A chuckle is trying to do more than tumble deep in his chest, but it keeps getting circumvented by the ragged edge of his breath and Steve's apparent dedication to the prospect of actually wiping words straight out of Danny's head. Words, definitions, syllables; the bricks he uses to build every day, every action and reaction, all evaporating in front of him. Decimated by Steve's attack. Steve moving, lifting, settling over Danny without any of his weight resting on him, like he'd just pounced and knocked Danny flat, and is determined to keep him there.
Which might work, because the ability to move is tied directly to the sections of his brain that are all misfiring right now, short-circuiting into bursts of light and sound. Coinciding with the rhythm of Steve's mouth, his fingers, as they pull sanity, thread by thread, away from Danny's grasp.
"I have to say, it's a persuasive argument."
It's about all he manages, because Steve is driving him crazy in the best way possible, and Danny wants it to never stop, but he wants to drag Steve up by the hair and kiss him, hard, too. Wants to flip them over again and give Steve a taste of his own medicine, find those spots at his throat and chest and groin that make him shiver, push, start to break apart.
Right now, though, Danny's the one cracking, the one reaching, fingers digging blunt half circles into Steve's hip, because the fact of the matter is, Steve's got nothing to prove. Not here. In this. With that statement, because he is, a control freak, a lunatic, and Danny loves it as much as he hates it too.
no subject
Which might work, because the ability to move is tied directly to the sections of his brain that are all misfiring right now, short-circuiting into bursts of light and sound. Coinciding with the rhythm of Steve's mouth, his fingers, as they pull sanity, thread by thread, away from Danny's grasp.
"I have to say, it's a persuasive argument."
It's about all he manages, because Steve is driving him crazy in the best way possible, and Danny wants it to never stop, but he wants to drag Steve up by the hair and kiss him, hard, too. Wants to flip them over again and give Steve a taste of his own medicine, find those spots at his throat and chest and groin that make him shiver, push, start to break apart.
Right now, though, Danny's the one cracking, the one reaching, fingers digging blunt half circles into Steve's hip, because the fact of the matter is, Steve's got nothing to prove. Not here. In this. With that statement, because he is, a control freak, a lunatic, and Danny loves it as much as he hates it too.