[Hawaii Five-0] Steve/Danny - Imprint
Title: Imprint
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 2,400
Rating: NC-17
Summary/Notes: Birthday fic for sycophantastic, who asked for “comparing scars and losing clothes.” Happy birthday!
“Danny,” Steve whines, tugging at Danny’s collar and tie.
“Will you just-” Danny swats the hands away, grips Steve’s wrists and forces them down to his sides. “Just…wait a sec, okay?”
Slowing Steve down from his usual frantic speeds is a challenge, but Danny is up to the task. It doesn’t help that they’ve done this a few times, always mindlessly rutting against each other until they spill against palms or thighs or trouser inseams. Danny wants this, his own mind echoes Steve’s neediness, but he would like them to both actually get fully naked this time. Without their clothes getting tangled beyond repair in the process.
They’re in Steve’s bedroom, and Danny pushes forward a few steps, so he’s no longer trapped between Steve and the door.
“Let me just…let me,” Danny says, and it isn’t often that he doesn’t have words, so he lets his hands speak for him, skirting the edge of Steve’s tee shirt.
Steve, for his part, is actually remaining still, curiosity in Danny’s intent bringing his kinetic energy to a halt. Danny skates his fingers up under the shirt, across the taut muscles of Steve’s belly. Steve’s breath hitches at the light touch, and Danny feels it beneath the pads of his fingers. Oh, yeah, he could get used to this.
He moves his hands up and across Steve’s pecs, letting the shirt bunch and ride up.
“Up, arms up, help me out here,” Danny says, pulling until Steve gets the message and tugs his shirt off the rest of the way. Danny sets to work on his own clothes, undoing the already loosened knot of his tie and starting down the buttons of his shirt.
“Oh, now you want my help?” Steve asks, reaching for the lower buttons.
“Only if you can keep things below the speed limit,” Danny says, grabbing Steve’s hands and guiding them at the pace he wants, until his shirt is fully undone and sliding off. “I am not above handcuffing you to the bed if you can’t keep still.”
Steve freezes then, eyes flicking to his. “Danny,” his voice has a desperate edge to it. “Would…would you?”
And Danny hadn’t meant it to be a serious threat, but now he has the mental image of Steve spread on the bed, writhing against restraints. Danny groans, “Next time, babe, that sound good?”
He kisses Steve then, can’t keep himself from it any longer. Steve keeps trying to quicken the pace, perhaps in an effort to make Danny follow through on his threat, but Danny’s having none of that. He pushes Steve back until they hit the bed and follows down.
Once there, he doesn’t do what Steve wants, which is to focus lower, on his tented cargo pants. Instead, Danny takes a moment to fully enjoy the sight of Steve’s torso, inked and stretched out beneath him. He trails fingers across Steve’s collarbone, just barely touching. Steve shivers.
“Danny…”
“Shhh.” Danny’s fingers skate across a spot where the skin is shiny and paler than the rest; scar tissue. He traces the outside of the scar. “What’s this from?”
“Wha…?”
“You heard me.” Danny leans down to kiss the edge of the mark.
“Gunshot wound,” Steve breathes.
“Mmmm.” Danny moves his attention elsewhere, to a line on Steve’s arm. “And this?” He touches the scar there.
“Knife.”
“Nick Taylor,” Danny says, remembering. It isn’t a question, and Steve’s silence is all the answer he needs.
Danny moves on. He doesn’t want Steve to linger on that memory. Steve’s torso has its fair share of scars, some faded by age, probably from childhood. Others are fresh, from his Five-0 days. Danny pays them all attention, running light fingertips across them, sometimes following with his lips. Some, he asks about, but not all. There are too many for that. Steve’s breathing grows progressively more ragged as he goes.
Danny’s fingers hesitate at one scar on Steve’s side. He doesn’t recognize the pattern from the scar tissue.
“What’s this?”
“Can’t…classified,” Steve says between hitched breaths.
“Steve…”
“Danny.” Steve’s voice is desperate-sounding. “Please…don’t make me-”
Don’t make me remember? Danny wonders. He can hear the edge in Steve’s tone. That scar is a result of torture.
“Hey, shhh, it’s okay. I’m here, yeah?” And Danny kisses the mystery scar for good measure.
Steve shudders, and then a moment later he’s shifting. Danny finds himself on his back, with Steve crouched over him.
