HOW ABOUT INSTEAD YOU WRITE SOME? I HAVE TO MOVE DOZENS OF HEAVY BOXES AND THEN DRIVE 600 MILES TOMORROW. I WOULD LOVE SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO FOR ALLLLLLL MY HARD WORK.
I WILL APPARENTLY BE GUILT-TRIPPED INTO ANYTHINGqueenkluJune 4 2011, 02:42:37 UTC
But it's all so--ridiculous is what, that Steve, Steve with the silver flecks in his hair and insane tattoos, Steve with the same. Fucking. Beige. Boots. He wears all the fucking time, Steve with khakis and polos and more grenades than you can shake a stick at. Steve wants to go undercover as a rent boy.
"You're not actually serious," is Danny's flat statement when Steve presents the idea as a plausible solution. "Kono is--"
"Really fucking tired of dressing up like a skank," Kono interjects, not even bothering to glance his direction or uncross her arms. "Let Steve take this one, I plan on staying nice and warm and in the van."
"But he's--" Danny jerks his hand up and down in a gesture he hopes will indicate every bit of the All American SEAL-ness about Steve, which will only scream COP COP I'M A COP ASK ME HOW. "And, no offense, babe," he adds to Steve's challenging stare, "You're not exactly a spring chicken. What I've heard--"
"What you've heard?" Kono repeats, incredulously.
"Yes, what I've heard, from Vice Cops," Danny
( ... )
So. So. So fucked. Steve walks back into the conference room four hours later and the bottom drops out of Danny’s stomach like someone kicked it free. Oh Jesus.And thing is, Danny is in his office when Steve struts by-all he gets is a glimpse of the outfit before he’s out of his chair, trailing after Steve like a hound dog following a bone. All he caught was black, too tight, and the back of Steve’s head, and already his mouth is dry to the back of his throat. Such a fucking bad idea
( ... )
Wilson Degrange-Skeevy McSkeeviton, if you ask Danny-is a 6-foot-6 bear of a man, with tree trunks for arms and legs and a face that might be considered handsome if he wasn't the devil incarnate. Wilson uses his twinks in every sense of the word, first as sex toys, then as guinea pigs for his designer drugs, and finally, as dealers, until they’ve outlived (or not) their usefulness. He is a bad fucking son of a bitch, and if he was a fraction less clever they would have had him weeks ago
( ... )
augh, i don't know how this got plot. i have a bff coming over for her bday party in a bit but i'm going to write as long as i can!It doesn’t ever really get cold on the island, in Danny’s opinion, but he supposes if he was wearing as little as Kono sometimes has to, he would prefer the van as well. As it is, the night is damp enough to make it almost chilly, though Danny hasn’t busted out the light sweaters the way Chin and Kono have. Maybe he’ll regret that after the van has been off for a while, but at the moment Danny is enjoying the feeling of not continually roasting, thanks very much
( ... )
“You’re not my usual type,” Wilson growls over the line. Danny clenches his fingers tight around the binoculars and tries to get any angle on Steve that isn’t miles of long leg and oh, the patch of skin bared by the tear in his jeans. Goddamn it
( ... )
Alright, here's where i buckle down and get srs. and tipsy, fair warning. whee!porn!
Danny drives them to Steve’s place, because Steve is too jittery to sit still, let alone handle a car on dark, winding roads. He keeps shifting in his seat, dragging his hands down his thighs, almost like he is a junkie needing a fix. Maybe he’s still playing the part.
Maybe Danny needs to watch the road and not drive them into the gutter where his brain is residing, fuck. Still-
“Stop,” Danny says, which is a pretty normal thing for him to do, but he reaches over and clasps Steve’s jittering knee when he says it, which is not. Steve goes absolutely mind-meltingly still, instantly, splays his legs a little wider and gives Danny a grin that Danny can see out of the corner of his eye where he is very steadfastly not looking“How did I do?” Steve asks, slouching down just a little so Danny’s hand edges up his thigh. “Did I make a good twink
( ... )
Danny loses time between sitting in the car and outside of it, which is no small feat considering Steve had been sort of in the way. Now Steve is-the neck of Steve’s ugly polka-dotted thing is all twisted up in Danny’s fist as he drags Steve to his own door, punches in the alarm code, and shoves Steve inside. Steve stumbles over his own feet and Danny is there to catch him, muttering dark things about Steve’s ridiculous scuffed-up biker boots as he leads his partner by his shirt to the dining room table, where he sits Steve the fuck down
( ... )
There’s a smudge of dirt along the side of Steve’s face that Danny takes his time with, rubbing his knuckles over the shape of Steve’s cheekbone and trying not to shake too bad. Steve is so fucking pliant, so zoned out and trusting, his hands resting gently at the back of Danny’s knees. He feels too vulnerable, and Steve is the one letting himself be touched like this
( ... )
part (jesus) ninequeenkluJune 7 2011, 06:52:58 UTC
Steve whines, high and cut-off, tries to drag Danny back with a sudden hand at the nape of his neck. Danny curses breathlessly, clenches his hand in Steve’s hair reflexively, and Steve instantly backs off, hands and arms gone limp at his sides like he’ll do anything Danny wants of him, even if it’s nothing at all. Danny can’t hardly breathe at the thought, so different from everything he knows about Steve, who most days seems to want nothing more than fighting Danny every inch of the way. But not here. Not blinking up at Danny with faintly-lined eyes, ridiculous punk clothes disheveled and stretched tight across his heaving chest.
