Months and miles from dreams - 2/7 - NC-17 - AU
Chapter 2 of boxer!Danny, ladies and gents. Thank you everyone for the comments, means a lot to me! And thanks stjarna1984, theellibu, sirona_gs and perspi for the insight, the betaing, the help and the reassurances that this doesn't suck completely. This is thoroughly NC-17. Enjoy!
Check this out if you want some music to go along.
Part One
September 2006
When he comes back to Williams’, Steve has no idea what he’ll say, or do. This time around he’s not in hiding; he got to see his dad, called Mary Ann on the phone. He jumped on a plane to New Jersey without even thinking about it, without second-guessing himself, and maybe that’s why it makes him a leader, but now he’s in front of that door and his tongue is big and heavy in his mouth. Still, he steps inside - it’s Sunday again, early in the morning again, and Steve likes the pattern.
And as he hoped, when he walks in and rounds the corner of the boxing ring, Danny is here, alone. The gym in itself has barely changed - a few more pieces of equipment, and one wall repainted a bright green being the only things Steve notices right away. But Danny, Danny. His hair is shorter, darker, wisps of blond falling over his sweaty forehead. There are some new lines over his brow, but he’s still as large and muscular as the last time Steve saw him, if not even more, without being too much. He still looks painfully like the one Steve wants and didn’t have time to get.
Danny stops and looks at Steve straight in the eye for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not Steve is going to turn and bolt. When Steve stands his ground, Danny licks his lips, pulling away from the floor-to-ceiling he was rolling punches at, and Steve cannot miss the drop of sweat tracing a path down Danny’s neck, disappearing in the collar of his threadbare, distended grey shirt, the letters NYC fading across Danny’s stomach. His eyes are cold, silent.
“Hey, Danny. Long time no see.”
“You don’t say.”
Danny turns away from Steve, throwing a punch that sends the ball in front of him dancing away and back to him, but Danny stops it before it hits him in the chest. Steve feels a surge of anger and anguish flare up in his body and he takes a few steps forward, but Danny doesn’t move.
“What are you doing here, Steve? You might have forgotten but we’re closed on Sundays.”
Danny’s not looking at him, body turned away from Steve in such a way that makes Steve clench his jaw and fist his hands by his sides not to reach out and force Danny to look at him, even if it’s an angry look. He moves closer still, one step two steps, echoing in the empty gym.
“Danny -”
“Come back tomorrow. If you’re still around, that is.”
Steve’s sharp intake of breath makes Danny throw a glance at him, but then he’s looking away again, collecting gloves thrown on the floor, pairing them off and tying the laces together. Steve snaps, anger and desperation making him move, grabbing Danny’s shoulder and pushing him against the closest wall, his body slamming into it hard, fury flashing in his eyes for a second before he pushes back, hands braced against Steve’s shoulders. Steve barely moves and Danny leaves his hands there.
“What the fuck?”
“I didn’t mean not to say goodbye, Danny.”
“Fine. Are you saying goodbye now? Bit late, mind you, but I’ll take it. Door’s that way. Goodbye, Steve.”
“Will you just look at me?”
Steve is close to shouting, his face too close to Danny’s, close enough that he can smell aftershave and sweat and it’s definitely too close. He just wants Danny to look at him, even if it’s with hatred. After all, it’s not like Steve has done anything wrong, not really. When Danny turns to look at him, finally, his eyes are full of fire and lust, Steve is too close to miss it. It turns the fire in his own stomach into something that burns as intensely but doesn’t feel as bad, instead making his knees a little weak. Danny fists his hands in Steve’s sweater, suddenly not pushing him away anymore.
“You’re an asshole, Steve, you know that?”
Steve watches Danny grit his teeth, almost able to hear it, and fuck, he knows. He feels like one, and he knows he’s acted like one, but there’s nothing he can do or say that will change what he’s done - and not done.
“I didn’t handle it right last year.”
He’s got more to say, but it all dies in his throat when Danny snorts, his hands grabbing Steve’s clothes even tighter now, as if he’s not sure whether to pull or push. Steve wants to arch into Danny so badly it’s making his hands tremble.
“That’s an understatement, considering all you had to do was to say ‘oh, by the way, I have to take off now, was fun, nice to meet you, bye’.”
“Well I’m back now -”
“For how long, huh?”
Steve takes a shaking breath, knowing exactly how long he’s got before he’s needed back on base, but not willing to give Danny the time frame. If he doesn’t think about it and pretends he doesn’t know, if he doesn’t tell Danny, then he can try to make those few days longer than they actually are.
“Long enough.”
Danny opens his mouth, probably another biting remark on the tip of his tongue, but Steve doesn’t give him the opportunity, kissing him before any sound can come out. It’s nothing soft but it’s pleading, Steve begging with his body for Danny to give in, pressing himself to Danny and grabbing his hips, pulling him forward until their bodies are touching from knees to chest. For a while, Steve wonders if Danny will stay stunned and unmoving as he is, but something unlocks when Danny groans against Steve’s lips and then he’s arching and tearing at Steve’s sweater, moving to his tiptoes and back when one of his hands frames Steve’s jaw, as if he wants to crawl down Steve’s body, or maybe climb up him.
Danny’s hand slides from Steve’s jaw to his hair, fingers pulling on the strands curling at the nape of his neck as he bites Steve’s bottom lip, before breaking the kiss with a gasp. Steve pants against Danny’s cheek, resting his forehead against his temple, knowing that right now is the make or break moment.
“Danny -”
“Shut up. Just - shut up.”
Danny grabs the back of Steve’s head and pulls him in again, definitely making the moment. Another kiss, just as hard and demanding as the first one, but this time Danny’s hands pull at Steve’s sweater and they break away long enough for both sweater and t-shirt to go to the floor, their eyes meeting and locking for a moment, both of them done arguing that this isn’t what they’ve been wanting from the moment they met.
Danny’s mouth travels along the curve of Steve’s neck, sucking and biting marks all the way - marks that Steve might have to explain later but he’ll lie, he does it well and he likes his secrets anyway. Steve peels Danny’s shirt off him, fingers traveling over Danny’s chest, fuzzy blond hairs soft under his palms, longer than Steve remembers. He rubs at a nipple and Danny growls against Steve’s pulse point, moving lower to lick at his Adam’s apple, making Steve tilt his head back, close his eyes and thrust his hips forward. He can’t help it, feeling slightly unhinged, Danny’s pure lust playing tricks with Steve’s control.
Here they are, chest to chest, Steve’s fingers digging into Danny’s ribs, Danny’s mouth bruising Steve’s collarbones, rolling their hips into each other, and it’s all filthy, the wall damp with humidity against them and their wet, obscene sounds reverberating through the gym. And despite the heating on too strong again Steve feels the hairs on his arms stand on end when Danny sucks right above his nipple, sensitive skin tingling at the feeling. He’s so hard the way his jeans are restricting is painful but it’s still awfully difficult to take his hands off of Danny to tug on his belt, his fingers trembling, uncoordinated.
Danny helps him out, deftly pulling the belt open and then the jeans themselves, one of his hands delving inside right away and making Steve cry out, fingers digging into Danny’s arm.
“Fuck!”
“Jesus, Steve - you’re so hard.” Danny’s voice comes out in a whisper, breathless and hot against Steve’s chest, and a little bewildered, as if he cannot believe Steve is reacting to him that way. Steve can just thrust his hips forward in answer, his head dropping to Danny’s shoulder, his back bent as he whimpers helplessly, uncontrollably. He’s been jerking off to fantasies of Danny for months without wanting to admit it to himself, but the real thing, fuck, it’s all his fantasies put on fire in the deep of his belly and his blood boiling and thrumming in his ears in the rhythm of his heart and his hips, it’s sweat and the unique, amazing taste of Danny on his tongue and fingers slipping between ribs and tangled hair. It’s a million times better than anything Steve has ever dreamt of.
And fuck, he comes harshly and unexpectedly and all over his underwear, something he hasn’t done since celebrating his 15th birthday, and he doesn’t even give a shit because he’s trembling in Danny’s arms and Danny’s holding him, kissing him everywhere he can reach, letting out small noises of despair that make Steve blink and reach the moment again. He’s made this all about himself again but it’s not over, he’s not done, there is no way.
He kisses Danny, just because he can and Danny is just there, before sliding his lips down along his chest, until he’s kneeling in front of Danny, his thighs shaking with the aftermath of his own orgasm but not ready to let this go. He’s never been selfish and he’s not going to start now, so he pulls Danny’s shorts and underwear down, sucking in a breath when Danny’s cock comes into view - again it’s nothing like his fantasies and it’s so much better. He leans forward with a little sound of contentment and licks his way up Danny’s erection until he’s got the head in his mouth, looking up when Danny lets out a muffled sound, showing Steve that he’s biting on his fist, a flush creeping up his chest, looking absolutely, positively delicious and Steve doesn’t waste a second more.
He hasn’t had that many chances to improve on his technique but what he’s lacking in experience he makes up with enthusiasm, so he licks softly when he accidentally scrapes teeth and he uses tongue and thumb to press against the slit, making Danny roll his hips and thrust forward, obviously as gentle as he can, something Steve is grateful of. Steve takes Danny’s cock as deep as he can inside his mouth but he refuses to force it, refuses to make this embarrassing, for either one of them - he needs Danny to remember every second of it and feel a flush of lust when he remembers, not amusement.
“Oh, fuck, Steve, Steve I -”
Steve pulls away as Danny moans loud and clear in the big, empty room, letting Danny come over his chest as he licks his lips, wanting to taste Danny for a while longer, already missing the heady, musky smell of him. Danny slides down to sit in front of Steve, his sweaty hair leaving a wet trace over the wall. Steve just gathers him in his arms, grazing his nose along Danny’s.
“Fine, I forgive you for last year, then.”
--
There’s a second of disorientation when Steve wakes up the next morning before he realizes the gray skies glaring at him from outside the window are Weehawken’s and he’s in his hotel room, still buried under the thick duvet of his king-size bed. And he’s not alone.
Danny, for such a short man, takes up a lot of space - limbs spread haphazardly, one arm warm along Steve’s side, the toes of his right foot tucked under Steve’s calf. They’re two sides of a completely different coin, Danny on his stomach, sleeping large and with purpose, Steve on his back, making himself as small as possible out of habit and sleeping too lightly to be really restful.
