Notes: Last in The Art On His Skin Series.

The Ink In Lines And Spirals On His Skin

Stiles paced up and down the length of his bedroom for what he suspected was the thousandth time that day. He was buzzing with nervous energy, which was ridiculous, because of all the things he could be nervous about — life-threatening and dangerous things — it was his boyfriend being distant that had him unable to sit still for more than five seconds.

Things had been quiet — a little too quiet, his mind supplied unhelpfully — so maybe his brain was running away with him because he had nothing urgent to focus on, but it was never a good thing when people around him started acting out of character. That was when people ended up dead.

And a large number of them didn't even come back. Especially not the ones he actually liked.

He checked his phone yet again, for the twenty-eighth time since he'd started counting forty-three minutes earlier. He didn't know, and didn't want to know, how many times he'd checked it before that.

Nothing. Okay, not nothing. Danny had laughed at his ridiculously witty breakfast pun, had answered all of his messages that morning, except the last one. Stiles had no response to his hopeful yet subtle request (demand) to spend time together that day.

If he thought about it for long enough to be realistic, Stiles knew he was being irrational; that he wasn't really worried that Danny had been brainwashed by a vampire to be his personal Renfield, or that he was under some Incubus' spell and couldn't break free to spend as little as an hour with Stiles. But being worried about some crazy supernatural bullshit felt far more familiar to him than the more mundane possibility; that Danny was just losing interest. Sure, he wasn't ignoring Stiles completely, but he wasn't exactly spending a lot of time with Stiles — or any time with him, really.

Stiles knew it was probably really fucked up that the possibility of Danny wanting to break up with him was more terrifying than the idea of him being under the thrall of a sex demon, but whatever. Stiles was never the normal kid on the block, anyway.

It had been at least a week since they'd been alone for more than five minutes, and even longer since anything had happened between them that couldn't be shown on the Disney Channel. And considering how hands-on their relationship normally was, Stiles' didn't think the sex demon scenario was completely out of the realm of possibility. Of course, he knew that it was most likely that other thing.

He knew...he knew that he could be a bit much. He wasn't entirely lacking in self-awareness, and he knew he could be kind of an asshole, too, but he'd always figured that was one of the things Danny liked about him. The whole weird distance thing had come practically out of nowhere, Stiles thought. Except that maybe it hadn't and he just hadn't noticed. He knew he could sometimes be a little distracted by werewolf shenanigans, or school, or Wikipedia. Or basically anything. But that wasn't his fault; it was just part of his individual charm.

Not for the first time since he'd noticed Danny's weird behavior, Stiles decided that the whole thing had to be Jackson's fault. Danny had been totally normal until he and Jackson had some bro-time, while Stiles played video games with Scott for eighteen hours straight before sleeping for half a day then doing it again. Whatever Jackson had said or done that weekend had finally convinced Danny that he was too good for Stiles. That he could do so much better. That he should—

Stiles' phone beeped in his hand, startling him into letting it slip from his fingers. He fumbled with it, catching it only to drop it again, until it first hit his bare toes, then the carpet, and ended up somewhere under his desk. He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration and took a deep breath. It probably wasn't even Danny, he told himself. He decided to relax and count to ten before he picked it up; he even made it to two...nearly two and one-third...before he was on the floor, fingers curling around the plastic.

When he saw the text was from Danny, he felt a little tendril of hope, but it was squashed once he read the actual message. Danny couldn't see him, because of homework.

Homework.

Exactly how stupid did he think Stiles was? Danny didn't do homework. Well, okay, yes he did. But Danny was crazy smart and always breezed through all of his homework in study periods. Besides, he'd already used that excuse twice in the last four days and Stiles knew for a fact that Danny had hardly any homework due, because Stiles was in two of his classes and he had done a little harmless investigating into the others.

There was no unusual influx of homework, no extra band practices. Nothing that could account for Danny's suddenly busy schedule, aside from sex demons or a lack of interest. Or…or both. What if Danny was leaving Stiles for a sex demon?

He'd gotten almost all the way through several pages of lore on Incubi and Succubi (because a demon who didn't respect informed consent probably wouldn't care that Danny was gay) in both the Bestiary and Creepy-Peter's files before Stiles realized what he was doing and let his head fall to his desk. It hit a little harder than he'd expected, but it must have knocked some sense into him, because it was pretty clear all of a sudden that he was being an idiot.

