Steve snorted at those words, like Danny still had anything left to be denying. When his body was a riot of signs that said he was right. Yesterday, today, maybe would be quite some time still. When Danny is breathing heavy, when he's actually remembering to breathe at all, and, he can't even complain. Not really. Steve. That Danny is stubborn enough to deny it even now.
Fingertips hard in the skin of his hip. Where he was starting to get used to having this appearing, disappearing, dusted tattoo. Faintest blue-purple dots. Not all the time, but now and then. It just made him smile now. Because Danny could. Hold on, tight as he needed. Steve would never stop him. Pull him back. No. He was too busy, shoving him forward knocking his feet out from under him, shoving straight beyond his straight laced, perfect pressed control.
Into this. This thing that no one in the world got but him. Danny Williams, undone. Hands everywhere, fingers grasping.
Making it gets a chuckle of amusement. Lost against the peak of skin his tongue was folded around. Making his focus waver, forehead drop against Danny's chest for a brief second there. The hilarious high of every single misfiring communication of Danny there. No, but yes. Refusal to admit while basically both sides of accosting Steve with not being able to either control himself or have a willingness to let Steve stop.
Why would he want anything else, when every bit of this lit up his chest, just with a passing second. The hand on Danny's side moving a little. Palming down his side, across his hip, thumb riding down the ridge of flesh where his hip cut down the muscle, as Steve shook his head and moved to trekking his mouth across the lower part of Danny's breast bone, ribs. the top of his stomach.
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Fingertips hard in the skin of his hip. Where he was starting to get used to having this appearing, disappearing, dusted tattoo. Faintest blue-purple dots. Not all the time, but now and then. It just made him smile now. Because Danny could. Hold on, tight as he needed. Steve would never stop him. Pull him back. No. He was too busy, shoving him forward knocking his feet out from under him, shoving straight beyond his straight laced, perfect pressed control.
Into this. This thing that no one in the world got but him. Danny Williams, undone. Hands everywhere, fingers grasping.
Making it gets a chuckle of amusement. Lost against the peak of skin his tongue was folded around. Making his focus waver, forehead drop against Danny's chest for a brief second there. The hilarious high of every single misfiring communication of Danny there. No, but yes. Refusal to admit while basically both sides of accosting Steve with not being able to either control himself or have a willingness to let Steve stop.
Why would he want anything else, when every bit of this lit up his chest, just with a passing second. The hand on Danny's side moving a little. Palming down his side, across his hip, thumb riding down the ridge of flesh where his hip cut down the muscle, as Steve shook his head and moved to trekking his mouth across the lower part of Danny's breast bone, ribs. the top of his stomach.