“My turn,” Steve says, and Danny can’t suppress a shiver at his words.
If Danny was methodical in his examination, Steve is even more so. He’s finally slowed down, and seems determined to prove a point. Danny has fewer scars than Steve, however, so at least he has that going for him. By the time Steve has reached his navel, Danny is practically writhing in anticipation. Steve just uses one of his large hands to pin Danny’s hips. Abruptly, Steve changes direction, moving his attention to Danny’s arm.
“Son of a fucking…” Danny mutters in frustration.
Steve chuckles, ignoring him until he reaches a small scar on Danny’s upper arm. He touches it thoughtfully.
“First day we met,” Danny says, remembering the burn of the bullet as it glanced him.
“I said I was sorry,” Steve says. There’s a note of regret in his voice.
“I know. I accept.”
Steve’s eyes flicker up to Danny’s. They hold contact for a long moment, and then Steve is moving quickly, catching Danny’s lips in a searing kiss. Danny has half a moment to think this is way, way past the speed limit, and then he can breathe again. He does not manfully whimper at the loss of Steve’s lips against his.
“Took you long enough,” Steve says, “Now, where were we?”
Danny needs a moment to form a coherent response. “Uhm, going the speed limit?”
Steve’s mouth quirks into a little smile. Danny should really be afraid of that look. That’s the “I’ll be back” look, right before Danny has to duck and cover because shit’s about to blow up. Two hands on the steering wheel, better buckle up, put your head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye look.
Steve disappears. Danny feels the bed shifting, but he’s too busy staring at the ceiling to track Steve’s movements. Steve is back a moment later, undoing Danny’s trousers and pulling them off along with his boxers. Steve, of course, has already lost the remainder of his own clothes.
“So much for my plan,” Danny says, as he lifts his hips to ease in the removal of his clothing.
“Who says I don’t follow your plans? You said you wanted speed limit. I’ll give you that,” Steve says, words heavy with promise.
It shouldn’t turn Danny on as much as it does, knowing Steve has something crazy up his-metaphorical, since he never wears any-sleeves. Steve runs a hand up one of Danny’s calves, against the grain of the hair. It feels good when his fingertips brush the underside of Danny’s knee. His leg twitches, and Steve holds it steady, runs the pad of his thumb against Danny’s kneecap.
“How did you say you hurt this, again? All the fun we’ve been having together?” Steve flicks a tongue out to follow the path of his thumb. And no way should that be sexy, it’s completely ridiculous and Steve, but Danny’s cock doesn’t seem to recognize when Steve’s behavior is absurd, it’s already hard and leaking against his hip.
“Nngghh…um, high school baseball. But fun with you, that too. I’d like to be having more fun, right about now.”
“Nah, Danno, can’t have you getting hurt again,” Steve says, grinning. Bastard. “Take things slow, isn’t that what you want?”
“What I want is for you to address the growing issue here,” Danny says, making a gesturing motion at his cock.
Steve, to his credit, manages to hold a straight face for all of two seconds, before laughing. “I’m not even going to talk about how bad that pun was.”
“Fuck you.”
“Maybe.”
“You realize you just agreed that you should fuck yourself, right?” Danny points out, “Because there’s a big difference between fuck me and fuck you.”
Steve crawls up Danny’s body, ignoring his cock entirely before grabbing Danny’s wrists, pinning them to the bed, and kissing Danny senseless. Danny writhes, tries to get some friction against his cock, but is frustrated by the lack of mobility. Steve pulls back.
“Danny? Shut up for a moment.”
Steve leaves one of his hands to pin Danny’s crossed wrists. Danny could get out if he really struggled, but there’s a certain heady feeling to being pinned at the wrists and at the hips, where Steve is straddling him. With his other hand, Steve reaches back, rummaging for something on the bed. There’s an awkward sort of movement, and Danny is halfway to offering assistance, but then Steve is drawing his free hand behind him, and oh.
Steve’s breath hitches as he pushes a slicked finger into himself. The angle must be awkward, with the way Steve is positioned. He’s putting his weight on his other hand, the one pinning Danny’s wrists. It’s bordering on painful, and Danny doesn’t know how Steve is keeping his balance, especially when Steve adds a second finger.
