karaokegal (karaokegal) wrote,

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"An Isle Of Joy" CSI-NY Mac/Danny NC17 Word Count 4438

Title: An Isle of Joy
Fandom: CSI-NY
Pairing: Danny Messer/Mac Taylor
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 4840
Summary: Post Season 2-Danny can’t go on like this. Now he just has to convince Mac. More or less PWP.
Warnings: Season 1 & 2 spoilers.
Notes: Beta-ed under trying circumstances by gin200168. Thank you, Sensei. Any OOC-ness is solely my responsibility.
This is my first "real" CSI-NY fic. Comments and concrit are welcome.

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An Isle of Joy

Ninety-two degrees outside and it’s freezing in here.

It wasn’t just the air-conditioning, Danny thought, zipping up his Queens College sweatshirt. Everyone was back on the job, but nothing was normal. How could it be, after what they’d all been through?

Half the time, he felt a like a stalker, tracking Mac’s movements around the lab. He noticed that Mac seemed to come fully alive when Flack showed up. Flack’s survival and recovery must have become a validation of his own existence, chipping away at the guilt for the people he hadn’t been able to save.

Flack found a ton of reasons to hang around Stella, glaring at anyone of the male persuasion who came near her, even for purposes as benign as discussing evidence. Stella had started treating Sheldon like her backward five-year-old on the first day of kindergarten. It would have been funny, if Sheldon weren’t actually putting up with it, while getting clingy with Lindsay, playing the “new kids sticking together” card.

We are one messed up bunch.

As far as he could tell, Hammerback was the sanest guy on the team and how scary was that idea?

So far the week had been, you should pardon the expression, dead. They’d had a few shootings, mostly hold-up jobs and heat-wave rage, but nothing exciting enough to shake his co-workers out of their private obsessions.

Danny wanted reason to look down a microscope at some exotic fiber instead of staring at Mac staring at Flack staring at Stella, etcetera, et fucking cetera. He’d already used up a lifetime of prayers on Mac and Flack and Stella, not to mention Louie last year, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to put in a quick request for something to get them out of the lab and out of their own goddamn heads.

Mac was standing there, eyes brows slightly raised and the faintest quirk of the mouth that might have been a smile.

You can’t lose all the time.

“Get your kit. We’re going to the beach.”

Coney Island brought back good memories. It was a tacky shit-hole, but when he was growing up, a trip to Coney meant a break in the tension. Sometimes the surveillance detail lightened up long enough to ride the Cyclone.

There’d been drizzle that morning and the afternoon had turned muggy. Mac’s one concession was to unbutton his suit jacket, although Danny couldn’t help but notice the sweat that beaded his boss’s smooth upper lip. He was granted a few seconds of free staring time because Mac had gone somewhere far away while gazing out at the shore. He could only hope it was a good place.

Danny looked away from Mac, toward the taped off area where Flack stood near a woman wearing nothing but a fishtail and just enough iridescent material to avoid a lewd conduct citation. They exchanged a series of looks and shrugs, in lieu of Flack asking what the hell was going on and Danny saying “Hey, you know how he gets.” Clearly it was his job to get snap Mac out of his reverie.

“Hey, Mac.” He said, loudly enough to be heard over the crowd noise and waves in the distance. “You like the view so much; I’ll buy you a post card.”

“How about bologna on a roll?” It was hard to tell if Mac was joking sometimes. All the time. It taken over a year for Danny to figure out if the guy had a sense of humor at all. He did, but it was awfully dry and right now Danny just wasn’t sure, especially with Mac looking away from him, still apparently awed by the tacky grandeur of the boardwalk. Maybe it was one of those “growing up in Chicago” things. Danny had the privilege of taking the Atlantic Ocean for granted.

“It’s a song. ‘Manhattan.’ Rogers and Hart. My mom used to play this recording by Dinah Washington all the time. There’s one line…’We’ll got to Coney and eat bologna on a roll. Through Central Park we’ll stroll. Where our first kiss we stole, soul to soul.’ “

It had been weird enough seeing Mac play bass guitar in a jazz combo, but actually hearing him sing, or try to…more of a flat speaking on pitch, not unpleasant, but…touching, in a creepy way.

