Summary: After Steve and Danny are exposed to an untested drug during a raid on a pharmaceutical warehouse, they experience some unusual side effects.
Rating/content: NC-17 for chemical-induced sex, marathon sex, rimming, dirty talk, lots of hand-waving
Word count: ~8k
Author's Notes: Written for round one of h50_exchange for ember_firedrake, who gave me the prompt of "Marathon sex...Steve and Danny, having sex for hours because nothing they do is enough. Established relationship preferred." Thanks very much to my patient cheerleaders and alpha/beta readers, shes_gone, nova33, and delicatale, as well as imaginarycircus for all of her last minute helping and hand-holding. This fic would be a mess without you all. ♥ Title from a song by the xx.
"For the record, I blame you for this."
They're standing in the middle of a pharmaceutical warehouse swarming with HPD officers and paramedics. Two dead drug smugglers, three more in handcuffs, and a shit load of paperwork coming down the pipes. Just another day at the office.
"Well, you usually do," Steve says, moving out of the way to allow one of the paramedics by. "I would be fascinated to know how you're going to pin this one on me, though."
"You want, like, an itemized list?"
Danny squints up at him. Steve's TAC vest is hanging open, his shirt sleeve is stained with someone else's blood, and there's a light dusting of powder clinging to his forehead. He glances down at his watch, looking distracted and mildly inconvenienced, like maybe his bus is running late. Right now, Danny's not sure if he finds this irritating or endearing.
"Well," Danny says, leaning back against the stack of boxes behind him. "We could start with you crawling all over me at 5AM when I'd already been up half the night listening to your neighbor's cat meowing right outside the window. Of course, you sleep like the dead so you wouldn't know anything about that. I, however, have very sensitive hearing."
"It's true, you are very sensitive," Steve agrees.
"And then," Danny says, counting it off on his fingers, "we could move on to the only person who knew the company's inside man who's been forging those customs papers. The person you conveniently took care of with the good old McGarrett double-tap to the chest before we could bring him in for questioning."
"Noted," Steve says, nodding. "In the future, I'll just let him shoot you."
"And last but not least, the part where you used an AK-47 to turn a box of pills into a cloud of white powder, which is probably crystalizing in my lungs right now. I'm sure you had a good reason though," he adds quickly when Steve starts to protest. "I mean, it could have been packing heat, you do what you gotta do."
"I was aiming for the armed suspect behind the box of pills," Steve explains. "But of course you already knew that."
"And now I'll probably have an allergic reaction to some fucking untested drug for god knows what condition--"
"They were placebo pills, Danny," Steve says, like he’s talking to a child. "Sugar pills. It says so on the label."
"Yes, thank you, I can read," Danny snaps, annoyed that Steve, in usual Steve fashion, is missing his point entirely.
"Okay, wait, back up," Steve says, holding up his hands. "How does me waking you up at 5AM make me responsible for all of this?"
"It is possibly not directly responsible for this," Danny concedes. "But it is directly responsible for the shitastic day I've had--"
"--of which this clusterfuck of a raid was the icing on the proverbial cake."
Danny sighs and looks down at his watch. 7:17 PM. The Jets game is long since over by now. He considers checking the score on his phone but he still doesn't know how to work that ScoreMobile app Kono downloaded for him, and using the phone's browser takes forever.
He looks up again to see Steve squinting down at him, brow furrowed like Danny is a puzzle he's trying to crack. "What?"
"You really mad at me for waking you up?" Steve asks.
Danny rolls his eyes, his frustration dissipating. "No, Steven, I'm not mad at you for waking me up. I'm mad that I got shot at, again, and now my favorite shirt is ruined."
Steve glances down at him. "That's your favorite shirt?"
Danny starts to say something but they both look up to see Chin walking towards them holding a couple of evidence bags containing handguns.
"Kono's done collecting fingerprints," Chin says, holding up the bags. "I took these off of our dead shooters. I'm going to drop these off at the lab, have them run a ballistics report, check for trace. HPD's throwing our perps into holding tanks until we're ready to interrogate them."
"We'll let 'em stew overnight," Steve says, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "We can take a crack at them in the morning."
"Fantastic," Danny says, clapping his hands together. "Are we done here? Can we go home or is there a box of blood pressure medication we need to question?"
Steve nods. "I think we're done. Your car's still at my house," he tells Danny. "You wanna--"
"Uh, yeah." Danny doesn't look at Chin. "I'll go pick it up."
"See you guys bright and early then," Chin says, nodding at them both before he walks away.
"Yeah, bright and early," Danny mutters, brushing powder off of his sleeve as they walk out of the warehouse. "I'm telling you now, if that fucking cat keeps me up again all night, I won't be held responsible for my actions."
