H50 Fic: Like sweat, gun oil and coffee

[thegrrrl2002]

New Steve/Danny fic! Written with the utterly delightful delicatale. Which means there might be a bit of porn involved.

Title: Like Sweat, Gun Oil and Coffee.
Authors: delicatale and thegrrrl2002
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word count: 3959
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Danny didn’t even steal the shirt, really, he just borrowed it.



Danny’s not a thief, okay, he’s a good citizen, he upholds the law and all that, hell, he fights for it every day. He didn’t even steal the shirt, really, he just borrowed it, because one, it’s not like Steve is going to wear it again, two, Danny’s got some DIY to do this weekend and he doesn’t want to ruin one of his own casual shirts, and three, if he lets anyone but him in his team wash it, he can be sure the very soft material is going to be ruined.

So he pretty much does everyone a favor when he grabs the red and blue plaid shirt that Steve had been wearing earlier, going as undercover and hillbilly as he could to blend in a bar populated mostly by rednecks living in Hawaii and trying to keep their cowboy roots alive by drinking beer that tasted like piss and riding an mechanical bull. They’d quickly concluded that bringing Danny in was a bad idea; his wits and his general appearance would just piss off the cowboys, so Steve had gone in alone. It’d gone well, considering that no guns had been drawn and they’d been able to debrief in HQ, and not in the hospital. They didn’t get much further in the case, but at least they were all alive. Overall, Danny can’t complain.

Sitting on his bed, Danny stares at the shirt in his hands, and he doesn’t really think when he brings it closer to his face. It smells of sweat, of cheap aftershave and gun oil, so much Steve Danny closes his eyes, losing himself in the scent for a moment.

He probably should wash it, but he's in no mood to drag himself to the laundry room. He's tired, it had been a long day and he's not really suited for waiting around as backup while Steve goes into a bar filled with guys with guns and bad attitudes. And even though nothing had blown up and no one had gotten shot, Danny still feels irritated, he's still on edge for some reason. He's pretty sure that reason is Steve, and Steve's threadbare jeans.

Danny looks at the shirt in his hand, and falls back on the bed, shirt draped across his chest. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, before getting on with his evening.

He wakes up to the sound of someone banging on the door, the sleeve of Steve’s shirt thrown across his face, and the biggest hard-on he’s had in ages. He’s still wearing his clothes from the night before and it’s uncomfortable, sticking to the small of his back and making his cock so restrained Danny groans, his face scrunched up under the plaid shirt’s sleeve.

Overall, he’s not ready for visitors.

“Hey, Danny, are you there?”

And he’s even less ready for Steve.

"Hey, hey, Danny?"

"What? Jeeze, give me a minute." Danny sits up, scrubbing a hand over his face. Sunlight is shining through the windows--it must be morning, although Danny's pretty sure he just closed his eyes few seconds ago. And fuck, his dream, what the hell kind of dream was that, he can barely remember it except for flashes of tanned skin and soft moans and dark hair and yes, it had definitely been Steve, naked and pressed up against him in his dream.

Danny is staring down at his cock and shaking his head when he hears the click of a key turning in a lock.

"That's okay," Steve says as he swings the door open. "I'll just let myself in."

"Please, make yourself at home." Danny squints at Steve, temporarily blinded by the sunlight streaming through the open door.

"Who do I know that does that?" Steve asks. "Maybe...you?" He sits on the edge of the bed, a brown bag in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other.

"That had better be for me," Danny grumbles. When he realizes Steve is looking at him a little too intently, Danny suddenly feels exposed and tugs the sheet up over his lap, even though he is still fully dressed.

Then glances down to realize he had grabbed the shirt, not the bedsheet.

“Is that the shirt I wore yesterday?” Steve asks.

Now, this has the potential to be awkward, but Danny’s not ready to make it easy for Steve, just yet. Plus, he’s not had any coffee, so he’s not about to be compliant.

“No.”

Steve frowns. “It looks like it.”

“I own plaid shirts, Steve.”

“But this one looks too big for you.”

