Danny sits with Steve on the couch.
Catherine’s there; she has a spot nestled in to Steve’s left, her own platoon of empty beer bottles lined up like obedient soldiers in front of her on the coffee table. But she’s not sitting with Steve. Not the way Danny is.
Steve’s eyes are bright and his smile is loose and easy. He’s had a few too many. They’ve all had a few too many, really, but they’re all floating and happy and relaxed, too on top to worry about ever coming down.
Her body feels warm and her legs slow and heavy. She moves to stand and it takes her one extra moment – only one, but still one nonetheless – to properly find stability on her own two feet.
Steve reaches a hand out to steady her, broad palm cupping her hip and fingers fanned over the stitching of her back jeans pocket. Catherine closes her eyes a moment and sways into it, letting a wave of a long day’s exhaustion roll through her before she shakes it off and straightens up. She smiles and tosses a look back over her shoulder at the two men.
“Getting another beer. You two want anything?” She stretches, working a kink out of her back from sitting too long. Danny’s eyes trace up and down the arch of her spine, linger for a moment over Steve’s hand on her body, but then flick back toward the basketball game on TV. She doesn’t miss the twitch of Danny’s fingers against his own knee. It’s like he wants to take hold of something but can’t. She doesn’t think it’s her.
Steve’s other arm is slung over the back of the couch, mere inches away from curling around Danny’s shoulders. Despite the length and breadth of Steve’s couch, the two men are sharing space, Steve’s thigh nearly pressed against Danny’s. It’s funny how often they both touch one another yet always so briefly; a hand on the arm here, brush of fingers there. The rest of the time it’s like their bodies are two magnets being forcibly held apart by unseen hands. They’re practically straining to meet, every last positive and negative charge humming underneath their skin, and she doesn’t understand how they withstand the pressure.
It has to be crushing.
Steve looks up at her lazily, drawing his attention away from the game. He doesn’t even like basketball, but he’s wrapped up in it because Danny’s wrapped up in it. It’s cute.
But Steve’s always been cute, that’s not news.
What is news, at least worthy of a ticker-tape running steadily below the rest of her thoughts, is that they’re cute. The two of them. As a pair.
“Naw, we’re good.” Steve answers as Danny makes a small gesture that seems like an agreement and a thank you and a shush-I’m-watching-this all at once. His gaze doesn’t move from the TV this time.
Catherine takes one last look at them before winding her way down the hall toward Steve’s kitchen. His place doesn’t feel like home, but it feels familiar enough that being here makes her feel good. She likes that she knows where the spare towels are and which drawer has the silverware. She likes that she knows what his bedroom pillows smell like.
Danny may not know about the pillows, but he knows everything else.
He even has Steve’s security code, in case Steve ever decides to use his alarm. But Steve doesn’t lock his door and Danny…well, Danny doesn’t knock. He waltzes in unannounced, carrying six packs of beer and pizza and Steve just lets him. A token protest, delivered with a barely contained smile, and that’s the only ruckus he makes.
Danny also knows about the secret stash of candy Steve had stowed in the freezer. Even she didn’t know about that until she walked into the kitchen to find Danny tucking a peppermint patty into his mouth, wrapper crinkling guiltily in his hand. Danny simply smiled, chocolate between his teeth, and offered her one.
The culture of Cosmo and Sex and the City and every other girlie thing she’s ever found obnoxious tells her she should feel threatened, maybe jealous. Danny’s in her territory, as some would say, and he seems to be plotting the terrain much better than she ever did.
But Steve’s never really been hers and she’s never wanted to be anyone’s. They just kind of borrow each other from time to time and put each other back in the condition originally found. It works well, and she’s enjoyed the arrangement. Catherine likes his company, she likes his body, and she likes the way he kisses.
And now she finds that she likes the way he looks at Danny, and the way Danny looks back.
Danny’s not usually her type. He’s short, he’s loud, he talks way too much, and his tendency toward hyperbole and overdramatic exclamations doesn’t always amuse her as much as it clearly amuses Steve. And while she can objectively say Danny’s attractive – nice eyes, nice chest, superb ass – he’s not her kind of attractive; at least not in the same way she’s instinctively drawn toward Steve and his long lean muscles and surprisingly bright smile.
Danny…Danny would bring roses and open doors on a first date and probably not only remember Valentine’s Day, but want to celebrate it with overdone fanfare. He’s not like Steve, who made love to her standing up in a cramped storage closet on their first date and probably only knows Valentine’s Day is some day in February, if even that.
Seeing Danny through Steve’s eyes makes his loudness lovable, his predictability adorable, his short temper amusing. Hell, she even likes his dumb ties because she can tell Steve adores teasing Danny about them.
Physically, mentally, emotionally, Danny’s a compact little barrel of gun powder ready to explode the night sky into colorful fireworks with the simplest press of a button and Steve…Steve’s more like silver moonlight reflecting off calm, dark waters that belie a wicked undertow.
That’s the main difference, really. Danny demands so much but he’d never expect to get all he wants; Steve demands so little but everything about him makes denial impossible.
Maybe that’s why watching the two of them is so electric. She’s seen Steve want, but she’s never seen Steve want someone as much as he wants Danny.
