Title: Robe
By: Dr FooFoo
Pairing: Danny/Don
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Based upon prompt #69 - Robe.

Danny had this habit. It wasn't necessarily a bad habit, but it did get in the way of a lot of his regular, daily activities. See, he liked to run on his treadmill. A lot. And running on his treadmill a lot meant having a lot of showers, and *that* is why his habit got in the way of other things.

Flack, however, didn't mind one bit. In fact, he enjoyed it, and maybe it had turned into some type of Pavlovian experiment, because every time he heard the treadmill going, he felt himself get hard. Actually, that part was kind of distracting, but at least there weren't any treadmills in the lab or anywhere near people like Mac and Stella. Or even Aiden, for that matter.

Either way, it was another one of those beautiful evenings in New York, and of course, Flack was inside as usual. He was bored, though, and trying to hotbox his bedroom with cigarette smoke when his cellphone rang. It was Saturday, though, and that couldn't be good. Either Danny hoping for a late-night hookup, or Mac hoping for some late-night detective work on an unexpected case.

And apparently Flack was psychic, or maybe just predictable, because a little breathed, "Flacky..." told him it was the former. He murmured a hello and took about three seconds to wonder why Danny was panting softly into the phone, when Danny gasped sharply and swallowed audibly, and Flack raised an eyebrow.

"Danny, are you jackin' off on the phone?" he mumbled, and if Danny was touching *himself*, who did he expect Flack to touch when he went over to his apartment? Flack grumbled a little at the warmth spreading up his thighs and into his groin, and Danny hesitated a little while before answering.

"Um, no..." He cleared his throat and barely caught a tiny whimper. "Wanna come over?"

And Flack wasn't passing up *that* chance. Danny was hot. Mussed Danny was hotter. Mussed, just-came Danny was hottest. He affirmed and pressed End, and opened his window to let the smoke out. All that hard work... At least at Danny's, he'd have an excuse for smoking a whole pack.

Of course, when he showed up in front of apartment 1017, he wasn't exactly expecting Danny to answer the door in only a dark green robe... An open robe at that, and Flack felt his face get hot as he tried not to let his gaze drift downwards too obviously. Danny smirked, though, so Flack suspected he wasn't doing a very efficient job.

He pushed inside, past Danny, and kicked off his boots by the front door, and barely had time to shrug off his jacket before Danny pinned him to the wall, and what? He thought Danny would be all... exhausted or something, but no, apparently not, if Danny's tongue on his neck was any indication. And... there was the inevitable grinding of hips, and Flack let his head fall back against the wall.

Danny just smirked and laughed a little, and pulled Flack by the arm, towards the living room. Okay, so this wasn't really what Flack had in mind when he left his place, but, well, he wasn't really one to complain about such things. Danny didn't seem to be complaining either, because he shoved Flack down on the couch and undid the loose knot on his robe that wasn't really accompishing any sort of cover at all. The robe puddled at his feet, and Flack stared freely, smirking a bit and licking his lips.

And then Danny turned and stepped onto the treadmill and what the hell? Flack raised an eyebrow as Danny pressed a few buttons and started to walk, then jog. And... wait, what? Flack was totally confused, because he was definitely under the impression that he was about to get laid, and now Danny was *running*? Naked? Um... Then Flack felt that familiar warmth spreading near his crotch, and he shook his head.

Danny had a permanent smirk plastered on his face, and Flack eyed him grumpily. What the fuck was he playing at anyway? But Danny just kept running, and Flack just kept getting harder. It must have been the sound of Danny's feet padding along on the rubber or something; it brought on fairly pornographic thoughts, and Flack had to suppress the urge to touch himself. It was that, drag Danny off the damn machine, or wait it out and receive a mindnumbing blowjob, or whatever it was Danny had in that evil little mind of his.

But Danny didn't stop... Flack didn't know how, but he ran full speed for at least fifteen more minutes, and Flack was growing more antsy by the second. His jeans felt painfully tight, and he popped the button to try and relieve some of the pressure. Didn't work, though, and he eyed Danny again, grumbling to himself, then, louder, to Danny.

"Messer, I swear, if you're on that thing for one more minute... I'm gonna throw you down and hump you on the floor."

Danny turned and grinned and leaned over on the treadmill, panting and half-laughing, and generally being an asshole, and Flack pouted for a minute, then stood up and grabbed Danny's arm and pulled him off the treadmill. Danny yipped, but then giggled and poked some buttons to turn off the machine, and Flack dragged him to the floor, just like he promised.

Danny whimpered softly, but Flack just straddled him and pulled off his own shirt. Eventually, all of his clothes were in a little pile by the TV, and Danny was writhing again. Flack just smirked and kissed him; all tongue and teeth and sloppiness, but Danny didn't appear to mind. Everything seemed kind of hazy and Flack felt like a damn space cadet. The heat radiating off Danny's body wasn't helping, and Flack was sticking to Danny in the most frustrating of ways.

He compromised, though, by grinding his hips into Danny's crotch. Just slow rocking at first, then faster circles when Danny's breathing sped up, and Flack's hand somehow found its way to Danny's hip to hold him in place. Danny just responded by whimpering some more and burying his face in Flack's neck and eventually biting down and coming.

Flack smirked slightly and slowed his movements and just held Danny like that, on the carpet, for a long time. Or until he calmed down, anyway, and then Flack sat up and leaned back against the couch. His tummy was all sticky, and he sighed a bit at that, but then Danny was kissing him again and it didn't matter anymore.

Danny was a great kisser, really, Flack had to admit. Better than anyone he could remember, male or female, but at the moment, he seemed desperate, almost, and that urgency just added to the surreal fogginess of it all. Danny seemed to be slinking everywhere, even though he wasn't moving, and Flack could hardly keep up. Luckily, he didn't have to for very long, because Danny was sinking down into his lap and licking at his bellybutton.

Flack melted against the cool Italian leather of the couch and let Danny work those pretty lips of his. Of course, Flack was already well on his way from earlier activities, so it didn't take long before his fingers were tangled in Danny's hair, and he was arching and groaning and coming hard. Danny licked at him for a few more minutes, then crawled back up into his lap, and Flack closed his eyes.

"Don't ever run on that fuckin' treadmill again..." he mumbled, and Danny smirked into his chest.

Everything was silent for a long, long time, then Flack spoke again, quieter this time.

"And don't answer the door in a fuckin' robe..." And Danny smirked again.