stellarmeadow: (Default)
[personal profile] stellarmeadow
Title: Fate
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Rating: NC-17
Summary: From a prompt from [livejournal.com profile] iam_space: "Anonymous costumed sex. Maybe it's an AU where they've never met and have no idea who the other person is? Maybe it's not and they just don't know that they were both going to be at the same party? Either way, masks are involved and don't get removed til later... much later. When they actually figure out the identity of the other person is entirely up to you... loads of possibility there. :)"
Notes: I've never written anything quite like this, and wasn't sure I could. It's also turning out longer than I thought, as there'll be a chapter two in the next day or so. Thanks so much to [livejournal.com profile] iam_space for the awesome prompt! :)

Extra note: Gorgeous banner by [livejournal.com profile] uxseven - beautiful work as always!!



fatebanner

Steve took off his jacket, hanging it up automatically, too many years of training keeping him from just dropping it on the floor. He was exhausted from the flights he'd taken to get to Honolulu in time for the funeral. He knew he should sleep before he had to get up and deal with that--not to mention deal with a meeting with the governor, who wanted to express her condolences--no doubt complete with a photo op--at Pearl.

Sleep, however, was going to be impossible. He felt as keyed up as he did the night before an op, when no amount of exhaustion could lull him into sleep. He needed activity to take off the edge. He could go to the hotel's state of the art gym that the woman at check-in had raved about, or go for a swim, but neither idea appealed to him.

No, what he wanted wasn't readily available, especially not for a Navy SEAL whose freshly-murdered father was currently extremely high profile.

Unless he wasn't recognizable.

There'd been a club he'd visited once, home from the academy for the holidays and full of burning resentment at his father over an argument. He'd long since forgotten what they'd argued about--no matter what the subject was, the cause back then was always the fact that he'd been sent away. That he'd lost both parents when he had only really been forced to lose one.

Now he'd well and truly lost both. And this time it was his own fault.

He remembered the name of the club he'd gone to as a distraction--Hale Mua--but how to find it was a mystery. Back then he'd still had friends here, and one of them had let the information slip in a drunken moment, and dragged Steve along for company. But he couldn't exactly go around asking about this now.

However, if there was one person guaranteed to be discreet and knowledgeable in a hotel, it was the concierge.

In under five minutes, Steve was waiting for the concierge when he went on his smoke break in a dark corner by the dumpsters. He stayed in the shadows, calling out, "Hey," as the guy pulled out his cigarettes.

"I don't have any money!" the concierge said quickly, putting up his hands, his cigarettes falling to the ground.

"I don't want any," Steve said, doing his best to project calm. "but I might give you some, if you have the information I need."

"You couldn't have stopped by the desk?" the man asked, clearly skeptical that he was safe.

"Not for this. I'm looking for the Hale Mua."

The concierge dropped his hands. "I see," he said, nodding. "I can understand your choice of meeting place, if you don't want to be, um...followed there."

"I don't."

"Very well." The man gave him an address not far away. "Fifteenth floor. To get in, you need the code. You pay me for the code and they take a cut. That's how it works."

Steve hadn't paid for his the last time, someone else had done it for him, but it made sense. "How much?"

"A hundred dollars." The man rubbed his fingers together, indicating payment, and Steve held out a twenty, his black gloved hands in a thin stream of light only as long as it took for the concierge to take the bill. "I'll give you the rest when I get the code."

"'Seek and ye shall find,'" the man said. "When you get to the door and they ask what you want, that's what you say."

"Thanks," Steve said, holding out the rest of the bills. He waited until the concierge had pocketed them and run off, footsteps completely gone in the distance, before he stepped out of the shadows, gloves in one of the pockets of his black cargo pants, long-sleeved black t-shirt rolled up to his elbows, still hiding his tattoos.

He found a shop that sold masks, sifting through the brightly colored and ornamented ones to find one that was plain black and would cover him from his hair to the end of his nose and paid quickly and left, turning down the next side street.

His memory of the streets was a little foggy, but he found the building nonetheless, wondering once he did if the concierge had gotten it wrong. The plain office building looked like it might house a bank. Maybe a dentist.

But the lobby door was open, and when he stepped off the camera-less elevator onto the 15th floor, mask firmly in place under his baseball cap, two men who looked like club security were standing by the doors.

"What do you want?" they asked.

"Seek and ye shall find?"

The one looked at the other, then nodded at Steve and let him inside. He took off his cap and shoved it in a pocket as he surveyed the room. The whole floor had been turned into a club, with a main area in the middle, and a bunch of doors that Steve assumed led to private rooms along the walls. Dozens of men in various costumes--and in various states of dress--milled around, talking or even dancing--if you could call the slow grind they were doing to the music dancing.

One man caught his eye instantly. His face and most of his hair was covered by his red mask, only a hint of dark hair peeping out from the back of the mask. He was definitely Steve's type--compact, with solid muscles fully on display in a dark, well-fitting t-shirt.

Steve's mouth watered as he imagined tasting those muscles. He grabbed two drinks and made a beeline for the man, who was in the middle of a conversation with someone in a white mask.

