dann_0 | PSL: Sentinel AU

"Better they kill him than you," Eliot answers instantly. He doesn't know shit about Steve, not really... or about Danny for that matter, but he knows what would have happened if he hadn't been fast enough today. Knows exactly how ugly it could have gotten, because he's been there before.

The memories, welling up unbidden, make it hard to let Danny pull even that little bit away, and his hands are suddenly trembling where they're still curled tight at Danny's hips. Because he remembers... he remembers wanting this so much. Warm skin under his hands and mouth, a solid body--taller, ganglier, so much younger--pressed against him. Feeling the pull of the incipient bond humming under his skin, sharpening his senses, settling him more solidly into himself. And knowing that even once they created the bond he'd never be able to have what he wanted so badly, because even Sentinels weren't exempt from the Army's rules on 'homosexual conduct'. But it wouldn't matter, so long as he had his Guide. He was determined that he wouldn't let it matter.

He'd had never had to find out if he could have lived that way, though, never had a chance to feel the bond lock into place... but Eliot can still smell him, when the memories (nightmares) come, warm and musky and always a little sweat-tinged. Young. So young. Still hear the irrationally reassuring thrum of his voice, the steady beat of his heart, lulling him when the world was a little too much... hear it ratcheting up in panic, his voice going high and sharp and terrified before it cut off in a scream of terror and pain. And then all he could hear was gunfire and screaming, all he could smell was blood, and all he could do to try and deal with the pain--sudden and sharp and worse than anything he'd ever thought possible--was kill.

"Boyd," he rasps, and there's something lost and desperate and absolutely heartbroken in that one word, even as Eliot's lips peel back from his teeth in rage and his eyes, focused somewhere in the middle distance, seem to look into some horror far beyond this small, quiet room.

"Eliot. You're safe, I got you." When Eliot starts to tremble Danny presses close again. He can only guess what happened, but everything about how Eliot had reacted had told him he had some bad experiences. Different than Steve's and maybe worse in some ways. He seemes a lot more broken, but maybe that is because Steve and Danny had gotten time to know eachother before all of this had been pushed on them. He makes sure as much of his body is pressed against Eliot as he can, giving him that to focus on and he slides his hands up under Eliot's shirt. Skin on skin seems to help.

"I got you Eliot. It's just me here, Danny. It's just you and me. Breathe with me hm?" He takes one hand and grabs Eliot's hand to put it on his chest. "Here, feel that, think you can breathe like that for me?" Danny swallows when Eliot mentiones that name. He doesn't know who it is, but he can guess, and the tone in Eliot's voice makes his heart break. He wants to pull the man back, protect him from this hurt.

He reaches up to grab Eliot's hair, to nudge him to meet Danny's eyes. "Eliot, look at me. You're doing good. I'm not letting you go and I'm not going anywhere." He licks his lips, uncertain, he wants to kiss Eliot, to chase all of the pain and memories away, but he has no idea what that might do. Would it push Eliot further into these memories or pull him out of them? He takes a breath and looks around for a couch or a chair, somewhere he can get Eliot seated.

Edited 2017-05-04 12:33 (UTC)

The voice and scent and heartbeat are different, they don't even come close to matching his memories, but somehow they're right, and even as Eliot starts to thrum with tension, with the need to rend and tear and punish someone, anyone, for what happened to his Guide, they're irresistibly soothing. Hands on his skin, warm and sure, a voice murmuring steadily in his ear, and that scent...

He lets his head be turned, eyes starting to regain their focus, looking less like they're staring into unspeakable horrors. And when Danny licks his lips Eliot's focus sharpens like a hawk's, gaze dropping to watch almost hungrily before he presses back in with a choked sound, sucking in deep, ragged breaths against Danny's skin.

None of this is the same--Danny's too small, too solid, his scent heavier, threaded through with the metallic tang of metal and gun oil, his heartbeat slower, his voice rougher, lower--but it's right in a way Eliot recognizes bone deep, no matter how hard he's tried not to. More importantly, it's enough to push the worst of the memories back for now, to start to calm the anxiety and fear and rage and bloodlust pulsing under Eliot's skin, and to let him move when Danny urges him to.