“I wanted to come to New York and do all those things.”

“I can get you a Nathan’s Famous, but frankly I wouldn’t trust too much of the food you get around here.”

“Not right now. We’ve got work to do.”

Danny relaxed as they approached the yellow tape marking the crime scene. He felt smug that he’d shared that moment with Mac, instead of Stella or Lindsay. He wished it wasn’t so important to feel special to Mac, but it was. Even though he’d given up on being more than a friend, he wanted to believe he was at least that.

The case turned out to be no case at all, almost literally a trip to the beach. The Coney Island Mermaid Parade had been interrupted by a fight between the riders on the Tigris and Eurphrates Riverboat float and some mermaids from London, not all of whom were female. Insults were thrown, followed by bottles and parts of the floats themselves. The original report had including gunshots, but even though there were injuries to bodies and pride, the gunshots turned out to be noisemakers and nobody had actually been killed. Flack and Stella were explaining to a few of the London crowd that no, they couldn’t join the crowd at Velocity for the Mermaid Parade Ball, when Danny noticed Mac, answering his cell-phone and nodding.

Within minutes they were on their way to Central Park, where there were no mermaids and the situation wasn’t funny at all. Missing five-year old named Patrick. Shakespeare In The Park. Mom and dad turned their backs for “just a second,” which probably meant one had gone to the john and the other had gone for refreshments leaving the kid alone. Patrick had wondered off.

There was a full-scale search throughout the entire 843 acres, including every available policeman and enough civilians to really screw things up. It took four hours to find the kid hanging out near the Balto statue eating an ice cream sandwich. Four hours of walking through the park, shouting out “Patrick!” and trying not to bump into other cops, tourists, or the reporters who’d decided to make this the heart-warming story of the day. By the time the word had filtered back, sweat had soaked through Danny’s shirt, and he had it off, using it to wipe his face. If this was only June, it was going to be a long hot summer, except for the chill factor back at the lab.

It was getting dark. Time to go back and write up the report on the mermaid mess and then go home and come back to another day of this crap. .

He spotted Mac talking with some guys from the twenty-seventh precinct. Still wearing his jacket. Still looking like he was inside their ice-box of a workplace. Danny took out his cell-phone and called a friend at a travel agency who could pull some strings at one of the big hotels. It was a long shot, but he had to do something to get through to Mac. Show him that they couldn’t go on like this.

The two officers had gone. It was a muggy night in Central Park and Danny was stuck with one thing on his mind, which wasn’t even his fault. Thanks so much for the whole “bologna on a roll" thing.

“Hey, Mac,” he called out. Even though Mac barely appeared to have been through the Patrick hunt and the heat, he was noticeably tired. It looked good on him. Human.

“Danny.” He smiled. “Long day. We should get back.”

But they didn’t. Danny had already scoped out the area while making his phone call. There was a tree just a few paces away, up a small incline that would serve his needs perfectly.

“Hang on a second…” he started walking toward the tree as if he needed to relieve himself. He glanced back to notice Mac looking annoyed, but possibly trying to steal a peek out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t unzip. Just positioned his legs and waited a second before calling out, “Hey, Mac, are you sure they found the right kid? You better get up here and take a look at this.

Mac came running up the hill to look at “this,” only there was no “this”, just Danny using the element of surprise and remaining nervous energy to push Mac against the tree and press their lips together. Danny knew he was risking rejection, his career and possibly his life. He’d been looking and longing for too long and now he was finally getting to feel Mac’s mouth against his and arms moving around to grasp his shoulders. Either he was being embraced or Mac was going to kill him. At that moment he didn’t care.

Mac’s fingers found the nape of his neck, sending chills through his body in the humid night air, until it obvious who had control of the situation. Mac pushed Danny backwards, firmly.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mac’s voice was wary, but not especially angry, although sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. In the Messer family, rage meant shouting, so you always knew where you stood. With Mac, it was like some big guessing game and you were never really sure.