Danny thoroughly exhausted him, though - from morning ‘til night they barely paused for food, too busy discovering each other, Steve making the most of it, trying to act as if time stood still, his fingers against Danny’s, his lips curved into a smile against Danny’s collarbone. It turns out Danny is the teasing, curious kind of lover, with overflowing generosity that took Steve’s breath away, and Steve had only been able to give back as much as he could.
Steve’s eyes sweep the room after looking at Danny’s sleeping form for so long he could draw him with his eyes closed, taking in the clothes thrown about - he spies his boxers hanging off the side of the TV set. It’s mostly wood and cream carpets by way of decorating, which suits Steve just fine, especially when he realizes the wooden beam attached to the ceiling will be perfect for pull-ups. Steve rolls out of bed silently, trying his best to move the brown duvet as little as possible, and when he crouches next to the bed, he’s happy to see Danny has barely stirred.
He starts with stretches, yoga and Pilates poses that make his back and thigh muscles warm. He stops for a second to pull his underwear back on, grimacing at how dirty it is, but unwilling to go through his duffel for a clean pair and possibly wake Danny up. He goes through a series of twenty press-ups easily, adding another ten one-handed ones, satisfied when his arms strain and tremble a little under the pressure. Then it’s crunches, another twenty, and by the time he’s finished Steve can feel the heat in his body, the sweat breaking over his brow and his shoulder blades.
He always ends his morning ritual with the pull-ups because they’re the hardest and he enjoys them the most - down to his masochistic streak, probably. He observes the wooden beam for a moment - it’s sturdy and large, but when he jumps up, he manages to hold onto it without the edges biting into his forearms in a hurtful way. Once in position, Steve locks his ankles together and pulls up, exhaling once he’s looking at the inside of his forearms, inhaling when he’s stretched out again. It burns, in - almost - the best way possible, and Steve focuses on the feeling of his shoulder and back muscles moving as he pulls himself again, sweat rolling down along his temple to lose itself in his stubble. He goes on, inhale, exhale, muscles rolling and stretching and pulling, a groan escaping him when he bends his knees, bringing them close to his chest.
“My God, what is the matter with you, Steve?”
He’s just counted fifteen when Danny’s voice resonates in the room, and Steve hangs there for a second, wishing he’d decided to face the bed, and not away from it. Danny’s words are laced with sleep and amusement, and Steve gives up on the remaining five pull-ups he’s supposed to do, letting go of the beam and falling back to the floor as gracefully as he can make it. He rolls his shoulders and neck a few times before turning around, his eyes meeting Danny’s.
“Morning.”
Danny licks his lips, his eyes traveling over Steve’s body, a little heavy, and Steve feels under pressure, biting the inside of his lip as he reaches for the stack of towels on the chair next to the TV, running one over his face.
“Do you really do this every morning?”
“Wakes me up.”
“No, no, a shower wakes you up, a good cup of coffee wakes you up, a blowjob wakes you up, pull-ups, however, are a form of masochism that are not considered a proper wake up call.”
Steve sits on the bed, over the covers while Danny is still under them, sitting up himself so they’re pooling around his waist, exposing his chest to Steve’s hungry eyes. He smiles, raising an eyebrow at Danny. How someone can talk this much, this fast, this early in the morning is beyond Steve, but he’s willing to accept it.
“You have an issue with pull-ups? Seeing your arms I wouldn’t think they’re a problem.”
“No, I do not have an issue with pull-ups, I can do them just fine, thank you, I just don’t want to, especially five minutes after waking up. Hey, can we order breakfast?” Danny looks around Steve, before waving his hand. “Never mind, we have leftover pizza. That’ll do.”
“Are you serious?”
Danny pushes the covers off himself after giving Steve a pointed look, grabbing the pizza box lying on the carpet and a bunch of napkins along with it. He’s perfectly naked and apparently perfect fine with that and with his obvious morning wood, too, as he crawls back in bed, under the covers, opening the box between himself and Steve and grabbing a slice.
“You never had a breakfast burrito? Breakfast pizza is the same, only better.”
Steve doesn’t answer, because this is a debate he’s not sure he ever wants to have, especially since he has a sneaky suspicion Danny’s had a lot of arguments. Instead of getting into it, Steve just shakes his head, chuckling, before sliding off the bed again, stepping away a little and starting his warm-down stretches. He doesn’t want to start aching today. Not because of this, anyway.
Steve crouches, grabbing the back of his ankles before straightening his legs, resting his head almost against his knees as he lets his muscles grow accustomed to the position. He crouches back slowly, repeating the process to get rid of the twinges in his back and thighs. He’s on his third go when Danny groans and shuffles around - Steve tracks the sounds while looking at his knees.
“Do you have any idea how obscene you are right now?”
Steve straightens up, stretching back for a second, reaching up towards the ceiling before turning around, facing Danny again, who is on his knees, almost at the edge of the bed, his eyes burning dark.
“How is this obscene? I’m wearing underwear.”
Danny grins, reaching out and curling his fingers in Steve’s boxers, pulling him forward. Steve can only take the small steps separating him from the bed, his stomach rolling over itself when Danny noses around his belly-button. The pizza box is back on the carpet.
“I woke up to an empty bed, only to find you doing pull-ups, Steve. Underwear or not, that was obscene at this hour in the morning.”
“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy the view?”
"No, I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it, it's just I was a little unprepared for it, that's all. I, usually, like my mornings after to be a little more sedate, you know?”
Steve raises an eyebrow at the words, because everything Danny’s saying is belied by his actions, his mouth kissing lower and lower on Steve’s stomach, along the waistband of his boxers, all the way to his hipbone, and when he bites into the dip, Danny pulls Steve even closer, until his knees hit the bed.
“Doesn’t feel very sedate to me, Danny.”
"Yeah, well, you had a head start. I got some catching up to do."
“Well, you did say a blowjob is a good thing to wake up to.”
Danny barks out a laugh against Steve’s skin, pulling at the elastic of his underwear, letting it sting Steve lightly.
“Cheeky.”
---
“So you’ve never been to Europe?”
To be fair, Steve has only driven through countries to access others, warzones and crash sites where his team were needed. He remembers a few stopovers in Paris but not seeing much outside Charles-de-Gaulle airport, and he remembers magnificent buildings in Austria, but they’re connected to the horror of a mission in Uzbekistan that still gives him nightmares sometimes.
Danny stabs a dumpling with a chopstick, shaking his head when he dips it on soy sauce.
“Nope. It’s a wonder why I even have a passport; I’ve barely ever left New Jersey. Well, I’ve been to New York countless times, but how does that even count?”
Steve smiles.
“It doesn’t.”
“See? So you travel a lot.”
Steve looks at the specks of soy sauce dotting their table cloth, at his Kung Pao chicken, wondering exactly what he can and can’t say. When he looks up, Danny is looking straight at him, chewing on his dumpling thoughtfully, looking every bit like he’s reading right through all of Steve’s defenses and locked doors.
“Fair bit, yeah.”
His voice is softer than he wants it to be, and Danny narrows his eyes for an instant before Steve feels a foot over his ankle, making him huff out a laugh.
“Don’t know if it’s a good idea to take off your shoes in such a place, Danny.”
“It’s okay, my socks are thick, and I’m not touching the ground, am I?”
“Fair enough.”
“Ever been to Africa?”
“Yes.”
So many times. Steve has a million stories about indigenous tribes he’s met and wonderful soldiers that helped him and shamans that cured him of infections. He’s got countless tales about lions and zebras and breathtaking landscapes that he rode through, drove through, walked through. And yet all the words are stuck in the back of his throat because every story and every tale comes along with a mission, blood diamonds and flies feasting on carcasses that he simply cannot talk about.
“Your conversational skills are amazing, Steve.”
Steve grins when Danny rolls his eyes, but his words are tinged with fondness, some sentiment that warms Steve all the way through to his bones. Danny’s toes press further into Steve’s calf. They’ve been in the restaurant for over an hour now, only deciding to get showered and dressed to venture out for food late in the afternoon of Steve’s second day in New Jersey. The golden and red hues of the wallpaper are so common it could be any other Chinese restaurant, with plastic flowers in plastic pots and distant, almost ethereal Chinese music playing over the droning sound of the wall of water behind Steve’s seat, but the food is good and the restaurant is warm, cozy, the chairs they’re sitting on comfortable.
“I’ll blame the lack of sleep.”
“Ah! Now, that is indirectly blaming me, and I’m sorry, nobody forced you to get out of bed at nine in the morning to do pull-ups. Consequently you’re not playing fair and if you’re not playing fair I will not share my coconut balls with you.”
Steve snorts around a mouthful of beer, a stupid grin plastering itself on his face. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t want any of the desserts he’s seen on the menu, if only because he doesn’t really want to clog his arteries if he can help it, but the look on Danny’s face is too priceless to pass up.
“Coconut balls? Really?”
“Shut up, they’re delicious and you’ll be terribly sorry to have missed them.”
“I’m sure.”
“What are you an anti-dessert kind of guy?”
Danny’s grinning through his words, making Steve lean over the table, moving his leg a little so that Danny’s foot is resting just under his knee.
“Yeah, maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?”
“Think I’m going to have to educate you, which is ridiculous seeing that you’re what? Thirty?”
It’s a small one but Steve doesn’t miss it. His smile turns a little softer - he feels guilty about being so guarded with Danny but he can’t help it, he didn’t even realize he’d kept small details like this one to himself.
“Twenty-nine.”
“Twenty-nine? Close enough. My point still stands. I’ve seen there is cheesecake on your hotel’s room service menu, your education could start there.”
“What are we waiting for, then?”
Danny’s smile turns naughty and Steve doesn’t even mind footing the bill.
---
Steve’s third day is spent in the gym with Danny, and some of the kids he’s met the year before are still there and growing bigger and stronger than he’d ever imagined. He teaches them new techniques and they’re over the moon, which in turn makes Danny so happy he rides Steve on his office chair without even locking the door.
Steve’s fourth day of leave goes by so quickly he can barely believe it happened at all. But he knows it did, because he’s got all the memories of New York with Danny; Danny and the childlike look in his eyes as they walked Broadway, his stupid smile as he bit into a hotdog that was as big as Steve’s forearm, his excited chatter about the buildings they passed, his laughter when rain surprised them in Central Park.