He doesn't loosen his grip, if anything it goes tighter, the hand over Danny's heart fisting tight in his shirt even as Danny maneuvers him towards the couch. Moving this way's awkward, but Eliot manages it with surprising grace for being plastered against the smaller man like he's trying to press right into his skin, and when they reach the couch he makes no move to pull away or sit. If anything, he presses closer, mouthing at the stubbled skin beneath Danny's jaw, letting himself taste and lock down that one, last sensory input his instincts have been demanding.

Danny had been about to get Eliot to sit down when the other surprises him with that, the hungry needy kiss against his neck, and before he can stop himself he lets out a desperate little whine. Fuck he wants this, wants Eliot. He's been telling himself he can't have it because it would be taking advantage. But when Eliot's lips hits one of his more sensitive spots he can't help the way his body reacts. Heart pumping faster, blood a little hotter and slight way he gives in and offers Eliot more of his neck. His fingers dig in to Eliot's back, trembling ever so slightly. If Eliot had only had normal senses he might not have been able to tell.

But Danny knows he isn't that lucky. He knows that even if Eliot wasn't focused on him, he could be able to tell, but now there is no way he would not have. So he releases the breath he's been holding and relaxes into the touch. Letting himself feel and most importantly enjoy it. But it only lasts for a few seconds before he can't stand it anymore and he grabs Eliot's hair back enough to get him to let go of the neck so Danny can kiss him properly, a kiss full of hunger and need.

The reaction's strong enough that Eliot might have noticed even if he'd been no more than human, but with his senses dialed up as far as they'll go and focused absolutely and unwaveringly on Danny it's like being suddenly bathed in the smaller man's want and need. It's like nothing he's ever experienced, and he mouths more purposefully at Danny's skin, actively trying to wring responses from him now, to hear that desperate whine again, to see what other sounds he can get him to make.

He almost doesn't let Danny lever his head up, too focused on the way he can feel Danny's pulse beneath his lips and tongue as he sucks a mark into his skin, and when he does his eyes are unfocused in a completely different way. His pupils are blown so wide the blue of his eyes is just a narrow ring circling blackness, and when Danny pulls him in for a kiss he goes eagerly, lifting both hands to frame Danny's face as he licks hotly into his mouth with a low groan of satisfaction. It's like coming home.

Danny squirms under Eliot's mouth, definitely making that whine again and more. He lets Eliot grab his face and claim him, letting the Sentinel lead. His own tongue plays with Eliot's, exploring and teasing. He even tries to suck, testing the reaction. His hands tug and Eliot's clothes before they go for his belt. He does't care that they are in the middle of the living room. He needs to feel Eliot's skin against his.

Eventually he comes up for air, pulling back from the kiss enough to breathlessly moan against Eliot's neck. "Oh fuck Eliot.." After Eliot's belt his hands move to his own clothes and he works on shedding them as best he can without having to put any more distance between them. "Fuck I need you." Not that he has to say that. Everything about his bodylanguage screams that right now. The way he breathes, smells and the way his eyes dart over Eliot whenever he gets a chance.

Eliot's always so careful with this, dialing his senses back to almost human so he doesn't get overwhelmed by the intensity. And that's just with normal humans, where he doesn't have anything to worry about but his own tendency to get lost in the hot slide of skin, the scent of want and need, the sound of a racing heart with nothing more behind it than simple human lust. He's blown wide open right now, every sense hyperfocused on Danny, on trip-hammer beat of his heart, the slick-hot slide of his tongue, the heat of his hands and the catch of his breath and the thick, musky scent of his want that thrills along his nerves and lights him up from the inside the way nothing ever has before.

