Danny’s arms tighten reflexively around Steve’s torso as his climax ripples through him, his toes curling and his scalp tingling at the same time as hot semen spreads down the side of his dick, mingling with the sweat and lube already coating the cheeks of Steve’s arse. His hands still for the few brief moments that coherent and rational abilities desert him, only kick-starting again to the plaintive sounds he knows Steve will deny making until the day he dies. His thumb brushes over the slit of Steve’s cock, gathering precome and lube in equal amounts, before sliding the length quickly, repeatedly, with a quick flick and twist on the upward stroke. Danny’s other hand continues to rub across Steve’s chest, pausing to squeeze and pinch the taut nipples every other pass. It is only a matter of minutes – maybe one, two at most – before Steve shudders and spills, hot, wet and slick into Danny’s hand.
Sweet lassitude settles over Danny. He is comfortable, satisfied – sated, even. Being the large spoon to Steve’s little one when horizontal is maybe incongruous when factoring in the difference in their standing heights, but Danny knows better. It is all in their legs. He is bigger than Steve through the chest, across the shoulders, even in the biceps. Besides, this just feels right. Sex with Steve held in his arms like this is perfect. It is exactly as it should be. And it just keeps getting better and better; Danny judges his refraction period has halved in the time since they’ve started fucking. What once took several hours of recovery is down to an hour or two, at most.
Make that even more than halved. Sliding his semi-hard dick through the mess of come, lube and sweat – a sensation that really can’t be replicated, and one Danny loves to experience repeatedly, butting the head of his cock against Steve’s still-tight balls over and over – he idly estimates he’ll be up for another round of fun in…
A jagged moan from Steve, sounding as if he is being dragged naked over hot coals, or nailed to – come to think of it now, Danny is most definitely up for the idea of nailing. They’ve not done that yet, haven’t even talked about it, but his dick is absolutely thrilled with the idea of leaving its warm haven between Steve’s arse cheeks and slipping home inside his body. Danny just knows that Steve’s arse will be pure heaven; hotter than hell – literally – and tighter than his ex-mother-in-law’s purse strings. Parsimonious bitch.
Another ragged moan spills from deep in Steve’s chest, striking Danny directly where he feels it the strongest – his balls, and his cock. Scratch waiting half an hour to start again – Steve’s arse is his, right the fuck now.
“Jesus wept, D,” Steve whispers, words barely clearing his mouth before another dick-hardening groan wends its way out of his throat, “you really need to work on controlling your thoughts.”
“Hmmm?” Danny replies, not really paying attention to what Steve is saying, but instead just enjoying the way he is saying them. Rather, the breathy cadence to Steve’s voice as it pitches low and sultry, the way he swallows heavily before he can even start. Sex. Steve is oozing sex, in pure liquid form – this shit should be bottled for rainy days, or when Steve is on Reserve duty – and it’s Danny’s duty to soak it up before Steve makes a big sex-related mess all over the island of Oahu.
A breathy laugh from Steve, and that’s it, Danny has to have him. Again. Only this time, Danny is going to fuck Steve so hard, they’ll both be counting stars and shooting rainbows. Sparkly, glittery, starry rainbows. His hand is already messy from jerking Steve through his climax, so lube? Not necessary. A finger or two slipping past the furled ring of muscle that is Steve’s arsehole proves easier than he ever thought – did he ever really think about it? Must have, cause he knows exactly what he wants, and how to go about getting it. Wouldn’t know without thinking of it first, right?
“D, I’m up for this, Jesus,” And Steve is, his cock is rock hard in Danny’s hand, straining, except Steve sounds pained now, maybe hurting a little. “Not hurting, not… God, not hurting. Fuck, Danny, you gotta… you gotta do more, add more. I need, I need more.”
Danny can do more. It’s no big deal to slip a third finger in with the other two, only takes a little hand wriggle to work it out. Everything about Steve’s arse is hot – how it looks, how it feels as he slides his dick between the firm cheeks, and now cocooning his fingers in a tunnel so tight he has distant fears for the safety of his manhood; an involuntary docking during a boisterous fuck doesn’t sound like fun. Well, the boisterous fuck sounds delightful. Sounds like he should be doing it right now, actually. Feels like it, too.
