Title: Short Fic Request
Author: stellaluna_
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Mac/Danny
Summary: Written for karaokegal.
Disclaimer: None of these are mine. Characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis.

***

Danny's tattoo feels raised and rough beneath Mac's mouth, Danny's skin hot on his as he presses tight against him and traces its edges with his tongue. The power has been out since the night before, and both of them are slick with sweat; they both have the day off, but Mac keeps thinking he should call in and see if they're needed. He knows how the murder rates go up whenever the mercury reaches the breaking point, and it's been almost a full 24 hours with no air conditioning. The city has to be going crazy by now.

On the other hand, as Danny pointed out, they'd call him if anything happened that he was needed for. "Nothing else to do but fuck," he'd said, slipping one hand over Mac's chest with a leer, and they'd fallen back into bed. Now Mac is so hard he aches, but he's trying to make this last as long as possible. Afterward, maybe, they can take a nice, cool shower together.

For now, he just keeps tonguing the edges of the tattoo. Danny bucks against him, cursing softly, and Mac's fingers tangle in his chest hair. He's always meant to ask Danny about how he got the tattoo, and what it means to him, but he never has. He's half-afraid, maybe, that Danny will think it's none of his business, that he'll cross some invisible line between them if he tries to ask. Danny has never asked about Mac's tattoo, after all, the one that's high up on the back of his shoulder blade -- just about where, it had occurred to him after they'd started sleeping together, Tanglewood would have left its mark if Danny had ever been in with them.

But Danny's back is unmarked, and Mac is grateful for that; whatever story lies behind the tribal design on his right arm, it's nothing to do with Sonny Sassone or gang rituals. He can be sure of that much, and maybe one day he'll ask Danny after all.

For now, he says nothing, and Danny claws at the pillow as he traces the tattoo's upper edge and lets his hand slip lower. Like Danny said, it's a blackout; what else is there to do?

***