fic: The Art of Choice (1/1)
Title: The Art of Choice
Author: stellarmeadow
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Paring: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC17
Summary: Steve gets a new tattoo. Danny's a little fixated.
Notes:Took me forever to write this because a) it's porn-heavy and b) every time I worked on it I desperately wanted a new tattoo. But it's done! Hope you like it! Huge thanks to smudgegirl and uxseven for the cheerleading along the way, and corilannam for the title help!
"You wanna watch?"
It takes Danny a minute to find his voice. "Do I wanna--uh..."
Steve's look makes Danny feel like a wobbly puppy. "My new tattoo," Steve said. "You want to come watch the guy work?"
Danny licks his lips. "Will he--I mean, is it allowed?" When he got his, they had a strict rule against it.
Steve shrugs. "I can't have a party, but one person, sure."
"Uh, yeah," Danny says, rubbing the back of his neck and hoping the heat he feels there doesn't mean he's flushed. "Sure. I...yeah."
Steve smiles, and Danny knows he's flushed now. That slow, knowing grin is going to be the death of Danny one day.
***
Danny's mesmerized by the needle, by how Steve holds himself so still as it buzzes across his back, by the little movements Steve makes to get more comfortable at first each time the artist pauses. Danny's also distracted by Steve's bare ass at first--after a couple of months of sleeping with Steve, he's come to accept that he'll never completely avoid getting distracted by that ass.
In his defense, it's a pretty spectacular sight.
The shop is air conditioned, but Steve's still showing a fine sheen of sweat across his back from the effort of staying still. After a while, though, Steve's stillness changes, less of an effort, more of a relaxation. Like it feels good, in the way a really good massage does.
Danny's only had the tiny ones on his hands, only just enough to get the tingle and the buzz of it. Whatever it is Steve's feeling from the needle, it's a lot better than what Danny got in a few minutes.
As the design starts to take shape, Danny can't help but think how hot it is, Steve marking himself low on his back, down onto his ass. It's not for him to see, or for anyone that he doesn't want to let see it. It's art, Steve's private collection, and right now Danny's the only one, other than the tattoo artist, who gets to see it up close.
Will be the only one who gets to see it up close ever again, if Danny has any say in the matter.
The lines are beautiful, intricate designs, and Danny can only imagine how amazing they'll be when it's finished. Danny can't wait to trace every one of them with his tongue, teasing Steve until he's begging for Danny's tongue in his ass.
The needle hits a sensitive spot and Steve hisses, his ass tensing up, taut and tight, the way Danny knows it looks when Steve is fucking him, thanks to a hotel with a rather large mirror that they'd enjoyed way more than they should've. He watches the shape move with Steve as he settles in again, and can't wait to see the whole thing under his hands, to watch his cock disappearing between it.
The mere thought has him half hard, and he shifts in his chair. Nothing he can do about how that for hours yet, he tells his dick, no matter how demanding it gets.
His dick doesn't care.
He shifts in his seat, looking up as he move, catching Steve's knowing smirk, and has to shift again. Danny raises an eyebrow, as if it's going to make Steve think that Danny's not sitting there, totally turned on.
He wouldn't put it past Steve to have brought him for that very reason in the first place.
***
Steve settles gingerly into the passenger seat of the Camaro. "So this is why you really brought me?" Danny teases. "So I could drive you home?"
"Hey, if you want me to drive...."
"That's big talk, but I don't see you actually getting out."
Steve puts his hand on the door handle, then shrugs and lets it go. "You're always complaining I never let you drive your car. Now you're complaining that I'm letting you drive your car?"
Danny thinks about that for a second, before starting up the car and driving off without another word.
***
They eat dinner and watch a hockey match that Danny really couldn't care less about, which is just as well. His mind is too busy replaying the mental video of Steve getting the tattoo. Every time Steve shifts to get more comfortable, or stands for a minute to take the pressure off the tattoo, the whole thing starts playing itself in his head again.
Steve's not the only one doing a lot of shifting to sit comfortably.
Eventually, Steve gets up and stretches with a grimace. "I think I need to clean the tattoo," he says, and Danny knows that look in his eyes. "Wanna help?"
Danny's off the couch before the sentence is over. He follows Steve up to the bathroom, watching as the tattoo is uncovered. The colors are far less impressive now, dulled by Steve's body's attempt to heal and some kind of goo that the tattoo artist had slathered on it. But it's still impressive, and it still sets Danny's mind back to watching it take shape.
"When are you going to finish it?" Danny asks, eyes still on the ink.
