Repatriation
Title: Repatriation
Pairing: Steve/ Danny
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Danny needs to make things right.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Warnings: Bruises, marking, kink.
Word count: 1200
Author's note: A coda to 2.10.
Repatriation
So many marks.
So many marks, scattered dark and livid across that golden skin, and the sight of them makes something vicious and primal coil in Danny's gut. Something vicious and primal that doesn't give a damn about rules and due process, or any veneer of civilization Danny might carry. Something that twists like a serpent in the darkness and makes Danny want to hurt the man who did this to Steve.
God help Wo Fat if Danny Williams ever gets his hands on him.
Steve is asleep, stretched out naked on the bed, and from where he's leaning in the doorway keeping watch Danny can catalog all the marks on Steve's body. Cattle prod, Steve had said, in a tight, clipped tone that brooked no further questions, and damn his SEAL training that taught him to wall all this away and just carry on. There are bruises, too, the marks of fists and boots, shackle marks on his wrists, and rope burns around his neck.
Wo Fat had dragged Steve through the jungle like an animal on a leash, Danny knows that much. Hung him in chains while he beat him and marked him, and the thought makes Danny burn with a fierce hatred that has him clenching his fists and swallowing down the bile in his throat.
They will find Wo Fat and Danny will make him pay. That's a promise that Danny intends to keep.
Steve stirs, and Danny realises he's being watched, Steve's eyes dark and hooded under half-closed lids. "Hey, babe," he says, forcing a smile onto his face, but he's not stupid enough to think that Steve's fooled.
"Danny." Steve's voice is hoarse and low, rough with sleep and pain and fatigue, and Danny can't stay away, crosses the room to sit on the bed beside him. "Danny, please…" Steve's hand is tight on Danny's bicep, gripping hard and pulling him down, so Danny kicks off his loafers and goes easy, laying himself alongside the length of Steve, propping himself on one elbow so that he can watch Steve's face.
"Danny," Steve says, and swallows, "Please, I need…"
Danny lays his fingers softly against Steve's mouth, bruised and swollen from the beating. "Shhh, I know, babe, I've got you…" and he leans in and kisses him, a light and gentle kiss that's meant to convey care and comfort and all the tenderness that Danny's struggling to feel right now, meant to show Steve that he's safe, that Danny's got him, that it's over.
He can taste blood on Steve's lips, the distinctive coppery tang sharp on his tongue, and he hesitates, pulls back a fraction, he doesn't want to cause further hurt, Steve's been hurt enough already.
"Danny…" It's the merest breath of a whisper, but the tone is clear, along with the look in Steve's eyes…
In one incandescent moment the burning rage in Danny's gut morphs into want, and he can't help it, he presses down and takes Steve's mouth, heedless of the damage and the pain he's causing. He feels Steve groan against his lips, a desperate, craven sound, and suddenly he knows what Steve needs, what he has to do to make things right, and it's what he wants too, what he needs, God forgive him for his sins.
He moves his mouth, licks across the reddened skin of Steve's throat and then bites down hard, teeth crushing the skin, and Steve bucks up against him with a hiss, but he doesn’t push Danny away, arches into Danny's touch, and so Danny gets bolder, bites again, the marks of his teeth darker red against the sore skin. Steve stills under him, tensing as he travels downwards, but when his mouth finds a bruise Steve curses, fuck, Danny, do it, and so he does, damage on damage, red on purpled skin. "Don't stop, fuck, Danny, don't stop…" Steve's voice is cracked and breathless now, so Danny follows the map of bruises and burns across Steve's body with his mouth, mouthing kisses against the damaged skin, marking each place with his teeth, sucking bruises over burns, layering his marks over Wo Fat's until he's covered every inch of damaged skin and Steve is shaking under him, and fuck, that feels so good, so vital, so necessary.
Steve's got his eyes shut, and there are tears - honest-to-goodness tears - squeezing from beneath his lashes, and suddenly there's a burning knot in Danny's throat because he's never seen Steve cry before, never thought to, never wanted to. "Look at me," he says, voice urgent and heart racing," Steve, look at me," and for a moment he's scared that Steve's going to pull away, going to leave him again, but then Steve opens his eyes and looks at him, and what he sees there could burn his heart to ashes if he let it.
