haolehothead | (no subject)

Entry tags:

- game: tabula rasa

(no subject)

Danny's not entirely sure what he'd been expecting when he signed up for the marine biology course. First of all, it is way more packed to the brim than expected. Second of all, what the hell is Steve doing wearing GQ clothes and his glasses to talk about the whales and the dolphins and whatever the hell else they're supposed to cover? With a ratio of about ninety-percent women in the class, Danny's getting a real Indiana Jones vibe from the whole thing. He would not be surprised in the least if some of these girls have 'screw me' written on their eyelids.

Danny is not here to flirt. He is not there to be jealous (though that kind of happened against his will). He's there to learn. He keeps his head down all lesson and scribbles notes down, trying to learn as best as he can. He's got an apple on his desk for the end of class, but Danny's still not sure how long he's going to linger after if he wants to get dinner for the both of them on the table at a reasonable hour.

He does wait until everyone else filters out of the classroom -- taking his time in collecting his things, organizing his books, and straightening up his clothes (it's a class, so he's wearing a casual white t-shirt and an undone blue button-down over jeans). When the last of the buxom young women leave, Danny reclines back in his chair with his hands behind his head, and smirks at Steve.

"Well, well, Professor McGarrett. You have a real charm with the ladies."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Danny throws a hand up in the air when Steve starts going for his buttons. "Are you -- are you serious?" he scoffs, setting the pan on the stove and adding some oil to it. "I said no sex if you get undressed. I like you in the suit, I like undressing you from the suit. You're just becoming this Joe-Blow Unappealing Douchebag by the minute," he rants.

"Douchebag, huh?" Steve echoes, already starting to roll the sleeves back down to his wrists and buttoning up the cuffs before picking up his jacket from where he'd originally laid it out, hoisting it up onto his shoulders and tugging the lapels until it sits right, and then he leans against the counter again, his hip taking the weight when he tilts to the side. "What about now? Still a douchebag, Daniel?"

Danny's grin has never been wider or warmer. The instant that Steve puts the jacket back on, he takes in a shaky breath of approval, the dinner momentarily forgotten as he drifts closer -- as if magnetized by some secret spell -- and rubs his fingers over the collar of the jacket. "God, you look so good," he confesses.

"So that's all it took?" Steve asks, visibly amused as Danny literally becomes a changed man. He stands up a little straighter, tilting his head up as Danny adjusts the collar of his jacket, letting his arms drift down by his sides before he finds Danny's eyes again. "You're ridiculous," he murmurs, welcoming him into his space.

"You're gorgeous," Danny counters like they're actually arguing about something. He takes in a deep breath and slides his other palm up the other side of Steve's jacket, both hands clenching on tightly. "Talk to me about marine biology, professor," he growls.

"What do you want me to teach you?" Steve asks, his hands idly roaming over Danny's arms, more bare skin revealed by his earlier ditching of the dress shirt for the t-shirt underneath. "Seventy-one percent of the Earth is ocean, Danno, so really, you getting in the water for me was almost inevitable," he adds, his mouth hovering inches away from Danny's.

Danny closes his eyes when he can feel Steve's breath against his lips, making him drift forward to practically close the distance between them. "Don't you demean that other twenty-nine percent. I like that twenty-nine percent, it's my favorite twenty-nine," he murmurs, his lips catching Steve's as he speaks, laying short and teasing kisses without becoming fully-fledged yet.

"You like that twenty-nine percent? Huh?" Steve exhales, his lips brushing over Danny's with every syllable uttered but never quite closing the distance completely. "What about twenty-eight percent, with that one percent being that little stretch of beach outside our house where I get to watch you stretch out in that lawn chair?"

Danny's eyes are still closed, but he grins like an idiot at the mention of that little stretch of their beach. It's become his home and he loves it, as much as he hates the ocean. "I think I could do that, I think," he says seriously, finally opening his eyes, "I think I can manage." He tugs on Steve's collar and leads him to the bedroom. "Hope you're not too hungry, sir."

Steve allows himself to be led, no hesitation whatsoever in his step as he relaxes his posture into a slight slouch and heads into the room behind Danny, hands casually jammed in his pockets. "I think I could still work up an appetite," he declares, taking advantage of the opportunity he has to stare at the view from behind.

