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They're still sitting on the beach an hour after Denning's exit, but there's only a small trail of empty bottles between Steve's chair and Danny's. It's an important trail, though, almost as important as the dimness of the evening light, because without it- without them- Steve wouldn't be about to ask the question that's been on his mind for hours.
"So... did you?"
Danny blinks at him, clearly confused. "Did I what?"
"You know... ever think about doing it?"
"Ever think about doing what, Steven? Because at the moment, all I'm thinking about doing is taking that bottle you keep fiddling with and hitting you, an impulse I'll admit is rather situation-specific, but the general idea of violence is not one foreign to your presence."
Steve smiles despite himself. When Danny drinks, he gets still more loquacious, and his joy at keeping Grace with him on Hawaii is only adding to it.
Then he remembers his question, and the smile fades. He can't back out, not after he'd actually asked it, albeit in an indirect way, and definitely not after getting Danny curious.
"You remember what that girl, Freed's chief of staff, said about the him and prostitute?"
"I was there, so yes, of course. I'm not an idiot." Danny's eyes are narrowed, and Steve realizes he should have planned this better. Or planned it at all.
"Well, it's just... something she said stuck with me. He's a single parent with a demanding job, and whatever spare time he gets, he spends with his kid. It reminded me of you." At Danny's dark expression, he quickly adds, "A bit. You can't deny it, Danny. You and Rachel aren't together anymore, and whenever you have time off work, you spend it with Grace-" Or me, "- even though you don't get a lot, because you're Five-0, which is definitely demanding."
The jubilant feeling from earlier is gone, and Steve is viciously reminded of their earlier silence, the one he'd spent contemplating Wo Fat and his escape, which Danny had ended in the way Danny tended to end most of Steve's self-indulgent "pity parties," as he calls them: a firm promise to catch the son of a bitch. Steve should be thanking him- not just for the support but also, silently, for picking, as he always does, the right technique, because he's far from ready for a fight- and celebrating today's victories, rather than asking questions that will upset Danny, ones Steve doesn't even want answered.
Only he does, because maybe if he says no, Steve will be able to get the images of Danny fucking prostitutes out of his mind- especially the one where, instead of the sleek women his friend seems to prefer, there's a man, complete with heavy muscles, short hair and tattoos. Maybe they'll go away. (Or maybe they won't. They'll get worse, because there won't be any competition, just Ste- the man and Danny.)
"So what you're really asking me," comes Danny's odd, Northern drawl, "is if I've ever been desperate enough to buy a hooker?"
"It's not that you were desperate! Just... not having sex for a long time would be hard on any man, but if you're constantly getting stressed out because of your job and your kid, it's understandable."
"You realize I'm a cop, right? And that prostitution is illegal?"
"I know that, yes, and I'm not trying to impugn-" There's a smile pulling on Danny's lips now, which gives Steve a pinch of hope, "- your cop's integrity, okay? All I'm saying is, you're not the type to trawl a singles' bar or get trashed in a night club, but maybe one day, a good looking woman catches your eye. So there's some cash involved. No a big deal."
Even as he rambles, he's acutely aware of the shift in their dynamic. Usually it's Danny who can't keep his mouth shut, who has to talk to figure out what he wants to say, while Steve half-listens, sifting through the junk words for the important ones, inserting a quip or two when it seems appropriate, yet tonight, Danny's barely spoken, and Steve's talking in circles, searching for words that match what he's thinking (without actually matching, because he can't just slip, "because my head is filled with pictures of you having sex with people who aren't me- except when you are, which would be good if it were what you wanted, but it isn't- and I need them gone, even though I'll probably have to face them next time I'm in the shower," into the conversation).
Danny doesn't speak for a while, just sits in his chair and watches the ocean. At one point, he hums a question to himself, but seems to think he's got all the time in the world to ponder what Steve had meant to pose as a silly question but accidentally posed seriously.
Being a gifted SEAL and member of Naval Intelligence has brought Steve a long way, but before Danny, almost all his skills are useless. Luckily, the one he has left is patience, and whenever the two of them butt heads, Steve will be able to outlast Danny because of it.
"No, I never hired a prostitute., Danny says slowly. There, Steve has his answer. Now he can make a joke and- "But I did think about it a lot, especially the night I found out Rachel was taking Grace across a continent and half an ocean. It's pathetic, really, because what I really wanted wasn't even sex, just somebody there. I'd spent years waking up beside Rachel, and Matty was a poor replacement. If he was there, he'd be kicking and pushing me, always hogging the sofa."