When she and Steve fall into bed tonight, liquor on their tongues and laughter on their lips, she thinks she might be thinking of Steve with Danny, like this, more than this. She might want Steve to be thinking of it too. She might try to make Steve shout out Danny when he comes, make his body finally spark and ignite as this slow-burning fuse that’s been winding its way toward him for far too long finally hits the charge.
Catherine opens the fridge and sighs gratefully as the cold air hits her skin.
She’s wound up and if Steve or Danny made their way into the kitchen right now, the need aching within her might win out over clear thinking.
It’s not her own desire that has her trembling slightly as she abandons the beer and the fridge and instead pulls out the tequila and the shot glasses.
She’s not afraid of wanting them. Any way this could play out would be fine by her, even if she sets everything in motion and simply watches them collide.
But crashes can be messy and dangerous and she doesn’t want to hit and run. It’d be unfair to drive Steve headfirst into this thing with Danny and then leave him to deal with the damage. After all, he and Danny have to work together every day and she’s due back at the base first thing in the morning.
She’s the one who gets to leave if this all turns ugly.
Catherine takes a deep breath, shot glasses clinking in one hand and tequila chasing circles around the bottle in the other, and heads back to the living room.
The two of them are melted into the cushions of the couch and damn.
Just sitting there they’re beautiful. Steve in his worn jeans and bare feet, pale blue t-shirt riding up just enough that she can see the waistband of his boxer briefs like a tantalizing advertisement for what’s underneath. Danny had showed up already loose around the edges, the collar of his blue button-down undone, sleeves pushed up, his tie left in the car. His trousers are still pressed, his shoes are still patent leather, but at least his shirt has un-tucked itself from his waistline and become slightly rumpled over the course of the evening. His hair’s kind of a mess too.
She wants to push her fingers through it and see if it’s as soft as it looks.
“Danny, what kind of shampoo do you use?” The idle thought makes its way out of her mouth and they both finally notice she’s re-entered the room.
Steve arches an eyebrow at her and Danny looks vaguely surprised by the question, but he plays ball.
“Um, whatever’s on sale the week that I run out. Why ever do you ask, Catherine?”
“Think she likes your hair, Danno.” Steve comments and Catherine’s stomach flips as Steve actually reaches over and combs his fingers through it. The gesture’s finished before Danny bothers to react, batting Steve’s hand away.
“Seriously, McGarrett? This hair is sacred, do I mess with yours?” He asks, smoothing his hair down, pushing wayward strands back into place.
“It’s kind of impossible to mess up, Danny, but if you did I wouldn’t pout and preen like a freakin’ prima donna about it,” Steve teases. Catherine sets the bottle down on the table and reaches over, bending to twine her fingers in Steve’s short hair.
“Not impossible. You should see it when he first wakes up in the morning, the bed head is very sexy.”
Steve shoots her a quizzical look that’s neatly mirrored by Danny’s. If she weren’t so damned turned on, the twinned befuddlement would be amusing.
“Okay, well, thanks for the visual,” Danny states like he’s actually bewildered, even though Catherine is sure he’s filing that image away for future use when he finds himself alone. He then makes a drinky-drinking gesture, tipping his head back. “Were you perhaps sampling some of that tequila on your way back here, Miss Rollins?”
Catherine abandons Steve’s hair, hand trailing down the sharp line of his cheek. His stubble bristles under her fingertips. She brushes a thumb over his delectable bottom lip, her eyes trained on his. She knows Danny’s watching.
Steve opens his mouth slightly like he’s going to speak, maybe ask her what she’s up to – because Steve knows her well enough to see she’s up to something – so she backs away. She lowers herself to the ground, taking a seat on the opposite side of the coffee table, not blocking the television but putting herself carefully in their line of vision.
She doesn’t wait for an answer, just pours three and hands them theirs.
“Bottoms up, boys.”
They both have to move, lean forward, in order to reach what she’s offering. Steve pushes himself up with the aid of his hand on Danny’s inner thigh for leverage. Danny’s grabs Steve’s knee and pulls to propel himself forward.
“I’ll regret this tomorrow,” Danny mumbles, rubbing his temple before begrudgingly accepting what Catherine’s offering. “Are we drinking to something? What are we drinking to?”
“Same thing we’ve been drinking to all night,” Catherine reminds him.
“Which is?” Danny asks.
“We’ve been drinking to something?” Steve talks over him.
“I thought we were drinking to you guys closing the case.”
“Oh, I think we drank all that needed to be drunk for that way before Chin and Kono left like two hours ago.” Danny retorts, glancing at his watch. “We’re in call-Danny-a-cab territory now, we need a new reason. A better reason, a tequila shots reason.”
“Okay…” Catherine ponders. “Let’s just drink to us.”
“The three of us, right here. Good a reason as any.”
“I can get behind that.” Steve lifts his glass and Danny shrugs like he’s not impressed.
“We’re not worth the good tequila, Williams?” Catherine says sharply, though her smile undermines her stern tone.
“Well when you put it like that,” Danny gamely capitulates, nodding once. “To us then.”
“To us.” Catherine clinks her glass to theirs and sends the liquid stinging down her throat. It’s high quality so it doesn’t burn that much, but tequila’s tequila no matter what anyone says.
She pours another out for each of them.
