilers: Uh, contains a lot of swearing as apparently my brain commutes 3am fic into degenerative name calling and insults.
Summary: Danny’s favourite retort was his tongue, sharp and biting with jibes that hung heavy with sarcasm and frank disapproval.
---
They yelled at each other. A lot. Over just about anything. This shouldn’t have really come as a surprise to anyone who’d actually ever seen them in action. Danny’s favourite retort was his tongue, sharp and biting with jibes that hung heavy with sarcasm and frank disapproval. Steve had always preferred to let his fists do the talking - if not he talked with his gun, which was his second. Both tended to cover all situations that he found himself in.
But not this one.
Oh no, not Detective Danny Williams who always had three or four opinions of any given topic, always contradictory and delivered with a certain amount of posturing and if Steve didn’t know any better he’d think Danny was fucking with him deliberately.
But this time, Danny’s taken it one step too far, accusing Steve of not caring about any fucking thing except himself, and concept which “by the way, if you haven’t noticed, is going to get us all killed” and Steve saw red. No. Steve was here to do a job - his job - and he was going to get it done with the minimal amount of injury to any member of his team. He cared more than anyone gave him credit for, leave no man behind beating a consistent drum against his skull, so loud it was hard to drown out. As it was Steve had had the tamp down the absurd amount of guilt that boiled to the surface in his stomach every time he saw so much as a scratch.
But of course that wouldn’t be good enough for Danny, not until he played by the rules and read the manual back to front, upside down, and possibly cross-eyed just for good measure. Until then it was irresponsible, psychotic and downright insane that Steve thought for himself.
He’d played by the rules once. Rules were boring.
He lightly informed Danny of the aforementioned thought, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of diatribe that accurately described what Danny thought of the particular piece of information.
The words weren’t important Steve told himself, while tuning out Danny’s voice, they were a detail so insignificant and inconsequential in the face of what was really being said below the surface. Danny was hurting, in need of reassurance that everything would be okay, putting stock in the fact of the way Steve was Steve to give him something to cling to desperately, like he was in a sinking boat and wasn’t quite bailing the water out fast enough.
But Steve‘s done, sick of the same tired, same worn routine that they did and his response had flared deep in gut moments before it left his mouth, and freaky ninja SEAL he may be but his reflexes weren’t quite fast enough to catch it in time.
It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time - but there was the momentary flicker before it was covered and Danny’s argument had quickly shifted into Steve having no respect for human life and Steve really was finished.
“You know what? Fuck you. Your moral indignation is fun, but only in short bursts, so if you’re done trying to give yourself a hernia; I actually have a job to do.”
Danny eyes flare dangerously for a second, before he’s stalking around the desk, and punching Steve in the face and motherfucker Steve had forgotten the hell of a right hook Danny had.
“Screw you.” Danny replies quietly, as if he’d never lost his composure. And just like that he is gone, leaving Steve rubbing at his aching jaw surrounded by what amounted to any shred of respect that Danny had for him.
So the look of utter surprise on Danny’s face hours later when Steve barges into his flat is ultimately, rather gratifying.
It also immediately started another fight. Big fucking surprise.
Danny yelled, Steve tried to get in a word edgewise and was immediately shutdown, sitting there and scowling that scowl that Danny hated until the detective wilted only a fraction, enough for Steve to take advantage, enough to start on a rant of his own.
At least, that was until Danny had ducked under his securities, mentally, physically and damn well metaphorically, pushing him backwards until Steve’s back hit the wall, Danny’s arm pressed against his throat and eyes narrowed.
“You talk too fucking much,” Danny had rasped, voice hoarse, presumably from all the yelling but not that Steve was the detective here.
“You’re irritating. And a hypocrite.” Steve bit out, raising both arms to grasp the one across his throat. It would be so easy.
“I hate you.”
“Right back at you.”
“Glad we’re on the same page, princess,” Danny spat, about a half a moment before he pressed a bruising kiss to Steve’s mouth that opened automatically in response, hands hanging loose off Danny’s arm.
It was messy, spit slick and painful, too much teeth and not enough tongue, and apparently the both of them were incapable of doing anything, seriously anything, without it turning out like another fight, another battle that required victory and that neither yielded from, always pushing and prodding and trying to find weakness.
Well fuck him if he thinks he’s going to, Steve thought grimly.
This right here? This was everything.
Everything summed up in an outpouring of the little twitches and the quirks that went against the grain of the other. Everything about them that rubbed the wrong way, every pet hate and irrational fear, every self esteem issue and every single fucking cocky smirk and hand gesture that created them.