He can't let that happen, won't let that happen, because Steve needs him right now, needs Danny's strength and Danny's determination. "Roll over," he orders, "On your knees," and Steve goes, bracing himself on his elbows, head down, legs spread. There are more marks on his back and thighs, but Danny will deal with them later, right now there's something more important to be done. He drags his pants and boxers down, scrabbling in the night stand for the lube and dribbling it messily over his fingers, and it's too much, it's going everywhere, but he doesn't care, he just needs to be in Steve, to be touching every inch of him. He slathers the lube over his dick, lines himself up and shoves his way in, thrusting as deep and hard as he can, no finesse, no ceremony, no condom, just skin on skin. He needs Steve to feel him, needs to make Steve shut out every thought and every memory and every feeling, needs to make Steve forget Wo Fat, forget Jenna, forget everything except Danny.
Steve' s hot around him, hot and tight, and Danny can't get deep enough, rams home so hard that Steve cries out, wordlessly, and Danny leans forward and sets his teeth into the bruised skin of Steve's shoulder, and that's when Steve comes, jerking under Danny's hands, and Danny hadn't even realised Steve was hard. The realization gets him there, his orgasm punching through him as he pulls out and shoots across Steve's back, come striping the bruised and damaged skin in sticky streaks.
Steve's still trembling under him, so he pushes him down flat on the bed and lays his hands on Steve's back. His own come is warm and sticky on his fingers, and he starts to move his hands, to spread it across the damaged skin, working it with concentration into every bruise, every burn, until he's covered them all, covered every single one of the marks that Wo Fat dared to put on Steve. Steve's pliant under his hands, gone boneless now, relaxed for the first time since they pulled him out of the truck in North Korea, and Danny can feel some of the heat draining out of himself, too, the fierce burn fading back to a low smolder. He's done what he can, and Steve is his again, and he'll take that.
For now.
Pairing: Steve/ Danny
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Danny needs to make things right.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Warnings: Bruises, marking, kink.
Word count: 1200
Author's note: A coda to 2.10.
Repatriation
So many marks.
So many marks, scattered dark and livid across that golden skin, and the sight of them makes something vicious and primal coil in Danny's gut. Something vicious and primal that doesn't give a damn about rules and due process, or any veneer of civilization Danny might carry. Something that twists like a serpent in the darkness and makes Danny want to hurt the man who did this to Steve.
God help Wo Fat if Danny Williams ever gets his hands on him.
Steve is asleep, stretched out naked on the bed, and from where he's leaning in the doorway keeping watch Danny can catalog all the marks on Steve's body. Cattle prod, Steve had said, in a tight, clipped tone that brooked no further questions, and damn his SEAL training that taught him to wall all this away and just carry on. There are bruises, too, the marks of fists and boots, shackle marks on his wrists, and rope burns around his neck.
Wo Fat had dragged Steve through the jungle like an animal on a leash, Danny knows that much. Hung him in chains while he beat him and marked him, and the thought makes Danny burn with a fierce hatred that has him clenching his fists and swallowing down the bile in his throat.
They will find Wo Fat and Danny will make him pay. That's a promise that Danny intends to keep.
Steve stirs, and Danny realises he's being watched, Steve's eyes dark and hooded under half-closed lids. "Hey, babe," he says, forcing a smile onto his face, but he's not stupid enough to think that Steve's fooled.
"Danny." Steve's voice is hoarse and low, rough with sleep and pain and fatigue, and Danny can't stay away, crosses the room to sit on the bed beside him. "Danny, please…" Steve's hand is tight on Danny's bicep, gripping hard and pulling him down, so Danny kicks off his loafers and goes easy, laying himself alongside the length of Steve, propping himself on one elbow so that he can watch Steve's face.
