Danny shivers against him, and Steve closes his eyes, against a wave of something, so clear and delighted, it's like even the darkness can't share it with him. It's better, even without anything else, than anything he can think of in this moment. In the world. Even when Danny's breath is catching near his ear, and he's pushing out words a second later. Different words, denying words.
Scrabbled together from whatever seems to be on the inside of his head right at that second. When he's laughing straight into Danny's skin, leaning down, letting his shoulder curve, following the line of muscle there. Light, while Danny is shifting, strain apart, giving him way, giving him room, even when his words are dragging out, still decrying his declaration of fact. Everything but Danny's mouth is in agreement with his words.
When it's too hilarious that he still has the wherewithal to be fighting back, when every other part of him is pulling closer, is pushing int Steve, thrumming under the touch of his lips, his tongue, the beat of a heart he can still feel against his own chest, the forehead turning into his shoulder, hands on both side. When it's like a stupid, amusing fight for a last inch when everything else is caving.
Going to a burst of warmth, and the taste of Danny's skin. The rush of his pulse when Steve finds that spot, not giving a damn about the slow building tension in his shoulders and upper back. When he's barely finished chuckling, when he says against Danny's skin, the amusement so thick that trying to sound completely level is shifting under his feet, against Danny's skin, like sand.
"Wait a minute, here. I can't flirt with anyone else. And, now, you don't want me to flirt with you." Which hasn't the faintest credence of any realism to it. Not even an iota of him is holding out a belief Danny's words mean anything, but he's still pressing him regardless. So amused, so, so full of this thing in his chest, begging to shatter with too much pressure and light, even in the darkness.
Making his mouth keep running, lips tracing his pulse point, interposing words with touch, "What exactly is it you want?"
no subject
Scrabbled together from whatever seems to be on the inside of his head right at that second. When he's laughing straight into Danny's skin, leaning down, letting his shoulder curve, following the line of muscle there. Light, while Danny is shifting, strain apart, giving him way, giving him room, even when his words are dragging out, still decrying his declaration of fact. Everything but Danny's mouth is in agreement with his words.
When it's too hilarious that he still has the wherewithal to be fighting back, when every other part of him is pulling closer, is pushing int Steve, thrumming under the touch of his lips, his tongue, the beat of a heart he can still feel against his own chest, the forehead turning into his shoulder, hands on both side. When it's like a stupid, amusing fight for a last inch when everything else is caving.
Going to a burst of warmth, and the taste of Danny's skin. The rush of his pulse when Steve finds that spot, not giving a damn about the slow building tension in his shoulders and upper back. When he's barely finished chuckling, when he says against Danny's skin, the amusement so thick that trying to sound completely level is shifting under his feet, against Danny's skin, like sand.
"Wait a minute, here. I can't flirt with anyone else. And, now, you don't want me to flirt with you." Which hasn't the faintest credence of any realism to it. Not even an iota of him is holding out a belief Danny's words mean anything, but he's still pressing him regardless. So amused, so, so full of this thing in his chest, begging to shatter with too much pressure and light, even in the darkness.
Making his mouth keep running, lips tracing his pulse point, interposing words with touch, "What exactly is it you want?"