sirona's fics (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sirona_fics) wrote2011-05-20 11:36 pm
sirona_fics) wrote2011-05-20 11:36 pm
[Fic] My Hero, Steve/Danny, H50
I've been feeling like absolute crap all day. My sinuses are horribly inflamed, I feel like my head is stuffed with a mix of cotton and concrete. DX So I've spent the day watching recorded TV, finally got caught up on Doctor Who (hint: IT WAS AWESOME). Also watched the Alex O'Loughlin Criminal Minds episode, and I am blown away by O'Lough's excellent acting. So very different from McGarrett, but so damn powerful, too.
Then I spent most of the rest of the day rolling around in the STEVE MCGARRETT GLASSES MEME at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
their_darkness's place, which is nnnnnnngh lovely and stupid amounts of hot. And so I ended up writing filthy, filthy glasses porn. Yeah, I don't know either. But here it is!
Title: My Hero
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: Oh-so-very NC-17
Word Count: ~1,800
Warnings: A little bit of angst and h/c; otherwise nothing that isn't implied by the rating.
Summary: Danny surfaces one morning to find Steve at his usual spot at the kitchen table, sporting a brand new accessory. It's the reason behind it that makes Danny want to give Steve everything he is.
Notes: I have absolutely no idea if the SEALs are like Air Force pilots, who have to be in perfect physical condition to fly, including their eyesight being 20/20, but I've kind of assumed they do. So, uh, y'know, go with it, please? >.>;; Inspired by this pic.
Danny surfaces slowly, sleepily, blinking fast to dislodge the sleep gunk clumping his eyelashes. He's still muzzy when he tugs on a pair of underpants, whose owner is thus far unknown, and pads down the stairs towards the clinking sound in the kitchen, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
Which is why he thinks he's probably dreaming when he stutters to a stop in the kitchen doorway at the scene before him. Steve is sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of Earl Grey at his elbow, nose stuffed in a two-inch-thick textbook of some sort that Danny would beg and plead not to be told anything about. This is not unusual in and of itself -- it's a sight that greets Danny most weekend mornings when he drags himself out of bed and finally makes it downstairs to meet the control freak who's been up since dawn for his morning swim.
The thing that is not a regular occurrence sits primly on the bridge of his partner's nose, making him look. Uh. Danny is still not at his sharpest, so there's pretty much nothing to stop his instinctive reaction to the black pair of reading glasses perched on Steve's face, making his rather beautiful eyes stand out until they fill Danny's entire world.
Said eyes are looking at him warmly now, fond amusement twinkling behind the stupidly long eyelashes.
"Morning, Danno," Steve says, and okay, if anyone was to tell Danny that it was impossible to infuse a voice with so much innuendo and invitation, well, Danny would laugh in their face and call them a stinking liar, because Steve's voice is rife with it, invitation intensified by the half-lidded look Steve trails over a certain area of his body that is very much awake, and clamouring for attention.
"When the hell did you get those?" Danny croaks, directing an faint pointing wave in the general direction of Steve's face.
"Yesterday. I had to step out, remember? Annual check-up at the base. Turns out I'll be needing those from now on." There's a faint regretful note in Steve's voice; it makes Danny's brain work faster than normally advisable this early on a Saturday.
"Oh," he says, because--well. Steve might just as well have spelled out the end of his career with the SEALs' active duty teams. He's been in the reserves for a couple years now, but Danny knows Steve takes pride in being available for recall on a moment's notice.
He doesn't think too hard about how that made him feel back when he first realised it. Point is, this was a major part of Steve's life, and his partner is hurting, even if he won't show it.
He takes a few steps closer to Steve's chair, raises a hand to trail a careful finger over the flattering frames hiding the disappointment in Steve's eyes. The body Steve takes care of so hard, so diligently, is letting him down for the first time in his life, Danny imagines, and it's not an easy defeat to take.
Steve leans into the touch when Danny trails his fingers over his forehead, smoothing out the faint wrinkles that have started to etch themselves into the tanned skin. He leans down until he's level with Steve's soft gaze, looks into those eyes and doesn't try to hide the feelings he knows are written all over his face.
"You'll always be my hero," he says, not a hint of teasing in his voice, just stating the facts as they are. He waits until Steve's eyes brighten a little and presses forward, fits his lips to Steve's and kisses him until he hears the clatter of the pencil Steve's been holding on the table and feels Steve wind a hand in his sleep-mussed hair, pulling him closer.