Stiles needed to confront Danny; face to face so he could get the truth. He couldn't do it at school, not with all the potential excuses to be elsewhere that Danny could come up with, and besides, Stiles wasn't sure he could wait another hour, let alone another day. He just needed to find a sure-fire way to get Danny to see him.

He picked up his phone and began typing with a smirk.

It wasn't long before Stiles heard Danny's car pull up outside; less than fifteen minutes, which meant that Danny had broken the speed limit. Or he'd been nearby. Like, say, at his douchebag best friend's house instead of at home catching up on homework like he'd told Stiles.

Maybe it'd been both. Either way, Stiles was a genius. A mastermind, even, because Danny had totally fallen for his trap and was finally going to be alone with Stiles.

And okay, he should probably try to feel less smug about how he'd lied — successfully — to get his boyfriend alone with him, but he was pretty sure it was a lost cause since Danny was thundering up the stairs and bursting into Stiles' bedroom like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

Did those exist?

"How bad does it feel?" Danny asked the second he was through the door, rushing closer. He reached out as if to grab at Stiles, but he seemed to think better of it and pulled his hand back slightly, letting it hover worriedly in front of him. "Are you alright? Which side was it? Let me see!"

Danny looked worried enough that Stiles felt bad for a few solid seconds before he got over it. After all, Danny was only there because he thought it was an emergency, not because he actually wanted to see Stiles.

"Oh, you decided to come over after all. I guess you're done with your homework, then?" Stiles tried to sound nonchalant, like he had no idea what Danny was even talking about, but he was pretty sure he missed his target and landed somewhere between bitter and accusing. Which he could admit, he might be. But only a little. "Awesome. I was just gonna make a snack and watch a movie. Since you're here you might as well stick around. I was thinking maybe we could watch Fatal Attraction, since that seems to be your kind of thing now."

"My what?" Danny stepped even closer to Stiles, seeming confused. Normally Stiles found that expression cute on him, but he was still stinging over the fact that Danny had been avoiding him. He didn't like feeling hurt, but anger worked as a pretty good fallback to focus on. He wasn't feeling particularly forgiving, especially when Danny looked at him all offended — like Stiles was the asshole — and spoke again. "Are you...accusing me of being a stalker?"

"Don't be an idiot. Stalkers spend all their time around their targets, you know, stalking!" Stiles snapped, shoving past Danny so he didn't feel quite so trapped between his boyfriend and his bed. It was ironic, considering that was normally his favorite place to be. "You're not Glenn Close in this scenario, asshole," he added sharply, "you're Michael fucking Douglas, okay?!"

Why did everyone remember the bunny-boiling, but conveniently forgot the cheating, anyway?

"Michael Doug— Wait, are you calling yourself a stalker?"

"Well now that you mention it, I'm beginning to feel like one, but no! Pay freaking attention, Danny! I'm obviously Beth!"

"Stiles, I have literally no idea what the fuck you are talking about."

"Really? Are you sure? Because I think I'm being pretty clear."

He knew he was probably being kind of a jerk, judging by the way Danny flinched then glared at him, but Stiles wasn't going to back down when he finally had the chance to get some answers...even if he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear them.

It took several long moments before Danny's expression changed, and Stiles could tell he'd gotten the point. Finally.

"Well it sounds," Danny replied, suddenly sounding more annoyed than Stiles had ever heard him, "like you're suggesting that I'm cheating on you. But I know that you know better than that, and that I love you. Or you should considering I'm pretty sure I broke at least four different traffic laws to get here because you pretended you'd been hurt!"

"I am hurt!" When Danny eyed him doubtfully, Stiles huffed and folded his arms across his chest defensively. "Emotionally!"

Danny rolled his eyes and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. "Just fell off my bed trying to pose and take a nude for you," he mimicked in a ridiculous voice that didn't sound anything like Stiles. "Probably broke my wrist."

"Creative interpretation to emotional trauma! Don't change the subject!"

"Stiles, what subject? I'm not cheating on you! I'd never do that. Why are you acting like this? And why did you lie to me?"

Before Danny's denial and beneath the simmering anger Stiles had built up, Stiles had still felt some pride over his cunning plan working. It disappeared suddenly, replaced with an ache in his chest and a lump in his throat when he saw the combination of pain and frustration on Danny's face.

"Well I just figured that was something we were doing now," he shot back, trying to stay angry. He refused to feel guilty about it, because he was still the one who had been wronged first, "considering how you lied about having homework today, and how you've been lying to me and avoiding me for ages!"

