Fic: Chroma (WAT, Danny/Martin, NC17)
A long time ago I promised nekosmuse Danny/Martin and bondage. This isn't exactly what I'd envisioned at the time, but mostly I just do what the story tells me.
Title: Chroma
Fandom: Without A Trace
Pairing: Danny/Martin
Rating: NC17
Summary: All he has left is his voice.
Warnings: Bondage.
Shame is hot. Red and burning and crawling over his skin from the inside, starting in his belly and moving up his chest, staining his neck and his cheeks until every part of him is on fire. And it doesn't seem possible, but the hands on his skin are even warmer, the mouth sucking hard at his neck and he blushes even harder when he arches up into it, forgetting the silk holding him down until it tightens hard around his wrists.
He's still not sure why he agreed to this - he's never done anything like it before, never even thought about it, really. And he's always been okay with the fact that he's a little boring - safe, as the girls in college used to put it - but there's a part of him that's always wished he could be a little less safe every once in awhile.
All his relationships in the past have been safe - girls his parents would approve of, the kind he could take to weddings and dinners, and men who were discreet enough to make sure word never got back to his parents. But there's nothing safe about this - nothing safe about fucking a coworker, and it's even less safe when it's Danny.
He knows what his father would say, and he's not going to pretend he doesn't care anymore. But when he's with Danny it's easy to forget how much he cares, easy to forget that if he's going to have an affair with a coworker, Sam's the more respectable choice. Not that his father would approve of her either, so in the end it doesn't matter. And if he was thinking clearly he'd laugh at his own absurd logic, but Danny's sucking at his collarbone now and thinking doesn't seem all that important.
He arches up again before he remembers, the ties around his wrists tightening even more and he groans at the mingled pain-pleasure. He's pretty sure he should be worried about the fact that this turns him on, that being at Danny's mercy can get him so hot so fast. But it's Danny, and even when he's being a pain in the ass Martin trusts him. He has to, because they're partners, and he couldn't do this job with someone he didn't trust.
And he trusts Danny, but he's still ashamed of how much he wants this. How much he's thought about it since Danny first brought it up, smirked through Martin's protests and then didn't mention it again. Just dropped it, like it was an idea that didn't pan out and he was already on to plan B. Only Martin knows Danny, and he could tell it was still on his mind by the way Danny held his wrists above his head when they kissed or the way Danny pinned him down, fingers laced together just tight enough to show Martin what he wanted.
But he didn't say it, and finally Martin figured out that Danny was waiting. Waiting for him to bring it up, to say the words and when he finally did he blushed bright and hot, stumbling over his own voice until Danny finally took pity on him. That was an hour ago, and Martin's been blushing ever since. And he knows there's nothing to be ashamed of, not how much he wants this or the fact that he let Danny force him into asking for it. He knows all that, but it doesn't stop the blush from rising when Danny murmurs God, you're sexy like this against his neck.
He can't stop himself from arching up, pulling futilely against the ties around his wrists and he's sure he's going to wreck them. Doesn't even care, because Danny's laughing against his skin now and sliding a hand between them and Martin's going to die before Danny ever lets him come. He has a feeling that's the point, that Danny wants to hear him beg, and the worst part is that Martin knows he'll do it. Knows he's going to, because the words are already floating through his brain and it's only a matter of time before he says them out loud.
Danny, please and fuck me and God, harder and a dozen other things he never has to say, because usually he can show Danny what he wants. Only now it's different, because Danny's in control and all Martin has is his voice. And he's chanting Danny's name, voice low and rough as Danny mouths kisses down the center of Martin's chest.
He stops just shy of Martin's cock, glancing up with that look and Martin frowns because he knows what Danny's waiting for. "Please."
For a second Danny just looks at him, and Martin's sure he's going to make him ask for what he wants. He waits for the sound of Danny's voice, waits for the vaguely mocking please what?, but it never comes. Instead Danny turns his attention back to Martin's stomach, pressing surprisingly gentle kisses to the soft skin at his hipbones before he finally closes his mouth around Martin's cock.
Martin arches up into wet heat, the silk around his wrists tightening in response and Danny chuckles around his length and presses a hand to one hip to hold him down. His other hand pushes between Martin's legs, past his balls to press against the taut skin there. And somehow he always finds the right spot, the one that makes Martin see stars and before he can stop himself he's talking. Murmuring all those things he doesn't say, please and more and now and a few other words that will make him blush to remember later. But that doesn't matter now - all that matters is Danny's mouth on him, Danny's fingers pressing inside and Martin's wrists are going to be raw and red from straining against the fabric holding him to the bed.
And he doesn't care that he'll have to keep his sleeves carefully buttoned at work for the next few days. Right now he doesn't even care if somebody sees, because Danny's mouth is working around his length and it feels way too good to stop. He hears himself begging for more, hears himself moaning Danny's name and then Danny's mouth is gone and Danny's pushing inside him, one hand stroking Martin's cock and now Danny's talking.