He couldn't hold back right now even if he wanted to... fortunately there's nothing he wants less than to give up even a fraction of this. His own breath hitches on something like a growl as Danny's hands push at his clothes, fumble his belt open, and he reciprocates immediately by letting go of Danny's face so he can pull at his shirt. The buttons are an inconvenience he doesn't waste so much as a moment's thought on, just grabbing the fabric and tugging sharply so they pop free, letting him push Danny's dress shirt open so he can get hold of his undershirt and yank it up, get his hands on skin--hot and smooth except where it's coarse with hair and fucking perfect--and he bites at Danny's lips with a low, rumbling moan.

He's far past the ability to verbalize anything, too wound up and hyperfocused on Danny, on every reaction no matter how minute, but he understands enough to respond. To push a hand down the back of Danny's slacks and jerk him close, grind up against him with a gasp at the pressure and friction even through so many layers of clothes. It's not anywhere near enough, though, and he fumbles to follow Danny's lead, pushing and tugging at clothes to get them out of the way, to feel as much skin as possible as quickly as possible.

One of Danny's belt loops is a casualty, and Eliot manages to tear the neck of his own t-shirt in his hurry to get it off, but every inch of skin bared settles something deeper in him. Lets him separate this from everything that's ever gone before. When he finally pushes Danny's slacks and shorts out of the way he sets both hands at the smaller man's hips and pulls him in so they're absolutely flush, cocks trapped in the slick heat between their bodies as he rocks against Danny. He still can't manage words, but he ducks his head to find the mark he'd sucked into his skin already and darkens it a little further. His.

Danny's breath catches when Eliot tears the shirt of him and he looks down with a bit of a smile, later he might make a comment, but he right now he doesn't want to waste breath on that. He runs his hands over Eliot's skin. Feeling the muscles and the strength. He feels nothing but safe right now, he trusts Eliot. He knows it is odd to trust someone after having met them twice but he does. It's the same sort of trust he has for Steve.

Then Eliot pulls him close, nothing but warm skin against Danny's own and Danny's thoughts are cut short. It is hard to focus on anything but the way he feels, the way his skin tingles comfortably where it touches Eliot's the warmth of him and oh good god the way his cock slides against Danny's skin. He moans, his nails dragging along Eliot's spine. He rolls his hips. That alone causes a whimper from him. Desperate again. But he doesn't stop, fuck no. He just wants more, more of the release he already now can feel building.

It's not what Eliot wants, it's not enough, but it's going to have to be for now, because he doesn't have enough higher brain function left to manage anything more complicated right now... or the self-control required to wait long enough to manage it. Right now he just needs heat and friction and the scent of Danny's arousal so thick on the air it's the only thing he can smell, the sound of his little whimpering moans as Eliot rocks desperately against him.

He's gripping Danny's hips so tight now it's almost certain to bruise, but he's too far gone to notice and even if he did he'd just be glad of the marks he's leaving on him. It's still... it's... christ... it's not enough. He needs something more, but he's too overwhelmed to figure out what and he almost growls as he reaches around to get a handful of Danny's ass and pull him even closer.

The growl sends a shiver of delight down Danny's spine. The hands gripping his hips and now his ass is painful but in a way that only feels good. He's long known he likes it a little rougher than most, he likes sex that leaves marks he can feel for days. He likes having his limits pushed. And he is starting to suspect Eliot likes that too. Or at least likes leaving those marks.

He leans in tongue running over Eliot's shoulder before he bites. Hard enough to hurt but still only testing Eliot's limits. He tries to slide a hand between them, to wrap around Eliot's cock. Then he licks his lips and glances up as he starts to kneel. He's not sure the Sentinel is going to let him, it does mean loosing skin contact. But he wants to taste the guy, wants to hear him moan Danny's name.

The fact Danny's so enthusiastically on board with everything Eliot's done so far is only serving to ramp up his arousal, and his possessiveness. He's so completely focused on the other man, on his scent, on every stuttering beat of his heart, every hitch of his breath and sound of pleasure, that there's no way he could miss it if Danny were anything other than completely, enthusiastically committed to what they're doing.

