He feels Steve's attention shift, like a physical thing, like moving Steve's face or taking his arm or pushing at his chest has the same effect. Focus. Over here.
Where Danny is concentrating solely on him. This. The way it feels, bare skin pressed to bare skin, blood-warm, against cooling air. The give of the mattress. The lump of blankets under them. Steve's mouth, the way it parts, lets Danny deepen this kiss until his head is spinning and loose, until everything in his chest is glowing and gorgeous, feeling like his ribs are cinched too tight to contain it.
Palm against rough stubble, a peaceable, content noise at the back of his throat, nothing like the skepticism of earlier. Just. Being here. Getting to be here. It's enough to cut his legs out from under him. The insanity of having this under his hands. Of Steve, letting him lean in to kiss him.
Making him wonder when the hell his luck is planning on running out, and how he can avoid that happening for as long as possible.
Determined to break Steve's thoughts from whatever miserable cycle they were looped in, because he knows that look, okay, he's seen it a thousand times, when Steve thinks he's being sneaky but is really just being dense. Trying to -- what. Prove that whatever it is, whatever of the last month that's tried its best to cut them both down, he's still here? That he cares, that he gives a damn, that Steve is important. To him.
And he is. Danny's hand gentling against his jaw, because this isn't about pushing, it's about coaxing, about just sliding back into the bubble they manage to create here, where the world can knock outside and doesn't have to be let in.
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He feels Steve's attention shift, like a physical thing, like moving Steve's face or taking his arm or pushing at his chest has the same effect. Focus. Over here.
Where Danny is concentrating solely on him. This. The way it feels, bare skin pressed to bare skin, blood-warm, against cooling air. The give of the mattress. The lump of blankets under them. Steve's mouth, the way it parts, lets Danny deepen this kiss until his head is spinning and loose, until everything in his chest is glowing and gorgeous, feeling like his ribs are cinched too tight to contain it.
Palm against rough stubble, a peaceable, content noise at the back of his throat, nothing like the skepticism of earlier. Just. Being here. Getting to be here. It's enough to cut his legs out from under him. The insanity of having this under his hands. Of Steve, letting him lean in to kiss him.
Making him wonder when the hell his luck is planning on running out, and how he can avoid that happening for as long as possible.
Determined to break Steve's thoughts from whatever miserable cycle they were looped in, because he knows that look, okay, he's seen it a thousand times, when Steve thinks he's being sneaky but is really just being dense. Trying to -- what. Prove that whatever it is, whatever of the last month that's tried its best to cut them both down, he's still here? That he cares, that he gives a damn, that Steve is important. To him.
And he is. Danny's hand gentling against his jaw, because this isn't about pushing, it's about coaxing, about just sliding back into the bubble they manage to create here, where the world can knock outside and doesn't have to be let in.