“Are you one of those women who weighs like a pound yet can still drink any man under the table?” Danny narrows his eyes at her suspiciously as he gingerly holds the shot glass in his hand. “Because I’m beginning to feel like I’m being duped here, that I’m going to be hugging the toilet and you’ll be standing over me laughing. Evilly laughing.”
“I wasn’t aware this was a competition,” Catherine replies, locking eyes with him over the rim of her glass before she tosses her shot back. She licks her lips before speaking again. “Though you are Steve’s partner, so I suppose I should have figured you were keeping score.”
“No one’s keeping score, I’m just a guy who likes to know what I’m getting into,” Danny holds up his hands in mock surrender.
Danny’s still holding his untouched shot as Catherine rises on her knees and half-shuffles half-crawls to close the distance between herself and the couch. The coffee table doesn’t give her much space, but there’s enough to fit her body between the open vee of Danny’s knees.
He tenses as she sets her hands firmly on his thighs and his eyebrows shoot upwards.
“Well. Detective Williams, I am nothing if not upfront. If you’d like to know what you’re getting into…” Catherine knows if she gives him even a second more, the window of opportunity will be slammed shut, probably right on her fingers. So she stops thinking, stops doubting, and leans forward and kisses him.
She breathes in his surprised gasp like oxygen, a beautiful need inhaled deep into her lungs and sending blood racing refreshed through her veins. She kisses him long enough to mean it but short enough that she can pull back voluntarily before he becomes the one to shove her away.
Danny’s blue eyes are wide and his cheeks are flushed pink when she opens her eyes and looks at what she’s done. She quite likes the expression on his face; it’s been a long time since she’s witnessed actual astonishment.
“Cath…” Danny starts, then stops. He bites his bottom lip and ponders the right words. He moves his hands as if he’s going to try to move her but thinks better of touching her. “Okay, Catherine. Do you think, perhaps, maybe you’ve had a bit too much to drink? Because Steve’s over there…that’s Steve. Right next to me here. I think that, what you just did there with the kissing and the, uh, tongue in my mouth and everything, I think that was meant for him.”
He finally grabs her hips then and tries to shift her, like he’s going to pick her up and deposit her in Steve’s lap instead.
“Naw, that was meant for you, Danno,” Steve murmurs, voice low but assured. Catherine turns to see how he’s reacting and he’s sprawled languidly beside Danny, relaxed and eyeing them both with a laconic smirk on his face. She can’t really tell if he’s bothered, or amused by or interested in this turn of events. He’s kind of hard to read.
The one thing she does know for certain is that Steve has no idea this is about him and Danny. Not yet. He’s thinking this is something she wants for her, like that time in Greece. If he’s worried about the featured player in this scenario being his partner, he’s not showing it right now.
Catherine puts her arms loosely over Danny’s shoulders and, gracefully rising from the floor, situates herself on his lap. He still is holding his arms back in a ‘hands off’ motion and he keeps looking at Steve, concerned.
“McGarrett, this is not…I want it on the record I am not putting the moves on your woman.”
“I’m not his woman,” Catherine says and Steve shrugs good-naturedly.
“Not my woman, Danny,” Steve echoes. “Though I have to admit I’m a bit confused by what exactly it is you’re doing here, Cat.” He makes a vague circle gesture around her and Danny.
“Well, I was going to wait and give this some time, maybe a few more rounds and another hour, but Danny very clearly said that he wanted to know what he was getting into here. So in the interest of everyone involved, I figured I’d cut to the chase and let him know.”
“Um, clarification, please? In this ‘everyone involved,’ who exactly is ‘everyone’ and what are we all involved in?” Danny’s voice is strained and she can feel him tensing up further underneath her.
“Us, and this,” Catherine says and dips her head, captures his mouth with hers. Danny doesn’t kiss her back – he’s too worried, she knows that – but his shock leaves his lips pliant and ready. And she can feel him growing hard against her, the beginnings of an erection pressing intimately between her legs as she’s straddled over him. His palms find her hips for a brief, fleeting instant and then he rears back, breathing hard.
“This is weird. We were watching basketball.” He states, gesturing past her to the television and looking helpless. “Steve. No offense – no offense Catherine – but Lieutenant Rollins may be having a psychotic break. We can not do this, whatever this is.”
“We can, if you want to.” Steve replies and Catherine actually feels Danny jolt underneath her. Steve doesn’t move a muscle. He levels his gaze at Danny and doesn’t waver.
“McGarrett, this…This is insane.” Danny’s not leaving though. If he were going to leave, and he easily could have, he would have dumped her off his lap and run for the door as fast as his legs could take him. That’s why Steve is sitting there, looking as if he could just as easily fall asleep as make a move. He knows Danny’s not going anywhere.
“Cath?” Steve doesn’t take his eyes off of Danny.
“Kiss him again.”
Catherine smiles and obliges Steve’s request. This time, it’s different. Danny tries to resist, fingers clutching at her waist and pushing away. It’s enough that she’s about to stop and let this whole thing go immediately. But then suddenly the pushing turns to pulling and Danny’s responding fervently, eagerly.
“Fuck,” he groans against her lips and angles his head to deepen their kiss. His right hand leaves her body and starts fumbling for something. It’s not until she opens her eyes again that she realizes that Danny’s reached out and is gripping Steve’s arm, like he needs to be grounded by the feeling of Steve’s presence. He breaks with her for a moment, drawing in air like he’d forgotten how to breathe and just remembered he needed to. “Fuck. This is crazy. I have to be god damn crazy.”
