haolehothead | (no subject)

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- game: tabula rasa

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Danny is beginning to develop a real fondness for the island. Namely, he likes the way he and Steve share space. He almost even likes the adorable way the dog snores in his ear when he slips out of Steve's bed in the middle of the night to curl up with Danny. He really likes when Zulu's owner does the same little trick.

It means he's got a handful of McGarrett as he rouses. Today, he's beaten the odds somehow in being up before Steve and he slides his fingers down Steve's bare back, half-awake and half-coherent as he takes in the look of him.

And that goddamn beautiful tramp stamp.

Zulu is still snoring at his ear, little puppy wuffles and huffs, but Danny displaces him lightly when he starts sinking down the bed with slow kisses down Steve's spine with one goal in mind: get to the treasure.

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It's gotten to a point where it almost feels strange when he's not in Danny's bed, or vice versa, usually with the puppy trying to worm his way into whatever remaining crevice of space still lies between them - just like today, when he's sleeping with his head on the pillow next to Steve's with his paws gently pressing into Steve's shoulder, flexing as he stretches and yawns.

Steve doesn't wake up when Danny moves Zulu, and it's a slow waking when he finally does feel the brush of his mouth, soft and heated, rousing him from sleep like a gentle tug as he groans and stretches, his spine arching under Danny's lips.

Danny knows that as soon as Steve wakes up, there is not going to be as much pliant space to work with. He works both palms flat and flush against Steve's hips to keep him there while Danny brushes his mouth just a shade lower, to the place that this tattoo has got to have been applied for.

He slowly starts to trace the pattern with his tongue, enjoying the whorls of it as they grow wet and dark.

The inclusion of two hands anchoring his hips to the bed solidify that it isn't the puppy; Zulu's woken him up with a cold wet nose in his ear any number of mornings, usually when he's ready for his breakfast or wants to go swimming. He's even more reluctant to leave the water than Steve on most days.

Steve sighs, shifts again, muffling sounds against the pillow as he blinks and squints. "Mmm, morning."

Danny grins slowly, the morning laziness not yet leaving his bones and making him ready to do anything but this, tracing each pattern with his tongue with increasing slowness. "Morning, babe," he drawls idly. "Can I commend you on this piece of work?" he asks, scraping a nail along.

"Commend away, D," Steve groans, his own body equally full of early morning lethargy, too content and warm to even consider moving at this moment. He slides one arm underneath the pillow, propping his head up slightly, and his hips rise up toward Danny's mouth. "You like it?"

Danny is busy studying it, breathless laughter escaping him as he pushes the dog away when Zulu wants in on the action. "You have a tramp stamp. I don't know whether I like it or whether it shames me to be seen with you."

"Judging by what you're doing right now, I'd say it's more of the first one," Steve murmurs, half-sleepy and also partly turned-on when Danny's breath ghosts hot over his lower back. "If I had to guess."

Danny's really intent on doing more, but the goddamn dog keeps getting in the way until Danny gets fed up and sits up, grabbing him by the torso and depositing him on the ground. "I'm regretting getting you a dog," he growls, going back to his attentive laving of his tongue near Steve's ass.

Steve lets one arm hang off the side of the bed, giving Zulu a reassuring scratch behind the ears before the puppy gets distracted by one of his toys on the floor and dives on it, sufficiently distracted. "You love him too, admit it," he replies, reaching down behind his back to briefly squeeze Danny's shoulder.

Danny grips at Steve's shoulders to use as leverage as he lowers himself down the bed. "Baby, he's getting in the way of you getting a rimjob," Danny points out. "How much do you love the dog over me right now?"

"Well, when you put it that way," Steve murmurs, and he knows he doesn't even need to turn around for Danny to recognize his smirk; it manifests in the brief tensing of his shoulders, the burying of his face against the pillow, the groan that causes it to disappear completely when Danny's body slides down over his.

Danny brushes kisses slowly against the curling edges of the tattoo as it begins, taking his time pressing a sucking kiss to each inch of skin, lowering and lowering until his kisses are brushing against the edges of Steve's ass, just enough to tease.

What it does serve to do, alongside the pleased sounds in the back of Steve's throat, is make him chuckle. Danny's stumbled across a few ticklish places there before, and he seems to make an effort to not leave them out, every time, without fail. He grins, teeth dragging across his own lower lip, and cranes his neck to peek at Danny upside-down, under his own arm. It's impossible not to look at his partner right now without a fondness in his gaze.

"You're ticklish, you giant freak," Danny pokes at him and goes back to it, his tongue flattening as he shifts and uses the strength of the tip to circle and give Steve every kind of sensation he can possibly provide.

"What? Everyone's a little ticklish," Steve protests, but then it occurs to him that he should probably just shut up and enjoy this while he's able, while Danny has his lower half pinned to the bed as he teases him with his mouth, and the last syllable of the word that leaves his lips turns into a slight whine.

Danny's occupied with the canvas that's practically laid out before him. Steve's body is kind of a work of art, it's not even a little bit of a joke. He's sliding his hand around to Steve's front to work at his dick when Zulu decides now is the perfect time to leap up and present Steve with the goddamn toy.

"...yeah, no," Danny says, drawing away. "I can't do this."

Steve groans a different kind of groan, one that holds a recognizable note of frustration, and while he does lean over to pluck Zulu up in his arms, he also gets up from the bed, taking both puppy and toy into his own room and setting them down on the bed, closing the door behind him when he leaves.

He crawls back onto Danny's bed behind him, kissing the crook between his neck and shoulder, curling the length of his body along his back.

"Don't tell me you still can't."

Danny lets out a heavy exhalation that trembles as he leans back into Steve's grasp, glad that now he won't have to be overly concerned about scarring the dog with sex. "I could maybe be encouraged," he says, trying to sound reluctant about the whole thing.

"Yeah? Anything particularly encouraging over the rest?" Steve asks, while one arm slides around to Danny's front, fingertips caressing the plane of his chest, and he turns his head to finally catch Danny's lips with his own, kissing slow.

Danny lets out a slow sound as he kisses Steve back, shifting until he's on his back and then facing Steve, his palm sliding back around to that tattoo. "Get on your stomach, I wasn't done," he says, his voice thick with want.

Steve sighs at having to give up the position, but he'll admit it here and now, if asked: Danny ordering him around even just a little bit is enough to make him ache, and he obeys almost instantly, shifting past Danny's side and stretching out on his stomach. "Yes, sir."

Danny leans forward, leaning his mouth to the shell of Steve's ear. "That's a good boy," he growls, sliding back until he's at the tramp stamp all over again, starting on a big hickey just on the edge of the ink.

Steve loses his breath in a nearly audible whimper and then never quite gets it back again after that, struggling not to squirm under Danny's hands and mouth, and he can feel the mark as it's made and then swells on his skin to a red that stands out against the black ink.

Danny eases back to study his masterpiece when he thinks he's done, bending forward, ass in the air, as he adds just a little more. It's not like anyone's going to see except maybe if they get company for surfing. He scrapes his teeth to pull more skin in and sucks, pressing a kiss when he's done, sprawling forward to start doing the same to the tattoo at Steve's bicep.

Steve's making quiet noises at this point, small sighs interchanged with a low groan here and there, and he peers out from over his arm when Danny slides up to kiss along his bicep, his fingers curling around Danny's forearm. "I didn't realize you were so into these," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss Danny's forehead.