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The day usually begins this way.
The sun isn’t even up yet when Danny becomes aware of fingernails scratching his back. Not light enough to tickle. Not hard enough to hurt. Just so. His cock likes the feel of it, but Danny valiantly ignores what it’s telling him because he wants more of this.
Not that it wasn’t nice waking up that one morning with Nicholas’s hot hungry mouth engulfing him. Or the time he became aware of how Nicholas had wrapped their bodies just so and was thrusting against his hip. Waking up whilst coming is a fan-fucking-tastic way to start any day. Danny will never ever complain about that.
Nicholas is never afraid at these times to straddle Danny, breathe hotly on his skin, tug his chest hair and suck and bite his nipples until Danny feels like he’s about to crawl so far into himself he will turn inside out.
Thing is, Nicholas never starts anything when they’re both awake. He responds well enough when Danny reaches toward him. Surprised, even, as if he hadn’t thought Danny would still want him. Which makes Danny wonder, because why wouldn’t he still want Nicholas? Is there some point where they’re supposed to stop wanting to do this?
Danny made the first move, which threw both of them, he believes. He could see Nicholas over-thinking even this thing between them, and got tired of waiting. He was never good at that. And that one day, following a shockingly exciting low-speed chase after a tractor, Nicholas reached over to wipe a smudge of dirt off Danny and Danny reached over to wipe dirt back on Nicholas, because he looked good dirty, and Nicholas laughed and there was a…moment, a ‘let’s go down to the duck pond’ moment, so Danny rubbed his motor grease stained arm across his forehead and when Nicholas reached over to wipe at that, Danny tilted his head and went for it, heart beating machine-gun crazy.
Nicholas’s startled moan made his lips tickle, but didn’t distract him at all from his goal, which involved some nakedness and rubbing. They had been halfway to that point, on his sofa, his hand down Nicholas’s pants, stroking hard, angling his head to suck at that spot right where collarbone met shoulder when he’d noticed Nicholas wasn’t touching him. He was responding in all the right ways, writhing and shit all over the place, but his hands seemed to have stalled somewhere between Danny’s waist and ass, and were just patting, sorta. So Danny did what he’d want Nicholas to do in that situation, he grabbed one hand and put it on his hard-on, hoping to get the right message across. Which it must have, because soon thereafter followed some amazing semi-naked rubbing.
Movie night (which, for all intents and purposes was almost every night by then) took on a whole new dimension. There were still movies, of course. There could never not be movies, what with all the catching up Nicholas had to do. That he gamely soldiered forward pleased Danny. They’re great movies, to be sure, but Nicholas could easily have begged off for any reason and Danny would’ve thought it okay.
But now the movies were some sort of foreplay, all the tension he felt during chase scenes and showdowns vibrated through his body and into the thigh touching his. He could feel Nicholas relaxing as Danny got more wound up and there seemed to be this point, just as the credits rolled, where Nick’d be all switched off and Danny was filled with excitement. The first few nights he sat there, waiting for something, his body tense, waiting. But then Nicholas seemed to be waiting too, and Danny couldn’t anymore and he’d pounce.
Shirts would come off first and easily. Danny would laugh as he tasted the metal of Nicholas’s chain and rub his nose in a clean-smelling neck. Nicholas got more adventurous with his hands, no longer needing Danny to place them just so. Together they would fumble a bit as belts and zippers were dealt with, but then Nicholas would wrap his hand around Danny and push his tongue into Danny’s mouth and there was no more awkward. Head swirling, Danny would let Nicholas explore his mouth and this was his favorite part, aside from the obvious. This intense snogging that felt like so much more, as if there were secret codes being spoken between them that involved no words at all, just tongues and sighs and moans and gasps.
Nicholas always came first. He seemed a little shocked by it, as if it had snuck up on him while he was busy doing paperwork. His eyes would widen and he would look at Danny all poleaxed for a second before burying his face in his neck and gasping out his name, which is exactly what would set Danny over, hearing that.
Then the blushing clean-up. Then to bed. For the first few nights, at least.