His mouth still finds hers again. There’s a desperation lingering on his lips, clinging to her like he’s kissing her because it’s safer than what he really wants to do. His hands, always moving too fast, race ahead of his mind, tugging at Steve’s shirt to pull him closer.
“Crazy’s not so bad,” Steve comments a bit breathlessly. His hand runs along the side of Danny’s face.
“Hmm-hmm,” Catherine agrees and lets Danny go, lets him turn his head, and Steve’s right there.
Their first kiss isn’t tentative, isn’t timid; it’s the kind of kiss that suddenly sets the world at a Dutch angle. The two of them are so gorgeous together that a shiver shudders down her spine and heat floods her body like water through the broken hull of a ship, rushing in and subsuming everything. It is a little bit like drowning; but instead of gasping for air, she’s gasping for them.
She gets to be a part of this. She gets to be the reason this finally happens.
There are worse things.
Maybe she is mad, a little bit insane. Because even if it goes right, even if it goes wrong, everything she ever had with Steve changed the second his mouth hit Danny’s. There’s no going back from a revelation. The truth can’t be unseen.
All these years of knowing each other, and she’s finally seeing Steve fall in love. Because that’s what he is: in love. She’s sure of it the way she’s sure of gravity and the speed of light, or the way other people are sure of God.
Steve’s never been more gorgeous than he is right now.
She feels beautiful too. She feels like she’s coming out of her skin, transforming into something different and strange and new. Arousal hums through her like power through a transformer. She has to do something to let this energy out before she overloads and throws sparks.
Catherine starts unbuttoning Danny’s shirt, fingers fast and sure. Her mouth follows, discovering each inch of skin as it’s uncovered. His chest is hot and firm and his hair is more a soft fuzz, not coarse curls like Steve’s. She follows the trail downward to his belt buckle.
“God, Catherine,” Steve whispers and she glances up. Danny’s watching her, eyes blown wide and dark, and Steve has his forehead pressed against Danny’s temple and his hand on Danny’s collarbone. He’s just breathing, like that’s all he can manage.
She keeps her eyes trained on them as she undoes Danny’s belt, unzips his fly. Danny’s breath stutters, stomach tensing and whole body pulling tight as he lifts his hips slightly. She hooks her fingers over the waistband of his pants and his boxers then tugs down slowly. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat as his hard cock is freed, a whimper that sounds half-afraid and half-needy.
Steve echoes him, sharp breath panting against Danny’s cheek and neck. His fingers flex against Danny’s skin, wanting to touch more but denying himself the privilege.
“Are we really doing this?” She can’t tell if Danny’s asking her or Steve or himself.
Steve answers with a hurried nod and leans in to kiss Danny again.
This is by far the stupidest thing he’s ever done.
No, he takes that back. Technically he’s not really doing much of anything. Steve is kissing him and Catherine is sucking on his cock and he’s just…sitting there like a dumbfounded fool.
So it’s really the stupidest thing he’s ever let happen.
Even the rational part of his brain isn’t entirely against this though, which surprises him. Even the rational part of his brain is mentally shrugging, going, Hey, calm down, this isn’t so bad.
He should be freaking out. He should be. He could blame the alcohol, but he knows that’s not it. Maybe the buzz he has going allowed this whole situation to sneak up on him and catch him sideways like it did, but he’s not so drunk that he can’t think through an important decision.
An important decision like, say, messing around with your partner and his girlfriend.
Catherine is doing this fucking amazing thing with her tongue and he wonders if she’s done this to Steve and what that looked like. He has the visual now, Catherine’s lush lips wrapped around his length and her long dark hair brushing against his thighs, tickling his skin. He can picture what she’d look like between Steve’s legs, the two of them together the best porn imaginable. The thought only makes his dick swell and his hips twitch upward.
He lets out a mixed groan of frustration and desperation. He clenches his fingers into fists at his sides to fight that wave of intense sensation back.
“Sorry,” Danny mumbles an apology for the involuntary thrust but Catherine doesn’t seem to be troubled by it. She pulls off for a brief moment, tongue flicking out over his head before she flashes him a small smile.
“So not a problem,” she responds and takes him back into her mouth, swallowing him down easily. Danny grunts and throws his head back against the pillows of the couch. He stares at the ceiling of Steve’s living room and tries to understand how he’s even here in this position. It’s unreal. Steve’s lips are hot against his neck and Steve’s body pressed close against his side and it actually physically pains him, how much more of this he wants.
Steve’s hand is stroking his chest, fingers running through the fine hair and palm pressing against his skin. It’s comforting and arousing at the same time, like Steve is the only thing anchoring him to reality. Because this could easily be a dream.
He’s had this dream.
He opens readily when Steve tilts his head and returns to his lips. His tongue delves deep into Steve’s mouth. Steve tastes like tequila.
“Shouldn’t be this easy,” Danny wonders in between kisses. His eyes have drifted closed and when he feels Steve’s face lift in a smile, he forces his lids back open, needing to see. Steve’s flushed and stunning and perfect and Danny could come just looking at him.
“’Cept it is.” Steve counters and swallows Danny’s loud gasp as Catherine starts running her tongue up and down the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock. “It is this easy.”
