Hawaii Five-O fic; Riding the Odds
Author: annieke
Title: Riding the Odds
Rating: R
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Warnings: none
Word Count: 5400+
Summary: Danny contemplates the odds with Steve.
Notes:
Written for Day 16 for Fannish Advent here
Coda to 3.09
This picks up just at the end of that episode.
Also at AO3 here
Pfftt. Not like he was going to actually ask her out. Not like she hadn't talked about her boyfriend--her famous boyfriend--all afternoon; really, he'd just been musing on whether or not she'd really have given him her number. That's all. Just wanted to needle Steve a little bit for the fun of it--see if he could get him going a little--but then that 'zero' popped up and just hung there and...
There are odds. Maybe a sliver of a fraction of an odd and okay, okay, Danny'll concede that he's what, at least ten years older than she is? (not even about to contemplate the thought of an even greater age gap, no.) Still, Steve and his 'zero' can go to hell because there should have been odds. There are always odds.
Then again...
Danny looks down at Steve's hand still wrapped firmly around his arm, Steve not even turning to look at him after reining him back to his side while muttering, "Oh, no, no, no, no," and grinning that self-assured 'always get my way' grin. He stares up at Steve's face. Steve's all too smug 'this is mine' face.
"You think you're really something, don'tcha?"
"What?"
A long beat, then Danny waves a hand. "Nothing."
Part of him wants to grin, too, because having Steve act like such a possessive Neanderthal fucker isn't ever really a bad thing, or so his brain assures him. In fact, there are times Danny's brain is clearly intent on working Steve into that state, because the payoff to Danny's body can be so goddamn golden: rough, just this side of intense, with a long, drawn-out sweet finish.
It's just, Steve's been giving off the caveman vibe pretty much since they set eyes on the girls--women--models--on the beach that morning. All crossed arms and frowny faces like he's absolutely positive Danny's going to run off and hook up with the first one that bats a fake eyelash in his direction.
Seriously. They're models. In bikinis. Let's face it; what are the odds anyone would get to watch a bunch of gorgeous women on a beach for a day as part of their daily job? Only in Hawaii could this happen, and the fact it happened to him is, well, just what in the hell is wrong with taking a good long look or two in appreciation?
He can flirt. He's a great flirter. As a matter of fact, a little flirting never hurt anyone, and not like any of these girls--women--is really going to take him too seriously, the age thing and all. Which, okay, maybe that hurts just a little bit down deep when he thinks about it; he wasn't kidding when he'd told Arlo he was feeling old.
Still, he knows flirting when he's immersed in it, likes to go with it because it's fun, and there was definite flirting going on while he sat nestled between three breathtakingly stunning women on that couch. He may be easily pegged as a dad, but he's not totally oblivious to receiving some admiring glances now and then; they were flirting. he was flirting.
Didn't he get a whole passel of glances just a few minutes ago from a bevy of passing models? He did. One called out, "Hey, Danny," and he'd smiled. They'd smiled. Big toothy smiles, even. Maybe even a wink. That whole give and take flirty thing. So perhaps a few years' age difference isn't really such an unyielding barrier.
Sure as shit there's no barrier in the way some of them--most of them--have been gawking outright at Steve since they walked in the door. Of course, who doesn't gawk at Steve? He's prettier than most of the models and from what Danny's observed of the current ongoing gawking, the majority of the people in this room seem to be finding Steve very--
Huh, maybe a little too very.
"Where'd Grace get off to? It's getting kinda late," Danny doesn't so much ask as announce because, yes, clearly there's been enough skimpy outfit viewing for the evening as it's past due time for them--for all of them--to leave before he's the one having to pull back on Steve's reins. Given the number of gawkers, Danny's sure not liking those odds.
Steve turns, looking around and is, as usual, fairly oblivious to the many looks he's garnering. "She's..." finally letting go of his arm and Danny smooths out the wrinkles of his shirtsleeve as Steve nods. "Over there with the--daisies?"
Grace is being escorted toward them, flanked by two models semi-partially-pretty-much-barely-clothed in silky lingerie enhanced by some sort of sheer flowy things that make them resemble a pair of matching flowers.
"Petunias, actually, I think," Danny says. "Maybe begonias." Which just earns him a rather searing look from Steve. "What? My mother had a garden. I know a begonia when I see it, jeeze."
Steve's frowning. "Danny, that's not what I was..."
His words trail off as Grace approaches; Danny's stopped listening anyway.
Grace has make-up on. Really well done make-up. She looks likes she's eighteen years old and Danny can't help shudder from the strangling choke hold currently gripping his heart. He's pretty sure he's hyperventilating.
"Calm down, Dad," Steve whispers, a hand squeezing his shoulder. "It's just for fun."
"Fun. Not fun. Heart failure is not at all fun." His daughter, his baby, should not be done up to look like she's old enough to date.
"Danno! Guess what I decided to be when I grow up?"
His stomach clenches even as he blurts out, "Please say veterinarian," because that's what Gracie has talked about becoming since she was two, and now...and now...
"Yeah," Grace is nodding, "that, and a make-up artist, too!"
Oh, okay. So maybe he's not having complete heart failure, and then Steve blurts outright because yes, that's it, Steve. Go ahead and shove the idea right in her head, why don't you?
"What! Not a model? Gracie! You'd make a great model!"
"Ew, Uncle Steve. No way. There's all these people looking at you and you have to walk around in your underwear. That is so gross."
Which, just--Danny feels his heart skip a beat and then he's breathing again.
**
Grace is pretty tired but still fairly wired from the show, and she keeps popping up just when Danny thinks she's fallen asleep.
"Those ladies were all really nice to me."
Danny turns to look at her in the backseat. "I'm so glad."
"An' I liked their flower outfits."
"Very nice."
"Yeah," she says. "Did you see the wings? They had really cool wings."
"And there she took flight on gossamer wings," Danny adds softly, just sending it out there.
"What?"
"What the hell?"
Grace and Steve both staring at him like he's suddenly sprouted a second head, but there is no way in hell he's going to explain some line from some obscure poem that he'd read years ago and for some reason had never forgotten.
"Nothing. Never mind. Monkey, I'm glad you had a good time."
"I did, like a great time. It was so cool." Grace is nodding away. "They're all really pretty, too, aren't they?"
Now Steve is looking at him and Danny offers up a wide grin, because, yeah. Needling. it's just too fun to get that fire stoked again. "Oh, yes. Pretty. Very pretty. So pretty."
"Yeah." Grace is leaning forward, tilting her head as she's looking at her reflection in the rear view mirror. "I think I really like this make-up."
There's that gut clenching again. "Well, don't get used to it--you know your mother says not until you're sixteen."
"How 'bout thirteen?"
"How 'bout never?" Which has Gracie grinning because she knows he's kidding. "You know what? Those models told me they thought you were beautiful, and I told them of course you are. Of course my daughter is the smartest and most beautiful daughter ever."