The drive back to Steve's house is mostly quiet. There's a brief slap fight over the radio but Steve gives in with an obligatory eyeroll and lets Danny turn it to a classic rock station. He does that a lot lately, Danny's noticed. Probably since...well, okay, probably since they started sleeping together, so about four months now. Maybe before that too, ever since Steve started keeping a spare toothbrush in the guest bathroom and a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in his pantry, for the nights when Danny crashed on his couch after a few too many beers. Now, of course, Steve keeps a whole lot more than cereal and toothbrushes for him. A couple of months ago he'd cleared a dresser drawer for Danny to use on nights he stayed over, which was nice but Danny knows how drawers work. First it's a drawer, then it's closet space, and then it's a two-bedroom walk-up and a shared electric bill and fights over whose turn it is to do the dishes. Currently, the drawer holds a clean pair of boxers and a tube of hair gel.
"Does Chin know?" Danny asks.
Steve pulls the truck up to a red light and looks over at him.
"I assume you told him," Danny says, smoothing an invisible wrinkle out of his pants. His palms are clammy. "You're never as careful around him as you are with Lori and Kono."
Steve purses his lips together like he's trying to choose his words carefully. "Yeah, he knows," he says finally, and Danny nods. "Does that bother you?"
"No," Danny replies, and that's mostly the truth. It's not a big deal, Chin's not the type to be bothered by that kind of thing, but Danny hasn't even figured out how to tell Grace yet. It was confusing enough for her when everything between him and Rachel fell apart, twice, and he doesn't want to put her through that again. If he's honest, he's not sure if he can go through it again either. Danny sees how Steve looks at him sometimes - at work, over beers, while they're fucking - and he gets the feeling that Steve is already thinking about the future in a way Danny isn't ready to yet.
"You have Gracie next weekend?" Steve asks, like he's reading Danny's mind.
"Uh, no." Danny reaches up to loosen his collar. "Stan and Rachel are going out of town in a couple of weeks so we switched. Why?"
Steve shakes his head. "Next Saturday is the final day of the Women's Reef Hawaiian Pro at Haleiwa Ali'i Beach Park. I thought maybe she'd like to go."
"She probably would." Danny wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. "Jesus, are we having a heat wave I don't know about?"
"I don't think so." Steve wipes his palm on his pants. "It is kind of hot in here though."
"It's like a fucking oven." A drop of sweat slides down the back of Danny's neck. "Mind if I turn up the AC?"
"No, go ahead."
Danny turns the air conditioner up all the way, sighing with relief as the air hits his face. Tunnel of Love comes on the radio, one of his favorites, and he lets it settle around him as they drive down Kalakaua Avenue, past the string of lit-up store fronts and hotels, flashes of beach behind them, the waves crashing against the shore.
Danny tries to focus on the music but his mind's been racing ever since they left the warehouse and it's only gotten worse the longer they've been driving. Steve looks about as distracted as Danny is and at one point nearly rear-ends a Mercedes stopped at a traffic light. He runs two stop signs and doesn't seem to notice either time. Danny almost says something about it, but he can barely breathe much less think. His skin is buzzing, his breath is coming out in short little bursts, and every cell in his body feels like it's been electrified. By the time Steve pulls into his driveway, Danny feels like he's about to spontaneously combust, and not just from the heat. He looks over at Steve, who is breathing so heavily it sounds like he just ran ten miles uphill.
Steve looks over at Danny, his expression vaguely bewildered. "Are you okay?"
Is he? Danny doesn't even know. "I just kind of..."
Steve nods and licks his lips, his eyes never leaving Danny's. "Yeah."
There's a beat of silence, and then they're both fumbling frantically for their seat belts. Steve gets his off first and crawls over to Danny, who is jabbing at the button with his thumb.
"It's stuck, I can't--"
"Push the button--"
"What the fuck do you think I'm doing?" Danny asks, turning to look at him, and Steve is right there, practically in his lap already. Their mouths come together urgently, and for a minute it's all teeth and skin and Steve's hair between his fingers and something that feels very much like yes right under the surface of his skin, and by the time Danny's head clears enough for him to think of anything other than Steve's mouth, Steve's already scrabbling at Danny's fly, unbuttoning his trousers with deft fingers.
"Oh, fuck," Danny says when Steve wraps his hand around Danny's cock and starts tugging harder than Danny would have normally liked but right now it's perfect, and after about three strokes Danny is coming hard all over Steve's fingers and the seat between them.
And maybe that should have been Danny's first clue that something was wrong, that he'd jizzed all over the upholstery in Steve's truck and Steve hadn't even seemed to notice.
"Fuck," Danny says, fingers wrapped around Steve's shirt sleeve so tightly it's probably permanently stretched out. "Oh, fuck."
Steve reaches for the fly of his cargoes, and Danny starts to help him but isn't fast enough. Steve pulls out his own cock and starts jerking himself off in a blur. Danny's about to offer his own services or at least a word of encouragement, but then Steve moans and shoots all over Danny's cock and the front of his trousers.
