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sirona_ficsPosting this while LJ still works for me (which it is doing spottily at the moment). I'll be away from very early tomorrow morning until sometime Sunday. I'll probably be AWOL, but I might be able to check my email at some point. Maybe. So if you're desperate to find me, try there.
In other news, that fun little thing me and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
delicatale have been writing? FINISHED AT 15K. I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYMORE. But we did have ridiculous amounts of fun, so mission accomplished, I guess! \0/ It shall be posted sometime around or possibly before Monday, probably on delicatale's journal, but I shall link from here, too.
I am toying with a few stories and plot bunnies right now, but it's anyone's guess what will get written when. Meanwhile I leave you with three drabbles written for various prompts. All of them are not quite WS, if you know what I mean. ;D All of them also on AO3.
Oral fixation
Steve/Danny
Hawaii Five-0
~760 words
Written forstjarna1984, in response to this picture:
Steve isn't sure what he's seeing. Danny had said to open it when Steve had called about the package arriving, saying he'll be late picking Grace up from school, since Rachel had been called to an urgent meeting. So Steve had. And, well, he's never been able to resist a tape.
It's weird to wrestle with his dad's old VHR; he has memories of himself and Mary waiting not at all patiently for their mom to put the Robin Hood tape in and set the TV to video channel. Doing it himself in harder than he expects.
But he manages it, and sticks the tape in. The screen flickers, and a fuzzy image emerges, of a darkened club with stone walls, tinny rock music and laughter, and then suddenly there's Danny, sprawling on a tacky leather seat, flashing a white set of teeth in the darkness, stubbled jaw shadowed in the dim light. Danny's looking at the camera with a remarkably unimpressed look on his face, and it strikes Steve that even back then, Danny took nobody's bullshit.
It's still recognisably Danny, same slicked-back hair, same broad shoulders, even when they're hidden by the shiny leather jacket, holding a glass of whisky on top of a jean-clad knee. He watches in fascination as Danny lifts his other hand and brings a cigarette to his mouth, take a deep drag of it and removes it with a practiced flick of his fingers. There is something so viscerally erotic about the act, about the way those lips curl around the smoke, shaping themselves in a circle through which to blow out a perfect smoke ring.
Steve can't look away. He knows what those lips feel like against his, curled against his cock, and said part twitches viciously in his pants at the remembered sensation. Steve only realises he's blindingly hard when he tries to shift closer and it sends a spike of pain-pleasure through his groin. He watches Danny smile full-out and wink at whoever is holding the camera, and holy shit, Steve has to lean back and press down hard over his cock so he doesn't come on the spot. Again that hand lifts, again that cigarette finds its way into Danny's mouth, again Steve's cock tries to drill its way out of his sweatpants.
There's a strangled noise behind him, and Steve twists to find Danny behind him, staring at the screen. After a moment his eyes drift to Steve's face, and he grins at what he sees there. He saunters forward, reaches for the remote and clicks the TV off. Steve wonders why, but it only lasts a moment before the rest of his brain goes offline at the sight of Danny sinking to his knees in front of his place on the sofa.
Danny pulls him out deftly, and Steve cries out at the feel of Danny's clever fingers curling around him, tugging him loose. Then Danny's grin vanishes as he curls his lips around the head, thumb rubbing the sensitive underside, and Danny sucks.
He likes to tease Steve that way, bring him up to the edge and keep him there, for as long as Steve can stand it. But Steve is far too wound up tonight, and he's not too surprised to feel the tightening of his balls already, the spike of his imminent climax slither down his spine. He tries to warn Danny when Danny takes his balls in his palm, but it's too much too soon, and he's coming down Danny's throat even as he clutches Danny's shoulder in warning.
Danny chokes a little, not expecting it at all, and a little of Steve's release dribbles out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin. The sight almost makes Steve's brain short, and if he could come again, he would. As it is, he tugs Danny up by his arms, presses his mouth to that spill, licks it off Danny's face and into his mouth, and for a long moment it's everything, everything Steve could want in his life.