Steve shrugs. "It'll take a couple more sittings--just depends on when I can get back in." He grins at Danny over his shoulder. "It's not like we really have normal hours where I can plan ahead easily."
Steve steps out of his pants and into the shower, and Danny starts to follow, before realizing he'd been too busy staring to take off his own clothes. He disposes of them quickly and joins Steve in the shower.
Danny swallows as he watches stray drops of water run down Steve's back--a sight to behold all on its own--across the tattoo and down Steve's ass. Steve's facing the spray, his back mostly out of it, so it's only a little water, but it's enough. "How do you want me to...." Danny asks, hearing the hoarseness in his own voice.
"Here." Steve hands him some soap. "Just use that with your hands, and be gentle. Try not to peel anything off."
"Got it." Danny cleans the area gently, watches as Steve tenses occasionally, the sight getting him just as hard as it had when Steve was getting the tattoo itself. He rinses it just as carefully until it's as clean as it's going to get.
He can't help dipping his hands down, sliding them across Steve's ass, getting in one good squeeze before placing a kiss between Steve's shoulder blades. "I think you're about as clean as you're going to get."
"Thanks," Steve says, turning them both around so his back stays out of the spray, but Danny's under it. Steve's facing him now, leaning in for a kiss before taking his time to clean Danny up thoroughly, and if Danny hadn't already been hard as a rock, this would've done it.
He's almost sure he's not even going to make it out of the shower without coming, when Steve reaches around past him to shut off the water.
"Come on," Steve says, taking Danny's hand and leading him out of the shower. He dries Danny off with as much care as he'd cleaned him, and really, Danny's all fine with foreplay, but any second now his dick's going to shatter from being so hard for so long.
Danny takes the towel away, swiping at Steve until he gets to Steve's back, which he pats dry very carefully. "Do you need to do anything to it?" Danny asks.
"Yeah." Steve reaches into the cabinet and pulls out a tube and hands it to Danny. "Can you put it on?"
As if Danny wouldn't jump at the chance? "Yeah." He follows Steve to the bed, taking a moment to steel himself as Steve spreads himself out on the bed, face down.
When Danny doesn't move right away, Steve turns his head to look up at him. "Something wrong?"
As if that look and that tone didn't give away that Steve knew exactly what was going on. "No," Danny said, trying for nonchalant and falling very short. "Was just thinking I should go check on the score of the game."
Steve gives him a mock frown. "The game was over when we came upstairs."
Danny hadn't noticed. He gives up all pretense and gets on the bed on his knees, between Steve's spread legs. He could swear his dick was trying to pull him the extra distance until he can sink himself into Steve's ass, but that'll have to wait.
He uncaps the Aquafor Steve handed him and starts rubbing it into the ink, fingers tracing the lines. He wants so badly to trace them with his tongue, wants to do all kinds of things, so many things that he's making a mental list.
He'd be worried that he was hurting, as his fingers glide over the marks, but if Steve was a cat, he'd be purring. "Am I putting you to sleep?" Danny teases.
Steve's chuckle is low, the one Danny's used to hearing in this bed more than anywhere else, and it makes him even harder. "On the contrary," Steve says, twisting a little to look down at Danny. "I'm very awake.
Steve's dick is just visible with the way Steve turned, and Danny can see just how awake he is. "So I see."
"You done?" Steve asks.
Danny's reluctance to stop going over the tattoo, learning the new marks by heart, is not nearly as strong as his need to touch everywhere else. "I'm done," he says, wiping his hands on the sheet, earning him a look from Steve. "What?" Danny says. "Like you're not about to leave that stuff all over the sheets when you sleep on them?"
"It'll dry a little by the time I actually sleep," Steve says.
His tone is the same as that low chuckle Danny loves, and Danny's breath hitches just a little at it. "Planning to do something other than sleep?" he says, his voice coming out a little unsteady.
"Come up here and I'll show you what I'm planning."
Danny's dick actually twitches at that, and he can't do anything other than comply. He lets Steve manhandle him until he's placed just as Steve wants, on his back with Steve covering him as he traces his way down Danny's body with his tongue.
Steve settles in between Danny's legs, giving Danny a scorching look before ducking his head and all but swallowing Danny's dick. Danny's first instinct is to close his eyes, the feeling alone almost overwhelming.
But he can't. He needs to watch, needs to see that this is Steve doing this. Over-the-top-Super-SEAL-I-could-kill-you-with-my-pinky Steve, bent over Danny's dick, sucking it like it's the most important mission he's ever been handed and he's determined to exceed expectations.