"Yeah, thanks, just come all over me, it's fine," says Danny, but he doesn't actually care because he's still hard and there's only static where his brain used to be and he can't think of anything except having Steve's cock in his mouth or maybe fucking him senseless right there on the driveway or a million other scenarios that are melting together in his mind, but basically he just needs to come again, immediately.
"Sorry," says Steve, not sounding sorry in the least, his hands inside Danny's untucked shirt. "We have to--fuck, we have to go inside."
"I'd love to, but this fucking seat belt--"
Somehow it takes both of them working together to get the damn thing undone. They both stumble out of the passenger door, and thank god it's dark because Steve's dick is hanging out of his pants and Danny's trousers are covered in come. They burst into the house and barely manage to get the door closed before Steve is kissing him again, walking them into the living room as Danny tugs at Steve's fly. Steve is fumbling with the buttons of Danny's shirt, but Danny really needs Steve to be focused on his dick right now and he doesn't have time for this.
"Just--" Danny starts to swat Steve's hand out of the way, but his foot catches on the edge of a chair and he goes sprawling ass-first onto the floor.
"Fuck," he says, trying to sit up, but Steve is already there, toppling him back down onto the rug. He crawls up Danny's body, and finally, finally, their cocks slide together. Both of them groan, Steve burying his face in the crook of Danny's neck, their hips moving frantically. Danny is aware of very little outside of this moment, outside of this desperate need to fuck and to come, to satisfy this gnawing ache in his belly.
"Yeah," Danny says, sliding his hands up Steve's shirt and along his back, touching everything he can. "Yeah. Steve." He wants to wrap his legs around Steve's waist, bring them closer and closer until they're curled up inside of each other's skin, wants Steve to push his cock inside of him and maybe that will be enough, if he pushes in as deep as he can and fucks him until neither of them can move. And it's that image sends Danny over the edge, his fingertips digging into Steve's back as he spurts between them.
"Oh fuck, Danny," Steve says, and comes with the next thrust. The sound Steve makes, the slick slide of their cocks, has Danny arching into him again, still searching for friction, still searching for release. Still hard, he realizes, and that's what finally cuts through the haze of lust and sends a bolt of panic through his chest.
"Oh my god," Danny says, eyes flickering up to meet Steve's. "I'm still--"
"Me too," Steve says.
Danny looks at him, really looks at him for the first time since Steve pulled in the driveway. His skin is flushed, his hair is damp with sweat, and his gaze is a little unfocused. Danny recognizes the heat in Steve's eyes, the same heat that's simmering under his own skin, pooling in his belly.
"What's wrong with us?" Danny asks. "This isn't--why are we still hard? Why do we have no..."
"Refractory period," Steve supplies helpfully.
Danny sighs with something like relief when their cocks slide against one another again. Without thinking, he reaches between their bodies to wrap his fingers around Steve's dick. "Maybe we were poisoned," he says. "With, like, Viagra or something."
"Yeah, we--maybe," Steve pants as Danny jerks him with long, firm strokes. He drops his forehead to Danny's shoulder, his breath hot against Danny's skin. "But why?"
Danny tries to come up with a good answer to that question, but he can't think with his upstairs brain right now. Apparently Steve's brain doesn't go all the way to the top floor either, because for the next few moments all that comes out of his mouth is a broken string of curses against the hollow of Danny's throat, his hips moving erratically as he fucks Danny's hand.
"Come on," Danny says, and Steve groans, spurting all over Danny's fingers. "Yeah, that's it."
"God, Danny," Steve says, trying to catch his breath. "This is so..."
"I know." Danny's hand is on his own cock now, his fingers slippery with Steve's come. "I just--fuck, I don't know."
"Maybe it wasn't poison," Steve says. "Maybe it was at the warehouse."
Steve tangles his fingers up in Danny's, both of them working his cock. "Maybe this happened at the warehouse tonight."
"What, you think we were cursed? Was the warehouse built on some--" He groans when Steve swipes his thumb over the head of Danny's cock. "--ancient burial...thing."
"Heiau," says Steve.
"Oh, excuse me, I was trying to--" Danny's head falls back, his breath coming out in short little bursts as he spills himself between their fingers. "--have an orgasm."
Steve looks down at him. "We're still hard."
"Thanks, Sherlock," Danny snaps. He's thinking about those commercials now, for Viagra and Cialis and whatever the fuck that other one is called, and the disclaimer on the voiceovers. If you experience an erection lasting more than four hours... Danny can't remember what comes next, and when Steve palms his cock he forgets what he was supposed to be trying to remember. He nudges Steve's hip with his knee, rolling them over so that Steve is flat on his back. Steve's t-shirt is riding up, his stomach sticky with their come, and without thinking Danny leans down and licks it off of him, Steve's fingers threading through his hair.
"I didn't mean we were cursed," Steve pants as Danny crawls down Steve's body. "I meant that box with the pills."
"The one that exploded when you shot it," Danny clarifies, tugging on Steve's pants.
"Maybe they weren't--oh, fuck," Steve says, his hips jerking when Danny swallows him. "Yeah, that's--oh fuck, Danny, yeah, that's perfect."