The bite... christ, he jerks almost convulsively against Danny, fingers digging bruises into his skin as the shock of it burns along his nerves. It feels almost like there's a direct line from Danny's mouth to his cock, and Eliot doesn't even try to bite back a whine as he tips his head to the side, inviting more. He wants, needs, to be marked just as badly as he needs to mark Danny. Needs to be claimed in a way that might horrify him if he were capable of thinking clearly.

He's not capable of thinking about much of anything other than how badly he needs this right now, though. Heat and skin and friction and a kind of deep, visceral need that somehow makes him feel more solidly connected and grounded right now than he ever has in his life. He can barely make himself give Danny the room to work a hand between them, but when he does he jerks into his grip with a growl, grip on his ass tightening to hold him close.

"No," he rasps, the one word he's managed to form since this started, and shifts one hand to thread through Danny's short hair, tipping his head back with the grip so that he can catch his lips again in an almost searing kiss. He knows what Danny wants to do, and christ he wants to feel the heat of Danny's mouth, wants to be able to look down and seem his lips stretched around him, but he wants to hold him and taste him and feel him pressed flush against him even more, at least right now.

"No," he repeats, just to make sure he's been clear enough as he bites at Danny's bottom lip, then the angle of his jaw as he thrusts against him in an increasingly urgent rhythm.

Danny kisses him back, just as eagerly as he leans against Eliot. He lets Eliot take control, claim him. The pull on his hair has him arching offering his neck. His hand is still working. No longer simply teasing but rather a proper handjob. The time for teasing and exploring will come later. His own cock is so hard it hurts, neglected for now and he squirms against Eliot, little desperate thrusts of his own.

Then he shifts and moves so he can wrap his hand around both their cocks at once. It is a little awkward but fuck the feeling of Eliot's hot cock against his own is worth it. He groans with need and tries to move in to bite at Eliot's neck again, to mark him properly. He is Danny's now and Danny isn't going to let him go.

Eliot doesn't even try to resist the invitation of Danny's bared throat, just slides his mouth down over the big tendon straining along the side of his neck and then a fraction in, until he can feel Danny's pulse rabbiting against his tongue where it's pressed to his skin. He groans, deep in his chest, as he sets his teeth to the spot and bites down, just hard enough to leave the imprints of his teeth in skin, then sucks hard to draw a bright bloom of blood to the surface of Danny's skin in a mark that almost mirrors the first.

He loosens his grip on Danny's hair--just a little--when it becomes clear the other man's not going to try and slide to his knees, and he's just tipping his own head to the side in offering when Danny shifts his grip to wrap around both of them. It knocks the breath right out of Eliot and he jerks gracelessly into the grip, his groan sounding almost more like a growl as he feels the velvet slide of their cocks together. It's a little dry, but at the rate he's leaking pre-come it won't stay that way for long and it's, christ, it's perfect, he just wishes he had a wall to shove Danny against for leverage as he rocks into the sweet friction and heat and rockets towards the edge.

Danny groans as Eliot marks him, but it is of need rather than in protest. He leans in to leave a mark of his own, a nice red bruise that he knows is going to stay. He's left more than enough of them when he was younger. He then leaves a trail of little bites down towards one of Eliot's nipples. He grins a little before he nips at it, testing Eliot's pain tolerance in one of the more sensitive spots.

He isn't far behind Eliot towards the edge and with both of them leaking it isn't long before his hand is plenty slick enough for a good handjob. He moves his hand, a rough and fast pace as his other arm is wrapped around Eliot, holding on. He moans, and then gives another needy whimper as he tenses. It isn't long now.

Eliot curls down a little over Danny, groaning in pleasure at the press of teeth against sensitive skin. It won't leave a mark, but Danny's already taken care of that higher up on his neck, the warmth of the fresh bruise something Eliot can feel even now. It's just one more sensory input adding to the almost overwhelming pulse of want and need thrumming through him, one more thread tying him inescapably to this almost stranger who already feels more familiar--more safe and solid and his--than almost anything or anyone ever has.