Danny tries to respond but his mouth just forms useless, broken shards of words against Steve’s lips, unable to even muster up the competency to kiss him properly. Steve’s hand is splayed flat over his lower abdomen now and Danny knows Steve must feel his muscles tense and trembling underneath the flat of his palm. He’d be embarrassed over actually quivering with excitement if he weren’t so damn busy being turned on.
Steve’s fingertips brush through the thatch of coarse light curls between his thighs and just barely touch the base of his cock. The tease is the destruction of every last ounce of denial in his bones.
What Steve is promising is so close and Danny needs it, wants that hand so much, so badly. He wants Steve to jack him hard and rough, to demand more from him than he has any right to just the way he always does.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck…” His balls are drawing up tight and his whole body is going to snap. It’s too much too fast. He grits his teeth and tries to hang on.
Catherine pulls off of him and the air slaps cold against his damp skin. The loss of the wet heat of her mouth is a bit startling and keeps him from losing control long enough for Catherine to grab Steve’s hand and wrap it around his cock.
Steve barely misses a beat. The moan that Danny lets out shudders up from the tips of his curling toes all the way through his body before wrenching out of his throat. Steve’s touch is some kind of unbelievable perfection.
It only takes one, two, three strokes and Danny loses it spectacularly. He doesn’t even know and can’t be held responsible for the undignified stream of noises that he makes. Steve milks his orgasm out of him, pumping streaks of come over his own chest and stomach in a messy splatter.
The pleasure is extreme; it’s overwhelming. Every nerve is on the verge of shorting out. He struggles to stay in the moment; his body is trying to force his mind out of it and transform into a state of pure unchecked sensation. But he doesn’t want to lose a second of this; he needs every last moment because who the hell knows what this is and if it will ever happen again.
“Danny…” Steve’s voice is wrecked. The sound of it makes his cock empty a last short, weak spurt over Steve’s fingers and he groans at the unadulterated shock of pure pleasure. “Danny…” Steve’s hand is still moving, lighter and slower but not about to let go. His body is pressed up to Danny’s side and his heat, amongst other things, has a fine sweat breaking over every inch of Danny’s skin. He wishes he were naked, not sitting on this couch with his pants around his ankles and his shirt pushed open.
“Jesus Christ.” Danny is shaking visibly like a chill has set in and he can’t seem to stop it. He hasn’t come that hard since…he doesn’t even know when. “That was…”
“Fucking amazing,” Catherine supplies and before Danny can agree or disagree, Steve is running a hand through the sticky gobs of come on his chest. He trails his long, graceful fingers through it like he plans to massage the cooling liquid right into Danny’s flesh, spreading it out and making the mess worse.
Steve’s tongue in his mouth blocks any words of protest or encouragement from making their way from his throat.
He’s in so much trouble. So much trouble. He’s seen this happen to junkies – one hit and there’s no going back. He’s already craving another and he hasn’t even fully come down from his first. He’s never bottomed before but if Steve wanted to, he could fuck him senseless right now and Danny would only spread his legs wider and beg for it harder, faster. He just doesn’t want this to end.
Steve grunts, his touch abruptly missing from Danny’s chest, followed shortly by his kiss tearing away. He turns his head to look down the length of Danny’s body.
Cath has his hand pulled to her lips, her tongue licking his fingers clean as she sucks each one carefully into her mouth.
“You two are ridiculous,” Danny whines, broadsided all over again by shock of it all. Steve and Catherine, Jesus. What is he thinking, what are they thinking?
He sits there, useless and stupefied, as Catherine lets Steve’s hand go. She stands, shimmying out of her jeans and panties with the graceful ease of water gliding over skin. The fabric practically slides right off of her.
Steve leans back against the couch and lets his hands find her hips as she climbs onto his lap. They smooth up her back and lift her shirt, gently pulling it over her head and tossing it aside to leave her only in her black satin bra and nothing more.
Catherine’s body is smooth and firm and curvaceous in the right places, tight and taut and perfect. Steve’s hands look even better traveling over her skin.
She cups Steve’s face and leans down, kissing him. Danny wonders if Steve can taste him on Catherine’s tongue.
He’s not involved in this exchange at all and maybe his part in this whole thing is over. But he can’t tear his gaze away, and he’s too sex-stupid and lethargic to even get his muscles to move, much less actually get up and leave.
Besides, the sight of a mostly naked Catherine rocking on a fully clothed Steve’s lap is not something he can look away from. Especially when her hands go to Steve’s fly, unzipping it and tugging fabric aside and pulling his cock out with the bare minimum of fuss and rearrangement.
It’s like they’re moving at two-times speed and he’s watching in slow-motion, because there’s a condom from somewhere and Steve’s sheathed and inside Catherine before Danny even has time to appreciate the sight of Steve’s impressive erection. Instead he watches each inch of it disappear into Catherine’s body, slick and hot and easy.
Her fingers are clutched tightly in the bunched fabric of his t-shirt as she angles slightly forward, using Steve’s broad chest for leverage as she rides him. The pace is fast and urgent but inexplicably graceful; when two people know how to use their bodies as well as Steve and Catherine do, it shouldn’t be a surprise how effortless they make it seem.
