by Jane Davitt

Danny woke between one breath and the next, a flicked-switch change from there to here. Without opening his eyes, he moved his face against the pillow, enjoying the luxury of waking naturally for once. The pillow was an inch too high for his neck, and smelled of a different detergent, but it also smelled like Steve. The fact that he knew that was deeply worrying on some levels, but he was going to put it down to being an awesome detective, aware of the tiniest detail, not a romantic sap. A detective who'd once borrowed one of Steve's T-shirts, warm from his body, and, to date, not given it back. That wasn't sentimental; he'd just not gotten around to washing it yet and frankly, the mud stains were never going to come off, so he was doing Steve a favor by keeping it.

He'd drooled on the pillow recently enough for it to be still damp. Okay, that was gross. With the courtesy his host deserved, he raised his head and flipped the pillow over. Better. It would dry and Steve would never know --

"I saw that."

"I deny it," Danny said without opening his eyes. He breathed in deeply and discovered that he'd been woken by a smell. It beat an alarm clock. "Is that coffee? Give. Please."

"Kona coffee. Finest kind," Steve confirmed. "Eat your heart out, Starbucks."

"Is it my coffee or are you just taunting me with the smell of yours?" With Steve, it was all about the details when you asked him questions. He was a man who valued precision.

"It's all yours." Steve sounded amused, relaxed even, way different from the man who'd practically kicked down Danny's door earlier. "Thought I'd wave it under your nose and see if it could raise the dead. Looks like it can."

"They need to make commercials stressing that point." Danny finally opened his eyes and rolled to his back. Steve was -- barely -- wearing a pair of swim shorts, the elastic stretched enough that they were hanging precariously low on his hips. Danny eyed them, wondering if they were held up by willpower. From the evidence in front of him, Steve was bare underneath the shorts, but a good detective checked his theories thoroughly. "Room service. Nice. I'll stay here more often."

"Yeah, that'd be fun," Steve said, leaving a steaming mug of coffee just out of reach on the bedside table. "It'd be even better if you were conscious next time."

"You said you wanted me to sleep," Danny reminded him, fighting to keep his yawn from exposing his tonsils. "God, I feel great. Hungry, need to pee, really need to shower to get the stink off, but apart from that, just peachy." He sat up and caught sight of the clock. "Two o'clock? Seriously? You let me sleep the day away? What are you, nuts? This is my day off! I'm wasting it."

"You got to bed at six this morning," Steve reminded him. "You're sleep-deprived and your body clock's out of whack. You passed out."

"Huh." Danny took a gulp of coffee and then slid out of bed. Steve's gaze moved over him like a sunbeam, warming Danny's skin and then became fixed on a point south of Danny's navel. Danny looked down at his dick, half-mast, no more. "That's not because of you standing there looking like you're about to crawl back into bed," he informed Steve. "It happens every morning. You're a guy. I don't need to tell you this."

"I know," Steve said. "And just so we're clear on this, if it was for me, I'd want it to be bigger. You can do better than that."

Danny grabbed a pillow from the bed -- the drooled-on one -- and hurled it at him, even though he knew that Steve would duck and catch it. It was the principal of the thing. He made it as far as the door when Steve caught up to him, long, strong arms slipping around him and pulling him back against what was definitely not just morning wood.

"That's for you," Steve said into his ear, punctuating his words with a lick that brought that side of Danny's body out in goose bumps and a wicked grind of his hips. "Don't keep me waiting to give it to you."

Danny concentrated on an unremarkable picture hung on the wall because he really did need to get rid of a few pints of used coffee. His cock jerked and filled, his mouth watering at the thought of turning and falling to his knees, Steve's hands guiding him down…

"Hold that thought," he said without looking back over his shoulder. "Hell, hold your dick, too, if you want. Keep it warm for me. I'll be back."

Business taken care of in the bathroom, he washed his face and, as an afterthought, filled his cupped palm with enough water to sluice his dick. The beads of water clung to it, tiny, translucent drops against the blood-darkened, taut skin. He breathed out and stared at his reflection. He looked…he wasn't sure. Hopeful? Aroused? Maybe just tired. His hair stuck up, wildly rumpled, and he used his damp palm to smooth it back without much expectation that it would work. Steve wouldn't care. Steve wouldn't be looking at it. Steve seemed to prefer staring at Danny's dick.

"Don't screw this up," he told himself and watched his reflection grimace, as if calculating the odds of that happening.