It’s bits and pieces of a life he’ll never have, stolen moments when the Earth stands still under them and Steve feels invincible, master of the world, everything in the palm of his hand, waiting for him to pick or discard. He feels this way - free, recklessly free - rarely enough that instead of stopping, time flies and Steve finds himself behind the wheel of Danny’s battered Chevy too fast, not having time to process and wanting to turn around and run, cry out, yell out wait no, not enough until his lungs are on fire and tears are in his eyes.
He swallows it up, the desperation, but he still notices how the drive back is quiet, Danny more subdued then than he has been all day, his eyes cast down on his cell phone, his knuckles white around it. Steve can see words and catches some of them when he glances over, tonight and money and it'll be fun, but then Danny flips his phone closed. Steve can’t help but feel guilty for a second, a flush creeping up his neck - Danny is one of the few people Steve knows that can see through Steve and his lies, Steve is certain of it, yet he doesn’t scratch underneath, doesn’t ask for more than what Steve is able to give, so why should Steve ask for more than what Danny is willing to give?
“Hey, you’ve gone quiet. You okay?”
Danny looks up, his eyes glassed over, and Steve frowns, keeping himself from reaching over and curling his fingers around Danny’s wrist, to try and pull him out of this daze he seems to be in.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Tired. I need to go to the gym tonight, can you just drop me off there?”
“Sure. Is there anything you want help with?”
“Oh, no, don’t worry about it. There was a delivery today and I just want to make sure Vince didn’t screw it up.”
Steve can hear the lie in Danny’s words so painfully clearly he can almost taste it at the back of his throat, but he doesn’t pick up on it, just nodding absently, his eyes back on the road. There is something crazy and desperate inside him that wants to know the truth, but just as Danny doesn’t call him on his own lies, Steve can respect this, too. The feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him it’s probably not legal threatens to make him puke all the junk food Danny forced on him today, but Steve manages to clamp it all down.
“Okay, yeah, sure. So Vince is taking care of the gym while you’re off running through the streets of New York?”
Danny waves his hand in front of him, and he seems to be more in control now, something that Steve finds disturbingly reassuring. He lets this feeling rush through him, allow him to relax.
“Yeah, although taking care is not exactly the terms I’d employ. He’s my cousin, so you know, it’s hard to tell him off for all the fuck ups.” Danny sighs then, long-suffering and not amused in the slightest. “Sometimes I really wish I could step away from my family a bit, but they bring a lot of business, so I guess I owe them that.”
This time Steve reaches out, his hand curving around Danny’s shoulder for a moment, and he feels Danny melt into the touch. He’s sure there is more behind Danny’s words, much more, a history he knows nothing about, but Danny doesn’t ask him about the things he hears behind his words, so Steve isn’t going to do it either. They’re on equal grounds here and he won’t disrespect Danny like this. He’s only got three days left and he doesn’t want to spend them alone.
By the time they get back to Weehawken and to Williams’, Danny is asleep in the passenger seat, curled up on himself, his forehead pressed against the window. Steve parks the car and leans in, kissing Danny’s upper arm through his sweater, fingers threading through the hairs at the back of his neck. It’s an unusual display of affection for Steve, especially in semi-public, but Danny looks innocent enough that it was impulse for Steve. He pulls away quickly when Danny blinks his eyes open, though, stretching back into a sitting position.
“We here?”
“Yeah. Go on in, I’ll just go back to my hotel. It’s been a long day.”
“Okay.”
Their time is limited enough that Steve wants to ask Danny to come by when he’s finished whatever business he’s got to do, but Steve still doesn’t have the guts to tell Danny he’s leaving in three days, he doesn’t want to taint the rest of their time together with the promise of another goodbye.
“I’ll, uh. Come by tomorrow, then.”
Danny nods as Steve hands him the keys to his car back, stepping out into the biting cold of the evening. There’s a faint light coming from inside the gym, flickering at times, illuminating the side of Danny’s face as he looks at Steve, a small smile fitting itself on his face.
“Okay.”
---
The gym is closed when Steve gets there the next morning, and the poster stuck to the door tells him that there is a fight later on that day, Tony LaVelle against the gym champion, Kyle Hovard. Steve notes the time of the fight in a corner of his mind and turns away from the gym, refusing to try and take a look inside to try and see if Danny is here anyway.
He ends up running miles along the Hudson River, the cold wind breezing through his hair and cooling his heated skin when he stretches, looking over at New York. He could swim it, he thinks, of course he could fucking swim it if he wanted to run away and run back to the day before, to Danny grinning and acting like a kid on a sugar high instead of the subdued, quiet version of him that still flashes through Steve’s mind now, his eyes closed away from Steve.
Steve looks around him, jaw clenched and shoulders tense. The place he stopped at is fairly empty, a few people walking around and an old couple sitting on a bench overlooking the river, talking in soft tones, their hands moving around. It’s quiet, save for the seagulls fighting each other for bits of food and the constant, distant buzz of the tentacular city. Steve finds himself smiling softly when he closes his eyes, spreading his legs a little, his feet parallel, hip distance apart. Never opening his eyes, Steve lets his body shift and move into his favored meditation position, feeling how anchored to the ground he is when he relaxes his legs muscles. His lower body contains all of his weight as his upper body feels light and open, and when he raises his arms in front of his stomach, elbows lifted and fingers pointing towards each other, Steve smiles. He exhales and inhales the damp air, slow and focused, allowing his mind to empty itself.
He’s still but relaxed, comfortable, his muscles holding the position easily as his head flies off to old memories of Taoist priests and months spent in Chinese villages, making it almost a home. He goes back to Yi Lin and his bright laugh when he mocked Steve’s first attempts at meditating, speaking at fire speed in a dialect Steve hadn’t mastered. Wen Tsai and his books and his thirst to know English, the hours spent with him in the candlelight learning Chinese calligraphy and teaching him the basics of his own language.
Steve lets himself drift between the memories as his energy flows through him, his eyes now open but unfocused, buildings and water looking like mountains and jungles in front of him, looking like Ming Wu’s pretty face and melting into Danny’s strong features. Memories and thoughts run through him like spring water, from his head to his toes, into the ground, a waterfall of emotions and conflicts that cleanse Steve from top to bottom, leaving his body and mind blissfully empty.
Steve looks at a world unseen, travels through his own body, lost in his own universe and he unlocks doors, opens himself to the outside without turning himself vulnerable. He follows the path of his own breaths, uncovers hidden corners of his mind, so fully conscious of himself and the world around him he’s in perfect harmony with the smells and sounds and the bright and the cold of this day, this moment right now, shared between Steve and the world.
When he blinks he lowers his arms, the world returns to buildings and water, all in focus, the sounds growing louder in his ears, a group of teenagers walking past him with music blasting from an old school boom box, 80’s rap music making Steve’s blood pump in rhythm. He feels calmer than he has in weeks, the tension having left his shoulders, and only stays in the excitement over the prospect of spending more time with Danny until he has to leave again. Everything else is far away, cleansed away from his mind for the time being. Steve knows he should meditate more, allow this blissful, peaceful state to engulf and protect him more often.
When he checks his watch, he realizes he’s spent an hour in the same position, and yet, he feels no cramp or ache, his body buzzing with satisfaction. He’s barely feeling the wind, only wearing a sweater even though people are walking briskly around him with jackets on, some giving him odd looks. He doesn’t pay them attention as he walks back to his hotel and jumps in the shower as soon as he’s in his room, discarding clothes on his way, noticing that the boxers by the side of bed he doesn’t sleep in are most definitely not his. The thought that Danny left his underwear behind makes Steve chuckle to himself, and he allows himself to be filled with thoughts, the ghost sensations of Danny’s fingers and mouth and teeth all over him as he showers, and it gets him hard and coming in minutes, his stamina largely challenged by Danny Williams.
Most of his afternoon is spent walking around the city, a little aimless and a lot mindless, just enjoying the feel of the buildings creeping up around him, the maze of streets and people, vastly different from life on base but something he can appreciate, the constant thrum and hum of disorganized life making him dizzy in the best way.
By the time he’s back at Danny’s gym, the place is brightly lit and the doors are pushed open, people mingling around a makeshift bar. Steve lets himself wonder about the lack of license before pushing it away and getting himself a beer - fuck it. He is in a good mood, there is a fight tonight, and he’s determined to bring Danny back to his hotel room later.
“Hey, you’re here.”
Steve turns around at the sound of Danny’s voice, a grin appearing on his face at the sight of Danny, wearing a button down shirt and jeans, his hair slicked back. Steve wants to run his fingers all over his face and burn all of his lines and angles in his mind.
“Of course, wouldn’t miss a fight.”
He would say more, but there are more people in the gym than there’s ever been, and Steve is too conscious of who and what he is to start obviously flirting - he’s pretty sure his eyes are saying a lot right now anyway.
“Got something to show you. New gear.”
Yeah. His eyes are definitely saying enough, Danny’s words heavy with untold purpose that Steve deciphers all too easily. And maybe anyone who observed them long enough would read in their bodies just exactly what’s going on, the electricity in the air between them, but they’re alone in a sea of people.
“Oh, that delivery you had?”
Danny pauses for a second, his eyes shifting, before he rolls his shoulders, nods, chuckles.
“Yeah. C’mon.”
Steve follows Danny through the crowd, until they’re in the dark dressing room, the sounds from people outside muffled. Steve can’t help but grin when Danny flicks on the lights, stalking close and pressing Steve against the wall with his body.
“Now that was smooth, D. New gear, really?”
“Hey, I could show you gear.”
Steve tilts his head back as he laughs, sliding his hand up Danny’s arm to his neck and curling around, thumb brushing the fine hairs he finds there. He sobers up quickly when Danny nips at his neck, almost reproachful.
“I don’t have long, I have a fight to host, so stop laughing, you goof, you’re putting me off my game.”
Steve can only snort this time, tugging at Danny’s hair a little until he can lean down to kiss Danny, feeling like a teenager hiding behind the bleachers when he fists a hand in Danny’s perfectly pressed shirt, wanting to rumple him, mark him in obvious ways, tell the whole room when they come out exactly what they’ve been doing, even if it’s exactly what he should avoid doing.
“Hey, this is my good shirt, you Neanderthal,” Danny mutters into his mouth, batting at his wrist. Steve smiles, licking along the edge of Danny’s bottom lip before replying, nudging a knee between Danny’s thighs.
