haolehothead | AU PLOT

Danny shakes his head and the hair goes flying in every which direction before he submits to Steve's tongue. He's always been loud, that's not a thing. What is a thing is that now it comes out in choked little whimpers, girlish sounds, and then guttural groans. "Oh god, Steve. Steve, babe, oh god," again and again, interspersed with loud shrieks of pleasure as Steve pushes in and Danny forces him deeper.

"Baby, come on," Danny begs, digging his nails into Steve's forearm. "Harder, fuck me harder," he growls a command.

Those nails are a little longer, and the brief pinpricks of pain act as the kind of spur Danny wants to get him to go faster. Steve won't deny he's treading lightly at first, afraid of hurting Danny in this smaller body, but he wants more, wants it bad from the sound of things, and Steve's more than prepared to rise to the challenge.

He reaches down, one hand sliding underneath Danny's leg and hitching it up to change the angle, groaning against his neck before wrapping his lips around a breast again.

Everything starts to go hazy and white. And holy shit, but it's just about enough that Danny is about to pass out from sex and that is something Steve would never let him live down, so he hangs up, hips rocking hard against the bed and then back up in disconnected flailing, desperate to get more with every moan and gasp. "Oh god," Danny gasps, in a little hiccup when the haze comes back. "Iloveyou," he gets out, words rushed together.

It's just like Danny, to go from dirty talk to this, and Steve can barely smile, but somehow he manages one anyway, a thin, fond one against the curve of Danny's breast, rocking back and forth in a slow, deep rhythm, and then he sits up, sits back, pulls Danny up and hoists him into his lap, coaxing his shorter, smoother legs around his waist and letting him ride on top of him, fingers sliding through his hair.

Danny lets out a jibbered mess of a sound, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist so tight that if he applies pressure, he's gonna start worrying about Steve's organs. "Oh my fucking god, Steve," Danny moans wildly. "I'm gonna, you, and I'm. So if you..." He babbles, not sure what he's saying, but knows that he's thinking 'if you want to be extra safe, get off'.

"You first," Steve challenges, hands sliding underneath Danny's thighs to assist in the motion, kissing along the slope of his jaw, the patch of skin underneath his earlobe, and then down, over the slender shoulder and clavicle. "I can hold on until you do, babe."

Danny whimpers again when Steve does that thing where he's so incredibly amazing and perfect and Danny is so fucking fond of that man it is ridiculous. He tightens his legs' grip and bows his forehead to press against Steve's shoulder, riding out the pressure from a different angle, letting out a mewl of a cry as he comes and collapses in Steve's lap.

Steve's hovering on the edge, but he closes his eyes, willing his body to hold, and brushes the curtain of long hair back over Danny's shoulder, kissing the bare skin, his hands smoothing down his back. "Love you too," he whispers, biting the inside of his cheek. "Here, let me - I gotta - "

Danny knows that they ought to be careful just in case this place gets funny ideas and so he summons up whatever lazy energy is left and unwraps himself from Steve, sliding in alongside him lazily and reaching down with a warm palm to coax him to the end. "Hey," Danny exhales. "What are you waiting for, huh? An engraved invitation?"

Steve just groans and leans in to kiss him again, roughly, tongue slipping into his mouth. One touch from Danny is all he needs, two or three strokes and he's finished off completely, a shiver rippling through his frame from head to foot, and he slumps back against the bed, slinging one arm over his eyes, groaning low. "God, I just can't say no to you, ever."

Danny grins broadly, feeling a lot more energetic after sex than he usually does, so he's gonna attribute that to the new body. "I live happy because of that," he guarantees, wiggling over and curling up to Steve with a fond sound as he reaches for a pair of Steve's boxer-briefs, sliding into them.

He heads to the drawers and fishes out Steve's Hawaii football jersey, shimmying into that and letting it fall to his knees as he opens the bedroom door to whistle. "Zulu! Here boy! Here puppy!"

Steve, meanwhile, is going to need a little more time to bounce back so quickly, but he tugs the sheet over himself, propping a pillow up underneath his head, and watches Danny with a fond expression, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth when he slides into Steve's old jersey.

He whistles low, through his teeth, flashing a grin when Danny inevitably looks his way. "Looking good enough to tackle, Williams."

