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kathierif_ficTitle: The Only Thing I Feel
Author:kathierif_fic
Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing/character: Danny Messer/Mac Taylor
Rating: FRAO
Prompt: I’m changing into someone you don’t know (prompted bylil_jei)
Kink: au, future, angst, pain, permanent disability
Notes/Warnings: spoilers for season 6, slash, disability. Title is a line from a famous Johnny Cash song that I don't own, either.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sniff.
Word Count: 1309 words
Summary: “I’m changing,” Danny said, his voice quiet in the silence of the bedroom, quiet and unnaturally loud at the same time, “I’m changing into someone you don’t know.”
“I’m changing,” Danny said, his voice quiet in the silence of the bedroom, quiet and unnaturally loud at the same time, “I’m changing into someone you don’t know.”
He was lying perpendicular to Mac on the bed, his legs out of reach, his body propped up on one elbow.
It had been more than a year since the shooting; more than a year since Danny had lost the feeling in both legs, and the doctors that had sounded so hopeful and promising in the beginning had all started to tell Danny to accept his fate.
He would never walk again.
He’d broken up with Lindsay about six months ago, after a fight in the middle of the lab that had the glass walls shaking and Lindsay in tears and moving back to Montana with Lucy, leaving Danny completely alone until that one night when he’d ended up at a bar with Mac, and later, Mac had ended up at Danny’s place – it hadn’t been a question where they would go, since Danny’s apartment was wheelchair-friendly and Mac’s was not.
Things had developed from there, and even if it had be rough on all of them, Mac had stubbornly refused to give up on Danny, even when he found him in the bathroom, blood smeared over his legs and fingers, in anguish over the fact that he couldn’t feel his legs, not even when they were so obviously bleeding, and he would never feel them again.
Never again.
“What do you mean?” Mac asked, alarmed, and reached down, to run his fingers along Danny’s bearded cheek.
Danny managed to shrug and lifted one hand to run his fingertips over Mac’s hip. He’d developed stronger muscles in his upper body to make up for the loss of his legs, but it wasn’t enough to keep him the job of a crime scene investigator. Danny had accepted it and had taken a job as a lab tech, a job he excelled at even on the days when Mac had to talk him out of doing anything stupid. The job was one of the few things that kept Danny truly alive, and Mac knew that his life would be more than miserable if Danny lost his job.
“I don’t know, Mac,” Danny said and pulled himself up an inch, to reach the discarded bottle of lube they’d used in the morning last. “Someone else. Someone you don’t know.”
He coated his fingers meticulously with the clear gel and nudged Mac’s leg gently, until Mac shifted himself around, to give Danny the access he demanded.
Danny’s skilled fingers brushed softly over the skin of his ass, leaving slick trails of lube behind, and Mac shivered slightly in anticipation.
“You want this?” Danny asked, his voice low and his fingers pressing barely into Mac’s body. “Me fucking you? I’m going to fuck you, Mac, if you want it, I’m gonna push into you and make you feel it.”
Mac grunted and pulled his leg up even more, encouraging Danny wordlessly when he felt the intrusion of two fingers into his body.
This was one of the few ways they had sex; the few ways that they could have sex without fighting afterwards – Danny didn’t feel anything below his waist, and to his great resentment, that included his dick, too. He enjoyed sucking Mac off, sometimes, but mostly, he complained afterwards that his neck and back hurt from the awkward angle, and Mac had stopped asking for it when Danny had started to stop in the middle of sex to start a fight.
However, this was something they both could feel: Danny’s fingers deep in Mac’s ass, teasing him until he reached orgasm. Danny liked feeling the contractions of Mac’s body around his digits. There were days when it was the only thing that could pull him out of his depressions.
“I want you, Danny,” Mac said, fumbling for words and arching his spine as Danny nudged a third – or maybe it was a fourth, Mac wasn’t so sure anymore – finger into him. “You, Danny.”
They’d had this conversation countless times: shouted, whispered, stated, spelled with touches on scarred skin. It always ended with Mac trying to express that his love for the other man didn’t have anything to do with pity, and Danny trying to point out the faults in Mac’s logic.
H was damaged beyond repair.
He was loved for the other qualities he had. Qualities that had nothing to do with his legs.
The other shoe had to drop sooner or later, proving that there was nothing to love about him.
He was still alive. He was still Danny.
He was changing, away from the Danny they knew and into someone else. It had started the moment he’d realized that he couldn’t feel or move his legs. It already had cost him a wife and his child. It would cost him Mac, too. Just because he was changing, into someone he didn’t know, and someone Mac didn’t know, either.