The idea of waking up next to Danny, curled around him and holding him close, is unexpectedly worse than thinking about fucking him. It's easier to imagine ways of getting naked than staying naked, but actually being able to cuddle with his partner, actually being allowed to grab a handful of Danny, whatever that may be, is even more appealing. Their libidos may die by the time they're eighty, but Steve's almost sure snuggling is an ageless activity.
Not that I should be thinking about it when it's so far off the menu, the chef doesn't even know the dish exists.
"You think about my sex life often, McGarrett?"
Steve blanks at the unexpected question- it should have been, because this is Danny- and he's still clawing furiously at the nothing his brain is giving him when yet another bombshell gets dropped on him.
"Because I've gotta say, for a man who's supposed to be straight, you've been giving off a lot mixed signals. I can't even tell if you know you're doing it, or if it's an automatic thing. Unless you're playing some weird version of hard to get where you pretend there's no chase, because you're with the beautiful Lieutenant Rollins, whom you haven't had sex with for how many weeks?"
Of all possible responses, demanding, "How do you know how long it's been unless you're keeping track of mine!" wouldn't normally be the one he'd pick, but Danny has an annoying ability to put him off center.
"I know because you haven't shown up with that stupid smile of yours, and it seems weird that you wouldn't be wearing it all the time, with Cath so close. Unless, of course, you two aren't doing the horizontal hula for some reason."
"Yeah, well, we hit something of a rough patch," Steve mumbles, remembering the fight from a few days ago. They've made up, but they won't be making up.
"Trouble in paradise?"
"You could say that. Turns out some guy Doris was supposed to take out during her CIA days survived and came back to get her. When Cath and a guy in WitSec found out, they told her and cleaned up the mess she made... more than a month ago."
Danny visibly winces. "Ouch."
"When she finally told me and I got mad, she said she'd promised my mom she'd keep it a secret from me. I guess it just got to be too much."
Shaking his head, Steve closes his eyes and leans back, stretching his spine. He's lost in the feeling when something warm lands on his knee.
"Hey, I promise to tell you if someone your mom tried to kill but didn't manage to, comes back and tries to kill her."
"Thanks, Danno. You're a good friend," Steve says sourly.
"I'm your best friend, and don't you forget it. It isn't just anyone who could put up with your insanity."
Forget? Not likely, when best friend is a large step short of what I want you to be.
"Tell you what. I'll think about you all the time."
"You better," Danny mutters, and all at once, the teasing disappears. Steve's eyes are still closed, so he can't see his expression, but he can feel Danny's fingers rubbing his knee in a way that's far from best-friendly. "Because maybe, if you're always thinking about me, you'll pick up on the hints I drop and invitations I throw in your face. The obliviousness was cute at first, but I'm a little tired of waiting for you to get a clue, babe."
He can't be serious.
"What?" he asks, eyes flying open.
There's an indulgent smile on Danny's face, as if Steve were a little slow on the uptake- which, actually, he may be.
"How about a couple clues, huh? Clue one: I want to sleep with you in your bed. Clue two: I mean I want us to go through our sleep cycles side by side. Clue three: I'd also really like to have sex with you. Clue four: My hand is going to keep moving up your leg unless you stop it."
Now that Danny mentions it, Steve looks down and discovers the warmth on his knee has slid a few inches higher and is currently rubbing the middle of his thigh.
"What if I like it but have something else in mind?"
The smile turns levels beneath arched brows as Danny ponders what he's heard, but he shrugs after a moment.
"Why don't you do what you like, and I'll try to keep up? It'll be just like everything else we do. Like work."
Steve smiles at him, but he has no intention of making this like work, not when he's got around three years' worth of fantasies, day dreams and a few wishlists for inspiration.
In a flash, he's out of his chair and hauling Danny to his feet, but having what he wants so close is frightening. What if this isn't what Danny'd meant? Has he ruined their friendship? Will he have kept Danny on the island, only to lose him anyway?
Danny's face says no, and right then, Steve's willing to put a lot of faith in that.