There was the time Danny’d bonked his head trying to climb under the locked door to a horse stall and had broken the skin a bit. Not much to fuss about, but given recent events, he can’t say he blamed Nicholas for fussing a bit. It was quite nice, he had to admit, being nurse-maided over by Nicholas again, because it was for just the night, so there wouldn’t be a repeat of the times he’d gotten cranky and snappish and had told Nick to fuck off and leave it already. Which he’d do, which would leave Danny to trip over his own socks, or something, and yell at his sofa, and fall asleep watching Training Day alone. But the day after, he would wake up and see Nicholas standing over him with tea and toast and acting like none of it had ever happened.
He’d only needed two stitches this time, and they stung a bit, but the knot underneath was causing a knocking in his head like a blundering giant was walking over the parts of his brain that still worked, and so he couldn’t even think of watching a movie, which is how he ended up at Nicholas’s instead, being nurse-maided over. Yes; quite nice. Especially when the drugs kicked in and he’d seen this look on Nicholas’s face, all tender and sweet and concerned and guilty, the combination of which made him instantly hard, so he reached up and pulled Nicholas down to the bed and rolled on top of him. Nick was laughing and protesting and Danny just started his attack on the neck first, bypassing the kissing, because he knew now where that spot was that would turn giggles to moans. He sucked there until he made a mark.
Nicholas was arching up against him. It was wanton. That was the only word he could think to call it, and that turned him on even more. Danny made short work of Nicholas’s shirt and trousers, no fumbling this time, and simply looked. Nicholas was panting and hard and a little scared seeming and Danny could only smile because there was no other word at that time for Nick but beautiful, poncey as that may sound. Nicholas Angel was, well, a little on the skinny side and strangely hairless. But now, looking up at him, breathless and flushed, small half-smile playing on his lips, hard cock just for Danny, he was the loveliest thing Danny had ever seen.
If he was a little shy about getting his own clothes off suddenly, he hoped he covered it well with joking leers and a minimum of blushing, but it stopped mattering when Nick reached for him. He lowered himself carefully, appreciating the slide and scratch of their skin meeting, his fingers digging into Nicholas’s muscles, lips and tongue latching onto a nipple and he heard his name murmured over and over and it was like lager in his veins, but better. Even the worst hangover would be worth this: Nicholas’s hands grabbing his ass, and who knew he was an ass-man? And pushing them together so hard he wondered if he was bruising, but the feel of hot breath in his ear and against his neck made him moan. He never, ever thought he would get all riled up on these little details and not just the stuff going on down there, which was fucking all right and all, but it was added to, exceeded by, the feel of teeth biting his shoulder and hands roaming up his sides and oh god, that broken way Nick kept saying his name was unraveling him to pieces.
The first time Nicholas undressed him almost made Danny come without being touched.
It sparked a fire in him he didn’t even know was there until they were so tangled up in each other there was no Danny or Nicholas, only them. Before he could think twice about it, he was flipped around and staring at Nicholas’s cock in his hand, and moving his mouth so slowly over it he thought his chest would explode. But he wanted to do this right and it had been some time, though nothing like this at all. And he had forgotten how much he loved this part, the making someone crazy part with just lips and tongue and just the lightest scraping of teeth. He thought Nicholas was going to hyperventilate at first, but then he felt the first shocking stroke of Nicholas’s tongue and Bob’s your uncle, his brain went somewhere else. Liverpool, possibly. And after, while they laid there with their heads beside each others’ hips, trying to act like this was nothing, to have the taste of Nicholas so intimately on the back of his tongue, Danny almost said I love you, but he couldn’t or wouldn’t or maybe he was afraid it would come out slurred and come-coated and Nicholas is the sort of bloke one declares his love to in more important ways, not lust-choked and sleepy. So instead he kissed the inside of one thigh and nuzzled there, because he could, and hauled himself up and around and pulled the other man into his arms before they had to look into each others’ eyes because maybe Danny was a little afraid what he might see there.
That night was the first he woke up to Nicholas hard and hungry and practically under his skin. He’d had just enough wits about him to reach down and grab Nicholas’s package, fingers dipping behind tight balls to rub at the soft skin there. The tongue in his mouth froze for one second before cramming itself even deeper and Danny moaned deep and guttural and came all over Nicholas’s hand and felt warmth hitting his leg and the whole thing lasted maybe two minutes.
If most movie nights now ended in bed, Nicholas squirming under every assault Danny could think of, he wasn’t complaining that the movies ended up unfinished.