Danny's never had a problem talking, not like Martin, and the things he says always, always make Martin blush. He's starting to think that's going to be a permanent condition, because he's been blushing since Danny started peeling his clothes off and he can feel the flush still staining his skin. And Danny's still talking, breathless and low and Martin can't make out everything he's saying, but he recognizes the sound of his own name, and that makes him moan and arch up even harder.
He ignores the pain in his wrists, the way his skin protests as he presses up to pull Danny even deeper inside. Jesus, Danny murmurs, then fuck when Martin tightens around him, Danny's hand tightening reflexively on Martin's cock and he thrusts up into it, whole body tensing as he comes. They stay frozen like that for a few seconds, Danny tense above him and Martin can tell what an effort it is to wait until he relaxes enough to let Danny move again.
Endless seconds later he does, and then it's like going from pause to fast forward, because Danny's thrusting even harder and gripping Martin's hip hard enough to leave marks. But it doesn't matter, because Martin's already got the marks on his wrist to prove this happened, to remind him every time he catches sight of angry red skin. He tightens around Danny again, surprising a groan out of the other man and then Danny pulls out, pushing back inside again and then again before he presses his face against Martin's neck and comes.
And this is the part where Martin would stroke his back, warm hands soothing Danny through the last of his orgasm. But his arms are still stretched above him, and Martin laughs breathlessly when he forgets again and tries to reach down. The sound gets Danny's attention, expression confused for a second before he looks up at Martin's wrists.
"Jesus, Martin," he murmurs, tugging gently at first one tie and then the other until Martin's wrists are free. He reaches up to rub the bright red mark on Martin's left wrist, fingers ghosting across skin hot from friction and when Martin winces Danny frowns. "You should have said something."
"It's fine," Martin insists, and it's not really a lie, because it doesn't hurt. It aches a little, and he knows later it will burn, but he's glad because that means he'll remember every time he feels it. And he's not sure what that says about him, but he's not going to think too hard about it while Danny's still stretched out on top of him. Still buried inside him, and Martin wants to start all over again.
He tightens around Danny, laughing softly at the moan that gets him, and when Danny kisses him again Martin congratulates himself on distracting Danny from his wrists. He knows Danny won't forget forever, that he'll blame himself and it will take Martin awhile to talk him into doing this again. But he's already said the words out loud once, so the second time should be easy.
Title: Chroma
Fandom: Without A Trace
Pairing: Danny/Martin
Rating: NC17
Summary: All he has left is his voice.
Warnings: Bondage.
Shame is hot. Red and burning and crawling over his skin from the inside, starting in his belly and moving up his chest, staining his neck and his cheeks until every part of him is on fire. And it doesn't seem possible, but the hands on his skin are even warmer, the mouth sucking hard at his neck and he blushes even harder when he arches up into it, forgetting the silk holding him down until it tightens hard around his wrists.
He's still not sure why he agreed to this - he's never done anything like it before, never even thought about it, really. And he's always been okay with the fact that he's a little boring - safe, as the girls in college used to put it - but there's a part of him that's always wished he could be a little less safe every once in awhile.
All his relationships in the past have been safe - girls his parents would approve of, the kind he could take to weddings and dinners, and men who were discreet enough to make sure word never got back to his parents. But there's nothing safe about this - nothing safe about fucking a coworker, and it's even less safe when it's Danny.
He knows what his father would say, and he's not going to pretend he doesn't care anymore. But when he's with Danny it's easy to forget how much he cares, easy to forget that if he's going to have an affair with a coworker, Sam's the more respectable choice. Not that his father would approve of her either, so in the end it doesn't matter. And if he was thinking clearly he'd laugh at his own absurd logic, but Danny's sucking at his collarbone now and thinking doesn't seem all that important.
He arches up again before he remembers, the ties around his wrists tightening even more and he groans at the mingled pain-pleasure. He's pretty sure he should be worried about the fact that this turns him on, that being at Danny's mercy can get him so hot so fast. But it's Danny, and even when he's being a pain in the ass Martin trusts him. He has to, because they're partners, and he couldn't do this job with someone he didn't trust.
And he trusts Danny, but he's still ashamed of how much he wants this. How much he's thought about it since Danny first brought it up, smirked through Martin's protests and then didn't mention it again. Just dropped it, like it was an idea that didn't pan out and he was already on to plan B. Only Martin knows Danny, and he could tell it was still on his mind by the way Danny held his wrists above his head when they kissed or the way Danny pinned him down, fingers laced together just tight enough to show Martin what he wanted.
