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As far as cake-baking attempts go, Danny's not the master. Sure, he can do a simple birthday cake, but Steve's? No, he'd needed the big guns for that, which is why he'd showed up to work on one of his days off. The result is worth it -- it's so worth it. He's got a grenade cake, made of chocolate and buttercreme wrapped up. It's only a week into the marriage, but Danny feels like not getting the right gift is pretty much a great way of starting off a marriage in a difficult way.

When he gets back, he makes sure it's tucked away in the ice box. When that's done, he strips down to his shorts and grabs his surfboard, waiting outside for Steve to get back. A surf, a swim, and a cake -- he figures if that's not what Steve wants (outside of some breakfast), then he's just out of luck.

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"Yes, well, thank you for pointing out the obvious," is Danny's reply, lolling his head to the side as he shoots Steve an amused look -- even if that finger on his bare hip is starting to do things to him that makes Danny start getting a bit hazy about what to do next. "Or-ders?" he reiterates.

Snorting out a laugh, I get to my feet, kicking off my shoes and practically slinking over toward them. "Fuck that. How 'bout I give the orders?" I ask with a smirk, turning sideways so I can slip past the two of them and into the bedroom.

Steve shares a glance with Danny, then a shrug, a smile springing to his mouth as Neil slips past them and through the doorway without missing a beat, though there's a touch of incredulity in it. "He might be even worse than you are," he mutters, barely audible enough for Danny to overhear.

"I thought I was the worst thing out there," Danny replies with a smug smirk on his face, shifting just enough so that he's behind Steve, arms slung lazily around his waist from the back, his very-interested dick pressed against Steve's tramp stamp, lips pressed lazily to Steve's shoulder.

Inside the bedroom, I strip off my shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor and turning, at the foot of the bed, to face them both.

Looking past Steve to Danny, I say, "What are you doin', man? Hidin' back there? Come 'ere."

"I'm still deciding," Steve responds, arms resting over Danny's as they slide around his midsection. He leans back into him for a moment and then nods in Neil's direction, a small jerk of his head.

"Go on," he tells Danny, a small urging. A growing part of him wants to see this.

Danny slides down for a moment in order to press a biting kiss to that tramp stamp because it's still his favorite thing in the world, sliding past Steve in order to give Neil a bemused grin. "So, now's the time, huh? I mean, you better not be disappointed in this."

"How 'bout I hold off expectation?" I say, grinning down at him, one finger hooked in the front of his sweats, the other hand resting flat on his chest, letting my thumb brush over a nipple, just because I can.

"So, Lieutenant, you got any rules?" I say, looking over Danny's shoulder at Steve with a smirk.

Steve's arms are crossed idly, and he absently scratches fingers against one bicep as he observes, a faint smile on his lips.

"Rules? I don't know, Danny, did we establish any of those?" he asks, mostly smirking now.

Danny leans, slightly, into Neil's touch, giving Steve a bemused look. "I don't know that I want to see Steve going down on you. No offense," he says to Neil. "And it's slightly less about you and more about the fact that I'm still teaching him." He waits a beat. "Yes, offense," he says, to Steve.

"So, I'm just here to... teach him something?" I say, tongue touching against my teeth, my hand dropping from his waistband to graze the line of Danny's dick through his sweats. The grin I flash Steve is bordering on wolfish, fueled by that smug smirk on his face.

My eyes dropping to catch Danny's, I say, "Where do you fit in?"

Steve stiffens, visibly, though it's not a problematic tension so much as it is a shifting of his weight from one foot to the other, easing over around the same time he swallows and drops his gaze, eyes tracking the path Neil's hand takes.

"Danny's the only one I've - " He starts, attempting to explain.

Danny lets out a sharp sound, giving Neil a brief look. "I'm the only one he's, you know, so be good to him, okay?" He shifts, grasping onto Neil's wrists and shifting him towards Steve. "He's the birthday boy. Indulge him."

There's something, for a moment, that doesn't sit right. That I'm being passed around like an object, a fucking birthday present, and I could really be anyone. Something like this could've happened, back home, and I'd have left with a wad of cash in my pocket, afterward.

But they're not strangers, and when Danny nudges me away, I go willingly, turning to catch Steve by the wrist and tug him toward us.

"I thought indulging meant getting to watch for a while," Steve counters, grinning slowly when he's tugged over.

He slides fingers underneath Danny's chin, tipping it up for a kiss, one that lingers, and then turns slightly to initiate a second kiss, mouth gently brushing over Neil's.

Danny understands that he asked for this, that he wants Neil to be the one to do this, but something like jealousy flares up when Steve kisses Neil. It's how he knows that this is going to be a one-time thing. "Shit, you two are hot," he says, growling the words out by the end.

And here's the truth. Maybe it's just that Danny wants to give the orders. "Hey, Steve, remember that time with the belt? Want me to go get it again?"

I'm not necessarily expecting a kiss like that, but it's not a bed thing. I lean into it, a tiny sound catching in my throat, my hand finding Danny's hip and squeezing.

Pulling back with a cough of laughter, I say, "Hey, I didn't know I was agreein' to belts," but it's pretty fuckin' clear I don't have a lot of limits.

It's different, and there's a brief tightening in his chest, though he pulls away, face slightly flushed.

"Not yet," he mutters, ducking his head. He's already nudging Neil towards Danny, taking note of the hold he has on his hip to guide them together.

Danny arches his brow, amused at the notion that this is going to be a voyeur thing for Steve, but if that's what they've settled on, he's okay with that. He feels a slight bit uncomfortable, true, but hell, he's turned on and Neil has got great hands. "Wanna make him growl?" Danny asks of Neil with a smirk, sliding his fingers through Neil's hair and gripping on as tight as he can, yanking him closer as he sneaks a hand into Neil's board shorts, kissing him as he lets his lips part to deepen the kiss.

Hissing into the kiss, I let out a sound that's probably a really fuckin' embarrassing whimper.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I have half a second to wonder, one last time, if this is a really bad fucking idea, and then his hand grazes my dick and I no longer care.

Steve settles in along Danny's side, one hand grazing Neil's hip, his wrist bumping against Danny's as the other mimics movement, shoving inside Danny's sweats.

"You still want a growl?" he murmurs, fingers curling around Danny's dick to tug slowly.

"Jesus," Danny gasps, wondering if he's going to end up absolutely messed up by the end of the night. "Steven, if my knee breaks again, we're going to have so many issues," he says, before he's busy trying to rearrange things so he's able to get on the bed, sliding down Neil's neck to press kisses lower and lower before he grabs at Neil's shorts and yanks them down before taking him into his mouth.

"Does he always complain this fucking much?" I ask Steve, breathless, my hand falling to thread through Danny's hair, and -- fuck, he's good with his mouth. I'm not even surprised.

Half blind, I hook a hand behind Steve's neck, pulling him down into a kiss and wondering what kind of fucking miracle is keeping me on my feet right now.

"So watch your knee," Steve mutters, swallowing back a groan of his own as he watches Danny sink to his knees, taking Neil into his mouth.

He turns, his hand sweeping up Neil's shoulder to gently cup the side of his neck as he kisses him again, thumb tracing the line of his throat.

Danny peers up, just long enough to see what it looks like when Steve's not leaning down to make up for the difference in height when he's kissing someone. His eyes track the track Steve's thumb slides along the line of his throat, groaning softly at the memory of what those hands feel like, which only invigorates his determination to make Neil feel exactly like he does -- turned on and half-crazy by it.