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What You've Got is Me

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Danny glanced over in time to see Steve walk back towards the bar; the expression on his face told Danny everything about how successful he'd been at getting Rudy to talk to him. Rudy was either a friend of a cousin of a friend of Kono's, or else he was a cousin of a friend of a -- Danny had stopped listening about the time Steve had said he knew a guy they could try asking questions of. However, clearly it was so much for 'let me handle this, he'll be more comfortable if it's just me alone' as Steve obviously hadn't gotten a thing.

Danny refrained from rolling his eyes, because his ninety year old grandmother could have seen that Rudy wasn't going to talk to anybody. But Steve had been determined -- and more than just a little bit bored and frustrated.

It was Steve's bad luck that Five-0 had nothing better to do with its time than hunt up witnesses who weren't going to talk about any of half a dozen cold cases. Danny wasn't about to wish for something more exciting to happen -- unlike Steve, who was seriously beginning to look like he wanted to blow something up, just to have something fun to do.

Luckily, Danny had better things in mind to blow off a little steam. He flicked his gaze back to Mike, one of the many tourists in the tourist bar -- a shocker, Danny knew. But he'd met Danny's gaze with an appreciative one of his own and Danny had stopped to chat. Danny was careful not to let Steve notice that Danny had seen him, instead keeping his head turned towards Mike. Danny leaned forward a little, smiling easily and was pleased to see Mike reacting the way he'd hoped. Mirroring Danny's movement closer, one hand sliding across the bar and yeah, there was a hand on his arm and if Danny had wanted, he could have had himself back at Mike's place within ten minutes, and naked five after that.

Only because he was wearing his good work clothes and didn't want to rip any seams, or lose a button. Otherwise he could easily shave four minutes off his estimate. But as charming and handsome as Mike was -- nice ass and huge hands -- his wasn't the reaction Danny was going for. Just as Mike was bending down to whisper something suggestive in Danny's ear, Danny felt a hand on his shoulder and fingers squeezing tightly enough to bruise.

"Let's get out of here," Steve said, words grinding out like it hurt to open his jaw.

"I was just--" Danny began, and Steve actually yanked him away with a grip on his shirt that, had Danny not hurried along, would have ripped seams and lost buttons.

He gave Mike an apologetic wave, who glowered at Steve's retreating back. His loss, Danny figured, but a guy who looked like that wouldn't take long to find some other lucky schmuck to take home. Danny concentrated on following Steve back to the car; a difficult prospect when Steve never let go of him and Danny had to trot along beside him, half-sideways.

"Is there a problem, McGarrett?" Danny demanded, as they reached the car.

Steve whirled on him, opened his mouth but said nothing. He glared back towards the bar, closed his mouth, pointed, then did the fish-gaping-mouth imitation all over again. Danny waited, a paragon of virtuous patience. Finally Steve asked, "What the hell was that?"

"That, my friend, was called 'canvassing the street.' Perhaps you've heard of it, where a police officer goes along and knocks on doors and asks fair-minded citizens if they know anything worth telling about. Crimes, to be specific." Danny leaned one hip against his car, feeling the heat of the sun radiating from the shiny metal. It was exactly the sort of day that, back in Jersey, would have had everyone at each others' throats as their minds melted in the summer sun.

Danny wondered if it meant he was acclimating, that he didn't even feel like loosening his tie.

The thought made him scowl harder at McGarrett.

"That wasn't canvassing," Steve retorted, glaring again at the interior of the bar. Danny hoped for Mike's sake, that the other man hadn't tried to follow him out. A bar fight and subsequent arrests and paperwork, weren't what Danny had in mind.

"Then what, pray tell, do you think it was? I'm curious to someday figure out how that brain of yours works--"

"That was entirely too friendly to be 'canvassing'," Steve said, and he was suddenly pressing in, almost looming over Danny.

