haolehothead | (no subject)

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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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How the hell did he get to be the one holding all the passwords and keys, that's what he wants to know. His eyes are a bit wide, he's a little hazy -- given the fact that he's pretty goddamn turned on right now -- and he's mostly just trying to think through the damn positions. "Whatever you like, birthday boy," Danny says, canting his head in a brief nod to Neil as he digs through the night table to find one of the few remaining condoms they keep -- because after that whole 'Danny waking up a woman' thing, it's better safe than sorry.

"So, my birthday's in a couple days, you know," I point out with a smirk, gesturing for Danny to scoot back so I've got room to crawl onto the bed.

I'm hoping this bed's sturdy, but if it's not, I figure it'll be a really fuckin' hilarious story.

It's almost impossible him not to react at the sight of Neil crawling onto the bed to join Danny, and between the two of them it's all he can do not to reach down to stroke himself, curling his fingers into a fist at his side.

"Did you know that?" he asks, swallowing roughly as he glances over at Danny.

"I knew that, but only because I was held as a child and know about human-to-human interaction," is Danny's retort, waving the condo, in between his fingers as he glances over to Neil, shaking his head. "He wasn't held enough as a child."

"Yeah, you're a fuckin' interpersonal relations expert," I say, crawling over between his legs and pushing him flat on the bed with a smirk. Catching Danny in a kiss, I slip the condom out of his hand, my other hand sliding over his dick, just enough friction to be really fucking frustrating.

"I was held," Steve insists, kneeling on the bed slowly, his fingers forming light points of pressure against Neil's hips. "There's photographic proof."

He grins at Danny over Neil's shoulder, grinding slowly against his backside, stifling a groan in the back of his throat.

Danny's muffled by the kiss, eyes falling shut. Yeah, it's been a while since he's kissed anyone else other than Steve and Rachel, but it's not like it's bad. Hell, it's a nice change and he threads his fingers through Neil's hair to keep a tight grip, easing back so he can meet Neil's gaze. "Try calling him Commander. That tends to push some buttons," he says breathlessly.

"Commander, huh?" I say with a low rumble of laughter, grinding back against Steve and swallowing down a whimper.

"Jesus," I say with a breathless huff of laughter, reaching back blindly to hand Steve the rubber.

Steve plucks it out of his hand, holding it between two fingers as his other arm slips around Neil's middle, hand grasping a hold of his dick to give it a few slow strokes.

The wrapper he opens with his teeth, taking his hand away to roll it on, hissing soft through his teeth.

Danny relaxes back against the bed, stretching his torso out as he drapes both arms above his head, bent at the elbows, his fingers sliding into his hair as he smirks and watches, shaking his head. "Come on, Steven, show him what you've got."

Grinning, I shift a little further down Danny's body, and it's a tight fit, the three of us crammed onto this bed, but we'll manage. I press my lips to his breastbone, nose buried in the hair covering his chest-- which I really like. I really don't understand the whole hairless chest thing on a guy. What's the fucking point.

There's just enough room to slide further down, tongue dipping into the hollow of Danny's navel, and then I've got a hand around his cock, my own dick hard and impatient in the circle of Steve's fingers.

Steve can't help but smirk knowingly at the sight of Neil nuzzling into the fine blonde hairs on Danny's chest. He has the same instinct more often than not, identical urges, and this even further fuels his repetitive insistences that Danny never shave it off.

He withdraws his hand, pulling back to anchor it at Neil's hip while the other slips fingers around to anchor at the base of his shaft, gently nudging between those firm cheeks until he's just teasing him with the head, barely pressing in.

Danny had already been on edge, but now he's just being given reasons to fall apart. He can feel his control splintering and slipping away from him so quickly that he's not going to last very long. Hell, he'll be lucky if he makes it through a quick recitation of the Yankees' starting line-up. His hips rise off the bed and he utters a repeated 'shit, shit, shit' under his breath as Neil touches him.

"You always this much of a hair-trigger?" I tease, letting out a low groan at the hard press of Steve's dick. No lube and not much prep, but that's fine by me. I press back against him, ducking lower and taking the head of Danny's cock into my mouth.

"Not always," Steve mutters lowly, pulling back after the initial tease to slick a finger in his mouth, easing it in slow and deep to start with.