“Okay, see, no. I’d rant at you about how you can’t just see the size of this shirt, but I want coffee.”

“Why did you take my shirt?” Steve looks curious, amused, and interested at the same time, which is an impressive feat for 8 in the morning, but Danny is just not prepared for the interrogation. He can still smell the shirt, and he’s still hard, and he wants Steve to not be there so he can jack off until his arm falls off.

“What are you doing here, Steve? Is there something about the case? Because if not, today is Saturday, and I should not be awake right now.”

Steve doesn’t reply for a moment, looking straight at Danny, his eyes flicking between Danny’s face, the shirt, and Danny’s crotch. “I had a reason,” he finally says.

“What, you forgot it?”

“Well, you’re half wearing my shirt. And it looks like you're hiding something." Steve shrugs. "I'm a little distracted."

"I am not--there is no hiding, and I am not--would you just give me that?" Danny lunges forward and takes the coffee cup from Steve's hand, not caring that the shirt falls from his lap, because fine, he's not going to hide anything. He swallows down a gulp of coffee, ignoring the amused expression on Steve's face. "As I was saying, I'm not hiding anything, I was just protecting your delicate sensibilities. I just woke up, and," Danny waves a hand, pointedly nonchalant. "You know how it is."

"My delicate sensibilities?" Steve says, definitely amused now.

"Yes," Danny says, more annoyed than ever. "What's in the bag?"

Steve looks down at the bag resting in his lap, a tell-tale smudge of grease darkening the bottom of it. "What do you think is in the bag?"

Danny scowls. "Give it to me," he says, reaching a hand out.

Steve holds the bag out of Danny's reach. "Tell me why you have my shirt."

Danny sets his coffee down, and finds himself moving to his knees, closer to Steve. “I just - if I’d left it for you to wash you’d have ruined it, which is the exact reason why you go through so many 3-in-a-pack shirts, and this one is nice, okay, I wanted to preserve it so I took it to wash it! Are you satisfied now?”

Steve grabs the plaid shirt with his free hand, sniffing it. Danny shuffles even closer, reaching for the bag of malasadas hovering above Steve’s head. Steve twists away just before Danny gets to it, and Danny's momentum sends him crashing into Steve, almost knocking him off the bed. Steve huffs out a breathless laugh, letting go of the shirt to grab hold of Danny’s hip.

Danny just freezes.

“You didn’t wash the shirt," Steve says.

“I fell asleep.” Danny has one hand on Steve's shoulder and it brings the dream flashing back to him, disjointed bits and pieces of it, of his hands on Steve, his mouth on Steve's skin.

"With my shirt," Steve points out, his voice growing soft as his hand slides from Danny's hip, down over his thigh.

Danny's breath catches. "Yes," he says, cautious now because he may be still somewhat sleep-addled but it's entirely possible that Steve isn't freaked out by the shirt thing. Or the hard-on thing.

"You like it." It's a statement, not a question, but still, Danny nods, unable to speak because Steve's moving his hand again, thumb rubbing against the inside of his thigh and he doesn't want Steve to stop and fuck, he's even harder now.

“Maybe I like plaid," Danny manages to say.

Steve leans up, rubbing his nose along Danny’s jaw, and Danny finds himself swallowing hard, his fingers flexing into Steve’s shoulder.

“Nah, I don’t think that’s it. Did you know that your sense of smell influences your dreams?”

“Is geeky Steve coming out to play?”

"Do you want him to?" Steve's lips are brushing Danny’s neck now, his pulse point, and Danny has to clench his muscles not to roll his hips down into Steve’s thigh, wondering if he’s stuck in the worst kind of teasing game ever. “Another little fact: testosterone levels are at their highest in the morning.”

“So?”

Steve pulls back, looking straight at Danny, his thumb tracing large circles high on Danny’s thigh, hand moving up to his ass, making Danny want to squirm, or possibly burst out of his clothes.

“So you like the way I smell, and that’s why you took my shirt," Steve explains patiently. "And why it made you hard. And right now I like the way you smell, too, and it’s making me hard. See how that works?”