He tilted his head back and looked up at Steve, ignoring the way his cock was very pleased to see him. "Just because I didn't tape a grenade to his shorts, doesn't mean I wasn't asking him what he knew about the Landrau case."

"I don't believe you."

Danny almost laughed. "Why don't you go back in and ask him yourself what, exactly, I was doing?" Which wouldn't necessarily be the best idea, Danny knew, because Danny had barely mentioned the Landrau drownings and had, instead, asked Mike a lot of questions about how he had gotten those biceps.

"I have a better idea," Steve said, and he grabbed Danny by the arm, pulling him forward while he reached down and unlocked the door.

"I can't wait to hear it," Danny said as dryly as he could. He wanted to press his hand against his cock, but he didn't know if Steve had even noticed how hard he was.

Steve started to physically push Danny into the car -- which, okay, manhandling was just absolutely fine with Danny, and, more importantly, with Danny's cock. But he wondered if maybe he hadn't underestimated how wound up Steve already was before he'd started pushing his buttons.

Then Steve held him up, yanking him back just a bit, bouncing Danny's hip off of Steve's thigh. Steve just looked at him and just said, "I don't know what you said, but I saw him -- and you don't get to talk to anyone like that but me."

"Excuse me?" Danny blinked.

Steve leaned down then, definitely looming over him and Danny's only escape was to crawl into the car -- or start climbing Steve like a tree and licking him everywhere. Danny's head spun a little. It was probably the heat, he told himself. He felt Steve's hand on the back of his neck and Danny's knees shook, would have fallen except Steve and the car had him pinned tight.

"You belong to me, and I won't have you doing that with anyone else."

Danny had to shake his head, trying to clear it because Steve's mouth was saying things which should have been pissing Danny off. But Steve's hands were doing things which were making Danny's cock scream at him to get his pants off and bend over, and Danny -- much as he loved having sex with Steve -- hadn't ever discovered this particular kink before.

He tried to make his mouth work, to say something witty or to remind McGarrett he couldn't be pushed around, or owned, but all that came out was a soft moan as Steve's fingers brushed along his neck and towards the front of his throat, pressing softly right below his adam's apple. Danny's head fell back, apparently of its own volition because seriously, what the hell, and his cock was so hard he fucking ached.

"Please," he said, and he didn't know what he was asking for, but Steve simply bundled him up into the car, practically folding him in half and tipping him back into the seat. Danny tried to arrange his arms and legs, as well as get his brain rebooted. By the time Steve was getting into the driver's seat Danny thought he had himself regrouped, then Steve looked over, slammed his door closed, and reached over and dragged one finger down the bulge in Danny's pants.

Danny made a strangled noise that would have been completely embarrassing if he hadn't been desperately trying not to come in his pants -- in the car, in front of a tourist trap in the middle of the day. Then Steve said, "Put your seatbelt on," and he started the car, and pulled out of the parking spot.

Danny had to fumble with his hands, the belt, and his sputtering brain for several seconds before he got belted in, but as soon as he did, he whirled on Steve. "What the hell--"

Steve didn't reply, but the look in his eyes made the words dry up in Danny's mouth. He swallowed, once, and he felt his hands tremble just a little. His cock was still straining against his pants and he hoped like hell Steve was driving them home.

Anywhere else and he'd have to arrest them both afterwards.

"Sit still, don't say a word, and don't touch yourself," Steve said, once he seemed certain he had Danny's attention.

Danny opened his mouth to ask him what he was playing at, because an afternoon of sneaking off to have sex wasn't nearly like what was actually happening. He'd meant to wind Steve up a little, get him jealous and thinking about fucking. It should have been enough to get him suggesting they sneak back home for a long lunch. He hadn't been expecting this neanderthal Steve, practically dragging Danny back by the hair and grunting at anyone who so dared look Danny's way.

