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My Body Is a Cage

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Danny tries not to resent the fact that he’s crashing on someone’s couch. He’s grateful to have a friend as considerate and generous as Steve, really, he is. But he’s a grown man, he should be able to live in an apartment he calls his own without fear of ghosts, mold, and other acts of god, such as they are.

He walks up the stairs, bare feet padding gently on the hardwood floor, and heads to Steve’s room to ask where he keeps the clean linen. When he steps through the doorway, he stops short at what he sees.

Steve’s back is a map of green and purple bruising, deep and mottled above Steve’s low slung sweat pants, and sharp, angled lines along his shoulders and ribs. Danny freezes, seconds racing by as he stares at Steve’s skin. “Holy shit!”

Steve spins fast, his eyes wide and his face white. “Danny! You ever hear of fucking knocking.”

Danny ignores the utter absurdity of that statement coming out of Steve’s mouth and asks, “When the hell did that happen?”

Steve’s breathing changes minutely and he holds a t-shirt close to his chest when he hisses, “None of your fucking business.”

“Excuse you; I think I have the right to know when my partner is grievously wounded!”

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes before quickly putting on his shirt. “Grievously wounded? Do you hear yourself? Danny, this is none of your business, it’s mine.”

Danny gives him a top to bottom sweep of the eyes, flapping a hand at him. “Yeah, and whoever put you through hell.”

Steve flinches. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Danno.”

“Don’t Danno me! I know what those bruises are.” There’s a throbbing under Danny’s skin, because there are better ways than these bruises. He clamps down on the desire to hold Steve so Steve can let go.

“No, you don’t,” Steve replies, brushing past him.

Danny catches Steve’s elbow and squeezes. “Don’t.” He steels his voice. “Don’t walk away from me.”

He sees Steve’s neck and ears burn in the dim lamp light; he can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or exhilaration. “Let go of me.”

Danny’s mouth dries. “Not until you show me the damage.”

The shakes intensify as Steve’s panic seems to shoot through him, like a jackrabbit ready to bolt. “There’s no fucking damage!”

Danny lets go and holds up his hands. Steve looks lost, the agony in his eyes makes Danny ache. The want to hold him and whisper nonsense in his ear intensifies. He hopes Steve doesn’t see his hands shake. “Okay, I’m sorry. But Steve, your back – “

“It’s none of your concern,” Steve snaps, glaring hot, the line bisecting his forehead cracking his face.

“Fuck that, Steve! You invited me over, knowing what you had on your back and it didn’t occur to you that I might happen to see? Are you serious?” Danny gets in Steve’s space; Steve stumbles back into the wall and Danny catches the wince that flits across his face. “Show me.”

Steve shakes his head; fear shuttering his eyes.

“Steve, I know what those bruises are.”

“No, I don’t think you do, Danny. You can’t -”

“I can’t? Can’t what?”

“I’m not letting you see what -" Steve’s abrupt stop comes with a shove, as he pushes past Danny and holds onto the windowsill, the muscles of his forearms taut and hard.

Danny watches him, catalogues the tense veins of Steve’s forearms, the tendons of his neck. He licks his lips before looking away and taking a breath through his nose. Danny leans against the curtains, crosses his arms over his chest, keeping a careful distance between the two of them. Danny glances at Steve, his face is thunderous. “I’m not judging you, Steven.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. “You called it damage.”

“You’ve been rendered black and blue. You’re hurt, babe.”

Steve snorts, twisting his mouth. “This isn’t hurt.”

Danny draws an audible breath and hisses through his teeth, “So showing me in order to soothe my delicate sensibilities shouldn’t be a problem.”

Steve grimaces, his face contorting. “You have nothing to gain from this, Danno.”

“You got something to lose?”

Steve’s face shutters and his swallow is loud, an honest-to-god gulp. “You have no idea.”

Danny wants to know what made him so afraid. “You usually trust my judgement, even if you ignore it.”