"We saw each other yesterday," Danny argued. He looked less angry than before, and Stiles thought he looked sort of resigned...like he knew what was going on. Which of course he did — he was the one doing the avoiding, after all.

"You know what I mean, so don't pretend that you don't!" Stiles ran his hands through his hair, tugging it sharply. "You've been blowing me off all week, which is ironic because there's been no actual blowing—"

"So, wait, this is about sex? You're freaking out because we haven't had sex in a few days?"

And now he sounded amused. That fucker. "A week! A week and two days, actually, and for your information, you are the one who refused to see me until I sent you a message saying I was naked and suddenly, here you are!"

"Wait, so you were mad because you thought I didn't want to sleep with you, and now you're mad because you think I'm here to sleep with you? Stiles!"

There was a twitch to Danny's mouth that meant he was trying not to laugh, and that, more than anything else, had Stiles feeling furious again. He was the one stepping closer this time, because he was angry, and frustrated, and he just couldn't help himself. He poked Danny in the chest, feeling oddly gratified to see his boyfriend flinch as though it actually hurt, even though Stiles knew it couldn't possibly. "I'm mad because you lied to me all week. I'm mad because you've suddenly gone cold and you're either done with me or busy with someone else and you won't even tell me."

Danny sighed, the humor draining from his face quickly. "That's not—"

"I'm mad because since when do I need to fake an injury to get you alone with me, huh?"

"Stiles, I wasn't trying to—"

"So what the fuck is going on, Danny? Don't act like it's nothing because I know there's something, okay? I'm not an idiot! So just tell me—"

"Well I would," Danny cut in, "if you'd stop being a dick! Are you going to let me talk or are you going to keep demanding answers without letting me actually give them to you? Jesus, you've been in attack mode since I got here! I had no idea you were so upset before today. Why didn't you just ask me if you thought something bad was going on?"

"You want me to stop being a dick? You first! Coz yeah, okay, maybe I'm yelling and being kind of demanding, and maybe I should have just asked before, but...but I'm not the one who's been making my boyfriend feel worthless and unwanted."

That wasn't what Stiles had meant to say, not really. Something along the same lines yeah, but nothing that left him feeling quite so vulnerable. But it had been in his head and he hadn't managed to keep it from spilling out.

Danny winced and his shoulders slumped. "That wasn't...I wasn't trying to...fuck Stiles, I'm sorry."

Stiles hoped it wasn't obvious, but Danny's words and his awful guilt-ridden expression made his stomach churn. He'd known Danny was lying to him, had known there was something going on, but he'd still hoped somehow that he was wrong.

"It's not what you think, I swear," Danny added a little desperately. He caught both of Stiles' hands, gripping them tightly. "I'm not...Jesus, I'm not cheating on you. And you're not worthless or unwanted. I never thought it would look like that to you. I'm so sorry. I just...it was meant to be a surprise. A good one," he finished, sounding embarrassed.

"What was?" Stiles asked hesitantly. He felt like an idiot all of a sudden, because even though the whole idea of Danny getting sick of him had made so much sense ten minutes ago, it also didn't. At least, not really. Because, yes, Danny had been avoiding being alone with him, but they'd still spent a lot of time together at school, and Danny had still texted him just as much as always.

Stiles was willing to admit that he might have — maybe — let his imagination get the better of him. But in his defense, he lived in Beacon Hills, and his overactive imagination had saved him more than once.

Danny's mouth curled on one side in a tiny, half-smile. His ridiculous dimple made Stiles want to kiss him, which seemed really unfair considering he'd been so angry not two minutes earlier and he still didn't have an actual explanation for Danny's behavior.

"I uh...I got a tattoo."

What?

"What? You what?" Stiles' mouth went dry. He was pretty sure it was hanging open, and that his eyes were wide because what? "Holy shit, why was this a secret?! Where? Of what? What the fuck are you waiting for? Show me, oh my God!"

Danny began to pull up his shirt, then he paused — like an asshole — and grinned at Stiles. "So, you're not upset anymore? You know, I really didn't mean to make you think that I was...well. I really just wanted to surprise you and I figured I should let it heal before I showed you."

"Yeah, yeah, all is forgiven," Stiles said quickly, grabbing at the hem of Danny's shirt to try and get it off him. He huffed in frustration when Danny held it down, but was met with a raised, and very expectant, eyebrow. "Oh. Uh, I'm sorry too," Stiles tried. It sounded more like a question, he realized; didn't sound like he meant it, even though he totally did. "No, really. I am. I shouldn't have let my imagination make me crazy. It was stupid."