He lets Steve set the pace, drowns in being kissed so skillfully, so intently, like the world has fallen away and all that's left in front of Steve is Danny, perched on top of the kitchen table, head bent back at an uncomfortable angle because it's what Steve is asking of him. He lets himself be taken because it's what Steve needs, an affirmation of his place in Danny's life, that even if he'll never be the same ruthless killing machine Danny first met, Danny still wants him, needs him the same way.
Danny will do any number of things if it'll mean that Steve knows it.
He would even push the manual off the table, to fall to the floor with a heavy thwack, lie back over the table top, spread his legs until Steve fits snugly between them and wind them around his waist. Steve surges forward, rubbing their hard, heavy cocks firmly together, fists a hand in Danny's hair and tugs gently until Danny angles his head just right for Steve to take what he wants from his mouth.
Just this once, Danny is happy to give, everything, all of it. "Almond oil," he pants in Steve's mouth, pointing to a cupboard over the kitchen counter. "Go get it, babe."
He pushes the boxers off his hips while Steve follows his directions, and lets his legs splay open when Steve turns back, exposing himself, offering everything he is for this man's taking. Steve stops a foot away from the table and stares, like it's not Danny who's giving himself up to him, but rather like it's Danny who holds all the power.
For the first time since they started this thing, almost a year ago, Danny understands something he once read somewhere and scoffed at -- that there is so much more power in giving than in taking.
"Danny," Steve groans harshly, and it's still a question, how could it possibly be a question when Danny is lying here stark-naked and waiting to be taken, what even?
"Come on already," Danny rasps, lifting his hips in invitation. Steve's eyes zero in on his cock, jutting and red with need, on his entrance still a little loose from last night. Steve's glasses are still holding on, barely, one lens smeared from their earlier kisses, and he looks fucking incredible like that, flushed and needy and desperate, and Danny wants.
"McGarrett," he snaps, and Steve seems to wake from his daze, blinks up into Danny's eyes and smiles, and fuck if it isn't the most arousing thing Danny's ever seen.
Steve takes that last step towards him and tugs the stopper out of the bottle, lets the oil drench his fingers and drip on Danny's cock, down his balls and into the creases of his hole. Danny's eyelids flutter a little at the feel, the anticipation, before Steve stoops down to kiss him and plunges two fingers inside him to the knuckle.
Danny moans in Steve's mouth, lets Steve hear what he's doing to him, gives him another little part of Detective Danny Williams to possess and savour. Steve's breath hitches when he starts spreading his fingers out, stretching Danny loose for his cock. It doesn't take much -- it's only been about eight hours since they last did this; and besides, there's only so much Danny can take.
"Now, fuck's sake, now," he dictates, and Steve fumbles for the drawstring of his lounging pants with slippery fingers, groans with frustration as they skid on the knot and finally tug it undone, pushes them just past his hips so his cock bounces out eagerly, slicks a perfunctionary fist over it and presses it to Danny's hole.
"What, are you waiting for an invitation?" Danny says, curling his good leg over Steve's hips and using his heel to tug him inside. The fat head slips past the muscles and Danny watches through heavy lids as Steve's eyes slip closed behind the lenses, jaw clenched in concentration as he slides in and in and in until his balls slap against Danny's sweatslick ass cheeks.
"Fuck," Steve groans, bowing his head down to kiss Danny firmly, licking inside his mouth as he starts to move, small quick thrusts to start with, and then longer, harder strokes that make something inside Danny tighten and shoot sparks.
"Jesus," Danny moans, long and harsh when Steve shifts and nails the spot inside him unerringly, control freak that he is, always has to be the very best Danny's had, but it's a bit difficult to top himself, all things considered.
It doesn't take long. Steve had obviously been wound up even before Danny surfaced, and he uses every trick he's learned about how to make Danny lose his mind. A twist of the left nipple, a flash of teeth underneath Danny's chin, a suck at the base of his neck, a firm, bruising grip at his hips -- it all piles up, and Danny's helpless to resist -- doesn't want to. He gives Steve his release, allows Steve to fuck it out of him, lets him see just how stupidly good he's making Danny feel.
When Danny lets go, it's his eyes rolling back in his head and sounds coming out of his mouth like he's never made before, the need for containment fallen by the sidelines, surpassed by the need to make Steve understand.
Steve loses it with a harsh grunt, almost quiet, buried as it is in Danny's shoulder. He twitches a few times and stills, bracing himself on his forearms over Danny's heaving chest. Danny fights for breath as Steve leans closer, kisses him gently once, twice, just a press of lips, a silent 'thank you' and a few other things besides.