And it's not like just that alone wouldn't be enough to get Danny off. But no, Steve, fucking Steve, over-achiever that he is, has to up the stakes. He's bent over Danny's dick with his ass in the air, that tattoo on his back in full display, moving with Steve's body as he writhes--there's really no other word for it--while his head bobs up and down over Danny's dick.
The sight, on top of everything else, is too much, and Danny can't stop it. He comes hard, pushing up into Steve's mouth, Steve drinking it down like a pro, leaving Danny wrung out and gasping for breath. And as if that isn't enough, Steve sits back on his knees, eyes dark and hot on Danny as Steve wraps his hand around his own dick, moving hard and fast, just the sight of it making Danny's dick twitch like it really wants another go right now.
Steve's eyes squeeze shut as his body goes all hard and sculpted, making Danny's mouth water as Steve comes all over Danny's thighs. Danny would really like another go at that right now, but his body is about ten years past the ability. It makes him a little sad that he didn't meet Steve sooner, but then if he had, he's not sure they'd have ever worked.
So he's happy enough to take what he has now.
Steve opens his eyes at last, already climbing up Danny's body for a kiss, wrapping his arms around Danny like they're still squeaky clean and not halfway to disgusting. Danny wonders if something's wrong with his brain that he finds that endearing.
After a moment's reflection, with Steve's head on his chest and Steve's hand snaking its way down to rest just under Danny's ass, Danny decides he doesn't really care if there's something wrong with him. As long as it doesn't decide to set itself right.
***
In what feels like months later, but really isn't nearly that long, Steve's checking the tattoo in the bathroom mirror one night after a shower, looking this way and that, making the tattoo move in ways that Danny still hasn't figured out how to keep his body from reacting to. "Hm," Steve says.
"Hm?"
"Looks like it's healed pretty well."
Danny blinks, his hand gripping his towel so tight his knuckles feel a little numb. "Healed?"
"Yeah." Steve's grin tells Danny he knows exactly why Danny is stuck on that word. "Why? Were you worried about it?"
"Healed?" Danny repeats. "You're sure about that?"
Steve nods. "You could do whatever you want to it," he says, the words slow and deep, a little breathless, and oh, yeah, he definitely knows what Danny's thinking. Or has enough idea about it that Steve's dick is getting hard already--Danny can see it under the towel slung low across Steve's hips.
Danny swallows carefully. "Maybe I'd better check more closely," he says, moving forward slowly, dipping his fingers into the tight space between the towel and Steve's skin to loosen the towel and drop it to the floor.
"I wasn't quite dry," Steve says, his voice making it sound more like an invitation than a complaint. Danny takes it as an invitation, picking the towel up and turning Steve around, carefully drying his back, leaving the tattoo for last, gentle, careful swipes over the ink, appreciating the brightness of it next to the stark, white towel.
That need to taste, never far from the surface, is almost overwhelming, and Danny needs to get Steve horizontal and himself on a flat surface where he doesn't have to worry about his knees giving out. "Bed," Danny says, pushing Steve toward the door.
"But I'm not tired."
Steve's tone is mocking--he's amused, the bastard--and Danny smacks him hard, right on the swell of his ass. He doesn't miss the way Steve's dick jumps at that, and the sudden flush that makes its way up Steve's body, and hey, look at that , something new and different he didn't know about Steve that they'll definitely have to explore one day soon.
But not today.
He pushes Steve onto the bed, taking a moment to appreciate the sight. Steve, all naked, toned six feet of Steve, spread out on the bed, face down, looking at Danny like whatever Danny's ready to do to him, he's more than okay with it. Looking forward to it, in fact, if the way his breathing is moving his whole body is any indication.
Danny wrangles a lid on his impatience. He's been waiting for this. He's not about to rush it now. He reaches down into the nightstand for lube and a condom, dropping both on the bed beside Steve, right in his line of sight.
Danny gets one knee on the bed before Steve reaches out, picks up the condom, and tosses it across the room. The look he gives Danny is challenging and turned on, all at the same time, and sure, of course, leave it to the master of not making mutual decisions to throw that one away--literally.
Not that Danny is complaining. It's not as though they don't both know they're safe--they've talked about it. It's more the way it smacks of some kind of commitment. Danny knows from almost a decade of marriage that sex is better with nothing between you. But the intimacy of that makes his heart beat a little faster just at the thought.
He takes a deep breath as his second knee hits the bed, settling himself in between Steve's spread legs. Danny runs his hands up Steve's thighs, grounding himself in the reality of the feel of Steve's skin--warm, rough with hair that gets finer and more sparse as Danny's hands move higher, a scar just under Steve's right cheek distracting Danny as it always does, inviting him to run a finger along the length of it.