"Dan-no--" She's got that tone just like her mother, but she's also got a smile that lights up her face and if Danny could see that every night and every morning for the rest of his life, he'd die a happy man.
Pressure lands on his thigh and he looks down to find Steve's hand, squeezing. A snapshot of the two of them flashes behind his eyes, all naked skin and roving hands, and he bites down on his lip because he is not about to ride in the car with x-rated images rolling through his head like a bad porn movie while his baby girl is smiling at them from the back seat.
Shoves Steve's hand away and thinks of anything but Steve. And Steve's hand. On his leg--or anywhere else at the moment.
Besides, they haven't said anything to Grace about the two of them being together and they're not going to if mainly because he and Steve have never really defined what it is they are. Together.
Which makes him think of Catherine and why she wasn't there tonight as he's pretty sure she's the type to go for this sort of lingerie, which then makes him think of Steve's earlier comment about Gabby. If Danny doesn't really know much about what sort of underwear she wears, and if Steve thinks the reason she hasn't been around is because she's on an extended work trip off the island, well, Danny really hasn't bothered to clarify that situation yet.
Coming out of the Rachel debacle has left him pretty gun shy, even with Steve--maybe especially with Steve. Danny can count on one hand the serious relationships he's had, and neither was with a man. He's had close encounters of the male kind, sure, but nothing ever more than a few weeks of dating. Until Steve.
He wasn't kidding when he told Doris that he was taking things slow--not that she knew who it was he was referring to--and not that there's been any sort of level of commitment ever voiced, uttered or even grunted at by either him or Steve, anyway, surf buddy comments notwithstanding. And that's okay--or was okay, because as of late, he's finding himself feeling a little more ready to stake his territory. Okay, strike that. He can admit to himself that he's feeling a lot more territorial, and Catherine's just not included within the boundaries of his perceived Steve fence line.
What he's going to do about that, though, he's not sure.
"They said you were pretty, too," Grace chirps up again from the backseat.
He glances at Steve. "What?"
She's nodding. "Yep. I heard them say you were both very pretty, which made me laugh because men aren't pretty. They're handsome, right?"
The hand on his thigh is back and tightens a bit. "Uh-huh."
"But they said you and Uncle Steve were pretty together."
"Really," Steve states more than asks as he's alternating between watching the road and sliding him a steely-eyed stare that most people would probably find fairly unnerving but Danny's finding sexy as all get out in the wake of its smoldering intent, especially as it's accompanied by the even tighter squeeze of Steve's hand on his leg. Which he pats, then removes.
"Yeah," Grace continues while yawning. "An' then one of them said something about being a fly on a wall, which is kinda gross because, like, why would anyone want to be a bug? Seriously, gross."
**
Rachel isn't thrilled about the make-up. Isn't thrilled about the whole idea of Grace being at the fashion show either, but no way is Danny going to buckle under his ex-wife's version of the steely-eyed glare. Besides, it's over now.
"It was just underwear, Rachel. Not like you don't own some just like it, if I remember..."
"That's terribly rude, isn't it. And completely beside the point."
"Okay. Sorry. Hey, Grace, come over here and gimme one last squeeze, " he says, pulling her into a hug. "I love you. Do not be having too much fun without me."
"Daniel--"
"Clearly I'm kidding here, Rachel. Grace, baby girl, you have a great time with Step-Stan's family." He kisses the top of Grace's head and turns to leave.
"Sorry you couldn't have her spend the night, Danny, but we're flying to San Francisco first thing and I just think it's easier having her back here to get a good night's sleep rather than having to pick her up from you at an ungodly hour."
He nods, half ignoring her. "My weekend's gonna be too quiet without you, Monkey."
"It's okay, Daddy. You can always do stuff with Uncle Steve until I get back."
**
Steve's watching him as he heads down the drive and back to the car, the man's expression a bit unreadable as he's leaning out the driver's side window. "Hey, Danny. I was thinking--"
Danny stops abruptly. "Do you need an ambulance?"
Which Steve clearly ignores as he continues on. "What do you think about--"
"Zero."
A pause, then Steve nods without smiling. "That's funny. No, really. It is."
Which has him grinning. "'Course it's funny. I'm a funny guy. Because hell, yes, it's funny and he chuckles as he slides back into the passenger seat.
"So, no finishing the evening with a couple beers on my beach under the moon and stars for you tonight then. Zero odds of that. Okay. Got it."
"Wait--what? What do you got? You got nothing--I never said that. When did you hear me say that? I never said that."
Steve's smirk is back and then the hand is back on Danny's leg and there's squeezing and rubbing and inching. Inching up his thigh. And Danny knows this evening is going to turn out just fine, under the moon or not.
He nods, laying his own hand atop Steve's and linking their fingers because yeah, these are his fence lines. "That's better."
**
Of course 'couple beers' means stopping at the store on their way back to Steve's because yeah. No beer at the house. What are the odds?
"You're limping. Why are you limping?"
"What? I'm not limping."
"Okay, Steven. Okay. You're not. So then, tell me, when exactly did the one leg become noticeably shorter than the other?"
Steve just looks at him. "Fine. I'm limping. Kinda. I may have fallen a little earlier today and it's feeling stiff. That's all."
Danny holds open the door to the grocery store letting Steve pass through. Letting his fingers trail along Steve's side when he does so. Because he can. "Fallen where?"
"On my feet."
"Seriously, that's what you're going with?"
"Okay. Fallen from somewhere up high to somewhere down low."
"You are a jackass."
"Gee, thanks." Steve makes a beeline to the beer case. "How do you think I fell? How does anyone fall? I was chasing a guy. Oh, god, which just reminds me of the naked guy; I still can't erase the image of that grass skirt coming off in my hand when he fell."
"Grass skirt?" Two sixes in hand and then they're standing in line at the counter.
"Yes, grass skirt. I can't get the image out of my head. It was...kinda horrifying."
"Yeah. Great. Not a big fan of horrifying, frankly. Like anything having to do with Max, or that time I walked in on you jamming that needle into your hip. They have doctor offices for that sort of thing, by the way, and if you--"
"Cash, credit or debit?"
"Danny?" Steve asks, arms crossed and indicating Danny should answer the girl behind the register.
Sends Steve a pointed look because, really? Again? Then hands the cashier a twenty and a five and looks at the dismal amount of change given in return--little bit of silver and some pennies. Of course Steve didn't have his wallet, and he's about to say as much when he notices the man is gone and the store's doors are already closing on Steve's wake.
Danny follows him out, tossing the pennies into the air and watching them land on the parking lot's asphalt. Maybe someone will get good luck from them. "So, okay, you can tell me about the skirt later, and tell me why you're limping now--and don't think I won't forget about my having to pay. Again."
