Bound, for smilla02
le_mot_mo and I know that this is against the rules of the comm, but given that her and I didn't get our gift!story and someone (whose identity will be revealed later) was so fantastic as to write one of the two missing stories, we decided that the rule could be broken. So, another anonymous Danny/Martin fic for you all to enjoy!
Title: Bound
Author: Edward G. Hoover
Recipient: smilla02
Rating - NC 17, FRAO, adults only.
Warnings - a little kinky - but a surprisingly happy story!
Author’s Notes - for Smilla since she didn’t get one. In answer to two of her challenges:
4. Martin had a boyfriend called Bobby. One night he tells Danny about him. Sex ensues.
6. Any kind of kinky sex.
“No.” Martin pulled away, stepping clear of Danny’s body and twisting out of his long reach.
“But you promised,” Danny wheedled, following as Martin slipped out of his suitcoat, laying it over the back of the couch. “Martin - “
“I promised we could try something different,” he said, pulling on his tie. “I said I would try something new - I never said I would let you fuck me on the kitchen table - we eat in there - “
“That’s the idea,” Danny said in that low voice that made Martin’s stomach lurch. Danny’s long legs only needed two strides to bring him to the couch, where he knelt, facing Martin. “I’d like to eat something on it now, querido,” he breathed, reaching up to unbutton the top button of Martin’s shirt.
It took effort, but Martin stepped back, out of range. “No,” he repeated, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “The last time I let someone do that, I had jelly stuck to my ass for two days, we ruined two pots, nearly set the dorm on fire, and I was almost expelled - and Bobby dumped me anyway.”
Danny blinked, and Martin realized what he had said. He turned heading for the bedroom. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he snapped as Danny started to ask. “It was a long time ago, it’s over - “
“I thought you said you’d never been in a relationship with another man.”
It wasn’t the words - it rarely was with Danny. It was the tone. Martin winced. He hated it when Danny sounded hurt. He hated to hurt Danny.
“It wasn’t a relationship,” he mumbled, walking down the hallway to his bedroom. “We went out three times - had sex twice, the last time on the kitchen table of the dorm. Once he got my pants off, it was over - the table was my attempt to have something that wasn’t there.”
He flipped on the light as he moved into the bedroom, his tie undone, his hands moving over the buttons of his shirt. He knew Danny was behind him even before he reached the closet door.
“Bobby, huh,” the other man said from the doorway. “Did you love him?”
Martin turned, frowning. “Love him?” He pulled his tie off harder than he intended, feeling the fabric burn despite the layers of cloth between the tie and his skin. “Jesus, I was 19 years old! I told you, we went out three times - “
“And you let him fuck you on the kitchen table in the middle of what I gather was a public area in a dorm - were you cooking dinner for him too?” There was something else in Danny’s voice now, and Martin swallowed.
“I was 19, Danny,” he repeated. “19.”
“That’d be a yes, then.”
Martin didn’t say anything, distracting himself with hanging up the tie and taking off his shirt. He tossed it into the hamper just inside the closet door then reached for his belt, already kicking his shoes off and into the closet as well.
“Our kitchen table isn’t in the middle of a public area - is that the problem?” Danny asked, and even though the tone was light, Martin knew the attitude wasn’t.
He pulled his belt out with the same force he’d used on the tie, and felt the same burn. The leather snapped as it cleared his body, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “No, Danny, the problem is that you’re bored with me already,” he shot back, his body stiff. “The problem is that once you fuck me on the kitchen table, you’ll be gone.”
He hung the belt on its hanger, feeling his back twinge as he reached out.
“Martin.” The word was a whisper and he felt Danny’s breath ghost over his neck just before those familiar hands closed over his shoulders. “Is that what this is about?”
“Isn’t it?” Martin countered, trying to pull away. “Seems that I’m not enough for you anymore - we’ve got to do it in the shower, or over the couch, or on the phone - something new and exciting, some kink - “ He caught himself, the words running too fast for his mouth to keep up.
Danny’s arms wrapped around him, and he was pulled back against the other man’s chest. He knew he was trembling, knew he was losing control, but he couldn’t seem to make himself fight.
“I’m not bored with you,” Danny said, his lips moving against Martin’s ear. “I could never be bored with you. I love you.”
“Well,” Martin swallowed, “sometimes love isn’t enough, is it. Sometimes - “ His voice caught and he tried to breathe. He was barely aware of his arms rising to cover Danny’s, holding tightly.