“You were the one who was singing about stealing kisses in Central Park. What did you think of that? Misdemeanor, grand theft?”

Mac dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket and his shoulders seemed to slump. Danny wanted to see relaxation, but it was probably disappointment. He’d read the signals wrong and this was another giant screw-up.

Suddenly, Danny felt two strong hands clamping down on his shoulders, pulling him back into the kiss. The frames of his glasses were being jammed into this skin.Armed robbery, with aggravating circumstances. Mac’s tongue forced its way into his mouth.That must be what he meant by “soul to soul". It was a good thing he couldn’t speak because the only that would have come out was “fuck, yeah. What the hell took you so long?” One of Mac’s hands retook its position at that same spot on his neck, gently stroking. The shivers Mac was able to elicit distracted him until he realized that fingers were on his abdomen, tracing the “V” of his muscles. There was enough contact between his body and Mac’s for Danny know he wasn’t alone in his frustration.

He practically had to scrape Mac’s tongue with his teeth to break contact.

“Not here. Wouldn’t want to attract attention from the vice boys.”

Mac was finally sweating and hair had fallen over his forehead. Score one for Staten Island. He watched the older man look around, trying to collect himself.

“Did you have a plan, Detective?” Mac’s voice had gone cold again.

“I was gonna fake a call from the Ritz Carlton like they had a D.B. over there for us, but I doubt I can fool you twice in one night.”

“Or a lifetime.”

Mac had pulled himself together enough to walk back down the hill and towards the closest departure point from the park itself. Somehow the search had brought them to seventy-second Street, near Strawberry Fields.

“Ritz Carlton’s that way,” Danny said indicating the south side of the park, wondering if Mac was pushing him away again.

“And a cab’s faster than walking.”

“You’re a genius.”

The ride didn’t give them much time to talk, but Danny didn’t like the way Mac was sitting as far away from him as possible, clearly worrying something over in his mind, such as the impropriety of screwing an employee, even if he had to suspect the employee had had been interested since the day they met and was convinced that the boss felt the same chemistry he did. Or that fact that both he and said employee were men and the NYPD could make their lives a living hell for that fact alone if word ever got out.

In the lobby, a security guard gave them the once-over and Danny talked to the front desk, verifying that Shauna had come through and a key was waiting.

Luxury suite. He was going to owe Shauna and her crazy friend for the rest of his life. They had champagne on ice and chocolate strawberries on the counter. Danny’s erection hadn’t given an inch on the ride over, so naturally now was the time for a chat about his state of mind.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Me? It ain’t just me Mac. Have you looked around lately? Besides just going bug-eyed every time Don walks into the lab, I mean.”

“You’re saying there’s something wrong with the team?”

“You really wanna know?” Danny demanded, starting to pace. He found the air conditioning controls and turned them off, leaving only the fan. He’d been carrying the memory of Mac’s upper lip, beaded in sweat all day. He wanted to see it again. Taste it this time.

“You’re probably the only one with the guts to tell me.”

Danny nervously picked some chocolate off a strawberry.

“It’s you, Mac. You gotta let go. Stop worrying so damn much. It was a lousy couple a months, especially right there at the end, but everybody made it. Flack is fine. Stella’s OK. But we’re all…you’re just such…no one can breathe.”

“You think I’m a tight ass?” Mac demanded

That was what Danny was thinking all right, as well as the last thing on earth he wanted to think, because thinking of Mac’s tight ass…

“You need to relax a little, that’s for sure.”

He ate the bits of chocolate off his finger.

“You think this is what I need?” Danny wasn’t sure if Mac was more offended by the setting or the offer itself.

“Honestly, Mac? I don’t know what you need anymore.”

“But you need…you want…this.”

“Yeah, this is what I want and from the way you kissed me out there I don’t think it would be all that horrible for you either. We got the room till midnight. We can either see if the bed works or we can watch the Mets get their asses kicked again.”

