Danny exhales slowly as he steps through the door into the darkened bar. Today had been shit—more haole jokes than normal at HPD—and he really wants nothing more than to chase the day away with a nice stiff drink.
He scans the bar area, and his eyes automatically land on a tall guy in a full dress military uniform, looking tense as all hell and staring at his beer as if it’s personally offending him. Danny’s first thought is just your routine tall, dark, and handsome, but then he steps a little closer and nearly swallows his tongue when he sees that this guy is anything but. Well, unless your routine includes regular helpings of broad shoulders, chiseled jaws, and five o’clock shadows, but Danny’s sure as hell doesn’t.
There’s an empty spot next to the guy, so what the fuck—Danny steps up to the bar and sprawls into the seat. He’s had a terrible day, so at the very least he deserves some eye candy to surreptitiously enjoy while drowning his sorrows. Danny uses his peripheral vision to keep an eye on military man, who flinches when he first sits down and then gives him a once-over that’s a lot less subtle than he probably thinks it is. Could just be the reaction of a vigilant soldier, keeping a close eye on his surroundings, or it could be something else.
Danny doesn’t consider himself to be bisexual, not exactly, especially now when he’s much more likely to appreciate from afar rather than act. He’s not sure if he can justify modifying his sexual orientation based on a few dalliances here and there a long time ago. But then again, Danny can’t remember ever wanting, well, anyone really, as much as he immediately wants this guy, and he’s barely gotten a good look at him. Danny hasn’t been with a man since college, and he hasn’t been with anyone since the divorce. So maybe his fresh start should start with a fresh gender, and he can practice on this guy.
Sure, chances are small that this military man will be…amenable. But Danny can be subtle when he wants to. And if worst comes to worst, he’s a cop—he can handle himself if this goes sideways and the guy turns out to have a nasty right hook.
So Danny scrapes up all the courage he can muster and opens his mouth.
“Hey. Can I buy you a drink? As a thank you for your, uh, service,” Danny says, gesturing up and down at the guy.
Military man looks a little startled, but he only hesitates for a few seconds before nodding.
Danny signals to the bartender and then turns more fully in his stool toward the guy, offering his hand. “Danny.”
Steve. Danny rolls that around in his head as they shake hands. His grip is strong and callused, but Danny only thinks about that for a second before he’s distracted by military m—Steve’s eyes. In the shadows of the bar Danny can’t really tell if they’re blue or green or hazel, and he’d really like to get close enough to find out.
“What can I get you?”
The bartender pulls Danny’s attention away, and he ponders for a second. “I’ll have a scotch and soda, plus a—,” Danny scoots a little closer to see what Steve’s drinking, “uh, Longboard for my friend here.”
The bartender nods, and there are fresh drinks in front of them a couple minutes later. Danny raises his glass, gesturing impatiently with it until Steve clinks his beer bottle with a tiny smile.
“So are you actually military, or do you just dress up like this to get girls?” Danny asks, and Steve looks like he’s surprised by the laugh coming out of his mouth.
“No, it’s real, I promise,” he says. Danny can’t help but notice that his face is even more handsome when he’s smiling.
“But it does help with the girls, doesn’t it?”
“Apparently it also gets guys to buy me drinks, so…”
“Touché,” Danny says, raising his drink in Steve’s direction. “And just for that, I’ll buy your next one, too.”
Steve’s laughing again, and fuck, his eyes crinkle so pretty.
“So where you from, soldier?” Danny asks, and smirks at how affronted Steve immediately looks.
“Sailor. I’m in the Navy.”
“Ah,” Danny says, nodding gravely. “Captain Steve, then.”
“Well, it’s Commander Steve, actually,” he says, one corner of his mouth turning up. “If you wanna get all formal about it.”
“Mmm,” Danny says, shifting in his seat. He would certainly not mind this guy commanding him. “So are you—stationed here, or just passing through?”
Steve pauses for a few seconds with his beer bottle up to his lips, then finally takes a sip. “Just here for a few days. What about you? You’re obviously not from here.”
“Hey! I live here, I’ll have you know.”
“Really?” Steve raises an eyebrow at him and tilts his head. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“Yes, really. And how would you know anyway?”
