Smile - carleton97

Martin remembers the first time he thought seriously about taking Danny to bed.

It was the same moment he realized the constant flirting Danny did with everything on two legs that he thought was unconscious was meant sincerely for both men and women. It wasn't like he hadn't pondered Danny and sex before that moment, but it had been an academic appreciation for the way Danny moved and the way his smile sometimes made him look endearingly goofy.

It wasn't anything huge that tipped him off, just a look that spoke of knowing that passed quickly between him and some guy at the bar before they each nodded and turned back to their respective tables.

"Do you know that guy?" Sam had asked, catching the nod, but obviously not the look.

And Danny had just glanced back at the guy before shrugging, "He used to live in my building."

Of course Martin dreamed of Danny that night. It was only to be expected after a revelation of that nature, so Martin wasn't surprised when he woke up panting and stuck to his sheets. He was philosophical about it when it happened the next night as well. But by the eighth morning of having to strip his bed, he figured maybe his dreams were trying to tell him something. He had an idea what his subconscious was trying to tell him and wanted absolutely no part of that particular epiphany, thank you very much. It was bad enough trying to prove he was more than just Deputy Director Fitzgerald's son; there was no way he was going to add falling for his male partner to that mess.

Really. He wasn't.

So he spent the next few weeks scuttling around the office, avoiding Danny in everything but the strictest of professional settings, and doing his best to get enough sleep despite the unrelentingly naughty dreams that pulled him awake every night. He knew the way he was acting was bound to draw attention, but he figured Sam would try to weasel it out of him or, at worst, Jack would call him on the carpet.

He didn't expect Danny to show up at his apartment. He really didn't expect Danny to pin him against his own door and methodically begin stripping him without saying a word. He started to say, Hey, Danny, this is probably a really bad idea, but only got as far as, "He-" before Danny took advantage of the situation by sliding his tongue into Martin's mouth and licking every available surface.

That was three years ago and Martin has yet to grow tired of the way Danny kisses. Every touch of his lips feels new. Like now, Danny must have kissed his neck a thousand times in the past, but somehow the slick and sharp movement of lips and teeth over his throat seems brand new. Danny pauses at a particularly sensitive spot near his right collarbone and brushes a random pattern with his lips. He seems oblivious to anything but the patch of skin under his mouth, but Martin knows that's a lie.

Even if Danny weren't constantly away of everything around him in general and of Martin in particular, the hand sliding between his thighs isn't moving of its own volition. Slick fingers push inside of him and Martin feels Danny laugh against his neck at the noise he makes. The bastard laughs almost every time.

Martin doesn't mind, though, because it means that when Danny covers his body with his own and presses inside, he's smiling.


Disclaimer: Martin, Danny, and all of Without a Trace belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer. I just let them have sex.

Created and maintained by carleton97.

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