Danny wants to touch Steve, wants to do something, wants to shift and fuck his hips upwards, but doing that might throw Steve off-balance. And right now it’s beautiful, watching Steve. His expression is unguarded as he works himself open slowly, so slowly. This is as much a tease for him as it is for Danny.
“Fuck, Steve,” Danny breathes.
That seems to pull Steve out of it, his eyes moving to meet Danny’s. His pupils are wide and wild-looking. Steve removes his fingers and uses the excess lube to slick Danny’s cock, and then he’s repositioning himself, bearing down and fuck. Danny groans long and low as Steve opens up, takes him in. Steve doesn’t stop until he’s seated at Danny’s hips, and he holds that position for several long seconds. The hand pressing on Danny’s wrists is trembling from exertion.
“C’mon, just move already,” Danny mumbles, hating himself just a little for whining. He shifts his hips as much as he’s able. Steve draws a sharp breath at the motion.
“You said you wanted slow. I’m not above…handcuffing you to the bed if you can’t keep still.” Steve echoes Danny’s earlier words back to him. He lifts himself-true to his word, slowly-before rocking back down.
“First of all,” Danny grates out, “You’re in no position to handcuff me right now. And second…oh, fuck-” He trails off for a moment as Steve pivots his hips. “I said I wanted speed limit. Let’s pretend these are highway speeds we’re talking, yeah?”
Steve huffs in laughter, the movement making him tighten impossibly around Danny’s cock. Danny’s head falls back on the pillow. Steve will be the death of him, he’s sure. Danny doesn’t know how he does it, but Steve manages to keep weight on the hand pinning Danny’s wrists while he continues to fuck himself on Danny’s cock. It’s agonizingly slow, and Danny is about out of his mind with it. It’s too much and not enough, it keeps him on the edge while at the same time making release seem too far out of reach. Steve is trembling from it, sweat beading across his body. Danny has the sudden urge to taste Steve, chase the beads of sweat with his tongue. Pinned to the bed, however, there is nothing he can do but lie there and take what Steve gives.
“What are you doing to me?” Danny groans out.
“What- what do you mean?” Steve asks, and Danny’s pleased to see that he’s lost his composure at last.
“You say…you’re doing what I want.” Danny’s breathing is labored. “But then you do it in such a way…that it’s the exact opposite of what I want. But then you make me want it.”
Steve’s huff of laughter turns into a moan as he finally, finally begins to pick up speed. “This what you want, Danno?”
“Nnnngghh…fuck, yeah-like that.”
Steve uses his free hand to strip his cock as he increases his pace, sliding up and sinking down again, taking Danny impossibly deep. Before, it was just this side of Not Enough, now it’s too much, an overload of sensation. Steve is balanced above him, pinning him, around him…overwhelming him. It’s Steve, and part of Danny knows they’ll always be like this, constantly at odds until they manage to convince the other they’re right. It’s frightening and exhilarating, and Danny looks forward to every minute of it.
Steve’s movements are becoming erratic, and a moment later Danny feels him clench tight around his cock. Danny groans, his body spasming as he comes. His movements are limited by the fact that he’s still pinned, but that just makes his orgasm seem more intense. Steve shudders, and then he’s coming in long spurts across Danny’s belly. Spent, he collapses, thankfully next to Danny instead of on top of him.
Danny flexes his fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them now that they’re no longer being pinned by Steve. There might be slight bruising there in the morning, but Danny can’t bring himself to care. Once they no longer have that pins-and-needles tingly feeling, he pokes Steve in the ribs.
“Mrrmff…wha’s that for?”
“You, what’s up with you? Wham bam thank-you ma’am, and now you’re comatose?” Danny prods him again.
“Dunno if you noticed, Danny, but I did most of the work,” Steve mumbles sleepily into his pillow.
“Yeah, only because you insisted on taking over, like you always do.”
“You criticizing my technique?”
“Your technique? It’s not your technique I’m taking issue with here, it’s your follow-up,” Danny says, shoving at Steve’s shoulder. “I was thinking some cuddling, maybe another round after we’ve had a half hour to recuperate. I can do the work this time, give you a break, if you’ll actually let me.”
Steve’s response is to try burying himself in the pillow. “You’re ruining my post-coital glow, Danny.”
“Just for that, you get to be the little spoon.”
Danny wraps an arm over Steve, pressing up against his back. Steve relaxes into it after a couple seconds, going boneless in Danny’s arms, and Danny can’t help but smile into the back of his neck.