“It’s enough for us,” Danny whispered as he kissed just under Martin’ ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
Martin shook his head, but only once; after that, Danny’s tongue was washing along his jaw, his teeth nipping lightly at the pulse points he knew well. He hugged Martin closer, letting his hands slide down Martin’s long torso to find the button on his slacks.
Martin’s breath hitched as Danny’s fingers knowingly unbuttoned then unzipped, slipping inside the fabric and pushing it down. Gravity did the rest, the pants falling to poll around his feet, but he was hardly aware; Danny’s fingers were slipping beneath the elastic of his boxers, then they, too, were gone.
But the fingers, those talented, knowing fingers, were wrapped around his cock. He hadn’t been aroused - this conversation had been anything but titillating; but Danny knew him well, knew how to tease along his thighs, how to kiss along his throat, how to rub against his ass.
How to make the wanting overcome any rational thought.
“You know,” Danny said quietly, his rhythm even and sweet, “you’ve never mentioned anything that you want.”
“Wha-?” Martin could barely process the words.
“What do you want, Martin?” Danny asked, his voice a rumble against Martin’s neck. “I know there’s something that you want to do, to feel . . . “
“Just you,” Martin managed to answer, leaning back into the warmth that was his lover. “Just you.”
He was moving, Danny guiding him, slow and easy like the touches to his body. The bed was close, and Danny’s hands left him bereft and aching as they moved to turn him.
“Lay back,” the soft command whispered against his lips just before they were kissing, Danny pressing him down and back. He was stretched backwards across the bed, Danny hot against him, and hard, the planes of his body flat yet conforming. They were angling then, Martin’s head on the pillows. “What do you want, Martin? What can I do to make you - “
“Just love me,” Martin moaned, his hands catching Danny’s head, tilting it for a kiss.
It was deep and full of heat, and before they parted for air, Martin was grinding his hips up, into the rough denim of Danny’s jeans. An answering erection brushed against his, paralleled his, and he let one hand slink between them, finding the button of the jeans -
“Handcuffs,” Danny caught Martin’s wrist, pulling his hand away from its objective. “You want to be handcuffed, don’t you.”
Something cold around his wrist, a lick - “Danny?”
He pulled himself from the haze of desire, but not in time; Danny had caught his other arm, pulling it above his head, the metal cool as it closed over his knobby bones.
“Shhhhh,” Danny kissed him, his hands caressing down Martin’s arms, gentle, almost tickling.
Martin instinctively contracted - or tried to; the handcuffs bit into his skin, holding him.
“Danny?” he gasped, startled. A sharp bolt of desire flashed along his spine as he realized he couldn’t move now.
“I love you,” the other man said, his voice low even as his mouth drifted, licking at his chin, his throat. “I watch you, see how handle your handcuffs, see how you finger them when you’re thinking, see how you fondle them when you aren’t paying attention. You want to wear them, Martin, want to trust someone to love you when you can’t love them back.”
That mouth was kissing along his chest now, then tonguing at a nipple. Martin arched at the contact, moaning. The restraints chaffed as he moved, the slight pain sending flares of want through him.
“Did Bobby know you liked this?” Danny teased, licking again. “Did Bobby tie you down?”
“Danny,” Martin heard himself begging as his other nipple got attention. “Let me -let me - “
The wicked mouth traipsed lower, over his belly and along the slim line of copper hair leading down.
“Let me go!” Martin cried as the head of his cock was engulfed in the moist warmth of Danny’s mouth.
Long practice had Martin on the edge too soon - at least that was what he tried to tell himself; but every tug on his arms, every scrape of his flesh against the metal bands, sent a flare of need straight to his groin where the coil grew ever tighter.
It was only Danny’s hand at the base of his erection, holding tight, that kept him from cresting into orgasm - several times. It did not, however, keep him from whimpering then begging once more.
“Please, let me go, Danny, please -“
“Like that?” Danny asked, breathless, as he crawled back up Martin’s body.
“Let me go, let me - “ His words were lost in another searing kiss. Afterwards, drawing air, he found Danny kneeling between his legs, pouring oil from the small bottle in the nightstand into his palm. “Please,” he whined, trying to pull his arms down, “I don’t like this.”