It actually isn't perfect, there's no finesse at all, but neither of them seem particularly interested in drawing this out. Danny takes him in as far as he can and Steve groans, his fingers digging into Danny's scalp, his hips moving under Danny's hands. His feet are braced against the floor for leverage, the soles of his boots squeaking when he loses traction. Danny gags a little when Steve's cock hits the back of his throat, but he's inclined to let Steve do whatever he wants right now so he doesn't fight him too much when Steve starts thrusting in earnest.
"Fuck, Danny," Steve whines when Danny cups his balls, his finger finding that spot that makes Steve's whole body go limp every time. "Your mouth. I want to come in your mouth."
Danny hums around him, pulling off just enough to suck hard at the head of Steve's cock.
"Yeah, I want--" Steve makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat. "Fuck, yeah. Yeah, I'm--Danny."
Danny pulls off just before Steve comes with a groan, bucking into Danny's hand. Danny keeps jerking him until Steve sags back onto the floor, his hips rolling slowly, his cock still hard in Danny's hand. His hair is dishevelled, his cock is jutting out from the fly of his pants, he's covered in come, and he looks like every fantasy Danny has ever had rolled into one fucked out package. Danny crawls between Steve's sprawled legs and starts jerking himself right over Steve's cock.
"I want you to fuck me," Danny says, tugging his dick so hard it hurts. "Tell me how we're gonna do it."
"On your knees," Steve says. He sits up, licking his lips as he watches him. "Right there. I'm gonna fuck you from behind, hard and fast. Gonna come inside of you."
Danny shoots all over Steve's cock, his breath coming out in sharp, desperate pants. Steve slides his hand up under Danny's shirt, rubbing small circles into Danny's lower back as he catches his breath.
Danny shakes his head, dazed. "I don't know." Somehow he's had four orgasms and he's still hard and he's still wearing his pants. And his shoes.
"It was probably those pills," says Steve. "We were both right there when it exploded."
"Yeah." Danny nods, trying to focus his thoughts, which is difficult considering about 95 percent of them are about the various places into which he would like to shove his dick. "Yeah. We should, uh..." He wipes the sweat from his forehead and drags his hand over his hair. "We should find out what was in it. I mean, staying hard this long, it can do permanent damage, right?"
Steve nods, blinking sweat out of his eyes.
"We should go to the hospital. They probably have, like, drugs or..." Danny tries to imagine walking into an emergency room like this, but then Steve's hand is in Danny's boxers again, sliding over his ass, and suddenly Danny is acutely aware of the fact that it's been nearly two whole minutes since the last time he came.
"They'd probably have to remove the blood with a needle," Steve tells him, kneading him firmly. "And then saline injections to--"
Danny shuts him up with a hard kiss to the mouth, his hands inside Steve's shirt, and Steve groans low in the back of his throat when Danny rolls a nipple between his fingers.
"It might wear off," Steve says breathlessly. "If we just keep going, it could--"
Danny nods. It seems almost logical considering he's not even sure he could make it back to the truck without tackling Steve onto the front lawn and trying to hump his leg. "Yeah. Yeah, maybe."
"Okay." Steve kisses him one more time before he pulls away. "What do you want?"
"I, uh--" Danny looks up at him. "I want you to fuck me, but..."
Steve nods, squeezing him just once before he climbs to his feet. "I'll be right back."
Steve takes the stairs two at a time, and Danny finally peels off his shirt and pants, tossing them onto a chair. He should feel satisfied after four back-to-back orgasms - hell, he should probably be in physical therapy - but all he feels is frustrated, like there's a phantom itch under his skin and he can't get to it. He's painfully aware of every second that his cock is not in contact with some part of Steve's body, and he's about to just follow him up to the bedroom when Steve finally comes crashing down the stairs, completely naked now, condoms in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other.
"Here." He throws the box of condoms at Danny, who is so distracted by the trail of hair on Steve's abdomen that the box nearly hits him in the head. It's full, unopened, and Danny rips it open with trembling fingers. There are a dozen condoms in the box, but somehow--
"What if we need more?" he blurts.
If Steve thinks this sounds ridiculous, he doesn't show it. "I might have some more in the bathroom."
"I hope so," Danny says. He finally gets the package open but ends up spilling all of the condoms onto the floor.
"How do you wanna..." Steve noses Danny's hair, his hand sliding up to Danny's throat, and Danny's reply is swallowed by Steve's mouth. They kiss like they're starving, sloppy and rough, and then Steve tilts Danny's head back so he can bury his face in Danny's neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses along his jaw.
"I wanna do it your way," Danny says, eyes fluttering closed as Steve's tongue flickers over his pulse point. "On the floor, from behind."
Steve exhales against Danny's throat and then he's back to Danny's mouth, tongue sliding over his bottom lip. "Bad for your knee," he says.
"Well, all of this talking is bad for my dick, so come on."