Steve was still wearing those goddamn shorts when Danny walked into the bedroom. They made him look more naked, not less.

"They're indecent," Danny said, flipping his hand at them. "Tell me you don't walk around like that outside?"

Steve looked perplexed, even hurt. Danny wasn't buying. No way. The guy had to know what he was doing wearing them. Jesus, they were riding so low that the grooves at his hips were visible, and the edge of hair framing his dick, a line of it peeking out. "I should arrest you," he said, walking forward, drawn to Steve in a moth to magnet deal. God, how long had it been since he'd done this with a guy? Years. And never with someone like this, a friend, a man whose name he knew. For that matter, how long had it been since he got laid, period? Sex had disappeared from his life about the same time that he'd landed on this island, resentful, desperate, determined. "Incitement to riot or something."

Steve grinned, a quick flash of teeth, looking smugly pleased at what Danny guessed came close enough to a compliment to warrant a smile or two. "Want to borrow my handcuffs?"

"Why would I need 'em? You planning on running or resisting?"

Steve shook his head, still smiling, like the idea of Danny taking him down was funny.

"That's good," Danny said, nodding. He was talking without meaning, most of his attention on the man in front of him. Steve stood still, inked, muscular arms by his side, his chest rising and falling, slow controlled breathing. Fucking SEAL training, cool under pressure. Danny wanted Steve to lose it, not the way he did when he was interrogating someone who wouldn't play ball, not angry and pissed, but with that raw edge showing, sure. Danny could take it. "Jesus, I want you bad."

He didn't want to hold back with Steve. Honesty was the best gift he had to offer and the one thing he'd held onto tightly since the divorce. Never letting someone see how much power they had over him because he loved them was his only defense… Grace was the only exception, but there was no risk with her. Grace was solid gold.

Steve's eyes darkened and the smile disappeared. "Yeah?"

Two strides and Steve was in front of him, kissing him with the finesse of a punch, his mouth pressing hard on Danny's, his tongue driving inside Danny's mouth.

Danny stood his ground -- not easy when Steve was all fucking over him, and retaliated by shoving his hands down the back of Steve's shorts and mapping out territory he fully intended to explore in detail real soon. The shorts were in his way; he scrabbled impatiently at them, and bit Steve's lip when the big lunk tried to yank them back up.

"Want them off," he said, tilting his head back to glare at Steve. "Off. Now."

Steve stepped back a few paces, a flush on his face, his wet lips already looking chafed soft. "You want them off? They're gone."

They pooled on the floor a moment later and Steve kicked them away. His cock jutted up, thick and hard, his balls a full, tight mass beneath it, dark hair furring them, blurring their shape.

Danny smiled and didn't care if it looked predatory. The afternoon sun was pouring in, warm, salt-sprinkled air filling his lungs. He felt good. He felt awake. Steve, naked, beat caffeine as a way to get his engine revving.

"So what do I get for not pointing out how bossy you are?" Steve asked. "Another kiss?"

Danny shook his head, absurdly touched that Steve wanted something most of the men he'd been with couldn't care less about. "You're too tall. I'm getting a crick in my freaking neck. Kiss me when we're on the bed."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "I'm too tall? Okay." He dropped to his knees where he was, a graceful movement, easy and unselfconscious, and crooked his finger. "Come here and let me see what I can reach now."

Danny's dick twitched, as it did the measuring. He walked forward and took his dick in his hand, pushing it down so that it pointed at Steve's mouth, already half open in expectation.

"You want to suck me?" he asked, keeping it light and conversational.

Steve squinted up at him, clearly unwilling to look away from Danny's dick for long. "Is that a trick question? I'm never sure when it comes to haoles."

"Bite me," Danny said without thinking and yelped a moment later, the sharp sound mellowing to a moan as Steve's teeth eased up and his tongue lapped at the reddened circle on Danny's shaft. "Do that again and I'll…"

"Mm?" Steve asked, the word mumbled because his mouth was full.

Danny smoothed Steve's shower-damp hair with his hand and said his eight times table in his head -- he'd always had problems with the eights -- to keep from coming too soon which would just be embarrassing. Besides, he didn't want this to end. Steve was good at giving head, deft and inventive, and God, yes, really committed to achieving his goal, if said goal was making Danny's knees buckle.

"They trained you to do this, didn't they?" he panted when Steve's tongue dipped shallowly into the slit of his dick, a soft, knowing prod that sent a delicious shiver down his spine. "Like, advanced training for getting people to spill their guts."