Danny didn’t much like champagne, but there it was and it gave him something to do instead of beating himself up for waiting. He should have just done it right there in the park. Vice were a bunch of schmucks anyway.

The suite was twice the size of his apartment and considerably cleaner. You could move a family of three into the bathroom. He laid his glasses next to the marble sink before washing his face, splashing water on the back of his neck as well. When he looked into the mirror again, Mac had joined him.

“A little privacy, please,” he joked.

“One night here is more than twice your weekly salary.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So, who’s paying for this?”

“I got a friend who works for a travel agency. They put a lot of big shots and movie people in here. I had her pull a favor.”

“And what are you doing for her?”

Danny squinted, not sure what Mac was getting at.

“You think I’m fixing tickets or something? Or fixing her? Trust me. It’s nothing like that. I want to compromise you, not the department.”

His erection was getting almost as painful as dealing with Mac’s doubts.

“I can’t promise you anything.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“It’s been…”

“Yeah. I know. That’s why we’re here. And I can’t wait much longer.”

He unsnapped his jeans and lowered the zipper, before pushing down his Jockeys. He couldn’t restrain a sigh of relief as his dick was finally freed from the confines of the tight fabric. He definitely had Mac’s attention and he let it stay there long enough to make the point.

“That’s what you do to me. It’s late, it’s hot, I’m tired and I want you so bad it’s killing me. I don’t need promises and I sure as hell don’t want to make you any more worried than you already are.” He was getting tired of banging his head into the brick wall. It hurt to think he’d come this far, exposed himself literally as well as emotionally. Defenses and anger started welling up. “If this ain’t gonna happen, let me go jerk off in the shower and I’ll see ya back at the…what?”

Mac wasn’t even listening to his speech. He was staring, but not at Danny’s cock, which was begging for more than just exposure. Danny followed Mac’s eyes to his right arm.
He’d had the tat so long, he barely thought about it, but Mac had only seen him without sleeves a few times. He turned his body slightly offering a better view and the implicit offer to touch. Roughened fingers traced the curves of the pattern, and Danny felt his shoulder twitch involuntarily at the contact. Mac’s other hand drifted downward deliberately ignoring his straining hard-on, in favor of the striations of his stomach muscles.

“Mac…please…” Now that Mac had finally made some kind of move, he needed him to…well this was supposed to be Mac’s treat, not his. If the guy wanted to drive him nuts, by pressing his thumb into the crevice of Danny’s pelvic bone, who was he to complain?
Mac’s hands were slow and sure as they found individual erogenous zones on Danny’s body, including some he didn’t know he had, except for the most obvious one. Danny reached down to give himself a re-assuring squeeze, but Mac batted his hand away.

“Uh uh.” he said, almost conversationally, but with just enough threat to send shocks through Danny’s body up to the roots of his hair. “All mine.”

“You’re killin’ me here.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Please. No. I mean…don’t…please.”

Danny closed his eyes, unwilling to watch Mac walk away from him again, although the immediate absence of the hands was worse than the teasing had been.

“Go check out that bed. I’ll be right there.”

“OK,” he said numbly, almost afraid to believe it was actually going to happen.

“You better take this.”

Mac had picked up the tube of body lotion situated with the shampoo, conditioner and mouthwash next to the sink.

Danny’s clothes didn’t make it from the bathroom to the bed, although he had just enough brainpower left to retrieve a condom from his wallet. It was all he could do to keep his hands off his dick at that point, but Mac had made his ownership clear and Danny had no desire to argue the point. All he wanted was to finally have this thing between them resolved, hopefully to the satisfaction of both. He vaguely remembered his earlier justification that he was doing this for the whole team. That’s me. Saint Messer.

He’d thought Mac might take off his jacket before coming out of the bathroom; maybe his shirt. He never imagined that the former Marine would approach the bed with nothing on but one of the Ritz Carlton’s towels tied around his waist, or that he’d drop it a few feet from the bed after ascertaining that Danny was there, naked himself

Danny’s mouth opened, but words were lost in the lack of breath that overtook him at the sight. Mac in the nude was everything he’d imagined from the time he realized he wanted the man as more than a leader and mentor.