Steve lips quirk and he rubs the back of his neck, still blushing like a teenager. His gaze locks with Danny and he says, “I do trust you.”

“Then prove to me that those are love taps.”

Steve nods his head, the blush becoming a feverish heat that spreads over his neck again.

“Thank you.”

Steve straightens, takes off his shirt, and displays himself to Danny.

Danny sweeps his eyes over Steve’s broad shoulders, ribs, and lower back. The bruising is stark, harsher now that he gets a good look, but it’s healing and doesn’t look particularly deep across Steve’s shoulder blades, and the muscles are smooth.

When Steve remains still, making no move to take off his pants, Danny asks, “And the rest?”

He watches the muscles flex under Steve’s skin as he moves his arms and Danny sees Steve bring his hands to his face, clearly scrubbing over them.

Danny wants to stroke Steve’s back so badly, unsure whom that would comfort more. “Steve?”

Steve lets out a shuddering breath. “This isn’t easy.”

Danny raises his eyebrows and he wishes Steve could see the lines of surprise on his forehead. “I was under the impression that that’s the diametric opposite of this entire operation, McGarrett.”

Steve’s body coils like a spring for a moment before something seems to settle over him. He bends over the bed and pushes his pants down.

The hard flesh of his ass is a deep purple, black and blue, and a healing yellowish-green spread in equal measure from the small of Steve’s back all the way down to his thighs. Danny keeps his distance, bites his hand, forcing inside the words he wants to say at the sight.

It’s alluring, the pattern as magnificent as it is devastating, and his heart clenches at the pain he is witnessing. “Babe…”

Steve pulls up his pants faster than Danny can take a breath, straightening his back, the belligerence sluicing off him like dead skin in a bath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“For the love of god, it means what I said, an exclamation of concern,” Danny snaps.

Steve spins, stands over Danny and spits out, “Your concern sounds a lot like condescension, Danny.”

He’s red in the face, breathing hard and Danny enunciates clearly, “Get out of my fucking face.”

Steve’s nose flares. “This is my space.”

“And you invited me in.” Danny sees something flash in Steve’s eyes. He blushes furiously and Danny notices the outline of Steve’s erection tenting soft fabric as he backs away.

He swallows drily, scrubs at his face as he blows out an audible breath. When he looks up, Steve is sitting on the bed, his head in his hands. His back bowed and the heels of his hands dig into his eyes, the column of his throat and cheeks still look like they’re on fire.

“Look at me, Steven.”

Steve’s fingers dig into his scalp and Danny waits for a few beats until Steve lets his hands drop, dangling in the space between his legs as he raises his head.

He’s wrecked; eyelashes spiked and clumped together, eyes reflecting the yellow cast of the light, his lower lip trembling. That has to be the most devastating thing of all.

“Do you need a Tylenol?” Danny asks.

The ravages of his spirit mar Steve’s face as he looks at him, and he croaks, “No.”

Danny nods as he pulls the chair towards him and sits, leaning forward, mimicking Steve’s position. He catches Steve’s gaze and says, “I want you to tell me what happened.”

Steve shakes his head, agitated, and tense. “I don’t want to.”

Steve’s words are like a thousand paper cuts and Danny’s mouth is dry. “Who are you protecting, huh?”

Steve glares. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Danny.”

Danny snorts and shakes his head. “You’re something else, you know that? You’ll show me your bruises, but consider how they got there classified? That is ass backwards, I’ll have you know, because I can’t help you if – “

“I don’t want your fucking help,” Steve snaps.

Danny’s arms slashing the air. “You’re an asshole, Steve. You know that? You take these stupid risks without thought and without considering what it might do to others who care about you, who love you?” He slams his fist into his open palm. “That isn’t love!”

Steve’s eyes are glazed, shiny in the light as his body trembles, as though Danny’s shouts bounced off him. “It’s not about love.”

Danny crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, then you’re doing it wrong.”