“And that’s because of testosterone? Shouldn’t you be getting hard on female hormones?” Danny asks. "Or pheromones? Or whatever?"

Danny knows he's babbling now, but he has to know, he has to know for sure that Steve's not playing with him. Not that Steve is like that, but right now, Danny wants, wants so badly he's not sure he's understanding this, and he desperately needs to get it right.

"Danny," Steve says. "I've got my hand on your ass. What do you think?"

"I think," Danny says, heart beating faster. "I think that maybe we need to smell each other some more."

A huff of laughter, and Steve drops his head. "Yeah. All right."

"What?" Danny asks, and he's starting to laugh now too. Steve pulls him closer, hands sliding up onto Danny's waist. He presses his cheek to Danny's chest and breathes in deep, then nuzzles his way to Danny's armpit and oh fuck, Steve's actually sniffing him. It sends jolt of arousal straight to his groin and he can feel Steve's hot breath seeping through his shirt. Danny threads his fingers through Steve's short hair and moans as he lets Steve push him back on the bed.

It’s ridiculous; Danny’s not certain what is driving them right now, deep-seated lust that they’ve left to simmer for so long that it’s finally making them melt, or just a Saturday morning hard-on, a shirt that smells of sweat and peppermint. It doesn’t matter anyway, because it’s definitely happening now, whatever the impulse is.

“Mm. Smell good,” Steve rumbles, from somewhere around Danny’s ribs, his nose trailing around over the cotton of Danny’s shirt.

“Smell sweaty. I slept in my clothes.”

Steve’s fingers start popping open buttons, from the bottom of Danny’s shirt, and Danny guesses he doesn’t mind, then.

“I think we’ve established that sweat is not a bad smell, Danny.” Steve nips lightly at Danny’s newly uncovered belly-button after speaking, making Danny draw in a sharp breath, push a hand through Steve’s hair again. He wants so much more.

"It--yeah. Whatever." Danny squirms as Steve continues unbuttoning his shirt, hands moving over his skin. He spreads his legs as Steve moves up over him, nosing at his chest, and finally, Danny can lift his hips and rub against Steve's thigh, just as Steve's mouth finds a nipple and his brain nearly shorts out.

"You like that, huh?" Steve's teeth graze Danny's nipple again as he reaches down and presses his palm against Danny's cock.

"Jesus," Danny gasps, clutching Steve's shoulders. He's pretty sure he's going to come, right now, in his pants. He's on a hair trigger, from the dream, and the teasing, and Steve, right here with him, hands all over him.

"Okay, okay," Steve says. He kisses his way up Danny's neck, small, biting kisses as he presses himself against Danny's hip. Danny can feel how hard he is, and it makes him kind of crazy, to know Steve wants him like this, that Steve is just as hungry for it as he is. Danny buries his fingers in Steve's hair and pulls him up for a kiss, morning breath be damned. Steve doesn't seem to care, he meets Danny's mouth with a eager, bruising kiss and it's utterly fantastic.

"You," Danny breathes, lips moving against Steve's mouth. "Last night, in those jeans, and the shirt, you couldn't even keep it buttoned."

"Yeah?" Steve kisses Danny again. "I come here, and you're in bed, all rumpled and messy and waiting for me--"

Danny nips Steve's chin. "Waiting for you? Try sleeping. I was sleeping."

"Luring me," Steve says, which is so patently ridiculous that Danny has to kiss him some more. He gets his hands under Steve's shirt, onto his warm sweaty back and Steve moans into his mouth, moving his hips against Danny's.

“I do not lure,” Danny says against Steve’s mouth, unable to stop talking for some reason, or gene, he wish he didn’t have right now. Steve laughs, breathless and amazing, and Danny can only roll his hips up again, groaning.

“You do too. Wearing terribly tight shirts, and tighter pants, strutting around all the time. If that’s not luring...”

“Shut up, Jesus, shut up, get my clothes off, Steve.” Danny squirms again, and Steve kisses him, hands falling to his hips, undoing Danny’s belt and opening his pants, Danny's making stupid little noises, thrusting his hips up into Steve’s hands, tilting his head back and breaking the kiss with a gasp when Steve curls his fingers around Danny’s cock, through his boxers.