And then something hard pokes at his inner thigh, and Danny grunts softly in his mouth, and Steve's lips curl in a smile against his will, breaking the kiss. He makes a mental note to send Danny's sister the biggest bunch of flowers he can find online.
-----
Fashion Baby
Steve/Danny
Hawaii Five-0
~1,600 words
Written fortailoredshirt's Suit & Uniform Kink Meme.
Multi-fandom Suit & Uniform Kink Meme
All fandoms, characters, pairings, and ratings
Find the prompts here
"Oh my god," someone says behind them, a high-pitched voice full of just enough surprised awe that Danny and Steve both stiffen and turn around, expecting anything, expecting the worst, expecting Rodgers to have drugged half of the fashion show techs to get out unnoticed while the Five-0s flounder.
"You, who are you?" the wide-eyed guy asks -- Steve, it looks like, because he's eyeing him like Steve's desert.
"Hey, buddy, not now," Danny says, trying to project as much of a 'walk away from this while your limbs are still attached' vibe as he can fit in. Steve just stares, bemused.
The guy, who is incidentally wearing the worst example of a shirt Danny has ever seen (shiny purple snakeskin, really?), barely looks at Danny before dismissing him.
"Never mind; you must model for me, I will not take 'no' for an answer," the guy declares. His loud voice is definitely attracting an audience, Danny notices when he flicks his eyes to the side.
"Sorry, man, I'm not a model," Steve tries to wave him off, but the guy looks determined. He grabs Steve's arm.
Danny, watching Steve as much as the strange guy with the bizarre moustache for any signs of impending doom, freezes. He knows that look, knows that Steve can break both of the silly man's arms before Danny can even move. He sees the way Steve's eyes flash 'Danger, Will Robinson', the way his jaw clenches as he obviously lectures himself not to kill the guy.
Meanwhile, the svelte man is oblivious to the danger he's putting himself into. "JoAnne, the three-piece charcoal single-breasted pinstripe, if you please. Outfit this gorgeous specimen and put him out there."
JoAnne, a sleek, sophisticated-looking woman even in her horn-rimmed glasses and the measuring tape over her neck, takes Steve's arm gently and tows him away, not so gently. Steve looks blindsided, hazel eyes huge and befuddled when he turns around to glare at Danny.
"Help me," he mouths, but Danny shrugs helplessly. If they make a scene, the perp will definitely know he's been tailed and skip on them. In a way, this is actually good; they'll look even more inconspicuous, because Steve in his cargoes and shirt sticks out like a sore thumb in between all the carefully chosen ensembles.
Danny loiters a little, checking out the models and keeping his eyes peeled for Rogers while he's waiting for Steve to come back. Ten-odd minutes later, there's a soft tap on his shoulder. His senses are undisturbed, so he knows there's no danger around him. He turns, expecting to see Steve standing behind him. And he is.
Danny stares. He stares some more. He is dimly aware that his mouth is maybe hanging open, but it's taking a back seat to the sight before his eyes -- of Steve, in something that shimmers and hugs his body like a glove (a very fine, loving glove). The suit's jacket drapes over those broad shoulders beautifully, and tapers down to Steve's trim waist like it was made for him.
Danny's eyes, running down over every inch of Steve's body he can see, fastens on what's underneath the jacket.
"That's a waistcoat. You're wearing a waistcoat. I didn't even think you knew what a waistcoat was."
"I don't, really, but this is kind of comfortable," Steve says, pushing away the jacket's flaps and running his hands over it. Danny watches them like they're diffusing a bomb.
The waistcoat looks sinful, and there's the slightest gap between the tails and the belt of Steve's pants, which look like they're painted onto his hips. For the first time in a very long time, Danny can't think of a single thing to say that isn't, "fuck Rodgers; you, turn around and get in the damn car before I snap and throw months of self-control out of the window, bodycheck you into that wall over there and kiss you until you can't breathe". His pants are getting uncomfortably tight the longer he watches Steve, who is looking at Danny in bemusement.