Look now. You might not get another chance. He ignored the doubts in his mind, but took advantage of the chance to stare at what had been hidden in those suits.

The doubts were finally dispelled as soon as Mac joined Danny on the bed and suddenly, finally Mac was on top of him, skin against skin, crushing his mouth with more need than finesse. Danny surrendered gratefully to the passion he’d always sensed behind Mac’s tightly controlled façade. He tried to raise his hips, but found himself pressed into the bed and held firmly at the wrists. He felt seared by the heat of Mac’s hands wherever they touched him; not that Mac needed to leave marks to own him, body and soul.

He heard Mac groan somewhere in the vicinity of his neck, felt the full weight of Mac’s body on top of him, and realized that Mac’s hands had moved to his ass and fingers were already spreading him and delving inside.

Danny had access to the lotion, but didn’t mind the roughness of Mac’s fingers. There was plenty of sweat to go around. Mac had taken complete control and rolled them smoothly onto their sides, giving himself better access and taking advantage of it. Their mouths were together again. Danny could taste bitter coffee and smell the last trace of the morning’s aftershave. There was finally a hint of stubble on the other man’s skin. Danny stored memories for the day he might need them, depending on how quickly Mac would need to run away from the reality of what was happening right now.

Right now he was teasing Danny’s crack, finding new ways to drive him crazy, without ever giving him what he needed. Their whole relationship, Danny thought, pushing back against Mac’s hands. He was going to go off right there, without even…and then he felt the first fingers and it was everything he could do to hold it together. He dug nails into the smooth flesh of Mac’s shoulders.

“You’ve got a condom?”

“Right here.”

“Very good, detective,” Now he was going to get hard every time Mac used his professional title, because he’d be thinking of exactly how it sounded at this moment, like a deliciously dirty word.

He tossed over the lotion as well. If there was anything hotter than the sight of Mac Taylor, naked, lying on his side, sheathing himself and then slicking up with a tube of fancy hotel lotion, Danny couldn’t think of it. It was all perfect. The soft sheets, the steamy room, and Mac, looking him in the eye, not running away from what ever he found there, but accepting it.

“You ready?”

Ready? Ready since the kiss in the park. Since the hug outside the hospital. Ready for too goddamn long.

He tried to turn over, thinking Mac would want him on his stomach, but Mac had other ideas, such as lying on his own back, legs spread wide. Danny felt himself tightening in anticipation, which wasn’t a good thing. He caught a lewd grin on Mac’s usually unreadable face.

“You invite me here and expect me to do all the work? Come on, detective. Show some initiative. I want to see your face.”

“You’re the boss.”

Danny positioned himself carefully over Mac’s cock, telling himself to relax, remembering the fingers that had already prepared him, and the goop covering the condom and how long he’d been waiting for this, and the look on Mac’s face. He still cried out with a mixture of pain and shock. “Jesus, mother-fuckin’ Christ.”

“You OK?”

Was that even a real question?

“Yeah, peachy-keen,” he managed to gasp, fists clenching as he slid down, inch by inch, until completely filled.

“So good, Danny. You feel so good. I always…”

Danny was trembling with the fullness of Mac’s cock inside him, stretching, blazing, tantalizing, but what was he saying…”

“Always…you always what?”

“I always knew…I’ve wanted to… for.” Danny clenched, drawing a groan from his (finally, if just for now) lover. “For so long.”

“And you’ve been putting me through all this crap…because?”

“You know why.”

Danny knew why. There were still a dozen or more good reasons they shouldn’t do this and he only had the next few minutes to prove that none of them were as good as this felt. He started riding Mac, raising himself back up, slowly until he was almost empty, and then sinking down again. On the next stroke, Mac took control of the tempo and started moving Danny up and down roughly, owning his ass, the way he’d already taken possession of his mouth and cock.

