He's earned this, he really has.

Because he hadn't stared at Danny's ass when Danny was full-stretch over the desk, scrabbling for a pen. (Or not for long, anyway. The thin, taut fabric had hidden nothing, the seam running down the middle had drawn his gaze to where he wanted to put his fingers, his cock, his tongue. He'd looked -- but he'd looked away before anyone had noticed.)

Because when Danny had come close, looked up at him and grinned, that easy, confiding smile, he'd smiled back and kept his hands at his side when he'd wanted to curve one around Danny's jaw, bring him closer still for a kiss, long and sweet.

Because when Danny had taken three miles to tell Steve in detail about his ideal date, he'd kept his hands relaxed on the wheel and his foot light on the gas when he'd wanted to break every speed limit in existence to end the journey and the torment.

(Funny, sexy, totally down with oral sex -- he could handle those requirements. God, give him a chance to prove the last one and he'd be down on his knees and reaching for Danny's zipper in a heartbeat. Shorter than Danny? That one was trickier.)

So, because he's been good, really good, all day, all fucking day, Steve reaches down, cups his balls, and runs a fingertip over the head of his cock, slick with remembering that ass, that smile, that fucking list.

He doesn't do this often. Too dangerous. It's hard enough to work with Danny these days without making every climax be about the guy (even though they all are). He conjures up anonymous fantasies, faceless bodies, lets himself drift, hands busy, fingers squeezing, one pushing deep, gently tormenting himself until he's sweating, gasping, ass an inch off the bed as he strains into the tight tunnel of his hand --

And comes saying Danny's name like a prayer or a curse.

The phone rings and he answers it, his hand shaking, wet with lube and come, so that the phone slides against his palm.

When he hears Danny's voice, he closes his eyes.

Keeps his free hand away from his body, away from his dick, perking up like a flower in water.

Says, yes, he'll meet Danny for drinks, sure, they can try and get lucky, maybe even get laid, what the hell, why not.

He's been good today, he really has, but he's starting to think in another life he must've done something awful.



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