"You okay, Danno? You've gone kind of red."
Danny wants to strangle him. Surely, surely he can't be that obtuse, seriously.
He isn't. The look in Steve's eyes shifts until it turns considering and far too thoughtful for Danny's liking. Steve starts towards him, long, prowling steps that make Danny's blood boil in his veins with the need to put his hands on him, and it's an effort to hold his place.
"I think you like my suit," Steve muses, but really, he's looking nothing as uncertain as his words suggest.
There's a flash over Danny's shoulder that startles them both.
"Gorgeous," the little man squeaks, clapping his hands. One more, Jose," he tells the photographer, who obediently lifts a long lens to Steve's face. "Can you look like that again, darling? Like you want to devour us?"
Steve looks startled before his brows lock and he glowers. It's a look that sends the more sensible perps running away in a hurry, but the fashionista guy just looks like he's going to pass out from excitement. Danny really doesn't like the way he keeps eyehumping Danny's partner.
In a display of both the worst and the best timing ever, Rodgers chooses this exact moment to grab the irritating man around the neck and brandish a knife inexpertly. The guy's eyes look like they're going to pop out of his head, and his lower lip trembles a little.
"Back off or I'll cut him," Rodgers threatens. His voice shakes a bit.
Rodgers really isn't the kind of perp Five-0 normally handles, but they're trying to play nice with the new Governor, and he is a big fan of the annual Honolulu fashion show, so they'd taken the case as a favour. Rodgers really isn't worth their time, as Steve proves when he disarms the man with no more than a flick of his wrist and a twist that brings Rodgers to his knees, crying out pathetically.
The only upshot of the fiasco, which involves snivelling designers and adoring models and one very grateful PA, is that Steve is given The Suit as a thank-you present for saving the day. When they get told this, Danny barely dares look at Steve for fear of what his face might betray, but the smug look Steve sports throughout the rest of the day bides well for the coming evening. And, well -- Danny's tired fighting this all the time, telling himself he can't have it when it's obvious what's on offer, if he goes by the looks Steve keeps giving him throughout the day, still in that damned suit, Jesus Christ, why is this Danny's life.
His concentration is pretty much shot through the afternoon, which is why when Steve gets the drop on him Danny doesn't have to fake looking surprised, even though he kind of really isn't.
"The way you keep looking at me," Steve growls against his lips when he corners Danny in the supply cupboard, hot breath teasing his lips. "Tell me you don't want this," he says, desperate for Danny not to.
"I can't," Danny says, fisting his hands in the hem of the suit's jacket, scrunched up at Steve's waist so Danny can slip a hand underneath. "I can't tell you that."
Steve lets out a desperate groan and swoops down, mashing his mouth into Danny's, licking it open so he can slip his tongue inside, rough, suggestive, divine. Danny's been starving for this, desperate for Steve's body over his. The fabric feels lovely in his hands, but it's nothing on Steve's skin when Danny tugs the shirt out of the tight pants and slips a hand underneath, searching, taking. Steve plasters his front to Danny's chest, and Danny is overwhelmed by sensation -- hard muscle, heat, the smell of soap and ocean and a hint of aftershave, the hard poke of something very interesting indeed in the crease of his hip. He can't get enough, can't seem to squirm closer no matter how hard he tries; it's frustrating as fuck, to hell with the suit, he just wants it off.
Someone clears their throat behind them, and they jump apart, whipping around to stare at the door. It's still closed, but there's obviously someone standing on the other side.
"If I was to ask where I can find either Commander McGarrett or Detective Williams, I'm not going to like the answer, am I?" the voice says, immediately recognisable as Miss Kalike, the Governor's assistant. "Some things can't be unseen," she adds with a touch of amusement.
"Uh," Danny says while Steve rolls his eyes and pushes the door open.