And what the fuck was up with his cock going along with it, Danny wanted to know? Why was every brain cell yammering at him to start begging for more? He rubbed one hand against his forehead, trying to clear his head and Steve grabbed him by the wrist, fingers encircling him like it was nothing, and Danny found himself staring, cock getting even harder at the sight -- sensation -- of Steve holding his arm with hands so huge they nearly engulfed him.

He opened his mouth to say -- he didn't know what, because nothing came out and his brain was sputtering and just how far from the house were they, anyway? He tried to look up, figure out where they were but he couldn't drag his eyes away from Steve's hand. He shifted in his seat, because his cock was so hard it hurt and Steve suddenly let go of his wrist. Before Danny could protest, or even ask nicely for him to grab Danny again, Steve was tugging at Danny's zipper and was tugging Danny's cock free of his underwear.

Danny's head hit the back of the seat, and his legs splayed apart even as he tried to say this was a bad, bad, horrible idea and they were going to crash and die and everyone would see Danny's dead body with his cock in Steve's hand. That was very much not how he wanted to go out, not how he wanted the coroner to bring his body into the morgue. But Steve was yanking his cock free, and Danny tilted his head up enough to see residential streets, and no traffic, and houses he recognized as being not so very far from Steve's own.

"This is a bad idea," he managed to breathe, because he didn't know if Steve's driving skills included steering plus handjobs. But Steve didn't say a word, just ran his thumb over the head of Danny's cock, then he gripped, tight -- tight enough to almost hurt and Danny shoved his hips upward, trying for more.

"I said, don't talk," Steve said mildly, and he didn't sound mad and didn't sound insane, despite Danny thinking that he definitely had to be.

"You think I can possibly be quiet?" Danny wanted to know. "Have you ever in your life known me not to-- oh God, God, Steven, please," he begged, trying to get the leverage to fuck Steve's hand and those fingers gripped him tightly. Even when Steve tugged at his pants, pulling his clothes open and exposing him even more, all Danny could do was brace himself back against the seat harder, trying to get into a better position to fuck Steve's hand.

He could feel the warm, outdoor air on his cock, practically see the burning gazes of any neighbors that might happen to look out and see through the car door. He tried to tell himself no one could see -- Steve would have shot anyone who tried to look, probably, because he was just that fucking possessive and insane. But he couldn't stop moving against Steve's hand, even when he realised Steve wasn't doing anything at all except hold his hand in place, fingers wrapped in a tight circle. He was sitting there letting Danny fuck his fist, right there in full view of...well, the birds, maybe, and anyone with a telescope pointed in the right direction. Peeping Toms got what they deserved, Danny thought frantically, and he clenched his fingers into the doorframe and the side of the seat, and jerked his hips upward as best as he could.

Soon it wasn't enough, and he heard himself breathing, "Please, please," and he tried to bite his lip just in case Steve was serious about not wanting him to talk, but all he got was the sudden darkness as a garage appeared around them. Danny raised his head and recognized it -- Steve had made him help clean it out just last weekend, citing the need to put the car away for inclement weather.

Danny had harassed him about that for days after, but now he was oh so very grateful, because he didn't have to get out of the car and waste time. Steve was suddenly looming over him again, tugging at his pants and Danny lifted his hips, letting Steve pull them down, out of the way. Then he was pulled forward, one hand still on his cock and Danny felt the gearshift poking his thigh and he thought about suggesting they put the seats back, at least, when Steve just bit him on the collarbone and squeezed his cock, hard.

He yelled -- something, he had a feeling he had just insulted Steve and his entire clan, but what the hell because Steve was yanking him farther forward, and there wasn't enough fucking room. Room for fucking, and Danny laughed at that, hearing his voice weak and thin because he could barely breathe, and Steve just looked at him oddly before letting go of Danny's cock.

"Hey, no--" Danny began, then Steve's other hand was on him and that was good, that was awesome and Danny was tugged forward even more, and it was hard to breathe and he felt like he was being folded in half and -- oh God, Steve was shoving his fingers into Danny's ass, two, three, four thrusts in and that was all it took.