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
He stops any further protests with his tongue, kissing Danny hungrily, as if it’s been days since the last time. He keeps his hand in Danny’s shirt, pushing it higher up his chest and out of his jeans, sliding the other one underneath, flattening his palm over Danny’s warm skin. Danny’s muscles flinch at the contact but quickly relax as Steve moves it up and around to his back, thumbing the dips in the muscles either side of his spine, pulling Danny close.
Danny groans and grunts into the kiss, nipping at Steve’s lips, his own hands tight on Steve’s hips and backside, groping and squeezing, which only keeps Steve in that teenage mindset. It feels a little desperate, but he’s not sure either of them cares. He sure as hell doesn’t, especially when Danny sucks on his tongue when he pulls away a little, Steve’s lungs on fire and his stomach flipping hard.
He dives right back into the kiss, his fingers curling around the waistband of Danny’s underwear. He grins against Danny’s lips, bumping their noses together.
“Did you leave your boxers in my hotel room on purpose, by the way?”
“Me? I did no such thing.”
“You’re going to have to come pick them up.”
Steve lets the word trail off along Danny’s cheek, full of intent, but Danny just grins and pinches Steve’s side, biting his bottom lip lightly.
“You don’t want to keep them? I’m hurt, Steve, knife to my heart, you don’t want to keep the memory of our first,” Danny pauses, as if thinking about what he’s about to add. “And second nights together.”
“I just thought you might be attached to your Popeye boxers, is all.”
Danny growls against Steve’s jaw, but he’s pressing his smile into Steve’s skin and that’s enough for Steve. They’re both sort of chuckling when they find each other’s mouth again, but it grows frantic and needy quickly enough, Danny whimpering against Steve’s tongue when he rolls his hips, rubbing himself against Steve’s leg. Steve’s wondering just how much time they have, and just how pissed Danny will be if Steve makes him come in his pants right before a fight.
“How - long - we got?”
“Huh?”
“‘Til the fight. How long?”
“I don’t - shut up, Steve. Busy.”
Danny’s kissing down Steve’s neck, lifting one hand up to tug Steve’s collar to one side, tongue licking the base of Steve’s throat, along the edge of his collar bone. His teeth graze over the fading scar from a bullet Steve should’ve dodged better, making him shiver and flex his own hips sharply into Danny’s. This is going too far too fast if Danny only has a few minutes left, but Steve doesn’t have the willpower to pull away, Danny so intoxicating, filling up all the empty spaces the morning’s meditation cleared up inside Steve.
There is the sound of a bell ringing outside the door, and Danny swears under his breath, hot and wet against Steve’s skin.
“Wha’?”
“Need to get out there. People are getting excited. Fuck.”
“I can, uh,” Steve waves a hand around Danny’s crotch, lifting one shoulder lightly. “If you’re close. I can help.”
“Babe, I’d love that, I don’t think I’m quite there yet. I’m just - it’ll be fine.”
Danny pulls himself away from Steve reluctantly, readjusting his pants and his shirt, tucking it back in his jeans, and Steve is not pouting about it, okay, he’s really not, but the sight is not something he’s enjoying right now.
“Stop with the face, already. Jeez.”
“What face?”
“What face? What face, indeed. We can pick this up later, okay? This,” Danny points to himself, “will still be here for you after the fight. And please, please, don’t even think about going and asking one of my guys to throw the fight in the first round, okay?”
Steve feels his face melt back into an easy smile, watching Danny’s hands wave around as he speaks, and this is someone whose energy flow would definitely benefit from some meditation.
“What? What’s that smirk for?”
“Nothing. I got nothing.”
Danny snorts, looking away for a moment, as if hearing something outside the door, before coming back, running his hands down Steve’s front, pushing away gently to get away from the wall, walking Steve backwards a few steps before stopping.
“What? I got here maybe thirty seconds before you saw me, Danny. I barely remember the guys’ names. How’m I supposed to know which one I can get to throw a fight? Besides, I’m -”
Steve cuts himself off, about to say something about how he lives by the rules, but that way leads to a conversation he doesn’t want to have.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You, uh, you wanna make tonight interesting, Steve?”
“I thought it already was.”
Danny rolls his eyes, fingers running along Steve’s waist, hooking into his belt loops.
“Interesting, Steven. You know, a bet.”
“I’m not really a gambling man. I’m not made of money.”
“Who said anything about money?”
Steve raises an eyebrow, his interest perking up as Danny pets his sides, almost absentmindedly. Steve grabs both his wrists, a little sound escaping him, his tone a question, because he’s not exactly sure what Danny wants to bet but he’s more than willing to listen to the offer.
“Got something against being tied up, Steve?”
Under other circumstances, Steve would probably say yes, he does, he definitely does, because relenting control is not something he does, he’s in command of a platoon, for fuck’s sake. Taking command from an officer is different from letting himself be vulnerable, but the idea of giving himself up to Danny ignites a fire in his belly Steve is not certain he’ll manage to put out anytime soon.
“Huh, I don’t think so. I wouldn’t say it’s something I’ve often done, but uh. Don’t have anything against it.”
Danny smiles, a little feral, dangerous.
“Okay. Hovard’s my protégé; I’ve been training him for ages. If he wins, you let me tie you up.”
“And if he loses?”
Danny’s smile gets wider, tongue coming out to lick his lips as he shrugs. Steve watches his eyes flick down to where Steve’s holding onto his wrists, twisting one of his hands free gently, waving it around beside them.
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Uh.”
Steve’s mouth has gone curiously dry, and there are a thousand and one images assaulting his mind right now, making it hard to see Danny clearly.
“I mean, you can tie me up as well, if you want to, but you don’t need to win a bet to get me to do that, I’ll tell you now. So go wild, Steve. I know you can.”
The way Danny talks means more than a day left to spend together, and Steve aches inside at the idea, at how much he wants it, how much he wishes he could be staying longer instead of catching a flight the day after tomorrow, back to California. Clenching his jaw to get back to now and give Danny an answer, Steve lets out a long breath.
“I’m, huh. I’m sure I could find something better if I had more time, but I’m going to go for an old classic - if the other one wins, I’m blindfolding you.”
Danny grins, obviously about to say more, but the bell outside goes off again, making him move towards the door, freeing himself from Steve’s grip easily. The wink he throws Steve’s way is sleazy and a little out of character, making Steve laugh despite himself. He suspects Danny is slipping into his fight host persona already, his shoulders squared and his smile a little tight around the corners.
“I’ll make sure to bring accessories. Enjoy the fight, Steve.”
---
When Danny lets himself fall next to Steve on the bed, they’re both panting, heaving, sweaty, spent, in the best way possible. Steve flexes his wrists a little, the strain on his arms muscles sort of delicious. So he lost the bet, but he can still taste Danny’s cock when he licks his lips and when he closes his eyes he can still see the expanse of Danny’s back and ass as he moved on top of him. He’ll have finger shaped bruises over his thighs and burns around his wrists where the ties Danny secured earlier are biting into his skin, but right now he wants the marks and bruises, he wants to remember Danny with more than just memories, if only for a few days.
“Should get you free.”
Steve doesn’t answer as Danny kisses his way up Steve’s arm, soft and slow, and then his fingers are deftly pulling at the knot he made earlier on, going to the other wrist when he’s freed Steve’s left hand. Steve flexes his fingers and rolls his wrists when the ties are off, letting the circulation flow back.
“Not too achy?”
“Nah, I’m fine.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t put up with more of a fight.”
“Hey, you won fair and square.”
Danny laughs, licking sweat off Steve’s skin, without an aim, not like earlier where all of his movements had purpose, from fucking Steve’s mouth to sitting down on him, slow, so slow - Steve can still feel it now, and the thought gives Steve goose bumps.
“You’re just kinky.”
“Bet was your idea, and I’m the kinky one? You couldn’t wait to tie me up!”
“True. I have done, now, with my father’s ties which mean I will never be able to look him in the eye ever again, but you know, I feel accomplished. I have a feeling you don’t get tied up very often.”
Not by lovers, that’s for sure. Steve has been tied up by enemies a few times, sitting on bottomless chairs and bound by rope burning into his skin, but he refuses to let this night with Danny remind him of those memories, not when Danny had been gentle, not when Danny is cradling his wrists now, kissing the red marks as if it’ll make them disappear. Steve dry-swallows, looking into Danny’s eyes for a second as Danny’s lips travel over his skin, up from wrist to the center of his palm and then moving to his other hand.
Steve looks over the curve of Danny’s back, sweaty golden skin gleaming in the dim light of the bedside lamp, and he’d run his tongue over the whole of it, collect every last bit of Danny’s taste and scent and keep it inside himself to go back to when sleeping on the jungle floor in Brazil or the desert in Uganda, wherever the government decides to send his team to next. Just like in The Perfume only without the creepiness, sociopathic tendencies and killings.
“No, I don’t.”
“Hmm. You know you can blindfold me if you want.”
“I didn’t win the bet.”
“No, but I’m feeling generous.”
Danny grins at him, all bright and silly, before grabbing one of the discarded ties and playing with the tip along Steve’s chest, tracing a path all the way down to his hipbones. Steve tries not to squirm, biting his bottom lip.
“Danny,” Steve takes a breath, and there, he almost says it, almost lets it out, I’m leaving the day after tomorrow, but stops himself, closes his mouth, opens it again. “You hungry?”
Danny raises an eyebrow, suspicious of Steve’s sudden change of topic, but he doesn’t pick up on it, merely nods.
“I could eat.”
Steve feels like ordering all that is exceptionally expensive on the menu, like a last meal because soon enough he’ll be gone again and who the fuck knows if he’ll ever be back? He’s got one more day, though, maybe.
“Okay, grab a menu then. You doing anything special tomorrow? I could blindfold you then...”
“Ah, see, I’d like that, I’d like that very much, but I’ll have to take off early. It’s my Mom’s birthday, and we always have these day-long celebrations, so um. I’ll be out of your hair around nine I think. If I get there much later my dad will kill me. I can come around later.”
Steve didn’t expect the knot in his stomach to feel this bad. He didn’t think the pain would be so acute, and how he manages to push it down, he’s not sure, but he does it, he smiles and shakes his head. It’ll be too late.
“No, no need. You spend the day with your family, Danny, enjoy.”