Danny stares. He’s unable to do anything else. His mind got as far as processing the fact that Steve and Catherine are now having sex in front of him and then it froze. So now all he can do is watch. His gaze finds Steve and doesn’t leave him.
Steve moves his hips up and down in time with Catherine’s, his grey eyes trained on her flushed face as he gauges her reaction to each thrust. Danny recognizes its similarity to the intense concentration Steve displays when on the job, on a mission. Yet it’s totally different because the intensity behind it isn’t borne from cold determination, but heated desire. Instead of tunnel vision where Steve is clearly thinking of nothing but catching the bad guy, not even thinking of himself, now he has a complete focus on Catherine and making sure every miniscule movement is bringing her pleasure.
Which he seems to be doing quite well, if the exquisite noises coming from Catherine’s mouth are any sign.
Danny shifts closer and reaches out. Steve’s t-shirt has ridden up enough to expose the sharp cut of his hips, the defined lines of his lower abs. He places his hand on Steve’s stomach and feels the muscles play and shift beneath his palm. He’s lost count of the number of times he and Steve have been in close quarters, on the brink of something dangerous and adrenaline running high, grips of their guns sweaty and their pulses racing. He’s had Steve panting and crazy and intense, so close, so often, it seems strange that he’s never reached out and really, really touched. Felt that heartbeat racing, that incessant throb of energy and determination coursing through every inch of Steve’s hard, wired body.
There’s such a charge built up in Steve that it frankly stuns Danny that touching him is so simple. It’s almost like there should have been an electric shock when the pads of his fingers came in contact with Steve’s hot skin; some current should have been exchanged.
“Your mouth, Danny, your mouth,” Steve whispers, taking one of his own hands from Catherine’s hip and covering Danny’s with it. He slides Danny’s palm down to where his body meets Catherine’s. Danny wants to stop there, wrap his grip around the base of Steve’s cock – god, he’s touching Steve’s cock – but Steve has other ideas.
He presses Danny’s fingers between Catherine’s legs and she lets out a groan, shuddering on top of Steve and swearing under her breath as they both rub her clit. Steve nods, like she’s said something he agrees with.
“Need your mouth, Danny, please.”
Hearing Steve beg does something to him, something he can’t even put into words. It just goes to this primal part of his brain that suddenly screams sex, now and Danny’s ready to give Steve whatever he wants.
He leans over and does exactly what Steve asked. He’s never been down on a woman when someone else is already inside her, and it’s a good kind of strange to feel Steve’s dick pushing in and out, brushing against his tongue with every pass. Both of their hands are in his hair, gently tugging and roping through it, urging him on. He closes his eyes and lets the sound and smell and feel of them fucking reverberate through him.
It’s enough that he starts to get hard again, his refraction time better than it’s been in years. Maybe his body knows that this is a limited time opportunity and he has to make the most of it right the hell now. Or maybe that it’s that is all so freaking hot and new and exciting – that could very well be it too.
Catherine is breathless and whispering both of their names in a steady stream, the pattern of “Steve…Danny…” repeating in time with the movement of their bodies. She tenses and twitches a second before her hand tightens painfully in his hair, her orgasm seeming to hit her like a freight train. She’s loud, and verbal. Rachel always sounded like heaven sighed as she came; Catherine sounds like hell would be jealous of all the fun she’s having.
Danny waits to feel Steve coming, tries to listen for any noises he might make, but Steve’s apparently a stubborn bastard in this regard as well. When Catherine pulls off of him, standing on shaking legs for a minute before sinking to her knees, Steve’s still hard. She pulls off the condom, tosses it aside carelessly, and then finally finishes the job of pulling off his pants and underwear.
“Shirt,” Catherine says, and Danny figures out too late that that meant he was supposed to get Steve’s tee off. He was too distracted by the sight of Steve’s cock, thick and long and dark and a kind of perfect Danny never fully realized he wanted. Sure, he’d thought of this in the abstract before, but now that it’s reality it’s pure insanity how much he wants to wrap his mouth around it and suck Steve down.
Steve takes care of his shirt himself by the time Danny gets with the program and moves to get naked. He strips off his own clothes with the unthinking enthusiasm he hasn’t felt since his first time back in high school, when his nerves made him decidedly un-suave and overeager.
“All yours, Danny,” Catherine murmurs, tugging on Steve’s legs until he’s lower on the couch, knees spread and his ass at an angle such that Danny could thrust into him right now if he knelt between Steve’s thighs. Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his cock impatiently leaking pre-come the longer it goes ignored.
Catherine smiles, arching an eyebrow at Danny in a silent challenge, asking, Now that you have him, what are you gonna do with him?
Danny has some ideas.
Steve never figured Catherine would be the death of him. She’s been so helpful throughout their entire friendship, always coming through and aiding him in saving the day; he’d never figured her for a sneak attack like this.
Death by sexual over-stimulation is not the way he ever planned to go.
Steve tries to calm down and regain a sense of control but it’s kind of impossible when he’s spread out naked on his own couch and Danny – Danny Williams, Danno, his Danny – is going to fuck him. Or he hopes Danny is going to fuck him, because if he doesn’t Steve’s going to have to take desperate action and finish this thing off himself.
His head is swimming – too much alcohol, not enough sleep, too much this – and it’s taking everything he’s got not to come.
