Under Every Star

a Without a Trace story

by dirty diana

dirtydiana78@hotmail.com

Birthday story for Liss. 


Danny came over after work, which meant nearly ten because they were working on another brutal case. He brought Chinese takeout.

"You get the drinks," Martin said, "and I'll get the plates."

"The food came in these nifty little containers," Danny told him. "What do we need plates for?"

Martin flashed him a look, and Danny grinned. Every object in Martin's apartment had a rule attached to it. Danny found that strangely relaxing, so very Martin. He could get used to it. If he stopped to think about it, he knew, he'd probably find that he was already used to it.

Danny pulled two cans out of the refrigerator, one Guinness and one root beer. He sat down at the immaculate clean counter, watching Martin set two places.

"Tough case," Danny said. The can opened under his fingers with a popping sound.

"Yeah," Martin said flatly, which meant that he wasn't going to talk about it. Each case changed him, marked him, wore him down. And Martin hid it, but not nearly as well as he thought he did. He was like a kid sometimes, Danny thought, with no defenses.

They were both hungry, and more than a little tired. They ate dinner in silence, but not an uncomfortable one, talking without talking at all.

They got from the kitchen to the bedroom pretty quickly, touching and kissing as they went. This surprised Danny every time, that Martin could be such an moron at the office and so ready for it when they were alone, like two completely different people.

Martin's mouth was warm, tasting of peppermint and fluoride, because Danny had made him brush out the taste of the beer. They fell gently onto Martin's king-size bed. Danny's kisses were reckless and urgent, as his fingers pulled at Martin's dark blue necktie, at the buttons of his crisply starched shirt.

He hadn't really noticed before that he had never Martin seen completely naked. They were always only half-undressed, always in a hurry. But tonight Martin's hands covered his, inside his unbuttoned shirt, and said, "Wait."

"Hey," Danny said, "what's the matter?"

"I want to suck your cock," Martin answered lightly against his ear. 

"Jesus." A light shiver ripped through him. "They teach you to talk like that at the country club?"

Martin grinned and kissed him. Danny let it go, kissing him back, as Martin's steady hands unfastened his belt.


"Can I take a shower?" He still asked. Martin had never told him that he didn't have to.

"Can you not get water all over the bathroom floor this time?" Martin asked him.

Danny just grinned and winked as he pulled himself out of the sheets and Martin's warm hands.

"And don't use all the hot water."

"When did I ever do that?"

"Last time," Martin said easily, rolling onto his side. "You take showers like a girl."

Danny smiled again, winking as he closed the bathroom door behind him. He started the shower, hard darts of water hitting the white enamel of the bathtub and rising off again as thick clouds of steam. Martin's bathroom was tidy and clean. The supplies were minimal, unscented soap and two-in-one shampoo conditioner. Danny made a mental note to bring over some real shampoo next time, something that actually smelled good, and then smiled as he pictured Martin's reaction.

Danny came out of the bathroom twenty-five minutes later, damp and wrapped in just a towel. Martin was sitting on the bed, naked. He had turned on the television, and flipped on the evening news. He listened for a few moments and recognised the story as the case that they were working on, white-faced mother pleading for her son's return.

Martin didn't hear Danny enter. He'd been changing and then been distracted, his change of clothes still folded beside him on the bed.

He jumped only slightly when Danny climbed onto the bed beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey," Danny whispered.

Martin froze, stone and ice. Danny pretended not to notice, his hands moving across Martin's smooth freckled back. Across the ridge of both shoulder blades, the skin was swollen and risen, and there Danny touched him gingerly.

"Is this what you're so embarrassed about?" he asked. "This is hardly anything. You should take a look at me, I've got this big ugly scar on my side. From when I was a kid." He said this even though he knew that Martin knew, that Martin had drawn his wet tongue across it.

"Don't." Martin tried to pull away.

Danny restrained him with one easy hand on Martin's skin. His other hand caressed the twisted uneven lines of Martin's upper back with the edge of his thumb. Lightly, with barely any pressure.

"Danny," Martin said, his voice tight."

"Relax. I just want to see." Gently his hand stroked the skin, a smooth up and down motion.

"Danny," Martin said, sounding choked and desperate. "I..."

The wings unfolded in an instant, with a cool avalanche of air. Danny ducked just in time to avoid the full rushing impact, instead feeling just a sweep of colourless softness across his bare arm.

By the time he looked up again, Martin had gotten up and walked across the room to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, and leaving Danny alone on the bed.

"Fuck," he muttered, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair. He had messed it up already. Everything with Martin was complicated, a whole different ballgame. 

He got off the bed and walked across the room. Then he stood outside the bathroom door, waiting.

Martin emerged a few moments later. The wings disappeared, and his face was pale.

"Hey," Danny said gently.

Martin wouldn't look at him. 

