Pairing: Danny/Martin
Archive: Pretty FBI Boys; FanFiction.net; yes to the list archives.
Disclaimer: Without A Trace belongs to its creators, the TV company, Jerry B. and the rest of the lot. I only own what I've written.
Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff!
Author's notes: Well, the title is… an emergency back-up. ;) All the Christmas spirit with all its fluffiness finally got to me a week or two back and I ended up writing this. What can I say; Christmas makes my mind float to the world of sugarcoated trees…
Thank you: to Airen for the best beta I've had in a long time!
Revenge Is Best Served Hot
The sweat slicked skin under his tongue is delicious to taste. Every inch of it as he slides down the golden velvet. He smiles at the shiver that shakes the body beneath him as he takes a moment to linger on an extra sensitive spot. Gives a gentle bite and gets a moan for his efforts. It makes him chuckle.
"You're bent upon making me pay for something, aren't you?" he hears Danny say in a husky voice. He's reluctant to take his lips off of the skin but he can't help smiling wider, and it's difficult to kiss when you're grinning. Instead, he climbs up the bed until he can look at Danny's face again. Smirks down at him.
He finds Danny's flushed appearance satisfying, but even more than that, incredibly sexy; the way the color has reached his cheeks in a rush of lust and pleasure; the way his lips are swollen and red, parted in a pant; the way his pupils are dilated, eyelids heavy and only half open. Martin has always found the way Danny looks in bed a piece of art.
It's then that Danny decides that his lips are too dry for talking, and Martin is mesmerized to watch the slow movement of his tongue wetting his lips, enjoying every bit of the show he's getting. "Is this about my comment in the bar?" Danny finally manages. "You know, about you being jealous?" Martin shakes his head. Negative. He shifts his hips, rubbing them together, and Danny's jaw goes slack. Another thrust and Danny's hand comes up to grab Martin's shoulder.
Martin takes a hold of Danny's wrist and presses the hand back to the pillow. "Tsk, tsk," he says, shaking his head. "Hands, Danny boy, hands. I told you once already."
"You're evil."
Martin flashes another devious smile but doesn't say anything. Instead he runs his fingers through Danny's hair, making it even more disheveled than it was already.
"What did I do, then?" Danny all but whines.
Martin bows his head to kiss his pulse point, making Danny crane his neck into the touch. "Your hair," he mumbles against the skin.
The confusion is clear in Danny's voice as he echoes, "My hair?" Then he sucks in a breath as Martin moves his hips again.
"I don't like it when you muss it up."
"You--You don't like my hair?" Something incredibly childlike in his voice then, balancing between hurt and utterly puzzled.
Martin lifts his head and places a quick kiss on Danny's lips. "No, not when it looks like someone's fingers were just entangled in them."
Danny frowns at that. "That's... Uh, is that... Should I be, ya know, insulted by that?" And he truly does look a bit hurt, so Martin had better explain himself a little better.
"No. It just makes me think of you in bed. And..." Another quick kiss. "...it's a bit hard to work when I'm thinking of ravishing you on the bar counter," he finishes, smiling against Danny's lips. "No pun intended."
He can feel Danny's laughter as vibrations deep in his chest. "So, that's why you had your eyes glued on Samantha all night, huh?"
Martin can't help the full blazing grin that invades his face. "Jealous, are we?" he teases. Then, conversationally, "Besides, you did it on purpose. You know you look damn hot like that."
"No, I didn't." Too wide-eyed, too damn innocent looking, and Martin just might've believed him had there not been that glint in his eyes.
"Liar," Martin says, smiling.
Danny answers his smile. "Rich brat."
"Pompous jackass."
"Kiss-ass."
"Flirty slut."
"Ooh, I do love it when you talk dirty." A wide grin and a wiggle of eyebrows that makes Martin laugh.
Martin shuts him up with a kiss, chuckling into his mouth and then forgetting all about it as Danny's tongue slides over his own. Danny tastes faintly of coffee -- milk and two sugars, nothing fancy -- and toothpaste. Martin has stopped wondering long ago why that taste, the omnipresent taste that seems to be Danny, is such a turn-on. Not to mention that Danny's a good kisser -- hell, a great kisser, and Martin's sure he could spend the rest of his life kissing Danny.
Though that wouldn't fulfil the plans he's had for tonight and so he tears his lips away.
Danny has a glazed look in his eyes when he finally opens them. He smiles and arches up, rubbing their bodies together and making Martin hiss; it seems he figured out that two can play this game, even if the use of hands is forbidden.
"Be still," Martin tells him, yet the grin on Danny's face widens into somewhat devilish.
"Isn't it about time you fucked me?"
Even though Danny's words send a thrill down his spine, it's not what Martin has in mind. Instead of taking Danny up on his offer, he just smiles sweetly. Oh, he has the perfect revenge in mind and he's not going to throw away his plans now. "Not." A kiss on Danny's neck. "Yet. You made me..." A wet trail of kisses down to the center of his chest. "...all hot and bothered for hours, so I'm thinking...." He stops to suck gently at his nipple. Then, a wicked tone edging in his voice, "... it's payback time." He smiles as he hears Danny take in a breath at his words.
Then his lips are on Danny's skin again, his tongue tasting again, and he's moving down, down, down, down, and... Well, Martin has always been a man of his words.
THE END