He puts a hand on the nape of Danny’s neck, pulling him closer, and they make out like teenagers for a while. Steve’s lost in the curl of Danny’s fingers on his shoulders, and the drag of Danny’s lips against his (always a little dry, but Steve’s not masochistic enough to complain), and the tickle of Danny’s ridiculous hair against his face.
Then Danny makes a frustrated noise and rolls away, leaving Steve half-hard and decidedly twitchy. But it’s cool; it’s fine. Steve can just breathe through it and will himself to relax. He has years of practice at catching shut-eye under all sorts of fucked-up conditions, so keeping his hands off Danny until morning should be a cakewalk.
So what if Danny keeps letting out short, annoyed breaths, and punching his pillow, and squirming all over the damn place in a futile attempt to get comfortable. He did this to himself, and Steve’s not going to give Danny any (more) excuses to bitch at him tomorrow. Even if a blow job would be pretty damn good right about now.
Steve lets out an annoyed huff of his own and rolls onto his right side, curling his body away from Danny’s to minimize temptation. It works, too; he’s almost asleep when Danny speaks again.
“Out of curiosity, what did you say to the cab driver? Tell me you’re not having someone toss Pauly into a shark cage, because I will not be your accomplice.”
“Danny, let it go or I will smother you with your pillow.”
“You say the sweetest things. No really, it’s very touching.”
“You’re touched in the head.”
“Au contraire; I am a catch. I’ve got solid proof now. People fight over me.”
“There was no fighting.”
“There was posturing. And don’t think I didn’t see you clenching your fists on more than one occasion, Rocky.”
Steve shifts and puts his pillow over his head, mumbling, “Goodnight, Adrian.”
Danny smacks him in the shoulder, so Steve feels justified in grabbing his wrist and yanking Danny’s hand down over his dick. “You know what? I think you still owe me for ‘very kindly’ not breaking that Jackass in half.”
“You were listening, huh? Why am I not surprised?” Danny bitches, pressing the length of his body against Steve. “You know what your problem is, McGarrett? No sense of boundaries.” Then he bites down on Steve’s shoulder, rolling his hips forward when Steve arches his back.
“Not when it comes to assholes trying to take what’s mine,” Steve grits out, gasping when Danny takes firm grip of his cock.
“Yours, huh?” Danny says right in his ear. “Were you ever planning on letting me in on that little detail, or is it one of those Steve things where it’s just supposed to be taken as read?”
Whether or not he really expects an answer is debatable. Steve shivers as Danny’s teeth scrape over his earlobe and his tongue flicks out to tease that sensitive spot where Steve’s earring used to be.
“Seriously? Right this second you want to have the relationship talk?”
Danny responds by stroking Steve’s dick through his shorts. “Maybe I’m still pissed at you.”
“Nah, you’re crazy about me.”
“It is true that you make me crazy,” Danny says, and that’s the last of the banter for a while. He slides his free hand into Steve’s hair and pulls his head back, and then they’re kissing again, bruisingly hard this time. Steve's neck protests against the twisting stretch but he'll put up with a lot worse to have Danny's tongue in his mouth. Danny's a fucking demon when he gets worked up, forceful and insistent and mean in a way that gets Steve aching every time.
By the time Danny lets go of his hair they’re both gasping, and Steve can feel Danny’s chest heaving against his back. Strictly speaking, Danny’s too short to sprawl all over Steve, so whenever he’s the big spoon it tends to require some careful deliberation as to what he wants more: Steve’s mouth or his ass. And Danny’s never been shy about including Steve in the decision-making process, stroking Steve’s dick and saying filthy things in his ear until Jesus Christ, Danny, I don’t care; just do something.
The Jackass 5/? (NSFW)
Then Danny makes a frustrated noise and rolls away, leaving Steve half-hard and decidedly twitchy. But it’s cool; it’s fine. Steve can just breathe through it and will himself to relax. He has years of practice at catching shut-eye under all sorts of fucked-up conditions, so keeping his hands off Danny until morning should be a cakewalk.
So what if Danny keeps letting out short, annoyed breaths, and punching his pillow, and squirming all over the damn place in a futile attempt to get comfortable. He did this to himself, and Steve’s not going to give Danny any (more) excuses to bitch at him tomorrow. Even if a blow job would be pretty damn good right about now.
Steve lets out an annoyed huff of his own and rolls onto his right side, curling his body away from Danny’s to minimize temptation. It works, too; he’s almost asleep when Danny speaks again.
“Out of curiosity, what did you say to the cab driver? Tell me you’re not having someone toss Pauly into a shark cage, because I will not be your accomplice.”
“Danny, let it go or I will smother you with your pillow.”
“You say the sweetest things. No really, it’s very touching.”
“You’re touched in the head.”
“Au contraire; I am a catch. I’ve got solid proof now. People fight over me.”
“There was no fighting.”
“There was posturing. And don’t think I didn’t see you clenching your fists on more than one occasion, Rocky.”
Steve shifts and puts his pillow over his head, mumbling, “Goodnight, Adrian.”
Danny smacks him in the shoulder, so Steve feels justified in grabbing his wrist and yanking Danny’s hand down over his dick. “You know what? I think you still owe me for ‘very kindly’ not breaking that Jackass in half.”
“You were listening, huh? Why am I not surprised?” Danny bitches, pressing the length of his body against Steve. “You know what your problem is, McGarrett? No sense of boundaries.” Then he bites down on Steve’s shoulder, rolling his hips forward when Steve arches his back.
“Not when it comes to assholes trying to take what’s mine,” Steve grits out, gasping when Danny takes firm grip of his cock.
“Yours, huh?” Danny says right in his ear. “Were you ever planning on letting me in on that little detail, or is it one of those Steve things where it’s just supposed to be taken as read?”
Whether or not he really expects an answer is debatable. Steve shivers as Danny’s teeth scrape over his earlobe and his tongue flicks out to tease that sensitive spot where Steve’s earring used to be.
“Seriously? Right this second you want to have the relationship talk?”
Danny responds by stroking Steve’s dick through his shorts. “Maybe I’m still pissed at you.”
“Nah, you’re crazy about me.”
“It is true that you make me crazy,” Danny says, and that’s the last of the banter for a while. He slides his free hand into Steve’s hair and pulls his head back, and then they’re kissing again, bruisingly hard this time. Steve's neck protests against the twisting stretch but he'll put up with a lot worse to have Danny's tongue in his mouth. Danny's a fucking demon when he gets worked up, forceful and insistent and mean in a way that gets Steve aching every time.
By the time Danny lets go of his hair they’re both gasping, and Steve can feel Danny’s chest heaving against his back. Strictly speaking, Danny’s too short to sprawl all over Steve, so whenever he’s the big spoon it tends to require some careful deliberation as to what he wants more: Steve’s mouth or his ass. And Danny’s never been shy about including Steve in the decision-making process, stroking Steve’s dick and saying filthy things in his ear until Jesus Christ, Danny, I don’t care; just do something.