haolehothead | Timeloop

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Timeloop

Danny wakes up to the severe pain in his back that only comes accompanied by his pull-out bed. The alarm is blaring, the police radio is sounding that someone needs to check on John McGarrett, and when Danny rolls over to turn off the alarm, his body comes into contact with about two hundred pounds (give or take) of warm flesh. Danny doesn't have to think much to know what this day is. True, the events after he goes to the crime scene are just a little bit more vivid, but he'd been on the island the day that John McGarrett was killed and that was the day he'd picked up the case.

He wakes up fully, giving a wary look beneath him and bracing his weight against Steve's torso with both palms, staring at Steve in the pull-out bed of his crappy apartment. This is going to be so bad for Steve and Danny isn't even sure how to begin going about it. How do you? Steve had been thousands of miles away the first time this happened, there's no way that he's going to deal with this normally. It's Steve, after all.

And the radio keeps asking for someone to check on McGarrett, who went AWOL after lunch.

Danny knows this isn't possible, this has to be a bad dream. He pinches at the flesh of his skin, but it aches thoroughly and now he's faced with the knowledge that he has to figure out how to tell Steve about this. "Steve," he hisses, pushing at him. "Steve, wake up."

First he gets him awake and calm, then they figure out what to do about all this.

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Danny can't help his sick-sounding and yet giddy laugh at that, spreading his legs apart when Steve coaxes them. "Do not resurrect me as a zombie, Steven," he warns wearily, but there's great fondness on his face.

Steve smiles wryly, retaliating with a deliberate nip along the inside of Danny's thigh, a gentle scrape of teeth into that bite. "Then don't die on me, Danno," he breathes, hands kneading over the muscles in his legs.

Danny breathes out heavily and lets out a short whimper, groaning when he can already tell that his body is desperate for more of this. "I don't want to," he rambles, repeating it over and over again as he reaches down to stroke his dick.

Steve slaps Danny's hand away before he can get a good grip on himself, fingertips tracing the lines of Danny's hips as he gets his mouth on him instead - long, slow licks of his tongue along the length of Danny's dick, swirling around the tip and then taking him into his mouth, sucking him off with a low moan of enjoyment.

The warmth is practically torturous and he lets out a quiet keen that's desperate and mangled, grabbing at Steve's hair instead, but he doesn't want this (not only this). "Get inside me, Steve, please, I need to feel you," he begs roughly.

This isn't about sex, has never really been about it to begin with but it definitely isn't about it now, not when they're both so desperate for that connection, not when Steve wants to feel and touch and know every part of Danny, inside and out - and he's not going to waste time now, not a damn second after briefly fumbling in the bedside drawer, finding the bottle and getting what he needs before tossing it over his shoulder, slicking a palm over his cock - and he's got his eyes firmly locked on Danny's now, needing to see that moment when his expression changes, when his gaze clouds over with unhinged pleasure as Steve pushes inside him, fully buried, all in one thrust.

It doesn't take long, at all, but it feels like a goddamn eternity before he can react. Then, suddenly, it's too much pleasure at once and Danny lets out a choked sound of joy, closing his eyes as his hands clamp down on Steve's shoulders and just holds tight. "I love you," he gets out, whispering it again and again. "God, Steve, I love you. I love you so much."

Steve stretches out over him, propping himself up on his elbows, hips moving slowly, deliberate and deep as he surges down to cover Danny's mouth with his own, pouring every ounce of feeling into that kiss. "You and me, Danno," he whispers, taking one of Danny's hands in his, fingers sliding through to pin it against the bed in a claiming grip. "Always."

Danny curls his fingers around Steve's, making sure to let him feel the coolness of the ring on his finger against Steve's, staring at it for a long moment before turning his attention back to the kiss, taking his time to slowly endure the kiss and feel every second of it and how it made him feel so damn loved.

It's a slow build of pleasure low in Steve's body, burning hot and hotter until he has to give in, moving his hips a little faster, panting rough against Danny's mouth but unwilling to pull back from him for longer than a second. He gets a hand between them, palm still slick to work around Danny's length, timing his strokes with the thrusts of his hips, his groans falling freely from his lips. "Oh, God, Danny, love you."

Danny's head falls back against the sheets and the pillows, his face scrunched up in desperate desire as he bucks and writhes, needing to feel this as long as he possibly can and he thinks, briefly, that he almost lost all of this.

Unbidden, a grieving sob escapes him as he comes.

Steve almost shouts as he follows Danny over, that sensation exploding practically without warning, overcoming him until he feels like he can't control his limbs, trembling hard and struggling to keep himself up over Danny without crushing him with his weight.

His head sags forward, face buried against Danny's neck, and he just breathes, just listens to the sound of Danny, just feels Danny's pulse beating where he nuzzles in.

Steve on top of him is all he really wants at that moment and Danny selfishly huddles him closer, both arms drawn tightly around the man as he breathes him in slow and steady. "I love you," he says, soft, but determined. "I love you so much, you idiot, I love you."

"Mmm, Danny," Steve whispers, nestling into that tight, strong embrace - Danny's never not been a good hugger, and tonight is no exception, both arms encircling him and holding him closer - and Steve lifts his head to capture Danny's lips in another kiss, slow and lazy. "Love you, babe."

Danny tips his chin upwards and lets out a slow exhalation, closing his eyes while he really allows Steve to do nothing but kiss him -- slow and strong and lazy. "I hated seeing you like that -- so scared."

"Believe me," Steve promises, his mouth trailing lazily along Danny's jaw and neck, "it's not a feeling I'm eager to recreate, any time soon, or ever again."

"You do know," Danny says as he shifts, just enough to slide his leg in between Steve's while he lets out a low sound, "that one day, even if I'm not capped off by an insane terrorist, you are gonna see me go. Probably to a heart attack."

"Don't talk like that," Steve insists, resting his cheek against Danny's shoulder, arm lazily resting over his chest as he slides off to the side. "You don't have to think about that now. I'm putting a moratorium on death talk."

"I'm just saying, it's in the Williams family history," he mumbles, soft and loving as he brushes his fingers through Steve's hair, paying special attention to the strands of white at his fingertips. "Just like McGarrett history is being too noble for their own good."

That coaxes a chuckle out of Steve, low and deep in his chest, his eyes half-lidded as he tilts his head into the touch of Danny's hand. "You know a lot about McGarretts, do you?"

Danny's smile is just a shade of rueful. "Knew your Dad for six months before I ever met you," he admits, laughing to himself because not once did he ever, ever think that he'd fall so crazy in love with the man's son. "And you know, I met your sis, too."

"One time. You met Mary once," Steve points out, fingers spanning wide over Danny's hip, palm cupping the slender bone. "Sometimes I don't think there's any possible way that she and I could be more different - and then there are other times that I remember why she was my best friend when we were kids."

"I dunno," Danny hums idly as he shifts to his back and props his head up with his hands. "She was pretty cute when I met her. And wild. Sexy, too. I mean, I'd definitely have hit on her if I hadn't met you first."

"Danny," Steve murmurs, craning his neck to look up at him, his face the picture of disgust. "That's beyond disturbing, on so many levels."

"Oh, come on, like you wouldn't check out my sisters if you'd met them without knowing me? They're all short, cute, with huge racks and big blonde hair," he protests, smacking Steve's cheek lightly (lighter than he would if he were feeling better).

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