"...don't know," the man in the red mask was saying. "I've never been surfing."

"You should try it." White Mask leaned in, and Steve had to quell the urge to push him away from someone Steve didn't even know, and yet already thought of as his. "You'd be great with those muscles."

White Mask reached out to touch those muscles, and Steve couldn't help himself. He bumped into White Mask, spilling one of the drinks all over him and dropping the cup on the man's foot. "Oh, I'm sorry," Steve said, failing to sound entirely sincere. "I didn't see you there."

He'd been standing in White Mask's line of vision for long enough that it was an obvious lie, but before the man could point that out, Steve gripped his arm, much harder than necessary. "Maybe you should go clean that up somewhere," he said, his voice steely.

"Maybe so," White Mask said, and Steve let him go as he stepped back. "Excuse me."

Steve turned around to face his prey, the man in the red mask, who was smiling faintly. "Nice show," the man said, a hint of an accent that was familiar but definitely not Hawaiian. Something Steve thought he should recognize from TV. "Was that all for my benefit?"

"Mine, actually," Steve said, holding out the drink. "And I gave up a perfectly good drink just to pull it off. Does that get me a conversation, at least?"

"At least," the man said, taking the drink. "If you were going to plan ahead, you should've brought an extra drink so you'd still have one for yourself."

"Wasn't planning that far ahead. I'm kind of winging it here."

The man huffed, his smile growing. "Me, too. Never been here before."

Which was a common enough thing to say at a place like this, but Steve believed this one. He didn't have the smooth, practiced charm of a person who frequented places where they had to hide. Steve may not have been in this particular place more than once, but he'd had more than enough practice hiding in Naval Intelligence. "So this is your first time?"

"At something like this, yes." The unspoken sentiment that it wasn't his first time with a man was there, and Steve felt a vague sense of jealousy that was unsettling. "You?"

"I was here once. A long time ago. But I've been off island for a while."

The man nodded, looking as if he was actually interested in conversation, which was not how Steve remembered any of the men he'd met here before. He liked it. "What brought you back?"

"To the island, or here?"

"Either. Both."

Steve met the man's eyes as a glancing light broke the shadow of the mask for just a second, showing him they were a bright blue. "What brought me back to the island ended up bringing me here," he answered finally. Truthful, but vague enough to be anything.

The man nodded again, as if that made sense. "Stress has a way of making us want to be taken out of ourselves."

Steve cocked his head, studying the set of the man's mouth. "Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"I'm here, aren't I?" He spread his arms out wide. "Stress gets to everybody in the end. Gotta find ways to deal with it."

"Indeed." Steve found himself wanting to talk more, to find out what had this guy so stressed out he'd gone to this extreme for the first time. But...they all had their secrets, and their reasons, and Steve's could get him disgraced out of a job, at least for the time being. And they were both there in masks for a reason. "So," Steve said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards a wall of doors. "Wanna get a room?"

The man burst out laughing, and Steve found himself liking both the sound and the delighted grin that went with it. "You're not very smooth, are you?"

"I'll have you know my nickname is 'Smooth Dog,'" Steve said, before he remembered that too much info might be a problem. Still, it wasn't like it was his Social Security number.

"Please tell me it was meant ironically."

"It was very serious," Steve said gravely.

The grin faded into a softer smile. "Then I'll assume that you're just nervous and that I should be flattered?"

"Sure." It was true, so why not, especially if it got him what he desperately wanted by now. "Is that a yes?"

The man looked him up and down, tapping his fingers against his thigh for a moment. "Yeah," he said, finally, and Steve let out the breath he'd been holding. "Lead the way."

Steve moved through the room quickly, feeling the man close behind. He took the first room that had an unoccupied sign, letting the man in behind him before he closed and locked the door.

The room was lit by one dim lamp by a small bed, only big enough for two if the two were on top of each other. Which was the point, after all, so why waste space?

"You think that sheet's been washed?" the man asked doubtfully.

Steve glanced at the unwrinkled bed. "When you leave the room, they clean it," he said, remembering that from the last time he'd been there. "The unoccupied sign doesn't go back up until it's clean."

"Good to know," the man said. "So...do I have to take back my mockery of your smoothness if I ask what we do now?"

Steve could've sworn the man had implied he'd been with a man. "You've never...?"

"I have, but...I don't know the rules here." He waved a hand around. "In this place."

"We make our own rules," Steve said, stepping closer until they were almost touching. "Do you--can I kiss you?"

"That'd probably be a good start."

The slight tremor in the man's voice made Steve's cock twitch. He leaned in, careful not to bump their masks off, and pressed their lips together. Slowly at first, an almost chaste touch, and then the man pulled him in, arms encircling him as his lips opened, inviting Steve inside.

He hated the masks in the way, wanted more freedom to explore, but if it weren't for the mask, he wouldn't be here now, so he would deal. Steve dragged his lips down the man's neck, tracing the shirt collar with his tongue.

He tasted amazing, a taste Steve could get addicted to if he had that luxury. But he didn't, so he did his best to memorize the taste and smell. His hands tugged at the man's shirt, pulling it up so he could feel the muscles he'd seen beneath it. They were warm and hard under his palms, making Steve itch for more time to touch slowly, to trace them with his tongue for hours.