"It was," Danny agreed, but he made no move to show Stiles any more skin than the inch or so already visible.

He was being tortured. Stiles was going to die of curiosity. Not even from the exploration — from the lack of exploration. It was a thing. Unsatisfied curiosity killed the Stiles.

"Danny, please. Come on. I apologized, and I meant it. You know I did."

Dimples. Danny was turning those damn dimples on Stiles and he had mischief in his eyes, and Stiles was so screwed.

"And what do I get if I give in, then?"

Stiles blinked, stunned for a second. He was usually the one playing these games, not the other way around. He should be immune.

He wasn't. He definitely wasn't.

"All of this," Stiles told him quickly, waving his arms at himself only semi-awkwardly. "Like, literally. All of it. Everything you see here. Totally yours, at your mercy. Danny-man, come on."

"Tempting, but I'm pretty sure I already have all of that," Danny grinned, looking Stiles up and down slowly and deliberately. He looked casual, but his fingers were twitching at the fabric they were curled around, and Stiles knew Danny was close to giving in.

"You do." Stiles stepped even closer, until his thigh was pressed between both of Danny's, and he could bite at Danny's jawline. "Isn't that enough?"

Danny's hands were moving between them, pulling his shirt up without any more bantering, and Stiles shifted back to give him room.

"You're so easy," Stiles crowed, then his eyes widened in horror and he shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. Do not change your mind, holy shit, Danny I will die."

"No, you're right," Danny laughed. "I'm so easy for you, I can admit my faults."

"That is not a fault. Definitely not a fault." He waved vaguely towards his crotch. "Besides, my dick could drill cement right now and we haven't even really touched. If anyone is easy in this scenario, it's clearly me."

Danny laughed again. "Works out well for both of us then, doesn't it?" he asked. He clearly didn't expect an answer, because he just winked at Stiles then quickly pulled his shirt over his head.

Although Stiles' eyes were drawn to the ink immediately, it took him a moment to focus on the actual design. The lines were so smooth, so beautiful and perfectly inked that he couldn't help but follow each one individually before he looked at the pattern they made.

The design as a whole was beautiful, too. He knew that objectively, but when he finally realized what those lines came together to form, his stomach rolled violently and he felt himself go cold all over in a panic.

"Stiles? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Danny sounded worried, and Stiles knew he should meet his eyes, should reply, but he didn't really know how. He wanted to demand answers, wanted to be angry, but he learned from his mistakes — he did — so he took a few deep breaths; in and out, then over again, before he reacted badly.

The tattoo was clearly culturally inspired, and Stiles wasn't an expert but the design looked like it was probably Hawaiian or Polynesian in nature. That made sense, of course, given Danny's background. The lines were bold and strong over Danny's left pectoral, wrapping around his nipple. The whole image was built in patterns with a very tribal feel to it, and if Stiles hadn't read basically everything to do with everything, he might not have recognized what it represented. But he had, and he did.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that he was scared of the answer, but he somehow managed to ask, voice only a little shaky.

"Why did you get a tattoo of a full moon?"

"Don't you like it?" Danny sounded uncertain, which Stiles hated. Danny should never sound that way around him.

"No, that's not what— It's beautiful," he answered honestly. Stiles didn't have any tattoos or much experience with them, but he knew good art when he saw it, and Danny's tattoo was...it was incredible. It was intricate and fascinating, each line caught the eye and the angles and curves were clean where they merged, pulling attention to every detail. The artist was clearly talented, and it was exceptional artwork on an already extremely attractive canvas. Stiles knew he should love it, kind of did love it actually, except for the fear in his chest about what it could mean. "I'm just...it's...why a full moon?"

"Well, it's kind of my name, you know?"

Relief flooded through Stiles so quickly that his knees went weak. It was all he could do not to collapse, because of course.

Mahealani. Night of the heavenly moon.

Stiles was an idiot. He was such an idiot for freaking out, but more importantly, Danny was still safe and uninvolved in the shit that went bump in Stiles' nights.

"Right. I totally knew that!"

With the terror that had clutched at him suddenly gone, Stiles admired the tattoo all over again, fingers itching to reach out and trace it.

It really was gorgeous.

"Can I?" he asked, unsure even as he was reaching forward. He knew how important it was to let body art heal, and it still had to be pretty fresh. It was definitely less than nine days old since it wasn't there when Stiles had ridden Danny's dick the Thursday before last, but Stiles didn't know exactly how long a tattoo took to heal, just that it wasn't nearly as long as piercings. "I mean, does it still hurt? Is it okay to touch or do you need to keep it super clean still?"

