Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0, or Steve and Danny.

Author's Note: For h50_50 on Lj. Prompt was 'touch' for my 'sensational sensations' table 25-1.

Word Count: 928

Steve's hands travel lightly all over Danny's body, touching, like he's starved for it, and can't help himself, and yeah, okay, maybe that's a pretty accurate description. Danny's like the sun - brighter than everything, and fiery, and always burning hot - and Steve is the hapless planet that can't help but be drawn into his orbit. He never realizes how far he's been pulled until it's too late, and he can't look at Danny without his breath catching, and his gaze lingering a little too long.

He has to touch, can't go another minute without it, and Danny lets him -he lets Steve get away with too much, sometimes, and Steve knows it, but he keeps pushing, and keeps pushing because he doesn't know how to slow down, or stop- with that too-knowing look in his eyes, and his hands under Steve's shirt, nails scratching lightly over his skin, and Steve trembles, hides his face against Danny's shoulder to hide from everything in those eyes. Danny calls him 'babe', and urges him on, all impatience, and half-furious demand, and yeah, Steve's never really been able to resist that.

Danny's back hits the wall, and he huffs a laugh, calls Steve an animal, but his hand is gentle as it runs through Steve's hair when he kneels at Danny's feet, tugging his belt undone with a concentrated precision - he doesn't think about it; he can't, and maybe Danny understands that because he understands Steve with a depth that terrifies him sometimes. He leans his fore-head against Danny's stomach, inhales, undoes the button of those pants, and arches up into the feeling of Danny's fingers running through his hair, tugging a little - so much affection in that gesture, and Steve's fingers slip a little because he can't…He can't.

Don't think about it; it isn't real if you don't think about it, and he can go on pretending this is just about touch; physical contact, and how much he needs it to stay grounded, even though it isn't. It isn't at all, and Danny's voice sounds above him, low, and affectionate, and always half-angry, and Steve takes another breath. Slips his hand in, down, and listens to his partner's breath catch, and his head hit the wall as he swears, and it figures. Danny never does anything quietly, or easy; he always burns too hot, and too bright, and it doesn't surprise Steve at all.

A hand job isn't really what either of them are going for here, though, and Danny's breathless, furious, demands make him grin a little, and he uses mouth, and tongue, and hands to tease, to draw it out -Steve enjoys the way Danny tugs at his hair roughly one minute, and then runs his fingers through it the next, and the way his control frays, and he makes these little noises that are almost whimpers, or whispered, half-broken curses as his hips stutter half-way like he's trying not to lose it completely. Steve wants to see Danny out of control; wild, and himself, and not hidden from the world -and Steve- by all those walls, and layers of professionalism.

He wants Danny to let go, and he coaxes him into it, opening his eyes to stare up into Danny's own, caught in each other as they've always been, since day one, and Danny loses it, tries to warn him, but Steve doesn't care. He wants to taste Danny, to know, and they're both shaking by the end of it; the wall is practically the only thing holding Danny up, and Steve pulls away only far enough to exhale shakily, and try to get everything to make sense again. He knows, he does, that he can't explain this away, or pretend, or face Danny with anything but the truth in his eyes, if not on his tongue, but he's terrified, and he buries his face against his partner's skin, wrapping his arms around him, and just holding on, and Danny lets him, because Danny understands at least a little by now, to know how Steve works, and he just leans against the wall, and holds on too. Steve can't help but think maybe they're falling together, and it'll be alright that there's no one to catch them at the bottom because they have each other, and he has to believe that's enough. It's always been enough, with them. Danny says his name, his full name in the way only Danny does -quiet, and fond, and exasperated.

He replies with a muttered 'Danno' because he can, and it riles Danny up, gets him burning again, too-bright, and white-hot, and that's how Steve likes him best. Danny grabs him, always comfortable with handling Steve, like it's his God-given right, and maybe it is, and tugs him up, and into a kiss while he mutters curses, and insults all the while, and Steve laughs into it because he can't not. Danny's pants are down around his ankles, and his hands are clenched around Steve's shirt to hold him in place, and Steve is hard, and aching, but laughs as he slides the tie from around Danny's neck in one quick movement, and Danny swears at him, and threatens him, and teases him, playful and open, and Steve wants to stay in this moment forever.

This is what he knows: the closest thing to Heaven he has is this in-between place where Danny is his to touch, and hold, and love, and he's there, and he doesn't leave, and Steve can pretend he doesn't lose everything he loves.