Even when he doesn't want to listen, in the worst frames of mind, when sanity is giving way to such incontrovertible rage, he'll find he does. It works like cutting the brakes. The rest of the car might try to keep going, might be able to keep going, but, suddenly, one certain part isn't working. That's what Danny does to him with a touch. Sometimes. In the field. In here.
The thoughts don't vanish. Any more than his disgust and hate ever dies instantly. They float somewhere around him, but instead of being sucked under by it. He's held back from by a few fingers. Usually at his chest. Right now, curved against his jaw. His shoulder, when Danny is kissing him slow and specific. Taking his time, with the way his hand stays against Steve's skin, cupping.
The way his mouth opens, the taste of Danny, the feel of his tongue. The jagged place somewhere inside of him that drops like a floor disconnecting from any supports. When this kiss isn't anything like the ones exchanged after dragging Danny away from civilization, in living room, in the hallway upstairs, in here, only so long ago.
The soft, quiet sound rumbling through Danny. Mixing him with the wave, the wind, relaxed and pleased. Taking up residence in his chest, just as much as this kiss. Pushing things out of direct focus at least. Making his shoulders hold stubbornly, until the hold droops a little, curves. Less apart, divide, more curling, just the smallest bit. Around Danny. Around that shoulder underneath his chest.
Shifting into him, closer. Into the slow crackle of warmth, like the seduction of fire from too long cold.
Doesn't matter if he's been here the whole time. A little closer. A little more focus on Danny.
On this thing that keeps surviving everything Steve's sure that it can't or won't.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2012-12-12 12:40 pm (UTC)The thoughts don't vanish. Any more than his disgust and hate ever dies instantly. They float somewhere around him, but instead of being sucked under by it. He's held back from by a few fingers. Usually at his chest. Right now, curved against his jaw. His shoulder, when Danny is kissing him slow and specific. Taking his time, with the way his hand stays against Steve's skin, cupping.
The way his mouth opens, the taste of Danny, the feel of his tongue. The jagged place somewhere inside of him that drops like a floor disconnecting from any supports. When this kiss isn't anything like the ones exchanged after dragging Danny away from civilization, in living room, in the hallway upstairs, in here, only so long ago.
The soft, quiet sound rumbling through Danny. Mixing him with the wave, the wind, relaxed and pleased. Taking up residence in his chest, just as much as this kiss. Pushing things out of direct focus at least. Making his shoulders hold stubbornly, until the hold droops a little, curves. Less apart, divide, more curling, just the smallest bit. Around Danny. Around that shoulder underneath his chest.
Shifting into him, closer. Into the slow crackle of warmth, like the seduction of fire from too long cold.
Doesn't matter if he's been here the whole time. A little closer. A little more focus on Danny.
On this thing that keeps surviving everything Steve's sure that it can't or won't.