There really is no way to keep standing. Even half-laying here. Muscles straining at the edges of his eyes with the effort of pushing through at all. Against Danny, kissing him, against the stroke of his fingers. The way his name comes out, broken and snapped, like Danny's voice got lost, but even that couldn't keep him from escaping him.
Shuddering through Steve, flooding his chest even further. When it feels like everything has turned into lava and is losing all it's hard edges. The world. The walls. The room. The bed. Anything that is not Danny under his fingers, the shape of his face, the faces he's making. The utter, spiking madness that is watching him, shoving him and being at his mercy all at once.
There center of his body winding down and in, coiling tighter and tighter. Tearing him between the urge to to push down with his hip against the bed, like somehow that will help him or save him, from the shattering explosions tearing up his vision, his thoughts. Or if it's when his hips snap and he can't control them at all for seconds. Jerking hard, erratic, forceful into the cuff of warmth designed to take everything down.
But he's not going down alone. When he's got his eyes closed, and that softness is probably Danny's head, his hair, somehow against his forehead, and he's getting close to considering biting his lips when it feels like everything up and down stroke of his hand on Danny's body is directly circuited, connected to the windows shattering in his own head, through his own body.
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Shuddering through Steve, flooding his chest even further. When it feels like everything has turned into lava and is losing all it's hard edges. The world. The walls. The room. The bed. Anything that is not Danny under his fingers, the shape of his face, the faces he's making. The utter, spiking madness that is watching him, shoving him and being at his mercy all at once.
There center of his body winding down and in, coiling tighter and tighter. Tearing him between the urge to to push down with his hip against the bed, like somehow that will help him or save him, from the shattering explosions tearing up his vision, his thoughts. Or if it's when his hips snap and he can't control them at all for seconds. Jerking hard, erratic, forceful into the cuff of warmth designed to take everything down.
But he's not going down alone. When he's got his eyes closed, and that softness is probably Danny's head, his hair, somehow against his forehead, and he's getting close to considering biting his lips when it feels like everything up and down stroke of his hand on Danny's body is directly circuited, connected to the windows shattering in his own head, through his own body.