Steve's leaning over to place the beer in the back seat of the Camaro, and if Danny takes a few extra seconds to admire the view from his angle, that's his own business.
"Sore," Steve tells him, straightening up. "Okay? I'm sore. That's what happens when you leap out a window and land a couple stories down to get the job done, you get sore. Not that you would know, given your day."
"My day? My day was all about the job, I'll have you know." He doesn't miss the look Steve sends him, just chooses to ignore for the time being because what does Steve know about his day? "And what do you mean out a window? And stories? As in multiple? You jumped out a window to fall multiple stories chasing a guy--are you kidding me?"
"All about the job? What, sitting around on a couch all day is all about the job?"
Oh, yeah. Steve is still worked up over the model thing. This could so bode well for him later. "So is that when the grass skirt fell off? During the jump?"
Steve pauses a bit, and Danny's sure he's going to bring up the models again, but Steve then shakes his head. "No. Totally different guy."
"What? What do you mean different guy--there were two guys?"
"Try and keep up, Danny. Two guys, two chases. Kono told you all this over the phone, I know. I was there. What, sitting around on a sofa on a beach with some models fried your brain, or were you just so distracted you tuned out the real world?"
Danny knew it. "Oh. Okay. There it is. I get it now. Real world. You're jealous."
"I'm--Danny. I am not jealous."
There is nothing better than a riled, jealous Steve. "You are. You so are. Starting with that face you made when Arlo begged me to stay this morning and you had to go."
Steve is about glaring at him as he cuts him off. "Beg. He did not beg you--you volunteered before the words were even out of his mouth. You jumped at the chance."
"What? That is completely untrue. You were there--they needed me."
"Needed you? For what?"
Danny talks with his hands. Always has. He gets it from his mother who is a world-class hand waver. So if one palm flies wayward and accidentally smacks Steve in the face, it's just not his fault.
"Ow."
"Okay, look. You weren't there today, Steve--it got pretty dicey later, lemme tell you."
"Dicey. What, some model have a wardrobe malfunction and you had to step in and save the day?"
Makes for a heady combination, Steve's jealousy mixed with Danny's rising libido. The anticipation is killing him. For once, Danny will admit that Steve cannot drive fast enough. "I saved her, remember? There was a stalker? There was grave danger. There was a knife."
"And eyebrows."
"Eyebrows?"
Steve's glancing so fast between the road and him that Danny's sure the man's going to suffer whiplash. "Yes, Danny. Eyebrows. I saw the woman--she looked--weird."
"Well, yeah," Danny agrees, hands ticking off points along with each statement of fact as he sees it. "She was a stalker. She was dangerous. Dangerous can look weird. You're dangerous and sometimes you look weird."
Now Steve's frowning at him, and it's making him frown back. "Danny. You can't be serious that you thought the eyebrow stalker was that dangerous."
"She had a knife!" Holds up his hands. "It was this big, I saw it."
Steve just looks at him as he pulls up to his house and throws the car into park, then erupts with a short burst of laughter, which Danny finds totally uncalled for; Steve wasn't there.
"Okay, Danny. I'm sorry. Really, I am. I'm sure she was very scary even despite the, you know." Points a finger along his own eyebrow line.
Which is irritating as hell. "Steve--"
"No, really. I just--those eyebrows--"
They sit for a long stretch in the car while Steve finishes chuckling and Danny resists all temptation to punch him. Hard. He finally says, "Okay, Steven. Say I'm a model, and you're me."
"You're a model?"
"And you're me."
"Okay." Puts an arm around Danny. "Howzit, beautiful?"
Danny shoves him off. "Excuse me? Would I ever? Do you honestly think that's how I sound?"
Steve grins as he gets out of the car and then leans on the top. "Okay. Sorry. How's this then? 'Hello. I'm Detective Danny Williams. Do you like my tie? It's almost as stiff as the stick that's wedged up my--"
"Really." Danny pushes himself off from where he's leaning on the hood and heads toward the house, back tensing as he hears Steve behind him, Steve's hand dropping around his waist.
"Okay. Fine. Sorry. Danny, hold up. Sorry. I'm sorry. I forgot--I'm you with no sense of humor. And you're a model. I got it now."
"Yeah, you got something, all right. And you know perfectly well I have a terrific sense of humor."
"What are you wearing?" They hit the front door and Steve uses Danny's key in the lock, eyes raking down Danny's chest.
"What?"
Steve pushes the door open, turning as he says, "Some little golden metallic thong thing? Or...oh, one of those push-up bras? Maybe just some sort of sheer exotic flower petal is your secret--"
"You're sick, you know that?"
"Or how 'bout--what was it again--gossamer wings? Are you hiding gossamer wings from me, Danno?"
Danny had such high hopes for this evening, too. "Shut. Up."
"Hey now. You know we Williams' are a very picky sort of species. I just need to know what sort of girl I'm hooking up with here," Steve sends him a shit-eating grin.
Danny wants to deck him. "Hooking up. Did I say anything about hooking up? Did you ever hear the word hook referenced in any sort of connotation whatsoever?"
"Danno."
"No, you did not. No hook. No gossamer. No secrets--no nothing. "
"No nothing?" Steve whispers, and then there are hands playing over Danny's shirt.
"Nothing," Danny repeats, nodding, watching those fingers undo his buttons slowly and easily. Takes a deep breath. "Not a thing. Not one."
Steve's hands part the shirt and then there are warm fingers, palms against his skin, slowly sliding their way around his waist. Tickling along his abs and ribs as Steve is whispering. "Nothing? Not even this?"
His own hands push at Steve's jacket, and in the next second he hears it hit the floor as Steve lets it fall from his shoulders at the same time he's undoing the buttons of Steve's shirt. He slides his palms flat against the warmth of Steve's flesh, lets his fingertips trail lightly over ripped muscles that quiver beneath his touch and he feels a matching quiver ripple through his own dick.
Hears his name murmured softly, and then there's tongue, wet, soft yet firm, pushing against his lips and Danny opens to it, his own tongue seeking Steve's and there are hands sweeping over the skin of his chest, fingers tracing his nipples then trying to work the shirt from his shoulders, which....
"Oh, jeeze, Danny--get this thing--"
His tie is still wrapped around his throat, loosened but still tied and Steve's doing his best to pull it free by just yanking--
"Hold on, caveman, you're choking me here." Danny pulls back, grabbing the tie from Steve and slides it free. "See? Was that hard? It's so easy even a caveman can do--oof--" Chokes on the next words when Steve absolutely just shoves him back against the wall and rams his tongue down deep.
There are teeth then, at his neck, on his collarbone, hands brace his waist and he arches into them, into Steve. "God, babe," he whispers, breath caught up in the words. Steve's holding him, gripping him at the hips and he watches Steve sink down to his knees...