Steve managed to hollow his cheeks and suck Danny deep while sending an upward glance that screamed, 'are you fucking kidding me?'.

"I was a hardened criminal as a kid," Danny said. "I peeked at my Christmas presents every single year. I've never told anyone that, but if you do that thing with your tongue again, I'll confess some more."

Steve took his mouth away and said through gritted teeth, "You're distracting me. Shut the fuck up and let me do this."

"It's good, but I can't touch you when you're way down there," Danny said. It came close to a whine, but he didn't care.

Steve gave him an incredulous look. "So, first I'm too tall, now I'm too short? Look, just tell me where you want me. I'm reasonable. I'm flexible. Just make up your fucking mind."

Four, maybe five seconds of not being blown had cleared Danny's head enough for him to point to the bed. "There. Over there, and yeah, I know, I'm being a pain in the ass, but I need -- Jesus, Steve, I want to get my hands on you, too, okay? Do this for me? Please?"

Steve wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, shrugged and rocked back and up, easy, fluid, a reversal of what he'd done to get down there. Guy had leg muscles of steel, clearly. Probably not a robot, though. He'd seen Steve bleed blood not oil far too often to think that.

"So what do you want to do? Flip a coin for who gets to fuck who? Blow jobs? I do you, you do me?"

Danny exhaled. "How about we stop making to-do lists and just, you know, go with the flow?" he suggested. God, Steve's seduction technique would make a caveman wince and roll his eyes.

Steve flopped on the bed and patted the space beside him. "How about you get your ass over here and make us both the same height?"

Okay, Danny could get behind that as a plan. After a moment of initial awkwardness, with too many legs and arms for comfort, they settled into a loose embrace on their sides, hands free to rove, mouths level, cocks bumping into each other now and then, which made for some interesting moments.

Steve slowed down, kissing Danny less like a starving man and more like a kid on his second bowl of candy. It was kind of sweet, but Danny's dick was still wet with spit and he wanted more than unhurried kisses and big hands palming his ass without getting too curious and diving deeper. Danny could feel his ass muscles tense and relax with every pass of Steve's hand, half-anticipation, half concern. It'd been a while since he'd had anything bigger than his own finger in his ass. He didn't know how this would play out, but neither of them were men who took small, polite nibbles at life. They had until tomorrow to wear each other out and they probably would.

"You got plans for the rest of the day?" he asked, just to make sure that he wasn't on a clock.

Steve patted his ass, where it met his thigh. It tickled, but Danny didn't let that show on his face. "Yeah. You. You're my plans. Hey, though, if you want to see Grace --"

Danny shook his head, dealing with the tiny pang that came every time he realized that his daughter was someone he needed an appointment to visit. "No, I don't get to see her today and I can't just call by."

Steve kissed him again, a soft, warm kiss against Danny's temple, comforting not arousing. "That's got to be rough."

"Yeah. Let's not talk about it now, okay?"

Steve nodded agreeably. "Sure."

"This isn't how I saw this happening," Danny said and took his hand down, wrapping it around Steve's dick. Hot. Hard. Big enough to make his mouth water, not his eyes. "I thought maybe we'd be drunk, or we'd be fighting and I'd kiss you to shut you up because punching you is so last year."

"'So last year'?" Steve snorted and moved his hips, a subtle hint that he wanted Danny to do more than hold on. "You need to get out more. I don't think people say that anymore."

"What, a social life? Me? I live for my work, you know that, boss." Danny rolled his eyes when that got his ass slapped, a nice burn left behind, and began to work Steve's dick, a lazy rock to his wrist, teasing him with a grip too loose to be satisfying until it occurred to him that Steve might think this was the best he could do.

He tightened his hand and Steve yelped. "You break it, you buy it. It's not detachable."

"Wouldn't that be fun?" Danny murmured. "Okay, you got a taste of me…my turn."

Danny slid down the bed, Steve cooperating, rolling to his back and spreading his legs before Danny did more than place his hands on Steve's thighs.

"You want this," Danny said, still trying to wrap his head around that truth.

Steve shrugged one shoulder, unembarrassed. "I could play hard to get, but what's the point? You want me just as much. We're on the same page here."

"True," Danny said and watched his hands move along the exposed skin of Steve's inner thighs, clever hands that seemed to know just what they were doing, pushing Steve's legs wider just because Steve would let him do anything and that made Danny want to do everything.