Danny pivots on his heel the minute he steps foot into the bedroom, practically climbing on Steve to maul him with a desperate kiss, hands everywhere his lips can't be. Small sounds of desperation are trying to come out of his throat and he muffles them down as best as possible. "Steve," he moans.

He's got Danny up in his space before he knows it, but he's not going to protest in any sense of the word, his hands calmly settling on Danny's hips while Danny's are roaming everywhere, fingers digging in gently. "Hey, babe," he murmurs, kissing Danny lazily, like there's nowhere else he has to be right now.

Danny's grin is tentative, but no less delighted as he runs his hands up and down the collar of Steve's shirt. Quickly, he divests him of the jacket by pushing it down and off, trampling over it with his feet as he yanks Steve closer to the bed. "C'mere, hot stuff."

Steve lets the jacket slip down to his wrists and then off, barely wincing as Danny proceeds to trod all over it in his haste to get to the bed. "You're going to be the one responsible for that laundry later," he mutters, growling possessively as he nips underneath Danny's earlobe.

Danny shrugs casually as he continues to walk backwards, eyes falling shut momentarily at the kiss. "Aren't I always responsible for laundry?" he mumbles. "I don't trust you with my shirts and ties, remember? I fear sabotage," he says, pressing a kiss to Steve's lips.

"Mmm. Good point," Steve replies, his palms encompassing Danny's hips as he squeezes once, holding him close when their knees hit the bed so they don't go toppling over, but rather eases him into laying out on the bed, nudging a thigh between his legs as his fingertips creep underneath the hem of Danny's t-shirt.

Danny lies back, careful not to smack his head against any of the posts (which, really, are starting to become a hindrance in this relationship). He grins when he's splayed out on the bed, watching Steve from below with a pleased look on his face. "Y'gonna come down here or just watch from all the way up high?"

"You don't like me watching?" Steve asks, slowly toeing off his dress shoes before he gets into bed, his shirt quickly becoming rumpled and untucked from his waistband as he crawls up the length of the mattress to lower himself over Danny, muscles coiling in his arms.

Danny chuckles lowly as he squirms his way up the mattress, shoulders inching their way up. "Oh, I like you watching plenty, babe, but hasn't there been enough watching today, what with me watching you in the class and having the filthiest fantasies about you up there?"

"Tell me," Steve says, stretching out over Danny without putting his full weight there, leaning off to one side as he skims fingertips along the stretch of skin between pants and t-shirt, the curving plane of Danny's abdomen. "Tell me what you were thinking about while I was teaching."

Danny turns into Steve, trying to get closer without appearing like he needs it too much. "Well," he says, licking his lips. "I have this one fantasy where I'm doing really badly in the class. You haul me forcibly up from my seat, shove all the crap off your desk before shoving me down on top of it and then you just go all out. Spanking, marking, the whole nine yards, until I can name the genus of the beluga whale."

Steve's hands settle on Danny's shoulders, gradually making their way down his arms as Danny speaks, until they finally reach his wrists and grip, not hard enough to hurt or bruise but just enough to be felt. He lifts Danny's hands up over his head, wrists pinned, his hips rolling down as he grinds into him. "That'd be one way to make you remember, huh?" he grunts, flicking his tongue against Danny's upper lip.

"Oh, yeah," Danny agrees breathlessly, hips grinding upwards to try and find some relief to the painful hard-on he's had since Steve put the suit back on. Hell, he'd only managed to make it go away in class by thinking about nuns and his brother and the marriage thereof. "There's this other fantasy where I give you a blowjob behind the desk while you teach on."

"See how long I can keep a straight face and teach without stammering while you've got my dick in your mouth," Steve exhales, and in another blink, he's rolling Danny over onto his stomach, wrists loosely pinned in the grip of one hand as the other braces against his hip and he grinds against his ass, slow and teasing, pressing enough to let Danny feel he's hard now, too.

"See how long you can manage to stand upright without your knees giving out," Danny says the last part of his sentence into a pillow, words muffled by Steve's eagerness to get him pushed to his stomach. He lets out a choked cry at the feel of Steve right where he wants him. "Make you cry out my name instead of some starfish's latin terminology."