And Danny's got his fingers in Steve's hair, fingering and twirling through the strands, eyes half open but not seeing, then slamming shut when he feels Steve pull his belt free, his pants open and push down, and there's a warm tongue bathing a line down his bared skin.
"Steven--"
"Nothing at all, Danny?"
He breathes through his mouth. "No, I was wrong. Okay? Not nothing. Something--anything--"
Steve rises back up before him, and says, "Anything?"
Danny peels eyes open just as Steve heads in for another bruising kiss. He blindly reaches to untie tight laces, toeing off his shoes one at a time while Steve's hands tuck into his pants, smoothly sliding inside his underwear and gliding down to circle around his hard cock, thumbs dipping into the flesh of his inner thighs before a hand wraps underneath to cup his balls.
"God," he says, because he just feels. Feels--
"Still nothing?"
"Everything. Fuck. Everything."
His pants and boxers get shoved down and he kicks them off and away, scrabbling his own fingers at Steve's pants' button and trying desperately to pull it open. "Take 'em off, Steve, god, I can't--"
Then there's nothing between them but heated skin, and Steve's got his hands cupped around Danny's ass, fingers spread wide underneath and pulling, lifting him up and close. He parts his legs and half hops onto Steve, sure they're both headed for a crash landing on the floor...
Except they don't. Steve catches him, braces them both and then Danny is slammed back against the wall as Steve shoves himself right against Danny's crotch. "Jesus, Steve, fuck--you, you gotta--"
"Fuck me?" Steve breathes against him, voice dropped into those dangerous tones, the ones that hit Danny in the pit of his belly. "Oh, Danny. I don't think so. I was kinda thinking the other way around tonight. Me fucking you. Fucking you. Slowly, so slowly. Deeply. All of me inside all of you. Can you take that, Danny? Can you take all of me?"
Sweat is rolling down his neck, beads of it trickling tiny tendrils down his back and he shivers as Steve's voice drops even lower.
"Or maybe hard. Hard and fast and filling you up? Is that what you want?"
They're both sweating now--god, it has to be at least a hundred and ten in here-- and he can feel Steve's skin slick beneath his hands. Brushes a thumb against Steve's nipple and grins when he hears Steve moan. Steve's trembling now, Danny can feel the tremors in Steve's legs and it turns out it's only a slight shift of his own weight that sends them crashing...
"Ow, fuck," Steve groans.
"Shit."
"Get off my--Danno, your elbow, move your elbow it's, ow--Christ, that hurts."
They're in a heap, all tangled limbs and sweaty skin and Danny looks up at Steve as he does his best to shift off of him, asking, "You okay?"
Steve's looking a little pained. "Yeah, no. I don't know. You're a lot heavier than you look, Danny, Jesus. I think you broke me."
"I broke you. I broke you? You're the idiot who jumps out of windows without knowing how far down you're going to drop, and now you're complaining. After falling like two feet. Three and a half, tops."
"My leg hurts."
"Seriously? You're a SEAL!"
"All your weight landed on my leg. Might want to think on cutting back on the malasadas, there, Danny."
"Did you just call me fat?"
"What? No--just. My leg hurts. My back, too. I think I twisted something."
Danny rolls off of Steve and onto his side, propping his head on one hand and looking down at Steve. "What hurts, exactly?"
Steve closes his eyes and let loose a sigh before turning his head to watch Danny. "What doesn't hurt?"
"I don't know. Let's see, shall we?" He runs a hand, palm down, lightly over all the naked Steve pooled out before him. It's a lot of skin. Pretty skin. Those tattoos get him every time.
"God, you're beautiful," he whispers softly, marveling at the play of light across Steve's muscles. Leans across to lick a path over his stomach, feels Steve's hands find his hair, fingers threading through its length.
"Danny."
"Let me, just..." Shifts onto his knees between Steve's legs, his weight to one side to alleviate pressure on his bad knee. He runs the pads of his fingers lightly along the inside of Steve's legs, tracing the line of muscle from knee to thigh. Steve's getting harder again, his dick growing to full attention and he watches as Steve shifts under him, arching into his touch.
It's hot seeing this, seeing Steve, and Danny bends low, dipping down to run his tongue along the underside of Steve's cock, mouth lingering at the point where his dick and balls meet.
"Fuck, Danny."
"Not yet, babe--but we're getting there."
He pushes himself back up, hands braced on either side of Steve's hips, arms taking most of his weight as he leans over and lets his mouth take hold of Steve's cock. Sucks hard, then softens up, grabbing the base and running parted lips over and around and on top until Steve groans and thrusts his hips high.
He's got a hand around his own dick, timing the pull there with his grasp on Steve; god, the sight and sounds of it all are going to kill him. He pulls off Steve, rising up a bit to look him in the eye.
"You still hurting?"
"What? "
Danny grins. "Didn't think so." And resumes his hand, mouth, tongue, and within minutes he feels Steve grow even harder, feels the hands on his head still as Steve tenses with a soft gasp, then swallows down the flood of warmth that fills his mouth before he chokes on it as his own orgasm hits him and spirals up and out.
"Shit," he breathes, pretty much collapsing onto Steve and letting his head fall to rest on the man's lower belly. He turns his head slightly, chin braced on Steve's abs. "Hey."
"Mmm."
"Grunting, that's good. It fits you."
"Wha?"
Danny frowns and slides up, away from the mess. "Sticky."
"Mmm."
He stares at Steve's closed eyes. Pushes at him lightly. "Hey." One eye opens a sliver. "You think maybe we want to take this upstairs?"
A large arm reaches for him, wraps around him and pulls him down, trapped under its weight.
"Not yet," Steve mumbles.
"Okay." Because whatever. He may be getting too old to be sprawled naked on the bare floor, but he'll go with the flow for a little while. Waits a few minutes, then, "Hey. Hey, Steve."
"Hmm?"
"How you doing? Still hurting?"
Steve's other arm wraps over him to join the first, locking around him and then he's pressed down onto Steve's chest. "Not so much."
Which okay, then, "So what do you say we head upstairs."
Steve's chest rumbles under his ear. "In a minute. Comfy."
"Comfy? Did you just say you were comfy? On the hard wood floor?"
One of Steve's eyes is looking at him. "Did I? Lemme think--yes. I think I did." He lays his head back down and closes his eyes. Danny can hardly move under his arms. They're like lead weights and he tries to pull out from under them only to have Steve wrap them even tighter around.
"Shhh, Danno. Be still. Relax."
He waits a bit more. It's not like he's totally uncomfortable--a bit sticky, maybe, and Steve isn't the softest thing in the world, but still--he can manage another minute or so.
Or not.
"So hey. Upstairs. You and me."
"Yes?"
"What--what do you think the odds are of, oh, I don't know...me getting fucked?"
Which has Steve half sitting up, looking at him, then getting up and grabbing Danny's hand to pull him up. "Good odds. Great. Great odds."
"Thought so," Danny grins as he's ushered up the stairs.