"Can we help you?" he asks with a touch of exasperation.
Miss Kalike runs an eye over Steve's rumpled form, his flushed face and mouth, and Danny behind him, not looking much different. "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow, gentlemen. Congratulations on a job well done" she says, a hint of warmth in her voice. She hesitates, eyes still on Steve. "Nice suit, Commander," she adds and walks away before either of them can react.
Steve smirks at the scowl on Danny's face. "Let's move this somewhere more private," he murmurs, and really, that's one suggestion Danny's happy to take.
-----
The ties that bind
Steve/Danny
Hawaii Five-0
~780 words
Written fortailoredshirt's Suit & Uniform Kink Meme.
Steve pushes his way through the front door, weary to the bone. Having to bury one of their own is always tough, but this one had been even worse -- burying one of his own, someone Steve had served with, that had been on his team, whom Steve had known. It's the risk of the job, of course; all of them had known it when they signed up.
It hasn't made today any easier.
The house is quiet but alive around him -- there's only one person who can make it feel this way. Danny's here.
He slips his shoes off, takes the hat off and leaves it on the hall side table with a soft click of the unyielding edge connecting with the wood. Starts to unbutton his uniform jacket as he walks into the living room.
Danny's curled up on the sofa, dozing, still fully dressed even if his tie is half-undone and a couple buttons at his neck are open, too. He starts, even though Steve knows for damn sure he hasn't made even the smallest noise, turns his head so his eyes are locked with Steve's.
"Hey, babe," Danny says, a little sleep-rough. "You're back."
He shifts to sit upright, eyes soft where they rest on Steve's face, trailing down until they fix at his neck. Steve notices where he's staring and can't fight down the flush that rises over his cheeks.
"I'm sorry I didn't ask," he says when Danny stands and walks over to him, gentle fingers tugging at the tie still around Steve's neck -- Danny's tie, the one Steve had swiped from the stash Danny keeps in the drawer Steve had freed for him in the bedroom.
Danny says nothing, just keeps running his fingers over it, opening the shirt collar underneath and pulling it undone slowly, running the backs of his fingers over the skin he uncovers.
"It's just, it was nice, wearing it. It felt like you were there with me," Steve says, thrown by Danny's silence. Is he angry? Disappointed?
"You don't have to ask, ever," Danny murmurs after a moment, pressing a kiss to the hollow of Steve's throat now on show. "And I would have come with you, you know that."
"I know, Danny," Steve sighs. wishing he wasn't such a coward, that he could have asked Danny to go with him, be there to support him, and not try to go it alone. But it was hard enough already, and having Danny there would have completely blown his composure -- because Steve would have wanted to lean on Danny and let go, and he couldn't do that. It was too hard to put himself back together again, after.
Danny's still touching the tie, still stroking along it and brushing over the sensitive skin behind it.
"I like my tie on you," Danny confesses. "I'm glad I could help, even just a little."
Steve feels like the rigid fence that's been keeping him reigned in all day breaks, cracks right up in the face of those words. He reaches for Danny, folds his arms around him, buries his face in Danny's neck.
"You always help," he says roughly, almost smothered in Danny's skin. "And I like your tie on me, too. It's like I'm yours."
"You are mine," Danny growls into Steve's shoulder, and for the first time today Steve smiles and means it.
"Yes," he says, and his voice sounds better now, not so torn anymore. "But that way other people can see it, too, even if they don't know what they're looking at."
Danny stills under his arms, and for a second Steve thinks that's it, he's finally screwed this thing up, like he always knew he would in the end.
"There's another way for people to know you're mine," Danny says carefully, pulling back and running his hands down Steve's arms. It's not until he starts playing with the ring finger of Steve's left hand that Steve gets it, and the rush is unbelievable, like nothing he has ever known in his life.
"Will you?" Danny asks, cautiously, giving Steve the unquestioned option to refuse -- like Steve could ever want it, could even consider saying no.
