Situating himself between Mal’s legs again, Danny hunkered low and reached for the lube. He coated his fingers, making them slicker than the wetness from Mal’s mouth. The expression the kid wore was pure mischief, almost daunting, almost menacing. It reminded Mal of their fights, which carried their own sort of pleasure.
Now Mal understood. This wasn’t Danny Grant. Danny Grant wasn’t such a confident powerhouse, even as a detective. No, that was reserved for when he wore the suit. This was Zeus, thrumming and in control as he brought his fingers to Mal’s entrance and, in perfect time with the slow twist of the first one pressing inside, parted his lips to take Mal into his mouth.