They stopped at a copy shop with the Bellagio schematics on their way back to Rusty's hotel room. It could've waited until morning easily, but starting a job as huge and dangerous as robbing Terry Benedict wasn't a good time to change longstanding work habits. Habits with more than a touch of superstition after all these years. Business before pleasure, how they've always done it.
Danny liked his tattoo.
Rusty realized this sometime after their clothes hit the floor and Danny had him pinned on the king-size hotel bed. What he didn't realize was that his hands were shaking, and by then it was too late to hide because Danny'd already picked up his left hand. He shot Rusty a deadly knowing smile before he lowered his head and started working along every inch of tattooed skin. Licking and kissing, and then sucking when he reached the most sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist. Danny's other hand drifted down Rusty's stomach to his cock and stroked lazily. Once, twice, still mouthing at Rusty's wrist with excruciating thoroughness—
Rusty didn't know he was going to come until he was already in the middle of it. He shuddered hard, all over, fingers curling helplessly around Danny's biceps, pressing his face into the curve of Danny's neck as his hips jerked uncontrollably. Danny froze for about half a second before his hand found the rhythm again, and Rusty whimpered in the back of his throat as Danny worked him through the end.
The next thing he registered was Danny's low chuckle vibrating against his chest. "Hey." Amusement and a hint of smugness twining together in his voice. "Who just got paroled here? I'm supposed to be the hair-trigger one."
Rusty grinned sheepishly. He could feel the flush staining his cheeks, and he kept his face buried in the solid warmth of Danny's neck for a few seconds longer. "Sorry."
Danny chuckled again. His hand spider-crawled from Rusty's wrist up his shoulder to the back of his neck, stroking restlessly. "I'll let you make it up to me."