The first time he saw that scar he fantasized about what it would taste like for months.
His hands glide across Steve's ass, tracing the lines of the tattoo from where it starts, far below where anyone but Danny gets to see. The colors are amazing up close, smooth and unbroken, like it had been painted on, not forcibly injected into the skin.
Danny licks at the lowest line, following it down, stopping just at the edge of Steve's ass, earning him strangled sort of gasp from Steve. He glanced up to see Steve's head turned, his cheek flat against the bed. Danny follows Steve's line of sight to the mirror over the dresser, Steve's eyes dark and hot as they watch Danny's reflection.
His dick jumps at the look in Steve's eyes, but Danny isn't going to be rushed. He leans down, his tongue dragging across the line of ink. It tastes every bit as good as expected--salt and skin and Steve, a taste that's been an addiction since that first time they ended up in bed together.
He explores every inch thoroughly before his tongue strays back down to the middle of Steve's ass, hands pushing to expose Steve's hole as Danny's tongue slides down to tease around the edges of it.
Steve hisses and bucks, pushing his ass back against Danny's face. Danny pushes back--he's not going to be rushed at this, either. He waits for Steve to settle before going back to work, tongue teasing now, wrangling such incredible noises out of Steve that he doesn't want to stop. Ever.
Danny pushes his tongue in further, having to hold tight to Steve's ass to keep him spread open, as Steve's ass clinches as he gasps. It reminds Danny of when the needle hit certain spots while Steve was getting his tattoo, and he has to pause to catch his breath before his tongue delves back in again.
Steve's hips are moving as much as Danny's hands allow by the time Danny reaches under with one hand, cradling Steve's balls. The move gets Steve's hips up, his ass opening further as Danny uses his other hand to slide one finger slowly inside, his tongue still teasing around the edge as he opens Steve up.
"Danny...fuck....please...."
Steve sounds utterly wrecked, his voice breaking, and it sends a jolt through Danny's dick. Its patience is running thin, so he reaches for the lube, opening Steve up quickly, coating himself so he can press inside as fast as Steve's body will allow.
The sight of his dick disappearing into that ass, surrounded by that art, has haunted Danny's dreams for too many nights. The reality of it is like a tiny nuclear explosion deep in his stomach, one that spreads out through his body until he's sure he's going to catch the bed on fire.
Steve's already on fire, hot and amazing around Danny and under him, the muscles of his flanks moving under Danny's hands, despite Danny's grip being tight enough that he swears there'll be bruises tomorrow.
The idea fans the flames throughout his body--finger-shaped purple bruises are the perfect final touches for Steve's new art. Maybe when Steve goes in to get the next bit done, Danny can talk him into having them permanently tattooed, too.
The idea gets him close to the edge, and he reaches around and circles Steve's dick with one hand, the other one still gripping Steve somewhere around his hip, or possibly his thigh, Danny's no longer sure. He's not the only one who's close; Steve is making those sounds that make Danny have to adjust his pants when he remembers them in the middle of the day.
Danny strokes Steve harder as he pushes in and out, faster and faster, determined to get Steve off first. He gets his wish as Steve's back arches, giving Danny the best possible view of that tattoo in action, Steve's dick coating Danny's hand.
Danny pulls out as Steve falls onto the bed, using his sticky wet hand to bring himself off, something far more satisfying about watching himself come all over that tattoo than he's completely comfortable with.
Sometimes it's better not to know too much about your real self.
His thighs give in, and he collapses, half on Steve, half on the bed, breathing so hard he thinks he might be moving the bed. Or maybe they both are; he's not even sure whose lungs are whose at the moment.
The bed finally stops moving, and Danny figures they both have their lungs back, so he tries his voice. "Why'd you get the tattoo?" he asks, and yeah, his voice sounds a little like he ran it through a grater, but it's there.
He's asked Steve a few times, and he gets the same shrug he has every other time, but he's not going to be put off anymore. "Why now?" he pushes.
Steve takes a deep breath before answering. "Because I'm learning to do what I want for myself," he says finally. "And not worry about what anybody else thinks or says."
Danny's read the Navy regulations on tattoos, and it doesn't take too much brain power to extrapolate that tattoos aren't the only things the Navy has ridiculous rules about that have dictated pretty much all of Steve's life. And they're not the only rules he's bucked in the past few months.
"Glad to hear it," Danny says, settling in a little more comfortably against Steve, his nose pressed into Steve's shoulder as he closes his eyes.