The bed became Danny’s new favorite place, a sort of Church fête and high-speed chase rolled up in one. Because when he, without thought, slid a spit-slick finger inside Nicholas and he heard Oh God, Danny responded immediately to something in Nicholas’s voice and started coming. He tried to stop it, but must have done something right because he heard ohgoddannyohgoddannyohmygod, and Nicholas was coming hard over his tongue.
When he woke up with Nicholas’s ass grinding against his already hard cock, Danny’s fuzzed-out, turned-on brain almost didn’t stop to think before it told him to grab the lotion from the table, and…soon, too soon, though it may have been hours, he wanted to be so careful, he was inside Nicholas and staring down his vulnerable-seeming back, and the thought made Danny crazy and he was suddenly terrified because he wasn’t quite certain what he was doing and he may have said so out loud because Nick kept telling him it was good it was so good and Danny believed him, though Nick’s voice sounded a bit reedy and thin, and he moved. Too carefully at first--until he heard Nicholas saying please, Danny, please. Then the rest of his brain woke up to the fact that he was fucking Nicholas Angel and he bit his lip hard and prayed it felt okay because everywhere he touched Nicholas burned in a spectacular way, and he kept saying Nick’s name over and over and hearing his own name in the same tone of voice, which hopefully meant Nick was loving this too, this hot scary act, and he couldn’t hold it anymore, and he shouted out some nonsense before collapsing on Nicholas’s back and feeling like he wasn’t ever going breathe again.
That morning, Nicholas was gone when Danny woke up. Danny didn’t think much upon it until he got to the station and found the Inspector had gone on a recce in Buford Abbey. Without him. After shift, Danny was downing pints at the pub, thinking about the slide of Nicholas’s skin under his hands and how he pretty much wanted to feel that for-the-rest-of-his-life-ever. Upon thinking this, he decided to have one more pint. It would be easier if they could just live together, though that might mean sneaking around, which, with the new walkies they just got at the station, would be so, so much fun. He could picture dodging around the corner of the station, alerting Nicholas when the Turners changed shift so they could walk in. Or maybe they could use them when Nicholas was out front of his cottage and Danny played video games; he could call Nick, find out if he was ready for tea. Another pint had him imagining how he would go about telling Nicholas all of this when he realized he was hearing Doris say Chief had been back for ages and had called the station from his place an hour ago and something nameless came over Danny, and he stormed to Nick’s cottage, pounded on the door, and passed out before making it entirely onto the bed.
He woke up in his undershirt and pants, covered and fussed over, and took a drink from the water waiting for him on the nightstand while wondering how the other man had managed to get him in bed. A note on the table informed him they were both expected in Buford Abbey by noon.
And if they never mentioned that day, when Nicholas avoided Danny and Danny became drunk and angry, it mattered less when Nicholas called to him in the dark, his hands grabbing at Danny’s shoulders, bucking desperately into Danny’s mouth. And if Nicholas found it odd when Danny started waking immediately with him in the morning, he never said anything and simply made him breakfast before going for his run.
It could have happily gone on like that forever if Danny hadn’t woken that one night needing to piss and felt Nicholas’s hands ghosting over the skin of his shoulders. It wasn’t that he was touching Danny that felt different. It was the way he was doing it: lovingly, reverently. He felt lips on the back of his neck, so light as to be the promise of a kiss and Danny felt something bloom inside him, bright and pure and beautiful, which, for some reason, made him think of daffodils. But as he shifted to turn, the touching stopped so Danny stayed there as if he’d been shifting in his sleep. He lay there for another hour, bladder about to pop, waiting for those hands again, but they were gone.
Sometimes Danny ignored it long enough for the touches to become more what he was allowed to be awake for. Sometimes he wouldn’t be able to help himself and would move around, hoping this time Nicholas would be ready for him to turn around and Danny would get to see his eyes and could tell him about the tea and gardening. When he waited through feather-sweet fingertip grazes to the strokes that always then felt like his invitation to wake up, Danny could never shake the feeling of disappointment that would sting him even as he greedily sucked on Nicholas’s tongue.
Mostly he tries not to think about it much. Because when he lets himself, it annoys Danny something fierce. He wants to be awake when he sees need and desire spark in Nicholas’s eyes, to know there’s something about him making Nicholas do this, why Nicholas woke up just now and felt the need to touch Danny this way, softly, as if it’s not about sex at all, but just the touching parts. Danny likes the touching parts too.