End.
Title: Riding the Odds
Rating: R
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Warnings: none
Word Count: 5400+
Summary: Danny contemplates the odds with Steve.
Notes:
Written for Day 16 for Fannish Advent here
Coda to 3.09
This picks up just at the end of that episode.
Also at AO3 here
Pfftt. Not like he was going to actually ask her out. Not like she hadn't talked about her boyfriend--her famous boyfriend--all afternoon; really, he'd just been musing on whether or not she'd really have given him her number. That's all. Just wanted to needle Steve a little bit for the fun of it--see if he could get him going a little--but then that 'zero' popped up and just hung there and...
There are odds. Maybe a sliver of a fraction of an odd and okay, okay, Danny'll concede that he's what, at least ten years older than she is? (not even about to contemplate the thought of an even greater age gap, no.) Still, Steve and his 'zero' can go to hell because there should have been odds. There are always odds.
Then again...
Danny looks down at Steve's hand still wrapped firmly around his arm, Steve not even turning to look at him after reining him back to his side while muttering, "Oh, no, no, no, no," and grinning that self-assured 'always get my way' grin. He stares up at Steve's face. Steve's all too smug 'this is mine' face.
"You think you're really something, don'tcha?"
"What?"
A long beat, then Danny waves a hand. "Nothing."
Part of him wants to grin, too, because having Steve act like such a possessive Neanderthal fucker isn't ever really a bad thing, or so his brain assures him. In fact, there are times Danny's brain is clearly intent on working Steve into that state, because the payoff to Danny's body can be so goddamn golden: rough, just this side of intense, with a long, drawn-out sweet finish.
It's just, Steve's been giving off the caveman vibe pretty much since they set eyes on the girls--women--models--on the beach that morning. All crossed arms and frowny faces like he's absolutely positive Danny's going to run off and hook up with the first one that bats a fake eyelash in his direction.
Seriously. They're models. In bikinis. Let's face it; what are the odds anyone would get to watch a bunch of gorgeous women on a beach for a day as part of their daily job? Only in Hawaii could this happen, and the fact it happened to him is, well, just what in the hell is wrong with taking a good long look or two in appreciation?
He can flirt. He's a great flirter. As a matter of fact, a little flirting never hurt anyone, and not like any of these girls--women--is really going to take him too seriously, the age thing and all. Which, okay, maybe that hurts just a little bit down deep when he thinks about it; he wasn't kidding when he'd told Arlo he was feeling old.
Still, he knows flirting when he's immersed in it, likes to go with it because it's fun, and there was definite flirting going on while he sat nestled between three breathtakingly stunning women on that couch. He may be easily pegged as a dad, but he's not totally oblivious to receiving some admiring glances now and then; they were flirting. he was flirting.
Didn't he get a whole passel of glances just a few minutes ago from a bevy of passing models? He did. One called out, "Hey, Danny," and he'd smiled. They'd smiled. Big toothy smiles, even. Maybe even a wink. That whole give and take flirty thing. So perhaps a few years' age difference isn't really such an unyielding barrier.
Sure as shit there's no barrier in the way some of them--most of them--have been gawking outright at Steve since they walked in the door. Of course, who doesn't gawk at Steve? He's prettier than most of the models and from what Danny's observed of the current ongoing gawking, the majority of the people in this room seem to be finding Steve very--
Huh, maybe a little too very.
"Where'd Grace get off to? It's getting kinda late," Danny doesn't so much ask as announce because, yes, clearly there's been enough skimpy outfit viewing for the evening as it's past due time for them--for all of them--to leave before he's the one having to pull back on Steve's reins. Given the number of gawkers, Danny's sure not liking those odds.
Steve turns, looking around and is, as usual, fairly oblivious to the many looks he's garnering. "She's..." finally letting go of his arm and Danny smooths out the wrinkles of his shirtsleeve as Steve nods. "Over there with the--daisies?"
Grace is being escorted toward them, flanked by two models semi-partially-pretty-much-barely-clothed in silky lingerie enhanced by some sort of sheer flowy things that make them resemble a pair of matching flowers.
"Petunias, actually, I think," Danny says. "Maybe begonias." Which just earns him a rather searing look from Steve. "What? My mother had a garden. I know a begonia when I see it, jeeze."
Steve's frowning. "Danny, that's not what I was..."
His words trail off as Grace approaches; Danny's stopped listening anyway.
Grace has make-up on. Really well done make-up. She looks likes she's eighteen years old and Danny can't help shudder from the strangling choke hold currently gripping his heart. He's pretty sure he's hyperventilating.
"Calm down, Dad," Steve whispers, a hand squeezing his shoulder. "It's just for fun."
"Fun. Not fun. Heart failure is not at all fun." His daughter, his baby, should not be done up to look like she's old enough to date.
"Danno! Guess what I decided to be when I grow up?"
His stomach clenches even as he blurts out, "Please say veterinarian," because that's what Gracie has talked about becoming since she was two, and now...and now...
"Yeah," Grace is nodding, "that, and a make-up artist, too!"
Oh, okay. So maybe he's not having complete heart failure, and then Steve blurts outright because yes, that's it, Steve. Go ahead and shove the idea right in her head, why don't you?
"What! Not a model? Gracie! You'd make a great model!"
"Ew, Uncle Steve. No way. There's all these people looking at you and you have to walk around in your underwear. That is so gross."
Which, just--Danny feels his heart skip a beat and then he's breathing again.
**
Grace is pretty tired but still fairly wired from the show, and she keeps popping up just when Danny thinks she's fallen asleep.
"Those ladies were all really nice to me."
Danny turns to look at her in the backseat. "I'm so glad."
"An' I liked their flower outfits."
"Very nice."
"Yeah," she says. "Did you see the wings? They had really cool wings."
"And there she took flight on gossamer wings," Danny adds softly, just sending it out there.
"What?"
"What the hell?"
Grace and Steve both staring at him like he's suddenly sprouted a second head, but there is no way in hell he's going to explain some line from some obscure poem that he'd read years ago and for some reason had never forgotten.
"Nothing. Never mind. Monkey, I'm glad you had a good time."
"I did, like a great time. It was so cool." Grace is nodding away. "They're all really pretty, too, aren't they?"
Now Steve is looking at him and Danny offers up a wide grin, because, yeah. Needling. it's just too fun to get that fire stoked again. "Oh, yes. Pretty. Very pretty. So pretty."
"Yeah." Grace is leaning forward, tilting her head as she's looking at her reflection in the rear view mirror. "I think I really like this make-up."
There's that gut clenching again. "Well, don't get used to it--you know your mother says not until you're sixteen."
"How 'bout thirteen?"
"How 'bout never?" Which has Gracie grinning because she knows he's kidding. "You know what? Those models told me they thought you were beautiful, and I told them of course you are. Of course my daughter is the smartest and most beautiful daughter ever."