He thinks for a moment Danny will protest, but then he grabs a menu and leans over Steve’s chest, apparently shrugging it off. Steve breathes out a sigh of relief in Danny’s hair, closing his eyes when a strand gets stuck to his lips. It’s his last few hours with Danny and he will make them count.
Check this out if you want some music to go along.
Part One
September 2006
When he comes back to Williams’, Steve has no idea what he’ll say, or do. This time around he’s not in hiding; he got to see his dad, called Mary Ann on the phone. He jumped on a plane to New Jersey without even thinking about it, without second-guessing himself, and maybe that’s why it makes him a leader, but now he’s in front of that door and his tongue is big and heavy in his mouth. Still, he steps inside - it’s Sunday again, early in the morning again, and Steve likes the pattern.
And as he hoped, when he walks in and rounds the corner of the boxing ring, Danny is here, alone. The gym in itself has barely changed - a few more pieces of equipment, and one wall repainted a bright green being the only things Steve notices right away. But Danny, Danny. His hair is shorter, darker, wisps of blond falling over his sweaty forehead. There are some new lines over his brow, but he’s still as large and muscular as the last time Steve saw him, if not even more, without being too much. He still looks painfully like the one Steve wants and didn’t have time to get.
Danny stops and looks at Steve straight in the eye for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not Steve is going to turn and bolt. When Steve stands his ground, Danny licks his lips, pulling away from the floor-to-ceiling he was rolling punches at, and Steve cannot miss the drop of sweat tracing a path down Danny’s neck, disappearing in the collar of his threadbare, distended grey shirt, the letters NYC fading across Danny’s stomach. His eyes are cold, silent.
“Hey, Danny. Long time no see.”
“You don’t say.”
Danny turns away from Steve, throwing a punch that sends the ball in front of him dancing away and back to him, but Danny stops it before it hits him in the chest. Steve feels a surge of anger and anguish flare up in his body and he takes a few steps forward, but Danny doesn’t move.
“What are you doing here, Steve? You might have forgotten but we’re closed on Sundays.”
Danny’s not looking at him, body turned away from Steve in such a way that makes Steve clench his jaw and fist his hands by his sides not to reach out and force Danny to look at him, even if it’s an angry look. He moves closer still, one step two steps, echoing in the empty gym.
“Danny -”
“Come back tomorrow. If you’re still around, that is.”
Steve’s sharp intake of breath makes Danny throw a glance at him, but then he’s looking away again, collecting gloves thrown on the floor, pairing them off and tying the laces together. Steve snaps, anger and desperation making him move, grabbing Danny’s shoulder and pushing him against the closest wall, his body slamming into it hard, fury flashing in his eyes for a second before he pushes back, hands braced against Steve’s shoulders. Steve barely moves and Danny leaves his hands there.
“What the fuck?”
“I didn’t mean not to say goodbye, Danny.”
“Fine. Are you saying goodbye now? Bit late, mind you, but I’ll take it. Door’s that way. Goodbye, Steve.”
“Will you just look at me?”
Steve is close to shouting, his face too close to Danny’s, close enough that he can smell aftershave and sweat and it’s definitely too close. He just wants Danny to look at him, even if it’s with hatred. After all, it’s not like Steve has done anything wrong, not really. When Danny turns to look at him, finally, his eyes are full of fire and lust, Steve is too close to miss it. It turns the fire in his own stomach into something that burns as intensely but doesn’t feel as bad, instead making his knees a little weak. Danny fists his hands in Steve’s sweater, suddenly not pushing him away anymore.
“You’re an asshole, Steve, you know that?”
Steve watches Danny grit his teeth, almost able to hear it, and fuck, he knows. He feels like one, and he knows he’s acted like one, but there’s nothing he can do or say that will change what he’s done - and not done.
“I didn’t handle it right last year.”
He’s got more to say, but it all dies in his throat when Danny snorts, his hands grabbing Steve’s clothes even tighter now, as if he’s not sure whether to pull or push. Steve wants to arch into Danny so badly it’s making his hands tremble.
“That’s an understatement, considering all you had to do was to say ‘oh, by the way, I have to take off now, was fun, nice to meet you, bye’.”
“Well I’m back now -”
“For how long, huh?”
Steve takes a shaking breath, knowing exactly how long he’s got before he’s needed back on base, but not willing to give Danny the time frame. If he doesn’t think about it and pretends he doesn’t know, if he doesn’t tell Danny, then he can try to make those few days longer than they actually are.
“Long enough.”
Danny opens his mouth, probably another biting remark on the tip of his tongue, but Steve doesn’t give him the opportunity, kissing him before any sound can come out. It’s nothing soft but it’s pleading, Steve begging with his body for Danny to give in, pressing himself to Danny and grabbing his hips, pulling him forward until their bodies are touching from knees to chest. For a while, Steve wonders if Danny will stay stunned and unmoving as he is, but something unlocks when Danny groans against Steve’s lips and then he’s arching and tearing at Steve’s sweater, moving to his tiptoes and back when one of his hands frames Steve’s jaw, as if he wants to crawl down Steve’s body, or maybe climb up him.
Danny’s hand slides from Steve’s jaw to his hair, fingers pulling on the strands curling at the nape of his neck as he bites Steve’s bottom lip, before breaking the kiss with a gasp. Steve pants against Danny’s cheek, resting his forehead against his temple, knowing that right now is the make or break moment.
“Danny -”
“Shut up. Just - shut up.”
Danny grabs the back of Steve’s head and pulls him in again, definitely making the moment. Another kiss, just as hard and demanding as the first one, but this time Danny’s hands pull at Steve’s sweater and they break away long enough for both sweater and t-shirt to go to the floor, their eyes meeting and locking for a moment, both of them done arguing that this isn’t what they’ve been wanting from the moment they met.
Danny’s mouth travels along the curve of Steve’s neck, sucking and biting marks all the way - marks that Steve might have to explain later but he’ll lie, he does it well and he likes his secrets anyway. Steve peels Danny’s shirt off him, fingers traveling over Danny’s chest, fuzzy blond hairs soft under his palms, longer than Steve remembers. He rubs at a nipple and Danny growls against Steve’s pulse point, moving lower to lick at his Adam’s apple, making Steve tilt his head back, close his eyes and thrust his hips forward. He can’t help it, feeling slightly unhinged, Danny’s pure lust playing tricks with Steve’s control.
Here they are, chest to chest, Steve’s fingers digging into Danny’s ribs, Danny’s mouth bruising Steve’s collarbones, rolling their hips into each other, and it’s all filthy, the wall damp with humidity against them and their wet, obscene sounds reverberating through the gym. And despite the heating on too strong again Steve feels the hairs on his arms stand on end when Danny sucks right above his nipple, sensitive skin tingling at the feeling. He’s so hard the way his jeans are restricting is painful but it’s still awfully difficult to take his hands off of Danny to tug on his belt, his fingers trembling, uncoordinated.
Danny helps him out, deftly pulling the belt open and then the jeans themselves, one of his hands delving inside right away and making Steve cry out, fingers digging into Danny’s arm.
“Fuck!”
“Jesus, Steve - you’re so hard.” Danny’s voice comes out in a whisper, breathless and hot against Steve’s chest, and a little bewildered, as if he cannot believe Steve is reacting to him that way. Steve can just thrust his hips forward in answer, his head dropping to Danny’s shoulder, his back bent as he whimpers helplessly, uncontrollably. He’s been jerking off to fantasies of Danny for months without wanting to admit it to himself, but the real thing, fuck, it’s all his fantasies put on fire in the deep of his belly and his blood boiling and thrumming in his ears in the rhythm of his heart and his hips, it’s sweat and the unique, amazing taste of Danny on his tongue and fingers slipping between ribs and tangled hair. It’s a million times better than anything Steve has ever dreamt of.
And fuck, he comes harshly and unexpectedly and all over his underwear, something he hasn’t done since celebrating his 15th birthday, and he doesn’t even give a shit because he’s trembling in Danny’s arms and Danny’s holding him, kissing him everywhere he can reach, letting out small noises of despair that make Steve blink and reach the moment again. He’s made this all about himself again but it’s not over, he’s not done, there is no way.
He kisses Danny, just because he can and Danny is just there, before sliding his lips down along his chest, until he’s kneeling in front of Danny, his thighs shaking with the aftermath of his own orgasm but not ready to let this go. He’s never been selfish and he’s not going to start now, so he pulls Danny’s shorts and underwear down, sucking in a breath when Danny’s cock comes into view - again it’s nothing like his fantasies and it’s so much better. He leans forward with a little sound of contentment and licks his way up Danny’s erection until he’s got the head in his mouth, looking up when Danny lets out a muffled sound, showing Steve that he’s biting on his fist, a flush creeping up his chest, looking absolutely, positively delicious and Steve doesn’t waste a second more.
He hasn’t had that many chances to improve on his technique but what he’s lacking in experience he makes up with enthusiasm, so he licks softly when he accidentally scrapes teeth and he uses tongue and thumb to press against the slit, making Danny roll his hips and thrust forward, obviously as gentle as he can, something Steve is grateful of. Steve takes Danny’s cock as deep as he can inside his mouth but he refuses to force it, refuses to make this embarrassing, for either one of them - he needs Danny to remember every second of it and feel a flush of lust when he remembers, not amusement.
“Oh, fuck, Steve, Steve I -”
Steve pulls away as Danny moans loud and clear in the big, empty room, letting Danny come over his chest as he licks his lips, wanting to taste Danny for a while longer, already missing the heady, musky smell of him. Danny slides down to sit in front of Steve, his sweaty hair leaving a wet trace over the wall. Steve just gathers him in his arms, grazing his nose along Danny’s.
“Fine, I forgive you for last year, then.”
--
There’s a second of disorientation when Steve wakes up the next morning before he realizes the gray skies glaring at him from outside the window are Weehawken’s and he’s in his hotel room, still buried under the thick duvet of his king-size bed. And he’s not alone.
Danny, for such a short man, takes up a lot of space - limbs spread haphazardly, one arm warm along Steve’s side, the toes of his right foot tucked under Steve’s calf. They’re two sides of a completely different coin, Danny on his stomach, sleeping large and with purpose, Steve on his back, making himself as small as possible out of habit and sleeping too lightly to be really restful.