Extra lube probably isn’t a bad idea, it’s right there in front of Steve where it was tossed previously, and there’s no point in taking any risks hurting Steve. Danny has a fleeting thought about condoms, but he’s clean, and he knows Steve is as well. They spend too many hours at various clinics and hospitals, with vials of blood drawn every single fucking time; there is no way anything life-threatening is missed. Add in the regular blood work the department, and the state, demands and there is no way anything worse than a cold virus could get into either of their systems. Sarin gas exposure notwithstanding.
“Daniel, for fuck’s sake, get with the—“Steve hisses and jerks, hips whipping forward and forcing his cock to slide sweetly through Danny’s hand, the one previously on his chest. Danny takes the opportunity to once again rub across the hard nub he’s found that caused the reaction – Steve’s prostate, maybe, Danny doesn’t remember his doctor ever pulling a reaction like that from him though, so he’s not positive. Steve twitches again, and again, his dick growing impossibly harder with every move. He’s barely breathing now, near-silent whimpers slipping from between his lips. His body is slick with sweat, his muscles so tight Danny could bounce coins off him and get change with every toss.
It’s the only word Danny can make out between the breathy sighs and cries he knows Steve has no control over, not anymore. It’s a heady rush, knowing he’s reduced the stoic, strong man that is Steve McGarrett to a puddled wreck begging for his cock. Danny is quite happy to oblige.
Even though they’ve not talked about this, and Danny hasn’t even done it before, not even with a woman, sliding his cock home is surprisingly easy – and yet just as frighteningly tight as he feared. Steve has stopped breathing entirely, his body so still Danny might fear he was fucking a corpse – not a good thought, not with his dick buried in Steve’s arse – if it wasn’t for the racing heartbeat he can feel against his chest through Steve’s back. Danny switches hands, moving them back to their original homes – one on Steve’s rigid cock, and the other over his heart. Now, with his fingers splayed across Steve’s firm chest, the solid thud-thud of Steve’s heartbeat – especially how quick each beat bounces off his hand – is making him want to twist the hard nub of Steve’s nipple for old times’ sake. Maybe if he does that, Steve will start breathing again, and the unbearable pressure on his dick will lessen somewhat.
He does what he’s thinking, twisting sharply and pulling a little for extra emphasis. It’s a complicated reaction he elicits from Steve, one that nearly ends it all before they've even begun. Steve jerks, his breath catching before swearing violently, his arse contracts – how it is possible to make it tighter, Danny doesn’t know, but wow, he’s already seeing stars, the rainbows can’t be far behind – and then Steve relaxes, pushing his rear back into the cradle of Danny’s hips. Danny is seated so tight in Steve’s arse he thinks he might be tickling the man’s tonsils. He was right to think this would be heaven, his dick knew this would be heaven, he would always listen to his dick when it told him to fuck Steve, clearly his dick knows what it wants.
Danny is glad that Steve is breathing again, but really, now is not the time for laughing, even if it is just soft, breathy gusts that barely even qualify. Danny knows Steve, he knows the sounds Steve makes, and these sounds, they might be sex-addled – good sounds for Steve to make, as long as it is Danny who is forcing Steve to make them – but they are still laughter, and damn it, Danny is fucking Steve, he is nailing Steve, threatening stars and glittery rainbows, and there will be no laughing while they are fucking.
Danny’s estimation of his enhanced refraction period is spot on, as is his fear that screwing Steve is going to be over almost before it has begun. His orgasm isn’t just building, it’s rushing through his body like a runaway freight train, and he’s the cargo, poorly tied down and swaying dangerously with every sharp corner. He’s a bit worried he’ll leave Steve behind, but he needn’t worry – they’re partners, they do everything together. Steve stills, not that they’d really been moving a whole lot, his dick pulsing in Danny’s hard grip. Danny is a little surprised to hear Steve yell – he’s the quiet one, sucking his noises back down his throat; Danny suspects years of living in close quarters taught the man how to come without alerting team mates or enemies alike.