Probably, he thought while twisting his wrist slowly, driving Mac to the brink of orgasm and holding him there, not allowing him his release, someone Mac didn’t want to know, in which case Danny’s theories would prove correct and Mac would leave him, just like everyone else had.
The thought made his heart contract painfully in his chest, until he had the feeling that the pain was preventing him from taking a deep breath and bring enough oxygen into his brain, and he quickly twisted his hand again, feeling the slick hotness of Mac’s body squeeze his fingers and letting the look on Mac’s face distract him from his thoughts.
Mac moaned, a broken, high-pitched sound, part unbearable pleasure and part pain, and Danny lowered his head to suck blindly against Mac’s skin, leaving a dark bruise on his side and distracting him from the over-sensitized feeling of his own body.
He knew perfectly well how much Mac’s body could take, and that knowledge thrilled him, again and again.
It made him feel alive.
He didn’t have control over his own body anymore, but he was able to play Mac’s like an instrument, and it gave him a sense of power he had started to crave like a drug.
He needed Mac to provide him with this drug. If Mac finally came to his senses, he thought desperately, a brief moment of clarity in the numbness of his brain; if Mac left him, he wouldn’t even have that small excuse of a lifeline to stabilize him.
Mac whimpered again, and Danny carefully balanced himself before pushing a hand underneath him and wrapping it firmly around Mac’s leaking erection.
He only needed a few strokes to bring Mac over the edge, and he gave Mac what he wanted – what he needed – before quickly bringing his hand back to himself and pressing it to the mattress, to prevent falling flat on his face. His other hand remained where it was, fingers buried deep in Mac and feeling every twitch of muscles, very shudder, spasm and contraction.
Only when Mac relaxed into the bed, boneless and worn out from the intensity of his orgasm, Danny carefully pulled them out and rested his cheek against Mac’s side.
For a long moment, they were silent, then Mac shifted slightly, and Danny’s head slipped off his side and against his stomach.
“We’re all changing,” he said softly.
“Yeah, maybe,” Danny murmured. “But not like I do.”
“Maybe not,” Mac agreed and gave him a small, but genuine smile. “You’re changing? I want to meet the new you.” He reached out and offered Danny his hand. “Mac Taylor.”
Danny stared at his hand for a moment, but then, he returned the smile.
Mac was offering him another chance.
Slowly, he took Mac’s hand and gave it a firm shake.
“Danny Messer.”
~End.
Author:
kathierif_ficFandom: CSI:NY
Pairing/character: Danny Messer/Mac Taylor
Rating: FRAO
Prompt: I’m changing into someone you don’t know (prompted by
lil_jei)Kink: au, future, angst, pain, permanent disability
Notes/Warnings: spoilers for season 6, slash, disability. Title is a line from a famous Johnny Cash song that I don't own, either.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sniff.
Word Count: 1309 words
Summary: “I’m changing,” Danny said, his voice quiet in the silence of the bedroom, quiet and unnaturally loud at the same time, “I’m changing into someone you don’t know.”
“I’m changing,” Danny said, his voice quiet in the silence of the bedroom, quiet and unnaturally loud at the same time, “I’m changing into someone you don’t know.”
He was lying perpendicular to Mac on the bed, his legs out of reach, his body propped up on one elbow.
It had been more than a year since the shooting; more than a year since Danny had lost the feeling in both legs, and the doctors that had sounded so hopeful and promising in the beginning had all started to tell Danny to accept his fate.
He would never walk again.
He’d broken up with Lindsay about six months ago, after a fight in the middle of the lab that had the glass walls shaking and Lindsay in tears and moving back to Montana with Lucy, leaving Danny completely alone until that one night when he’d ended up at a bar with Mac, and later, Mac had ended up at Danny’s place – it hadn’t been a question where they would go, since Danny’s apartment was wheelchair-friendly and Mac’s was not.
Things had developed from there, and even if it had be rough on all of them, Mac had stubbornly refused to give up on Danny, even when he found him in the bathroom, blood smeared over his legs and fingers, in anguish over the fact that he couldn’t feel his legs, not even when they were so obviously bleeding, and he would never feel them again.
Never again.
“What do you mean?” Mac asked, alarmed, and reached down, to run his fingers along Danny’s bearded cheek.
Danny managed to shrug and lifted one hand to run his fingertips over Mac’s hip. He’d developed stronger muscles in his upper body to make up for the loss of his legs, but it wasn’t enough to keep him the job of a crime scene investigator. Danny had accepted it and had taken a job as a lab tech, a job he excelled at even on the days when Mac had to talk him out of doing anything stupid. The job was one of the few things that kept Danny truly alive, and Mac knew that his life would be more than miserable if Danny lost his job.