"Yeah, I know, babe," Danny murmurs into his lips, righting his crooked glasses with gentle fingers and lifting his head a little to kiss him again. "Danno loves you."
Steve smiles.
-----
Then I spent most of the rest of the day rolling around in the STEVE MCGARRETT GLASSES MEME at
their_darkness's place, which is nnnnnnngh lovely and stupid amounts of hot. And so I ended up writing filthy, filthy glasses porn. Yeah, I don't know either. But here it is!Title: My Hero
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: Oh-so-very NC-17
Word Count: ~1,800
Warnings: A little bit of angst and h/c; otherwise nothing that isn't implied by the rating.
Summary: Danny surfaces one morning to find Steve at his usual spot at the kitchen table, sporting a brand new accessory. It's the reason behind it that makes Danny want to give Steve everything he is.
Notes: I have absolutely no idea if the SEALs are like Air Force pilots, who have to be in perfect physical condition to fly, including their eyesight being 20/20, but I've kind of assumed they do. So, uh, y'know, go with it, please? >.>;; Inspired by this pic.
Danny surfaces slowly, sleepily, blinking fast to dislodge the sleep gunk clumping his eyelashes. He's still muzzy when he tugs on a pair of underpants, whose owner is thus far unknown, and pads down the stairs towards the clinking sound in the kitchen, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
Which is why he thinks he's probably dreaming when he stutters to a stop in the kitchen doorway at the scene before him. Steve is sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of Earl Grey at his elbow, nose stuffed in a two-inch-thick textbook of some sort that Danny would beg and plead not to be told anything about. This is not unusual in and of itself -- it's a sight that greets Danny most weekend mornings when he drags himself out of bed and finally makes it downstairs to meet the control freak who's been up since dawn for his morning swim.
The thing that is not a regular occurrence sits primly on the bridge of his partner's nose, making him look. Uh. Danny is still not at his sharpest, so there's pretty much nothing to stop his instinctive reaction to the black pair of reading glasses perched on Steve's face, making his rather beautiful eyes stand out until they fill Danny's entire world.
Said eyes are looking at him warmly now, fond amusement twinkling behind the stupidly long eyelashes.
"Morning, Danno," Steve says, and okay, if anyone was to tell Danny that it was impossible to infuse a voice with so much innuendo and invitation, well, Danny would laugh in their face and call them a stinking liar, because Steve's voice is rife with it, invitation intensified by the half-lidded look Steve trails over a certain area of his body that is very much awake, and clamouring for attention.
"When the hell did you get those?" Danny croaks, directing an faint pointing wave in the general direction of Steve's face.
"Yesterday. I had to step out, remember? Annual check-up at the base. Turns out I'll be needing those from now on." There's a faint regretful note in Steve's voice; it makes Danny's brain work faster than normally advisable this early on a Saturday.
"Oh," he says, because--well. Steve might just as well have spelled out the end of his career with the SEALs' active duty teams. He's been in the reserves for a couple years now, but Danny knows Steve takes pride in being available for recall on a moment's notice.
He doesn't think too hard about how that made him feel back when he first realised it. Point is, this was a major part of Steve's life, and his partner is hurting, even if he won't show it.
He takes a few steps closer to Steve's chair, raises a hand to trail a careful finger over the flattering frames hiding the disappointment in Steve's eyes. The body Steve takes care of so hard, so diligently, is letting him down for the first time in his life, Danny imagines, and it's not an easy defeat to take.
Steve leans into the touch when Danny trails his fingers over his forehead, smoothing out the faint wrinkles that have started to etch themselves into the tanned skin. He leans down until he's level with Steve's soft gaze, looks into those eyes and doesn't try to hide the feelings he knows are written all over his face.
"You'll always be my hero," he says, not a hint of teasing in his voice, just stating the facts as they are. He waits until Steve's eyes brighten a little and presses forward, fits his lips to Steve's and kisses him until he hears the clatter of the pencil Steve's been holding on the table and feels Steve wind a hand in his sleep-mussed hair, pulling him closer.
He lets Steve set the pace, drowns in being kissed so skillfully, so intently, like the world has fallen away and all that's left in front of Steve is Danny, perched on top of the kitchen table, head bent back at an uncomfortable angle because it's what Steve is asking of him. He lets himself be taken because it's what Steve needs, an affirmation of his place in Danny's life, that even if he'll never be the same ruthless killing machine Danny first met, Danny still wants him, needs him the same way.
