It's such a different way to say his name, quiet, clear. Low, in the dim room, where sometimes, like now, it feels like the lack of light muffles everything. Folds in over them like a blanket. Making it easy -- too easy, maybe -- to lose track of his thoughts, to catch himself tripping on other ones.
That he should push away, right? If one thing has been made clear tonight, it's that Steve thinks he's an idiot for thinking any one of those girls might have had a chance. That kissing him was the only thing Steve wanted to do all night. That the last thing he should be thinking about are any ways in which those things might not be true, next time.
It isn't next time. It's now. And he should stop.
Steve's there, solid, under his hands. It's his touch that made him moan, his kiss Steve leaned into. Him that Steve dragged into bed. Him who's allowed to be here, see him like this, touch him like this, and he knows, he knows, okay, that thinking about when it's going to get taken away is the wrong thing to do.
Steve's not even making fun of him for it anymore, sounds genuinely -- not concerned, not all the way to concerned, but nudging. Like when he knows through some freaky sixth sense that Danny's not telling him everything (like it's Steve's job to solve all of Danny's problems, Christ, like the guy doesn't have things spilling off his plate already). It pulls Danny away from his contemplation of shadow over skin, looking up, pressing a smile that tugs a little higher at one side of his mouth than the other.
"Just appreciating."
God. He is appreciative. He's grateful, so grateful. Even before all this, Steve was the best partner he'd had, his best friend, the guy who went out of his way and forced Danny into a life he had no idea he could want. Helped him keep his time with Grace, back when they barely knew each other.
It's just unfair, the things Steve does for the world, for everyone in it, and it repays him like this? What kind of bullshit is that?
His hand firms against his skin, though, travels to the lift of Steve's hip, thumb sliding into the cut of muscle there, and he leans back in to find the cradle of Steve's shoulder and neck with lips and tongue and the light graze of teeth.
Those thoughts can take a back seat. He's got more important things to focus on, right now.
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That he should push away, right? If one thing has been made clear tonight, it's that Steve thinks he's an idiot for thinking any one of those girls might have had a chance. That kissing him was the only thing Steve wanted to do all night. That the last thing he should be thinking about are any ways in which those things might not be true, next time.
It isn't next time. It's now. And he should stop.
Steve's there, solid, under his hands. It's his touch that made him moan, his kiss Steve leaned into. Him that Steve dragged into bed. Him who's allowed to be here, see him like this, touch him like this, and he knows, he knows, okay, that thinking about when it's going to get taken away is the wrong thing to do.
Steve's not even making fun of him for it anymore, sounds genuinely -- not concerned, not all the way to concerned, but nudging. Like when he knows through some freaky sixth sense that Danny's not telling him everything (like it's Steve's job to solve all of Danny's problems, Christ, like the guy doesn't have things spilling off his plate already). It pulls Danny away from his contemplation of shadow over skin, looking up, pressing a smile that tugs a little higher at one side of his mouth than the other.
"Just appreciating."
God. He is appreciative. He's grateful, so grateful. Even before all this, Steve was the best partner he'd had, his best friend, the guy who went out of his way and forced Danny into a life he had no idea he could want. Helped him keep his time with Grace, back when they barely knew each other.
It's just unfair, the things Steve does for the world, for everyone in it, and it repays him like this? What kind of bullshit is that?
His hand firms against his skin, though, travels to the lift of Steve's hip, thumb sliding into the cut of muscle there, and he leans back in to find the cradle of Steve's shoulder and neck with lips and tongue and the light graze of teeth.
Those thoughts can take a back seat. He's got more important things to focus on, right now.