So he lies here, cursing Nicholas, and wondering what he’s supposed to do. They talk about everything but this. Though they never needed to, as far as Danny is concerned. At work, Nicholas is the Chief and his partner. At the pub, Nicholas is his best mate. But at home…at home…?
His lover? Blech. He didn’t like that word. Sounded like something from his mum’s novels.
His boyfriend? Didn’t fit right, as nothing left over from secondary school has.
Suddenly his heart is pounding because he doesn’t know if he can stand not knowing these things they should have talked about but never did. Meanwhile, Nicholas’s hands have stilled, but there is something different about the stillness. As if he’d heard Danny thinking. And though Danny would not at one time have put mind-reading outside Inspector Angel’s abilities, he is fairly certain Nicholas has simply grown used to the way Danny sleeps and such, and is waiting for him to fall asleep again.
Danny opens his mouth to say something, but there is too much in there and he is afraid it’ll come out wrong, when what he really wants to say is how much he loves this, loves what they have, no matter what it’s called, and hopes Nicholas loves it too. He can hear Nicholas breathing behind him. He swallows.
“I like when you do that,” he says quietly.
Nicholas is silent and Danny wonders if he’s pretending to be asleep.
“Do you?” Nicholas asks finally, sounding so very uncertain that Danny is confused.
“Yeah. It’s lovely…it’s…I love it, actually.”
Instead of answering, Nicholas rests his forehead against Danny’s back and wraps an arm around him. Danny lets them stay like this for some time, because it feels nice to have Nicholas hold him for some reason other than he’s just had an orgasm surprised out of him.
“I didn’t know,” Nicholas says quietly.
“Know?”
He hears Nicholas take a deep breath and let it out. He feels a kiss on his back, almost an afterthought.
“Know what?” he prompts.
He hears swallowing and still can’t figure what has him so rattled. “That you would want me to.”
Danny tries to think of the right answer for this when Nicholas starts rubbing his hand against his side. Not in a way that tickles. Not in a way that turns him on. Simply in a way that lets him know he’s being touched.
“Believe it or not, I find it hard sometimes to figure out what you’re thinking,” Nicholas says.
Danny turns around then. He dips his head, forcing Nicholas to look at him. “I’m thinking if I can figure out a way to convince you to buy a telly, we could spend more time at your place, where I know you prefer it.”
Nicholas’s brows pull together in a most adorable way, but he doesn’t speak, so Danny continues, “Or we could just bring mine there, and that way we can still hang out when you want to garden and read and such.” Nicholas remains silent. “We could put it in that room you’re not using, if you want to keep it out of the sitting room, though I don’t know what you want to sit in there for if you’re not watching movies or footy.” He gets a smile for that, which helps him feel bolder, so he rushes on, “I’m also thinking most of the stuff in my boxes is shit left over from when I lived with Dad, and I don’t really need it anymore, or I would have unpacked it, so it shouldn’t be too much bother to get rid of, and I’m thinking I love the way you say my name, every way you say it, I love it when you call me Sergeant at work, and Danny at home, and I’m thinking I don’t know what we are, but I don’t care because you’re my best mate and my…my…Nick. And I don’t want that to stop. Ever.” He lets out a breath. “Oh,” he remembers, “there’s this bit about walkie-talkies, but we can go over that later.”
Nicholas isn’t looking at him anymore and Danny tries not to freak at this, but he’s said what he needed to say, what he wanted to say, and it was actually easy, he doesn’t know why he made it so difficult. He reaches out a finger and traces it along the chain lying against Nicholas’s throat, loving the contrast between smooth and bumpy. Nicholas is still staring somewhere around Danny’ left nipple when he finally speaks.
“We should put your boxes in storage,” he says, his voice sounding a little rough. “I wouldn’t want you to lose something you might realize later is important. And your sofa is more comfortable.” At this, he finally meets Danny’s eyes.
“Your bed is,” Danny answers, slightly giddy.
“You have shelves. I haven’t gotten shelves yet.”
“Room enough on them for your pictures and things.”
“I don’t have much,” he says, suddenly looking upset.
Danny studies Nicholas’s intense face. He thinks hard about everything that was just said and smiles, realizing that, while he may not be very good at figuring out what most people aren’t saying, he is very, very good at Nicholas. He pulls him close. “I don’t need much.”
End.