He leaned over and got his first hit, a fast, take no prisoners swipe and slurp that got the faintly bitter tang of all that translucent messy goop smeared across the head of Steve's cock where he wanted it. He swallowed the taste, sighed, and bent his head, anticipating the moment when Steve's cock was in as deep as he could take it, and the ache in his jaw that would follow. He liked to come out of a blow job feeling it for a while after, his throat rasped sore, his mouth numb.

Steve propped himself up on his elbows, staring down his body with a lazy assurance that verged on arrogance. Danny didn't give a fuck. He was going to wipe that smile away and leave that beautiful mouth sagging open on a moan.

He'd barely taken enough licks to take the glaze off a candy cane, let alone the stripes, when Steve eased him away. Puzzled, Danny sat back on his heels and then found himself being pushed to his back.

"Like this," Steve said, just a little out of breath, which was something. "Please?"

Without waiting for an agreement -- without waiting at all -- he straddled Danny's chest.

"Excuse me?" While the position wasn't one he'd done before -- not on the receiving end, anyway -- Danny didn't mind trying it out, at least not if Steve tucked a pillow under his head first, but it would've been nice to have been asked.

He wriggled his trapped arm free and slapped at the cock bobbing in front of him. Interesting angle, and part of him wanted to open wide and say 'ahhh' but he'd never let Steve get away with shit like this before and he wasn't going to start now. "What is wrong with you? I was doing something there!"

"Yeah, you were blowing me. It felt great. I just --"

"You need to be on top," Danny finished for him. "Get your dick out of my face before I bite it the way you did mine, but harder. Much harder."

When Steve's weight was off him, Danny sat up and stabbed a finger at Steve. "You want to fuck my face? Ask. I'll probably say yes. You don't like the way I'm blowing you? Let me know how I'm screwing up. Tell me this is getting through to you."

Steve opened his mouth but Danny overrode him. "You'd better be about to say you're sorry."

"I am sorry," Steve said immediately. He grinned. "Sorry we stopped, anyway. I don't get what the big deal is, though."

Danny thrust his hands through his hair and bit back a scream of pure frustration. "I was doing something! I was trying to make it good for you and you took over. Yes, your dick was still in my mouth either way, but I don't give a fuck."

Steve leaned forward and kissed him, a penitent waiting to be forgiven. Danny didn't buy it, not for one fucking minute, but the kiss was fine, the kiss was nice, with Steve, after that first brush of his lips against Danny's, seeming content to let Danny lead in this dance.

His good mood restored, Danny ran his hand down Steve's back to his ass -- his hands kept going there and Steve seemed happy with that, so it was all good -- and slid his tongue into Steve's mouth.

A moment later he was on his back again and Steve was over him like a blanket, his dick riding the groove of Danny's hip, his lips finding the exact, precise spot on Danny's neck where a kiss made him shiver.

Danny went completely still and limp, with the exception of six or seven traitorous inches that seemed to approve of Steve unconditionally, and waited for Steve to notice that he was essentially jerking off. It took a little while longer than he expected, but that might've been because his hands somehow got clamped onto Steve's flexing ass.

Danny cleared his throat and laid it out for Steve as plainly as he could. "If you don't get on your back in the next three seconds and lie still, absofuckinglutely still, I'll show you one of the six ways I can kill someone with my tie."

"You're not wearing one."

"I swear to God, McGarrett, if you don't move --"

Steve moved, muttering something under his breath that Danny heard and ignored. His need to come with Steve involved was a slow insistent throb, gaining strength with every passing moment, his arousal building, but he ignored that, too.

With a grin that was pure challenge, Steve reached up and back, gripping the metal struts of the headboard. "Want to use that tie on my wrists and make sure that I stay put?"

"Tempting, but I'm not into kink," Danny said. It wasn't quite a lie but it was enough of one to get Steve's eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Steve let go of the headboard and sat up, resting his arms on his bent knees. The dark patterns of the ink on his right shoulder drew Danny's gaze. He'd touched that skin with his fingers, but not his mouth. He wanted to; wanted to see if he could taste a difference between bare skin and tattooed. "You're not convincing yourself or me," Steve said mildly. "I can tell you're thinking about it."

How? Did he have a sign floating over his head proclaiming that the thought, just the mere idea of using his tie to bind Steve's wrists, was enough to dry his mouth with longing? "That's one of my good ties. I'm not," Danny said flatly. "Suppose I tell you to keep your hands there until I say you can move them? Think you can do that?"