----
END
Author: stellarmeadow
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Paring: Steve/Danny
Rating: NC17
Summary: Steve gets a new tattoo. Danny's a little fixated.
Notes:Took me forever to write this because a) it's porn-heavy and b) every time I worked on it I desperately wanted a new tattoo. But it's done! Hope you like it! Huge thanks to smudgegirl and uxseven for the cheerleading along the way, and corilannam for the title help!
"You wanna watch?"
It takes Danny a minute to find his voice. "Do I wanna--uh..."
Steve's look makes Danny feel like a wobbly puppy. "My new tattoo," Steve said. "You want to come watch the guy work?"
Danny licks his lips. "Will he--I mean, is it allowed?" When he got his, they had a strict rule against it.
Steve shrugs. "I can't have a party, but one person, sure."
"Uh, yeah," Danny says, rubbing the back of his neck and hoping the heat he feels there doesn't mean he's flushed. "Sure. I...yeah."
Steve smiles, and Danny knows he's flushed now. That slow, knowing grin is going to be the death of Danny one day.
***
Danny's mesmerized by the needle, by how Steve holds himself so still as it buzzes across his back, by the little movements Steve makes to get more comfortable at first each time the artist pauses. Danny's also distracted by Steve's bare ass at first--after a couple of months of sleeping with Steve, he's come to accept that he'll never completely avoid getting distracted by that ass.
In his defense, it's a pretty spectacular sight.
The shop is air conditioned, but Steve's still showing a fine sheen of sweat across his back from the effort of staying still. After a while, though, Steve's stillness changes, less of an effort, more of a relaxation. Like it feels good, in the way a really good massage does.
Danny's only had the tiny ones on his hands, only just enough to get the tingle and the buzz of it. Whatever it is Steve's feeling from the needle, it's a lot better than what Danny got in a few minutes.
As the design starts to take shape, Danny can't help but think how hot it is, Steve marking himself low on his back, down onto his ass. It's not for him to see, or for anyone that he doesn't want to let see it. It's art, Steve's private collection, and right now Danny's the only one, other than the tattoo artist, who gets to see it up close.
Will be the only one who gets to see it up close ever again, if Danny has any say in the matter.
The lines are beautiful, intricate designs, and Danny can only imagine how amazing they'll be when it's finished. Danny can't wait to trace every one of them with his tongue, teasing Steve until he's begging for Danny's tongue in his ass.
The needle hits a sensitive spot and Steve hisses, his ass tensing up, taut and tight, the way Danny knows it looks when Steve is fucking him, thanks to a hotel with a rather large mirror that they'd enjoyed way more than they should've. He watches the shape move with Steve as he settles in again, and can't wait to see the whole thing under his hands, to watch his cock disappearing between it.
The mere thought has him half hard, and he shifts in his chair. Nothing he can do about how that for hours yet, he tells his dick, no matter how demanding it gets.
His dick doesn't care.
He shifts in his seat, looking up as he move, catching Steve's knowing smirk, and has to shift again. Danny raises an eyebrow, as if it's going to make Steve think that Danny's not sitting there, totally turned on.
He wouldn't put it past Steve to have brought him for that very reason in the first place.
***
Steve settles gingerly into the passenger seat of the Camaro. "So this is why you really brought me?" Danny teases. "So I could drive you home?"
"Hey, if you want me to drive...."
"That's big talk, but I don't see you actually getting out."
Steve puts his hand on the door handle, then shrugs and lets it go. "You're always complaining I never let you drive your car. Now you're complaining that I'm letting you drive your car?"
Danny thinks about that for a second, before starting up the car and driving off without another word.
***
They eat dinner and watch a hockey match that Danny really couldn't care less about, which is just as well. His mind is too busy replaying the mental video of Steve getting the tattoo. Every time Steve shifts to get more comfortable, or stands for a minute to take the pressure off the tattoo, the whole thing starts playing itself in his head again.
Steve's not the only one doing a lot of shifting to sit comfortably.
Eventually, Steve gets up and stretches with a grimace. "I think I need to clean the tattoo," he says, and Danny knows that look in his eyes. "Wanna help?"
Danny's off the couch before the sentence is over. He follows Steve up to the bathroom, watching as the tattoo is uncovered. The colors are far less impressive now, dulled by Steve's body's attempt to heal and some kind of goo that the tattoo artist had slathered on it. But it's still impressive, and it still sets Danny's mind back to watching it take shape.
"When are you going to finish it?" Danny asks, eyes still on the ink.