Steve snorts. “Your romantic streak is too much, Danno. This isn’t about love, it’s about what I needed.”

Steve’s face turns ashen; he’s let something slip. There’s a sinking feeling in Danny’s stomach. “Steve…”

Steve looks down at his hands, arms shifting as they clasp together.

Danny licks his lips and scrubs his face, blowing out a long sigh. “This doesn’t have to be an impasse.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions, Danno.” Steve looks up, his face grim. “Inferring things and making grand declarations. You don’t know anything about why I chose to do this.”

“I know you, jackass.” Danny leans forward in the chair, bringing his face closer to Steve’s. He can almost feel his breath as it whispers over his face.

“You know me? Until a few minutes ago you didn’t even know this was a part of my life.”

Danny chuckles bitterly. “I don’t recall asking for minute details of your sex life, ever. But seeing as I came across evidence of a session gone too far –“

“- It didn’t go too far.” Steve’s nose flares. “I just wasn’t good enough this time.”

Danny blinks. “’This time’. You see someone regularly for this?”

Steve clears his throat. “Yeah, it used to be more often, but… we hadn’t seen each other for a while.”

Danny’s knuckles rub together as his clasped hands clench in their own grip. “You reconnected? For this?”

“No, it just seemed… it was an opportunity to…” Steve rubs his chin and mouth. “I’ve always gotten what I needed from him.”

Him. “Who is he?”

Steve brings his hands to the back of his neck, letting his head drop. “Joe. It’s Joe.”

Danny is relieved Steve is looking away, because he can feel the grimace stretch across his face. His stomach roils with the shock at hearing that name, disgust and disbelief churning inside. And Steve had said this happened more often, before.

“Joe?” He chokes on it, not used to the words being stuck.

Steve nods, his whole body shivering on the bed.

Danny take a few long breaths. The words still need to be forced out. “When… when did you and Joe meet for a session?”

Steve looks up.“Just before Halloween.”

That was over a week ago and Danny wants to kick himself for not noticing, for not seeing. He hates the superstitious bullshit that clouded his judgement even more.

“It’s not a big deal,” Steve remarks earnestly.

Danny’s eyebrows fly to his hairline and he shakes his head. “When did this whole thing start?”

“A long time ago,” Steve rasps. “It was… it made sense. I needed the release and he gave it to me.”

“How old were you?” Danny swallows the nausea.

Steve has a thoughtful look on his face, his forehead scrunching. “I was about 25.” He looks at Danny. “I’d just made Lieutenant.”

Danny swallows down the revulsion, tries to be neutral, and hopes he succeeds. “Tough love, huh?”

Steve blinks and rasps out, “Maybe, once.”

Danny looks to the ceiling; he’s never quite sure what he’ll find there, but the blood recedes from his head and he feels slightly calmer when he straightens. “Does it hurt you to sit down?”

Steve frowns, bemused. “Not so much.”

Danny nods and moves the chair, situating it parallel to the bed. He sits and crosses his legs, saying, “I want you to kneel in front of me.”

Steve balks. “What? Why?”

Danny knows this is a sink or swim moment. He steels his voice and states what he knows Steve needs to hear. “Because I said so.”

The flush Danny has seen on Steve’s neck and ears apparently goes all the way down to his nipples, where they’re peaking enticingly under Steve’s shirt. Danny’s mouth waters at the sight. He ignores the stirring in his groin, the heat that pools between his legs when Steve stands up and steps forward and settles smoothly on his knees. Scenarios and scenes suddenly invade Danny’s mind, of days and nights like this, of keeping Steve on his knees, by his feet, safe and sound. Steve’s pants stretch over his crotch, the bulge outlined almost perfectly.

Danny cocks his head when Steve puts his arms behind his back, annoyed at Steve’s assumption. “Don’t do that.”

Steve freezes, looks up at him and asks, “What do you mean, sir?”