“I grew up here, actually. And that’s how I know that no one in Hawaii wears a tie,” Steve says, before reaching over and tugging sharply on the end of Danny’s tie.
Danny frowns mulishly and uses his hand to smooth his tie. “First of all, I actually enjoy looking professional. And second of all, you are also wearing a tie. Ergo, you are a hypocrite.”
“Well, this tie is part of my uniform.”
“And my tie is part of my uniform as an actual professional person.”
Steve scoffs and tips his head back to swallow the end of his beer. Danny tries, and mostly fails, to avert his gaze from the long, corded muscles of his throat.
“You want another one?” Steve asks, as he raises a hand toward the bartender. “I’m buying this time.”
“Well then, by all means,” Danny says, pausing to let the bartender slide another drink in front of him. “So then let me guess. When you’re not all dressed up like G.I. Joe here, you’re just an ordinary beach bum, aren’t you? One of those annoying guys who only wears flip-flops and never has a shirt on.”
“Okay, first, G.I. Joe was in the Army,” Steve says, pointing at him. “Come on now, no need to insult a guy you just met.”
Danny laughs—Steve’s puppy dog eyes are almost as good as Grace’s. “Fine. I will attempt to refrain from insulting your manhood or testosterone or whatever else it is that you Navy boys subsist on.”
“Thank you. And in Hawaii, they’re not called flip-flops, they’re slippahs.”
Danny just groans and rolls his eyes.
“So then how long have you lived here?” Steve asks. “Not long, I’m guessing, based on your, uh, thorough appreciation of the culture.”
“Six months,” Danny relents.
“And I bet that if you’re still wearing that tie, then you’re not very happy to be here.”
“Fuck no,” Danny says, waving his hands and almost knocking over his drink. He grimaces and nudges it away from himself a little bit. “It’s hot as hell, and somehow I get sand everywhere even though I don’t set foot on the beaches.”
“You know, a lot of people consider this place paradise.”
“Not me,” Danny says with a snort. “I miss the concrete and the skyscrapers.”
“Then why are you here?”
Danny takes a deep breath. “My ex-wife moved here with our daughter. And in my attempt to actually see her more than once a year, I followed.”
“Wow,” Steve says. He leans back a little bit on his stool and blinks. “That’s quite—quite a move.”
“Yeah,” Danny says, exhaling a harsh, humorless laugh. “Tell me about it.”
“Do you have pictures?”
“Do I have pictures, he asks,” Danny says with a scoff as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. Steve moves in a little and Danny does, too, pressing their shoulders together. “First day of school this year. Her name’s Grace, she’s eight.”
“She’s beautiful, Danny,” Steve says, leaning a little more of his weight into Danny as he swipes through a few more photos.
“Yeah, she’s perfect,” Danny says fondly.
“She looks like you.”
“Nah,” Danny says, shaking his head. “She’s all her mother. Thankfully for her.”
“Aw, come on,” Steve says. He catches Danny’s eye, but Danny has trouble holding his gaze for more than a couple seconds.
“What about you?” Danny asks. He’s quite content with Steve’s warmth all along his side, so he doesn’t move away quite yet. “Married?”
“Nope,” Steve says, popping the p sharply.
Danny’s lower lip pokes out, and he nods slowly. He thinks this might be headed where he wants it to, but he’s not sure how to go there yet.
“What’s that one?” Danny says, changing the subject. Pointing would have sufficed, but instead he touches the gold pin on Steve’s chest, pressing just a little harder than necessary. Yup, those pecs feel just as solid as he would have guessed.
Steve looks down at Danny’s hand, as if he doesn’t know what he’s referring to. “That’s, uh, the trident. For the Navy SEALs.”
“Oh wow,” Danny says, genuinely impressed. “You’re a SEAL?”
“I was, for a while. I’m in Naval Intelligence now, though.”
“Huh. So you’re not a dumb jarhead then, I take it?”
“Certainly not,” Steve says with a smirk, “because jarheads are Marines.”
“Oh, right,” Danny says, lifting his hands. “I promised not to impugn your masculinity. My apologies.”
“Eh,” Steve says, shrugging. “I’ll probably forgive you.”
“Oh really?” Danny asks, tilting his head. “What can I do to make sure that you do? Do I need to yell hooyah or something?”