This is not at all what he imagined when this night began. Maybe the thought has crossed his mind before – Danny, Danny, Danny – stomping its feet through his consciousness the way all Danny-related things do, but he’d learned to tune it out, turn it down. If there’s one thing he’s exceedingly good at, it’s shoving unwanted emotions aside.
Or so he thought. It all must have been bleeding through around the edges or else he wouldn’t be here now, Catherine offering him up to Danny like it’d been her plan all along, while he’s totally and completely ready for Danny get the fuck inside him now.
But Danny’s just standing there in front of him with this befuddled look on his face. If Danny freaks out now, Steve’s doesn’t know what he’ll do. He doesn’t know if he could handle it.
Because everything’s spilling out and frankly, he doesn’t want to be left holding his heart and his guts in his hands. There’s no coming back from that. That’s the end.
He and Danny could probably make it work for a week, tops, full of awkward tension and loaded silences, before Steve would have to make a break for it, try to get out from under it. There’s no way he could face Danny everyday if Danny decides this isn’t what he wants.
The thought terrifies him.
He stares his fear in the face and dares it to defeat him.
“Tell me you want this, Danny. Tell me right now.” Steve demands. His voice is ragged but he doesn’t care.
Danny’s Adam’s apple bobs are he swallows. He licks his lips but he doesn’t speak.
Why now, of all times, Danny chooses to shut up, is beyond him. He doesn’t want that silence to mean no. If it’s a no, if it’s a yes, he needs to hear it out loud.
He trails his own hand down between his legs, fingertips brushing over his balls and then lower, fingering his hole. Catherine shifts beside him like maybe she’s going to slide her hand along his, or maybe reach for Danny’s, but she doesn’t wind up doing either.
“I’ll be right back,” she says softly, getting up from the couch and walking away quietly.
Danny glances in her direction, a flash of panic in his eyes.
Steve figures that’s his answer right there, the closest to a verbal signal as he’s going to get in the current situation. He hates it and he feels like an idiot; he’s made a career out of making the right split second decisions in the heat of the moment, but this one was wrong, all wrong, so wrong.
He starts to get up. His shirt’s on the arm of the couch, pants are on the floor; if he can grab his stuff and get out to the lana’i, Danny can leave out the front and that will be that.
His fingers twitch in anticipation of the move to grab his shirt. He looks away from Danny, not planning to look back, and reaches out.
Danny catches his hand in his, twines their fingers together.
“Don’t you dare, McGarrett, don’t even.”
Steve sighs in frustration. He either can’t read Danny’s cues at all, or he’s misreading the entire situation all together.
“What the hell, Danny.”
“I want this.” Danny states strongly, then softens a little. “And I know you think you’re made of steel, but I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You’re not gonna-“
“I’m pretty sure Catherine disappeared to go get something.” He gestures in the direction she went and then back down to the floor in between them. “The second she’s back in this room, Steven, I’m getting inside you before I lose what precious little is left of my mind.”
Steve smiles; Danny shakes his head like an admonishment but a grin spreads across his face anyway.
“Cause this is insane, absolutely insane, you know that right?”
Steve uses their combined grip to leverage Danny back toward him, nearly pulling Danny down right on top of him. His erection rubs along Danny’s and their next kiss begins with a shared groan.
“You don’t really think it’s that crazy,” Steve comments, teeth tugging at Danny’s bottom lip for a moment before going in for another kiss. “Or you wouldn’t be doing it.”
“Or maybe he’s just learning to love crazy,” Catherine sits down on the couch beside them. She pulls one of Danny’s hands away from Steve’s body, but she doesn’t really get his attention until there’s a slippery squelch and cold liquid hits his palm. She smiles at him when he glances at her in surprise and holds his gaze as she twines her fingers with his, lube wet and slick between their hands. “It has a distinct appeal.”
Steve wants to say something but his words are lost as Danny pulls back to kneel on the floor between his legs. He reaches out and clutches the back cushion of the couch, muscles tensing as Cath guides two of Danny’s fingers into his body. He lets his eyes close and his neck arch back; Danny’s touching him and it feels like he’s been waiting for this forever, not just the short time since Catherine climbed into Danny’s lap and he realized they were doing this.
Catherine presses close against his side, her free hand running through his hair as she leans down to kiss his jaw line.
“That’s it, baby,” she whispers, lips brushing against his ear. “That’s it, what you want, didn’t even know you wanted it, did you….”
Her voice is urgent and hushed, hot liquid sex melting over him. Danny’s easing his fingers in and out, brushing over that spot that makes his toes curl and his dick twitch. Danny’s hand is unsteady and his breathing uneven, and Steve can’t tell if he’s nervous or scared or turned on. He forces his eyes open, needing to see Danny and know.
The look he finds on Danny’s face settles any doubts and fears that would’ve kept him from falling into this completely.
“Oh god, Danny…Danny, just do it. Danny, now.” Steve commands, begs, pleads, whatever, it doesn’t matter he just needs Danny inside him before he loses it. “God, now, please.”
It’s a testament to how desperate they both are for it that Danny doesn’t come back with a smart aleck answer or tease.
“Yeah, uh-huh, yeah,” he murmurs in quick agreement, nodding and then fumbling for the lube. Danny makes quick work of slicking himself up, tossing the tube aside carelessly and then re-taking position between Steve’s thighs. Steve spreads his legs wider in invitation and Danny presses his thick cock to Steve’s entrance, the flared head nudging against the tight ring of muscle but not moving past it.