But he didn't say it, and finally Martin figured out that Danny was waiting. Waiting for him to bring it up, to say the words and when he finally did he blushed bright and hot, stumbling over his own voice until Danny finally took pity on him. That was an hour ago, and Martin's been blushing ever since. And he knows there's nothing to be ashamed of, not how much he wants this or the fact that he let Danny force him into asking for it. He knows all that, but it doesn't stop the blush from rising when Danny murmurs God, you're sexy like this against his neck.
He can't stop himself from arching up, pulling futilely against the ties around his wrists and he's sure he's going to wreck them. Doesn't even care, because Danny's laughing against his skin now and sliding a hand between them and Martin's going to die before Danny ever lets him come. He has a feeling that's the point, that Danny wants to hear him beg, and the worst part is that Martin knows he'll do it. Knows he's going to, because the words are already floating through his brain and it's only a matter of time before he says them out loud.
Danny, please and fuck me and God, harder and a dozen other things he never has to say, because usually he can show Danny what he wants. Only now it's different, because Danny's in control and all Martin has is his voice. And he's chanting Danny's name, voice low and rough as Danny mouths kisses down the center of Martin's chest.
He stops just shy of Martin's cock, glancing up with that look and Martin frowns because he knows what Danny's waiting for. "Please."
For a second Danny just looks at him, and Martin's sure he's going to make him ask for what he wants. He waits for the sound of Danny's voice, waits for the vaguely mocking please what?, but it never comes. Instead Danny turns his attention back to Martin's stomach, pressing surprisingly gentle kisses to the soft skin at his hipbones before he finally closes his mouth around Martin's cock.
Martin arches up into wet heat, the silk around his wrists tightening in response and Danny chuckles around his length and presses a hand to one hip to hold him down. His other hand pushes between Martin's legs, past his balls to press against the taut skin there. And somehow he always finds the right spot, the one that makes Martin see stars and before he can stop himself he's talking. Murmuring all those things he doesn't say, please and more and now and a few other words that will make him blush to remember later. But that doesn't matter now - all that matters is Danny's mouth on him, Danny's fingers pressing inside and Martin's wrists are going to be raw and red from straining against the fabric holding him to the bed.
And he doesn't care that he'll have to keep his sleeves carefully buttoned at work for the next few days. Right now he doesn't even care if somebody sees, because Danny's mouth is working around his length and it feels way too good to stop. He hears himself begging for more, hears himself moaning Danny's name and then Danny's mouth is gone and Danny's pushing inside him, one hand stroking Martin's cock and now Danny's talking.
Danny's never had a problem talking, not like Martin, and the things he says always, always make Martin blush. He's starting to think that's going to be a permanent condition, because he's been blushing since Danny started peeling his clothes off and he can feel the flush still staining his skin. And Danny's still talking, breathless and low and Martin can't make out everything he's saying, but he recognizes the sound of his own name, and that makes him moan and arch up even harder.
He ignores the pain in his wrists, the way his skin protests as he presses up to pull Danny even deeper inside. Jesus, Danny murmurs, then fuck when Martin tightens around him, Danny's hand tightening reflexively on Martin's cock and he thrusts up into it, whole body tensing as he comes. They stay frozen like that for a few seconds, Danny tense above him and Martin can tell what an effort it is to wait until he relaxes enough to let Danny move again.
Endless seconds later he does, and then it's like going from pause to fast forward, because Danny's thrusting even harder and gripping Martin's hip hard enough to leave marks. But it doesn't matter, because Martin's already got the marks on his wrist to prove this happened, to remind him every time he catches sight of angry red skin. He tightens around Danny again, surprising a groan out of the other man and then Danny pulls out, pushing back inside again and then again before he presses his face against Martin's neck and comes.
And this is the part where Martin would stroke his back, warm hands soothing Danny through the last of his orgasm. But his arms are still stretched above him, and Martin laughs breathlessly when he forgets again and tries to reach down. The sound gets Danny's attention, expression confused for a second before he looks up at Martin's wrists.
"Jesus, Martin," he murmurs, tugging gently at first one tie and then the other until Martin's wrists are free. He reaches up to rub the bright red mark on Martin's left wrist, fingers ghosting across skin hot from friction and when Martin winces Danny frowns. "You should have said something."
"It's fine," Martin insists, and it's not really a lie, because it doesn't hurt. It aches a little, and he knows later it will burn, but he's glad because that means he'll remember every time he feels it. And he's not sure what that says about him, but he's not going to think too hard about it while Danny's still stretched out on top of him. Still buried inside him, and Martin wants to start all over again.
He tightens around Danny, laughing softly at the moan that gets him, and when Danny kisses him again Martin congratulates himself on distracting Danny from his wrists. He knows Danny won't forget forever, that he'll blame himself and it will take Martin awhile to talk him into doing this again. But he's already said the words out loud once, so the second time should be easy.