"Yes," he breathes into Danny's mouth before he kisses him, and he'll never forget the feel of Danny's hand tightening on the tie, pulling him closer.
-----
In other news, that fun little thing me and
delicatale have been writing? FINISHED AT 15K. I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYMORE. But we did have ridiculous amounts of fun, so mission accomplished, I guess! \0/ It shall be posted sometime around or possibly before Monday, probably on delicatale's journal, but I shall link from here, too.I am toying with a few stories and plot bunnies right now, but it's anyone's guess what will get written when. Meanwhile I leave you with three drabbles written for various prompts. All of them are not quite WS, if you know what I mean. ;D All of them also on AO3.
Oral fixation
Steve/Danny
Hawaii Five-0
~760 words
Written for
stjarna1984, in response to this picture:Steve isn't sure what he's seeing. Danny had said to open it when Steve had called about the package arriving, saying he'll be late picking Grace up from school, since Rachel had been called to an urgent meeting. So Steve had. And, well, he's never been able to resist a tape.
It's weird to wrestle with his dad's old VHR; he has memories of himself and Mary waiting not at all patiently for their mom to put the Robin Hood tape in and set the TV to video channel. Doing it himself in harder than he expects.
But he manages it, and sticks the tape in. The screen flickers, and a fuzzy image emerges, of a darkened club with stone walls, tinny rock music and laughter, and then suddenly there's Danny, sprawling on a tacky leather seat, flashing a white set of teeth in the darkness, stubbled jaw shadowed in the dim light. Danny's looking at the camera with a remarkably unimpressed look on his face, and it strikes Steve that even back then, Danny took nobody's bullshit.
It's still recognisably Danny, same slicked-back hair, same broad shoulders, even when they're hidden by the shiny leather jacket, holding a glass of whisky on top of a jean-clad knee. He watches in fascination as Danny lifts his other hand and brings a cigarette to his mouth, take a deep drag of it and removes it with a practiced flick of his fingers. There is something so viscerally erotic about the act, about the way those lips curl around the smoke, shaping themselves in a circle through which to blow out a perfect smoke ring.
Steve can't look away. He knows what those lips feel like against his, curled against his cock, and said part twitches viciously in his pants at the remembered sensation. Steve only realises he's blindingly hard when he tries to shift closer and it sends a spike of pain-pleasure through his groin. He watches Danny smile full-out and wink at whoever is holding the camera, and holy shit, Steve has to lean back and press down hard over his cock so he doesn't come on the spot. Again that hand lifts, again that cigarette finds its way into Danny's mouth, again Steve's cock tries to drill its way out of his sweatpants.
There's a strangled noise behind him, and Steve twists to find Danny behind him, staring at the screen. After a moment his eyes drift to Steve's face, and he grins at what he sees there. He saunters forward, reaches for the remote and clicks the TV off. Steve wonders why, but it only lasts a moment before the rest of his brain goes offline at the sight of Danny sinking to his knees in front of his place on the sofa.
Danny pulls him out deftly, and Steve cries out at the feel of Danny's clever fingers curling around him, tugging him loose. Then Danny's grin vanishes as he curls his lips around the head, thumb rubbing the sensitive underside, and Danny sucks.
He likes to tease Steve that way, bring him up to the edge and keep him there, for as long as Steve can stand it. But Steve is far too wound up tonight, and he's not too surprised to feel the tightening of his balls already, the spike of his imminent climax slither down his spine. He tries to warn Danny when Danny takes his balls in his palm, but it's too much too soon, and he's coming down Danny's throat even as he clutches Danny's shoulder in warning.
Danny chokes a little, not expecting it at all, and a little of Steve's release dribbles out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin. The sight almost makes Steve's brain short, and if he could come again, he would. As it is, he tugs Danny up by his arms, presses his mouth to that spill, licks it off Danny's face and into his mouth, and for a long moment it's everything, everything Steve could want in his life.