Steve just grins at him, then all of a sudden he leans over even more so he can speak down into Danny’s ear. “You’re coming on to me, aren’t you?”
Danny cringes and shifts his weight away from him, just a couple inches. Man, this could get ugly. He’s really hoping not, though, because at the very least he’s enjoying their conversation, a lot more than he thought he would with a random guy at a bar.
“You picked up on that, huh?”
“Dumb jarhead, remember?” Steve says, and this grin is different. It’s a little looser, maybe even bordering on goofy, and his eyes are playful.
Danny inhales deeply. In for a penny, they say.
He lets the silence settle between them for a few seconds, then says lowly, “I figure you would’ve punched me a while ago if you weren’t interested.”
“Well, I’d like to think that if that were true, I wouldn’t have been so violent,” Steve says, and motherfucker, how did his hand end up on Danny’s leg?
“Do you, uh,” Danny stammers, and it’s just his luck—now that it’s finally time to close the deal, his charm and wit have apparently run off to god-knows-where.
Steve just smirks again—that really should be annoying but for some reason Danny only finds it hot—and squeezes Danny’s knee. His hand is big and warm enough that Danny can feel it through his pants, searing on his skin like a brand.
“I’ve got a room at the Hilton down the street. That okay?”
“Yes,” Danny says, nodding quickly. “Just peachy, one hundred percent okay, lead the way, sailor.”
Steve grins at him, this time a little less goofy and a little more dirty, and flags down the bartender. In Danny’s experience, this part—when you both know that you’re leaving together—can get awkward, but for some reason right now it’s not at all. They settle up their tabs, and Danny feels almost relaxed. That is, until he catches Steve’s gaze and there’s so much heat in it that all of a sudden Danny can barely swallow.
And that dry mouth does not improve when Steve stands up to head for the door and Danny gets a look at his ass in those pants for the first time. He groans inwardly and scurries after him.
Danny is practically vibrating by the time they finally walk through the door of the Hilton—the rush of air conditioning feels good against his flushed face but does nothing to tame his libido. The hotel is only about two blocks from the bar, but with the sexual tension thrumming between the two of them the walk had felt more like two miles. Each word of their conversation had felt bloated with tension, and every slow blink of Steve’s hooded eyes only fanned the flame. Danny hasn’t felt this way since he was a teenager, probably, with his heart racing each time their arms brush or their shoulders bump.
Steve steps up close behind him, and Danny shivers when he feels Steve’s long fingers slip something into the back pocket of his pants. He’ll just blame it on the A/C.
“I gotta, you know,” Steve says, tilting his head toward the little convenience store tucked away next to the hotel’s front desk. “Room 604, I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
Danny manages to nod, and then he’s heading for the elevators, hoping like hell that his erection isn’t visible through his pants. The elevator is thankfully empty, so Danny uses the short trip to take a few deep breaths and try to get some blood flowing to other parts of his body that aren’t his dick. The doors open with a ding on the sixth floor and Danny finds Steve’s hotel room, letting himself in. He looks around the spacious area—that king bed will come in handy—and lets his detective’s eye roam. There’s barely anything spread out on the surfaces, and Danny would bet that if he looked in the closet, everything would be hung neatly.
He can’t really decide what to do or where to stand—he can’t fathom taking off his clothes and posing on the bed like some gigolo—so he settles for kicking off his shoes and sitting on the bed. He shifts a little, leaning back on his hands, and forces himself to stay there when he hears the click of the door. Danny takes a deep breath and holds it as the door opens further to reveal Steve standing in the entry. He just stands there for a few seconds, breathing a little heavier than is warranted for a walk down a hallway, and his gaze looks a whole lot hungrier and more focused than it did earlier. Oh, shit.
Steve strides toward Danny, tossing a little plastic bag onto a side table on his way, and immediately straddles him on the bed. Steve is a gloriously heavy weight on Danny’s legs, and he’s itching to touch him everywhere.
“Hi,” Steve says, and he already sounds like he’s been gargling with sand.
“Hi,” Danny croaks out, craning his neck to look up at him. This would be a prime time to really study what color Steve’s eyes are, but Danny can only hold out for a couple seconds before he lunges up toward him. Steve eagerly meets him in the middle, and the kiss is amazing right off the bat, hot and wet and hungry. Thank fuck, the buzz zipping along Danny’s skin finally has something to focus on.