"Danny," Steve says, and swallows, "Please, I need…"
Danny lays his fingers softly against Steve's mouth, bruised and swollen from the beating. "Shhh, I know, babe, I've got you…" and he leans in and kisses him, a light and gentle kiss that's meant to convey care and comfort and all the tenderness that Danny's struggling to feel right now, meant to show Steve that he's safe, that Danny's got him, that it's over.
He can taste blood on Steve's lips, the distinctive coppery tang sharp on his tongue, and he hesitates, pulls back a fraction, he doesn't want to cause further hurt, Steve's been hurt enough already.
"Danny…" It's the merest breath of a whisper, but the tone is clear, along with the look in Steve's eyes…
In one incandescent moment the burning rage in Danny's gut morphs into want, and he can't help it, he presses down and takes Steve's mouth, heedless of the damage and the pain he's causing. He feels Steve groan against his lips, a desperate, craven sound, and suddenly he knows what Steve needs, what he has to do to make things right, and it's what he wants too, what he needs, God forgive him for his sins.
He moves his mouth, licks across the reddened skin of Steve's throat and then bites down hard, teeth crushing the skin, and Steve bucks up against him with a hiss, but he doesn’t push Danny away, arches into Danny's touch, and so Danny gets bolder, bites again, the marks of his teeth darker red against the sore skin. Steve stills under him, tensing as he travels downwards, but when his mouth finds a bruise Steve curses, fuck, Danny, do it, and so he does, damage on damage, red on purpled skin. "Don't stop, fuck, Danny, don't stop…" Steve's voice is cracked and breathless now, so Danny follows the map of bruises and burns across Steve's body with his mouth, mouthing kisses against the damaged skin, marking each place with his teeth, sucking bruises over burns, layering his marks over Wo Fat's until he's covered every inch of damaged skin and Steve is shaking under him, and fuck, that feels so good, so vital, so necessary.
Steve's got his eyes shut, and there are tears - honest-to-goodness tears - squeezing from beneath his lashes, and suddenly there's a burning knot in Danny's throat because he's never seen Steve cry before, never thought to, never wanted to. "Look at me," he says, voice urgent and heart racing," Steve, look at me," and for a moment he's scared that Steve's going to pull away, going to leave him again, but then Steve opens his eyes and looks at him, and what he sees there could burn his heart to ashes if he let it.
He can't let that happen, won't let that happen, because Steve needs him right now, needs Danny's strength and Danny's determination. "Roll over," he orders, "On your knees," and Steve goes, bracing himself on his elbows, head down, legs spread. There are more marks on his back and thighs, but Danny will deal with them later, right now there's something more important to be done. He drags his pants and boxers down, scrabbling in the night stand for the lube and dribbling it messily over his fingers, and it's too much, it's going everywhere, but he doesn't care, he just needs to be in Steve, to be touching every inch of him. He slathers the lube over his dick, lines himself up and shoves his way in, thrusting as deep and hard as he can, no finesse, no ceremony, no condom, just skin on skin. He needs Steve to feel him, needs to make Steve shut out every thought and every memory and every feeling, needs to make Steve forget Wo Fat, forget Jenna, forget everything except Danny.
Steve' s hot around him, hot and tight, and Danny can't get deep enough, rams home so hard that Steve cries out, wordlessly, and Danny leans forward and sets his teeth into the bruised skin of Steve's shoulder, and that's when Steve comes, jerking under Danny's hands, and Danny hadn't even realised Steve was hard. The realization gets him there, his orgasm punching through him as he pulls out and shoots across Steve's back, come striping the bruised and damaged skin in sticky streaks.
Steve's still trembling under him, so he pushes him down flat on the bed and lays his hands on Steve's back. His own come is warm and sticky on his fingers, and he starts to move his hands, to spread it across the damaged skin, working it with concentration into every bruise, every burn, until he's covered them all, covered every single one of the marks that Wo Fat dared to put on Steve. Steve's pliant under his hands, gone boneless now, relaxed for the first time since they pulled him out of the truck in North Korea, and Danny can feel some of the heat draining out of himself, too, the fierce burn fading back to a low smolder. He's done what he can, and Steve is his again, and he'll take that.
For now.