“I don’t know, Mac,” Danny said and pulled himself up an inch, to reach the discarded bottle of lube they’d used in the morning last. “Someone else. Someone you don’t know.”
He coated his fingers meticulously with the clear gel and nudged Mac’s leg gently, until Mac shifted himself around, to give Danny the access he demanded.
Danny’s skilled fingers brushed softly over the skin of his ass, leaving slick trails of lube behind, and Mac shivered slightly in anticipation.
“You want this?” Danny asked, his voice low and his fingers pressing barely into Mac’s body. “Me fucking you? I’m going to fuck you, Mac, if you want it, I’m gonna push into you and make you feel it.”
Mac grunted and pulled his leg up even more, encouraging Danny wordlessly when he felt the intrusion of two fingers into his body.
This was one of the few ways they had sex; the few ways that they could have sex without fighting afterwards – Danny didn’t feel anything below his waist, and to his great resentment, that included his dick, too. He enjoyed sucking Mac off, sometimes, but mostly, he complained afterwards that his neck and back hurt from the awkward angle, and Mac had stopped asking for it when Danny had started to stop in the middle of sex to start a fight.
However, this was something they both could feel: Danny’s fingers deep in Mac’s ass, teasing him until he reached orgasm. Danny liked feeling the contractions of Mac’s body around his digits. There were days when it was the only thing that could pull him out of his depressions.
“I want you, Danny,” Mac said, fumbling for words and arching his spine as Danny nudged a third – or maybe it was a fourth, Mac wasn’t so sure anymore – finger into him. “You, Danny.”
They’d had this conversation countless times: shouted, whispered, stated, spelled with touches on scarred skin. It always ended with Mac trying to express that his love for the other man didn’t have anything to do with pity, and Danny trying to point out the faults in Mac’s logic.
H was damaged beyond repair.
He was loved for the other qualities he had. Qualities that had nothing to do with his legs.
The other shoe had to drop sooner or later, proving that there was nothing to love about him.
He was still alive. He was still Danny.
He was changing, away from the Danny they knew and into someone else. It had started the moment he’d realized that he couldn’t feel or move his legs. It already had cost him a wife and his child. It would cost him Mac, too. Just because he was changing, into someone he didn’t know, and someone Mac didn’t know, either.
Probably, he thought while twisting his wrist slowly, driving Mac to the brink of orgasm and holding him there, not allowing him his release, someone Mac didn’t want to know, in which case Danny’s theories would prove correct and Mac would leave him, just like everyone else had.
The thought made his heart contract painfully in his chest, until he had the feeling that the pain was preventing him from taking a deep breath and bring enough oxygen into his brain, and he quickly twisted his hand again, feeling the slick hotness of Mac’s body squeeze his fingers and letting the look on Mac’s face distract him from his thoughts.
Mac moaned, a broken, high-pitched sound, part unbearable pleasure and part pain, and Danny lowered his head to suck blindly against Mac’s skin, leaving a dark bruise on his side and distracting him from the over-sensitized feeling of his own body.
He knew perfectly well how much Mac’s body could take, and that knowledge thrilled him, again and again.
It made him feel alive.
He didn’t have control over his own body anymore, but he was able to play Mac’s like an instrument, and it gave him a sense of power he had started to crave like a drug.
He needed Mac to provide him with this drug. If Mac finally came to his senses, he thought desperately, a brief moment of clarity in the numbness of his brain; if Mac left him, he wouldn’t even have that small excuse of a lifeline to stabilize him.
Mac whimpered again, and Danny carefully balanced himself before pushing a hand underneath him and wrapping it firmly around Mac’s leaking erection.
He only needed a few strokes to bring Mac over the edge, and he gave Mac what he wanted – what he needed – before quickly bringing his hand back to himself and pressing it to the mattress, to prevent falling flat on his face. His other hand remained where it was, fingers buried deep in Mac and feeling every twitch of muscles, very shudder, spasm and contraction.
Only when Mac relaxed into the bed, boneless and worn out from the intensity of his orgasm, Danny carefully pulled them out and rested his cheek against Mac’s side.
For a long moment, they were silent, then Mac shifted slightly, and Danny’s head slipped off his side and against his stomach.
“We’re all changing,” he said softly.
“Yeah, maybe,” Danny murmured. “But not like I do.”
“Maybe not,” Mac agreed and gave him a small, but genuine smile. “You’re changing? I want to meet the new you.” He reached out and offered Danny his hand. “Mac Taylor.”
Danny stared at his hand for a moment, but then, he returned the smile.
Mac was offering him another chance.
Slowly, he took Mac’s hand and gave it a firm shake.
“Danny Messer.”
~End.
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(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-25 03:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-25 03:54 pm (UTC)