haolehothead | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

It's been one hell of a long day and a half. Danny's been retracing his steps for so long that he feels like this ought to have a case file, but he's found out just enough information to know that he'd acted like a real jackass the day before and somehow, he got the idea to chop the hell out of his hair. He's been left with a shaved head the likes he hasn't had since his early twenties and while it's not the end of the world, it's one of those things that he would've at least liked to do when he was aware he was doing it.

When he made sure Savannah was settled away, Danny headed back for the house, grabbing a bottle of wine from the Hub as he went, a blanket, and a bunch of cookies from the bakery, making a spot on the beach with the dog. He's watching the tide come in, trying to eat and drink away the day while he ignores the real regret -- a part of him, after all, just wanted to spend a quiet evening in with Steve, but somehow that never happened. He still doesn't even know how that's possible.

He rubs a hand over his head again, getting used to the lack of hair. It'll grow back brighter, bleached by the sun, and in about six weeks no less (given that it's mostly gel that does the trick). Until then, he's probably going to develop the bad habit of rubbing it, more than a little.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Steve settles back, letting his head thump against the sand with a slow-forming grin on his lips, his free hand moving over the back of Danny's head in a ghosting touch. "Not going anywhere, Danno," he whispers, giving one of Danny's ears a brief pinch.

Danny throws off the rest of the blankets. Baked goods might make him feel better and the curling up might help, but this will take the edge off. He slides his palms over Steve's thighs, gripping just above the knee as he tugs Steve's pants down with his teeth, swallowing Steve's dick easily (after all the practice he's had).

"Jesus, Danny," Steve breathes, glancing around wildly in either direction and praying they haven't been spotted out in the open like this, though his mouth falls open slowly at the sight of Danny's lips wrapped around his dick. "What if someone sees?"

"Shut up," Danny murmurs, his mouth full with Steve's dick at the moment. "It's their house, it's their beach, it's their little spot of land. If people have an issue with what they do on their private land, on their own time, it's their issue.

He goes back to attentively laving his tongue over Steve, flicking at the head, just to give Steve a little bit more to pay attention to.

Steve's jaw tenses as Danny takes him in again, drawing in a breath through a clenching of teeth at the sensation of tongue and warm and wet. It's difficult to remember words or even conjure up a comeback when he glances down at the sight in front of him.

"Aren't you IPD?" he mutters, swallowing back a groan. "You've threatened to arrest me for less."

Danny eases back and gives Steve a pointed look. "Okay, if you're gonna keep talking, I'm not blowing you anymore," he says, matter-of-factly. It's the truth. He's not wasting his effort when Steve just wants to get arrested. He runs a hand over his shorn-hair and gets to his knees in the sand, picking up the tin of cookies and biting into one of them, grabbing at the blanket as he stands.

Steve looks back and forth between Danny and his own pants practically around his ankles and shifts to rise with a sigh, hoisting the pants back up over his hips as he yanks the belt tight. "Come on. You honestly mean to tell me you wouldn't have done the exact same thing if I'd ripped your pants off?" he adds, trying to ignore the sensation of feeling like he's gotten sand everywhere as he starts traipsing back towards the hut.

"Steven. Our house, our beach, our land," Danny says, hammering each point home once he swallows the cookie between his lips. He hoists the blanket over his shoulder and eyes Steve as they walk. "So, curiosity's sake. If I hadn't woken up with Savvy this morning. If I'd woken up with, say, Neil or Mattie. What would you have done?"

"I'll admit, I would've had a little more cause to worry," Steve replies, glancing back at Danny with an eyebrow rising. "What's with the hypotheticals? It's like you're asking to get manhandled right now."

"I dunno, I guess I'm wondering if that had happened, if you would've been more keen on letting me do whatever I wanted to you on the beach," Danny admits, opening the front door and tucking the blanket onto a chair in the hall, careful to pet Zulu affectionately on his way in.

"Our land, our house," Steve replies, taking a step inside before nudging the door behind them with a boot. "Maybe I don't want anyone else but me witnessing all of it, alright? Call me selfish, Danny."

Danny's on his knees quick, unlacing those boots, taking his time to pry them off slowly, pushing Steve's knees apart so he can get him splayed and prone. "Fine," he says, peering up and getting used to not looking through locks of hair. "Selfish. Ridiculously attractive. Perfect. Mine," he adds, breathing hot breath against Steve's crotch.

Steve loses his footing for a small span when Danny gets to work on his boots, leaning back against the door with a dull thudding sound before he presses a hand there to steady himself. "Or any of those too," he whispers, running his palm over Danny's head.

Danny grins, sliding his palms up the back of Steve's thighs, cupping his ass tightly as he eases back, staring up at Steve with half-lidded eyes, his lower lip wet from a sharp lick. "Babe," he murmurs. "I want you to do something to me."

Steve's fingertips curl around Danny's ear, the pad of his thumb gently rubbing the lobe as he leans back, tilting his head to one side in order to see Danny directly. "What kind of something?" he asks, grinning loosely.

Danny leans back on his haunches, sliding his thumb into the groove of Steve's ass dimple, digging the blunt nail in there and twisting. "Tattoo me."

"Wait, what?" Steve knocks his hand away with a nudge of his fingers, trying to make sure he's hearing this right. "What did you just say?"

Danny shifts to his feet, cocking a brow upwards as he heads for the bedroom, stripping off his t-shirt as he goes, letting Steve process what Danny's said. He means it, too. He's been thinking about it ever since their anniversary started creeping up and yes, it's permanent. But so's their relationship and Steve tattooed himself within months.

It's Danny's turn, now.

"Wait, really?" Steve finally asks, hitching his pants up a little before he starts walking in, pausing briefly to give Zulu a quick scratching behind the ears when the puppy begs for the attention.

"I haven't actually opened that thing yet," he admits, looking to the kit resting in the corner of the room. "Using the gun is a little different than the prison method."

Danny lets his t-shirt trail off the edge of his fingers, wiggling his hips until the sweats sink a little lower, exposing the top of his ass. "Babe, you just talked about prison-ink," he informs him. "That is definitively unsexy, I hope you know that."

"Look, all I'm saying is that it's trickier to wield a gun like that without practicing first, and - if we're going to do this, I want to do it right," Steve insists, loosely crossing his arms. "I don't want to hurt you, or make a mistake in any way."

Danny lets the sweats slip just a little further, glancing over his shoulder and resting his chin there as he peers down. He ignores everything Steve is saying, giving a hum of acknowledgement. "So where do you think it ought to go?"

"Hmm? Oh, I don't know. Where were you thinking?" Steve absently replies, crossing the room as he tugs off his t-shirt by pinching it in the back, between his shoulderblades. The moment the shirt comes up over his head, though, he gets a glimpse of Danny and smiles briefly, a small upturn at one edge of his mouth, and slowly sinks to his knees behind him, nuzzling just above the curve of his ass. "What, you thinking right here?"

"Right at the top of my ass, yeah," he says, his voice a bit hazy. After all, it's not like he can think properly, what with Steve being right there and all. "Maybe, you know, a little SEAL insignia, wrapped around your name. Right on my ass, where you'll appreciate it."

"Oh, I'll appreciate it," Steve mutters, giving that little patch of skin a gentle nip before he curls his fingers underneath the waistband of Danny's sweats, tugging them down lower on his hips. "You better believe I'll appreciate it. Property of Steve McGarrett, huh?"