Danny gets down on the rug on his hands and knees, his whole body throbbing with anticipation as Steve tears open a condom behind him. Steve is right, his knee will be screaming at him tomorrow, but he doesn't feel it now, doesn't feel much of anything beyond need and pleasure and frustration, the aches in his joints and muscles masked by endorphins and adrenaline. He has a feeling that his knee isn't the only thing that's going to be hurting tomorrow.
"Come on," Danny says impatiently as Steve smooths his hands over Danny's hips. Steve doesn't say anything, slides his hands over Danny's ass, his thumbs holding Danny open. Danny holds his breath as he waits for the slick cold of a lubed finger, but then Steve's breath is right there, his lips ghosting over Danny's skin. Danny tenses, his heart beating faster, because Steve has done this before, just once, but Danny's been too chickenshit to ask him to do it again, though he's not really sure why since he's never been particularly shy in the bedroom. Steve rubs his thumb over Danny's hole, taking his time like he's giving Danny a chance to protest, then he's flicking his tongue against Danny's entrance, gently at first but with increasing pressure, and fuck, Danny feels like his spine is going to melt. He sags down onto his elbows and presses his face into his forearm as Steve pushes his tongue inside of him. Danny is vaguely aware of how stupid he probably looks right now, his groans sounding suspiciously like whimpers, but it's so good he doesn't care. His hips are stuttering under Steve's hands, uncertain whether he wants to press back against Steve's tongue or thrust forward so that he can fuck something, anything.
"Don't stop," Danny blurts breathlessly when Steve pulls away, rubbing his thumb in circles against Danny's hole. "Fuck, Steve. Yeah. God, fuck." The sound he makes when Steve swirls his tongue over him again is completely undignified, and when Steve starts massaging his balls Danny can't hear anything over the roaring in his ears. Danny's fingers curl into fists around the corner of the rug as Steve licks at him with hard, fast swipes of his tongue.
"I'm coming," Danny manages, barely, and starts shooting just as Steve's hand wraps around the base of his cock. Steve strokes him through it, Danny thrusting blindly into his hand, his nails digging into the rug as he rides it out.
"Okay?" Steve asks when Danny finally lifts his head, still trying to catch his breath.
"Yeah." Except for this boner that won't go away. Steve is still working his dick with long, firm pulls that already have another orgasm churning deep in his belly. "I, uh..." Danny closes his eyes, rolling his hips in time with Steve's hand. "I guess this is a good time to mention that I kind of enjoy it when you do that."
Steve huffs a laugh and releases Danny's cock, sliding his hand along Danny's hips before he reaches for the lube on the coffee table. Steve works him open with a couple of fingers and then he's holding him open again, pushing the tip of his cock against Danny's entrance. He slides in easily, and they exhale together when he buries himself to the hilt.
"Fuck, Danny, you're so--" Steve runs his hands up Danny's thighs. "Your knee okay?"
Danny is so consumed with Steve being inside of him, finally, that it takes him a minute to realize what Steve is asking. "It's fine. Move."
Steve slides a hand over Danny's ass as he withdraws, the slick pull of his cock dragging all of the breath from Danny's lungs. Danny chokes back a moan when Steve pushes into him again, his grip on Danny's hips tightening.
"Danny," Steve says urgently, like he's trying to tell him something important and he really needs him to listen. "Danny..."
Danny nods, pushing back to meet his thrusts.
"I've been wanting this all night," Steve tells him. "Been wanting to fuck you. To be--" He breaks off, breath catching sharply. "I needed--"
"I know," Danny says, because he understands, he really does. It’s like everything they've done has been leading up to this, to Steve being inside of him, filling him up, and he's almost satisfied in a way he hasn't been all night. He drops his head to his chest as Steve smooths his hand up Danny's spine. "Come on, go faster."
Steve obeys, pushing into him so hard that Danny's breath catches in his throat. His fingers are curled into the edge of the rug again, clenching as Steve takes him, over and over, and when Steve hits the spot that makes his vision go blurry, Danny digs his nails in and doesn't let go.
"Right there," he gasps. Steve is rubbing his shoulder, his fingers brushing the hair at the nape of his neck. "Right--yeah, fuck, right there."
"Danny, I'm gonna come," Steve says suddenly. "Are you--"
"Yeah," Danny tells him, "yeah, come on."
Steve groans and thrusts into him sharply, his fingers pushing through Danny's hair and curling into a fist. Danny's muscles are taut with anticipation, his whole body poised to follow him right over the edge of that cliff, but it slips through his fingers as Steve's pace falters, his thrusts slowing as he comes down from orgasm.
"Sorry," Steve pants, fingers sliding out of Danny's hair and over the knob of his spine. "I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about," Danny says. "Although, I thought maybe that would..."
"Yeah, I did too." Steve is still hard inside of him, making slow, shallow thrusts. He rubs Danny's shoulder blade, the other hand settling on Danny's hip, and starts pushing in deeper. "This good?"