Kissing Danny is easy; he doesn't get the first kiss nerves, just a thrill from actually kissing him, from having his hands on Danny's face. He settles into it quickly and listens to the little noises Danny makes, lets him grab his head and pull them closer. He can feel his smile and the matching one on Danny's face, and it only makes him smile harder. After all, he's in a lip lock with the man who gets him hard just by talking, and finally, the mouth that's given him so much trouble, as well as some of the best dreams in a long time, is his to lick and taste. If he wants to, he can break the kiss and mouth at Danny's lips or push a little, up the ante, and feel Danny shiver. He can put his tongue in Danny's mouth and find out how everything tastes, from his tongue to his teeth to his cheeks; it's all his to explore, even as Danny's tongue makes its way into his own mouth.
He can do all those things, and he does. He tries every type of kiss he can think of, just to feel the response.
Somehow, that morphs into him standing behind Danny, arms full of him as he makes his way to having a shirtless Danny. He's a little surprised he doesn't have to fight for it, but he won't question permission to do as he pleases. At the moment, he pleases to run greedy hands all over the warm chest he's finally allowed to touch and tangle his fingers in its curls.
Nuzzling a scratchy cheek, he inhales deeply, pulling in as much Danny as he can. He's hit by an odd mixture of scents he immediately files away with Matters of National Security, how to swim and Danny's smile; there's salt, probably from sweat but maybe a little built up from the time Danny's been spending around the water; hair product, less than pleasant but bearable because it's Danny, and warmth, the not-smell that means Danny's alive and breathing beneath his fingertips.
He hums happily when Danny squirms, one of Steve's hands lightly brushing the sensitive skin low on his belly.
The position soon grows less than comfortable, though, the difference in their heights making it difficult to hold and touch Danny the way he wants, but Steve is reluctant to let go, even for the few moments it would take for them to sit down. He stays hunched over Danny's back as he goes over the problem, which would be easier solve if he didn't get distracted by the stretch of muscles each time his hands make Danny arch into him.
Another drag of fingers through the mat on his chest pulls a deep groan from deep in Danny's throat and an arch in his spine so wide Danny's ass presses against him, and Steve finds himself pushing his hips right back, trapping his dick in the cleft of Danny's ass, the warmth of it reaching him even through their clothes. It almost hurts, stuck as it is between one hard body and another, and as he gets used to the way Danny's body feels, Steve grows more and more aware of actually, painfully how hard he is.
He needs to figure out how to get Danny into a more manageable position now.
... after he grabs Danny's hips and thrusts a few times, just to take the edge off...
"Hey, babe? Steven?"
"Mmm?"
"What do you say we take this somewhere more horizontal?"
"Don't wanna let you go," Steve mumbles, tightening his grip as his prize wriggles in his arms.
"You don't have to. Just... could we go inside? My knee's killing me."
Shit. Right.
"Whatever you want, Danno," he announces and takes a small step forward, nudging Danny so he moves, too.
It takes a while, but they make it inside, despite a few trips and near-falls.
The stairs are looming ahead, large and unwelcome, when Steve feels Danny shake his head.
"No way can I make it up there, Steve."
"But, Danno, what about..." He rolls his hips to demonstrate.
"To the couch, then, McGarrett. Before I fall over or you decide to settle for humping my leg like the animal you are."
Steve's never had less trouble obeying an order than he does this one, and barely a moment has passed before they're crashing backwards onto the couch, Steve still clutching Danny to his chest.
He takes a moment to rearrange them, sitting up slightly with the couch's arm behind his neck so he can actually see Danny, then asks, "Better?"
"Much," Danny sighs as he stretches out, too, deliberately rubbing his ass over Steve's crotch and huffing a laugh at the hitch in Steve's breath. "You okay, McGarrett? You sound a little lost."
"I'll show you lost," Steve promises, low and filthy. He keeps one hand on Danny's chest, running through the fine curls there, but the other, he slides lower, over a sharp hip and down the top of a muscular thigh, clawing slightly at the unfortunate barrier of Danny's slacks before moving to the inseam and slowly, carefully tracing it from knee to inner thigh to Danny's crotch, where the material is pulled tight over the erection it's doing nothing to hide.
He ghosts his fingertips over Danny's dick and smiles as Danny's own breath catches, but he doesn't tease him about it, if only because he's feeling desperate himself and needs to get his hands on the hot, hard flesh straining below Danny's belt.
Undoing that is easier than getting the button undone. He's growling with frustration, trembling fingers struggling to get the damn thing out, and is one failure from ripping the damn thing off when Danny's hand appears and, with an insulting amount of finesse, slides the button free.