“Don’t come just yet.”

“Fuck you, McGarrett.” Danny grinds out.

Steve kisses Danny's chin and his fingers are moving, sliding underneath the waistband of Danny's boxers.

"When do I get to come?" Danny asks, voice growing tight.

"Soon." Steve sits back, sliding away from Danny's grasping hands.

Danny nods dumbly, open-mouthed and panting. He's usually smoother than this, he's usually the one in control but he's at his wits end here, it's as if his brain is moving slowly and then Steve sits back on his heels and strips his t-shirt off and Danny's brain truly goes off-line. Steve looks incredible, all sleek lean muscles and those damn tattoos and that smile on his face, like he knows exactly what he's doing to Danny.

"Move up," Steve says, patting Danny's hip.

Danny instantly pulls himself up on the bed, giving Steve room to do whatever it is Steve is about to do.

Which is to stretch out between Danny's legs and tug down Danny's pants and underwear. Danny hurries to help, shoving his clothes past his hips and lifting his knees to try and get it all off at once. He manages to get one foot free before Steve leans down and presses his face to the inside of Danny's thigh, breathing in deep.

Danny melts right into the mattress, his muscles going all lax and stupid, as Steve trails his nose and lips around like he’s, he’s - “Are you smelling me again?”

“Possibly.”

“Can you suck my cock instead?”

Steve chuckles against Danny’s thigh, a burst of warm air against Danny’s skin, making him sweat even more. “Demanding much? Can’t we appreciate this?”

“Considering that I’ve been hard as fuck for much longer than I usually am, I am inclined to help me come, then make you come, and then we have the rest of the day to appreciate, okay?”

Danny’s not over begging, and he’s about to so when Steve licks his way up Danny’s balls, up the length of his cock, flicking over the tip of it. Danny arches, twisting a hand in the sheets. “Fuck!”

Steve licks again, a slow, smooth stroke of heat all the way up Danny's cock. It's excruciating, not quite enough to bring him to the edge, even though he's so fucking close. But it's enough to make him squirm and whimper helplessly. "Please, Steven," he manages and he sounds so fucking pitiful but he can't help it, Steve's mouth is just that good.

Steve gives a little hum of acquiescence as he closes his mouth over Danny's cock and sucks down hard.

It's an instant sensory overload, enough to make Danny's toes curl and his hands scrabble on the mattress and fuck, now he can't hold back, it's all too much. His hips jerk and with a white-hot flash he comes, so fucking good, he can't stop moaning through the waves of pleasure he's a shaking, shuddering mess and when Steve finally lets him go, Danny shudders all over again and god, it's fucking fantastic.

"Wow," Steve says, eyebrows raised.

"Told you," Danny says weakly. "I was a bit on edge."

"Just a bit." Steve licks his lips. He's breathing heavy, cheeks flushed as he looks Danny over. “You don’t only smell good, you also taste good.”

Danny throws a hand over his face, trying to compose himself and not quite managing with Steve all over him, making his way back up, and when Danny looks, he sees that Steve has the same expression on his face as a cat that got the cream, and the idea makes him grin like an idiot.

“Shut up. D’you need a hand?” Danny asks.

Steve huffs out a laugh, nodding with his lips against Danny’s cheek, and Danny turns his head, kissing Steve lazily, smiling when Steve responds with an urgency Danny doesn’t really feel anymore. He’s not one to leave someone in need, though, so he reaches down, open Steve’s jeans quickly and slipping his hand inside.

“If you had been going commando, I’d have thought you planned this.”

"I did bring you coffee and masaladas," Steve says.

Danny closes his hand over Steve's cock. "You really think I'm that easy?"

Steve pants against Danny's cheek. "Uh. Uh huh."

"All you really needed to bring were your dirty clothes."

"Here." Steve rolls onto his back, brings his knees up and pushes his jeans and underwear off and frees his legs in one smooth move. He rolls back to face Danny, dropping the jeans on Danny's chest.