"Dan-no--" She's got that tone just like her mother, but she's also got a smile that lights up her face and if Danny could see that every night and every morning for the rest of his life, he'd die a happy man.
Pressure lands on his thigh and he looks down to find Steve's hand, squeezing. A snapshot of the two of them flashes behind his eyes, all naked skin and roving hands, and he bites down on his lip because he is not about to ride in the car with x-rated images rolling through his head like a bad porn movie while his baby girl is smiling at them from the back seat.
Shoves Steve's hand away and thinks of anything but Steve. And Steve's hand. On his leg--or anywhere else at the moment.
Besides, they haven't said anything to Grace about the two of them being together and they're not going to if mainly because he and Steve have never really defined what it is they are. Together.
Which makes him think of Catherine and why she wasn't there tonight as he's pretty sure she's the type to go for this sort of lingerie, which then makes him think of Steve's earlier comment about Gabby. If Danny doesn't really know much about what sort of underwear she wears, and if Steve thinks the reason she hasn't been around is because she's on an extended work trip off the island, well, Danny really hasn't bothered to clarify that situation yet.
Coming out of the Rachel debacle has left him pretty gun shy, even with Steve--maybe especially with Steve. Danny can count on one hand the serious relationships he's had, and neither was with a man. He's had close encounters of the male kind, sure, but nothing ever more than a few weeks of dating. Until Steve.
He wasn't kidding when he told Doris that he was taking things slow--not that she knew who it was he was referring to--and not that there's been any sort of level of commitment ever voiced, uttered or even grunted at by either him or Steve, anyway, surf buddy comments notwithstanding. And that's okay--or was okay, because as of late, he's finding himself feeling a little more ready to stake his territory. Okay, strike that. He can admit to himself that he's feeling a lot more territorial, and Catherine's just not included within the boundaries of his perceived Steve fence line.
What he's going to do about that, though, he's not sure.
"They said you were pretty, too," Grace chirps up again from the backseat.
He glances at Steve. "What?"
She's nodding. "Yep. I heard them say you were both very pretty, which made me laugh because men aren't pretty. They're handsome, right?"
The hand on his thigh is back and tightens a bit. "Uh-huh."
"But they said you and Uncle Steve were pretty together."
"Really," Steve states more than asks as he's alternating between watching the road and sliding him a steely-eyed stare that most people would probably find fairly unnerving but Danny's finding sexy as all get out in the wake of its smoldering intent, especially as it's accompanied by the even tighter squeeze of Steve's hand on his leg. Which he pats, then removes.
"Yeah," Grace continues while yawning. "An' then one of them said something about being a fly on a wall, which is kinda gross because, like, why would anyone want to be a bug? Seriously, gross."
**
Rachel isn't thrilled about the make-up. Isn't thrilled about the whole idea of Grace being at the fashion show either, but no way is Danny going to buckle under his ex-wife's version of the steely-eyed glare. Besides, it's over now.
"It was just underwear, Rachel. Not like you don't own some just like it, if I remember..."
"That's terribly rude, isn't it. And completely beside the point."
"Okay. Sorry. Hey, Grace, come over here and gimme one last squeeze, " he says, pulling her into a hug. "I love you. Do not be having too much fun without me."
"Daniel--"
"Clearly I'm kidding here, Rachel. Grace, baby girl, you have a great time with Step-Stan's family." He kisses the top of Grace's head and turns to leave.
"Sorry you couldn't have her spend the night, Danny, but we're flying to San Francisco first thing and I just think it's easier having her back here to get a good night's sleep rather than having to pick her up from you at an ungodly hour."
He nods, half ignoring her. "My weekend's gonna be too quiet without you, Monkey."
"It's okay, Daddy. You can always do stuff with Uncle Steve until I get back."
**
Steve's watching him as he heads down the drive and back to the car, the man's expression a bit unreadable as he's leaning out the driver's side window. "Hey, Danny. I was thinking--"
Danny stops abruptly. "Do you need an ambulance?"
Which Steve clearly ignores as he continues on. "What do you think about--"
"Zero."
A pause, then Steve nods without smiling. "That's funny. No, really. It is."
Which has him grinning. "'Course it's funny. I'm a funny guy. Because hell, yes, it's funny and he chuckles as he slides back into the passenger seat.
"So, no finishing the evening with a couple beers on my beach under the moon and stars for you tonight then. Zero odds of that. Okay. Got it."
"Wait--what? What do you got? You got nothing--I never said that. When did you hear me say that? I never said that."
Steve's smirk is back and then the hand is back on Danny's leg and there's squeezing and rubbing and inching. Inching up his thigh. And Danny knows this evening is going to turn out just fine, under the moon or not.
He nods, laying his own hand atop Steve's and linking their fingers because yeah, these are his fence lines. "That's better."
**
Of course 'couple beers' means stopping at the store on their way back to Steve's because yeah. No beer at the house. What are the odds?
"You're limping. Why are you limping?"
"What? I'm not limping."
"Okay, Steven. Okay. You're not. So then, tell me, when exactly did the one leg become noticeably shorter than the other?"
Steve just looks at him. "Fine. I'm limping. Kinda. I may have fallen a little earlier today and it's feeling stiff. That's all."
Danny holds open the door to the grocery store letting Steve pass through. Letting his fingers trail along Steve's side when he does so. Because he can. "Fallen where?"
"On my feet."
"Seriously, that's what you're going with?"
"Okay. Fallen from somewhere up high to somewhere down low."
"You are a jackass."
"Gee, thanks." Steve makes a beeline to the beer case. "How do you think I fell? How does anyone fall? I was chasing a guy. Oh, god, which just reminds me of the naked guy; I still can't erase the image of that grass skirt coming off in my hand when he fell."
"Grass skirt?" Two sixes in hand and then they're standing in line at the counter.
"Yes, grass skirt. I can't get the image out of my head. It was...kinda horrifying."
"Yeah. Great. Not a big fan of horrifying, frankly. Like anything having to do with Max, or that time I walked in on you jamming that needle into your hip. They have doctor offices for that sort of thing, by the way, and if you--"
"Cash, credit or debit?"
"Danny?" Steve asks, arms crossed and indicating Danny should answer the girl behind the register.
Sends Steve a pointed look because, really? Again? Then hands the cashier a twenty and a five and looks at the dismal amount of change given in return--little bit of silver and some pennies. Of course Steve didn't have his wallet, and he's about to say as much when he notices the man is gone and the store's doors are already closing on Steve's wake.
Danny follows him out, tossing the pennies into the air and watching them land on the parking lot's asphalt. Maybe someone will get good luck from them. "So, okay, you can tell me about the skirt later, and tell me why you're limping now--and don't think I won't forget about my having to pay. Again."
Steve's leaning over to place the beer in the back seat of the Camaro, and if Danny takes a few extra seconds to admire the view from his angle, that's his own business.