It’s intense immediately, and Steve’s hands are everywhere, roaming from Danny’s face to his hair to his shoulders. Danny’s been having visions of manhandling Steve around a little—just to see how their respective strengths work against each other—but right now with Steve’s tongue in his mouth it’s all he can do to just stay seated upright, and he has to brace on his arms to even do that.
Apparently SEALs have crazy lung capacity or something because Danny has to pull away to breathe before Steve does. Steve takes a deep breath and licks his lips, just watching Danny intently before he dives back in. He moans into Steve’s mouth, can’t help it, and is rewarded by Steve’s hands tightening in his hair, holding him in place. Finally something snaps and Danny shifts his weight to grab the lapels of Steve’s jacket, hauling him in even closer. Steve comes willingly and his hands pause on Danny’s face, thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as he adjusts the angle and kisses him even harder.
Then suddenly Steve’s weight is gone, and Danny isn’t too ashamed to admit that he whines a little. “Wait, where—”
“Just, just a sec,” Steve says as he clambers off the bed, and Danny is relieved to hear that he sounds as wrecked as Danny feels.
Danny watches him rush over to the closet and strip off his jacket, tie, and pants, hanging them up carefully. Steve, now wearing just his shirt and boxers, visibly takes a deep breath before he turns to Danny again and stalks back to the bed. Steve tosses Danny up further on the bed and settles on top of him again, but Danny’s ready for something different and flips them easily.
Steve tosses his head back and groans, spreading his legs a little to let Danny settle in between them. He takes advantage of the opportunity and leans down to mouth at that neck he couldn’t take his eyes off earlier. Steve groans again—making Danny shiver as he feels the vibration under his lips—and tilts his head to give Danny more room. Danny starts to move further down Steve’s body, but Steve gets a hand in his hair, lightning-fast, and tugs him back up toward his neck. Danny grins, happy to comply. He’s careful not to leave a mark where one would be visible but can’t resist yanking aside Steve’s collar and sucking a dark red patch into the thin skin near his shoulder.
“God, Danny,” Steve says, and Danny smiles again. Steve’s voice, rough and low, is even better than the little moans and groans he was giving off before.
“Yeah?” Danny says against his skin. “Tell me more.”
“You’re a talker, aren’t you,” Steve says, half-laughing.
“Mhmm, I’m sure you aren’t surprised,” Danny says. “And it turns me on, so you gotta talk, too.”
“I’ll—try,” Steve says, squirming when Danny works his way up to his ear.
“You promise?” Danny lowers his voice before lightly tugging on Steve’s earlobe with his teeth.
“Ngghh,” Steve says, arching up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
Danny’s fingers are shaking, but he manages to get the first few buttons of Steve’s shirt undone. His mouth trails down, nudging Steve’s chest with his nose, as he undoes the rest of them. After a minute Steve wraps a hand around the back of his neck to haul him up, and Danny goes eagerly—it’s been maybe four minutes since they last kissed, which is way too long. Steve kisses him slower this time, thorough and intense, and Danny’s head is spinning.
Steve flips them again, rising to his knees and shrugging his shirt off his shoulders, and Danny groans. Steve is fucking built, with a perfect six-pack and colorful tattoos swirling around both of his shoulders. Danny never really had strong feelings about tattoos before, but he’s pretty sure that’s going to change from now on. Danny reaches out automatically, letting the backs of his fingers bump down his abs and trail over to his hips. Steve gasps and pushes into his hand, and Danny laughs.
“You ticklish?” he asks, a devilish gleam in his eye.
Steve shakes his head. “Uh-uh. Just—feels good.”
Danny resumes the soft touch of his hand, but Steve soon backs up out of his reach and starts working at the buttons of Danny’s shirt.
“You want me to leave my tie on?” Danny says, grinning, and Steve laughs.
“It’s tempting,” Steve admits, flipping the end of the tie between his fingers. “Or I could just gag you with it.”
Danny rolls his eyes. “Very original, good job, babe.”
Steve drops back down to cover Danny’s body with his own, tie and shirt temporarily forgotten.