Steve wanted badly to ask the man to take his shirt off, but he was afraid he'd be asked to return the favor, and his tattoos weren't exactly common. Too easy to identify him that way. So he settled for pushing the shirt up and dropping to his knees, his tongue tracing the lines of muscle along the man's abdomen.

He reached for the man's fly, looking up to find him staring down intently. "Can I?"

"Please, God, yes," he said, fingers playing with the hairs at the base of Steve's skull, one hand resting on Steve's neck.

Steve undid the man's fly, pushing his pants and underwear out of the way carefully to unveil his cock. Hard, thick and uncut, veins just visible in the faint light, making Steve want to trace them with his tongue until he knew them well enough to draw a map. He licked his way up from base to tip, earning a noise that sent a jolt through his own cock.

"Let me..." The man sat down on the bed, and Steve smiled as his fingers slid down the length of that cock. Apparently he hadn't lost his touch, not if one lick buckled the man's knees.

If one lick could do that.... Steve leaned in, slipping his lips over the head and taking the man's cock slowly into his mouth, each inch earning him fingers digging harder into his shoulders and sounds that he knew would haunt him later.

He'd want this man for ages once he left, and he'd never get him again. So he'd make it as good for both of them as he could possibly manage. He pushed on until his nose was pressed against the soft curls on the man's skin, swallowing around him, drinking in the sounds as much as the taste.

Because the sounds were making him so hard he was starting to worry he wouldn't last long enough for the man to touch him. The sounds were amazing, everything was amazing, and Steve swallowed again before he began to move, bobbing his head up and down, hollowing his cheeks as hard as he could.

He'd have bruises on his arms from the way the man was digging his fingers in, but they'd mix with the tattoos and no one would notice unless they looked very close. Even if they did, bruises weren't exactly uncommon in his line of work.

The man was close, Steve could feel it in the way he moved his hips, a little desperate, matching the cries that weren't quite making it out of the back of his throat anymore. It was heady and addictive, having this kind of power under his hands and mouth, and he relished every second as the man fell apart, letting his cock slip free reluctantly at the frantic tug of the man's hands a moment before he came, striping Steve's mask and lips and chin.

Steve wiped his mouth on his sleeve as he milked the man through the last of his orgasm, his hand slowing as the man stilled and stopped, flopping back onto the bed and breathing heavily. "That was..." he said, stopping for a deep breath, "good. No, great. In fact, that was stupendous. Fabulous, even."

"I didn't know you had a thesaurus," Steve murmured, his cock straining against his pants. "And here I forgot mine."

"Let's see what else I can make you forget," the man said, sitting up to pull on Steve, arranging him until he was lying on his back on the bed, the man kneeling between his spread legs.

He didn't ask for permission, he just undid Steve's fly and tugged his pants down quickly, smiling as he wrapped a hand around Steve's cock. Just a squeeze from that warm palm was almost unbearable; at the first feel of that tongue on him, Steve's hips came up off the bed.

"Fuck," Steve muttered. "Fuck fuck fuck."

"Too bad we don't have time for that," he heard before the man's mouth went down on him, all the way down, and Steve forgot the English language.

He came ridiculously fast, not having nearly enough time to enjoy it before he was pushing the man off and coming all over the man's hand and his own stomach.

When he'd caught his breath, he sat up, desperately wishing he could find a way to stay. Maybe meet again. He thought he saw something similar in the man's eyes before he looked away. But he was still a sailor, and laws were laws, and he had no idea who he'd be revealing himself to, and the very idea was insane.

He pulled the man into a long, wet kiss before tasting his way down the man's neck, nosing his shirt aside to nip at his shoulder where it met his neck. Steve needed something, needed to know he wouldn't be forgotten right away, so he sucked at that spot, half afraid he'd be pushed away, but the man just tightened his arms around Steve's back and held him in place.

When he was done, he licked at the spot, knowing it would be purple for days, and every time the man looked in the mirror, he'd remember.

Steve raised his head, looking into the man's eyes, just making them out behind the mask and remembering the bright blue he'd seen. "Thank you," he said, then laughed at himself.

The man joined in. "Right back at you?" he said, still laughing.

"Really," Steve said, because he needed him to know how much this had helped, "you have no idea. The last few days have just been...hell. And I...well, thank you."

"The last six months have been hell," the man replied, "so thank you."

Steve nodded, taking one more kiss before he forced himself to let go and stand up, righting his clothes. "Should I walk you out?" he asked, not sure he could keep himself from following the man home if he did. He itched to grab on and never let him go.

"No," he said after a moment. "You go on. I'm just going to...." He waved a hand down at his pants, still undone, and his cock, now soft, waiting to be tucked away. Where Steve would never see it again.

"Right. Um....thanks again."

The man nodded, looking as if he was about to say something else, but he just shook his head. "Yeah. Bye."

"Bye."

The word sounded so final, and Steve ignored the feeling. Just another in a long series of painful goodbyes he'd had in the last week. He steeled himself, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room without looking back.

***

Part 2

Part 2
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