Fic: Out of the System
Title: Out of the System
Fandom: Hawaii 5-O
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 730
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: It started with the tie.
AN: Written for the Five Acts meme.
It started with the tie.
Maybe that's the truth behind everything, the one place to lay blame, because everything started with the tie. But more recently, this thing, had definitely started with the tie.
Steve had curled it round his fist to stop Danny talking, and on anyone else that might be lazy and threatening. But Steve - Danny doesn’t even know how - he makes shit like that look totally acceptable.
There's something easy in him that speaks to Danny's bones. Mostly it says things like 'I may be jealous of the sheer amount of testosterone you leak on a daily basis' and 'I'm about to be roped into something stupid again,' or 'we're going to feel this tomorrow.' But not always, sometimes there's an edge, a smile, or a flash or teeth, or the way Steve stands that says something different. That improbable 10% of the time, where all Danny gets from Steve being Steve is a sort of low level confusion. Something that's half arousal and half a weird sort of awe. Which he'd pretty much decided he was never going to admit to.
Only Danny figured something out today. Something which turned their whole damn relationship on its head.
That maybe Steve thought that way about him too.
So, yeah, there was that.
Because if you're going to kiss your closest male friend on a fucking whim, then by all means have some sort of bullshit evidence to back it up.
And because Steve is a shoot first, talk once everyone's unconscious or in handcuffs kind of guy -
Jesus Christ, the guy was good with his mouth.
That was three fucking hours ago.
He's too sore for Steve to be fucking him again, even with the chivalrous lack of banging him into the god damn wall, that Danny's going to pretend he neither notices nor is grateful for. It's been a while, a really long while, and he's going to feel this forever...when they eventually decide to stop. He's making noises like he's forgotten what words are for, and he's learned at least a dozen filthy things about Steve which he's afraid mean he'll never be able to look at him again, without ending up with an erection.
Damn, this is going to make work awesome, or awful, or both.
He probably shouldn't have made it so easy, because Steve's bossy enough as it is - thinks he has a right to everything, thinks he can just take. Danny's not exactly in a fit state of mind to have an argument about it right now. There's no question that Steve's taking, but Danny's damn sure he hasn't once tried to hang on to any of it. In fact he's pretty sure he demanded at one point that Steve stop fucking around and get his dick in him, or he was leaving.
Yeah, that sounds like him.
They're not fifteen year old boys working on the newness of it all, too excited by all the skin and the fact that it's connected to another person. They're both over thirty, this shouldn't even be possible. He shouldn't even be - fuck but it's good. The way Steve says his name, like he can't quite believe it. Not quite as low as when Danny had been the one over him, bending those flexible damn legs over him shoulders and sliding in, over and over.
A hard roll and push flattens all Danny's fingers against the headboard, turns his knuckles white and leaves a groan broken in his throat. He doesn't try and stop the fine, sharp edge of orgasm, still good, still dirty, bones turning useless, and Steve - braced on one hand, still pushing.
Maybe they'll wear it out eventually. This sudden, strange and messed up need to be balls deep in each other, like someone hard-wired it into their DNA when they weren't looking. There'll be some point where Danny doesn't want to bite the rough edge of Steve's mouth just to hear him grunt out curses. To feel the hard edge of his teeth and the cut apart syllables of his name, fingers dragging him in and slipping on skin and trying to get inside him.
The stillness is heavy, confining, sweaty.
Danny still can't decide whether to sleep in Steve's sheets for fucking ever, or give himself five minutes before trying to get his dick back in Steve McGarrett's exceptionally comfortable ass.
Fandom: Hawaii 5-O
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 730
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: It started with the tie.
AN: Written for the Five Acts meme.
It started with the tie.
Maybe that's the truth behind everything, the one place to lay blame, because everything started with the tie. But more recently, this thing, had definitely started with the tie.
Steve had curled it round his fist to stop Danny talking, and on anyone else that might be lazy and threatening. But Steve - Danny doesn’t even know how - he makes shit like that look totally acceptable.
There's something easy in him that speaks to Danny's bones. Mostly it says things like 'I may be jealous of the sheer amount of testosterone you leak on a daily basis' and 'I'm about to be roped into something stupid again,' or 'we're going to feel this tomorrow.' But not always, sometimes there's an edge, a smile, or a flash or teeth, or the way Steve stands that says something different. That improbable 10% of the time, where all Danny gets from Steve being Steve is a sort of low level confusion. Something that's half arousal and half a weird sort of awe. Which he'd pretty much decided he was never going to admit to.
Only Danny figured something out today. Something which turned their whole damn relationship on its head.
That maybe Steve thought that way about him too.
So, yeah, there was that.
Because if you're going to kiss your closest male friend on a fucking whim, then by all means have some sort of bullshit evidence to back it up.
And because Steve is a shoot first, talk once everyone's unconscious or in handcuffs kind of guy -
Jesus Christ, the guy was good with his mouth.
That was three fucking hours ago.
He's too sore for Steve to be fucking him again, even with the chivalrous lack of banging him into the god damn wall, that Danny's going to pretend he neither notices nor is grateful for. It's been a while, a really long while, and he's going to feel this forever...when they eventually decide to stop. He's making noises like he's forgotten what words are for, and he's learned at least a dozen filthy things about Steve which he's afraid mean he'll never be able to look at him again, without ending up with an erection.
Damn, this is going to make work awesome, or awful, or both.
He probably shouldn't have made it so easy, because Steve's bossy enough as it is - thinks he has a right to everything, thinks he can just take. Danny's not exactly in a fit state of mind to have an argument about it right now. There's no question that Steve's taking, but Danny's damn sure he hasn't once tried to hang on to any of it. In fact he's pretty sure he demanded at one point that Steve stop fucking around and get his dick in him, or he was leaving.
Yeah, that sounds like him.
They're not fifteen year old boys working on the newness of it all, too excited by all the skin and the fact that it's connected to another person. They're both over thirty, this shouldn't even be possible. He shouldn't even be - fuck but it's good. The way Steve says his name, like he can't quite believe it. Not quite as low as when Danny had been the one over him, bending those flexible damn legs over him shoulders and sliding in, over and over.
A hard roll and push flattens all Danny's fingers against the headboard, turns his knuckles white and leaves a groan broken in his throat. He doesn't try and stop the fine, sharp edge of orgasm, still good, still dirty, bones turning useless, and Steve - braced on one hand, still pushing.
Maybe they'll wear it out eventually. This sudden, strange and messed up need to be balls deep in each other, like someone hard-wired it into their DNA when they weren't looking. There'll be some point where Danny doesn't want to bite the rough edge of Steve's mouth just to hear him grunt out curses. To feel the hard edge of his teeth and the cut apart syllables of his name, fingers dragging him in and slipping on skin and trying to get inside him.
The stillness is heavy, confining, sweaty.
Danny still can't decide whether to sleep in Steve's sheets for fucking ever, or give himself five minutes before trying to get his dick back in Steve McGarrett's exceptionally comfortable ass.