Panic Movement - carleton97

This is so fucked up.

Danny knows it's fucked up - knows *he's* fucked up - but he can't seem to stop.

He wishes he hadn't thrown out the phone number the waitress from lunch had slipped into his pocket, but he was getting a little tired of kinked out girls wanting to see his badge and touch his gun.

He wishes he could say this was a new thing, that it was some weird reaction to half the station catching his girlfriend banging the new guy, but he's been having the dreams for months.

He wishes he were drunk or doped up on pain killers or feverish or *anything* that would give him an excuse for kneeling on the worn tiles of his best friend's bathroom and jerking off.

He wishes there was some porn in here or that they'd been watching Skinemax earlier because the way he has his face pressed into Chris's robe probably makes him seem like a big pervert.

Which he isn't.

Really.

He just likes the way Chris smells.

"Hey, Danny, are you - " The door swings open when Chris knocks and Danny *really* wishes he'd remembered that the bathroom door doesn't latch unless you close it just right.

Danny knows he's got to look ridiculous with his pants around his thighs, his dick in his hand, and his face buried in Chris's robe, but he comes all over his hand and the wall anyway.

And Chris just stands there.

Looking at him.

And Danny actively wishes he could die. Heart attack, stroke, freaking lightning bolt, *anything* to end the utter humiliation of this moment. He knows he should say something or pull up his pants or lift his face out of this goddamn robe, but there really isn't anything he could say to talk himself out of this one so he just stays where he is, waiting for...something. For Chris to leave so he can clean up before slinking back to his apartment and perhaps the mainland. Or maybe for Chris to snap out of whatever is keeping him in the room and begin to beat him to death with a shampoo bottle.

There's the sound of Chris's jeans as he moves, then the sound of the door closing.

Shit. shitshitshitshitshit.

Danny knows Chris thinks he's a loose cannon sometimes - that he acts without thinking - but he's never really believed it. He's always been totally conscious of what he's saying or doing, no matter how fucked up.

Until now.

He's vaguely aware that his pants are still hanging around his hips as he scrambles to his feet and fumbles with the doorknob with his left hand. He's yelling before the door is even open, "Chris!"

And Chris must have been leaning against the door because he stumbles backwards when Danny yanks the door open and only stays on his feet thanks to an impressive twisting grab of the counter edge. He wrenches himself upright about a foot from Danny and from that close, the smell of him -

Crap. That's what got him in this situation to begin with.

So Danny does what he always does when shit's hit the fan and someone's about to start shooting at him. He starts talking.

"This isn't what it looks like." He starts to gesture around the bathroom before he remembers what's all over his hand. He grimaces a little at the mess and wipes it off on Chris's robe. "Ok. Yes. It's what it looks like, but not like that."

Chris is frowning a little and leaning away from him. That's bad. "God, Danny - "

"Don't! Just - Look, I was just - And it was - It wasn't - Why haven't you fixed your damn door?"

More leaning away. Shit. "What? Danny - "

Oh, god. This must be what Chris is talking about. It's like Danny can feel himself getting ready to say something guaranteed to fuck things up. "Don't act like you've never jerked off either, Chris. I know exactly how much sex you're *not* getting."

"What the fuck? Danny - "

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. "In fact, I'm surprised I didn't walk in on you."

"Danny, I swear to god - "

Chris is getting mad now; Danny can see his shoulders tightening up under frayed edge of his wife-beater, but he can't stop smirking. "Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

It's almost a relief when Chris gets in his face because if he's getting hit, maybe he can keep his fucking mouth -

Oh.

Mouth.

Chris' mouth.

On his.

Chris is kissing him. *Chris* is *kissing* him.

Holy shit.

Danny can honestly say he's never looked at another guy and he would have put money on Chris being just as straight, but he thinks he might have lost that bet because the noise Chris makes when Danny automatically kisses him back speaks to a level of comfort with the whole kissing another guy thing that Danny just doesn't have. There's a tiny, frantic voice in his head doing its best to propel him into a loud and embarrassing freak out, but Chris yanking him out of the bathroom by the collar of his t-shirt and pushing him up against the wall knocks him out of his passivity and into the moment.

The moment where his partner just happens to be shoving his hands down the back of his still unfastened pants and groping his ass. Danny eases his grip on Chris's shoulders and slides his hands down the firm muscle of his chest.

And shoves him towards the opposite wall.

The surprised little grunt Chris makes when his back hits the wall under the full weight of Danny's body makes it easy for Danny to lick his way into Chris's mouth and take control of the kiss.

Kissing Chris is...different. There's the facial hair, of course, but Chris is nearly as tall as he is and it's nice not to be bent in half with a crick in his neck. Chris is more aggressive than most women, too, pushing back against Danny until he's forced to give as much as he takes.

Chris pulls one hand out of the back of Danny's pants and pushes it up the back of his shirt, tugging at the fabric until Danny takes the hint and pulls it off and tosses it down the hallway. Chris licks a path down his neck and loops an arm around his neck to pull him along when he starts to slide towards his bedroom.

