Steve's fingers tighten, and Danny's stomach clenches in response, good, hard, anticipation singing through veins, lightening his head. Like it always does. Like it has for a month, pushing him through the days and nights half in a haze, with this at the back of his head, even on the worst days. Even on the days when he comes here, silent and angry after hours arguing with lawyers, with Rachel, like nothing could ever drag him out of the burrow he digs for himself. Except Grace.
Or Steve.
Not always with this, though this keeps happening, amazingly. Turning back the clock and making him feel sixteen, eighteen, twenty-five again, nerves sparking on edge, delirious with want. Letting Steve pull his head up, to kiss him, Danny's fingers hard on Steve's skin, Steve's hand busy tugging Danny's shirt away, baring a strip of belly and side. The shirt too well-fitted to shift much, but it's not like it normally lasts long once Steve gets going. Apparently as morally opposed to Danny being dressed as for hims having to wear clothes.
"Come on, Cro-Magnon," he says, when he can catch a breath, hooking fingers into Steve's waistband and pulling. "Even you are not distracting enough to think getting naked at the top of a staircase is a good idea. I'd rather not break my neck tonight, thanks."
Pulling at him, licking at his lip, leaning up to find his mouth again, no matter whatever it is he's saying; they're just words, unimportant. Bubbles, easily burst, and so much less than necessary in comparison to Steve.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2012-12-05 04:13 am (UTC)Or Steve.
Not always with this, though this keeps happening, amazingly. Turning back the clock and making him feel sixteen, eighteen, twenty-five again, nerves sparking on edge, delirious with want. Letting Steve pull his head up, to kiss him, Danny's fingers hard on Steve's skin, Steve's hand busy tugging Danny's shirt away, baring a strip of belly and side. The shirt too well-fitted to shift much, but it's not like it normally lasts long once Steve gets going. Apparently as morally opposed to Danny being dressed as for hims having to wear clothes.
"Come on, Cro-Magnon," he says, when he can catch a breath, hooking fingers into Steve's waistband and pulling. "Even you are not distracting enough to think getting naked at the top of a staircase is a good idea. I'd rather not break my neck tonight, thanks."
Pulling at him, licking at his lip, leaning up to find his mouth again, no matter whatever it is he's saying; they're just words, unimportant. Bubbles, easily burst, and so much less than necessary in comparison to Steve.