Stiles' only personal experience was when Scott had gotten a tattoo, but that had healed in no time at all. Of course that really didn't count, because he was a werewolf and nope...Stiles refused to think about that word for the rest of the night considering his near panic earlier.

"It's okay. The last of it peeled this morning. I thought I'd give it an extra day to be safe, but I was going to show you tomorrow," Danny answered. "See how the skin is all fresh? It's fine to touch, just...don't poke it, okay? It's still a little sensitive."

"Oh crap," Stiles said sheepishly, remembering the way he'd shoved his finger into Danny's chest earlier. Hard. Right about where a particularly bold and large patch of ink was. "Sorry."

"It's okay. It mostly stopped hurting last weekend. I just...I didn't want you to see it until it was healed. They aren't really that pretty while they're all scabby."

Stiles snorted. "Like you're physically capable of being anything other than sexy. Besides, you've seen me drooling. In the completely unattractive, I'm gross when I sleep, kind of way."

"You're adorable when you sleep," Danny argued, pressing Stiles' still hesitant hand right against the tattoo.

"Fuck, it's so smooth," Stiles said, forgetting everything else in favor of rubbing the tip of his finger in a careful circle over the skin. He leaned in, nose only about an inch away from the edge of the pattern, and stared at the lines and spirals until his breath made Danny's nipple harden.

"It's new skin. Of course it's smooth." Danny sounded amused, but Stiles could tell he was affected, could feel where his dick was taking interest, pressing against Stiles' through layers of fabric.

Stiles began herding Danny back towards his bed, because that was absolutely where they needed to be.

"So, uh, that means it's not a problem if I really, really wanna lick it, right?" he asked when Danny halted, the back of his knees against Stiles' bed frame.

"I think I could be okay with that." When Stiles urged him to, Danny relaxed onto the bed, sprawled out in the middle. He was shifting oddly in place, until there was a thump, followed by another. Stiles dimly recognized the noises as Danny's shoes hitting the floor, but he was too busy staring at Danny's chest to care.

"So it's, uh, not weird of me?" Not that he particularly cared if it was. Stiles licked his lips, shedding his own shirt and shorts quickly before crawling onto the bed to settle between Danny's thighs. He didn't waste any more time, grinding his hips into Danny's and licking a long stripe across the tattoo. When Danny's fingers curled into his hair, Stiles licked again, this time along the inner edges of the moon before biting gently on the nipple inside it.

"Fuck," Danny groaned. "If it's weird, then we both are, c-considering how much I love your piercings. I hoped, you know, that you'd love it. That you'd think is was hot like I do about your— fuck, Stiles."

Stiles squeezed his hand again, where he was cupping Danny through his jeans. Danny felt rock hard, just like Stiles was. He wondered, idly, if Danny had been getting himself off every day. Stiles had, up until the last few days where he'd stumbled into a pit of paranoia and self-pity deep enough that touching his own cock made him oddly maudlin.

"Did you spend every night with your own hand on your dick?" he asked, partly curious but mostly just interested in imagining what Danny must have looked like; fucking up into his own hand and staring down at the tattoo, all fresh and red. Maybe he even pressed at the sensitive skin, hissing at the sharp sting he'd have felt even as it turned him on more. "Jesus, Danny, when I first got my piercings I was horny all the fucking time, every time I saw them. Did you get like that with this?" He dropped his mouth back to the inked skin, licking and mouthing at the design.

"Y-yeah. Not...not from the tattoo, just...thinking about this. About surprising you with it. Wanted so badly for you to like it. Couldn't stop imagining it. And—and your mouth, fuck."

"And what was I doing with my mouth?" he asked, letting his lips brush against Danny's skin even as he spoke. He didn't need an answer, not really. He could almost imagine what Danny had been fantasizing about, knew Danny loved the way Stiles always wanted his mouth occupied.

"This."

Stiles let out a little breath of laughter as he licked at Danny's nipple and shook his head. "Tell me."

Danny squirmed as Stiles slowly unbuttoned the waistband on his jeans. Stiles' face was still hovering right over Danny's chest, and he felt hot and prickly all over, but he wanted to hear everything, so he waited only a little impatiently for Danny to speak.

"You uh, you'd be on top of me and leaning on your arm with your hand on my shoulder. Just like this. Except...except your other arm would be…" Danny's fingers gripped Stiles' wrist, tugging on it until his hand left the firm ridge along Danny's crotch to press against his abs. Danny let go, only to pluck at Stiles' palm and twist it just a little, until Stiles' fingers were slipping under the elastic of Danny's boxer-briefs, like a promise.

