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Sweet Pollution

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The club is busy, but not packed; there's room to move, to stand at the edge of the dance floor and not get jostled every thirty seconds. The dance floor is brightly lit, spotlights and strobe lights picking out the dancers, while most of the rest of the place is full of dimmed lights and dark corners. The music is loud, but not so bad that Danny can't hear himself think although the bass has been turned way up, and he can feel the steady thump travelling up his body, the vibrations curling obscenely around his dick.

Steve's out there somewhere, in one of those dark corners. Danny feels his gaze like it's a tangible thing; warmth in the small of his back, on the nape of his neck, cupping his balls; all the places that Steve likes to touch because he knows how hot it gets Danny. Hotter still when that touch is possessive, demanding, needy.

When they first started this, Danny expected some kinks, some odd little peccadillos. He'd been prepared for bondage, gags, toys, maybe some heavier stuff. But the first few months were surprising simple. He'd had no complaints; Steve's pretty good in bed, the sex is fucking awesome and Steve's not exactly hard on the eyes. Danny had thought that maybe he'd had Steve pegged wrong for once, right up to the point when a suspect they were running a sting on started hitting on Danny, even groping Danny's ass. Steve had had to be pulled off the guy once they'd taken him down. He'd been practically glued to Danny's side for the rest of the night, until Danny finally managed to hand over the guy and shove Steve into the car, so he could get them away from the disgusted stares of HPD and the curious looks from Chin and Kono.

He'd expected some kind of jealous rant, some ridiculous diatribe about Danny being Steve's property and how no scumbag should be touching him. What he got instead was slammed against the front door the second he was over the threshold of Steve's house, kissed, partially stripped and fucked, legs wrapped around Steve's waist, while Steve's voice, dark and raw asked him if he liked the way the suspect had touched him, if the guy had tried to trail a finger down the crack of Danny's ass while he was groping it. Danny started off protesting, but when Steve wouldn't stop asking until the questions sounded more like pleas, understanding hit him like a sledgehammer and he started telling Steve how the guy had big hands, how they'd squeezed his ass, how he'd stroked Danny's arm, how he'd stood so close Danny could feel the guy's erection against his hip.

Steve came so hard he nearly dropped Danny and it was lucky that Danny was close enough himself that it only took a few pulls of his own hand to get him off, because Steve was utterly gone, boneless and useless with orgasm.

Danny had finished stripping them both on the way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes through the house that he knew would drive Steve crazy in the morning. When he'd gotten them both clean and under the covers, he'd asked and poked and prodded until Steve finally confessed that he'd always had a thing about wanting to see his lovers fucking someone else, wanting to be able to watch and maybe direct them. It was a little odd, sure, but on the scale of kinks Danny had been half expecting, it barely even registered.

He also didn't expect it to come up again, is pretty sure that it's just one of those things that's fine as a fantasy, but wouldn't fly in the real world. It's no secret that Steve can be a possessive bastard about his team, and he doesn't play well with people outside Five-0 even on good days.

But like most things involving Steve, it doesn't go the way he expects. Once the secret's out between them, Steve can't seem to leave it alone. He starts standing too close to Danny when they're surrounded by people, starts making comments, whispering in Danny's ear about the pretty blonde behind the bar, about how great her breasts look, and how hot Danny would look, sucking on them; about the tattooed man in the biker leathers across the street, that he'd love to see Danny fucking the guy over the seat of his Harley, so that whenever he gets on his bike after that, he'll see the faint stains there and remember Danny fucking him.

He ignores it at first, lets Steve talk all he wants, knowing that afterwards, he'll want to take Danny home and fuck him until they're both crazy with it. He thinks this obsession will burn itself out eventually, once Steve realises that Danny's really not that interested.

Except it doesn't. If anything, it gets worse.

See, Danny's always had this thing about dirty talk during sex. He gets a kick out of it, loves to hear words like fuck and cock and things like God, so deep, yeah, harder; doesn't matter how cheesy or like a porn flick it sounds. He's equally happy providing the sound track himself. So when Steve starts talking during sex, telling Danny he wants to see him fuck some random guy or girl, then wants to hear Danny describe it all while Steve fucks him, Danny comes like he's dying and knows he's screwed, because there's no way Steve could have missed that reaction.

He doesn't and even though Danny holds out for a few more weeks, during which Steve just steps up his the game, Danny knows that it's only a matter of time. He doesn't want to fuck someone else, he's not really that kinda guy, but he's so wound up in Steve that despite the slightly queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the instinct that tells him this is a really fucking bad idea, one night he finally lets Steve pick out tight black jeans and a soft white t-shirt he swears is at least a size too small for him. They don't talk in the car on the way to a club that's far enough away from home and work that they shouldn't see anyone they know.