"Sore," Steve tells him, straightening up. "Okay? I'm sore. That's what happens when you leap out a window and land a couple stories down to get the job done, you get sore. Not that you would know, given your day."
"My day? My day was all about the job, I'll have you know." He doesn't miss the look Steve sends him, just chooses to ignore for the time being because what does Steve know about his day? "And what do you mean out a window? And stories? As in multiple? You jumped out a window to fall multiple stories chasing a guy--are you kidding me?"
"All about the job? What, sitting around on a couch all day is all about the job?"
Oh, yeah. Steve is still worked up over the model thing. This could so bode well for him later. "So is that when the grass skirt fell off? During the jump?"
Steve pauses a bit, and Danny's sure he's going to bring up the models again, but Steve then shakes his head. "No. Totally different guy."
"What? What do you mean different guy--there were two guys?"
"Try and keep up, Danny. Two guys, two chases. Kono told you all this over the phone, I know. I was there. What, sitting around on a sofa on a beach with some models fried your brain, or were you just so distracted you tuned out the real world?"
Danny knew it. "Oh. Okay. There it is. I get it now. Real world. You're jealous."
"I'm--Danny. I am not jealous."
There is nothing better than a riled, jealous Steve. "You are. You so are. Starting with that face you made when Arlo begged me to stay this morning and you had to go."
Steve is about glaring at him as he cuts him off. "Beg. He did not beg you--you volunteered before the words were even out of his mouth. You jumped at the chance."
"What? That is completely untrue. You were there--they needed me."
"Needed you? For what?"
Danny talks with his hands. Always has. He gets it from his mother who is a world-class hand waver. So if one palm flies wayward and accidentally smacks Steve in the face, it's just not his fault.
"Ow."
"Okay, look. You weren't there today, Steve--it got pretty dicey later, lemme tell you."
"Dicey. What, some model have a wardrobe malfunction and you had to step in and save the day?"
Makes for a heady combination, Steve's jealousy mixed with Danny's rising libido. The anticipation is killing him. For once, Danny will admit that Steve cannot drive fast enough. "I saved her, remember? There was a stalker? There was grave danger. There was a knife."
"And eyebrows."
"Eyebrows?"
Steve's glancing so fast between the road and him that Danny's sure the man's going to suffer whiplash. "Yes, Danny. Eyebrows. I saw the woman--she looked--weird."
"Well, yeah," Danny agrees, hands ticking off points along with each statement of fact as he sees it. "She was a stalker. She was dangerous. Dangerous can look weird. You're dangerous and sometimes you look weird."
Now Steve's frowning at him, and it's making him frown back. "Danny. You can't be serious that you thought the eyebrow stalker was that dangerous."
"She had a knife!" Holds up his hands. "It was this big, I saw it."
Steve just looks at him as he pulls up to his house and throws the car into park, then erupts with a short burst of laughter, which Danny finds totally uncalled for; Steve wasn't there.
"Okay, Danny. I'm sorry. Really, I am. I'm sure she was very scary even despite the, you know." Points a finger along his own eyebrow line.
Which is irritating as hell. "Steve--"
"No, really. I just--those eyebrows--"
They sit for a long stretch in the car while Steve finishes chuckling and Danny resists all temptation to punch him. Hard. He finally says, "Okay, Steven. Say I'm a model, and you're me."
"You're a model?"
"And you're me."
"Okay." Puts an arm around Danny. "Howzit, beautiful?"
Danny shoves him off. "Excuse me? Would I ever? Do you honestly think that's how I sound?"
Steve grins as he gets out of the car and then leans on the top. "Okay. Sorry. How's this then? 'Hello. I'm Detective Danny Williams. Do you like my tie? It's almost as stiff as the stick that's wedged up my--"
"Really." Danny pushes himself off from where he's leaning on the hood and heads toward the house, back tensing as he hears Steve behind him, Steve's hand dropping around his waist.
"Okay. Fine. Sorry. Danny, hold up. Sorry. I'm sorry. I forgot--I'm you with no sense of humor. And you're a model. I got it now."
"Yeah, you got something, all right. And you know perfectly well I have a terrific sense of humor."
"What are you wearing?" They hit the front door and Steve uses Danny's key in the lock, eyes raking down Danny's chest.
"What?"
Steve pushes the door open, turning as he says, "Some little golden metallic thong thing? Or...oh, one of those push-up bras? Maybe just some sort of sheer exotic flower petal is your secret--"
"You're sick, you know that?"
"Or how 'bout--what was it again--gossamer wings? Are you hiding gossamer wings from me, Danno?"
Danny had such high hopes for this evening, too. "Shut. Up."
"Hey now. You know we Williams' are a very picky sort of species. I just need to know what sort of girl I'm hooking up with here," Steve sends him a shit-eating grin.
Danny wants to deck him. "Hooking up. Did I say anything about hooking up? Did you ever hear the word hook referenced in any sort of connotation whatsoever?"
"Danno."
"No, you did not. No hook. No gossamer. No secrets--no nothing. "
"No nothing?" Steve whispers, and then there are hands playing over Danny's shirt.
"Nothing," Danny repeats, nodding, watching those fingers undo his buttons slowly and easily. Takes a deep breath. "Not a thing. Not one."
Steve's hands part the shirt and then there are warm fingers, palms against his skin, slowly sliding their way around his waist. Tickling along his abs and ribs as Steve is whispering. "Nothing? Not even this?"
His own hands push at Steve's jacket, and in the next second he hears it hit the floor as Steve lets it fall from his shoulders at the same time he's undoing the buttons of Steve's shirt. He slides his palms flat against the warmth of Steve's flesh, lets his fingertips trail lightly over ripped muscles that quiver beneath his touch and he feels a matching quiver ripple through his own dick.
Hears his name murmured softly, and then there's tongue, wet, soft yet firm, pushing against his lips and Danny opens to it, his own tongue seeking Steve's and there are hands sweeping over the skin of his chest, fingers tracing his nipples then trying to work the shirt from his shoulders, which....
"Oh, jeeze, Danny--get this thing--"
His tie is still wrapped around his throat, loosened but still tied and Steve's doing his best to pull it free by just yanking--
"Hold on, caveman, you're choking me here." Danny pulls back, grabbing the tie from Steve and slides it free. "See? Was that hard? It's so easy even a caveman can do--oof--" Chokes on the next words when Steve absolutely just shoves him back against the wall and rams his tongue down deep.
There are teeth then, at his neck, on his collarbone, hands brace his waist and he arches into them, into Steve. "God, babe," he whispers, breath caught up in the words. Steve's holding him, gripping him at the hips and he watches Steve sink down to his knees...
And Danny's got his fingers in Steve's hair, fingering and twirling through the strands, eyes half open but not seeing, then slamming shut when he feels Steve pull his belt free, his pants open and push down, and there's a warm tongue bathing a line down his bared skin.