Danny thoroughly exhausted him, though - from morning ‘til night they barely paused for food, too busy discovering each other, Steve making the most of it, trying to act as if time stood still, his fingers against Danny’s, his lips curved into a smile against Danny’s collarbone. It turns out Danny is the teasing, curious kind of lover, with overflowing generosity that took Steve’s breath away, and Steve had only been able to give back as much as he could.
Steve’s eyes sweep the room after looking at Danny’s sleeping form for so long he could draw him with his eyes closed, taking in the clothes thrown about - he spies his boxers hanging off the side of the TV set. It’s mostly wood and cream carpets by way of decorating, which suits Steve just fine, especially when he realizes the wooden beam attached to the ceiling will be perfect for pull-ups. Steve rolls out of bed silently, trying his best to move the brown duvet as little as possible, and when he crouches next to the bed, he’s happy to see Danny has barely stirred.
He starts with stretches, yoga and Pilates poses that make his back and thigh muscles warm. He stops for a second to pull his underwear back on, grimacing at how dirty it is, but unwilling to go through his duffel for a clean pair and possibly wake Danny up. He goes through a series of twenty press-ups easily, adding another ten one-handed ones, satisfied when his arms strain and tremble a little under the pressure. Then it’s crunches, another twenty, and by the time he’s finished Steve can feel the heat in his body, the sweat breaking over his brow and his shoulder blades.
He always ends his morning ritual with the pull-ups because they’re the hardest and he enjoys them the most - down to his masochistic streak, probably. He observes the wooden beam for a moment - it’s sturdy and large, but when he jumps up, he manages to hold onto it without the edges biting into his forearms in a hurtful way. Once in position, Steve locks his ankles together and pulls up, exhaling once he’s looking at the inside of his forearms, inhaling when he’s stretched out again. It burns, in - almost - the best way possible, and Steve focuses on the feeling of his shoulder and back muscles moving as he pulls himself again, sweat rolling down along his temple to lose itself in his stubble. He goes on, inhale, exhale, muscles rolling and stretching and pulling, a groan escaping him when he bends his knees, bringing them close to his chest.
“My God, what is the matter with you, Steve?”
He’s just counted fifteen when Danny’s voice resonates in the room, and Steve hangs there for a second, wishing he’d decided to face the bed, and not away from it. Danny’s words are laced with sleep and amusement, and Steve gives up on the remaining five pull-ups he’s supposed to do, letting go of the beam and falling back to the floor as gracefully as he can make it. He rolls his shoulders and neck a few times before turning around, his eyes meeting Danny’s.
“Morning.”
Danny licks his lips, his eyes traveling over Steve’s body, a little heavy, and Steve feels under pressure, biting the inside of his lip as he reaches for the stack of towels on the chair next to the TV, running one over his face.
“Do you really do this every morning?”
“Wakes me up.”
“No, no, a shower wakes you up, a good cup of coffee wakes you up, a blowjob wakes you up, pull-ups, however, are a form of masochism that are not considered a proper wake up call.”
Steve sits on the bed, over the covers while Danny is still under them, sitting up himself so they’re pooling around his waist, exposing his chest to Steve’s hungry eyes. He smiles, raising an eyebrow at Danny. How someone can talk this much, this fast, this early in the morning is beyond Steve, but he’s willing to accept it.
“You have an issue with pull-ups? Seeing your arms I wouldn’t think they’re a problem.”
“No, I do not have an issue with pull-ups, I can do them just fine, thank you, I just don’t want to, especially five minutes after waking up. Hey, can we order breakfast?” Danny looks around Steve, before waving his hand. “Never mind, we have leftover pizza. That’ll do.”
“Are you serious?”
Danny pushes the covers off himself after giving Steve a pointed look, grabbing the pizza box lying on the carpet and a bunch of napkins along with it. He’s perfectly naked and apparently perfect fine with that and with his obvious morning wood, too, as he crawls back in bed, under the covers, opening the box between himself and Steve and grabbing a slice.
“You never had a breakfast burrito? Breakfast pizza is the same, only better.”
Steve doesn’t answer, because this is a debate he’s not sure he ever wants to have, especially since he has a sneaky suspicion Danny’s had a lot of arguments. Instead of getting into it, Steve just shakes his head, chuckling, before sliding off the bed again, stepping away a little and starting his warm-down stretches. He doesn’t want to start aching today. Not because of this, anyway.
Steve crouches, grabbing the back of his ankles before straightening his legs, resting his head almost against his knees as he lets his muscles grow accustomed to the position. He crouches back slowly, repeating the process to get rid of the twinges in his back and thighs. He’s on his third go when Danny groans and shuffles around - Steve tracks the sounds while looking at his knees.
“Do you have any idea how obscene you are right now?”
Steve straightens up, stretching back for a second, reaching up towards the ceiling before turning around, facing Danny again, who is on his knees, almost at the edge of the bed, his eyes burning dark.
“How is this obscene? I’m wearing underwear.”
Danny grins, reaching out and curling his fingers in Steve’s boxers, pulling him forward. Steve can only take the small steps separating him from the bed, his stomach rolling over itself when Danny noses around his belly-button. The pizza box is back on the carpet.
“I woke up to an empty bed, only to find you doing pull-ups, Steve. Underwear or not, that was obscene at this hour in the morning.”
“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy the view?”
"No, I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it, it's just I was a little unprepared for it, that's all. I, usually, like my mornings after to be a little more sedate, you know?”
Steve raises an eyebrow at the words, because everything Danny’s saying is belied by his actions, his mouth kissing lower and lower on Steve’s stomach, along the waistband of his boxers, all the way to his hipbone, and when he bites into the dip, Danny pulls Steve even closer, until his knees hit the bed.
“Doesn’t feel very sedate to me, Danny.”
"Yeah, well, you had a head start. I got some catching up to do."
“Well, you did say a blowjob is a good thing to wake up to.”
Danny barks out a laugh against Steve’s skin, pulling at the elastic of his underwear, letting it sting Steve lightly.
“Cheeky.”
---
“So you’ve never been to Europe?”
To be fair, Steve has only driven through countries to access others, warzones and crash sites where his team were needed. He remembers a few stopovers in Paris but not seeing much outside Charles-de-Gaulle airport, and he remembers magnificent buildings in Austria, but they’re connected to the horror of a mission in Uzbekistan that still gives him nightmares sometimes.
Danny stabs a dumpling with a chopstick, shaking his head when he dips it on soy sauce.
“Nope. It’s a wonder why I even have a passport; I’ve barely ever left New Jersey. Well, I’ve been to New York countless times, but how does that even count?”
Steve smiles.
“It doesn’t.”
“See? So you travel a lot.”
Steve looks at the specks of soy sauce dotting their table cloth, at his Kung Pao chicken, wondering exactly what he can and can’t say. When he looks up, Danny is looking straight at him, chewing on his dumpling thoughtfully, looking every bit like he’s reading right through all of Steve’s defenses and locked doors.
“Fair bit, yeah.”
His voice is softer than he wants it to be, and Danny narrows his eyes for an instant before Steve feels a foot over his ankle, making him huff out a laugh.
“Don’t know if it’s a good idea to take off your shoes in such a place, Danny.”
“It’s okay, my socks are thick, and I’m not touching the ground, am I?”
“Fair enough.”
“Ever been to Africa?”
“Yes.”
So many times. Steve has a million stories about indigenous tribes he’s met and wonderful soldiers that helped him and shamans that cured him of infections. He’s got countless tales about lions and zebras and breathtaking landscapes that he rode through, drove through, walked through. And yet all the words are stuck in the back of his throat because every story and every tale comes along with a mission, blood diamonds and flies feasting on carcasses that he simply cannot talk about.
“Your conversational skills are amazing, Steve.”
Steve grins when Danny rolls his eyes, but his words are tinged with fondness, some sentiment that warms Steve all the way through to his bones. Danny’s toes press further into Steve’s calf. They’ve been in the restaurant for over an hour now, only deciding to get showered and dressed to venture out for food late in the afternoon of Steve’s second day in New Jersey. The golden and red hues of the wallpaper are so common it could be any other Chinese restaurant, with plastic flowers in plastic pots and distant, almost ethereal Chinese music playing over the droning sound of the wall of water behind Steve’s seat, but the food is good and the restaurant is warm, cozy, the chairs they’re sitting on comfortable.
“I’ll blame the lack of sleep.”
“Ah! Now, that is indirectly blaming me, and I’m sorry, nobody forced you to get out of bed at nine in the morning to do pull-ups. Consequently you’re not playing fair and if you’re not playing fair I will not share my coconut balls with you.”
Steve snorts around a mouthful of beer, a stupid grin plastering itself on his face. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t want any of the desserts he’s seen on the menu, if only because he doesn’t really want to clog his arteries if he can help it, but the look on Danny’s face is too priceless to pass up.
“Coconut balls? Really?”
“Shut up, they’re delicious and you’ll be terribly sorry to have missed them.”
“I’m sure.”
“What are you an anti-dessert kind of guy?”
Danny’s grinning through his words, making Steve lean over the table, moving his leg a little so that Danny’s foot is resting just under his knee.
“Yeah, maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?”
“Think I’m going to have to educate you, which is ridiculous seeing that you’re what? Thirty?”
It’s a small one but Steve doesn’t miss it. His smile turns a little softer - he feels guilty about being so guarded with Danny but he can’t help it, he didn’t even realize he’d kept small details like this one to himself.
“Twenty-nine.”
“Twenty-nine? Close enough. My point still stands. I’ve seen there is cheesecake on your hotel’s room service menu, your education could start there.”
“What are we waiting for, then?”
Danny’s smile turns naughty and Steve doesn’t even mind footing the bill.
---
Steve’s third day is spent in the gym with Danny, and some of the kids he’s met the year before are still there and growing bigger and stronger than he’d ever imagined. He teaches them new techniques and they’re over the moon, which in turn makes Danny so happy he rides Steve on his office chair without even locking the door.
Steve’s fourth day of leave goes by so quickly he can barely believe it happened at all. But he knows it did, because he’s got all the memories of New York with Danny; Danny and the childlike look in his eyes as they walked Broadway, his stupid smile as he bit into a hotdog that was as big as Steve’s forearm, his excited chatter about the buildings they passed, his laughter when rain surprised them in Central Park.
It’s bits and pieces of a life he’ll never have, stolen moments when the Earth stands still under them and Steve feels invincible, master of the world, everything in the palm of his hand, waiting for him to pick or discard. He feels this way - free, recklessly free - rarely enough that instead of stopping, time flies and Steve finds himself behind the wheel of Danny’s battered Chevy too fast, not having time to process and wanting to turn around and run, cry out, yell out wait no, not enough until his lungs are on fire and tears are in his eyes.