He's reached the point where he can't focus past anything beyond the need to chase his release, and every touch, every sound Danny makes is just pushing him there faster. The almost brutal drag of Danny's hand over their cocks, the heat of his mouth against his skin, the thick scent of his arousal and the way his body tenses against Eliot's as he rockets towards that edge almost in sync with Eliot. It's that last whimper more than anything that pushes Eliot over the edge, tensing against him with an almost tearing moan as he comes, pulsing hot over Danny's hand and cock and belly, fingers clenching tight at his ass and in his hair as he shudders with the force of it.

That's about what it takes for Danny too and a few strokes after he follows Eliot over the edge. He shudders, clinging to Eliot with everything he got as he bite the Sentinel to muffle the moan. His own cum mingles with Eliot's making a mess out of both of them, but he does not mind. For a long moment he just leans against Eliot and breathes, little shudders echoing though his body.

Finally he gets his mind together enough to place a hand on Eliot's chest and push him down towards the couch. Provided Eliot obeys, Danny climbs into his lap, straddling him and kisses him hard. "Fuck you feel good."

Eliot nuzzles into Danny's neck, breathing heavily and lapping gently at the skin over his mark as he shudders through the aftershocks. Danny's weight against him is perfect, solid and grounding, and the way their scents have mingled and merged is intoxicating, enough so that Eliot has to draw back for a moment to suck in a handful of deep, open-mouthed breaths, to taste them at the back of his tongue.

He lets himself be pushed down onto the couch without protest, though he doesn't give Danny any real choice about following him down, humming in pleasure as Danny settles into his lap. He tips his head back to meet the kiss, hands slipping around to cradle Danny's ass, to seek out the faint warmth of finger-shaped bruises coming up on his skin and press lightly against them in reminder.

When Eliot draws back from the kiss again it's to look at Danny with a dark, lust-blown gaze, and he reaches for his come-streaked hand without looking away from his face. He curls his fingers unerringly around Danny's wrist and draws it up between them, and only then do his eyes slip half-shut, his expression blissed out as he drags his tongue over Danny's palm then up and between his fingers, methodically licking away every trace of their mingled come he can find.

Danny gives a little hiss as Eliot presses against the bruises. Little thrills of pain running along his skin and he loves it. He presses into the kiss more for as long as it lasts. When Eliot pulls away he meets his eyes and he is just about to open his mouth and say something when Eliot takes his hand.

Danny's transfixed as Eliot licks his hand clean. Not just getting his hand cleaned but even more importantly, Eliot's gorgeous like this. Danny had no idea the man could look so.. happy. And it is Danny's doing. He smiles, pride evident on his face. When Eliot is done he reaches out to cup Eliot's cheek and get him to meet Danny's eyes. "You're mine."

Eliot tips his head obligingly at Danny's urging and blinks lazily up at him, fucked out and relaxed as he listens to Danny's heart rate start to slow and his breathing even out, breathes in their mingled scents and traces the marks he's left on the Guide by memory and feel. Happy might not be the exact right word for it, but for the moment at least he's content and grounded and absolutely blissfully present in the moment... and then Danny claims him and the words ping some dark corner of his mind that sits up and takes notice as a chill runs down his spine.

"Not-" He has to pause for a moment, words still slipping away from him in the torrent of sensory input, but he needs to say this and his eyes sharpen and his jaw clenches even if, when he tries again, his voice is still a little slurred. "Not some thing you can own."

Danny freezes the moment Eliot reacts and he lets go of his hair and sits back a little, but he stays in Eliot's lap. "You're not a thing. I didn't mean it like that. You're my Sentinel, not something I own. You're a person. I just.. Shit I didn't mean it like that Eliot. People are not things, not sentinels, not guides, not anyone. And I don't want to own you." He looks serious, and his hands have dropped to stroking Eliot's shoulders, keeping the contact if his Sentinel needs it.