"Still kinky." Steve grinned. "You've got hidden depths, Danno."

"Okay, that's it, we're done." Danny threw his hands in the air. " I give up. You don't want sex, you just want to fuck with my head instead. Mind if I jerk off in your bathroom before I get dressed and leave?"

"Hey!" Steve shifted closer and put his hand on Danny's arm, his smile fading. "Don't. Please. I'm just screwing around because I'm nervous, I guess."

"No, you're an asshole," Danny said. Tough love. Steve needed it. Sadly, he couldn't keep the indulgent tone out of his voice. Steve panicking at being left with no one to play with was flattering. "I bet you were brought up by modern parents who never smacked you around the head when you deserved it."

"So you want to spank me as well as tying me up?" Steve shook his head, failing to hide his amusement. "Still denying those hidden depths?"

Danny sucked in a lungful of air and counted backward from ten. He got as far as seven before he gave up. Counting wasn't going to help.

"Fine, I'm kinky. I wear leather on my day off and I've custom-ordered a paddle with your name on. Way to spoil your Christmas present."

Steve snorted with laughter and rolled onto his belly. "Do it."

Danny cleared his throat. "Excuse me?" His voice was a little higher-pitched than normal but steady enough. Steve lifted his ass up an inch or two and wiggled it.

"Spank me. Get rid of all that built-up frustration for both of us and then I swear I'll be good and hold still for you."

"I'm not going to do that," Danny said with what he hoped was quiet conviction. "Why would you want me to do that? Is this something you do often? Wake up, floss, get your ass spanked?"

"No," Steve said. "You'd be my first."

Danny closed his eyes for a moment, processing that. He didn't want to spank Steve -- pound on him, sometimes, sure, knowing that Steve could always hit back -- but he loved the idea of being the first person to give Steve something that he wanted. Even if he didn't believe that Steve really wanted this. All that was missing was Steve actually saying the words 'I double-dog dare you'. It'd been a while, but wasn't sex usually simpler than this?

"I got your car filthy driving it down that track the other week," Steve said provocatively. "Mud everywhere. A scratch on the wing. And you know you hate how I keep moving the seat back so you can't reach the --"

"Okay, that's enough," Danny said. His hand had moved to hover over Steve's ass without him really noticing, cupping air, but when he brought it down, fast and hard, it was deliberate. He struck firm, warm flesh and left it pink; allowed the recoil to bring his hand back up and did it again, twice more.

Three strikes and Steve was out.

Steve took them in silence after a single sharp, startled gasp, but when Danny had curled his stinging palm into a fist, guarding the heat trapped there, Steve exhaled, his body relaxing, lying still at last, the restless, nervous energy quieted.

The marks on Steve's ass, not the clean, crisp prints that Danny had expected, but an irregular flush of red, darker where the slaps had overlapped, were already fading. Three slaps, even delivered with intent, weren't much. Steve got beat up, shot, knifed -- this was nothing. Danny didn't want it to be. He'd done it not to hurt but because when it came down to it, he really sucked at saying 'no' to Steve in any meaningful way.

Without a word of thanks or reproach -- Danny wasn't sure which would be harder to hear -- Steve rolled to his back and reached back to grip the headboard again. His dick was hard, as flushed as his ass, and as Danny watched Steve settle into position, spanked ass rubbing against the sheet, it jerked, pre-come glossing the head.

Danny nodded. Yeah. That would do. Now he could get on with this. Jesus, his cock was like iron. He felt as if he'd been turned on for hours. Hell, make that months. The one step forward, two steps back of the last hour was nothing compared to the drawn-out build-up that had begun months ago with him pointing his gun at Steve and yelling at him to drop his weapon.

Steve wet his lips with his tongue, a small, imploring not impatient, sound catching in his throat that sounded a lot like 'please'.

Danny smiled and moved between Steve's legs, then wrapped his hand, the hot one, the stinging one, around Steve's cock and felt it harden a little more, a shiver running through it. He fully intended to get on with this fast, push past the awkwardness, the first-fuck jitters, but he made the mistake of glancing up at Steve.

Steve was looking at him as if Danny was the sum total of every wish list he'd ever written, which was enough to make Danny abandon the blow job temporarily and plant a kiss on Steve's mouth instead.