"Like this?" Stiles slipped his fingers a little further under, letting them scratch teasingly. Danny swallowed thickly and nodded. "Then what?"

"You'd start to lick. Just...just along the outside first, along the edge, on the clean skin. Then, then you'd pick one of the shapes and draw it with your tongue."

Stiles' stomach tightened at the thought, and he was quick to bring Danny's words to life, tracing his tongue slowly along Danny's skin the way Danny described. When he was done, he looked up at Danny expectantly, eager for more instructions.

Danny flushed a little, more than just the warmth from being turned on. "You'd press a little kiss to the shape when you were done."

He said it like it was embarrassing, which was silly but also ridiculously cute, so Stiles was extra gentle when he placed his kiss, as softly and sweetly as he could manage; mouth just a little open, right thumb stroking at Danny's shoulder carefully, reverently.

"Then you'd...uh...you'd follow the pattern. Each shape, around the circle until you got back to the first one, and you'd move inwards to the next set. And just...like that until you were done."

Stiles was excellent at following directions when they suited him, and these...these suited him just fine. He made his way slowly around Danny's tattoo the same way Danny had described, taking his time to lick and kiss at every spot until the whole pattern was shiny and wet and worshipped, occasionally letting his fingers tickle at the sensitive skin between Danny's hipbones.

"I can't imagine I'd just stop like this," Stiles prompted when it seemed like Danny had nothing left to say. He was breathing heavily, they both were, and Stiles could feel Danny's heart thumping against his chin where it rested on Danny's ribcage.

"No, m-my nipple. You'd—the way you know I like."

"Mmm…like this?" Stiles teased, tongue far too gentle, and teeth deliberately absent. Danny made a frustrated, negative noise beneath him and Stiles laughed against his skin. "No? Oh, I remember now." He bit down just hard enough to make Danny gasp, then dragged his tongue firmly against the abused flesh as Danny jack-knifed his hips up against Stiles'.

Stiles had always liked the way Danny responded, had always felt like the center of the universe when he had Danny splayed out beneath him, looking like something from the best kind of fantasies. He hadn't even thought that Danny could get more attractive, or more sexy, but there he was, proving Stiles wrong.

It wasn't long before Danny's nipple was pink and swollen, framed perfectly by the dark lines of ink around it. Stiles eased back his attention, until he was just mouthing gently against it while he spoke. "So, what would I do next?"

"You'd kiss me until we couldn't breathe," Danny told him. He sounded like he was already half way there. "Until I couldn't breathe. But you'd be talking. Like always."

"You're so sassy," Stiles joked as he stretched his body out, until he could comfortably brush his lips against Danny's. "Lucky I'm into that."

Danny rolled his eyes, but when he opened his mouth to respond, Stiles cut him off with a long, deep kiss. It felt like forever since they'd been like that, even though Stiles knew it hadn't really been all that long. But it had been long enough for Stiles to miss the way their tongues pressed and curled together.

He took his time, willing and eager to make good on Danny's fantasy. He was rock hard, cock throbbing uncomfortably against Danny's rough zipper, with only the thin cotton of Stiles' boxers to protect him. It hurt a little, but he ignored that in favor of focusing on Danny.

Stiles kissed Danny again, smirking against his mouth when he felt Danny squirming and wriggling beneath him. Stiles wasn't trying to be difficult, and he was all on board with Danny's attempts to get his jeans off, but he just didn't want to move. He liked being plastered to Danny, especially after so much time alone.

"Stiles," Danny moaned, sounding more exasperated than anything else, and Stiles laughed, pulling back enough to shed his boxers, while Danny quickly stripped off his jeans and boxer briefs. Stiles was back on him the moment Danny was naked, pressing his lips back to the center of Danny's tattoo before sliding upwards and catching his mouth again, while Danny's hands cupped Stiles' ass, squeezing.

"So I kept talking, huh?" Stiles asked against Danny's lips. "And what was it that I said?"

He could probably guess, considering how much Danny liked his dirty talk, but it was more fun to make Danny tell him.

"I don't...I don't know," Danny admitted, breath rough as he licked his lips. "It was always different, just fucking filthy things, like you sometimes say."

One of Danny's hands slid around Stiles' hip, snaking between them to tease and tug at Stiles' navel ring. A familiar spark of heat shot through Stiles' spine and he groaned, ducking his head to once again pull Danny's nipple roughly between his teeth.