And then something hard pokes at his inner thigh, and Danny grunts softly in his mouth, and Steve's lips curl in a smile against his will, breaking the kiss. He makes a mental note to send Danny's sister the biggest bunch of flowers he can find online.
Fashion Baby
Steve/Danny
Hawaii Five-0
~1,600 words
Written for
tailoredshirt's Suit & Uniform Kink Meme. Multi-fandom Suit & Uniform Kink Meme
All fandoms, characters, pairings, and ratings
Find the prompts here
"Oh my god," someone says behind them, a high-pitched voice full of just enough surprised awe that Danny and Steve both stiffen and turn around, expecting anything, expecting the worst, expecting Rodgers to have drugged half of the fashion show techs to get out unnoticed while the Five-0s flounder.
"You, who are you?" the wide-eyed guy asks -- Steve, it looks like, because he's eyeing him like Steve's desert.
"Hey, buddy, not now," Danny says, trying to project as much of a 'walk away from this while your limbs are still attached' vibe as he can fit in. Steve just stares, bemused.
The guy, who is incidentally wearing the worst example of a shirt Danny has ever seen (shiny purple snakeskin, really?), barely looks at Danny before dismissing him.
"Never mind; you must model for me, I will not take 'no' for an answer," the guy declares. His loud voice is definitely attracting an audience, Danny notices when he flicks his eyes to the side.
"Sorry, man, I'm not a model," Steve tries to wave him off, but the guy looks determined. He grabs Steve's arm.
Danny, watching Steve as much as the strange guy with the bizarre moustache for any signs of impending doom, freezes. He knows that look, knows that Steve can break both of the silly man's arms before Danny can even move. He sees the way Steve's eyes flash 'Danger, Will Robinson', the way his jaw clenches as he obviously lectures himself not to kill the guy.
Meanwhile, the svelte man is oblivious to the danger he's putting himself into. "JoAnne, the three-piece charcoal single-breasted pinstripe, if you please. Outfit this gorgeous specimen and put him out there."
JoAnne, a sleek, sophisticated-looking woman even in her horn-rimmed glasses and the measuring tape over her neck, takes Steve's arm gently and tows him away, not so gently. Steve looks blindsided, hazel eyes huge and befuddled when he turns around to glare at Danny.
"Help me," he mouths, but Danny shrugs helplessly. If they make a scene, the perp will definitely know he's been tailed and skip on them. In a way, this is actually good; they'll look even more inconspicuous, because Steve in his cargoes and shirt sticks out like a sore thumb in between all the carefully chosen ensembles.
Danny loiters a little, checking out the models and keeping his eyes peeled for Rogers while he's waiting for Steve to come back. Ten-odd minutes later, there's a soft tap on his shoulder. His senses are undisturbed, so he knows there's no danger around him. He turns, expecting to see Steve standing behind him. And he is.
Danny stares. He stares some more. He is dimly aware that his mouth is maybe hanging open, but it's taking a back seat to the sight before his eyes -- of Steve, in something that shimmers and hugs his body like a glove (a very fine, loving glove). The suit's jacket drapes over those broad shoulders beautifully, and tapers down to Steve's trim waist like it was made for him.
Danny's eyes, running down over every inch of Steve's body he can see, fastens on what's underneath the jacket.
"That's a waistcoat. You're wearing a waistcoat. I didn't even think you knew what a waistcoat was."
"I don't, really, but this is kind of comfortable," Steve says, pushing away the jacket's flaps and running his hands over it. Danny watches them like they're diffusing a bomb.
The waistcoat looks sinful, and there's the slightest gap between the tails and the belt of Steve's pants, which look like they're painted onto his hips. For the first time in a very long time, Danny can't think of a single thing to say that isn't, "fuck Rodgers; you, turn around and get in the damn car before I snap and throw months of self-control out of the window, bodycheck you into that wall over there and kiss you until you can't breathe". His pants are getting uncomfortably tight the longer he watches Steve, who is looking at Danny in bemusement.
