red line overload

red line overload
by templemarker

Notes: For the “danger” square of my 2011 [community profile] kink_bingo card. Thank you to [personal profile] samjohnsson for expert beta and knowledge of important things. No particular episode attachment or spoilers; think general season one. And also, porn.

***

“You want to have sex now?” Steve snapped, angling his Sig Sauer P226 down towards the floor and away from the body of the gunrunner he’d taken out upon entering their storehouse of materiel.

“Well, not, like, now-now,” Danny temporized, racking the shotgun he’d grabbed when he’d run out of ammo in his second clip. There were definitely more criminals here than their anonymous tip had indicated. “I’m not yet so desensitized to the death of other humans, even scumbags like this guy–who wears a green t-shirt with a pink button-down, seriously?–that I feel comfortable with getting my rocks off during a shooting. I’m not an animal, Steve.”

“Oh, forgive me for insinuating otherwise,” Steve said, half under his breath, as he spot-checked around the corner for combatants. It was clear, and he sped across the corridor to take point against the far wall.

“But when we get home,” Danny continued, like there weren’t hostiles within visible shooting range. “I kinda am thinking I wanna suck your cock when we get home, maybe not even take our clothes off, just do it in the foyer.”

Steve blinked, unseeing for a moment there. “Excuse me,” he said. “I like to think I handle shit well during live fire, but are you telling me, in the middle of all of this, that you’re going to suck me off like it’s next on your honey do list?”

Danny smirked at him. “Honey, do….me,” he said, laughing right at Steve’s face.

“Who are you, and why did you replace my partner just as we were about to take down a gun running ring?” Steve said as the gun runners, unwilling to be left out of what was turning into a bizarre conversation, let off a few rounds into the hallway.

Danny was still grinning as he let off his round, eliciting another lobby of fire in their direction that mostly chinked harmlessly into the plaster of the walls.

“See, I finally get it, McGarrett,” Danny said, feeding more rounds into his shotgun. He wasn’t looking at Steve, but it felt like eyes were on him anyway, hot and demanding. “You do this,” he said, waving one hand in a loose spiral as if to indicate everything, their jobs and the firefight and the gun runners all at once. “And you’re good at it. But that’s not the reason you do it.” Danny met his eyes, and Steve felt a sharp rush of want down his spine. “You do it because you get off on it,” he said, putting all kinds of feeling and insinuation into the words. “It makes you hard,” he said, raking his eyes up and down Steve’s body, landing on his cock where, yeah, Steve was hard beneath his cargo shorts. “It makes you want to fuck, and when you can’t fuck, you find a way to fuck shit up instead.”

With a knowing smirk, Danny maneuvered around the his wall and set off another round, bringing down one of the assholes with a sharp cry and then a moan of pain.

Steve didn’t know what to say. He licked his lips, rubbed his pointer finger against the steel curve of the trigger, and tried to will away his arousal.

“I don’t,” he tried, but the words were dry in his mouth and he couldn’t finish out the sentence.

Danny just looked at him again, heat and promise and filthy knowledge in his eyes. Something that said how well he knew Steve, knew what he wanted and how to give it to him.

It was terrifying.

“I’m going to suck you off in the foyer,” Danny said, and it felt like he was shouting the words but he was probably just talking normally. “Or maybe in the truck, if it takes too long to get home. I want to have that, that feeling you get right now. I want to feel you coming in my mouth and know it’s because you just did something stupid and dangerous and made it out alive. And that even with all that running through you, you know deep down that nothing can tear you up and bring you down like I can.” Danny racked another shot in, and something powerful jerked through Steve, like he wanted to come right there, because of Danny’s dirty talking and the bullets he kept dodging.

Steve looked down. Danny was hard too, and when he met Danny’s eyes again the smirk was back, that all-knowing fucking smirk.

“You wanna suck me off, Danny,” he said, hearing the gravel in his voice, the rough thread of heat, “you go right ahead and make your plans.” He drew up his weapon and readied his stance. “I’m gonna go arrest me some gun runners, but I’ll pencil you in for later.”

He took his first shot to the sound of Danny’s laughter, and the second to the feel of Danny in step next to him.