"He likes watching this. Don't you, Danny?"

"I've been turned on since you goddamn came home from your run," Danny bites out, gnawing on his lower lip when Neil takes him into his mouth. "Fuck you both," he swears, hissing as he tries to shift slightly and ease his hips, wanting to last just a little bit longer.

Steve's got good hands. Wide fingers, and I let out a groan, rocking back against him, encouraging-- nearly begging. I suppose if he wants to take his fucking time, he's the goddamn birthday boy or whatever, but I'd be just as happy if he'd get on with it.

Fuck you both.

Rumbling out a laugh, I slide a finger into my mouth alongside Danny's dick, just enough to get it wet with spit. He's gonna come like a fuckin' teenager at this rate, but I wanna make him shout. Shifting my hand lower, I press at him with one slick finger, sliding it in deep and crooking it against his prostate at the same time I swallow his cock as far down my throat as I can.

Steve's not going to take his time, but he sure as hell isn't going to rush this either, finger working deep until he can feel Neil's ready for it, more than ready, and he glances down the line of his shoulder to watch as he takes Danny into his mouth, long and slow. He times it too, times the press of Neil's finger with the press of his own dick in, easing in all at once.

His head tips back as he releases a groan, hips pressed flush against Neil's. Even through the rubber, he can feel the sensation of tightness and heat. It's dulled slightly, but it's still there, and he doesn't linger long before starting to move, gentle and even thrusts, his eyes finding Danny's and holding in a heated gaze.

Danny's breath hitches when he opens his eyes and his gaze lands right on Steve's. He doesn't really know how the hell he got to this point -- so goddamn besotted it's embarrassing -- but he knows that he loves Steve more than anything in the world and that a single look can make him this weak. "Fuck," he chokes out, softer this time as he slides one hand to Neil's shoulder, brushing against his neck and twining with the hairs at the nape before he's pushing further in order to slide his fingers over Steve's lips.

It's one slow, easy slide, and it's so fucking good, I nearly choke, forgetting what the fuck I'm doing, one finger up Danny's and my lips wrapped around his dick.

I let out a helpless whimper of a moan, the sound of it muffled, and I draw back with a gasp, panting out, "Jesus," and after half a second of not knowing what the fuck to do, I wrap my hand around Danny's cock, jerking him in time with the thrust of Steve's hips.

They're all wrapped up in each other, but I was never stupid enough to think this had anything to do with me.

Steve parts his lips to let Danny's finger in, sucking slowly, but he hasn't forgotten who he's buried in, who he's fucking. He lets Danny's finger slip from his mouth to groan, sliding a hand down the curve of Neil's back to feel the way muscles coil when he arches underneath him, taller and leaner than he's had before.

"So good," he groans, sliding an arm around Neil's middle and pulling him up until they're pressed from knees to shoulders, his hips moving a little faster as he turns his head to lick along a tendon in his neck, teeth scraping against skin.

Danny clenches his fingers, grasping the bedsheets in an attempt to not writhe and turn into a begging mess. He's already feeling like a hero for lasting this long and he actually whimpers -- honest to god lets out a whimper -- at the sight of Steve's mouth on Neil's neck. "Shit, I'm -- I can't -- Neil, you..." he tries to get out a warning in between breathless panting.

This is... really fucked up.

I'm laughing, breathless, leaning back against Steve's chest and tipping my head to the side, neck exposed like a fucking offering. I force my eyes open, watching Danny struggle not to squirm, and I want to lean back down and swallow him, have him come down my throat instead of my fist, but Steve's got an arm around my middle, holding me close, and that's good too.

"Come on," I murmur, my thumb sweeping over the head of Danny's cock, "Nobody's stoppin' you."

Steve knows Danny's close, can hear it in his voice, and he also knows he doesn't want to be selfish, relinquishing his firm hold around Neil's middle so he can lean forward to finish him off - hand, mouth, any way he wants.

"Let go," he whispers, pulling back on the force of his thrusts into more of a slow grinding as his hands map over Neil's back again, kneading the curve of his spine.

Well, he's definitely out of the game first, at this rate. He feels like he practically could do damage, but he comes, hard as he ever has and then he's slumping into the sheets of the bed like it can absorb him up. He hates that he did it on command, like he actually takes orders from Steve, but he's too goddamn blissful right now to care.