The sudden loss of contact as Danny lets go of his hair and leans away from him is disorienting, even with paranoia starting to bubble up from the depths of his fucked out, almost zoned out brain. The fact that Danny stays firmly settled in his lap is all that keeps the paranoia from doing a completely irrational shift into fear of being abandoned and Eliot clenches his hands tighter against Danny's skin to keep him from moving completely away.

It helps, once he can engage his brain enough to focus on it, that Danny's reaction was immediate and emphatic, that there's no hint of a lie in his scent of his heartbeat, that his hands are smoothing over Eliot's skin, soothing and grounding.

He probably shouldn't believe it this easily, even with his senses as confirmation. Probably shouldn't have ever let himself get anywhere near the man, certainly shouldn't have let this happen, but knowing that, in some still vaguely rational part of his brain, doesn't stop him from leaning forward to chase Danny's lips, from sliding his hands up to his shoulders so he can pull him in flush against him again with a ragged sigh at the warmth and solidity and rightness of him.

He can feel the incipient bond tugging at him, demanding that he let it snap into place, and the only thing that keeps him on guard against it even now, with every sense straining towards the Guide in his lap, is the knowledge of exactly how completely it would destroy him if it were ever snapped.

Danny lets himself be pulled close as his hand slide back into Eliot's hair. Combing through it and gently massaging the scalp. "You're not a thing, Eliot, and I don't own you. You're my sentinel, that is all." Well, it is hardly all. Besides he isn't the only Sentinel.

He kisses Eliot again, keeping it soft and sweet and slow. It feels right being right here, in Eliot's lap. Finally he pulls back enough to lean against Eliot's shoulder, just being close. "How are you feeling? Want a doughnut or something?" Well he might have to get new ones, the bag has been sitting on the floor while the two of them have been having their fun. But he wants to check if Eliot needs something.

He usually doesn't let anyone touch his hair--has snapped a couple wrists on instinct before he had time to think through the reaction over the years--but he tips his head into Danny's hands, eyes slipping shut as his fingers slip through his hair and gently work over his scalp. It's good. Almost as good as his voice, as the words that feel like they're sinking under his skin and settling into his bones. Not a thing. Not owned or controlled. But wanted.

He lets himself sink into the kiss, nothing urgent about it anymore. It's perfect in a completely different way than before, slow and easy and warm instead of bruising and hot. It's all gently exploratory now, as they learn each other, and Eliot slides his hands slowly along Danny's shoulders and back, down his flanks and over his ass, just because he needs to touch. Needs to feel every inch of him and commit it to memory, and when Danny pulls back and leans into his shoulder Eliot nuzzles his face into his throat again, nose pressed lightly to that soft spot beneath his ear as he listens to the steady beat of Danny's heart and lets it lull him.

It takes him a moment to process the question, so focused on Danny's heartbeat that the words are just noise at first, but then he huffs without moving, breath washing warm over Danny's skin. "Donuts?" It's lazy and low and rough, not quite slurred anymore. "Fuck that, I'll make you somethin' better." If he can make himself let go--or even move--long enough to manage it, anyway.

Danny doesn't really move yet, instead he just stays that close, pressing a soft kiss to Eliot's neck. "Or we could grab lunch somewhere. I had planned to grab something after I checked out that lead so.." He hasn't eaten much yet. Eliot's breath on him warms him to the core and he is in no hurry to move. But finally he leans up, kissing a trail along Eliot's neck until they are face to face.

"Unless you feel like making lunch. If you're as good at lunch as you are with dinner I have a feeling I'll enjoy that."

Eliot shivers at the kiss, humming contentedly against Danny's skin, though he makes himself move to accommodate Danny's clear desire for eye contact as the other man works his way up his neck with small, warm kisses. The look he gives Danny is heavy-lidded and warm, and his lips twitch up in a smirk at his last words.

"Def'nitely rather feed you, sweetheart," he rasps, one hand slipping up to cup Danny's jaw, let him press a thumb to his bottom lip, still red and kiss-swollen. "That way I don't hafta worry 'bout keepin' my hands to myself."

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

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