"Fuck," he grunted a moment later, an idea appearing in his mind as he licked at the swollen flesh. "You'd look smoking hot with a nipple ring." Once the thought was in his head, he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like, and Stiles let out a long and embarrassingly desperate noise. "I don't think I'd be able to help myself, even for a day. We'd have to find somewhere to spend alone every lunch so I could get my mouth on your chest and my hands on our dicks, holy shit."

Danny's hips jolted while Stiles spoke, and the hand he'd twined in Stiles' hair tightened just enough to make Stiles smirk.

"Do you wanna hear about how I'd get you all needy and desperate just from playing with your nipples, before I bent you over and ate you out until you came?" Stiles repositioned himself again, so his dick was pressed against Danny's, his hips rolling slowly until Danny was meeting his pace. He pressed a tiny, deceivingly chaste kiss against Danny's mouth. "And then you'd wanna suck me, because you always wanna suck me, don't you? Even all boneless and satisfied you'd want to get your mouth on my cock piercing. And we both know how good it would be, for both of us. Maybe you'd even get hard again before you were done." Danny let out a breathy noise that was definitely some kind of yes. Stiles grinned, adding innocently, "Is that the kind of thing you imagined I'd say?"

"Fuck, Stiles."

"Is that what happened next? Because we both know I'm down for that."

"Honestly? I'd...I'd have my hand around my dick — oh, fuck — and I'd imagine it was your hand around us both while we were still getting undressed." Danny paused for a moment, looking a little embarrassed. "My imagination never even made it to us both getting naked before I came."

Stiles resisted the urge to grin smugly about his imaginary self's sexual prowess, and instead wrapped his hand around them both the way Danny had described. He was close, but Danny was even closer, judging from the way pre-come was steadily drooling from the head of his dick and the unfairly hot noises he made when Stiles started to move his hand.

"Well, we're not half dressed," he said, pressing a kiss to Danny's mouth, "but I think maybe this is better."

"Do you think you'll get more?"

"Yeah, definitely," Danny answered. "It's kind of addictive, I wanted another one as soon as this one was done, but I'll wait I think. Otherwise my parents will kill me."

"You don't think they'll kill you for this one?"

They were both just relaxing, Danny's chest rising and falling under Stiles' head, his tattoo standing out in bold lines on the skin a few inches away from Stiles' cheek. Stiles was running a finger gently along the lines in no particular order.

"Nope. They'll want to once they see it, but the best part is they can't. It represents our family, you know? Dad got one just like it when he was only fifteen and Mom loves it so much she jokes that it's the reason she married him, so they'll have to give me a free pass on it. But I'm sure Mom will hang me from my big toes if I get anything else before I turn eighteen, so it'll have to do for now."

Stiles grinned, and he was sure Danny was doing the same. They settled back into a comfortable silence, and Stiles was almost drifting to sleep when Danny broke it.

"So, you sort of freaked out earlier about my tattoo," Danny started, and Stiles could feel him moving, craning his neck to look at Stiles' face. "Do you want to talk about that? Or are we just going to keep pretending you don't hang out with werewolves?"

Stiles shot up immediately, his heart in his throat. "What? What the fuck, Danny?! How did you…how long have you…what the fuck?!"

Danny — the asshole — didn't look worried, or flustered, or like his breath was trying to claw its way out of his body. He just looked…kind of amused.

"Just a couple of months," he answered, sitting up far more lazily than the situation deserved. He curled his hand around Stiles' fist, which — huh. Stiles hadn't even realized how deeply his nails were digging into his own palms. "I sort of suspected for ages, though."

"A couple of months?!" Stiles demanded, voice a little higher pitched than he'd be willing to admit. "How did you…just, how?"

Danny rolled his eyes so hard he moved his entire head, which Stiles thought was completely overdramatic and unnecessary.

"Seriously, Stiles? You're asking me how I know? If it wasn't so completely unbelievable I'd have figured it out within three days of our relationship," Danny snorted. "To be honest, at this point what you really should be asking is how everyone in town hasn't figured it out. You guys really aren't subtle. At all. If this were a less crazy scenario you'd have given the game away in seconds."

"Excuse me?!" Stiles huffed. His heartbeat had settled into a slightly more manageable jackhammering, rather than an impending heart attack. "I am a vault."

"Stiles, last week you told someone that you were researching witches' spells against werewolves because your werewolf pack in our favorite MMORPG is being attacked by a witch."