He swallows it up, the desperation, but he still notices how the drive back is quiet, Danny more subdued then than he has been all day, his eyes cast down on his cell phone, his knuckles white around it. Steve can see words and catches some of them when he glances over, tonight and money and it'll be fun, but then Danny flips his phone closed. Steve can’t help but feel guilty for a second, a flush creeping up his neck - Danny is one of the few people Steve knows that can see through Steve and his lies, Steve is certain of it, yet he doesn’t scratch underneath, doesn’t ask for more than what Steve is able to give, so why should Steve ask for more than what Danny is willing to give?
“Hey, you’ve gone quiet. You okay?”
Danny looks up, his eyes glassed over, and Steve frowns, keeping himself from reaching over and curling his fingers around Danny’s wrist, to try and pull him out of this daze he seems to be in.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Tired. I need to go to the gym tonight, can you just drop me off there?”
“Sure. Is there anything you want help with?”
“Oh, no, don’t worry about it. There was a delivery today and I just want to make sure Vince didn’t screw it up.”
Steve can hear the lie in Danny’s words so painfully clearly he can almost taste it at the back of his throat, but he doesn’t pick up on it, just nodding absently, his eyes back on the road. There is something crazy and desperate inside him that wants to know the truth, but just as Danny doesn’t call him on his own lies, Steve can respect this, too. The feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him it’s probably not legal threatens to make him puke all the junk food Danny forced on him today, but Steve manages to clamp it all down.
“Okay, yeah, sure. So Vince is taking care of the gym while you’re off running through the streets of New York?”
Danny waves his hand in front of him, and he seems to be more in control now, something that Steve finds disturbingly reassuring. He lets this feeling rush through him, allow him to relax.
“Yeah, although taking care is not exactly the terms I’d employ. He’s my cousin, so you know, it’s hard to tell him off for all the fuck ups.” Danny sighs then, long-suffering and not amused in the slightest. “Sometimes I really wish I could step away from my family a bit, but they bring a lot of business, so I guess I owe them that.”
This time Steve reaches out, his hand curving around Danny’s shoulder for a moment, and he feels Danny melt into the touch. He’s sure there is more behind Danny’s words, much more, a history he knows nothing about, but Danny doesn’t ask him about the things he hears behind his words, so Steve isn’t going to do it either. They’re on equal grounds here and he won’t disrespect Danny like this. He’s only got three days left and he doesn’t want to spend them alone.
By the time they get back to Weehawken and to Williams’, Danny is asleep in the passenger seat, curled up on himself, his forehead pressed against the window. Steve parks the car and leans in, kissing Danny’s upper arm through his sweater, fingers threading through the hairs at the back of his neck. It’s an unusual display of affection for Steve, especially in semi-public, but Danny looks innocent enough that it was impulse for Steve. He pulls away quickly when Danny blinks his eyes open, though, stretching back into a sitting position.
“We here?”
“Yeah. Go on in, I’ll just go back to my hotel. It’s been a long day.”
“Okay.”
Their time is limited enough that Steve wants to ask Danny to come by when he’s finished whatever business he’s got to do, but Steve still doesn’t have the guts to tell Danny he’s leaving in three days, he doesn’t want to taint the rest of their time together with the promise of another goodbye.
“I’ll, uh. Come by tomorrow, then.”
Danny nods as Steve hands him the keys to his car back, stepping out into the biting cold of the evening. There’s a faint light coming from inside the gym, flickering at times, illuminating the side of Danny’s face as he looks at Steve, a small smile fitting itself on his face.
“Okay.”
---
The gym is closed when Steve gets there the next morning, and the poster stuck to the door tells him that there is a fight later on that day, Tony LaVelle against the gym champion, Kyle Hovard. Steve notes the time of the fight in a corner of his mind and turns away from the gym, refusing to try and take a look inside to try and see if Danny is here anyway.
He ends up running miles along the Hudson River, the cold wind breezing through his hair and cooling his heated skin when he stretches, looking over at New York. He could swim it, he thinks, of course he could fucking swim it if he wanted to run away and run back to the day before, to Danny grinning and acting like a kid on a sugar high instead of the subdued, quiet version of him that still flashes through Steve’s mind now, his eyes closed away from Steve.
Steve looks around him, jaw clenched and shoulders tense. The place he stopped at is fairly empty, a few people walking around and an old couple sitting on a bench overlooking the river, talking in soft tones, their hands moving around. It’s quiet, save for the seagulls fighting each other for bits of food and the constant, distant buzz of the tentacular city. Steve finds himself smiling softly when he closes his eyes, spreading his legs a little, his feet parallel, hip distance apart. Never opening his eyes, Steve lets his body shift and move into his favored meditation position, feeling how anchored to the ground he is when he relaxes his legs muscles. His lower body contains all of his weight as his upper body feels light and open, and when he raises his arms in front of his stomach, elbows lifted and fingers pointing towards each other, Steve smiles. He exhales and inhales the damp air, slow and focused, allowing his mind to empty itself.
He’s still but relaxed, comfortable, his muscles holding the position easily as his head flies off to old memories of Taoist priests and months spent in Chinese villages, making it almost a home. He goes back to Yi Lin and his bright laugh when he mocked Steve’s first attempts at meditating, speaking at fire speed in a dialect Steve hadn’t mastered. Wen Tsai and his books and his thirst to know English, the hours spent with him in the candlelight learning Chinese calligraphy and teaching him the basics of his own language.
Steve lets himself drift between the memories as his energy flows through him, his eyes now open but unfocused, buildings and water looking like mountains and jungles in front of him, looking like Ming Wu’s pretty face and melting into Danny’s strong features. Memories and thoughts run through him like spring water, from his head to his toes, into the ground, a waterfall of emotions and conflicts that cleanse Steve from top to bottom, leaving his body and mind blissfully empty.
Steve looks at a world unseen, travels through his own body, lost in his own universe and he unlocks doors, opens himself to the outside without turning himself vulnerable. He follows the path of his own breaths, uncovers hidden corners of his mind, so fully conscious of himself and the world around him he’s in perfect harmony with the smells and sounds and the bright and the cold of this day, this moment right now, shared between Steve and the world.
When he blinks he lowers his arms, the world returns to buildings and water, all in focus, the sounds growing louder in his ears, a group of teenagers walking past him with music blasting from an old school boom box, 80’s rap music making Steve’s blood pump in rhythm. He feels calmer than he has in weeks, the tension having left his shoulders, and only stays in the excitement over the prospect of spending more time with Danny until he has to leave again. Everything else is far away, cleansed away from his mind for the time being. Steve knows he should meditate more, allow this blissful, peaceful state to engulf and protect him more often.
When he checks his watch, he realizes he’s spent an hour in the same position, and yet, he feels no cramp or ache, his body buzzing with satisfaction. He’s barely feeling the wind, only wearing a sweater even though people are walking briskly around him with jackets on, some giving him odd looks. He doesn’t pay them attention as he walks back to his hotel and jumps in the shower as soon as he’s in his room, discarding clothes on his way, noticing that the boxers by the side of bed he doesn’t sleep in are most definitely not his. The thought that Danny left his underwear behind makes Steve chuckle to himself, and he allows himself to be filled with thoughts, the ghost sensations of Danny’s fingers and mouth and teeth all over him as he showers, and it gets him hard and coming in minutes, his stamina largely challenged by Danny Williams.
Most of his afternoon is spent walking around the city, a little aimless and a lot mindless, just enjoying the feel of the buildings creeping up around him, the maze of streets and people, vastly different from life on base but something he can appreciate, the constant thrum and hum of disorganized life making him dizzy in the best way.
By the time he’s back at Danny’s gym, the place is brightly lit and the doors are pushed open, people mingling around a makeshift bar. Steve lets himself wonder about the lack of license before pushing it away and getting himself a beer - fuck it. He is in a good mood, there is a fight tonight, and he’s determined to bring Danny back to his hotel room later.
“Hey, you’re here.”
Steve turns around at the sound of Danny’s voice, a grin appearing on his face at the sight of Danny, wearing a button down shirt and jeans, his hair slicked back. Steve wants to run his fingers all over his face and burn all of his lines and angles in his mind.
“Of course, wouldn’t miss a fight.”
He would say more, but there are more people in the gym than there’s ever been, and Steve is too conscious of who and what he is to start obviously flirting - he’s pretty sure his eyes are saying a lot right now anyway.
“Got something to show you. New gear.”
Yeah. His eyes are definitely saying enough, Danny’s words heavy with untold purpose that Steve deciphers all too easily. And maybe anyone who observed them long enough would read in their bodies just exactly what’s going on, the electricity in the air between them, but they’re alone in a sea of people.
“Oh, that delivery you had?”
Danny pauses for a second, his eyes shifting, before he rolls his shoulders, nods, chuckles.
“Yeah. C’mon.”
Steve follows Danny through the crowd, until they’re in the dark dressing room, the sounds from people outside muffled. Steve can’t help but grin when Danny flicks on the lights, stalking close and pressing Steve against the wall with his body.
“Now that was smooth, D. New gear, really?”
“Hey, I could show you gear.”
Steve tilts his head back as he laughs, sliding his hand up Danny’s arm to his neck and curling around, thumb brushing the fine hairs he finds there. He sobers up quickly when Danny nips at his neck, almost reproachful.
“I don’t have long, I have a fight to host, so stop laughing, you goof, you’re putting me off my game.”
Steve can only snort this time, tugging at Danny’s hair a little until he can lean down to kiss Danny, feeling like a teenager hiding behind the bleachers when he fists a hand in Danny’s perfectly pressed shirt, wanting to rumple him, mark him in obvious ways, tell the whole room when they come out exactly what they’ve been doing, even if it’s exactly what he should avoid doing.
“Hey, this is my good shirt, you Neanderthal,” Danny mutters into his mouth, batting at his wrist. Steve smiles, licking along the edge of Danny’s bottom lip before replying, nudging a knee between Danny’s thighs.