"Steven--"
"Nothing at all, Danny?"
He breathes through his mouth. "No, I was wrong. Okay? Not nothing. Something--anything--"
Steve rises back up before him, and says, "Anything?"
Danny peels eyes open just as Steve heads in for another bruising kiss. He blindly reaches to untie tight laces, toeing off his shoes one at a time while Steve's hands tuck into his pants, smoothly sliding inside his underwear and gliding down to circle around his hard cock, thumbs dipping into the flesh of his inner thighs before a hand wraps underneath to cup his balls.
"God," he says, because he just feels. Feels--
"Still nothing?"
"Everything. Fuck. Everything."
His pants and boxers get shoved down and he kicks them off and away, scrabbling his own fingers at Steve's pants' button and trying desperately to pull it open. "Take 'em off, Steve, god, I can't--"
Then there's nothing between them but heated skin, and Steve's got his hands cupped around Danny's ass, fingers spread wide underneath and pulling, lifting him up and close. He parts his legs and half hops onto Steve, sure they're both headed for a crash landing on the floor...
Except they don't. Steve catches him, braces them both and then Danny is slammed back against the wall as Steve shoves himself right against Danny's crotch. "Jesus, Steve, fuck--you, you gotta--"
"Fuck me?" Steve breathes against him, voice dropped into those dangerous tones, the ones that hit Danny in the pit of his belly. "Oh, Danny. I don't think so. I was kinda thinking the other way around tonight. Me fucking you. Fucking you. Slowly, so slowly. Deeply. All of me inside all of you. Can you take that, Danny? Can you take all of me?"
Sweat is rolling down his neck, beads of it trickling tiny tendrils down his back and he shivers as Steve's voice drops even lower.
"Or maybe hard. Hard and fast and filling you up? Is that what you want?"
They're both sweating now--god, it has to be at least a hundred and ten in here-- and he can feel Steve's skin slick beneath his hands. Brushes a thumb against Steve's nipple and grins when he hears Steve moan. Steve's trembling now, Danny can feel the tremors in Steve's legs and it turns out it's only a slight shift of his own weight that sends them crashing...
"Ow, fuck," Steve groans.
"Shit."
"Get off my--Danno, your elbow, move your elbow it's, ow--Christ, that hurts."
They're in a heap, all tangled limbs and sweaty skin and Danny looks up at Steve as he does his best to shift off of him, asking, "You okay?"
Steve's looking a little pained. "Yeah, no. I don't know. You're a lot heavier than you look, Danny, Jesus. I think you broke me."
"I broke you. I broke you? You're the idiot who jumps out of windows without knowing how far down you're going to drop, and now you're complaining. After falling like two feet. Three and a half, tops."
"My leg hurts."
"Seriously? You're a SEAL!"
"All your weight landed on my leg. Might want to think on cutting back on the malasadas, there, Danny."
"Did you just call me fat?"
"What? No--just. My leg hurts. My back, too. I think I twisted something."
Danny rolls off of Steve and onto his side, propping his head on one hand and looking down at Steve. "What hurts, exactly?"
Steve closes his eyes and let loose a sigh before turning his head to watch Danny. "What doesn't hurt?"
"I don't know. Let's see, shall we?" He runs a hand, palm down, lightly over all the naked Steve pooled out before him. It's a lot of skin. Pretty skin. Those tattoos get him every time.
"God, you're beautiful," he whispers softly, marveling at the play of light across Steve's muscles. Leans across to lick a path over his stomach, feels Steve's hands find his hair, fingers threading through its length.
"Danny."
"Let me, just..." Shifts onto his knees between Steve's legs, his weight to one side to alleviate pressure on his bad knee. He runs the pads of his fingers lightly along the inside of Steve's legs, tracing the line of muscle from knee to thigh. Steve's getting harder again, his dick growing to full attention and he watches as Steve shifts under him, arching into his touch.
It's hot seeing this, seeing Steve, and Danny bends low, dipping down to run his tongue along the underside of Steve's cock, mouth lingering at the point where his dick and balls meet.
"Fuck, Danny."
"Not yet, babe--but we're getting there."
He pushes himself back up, hands braced on either side of Steve's hips, arms taking most of his weight as he leans over and lets his mouth take hold of Steve's cock. Sucks hard, then softens up, grabbing the base and running parted lips over and around and on top until Steve groans and thrusts his hips high.
He's got a hand around his own dick, timing the pull there with his grasp on Steve; god, the sight and sounds of it all are going to kill him. He pulls off Steve, rising up a bit to look him in the eye.
"You still hurting?"
"What? "
Danny grins. "Didn't think so." And resumes his hand, mouth, tongue, and within minutes he feels Steve grow even harder, feels the hands on his head still as Steve tenses with a soft gasp, then swallows down the flood of warmth that fills his mouth before he chokes on it as his own orgasm hits him and spirals up and out.
"Shit," he breathes, pretty much collapsing onto Steve and letting his head fall to rest on the man's lower belly. He turns his head slightly, chin braced on Steve's abs. "Hey."
"Mmm."
"Grunting, that's good. It fits you."
"Wha?"
Danny frowns and slides up, away from the mess. "Sticky."
"Mmm."
He stares at Steve's closed eyes. Pushes at him lightly. "Hey." One eye opens a sliver. "You think maybe we want to take this upstairs?"
A large arm reaches for him, wraps around him and pulls him down, trapped under its weight.
"Not yet," Steve mumbles.
"Okay." Because whatever. He may be getting too old to be sprawled naked on the bare floor, but he'll go with the flow for a little while. Waits a few minutes, then, "Hey. Hey, Steve."
"Hmm?"
"How you doing? Still hurting?"
Steve's other arm wraps over him to join the first, locking around him and then he's pressed down onto Steve's chest. "Not so much."
Which okay, then, "So what do you say we head upstairs."
Steve's chest rumbles under his ear. "In a minute. Comfy."
"Comfy? Did you just say you were comfy? On the hard wood floor?"
One of Steve's eyes is looking at him. "Did I? Lemme think--yes. I think I did." He lays his head back down and closes his eyes. Danny can hardly move under his arms. They're like lead weights and he tries to pull out from under them only to have Steve wrap them even tighter around.
"Shhh, Danno. Be still. Relax."
He waits a bit more. It's not like he's totally uncomfortable--a bit sticky, maybe, and Steve isn't the softest thing in the world, but still--he can manage another minute or so.
Or not.
"So hey. Upstairs. You and me."
"Yes?"
"What--what do you think the odds are of, oh, I don't know...me getting fucked?"
Which has Steve half sitting up, looking at him, then getting up and grabbing Danny's hand to pull him up. "Good odds. Great. Great odds."
"Thought so," Danny grins as he's ushered up the stairs.
End.