Danny smiled down at him, and Martin noticed that somewhere along the way, Danny had lost his shirt and opened his jeans; his erection stood proud and willing from the folds of cloth, the tip glistening with his excitement. He wanted to touch it, to taste it.
Danny sat back and reached between Martin’s legs. “Your body tells me a different story,” he smiled down at Martin as his oil-slick hand touched his balls.
Martin shivered, then moaned as that hand traveled back, touching hyper-sensitive skin as it eased back to the small pucker.
“Your body loves this, Martin,” Danny whispered, leaning over to extend his reach. “Your body wants this - oh, there we go.”
This wasn’t new, but this time, it was more intense; when Danny’s finger slid into him, he bucked with the shock of it, a shock like a current - but not strong enough to hurt. Just strong enough to string him a little closer.
“God,” he cried, spreading his legs wider, “Danny, please!”
“Bobby never did this to you, did he,” Danny murmured, adding as second finger, stretching. “He didn’t deserve you, Martin.” He twisted his wrist just a little, and caught the small gland, grazing it just hard enough for Martin to lose his sense of time and place.
His wrists were hurting, but the pain wasn’t distracting; the coil in his stomach tightened more as he pulled, wanting to hold Danny but unable to, completely at the other man’s mercy.
Danny was chuckling, and Martin found that he was moaning, begging, gasping - wanting. His legs were around Danny’s waist, the other man positioned over him, seeking his center.
“Relax, baby,” Danny commanded, but his voice was rich with passion, “let me in. Let me - “
Martin flexed his hips and shifted, and Danny gasped himself as he slid past the tight ring.
They both froze, struggling for control. Danny fell forward, long body leaning over Martin, forcing himself to breathe. Martin would have grinned at he power he felt - tied down, naked, helpless, and he still knew how to get to the other man.
But all he wanted right now was for Danny to move, to take him, love him. He flexed again, arched his back, and pushed, taking more.
“Martin!” Danny called, his forehead falling to rest on Martin’s heaving chest.
“Move, dammit,” Martin ordered, “I need you!”
He arched again, his legs pulling against Danny’s waist, lifting his hips off the bed - and they both cried out in pleasure and hurt as they joined completely.
Martin pulled again on his restraints, that burn complementing the other, deeper one, the one that turned so quickly to ecstasy as Danny slowly drew back, then pushed in again.
The pace was slow, but not for long, Martin’s need running just slightly head of his body’s submission. He’d never felt this intensity before, as if every nerve of his body was on fire, just at the point of blistering; at the instant that the sensation was almost pain, Danny was there, soothing through the hurt, transforming it into the sweetest tension.
A tension that strung him taut, stung them both thin and fine, until Danny reached between then, catching Martin’s erection in one hand and stroking. Martin rose against him, yearning for a completion that was just out past his grasp.
Danny’s other hand closed on Martin’s arm, drifting up to one side of the handcuffs, encircling it, and Martin came.
He was aware, eventually, of Danny laying one him, then shifting at some point rest beside him, but it was a while before either of them were breathing anywhere close to normally.
“Love you,” Danny whispered against his cheek. He moved slowly, and with effort, coming to his knees. Martin was vaguely aware of him fumbling, pulling off the used condom and dropping it in the small trashcan beside the bed, then working with his pants. Martin tried to move, realized that he was still restrained, and was on the verse of complaint when Danny bent over him.
“Martin? Are you with me?” His face was right over Martin’s and Martin blinked, frowning even as he nodded his head. Danny smiled at him. “I’m not bored with you. I don’t think I ever could be.” The kiss was slow and easy, and chaste. “I won’t ever ask you again about the kitchen table.”
Martin looked at him. “Danny, I didn’t mean - “
Danny kissed the tip of his nose, stopping him. “Bobby was the first, wasn’t he. The first guy.”
Martin held his gaze for a second. “Before you, he was the only one,” he answered softly. “After him . . . it hurt too much.”
Danny blinked, almost asked, then understood. Not the sex, the loss. Martin had trusted more with Bobby. And now, with Danny.
Danny leaned over him, unlocking the handcuffs. As Martin’s wrists were freed, he kissed each one, rubbing lightly over slight damage.
Martin didn’t give him a lot of time, though, pulling Danny into a hug. They lay on the bed, close and drowsy and content.
“Was it that obvious?” Martin asked after while, his fingers carding lazily through Danny’s hair. “About the handcuffs?”