"You okay, Danno? You've gone kind of red."
Danny wants to strangle him. Surely, surely he can't be that obtuse, seriously.
He isn't. The look in Steve's eyes shifts until it turns considering and far too thoughtful for Danny's liking. Steve starts towards him, long, prowling steps that make Danny's blood boil in his veins with the need to put his hands on him, and it's an effort to hold his place.
"I think you like my suit," Steve muses, but really, he's looking nothing as uncertain as his words suggest.
There's a flash over Danny's shoulder that startles them both.
"Gorgeous," the little man squeaks, clapping his hands. One more, Jose," he tells the photographer, who obediently lifts a long lens to Steve's face. "Can you look like that again, darling? Like you want to devour us?"
Steve looks startled before his brows lock and he glowers. It's a look that sends the more sensible perps running away in a hurry, but the fashionista guy just looks like he's going to pass out from excitement. Danny really doesn't like the way he keeps eyehumping Danny's partner.
In a display of both the worst and the best timing ever, Rodgers chooses this exact moment to grab the irritating man around the neck and brandish a knife inexpertly. The guy's eyes look like they're going to pop out of his head, and his lower lip trembles a little.
"Back off or I'll cut him," Rodgers threatens. His voice shakes a bit.
Rodgers really isn't the kind of perp Five-0 normally handles, but they're trying to play nice with the new Governor, and he is a big fan of the annual Honolulu fashion show, so they'd taken the case as a favour. Rodgers really isn't worth their time, as Steve proves when he disarms the man with no more than a flick of his wrist and a twist that brings Rodgers to his knees, crying out pathetically.
The only upshot of the fiasco, which involves snivelling designers and adoring models and one very grateful PA, is that Steve is given The Suit as a thank-you present for saving the day. When they get told this, Danny barely dares look at Steve for fear of what his face might betray, but the smug look Steve sports throughout the rest of the day bides well for the coming evening. And, well -- Danny's tired fighting this all the time, telling himself he can't have it when it's obvious what's on offer, if he goes by the looks Steve keeps giving him throughout the day, still in that damned suit, Jesus Christ, why is this Danny's life.
His concentration is pretty much shot through the afternoon, which is why when Steve gets the drop on him Danny doesn't have to fake looking surprised, even though he kind of really isn't.
"The way you keep looking at me," Steve growls against his lips when he corners Danny in the supply cupboard, hot breath teasing his lips. "Tell me you don't want this," he says, desperate for Danny not to.
"I can't," Danny says, fisting his hands in the hem of the suit's jacket, scrunched up at Steve's waist so Danny can slip a hand underneath. "I can't tell you that."
Steve lets out a desperate groan and swoops down, mashing his mouth into Danny's, licking it open so he can slip his tongue inside, rough, suggestive, divine. Danny's been starving for this, desperate for Steve's body over his. The fabric feels lovely in his hands, but it's nothing on Steve's skin when Danny tugs the shirt out of the tight pants and slips a hand underneath, searching, taking. Steve plasters his front to Danny's chest, and Danny is overwhelmed by sensation -- hard muscle, heat, the smell of soap and ocean and a hint of aftershave, the hard poke of something very interesting indeed in the crease of his hip. He can't get enough, can't seem to squirm closer no matter how hard he tries; it's frustrating as fuck, to hell with the suit, he just wants it off.
Someone clears their throat behind them, and they jump apart, whipping around to stare at the door. It's still closed, but there's obviously someone standing on the other side.
"If I was to ask where I can find either Commander McGarrett or Detective Williams, I'm not going to like the answer, am I?" the voice says, immediately recognisable as Miss Kalike, the Governor's assistant. "Some things can't be unseen," she adds with a touch of amusement.
"Uh," Danny says while Steve rolls his eyes and pushes the door open.
"Can we help you?" he asks with a touch of exasperation.