Danny nods, a lock of hair falling into his eyes.
"Want you to come."
"Yeah, I just--" Danny pushes up from the floor, leaning back into Steve, who pulls him into his lap, flush against his chest. He circles his arms around Danny's waist, one hand curling around Danny's cock, and presses his face to the back of Danny's neck.
"You close?" Steve asks, jerking him in time with his thrusts.
"Yeah," Danny says when Steve hits that spot again. "Yeah, keep doin' that."
Steve starts fucking him faster, bursts of light exploding behind Danny's eyelids with every other thrust, until Danny's legs are trembling and he can barely hold himself up. It's good, one of those rare fucks where it feels too good to stop and Danny's not even sure he wants to come, he just wants Steve to stay inside of him and keep him right there on the edge for hours. He almost says this out loud, almost tells Steve to slow down, but his orgasm is already swelling in his belly, ready to break.
"Danny," Steve pants right against his ear, his breath making the hair on Danny's arms stand on end, and that's it, Danny's done. Steve tightens his arm around Danny's middle as Danny shatters, thighs shaking as he spills onto Steve's hand. Steve's pace never slows, even when Danny's tips his head back against Steve's shoulder, gasping for breath.
Steve rocks into him again, releasing a shaky sigh against the nape of Danny's neck. "Need a second. Just need to..." He moans quietly with the next thrust, his breath coming out in sharp, warm huffs against Danny's hair as he pulses inside of him.
Danny slots his fingers through the hand pressed against his stomach, squeezing tightly as Steve comes down. Suddenly Danny's heart is beating faster, adrenaline kicking in for reasons that have nothing to do with that cloud of white powder. Steve cups Danny's jaw from behind, tilting Danny's head so he can smear open-mouthed kisses along Danny's throat, and Danny finds himself choking back words he hasn't said in a long time.
"What do you want?" Steve asks, trailing his lips along Danny's shoulder. "Tell me. I'll do anything."
Suddenly it doesn't feel like they're talking about sex anymore. "Water," Danny croaks, peeling Steve's arm away from his stomach. "I just need--"
"Yeah," Steve says, sounding a bit off balance. "Okay, let me just..." He pulls out of him slowly, and Danny climbs out of his lap, using the edge of the coffee table to haul himself to his feet. His legs feel like jelly, and he's pretty sure the adrenaline coursing through his body is the only thing keeping him from lapsing into a coma right now. He turns to see Steve carefully removing the condom.
"I'll be right back," Steve tells him, and disappears into the kitchen.
Danny sits on the couch and buries his face in his hands, closing his eyes. He's exhausted all the way down to his bones, but his heart is beating in double time and every molecule in his body is screaming, reminding him that he needs to keep going, that they need to fuck again, that he needs to come. Maybe Steve is right, maybe they just need to keep going and they'll be fine, but Danny's not sure how much longer he can keep doing this, and not just because his body is about to give out.
Danny looks up as Steve sits down next to him on the couch. He passes Danny a glass of cold water, which Danny accepts with trembling hands. "Yeah."
He chugs the water down quickly, thirstier than he'd even realized, and when he looks up again Steve is watching him, his eyes crinkled around the edges, his expression unmistakably tender. Danny’s chest aches.
"You need more?" Steve says, and Danny shakes his head. “You need to stop for a while?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Steve takes his glass and sets it on the coffee table, not even bothering to find a coaster, and scoots over until he's sitting right next to Danny, their knees knocking together. He slides his hand along Danny's collar bone, cups Danny's throat with both hands. His fingers are cold from the glass, and so are his lips when they kiss, Steve's tongue sliding along the roof of Danny's mouth. Steve kisses him slowly, purposefully, like he doesn't need to come as desperately as Danny does, like they have all night to do just this.
"You want to fuck me?" Steve pushes his fingers through Danny's hair and kisses Danny's throat. "I want you to."
Danny groans, fingers tightening in Steve's hair as Steve scrapes his teeth over the sensitive skin below Danny's ear.
"Tell me," says Steve. "Tell me what you want."
"Yeah," Danny says, exhaling against Steve's cheek. "I want to fuck you. Right here, like this."
Steve kisses him again, long and deep, before he pulls away. He grabs a condom from the floor, passes Danny the bottle of lube, and climbs into Danny's lap, straddling his hips. Steve's body is warm and solid, his cock pressing into Danny's stomach. Steve rolls the condom onto him as Danny pours lube into the palm of his hand and smears some onto the tip of his cock.
"You don't need--" Danny starts but Steve just shakes his head and sucks in a breath as he sinks down onto him. They exhale together, Steve's mouth tightening at the corners. It's been a while since they've done it this way and Danny's almost forgotten how good it feels to be inside of him, how snugly they fit together. He gives Steve a moment to adjust, sliding his hands up Steve's thighs to cup his ass. "You okay?"
Steve nods and starts pushing down onto him, slowly. "More than okay."