“Want it, Danny, come on.” Steve urges him impatiently. Danny flicks a look at Catherine and Steve feels rather than sees her nod.
Then Danny sinks in. One smooth, forceful movement and Danny’s buried inside him, splitting him open, spreading him wide. It’s not like Greece – he’d done the fucking then – and it’s not like anything Catherine’s ever used on him on the nights she brought her toys. Danny is throbbing inside him, warm and real and so fucking good, this feeling of Danny’s balls against his ass and the smell of sex and sweat and Danny’s cologne mingling in his senses.
It’s too much and it’s not enough. It’s terrifying how much pleasure he’s feeling and how many emotions are pushing at the seams of their lockboxes, struggling to finally be let out. He’d explode into a million pieces if not for the steadying presence of Catherine by his side, murmuring reassurances into his ear like she knew all along this would be too much for him to handle on his own.
“Let him have you, Steve,” she says. Her hand no longer occupied with assisting Danny in working him open, she lets her touch drift over his balls, gently rubbing and rolling them in her palm. He leaks over his own belly and he wants to come, wants to come so desperately that it hurts. “Let it go.”
“Fuck, fuck,” Danny gasps, his thrusts getting harder, more erratic. Steve gives up on clinging to the couch and to Catherine and scrambles for Danny, needing to kiss him and touch him and fucking come with Danny on top of him and all over him and inside him. Their kiss is messy and uncoordinated and noisy, both of them moaning into each other’s mouths.
“Uggh!” Steve grunts sharply, tearing away from Danny’s lips and throwing his head back as his orgasm hits him full force. His whole body seizes and pulls sharp and tight around Danny. He can feel Danny shudder above him and then stutter to pump wildly deep inside of him.
They both still in the moment after, their bodies practically locked together. Slowly Danny begins to move again, rocking slightly as they roll through the aftershocks. His softening cock nudges the last vestiges of pleasure out of Steve before Danny finally slips free with a obscenely wet noise that should be disgusting but instead is mind-bogglingly hot, making him sigh with complete satisfaction.
“Uh…wow,” Danny mumbles as he pulls away, running a hand through his messy hair and trying to catch his breath, steady his nerves. He’s a perfect picture of someone thoroughly sexed up and sexed out, and Steve wonders what he looks like himself, freshly fucked as he is.
Danny rearranges himself against the cushions of the couch and he lets out a long, shaky breath. For a brief instant Steve worries that Danny’s going to bolt and without thinking twice he puts a hand on Danny’s leg, near panic with needing to touch him.
He opens his mouth to protest Danny leaving but then he feels Danny settle.
His own heartbeat finally starts to slow.
“This is fucking ridiculous, hope you both know that,” Danny murmurs, not one hint of anger in his voice.
Catherine lets out a short, light laugh, face buried in the crook of his neck. She kisses him once there, lips soft against his skin. Then she pulls back a little, still smiling. She’s gorgeous and Steve’s never felt so warmly toward any woman before. Never felt so grateful.
She meets his look with a raised eyebrow, questioning and expectant like she’s awaiting his verdict.
He smiles back at her.
“Yeah?” Catherine asks, running a hand down his cheek affectionately.
“Yeah.” Steve nods, lifting his head to kiss her. “Totally yeah.”
“Add it to the list, pal,” Catherine pats his chest as she pulls away, pushing back to sit up and look down at him. Danny, lying beside Steve on the couch, lolls his head back to look at her.
“What list?” He asks, in that drowsy-soft mumble tone that Steve has come to associate with all the things Danny cares about. It’s the sound of contentment and hearing it makes Steve warm in a different way, a way he hasn’t felt in years.
Steve rolls his own head sideways to look at Danny, taking the sight of him in. Danny’s sleepy and sated and still. Not freaking, not leaving. But steady. Happy.
He never wants Danny to be anywhere but where he is right now.
“The list of things Steve owes me for,” Catherine taps him on the chest with one finger as Danny turns onto his side, reaches over and puts a hand on his stomach.
“Give the lady anything she wants, Steven.” Danny states. “She’s much, much smarter than you.”
“Much smarter than both of us,” Steve corrects.
“Well, maybe if you put your heads together you can think of a way to thank me,” she replies and climbs up from the couch. Steve lets his eyes drift over the perfect lines of her body. “When you do, I’ll be upstairs.”
They both watch her go.
“You have…one hell of a woman there, Steve.”
There’s a honest appreciation there, and also a note of disappointment.
Steve turns to look at Danny, shaking his head. He meets Danny’s clear blue eyes, hoping that he gets it, that he understands everything that really just happened.
“Not my woman.”
Danny glances downward for a moment, hands fidgeting, but then he folds them together and laces them behind his head, elbows spread wide against the back of the couch. He affects a nonchalance that’s amusing in its transparency.
“That, uh, that mean you’re available, McGarrett?”
“Well that depends,” Steve smiles, not about to let Danny get away with it. “You asking?”
“Maybe.” Danny shrugs noncommittally.
“Well at this point it’s kind of like closing the doors after the horses are outta the barn, isn’t it?”
Steve has to laugh.
But he meets Danny halfway to their next kiss anyway.