Danny just winks back at Steve, a smug look on his face as he crouches down to wrap his arms around the eager puppy -- whining as always -- and picking him up in his arms. "Yeah?" he replies, a bit cocky. "Maybe you oughta get me one of these, write my name on the back, and I might wear it more often."

Steve's eyebrow goes up at the idea, and he nods, watching as the puppy wriggles a little before settling comfortably in Danny's arms, burying his nose against the sleeve of the jersey. "I'll look into it. And hey, look - and to think you were worried he wouldn't recognize you."

"Steve," Danny deadpans. "You've just come all over me by proximity and I'm wearing your clothes. He smells you, babe," he points out, but Danny takes it as a mild victory, smoothing a palm over the fur at his head and depositing him on the bed so he can greet Steve and Danny can start actually dressing for the day.

He heads into the drawers and fishes out a white dress-shirt that's shrunk in the wash, a black tie, and one of Kono's skirts. It's not that Danny's first choice is the skirt, but it's the fact that pants just aren't gonna work. And thank the Lord there's stockings, because Danny had lived with Rachel for too long and knows that women who go bare under are kind of whores -- apparently.

Steve doesn't even need to hold his arms out for the puppy; Zulu's already jumping into his lap, curling up on top of the sheets and resting his head on Steve's knee, and he absently pets the dog from head to tail as he watches Danny get dressed.

Now he can't decide which look he likes better - and more importantly, he realizes this is going to be a problem.

"You can't wear that to work," he mutters, tugging the puppy up against his chest and hiding his face against the yellow fur.

"Oh, good," Danny mutters with a roll of his eyes. "I was hoping we'd play this track again because the first two hundred times weren't annoying enough," he says, stripping off the jersey and sliding into the bra that pinches way too hard against the ribcage because Danny might be short, but he's not as slim as Kono is. He slides into the stockings and clips them, reaching for the shirt to button it up.

"No, really," Steve says, setting the puppy down next to him on the bed and leaning forward, giving Danny a pretty obvious look. "You can't wear that to work." His gaze is doing nothing short of devouring Danny's body in that outfit, his mind already going to all the possibilities of seeing Danny in that outfit at headquarters, the way those stockings are going to drive him crazy.

Danny buttons up the last of the buttons, flipping the collar up and shimmying into the skirt. "Okay, first off, it's just until I can get a pair of pants and a bra that fits right," he clarifies. "And second, my clothes. I don't care how hot it is outside, this is what a detective looks like," he snaps, sliding the tie around his neck and falling into routine, tying it up in a double windsor while hauling up the pencil skirt and zipping it.

Steve pushes the sheets off, moves to the side of the bed and stands up, coming around behind Danny and sliding arms around him, nudging hair out of the way with his nose, kissing the small expanse of skin above the collar of the shirt. "Danny, what I'm saying is," he murmurs, between the kisses, his other hand sliding to the inside of Danny's thigh and rising, "that you can't - wear that - without expecting - to drive me crazy."

"Okay, okay, hold on Casanova," Danny says, despite the shivering. He eases out of Steve's hold and turns on him, finger pointed in his face. "I wear this practically every day and suddenly I have tits, and suddenly you can't think straight?" Danny asks, mouth forming an almost comical frown.

"You don't wear a skirt every day," Steve points out, trying to sound confident even though he's pretty much standing naked in front of Danny. "And that shirt is - tight."

"My skirt and my shirt are tight. Tight? Tight, that's what I get," Danny reiterates, shaking his head and reaching forward to rub at Steve's inner thigh, giving him just an idea what he was doing before. "It's a suit, Steven. I am wearing a suit," he says, amused by the way his voice sounds the same, just lighter. "Are you gonna maul me if I decide to go swimming cuz you've never seen a bikini before in your life or something?"

"Depends. Are you going to decide to go swimming?" Steve says, gently swatting at Danny's hand. "I can't help it, Danny. I've always been crazy about you."

"You're such a sweet goof," Danny sighs and laments, peering over Steve's shoulder to confirm with Zulu, like the dog's got something on this. "Isn't he? Isn't he just?" Danny leans in to press a smack of a kiss to Steve's lips. "Babe, I need clothes that fit. And yeah, maybe I'm gonna go swimming later. And you can be crazy about me the whole time, but you gotta give some time to...to adjust," he says, gesturing to his head. "I mean. I mean." He smoothes a hand over the tie with a sigh. "I mean, for one, I gotta get past this mental image I have of us right now. Okay?"

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