He felt Danny’s smile against his chest, then the muffled answer. “Not really. Not as obvious as your interest in women’s panties . . . . “
Title: Bound
Author: Edward G. Hoover
Recipient: smilla02
Rating - NC 17, FRAO, adults only.
Warnings - a little kinky - but a surprisingly happy story!
Author’s Notes - for Smilla since she didn’t get one. In answer to two of her challenges:
4. Martin had a boyfriend called Bobby. One night he tells Danny about him. Sex ensues.
6. Any kind of kinky sex.
“No.” Martin pulled away, stepping clear of Danny’s body and twisting out of his long reach.
“But you promised,” Danny wheedled, following as Martin slipped out of his suitcoat, laying it over the back of the couch. “Martin - “
“I promised we could try something different,” he said, pulling on his tie. “I said I would try something new - I never said I would let you fuck me on the kitchen table - we eat in there - “
“That’s the idea,” Danny said in that low voice that made Martin’s stomach lurch. Danny’s long legs only needed two strides to bring him to the couch, where he knelt, facing Martin. “I’d like to eat something on it now, querido,” he breathed, reaching up to unbutton the top button of Martin’s shirt.
It took effort, but Martin stepped back, out of range. “No,” he repeated, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “The last time I let someone do that, I had jelly stuck to my ass for two days, we ruined two pots, nearly set the dorm on fire, and I was almost expelled - and Bobby dumped me anyway.”
Danny blinked, and Martin realized what he had said. He turned heading for the bedroom. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he snapped as Danny started to ask. “It was a long time ago, it’s over - “
“I thought you said you’d never been in a relationship with another man.”
It wasn’t the words - it rarely was with Danny. It was the tone. Martin winced. He hated it when Danny sounded hurt. He hated to hurt Danny.
“It wasn’t a relationship,” he mumbled, walking down the hallway to his bedroom. “We went out three times - had sex twice, the last time on the kitchen table of the dorm. Once he got my pants off, it was over - the table was my attempt to have something that wasn’t there.”
He flipped on the light as he moved into the bedroom, his tie undone, his hands moving over the buttons of his shirt. He knew Danny was behind him even before he reached the closet door.
“Bobby, huh,” the other man said from the doorway. “Did you love him?”
Martin turned, frowning. “Love him?” He pulled his tie off harder than he intended, feeling the fabric burn despite the layers of cloth between the tie and his skin. “Jesus, I was 19 years old! I told you, we went out three times - “
“And you let him fuck you on the kitchen table in the middle of what I gather was a public area in a dorm - were you cooking dinner for him too?” There was something else in Danny’s voice now, and Martin swallowed.
“I was 19, Danny,” he repeated. “19.”
“That’d be a yes, then.”
Martin didn’t say anything, distracting himself with hanging up the tie and taking off his shirt. He tossed it into the hamper just inside the closet door then reached for his belt, already kicking his shoes off and into the closet as well.
“Our kitchen table isn’t in the middle of a public area - is that the problem?” Danny asked, and even though the tone was light, Martin knew the attitude wasn’t.
He pulled his belt out with the same force he’d used on the tie, and felt the same burn. The leather snapped as it cleared his body, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “No, Danny, the problem is that you’re bored with me already,” he shot back, his body stiff. “The problem is that once you fuck me on the kitchen table, you’ll be gone.”
He hung the belt on its hanger, feeling his back twinge as he reached out.
“Martin.” The word was a whisper and he felt Danny’s breath ghost over his neck just before those familiar hands closed over his shoulders. “Is that what this is about?”
“Isn’t it?” Martin countered, trying to pull away. “Seems that I’m not enough for you anymore - we’ve got to do it in the shower, or over the couch, or on the phone - something new and exciting, some kink - “ He caught himself, the words running too fast for his mouth to keep up.
Danny’s arms wrapped around him, and he was pulled back against the other man’s chest. He knew he was trembling, knew he was losing control, but he couldn’t seem to make himself fight.
“I’m not bored with you,” Danny said, his lips moving against Martin’s ear. “I could never be bored with you. I love you.”
“Well,” Martin swallowed, “sometimes love isn’t enough, is it. Sometimes - “ His voice caught and he tried to breathe. He was barely aware of his arms rising to cover Danny’s, holding tightly.