"Practice makes perfect."
The promise in Danny's voice makes up for the embarrassment of getting stuck, because Steve has no trouble working to get perfect. Becoming an expert at stripping Danny will probably become his favorite exercise.
He'll tell him later, though. There's still a zipper to unzip and pants to push away.
Danny moans when Steve rubs his knuckles across the tent in his boxers and whines when he runs a finger around the tip. He grunts when his balls get tugged, and he gasps when Steve pushes lightly behind them. He whimpers when Steve's hand eases off and spreads out wantonly, his legs as far from each other as he can get, the bad one's foot resting on the table and the other thrown over the backrest.
"God, Steve, come on. Please," he pants, whatever he may have said after that lost in another moan that breaks Steve's control.
He's too busy licking his hand to consider how good it would feel if it were Danny's tongue instead, and shoving Danny's boxers down is more important than being careful not to let them snap.
No fantasy could have prepared him for the feeling of actually jerking his partner off. Danny's cock fits in his grip perfectly, heavy in his palm and smooth from root to head. There's a dribble of pre-cum waiting for him on every upstroke, and the little, "Ah-ah-ah"s Danny makes when Steve rubs over the head, collecting the smooth liquid, send a rush of desire through him.
Left hand massaging around the base and rolling Danny's balls, he doesn't try to hold Danny down when thrusts up, desperate and awkward, his own needs growing wild as Steve's hips rut against him.
Catching Danny chanting his name surprises him into stillness. He's thought of it a thousand times before, but actually hearing it from Danny's own mouth, in his own voice, floors him.
Danny wants him. He knows it's Steve who's holding his dick, and he knows it's Steve who's wrapped around him. He's on his back, legs spread, for Steve, is wriggling above him, cock and all. The little fear he's had, the one telling him this isn't what it seems, that Danny's thinking of someone else, is wrong, because it's his name Danny's whimpering.
He isn't sure how long he lies frozen, but he knows it's been too long when Danny's hands, previously clutching Steve's hip and the couch's arm, wrap around the hand Steve's got just wrapped around him and tug, encouraging him to get back to business.
Which Steve is more than happy to do, especially when Danny's mantra picks back up, but Danny doesn't let go even after they've got a rhythm going. He keeps a firm hold on Steve and pulls faster and faster, sweaty palms messing with his grip, but still he holds on, panting like he can't draw breath, and yanks.
The sound he makes when he comes is high and relieved, as if he'd thought he'd never get there. It's quickly Steve's favorite, and a small part of him wonders if he could convince Danny to let him record it, just in case.
But Danny Williams doesn't just make noise; his muscles quake all over as he shudders through his orgasm.
Maybe a video would be beter? Then he'd be able to hear and see all of Danny as he lets go...
"No."
Steve blinks, sure he hadn't said anything out loud.
"Whatever you want, right now, the answer is no. Come back tomorrow," Danny slurs.
Relief floods over Steve, but is cut short when he realizes how still Danny's gone, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest as he falls asleep.
With a whine- he's been hard for at least year now- Steve checks his options.
A) Wait for Danny to wake up. (Too long)
B) Take care of things himself. (Possible)
C) Wake Danny up. (Absolutely not)
D) Ignore it and hope it goes away (Unlikely and too uncomfortable)
or E) None of the above. (Unhelpful)
Lacking other options, B it is.
He's got his hand poised at his waistband, but he isn't sure how to do this. He has to move Danny a little no matter what, so he can get to his dick (unless he spends the next hour gently rutting against him, but that won't fly for this), but beyond that, he's stuck. Undo his pants, yes or no? Go under and save time but have less range of motion? Just grab hold over his cargoes and have at it?
Damn it, Danny.
He can't actually get angry, though, not when Danny's lying on him, blissed out and sort of naked, but frustration at not being able to get at his own cock, on top of still being hard, on top of feeling Danny come and wanting to have his hands on him, isn't putting him in a good mood.
"Calm down, Super SEAL. I'm not actually asleep; I just needed a moment to recover my ability to see."
Never has Danny's voice sounded so wonderful, even as he tells the biggest lie Steve's ever heard.
He's never looked so wonderful, either, as he slowly flips over, landing belly-to-chest with Steve, and leans down for a long, slow kiss.