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Word Count: 2,400
Rating: NC-17
Summary/Notes: Birthday fic for sycophantastic, who asked for “comparing scars and losing clothes.” Happy birthday!
“Danny,” Steve whines, tugging at Danny’s collar and tie.
“Will you just-” Danny swats the hands away, grips Steve’s wrists and forces them down to his sides. “Just…wait a sec, okay?”
Slowing Steve down from his usual frantic speeds is a challenge, but Danny is up to the task. It doesn’t help that they’ve done this a few times, always mindlessly rutting against each other until they spill against palms or thighs or trouser inseams. Danny wants this, his own mind echoes Steve’s neediness, but he would like them to both actually get fully naked this time. Without their clothes getting tangled beyond repair in the process.
They’re in Steve’s bedroom, and Danny pushes forward a few steps, so he’s no longer trapped between Steve and the door.
“Let me just…let me,” Danny says, and it isn’t often that he doesn’t have words, so he lets his hands speak for him, skirting the edge of Steve’s tee shirt.
Steve, for his part, is actually remaining still, curiosity in Danny’s intent bringing his kinetic energy to a halt. Danny skates his fingers up under the shirt, across the taut muscles of Steve’s belly. Steve’s breath hitches at the light touch, and Danny feels it beneath the pads of his fingers. Oh, yeah, he could get used to this.
He moves his hands up and across Steve’s pecs, letting the shirt bunch and ride up.
“Up, arms up, help me out here,” Danny says, pulling until Steve gets the message and tugs his shirt off the rest of the way. Danny sets to work on his own clothes, undoing the already loosened knot of his tie and starting down the buttons of his shirt.
“Oh, now you want my help?” Steve asks, reaching for the lower buttons.
“Only if you can keep things below the speed limit,” Danny says, grabbing Steve’s hands and guiding them at the pace he wants, until his shirt is fully undone and sliding off. “I am not above handcuffing you to the bed if you can’t keep still.”
Steve freezes then, eyes flicking to his. “Danny,” his voice has a desperate edge to it. “Would…would you?”
And Danny hadn’t meant it to be a serious threat, but now he has the mental image of Steve spread on the bed, writhing against restraints. Danny groans, “Next time, babe, that sound good?”
He kisses Steve then, can’t keep himself from it any longer. Steve keeps trying to quicken the pace, perhaps in an effort to make Danny follow through on his threat, but Danny’s having none of that. He pushes Steve back until they hit the bed and follows down.
Once there, he doesn’t do what Steve wants, which is to focus lower, on his tented cargo pants. Instead, Danny takes a moment to fully enjoy the sight of Steve’s torso, inked and stretched out beneath him. He trails fingers across Steve’s collarbone, just barely touching. Steve shivers.
“Danny…”
“Shhh.” Danny’s fingers skate across a spot where the skin is shiny and paler than the rest; scar tissue. He traces the outside of the scar. “What’s this from?”
“Wha…?”
“You heard me.” Danny leans down to kiss the edge of the mark.
“Gunshot wound,” Steve breathes.
“Mmmm.” Danny moves his attention elsewhere, to a line on Steve’s arm. “And this?” He touches the scar there.
“Knife.”
“Nick Taylor,” Danny says, remembering. It isn’t a question, and Steve’s silence is all the answer he needs.
Danny moves on. He doesn’t want Steve to linger on that memory. Steve’s torso has its fair share of scars, some faded by age, probably from childhood. Others are fresh, from his Five-0 days. Danny pays them all attention, running light fingertips across them, sometimes following with his lips. Some, he asks about, but not all. There are too many for that. Steve’s breathing grows progressively more ragged as he goes.
Danny’s fingers hesitate at one scar on Steve’s side. He doesn’t recognize the pattern from the scar tissue.
“What’s this?”
“Can’t…classified,” Steve says between hitched breaths.
“Steve…”
“Danny.” Steve’s voice is desperate-sounding. “Please…don’t make me-”
Don’t make me remember? Danny wonders. He can hear the edge in Steve’s tone. That scar is a result of torture.
“Hey, shhh, it’s okay. I’m here, yeah?” And Danny kisses the mystery scar for good measure.
Steve shudders, and then a moment later he’s shifting. Danny finds himself on his back, with Steve crouched over him.
