fabala_fic1: (Ohana [Kono/Steve/Chin //H-50])
[personal profile] fabala_fic1
Title: Post-Incident Reflexes
Fandom: Hawaii 5-0
Rating: NC-17 for sex and a bit of kink.
Spoilers: There’s a quick reference to 1x12.
Characters: Steve/Chin
Word count: 1377
A/N: Repost of some comment-fic that I did for [livejournal.com profile] robanybody last week; she was bemoaning the lack of Chin-based kinkfic, and so I gave her some.

One thing about Steve is that he’s great at going from zero to sixty in two-point-three seconds. Going from sixty back down, on the other hand, takes him a lot longer.

They did good today. Caught the bad guys, saved the good guys, and didn’t damage the city (much). It’s a win, and they should all be out celebrating.

But it’s Danny's weekend with Grace and Kono’s been set up on a blind date she can’t get out of (at least not until Danny calls her with the emergency that is Grace wanting to go surfing), so Steve invites Chin back to his place for a beer, because it’s clear that he’s not really in the celebrating mood.

"Give me your hands," Chin says, and kisses Steve hard enough to bruise. Steve’s hands come up over his head, faltering as his fingertips brush the posts of the headboard. He looks Chin over carefully, and it’s that look that always throws Chin off, because how wrong is it when Steve McGarrett looks scared? Hell, Steve really only got to "worried" when Chin had a goddamn bomb around his neck. "Steve, hey, you with me? You say the word any time, and this all stops. You know that."

He holds his breath the entire three seconds it takes Steve to focus on his eyes, nod, and say please. Please, I need—I need this. Then, slowly and very deliberately, Chin leans over to the nightstand and picks up his handcuffs. Steve tracks his movements, and Chin makes a show of making sure the key is in plain sight. When the cuffs lock around Steve’s wrists, looping through the headboard and making his shoulders flex, Chin swears he hears Steve sigh.

There’s only a three inch chain on the cuffs, and despite Steve’s assurances that he really is all kinds of flexible and can hold seemingly uncomfortable positions for hours on end, Chin doesn’t want to hurt him; he figures he’s got about fifteen minutes before Steve’s shoulders cramp up, twenty-five, tops. So he folds a pillow in half, gets Steve to lean up enough to wedge it between his head and the headboard (which gives him a chance to squeeze Steve’s fingers while he’s there; they feel perfectly warm and aren’t darkening, another good sign), and then works his way down Steve’s torso. He pauses to lick and bite both nipples, loving the wordless little noises he makes, and then settles himself between Steve’s hips.

He leans lightly against the inside of Steve’s thigh, watching Steve’s cock pulse in time with his heartbeat. Steve gets fully hard before his eyes, and Chin counts to ten in his head before he even says anything. "Is this what you want, Steve?"

Steve’s already too far gone to respond verbally, but Chin knows that the bitten-off cry means yes. He takes his cock in his mouth slowly, running his tongue up the underside as it slides all the way to the back of his throat. He breathes heavily through his nose and takes more of Steve in until his nose is pressed up against Steve’s lower belly. He looks up and isn’t surprised to find that Steve’s watching his every move, until Chin hollows his cheeks and sucks.

Steve’s body arches like an electrified bowstring, jamming his heels into the mattress, shoulders doing the same on the other end of the bed. The sound that issues from his mouth, it sounds to Chin, is nearly equal parts relief and frustration. Chin decides not to make him wait, and pulls all the way off with a wet slurp, before starting the entire thing over again.

It doesn’t take long. (It usually doesn’t, on nights like this. Most of Steve’s stamina on these kinds of cases go towards not beating the shit out of people.) When Steve comes, he comes hard, and Chin just holds him through the aftershocks.

He slides back up, wiping his hands on the sheets so he can get a solid grip on the handcuff key. When he leans over to unlock Steve’s hands, he’s only mildly surprised when Steve leans up and kisses him. It’s slow and unhurried, and Chin is pleased to note when Steve wraps his arm around Chin’s back, that his hands are still warm.

Chin pulls away and looks at him. Steve looks...content. "You good?"

"Yeah. Listen, thanks." Steve closes his eyes for a moment and continues, "And before you say anything: yes, I will absolutely be returning the favor. Just...in the morning? Or at least after we manage to drag ourselves into the shower?"


Chin is entirely unsurprised when, after he goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth and get a washcloth, he walks back into the bedroom to find Steve sprawled out over three-quarters of the bed and snoring heavily. This is why he’s glad he’d taken care of his own hard-on in the bathroom, and now only has the challenge of getting Steve to shove over enough to let him lie down. It doesn’t take as long as last time, and Chin’s out cold in less than ten minutes.

"Chin." He’s in the middle of a really good dream, and someone’s poking him in the shoulder. "Chin, wake up."

He cracks one eye open. Steve’s standing next to the bed, wearing only swim trunks. The sun’s coming in the window, having just come up, and it turns Steve’s skin golden. "No surf today, brah. Sleeping now."

If Chin had been given ten more seconds to wake up—maybe even just five—he’d have realized that Steve had already been out, and was now standing over him, water still clinging to his skin and in his hair. He realizes this, belatedly, when Steve leans over and shakes his head like a dog, sending water everywhere. Very cold water. "Fuck, Steve, you asshole."

He rolls off the bed and glares at Steve, who just grins. "I’m gonna take a shower."

And now Chin has to rethink that asshole comment, because he distinctly remembers being promised retribution for a toe-curling blowjob last night, and he knows that Steve really, really likes to fuck in the shower. So he does what any sane person in his position would do: follows Steve into the bathroom, and gets pushed against cold tiles and under hot spray for his troubles.

Steve is disgustingly awake in the mornings, which normally irritates Chin right up until his second, sometimes third, cup of coffee. Today, though, Steve gets a full pass, because he immediately drops to his knees in front of Chin, holding his hips and pressing bruises against his hipbones as he sucks Chin’s dick far into his mouth.

Which is awesome, because Steve gives fantastic blowjobs. He approaches them much like a tactical assault: hard, with an insane amount of skill, and in complete control. He also does this thing where he sucks at a spot just below the head of Chin’s cock, alternating between firm pressure and little, feather-light licks that makes him see stars—hell, entire constellations—and leaves him gasping and digging his hands into Steve’s hair. And the hair-pulling just turns Steve on more, so he sucks harder, pressing his thumbs against Chin’s hips and moaning, in an invitation for him to just let go and fuck Steve’s face.

(Steve, for all his Navy SEAL-poster-boy All-American-ness, has a kinky streak a mile and a half wide. Not that the two are mutually exclusive, of course, but...Chin loves it. Really, really loves it.)

Chin mutters a curse mingled with Steve’s name, a warning, and it gives Steve just enough time to pull back and get Chin’s come all over his face. He closes his eyes, and doesn’t open them until Chin’s brushed his thumbs over his eyelids.

"Good morning," Steve says, standing up and kissing Chin, opening his mouth and licking inside. "After we’re done here, you want me to make omelettes, or do you just want to stop for malasadas on the way to the office?"

Chin considers this for less than half a second. "I want to keep you in this house for as long as possible before we have to go to work."

"Okay, then, eggs it is. Hand me the shampoo?"


fabala_fic1: (Default)

August 2011


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