The pain faded into a crowd of other feelings, most strongly the relief that Mac wanted him. Danny managed to keep his eyes open and the twist of anguish and release at the moment Mac exploded calling out Danny’s name would last in his mind longer than any marks Mac might leave on his body.

He didn’t want to move while he could stay connected and watching the rare sight of Mac looking totally relaxed. Unfortunately his legs had other ideas and there was no way to stay in that position one minute more.

Pulling away brought the pain back into sharp focus. He still hadn’t come and his body throbbed with frustration. Now that Mac was looking like he could melt into the 600 thread count sheets, maybe he could just reach down and…

“Did I say you could do that?”

“Hey, Mac. Nice to see you again. Wasn’t sure you were still paying attention.”

Mac didn’t answer, leaving Danny at a loss for words or actions. He watched Mac deal crudely with the condom, before moving toward Danny’s crotch. He could barely breathe, afraid it wasn’t really going to happen, that Mac wasn’t finally touching him with a grip so firm it might have been harsh, if it weren’t what Danny so desperately wanted. After a few rough strokes, Danny had his eyes tightly closed, nails digging into the soft centers of his palms. The anticipation of coming into Mac’s hand surged through his body. When the hand disappeared he grunted in absolute frustration.

“Mac, please…ahhhhh.”

Warm. Wet. Mac’s mouth, covering his prick. Too much for Danny’s mind to absorb. It went off duty leaving his body on its own. Things didn’t last long after that. Mac’s lips barely had time to say hello before Danny’s whole body spasmed, trembling, a whole day's worth of pent up desire exploding against Mac’s tongue. Danny vaguely knew he was calling out, thought he might actually be crying and didn’t give a shit. He’d been waiting too long and was going to let this take as long as it took and say whatever came out of his mouth. He remembered that he was in Mac’s mouth and it sent another wave of pleasure through his body.

He wasn’t sure how they ended up lying together, not in each other’s arms, but at least not on opposite sides of the football field sized bed. Close enough for him to look over at Mac’s face, see the small dots of sweat on his upper lip and lean over to lick away his prize.

The phone broke into whatever post-sex dreams his mind had managed to formulate. He had no idea what they were, but there didn’t seem to be any exploding buildings or bloody co-workers and that was good enough for now. The phone was next to the side of the bed where Mac had been. Shauna’s friend at the front desk was calling to remind him that they had to be out in another hour, so that house-keeping could get it ready for the hot-shot who was flying in from LA on the red-eye. He got out of bed, to find the breadcrumb trail of clothes he’d dropped between the bathroom and the bed. He tried to read his pager, but it was hard to make out anything, considering he’d left his glasses on the sink.

He opened the bathroom door and walked into a steam room. Mac was taking a shower. Danny considered joining him, but wasn’t sure if what had happened tonight pushed the boundary line that far. Things had changed, but he wouldn’t know what or how much until he had a chance to resume his surveillance at work.

He picked up his glasses and used his shirt to wipe off the mist. He checked the pager and called in. It wasn’t good news. In the course of the search for the missing kid, a couple of stoners had found some body parts up by the reservoir. Stella had done the bag and tag already and the stuff was waiting for them at the lab. If Mac didn’t come out of there soon, Danny was just going to have to take one more for the team and go in after him. Before he could even try tapping on the opaque shower door, he heard Mac’s “singing” voice again. This time less tentative. The dismembered body could wait.

“The city’s glamour can never spoil, the dreams of a boy and goil. We’ll turn Manhattan into an isle of joy.”

Tags: csi-ny, danny messer, mac/danny, nc17

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  • Shetland!

    Jimmy/Duncan I need to start reading fic immediately. I need to *not* start considering Yuletide possibilities. Done is done. (We started Hinterlands…

  • Yuletide 2019

    Probably my last one, unless my work schedule and priorities change drastically. Thanks to all my writers, recipients, betas and hand-holders.…

  • Self-care and self-destruction

    Private yoga lesson with my favorite teacher-CHECK! Massage that I've been promising myself since hubby broke his arm-CHECK And now I'm set up at a…