After HPD took their statements, and everyone shady was arrested and taken away for processing, and the cache of AK-47s and surprise kilo of cocaine were safely put into the chain of custody, they went home.

The truck had never been more tense. Every time Steve looked at Danny, Danny was staring back at him with a look of anticipation, or maybe satisfaction. Something confident and unsettling. Steve drummed his fingers on the wheel and tried to pay attention to the road, and not the blond lock of hair that had come free of Danny’s ruthless slicking to rest in a curve against his temple.

Fuck, Steve was tied up inside, making knots out of himself over the promise of sex. Or not even the sex, more the idea that Danny could, would take him apart like he’d promised. They hadn’t done this often, this whole fucking thing; they were usually exhausted, and between the demand of their jobs and Danny’s responsibility to Grace, time was thin on the ground.

Steve had gone through SERE and had come out of it more stable than this: spending every day with Danny, doing something important and meaningful and doing it well, only to come home at the end of the day to an empty bed.

Steve stole a glance over at Danny again. No empty bed tonight; Danny’s hand rested against his chest, over his heart, the uncommonly gentle moment at odds with the man who’d been winding him up during a gun fight. When Danny refocused, and caught Steve’s eye, he smiled. It was guileless and fond, not the hot burn of filthy promise but something just as good or better. Steve opened his mouth to say something, and in a whip crack moment Danny had switched back to arousal.

“You remember what I said?” Danny asked in the quiet of the truck, only KHPR a murmur in the background.

Steve shut his mouth and nodded.

“It’s still on the table,” Danny said. “I’ll do it, I’ll push you against the door, let you fuck my mouth with your boots still on. You still feeling it? That adrenaline buzz?”

Steve nodded again; if it had ebbed, it flowed right back with Danny right there with him, stoking the flame.

Danny smiled, something fond mixed with the provocative swipe of his tongue against his mouth. “Then drive, McGarrett,” he said. “We’ve got some place to be.”

Steve ran the next two lights. He would have put on the siren and gumdrop, but even horny as shit he wasn’t that kind of asshole.

The winding drive up his house seemed to take twice as long. The truck didn’t handle as well as the Chevy did, and he had to take each turn with careful handling. They lapsed into silence again, letting the crispness of the BBC World Service announcer make noise for them. Just as they got to the side road Steve’s house was on, Danny slid a hand onto Steve’s thigh, laughing a little at the hiss that drew out.

“I’m driving here, Danny,” Steve said tightly, hands gripping the wheel.

“I can see that,” Danny said, amused. “But let me ask you this: is it dangerous to drive while distracted?”

Steve nodded, keeping his eyes glued to the empty residential road.

Danny pulled himself closer, using Steve’s thigh for leverage. Steve very carefully didn’t alter his pressure on the gas pedal; they were only going twenty, but it felt like a hundred plus.

“Isn’t that what you like?” Danny said, hot breath hitting the side of Steve’s neck and fingers tightening in Steve’s thigh for balance. It made Steve harder, if that were possible; he already felt like he would come in his pants with one errant touch. Danny didn’t seem to want to give that to him, though, just kept his hand where it was, nose angling under Steve’s jaw and punctuating his next words with small bites: “Answer the question, Steve.”

“I like it,” Steve ground out, something torturous in the back of his voice making him sound thready and worked up.

“You like it when you break the rules, play the big man, make the big score,” Danny pressed, fingers running along the interior seam of Steve’s cargo pants.

“I like it,” Steve said again, trying to keep himself from whining, trying to keep his voice steady.

“You know what I like?” Danny asked. Steve kept his mouth shut. He carefully rolled the truck into the driveway, coming to a stop and throwing it into park, trying not to breathe so loud he wrecked the mood.

“I like it when you do what I want you to do,” Danny said, as if Steve didn’t know that already; as if it didn’t get him off, too. “Why don’t you get out of the truck and let me do that now.”