When they get inside, the sick churning in Danny's stomach gets worse and he'd turn and leave, but for the fact that Steve's a solid mass right behind him, arm curled low around Danny's stomach, hand splayed possessively over Danny's belly. Danny hopes Steve's reconsidering this whole idea, that now that they're here, he'll realise some things are best left to the imagination. But when Steve leans down to speak into Danny's ear, Danny's gut flips and his heart sinks because Steve's pointing out the guy he wants Danny to pick up.

"That one. The blonde, with the low jeans and the red top."

"Steve..."

"Shush," Steve's hand strokes over Danny's stomach, sure and soothing and Danny's sorry he didn't bring his gun, because he'd really like to shoot the bastard right now, "trust me, this is gonna be so good Danny, I promise." And he sounds so sure, and so turned on already that Danny doesn't have any defence. "I want you to take him to the john, get him down on his knees, fuck his mouth, let him come on you," the hand on Danny's stomach clenches, fingers digging in, "But don't let him fuck you."

Danny shivers and even he doesn't know if it's because of Steve's words, the mental images, or the darkly possessive tone in Steve's voice. Danny's in way over his head and he can't stop.

Steve moves away, and Danny feels lost for a few seconds, stranded there on the edge of the dance floor, until he catches the eye of the guy that Steve's picked, and gets a seductive smile in return. He starts moving without thinking about it, making his way across the dance floor, even while his better judgement wants him to get the hell out of there.

"Hey," the guy says, eyes flicking over Danny, head to toe and Danny's so used to people ignoring him in favour of McGarrett that even though he doesn't want to do this, he can't help but enjoy the frank appreciation in the man's eyes.

"Hey. Can I get you a drink?" And he's surprised at how easy it is to ask, to sound normal, to play this like he's just here for some fun.

"Sure." The guy turns when Danny steps up to bar, his shoulder brushing Danny's. "I'm Mark, by the way."

"Danny. What do you want?"

Mark grins, slow and lazy and this time the once over is more blatant and Danny has to force a smile in return.

They talk for a while and gradually, Danny starts to relax. Mark is clearly flirting, but it's still relatively harmless and the guy is smart and funny and if it wasn't for the fact that Steve's out there some where, watching, Danny might even enjoy this. He's got Danny laughing over something ridiculous that he swears happened to his room mate when Danny catches sight of Steve, illuminated by a random spotlight. His gaze is intense and even in the split second that he's visible, Danny can see his expression shift between jealous and aroused.

The club is suddenly too hot, too loud, too full and Danny needs space, because he's going to have to tell Steve that he can't do this.

"I'm going to hit the restroom," he tells Mark.

"Hey, I was just thinking the same thing," Mark replies, and yeah, it might be coincidence, but there's lust in his expression and Danny knows what's going to happen if they go into the restroom together.

He remembers the sound of Steve's voice earlier, desperate and wanting and the jittery anticipation that was almost palpable when he was watching Danny dress. So, even though Danny wants to walk away, he knows he isn't going to.

Mark follows him and just when Danny's going to turn left for the restrooms near the dance floor, Mark touches his arm and steers him to the right. He leaves his hand on Danny's arm and leads them to another restroom, hidden around the side of the bar. When Danny pushes open the door, he knows why Mark chose this one, because it's empty.

The butterflies in Danny's stomach turn into elephants and he's frozen, caught in a situation he doesn't want to be in but no longer knows how to get out of. Mark must pick up on some of Danny's distress, because he steps in front of Danny and puts his hands on Danny's shoulders.

"Hey, you OK?"

"Yeah, just..." Danny trails off, because he doesn't know how to explain this to himself, let alone a stranger.

"It's cool man. I just thought, you know," Mark shrugs and goes to take a step back and Danny finds himself reaching out, feeling bad that he's led this guy on and now he's freaking out like a virgin on prom night.

"No, it's not that I don't want... It's just, kinda complicated." He chokes down the slightly hysterical laugh that tickles the back of his throat.

"It always is," Mark says, with a softer smile, "look, no pressure, OK, but I gotta tell you, I'd really like to kiss you."

"I...yeah."

The smile brightens and Danny hates himself and Steve, just a little.

Mark kisses him gently at first, but before long he's pressed up against Danny, hands on Danny's ass and Danny is kissing him back, rocking into Mark as much as he's rocking into Danny.

The sound of the outer door opening makes Danny jump and they nearly stumble over each other as they move into one of the stalls. Mark's laughing, silently and Danny forces a grin. He pulls Mark in for another kiss, trying to keep one ear open for when they're alone again. It takes ages and at one point he's more than half convinced that it's McGarrett out there, and he's intending to stay for the entire show, but finally whoever it is leaves.

Before he can lose his nerve, he pulls away from the kiss, drops a heavy hand on Mark's shoulder and hopes like hell that he'll understand. There's lust and amusement in Mark's gaze, and he clearly gets the non-verbal message, because he goes to his knees easily and gracefully.