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
He stops any further protests with his tongue, kissing Danny hungrily, as if it’s been days since the last time. He keeps his hand in Danny’s shirt, pushing it higher up his chest and out of his jeans, sliding the other one underneath, flattening his palm over Danny’s warm skin. Danny’s muscles flinch at the contact but quickly relax as Steve moves it up and around to his back, thumbing the dips in the muscles either side of his spine, pulling Danny close.
Danny groans and grunts into the kiss, nipping at Steve’s lips, his own hands tight on Steve’s hips and backside, groping and squeezing, which only keeps Steve in that teenage mindset. It feels a little desperate, but he’s not sure either of them cares. He sure as hell doesn’t, especially when Danny sucks on his tongue when he pulls away a little, Steve’s lungs on fire and his stomach flipping hard.
He dives right back into the kiss, his fingers curling around the waistband of Danny’s underwear. He grins against Danny’s lips, bumping their noses together.
“Did you leave your boxers in my hotel room on purpose, by the way?”
“Me? I did no such thing.”
“You’re going to have to come pick them up.”
Steve lets the word trail off along Danny’s cheek, full of intent, but Danny just grins and pinches Steve’s side, biting his bottom lip lightly.
“You don’t want to keep them? I’m hurt, Steve, knife to my heart, you don’t want to keep the memory of our first,” Danny pauses, as if thinking about what he’s about to add. “And second nights together.”
“I just thought you might be attached to your Popeye boxers, is all.”
Danny growls against Steve’s jaw, but he’s pressing his smile into Steve’s skin and that’s enough for Steve. They’re both sort of chuckling when they find each other’s mouth again, but it grows frantic and needy quickly enough, Danny whimpering against Steve’s tongue when he rolls his hips, rubbing himself against Steve’s leg. Steve’s wondering just how much time they have, and just how pissed Danny will be if Steve makes him come in his pants right before a fight.
“How - long - we got?”
“Huh?”
“‘Til the fight. How long?”
“I don’t - shut up, Steve. Busy.”
Danny’s kissing down Steve’s neck, lifting one hand up to tug Steve’s collar to one side, tongue licking the base of Steve’s throat, along the edge of his collar bone. His teeth graze over the fading scar from a bullet Steve should’ve dodged better, making him shiver and flex his own hips sharply into Danny’s. This is going too far too fast if Danny only has a few minutes left, but Steve doesn’t have the willpower to pull away, Danny so intoxicating, filling up all the empty spaces the morning’s meditation cleared up inside Steve.
There is the sound of a bell ringing outside the door, and Danny swears under his breath, hot and wet against Steve’s skin.
“Wha’?”
“Need to get out there. People are getting excited. Fuck.”
“I can, uh,” Steve waves a hand around Danny’s crotch, lifting one shoulder lightly. “If you’re close. I can help.”
“Babe, I’d love that, I don’t think I’m quite there yet. I’m just - it’ll be fine.”
Danny pulls himself away from Steve reluctantly, readjusting his pants and his shirt, tucking it back in his jeans, and Steve is not pouting about it, okay, he’s really not, but the sight is not something he’s enjoying right now.
“Stop with the face, already. Jeez.”
“What face?”
“What face? What face, indeed. We can pick this up later, okay? This,” Danny points to himself, “will still be here for you after the fight. And please, please, don’t even think about going and asking one of my guys to throw the fight in the first round, okay?”
Steve feels his face melt back into an easy smile, watching Danny’s hands wave around as he speaks, and this is someone whose energy flow would definitely benefit from some meditation.
“What? What’s that smirk for?”
“Nothing. I got nothing.”
Danny snorts, looking away for a moment, as if hearing something outside the door, before coming back, running his hands down Steve’s front, pushing away gently to get away from the wall, walking Steve backwards a few steps before stopping.
“What? I got here maybe thirty seconds before you saw me, Danny. I barely remember the guys’ names. How’m I supposed to know which one I can get to throw a fight? Besides, I’m -”
Steve cuts himself off, about to say something about how he lives by the rules, but that way leads to a conversation he doesn’t want to have.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You, uh, you wanna make tonight interesting, Steve?”
“I thought it already was.”
Danny rolls his eyes, fingers running along Steve’s waist, hooking into his belt loops.
“Interesting, Steven. You know, a bet.”
“I’m not really a gambling man. I’m not made of money.”
“Who said anything about money?”
Steve raises an eyebrow, his interest perking up as Danny pets his sides, almost absentmindedly. Steve grabs both his wrists, a little sound escaping him, his tone a question, because he’s not exactly sure what Danny wants to bet but he’s more than willing to listen to the offer.
“Got something against being tied up, Steve?”
Under other circumstances, Steve would probably say yes, he does, he definitely does, because relenting control is not something he does, he’s in command of a platoon, for fuck’s sake. Taking command from an officer is different from letting himself be vulnerable, but the idea of giving himself up to Danny ignites a fire in his belly Steve is not certain he’ll manage to put out anytime soon.
“Huh, I don’t think so. I wouldn’t say it’s something I’ve often done, but uh. Don’t have anything against it.”
Danny smiles, a little feral, dangerous.
“Okay. Hovard’s my protégé; I’ve been training him for ages. If he wins, you let me tie you up.”
“And if he loses?”
Danny’s smile gets wider, tongue coming out to lick his lips as he shrugs. Steve watches his eyes flick down to where Steve’s holding onto his wrists, twisting one of his hands free gently, waving it around beside them.
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Uh.”
Steve’s mouth has gone curiously dry, and there are a thousand and one images assaulting his mind right now, making it hard to see Danny clearly.
“I mean, you can tie me up as well, if you want to, but you don’t need to win a bet to get me to do that, I’ll tell you now. So go wild, Steve. I know you can.”
The way Danny talks means more than a day left to spend together, and Steve aches inside at the idea, at how much he wants it, how much he wishes he could be staying longer instead of catching a flight the day after tomorrow, back to California. Clenching his jaw to get back to now and give Danny an answer, Steve lets out a long breath.
“I’m, huh. I’m sure I could find something better if I had more time, but I’m going to go for an old classic - if the other one wins, I’m blindfolding you.”
Danny grins, obviously about to say more, but the bell outside goes off again, making him move towards the door, freeing himself from Steve’s grip easily. The wink he throws Steve’s way is sleazy and a little out of character, making Steve laugh despite himself. He suspects Danny is slipping into his fight host persona already, his shoulders squared and his smile a little tight around the corners.
“I’ll make sure to bring accessories. Enjoy the fight, Steve.”
---
When Danny lets himself fall next to Steve on the bed, they’re both panting, heaving, sweaty, spent, in the best way possible. Steve flexes his wrists a little, the strain on his arms muscles sort of delicious. So he lost the bet, but he can still taste Danny’s cock when he licks his lips and when he closes his eyes he can still see the expanse of Danny’s back and ass as he moved on top of him. He’ll have finger shaped bruises over his thighs and burns around his wrists where the ties Danny secured earlier are biting into his skin, but right now he wants the marks and bruises, he wants to remember Danny with more than just memories, if only for a few days.
“Should get you free.”
Steve doesn’t answer as Danny kisses his way up Steve’s arm, soft and slow, and then his fingers are deftly pulling at the knot he made earlier on, going to the other wrist when he’s freed Steve’s left hand. Steve flexes his fingers and rolls his wrists when the ties are off, letting the circulation flow back.
“Not too achy?”
“Nah, I’m fine.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t put up with more of a fight.”
“Hey, you won fair and square.”
Danny laughs, licking sweat off Steve’s skin, without an aim, not like earlier where all of his movements had purpose, from fucking Steve’s mouth to sitting down on him, slow, so slow - Steve can still feel it now, and the thought gives Steve goose bumps.
“You’re just kinky.”
“Bet was your idea, and I’m the kinky one? You couldn’t wait to tie me up!”
“True. I have done, now, with my father’s ties which mean I will never be able to look him in the eye ever again, but you know, I feel accomplished. I have a feeling you don’t get tied up very often.”
Not by lovers, that’s for sure. Steve has been tied up by enemies a few times, sitting on bottomless chairs and bound by rope burning into his skin, but he refuses to let this night with Danny remind him of those memories, not when Danny had been gentle, not when Danny is cradling his wrists now, kissing the red marks as if it’ll make them disappear. Steve dry-swallows, looking into Danny’s eyes for a second as Danny’s lips travel over his skin, up from wrist to the center of his palm and then moving to his other hand.
Steve looks over the curve of Danny’s back, sweaty golden skin gleaming in the dim light of the bedside lamp, and he’d run his tongue over the whole of it, collect every last bit of Danny’s taste and scent and keep it inside himself to go back to when sleeping on the jungle floor in Brazil or the desert in Uganda, wherever the government decides to send his team to next. Just like in The Perfume only without the creepiness, sociopathic tendencies and killings.
“No, I don’t.”
“Hmm. You know you can blindfold me if you want.”
“I didn’t win the bet.”
“No, but I’m feeling generous.”
Danny grins at him, all bright and silly, before grabbing one of the discarded ties and playing with the tip along Steve’s chest, tracing a path all the way down to his hipbones. Steve tries not to squirm, biting his bottom lip.
“Danny,” Steve takes a breath, and there, he almost says it, almost lets it out, I’m leaving the day after tomorrow, but stops himself, closes his mouth, opens it again. “You hungry?”
Danny raises an eyebrow, suspicious of Steve’s sudden change of topic, but he doesn’t pick up on it, merely nods.
“I could eat.”
Steve feels like ordering all that is exceptionally expensive on the menu, like a last meal because soon enough he’ll be gone again and who the fuck knows if he’ll ever be back? He’s got one more day, though, maybe.
“Okay, grab a menu then. You doing anything special tomorrow? I could blindfold you then...”
“Ah, see, I’d like that, I’d like that very much, but I’ll have to take off early. It’s my Mom’s birthday, and we always have these day-long celebrations, so um. I’ll be out of your hair around nine I think. If I get there much later my dad will kill me. I can come around later.”
Steve didn’t expect the knot in his stomach to feel this bad. He didn’t think the pain would be so acute, and how he manages to push it down, he’s not sure, but he does it, he smiles and shakes his head. It’ll be too late.
“No, no need. You spend the day with your family, Danny, enjoy.”
He thinks for a moment Danny will protest, but then he grabs a menu and leans over Steve’s chest, apparently shrugging it off. Steve breathes out a sigh of relief in Danny’s hair, closing his eyes when a strand gets stuck to his lips. It’s his last few hours with Danny and he will make them count.