haolehothead | (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

"You're never gonna just be a civilian," Danny points out, hissing out as his dick twitches with interest at where Steve is pushing against him. "God, damn it, Steven, would you do something already?"

"Damn straight," Steve growls, his own dick straining against his boxer briefs at the friction the movement of his hips is creating. "Why? What do you want? Tell me what you want me to do to you, babe."

"I want you to do something, you neanderthal animal," Danny spits out, working his way up to actual frustrated anger that needs an outlet. "Or I'm gonna walk out of here and find someone else to do it," he says, his voice high-strung and getting tighter by the minute.

"You know how much I've always loved your sweet talk," Steve whispers, rolling Danny over slowly to pin him down against the bed before he starts working his way down all over again, swallowing Danny's dick down before he can get another word in edgewise.

"I swear," Danny says, pinning Steve with a firm glare. "I swear, I swear, Steven, I will go and find someone who really wants to screw me if you don't--" He's cut off by Steve actually doing something, making Danny choke out a desperate-sounding cry of pleasure.

"What, and you think I wouldn't want to screw you?" Steve murmurs, pulling away briefly as he lets his hand take over, sliding around the base of Danny's dick to stroke smoothly, squeezing firm. "What makes you think that, Danno?" He's breathing hot over the shaft, tongue flicking out to swirl slowly around the tip.

"Sometimes, you seem like your mind's elsewhere," he mumbles, but he's quickly approaching a complete lack of coherency, so he focuses on pushing his hips forward into Steve's hand, choking back a desperate whimper as he did.

"Does it?" Steve murmurs, giving Danny's dick a small squeeze as his tongue laves along the underside, slicking it for his hand to pump smoothly. "What about now? Does it seem like my mind's elsewhere now?"

"No," Danny exhales, a bit lightheaded at this point. "No, babe, no, it seems like your mind's exactly where it belongs." He grips at the sheets on the bed, starting to sweat, giving his face a sheen.