What was a tight grip around Danny’s cock is now vice-like, rhythmic pulses flashing along his length giving him a brief fear that docking is indeed imminent. These thoughts disappear as soon as he thinks them; Danny does indeed shoot sequin rainbows and sparkly unicorn stars, his climax is so intense. He’s not quiet, he never is, but words? Not really needed. Noises are good, noises – nice, random noises that mean nothing to anyone – these noises are all Danny need to make when he’s emptying his scrambled brains through a hole the size of a pencil lead at the end of his dick. He has no brain, not anymore. And he’s quite okay with that.
Pulling his dick – his tired, over-used, very happy and now-soft dick – out of Steve’s arse isn’t any easier than putting it in. A detail that might have been useful at the beginning, perhaps. Steve is obviously a little uncomfortable, twitching his arse away from Danny with a grunt, but he’s also obviously boneless and sleepy. Danny likes Steve boneless and sleepy. He’s feeling rather boneless and sleepy himself.
A gust of warm air wafts over Danny’s now-lax hand, Steve huffing wheezily into the sheets. He sounds like a rusty bedspring, old and broken, or a tired accordion, long past its best, not the fit and healthy Army man Danny knows him to be. Steve’s quiet huffing turns to chuckles, turns to actual laughing, turns to Steve choking on his breath, obviously losing his mind entirely. Danny has always known he’s the sane one in their partnership, this just proves it.
Steve flops onto his back, pushing Danny out of the way. His face is crinkled, eyes scrunched and pinched, and his mouth is twisted. He looks in pain; fuck, Danny broke Rambo.
Steve’s hand shoots out, impossibly fast, latching onto Danny’s face across his mouth. It’s awfully tempting to just lick the palm, start something that Danny knows Steve will enjoy – he can see in Steve’s eyes that Steve is reading his mind, that Steve knows exactly what he is thinking. But Danny isn’t going to lick Steve’s palm, that’s just too much work right now. Better to keep Steve on edge, not knowing exactly what, or when, Danny is going to attack.
Steve is still laughing, though. Danny thinks now it might be at him.
“Danno, you need to stop,” Steve begs, eyes still crinkled. It’s not pain, Danny realises, looking closer. It’s genuine happiness. Steve is happy. It looks good on him. Danny likes it. Steve shakes his head, leaning up to replace lips for his hand. The kiss is dirty, sweeping Danny’s mind clean of everything. Nothing left, all gone. Glorious.
Steve drops his head back to the bed, holding Danny’s eyes. “D, I love this, I love what we do here. But you. You have no brain-to-mouth filter after sex. You think you’re thinking it, but you’re not, you’re saying it out loud.”
Steve rolls to lie over the top of Danny, stretching out for full body contact. This is good. This is really, really good. This is also new, different. Why haven’t they done this before? It’s always been Danny lying on Steve, not the other way round. Danny quite likes the weight of Steve pressing him down into the bed. It’s… well, not to be sappy, or anything, but it’s comforting. Even a man’s man likes to feel loved. Danny loves Steve lying on him. He loves Steve.
Steve’s face softens; his hands cradle Danny’s face as he leans over on his elbows. “On second thought, Danny, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Feel free to shout out any little thing that pops into your head any time we’re having sex. Anytime.” Steve lays a careful kiss on Danny’s mouth, the touch so soft and fleeting Danny thinks he might be dreaming. “Not dreaming, D. I love you, too.”
Danny wraps his arms around Steve, content to sleep the rest of the night with the giant goof as his own personal blanket. He’s not sure where Steve gets off with the “no filter, saying it out loud” shit, cause he’s not, and what’s with the “I love you, too”, that’s new. They don’t talk about this stuff, it’s not what they do. He knows he loves Steve, and he’s pretty sure his actions, both in the bed and as Steve’s work partner, have proved it time and again.
That’s good enough for Danny, and it’s going to have to be good enough for Steve.
“Danny, shut up and go to sleep.”