"Let go," he murmured against Steve's cheek, his hand tracing the corded muscles of Steve's arm up to his wrist. He unpeeled Steve's fingers from the metal bar. "I miss you touching me. It's been, what, fifteen seconds and I miss it."
"I missed it, too," Steve brought his hands down to cup Danny's face, his thumbs moving across Danny's cheekbones in slow, light strokes. "Going to kiss you again…not going anywhere…want to come, God, just put your hand on me, Danny, that's all I need, God --"

The kisses between words were hot but it was the way Steve's voice shook that splintered what was left of Danny's control. Any plans he'd had were forgotten as he shoved one leg between Steve's and brought their bodies together, skin on skin, biting down on Steve's shoulder hard enough to draw a groan from them both. He couldn't get enough of touching Steve, wanted to crawl inside him, wear him, but he had to settle for dragging his hands down Steve's back, raking it with his nails. He wanted to mark Steve, with his teeth, his nails, his come, slap a label on him that said 'mine' and dare anyone to peel it off.

He covered Steve's mouth with his and stole every exhaled breath, drew his tongue over Steve's lips and left them spit-shined and soft, pushed two fingers between Steve's parted lips and felt Steve suck on them hungrily. All that, and he couldn't stop the restless movements as he rubbed off against Steve and felt the hard push of Steve's cock against his stomach. They were using each other, not selfishly, but with a blind focus, need overpowering any remaining doubts, for the moment, at least.

"Come for me," Steve said, his voice hoarse, and ran his finger down the crease of Danny's ass, over and over, going deeper each time until his fingertip worked its way inside, a dry, shallow push that made Danny moan. It felt good. Deeper without lube would hurt, a struggle for entry that would leave him raw and tender, though he'd done it before, but that much he could take.

He shuddered, wriggling his ass to get Steve's finger deeper, sweat beading his forehead, but didn't give into the pleasure siren-songing his body closer to climax. "You first."

Knowing that he could come from being finger-fucked when he was this turned on, he angled his body away from Steve's just enough to give him room to get his hand between them and around Steve's dick, damp with sweat and pre-come. It was what Steve had asked for, but from the muttered 'Fuck!', he'd changed his mind.

"You're gonna come for me," Danny said as serenely as possible given that he was humping Steve's finger like a slut and close to shooting. He circled his thumb over the head of Steve's dick, and brought it up to his mouth to lick clean, making it look as filthy as possible.

Steve whimpered, an honest-to-God moan, and closed his eyes, his face contorting as he came. Danny felt the first jolt of Steve's come, warm and wet against his belly, and stopped trying to hold back the tide. His climax left him clinging to Steve, his breath coming in uneven gasps, feeling light-headed and hollow, words tumbling out of his mouth that didn't make much sense and right then didn't have to.

Steve kissed him to shut him up, a move Danny approved of because neither of them needed to hear him talk mush, and then pulled back, his reluctance plain.

"Kind of messy," he said, an explanation Danny didn't need.

"Yeah," Danny said. Come cooled faster than any other substance on earth. He could feel it drying on him, coating hair and skin and turning to glue. "Guess we should clean up. Eat something. Change the sheets."

Steve rolled away and groped for something on the floor beside the bed. It turned out to be his T-shirt. At least, Danny hoped that it was Steve's. He swiped cursorily at his stomach and then used it to mop Danny's cock and stomach dry with a little more attention to detail. With Steve's hand performing the task, clean-up felt more like foreplay.

"Now you're clean," Steve said. "I'll fix you a sandwich, but after that, I want to get you dirty again. Still want to waste time changing the sheets?"

"I guess not," Danny said. He raised his eyebrows. "You gonna fuck me for dessert?"

"If that's what you want."

"Yeah, I think I do," Danny said. He needed more than the tease he'd gotten a few minutes earlier. He wanted to feel Steve's cock split him, fill him, the raw burn, the slide and grind. Steve would take care of him, he knew that without asking. He added, "Unless you want me to do you?" just to see what Steve's reaction would be. Not everyone liked it from both ends, hell, not everyone wanted it at all.

"I'll take whatever you're handing out," Steve said. His mouth twisted in a wry smile. "What, you think I won't bend over for you? You're wrong. I will."

Danny smiled, picturing the view in his head. Nice. "Looking forward to it, babe." Practicality beat out romance. "You've got what we'll need or do we have to go shopping?"

Steve smiled, wide and bright, reached down and patted his dick. "No, it's still here."

"Asshole," Danny said fondly. "Now, feed me."

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