Danny purses his lips, lets the ‘sir’ go for now, and clears his throat stiffly. “Don’t put your hands behind your back. Put them on your thighs.”

Steve blinks, then nods and splays his palms over his pants, wiping them over the fabric.

Danny feels choked, but he pushes it out. “Tell me why you’re nervous.”

Steve’s jaw tightens and the defiance radiates from him. “I’m not nervous.” He waits a beat. “Sir.”

Danny glares at him and hardens his voice. “I know when you’re lying, Steven.”

He notes how Steve’s eyes darken at the tone, the tips of his ears turn beet red and he sees Steve’s cock twitch under his pants. Danny can get lost in Steve’s physicality; the indecent proportion of his hands on his thighs, the way his ink emphasises the broad shoulders and the way they trim to his waist. He’s beautiful like this.

“Tell me how he gave you those bruises.” Danny looks into Steve’s eyes steadily.

Steve’s breath hitches with a gulp of air. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Do you think you’re the one who gets to decide what matters and what doesn’t, Steve?”

Steve looks into his eyes and replies softly, “No, sir.”

Danny wants hug him so badly, even though it would be exactly the wrong thing to do at this point. “What happened in the scene?”

Steve’s fingers dig into his thighs, the material bunching up. “He flogged me, and then he used a paddle.”

Danny isn’t dumb, knows that isn’t all that went down. The physical evidence and Steve’s entire demeanor clue him in to the fact that the session didn’t go as planned. “What else?”

Danny braces himself as Steve visibly shudders. “There was a cane, too, sir.”

Danny’s hand clamps on the arm of the chair and he swears he can feel it crack under his skin as he reins in his rage. A cane that went over Steve’s back as well as his ass, if Danny guessed the pattern correctly. “Why did he do this?”

Steve is looking at a point over Danny’s shoulder, the skin of his face too slack for Danny’s liking. “Because I asked him to, sir.”

Danny didn’t expect any other answer, but to hear it uttered, it’s a punch to the gut. “Why did you want him to do it?”

Steve bows his head, his fingers once again digging into his legs and bruising the skin under the cloth. “I needed it,” he whispers, voice clogged.

Danny licks his lips and takes the opportunity to scrub at his face. The temptation to claw his eyes out is stronger than he suspected, but he schools his features and crosses his arms over his shirt. “You needed it. What was it that you needed, exactly?”

Steve’s skin is ablaze from the tips of his ears all the way down to his waist, he shifts slightly and his dick moves with him, swaying as it hardens. “I needed the discipline, sir.”

Danny’s voice sounds far away when he asks, “Did you enjoy it?”

Sweat beads at Steve’s temples and over his upper lip. He licks his lips. “I came if that’s what you’re asking, sir.”

Danny frowns at Steve’s uncertainty. “It isn’t. I’ll rephrase. Did it feel good? Was it… pleasurable for you?”

Steve shakes a bit, his eyebrows scrunched up, a baffled expression on his face. “What?”

Danny shakes his head. “What do you mean ‘what’?”

Steve shifts his eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Danny grits his teeth. “What are you sorry for?”

Steve’s expression is not dissimilar to that of a puppy waiting to get its faced smashed into a carpet full of piss. “Sir, I’m sorry, I fucked up, sir.”

Danny clenches his fists, the skin over his knuckles tight and the undertow of violence blurs his vision for the moment in which all he wants to do is find Joe and smash his manipulative face against the wall. “Back up, Steven. Did what Joe do to you feel good?”

Steve’s face rearranges itself and the expression is one of disbelief, as though what Danny had said made no sense. Steve’s face breaks his heart.

Danny braces himself. “Answer the question.”

Steve’s eyes are dead when he looks into Danny’s. “No, it didn’t. Sir.” He tacks it onto the end.

Danny swallows, feeling like sand is clogging his throat. “Is that why you fucked up? Because it didn’t feel good? Is that the demand that Joe placed on you? To enjoy it, or else?”