Miss Kalike runs an eye over Steve's rumpled form, his flushed face and mouth, and Danny behind him, not looking much different. "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow, gentlemen. Congratulations on a job well done" she says, a hint of warmth in her voice. She hesitates, eyes still on Steve. "Nice suit, Commander," she adds and walks away before either of them can react.
Steve smirks at the scowl on Danny's face. "Let's move this somewhere more private," he murmurs, and really, that's one suggestion Danny's happy to take.
The ties that bind
Steve/Danny
Hawaii Five-0
~780 words
Written for
tailoredshirt's Suit & Uniform Kink Meme.Steve pushes his way through the front door, weary to the bone. Having to bury one of their own is always tough, but this one had been even worse -- burying one of his own, someone Steve had served with, that had been on his team, whom Steve had known. It's the risk of the job, of course; all of them had known it when they signed up.
It hasn't made today any easier.
The house is quiet but alive around him -- there's only one person who can make it feel this way. Danny's here.
He slips his shoes off, takes the hat off and leaves it on the hall side table with a soft click of the unyielding edge connecting with the wood. Starts to unbutton his uniform jacket as he walks into the living room.
Danny's curled up on the sofa, dozing, still fully dressed even if his tie is half-undone and a couple buttons at his neck are open, too. He starts, even though Steve knows for damn sure he hasn't made even the smallest noise, turns his head so his eyes are locked with Steve's.
"Hey, babe," Danny says, a little sleep-rough. "You're back."
He shifts to sit upright, eyes soft where they rest on Steve's face, trailing down until they fix at his neck. Steve notices where he's staring and can't fight down the flush that rises over his cheeks.
"I'm sorry I didn't ask," he says when Danny stands and walks over to him, gentle fingers tugging at the tie still around Steve's neck -- Danny's tie, the one Steve had swiped from the stash Danny keeps in the drawer Steve had freed for him in the bedroom.
Danny says nothing, just keeps running his fingers over it, opening the shirt collar underneath and pulling it undone slowly, running the backs of his fingers over the skin he uncovers.
"It's just, it was nice, wearing it. It felt like you were there with me," Steve says, thrown by Danny's silence. Is he angry? Disappointed?
"You don't have to ask, ever," Danny murmurs after a moment, pressing a kiss to the hollow of Steve's throat now on show. "And I would have come with you, you know that."
"I know, Danny," Steve sighs. wishing he wasn't such a coward, that he could have asked Danny to go with him, be there to support him, and not try to go it alone. But it was hard enough already, and having Danny there would have completely blown his composure -- because Steve would have wanted to lean on Danny and let go, and he couldn't do that. It was too hard to put himself back together again, after.
Danny's still touching the tie, still stroking along it and brushing over the sensitive skin behind it.
"I like my tie on you," Danny confesses. "I'm glad I could help, even just a little."
Steve feels like the rigid fence that's been keeping him reigned in all day breaks, cracks right up in the face of those words. He reaches for Danny, folds his arms around him, buries his face in Danny's neck.
"You always help," he says roughly, almost smothered in Danny's skin. "And I like your tie on me, too. It's like I'm yours."
"You are mine," Danny growls into Steve's shoulder, and for the first time today Steve smiles and means it.
"Yes," he says, and his voice sounds better now, not so torn anymore. "But that way other people can see it, too, even if they don't know what they're looking at."
Danny stills under his arms, and for a second Steve thinks that's it, he's finally screwed this thing up, like he always knew he would in the end.
"There's another way for people to know you're mine," Danny says carefully, pulling back and running his hands down Steve's arms. It's not until he starts playing with the ring finger of Steve's left hand that Steve gets it, and the rush is unbelievable, like nothing he has ever known in his life.
"Will you?" Danny asks, cautiously, giving Steve the unquestioned option to refuse -- like Steve could ever want it, could even consider saying no.
"Yes," he breathes into Danny's mouth before he kisses him, and he'll never forget the feel of Danny's hand tightening on the tie, pulling him closer.