“I would never do that,” he says, his lips moving against the delicate skin below Danny’s ear as he licks and lightly bites. “I like your voice.”
“Yeah?” Danny asks, unable to do or say anything else thanks to the sudden, intense surge of arousal pulsing through him. He can feel Steve nod, the light dust of his stubble tugging at Danny’s skin and causing him to shudder. Danny turns his head just a little and finds himself captivated by the handful of gray strands at Steve’s temple.
Steve undoes the rest of his shirt and just keeps going, working at Danny’s belt. He yanks on Danny’s pants, tugs at his shirt, and somehow, thanks to some magic Naval efficiency, Danny is suddenly only in his boxers. Eager to feel all that smooth, hot skin against his, he pulls at Steve until he blankets him again with his body. It’s even more overwhelming than he had anticipated, and Danny pushes up helplessly against Steve’s weight as he kisses him thoroughly.
“C’mon,” Steve says, sounding breathless. “I thought you were a talker, talk to me.”
Danny chokes out a laugh, trying to get a little bit of leverage with his hips so he can thrust up against Steve’s torso. “I’ve never been so—god, I can’t even think, let alone talk.”
“And why is that?” Steve says. He shifts his hips, rocking up a little bit until the hard line of his dick slides against Danny’s.
Danny groans, long and low, and it takes him a minute to process what Steve had said. “Because you are so fucking hot, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
Steve honest-to-god whimpers and yanks him impossibly closer, kissing him hard and stealing all his breath. Danny plants his good leg on the bed and pushes off it to roll them over, landing on top of Steve with a hard thump. He ducks down for one quick, hard kiss but then slithers down Steve’s body to tug off his boxers. Steve’s cock is perfect—sturdy and nice-looking, big but not scary—and Danny needs it in his mouth, now. Probably his ass, too, but first things first.
Danny starts at the base of Steve’s abs and mouths all around his hips, alternating kisses and bites and licks, until there’s a string of curses spilling from Steve’s mouth. He’s shifting his hips restlessly, and one hand is locked in Danny’s hair.
Danny takes pity on the guy—well, to be honest, he can’t possibly wait another second—and licks a thick stripe up the side of his dick. The choked-off gasp that wrings out of Steve is truly a thing of beauty, and Danny’s pretty proud of it. He hasn’t done this in a long time, but he figures that his enthusiasm makes up for it as he swallows and sucks.
But after only a minute he pauses, Steve’s dick still in his mouth, and waves his hand in a go on gesture. Steve groans, gets the message, and throws his head back against the pillow. “Oh, god, fuck, Danny. Yeah, just like that. Please—please don’t stop.”
Danny rewards him with a hard bit of suction, swirling his tongue around the head, but he only gets to enjoy it for a few more minutes before Steve is hauling him back up his body. He quickly forgets all disappointment when Steve kisses him deeply, locking him against his chest with those big arms.
“What do you want, Danny?” Steve asks, and Danny will never, ever forget how breathless he sounds as he says it. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you, I’ll do it.”
“Fuck me,” Danny says, pushing the words out before he can lose the courage.
“You sure?” Steve says, and he looks a little surprised when he pulls back to look Danny square in the eye.
“Only if you want to,” Danny says, but his hesitation disappears when Steve’s eyes light up.
“Fuck yeah, I want to,” he says, and Danny grins. Steve dumps him to the side, launches off the bed to grab the plastic bag, and for the first time Danny connects the dots.
“You weren’t at that bar to pick up anyone,” Danny says.
“Nope,” Steve says, using his teeth to rip open the plastic wrapper on the little box of condoms.
Steve shrugs. “Couldn’t resist,” he says simply, and Danny wants to fucking die.
But he quickly recovers when Steve climbs back on the bed and starts to tug down Danny’s boxers. He tries to help, lifting his hips, and soon enough he’s naked. Steve stretches out next to him and reaches out to touch him with an amazed look that’s really doing wonders for Danny’s ego. He touches Danny’s cock gently, first with just his fingertips and then in a loose grip. Danny gasps and pushes into it for a minute. If Steve keeps this up this isn’t going to last long, but Danny can’t really find it in himself to care.
“C’mon,” Steve says, pressing a small bottle of lube into his hand. “I wanna watch.”