He nuzzles Danny's more than half hard dick through the denim and Danny tries very hard not to dig his fingers into Mark's shoulder at the shocking spark of lust that snaps up his spine. Mark's laugh is muffled, Danny feels it, even through the thick cloth, as much as he hears it. He squeezes a little and Mark runs his hands up Danny's thighs, before popping the button and dragging the zipper down.

Once he's got Danny's dick out, he doesn't tease, just goes down on Danny, slow and easy, like they do this all the time. Danny's arousal fights with the unease and the disgust at what he's doing, and he bangs his head against the stall door. Mark's working him pretty well, hot and tight and it's easier than Danny's comfortable with to lose himself in the physical pleasure. He can't forget what Steve said though, words echoing through his head, a bittersweet counterpoint to the way his blood pounds through his body.

"Take your dick out, show me. Come on, you can come on me," he tells Mark.

Mark moans, and sucks almost viciously at Danny's dick, but he does what Danny asks. Danny feels like the sensations are being dragged out of him, almost unwillingly.

He comes suddenly, before he expects to, and it's as much desperation as pleasure. He manages to fight the urge to run, waits out Mark's orgasm, and tries not to hear the muffled groans as Mark twitches against Danny's leg.

When it's over, he helps Mark to his feet and accepts a kiss, slower and softer now than before. Danny feels like an asshole but he does his best and if Mark notices something's wrong, he doesn't say anything about it. They head back out to the bar and Danny agrees to another drink, because he can't think of a way to leave that's in any way graceful or respectful, and Mark deserves better than to be used that way.

They make conversation for what feels like an eternity, but if Danny's watch is accurate, is actually less than half an hour. He's saved when Mark spots some friends and waves them over. He introduces Danny and Danny's stomach twists unpleasantly. He nods and smiles but the second Mark's distracted and chatting happily, he slides away, losing himself in the mass of bodies around the edge of the dance floor. He doesn't even look for McGarrett, he just needs to get out of the club, away from the noise and the heat and the people.

He makes it half a block before he senses someone behind him and he knows without looking that it's Steve. He doesn't resist when Steve grabs his arm and drags him down the nearest alley, as if he can't even wait until they get back to the car, let alone to Steve's house.

Steve pins him against the wall, behind a dumpster, and out of sight of anyone walking past the alley. He gets right up in Danny's space, hands worming under Danny's t-shirt, hot and clammy and Danny can't stop himself from shifting closer.

"Tell me, God Danny, tell me," Steve begs, one thumb rubbing over Danny's nipple while the other is yanking both their jeans open.

"Restroom, in the stall," Danny's voice stutters as Steve shoves Danny's jeans down to his thighs, "He went down on me."

Steve pinches Danny's nipple and the head of his cock at the same time, making Danny jerk and curse, dick filling suddenly, aching from the way Steve's handling him and from getting hard again so soon.

"How'd it feel? Did you like it? Was he better than me?"

Danny makes a move to slap Steve's hand away, wants to tell him to shut the hell up, but Steve's jacking his dick, long, dragging strokes that distract Danny and make him forget why he's mad at them both.

"Felt good, dirty, wasn't you, wasn't like when you suck me," Danny forces out, feels Steve's sharp intake of breath, and makes himself carry on, "Tight, but not wet enough, not sloppy and wet like when you, fuck, Steve..."

Steve groans, pulls his hand off of Danny's dick and forces him to turn around until he's facing the wall, bracing himself against the rough brick. The rustle of foil makes him twitch, slick fingers pressing inside make him shudder.

"What did you think about? You think about me, while you were fucking his mouth? Did you make him take it, make him choke on it, like I do?"

Danny wants to say no, but he doesn't think even that would stop Steve and he's had enough of being cruel tonight, "Yes. The whole time. Your mouth, your hands, Jesus Steve. It's always about you, damnit."

"Go on," Steve says, sounding like he hates hearing it, but has to know, "did he make you come? Did it feel good?"

"Steve..."

Steve twists his fingers, brutal and perfect, "Tell me."

"Yes, yes. Fuck you, I came in his mouth, and he didn't stop, just kept sucking." Danny can barely catch his breath, but he can't stop the flow of words now, lets them spill out of him in a rush, "I told him, fuck," Steve pulls his fingers out and presses his cock inside, thick and heavy, forcing Danny to open up to him, making him ache even while the pleasure creeps up his spine, "I told him to come, to come on me. He did, over my jeans and shoes and himself."

A hard thrust has Danny arching his back, hand curling into fists against the wall. Steve's breath is hot and damp on the back of his neck and his hand slips around Danny's hip to wrap around his dick, too tight, too hot and so fucking good Danny hates him just a little bit more.

"Danny, oh..."

Steve's fucking hard into him now, and Danny's sweating and aching and he still feels just a little sick at what he's done, but he's crossed so many lines already for the man behind him that he knows, sooner or later, he's barely even going to remember how he feels now. And as Steve's coming behind him, shoving in so hard Danny's eyes water, as he's pulling a second, half pain/half pleasure orgasm from him, Danny knows that if Steve asks, he'll do it again.