Steve’s mouth is slack and his eyes are a little too wide, a panicked edge in them; surprise and disbelief battle war over him. “It’s not about that. It’s not supposed to feel good. It’s… I needed to be corrected.”

Danny’s rage crushes his chest, he holds onto it and pushes it down, keeps it safe for later. “Corrected? What does that mean? Corrected for what?”

Steve’s fingers dig into his thighs again and his shoulders tense, the muscles bunching painfully under the skin. Danny bites his tongue. “I didn’t take the beating as I used to, sir.”

Danny blinks and frowns. “So he hit you harder?”

Steve looks up, his eyes bright and dark. Danny feels the delicate push of tears in his own eyes; he breathes deeply, keeping them at bay. Steve manages the same. “It’s a weakness. I… I shouldn’t… shouldn’t have…” he breaks off, his voice cracked and boyish.

Danny feels bereft, and he wants to say that this enough. But Steve is harder than ever, trapped in his clothes, his breathing fast and Danny knows he has to see this through. “You don’t have anything to ashamed of, Steven.”

Steve’s skin is flaming again, his face, neck and chest, red with excitement and Danny feels hot, can’t ignore the heaviness in his balls, the way his dick twitches under the fly of his pants.

Steve’s breath shudders out of him. “I couldn’t take it.” Before Danny can ask him to elaborate, the words fall out, jumbling over each other. “I couldn’t take it… it hurt, it hurt. When he caned me, I couldn’t keep up and I didn’t want to stop, it was too much, too much, it’s not supposed to be too much, but I wasn’t strong enough, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was bad, I wanted to get it right, I’m sorry –“

Danny smacks him to cut off Steve’s stream of incoherence, and it echoes in the room. Danny’s hand smarts, the palm stinging after it hit the fine bone of Steve’s cheek. The momentum of the slap has turned Steve’s head and he kneels frozen, breath caught in his chest, and Danny rubs his hands together as he waits.

Steve turns his head and stares at him, his face smooth for the first time, his eyes dark pools Danny could drown in if he let himself. Steve’s mouth moves, but no sound emerges.

A rush courses through Danny, like a dam keeping a flood at bay. “Stand up and take off your clothes.”

Steve licks his lips. “Yes, sir.” He stands and with slow deliberation reveals the rest of his skin, the hair on his chest as enticing as the treasure trail down to his dick, flush against his belly.

“And if you apologise for what you need, a slap across the face will be the least of your worries.”

Steve’s cock gives an obvious twitch, and Danny glances up to see the tendons of Steve’s neck tighten when he swallows. His eyes are pools of darkness as he gazes back at Danny. “Yes, sir.”

Danny licks his lips and leans back in the chair, spreading his legs as he does so, the sting in his hand dissipating as his dick hardens against the fabric of his slacks. He feels hot, the blood rushing through him as he watches Steve look at him. “Get back to your knees.”

Steve slides elegantly to the floor and gazes up at him, waits for the next thing Danny has to give him.

“Take a deep breath, Steven.” Danny sees Steve inhale. He watches Steve keep the breath in, and knows Steve will hold his breath until he says so. He does. “Let it out.”

Steve’s exhale is a long sigh; he closes his eyes, the eyelashes rest on his cheeks, one still redwood dark. Danny looks away, biting his lip, his own breathing tight in his chest.

When he looks back, Steve’s head is slightly bowed and a wave of fondness washes over Danny. He leans over and gently tips Steve’s head, pressing his chin up. Steve’s eyes open, a bit droopy and still as dark as the ocean at night. “Why were you bad, Steven?”

Steve trembles, Danny cups his jaw and brings his other hand to cradle Steve’s head. The position is awkward, but Steve can’t escape his grip.

Danny feels Steve swallow as he answers. “I couldn’t take the punishment, sir.”