Danny wouldn't get out of his way. "I want to see," he said simply.

Martin stared at him a moment, then nodded once. He turned and pressed both hands against the wall, every muscle in his body drawing a tight line of defeat and acceptance. Remembering, Danny moved back.

It happened in the same way, a whoosh and a flash of motion and light. All Martin's muscles clenched and then released, as if fighting something.

"Hey." Hesitantly Danny's hand hovered over him, absorbing the light dull heat that rose from his wings. "Did that hurt? It looked like it hurt. You didn't tell me that."

"Of course it hurt," Martin told him between short harsh breaths.

"Jesus. I'm sorry."

Up close, Danny could see that the feathers weren't truly white, as they had seemed, but a shimmer blue-grey that melted and changed with the light. His hand moved gently across the span of the wings, exploring. A small gasp escaped the back of Martin's throat. 

"Hey." Danny allowed himself a slight smile. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me nothing. I heard that. That feel good?" The edge of his thumb stroked the soft pattern of feathers, slightly rougher now, ruffling them across the grain. The sound was unmistakable this time, Martin groaning gently against the wall.

Danny decided to try something else, bending his head and extending his tongue. The soft fibres tasted bitter against his mouth, like lemon and salt. Danny exhaled delicate breaths, watching the feathers quiver and vibrate.

Martin let out a sharp moan of surprise.

"I don't know which is more surprising, that my boyfriend has wings, or that my boyfriend is kind of a slut."

All Martin said was, "Boyfriend?"

Danny didn't answer that, with his fingers walking the knots of Martin's spine, and his mouth tracking the curve of feathers and skin. "You like that. You want more?"

Martin swallowed the pleasure down, and nodded wordlessly.

Danny leaned in closer, to whisper the words against Martin's ear. He pressed himself against Martin's nude body, half-hard cock rubbing the cleft of Martin's ass. "Then get on your knees."

Martin turned around, using Danny's hips for balance as he lowered against the floor. The towel dropped with one tug. In one simple motion, Martin claimed Danny's cock in his mouth.

Danny groaned as Martin's hot tongue slid down the length of his cock and back again, leaving a wet trail of want. Danny tangled one hand in Danny's hair, the other gently caressing the soft downy ridges underneath his fingers.

The wings curled slightly around the back of Martin's shoulders in response. He was moaning, humming slightly in the back of his throat, fingers clutching at the back of Danny's thighs.

"Yeah." Danny groaned, bracing himself with one arm against the wall. "That's it." He thrust gently into silky wet heat, over and over, watching Martin suck him hungrily, like he had never tasted anything else. Danny came with a shudder and gasp inside Martin's mouth.

Martin stood up, pink tongue moving across moist lips. He was trembling.

"Hey." Danny's fingers stroked the hollow of his chest and felt Martin's heart pounding. "You okay?"

Martin nodded. Danny took him in his hand, making circles with his palm. Just a few quick strokes, and Martin spilled hot across Danny's belly.

He closed his eyes, still shaking. "I can't...I need to..." Abruptly Martin inhaled, gripping tightly to Danny's arm for balance, fingers marking flesh. The wings folded themselves against Martin, returning inside him. There was a dull, horrible crunching sound of bone and muscle and something unidentifiable; Danny hadn't noticed that before.

"You okay?" he asked again.

This time Martin shook his head, dimly. "No."

"Come back to bed."

Danny led him there, and tucked him underneath the covers. Then he got in with him, laying his body close. Martin was still shaking, cold to touch as if all his blood was flowing from his veins.

"Always?" Danny asked him.

"No. They..." Martin stumbled, the words like stones in his mouth. "When I was thirteen."

"Jesus. You must have been a mess."

"Yeah."

"Who else knows?"

"My ex. My mother. My father. He said...he said he always knew. That there was something wrong with me."

"Bastard," Danny said, meaning it.

Martin managed a low, weak chuckle. "He wasn't wrong."

"Martin. There's nothing wrong with you. I mean other than you being a kind of a pain in the ass."

Martin almost laughed. "Danny..."

"I'm not going to tell anyone," he says, and feels the sharp rush of warm breath against his chest, as Martin exhales.

"I know."

"But you were going to ask me anyway."

"Yeah. Also..."

"What?"

"If you're freaked out. If you want to go, I'll get that."

Danny raised one eyebrow at him, and tilted his crooked mouth. "You want me to go?"

"I'm just saying, if you..."

"Fitzie," Danny interrupted him. "Do you want me to leave?"

Martin breathed in sharply, like it hurt. "No."

"Then shut up."

"Okay," Martin said.

"Okay?" Danny asked with a half of a smile.

That got a reaction, just a small nod, Martin smirking back. "Okay."

"Okay." 

"Just shut up," Martin said. 

Danny didn't. But Martin didn't ask him to leave.


~fin.

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