Too much clothing. Too much everything. When Danny's hand is stroking him through the cloth of his boxers, and his pants are still there, and Danny's are, and his shirt, that he can only shove so much of because one of Danny's hand is busy trying to masacre though occurring at all. Even when those words were totally worth it for the moment of dead silent shock, that sends Steve grinning like a fool in the dark.
It's wrong, but it's so right. Christ, how is not supposed to have these thoughts, when Danny is getting all pissy and scrappy. When it's as hilarious as it is hot. When he just wants everything. He wants everything all the time now. These thoughts, slamming him from out of right field during a normal day. When Danny's hand toys with his badge across the rise of his hip. Or the way he can play with a pen, or really anything he picks up.
In his hands, against his mouth, shorting out Steve's want to focus on life or death situations for some seconds.
Like now. When it isn't life or death, but Danny's mouth finds his the skin under his jaw, and his fingers are digging in against Danny's ribs on one side. Lifting a leg on the other, bent at the knee haphazardly feeling in the dark, without looking for his shoes. Stupid shoes. Stupid shoelaces. That he's jerking at to pull out of a knot and bow, without moving from Danny.
When it's narrowly sliding by not making him groan, fire seeping in both direction, up and down, while he's still trying to keep any part of his ability to think with him. "We haven't accosted anyone else's furniture yet." Only his parents, and that had been odd enough for a little while after returning from Japan. When everything felt off and wrong. Everywhere. "Might be fun."
The knot came free, and his was circling his ankle, not caring at all where it fell, only that it made that solid thud and had gone sailing down to the floor beyond him. Shifting, beginning to try for the second one, when he totally says, "They weren't that bad." Completely aware it's like smack a beehive. Even if it was true, too. He'd dealt with a lot worse in his time.
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It's wrong, but it's so right. Christ, how is not supposed to have these thoughts, when Danny is getting all pissy and scrappy. When it's as hilarious as it is hot. When he just wants everything. He wants everything all the time now. These thoughts, slamming him from out of right field during a normal day. When Danny's hand toys with his badge across the rise of his hip. Or the way he can play with a pen, or really anything he picks up.
In his hands, against his mouth, shorting out Steve's want to focus on life or death situations for some seconds.
Like now. When it isn't life or death, but Danny's mouth finds his the skin under his jaw, and his fingers are digging in against Danny's ribs on one side. Lifting a leg on the other, bent at the knee haphazardly feeling in the dark, without looking for his shoes. Stupid shoes. Stupid shoelaces. That he's jerking at to pull out of a knot and bow, without moving from Danny.
When it's narrowly sliding by not making him groan, fire seeping in both direction, up and down, while he's still trying to keep any part of his ability to think with him. "We haven't accosted anyone else's furniture yet." Only his parents, and that had been odd enough for a little while after returning from Japan. When everything felt off and wrong. Everywhere. "Might be fun."
The knot came free, and his was circling his ankle, not caring at all where it fell, only that it made that solid thud and had gone sailing down to the floor beyond him. Shifting, beginning to try for the second one, when he totally says, "They weren't that bad." Completely aware it's like smack a beehive. Even if it was true, too. He'd dealt with a lot worse in his time.