“My turn,” Steve says, and Danny can’t suppress a shiver at his words.
If Danny was methodical in his examination, Steve is even more so. He’s finally slowed down, and seems determined to prove a point. Danny has fewer scars than Steve, however, so at least he has that going for him. By the time Steve has reached his navel, Danny is practically writhing in anticipation. Steve just uses one of his large hands to pin Danny’s hips. Abruptly, Steve changes direction, moving his attention to Danny’s arm.
“Son of a fucking…” Danny mutters in frustration.
Steve chuckles, ignoring him until he reaches a small scar on Danny’s upper arm. He touches it thoughtfully.
“First day we met,” Danny says, remembering the burn of the bullet as it glanced him.
“I said I was sorry,” Steve says. There’s a note of regret in his voice.
“I know. I accept.”
Steve’s eyes flicker up to Danny’s. They hold contact for a long moment, and then Steve is moving quickly, catching Danny’s lips in a searing kiss. Danny has half a moment to think this is way, way past the speed limit, and then he can breathe again. He does not manfully whimper at the loss of Steve’s lips against his.
“Took you long enough,” Steve says, “Now, where were we?”
Danny needs a moment to form a coherent response. “Uhm, going the speed limit?”
Steve’s mouth quirks into a little smile. Danny should really be afraid of that look. That’s the “I’ll be back” look, right before Danny has to duck and cover because shit’s about to blow up. Two hands on the steering wheel, better buckle up, put your head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye look.
Steve disappears. Danny feels the bed shifting, but he’s too busy staring at the ceiling to track Steve’s movements. Steve is back a moment later, undoing Danny’s trousers and pulling them off along with his boxers. Steve, of course, has already lost the remainder of his own clothes.
“So much for my plan,” Danny says, as he lifts his hips to ease in the removal of his clothing.
“Who says I don’t follow your plans? You said you wanted speed limit. I’ll give you that,” Steve says, words heavy with promise.
It shouldn’t turn Danny on as much as it does, knowing Steve has something crazy up his-metaphorical, since he never wears any-sleeves. Steve runs a hand up one of Danny’s calves, against the grain of the hair. It feels good when his fingertips brush the underside of Danny’s knee. His leg twitches, and Steve holds it steady, runs the pad of his thumb against Danny’s kneecap.
“How did you say you hurt this, again? All the fun we’ve been having together?” Steve flicks a tongue out to follow the path of his thumb. And no way should that be sexy, it’s completely ridiculous and Steve, but Danny’s cock doesn’t seem to recognize when Steve’s behavior is absurd, it’s already hard and leaking against his hip.
“Nngghh…um, high school baseball. But fun with you, that too. I’d like to be having more fun, right about now.”
“Nah, Danno, can’t have you getting hurt again,” Steve says, grinning. Bastard. “Take things slow, isn’t that what you want?”
“What I want is for you to address the growing issue here,” Danny says, making a gesturing motion at his cock.
Steve, to his credit, manages to hold a straight face for all of two seconds, before laughing. “I’m not even going to talk about how bad that pun was.”
“Fuck you.”
“Maybe.”
“You realize you just agreed that you should fuck yourself, right?” Danny points out, “Because there’s a big difference between fuck me and fuck you.”
Steve crawls up Danny’s body, ignoring his cock entirely before grabbing Danny’s wrists, pinning them to the bed, and kissing Danny senseless. Danny writhes, tries to get some friction against his cock, but is frustrated by the lack of mobility. Steve pulls back.
“Danny? Shut up for a moment.”
Steve leaves one of his hands to pin Danny’s crossed wrists. Danny could get out if he really struggled, but there’s a certain heady feeling to being pinned at the wrists and at the hips, where Steve is straddling him. With his other hand, Steve reaches back, rummaging for something on the bed. There’s an awkward sort of movement, and Danny is halfway to offering assistance, but then Steve is drawing his free hand behind him, and oh.
Steve’s breath hitches as he pushes a slicked finger into himself. The angle must be awkward, with the way Steve is positioned. He’s putting his weight on his other hand, the one pinning Danny’s wrists. It’s bordering on painful, and Danny doesn’t know how Steve is keeping his balance, especially when Steve adds a second finger.
Danny wants to touch Steve, wants to do something, wants to shift and fuck his hips upwards, but doing that might throw Steve off-balance. And right now it’s beautiful, watching Steve. His expression is unguarded as he works himself open slowly, so slowly. This is as much a tease for him as it is for Danny.