"That was totally plausible!"

"Yeah, except that I'm a member of your guild, and werewolves don't even exist in that game!"

"Well," Stiles floundered, "stop eavesdropping on private conversations."

"Stiles, I was standing right next to you."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Danny. That…was true. But it was pretty flimsy evidence. In fact, Stiles refused to even think the word "evidence" in protest.

"Also, Stiles, Derek Hale got de-aged and if you think I didn't figure out right away that he wasn't your cousin Miguel's little brother Manuel, then you are an idiot. And can I just add…really? Miguel? Manuel? Try harder. In fact, no. Just leave it up to me to come up with plausible stories from now on, because you are honestly the worst liar I have ever met."

"What? How can you say—? I am an excellent liar!"

The look Danny gave him was flat and unimpressed, but Stiles could tell he was also kind of amused.

"A couple months ago when I saw Scott in his shifted form, you told me he was trying to grow out his sideburns like Wolverine."

Stiles winced. That one…wasn't one of his best. But in his defense, he'd sort of been put on the spot. "Well...I mean...it was dark. There were shadows, I thought it might—"

"No."

Once is an incident and twice is a coincidence, but Danny had just thrown three separate events at him. A pattern.

Stiles sighed. "Yeah, okay. I guess we could be a little sneakier. It's just…usually we're doing everything we can just to, you know, stay alive."

"Is it as bad as I think it is?" Danny asked, more seriously.

"Worse, probably."

"But you stay safe, right? I mean, as much as you can?"

He didn't know the best way to answer. Stiles didn't want to lie, but he didn't want Danny to be constantly terrified, either.

"I try. I mean, we all try. And we help each other out, you know. Scott's gotten a lot better at the whole embracing his werewolfiness. And Derek's a dick a lot of the time, but he and I have this whole mutual life-saving thing pretty much down."

"That's good to hear." Danny tugged at Stiles' wrist, until Stiles took the hint and moved closer, leaning right into Danny's side. Danny's skin was warm and the strong arm he wrapped around Stiles' waist was very, very welcome.

"Why didn't you say anything before?" Stiles asked, quietly, watching Danny's face as carefully as he could. He still wasn't sure how he felt about Danny knowing. On one hand, it was almost a relief. Danny knew — had known for months — and he was still there, still safe. On the other hand, with everything out in the open between them, Danny might want to help, might end up in more danger because of Stiles.

Danny's expression shifted a little, softening even further until Stiles had to fight the urge to blush. The way Danny looked at him sometimes was…a lot. But sometimes Stiles swore that everything else around them fell away when he looked at Danny, so that was probably the same thing.

"Well, I figured you wanted to protect me," Danny told him after a moment where they just sort of smiled these tiny little smiles at each other, "which was really sweet, even though I wasn't a big fan of lying in bed at home each night, wondering if you were going to get yourself killed. But it seemed so important to you. I only...I wouldn't have even told you now, except when you saw my tattoo you seemed so… You seemed scared that something terrible would happen. I needed to make sure you knew that don't need to be scared. I know, and I'm okay. And I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you," Stiles said, voice a little rough. "A lot. A whole lot. I just didn't want to bring you into this mess."

"I love you, too. But even if I didn't, Jackson is my best friend. I need to be there for him, just like you are for Scott. The moment he became part of this, I was always going to end up involved somehow."

"Yeah, I've been there," Stiles told him. "I mean, obviously. I just — it scares me that you could get hurt or…or worse, if you're involved."

"Yeah, I've been there," Danny parroted with a meaningful grin, before his face became serious again. "I'm not saying I want to jump right in the middle of supernatural shenanigans, and honestly I'd be worried that you and Jackson would be too busy trying to protect me to focus on what really matters. But…if you ever need me to help, I'm here."

"Well, it wouldn't exactly hurt to have the resident hacker at our fingertips," Stiles told him, trailing his own fingertips down Danny's chest as he spoke.

"Lucky for you, I'm here to fulfill your every need."

"Yeah?" Stiles moved to straddle Danny's hips, then leaned down until he could press his mouth lightly against the pulse point on Danny's neck. "Not that I'm complaining, because I definitely like the sound of that, but it seems just a little unfair for you."

"Well, obviously, I'd expect plenty of, uh…fulfilling. In return."

Stiles grinned. "I think that can be arranged."

Note: The SMS that Stiles sent to Danny came from Texts From Last Night.

(802):
Just fell off my bed trying to pose and take a nude for you. Probably broke my wrist