Steve shrugs. "It'll take a couple more sittings--just depends on when I can get back in." He grins at Danny over his shoulder. "It's not like we really have normal hours where I can plan ahead easily."
Steve steps out of his pants and into the shower, and Danny starts to follow, before realizing he'd been too busy staring to take off his own clothes. He disposes of them quickly and joins Steve in the shower.
Danny swallows as he watches stray drops of water run down Steve's back--a sight to behold all on its own--across the tattoo and down Steve's ass. Steve's facing the spray, his back mostly out of it, so it's only a little water, but it's enough. "How do you want me to...." Danny asks, hearing the hoarseness in his own voice.
"Here." Steve hands him some soap. "Just use that with your hands, and be gentle. Try not to peel anything off."
"Got it." Danny cleans the area gently, watches as Steve tenses occasionally, the sight getting him just as hard as it had when Steve was getting the tattoo itself. He rinses it just as carefully until it's as clean as it's going to get.
He can't help dipping his hands down, sliding them across Steve's ass, getting in one good squeeze before placing a kiss between Steve's shoulder blades. "I think you're about as clean as you're going to get."
"Thanks," Steve says, turning them both around so his back stays out of the spray, but Danny's under it. Steve's facing him now, leaning in for a kiss before taking his time to clean Danny up thoroughly, and if Danny hadn't already been hard as a rock, this would've done it.
He's almost sure he's not even going to make it out of the shower without coming, when Steve reaches around past him to shut off the water.
"Come on," Steve says, taking Danny's hand and leading him out of the shower. He dries Danny off with as much care as he'd cleaned him, and really, Danny's all fine with foreplay, but any second now his dick's going to shatter from being so hard for so long.
Danny takes the towel away, swiping at Steve until he gets to Steve's back, which he pats dry very carefully. "Do you need to do anything to it?" Danny asks.
"Yeah." Steve reaches into the cabinet and pulls out a tube and hands it to Danny. "Can you put it on?"
As if Danny wouldn't jump at the chance? "Yeah." He follows Steve to the bed, taking a moment to steel himself as Steve spreads himself out on the bed, face down.
When Danny doesn't move right away, Steve turns his head to look up at him. "Something wrong?"
As if that look and that tone didn't give away that Steve knew exactly what was going on. "No," Danny said, trying for nonchalant and falling very short. "Was just thinking I should go check on the score of the game."
Steve gives him a mock frown. "The game was over when we came upstairs."
Danny hadn't noticed. He gives up all pretense and gets on the bed on his knees, between Steve's spread legs. He could swear his dick was trying to pull him the extra distance until he can sink himself into Steve's ass, but that'll have to wait.
He uncaps the Aquafor Steve handed him and starts rubbing it into the ink, fingers tracing the lines. He wants so badly to trace them with his tongue, wants to do all kinds of things, so many things that he's making a mental list.
He'd be worried that he was hurting, as his fingers glide over the marks, but if Steve was a cat, he'd be purring. "Am I putting you to sleep?" Danny teases.
Steve's chuckle is low, the one Danny's used to hearing in this bed more than anywhere else, and it makes him even harder. "On the contrary," Steve says, twisting a little to look down at Danny. "I'm very awake.
Steve's dick is just visible with the way Steve turned, and Danny can see just how awake he is. "So I see."
"You done?" Steve asks.
Danny's reluctance to stop going over the tattoo, learning the new marks by heart, is not nearly as strong as his need to touch everywhere else. "I'm done," he says, wiping his hands on the sheet, earning him a look from Steve. "What?" Danny says. "Like you're not about to leave that stuff all over the sheets when you sleep on them?"
"It'll dry a little by the time I actually sleep," Steve says.
His tone is the same as that low chuckle Danny loves, and Danny's breath hitches just a little at it. "Planning to do something other than sleep?" he says, his voice coming out a little unsteady.
"Come up here and I'll show you what I'm planning."
Danny's dick actually twitches at that, and he can't do anything other than comply. He lets Steve manhandle him until he's placed just as Steve wants, on his back with Steve covering him as he traces his way down Danny's body with his tongue.
Steve settles in between Danny's legs, giving Danny a scorching look before ducking his head and all but swallowing Danny's dick. Danny's first instinct is to close his eyes, the feeling alone almost overwhelming.
But he can't. He needs to watch, needs to see that this is Steve doing this. Over-the-top-Super-SEAL-I-could-kill-you-with-my-pinky Steve, bent over Danny's dick, sucking it like it's the most important mission he's ever been handed and he's determined to exceed expectations.