Danny came all over Steve, hanging onto his arm and he had no idea what else, gripping tight for all he was worth as Steve shoved his fingers in again, wringing Danny's cock as Danny shouted loud enough to scare the horses ten miles away.

Shaking, Danny collapsed against him, suddenly aware of the wet stickiness of Steve's shirt and not feeling at all sorry about it. He was sorry when Steve pulled his fingers free, then when he let go of Danny's cock. Danny pushed himself back into the seat and tried to make his brain stop spinning.

He found Steve looking at him, his expression a mix of amusement and unmet need that Danny found made him shiver, just a little. "You want me to suck you off, here, or wanna go upstairs and you can fuck me for real?" Danny asked, not sure how he'd managed to get his voice working.

He was surprised, to say the least, when Steve leaned forward and kissed him. When Steve let him go, he asked, hesitantly, "I... Do I need to apologize first?"

Danny just grinned widely, knowing he looked like a fool. Whatever, he'd been in love long enough to get used to that sort of thing. He shook his head and put his hand on Steve's face. He brushed his thumb along Steve's bottom lip and thought about how much Steve loved when Danny sucked on it. Sucked on anything, really, and Danny would happily do so in the car if he thought he could get his body bent into the requisite pretzel.

"Love you," he said. He watched as Steve's eyes went dark, wide and not nearly as surprised as he used to get when Danny said those words. Then Danny smirked. "If you want to apologize, you can do so for leaving the dishes in the sink overnight."

"I didn't--" Steve cut himself off, then his expression grew dark, nearly thunderous. In a tone of voice exactly like the one he'd used in the bar, he said, "Get upstairs."

Danny opened his mouth to tease him -- this newfound kink of theirs was going to be fun, but it wouldn't do to let Steve get heady with this newfound power over him. But as he opened his mouth, Steve wrapped his hand around Danny's cock -- soft now, but still wired to every nerve ending in his body, apparently. Because all that came out of his mouth was, "Okay."

Steve nudged him upwards with the hand on his dick, and Danny was going to be mortified, later, by how willingly he went, but Steve just looked at him and Danny's heart stuttered. The lust he was used to seeing, and the love, but despite the firm tone of Steve's voice there was hesitation in his eyes. So Danny just leaned forward and kissed him back, pressing his cock into Steve's grip as he did so.

"Fuck me," Danny begged softly, and Steve wrapped his other arm around his back, tugging him in and kissing him. He felt Steve trembling a little, but Danny relaxed against him, tugging at him with his mouth and trying to open himself up, legs spread and soft cock shoved into Steve's grip, trying to let Steve know it was all right. More than all right; Danny suspected he was going to get a lot more than he'd bargained for, and that he was very probably going to love every minute of it.

When Steve let him go -- everywhere but the hand around his cock -- Steve nudged him backwards, out of the car. Steve scrambled after him, undignified but swift and agile, hand never letting go of Danny's cock and how the hell he was getting hard again so soon, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to argue if t meant he was wired in ways he'd never imagined.

He let Steve take him upstairs, hand on his cock like a leash -- and that made his cock jump again, and Danny shoved the thought aside for later, much later, and simply let Steve guide him to the bed and direct him to do whatever Steve wanted him to do.

When they'd worn themselves out and Danny felt himself falling asleep, he rolled onto his side, tugging Steve over him like a blanket. Steve shifted one leg between his, Steve's hand resting on the flat of Danny's belly. He could feel the intake of breath, that meant Steve was going to ask, again, and Danny just put his hand on top of Steve's and pushed it gently downwards until it rested on top of Danny's dick. He felt Steve tense, for just a second, then fingers tucked around him and Danny felt Steve relax. Danny closed his eyes and fell asleep to the press of Steve's chest against his back and the sound of waves in his ears, and to the feeling of Steve's hand on him, hot and possessive.