“Really?” Danny asks.
Steve nods and shifts them around, sitting up against the headboard and pulling Danny over into his lap. Danny braces his left hand on Steve’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing absently against the ink, and reaches his right hand behind himself. Steve’s watching him intently, and Danny shivers a bit at being the center of attention under all that focus. He feels more than a little exposed, doing this in front of him, but Steve—god, Steve looks like he’s dying and Danny’s barely done anything yet.
Steve’s grip on his hips is bruising, and it only tightens further when Danny slips a finger inside himself and gasps. “Fuck, Danny,” he says, through gritted teeth.
Danny has to close his eyes—he needs to hurry this along, and he’s afraid that just looking at Steve is going to make him come. He works in a second finger but eventually can’t resist the temptation to open his eyes again. Steve’s watching him intently, and he holds Danny’s gaze as he thrusts his hips up to rub their dicks against each other.
Danny can barely handle the dual sensations, and he knows they need to speed this up. “I’m not gonna last, oh fuck, much longer. You gotta—”
Steve scrambles in the folds of the sheets for the lube and hurriedly slicks a few of his fingers.
“Can I—?” he asks, that huge hand grasping Danny’s hip and ass. Danny nods frantically, and he closes his eyes as Steve’s hand replaces his own. Then he groans, more of a rumble low in his chest, and throws his head back. Steve’s fingers are bigger than his, and he’s never wanted anything else more than this.
“Come on, Steve,” he mutters. “Fuck me, please.”
Steve pants as he quickly withdraws his fingers and fumbles for a condom. Danny can see that Steve’s hands are shaking a little, so he grabs the condom out of his hand and scoots back a little in Steve’s lap to slide it on his dick. He adds another squirt of lube, and Steve thrusts his hips up into Danny’s hand as he smooths it around.
“How do you, uh—?” Steve asks, gesturing vaguely.
Danny thinks about it for a second and then flips over onto his stomach. Steve’s overall size is really doing it for him, more so than he thought it would, and the idea of Steve holding him down from behind is just too hot for words. Steve straddles his legs and leans down, sucking a bruising kiss right above Danny’s ass cheek, and he can’t help but arch his back into it.
“Keep talking, okay?” Steve says, sliding his warm hand down Danny’s back.
Danny nods and tries to make his brain work. “I—god, yeah, c’mon, just give it to me.”
Steve’s hand is heavy on his hip, and Danny can hear his deep breaths. He grabs his ass cheek and pulls, exposing him, and Danny winces, but the mental discomfort is quickly replaced by the heavy feeling of Steve’s dick against him.
“Yeah,” Danny breathes, trying to tilt his hips up under Steve’s weight.
Danny grits his teeth against the burn but tries to focus instead on the shivery feeling of Steve’s breath against his neck. The stretch turns from painful to delicious by the time Steve’s halfway in, and finally Steve’s hips are right up against his ass. Steve adjusts his position so that he’s more stretched out over Danny, braced on his knees and draping over him like a blanket, and Danny groans. He can’t move and it should be overwhelming, but instead it only relaxes him and ratchets up his arousal.
“Fuck, Steve,” Danny manages to say. Words are a little more difficult now that he has somebody on his back, compressing his lungs.
“Sorry,” he says, and Danny is too distracted by the sexy rasp of his voice to notice that Steve is pulling his weight off Danny’s back.
Danny blindly reaches up, finds himself with a handful of hair, and tugs to pull Steve back down on top of him. “No, get your ass back down here.”
Steve chokes out a laugh and obeys, causing Danny to sigh in relief. “Can I—”
“Fuck, yeah,” Danny says, cutting him off. “Move, c’mon.”
His thrusts start gentle but quickly turn powerful, and Danny can only clutch the pillow and pant into the fabric. After only a couple minutes, though, Steve pulls out and braces Danny’s hip against the bed so he can’t follow.
“I’m not gonna keep going until you start talking,” he says, and Danny squirms.
“I’ve wanted this since I walked into that bar and saw you,” Danny says, the words practically falling out of his mouth since his brain-to-mouth filter has apparently evaporated completely.
