There is way too much fabric going on, here: under his hand, catching against his shoulders, blocking Steve's hands as they run up and over his chest. Even as it feels like it's going to burn right off his skin at what drops out of Steve's mouth, like a bomb.
Making him remember the night of the barbeque, the picnic table that still, now and again, makes him shake his head at himself. Picturing getting shoved up onto green felt, Steve's hands running down his sides, his legs. The clatter and discomfort that's got no place in this thought, the thought that Steve was -- and all the time that girl was there, he was thinking this, wanting that.
And Danny has to toss something back at him, because that's what they do and that's a ridiculous thing to say, that shouldn't be so fucking hot, but what he wants more than anything is Steve's skin against his, and why the hell are they both still wearing so much? "On the pool table? You don't think we've traumatized enough furniture already? Admittedly..."
Shoving at Steve's pants, lifting his hand just long enough, to push at them, while toeing off his shoes, before sliding it back again, stroking up and down. Leaning in to find the pulse point, beating like panic, under Steve's jaw.
"It really would be an excellent way to get those girls to beat it."
Because Steve is. Not touchable. Not available. Not for them, anyway, random barflies just looking for a good time, looking for this, the rush Danny's got under his hands, threatening to drag him under and eroding any possible desire to try and save himself.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2012-12-06 03:33 am (UTC)Making him remember the night of the barbeque, the picnic table that still, now and again, makes him shake his head at himself. Picturing getting shoved up onto green felt, Steve's hands running down his sides, his legs. The clatter and discomfort that's got no place in this thought, the thought that Steve was -- and all the time that girl was there, he was thinking this, wanting that.
And Danny has to toss something back at him, because that's what they do and that's a ridiculous thing to say, that shouldn't be so fucking hot, but what he wants more than anything is Steve's skin against his, and why the hell are they both still wearing so much? "On the pool table? You don't think we've traumatized enough furniture already? Admittedly..."
Shoving at Steve's pants, lifting his hand just long enough, to push at them, while toeing off his shoes, before sliding it back again, stroking up and down. Leaning in to find the pulse point, beating like panic, under Steve's jaw.
"It really would be an excellent way to get those girls to beat it."
Because Steve is. Not touchable. Not available. Not for them, anyway, random barflies just looking for a good time, looking for this, the rush Danny's got under his hands, threatening to drag him under and eroding any possible desire to try and save himself.