Work Text:
It's been a good week, a major case wrapped up, one less serial killer walking the streets and a commendation from the Chief that will look good on his record, and Danny's looking forward to a night of celebrating as he unlocks the hotel room door.
The hotel's a cheap one, and the room's simple, but clean; a bed, a dresser, a chair, and a shower room off to one side. He stands back and lets McGarrett enter first, sees how he takes up that parade ground rest stance just inside the door, staring off into the middle distance as though he's trying to be anywhere else but here. Danny's not bothered. He knows that McGarrett's not had any more trouble from the uniform boys, Danny's seen to that, it's common knowledge that anyone who messes with him will have Danny to deal with. So it's a fair trade, McGarrett gets to show his appreciation for Danny's protection, and everyone's happy.
He's keen to get on with this, his dick already taking an interest in forthcoming proceedings. "Strip," he says, and McGarrett does, folding his clothes neatly on the dresser, a hangover from his military training, Danny thinks. When he's done he's back at parade ground rest, not looking at Danny. "Here," Danny says, pulling the lube from his pocket and tossing it to him. "Go shower. Clean up and prep yourself." For a moment he catches that hint of tension in McGarrett's stance, something insubordinate in his eyes, he's seen it before, it reminds him that for all he is now, this man used to be a Navy SEAL, one of the elite, but then McGarrett turns smartly on his heel and goes into the bathroom.
Danny takes the opportunity to examine the folded clothes. They're worn and ripped in places, not as clean as they might be, hardly surprising given his circumstances. He's going to have to get McGarrett some more clothes, Danny thinks, wondering where the nearest Goodwill is. After all, that would only be fair, he's not going to be earning anything tonight, not with what Danny's got planned. Danny goes through his pockets, finding little: a few dollars, a crumpled photo of a young blonde woman, sister, girlfriend, there's no way of telling, and a set of dog tags in the name of McGarrett, Steven J. Danny makes a note of the serial number on them, after all, you never know when information is going to come in useful. There's nothing more to tell him anything about the man.
McGarrett comes back out of the bathroom, hair wet and tousled. He looks younger and somehow more vulnerable that way. "On the bed," Danny tells him, "Hands and knees, head down." McGarrett does it, spreads his legs and fuck, yeah, this is going to be good.
Danny loses his own clothes, grabs a condom from his pants pocket and rolls it onto his dick, then kneels up on the bed, running his hands over McGarrett's back and parting the cheeks of his ass to check that he' s followed orders and lubed up. Danny wonders how many men have had him since he last did, the tight ring of muscle looks reddened and sore, but he's a whore, it's an occupational hazard, and Danny's no bleeding heart, and anyway he's fucking horny, so he just lines up and loses no time in pushing his way in. McGarrett hisses softly as Danny thrusts home but nothing more, just drops his head, braces himself and takes it as Danny fucks into him.
He's not had McGarrett like this before, it's always been quick and rough, but now he's in no hurry, can take his time, and so he does, enjoying the long smooth slide of his cock into the tight heat, driving in deep and slow. It's fucking good, all the more delicious for knowing that he doesn't have to worry about making it good for anyone else, that this is all about him and his pleasure, about what he wants. He speeds it up slightly, adjusting his angle to how it feels best, digging his fingers into McGarrett's hips to hold him just where he wants him, to keep him right there as he thrusts into him. It's good, it's so fucking good, he lets it build and build, pleasure gathering at the base of his spine as he drives his hips forward over and over with a controlled rhythm that brings him closer and closer, until eventually he can't hold it any longer and spills deep into the hot tight body under him.
He rests for a moment, draped forward over McGarrett's back, and then pulls out. McGarret doesn't move, stays where he is, head down, and he's hard, Danny realises, and that's interesting. "Go on," he orders, "Get yourself off, I want to see you," and McGarrett sits back onto his heels, hand on his cock, head still down and not looking at Danny as he jerks himself to completion with a few quick and efficient strokes. Very interesting.
Danny gets rid of the condom and gets up off the bed. He feels good, relaxed and boneless, and he thinks he'll take a nap, but he's got something to do first. "Come on, McGarrett," he snaps, "Bathroom," and watches as McGarrett pushes himself up and off the bed and stumbles towards the door. He's got come over his stomach and he looks wrecked, and Danny could almost feel sorry for him, but decides not to. He got off, after all, and that was never part of the deal, so it's a bonus. He follows McGarrett into the bathroom, snagging the cuffs from his discarded pants as he does so. "On the floor," he orders, pushing McGarrett down and cuffing both his hands to the towel rail. He's not a fool, he hasn't forgotten that McGarrett's a trained killer, and none too stable either. He's not going to leave him loose while he naps. The rail won't hold him long if he pulls hard on it, but the sound of it coming away from the wall will give Danny a headstart to get his hands on his gun. "Stay there," he says. "Try and get loose and I will shoot you." McGarrett looks up at him, nods, and then slumps against the wall, trying to get as comfortable as he can with his hands fastened.
McGarrett looks good like that, Danny thinks as he stretches out on the bed and lets the post-coital langour overtake him. Maybe he'll keep him like that, on his knees cuffed to the rail, start Round Two by using that pretty mouth... and yeah, that sounds like a plan, Danny can go with that, he decides, as he feels himself start to drift off...