And it's not like just that alone wouldn't be enough to get Danny off. But no, Steve, fucking Steve, over-achiever that he is, has to up the stakes. He's bent over Danny's dick with his ass in the air, that tattoo on his back in full display, moving with Steve's body as he writhes--there's really no other word for it--while his head bobs up and down over Danny's dick.
The sight, on top of everything else, is too much, and Danny can't stop it. He comes hard, pushing up into Steve's mouth, Steve drinking it down like a pro, leaving Danny wrung out and gasping for breath. And as if that isn't enough, Steve sits back on his knees, eyes dark and hot on Danny as Steve wraps his hand around his own dick, moving hard and fast, just the sight of it making Danny's dick twitch like it really wants another go right now.
Steve's eyes squeeze shut as his body goes all hard and sculpted, making Danny's mouth water as Steve comes all over Danny's thighs. Danny would really like another go at that right now, but his body is about ten years past the ability. It makes him a little sad that he didn't meet Steve sooner, but then if he had, he's not sure they'd have ever worked.
So he's happy enough to take what he has now.
Steve opens his eyes at last, already climbing up Danny's body for a kiss, wrapping his arms around Danny like they're still squeaky clean and not halfway to disgusting. Danny wonders if something's wrong with his brain that he finds that endearing.
After a moment's reflection, with Steve's head on his chest and Steve's hand snaking its way down to rest just under Danny's ass, Danny decides he doesn't really care if there's something wrong with him. As long as it doesn't decide to set itself right.
***
In what feels like months later, but really isn't nearly that long, Steve's checking the tattoo in the bathroom mirror one night after a shower, looking this way and that, making the tattoo move in ways that Danny still hasn't figured out how to keep his body from reacting to. "Hm," Steve says.
"Hm?"
"Looks like it's healed pretty well."
Danny blinks, his hand gripping his towel so tight his knuckles feel a little numb. "Healed?"
"Yeah." Steve's grin tells Danny he knows exactly why Danny is stuck on that word. "Why? Were you worried about it?"
"Healed?" Danny repeats. "You're sure about that?"
Steve nods. "You could do whatever you want to it," he says, the words slow and deep, a little breathless, and oh, yeah, he definitely knows what Danny's thinking. Or has enough idea about it that Steve's dick is getting hard already--Danny can see it under the towel slung low across Steve's hips.
Danny swallows carefully. "Maybe I'd better check more closely," he says, moving forward slowly, dipping his fingers into the tight space between the towel and Steve's skin to loosen the towel and drop it to the floor.
"I wasn't quite dry," Steve says, his voice making it sound more like an invitation than a complaint. Danny takes it as an invitation, picking the towel up and turning Steve around, carefully drying his back, leaving the tattoo for last, gentle, careful swipes over the ink, appreciating the brightness of it next to the stark, white towel.
That need to taste, never far from the surface, is almost overwhelming, and Danny needs to get Steve horizontal and himself on a flat surface where he doesn't have to worry about his knees giving out. "Bed," Danny says, pushing Steve toward the door.
"But I'm not tired."
Steve's tone is mocking--he's amused, the bastard--and Danny smacks him hard, right on the swell of his ass. He doesn't miss the way Steve's dick jumps at that, and the sudden flush that makes its way up Steve's body, and hey, look at that , something new and different he didn't know about Steve that they'll definitely have to explore one day soon.
But not today.
He pushes Steve onto the bed, taking a moment to appreciate the sight. Steve, all naked, toned six feet of Steve, spread out on the bed, face down, looking at Danny like whatever Danny's ready to do to him, he's more than okay with it. Looking forward to it, in fact, if the way his breathing is moving his whole body is any indication.
Danny wrangles a lid on his impatience. He's been waiting for this. He's not about to rush it now. He reaches down into the nightstand for lube and a condom, dropping both on the bed beside Steve, right in his line of sight.
Danny gets one knee on the bed before Steve reaches out, picks up the condom, and tosses it across the room. The look he gives Danny is challenging and turned on, all at the same time, and sure, of course, leave it to the master of not making mutual decisions to throw that one away--literally.
Not that Danny is complaining. It's not as though they don't both know they're safe--they've talked about it. It's more the way it smacks of some kind of commitment. Danny knows from almost a decade of marriage that sex is better with nothing between you. But the intimacy of that makes his heart beat a little faster just at the thought.
He takes a deep breath as his second knee hits the bed, settling himself in between Steve's spread legs. Danny runs his hands up Steve's thighs, grounding himself in the reality of the feel of Steve's skin--warm, rough with hair that gets finer and more sparse as Danny's hands move higher, a scar just under Steve's right cheek distracting Danny as it always does, inviting him to run a finger along the length of it.