Steve adored it as much as he hated it, and the dichotomy created the low churning in his gut. Hated the way Danny dropped so casually to his knees, even through the little twinge at the back of Steve’s skull over Danny’s torn ACL. Hated the sound of the zip in the sudden silence. Loved the look on Danny’s face as he freed Steve’s cock from its confines (somewhere between awe and the tiniest hint of jealousy) and wasted no time in sucking him down. Hated the way his own head hit the wall, the groans that Danny somehow managed to tease from him and the way his fingers curled instantly in blonde hair and tugged.
Mostly, he loved the way Danny refused to move when Steve’s groans stuttered to a halt and his hips jerked forward of their own accord, spilling down Danny’s throat. Steve had about a half a moment to recognise the fact the Danny had swallowed, almost greedily, before the man in question was sitting back and having the nerve to smirk up at him.
Steve's never, ever, going to let that pass.
He slams Danny backwards into the floor and straddles him, ignoring the muffled yelp that escapes when Steve sinks his teeth into the column of that neck, feeling the prickle of stubble under his tongues as he sucks a mark into it.
He has to show Danny, feels the need consume him like wildfire. Steve has to have the upper hand, he has to, and before his knows it, his hand is wrapped around Danny’s cock, jacking him roughly. The fucking almost illegal sounds that are pouring out of Danny’s mouth is something Steve’s fairly certain he won’t forget, especially as they seem to be burning into his brain. His other hand wraps tugs on the tie, pulling Danny up to meet his mouth.
“You,” he says against those lips, “are the most annoying person I have ever had the liberty of knowing. You don’t like me, but you stick around, and you are slowly becoming the voice in my ear that questions every damn thing I do. I hate you, and occasionally I want to kill you, but you’re good for me, Detective Danny Williams.” He punctuates the last sentence by twisting his grip ever so slightly and feels Danny’s hips arch of the own accord, panting in response to Steve’s words though for once he is gloriously silent.
Steve mashes their lips together again, sliding his tongue into Danny’s mouth without waiting for permission even as he speeds up his strokes. He swallows the moan Danny makes and waits a heartbeat, two, three, before letting go and sliding down Danny’s body in one swift movement and taking him in his mouth, ignoring the sweet Jesus Christ that explodes a second after he does.
It doesn’t take long, Danny’s strung out and on edge and it takes Steve figuratively playing him like a harp with his tongue that makes it all come undone. He scrambles backwards and rises to his feet, staring down at Danny who looks thoroughly debauched and almost devastatingly attractive.
“Don’t you ever question my loyalty to my team. I would give anything to keep you safe.”
Danny snorts, the faintest rumble of laughter around exhausted breaths.
“You had to give me a blowjob to prove that?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as his eyes finally focus on Steve’s face, full of questions Steve doesn’t know how to answer so he ignores.
“Nah, that was on the house.” He replies with a smirk instead.
“Jesus, McGarrett. You have no sense of self-restraint.” Danny retorts, but there’s no edge to his words, just worn-out affection.
“I’ve been told. Numerous times.” He drops to one knee, and looks at Danny with an expression that he knows Danny has mentally catalogued and stored, probably with a ridiculous name. “I wouldn’t put you guys in harm’s way without knowing I can get you out.”
“Of course, the invincible SEAL makes a reoccurrence,” Danny notes tiredly.
“I wouldn’t.”
“I believe you,” Danny says simply, and Steve instinctively knows he’s telling the truth but the joy is short lived. “But this is not really the appropriate place for this conversation.”
“Why?”
“You’re still kinda hanging out there babe,” Danny points out diplomatically, “and I know you have this grand speech planned, and really, it warms my heart to see that you have feelings like the rest of us plebeians, but I’m finding it very hard to take you seriously.”
Steve would blush and desperately wants to look away, but he raises his chin as if daring the embarrassment to move further and instead tries to rectify the situation as quietly as possible. Which is difficult when Danny is smirking knowingly in his direction.
“Shut up.” He says instead, and Danny breaks out into immediate mocking laughter, which inevitably leads to Steve socking him in the arm and just like that it seems the whole situation has disintegrated into something that can be dealt with.
There’s a lot to talk about, so many complications and issues that surround this whole type of thing. Red tape and warnings written in bold and underlined but Steve doesn’t care. He’s tired, and he’d much rather talk about it in the morning - a sentiment finally shared by Danny who is about a half second away from going to sleep on the floor.
They’ll figure themselves out in the morning - what to do, who to tell, if it was a mistake, whether or not Danny needs to stop punching Steve in the jaw. Oh, and the issue of the rules.
Steve’s never been fond of rules.
He just hopes he can convince Danny of the same, at least a little bit anyway.