Steve exhales harshly at that and slides back in, torturously slow, before thrusting even harder than before. Danny tries to unscramble all the thoughts in his head into actual words, but he’s not sure that what’s coming out is making any sense. “Fuck, Steve, you need to—.” Danny has to raise his voice to be heard over Steve’s grunts. “I need it harder, babe. Yeah, yeah, yeah, like that, come on, give it to me.”
Steve comes with a guttural groan that Danny can feel as much as he can hear, with Steve’s mouth pressed against his shoulder. Danny reaches a hand back to slide his fingers into Steve’s hair, scratching gently, and Steve turns his head into Danny’s hand like a cat as he continues to tremble.
Steve recovers admirably quickly and pulls out, flipping Danny over and running his hands down his chest. “What do you need?” he says, eyes bright, and his hoarse voice makes Danny groan.
“Just—” Danny starts to say, but there’s nothing left his in head, and he has no idea what he even needs or wants. But Steve knows, somehow, because he grasps Danny’s cock, strokes hard with a nasty twist at the top, and after only a handful of strokes Danny is crying out and arching into Steve’s grip as he spills over his fingers.
Steve flops down onto him with a pained whine, while Danny clutches at his shoulders and tries desperately to regain the feeling in his limbs. He’s still twitching, and he feels strangely empty. Danny is uncomfortable calling himself a hopeless romantic, so he hurriedly tries to shove aside his feelings about Steve leaving town in a couple days. He already feels so protective of this guy he just met, this super-soldier who probably needs protecting less than anybody else on earth.
A few minutes later, after their panting breaths have mostly quieted, Steve speaks. “Wanna know something?”
Danny furrows his brow. “Sure.”
Steve is decidedly not looking at him, his gaze focused on the ugly piece of art on the wall. “I’ve never, uh—done any of this before. With a guy.”
Danny must look as confused as he feels because Steve continues. “I mean, I’ve wanted to. But this is not, you know, encouraged behavior in the Navy, and I started Annapolis at 18 so there was never really an opportunity.”
“Okay, well, that’s a surprise,” Danny says, blinking. “I, uh—I really don’t think your ego needs any help whatsoever, so I’m just going to keep my mouth shut.”
“Funny,” Steve says dryly. “I didn’t think you were capable of that.”
It’s a little difficult to look indignant when you’re sprawled out naked, breathing hard, and covered in your own come, but Danny manages.
“Fuck you,” he says, pointing, and Steve’s eyes light up.
“Yeah, let’s do that next,” he breathes, and Danny laughs when he rolls on top of him again.
Steve slowly regains consciousness after the best night’s sleep he’s had in weeks, and he knows before he even opens his eyes that Danny’s gone. He opens his eyes, reluctantly, and takes in the dark, silent emptiness of the hotel room. But his gaze catches on a bright white scrap, standing out against the otherwise empty desk. He gets up to investigate and sees a phone number—with a New Jersey area code, if Steve’s not mistaken—scrawled on a piece of hotel stationery. Steve smiles, a small one, and carefully folds the paper and puts it in his wallet.
Later that day, Steve is prowling through his father’s garage when he hears a car door slam and all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He lifts his gun and aims it at the door, but he nearly drops it when a very familiar blonde guy walks in with his own gun drawn. Steve can barely even look at him without very vivid memories from last night tumbling through his head.
“You sure?” Danny asks, running a warm hand down his arm. “We don’t have to.”
Steve nods firmly—he’s pretty sure he’s never wanted something so bad in his life. “Please.”
“Okay,” Danny says, crawling over Steve again and kissing him. “Okay, we can do that.”
Soon they’re kissing frantically, hands everywhere, and wrestling over who gets to be on top.
“How do you want to do it?” Danny asks, breathlessly, and Steve freezes.
Danny laughs and Steve immediately stiffens in embarrassment, but then he replays the soft noise in his mind and notices how much it was infused with fondness and affection.
“Just like this, babe, come on,” Danny says softly, rolling Steve onto his side so they’re facing each other. He grabs Steve’s top leg by the back of the knee and pulls, encouraging him to rest his leg on Danny’s hip.
“Danny,” Steve says, his voice coming perilously close to a whine. Uncomfortable with the exposure, he closes his eyes and presses his face into Danny’s neck. “I—”
“Yeah, babe,” Danny says, and Steve can barely think straight with his slick fingers circling around the back of his balls. “It’s good, I promise.”