“It’s enough for us,” Danny whispered as he kissed just under Martin’ ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
Martin shook his head, but only once; after that, Danny’s tongue was washing along his jaw, his teeth nipping lightly at the pulse points he knew well. He hugged Martin closer, letting his hands slide down Martin’s long torso to find the button on his slacks.
Martin’s breath hitched as Danny’s fingers knowingly unbuttoned then unzipped, slipping inside the fabric and pushing it down. Gravity did the rest, the pants falling to poll around his feet, but he was hardly aware; Danny’s fingers were slipping beneath the elastic of his boxers, then they, too, were gone.
But the fingers, those talented, knowing fingers, were wrapped around his cock. He hadn’t been aroused - this conversation had been anything but titillating; but Danny knew him well, knew how to tease along his thighs, how to kiss along his throat, how to rub against his ass.
How to make the wanting overcome any rational thought.
“You know,” Danny said quietly, his rhythm even and sweet, “you’ve never mentioned anything that you want.”
“Wha-?” Martin could barely process the words.
“What do you want, Martin?” Danny asked, his voice a rumble against Martin’s neck. “I know there’s something that you want to do, to feel . . . “
“Just you,” Martin managed to answer, leaning back into the warmth that was his lover. “Just you.”
He was moving, Danny guiding him, slow and easy like the touches to his body. The bed was close, and Danny’s hands left him bereft and aching as they moved to turn him.
“Lay back,” the soft command whispered against his lips just before they were kissing, Danny pressing him down and back. He was stretched backwards across the bed, Danny hot against him, and hard, the planes of his body flat yet conforming. They were angling then, Martin’s head on the pillows. “What do you want, Martin? What can I do to make you - “
“Just love me,” Martin moaned, his hands catching Danny’s head, tilting it for a kiss.
It was deep and full of heat, and before they parted for air, Martin was grinding his hips up, into the rough denim of Danny’s jeans. An answering erection brushed against his, paralleled his, and he let one hand slink between them, finding the button of the jeans -
“Handcuffs,” Danny caught Martin’s wrist, pulling his hand away from its objective. “You want to be handcuffed, don’t you.”
Something cold around his wrist, a lick - “Danny?”
He pulled himself from the haze of desire, but not in time; Danny had caught his other arm, pulling it above his head, the metal cool as it closed over his knobby bones.
“Shhhhh,” Danny kissed him, his hands caressing down Martin’s arms, gentle, almost tickling.
Martin instinctively contracted - or tried to; the handcuffs bit into his skin, holding him.
“Danny?” he gasped, startled. A sharp bolt of desire flashed along his spine as he realized he couldn’t move now.
“I love you,” the other man said, his voice low even as his mouth drifted, licking at his chin, his throat. “I watch you, see how handle your handcuffs, see how you finger them when you’re thinking, see how you fondle them when you aren’t paying attention. You want to wear them, Martin, want to trust someone to love you when you can’t love them back.”
That mouth was kissing along his chest now, then tonguing at a nipple. Martin arched at the contact, moaning. The restraints chaffed as he moved, the slight pain sending flares of want through him.
“Did Bobby know you liked this?” Danny teased, licking again. “Did Bobby tie you down?”
“Danny,” Martin heard himself begging as his other nipple got attention. “Let me -let me - “
The wicked mouth traipsed lower, over his belly and along the slim line of copper hair leading down.
“Let me go!” Martin cried as the head of his cock was engulfed in the moist warmth of Danny’s mouth.
Long practice had Martin on the edge too soon - at least that was what he tried to tell himself; but every tug on his arms, every scrape of his flesh against the metal bands, sent a flare of need straight to his groin where the coil grew ever tighter.
It was only Danny’s hand at the base of his erection, holding tight, that kept him from cresting into orgasm - several times. It did not, however, keep him from whimpering then begging once more.
“Please, let me go, Danny, please -“
“Like that?” Danny asked, breathless, as he crawled back up Martin’s body.
“Let me go, let me - “ His words were lost in another searing kiss. Afterwards, drawing air, he found Danny kneeling between his legs, pouring oil from the small bottle in the nightstand into his palm. “Please,” he whined, trying to pull his arms down, “I don’t like this.”
Danny smiled down at him, and Martin noticed that somewhere along the way, Danny had lost his shirt and opened his jeans; his erection stood proud and willing from the folds of cloth, the tip glistening with his excitement. He wanted to touch it, to taste it.