Danny stumbles a little, the combination of his pants finally slipping down to his knees and Chris's teeth digging into the muscle of his shoulder just too much for him. He tangles his fingers in Chris's hair and pulls his head away from what promises to be a massive bite mark on his shoulder to kiss him again.

It is teeth and tongues and lips and goodgoodgood and Danny doesn't even bother to stifle his groan when he trips on his pants again and sends them careening into the doorframe. Chris's body is all hard muscle and bone against his, a solid mass moving restlessly under him. He grinds a hard circle with his hips just to feel Chris shudder and drop his head back against the sharp corner of the doorway. Danny bites the corner of his jaw and sucks a string of wet kisses down the line of his throat, letting Chris guide the rhythm of his hips with the hand still on his ass.

Chris moans when Danny hits an especially good spot on his neck and the sound seems to burn new pathways through Danny's nervous system. He sucks harder, but shuffles back towards the low bed when Chris nudges him with his hips. His calves hit the edge of the mattress and Chris pulls his mouth away from his neck and pushes him down on the bed.

His pants are dragged down to his ankles as he pulls himself farther up the bed, but then Chris is crawling towards him, straddling one of his thighs and all thoughts of kicking out of the hobbling denim disappear under a barrage of wantwantwantyes when Chris kisses him again.

Chris's hands settle on either side of his face, holding him still as Chris kneels up and forces his head back. He slides his own hands up the back of Chris's shirt, stretching out the thin material as he pulls the other man closer. Chris shuffles forward on the bed until Danny can feel the heat of his erection against his stomach. Danny breaks the kiss and wraps his arms around his hips to bring Chris closer, biting at his chest through his shirt.

Chris presses hard against him once, then twice more in quick succession before using his grip on Danny's shoulders to push away a little and sit back. Danny grabs a handful of his shirt and pulls him back in, yanking at the already misshapen collar until he can rub a tight circle over a nipple with his tongue. Chris arches back, pushing up into Danny's mouth and using one hand on the back of his neck to keep his balance as the other tries to undo the seemingly complicated button and zipper of his jeans.

Danny can feel Chris struggling with his pants and worms a hand between their bodies. Chris's fingers still momentarily when they brush his, but scramble back into motion when he slides his hand behind the button of his jeans, rubbing gently over the crinkly hair under the back of his fingers. Chris pulls the button free and Danny feels the zipper opening as the old denim eases open. He lets his fingers follow the zipper's descent, grazing his knuckles over hard flesh and damp cotton.

Chris bucks against his hand and Danny rubs a little harder, liking the hummed moan he can feel vibrate all throughout Chris's body. Danny twists his hand around, trying get a grip on Chris's cock, but the angle is all wrong and he only ends up scraping his wrist on the zipper. He tries to go back to the rubbing, but Chris grabs his wrist in a strong grip and slowly pulls his hand out of his pants.

Danny tries to twist free, but Chris just tightens his grip and moves his other hand to the waistband of his pants and starts to push them over his hips. It's awkward one-handed, but Chris doesn't let go of Danny's hand so Danny relaxes his grip on Chris's bicep and slides his free hand down to help.

Danny's never really been up close and personal with someone else's hard-on and he finds himself fascinated by Chris's. He's not circumcised for one thing and he's, damn, not *that* much bigger than Danny is.

Really.

He stops helping once Chris's pants and boxers are around his thighs and reaches for him. Lightning quick, Chris captures that wrist too and pulls his arms over his head. He leans forward, pressing Danny's wrists down into the bed and settling himself over him.

Chris is *heavy* in a way Danny isn't used to, but understands. Just like he understands the first heavy thrust that pushes Chris's cock against his. Just like he understands the rough pressure of Chris's mouth on his and the aggressive sweep of tongue into his mouth.

Danny moves in rhythm with Chris, trying to gain enough purchase for his feet on the smooth sheets to thrust back. He finally kicks free of his jeans and digs his heels into the mattress for leverage. Chris does a little shimmy with his hips surprises a moan out of Danny when he slides between his bent knees. Danny twists his arms loose of Chris's hold and grabs his ass, moving him up and to the left just enough -

There.

It's impossible. Danny knows he *just* came. He shouldn't even be hard again, let alone this close to coming, but all it takes is Chris moving just. Like. That. And -

Everything is bright, clenching pleasure as he snaps his hips hard against Chris's, hands digging into the muscles of his ass and come smearing between them.

Danny relaxes his grip, still moving lazily against Chris, and lets his hands trace over the curve of Chris's ass and up the muscles of his back. Chris shudders at the touch and drags his mouth down Danny's neck as he begins thrusting raggedly. Chris is panting against his neck, almost whimpering, and his fingers are squeezing Danny's shoulders almost painfully. Danny wraps his arms around him - one hand griping his waist, the other tucked between his neck and shoulder - and holds him as he comes in jerky pulses that seem to leave him boneless.

They stay like this for a long time, breathing together. Long enough for Danny to drift towards sleep, well past exhausted after coming twice. Chris is heavy, yes, and they are both in desperate need of a shower, but he is...comfy.

He sleeps.

**

Chris wakes up alone.

THE END

disclaimer: I wish Hawaii were mine. It'd still be on the air.