Steve wants to say something reassuring—something about how he trusts Danny, how badly he wants this—but then Danny’s finger is pressing against his hole and Steve can’t think at all anymore.
“You’re—” Steve says, stumbling around the words in his mouth. “You’re a cop.”
Danny’s eyes are wide, and he can’t stop blinking.
“You’re Steve McGarrett,” Danny exhales, holstering his gun. “John’s son. Oh god, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Steve nods jerkily, unable to find the appropriate words right now to respond to that. “So you’re, uh—”
“Working this case,” Danny finishes for him.
“I’d heard it was some haole cop,” Steve says, letting one side of his mouth twitch into a smile and immediately regretting it when Danny scowls.
“Look,” Danny starts. “I—uh, I have no idea what to say, really.”
Steve cranes his head up and captures Danny’s lips with his own, surprising him. It’s clumsy and sloppy, but Steve doesn’t care. He needs the connection, and he bites down on Danny’s lower lip when his finger catches on the rim of Steve’s hole.
“Danny—” he says, and he cuts off his own words with a groan. “I need—”
Steve tries to twist his hips down further onto Danny’s hand, and Danny rewards him with another finger.
“I know what you need, babe,” Danny says, his mouth right against Steve’s ear. Steve can feel his voice spreading over him, and it soothes all the rough edges inside him. “Just trust me.”
Steve would laugh if he still had any control of his faculties. He’s only known Danny for a few hours, and he already trusts him more than most people. He’d be berating himself for his stupidity if it didn’t feel so fucking good.
Danny shoves Steve onto his back before hovering over him and pushing in, just a bit, and Steve gasps. It hurts, but it’s a gloriously simple pain that clears the rest of the shit out of his head. Danny somehow manages to balance there, just the head of his dick dipping into Steve as he leans down to capture his lips.
Steve kisses him back gratefully and greedily, like a thirsty man getting his first taste of water. He grunts as he lifts his hips and knocks Danny off-balance, causing him to slip all the way inside. Danny actually shouts a little in surprise, and Steve happily swallows the sound.
“Goddamn it, Steve,” he murmurs.
Steve drifts off into some sort of daze, and Danny’s voice, soft and insistent right in his ear, floats over him like a blanket. All he can focus on is Danny’s voice, which is the only thing keeping him together as the rest of Danny takes him apart, piece by piece.
Steve blinks and refocuses his gaze on Danny, who’s looking at him questioningly.
“Could you put your gun away?”
“Oh shit, sorry,” Steve says. He slides the safety back on and holsters his gun.
“Again, I’m sorry,” Danny says. “But you can’t be here right now, this is an active crime scene.”
Steve opens his mouth, then thinks better of it. He has an idea.
“Danny, Danny,” Steve gasps, squeezing Danny’s biceps in an iron grip. “Come on, you gotta…”
“Yeah, babe,” Danny says, panting. A few strands of his hair are tickling Steve’s face, and he tries to memorize the sensation.
Danny reaches a hand down in between them to grip his dick, and Steve lets out a raw noise, utterly unable to handle this. He doesn’t know whether to push down against Danny’s dick inside him or thrust up into his hand, but thankfully Danny has him pretty well pinned and is taking care of both for him.
“Come on, Steve. Come for me, babe.”
Steve’s whole body shudders as Danny bites down on his neck, and this is it, he’s going to explode. “Danny.” Steve tries desperately to force the word out of his mouth because it feels important, feels like he needs to say his name even as he’s shaking out of his skin and spurting all over his torso.
“God,” Danny says, his voice basically gone. He thrusts just a few more times—Steve squirms a little, they feel different now—before he comes with a drawn-out groan. Steve wrestles his arms out from under Danny’s weight and wraps them around him.
“And you can leave the box,” Danny adds. “That’s evidence, you know that.”
Steve drops the toolbox on the back of the Mercury and lifts his hands.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Steve says with a chuckle as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials. “Governor Jameson, please, tell her it’s Steve McGarrett.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Danny groans.
“Governor, I’ll take the job. Let’s just say I found something to change my mind,” Steve says, his gaze firmly on Danny.