"Neither of us is up for any kind of full body fucking," he starts, once Steve lets him break it, "so besides that... any preferences?"
"Just... really need to come," Steve pants,
"Then come you shall."
For a guy who'd been dead to the world a minute ago, Danny moves fast. He's lying halfway down Steve's body between one blink and the next, his hands already finished undoing Steve's belt and almost... done with the zipper and fly.
He's still for a beat, looking at the bit of Steve he's uncovered with a look of glee usually reserved for damning evidence.
"Shirt, off," he demands. Steve's got it off before the accompanying gesture can finish and gets a toothy smile and hands on hips in return. "Good. But before I begin, I want you to remember this isn't something I can practice with women or alone in my apartment."
With that, Danny leans down and spreads the front flaps of Steve's cargoes enough for him to get his face in Steve's crotch and rub a stubbled cheek over Steve's dick. Then he does it again... and again, nosing the hard line of Steve's erection through the thin layer of cotton between them. He seems content to continue as he is, grinning and mumbling something too low for Steve to hear.
He looks like he's making friends, and as he switches his mouth for his cheek, running a hot trail up the entire length, he's on the right track.
Or would be, if he hadn't stopped to smirk at Steve. Any other time, Steve would call him on it, but if lying between Steve's legs and nuzzling his cock makes Danny feel smug, then by all means, he should feel smug.
This is, of course, the moment things go awry. Danny's mouth is back on him, still hot and welcome, but his expression is intense, as if making Steve feel good is the most important thing to him. Combined with the realization that, yeah, that may actually be true and how tightly wound Steve's been for as long as he has, makes Steve's gut wrench in the most pleasant way, and before he can think to think of something else, he's spilling, hot and hard, Danny's mouth right on the tip and Steve still in his boxers.
He's glad, at least, for his vision whiting out, so he doesn't have to see whatever new expression Danny's got. Revulsion? Pity? Amusement? Something worse?
Steve can't hide behind an orgasm forever, though. He's going to have to face Danny at some point; he may as well do it while he's got enough glow not to fall apart. He takes a breath and risks a glance down, carefully not looking at the dark spot between his legs.
For some reason, Danny doesn't look upset, and he isn't laughing. He looks... confused.
"Is this a... usual thing?" he asks tentatively.
The care alone makes Steve feel even worse. He's never dealt with embarrassment well, and with the option of escape taken away, his hackles go up.
"No, Danny, it isn't a 'usual thing.' I don't generally get off before my clothes are off."
"So I'm special."
"You- what?" Steve blinks at him, because there's no way Danny's saying that the way he thinks he is.
"I'm special. I broke your self-control." No, he's definitely saying it with that tone. He's proud of himself. "Do I get a trophy? A plaque, maybe?"
"Did I miss something? Since when is a guy coming in his pants a good thing?"
"Since you started getting off with me, babe, and let me tell you, that was one of the best decisions you've ever made." Danny's shit eating grin is only growing in the face of Steve's incredulity. He's even dropped his mouth to Steve's thigh, a scant inch from his softening cock, his nose on the edge of the maybe-not-so-shameful spot. "If it really bothers you, I won't bring it up again, but you should probably know that was one of the hottest things I've ever seen. And growing up on the East Coast, I've seen a lot."
The wink he sends Steve's way is more reassuring than it should be, and Steve finds he doesn't feel as humiliated as he had.
"You're sure?" His voice doesn't crack, because he can't deal with more than one high school cliche per night.
"Does this look like the face of an unhappy or unsure man? It was fantastic, babe. In fact, if you ever want to do it again, I'd be happy to help."
Chuckling, Steve pulls Danny up so he can steal a kiss, which becomes two, three, four.
"Maybe another day. Right now, I'm in the mood for a shower and bed."
"What, you don't want to sit around in your wet shorts?"
Steve glares but doesn't have the energy to follow through. "No, I don't, and I don't want to share my shower with you."
"You don't? I suppose you don't want to sleep with me, either."
"Not at all." They're grinning at each other stupidly, and Steve already knows where this game will end.
"Even if I tell you I give good back rubs and would like nothing more than to wake you up with your dick in my mouth?" Danny wheedles, voice overly innocent.
"Well, when you put it like that..." Pressing a kiss to Danny's nose, Steve slowly sits up, Danny not far behind. "Why are we still on the couch?"
Danny's still laughing as they slide into the shower.