It’s déjà vu and Danny feels the niggle of frustration. He strokes Steve’s red tinted cheek with his thumb, and Steve lets out a shuddering sigh. “What were you being punished for?”

“I wanted to get out of my head. It didn’t work.”

“It? What do you mean by “it?”

“The beating didn’t work this time.”

“That’s why you were bad? Because you couldn’t take it?”

Steve’s face breaks for a fraction, and for a moment, Danny is sure he’s going to cry. He wants to see Steve let go, unburden himself. “I was doing something wrong.”

Danny’s rib cage feels too tight and his throat closes. He grits his teeth and tightens his hold on Steve, his fingers dig into the skin and pull on his hair. Danny’s mouth twists. “Joe should have taken better care of you.”

Steve’s eyes widen as Danny stands, pushing Steve’s head back. Steve chokes on a sound in his throat and his whole body shivers. “But he did. He did what he always does, it’s what I need.”

Danny is sick of hearing the litany coming out of Steve’s mouth, the dissonance of Steve’s desire and Joe’s actions. He keeps an unyielding hold on Steve and brings his face closer and breathes into Steve’s ear. “You don’t argue with me, you don’t question what I say. You may not believe this, but I want what is best for you, because clearly your judgment is utterly fucked. And it doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not, because at this point, in this moment, you are not capable of making that decision on your own.”

Steve is panting, his chest heaving as his spine stretches from Danny’s grip. “I wanted it,” he gasps out.

The skin over Danny’s knuckles is so strained, He thinks the bone will burst through any second; he straightens his back and shoves Steve sideways, out of his grasp.

He sees Steve land, his hands flat on the floor, his knees bent to the side and his cock beautifully hard against his thigh. Danny stands behind the chair and grips its back, grounding himself, feeling the warm wood under his hands, and lets his chin fall to his chest as the blood in his cock throbs in time with his heart, fast and hard. “You’re lying to me.”

Steve’s head shoots up. “No, I’m not, sir.”

Danny snaps. “Stop lying!”

Steve averts his gaze and Danny digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, resists the urge to pull his hair out of his scalp. He takes a deep breath and looks back at Steve and sees his eyes swimming in tears he keeps in check, a skill Danny envies as he looks at his own wet palms.

“I wanted it,” Steve rasps, his voice fractured, “but I couldn’t take it.” Danny’s own words echo. “That’s what happened. I couldn’t take it. But I didn’t tell him to stop, sir.”

Danny’s blood runs cold, his limbs are heavy and his arousal dissipates like snow on asphalt. He rubs his eyes and doesn’t bother to conceal the tears that trail from the corner of his eyes. He lets himself fall heavily on the chair, his wet eyes on Steve.

“He broke you.” His voice sounds muffled in his ears.

“Yes, sir.” Steve’s gaze is empty as he lies prone like a fallen leaf.

Danny lets his tears fall, keeps his eyes on Steve’s face and says, “Get back onto your knees.” He waits as Steve complies.

“What did Joe do after that?” Danny sees Steve press his lips together, the frown line between his eyebrows deepening. Danny feels his rage coalesce again, burning deep and bright red in his belly and the desire to crack open Joe’s skull like a coconut almost overwhelms him.

Steve looks at him then, and Danny sees the anguish in Steve’s eyes as he blinks at the sight of him. Danny knows Steve thinks he’s too soft, too sensitive. Steve is blind to the power of his own yielding. “Did he even bother to clean you up?”

“That’s not the way it works!” Steve pushes back, glaring at Danny.

Danny looks back at Steve, tilts his head, and says, “Take that tone with me again and I will squeeze your balls so hard you won’t even be able to think about regretting it.”

“I don’t have a tone,” Steve replies.

Danny feels his dick stir again as he stands, when he kneels in front of Steve his slacks press against him, and his shirt feels tight against his chest and back. He grabs Steve’s balls and squeezes. Steve cries out, tears spurting out his eyes and he holds onto Danny’s arms, though he does nothing to fight him.