Danny laughs, bringing the clothing up to his face. "Nope, not dirty enough," he says after a sniff. He tosses them aside and then Steve's kissing him again, hard cock pushing against Danny's hip and suddenly a hand job doesn't seem adequate so after one last kiss, he scoots down the bed, a hand on Steve's hip, holding him steady.

"Oh, Danny--"

Steve's cock is long and hard and pretty, just like the rest of him. Danny runs his tongue over the head and Steve moans, a hand resting lightly on Danny's shoulder. It’s enough to spur Danny on, taking Steve’s cock deeper inside his mouth and sucking, hollowing his cheeks just to make Steve go crazy, and it works well enough, Steve thrusting his hips closer, throwing his head back, pushing it into the pillows.

“Oh shit, Danny!”

Which is exactly the reaction Danny wants. His smile stretches over Steve’s cock, and he looks up, watching the flush over Steve’s chest and cheeks, his eyes closed tight, stupidly long eyelashes looking even longer with the morning sun shining over Steve’s face from the window.

Danny doesn’t let up, now entirely focused on Steve’s ridiculously hard cock and the smell of his skin, how smoothly he moves and how delicious he sounds. It’s sloppy; it’s been a while since Danny has done anything like this, but fuck if it doesn’t feel amazing anyway.

“Danny, oh, oh,” Steve pants, hips stuttering, and Danny just takes him deeper for a second before sucking back to the tip, tight and with his tongue swirling around Steve’s cock. It’s enough, and Steve comes with a choked groan, fingers biting into the back of Danny's hand.

Danny swallows him down as best he can, but Steve jerks his hips and his cock slips away so Danny pulls back and strokes him through it, fascinated by the way Steve strains and moans and god, he really is fucking beautiful.

When Steve finally opens his eyes again, he looks a little dazed, especially when he smiles at Danny, slow and more than just a little sweet. "Nice," Danny says, trailing wet fingers along Steve's hip. "I like you like this."

Steve shivers at his touch, then reaches for Danny, tugging him up over his chest. "I like us like this," he says.

Danny grins and kisses him. "Yeah. I think I do, too." He stretches out over Steve, content now. They are good like this, he realizes. They're still them. Yet naked. He nods. "I like this a whole lot."

Steve pulls him into another kiss, arms wrapping around Danny. "Better than just the shirt, huh?"

"Stop it with the shirt," Danny says, trying for stern but he's smiling too much for it to be really effective.

"Where--ah, here it is," Steve says with a smirk as he reaches around on the bed. "I just need to clean up, a little drippy here--"

"Give me that, you." Danny snatches the shirt from Steve's hand. “Don’t use it to clean yourself up, what are you, an animal? I’ll get you a towel, I’m washing that shirt the right way, so it stays soft.”

“Like your Ma taught you to?” Steve smiles, but it’s a little hurt around the corners. Danny grins past the wave of concern, kisses him quickly before rolling away to get a towel from bathroom.

“Yep. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

He comes back a second later and cleans Steve up as much as he kisses him, ribs, nipples, chin, grateful to see the satisfied smile on Steve’s face when he gets to his lips. “Mmm," Steve hums happily.

“Yeah." Danny bumps his nose against Steve's cheek and grins, relieved. He's sure his grin is a stupid one but he can't help himself. Morning sex. With Steve. He sits back. Speaking of morning--

"Oh, hey, breakfast!” Danny spots the bag on the floor, where Steve had dropped it. He reaches for it, and pulls out a sugar encrusted donut. "What," he says at Steve's bemused expression.

"It's the way your face lights up at the sight of those things. Don't forget your coffee." Steve stretches, then clasps his hands behind his head, watching Danny eat.

"Malasadas, coffee--" Danny picks up his cup from the side table. "And blowjobs." He sighs contentedly as he leaves back again the pillows and sips the coffee--lukewarm now, but it will do.

"Pretty good day so far, huh?" Steve asks, nudging Danny with his knee.

Danny nods. "Hell yeah. What do you have planned for lunch?"

Steve grins a sly, happy grin and Danny's heart begins to beat faster all over again.