It's a view Danny will never get tired of: Steve stretched out above him, his muscles flexing, sweat catching in his eyelashes like salt water after his morning swim. Danny smooths his hand over Steve's chest, the skin flushed and warm under his fingertips. He tweaks a nipple, a little harder than he normally would, and Steve's breath catches in his throat.
"Love watching you like this," Danny murmurs, sliding a hand up to Steve's throat. "You look so fucking good."
Steve looks down at Danny through hooded eyelids, his nostrils flaring when Danny starts stroking him in time to their thrusts, and it's not long before he's falling apart, thighs trembling as he spurts onto Danny's stomach.
"Fuck," Danny says, voice cracking. "I love watching you come." He brings his hand up to Steve's face and smears come across Steve's bottom lip. Steve sucks a finger into his mouth, his tongue curling around it gently, and Danny comes with a grunt, thrusting up inside of him one last time.
Steve licks Danny's fingers clean, one by one, as Danny comes down from orgasm. "What do you want?" Steve asks him, rubbing Danny's palm with the pad of his thumb.
Danny doesn't even know what he wants anymore. He wants to stay inside of him, just like this, and keep fucking him until they're both raw. He wants to come again, as many times as it takes. He wants to curl up in bed, Steve's face pressed against his shoulder blade, and sleep until he's ninety.
"Anything," Steve says, looking down at him. He presses his lips to Danny's palm. "Anything, Danny."
And he really means it. Danny shakes his head, guilt blooming low in his gut. "I'm sorry, I can't--"
"It's okay," Steve tells him, leaning forward to kiss him. "It's okay." He climbs out of Danny's lap on shaky legs and lowers himself onto the floor between Danny's knees. Carefully, he removes the condom and licks a stripe along the underside of Danny's cock, swirling his tongue over the head. Danny sighs as Steve takes him all the way into his mouth.
"Steve..." Danny's fingers are sticky in Steve's hair, along his jaw. Steve sucks at him gently, balls cradled between his fingers, until Danny is spurting onto Steve's fingers.
"Come on," Danny murmurs, sliding his hand along Steve's arm as Steve reaches for his own cock, jerking himself with short, rough strokes. "Come on, babe."
"Fuck," Steve says, shooting onto Danny's leg, and whatever, Danny's already got lube and dried come in places he doesn't even want to know about. Steve strokes himself a few more times then slumps back onto his haunches, breathing heavily. He leans his forehead against Danny's knee and mutters, "Fuck."
They're both silent for a moment, Danny rubbing the back of Steve's neck, until Steve says, "Maybe we should call Chin."
"I'm not really into threesomes."
"I mean about the drugs," Steve says, looking up at him. His hair is sticking up in every direction, his eyes worried. Danny swallows a lump of affection at the back of his throat.
"What if something's really wrong with us?" Steve says, closing his eyes as Danny smooths a thumb over his eyebrow. "What if it doesn't go away?"
"I don't know," Danny says. "I don't know." He tips Steve onto the floor, nearly knocking him unconscious against the edge of the coffee table, and after a bit of fumbling Steve ends up sprawled on top of him, his knee pressed into Danny's thigh. Their cocks find one another, and Steve slides them together in one long thrust, both of them sighing into it.
"We should have Chin call the pharmaceutical company, see what was in those boxes," Steve says, smoothing the hair out of Danny's eyes. "We need to get checked out by a doctor."
"I know," Danny says as Steve thrusts against him again. "We just need...one more time." Danny hooks one leg around Steve's hip, and Steve settles between Danny's legs, propping himself up on his elbows.
"You're really hot," Steve says, palm pressed briefly against Danny's forehead before he pushes his fingers through Danny's hair.
"No, I mean literally," Steve says, his mouth catching Danny's briefly. "You're sweating. Your skin is hot."
"Just one more time," Danny says, thrusting up against him hard enough that Steve's breath hitches and his eyes flutter closed. "Come on, just one more time."
Steve kisses him, fingers twisted in Danny's hair, and comes a few thrusts later, gasping against Danny's mouth.
"We're going to hurt so much tomorrow," Danny says breathlessly, so close. Steve is still hard, still thrusting against him like he hasn't had so many orgasms they've both lost track. "If my dick doesn't fall off, I'll be surprised."
"I hope it doesn't," Steve says, kissing Danny's throat. "Come on."
"Yeah," Danny breathes, and he's right there, he's so close, why can't he fucking come already. "Yeah," he says, eyes screwed shut. "Yeah, Steve, I just need--"
"What do you need?" Steve asks. "What do you need, Danny, tell me. You need me to suck you off? You need me to fuck you again?"
Danny lets out a shaky breath as Steve starts thrusting against him faster. "Yeah. Yeah, I..."
"Tell me how you need it. You need it hard and fast? I can fuck you hard, Danny, you know I can."