“Danny,” Steve says, rough and rasping, and oh, oh this was, fuck, this was what Danny needed to hear, even before Steve says, “Danny, please, anything-“
Danny kisses him again to shut himself up, desperately swallowing back the noises he wants to make. Steve isn’t in some headspace, he isn’t playing the hooker, he said Danny’s name, and all Wilson got was an empty little “sweetheart” and a fist to the
( ... )
Danny’s legs do give out at the first touch of Steve’s slick lips around his cock, staggers back and Steve half lowers him, half bears him to the floor and climbs on top, hands on Danny’s wrists and his knees planted outside Danny’s, legs angled so his shins cross Danny’s and keep him pinned. Struggling would require actual braincells, though, of which Danny has fuck all, all of them getting sucked out through the hot clutch of Steve’s mouth, tongue pushing the head of Danny’s cock up against Steve’s soft palette and mercilessly licking just under the ridge.
Danny almost fucking whites out-it’s so good, and it’s been so long, and it’s Steve and it’s just too much, but Steve is a god damn ninja and snaps his fingers around the base of Danny’s cock and shoves the flood of his orgasm back into the swollen clench of his balls, which only try to come up tighter when Danny gets a blurry glimpse of nail polish. Jesus Christ, it should not be so hot, and maybe Danny whines that out loud
( ... )
Danny turns his face toward Steve so he can breathe him in, tries to get his head back on in some way that resembles sanity. It does not help when Steve drags his fingers through the mess on Danny’s stomach, tracing patterns with his glossy black nails
( ... )
:D? :D? :D?
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"You're not actually serious," is Danny's flat statement when Steve presents the idea as a plausible solution. "Kono is--"
"Really fucking tired of dressing up like a skank," Kono interjects, not even bothering to glance his direction or uncross her arms. "Let Steve take this one, I plan on staying nice and warm and in the van."
"But he's--" Danny jerks his hand up and down in a gesture he hopes will indicate every bit of the All American SEAL-ness about Steve, which will only scream COP COP I'M A COP ASK ME HOW. "And, no offense, babe," he adds to Steve's challenging stare, "You're not exactly a spring chicken. What I've heard--"
"What you've heard?" Kono repeats, incredulously.
"Yes, what I've heard, from Vice Cops," Danny ( ... )
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Danny drives them to Steve’s place, because Steve is too jittery to sit still, let alone handle a car on dark, winding roads. He keeps shifting in his seat, dragging his hands down his thighs, almost like he is a junkie needing a fix. Maybe he’s still playing the part.
Maybe Danny needs to watch the road and not drive them into the gutter where his brain is residing, fuck. Still-
“Stop,” Danny says, which is a pretty normal thing for him to do, but he reaches over and clasps Steve’s jittering knee when he says it, which is not. Steve goes absolutely mind-meltingly still, instantly, splays his legs a little wider and gives Danny a grin that Danny can see out of the corner of his eye where he is very steadfastly not looking“How did I do?” Steve asks, slouching down just a little so Danny’s hand edges up his thigh. “Did I make a good twink ( ... )
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“Danny,” Steve says, rough and rasping, and oh, oh this was, fuck, this was what Danny needed to hear, even before Steve says, “Danny, please, anything-“
Danny kisses him again to shut himself up, desperately swallowing back the noises he wants to make. Steve isn’t in some headspace, he isn’t playing the hooker, he said Danny’s name, and all Wilson got was an empty little “sweetheart” and a fist to the ( ... )
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Danny’s legs do give out at the first touch of Steve’s slick lips around his cock, staggers back and Steve half lowers him, half bears him to the floor and climbs on top, hands on Danny’s wrists and his knees planted outside Danny’s, legs angled so his shins cross Danny’s and keep him pinned. Struggling would require actual braincells, though, of which Danny has fuck all, all of them getting sucked out through the hot clutch of Steve’s mouth, tongue pushing the head of Danny’s cock up against Steve’s soft palette and mercilessly licking just under the ridge.
Danny almost fucking whites out-it’s so good, and it’s been so long, and it’s Steve and it’s just too much, but Steve is a god damn ninja and snaps his fingers around the base of Danny’s cock and shoves the flood of his orgasm back into the swollen clench of his balls, which only try to come up tighter when Danny gets a blurry glimpse of nail polish. Jesus Christ, it should not be so hot, and maybe Danny whines that out loud ( ... )
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ERHIEAIPFNSD!!!! HOLY SWEET HOTNESS, WOMAN!!!!
The hole in Steve's jeans is, um... YOWZA TO THE MAX! nofdakjasoiej20qimdzd21kj!!
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