“Fuck, Steve,” Danny breathes.
That seems to pull Steve out of it, his eyes moving to meet Danny’s. His pupils are wide and wild-looking. Steve removes his fingers and uses the excess lube to slick Danny’s cock, and then he’s repositioning himself, bearing down and fuck. Danny groans long and low as Steve opens up, takes him in. Steve doesn’t stop until he’s seated at Danny’s hips, and he holds that position for several long seconds. The hand pressing on Danny’s wrists is trembling from exertion.
“C’mon, just move already,” Danny mumbles, hating himself just a little for whining. He shifts his hips as much as he’s able. Steve draws a sharp breath at the motion.
“You said you wanted slow. I’m not above…handcuffing you to the bed if you can’t keep still.” Steve echoes Danny’s earlier words back to him. He lifts himself-true to his word, slowly-before rocking back down.
“First of all,” Danny grates out, “You’re in no position to handcuff me right now. And second…oh, fuck-” He trails off for a moment as Steve pivots his hips. “I said I wanted speed limit. Let’s pretend these are highway speeds we’re talking, yeah?”
Steve huffs in laughter, the movement making him tighten impossibly around Danny’s cock. Danny’s head falls back on the pillow. Steve will be the death of him, he’s sure. Danny doesn’t know how he does it, but Steve manages to keep weight on the hand pinning Danny’s wrists while he continues to fuck himself on Danny’s cock. It’s agonizingly slow, and Danny is about out of his mind with it. It’s too much and not enough, it keeps him on the edge while at the same time making release seem too far out of reach. Steve is trembling from it, sweat beading across his body. Danny has the sudden urge to taste Steve, chase the beads of sweat with his tongue. Pinned to the bed, however, there is nothing he can do but lie there and take what Steve gives.
“What are you doing to me?” Danny groans out.
“What- what do you mean?” Steve asks, and Danny’s pleased to see that he’s lost his composure at last.
“You say…you’re doing what I want.” Danny’s breathing is labored. “But then you do it in such a way…that it’s the exact opposite of what I want. But then you make me want it.”
Steve’s huff of laughter turns into a moan as he finally, finally begins to pick up speed. “This what you want, Danno?”
“Nnnngghh…fuck, yeah-like that.”
Steve uses his free hand to strip his cock as he increases his pace, sliding up and sinking down again, taking Danny impossibly deep. Before, it was just this side of Not Enough, now it’s too much, an overload of sensation. Steve is balanced above him, pinning him, around him…overwhelming him. It’s Steve, and part of Danny knows they’ll always be like this, constantly at odds until they manage to convince the other they’re right. It’s frightening and exhilarating, and Danny looks forward to every minute of it.
Steve’s movements are becoming erratic, and a moment later Danny feels him clench tight around his cock. Danny groans, his body spasming as he comes. His movements are limited by the fact that he’s still pinned, but that just makes his orgasm seem more intense. Steve shudders, and then he’s coming in long spurts across Danny’s belly. Spent, he collapses, thankfully next to Danny instead of on top of him.
Danny flexes his fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them now that they’re no longer being pinned by Steve. There might be slight bruising there in the morning, but Danny can’t bring himself to care. Once they no longer have that pins-and-needles tingly feeling, he pokes Steve in the ribs.
“Mrrmff…wha’s that for?”
“You, what’s up with you? Wham bam thank-you ma’am, and now you’re comatose?” Danny prods him again.
“Dunno if you noticed, Danny, but I did most of the work,” Steve mumbles sleepily into his pillow.
“Yeah, only because you insisted on taking over, like you always do.”
“You criticizing my technique?”
“Your technique? It’s not your technique I’m taking issue with here, it’s your follow-up,” Danny says, shoving at Steve’s shoulder. “I was thinking some cuddling, maybe another round after we’ve had a half hour to recuperate. I can do the work this time, give you a break, if you’ll actually let me.”
Steve’s response is to try burying himself in the pillow. “You’re ruining my post-coital glow, Danny.”
“Just for that, you get to be the little spoon.”
Danny wraps an arm over Steve, pressing up against his back. Steve relaxes into it after a couple seconds, going boneless in Danny’s arms, and Danny can’t help but smile into the back of his neck.