Danny tries to say something but the words aren't there, and all he can do is let it roll through him, this shuddering ache that hurts more than it satisfies. Steve keeps sliding against him, his voice pitched low in Danny's ear, murmuring filthy, encouraging words, and Danny comes until he can't anymore but he's still rolling his hips in time with Steve's thrusts. He's still hard. He's still hard. Tears prick his eyes, a sob caught in the back of his throat. He needs to cry, or come, or maybe throw up, he's not sure which.
Steve swallows. "I don't know what to do."
"Fuck me," Danny says, shaking his head at the worried expression on Steve's face. "Do it, come on, you said you would."
Steve hesitates like he's going to say no, but then he's grabbing at something behind Danny's head, one of the condoms he spilled onto the floor earlier. Steve rips the package open with his teeth, rolls it on with trembling fingers, and then he's pushing into him until he's buried all the way inside.
They're still for a moment just like that, breathing into one another, before Steve starts rocking into him, withdrawing halfway and pushing back in again. And it's good, fuck, it's so good, but Danny's not going to be able to come again. He's frayed at the edges, raw all the way down to his bones, and that itch under his skin has settled into a dull throb, like the sound of his heart beating directly into his ears.
"Hard and fast, huh?" Danny says, but Steve doesn't smile back at him. He's got that determined look in his eyes that only ever means trouble, and Danny knows what he's thinking but--
"I can't come again," Danny tells him, exhaling through his nostrils with an audible huff. "I'm done."
"But you said--"
Steve stills inside of him, but Danny shakes his head and pushes his fingers through Steve's hair as their mouths come together again, Steve's teeth scraping over Danny's bottom lip, and when they pull away to take a breath there's something warm and familiar bubbling up in Danny's chest.
"Steve," Danny says, and Steve looks down at him, his eyes a little wild. He cups Danny's face in his hand, thumb brushing over Danny's bottom lip. "I..."
Steve pushes into him, their bodies arching off of the floor, and hits that spot that makes Danny feel like he's going to shatter from the inside out.
"Steve," Danny sobs, leaning forward to press his forehead against Steve's. Steve rolls his hips again, and fuck, it hurts, this building wave that will never break. "I can't."
"You can," Steve says, kissing him hard. "I know you can. I know you need to. One more time. Come on, Danny."
Danny shakes his head, swallows down a groan when Steve reaches between them to loosely wrap his fingers around Danny's cock.
"Want to see you one more time," Steve tells him, working him gently. "I know it'll be good, it'll be so good."
For a while there's no sound between them, just the rhythm of shared breaths and the slow, wet slide of Steve's cock. Steve is thrusting slowly, deeply, nowhere near as urgent as he'd been before, and Danny wonders if he feels it anymore, that buzzing under his skin. Danny presses his nose to the crook of Steve's shoulder, the skin salty under his tongue. Steve smells warm and dark, like moss and driftwood, like the musk that clings to the inside of Danny's collar at the end of a long day. Danny remembers that first morning after, when he'd woken to find the other half of the bed empty, and the whole house smelled like salty air and that hazelnut coffee that Steve hated, and he'd laid there for nearly half an hour, his face pressed into Steve's pillow, listening for Steve's footsteps on the stairs.
There's a beat of silence, like water pulling away from the shore, and then it's crashing over him, dragging him under, sucking all of the air out of his lungs. Steve is breathing right against his ear, gasping Danny's name, his hand still wrapped around Danny's cock. Danny keeps coming for what feels like forever, pulsing over and over until there's nothing left.
He's vaguely aware of Steve pulling out of him, and when Danny finally comes back to himself, Steve is draped all over him like an octopus, his weight pinning Danny to the floor. Danny feels like he's been scrubbed raw from the inside out, crushed by a breaking wave and spit back onto shore.
They're quiet for several minutes, their heart rates returning to something resembling normal, until Danny says, "My dick hurts."
Steve groans when he tries to extricate his leg from under Danny's knee. "At least you don't have a boner anymore."
"There is that, I guess."
Steve buries his face in Danny's neck, his breath hot against Danny's throat. Steve's phone beeps from the floor under the coffee table, where it must have fallen before Steve managed to get his pants off all the way. Neither of them move.
"I will pay you twenty dollars if you get that," Steve tells him.
Steve sits up, planting a hand on Danny's chest to steady himself, and grabs the phone. He opens the message, laughs, and shows it to Danny. It's from Chin.
Lab called. Those might not have been sugar pills in that box.
Danny laughs so hard his stomach hurts. "Oh, fuck my life," he wheezes.
Steve drops the phone onto the coffee table and falls back onto the floor, tucking himself against Danny's side. After a moment, Danny says, "Steve."
Danny threads his fingers through Steve's hair, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck. Steve kisses Danny's shoulder and tightens his arm around Danny's middle.
"By the way," Steve murmurs, "the Jets lost 14-3."
Danny exhales, warm and exhausted, into Steve's hair. "You owe me malasadas for breakfast."
"At 5 AM?"
"Better make it a full box."