Danny sat back and reached between Martin’s legs. “Your body tells me a different story,” he smiled down at Martin as his oil-slick hand touched his balls.
Martin shivered, then moaned as that hand traveled back, touching hyper-sensitive skin as it eased back to the small pucker.
“Your body loves this, Martin,” Danny whispered, leaning over to extend his reach. “Your body wants this - oh, there we go.”
This wasn’t new, but this time, it was more intense; when Danny’s finger slid into him, he bucked with the shock of it, a shock like a current - but not strong enough to hurt. Just strong enough to string him a little closer.
“God,” he cried, spreading his legs wider, “Danny, please!”
“Bobby never did this to you, did he,” Danny murmured, adding as second finger, stretching. “He didn’t deserve you, Martin.” He twisted his wrist just a little, and caught the small gland, grazing it just hard enough for Martin to lose his sense of time and place.
His wrists were hurting, but the pain wasn’t distracting; the coil in his stomach tightened more as he pulled, wanting to hold Danny but unable to, completely at the other man’s mercy.
Danny was chuckling, and Martin found that he was moaning, begging, gasping - wanting. His legs were around Danny’s waist, the other man positioned over him, seeking his center.
“Relax, baby,” Danny commanded, but his voice was rich with passion, “let me in. Let me - “
Martin flexed his hips and shifted, and Danny gasped himself as he slid past the tight ring.
They both froze, struggling for control. Danny fell forward, long body leaning over Martin, forcing himself to breathe. Martin would have grinned at he power he felt - tied down, naked, helpless, and he still knew how to get to the other man.
But all he wanted right now was for Danny to move, to take him, love him. He flexed again, arched his back, and pushed, taking more.
“Martin!” Danny called, his forehead falling to rest on Martin’s heaving chest.
“Move, dammit,” Martin ordered, “I need you!”
He arched again, his legs pulling against Danny’s waist, lifting his hips off the bed - and they both cried out in pleasure and hurt as they joined completely.
Martin pulled again on his restraints, that burn complementing the other, deeper one, the one that turned so quickly to ecstasy as Danny slowly drew back, then pushed in again.
The pace was slow, but not for long, Martin’s need running just slightly head of his body’s submission. He’d never felt this intensity before, as if every nerve of his body was on fire, just at the point of blistering; at the instant that the sensation was almost pain, Danny was there, soothing through the hurt, transforming it into the sweetest tension.
A tension that strung him taut, stung them both thin and fine, until Danny reached between then, catching Martin’s erection in one hand and stroking. Martin rose against him, yearning for a completion that was just out past his grasp.
Danny’s other hand closed on Martin’s arm, drifting up to one side of the handcuffs, encircling it, and Martin came.
He was aware, eventually, of Danny laying one him, then shifting at some point rest beside him, but it was a while before either of them were breathing anywhere close to normally.
“Love you,” Danny whispered against his cheek. He moved slowly, and with effort, coming to his knees. Martin was vaguely aware of him fumbling, pulling off the used condom and dropping it in the small trashcan beside the bed, then working with his pants. Martin tried to move, realized that he was still restrained, and was on the verse of complaint when Danny bent over him.
“Martin? Are you with me?” His face was right over Martin’s and Martin blinked, frowning even as he nodded his head. Danny smiled at him. “I’m not bored with you. I don’t think I ever could be.” The kiss was slow and easy, and chaste. “I won’t ever ask you again about the kitchen table.”
Martin looked at him. “Danny, I didn’t mean - “
Danny kissed the tip of his nose, stopping him. “Bobby was the first, wasn’t he. The first guy.”
Martin held his gaze for a second. “Before you, he was the only one,” he answered softly. “After him . . . it hurt too much.”
Danny blinked, almost asked, then understood. Not the sex, the loss. Martin had trusted more with Bobby. And now, with Danny.
Danny leaned over him, unlocking the handcuffs. As Martin’s wrists were freed, he kissed each one, rubbing lightly over slight damage.
Martin didn’t give him a lot of time, though, pulling Danny into a hug. They lay on the bed, close and drowsy and content.
“Was it that obvious?” Martin asked after while, his fingers carding lazily through Danny’s hair. “About the handcuffs?”
He felt Danny’s smile against his chest, then the muffled answer. “Not really. Not as obvious as your interest in women’s panties . . . . “