Danny will do any number of things if it'll mean that Steve knows it.
He would even push the manual off the table, to fall to the floor with a heavy thwack, lie back over the table top, spread his legs until Steve fits snugly between them and wind them around his waist. Steve surges forward, rubbing their hard, heavy cocks firmly together, fists a hand in Danny's hair and tugs gently until Danny angles his head just right for Steve to take what he wants from his mouth.
Just this once, Danny is happy to give, everything, all of it. "Almond oil," he pants in Steve's mouth, pointing to a cupboard over the kitchen counter. "Go get it, babe."
He pushes the boxers off his hips while Steve follows his directions, and lets his legs splay open when Steve turns back, exposing himself, offering everything he is for this man's taking. Steve stops a foot away from the table and stares, like it's not Danny who's giving himself up to him, but rather like it's Danny who holds all the power.
For the first time since they started this thing, almost a year ago, Danny understands something he once read somewhere and scoffed at -- that there is so much more power in giving than in taking.
"Danny," Steve groans harshly, and it's still a question, how could it possibly be a question when Danny is lying here stark-naked and waiting to be taken, what even?
"Come on already," Danny rasps, lifting his hips in invitation. Steve's eyes zero in on his cock, jutting and red with need, on his entrance still a little loose from last night. Steve's glasses are still holding on, barely, one lens smeared from their earlier kisses, and he looks fucking incredible like that, flushed and needy and desperate, and Danny wants.
"McGarrett," he snaps, and Steve seems to wake from his daze, blinks up into Danny's eyes and smiles, and fuck if it isn't the most arousing thing Danny's ever seen.
Steve takes that last step towards him and tugs the stopper out of the bottle, lets the oil drench his fingers and drip on Danny's cock, down his balls and into the creases of his hole. Danny's eyelids flutter a little at the feel, the anticipation, before Steve stoops down to kiss him and plunges two fingers inside him to the knuckle.
Danny moans in Steve's mouth, lets Steve hear what he's doing to him, gives him another little part of Detective Danny Williams to possess and savour. Steve's breath hitches when he starts spreading his fingers out, stretching Danny loose for his cock. It doesn't take much -- it's only been about eight hours since they last did this; and besides, there's only so much Danny can take.
"Now, fuck's sake, now," he dictates, and Steve fumbles for the drawstring of his lounging pants with slippery fingers, groans with frustration as they skid on the knot and finally tug it undone, pushes them just past his hips so his cock bounces out eagerly, slicks a perfunctionary fist over it and presses it to Danny's hole.
"What, are you waiting for an invitation?" Danny says, curling his good leg over Steve's hips and using his heel to tug him inside. The fat head slips past the muscles and Danny watches through heavy lids as Steve's eyes slip closed behind the lenses, jaw clenched in concentration as he slides in and in and in until his balls slap against Danny's sweatslick ass cheeks.
"Fuck," Steve groans, bowing his head down to kiss Danny firmly, licking inside his mouth as he starts to move, small quick thrusts to start with, and then longer, harder strokes that make something inside Danny tighten and shoot sparks.
"Jesus," Danny moans, long and harsh when Steve shifts and nails the spot inside him unerringly, control freak that he is, always has to be the very best Danny's had, but it's a bit difficult to top himself, all things considered.
It doesn't take long. Steve had obviously been wound up even before Danny surfaced, and he uses every trick he's learned about how to make Danny lose his mind. A twist of the left nipple, a flash of teeth underneath Danny's chin, a suck at the base of his neck, a firm, bruising grip at his hips -- it all piles up, and Danny's helpless to resist -- doesn't want to. He gives Steve his release, allows Steve to fuck it out of him, lets him see just how stupidly good he's making Danny feel.
When Danny lets go, it's his eyes rolling back in his head and sounds coming out of his mouth like he's never made before, the need for containment fallen by the sidelines, surpassed by the need to make Steve understand.
Steve loses it with a harsh grunt, almost quiet, buried as it is in Danny's shoulder. He twitches a few times and stills, bracing himself on his forearms over Danny's heaving chest. Danny fights for breath as Steve leans closer, kisses him gently once, twice, just a press of lips, a silent 'thank you' and a few other things besides.
"Yeah, I know, babe," Danny murmurs into his lips, righting his crooked glasses with gentle fingers and lifting his head a little to kiss him again. "Danno loves you."
Steve smiles.