The first time he saw that scar he fantasized about what it would taste like for months.
His hands glide across Steve's ass, tracing the lines of the tattoo from where it starts, far below where anyone but Danny gets to see. The colors are amazing up close, smooth and unbroken, like it had been painted on, not forcibly injected into the skin.
Danny licks at the lowest line, following it down, stopping just at the edge of Steve's ass, earning him strangled sort of gasp from Steve. He glanced up to see Steve's head turned, his cheek flat against the bed. Danny follows Steve's line of sight to the mirror over the dresser, Steve's eyes dark and hot as they watch Danny's reflection.
His dick jumps at the look in Steve's eyes, but Danny isn't going to be rushed. He leans down, his tongue dragging across the line of ink. It tastes every bit as good as expected--salt and skin and Steve, a taste that's been an addiction since that first time they ended up in bed together.
He explores every inch thoroughly before his tongue strays back down to the middle of Steve's ass, hands pushing to expose Steve's hole as Danny's tongue slides down to tease around the edges of it.
Steve hisses and bucks, pushing his ass back against Danny's face. Danny pushes back--he's not going to be rushed at this, either. He waits for Steve to settle before going back to work, tongue teasing now, wrangling such incredible noises out of Steve that he doesn't want to stop. Ever.
Danny pushes his tongue in further, having to hold tight to Steve's ass to keep him spread open, as Steve's ass clinches as he gasps. It reminds Danny of when the needle hit certain spots while Steve was getting his tattoo, and he has to pause to catch his breath before his tongue delves back in again.
Steve's hips are moving as much as Danny's hands allow by the time Danny reaches under with one hand, cradling Steve's balls. The move gets Steve's hips up, his ass opening further as Danny uses his other hand to slide one finger slowly inside, his tongue still teasing around the edge as he opens Steve up.
"Danny...fuck....please...."
Steve sounds utterly wrecked, his voice breaking, and it sends a jolt through Danny's dick. Its patience is running thin, so he reaches for the lube, opening Steve up quickly, coating himself so he can press inside as fast as Steve's body will allow.
The sight of his dick disappearing into that ass, surrounded by that art, has haunted Danny's dreams for too many nights. The reality of it is like a tiny nuclear explosion deep in his stomach, one that spreads out through his body until he's sure he's going to catch the bed on fire.
Steve's already on fire, hot and amazing around Danny and under him, the muscles of his flanks moving under Danny's hands, despite Danny's grip being tight enough that he swears there'll be bruises tomorrow.
The idea fans the flames throughout his body--finger-shaped purple bruises are the perfect final touches for Steve's new art. Maybe when Steve goes in to get the next bit done, Danny can talk him into having them permanently tattooed, too.
The idea gets him close to the edge, and he reaches around and circles Steve's dick with one hand, the other one still gripping Steve somewhere around his hip, or possibly his thigh, Danny's no longer sure. He's not the only one who's close; Steve is making those sounds that make Danny have to adjust his pants when he remembers them in the middle of the day.
Danny strokes Steve harder as he pushes in and out, faster and faster, determined to get Steve off first. He gets his wish as Steve's back arches, giving Danny the best possible view of that tattoo in action, Steve's dick coating Danny's hand.
Danny pulls out as Steve falls onto the bed, using his sticky wet hand to bring himself off, something far more satisfying about watching himself come all over that tattoo than he's completely comfortable with.
Sometimes it's better not to know too much about your real self.
His thighs give in, and he collapses, half on Steve, half on the bed, breathing so hard he thinks he might be moving the bed. Or maybe they both are; he's not even sure whose lungs are whose at the moment.
The bed finally stops moving, and Danny figures they both have their lungs back, so he tries his voice. "Why'd you get the tattoo?" he asks, and yeah, his voice sounds a little like he ran it through a grater, but it's there.
He's asked Steve a few times, and he gets the same shrug he has every other time, but he's not going to be put off anymore. "Why now?" he pushes.
Steve takes a deep breath before answering. "Because I'm learning to do what I want for myself," he says finally. "And not worry about what anybody else thinks or says."
Danny's read the Navy regulations on tattoos, and it doesn't take too much brain power to extrapolate that tattoos aren't the only things the Navy has ridiculous rules about that have dictated pretty much all of Steve's life. And they're not the only rules he's bucked in the past few months.
"Glad to hear it," Danny says, settling in a little more comfortably against Steve, his nose pressed into Steve's shoulder as he closes his eyes.
----
END