“I told you, didn’t I,” Danny says softly as he strokes Steve’s hair with his other hand. Danny is on fire, tingly and scorching all at once as he holds Steve’s scrotum, warm and heavy in his palm, the hard dick hot against his arm. He keeps a steady grip as Steve’s body shivers.

“I’m sorry, sir, I know that was wrong,” Steve gasps out into Danny’s chest as he clutches Danny’s arms.

“Don’t be sorry, I don’t want you to apologise, I want you to tell me the truth.”

He feels Steve’s voice under his hand when he speaks. “I wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t strong enough, I know it’s wrong, I know I shouldn’t need this.”

“Steve –“

“I know I’ve been bad,” he whispers.

Danny swallows the rebuke, keeps his hands where they are. “There’s no such thing as a bad boy, Steve.” Steve’s cock twitches against Danny’s arm. “Anyone who says that isn’t fit to discipline you.”

“What?” And Danny hates the confusion in Steve’s voice, hates the doubt he hears, knows the road ahead is long. There is so much damage to overcome.

“Steve, do you believe that I love you?” Danny relishes the groan that comes out of Steve when he lets go of his balls. He holds onto Steve’s shoulders, trails his hands up his neck until his fingers rest at the back of Steve’s head and his thumbs stroke his burning cheeks.

Steve clears his throat and shifts his gaze.

“Steven, look at me.” He does, and his eyes are full of pain of a different sort. Danny straightens himself and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve’s breath shudders out of him as tears stream down his face, onto Danny’s thumbs.

Danny brings one digit to his lips and licks at the saltiness, sees Steve watching him and the redness of Steve’s ears, neck and chest is the most encouraging thing of all.

Danny stands and holds back a groan at the confinement his dick has been through. “C’mon, you need a bath.”

“I don’t want one.” Steve stays on his knees.

“This isn’t about what you want. It’s about what you need.” Danny holds out his hand. Steve keeps his eyes on his face when he grasps it and pulls himself up. His knees are wobbly and Danny holds him around his middle and flanks.

By the time Danny sits Steve on the toilet seat, he looks washed out, his breath hitching a little and his erection is only half hard as the water starts running.

“Sir?” Steve asks as Danny helps him into the steaming water.

“Shut up.” Danny wets and soaps up a wash cloth and rubs over Steve’s chest, under his arms and down his belly. Steve twitches at the touches and Danny runs water over Steve’s head. He gently washes Steve’s hair, tells him to close his eyes as he massages Steve’s scalp. Steve’s mouth opens as he moans, the euphoria in that sound makes Danny shift on his knees and finally open up his pants.

Danny puts his hand in the hot water and takes a hold of Steve’s erection. The full body ripple makes eddies in the water and Steve groans softly, his face wet and blissed out as holds the side of the bath and he looks at Danny.

Danny squeezes gently. “Sir,” Steve sighs.

He releases his hold and Steve opens his eyes, frowning and perplexed. “Don’t call me “Sir”. That part of your life is over.”

Steve’s cock twitches against his hand and he asks, “What do I call you?”

Danny wraps his hand around Steve again and flicks his thumb over the head, making Steve twitch, and leans close to his ear.

He sings, “Hush little baby don’t say a word, Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.”

It happens faster than he anticipated, almost as though he had ordered it, but Steve comes with a soft cry, choked and surprised. Danny feels his release in his hand and catches Steve’s mouth with his, breathing him in. Steve gasps, opening his mouth and Danny tastes Steve, stroking his tongue and the roof of his mouth, bringing his other hand to Steve’s head to hold him close.

When Danny has to take a breath himself he leans back. His dick feels like it can cut glass; he watches Steve’s slack face and malleable flesh as he sinks deeper into the water. Steve opens his droopy eyes and puts his hand on Danny’s, still holding onto his soft cock.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Danny kisses the top of Steve’s head.

~ The End