Somehow they made it into the house, Steve’s hands in fists by his side. Danny opened the door with his key, and the house was dark except for the table light that turned on automatically at dusk. Danny pulled off his blazer, hung it on the peg by the door, and when Steve made to tug off his button-up Danny planted a strong hand square in the center of his chest. Steve stilled, hands arrested halfway up his body, and all the could hear was a rush of blood and the soft click of the door swinging shut behind him.

Danny crowded him up against the door; he smelled like gunshot residue and adrenaline, and Steve sucked in a rough, shaky breath through his nose. Danny smiled, like that was the signal he’d been waiting for, and pushed his hand down to grasp Steve’s hard cock through his cargo pants. He held on tight, like he was going to lead Steve around by the dick. Steve would go.

“You like it, when those assholes fire at you, when you shoot first and ask questions later?” Danny asked conversationally, like they were at happy hour instead of getting ready to fuck.

“I ask questions,” Steve protested, but it sounded unsure to his own ears.

Danny’s laugh, rough and dark, answered him, and Steve spread his hands palm-first against the door behind him to steady himself. Danny squeezed again, punching a noise out of Steve, and with his other hand Danny undid the nylon belt at Steve’s waist.

“You make me crazy,” Danny said, something wild in his eyes, “you make me so fuckin’ nuts, Steve.”

The clink of the belt hitting the floor was deafening, and Steve watched as Danny thumbed the button of his pants and slowly drew down the zipper. He hissed when Danny pulled his cock through the hole in the front, running a proprietary hand over the head, down the shaft, fingertips grazing the hair at the base.

“Remember what I said, before,” Danny asked, eyes locked on to Steve’s, waiting for Steve’s nod.

“You think of this, when you wanna go shoot at something,” Danny said, coming to crouch in front of Steve, bunching up the hallway runner under his knees. “You think of my mouth when you wanna get high off that dangerous bullshit, you come to me, you don’t–” He cut himself off when he put his mouth on Steve, and Steve let out a high, embarrassing whine and desperately tried not to move, not to buck into the wet heat of Danny’s mouth.

Danny took him down like he was going for a diving medal, sucking and pressing his tongue up against the vein. He bobbed his head, bracing his hands on Steve’s thighs, which Steve could feel shake from the rush and feel of it all. “Danny,” he ground out, unable to keep the stuttered thrust forward, gasping when Danny slammed his hips back against the door.

“You do what I tell you,” Danny said after he pulled off, red in the face and looking as wild as Steve felt. “You listen, you just stay right the fuck there and let me–” He took Steve in again, and it was everything Steve had to keep the words from spilling out, the “please” and “more” and “god, Danny.”

Steve knew he was close, had been close since Danny started working him up at the gun fight earlier, but when Danny set the bare edge of his teeth against the base of Steve’s cock, it was over. Nothing but a millimeter or less back and forth, and a spike of pleasure hit Steve and sent him over, coming in Danny’s mouth, breathing in and out fast and shallow.

When he came back to himself he was surprised to find himself still standing. Danny had pulled himself up, and had one hand resting on Steve’s hip and the other inside his own pants.

“Let me,” Steve said, sounding wrecked. “I wanna do that.”

Danny looked at him, and smiled, looking rueful. “Uh, no need,” he said, gesturing towards himself. “It took care of itself.”

Steve let out a rough laugh, and tugged Danny close to place a sloppy kiss at his temple. “That’s kind of hot,” he mumbled, hand squeezing and releasing on Danny’s arm, feeling languid and content.

“That’s kind of juvenile,” Danny corrected. He tilted his head towards Steve, not making a bid to move. “But, you know, also hot.”

“You gonna do this every time we get shot at?” Steve asked. “Because that’s a lot of blowjobs. We might need to get you some new underwear.”

“Har-de-har-har,” Danny huffed. “This was just the object lesson for you to reflect on later.”

“I’m gonna reflect all over you later,” Steve promised, and tugged Danny up for a better kiss.

3 Responses to “red line overload”

  1. Lozza Says:

    Nice! Hot and very nice!

  2. Lidil Says:

    This is some seriously hot writing.

    Came here through an Archive of Our Own link. How do I follow your work?

  3. templemarker Says:

    All links to my LJ et al are on the front page of this website. Thanks!

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